The Parasite | serial killer!sukuna x yandere!reader
synopsis: after so many years of trying and failing, you’ve finally found the one for you. he’s handsome, hardworking, and keeps to himself— sukuna’s perfect. well, in your eyes, he was. you're sure his victims would say otherwise. you're not supposed to know about them, by the way.
your boyfriend still has no idea that you snooped through his belongings while he was at work. let's hope it stays that way.
cw: toxic relationship, serial killer sukuna, obsessive reader, joe and love vibes tbh lol, smut, fluff, angst, more to be added
notes: ik i said this would be for kinktober but this is taking over my brain lol. this’ll be a one shot! lmk if you’d like to be tagged
one: better than i ever even knew | do it for the thrill of the rush
series synopsis - in a world where soulmates were real, fate ties you to ryomen sukuna like some cruel and twisted joke. where people felt their soulmates in soft touches and quiet comfort, all you’ve ever known was phantom pain, sleepless nights, and a violent rage that didn’t belong to you. by the time you finally meet the man ruining your nervous system, the city already knew him as its most feared underground boxer. how would you survive? [mdni 18+]
chapters
⚡︎ ⋆.˚ prologue
⚡︎ ⋆.˚ one - no surprises
⚡︎ ⋆.˚ two - coming soon
⚡︎ ⋆.˚ three - tbd
⚡︎ ⋆.˚ four - tbd
⚡︎ ⋆.˚ five - tbd
⚡︎ ⋆.˚ six - tbd
no taglist!
credits: art by @/cinaillus | divider by @/uzmacchiato
fratjo never goes down… unless its you, of course ! (⸝⸝> ω <⸝⸝)
the first rule of being satoru gojo was simple: you never, ever went down on a girl.
“it’s undignified,” he declared, leaning back in the worn-out frat house armchair, one leg slung over the arm. a bottle of cheap beer dangled from his fingers. “like, biologically, it makes no sense. you’re putting your face in a swamp. a swamp.i have standards.”
his friends—a chorus of nodding, beer-addled bros—laughed and clinked bottles in agreement. “preach, man!”
“seriously,” gojo continued, warming to his theme, his white hair glowing under the shitty fluorescent light. “what’s in it for me? the view is mid. the taste is questionable. naaah. my talents are better utilized elsewhere.” he gestured vaguely with the bottle. “let them worship me. that’s the natural order. i’m a giver, sure, but that’s just… not in my repertoire. ever.”
he said it with such absolute, unshakeable conviction that it became gospel in the frat house. gojo doesn’t eat pussy. it was a known fact, like the sky being blue or his ego being planetary in size.
cut to three hours later.
the same satoru gojo is currently buried so deep between your thighs he might need a rescue team. the arrogant smirk is gone, replaced by a look of single-minded, desperate devotion. his glasses are discarded somewhere on your bedroom floor.
“fuuuhhck,” he slurs, the word muffled against your skin as his tongue—that clever, wicked tongue he claimed was too good for this—lashes your clit in tight, frantic circles. “fuck, fuck, fuck… mmmh, so good…”
he’s not just doing it. he’s feasting. one large hand pins your hip to the mattress, the other is tangled in the sheets like he’s holding on for dear life. the wet, obscene sounds filling the room are coming from him as much as from you— slurps, groans, hungry hums that vibrate straight to your core. each flick of his tongue draws a new, breathy moan from him, a symphony of whines and low, possessive growls.
you card your fingers through his sweaty white hair, tugging gently. “t-thought you didn’t do this,” you gasp, arching into his mouth.
he pulls off just enough to growl, his lips and chin glistening. “shut up,” he breathes, pupils blown wide, looking utterly pussydrunk. a string of saliva connects his lower lip to your folds. “you taste like fucking heaven. ‘s different.” he nuzzles back in, inhaling deeply with a shuddering sigh. “god, you smell so good… mmph…” then he dives back in with a needy whimper, his nose pressing against you as he laps at your entrance, drinking you down like a man dying of thirst. every swallow is punctuated by a soft, satisfied groan from the back of his throat.
he’s lost all composure, all his cool, frat-boy posturing dissolved into a primal, whimpering mess. he moans into you, a continuous, low-pitched moans synced with the thrust of his tongue, his hips grinding uselessly against the mattress. when your legs start to shake around his head, he lets out a muffled, encouraging “yesssss, c’mon, baby, g-give it to me— n-need it s'bad—”
when you finally come, crying out his name, he doesn’t pull away. he rides out every pulse with his tongue, swallowing every drop, a deep, resonant sigh of pleasure vibrating against your oversensitive flesh until you’re pushing his head away, trembling and spent.
he collapses beside you, breathing raggedly, a dazed, blissed-out smile on his slick lips. he looks ruined, triumphant, and utterly, completely yours. he lets out a long, shaky exhale that’s almost a laugh.
“…okay,” he pants after a minute, turning to nuzzle your shoulder. he presses a lazy, open-mouthed kiss to your skin. “maybe i do go down. but only for you.” he licks his lips, still tasting you, and lets out another soft, involuntary sigh. “and you better not tell anyone.”
"we'll see about that," you just smile, running a thumb over his swollen lower lip.
boyfriend!Sukuna lets you drag him into your skincare routine | wc: 3k
The bathroom is too small for both of you, which has never once stopped either of you from using it at the same time.
You stand barefoot on the cool tiles with your hair clipped messily back from your face. The oversized tee you snatched from his side of the closet hangs loose on your body, and its wide collar keeps slipping off your shoulder whenever you lean forward to examine your skin in the mirror more closely.
Next to you, Sukuna, whose pink hair is still slightly tousled from his quick towel-dry, is brushing his teeth. He’s wearing only those worn grey sweatpants that always make your heart race, and his eyebrow piercing catches the light, grabbing your attention every now and then.
He's huge, but somehow, his massive body fits perfectly into this cosy moment, even though he'd scoff if you ever said how domestic he looks.
But what really gets you is how he's watching you, not even pretending to hide it. His crimson eyes are locked on your reflection as he scrubs at his molars, and his toothbrush pauses mid-stroke every so often because, apparently, the sight of you doing something basic like washing your face is more fascinating than any game he's ever played.
You can't help the small smirk because you know that look. It's the one that says he's just happy existing right there with you, soaking up the intimacy of it all.
Meeting his eyes in the glass, you raise an eyebrow playfully and say, "If you stare any harder, you're gonna burn a hole through me."
He pulls out the toothbrush, foam clinging to his mouth, and grunts, “I’m not staring.”
“You are totally staring.”
He just shrugs. “You’re wearing my shirt.”
“That doesn’t explain it.”
“It does for me.”
You smile, the corners of your eyes crinkling, and he watches you, with the toothbrush back in his mouth, for another long ten seconds, before he finally speaks again. “What are you even doing right now?”
"Hydrating," you reply, leaning a bit to assess your reflection.
“You weren’t hydrated five minutes ago?” he questions, raising that pierced brow.
You sigh dramatically, pretending he's truly let you down. “Skin hydration isn’t a one-time thing, Sukuna. It’s a whole process. A continuous journey.”
He squints at you in the mirror, clearly not buying it. “So you’re saying your face needs maintenance.”
“I’m saying,” you turn towards him slightly, shooting him an offended look, “that everyone’s face needs maintenance.”
He lets out a low, sceptical hum, and you tilt your head, studying him more closely. His skin is annoyingly flawless, smooth and even, despite the fact that he does absolutely nothing for it. It irritates you on principle, and you can't resist teasing him a little because of it.
“So? You gonna stand there watching me all night, or are you gonna join the fun and let me fix that face of yours?”
Sukuna forcefully spits into the sink, rinses his mouth, and straightens up to his full height. He wipes his lips with the back of one hand, causing his armbands to move as his bicep flexes. Leaning slightly closer, he gives you that classic scowl you know is half amusement and half offence, and the tattooed eyes below his real ones seem to narrow right along with the real ones.
“The hell you mean fix my face, brat? This face is a work of art—tattoos and all. You’re the one who always says so.”
A bright and a little disbelieving laugh bursts out of you. “Work of art my ass. Your skin’s been through boxing sweat, garage grease, and whatever you use on engines. It's basically begging for mercy.”
“You suggesting I slap on some of that girly crap? Nah, I'll pass. Go pamper yourself and let the real men keep their dignity."
His voice is rough, with that familiar, slightly teasing tone that always makes you grin, but you know him well enough to realise he’s not annoyed at all. Even as he says it, he doesn’t step away; he just leans against the counter, watching you pat your face dry with a paper towel like it’s the most interesting thing he's seen all week.
You roll your eyes, but the huge smile on your face gives away how much you love it. This is how it always goes—you push his buttons just a little, and he acts like he's resisting while secretly loving every second of being the centre of your attention. Tonight, though, you aren't letting him off the hook so easily.
You turn towards him fully, reach out, and close your hand around his wrist.
"Oh, come on, it's not girly—it's self-care, you dork. You put in all that gym time making yourself look like that—” you gesture wildly towards his upper body, “—but your skin’s gonna revolt one day from all the oil and sweat. Just sit your ass down before I make you.”
Sukuna snorts, but when you tug, he lets you pull him along, moving with exaggeratedly slow and reluctant steps, like his two metres of solid muscle is just humouring a child.
His free hand rakes through his short hair as he mutters under his breath about how "this is beneath a guy who gets punched in the face for fun" and "what's next, you gonna paint my nails too, woman?" but there's a spark in his eyes. He'd sit through a thousand silly routines for you if it meant seeing that look of wicked delight on your face.
“Keep complaining, and maybe I will.”
You lead him to the closed toilet lid, and he drops onto it with an exaggerated groan, spreading his thighs until you nudge them even farther apart with your knee so you can comfortably stand between them. You're close enough to feel the heat coming off his bare chest, and the hem of his your tee brushes against his sweatpants. He uncrosses his arms to let you settle in, though he quickly recrosses them with a pointed, but clearly affectionate, glare.
“You’ve got thirty seconds to make this worth my time,” he warns in a low, rumbling voice, “before I stand up and drag you to bed the old-fashioned way.”
Ignoring the empty threat, you pump a generous dollop of cleanser into your hands, warm it between your palms, and then gently press them to his face. He flinches a bit at the unexpected coolness, frowning at the same time. You start massaging the foam in, tracing the familiar ink lines with your fingers, carefully avoiding his eyes and piercing.
“The fuck is this?”
“It’s just cleanser—gets rid of all the grime from the shop and the gym.”
“I washed my face in the shower.”
“With what?”
He pauses, and a flicker of hesitation crosses his eyes before he hides it. “…water.”
You simply give him a long, silent stare, and he stares right back with defiant innocence.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he finally mumbles.
Shaking your head with a silent laugh, you keep working the product in slow circles, your thumbs smoothing along his sharp cheekbones. Despite the grumbling, he actually tilts his head just slightly, giving you better access to his jawline.
“See? Not so bad.”
He blinks once, unimpressed, but he stays perfectly still as you rinse his face clean. You cup warm water from the tap, careful not to splash him too much, then gently dry him with a fresh paper towel. As you reach for the small bottle by the sink, you can feel his suspicious gaze following each of your movements.
“What now?” he asks, sounding done already.
“Toner,” you reply, soaking a cotton pad until it’s damp, before bringing it close to your boyfriend’s face.
He nods like he gets it, but then frowns in confusion. “And what’s this stuff supposed to do, exactly?”
You start at his forehead, pressing the pad gently before moving down the bridge of his nose. His brows twitch once, but he doesn’t pull away; instead, he watches you through half-closed eyes.
“Make you soft. Like the rest of you pretends not to be when I’m around.”
That earns you a low, throaty chuckle, and his arms finally uncross. His large, warm palms land on your hips, fingers spreading wide under the hem of the tee, lazily brushing the bare skin with his thumbs. “Keep talking shit, brat. See where it gets you.”
“Toner balances the skin, Kuna.”
He lets out a short puff of air that’s almost a laugh. “Didn’t know my face was unbalanced.”
“It’s a figure of speech.”
“Mm.” He tilts his chin up slightly as you swipe the damp cotton along his jaw. “Feels like water.”
“It’s not water.”
“It feels like water.”
“Then let it be water,” you give in, knowing better than to argue semantics with him.
He watches you patiently, though you know he’s ready to object any second. When you reach for the little glass bottle of hyaluronic acid serum, you can sense the protest before he even opens his mouth.
“Another one?”
“Yep.”
“What’s that for?”
“Hydration,” you say, uncapping the bottle.
He pauses, glancing briefly at the neat line of products on the counter, then back at your face. “Same stuff you used before?”
“Mhm!” You smile brightly and lean in to give him a quick peck on his lips.
He exhales slowly, leaning back like he is gearing up for a long argument, but the small, satisfied smirk after getting a kiss absolutely gives him away.
“You know, you could’ve just said you wanted to put stuff on me.”
“I am putting stuff on you, so it worked either way, didn’t it?”
Sukuna’s eyes narrow slightly as your fingertips glide over the delicate skin under his lower lids. “How much of this shit do you even need? You do all this every night?”
“Pretty much. Not always the full routine, but yeah—cleanser, toner, serum, moisturiser, sometimes a mask, like tonight. I usually do it when you’re still gaming.” You dab a little more serum onto his forehead, smoothing it in with your fingertips, unconsciously tracing the symmetrical tattoos down his face. “You have good skin under all the ink. This just makes it better.”
He closes his eyes and huffs through his nose but doesn’t argue. His hands grip your hips more firmly, pulling you a half-step closer until your thighs brush against his.
“You really believe all this works? Or is it just… something to do?”
“It works. But, yeah—it’s also nice to take a minute and do something just for myself. And right now… feels like I’m taking care of you for once, instead of the other way around.”
His eyes open slowly, dark and intense for a second, then he lifts one hand from your hip to catch your wrist.
“You take care of me plenty, woman. Don’t need fancy goo to prove it.” He lets go almost immediately, like he’s embarrassed to have said anything, and drops his hand back to your waist, changing the subject, “That all?”
“Almost.”
He groans, but without any real complaint. You reach for the clay jar you’ve set aside earlier, twist it open, and the colour immediately gives your plan away.
“No,” he says flatly.
“Yes.”
“You’re absolutely not putting that on me.”
“It’s just a mask.”
He scowls in a truly spectacular display of annoyance that only makes you laugh harder. “You realise this is already humiliating,” he says, even as you dip the flat brush into the thick paste.
“Then close your eyes.”
“Why?”
“So you don’t see the humiliation.”
He exhales through his nose but does as he’s told. “Fine. Slap the green shit on already. Let’s just get this over with.”
You grin, knowing that’s as close to surrendering as he’ll ever come. The thick green paste goes on in careful swirls of the brush across his forehead, down his cheeks, over the bridge of his nose.
He sits still, but when you stop to scoop more, he mutters, “I bet I look like a fucking lime.”
It dries quickly, turning a dull, greyish shade, and when you finally step back to look at him properly, you realise he’s both right and wrong, and something in your chest twists with laughter that you desperately try, and fail, to hold in.
He opens one eye slowly. “What?”
“You look… great,” you manage to say, shaking as you try not to completely lose it.
He squints the exposed eye at you. “You’re lying.”
“I’m absolutely not lying.”
“Don’t.”
But the sound breaks from you before you can stop it, bright and helpless, causing him to shake his head once, though the corners of his mouth lift against the drying clay.
“Go on,” he mutters in defeat. “Get it out.”
You manage to pull yourself, reach for the jar again, scoop a little more onto the brush, and, looking in the mirror, spread it across your face, letting the laughter fade into a soft, happy hum. He watches silently this time, until you both look like ridiculous, matching disasters.
“Don’t,” he warns again when you reach for your phone on the counter.
“It’s for us, Kuna. Nobody else.”
“You said that last time.”
“Oh, shut up. You’ll survive.”
Sukuna snatches it from your hand before you can open the camera, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you right up against his chest. As you lean into him, he snaps the selfie, catching the absurdity of the two grinning green-faced idiots.
—
The next night, you’re already in the bathroom when Sukuna appears in the doorway with his arms loosely crossed over his pecs, leaning one shoulder against the doorframe. His eyes lock on you at the sink in nothing but one of his old band tees again, with a focus he never bothers to hide, and for a long moment, he just watches.
“You doing that face again or what?” he asks casually.
You glance over your shoulder in the mirror, catching the faint smirk, and your lips lift into a smile. "Yep. Why? Miss your turn already, big guy?”
He pushes off the doorframe with a relaxed shrug and steps inside, closing the gap until he’s right behind you, his chest brushing your back. His hands find your hips as he leans down, so his chin is on the top of your head, watching your reflection look at him.
“Don’t get cheeky, angel. Just making sure you’re not slacking after all that lecturing last night. Consistency, remember? You were real big on that.”
His tone stays gruff and dismissive, but the way his fingers squeeze you once, pulling you closer, says everything he won’t: he spent the day at the shop noticing how his skin felt different and less irritated after hours of sweat and grease, and hating that he even cares.
And Sukuna’d sooner eat glass than admit he’s here because he wants the attention, the warmth, the touch, the stupid little ritual of yours that makes him feel looked after in a way no one else has ever bothered with.
You tilt your head back against his collarbone, smirking at him in the mirror. “Just admit it. You missed the pampering. Couldn’t wait twenty-four hours.”
He snorts into your ear, sliding one hand to your stomach while keeping the other firm on your hip.
“Missed it? Nah. Just don’t want you skimping and then whining tomorrow that your face feels like sandpaper. Someone’s gotta keep you in line, brat.” But he doesn’t budge, staying glued to you, watching your careful movements like they’re the only thing worth his attention tonight. After a few seconds, his voice drops lower. “What step are you on? Serum again? Hurry up. I’m not standing here all night.”
You chuckle softly, because that means he actually listened yesterday, and reach for the bottle, knowing he isn’t really going anywhere.
“Sit down then. And stop pretending you’re doing me a favour—I know you’re dying for me to touch your face again.”
Sukuna huffs, but he’s already moving, lowering himself onto the lid with that same dramatic groan he used last night, spreading his thighs wide enough for you to step between. As you do, his hands instantly find your waist, thumbs gently circling under your shirt.
“Keep talking shit,” he mutters stubbornly just like the night before, in a tone that’s somehow rough, dangerous, and incredibly soft all at once. He tilts his chin up to give you access, silently, so obviously here for the pampering he’ll never own up to.
—
A few weeks later, you stumble through the front door together well past midnight, completely wiped out after a long night out with friends. Your shoes come off in the hallway, his heavy boots kicked aside, and you’re already yawning as you head towards the bedroom, mumbling something about how you’re too tired to bother with anything, just wanting to collapse face-first into the pillows and call it a night. Sukuna follows silently, thinking harder than he lets on as you start taking off your clothes in the dim light of the bedside lamp.
You’re halfway to the bed, dropping your jeans to the floor, when his mock-offended voice cuts through the quiet. “Hold up. You tryin’ to sabotage my glow or what?”
You stop, turning slowly to find him leaning on the dresser with a raised eyebrow. His expression is dead serious, though a faint smirk is fighting to break through, and you can't help the tired, fond laugh that escapes.
“Your glow? Since when do you care about glow, Mr I-Hate-Face-Things?”
Sukuna pushes off the dresser, closing the distance until he’s towering over you again, reaching one big hand past you for the bathroom doorway.
“Since you turned me into a goddamn addict, woman. You think I’m letting all that work go to waste because you’re feeling lazy?” His tone stays gruff, almost scolding, but his free hand catches your wrist gently, brushing his thumb over your pulse point in his usual touch obsessed way, before he tugs you towards the bathroom. “C’mon. We skip tonight, and tomorrow I’m waking up looking like I fought with a cheese grater. Not happening. So get over here, brat. We’re not skipping shit.”
You let him pull you along, grinning despite the exhaustion. After he flips on the vanity light, his reflection meets yours in the mirror as he glances back at you over his shoulder.
And just like that, the late-night ritual starts again with his hands steady on your hips and the quiet sounds of water and soft laughter filling the space between you, another small, stupid, perfect secret locked away where no one else will ever find it.
There’s a photo booth tucked into a quiet corner of the mall. Its faded plastic siding and heavy velvet curtain make it look like a relic from another decade. You stop so abruptly that he almost walks into you.
“Oh, no,” he says immediately, already knowing what you’re about to make him do.
You turn with bright eyes. “Kuna.”
"A photo booth? Seriously?" Sukuna flatly cuts in and takes a step back, shoving his hands deep into his pockets, looking at the machine like it’s an insult to his intelligence. "We're adults, not high schoolers on a first date. I’m not squeezing into that tiny fucking box."
“You are,” you insist, reaching for him with both hands.
“I'm literally two meters of muscle, angel. I don't 'fit' in there,” he grumbles, but you've already hooked your fingers around his wrist and started pulling.
Sukuna lets out a long, resigned, and put-upon sigh to show you he’s doing you the biggest favor in the history of the world, but he follows, easily keeping up with your excited steps, even if he complains the entire time. “It’s dumb. We’re both going to look stupid, and I’m too big for that thing anyway.”
Standing in front of the booth, he looks like he's regretting every life choice that led him here, rubbing the back of his neck with his free hand. He has to duck just to get his head past the top of the frame. Once inside, the space feels impossibly cramped, even more so than it seemed from the outside.
His broad shoulders take up nearly the entire width of it, forcing you to tuck yourself firmly against his side just to make room for his legs.
"Move over, Sukuna. You're hogging the whole seat."
“I’m not hogging it. I’m on it,” he grunts, his knees nearly bumping the opposite wall as he awkwardly tries to maneuver his massive self. He looks less like a man getting his photos taken and more like a bear that accidentally got stuck in a dog crate. “There’s not enough room, woman. This thing was built for children.”
You burst out laughing at the sight of him being so clearly defeated by a piece of 90s mall furniture. “You look completely ridiculous. Here, stop fighting it.”
Without waiting for him to argue, you step over his leg into the narrow gap between his knees and sit down on his right thigh. Sukuna lets out another low grumble, and his big hand immediately comes up to steady your waist.
“Well,” he mutters as he adjusts. “I guess that’s one way to solve the floor plan issue.”
You pop the coins in, and the machine’s timer begins to count down for the first photo.
Flash. Sukuna’s still wearing the same deeply unimpressed look he brought into the booth, jaw tight, brows slightly furrowed, the full weight of being dragged into something he would rather not do visible in every part of his face. You, on the other hand, are bright-eyed, caught in a blur of laughter, your face turned toward him instead of the camera, delighted by his misery.
“That’s perfect,” you beam.
“It’s awful,” he mutters, silently begging the machine to wrap it up so he can escape this cramped little prison with whatever scraps of dignity he has left.
You can’t resist teasing him just a little, so you reach up and poke his cheek, giggling softly as you whisper, “Come on, at least pretend you’re having fun, you big grump.”
The machine beeps the second countdown, and his arm hooks securely around your waist, pulling you flush against his chest so you don’t slip.
Flash. This time, he's got a look of reluctant acceptance, as he's finally resigned himself to the fact that escape is impossible and that the only way out is through. His chin rests near your temple, the scowl is a little less intense, and he looks like he’s trying really hard to remember he’s supposed to be annoyed.
“Okay, no—wait,” you say, trying to physically force a smile onto his face by lightly pushing the corners of his mouth up.
He catches your wrists instantly, pinning your hands away from his face.
“I'm not smiling for this.”
“Yes, you are.”
“I’m not.”
You poke his cheek again, a little harder this time. “You look like someone stole your last protein shake. Come on, just one little smile for me, Kuna.”
He huffs through his nose, low and exasperated, keeping his jaw stubbornly locked.
For the third countdown, you lean in to murmur softly into his ear, “You know I still have a video of you trying to pet that stray cat and getting rejected. Imagine Satoru seeing that.”
Sukuna’s eyes widen, and the corner of his mouth twitches violently at the memory as he fights the laugh that wants to break free.
“You’re lying.”
“I’m not. You called it ‘baby,’ remember?”
He clenches his jaw, stares straight ahead with fierce determination, struggling visibly as his shoulders tense and his nostrils flare slightly, but he refuses to give you the satisfaction of seeing him break.
Flash. The photo captures his full internal battle.
You giggle against his ear, poking his cheek one last time for good measure. “See? You’re fighting it so hard. It’s adorable.” You turn back to the screen with a wide grin, basking in your small victory.
With only four seconds left on the timer, Sukuna suddenly moves. His hand shoots from your waist to the back of your head, tangling in your hair and pulling your face to his. His thumb grazes your jawline, turning you fully toward him, and then he meets you halfway, drawing you into a deep, slow kiss.
Flash. It goes off right in the middle of it, capturing the moment perfectly, but Sukuna doesn’t stop. He just keeps kissing you, even as the machine starts spitting out the first photo strip. His hand stays tangled in your hair, his other arm locked around your waist like he has no intention of letting you go anytime soon.
The photos slide out of the slot, but neither of you reaches for them.
When Sukuna finally pulls back, you’re both a little breathless. He rests his forehead against yours, looking at you with dark and satisfied eyes.
His voice is low, rough, and full of that familiar blend of exasperation and affection as he murmurs against your lips, “You’re impossible.”
You smile, still a little dazed, fingers curled into the front of his shirt. “And you love it.”
He lets out a quiet chuckle, presses one last soft kiss to your mouth, then keeps one arm around your waist as you step out of the cramped booth and back into the bright lights of the mall.
You grab both strips of photos, the paper still slightly warm, and look at the progression from grumpy husband to reluctant participant to barely contained laughter to the sudden, fierce kiss that ends it all. You giggle and make a big show of tucking them into your purse, giving him a mischievous side-eye.
"Well, since you were so miserable and forced to be in there," you tease, starting to walk away, "I guess you won't want these. They’re both mine. Proof of your suffering."
Without saying a word, his long fingers dip right into your bag, snatching one of the strips before you can even react.
"Nice try, brat.”
He carefully folds the paper, making sure the crease falls between the photos, then flips open his leather wallet and slides the strip behind his driver’s license, smoothing it with his thumb.
"I did the time," he says after, catching your hand in his and lacing your fingers together as you head for the exit. "I’m keeping the prize."
fratboy satoru is a sore loser for your pussy. 18+
“please, baby, just let me” satoru lamentably pleaded, desperation clung on to his tenor. his feverish cheeks, tinged a delicate crimson on the snowy skin, rested itself on the plumpness of your bare thighs, scorching his golden mark on it. his reprehensible whimpers of agony and intense need was narrowing all the routes of your five senses.
“please– i’ll be good, just one taste.”
if his fraternity brothers found out, that their frat’s vice president was ignominiously reduced on to his knees, all because he wanted to have a taste of his girl’s raw cunt— then there would’ve been a hellish discourse upon the matter.
satoru gojo, who would commence parties of bright lights and foreign liquors. satoru gojo who would gulp down burns through his throat too easily, claiming ‘light work, no reaction’ even after seven shots of tequila. satoru gojo who called girls by their wrong names after waking up naked next to their shy faces, breaking their golden hopeful hearts so cruelly— now, was on his knees, in front of the campus’ shy girl, who was just as cruel as he was.
your legs were open, wide and candid, panties down to the ankle which satoru had been merely allowed to discard. the sight of your tempting pussy had satoru letting out a pathetic moan already as he kneaded himself through his grey sweats. he was so needy. so damn pathetic.
just to trace your glistening folds with the tip of his brute tongue. just to spittle and rub your clit bud by skillfully flattening of his tongue. simply just to eat you out, incessantly and ardently.
just for a lick, a taste of your juices.
“baby, please, please. let me. just a taste. i promise, i’ll be good. i’ll be so good to you” his begging fell to deaf ears. you had slipped on your panties, back into position, shielding your sweet glory away from him.
“then, now, do you believe me that i wasn’t with sukuna last night?” you batted your lustrous eyelashes, a sweet smile conquering your face. it was a lie, you were with sukuna last night.
satoru had been questioning you on it relentlessly, suspicious, but now— “yes, yes, yeah baby. i, shit, sorry. i’m such a dumbfuck for not trustin’ ya. of course i believe ya, doll”.
honestly, he had it all planned. like always.
you were supposed to be just another girl who he shared white sheets with. just another girl who would moan his name while he mumbled a made up one for you. just another girl for him to smile at, fuck once and play with but instead, he was the one getting played. by you. the shy, quiet girl.
the shy girl whose weeping friends had slept with satoru, and deliriously wanted him to suffer for breaking their lovelorn hearts. the shy girl who had taken a grievous vow to break, the egocentric frat king, satoru’s heart.
the campus’ shy girl was truly cruel. worse than satoru. because she was the only one to beat him at his own game.
︵ ೀ mdni. shopping for a new bikini is torture for choso
“are you sure this one looks okay?” you ask, stepping out of the fitting room in a tiny baby-blue bikini that barely covers anything.
choso freezes.
his eyes drag slowly down your body, taking in the way the thin straps hug your curves, the way the fabric barely contains your breasts, the way the bottoms sit high on your hips. he feels his cock twitch hard in his pants, already half-hard since the third bikini you try on.
“it… looks good.” he shifts on the couch outside the fitting room, trying to hide the very obvious bulge growing in his pants.
“you’ve said that about the last four. be honest, choso.”
how can he be honest?
how can he tell you that every single bikini makes him want to drag you back into the fitting room, lock the door, and fuck you against the mirror? how every time you twirl for him, showing off your ass and the way the strings tie at your hips, his mind fills with filthy images of pulling those strings loose with his teeth?
you step closer, doing a little spin. the movement makes your tits bounce slightly, and choso has to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from groaning.
“this one makes my ass look nice, right?” you ask, turning to show him the back.
his cock throbs painfully against his zipper.
“yeah.” his eyes glued to the curve of your ass. “it does.”
you smile. “okay, i’ll try the red one next!”
as soon as you disappear behind the curtain, choso lets out a shaky breath and presses the heel of his hand against his cock, trying to will it down. it doesn’t work. he is rock hard, leaking into his boxers and heart pounding like he is a stupid teenager seeing a girl naked for the first time.
every bikini looks unreal on you. every smile you give him while modeling for him makes him want to fuck you right there in the store. he imagines pushing you against the wall, pulling the bikini bottoms to the side, and sinking into your heat while you try to stay quiet but fail miserably.
“choso? what do you think of this one?” you step out again in a deep red string bikini that makes his brain give up completely. he swallows hard.
“…you’re going to kill me.”
you laugh softly, completely unaware that this whole shopping trip is torture for him. and the only thing choso can do is shift again, painfully hard and completely hopeless.
୧ ‧₊˚ 𝐇𝐄𝐈𝐑 𝓖.𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 and his pretty secretary... or fiancé..? ⋅ ✰
everyone thinks gojo satoru, heir to japan’s largest corporation, is impossible to tie down. Cold, arrogant, and rumored to have a different woman on his arm every week. so when he suddenly announces that his overworked secretary is actually his fiancée, the entire company is left stunned.
art by yunonoai. i recreated the purple divider above this. please tag me if u use it ♡ other dividers by cheriisoda and pixopix
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who treats the entire office like his personal kingdom. People straighten up the second they hear his shoes clicking down the hallway, but somehow he always seems especially irritating with you. He drops folders onto your desk with a lazy, “Need this done before lunch,” then disappears before you can argue.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who is annoyingly perfect at his job. Cold, efficient, untouchable. Even when you’re furious at him, you can’t deny he’s good at what he does, which only makes your resentment worse because he clearly knows it too.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose office smells expensive. Crisp cologne, coffee, and the faint scent of whatever luxury detergent rich people use. You hate that you associate the smell with long nights spent working overtime because of him.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who doesn’t flirt with you at first. That’s the problem. He flirts with everyone else. Receptionists giggle when he walks by, executives’ daughters practically throw themselves at him during company dinners, and gossip spreads about whatever model or actress was spotted leaving his penthouse that week.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who makes you stay late constantly, then has the nerve to look confused when you snap at him one night and tell him you actually have a life outside this company.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who starts unconsciously relying on you for everything. His coffee order. His schedule. Which tie matches which suit. He’ll bark, “Where’s my blue file?” across the office before remembering other employees exist.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose grandfather absolutely adores you because you’re the only employee who doesn’t kiss his grandson’s ass. The old man laughs every single time you glare at Gojo during meetings.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who accidentally blurts out that you’re his fiancée during a family dinner because he panics after hearing the words arranged marriage for the tenth time that night.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who immediately turns to you afterward like you’re the unreasonable one for looking horrified.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who says, “Just play along for a little while,” as if he didn’t just ruin your entire life in front of a room full of billionaires.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose family becomes obsessed with you overnight. Suddenly flowers are arriving at your desk. His grandmother wants your ring size. His grandfather keeps asking when the wedding is.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who offers you an absurd amount of money to keep pretending to be engaged to him, and gets offended when you tell him he’s insufferable enough that no amount of money feels worth it.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who starts acting weirdly protective once the fake engagement begins. If another executive talks down to you during meetings, Gojo cuts them off with an icy smile that makes the entire room tense.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who insists on driving you home after late nights because “my fiancée taking the subway at midnight looks bad for me.”
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who absolutely cannot act normal during fake couple moments. He’s smooth with everyone else, but with you there’s this strange stiffness to him sometimes, like he’s overthinking every little thing.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who stares at you for half a second too long the first time you fix his tie before an event. His ears go slightly pink, and he immediately gets mean afterward to compensate.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who learns your habits embarrassingly quickly. He knows exactly how you take your coffee, which snacks disappear first from the office vending machine, and when you’re about to get a stress headache before you even say anything.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who keeps accidentally slipping into domestic behavior. Holding doors open for you automatically. Saving you a seat during meetings. Texting you when he gets home after business trips without realizing how boyfriend-ish it sounds.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who gets irrationally annoyed whenever someone calls you by your last name instead of “Mrs. Gojo” during fake engagement events.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who has a massive penthouse that somehow still feels lonely. The first time you go there for contract-related fake dating reasons, you realize how empty it actually is despite all the expensive furniture.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who secretly likes when you yell at him because everyone else is too intimidated to do it. You call him an arrogant asshole to his face and he just stares at you with this weirdly entertained look.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who is horrible at receiving care. If he gets sick from overworking, he insists he’s fine while looking seconds away from collapsing at his desk.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who starts smiling more around the office after the fake engagement begins, and everyone notices immediately. Unfortunately for you, this leads to endless teasing from coworkers asking if you’ve “finally tamed” him.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who’s terrifyingly good at physical affection in public. His arm around your waist feels natural. His thumb rubbing circles against your hand during family dinners feels natural. Which is a problem, because none of it should feel real.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who has absolutely zero actual relationship experience despite his reputation. You assume he’s some experienced playboy because of rumors and tabloid gossip, meanwhile he’s internally fighting for his life every time you get too close to him.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who one day realizes he’s started thinking of you as his real fiancée long before either of you have actually talked about feelings.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who shows up one morning and finds you asleep at your desk because you stayed up helping your parents with the family restaurant/store/accounting stuff the night before.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა whose fridge contains imported water, expensive champagne, and literally nothing else meanwhile your family’s fridge is packed with leftovers, labeled containers, and six different sauces in reused jars.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who cannot comprehend why you refuse to let him buy you expensive things. The first time he casually hands you a designer bag because “you looked at it too long,” you nearly throw it back at his head.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who gets dragged to your neighborhood for the first time and looks hilariously out of place in his luxury suit while old aunties openly gossip about him from across the street.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who’s painfully aware your parents don’t trust him at first. To them he’s just another cold rich man who probably sees their daughter as disposable.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who slowly starts looking forward to dinners at your house because it’s the first time in years someone’s made him feel like part of a family instead of a business asset.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who slowly starts looking forward to dinners at your house because it’s the first time in years someone’s made him feel like part of a family instead of a business asset.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who nearly malfunctions the first time your mom fusses over him and packs him leftovers to take home.
૮₍ satoru ⑅₎ა who has no idea how normal people function. You once mention waiting for payday before buying something and he genuinely pauses because the concept has literally never applied to him before.
a/n~ thank u to the brilliant anons and comments who wanted me to continue the verse but with the other frat guys!! introducing the gojo verse 😉 enjoy!!
the party is already loud by the time they get there, bass thudding through the walls so hard the apartment feels like it’s shaking. choso stays close to his girlfriend, hand hovering at the small of her back and she keeps smiling at him, soft and reassuring like she always does, and it settles him a little. she’s throwing a party to celebrate end of midterms, something “lowkey”, but it very quickly spun into fifty people crammed into her apartment.
gojo, on the other hand, is already plotting. “i’m telling you,” he says, leaning back against the kitchen counter like he owns the place, hand holding a red solo cup. “tonight is light work. i could walk into any room here and leave with, dunno, minimum three numbers.”
“i’m pacing myself,” gojo shoots back, grinning. “quality over quantity.”
“you just said three.”
“three quality numbers.”
choso’s girlfriend rolls her eyes with a smile. “you’re insufferable.”
“i’m charming,” gojo corrects, already scanning the room, gaze flicking from group to group like he’s window shopping. “there’s a difference.”
that’s when she spots you.
her whole face lights up and she slips out of choso’s arms, weaving through people until she reaches you, and suddenly you’re both laughing about something, arms looping together.
“guys,” she calls, tugging you along, “this is my best friend, y/n.”
you step into the circle, smiling carefully. “hey, guys. hi, choso."
choso gives you a shy nod. “hi, y/n.”
geto smiles, polite but curious. toji barely acknowledges you, already halfway to the drinks.
gojo doesn’t look at you at all.
he’s too busy craning his neck over your shoulder, eyes darting past you like you’re just another body in the way. “minimum three numbers,” he repeats without looking, patting geto on the shoulder. “suguru. i’m seeing options.”
your mouth twitches. “wow,” you say, dry as dust, “don’t all look at me at once.”
gojo finally blinks and slowly he drags his gaze down to you, and his tongue feels thick in his mouth because shit.
you're the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.
shit, and you're standing right in front of him.
there’s a beat. “huh.”
you raise a brow. “riveting response.”
geto’s mouth quirks. choso’s girlfriend looks between you two like she just lit a match and tossed it into dry grass, and she facepalms.
gojo straightens, like he’s recalibrating mid-conversation, suddenly he's aware he’s been talking at full volume about “quality numbers” in front of you.
“sorry,” he says, recovering fast, flashing that easy grin. “didn’t realize i was being introduced to—”
to someone who looked this good, he wants to say. someone like you.
“someone with ears?” you cut in.
gojo’s mind backtracks for a split second before grin sharpens. “—someone this rude.”
“only rude when i’m annoyed.”
“so all the time?”
“only when people earn it.”
they stare at each other for half a second too long, something sparking, quick and bright and a little dangerous. choso’s girlfriend claps her hands once awkwardly. “okay, perfect, you two can fight later. y/n, drink?”
you nod, letting her pull you toward the kitchen again.
gojo stands there, a little awe-struck. he stares at the space you just occupied, mind still catching up to the present.
geto leans in, voice low. “three quality numbers, huh?”
gojo doesn’t answer. he’s still staring at where you disappeared into the crowd, like if he looks hard enough he can rewind the last thirty seconds and not sound like an idiot.
“…shut up,” he mutters finally, scrubbing a hand over his face.
your friend pours you a drink with a smirk. "so? thoughts?"
"the white-haired one's an asshole," you grumble.
she laughs immediately, bumping her shoulder into yours as she slides a drink across the counter. “gojo? he is, but like…a manageable one. he's actually really sweet. you get used to it.”
“i don’t plan to.”
“mm.” she hums into her cup, watching you over the rim like she knows something you don’t. “we’ll see.”
you take a sip, eyes flicking back out into the living room. unfortunately, the pest is already looking.
gojo doesn’t even pretend to be subtle about it. he’s half-turned toward the kitchen now, cup dangling forgotten in his hand, gaze locked on you and his lips twist into a small smile.
you narrow your eyes slightly.
he straightens instantly, looks away fast. suspiciously fast. for a guy who just spent ten minutes talking like he’s god’s gift to women, he suddenly looks like he’s been caught committing a crime.
you watch him for another second, unimpressed, then turn back to your drink.
“you’re staring,” your friend sing-songs under her breath.
“i’m not.”
“you literally are.”
“i’m observing,” you correct, taking another sip. “like a case study. frat boy in his natural habitat.”
she snorts. “and what have we learned so far?”
you glance over again, just in time to catch gojo pretending to be deeply invested in a conversation with geto, nodding way too seriously at something that definitely isn’t that interesting.
“he’s a fraud,” you say simply.
“ouch.”
“did you hear him? ‘three quality numbers’?” you mimic, lowering your voice into a lazy drawl. “who says that out loud, for fuck's sake."
"well, he didn't think you were listening."
“that’s the problem. he doesn’t think.”
as if summoned by your words gojo looks over again. this time when your eyes meet he freezes for half a beat before he forces himself to walk over, running a hand through his hair.
you sigh quietly. “here we go.”
he stops a step too close, like he misjudged the distance, then leans back awkwardly to compensate. “hey.”
you blink at him. “hi.”
there’s a long, long pause.
toji and geto watch from across the room, snickering.
gojo clears his throat. “so. uh.” he gestures vaguely between you and choso's girlfriend. “you’re… her friend.”
“incredible deduction,” you say flatly. “did you major in that or is it natural talent?”
your friend elbows you lightly. "y/n."
his mouth opens, then closes, before his grin flickers back, a little less steady this time. “you’re mean.”
“you’re observant,” you shoot back.
he shifts his weight. “so what’s your deal?”
you tilt your head. “my deal.”
“yeah, like—” he waves a hand, searching for words that don’t immediately make him sound stupid. “what you’re about.”
“i’m about not giving my number to guys who treat parties like a shopping spree.”
gojo’s ears go a little pink. “that’s— okay. that’s not—”
"oh, it's not?" you tilt your head, stare unimpressed. "cause swear that's what you were yelling about five minutes ago."
“…okay,” he says slowly, like he’s trying to rebuild a sentence from scattered lego pieces. “in my defense, i was not yelling at you specifically.”
you blink. “that’s worse.”
“no, wait—”
“you were yelling at the concept of women in general?”
“no,” he says faster, then winces at how that sounds. “i'm not like that."
you tilt your head slightly. “you introduced yourself like that.”
gojo opens his mouth, and nothing comes out. he closes again.
since when am i at a loss of words?
"you're very articulate," you say, taking a sip of your drink, severely unimpressed.
“i’m usually more articulate,” he says, and immediately hates how that sounds.
you give him that same, blank stare. "sure," you say, flat.
there’s a beat where his brain tries to catch up to his mouth, but they’ve clearly stopped coordinating. he tries again. “i just mean—i don’t usually—i’m not like...stuck on words.”
“you seem pretty stuck now.”
gojo exhales through his nose, dragging a hand through his hair again. you're still looking at him like that - all unimpressed and unfazed. like you don't care that he's satoru gojo.
it's a new feeling, and humiliatingly effective.
because you’re still looking at him like that.
“you’re just...you’re really hard to talk to.”
your expression doesn’t change, but something in your eyes sharpens. “that’s a you problem,” you say simply.
silence again.
he’s not used to silence like this. usually there’s someone filling it for him. laughing, reacting, leaning in. you just stand there, existing,
it makes him feel weirdly off-axis.
from somewhere behind you, a guy calls your name. “y/n! you coming to play?” the guy asks, nodding toward the living room where people are setting up some drinking game.
you glance at him, then back at your friend, who's curled up against choso's arm. “yeah,” you say, already stepping away from gojo like the conversation has naturally ended. “i’ll come.”
just like that, you're gone into the crowd. no look back at him.
“wait,” gojo says, too fast.
you pause briefly, look at him over your shoulder. “what?”
he opens his mouth and nothing comes out again.
for once, there’s no punchline ready. no smooth recovery. no stupid confidence parachute.
just him stupidly blanking. “uh,” he manages finally, then clears his throat, tries again. “nothing.”
you give a small shrug like he’s already been filed away as unimportant, and turn back to follow the group.
gojo stands there, arms limp at his sides.
geto strolls up beside him, sipping his drink. “that went well.”
“shut up,” gojo says automatically, but it’s weak.
geto glances toward the living room where you’ve already disappeared into the crowd. “she’s too pretty for you.”
"shut up," he repeats.
the rest of the party feels like slow motion. the music's still loud, people are still chattering, but his attention keeps snagging back in one direction.
you.
he keeps catching flashes of you between bodies. your laugh when someone says something stupid. the way you lean in when you talk, like you actually mean your words. the way you fix your hair, or how your tongue darts over your lips.
it’s irritating.
it’s worse than irritating.
it’s distracting.
a girl slides up to him sometime later, glittery eyes, thick fake lashes and a practiced tilt of the head. “hey,” she says, hand brushing his arm like it belongs there. “you’re gojo, right?”
“yeah,” he says automatically, still looking past her shoulder.
she leans in a little. “i’ve seen you around campus. you’re kind of hard to miss.”
“uh-huh,” he replies, eyes flicking again.
she laughs softly, clearly taking that as encouragement. “you wanna get out of here? it’s kinda loud in here.”
“maybe,” he says.
she blinks. “or we could just go now.”
“yeah, maybe.” he doesn’t mean to sound bored but you just walked past the kitchen again and someone said your name and you smiled and it did something annoying to his brain.
the girl follows his gaze this time, sees you. then looks back at him, slower now. “oh,” she says.
gojo doesn’t notice the change in her tone, he’s still half watching you across the room like he’s trying to figure out what you’re doing and why it looks like that matters. what guy you're talking to. who's making you smile like that.
“so that’s what this is,” she adds, voice flattening.
he finally looks at her properly. “what’s what?”
she lets out a small, offended laugh. “never mind.” then she scoffs, sharp and unimpressed, and turns on her heel. “weird,” she mutters as she walks off.
gojo stares after her for a second, confused, then immediately looks back for you again.
“dude,” toji calls from the kitchen counter, watching the whole thing like it’s entertainment. “what happened to three numbers? that chick was into you.”
“i didn’t—” gojo starts, “she wasn’t—”
“interested?” geto finishes lightly, leaning against the counter beside toji. “she was, until you spent the entire time ogling y/n like there was no other person in this room.”
gojo tries to laugh it off, but it comes out distracted, thin. his eyes flick again, instinctively, toward the living room, where you were moments ago, but you're gone now.
where'd she go?
his chest tightens with something he doesn’t name.
“you were staring at her like a lost dog,” geto adds, amused.
gojo finally tears his eyes away like it physically costs him something. “i wasn't staring.”
a beat.
toji just hums. “mm.”
"where's choso?" gojo says, rubbing a hand down the back of his neck. "haven't seen that guy for most of tonight."
"eh, i saw him talking to his girlfriend on the balcony a bit ago," toji says, pointing to the sliding back door.
"cool, cool," gojo mutters, pushing his way through the crowd to the back, where choso and his girlfriend are indeed standing, talking to a few guests. (well, choso's standing behind her, holding her hand, and she's animatedly chatting to the group).
she spots gojo and waves. “hey,” she says brightly. "what's up?"
“hey,” gojo replies, slower than usual.
choso glances up. “you good?”
gojo hesitates. “yeah. where’s y/n?”
choso's girlfriend blinks. "oh. she left, like, two minutes ago."
something in gojo’s expression shifts before he can stop it. “left?” he repeats.
“yeah,” she says, oblivious to the way his tone changed. “said she was tired. she had work early tomorrow or something.”
he looks past them again, instinctively, like maybe she’ll still be there if he just checks harder.
choso watches him for a second. “you didn’t notice?”
gojo scoffs lightly, too quick. “i noticed. i just thought she might've been talking to you guys, or something.”
choso shakes his head. "sorry."
gojo's head rushes. how could you leave without him talking to you more? he hand't even gotten your number. he didn't know anything about you.
"fuck," he grumbles, rolling his head back.
your friend stares at him, small smirk playing on her lips. "i'll tell her you're deeply concerned about where she's gone."
"no!" gojo says quickly. "i mean, erm. no, it's chill. i'll see her around."
she hums under her breath as gojo walks away, slumped in defeat.
"gone?" geto asks from inside.
"gone," gojo confirms, slumping back against an empty chair. "i'm so fucked."
"if it's any consolation, she wasn't into you," toji says, and gojo glares at him.
"that doesn't matter. i fumbled," the white-haired man complains, dropping his hand against the side of the couch.
geto smirks. “you didn’t fumble,” he says calmly. “you tripped, fell down a flight of stairs, and took out the railing on the way.”
toji snorts. “landed face first, too.”
“shut up,” gojo mutters, dragging both hands down his face. “i didn’t even get a chance to recover. she just left.”
“you had, like, an hour,” toji points out.
gojo sits up straighter now, shrugging toji's comment off. "i'll just see her again."
toji snorts. “and do what? give a powerpoint apology?”
“i don’t need a powerpoint,” gojo scoffs. “i’ll just talk to her. properly this time.”
geto’s smile is small, knowing. “and what makes you think she’ll give you that chance?”
gojo pauses then his mouth tilts, something sharper returning, something stubborn. “she will,” he says.
toji huffs. “based on?”
“because she didn’t ignore me,” gojo says slowly. “she could’ve. she didn’t.”
geto watches him, intrigued.
“she stayed,” gojo continues. “she argued. she kept talking. if she actually didn’t care, she would’ve just walked away way earlier.”
toji considers that. “…hm.”
gojo glances up, a little more confident now. “and she looked back.”
“once,” toji says.
“still counts.”
geto lets out a quiet laugh. “you’re building a whole thesis off crumbs.”
“it’s a good thesis,” gojo insists.
“it’s a delusion,” toji says.
“it’s optimism.”
“it’s desperation.”
gojo rolls his eyes. “you guys are so negative.”
he leans back again, arms spreading along the back of the couch, staring out at the party that suddenly feels way less interesting. “i’ll see her again,” he repeats, more to himself this time. "i have to."
toji glances at geto, then back at gojo, smirking. “yeah. you’re cooked.”
gojo doesn’t even argue this time. "i'm not fumbling again."
a very needy nerd!jo (or, gojo begs to cum all over you.) 18+!
exam season. that two week period where students cram, stress like hell, and typically substitute sleep with coffee.
for your boyfriend, biggest nerd on campus, satoru?
he gets needy.
clingy, never wanting to leave your side, and studying while curled in your lap. he whines when you pull your hand out of his hair and latches onto your waist when you try to stand up.
right now is one of those times, though satoru’s neediness seems more…concentrated to the horribly straining tent in his boxers.
maybe it’s because you’re wearing nothing but a skirt, sprawled out on his bed with a book in hand, pretending to read over a course module.
“please?” he asks softly, clasping your hands in his. “just—just a little. i’ll focus on my studying, i swear.”
you sigh, though a fond little smile etches onto your face. “jacking you off is gonna help you concentrate?”
“yes,” he says immediately, fixing his glasses. “immensely.”
and how can you say no to those pretty blue eyes?
so of course you take his aching cock out of his boxers, the tip an angry red and bubbling little beads of precum, and of course you start twisting your hand around the base, slowly dragging it up to the slit before shifting back down, watching satoru’s face pink, lips parting with little whines. eyes glued to your chest, which bounces slightly with each move of your arm.
he curls beside you and palms at your tits, mouth immediately suckling around one of your nipples, his other hand kneading and tugging at the soft flesh his lips can’t reach.
he moans against your skin when your pace on his cock increases, his eyes squeezing shut, tears wetting his pretty lashes.
“so good, please don’t stop,” he whines, glassy blue eyes looking up at you, his lips still pressed to your chest.
his head lolls back, eyes fluttering when you let spit drip down from your mouth onto his length, the wet sound of your fist wrapped around his cock filling the room.
“‘s helping you study?” you tease, and satoru nods, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.
“please, wanna cum on your tits,” he says, voice broken. “please. you’d look so pr—pretty with my cum all over you, please—“
you giggle, one hand combing through his hair, the other steady on his cock. “yeah?”
“please,” he splutters, lapping circles around your nipples and rolling them between his teeth. “i—i’m close—“
“okay, toru, cause you asked so nicely,” you murmur, and he moans in relief, sitting up on his knees and pumping his cock once, twice, squeezing tight, and he’s cumming with his head back, body tensed up, thick spurts of it shooting across your chest, your face.
you hold out your tongue, catching a strand of it, and his body heaves with tension, watching his release trickle down the curve of your chest, down your cheeks.
you pout. “satoru, look at the mess you made.”
“i’m sorry,” he breathes, hand shaking slightly over his cock, still throbbing from his climax. “i’m—i’m sorry, i—“
“you gonna clean this up?” you ask, head tilting slightly. “like the good boy you are?”
it doesn’t take much to get satoru to fold for you. a whispered ‘good boy’ paired with your sultry eyes and he’s doing anything you ask.
you watch him with a satisfied smirk as he licks his cum up off your body, whimpering.
who has two floppy ears and a cute little tail? Suguru Geto, apparently!
pairing: bunny!Geto x f!Reader
content: mdni, fluff and smut, au where Geto never defected, taking care of Geto after a curse temporarily transforms him into a rabbit, teasing, multiple povs, coworker to pet to lover, Geto HATES being a bunny, pining, petting, cuddling, domestic fluff, falling in love, smidges of angst, injury, hurt/comfort, gojo being a nuisance and our favorite matchmaker, eventual smut (after he transforms back to his normal body), oral (f! receiving), back shots, unprotected piv sex, creampie, breeding kink, Geto is borderline OBSESSED
art by @aransmind + divider by @dollywons
"You got a bunny?" You giggled, bending down to get a better look at the small ball of fuzz sitting on Shoko's desk. Tufts of long black fur stuck out, beady eyes staring back at you through its mane when you squinted at it.
You never knew bunnies could glare.
Gojo laughed behind you, a big hand clamping down on your shoulder once you stood back up as he leaned in to hum in your ear. His infinity was down for once, but he still seemed a little jittery, his foot impatiently bouncing on the tile. "Not quite."
"Then whose is it?" You tilted your head to the side, one corner of your mouth curling up trying to suppress your laugh that someone actually brought one here. One of the students? Haibara? Nanami?
Its fur was obviously well-maintained, maybe the pieces of his emo little heart leftover from high school convinced him to purchase his own stoic companion.
"Yours."
"Yeah, right," You scoffed at him, rolling your eyes at the realization he seriously expected you to take this thing home and shrugging his hand back off of you. "If you think I'm babysitting whatever animal you-"
"You haven't even let me explain," Gojo whined, tugging at your sleeve.
Between missions and the stacks of paperwork he already pushed off on you, there was no fucking way you were taking care of another one of his problems.
Or pet, in this case.
"No."
"Come on, please," He purred, pitching his voice down and skimming his fingertips over your back in an attempt to butter you up.
"Ask Suguru to take care of it," You sighed, glancing back to where the rabbit hadn't moved, perched on the edge and sitting oddly still, almost observant.
"I can't," He whined.
"Why not?"
"That's Suguru."
You blinked up at him. Then at the bunny. Then back to him. You heard his words, but they weren't setting in, all the synapses in your brain refusing to fire to give them any meaning.
"You named that Suguru?" Your eyebrow shot up, bottom lip still pushed out in a pout.
It wasn't like you were friends with Geto, or more than just coworkers or acquaintances, but you sincerely doubted he would be pleased at the tiny creature in front of you sharing his namesake. Even it didn't seem happy, a harsh thump of his back foot against the table as if he was making a point of his annoyance.
You'd been the subject of Gojo's jokes before, used to the punchlines pointed at you. But this was a new one.
"Suguru, help me out here," He huffed, talking to the bunny. Who actually nodded.
God, you didn't get paid nearly enough for this.
"I swear if this is another joke-" You mumbled, leaning down to get a better look. The bunny, Suguru, was watching you back just as intently, beady eyes staring straight into yours.
"I'm not joking," Gojo protested, as if offended by the thought alone.
You stuck out a finger, wondering if it'd be rude to pet him or even just poke one of his paws, struggling to accept what you were seeing. But the second your finger got close enough to his face, he nipped you.
"Hey, wait-" His warning was a little late when Geto's freshly-sharpened incisors had already sunk into the pad of your finger.
"He bit me," You frowned, pulling your hand back and holding it close to your chest, little red droplets pooling over the broken skin.
"You stuck your finger in front of his mouth," Gojo said it like it should be obvious. "It's, like, an instinct or something."
"How am I supposed to know that?" You blinked, wiping away the blood on your shirt with a disgusted huff.
Suguru stomped his back paw again, irritated with one or maybe both of you for bickering while he was stuck like that.
"What even happened?" You grumbled, muscles pulled tight in your jaw.
"Dunno," Gojo shrugged, readjusting the blindfold over his eyes and pulling it up just enough to peek again at his best friend on the table. "He swallowed the curse one second, and the next, poof!"
He talked with his hands, exaggerating the motion and cocking his head to the side.
"Poof?" You repeated, barely holding in your eye roll.
"Shoko says he should be back to normal in a few days," Gojo just kept on going, ignoring your strained stare. He did pause though, tilting his head from side to side sheepishly. "Or a few weeks."
You half-expected Geto to pop out from the hallway, a wry smile on his face and that annoying know-it-all crinkle of his eyes. Leaning against the doorframe murmuring something about you falling for another one of Gojo's tricks again.
Sure, they'd grown up from the teenagers who used to tease you at every sister school exchange, but ever since you transferred and started working with them as adults, you'd been swept up in their bullshit enough times that you were having trouble shaking your suspicions.
"So you want me to take care of a bunny, I mean, Suguru for weeks? While you do what, exactly?" You grimaced when you corrected yourself, looking back at the door that the real Geto still hadn't walked through.
Once upon a lifetime ago, you actually had a crush on him, doodled his name in notebooks and dreamed about confessing your feelings in some cheesy way. But you'd grown up too, enough to recognize that even as adults, he paid much attention to you outside of polite 'hello's and whatever schemes Gojo roped him into.
"Who do you think has to handle his missions now?" Gojo hummed, ruffling your hair before you could smack his hand away, a cocky smile still on his face.
Unbothered to pick up the slack from his best friend's situation.
You weren't sure what was worse.
Being the one to handle Geto's workload or taking on the workload of handling him.
"I might need you to cover some of his classes too," Gojo added.
"Gojo," You groaned, having a hard time glancing over at the bunny astutely observing your conversation for more than a few seconds at a time.
"Just if, you know, he's like that for more than a week," Gojo gestured back again, like the black ball of fur could speak for itself.
There was no way it'd last that long.
Or you told yourself as much, snagging the pet carrier from the passenger seat of your car and slamming the door shut behind you as you glanced up at your apartment.
You were pretty sure Geto shared your sentiment judging by the faintly audible little grunts from inside the plastic cage, the sound of his nails scratching against the sides.
Oddly enough, you were nervous.
Stomach hurting and twisting with each step you took forward, unable to shake your discomfort and anxiety. He'd never been to your apartment under normal circumstances. Never seemed to see you as anything other than a semi-competent coworker to help Gojo tease.
The latter had been to your place before.
A few times, actually.
Finding excuses to show up at weird hours on his day off, sometimes bringing souvenirs from his missions or just to bother you when he was bored and Geto didn't want to hang out with him.
At least it meant he knew your address, boxes waiting for you by the door, the pet supplies Gojo mentioned having delivered before you left stacked up.
You had to nudge them over with your feet to have enough room to unlock the door and push it open.
"So, uh, this is my place," You cleared your throat, setting the cage down on the floor. Geto was already scratching at the door of it, little claws scraping over the metal bars.
You glanced around your very much not animal-proofed apartment, the dishes still left in the sink and the blanket wrinkled on the couch from where you'd stayed up late watching tv the night before.
"Sorry, I, um, guess I should set up your stuff first," You sighed, opening the door again to start dragging all the boxes back in and tearing them open. Settling onto the floor next to him, legs crossed as you started to take out the pen you'd have to put together, the bags of hay and pet bowls before tugging out toy after toy.
You wondered if Gojo just ordered express-delivery for anything marked bunny in the pet section.
"Sorry," You absentmindedly apologized again to Geto, not even sure what you were saying sorry for. Maybe for the fact he was stuck with you in the first place?
Was it weird to talk to him like that? As if he'd really be able to respond?
You thought it'd be weirder to act like it wasn't still him, to ignore the cues he was still trying to send.
He was shaking his head no inside the cage, displeased with your decision.
"You want out now?" You asked, chewing on the inside of your cheek as his head bobbed back up. You glanced around your place again before hesitantly reaching for the latch to unlock it. "Promise you won't like, chew on any wires or anything?"
You were pretty sure he was internally rolling his eyes at you.
Feeling even more like an idiot, you unlatched it, holding it open so he could hop out. He was sniffing the air, nose twitching. You couldn't tell if it was good or bad.
Whatever he decided, he was quick to sprint away, disappearing around the corner to assess the rest of his new surroundings, where he'd be living for the time being.
You tried not to let the discomfort stew too much, tried to dismiss how nervous you felt at having him here too, distracting yourself with putting together the pen and moving all your furniture to fit it against the wall, filling up a bowls with water and setting up a box with hay for him.
Just throwing in the chew toys with the rest of the stuff made you feel weird, icky treating him like he was your new pet.
Would he think it was pity rather than sympathy if you tried to express that to him? Or would he hate both?
You frowned, breaking down the last of the boxes and tossing them in the trash while you glanced around the floor, searching for a flash of black anywhere.
"Geto? Um, hey, I've got everything set up now?" You called out, peeking into the kitchen and not spotting him there either.
You'd daydreamed a few times about Suguru Geto being in your bedroom.
You just hadn't imagined he'd be chewing up your favorite fucking shoes.
"What the fuck?" You huffed, going to pick him up just for him to scamper away at the last second, growling at you. "You're buying me a new pair, asshole."
That little prick.
It wasn't like you did this to him. Like you even wanted him here.
"We can just fucking pretend none of this ever happened once it's over, okay?" You gritted your teeth, picking up your now-wrecked shoes and walking over to the small trash can in your connected bathroom. "That's what you want, right?"
The black ball of fuzz in front of you made a sound. What exactly it was, you didn't know. Didn't fucking care. But you were pretty sure it was as close as he could get to agreeing.
"Fine then," You huffed, chucking the once beloved pair in the trash can and fixing your stare back in the petulant beast by your feet. Acting out as if you weren't doing him a fucking favor to begin with.
But it was hard for the anger to hold when you were looking at the new him in front of you. Knowing it was probably torture to be trapped in something so small, so helpless he had to rely on a coworker he barely knew to take care of him.
Your frown softened, letting out a soft sigh as the lid for the trash can shut again.
"Once you're you, we can just go back to how it was before. We won't even have to talk again."
This was perhaps the most humiliating week of his life.
Suguru Geto was a man who could stomach almost anything. He had to. Forced to swallow curses, bite back the bile in his throat and learn to live with the taste of it.
But really, hay?
All he could fucking eat was hay? A piece of romaine lettuce? A few carrots? Blueberries if he was lucky?
The taste was fine, good even, to his changed taste buds and the way his brain was currently rewired, but you feeding it to him? Biting your lip and frowning while your fingers held it out for him to take? Like you felt sorry for him?
He hated it.
Hated being trapped here. The stupid pen where you put chew toys for him, the brush you tried to use to comb his fur no matter how many times he managed to wiggle free from your grip, how quickly you bunny-proofed the place, closing doors and putting up gates to keep him contained to the living room and your bedroom. Although, you kept your closet shut now after he'd taken out his frustrations on your shoes in a moment of weakness.
The first few days consisted of feeble attempts at communication, your face scrunching up when you tried to get him to blink once for yes and twice for no before you realized that was stupid. Then came the papers, your almost illegible scrawl in big letters to ask him if the food was okay, if he needed anything, your pout returning when he kept thumping over and over again on the one marked no.
He didn't know if he should be annoyed or appreciative when you returned home from a mission the next day with those push-to-talk buttons people supposedly trained their pets with.
The rational part of him understood how hard you were trying to help.
It didn't make the idea you were trying to tame him feel any less dehumanizing, training him like he really was your pet.
Forced cohabitation was bad enough. He wished you'd just act like he wasn't there. Leave him to eat the hay and watch the tv you never seemed to turn off and wait it out until he got his body back.
You even tried to put him in a fucking harness one afternoon when you came home earlier, cooing softly about taking him outside to get some sun and go on a walk. You gave up after he accidentally bit you when your hand got too close to his face while he squirmed his way out of it.
"Hey, um, Geto?" You called from the bedroom, voice muffled despite the open door.
His head snapped up to the sound automatically, nose twitching. That was another thing, how easily his prey instincts took control at the first hint of danger, reduced to feeling even more like a trapped animal by his own body.
He still found himself staring at you though.
You were dressed up.
Not in your usual work uniform or one of the casual outfits he'd seen you in whenever you tagged along with Satoru somewhere, but in a dark little dress and heels.
"I'm heading out for a few hours, um, sorry to leave you by yourself again," You apologized, when really all he was thinking was thank fucking god for some peace. "Do, uh, you want the tv on or-?"
Suguru thumped his back foot, the best he could do for a no without going through the series of questions that'd inevitably come if he showed an ounce of interest in those dumb buttons.
"Oh, okay," You nodded, jaw tensing as your eyes swept back over the room, looking for something. You didn't find it, returning back to your room and coming out a few minutes later with a purse hooked over your elbow. "Well, um, I'll be back in a bit."
Suguru watched the door shut behind you.
The silence was strange, the quiet he used to enjoy back in his own home drowning him here. Time took longer to pass, no phone or books or movies to distract him.
He missed reading. Missed reclining in his own bed, missed warm baths and washing his hair.
He didn't miss you.
Okay, that was sort of a lie.
Your company was comforting, in a strangling sort of way, weighing down on his conscience in your absence. All his needs were met. Food, water, entertainment. But he was still bored without you.
A bizarre itch that his hind legs couldn't scratch, one he couldn't run from, pacing pointless circles, paws leaving tracks on your soft bedroom rug.
Your scent was everywhere, on every surface, clinging to the clothes you'd left on the floor in your rush to get ready.
He was thankful you weren't here to see him burying his nose into a dress you discarded in a pile next to your half-empty laundry basket, sniffing and rubbing his cheeks and chin over it. Suguru didn't even fully understand why - one of those stupid instinctual urges that he couldn't resist.
"Geto?"
Shit.
He scurried back out to the living room before you made it past the couch, your heels already kicked off as you tossed your purse on the coffee table. You reached up to cover your mouth while you yawned, steps wobbling a little, like you'd been out drinking. He noticed it then - how the hem of your dress was rolled up on your thighs, clinging to the skin, eyes glossed over and tired.
Drinking? Or a date?
He didn't think you had a boyfriend.
Satoru would've known, would've pestered you about it or complained to him about you having a social life outside of work. He'd even tried to set the two of you up a few times, although Suguru usually shot down the idea. He'd never been that interested in having a real relationship with anyone - assumed you were the same way. But that didn't mean you couldn't hook up, have casual flings on your nights off.
It bothered Suguru.
Much more than he cared to confess.
He stared while you half-collapsed on the couch, curling up on your side and reaching for the remote on the table to turn the TV on before sighing and shutting it back off. Rolling over onto your back to just blink at the ceiling overhead.
He was tempted to actually use the buttons for once, to smack the one that said where to see if you'd actually tell him how you spent your night away from him.
To convince himself that the only reason he was so irritated was the fact that you could leave and he couldn't.
"Hey," You murmured, turning your head to glance over at him.
Suguru wasn't sure what he'd say even if could reply.
Just staring at you when you sighed again, sitting back up and shuffling off the couch, disappearing down the hall into your bedroom.
Usually, you'd stick around, hang out in the living room and kitchen, absentmindedly talking to him while you went about your evenings. He waited for you to come back out, eyeing the empty spot where you'd just been.
You didn't come back out though, no soft hum of your voice talking to yourself or the quiet pitter patter of the shower running either.
And yeah, he hated to hop, but he was hesitantly hopping through the hall until he reached your cracked open door, poking his head through and scanning the room for you.
You had changed into a tiny pair of shorts, a loose t-shirt, sprawled out in your bed and reading with your head propped up on a pillow.
It was easy to imagine you spending your nights like this.
An uncomfortable feeling was settling in his stomach, mouth dry at feeling like an intruder, an interloper in your home.
You sensed him there, maybe heading the quiet creak of the door, glancing over your shoulder.
He expected a frown. Or even just a blank expression, something polite.
But you smiled instead, one corner of your mouth barely curling up, features softening. Warm. As if you were actually happy to see him.
"Bored?" You asked, tilting your head to the side. Suguru took a small step closer, nudging the door open further. Your smile grew at the affirmation. "Want up here?"
He bobbed his head just once. The most his pride would allow. You were quick to hop off the bed, scooping his off the floor and plopping him down on the bed.
Your touch was delicate, careful. Hands that held him like he was something precious, or breakable.
It dawned on him that it wasn't because he was. That it wasn't because you were looking down at him. But because you respected him enough to care he was comfortable.
The realization didn't help how fast his new heart was beating.
You flopped back down next to him, holding out your book and flipping back to the page you left off on.
"Satoru said you like to read," You commented, eyes on the words ahead rather than him. It was true, but for some stupid reason, he was stuck on the fact you could so casually said Satoru, when he usually only ever heard you use Gojo in front of him. The only time he ever heard you say Suguru was when you thought he wasn't there, only overheard in your conversations with Satoru as if he was a frequent topic of conversation.
He never thought he'd want to know what you used to talk about before as badly as he did now.
He tried to make a humming sound, to actually reply to you for once, wondering if you'd smile again.
You did.
"I can, uh, read out loud if you want? Or pick up some audiobooks for you to listen to while I'm on missions?" You offered.
He nodded again, taking a small hop next to you, his fur brushing against your skin as he laid out next to you, nose twitching at the sweet scent of your perfume. Just your perfume.
And secretly?
Suguru was glad you didn't smell like someone else.
The you from a few weeks ago wouldn't have believed it.
Somehow, someway, Suguru Geto had slowly started to settle into his role of a spoiled house pet. Your spoiled house pet.
He'd wait near the door for you to get back, although, your started to cut a few corners to get out of missions as soon as possible, wrapping up lessons early and sending the students for treats or shopping to give them a break so you could return to him faster. You'd set up audiobooks for him to listen to, buying a speaker just for him to be able to hear it properly and connecting it to an old tablet so he could listen during the day. He'd been more willing to communicate, letting you carry him up to the TV to pick out shows and movies to watch together or picking out what fruits he wanted from the fridge.
It was nice to not be alone.
You guessed he felt the same.
Sniffing at your clothes, his nose twitching when he picked up on the faint scent of Gojo clinging to your shirt just to rub his chin over it. Sitting on your lap and letting you stroke his soft fur while he made a quiet sort of purr to let you know he was content.
He'd even started letting you brush him without protest, let you check his sharp little teeth poking out, not that you really knew what you were looking for despite how many articles you read and videos about bunny dental care you watched.
"Pretty boy," You murmured, scratching behind his ears how you knew he liked.
It was easy to forget sometimes that your precious pet was really a fully-grown man and your former coworker.
What would happen when he transformed back? Or what if he didn't?
You were pretty sure he had to. An inevitability.
Each day brought new doubts, concerns that were getting harder to hide when you woke up and he was still this furry version of him.
You couldn't read his mind. But you suspected he'd gotten used to it the same way you'd gotten used to him.
Started looking forward to you coming home in the evenings while you spent your days thinking about being curled up on the couch with him, his comforting weight on your chest while he let you pet him.
Even with your new routine, you were still painfully aware your rabbit wasn't one.
"Long day, huh?" You muttered, yawning as you continued to stroke his fur. "Me too."
Gojo had left on some mission last night, leaving you to juggle his students and Geto's, dragging them with you to take care of lower grade curses across the city before returning them to the school, scuffed up and dirt-stained.
There was a knock at the door, loud enough you jumped, and Geto did too. Little nails scratched at the bare skin of your thighs below your shorts, scurrying off your lap to your side. You swallowed hard, glancing down at him before reluctantly standing up.
"Probably just food," You mumbled, picking up a slice of the apple you'd cut up for him earlier, holding it out for him to nibble on before you walked over to answer the door and get your own dinner for the night.
Technically it was.
It was just in the hands of a white-haired imbecile.
"How's my favorite two people, er, friends?" Gojo corrected himself, stepping inside and past you before you could stop him. He half-tossed over on your coffee table, squatting down to look at his best friend turned bunny.
"You could've called," You frowned, sighing as you shut the door behind him. "Or texted."
The disruption made you nervous. Convinced you that it was some sign of change, that for all you knew, it'd go back to before, getting the cold shoulder from a fucking rabbit.
"Can't I just check in on you two?" Gojo whined, reaching out like he was about to pick Suguru up by the scruff of his neck.
"Don't grab him like that, it could hurt him," You huffed, stomping over just for infinity to stop you before you could pull him back.
"Fine, fine," He groaned, and you didn't need to see his eyes to know he was rolling them under the blindfold. "So protective."
"Whatever."
Suguru stomped, letting out a soft little growl at how close Gojo was. But you weren't sure what annoyed him more - Gojo's proximity to you or him.
"You got anything sweet?" Gojo didn't let the topic linger, distracting you as he started pushed aside the plate with apples and pulled out your to-go box, lips curling down at its contents.
"I dunno," You shrugged. "I'll look in the kitchen."
You ended up scrounging through most of the shelves in your pantry and half your fridge before you finally found an ice cream bar in the back of your freezer, sighing as you went to return to the living room.
But you paused before you entered at the sound of Gojo still talking, holding Suguru up in the air while he tried to kick his paws and free himself. You almost giggled at the sight, already thinking all the different ways Suguru would surely find to get him back for it later.
"I bet you don't even wanna go back to normal, huh?" Gojo teased, cocking his head to the side while Suguru just let out another little bunny growl at him.
"Hey," You announced your presence, barely keeping the grin off your face as you stepped inside and Gojo quickly returned Suguru to the couch, attempting to look innocent.
Suguru was quick to hop back in your lap the second you sat down as you handed the ice cream bar over to Gojo, despite the fact it felt a bit like rewarding a baby for bad behavior. You grabbed another apple slice to make up to Suguru for it, automatically smiling when he started eating it.
"He lets you feed him?"
For the first time in the past few weeks, the idea of what came next didn't feel quite so scary. That it didn't have to be awkward or unfamiliar.
It wasn't so insane to think you weren't just coworkers or awkward acquaintances anymore. Things didn't have to be weird when this was over, or you'd have to go back to pretending you didn't notice him in every room you were in together.
Still though, you couldn't shake the small part of you that hoped for something more.
Where were you?
You'd shown up late a few times, but only ever an hour or two. Suguru was too short to see the clock on the stove, but he'd watched the sky shift outside from the fading pink of sunset to pitch black, with only the glow from the tv and the tiny lamp you'd forgotten to turn off in your bedroom to cut through the dark of your apartment.
The show you switched on for him earlier shut off at the end of the season, stuck on the same loading screen waiting for someone to press a button on the remote. Which, unfortunately, you'd left on the kitchen counter in your rush getting ready this morning, just out of his jumping height if he even wanted to try.
He'd been a little annoyed at first. He knew you'd feel bad about it when you got back, probably pick him up and apologize with a cute pout, nuzzling him against your chest or cuddling on the couch to make it up to him. He just wanted you to show up already so you could. Absentmindedly stomping his foot waiting for the click of the key in the lock, for you to shuffle through after the door swung open.
But it didn't come.
It didn't help that ten minutes felt more like an hour in this body. That with no way to measure time other than the episodes auto-playing and changing daylight from the window, the seconds stretched out, the hours dragged on until it felt more like days since he'd last seen you.
He tried to remember what you were rambling about this morning, if you mentioned anything about being late. But nothing stood out. You were teaching his students today, then a mission, right?
You mentioned that Nanami was supposed to come along, so surely, between the two of you, you could take care of even a special grade if you had to.
Or maybe you had, and you were out getting drinks with him. Maybe you were in the backseat of his car, letting him undress you and pull you onto his lap. Fiddling with his belt or running your fingers through his short hair-
The lock flipped.
Suguru had already made himself mad though, stomping his back feet before you even pushed the door open, uneven footsteps stumbling through. Haughty as he held his little bunny head up high, planning on giving you the silent treatment until he heard your shaky breathing.
His heart was beating too fast, blood roaring in his ears frozen in place listening to the slam of the door behind you, your footsteps pausing as you leaned against it, holding your side with one hand.
"Shit, Suguru, sorry," You mumbled, your voice weak. "Just, fuck, give me a few minutes."
Your body was shaking, from adrenaline or anxiety, taking uneasy steps forward and bracing yourself on the couch once you were close enough.
He wished he could see you clearer, all the wrong colors and the slightly blurrier bunny vision he was confined by made it hard to tell how hurt you were, how much blood was on your already dark clothes other than what had seeped through to stain your hands.
"It's not that bad," You said it like you weren't wincing, choking down the lump in your throat as you walked towards the bathroom. Suguru couldn't do anything except follow. Couldn't steady you, couldn't hold your hand or help you sit and clean up your wounds the way he wanted to.
Shit. Why the fuck hadn't you gone to Shoko?
Why hadn't Nanami dragged you back to her?
Suguru would've.
It slipped his mind that you weren't as strong as him. That you didn't have RCT. Watching you swallow the pain, forcing yourself to keep moving until you were shoving the door to the bathroom open, eyes glazed over and exhausted as you gripped the counter hard and rumbled through the cabinets for a first aid kit.
Half-collapsing on the closed lid of the toilet seat and rummaging through for gauze to press down on the wound through the torn fabric of your shirt.
It was almost funny, he thought Gojo was full of shit before. Of course, he wanted to turn back, of course he wanted everything to be normal again.
But his best friend knew him better. Was right for once.
He hadn't wanted that - he liked being with you, liked this limbo of long days spent in the comfort of your home and nights spent in your bed.
Suguru liked you.
It just hadn't struck him until now, when he was ready to throw all of that away to be able to help.
He needed his body back.
Needed to do anything other than watch every excruciating wince and flinch as you wiped it clean. You made a small noise when you went to pull off your ripped and blood-stained shirt, balling it up and throwing it in the sink to soak so you could examine the slash across your side better.
"It looks worse than it is," You spoke so quietly it was hard for him to hear. Trying to comfort him when he should be comforting you.
He should be carrying you to Shoko, cradling you against his chest and wiping away the tears brimming at your lashes.
You wiped them yourself though, swiping with the back of your hand just to leave a streak of blood across your cheek.
"I'll see Shoko in the morning," You excused, steadying your voice as you went through each step. Popping a few painkillers before disinfecting it, struggling to patch it up, hands shaking through unsteady stitches before you finished bandaging it up.
You didn't look at him.
Suguru wanted to know what you were thinking.
He had to make himself hop himself forward, rubbing his head around your ankles to forced your attention down to him.
"Hey," You muttered, balling up the plastic wrapping of the bandaid and tossing it in the trash can. "You don't have to feel bad. I'm okay."
You weren't that convincing when you couldn't even bend over to pick him up or pet him.
He stayed by your feet while you cleaned up the first aid, filling up the sink to soak your shirt before you walked back to your bedroom, sitting on the edge of the bed and preemptively wincing at the thought of finishing changing. Suguru pulled at your shoelaces to untie them for you, loathing just how little he could do to help.
You laughed, something short, sweet, leaning over to pull your shoes off, carefully lifting him up and placing him on the bed. Even the simple movement seemed to hurt, your face scrunching up as you sucked in another breath.
"Thanks, Suguru," You sighed leaning over to press a kiss to his forehead.
He needed you to kiss him again - the real him.
You felt him first.
Someone's arm was wrapped around you, your cheek pressed against something firm and warm, smooth skin and hard muscles practically suffocating you. The blanket was still pulled up around your, your limbs tangled in the fabric while the weight of him kept you there.
Him sleeping on top of you was fine when he was like, eight pounds. He weighed a lot fucking more as a human.
Blinking back surprise, trying to squirm free just for Suguru to grumble something incoherent in his sleep and hold you tighter.
"Sugu, shit, Geto," You groaned as you corrected yourself, managing to pull your arms free to start pushing him off. Your side still hurt from yesterday, a dull throb that ached with every movement.
He just readjusted instead, moving down to nuzzle his head back into your neck, long dark hair splayed out and tickling your face, still too asleep to realize he wasn't a small bunny anymore.
"You're heavy," You complained, and he stirred, his body going stiff the second it hit him why.
"Fuck."
His voice was hoarse and raw, like it hurt to use. It took him a second to start moving, every motion slow, sluggish while he untangled himself from you. You tried not to stare, sitting up in your bed while he stood, but your eyes had a mind of their own, raking over his body to realize he was very much naked.
You made a small noise, immediately looking away and throwing the blanket at him to cover up.
"Um, okay, well, I'm, uh, gonna call Gojo so he can get you some clothes," You rambled, covering your eyes with one hand and fumbling for your phone where you could've sworn you left it on the nightstand before you fell asleep.
A warm hand brushed against yours, goosebumps going up your arm as sturdy fingers skimmed over your skin. It took you a painfully long second to realized he was holding your phone out for you to take.
"Thanks," You choked out, grabbing it and crawling out the other side of the bed so you wouldn't accidentally bump into him. "You can just, uh, use my bathroom to shower or take a bath or whatever."
You were scurrying out before he could reply clutching your phone like a shield to save you from the sheer awkwardness.
In your hurry, you hadn't realized you'd torn your sloppy stitches until you felt something damp through your shirt as you slammed the door behind you and started frantically thumbing through your contacts for Satoru.
"Shit," You muttered, hitting the call button and tucking it between your ear and shoulder and hurrying to the other bathroom to clean it back up, choking down a few more pain killers dry as the phone rang.
"Good morning, princess," An annoyingly chipper voice answered right as you perched yourself on the edge of the bathroom counter.
"I need you to come over," You cut straight to the point, hoping he didn't hear the tremble to your voice when you pressed down on your wound with a fresh piece of gauze. "Suguru's back to normal. And, um, naked."
"I'd never say no to you, but a threesome at nine in the morning is a little early, baby."
"Please just bring him some clothes, idiot," You gritted your teeth, bracing yourself as you disinfected it again.
You really just needed to go see Shoko, but you wanted to make sure Suguru was fine first.
"So no-"
"I'm hanging up now, be here in the next five minutes before I have to maim you," You warned, ending the call before he could say head.
Your side fucking hurt, grinding your molars just replaying the memory of that stupid curse catching you off guard after you thought you killed it.
Nanami had tried to convince you to call Shoko, but it was her night off, and she was out on some date. You didn't want to drag her away unless you were actually actively dying.
Although, you might need to interrupt her morning after now.
There was a sharp knock on the bathroom door, and you forced yourself back on your feet.
Gojo probably fucking teleported straight into your living room.
You glanced around the bathroom, pulling a bathrobe off the door and wrapping it around yourself, tying a bow around the waist.
But when you swung the door open, Suguru was standing there, sculpted chest on display, one of your towels slung low on his hips and his hair damp and long.
Your mouth fell open, but you couldn't find the words when your eyes met his.
His face was pulled tight, jaw clenched as his dark eyes assessed you.
Your heart sank.
Punctured and peppered with holes, disappointment flooding in and drowning you with just a single stern expression from him.
Before you could linger on it, before he could really shove your head under, the energy in the room shifted, and Gojo popped in behind him.
"Sup, Suguru?" He casually greeted, slapping a hand on his shoulder.
Geto twisted around to scowl at his best friend. Gojo just chuckled, pushing the change of clothes he'd brought against his chest before glancing over at you.
"Cute bed head," Gojo commented, stepping around his friend to ruffle your mused hair.
"Shut up," You huffed, smacking his fingers away.
Suguru slotted himself between you before Gojo could do it again.
"She's hurt," Suguru spoke slowly, still frowning. "Take her to Shoko."
"God, you're both so bossy this morning," Gojo complained, grabbing your wrist and pulling you to him, peeking out from beneath his blindfold to squint at you. "How bad is it?"
"I can drive myself," You grumbled, cutting a glare at Suguru.
Really? You'd taken care of him for a month and the first thing he did was rat you out to Gojo?
"Whatever, I'll just take you," Gojo shrugged, slipping his blindfold back down and tugging you closer so you could teleport together.
You were staring at Suguru though.
Forced to look up at him now, all the softness gone, replaced by sharp lines and harsh edges. You didn't know what sort of face you were making, didn't want to when you were sure it was probably tinged with hurt or worse, longing. Caught somewhere between devastation and desire when you couldn't tell what new box he'd put you in now, or if he'd just returned you to the one you'd been stuck in before, barely more than coworkers.
That was what you promised him, right?
What you kidded yourself into thinking wouldn't be hard, no matter how much you liked his presence, how much you convince yourself there was some silent connection you shared.
You couldn't read his face anymore.
And then it was gone, replaced by trees, standing outside of the campus. Gojo was digging his phone out to text Shoko for you.
"Want me to carry you in?" He offered, shoving his hands back in his pockets to pull out loose candy and toss it in his mouth.
"No," You grimaced. "It's fine."
You could take care of yourself.
You'd been perfectly okay on your own before.
It was just a little hard to pretend it was the same when Ijichi gave you a ride home a couple hours later, returning to a quiet apartment with no one to greet you.
Stepping over a few bunny toys left out the day before, walking around empty rooms, starkly aware of just how alone you were.
Even the days felt longer, the silence louder, stretching out and surrounding you.
And yeah, you were still fine, but you ended up taking more missions just to fill the time, to give you an excuse not to return back to your room. Not to the point of really exhausting yourself, but enough that you wouldn't have to think. You avoided stepping foot back on campus, no matter how many times Gojo invited you to join his lesson plans, only going to see Shoko when absolutely necessary.
It wasn't that you didn't want to see Suguru, although it was part of it.
You just didn't know if you'd be able to keep your word if you did.
He probably just wanted to forget.
Didn't want to be dragged back to how it felt to be so small if he saw you.
The first time you bumped into him was when he was in the middle of arguing with Nanami in the latter's office, arms folded across his chest and that casually cold stare still on his face while they bickered about something.
"Um, sorry, I needed your signature on some stuff, Kento," You interrupted, forcing yourself to focus on your blond colleague as he sighed as pushed his goggles back up his nose.
"Sure."
You felt Suguru's eyes sticking to your back as you walked away.
There was a shoebox waiting for you when you got home that night, a brand new pair of shoes to replace the ones he destroyed.
You guessed it was just his way of upholding your deal.
The first time you talked to him was a couple weeks later when him and Gojo made an appearance in Shoko's office the second she stepped out after treating you.
"Hey," He spoke first, brows knitted together, searching your face for something.
"Hi," You echoed back, avoiding his sharp gaze in favor of the floor, the desk, anything.
"You're hurt?" His once silky voice still sounded raw, too low, not quite as smooth as it used to be.
"Not anymore," You shook your head.
"You shouldn't push yourself so hard," He frowned again, stepping closer. You hopped off the table you were sitting on, brushing past his broad chest to get by.
"Thanks for the concern," You muttered.
Obligatory concern wasn't of any interest to you. Whatever debt he might feel towards you, you didn't care to cash in. But a clean slate felt impossible when he'd stationed himself in every corner of your mind.
You'd started considering transferring back to Kyoto, started wondering if it was even worth staying when you just felt so weird about everything now.
Stopping a pet stores on the way home, scooping up bunnies and playing with cats and debating on if you really needed a companion. Or maybe just a date.
You'd been lounging on your couch and swiping through apps for the latter when someone started pounding impatiently on your door.
"You look like you could use a drink."
It was a stupid idea, every one Gojo had was, but you begrudgingly accepted, getting changed into a short dress and letting him drag you down the stairs to your car. He pretended to be a gentleman enough to open the driver's door for you before proceeding to be the passenger princess he actually was, sliding into the shotgun seat and flipping the radio stations on the drive to the bar.
You should've known better.
Because who else would be waiting in a booth for you when you got there?
Really, you should've left.
But you stayed, letting Gojo tug you over to join his best friend, ordering drinks and shots, careful to only drink enough for the warmth to set in, to feel the fuzz in your chest but not get too tipsy that you wouldn't let anything slip.
Gojo on the other hand?
It only took him one drink to dredge up everything you'd been avoiding for the past few weeks.
"C'mon, you'd take care of me if I got turned into, I dunno, a dog, right?" Gojo whined, slurring already, his infinity switching off as he flopped into your lap. He rarely drank - a sight you probably would've savored some other time, snapped some photos of to blackmail him later. He readjusted so his head was reclining on your thighs, fingers pulling back his blindfold so he could blink his big blue eyes up at you.
"You'd probably be a mouse, if anything," You teased, flicking his forehead.
"Nuh-uh," He argued, catching your wrist, small little flickers of energy tingling your skin that he couldn't control, pulling your hand until it was resting in his hair.
"Uh-huh," You giggled, combing through the soft short strands with your fingers.
"I'd take care of you if-"
There was loud thud, almost a heavy stomp, and it took you a second for it to click that someone had. Another to realize who.
You supposed some of Suguru's bunny brain was still there, a few little habits left he hadn't kicked.
"Satoru," Geto scolded, his whiskey glass hitting the table with a harsh clink. You glanced up to see his mouth set in a polite smile you knew was pretend. Fake and forced on, trying not to crack or twitch. "Get off."
"Fine," Gojo huffed and groaned, almost rolling onto the floor in his attempt to push off the booth and your legs to get up.
But you were busy watching his best friend, who, if you weren't mistaken, looked distinctly jealous?
You were torturing him.
He finally had his body back and here you were, torturing him.
The unsure glances you'd toss his way when you thought he wasn't looking, your soft words now addressing him politely, all the intimacy in them removed. The worst part was you weren't even avoiding him, just adhering to the stupid agreement from that first day and pretending the entire month never happened.
He didn't know how to make it more obvious he didn't want that.
But every time he stopped by your apartment, you weren't there. You were never at the school anymore either, always on some mission or with your nose buried in paperwork.
He left the shoes by your door, hoping to hear something, anything, just to get more of the same silence.
It took suggesting to Satoru that the three of you go out for drinks to get you to even come within five feet of him.
And watching this almost made him wish he hadn't.
You let Satoru plop himself down on your lap, giggling with him, petting him. Playing with his hair, fingers sifting through it how you used to stroke Suguru's fur.
Okay, he hadn't meant to thump his foot, just a leftover reflex. But it was better than grabbing Satoru by his collar and dragging him back to a sitting position.
He was only half-aware of what he was saying, if he even offered an excuse, only relaxing once Satoru sat up. His best friend yawning and stretching, digging his phone out of his pocket to check the time.
"Oops," He chuckled. "Ijichi's been waiting outside for me. You want a ride, sweetheart?"
You shook your head, but your eyes flickered over to Suguru, waiting to see if he reacted to Satoru's offer. Or maybe hoping he'd counter with one of his own.
"I'm okay, thanks though," You replied, lips pressed in a thin smile.
"Suit yourself," Satoru sighed, practically pushing Suguru out of the booth so he could get out. He tossed more than enough to cover the bill for all three of you in the table before lifted up one corner of his blindfold again, winking at Suguru before he started to turn. "Make sure she gets home safe, alright?"
The second he was gone though, you were flustered, shrugging before he even said anything.
"Could I buy you another drin-"
"You really don't have to," You accidentally interrupted, blushing and looking down at your hands in your lap. "I meant, about Satoru said, but, uh, to the drink too."
"I want to."
"It's fine," You insisted, but your smile was forced, practiced. "It was nice seeing you tonight though."
"Just nice?" He baited, barely able to keep a straight face when yours turned into a pout.
You pushed off the table, slipping out of the booth, tilting your head to the side with a conflicted expression. "Good night, Geto."
Suguru was following you out with a small frown this time.
"Suguru," He corrected. How many times had he stomped and grunted to get you to call him that in bunny form? Just for you to go back to his last name the second he was a sorcerer again?
"Good night, Suguru," You hummed. There was a hint of teasing there, a faint smile on your face he barely got a glimpse of before you walked a little faster out the exit.
"You're tired?" He asked, fresh air hitting him first as the door thudded shut behind him as he followed you outside.
"Not really." You probably only acknowledged it because you knew he'd been around you enough to know it'd be a lie otherwise.
He wanted to ask you to stay, or to leave with him instead.
"I should probably head home now," You swallowed, glancing between your feet before back out to the street ahead.
"Where's your car?"
"It's like a ten minute walk from here, I, uh, couldn't find parking," You mumbled, still not looking at him, putting yet another step between you he immediately bridged.
His hand grabbed the hem of your shirt, pinching it in his fingers lightly, just enough to get you to stop before you could slip away again.
"You wanna ride?" Suguru offered. Flying over the city at nighttime on his dragon was romantic, right? He could wrap an arm around your waist (to keep you steady, of course), watch the twinkling lights below and feel the cool breeze on your skin.
"I'm sorta scared of heights," You sheepishly admitted, shrugging your shoulders apologetically. "But thanks."
"Let me walk you there then," He insisted.
"Figured you'd probably want to just crash at your own place," You dismissed, staring straight ahead rather than looking at him.
"I wouldn't mind going back to yours," He smoothly answered back, letting go of your shirt to see if you'd try to break away again.
"Yeah?" You were cautious, eyes flicking up to his.
"Yeah."
He walked next to you, the quiet break in conversation comfortable, studying your side profile while you lead the way to your car.
"I'd take care of you," Suguru murmured under his breath. He wasn't even sure he actually said it, or if he had and the quiet footfalls on the pavement and the passing cars drowned him out.
"You'd, um, what?" You finally said, stealing another peek up at him. Your hand brushed against his, just barely, and it took everything in him not to hold it, not to interlock his fingers with yours and refuse to let go.
"If it ever happened to you," He replied, completely serious even if you were staring at him like you understood him better as a bunny.
He could practically see the gears turning in your head, like you were trying to decide how to interpret it before you landed on a joke.
"Yeah, you'd save me from being neglected or overfed at Gojo's?" You hummed, looking back at the street ahead.
"Sure," Suguru said.
"How kind of you," You laughed a little, folding your arms across yourself as a brittle breeze cut through the air, fighting back a shiver.
He took his jacket off, and you paused, staring at him with your face scrunched up, mouth parted like you wanted to tell him it was yet another thing he didn't need to do, no sound came out. He took the opportunity to help slip it on you himself, brushing your hair out of the way as you pulled it around your shoulders.
"Thanks," You blushed.
He wished he'd just listened to Satoru the first time he suggested you would make a cute couple a year ago, asked you out himself, wished there wasn't all this time wasted when you could've been his.
He refused to waste any more.
Opening the car door for you when you finally made it there, getting in the passenger seat and watching you scramble to turn the radio station to music you remembered he liked, adjusting the temperature and chuckling when you asked again if he really wanted to go to your place.
You still came up with a cute excuse after he said yes, claiming you had a book you thought he'd like, to pretend he was coming over just to borrow something.
As if it was too hard to believe you were what he liked, you were what he wanted.
"It's a little messy, but I guess you've seen it look worse," You muttered, lips pursed together as you rummaged through your bag for your key. He leaned against the door, one corner of his mouth quirking up as you threw him an apologetic look.
You found the key, turning it in the lock and pushing the door open, letting him in first.
The first thing he noticed was the bunny pen still up. Although the bowls were empty now.
"You kept everything," He commented, unsure what the weird feeling in his chest was. It was cloying, some thick nostalgia that clouded his judgement when everything was almost the same as he left it, although it all felt much, well, smaller.
You kicked off your heels, laughing a little when Suguru automatically started helping you shrug off his jacket, his fingertips grazing against your skin.
"I've been thinking about adopting a real one," You casually answered, a faint blush flooding your cheeks like you were embarrassed about it. Jealousy? Annoyance? Whatever it was, he felt absolutely territorial and entirely idiotic over the panic seizing inside him at the thought of you replacing him with a new pet. "It's been kinda weird adjusting, you know?"
"Oh," He murmured, attention sweeping back over your living room. It still smelled like you. Your perfume lingered in the air, but it was more than that, or maybe he was just more sensitive to it now. "It's been hard for me too."
"Really?" You breathed a sigh of relief, glancing back over your shoulder at him with that small smile he used to fall asleep next to.
"Yeah," He confirmed, pushing down the lump in his throat.
"Being alone-"
"I miss you," He interrupted before you could keep skirting around it, before you could find another excuse to pretend you didn't hate his absence the way he hated yours.
"I, uh, you what?" You squeaked, sounding just like the mouse you accused Satoru of being.
"I miss you," Suguru repeated, a tentative hand on your waist to twist you around so he could see your face in full. Watch your eyes widen and pretty lips part in surprise while you tried to work out if you meant it how you hoped he did.
"I missed you too," You quietly admitted, as if it was something to feel guilty for.
"I haven't stopped thinking about you," Suguru continued, tracing up your sides with long fingers, then back down to your hips.
He wanted to hold you this time instead of the other way around.
"I-"
You stopped yourself when he pulled you closer, your chest pressed against his, sucking in a sharp inhale.
But you broke eye contact, glancing away sheepishly. He followed your stare over to your messy coffee table, noticing the papers scattered across the surface. One word caught his eye, transfer in big and bold letters.
"What's that?" The panic from before flared up hard now.
You wouldn't leave.
You couldn't.
"Oh, um," You paused, embarrassed. "I was just considering transferring back to help them out. It's not like you guys really need me here."
"Do I not need you?" For once, he sort of wished he was more like Gojo.
He would throw himself down on his knees and beg you to stay.
Suguru could barely stand to even stare at you, loathed the longing in his voice when he waited for your answer.
"Do you?" You echoed quietly.
"I do," Suguru admitted, feeling something inside himself crack at the honesty.
"Suguru," You said his name like you weren't convinced.
"If you go, I'll go too."
He almost surprised himself. But he wasn't going to let life take the one thing he ever truly wanted from him, not this time.
"If you're just doing this because you feel like, you owe me or something idiotic like that," You started again, clearing your throat and trying to strengthen your resolve despite how close you were to giving in, your bottom lip starting to quiver.
"I'm doing this because I like you," Suguru chuckled.
You let him pick you up this time, wrapping your legs around his waist and your wrists around his neck, so badly wanting to believe him. Looking up at him like your whole world was in his hands when he carried you back to your room.
He half-tossed you onto the bed, hands almost shaking when they hovered over your body. He was nervous, but it felt like it had when he first transformed back, like all his proportions were suddenly wrong again, struggling to control his fingers and force them to move how they once did. Not nimble or deliberate, but messy, needy.
"Suguru," You purred so prettily, propping yourself up on your elbows and peering up at him with warm eyes. He settled on caressing your cheek, feeling the flush under your skin. "If you change your-"
"I'm not changing it," He murmured, sucking a sharp breath. He'd stay where you were, or follow where you went. Nothing had been simpler.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him on top of you, and he was struck again by how different your room felt. How tiny the bed seemed than the last time you were under him.
Then there was you.
Tangling your fingers in his hair and returning his stare, wondering if the little glints of adoration were really in your eyes or just a reflection of his own. You smelled sweeter in person, up close like this, but what he couldn't stop thinking about was your taste.
Of all the things he'd forced down his throat, rolled over his taste buds and struggled to swallow, you were the first he wanted to savor.
"Stop staring at me like that then," You let out a light huff, bottom lip sticking out. He wanted to bite it.
Your eyes fluttered shut when his nose nuzzled against yours, expecting the kiss before his mouth pressed against yours, and he was barely surprising the urge to lap at your bottom lip and beg for entry.
But you were always good at anticipating his needs, already parting your lips to let him in, your legs starting to wrap around his waist before his free hand snagged one of your thighs and pressed it down into your soft mattress.
Suguru was pretty sure he found heaven in your kiss. Divine karma repaying him for every putrid curse he'd choked down, lost between the cherry chapstick on your lips and the wine on your tongue when it slid against his.
He wanted to claim you.
Make you his in body and word and mind.
He was yours. He'd scratched and stomped and tried to fight it but it was true, wasn't it? His heart had already been cut out and you had already signed your name on it, permanently stamped him with a return to: label like he could somehow get lost when there was already an invisible leash connecting him to you.
Pulling away to breathe was hard enough. But seeing your tiny smile start to curl up, you eyes glossy and bright as they locked with his, his lungs could've collapsed at how pretty he thought you looked.
"Kiss me again," You quietly requested.
He'd kiss you as many times as you let him.
Returning his mouth to yours, offering warm open-mouth kisses like promises, loyalty and love and lust all wrapped up in his soft lips sucking on yours.
His free hand snuck between the increasingly narrow space between your body and his, tugging up your dress until he could see the pretty little lace underwear you'd worn underneath it.
"Cute," He commented, pulling away so he could them down, taking his time shimmying the flimsy fabric down your thighs, despite how badly he wanted to just rip it off in one go.
Your face was flushed, watching him with wide eyes as he tossed the panties into the laundry basket before prying your thighs apart all the way. He paused, removing his own clothes piece by piece, cock already swollen as it smacked up against his dark happy trail, pre-cum beading up along his pink tip.
Satisfaction swelled in his chest to see how soaked you were, his new favorite feast sprawled out for him.
Suguru flipped you over onto your stomach, pushing your face down and propping you up on your knees, nudging them open just enough for him to fit between them.
His second taste of you had him convinced he would never be able to get enough. Licking a clean stripe up your thighs to your entrance, pushing his tongue in deeper, flattening it as it danced inside.
"Sh-shit," You mumbled, completely flustered now, and he could just picture the pretty blush on your face, your next breath stolen as he practiced more drawn-out swirls.
His fingers leaving indents in your soft skin, the pliant muscles tensing with every squeeze of his hands.
Hearing your moans and shaky breathing only made him work harder, exploring every spot he'd stretch out later, determined to hear his name from your lips again. Devote each and every ministration of his mouth to you. His pretty girl.
"You like that?" He broke away to murmur right as you started making broken little whimpers into the mattress.
"Mm, mhm," You moaned, squirming under his grip.
"Wanna hear you, sweetheart," He sighed, pulling away just enough to admire the view one more time, tempted to leave scattered bites and kisses all over your thighs to make it just that much sweeter.
"Suguru," You huffed a complaint, all whiny and adorable as you barely found the strength to lift your head. "Keep going."
Your impatient whine might've worked on another man.
But Suguru had been patient before. Had waited for you to come back around to him. He'd be taking care of you the rest of his life, but he still wanted each second to last.
He couldn't help it, bending down to plant a kiss on the back of your thigh, letting his teeth sink in just enough to leave a small hickey, continuing up to leave a trail of them along your thighs while you made muffled noises.
"I asked you a question, baby," He reminded you, spreading your thighs apart as he left another peck close enough you had to feel his breath ghosting over your sensitive clit, almost jolting at the phantom sensation.
"You know I like it, Sugu-" You gasped when his tongue slipped back inside, surprised at the sudden warmth.
And yeah, he did, but you were clueless how much he loved it.
Loved every noise he pulled out of you, how you melted in him, let him pull you in and squeezed so tightly at every grunt and groan he made.
Adored every time you said his name, listening to your harsh exhales and watching you grip the blankets underneath you like you could crumble at any moment.
When you did? Falling apart after he slipped his hand around to your front, massaging careful circles against your aching bud until you were trembling, only held up by his arms around you?
Suguru was pretty fucking sure he was in love.
All that patience had evaporated, drained somewhere he couldn't access, need of his own taking over as he climbed back on top of you, lining himself up and barely holding himself back as he sank into you.
Half the street probably heard his groan, and your neighbors absolutely heard your pretty mewl of his name when his hands gripped your hips so mean to hold you there.
"Fuck, oh fuck, you're so-"
"Sugu," You whined, interrupting him and wiggling your hips as you tried to force him in all the way.
His composure, the control he'd cling to, both were quickly unraveling.
The sight of you bent over, his cock half-concealed inside you while you clenched around him so sinfully to suck him in?
He could probably cum from that alone.
Suguru clenched his jaw, staving it off as he slowly pushed in deeper, counting out his breaths until he bottomed out inside you, your own inhales growing ragged at the stretch and burn.
He wanted to mold you to him, to fuck you hard enough and long enough to leave an impression of every ridge and vein. Not make it two pumps before finishing.
But you had a knack for making his life difficult.
The arch of your back when he pulled out and plunged back in, the intoxicating scent of your perfume that was still driving him fucking insane, the gorgeous little gasps you let out with each thrust and smack of his hips against your ass.
He rutted deeper, his cock throbbing while your insides clung desperately onto him, watching the way your fists curled up in the comforter when you buried your face into the soft cotton to muffled your whines.
"M-mine," Suguru stuttered over the growl, hardly recognizing the husk in his own voice, swollen tip stuffed up against your womb while you squeezed around him.
Really, he was yours.
Would be your loyal dog or lap animal, whatever you wanted him to be.
Something primal inside him screamed that he had to fill you up, to mark you as his and stuff a baby or two or twelve inside you. Okay, not actually that last one.
The little sliver of him that was still operating on the most basic instincts of a small animal couldn't tell the difference though.
"Tell me to pull out," Suguru groaned, his fingers pressing harder into your hip, his reason getting fuzzier the longer you kept sucking him in. Sweat pricked at his forehead as his face fell forward to rest on your back, lips pressed to your skin like a lifeline.
"N-no."
Your voice was quiet, a soft breath that was hardly audible over the sound of skin on skin or the thump thump thumps of your headboard hitting the wall.
Barely hanging on by a strand, the tremble of your thighs underneath him and the shudders sent down your spine with each snap of his hips frayed the tether to his self-control until there was almost nothing left. Trailing kisses across your shoulder to feel the gasp he tore from your throat when you unraveled underneath him, holding you together while you fell to pieces crying out his name in broken whimpers.
He hadn't meant to.
But his teeth were sinking into the scruff of your neck, a soft love bite digging in to keep you still underneath him while warm spurts of cum coated your walls white. The thick veins pulsing until every last drop took, his cock still buried deep inside until he realized he was still half-clamped down, releasing you just to keep you pinned to the bed by his body weight instead.
"Suguru," You softly whined, turning your head so he could hear you better.
"Yeah, baby?" He murmured, pressing a few small kisses over the fresh hickies starting to blossom on your skin, lips pressing against the indents his teeth had left.
"I don't want this to be just sex," You confessed. Your voice was small, strained even, like you were embarrassed to say it.
"It's not," He promised. He readjusted so he could tilt your head, grabbing you chin as he caught your mouth with another kiss.
Part of him wished he could swallow you too - keep you with him where you'd always stay by his side. Another reminded him that was insane.
He could settle on being your boyfriend for now.
"I meant it earlier," He reiterated, kissing the corner of your mouth between words. There was no way in hell he was letting you slip through his fingers again. "You know I'm yours too."
You giggled, returning a peck to the tip of his nose as you tried to squirm free from under him, like you just remembered his cock was still inside you, cum leaking out around him and onto your blankets.
He didn't want to pull out though, didn't even want to separate when you were finally his.
Honestly, he was halfway-hoping you'd get pregnant, picturing you with a cute baby bump padding around barefoot in the sort of sundress that clung to your swollen stomach, physical proof you belonged to him just as much as he did to you.
You hadn't told him to pull out after all.
So surely, you wanted the same, right?
"You're all mine?" You hummed, shifting your hips around just to get a reaction out of him, his cock already oversensitive and starting to get hard again as his hands held you back down by your waist.
"You just want me to say it again," He chided with a chuckle of his own, sighing into your skin while you let out another weak huff that sounded more like a whine.
"Maybe," You admitted.
You looked back up at him, and he was a little too aware that he'd say it however many times you wanted as long as it was true.
"You know," You started talking again, biting down on your bottom lip as you rested your head on your folded forearms underneath them, yawning softly. "I was going to buy you a little bunny collar so everyone would know you were mine, but I guess you've already outgrown it, huh?"
He laughed again, his hand sliding up your spine to trace his own bite mark on the nape of your neck. Could you really not tell you already had him on a leash?
I'd like to request jealous sex in public with our beloved Geto, please ☺️
I hope you have fun with it!
Have a great day! 😘
(don't) kiss me pairing: fwb!Geto x f!Reader
content: mdni, light angst and smut, au where geto never defected, public sex, exhibitionism, jealousy, geto is down bad and delusional but we love him, fwb with feelings, incredibly petty reader, the silent treatment, unprotected piv sex, creampie, panty stealing, cockwarming, having sex while sitting on geto's lap
Suguru Geto didn't need a relationship. Simply didn't have time for one. His hands were full enough as it was, busy with his adopted daughters and work, teaching students and taking care of curses. Why make life more complicated?
That was why he liked you. Always sweet and warm, wrapping your lips around him in more ways than one in private, his cute little coworker who would clear her schedule if it meant spending the night tangled in his sheets.
Sometimes though?
You could be a little much.
Like now, bounding up behind him while you were both on break, chirping his name softly and getting on your tippy toes to press an affectionate peck to his cheek.
"Don't kiss me so much," Suguru murmured, wiping his cheek where your lips had just been, glancing around the empty hall like he had to double check to make sure no one else caught a glimpse of that. It'd been a stressful enough day already, the last thing he needed was Satoru harassing both of you or a lecture from Yaga about any public displays of affection. "Not here."
You deflated almost immediately, a pretty pout forming on your lips. "Oh, okay."
That was another thing he liked - you listened to him.
Although, it didn't take him long to realize you listened a little too well.
He tried to catch you on your way out that evening, apologizing for being so brusque earlier, but you just glanced over your shoulder with an small smile, softly muttering you couldn't come over tonight and leaving before he could get another word in.
The next day? He didn't see you at all.
Catching glimpses of you in classrooms or making coffee in the break room the rest of the week, where you'd offer a perfectly polite wave and resume your conversation with Shoko or Ijichi, always someone there to stop him from asking if you wanted to spend the night or grab a bite to eat later.
Suguru tried coming by your apartment bright and early Saturday morning, using the key you once made him just to find your bed empty.
He had to find out from Satoru you'd taken on some overseas mission with Nanami for the next two weeks. His calls went unanswered, but he told himself you probably just didn't have any service. Except - you did have enough of a connection to post a photo of yourself online, posing on the pale sand in the tiniest bikini imaginable for the camera.
For whoever was capturing the picture of you.
There was no way you asked Nanami - although the idea of the stoic man tapping the button and telling you to smile for him made Suguru's skin itch.
All of a sudden, his responsibilities, all those reasons he used to convince himself commitment was out of the question seemed a lot less pressing. Staring at his ceiling while he struggled to sleep at night, wondering if your thoughts might be lingering on him too.
The sex was good, but what he really missed was the way you felt in his arms afterwards, your body curled into his side and how you'd bury your face into his chest when you yawned.
When he woke up, his sheets were unfortunately soaked with proof of precisely how much he missed you too. As if he was some teenager again, trying not to think about your body under his when you trained together or let his stare linger when you went swimming.
Suguru never realized how slowly time passed when you weren't around to fill the space, catching himself hanging around your barren desk, tempted to smell the cardigan you'd left hanging over your chair.
He was more than a little embarrassed to admit he was excited for your return, foot anxiously tapping the ground at the bar you allegedly agreed to meet Satoru and Shoko at after your plane landed. Three drinks in, he watched as Satoru droned on about some game he'd been playing to Shoko, hoping they didn't notice how often his sharp eyes flicked over to the entrance.
Your plane should've landed what? Two hours ago? So where were-
Suguru's heart stopped when you walked in.
Nanami was holding the door open for you, and you were laughing at something he said. And not a polite little chuckle, but actually laughing, eyes crinkling and nose scrunching up as you smiled so brightly at him.
And he was smiling back.
The glass in his hand shattered.
Broken bits of glass biting into his palm, shards sticking out as Satoru lost it laughing, making some mocking comment in his ear about him losing his girl to Kento, of all people. The fact you were sleeping together wasn't technically a secret, since Satoru once saw you making out from across campus, six eyes and all, but it still wasn't supposed to be public knowledge. Shoko was rolling her eyes, plucking out the glass in his hand without him asking, reversed curse technique making quick work of fixing the shallow cuts.
But there was still blood on his palm, shattered glass stained with it on the table by the time you walked over. Suguru couldn't drag his eyes off the way Nanami's hand briefly skimmed over your back when some stranger stepped too close to you, as if you really needed shielding from some idiot who didn't even have cursed energy.
"Hi guys," You greeted, just as perky as ever, looking over at Shoko and Satoru first before your attention shifted over to him. Your face fell almost immediately, brows furrowed together in a frown as you noticed the mess on the table. "What happened?"
"Oh, why don't you ask your boy-" Satoru started to tease, just to get interrupted with an elbow to the side, his infinity off, his technique not working quite right after the bar served him a Shirley temple with alcohol on accident.
"Sit," Suguru said instead, nodding to the empty seat by his side, sweeping up the broken glass into a pile towards the center of the table, narrowly avoiding slicing his palm open again.
"I think I'm actually gonna get a drink," You hummed, half-apologetically as you tilted your head to the side.
Under the table, Suguru kicked Satoru with his foot, a silent signal for him to distract Nanami while he slid out of the booth to follow you.
"Hey," He called out as he caught up to your confident strides, a possessive hand grabbing your waist when you stopped in front of the bar top. "I missed you."
"Mhm," You absentmindedly nodded, too busy waving the bartender over to spare him a glance.
Suguru waited, expecting you to start spilling into some excited chatter about how your mission went, what you saw and ate while you were there, but you didn't say anything to him even after you ordered your drink, taking a long sip and looking back to where the others were waiting.
"You miss me back, pretty girl?" He leaned down to murmur, pulling you in a little closer.
And for once, he didn't care who was watching, tilting his head to the side to catch your lips in a kiss. But you tilted your head away at the last second, his mouth ending up on your cheek instead.
"Course," You casually chirped, the way you'd speak to a friend. Not someone who'd seen you naked.
He wasn't dumb enough to not know when you were being cruel. Even if it wasn't entirely intentional.
He asked you not to kiss him.
You were just doing what he asked.
His lips parted, ready to take that stupid fucking request back, but then Nanami joined, shrewd eyes taking note of the way Suguru was holding onto you, unimpressed.
"Are you hungry?" The blond man asked you, pushing the small goggles up the bridge of his nose. "There's a diner down the road if you'd rather grab something to eat."
"Is it good?" You asked, leaning in closer so he could hear you better, looking up at him all cute and excited.
No, this was not happening, Suguru was not about to let you get stolen right from under his nose and into someone else's bed.
"I think you would-"
"Can I speak to you outside?" Suguru interrupted, low and sharp in your ear.
You sighed, downing the rest of your glass in a long gulp before giving Nanami's bicep a squeeze.
"Sorry, Ken, I'll be back in a few."
Ken? Ken?
Why didn't you just stab Suguru while you were at it?
Suguru led you out, keeping his hand firmly placed on your side, holding the door open for you, hating how much he felt like he had to prove he could be a gentleman too. As if you'd ever wanted him to be one before.
You usually preferred him being rough, flipping you around or folding you over the nearest piece of furniture, pulling your hair or putting his hands to work somewhere else.
The street was pretty much empty, but he still half-dragged you to the alley by the bar, only stopping when you leaned back against the brick building, yawning into your hand like you were bored already.
"Is something wrong?" You innocently asked, batting your lashes up at him.
"I missed you." Suguru knew he sounded like a broken record on repeat, but he wasn't sure how else to say it, to summarize the ache your absence had left in his chest.
"You said that already," You commented, giggling a little. But your attention had drifted again, studying the street and the few people passing by.
"You didn't say it back."
He felt like a child pouting, complaining and begging for your affection you'd freely given him before.
"If you're just horny, you know there's like fifty girls in there that'd be more than thrilled to fuck you," You laughed, lighthearted. That was probably the worst part, how fucking unbothered you sounded at the idea of him having sex with someone else when just the sight of Nanami touching you earlier had nearly sent him in a tailspin.
"And what about you?" He hm-ed, desperate to keep his collected exterior, to reject the regret rolling through him.
"I'll have to decline," You purred, delivering the rejection with another gentle smile. "I mean, I've just been thinking, and our arrangement was nice, but I dunno, maybe it just ran its course?"
You shrugged, like you were telling him about the weather rather than dumping him.
"What are you saying?" He heard himself ask, his voice cold and harsh.
You didn't blink though, still giving him the same kind expression.
"I guess I want an emotional connection with someone, not just sex," You sincerely said, patting his shoulder. "You were right. I wasn't being very professional before. I think we're better off as coworkers."
"I was being fucking stupid," Suguru said, jaw clenched tight as he forced the words out. Your lips pushed together in another pout, not understanding until he stepped forward, caging you between his body and the brick wall, hands pressing flat by your head. "But you're lying to yourself if you think we don't have an emotional connection."
Your breath caught in your throat, your eyes finally on his for the first time tonight.
"Am I?" You challenged, still trying to play innocent.
Suguru knew better. Knew you more intimately than anyone else. What you liked for breakfast and what shampoo you used and what panties you preferred to sleep in and all the words to your favorite songs.
He'd rather eat a thousand curses than go back to being just coworkers.
"You like me," Suguru murmured, although what he really meant was he was painfully, awfully, completely in love with you and the biggest moron in the world for not realizing it sooner.
"I do?" You playfully teased, cutting him a look that screamed you were trying not to roll your eyes at him. "You know, I also like Ken. And Toru. Even-"
"Don't," He stopped you before you could continue assigning cutesy nicknames to all your mutual friends, keep implying that you'd find your way in their beds too if he fucked this up any more than he already had. "I like you."
"Should we go get best friend necklaces then?" You replied, sarcasm slicing through your usually cheery demeanor, cold seeping through as icy claws started to sink into Suguru's heart. You didn't believe him. Thought he was just spouting some bullshit to get into your panties. "Or can I go back inside now?"
"What? So Nanami can flirt with you some more?" Suguru scoffed, unable to help the jealousy boiling his blood, tight snakes of it coiling in his stomach and making him feel fucking sick.
"Why do you care?" You huffed, giving in to how exasperated you were. "We're not dating. You aren't my boyfriend."
"I want to be." The words came out of his mouth automatically, your lips parting in surprise as you just stared at him.
Then you shook your head a little, letting out a quiet sigh as you looked away, probably planning your exit.
"Sorry, I'm looking for one that actually likes it when I kiss him," You muttered, your voice tinged with hurt as you started to pull away, slipping underneath his arm to start towards the bar again. "And who knows, maybe Kento-"
Suguru shut you up with a kiss.
The kind where your teeth bumped into each other and his fingers tangled in your hair, your bodies pressed close as he lapped at your bottom lip for entry, begging you to believe him. You let him in, maybe out of habit, or just maybe, because you missed him too.
And then his hands were picking you up by your ass, squeezing into your pliable flesh as your legs wrapped around his waist, gasping when your back was pushed against the brick wall, your short skirt hiked up so he could see your cute little black panties underneath.
"What can I do to prove it to you, hm?" Suguru hummed, sucking on your neck, tracing the tendons with his teeth just so he could feel how fast your pulse was racing.
"I don't know."
Your features had frozen into a hard mask, hiding your feelings from him for once.
He just wanted to fix this.
"Not like anything you say here you'll ever repeat in public," You muttered, hurt and disappointment mixed into your sigh, even when your body was melting into him, letting him plant kisses across your jaw.
It clicked in his head.
You thought he was embarrassed of you.
Suguru supposed he'd just have to prove you wrong.
He carefully let you stand back on your feet, your face scrunching up in confusion when he got down on his knees to shimmy your panties down your thighs, pocketing them before taking your hand in his and tugging you back towards the entrance of the alley. "Come on then, baby."
"Suguru, what-"
"Wanna show my pretty girl off," He spoke softly, pulling you closer and smoothing down your skirt with his free hand. Even under the pale moonlight, he could tell you were blushing, a smirk twitching up on his lips as you turned your face away so he wouldn't see it.
"What? You wanna act like I'm your girlfriend now?" You grumbled, following him inside, but your hand was squeezing his, your smaller palm warm against his cool one.
"You are," Suguru said, squeezing your hand back. "If you want to be."
You didn't say anything as he held the door to the bar back open for you, mulling over the decision. But that was better than a no.
The glass was cleared off the table, Satoru nowhere to be seen while Nanami and Shoko made small talk. Suguru watched his blond coworker's eyes shift from where he was holding your hand up to his smug expression.
"Thought you weren't coming back," Shoko dryly said, draining the last of her drink and looking past him towards the bar, probably considering grabbing another one.
"Had to catch up with my girlfriend," He replied, slipping into the booth and pulling you onto his lap. Your whole face flushed, attempting to hide it from your friends when you looked up at him wide-eyed.
"Seriously?" Shoko sighed, cocking an eyebrow up as she looked at you.
"I mean-" You started, fiddling with a ring on your finger. But then Suguru brushed some of the hair back from your face, craning his neck down to kiss your cheek, and you might as well have purred. "Maybe."
"Took long enough," Shoko muttered, sliding out the opposite end of the curved booth, either going to get another drink or inform Satoru of the new development. Both were equally likely.
Nanami followed, but Suguru caught the way he cut you a knowing look first, his usually straight-lipped smile curving up into a slight smirk as he walked away.
"What was that?" Suguru pointedly asked, and you shifted in his lap, trying to climb off before his hold on your waist tightened.
"Nothing," You lied.
He murmured your name, not sure if it was a warning or a plea or both. "Tell me."
"Perhaps I asked Nanami to help me make you a little jealous," You admitted, not the least bit ashamed or abashed. Shuffling back, the weight of you sitting over the quickly hardening bulge in his jeans, your back reclining casually onto his chest while you just gave him a cute tilt of your head to the side as you looked over your shoulder up at him.
"Funny," Suguru dryly said.
You wanted him jealous - you got it on a silver platter.
"You're not mad?" You asked, squinting and trying to scrutinize his carefully composed features.
And okay, he said no, but he found himself slipping a hand underneath your ass, readjusting you just enough to pull down his zipper and yank his cock free from his boxers. Your skirt splayed out over his lap was the only thing concealing the two of you when he discreetly manhandled you until you were over his cock, pulling your hips down in one fast motion until he was plunging inside you, warm walls welcoming and gripping him as he pushed past the resistance. You gasped just to immediately clamp your mouth shut, swiveling your head around to make sure no one was watching as he slowly grinded up in long, drawn-out motions, hips bucking up enough to grind his swollen tip into your cervix.
Watching your pretty face screw up in focus, trying not to make it obvious you were being stuffed and split open in front of a bar full of people, but everyone else was too absorbed in their own drinks and friends to notice the way you were struggling not to moan every time his cock kissed your womb.
"My fault for letting you forget who fucks you like this," Suguru murmured, a hand firmly planted on your hip while his other slipped under your shirt, pushing under the band of your bra to grope at your tits.
To anyone else, he'd just seem like a handsy boyfriend, decorating your neck with hickies and whispering sweet nothings in your ear. He guessed he actually was now.
He let go of your breast, although he at least pinched your nipple first, just to feel the way you half-jumped, your cunt clenching around him hard enough he felt himself twitch, half-tempted to cum already, let proof of this drip down your thighs all night long. But Suguru controlled himself as his hand slipped out of your shirt, grabbing your chin instead and tilting your head to turn and look up at him.
This kiss was greedier, claiming you in front of anyone who happened to look over, his tongue down your throat while he fucked up into you, swallowing any sounds that slipped out as his cock stretched you out. Your walls were gripping him tight enough that every upward thrust made it hard for him not to finish in the spot.
And really, it wasn't much more than cockwarming, barely able to do more than little bounces without risking giving everyone a show or getting arrested for public indecency, but he was losing his goddamn mind.
Your lips tasted like wine and chapstick, the smell of your perfume invading his senses and warping his judgement until every atom was demanding more of you. He could tell you were close, your warm body trembling, the little breaths you managed to suck in between kisses broken and sharp.
"Tell me," He grunted, pulling you all the way down to the hilt by your hips, cutting off your whine with a quick kiss. "Do I get to be your boyfriend now?"
You nodded almost immediately, leaning back against his chest, your forehead sweaty as you glanced around panicked again like you just remembered where he was fucking you. But most people who noticed the two of you at all had looked away almost immediately, used to the sight of drunk people hooking up at a bar like this.
"Mhm," You managed to mumble, barely holding yourself together as you blinked. But he could feel you squeezing him, feel how deep he was buried, his cock begging for release as his thighs tensed under your own shaky muscles.
"Does my cute girlfriend wanna cum then?" He teased, letting his mouth skim over your ear, your body shuddering as his cock kept throbbing inside you, but he refused to budge. He hoped you'd think that was teasing too, but really, he was pretty sure the second he moved, he was going to cum.
"Suguru," You whined softly, tilting your head to the side to allow him to leave more hickies, and the sound of your voice almost pushed him over.
Fuck.
As much as he wanted to draw it out longer, he could always just drag you out of here and back home to continue later. He quickly slipped a hand under your skirt, jaw clenched as he started fervently massaging messy circles over your clit, grinding his tip up against your most sensitive spot, his composure cracked, his cool failing him as you started to fall apart in his lap.
He barely managed to capture your lips in another kiss before you were moaning, legs tense and trembling too hard as you shivered against him. He wasn't sure what drove him over - if it was your taste or your whimpers or just the way your cunt sucked him in. But it didn't really matter, because he was already cumming fast, white-hot spurts of cum shooting inside you, coating you with enough of him that you had to be spilling over. Nearly shuddering at the relief, abs still tense as the rest of him relaxed.
You were a wreck.
Eyes glossed over and makeup messed up, a few tear streaks down your cheeks and your lips kiss-bruised and bitten. Your shirt and skirt wrinkled, cum probably leaking out of you onto his jeans as you both just breathed, unable to break the stare, to separate the connection.
୨୧ 𝘴𝘺𝘯𝘰𝘱𝘴𝘪𝘴 : you and kento have a odd relationship, you would have casual, friendly sex - a friends with benefits relationship some would say , but what happens when kento starts catching feelings?
୨୧ 𝘵𝘢𝘨𝘴 : fluff, smut - soft sex, big cock, fwb relationship, sweet and caring kento, whipped kento? aftercare.
“oh ken!” you moan as he thrusts into you, arms on either side of you. his hips in between your legs and his cock buried deep into you. sex with kento was not like anyone you had ever had sex with. he was caring as he pulls his long dick into your tight hole, checking every second if it's okay as he slowly pushes into you - filling you up. he was gentle with his thrusts and how she fucks you, nice and gentle when he looks into your eyes while you moan and whine his name. he was kind when you wanted something different, the only thing he would refuse is to be harsh towards you. you don't think he had it in him. he was loving with his actions and they way you fuck, he was.. he fucked like he was your husband, or maybe your boyfriend. Yet he wasn't, he was just a friend. a very special friend.
“you close, darling?” he grunts as he passionately fucks into you, slowly but deeply. you nod and grab onto his shoulders, burying your nails into him and leaving deep marks and scratches. clenching around him as his eyes roll back, you feel him reaching climax. a pleasure washing over you as you see his fucked out, sweaty and blush killed face. this was a sight you and only you saw. He swallowed as he bent down to kiss you, well he kissed you. his tongue ran over your lips then into your mouth, exploring his way in there. your moans trail and echo through his mouth as he begins to slowly kiss you. both your lips pressed together, mixing with one another. “sososo beautiful” he rambles and his hand comes to the side of your head, rubbing the hair there and you whimper at the soft motion. He ruts a little faster into you, in a response you moan passionately. “oh!” you gasp loudly. “gu- gonna cum, ken..” you whimper as you wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him closer.
“I know” he breathes out, groaning loudly and squeezing his eyes shut. He could almost sense and feel it more than before, “can- can feel it, love” his voice strangled by the moan that falls out of him. Once he opens his eyes, you're looking up at him. with those big doe eyes he loves, fluttering eyelashes that melt him while you bring your lips to his and give him a soft kiss. flopping back down as his motions get the tiniest but faster, “this okay?” he checks and you nod. This was way more than okay.
months ago you wouldn't have imagined that you would be fucking nanami, but dreams do come true.
gojo had forced the two or yous out at a club, got yous drunk then he had fucked off. probably shagging some girl he had just met or something like that. nanami and you started talking thennn started kissing… thenn bringing him home. it escalated from there but you two had a chat, and decided maybe this could be a regular thing?
no strings attached of course, no feelings involved. He said that but did he really mean it?
kento glazes down your body, all weak and hot and it was all because of him, “cum f’ me, love” as if a cog twists into place as he says that, you come undone, cum spurting out of your hole when he pulls out. pumping his cock on top of your limp body and cumming all over your lower stomach, you whine at him as the sticky mess grows drips onto the bed sheets. the messy sheets not being s problem, kento glosses over it and looks over at you, looking down at your cunt. “fuck” he groans at the hot sight. “you okay?” he slowly gets up, grunting as he does so - you nod at him, “more than okay”
Swiftly he gets out of bed, a few groans and more grunts when he eventually stands up before he waddles off to the bathroom, grabbing a warm wet towel to clean you up. Seeing come back in a small twist in your heart beats strongly, seeing him care so much even if you were just a friend. “You didn't have t’ ken” sweetly smiling at him and his kindness, he replies, “of course I did, and I wanna” making eye contact with you as he approaches you, dapping your stomach and swiping the mess off of you, going down to your cunt. A sigh leaves you as kento cleans you up gently - not wanting to make you uncomfortable. “You are too sweet” mumbling as you haze down at him, he smiles up at you. Almost like he said thank you with his sweet grin.
He puts the towel into a washing basket placed in his room, and he hops into bed with you. Caressing your hair and getting you comfy - putting the blankets on you. You smile at him, he was far too kind to you. Too kind for just a friend. “You okay?” you as him, fluttering eyelashes while you grab the blanket and prop it over your chest - covering the sight from his eyes.he nods once at you, “always”
You rest your head on his chest and he pulls you close, his fingers scraping through your hair and playing with the strands, he knew this would make you fall straight to sleep. Petting your head and stroking you, as if you were a puppy beside him. Your friend sighed contently and pulled you closer, whiffing your natural scent as he did. Your smell filling his nostrils, was it vanilla ? you smelt like the bakery you two love to go to. “Rest now, sweetheart” you nod at kento, nuzzling into his chest ,his arm wrapped around you and his other hand resting in your hair, playing with it.
Feeling your eyes flutter shut - you can hear his mutter sweet words into your hair, muffled by the slumber approaching. You could hear a, “did so good f’ me.” Your hearing blurred as you drift off into sleep, hearing his soothing voice just sent you off. You could swear you could hear him once more, you heard a, “I love you, sweetheart.”
➛ summary: your ex invites you over. He just wants to see you one last time. But seeing him tonight is a bad idea, right?
➛ warnings: cursing, smut (basically p*rn with minimal plot), non sorcerer au, toxic situation (kinda)
Your knuckles rap the door as you let out a sigh. All you can hear is your friends voices in your head.
You know he’s just using you, right?
He’s only going to break your heart again.
He’s only after one thing.
They were right.
You know they’re right. You don’t dispute that at all.
But why does something so wrong have to feel so good?
Seeing your ex is always a bad idea.
But when your ex is 6’3, body of a Greek god, raven hair you love to weave your fingers through, voice that’s timber makes your insides quiver and a dick that makes your stomach do somersaults when you think about him fucking you again, it’s hard to resist.
Really hard.
So when the apartment door slowly opens to reveal said gorgeous ex — looking down at you with a smile that made your pussy clench — it was safe to say your friend's warnings swiftly faded into the background.
“Hey, pretty girl.” Suguru’s deep voice rumbles as he leans against the door frame. “H-hi.” You breathe.
His hair is down, flowing over his shoulders like a beautiful onyx waterfall. His chest is covered in a skin tight black tee. Perfectly showcasing his mouth wateringly muscular arms that ripple with each movement.
And those grey sweatpants should be illegal.
Hanging low on his hips, showing that delicious vline you just want to run your tongue all over. Giving a small glimpse of that wonderful happy trail too.
That thing really did lead to happiness, you could promise that much.
He looks like he’s been pulled straight from your wettest dream.
“You gonna come in?” He asks, using his head to point behind him.
You nod like a nervous little bobble head, the action making Suguru chuckle before he moves to let you in.
This is a bad idea, right?
————————— ۫ ׅ ⭒ ♡ ⭒ ׅ ۫ —————————
“Fuuuuuuck. That’s it, baby. All the way down.” Suguru grunts. “S-shit.” He moans, hand tightening around your makeshift ponytail.
His shirt and your own were lost somewhere on the fumble to his bedroom.
Hot, desperate kisses and scrambling hands, as clothing was pulled off in a blur. Bumping into walls and doors as you immersed yourselves in a world where only the two of you existed.
Suguru sits at the end of his bed. Thick thighs manspread as you sit between them, throating as much of his length as you can take.
The repetitive glug! glug! glug! as he hits the back of your throat and the way your teary eyes peer up at him, makes Suguru’s eyes roll into the back of his skull with a deep groan.
“G-god damn.” He breathes, trying to pick his head up off his shoulders. “Always f-forget how—hah—how g-good you are at this.”
You blink up at him innocently as you pull your mouth off him.
”You don’t think about me?” You tease, kitten licking at his crown as you twirl your hands around his length.
”Of course I think about you, pretty girl.” Suguru coos, hand reaching down to stroke your cheek. “All the time.”
”Just not enough to remember how much you love my mouth.” You giggle, running your tongue from base to tip.
You watch the way Suguru loses his ability to focus on what you’re even saying anymore. Eyes fighting the urge to roll into his head when you lean down and lightly suck on his balls.
”I-I can’t—hah—focus when you d-do—shit—thaaat.” He whimpers, muscular thighs trembling.
You love knowing that even after all this time you still have this effect on him. The knowledge makes you rub your thighs together to relieve the pressure of your throbbing cunt, your slick dampening your panties even further.
Nothing makes you feel more powerful than watching the way you can make your ex — a man so big and strong — crumble, using nothing but your mouth.
“Do what?” You pout innocently. “When I do this?” You ask, repeating the action.
This time Suguru can’t avoid it, his eyes roll back and he chokes on his own saliva.
“Y-yes. Tha-aat. F-fuck.” He moans.
When you’re done with your sweet torture, you swirl your tongue around his tip before sliding his length back down your throat. Not stopping until your nose is pressing into the dark, trimmed hair at the base.
Suguru makes the mistake of looking down. His eyes lock with your teary ones, watching the way you force yourself to stay down.
The image of you gagging and drooling all over him, saliva coating his pale skin as you keep your eyes locked on his is about to send him over the edge.
He can’t help the way his hips attempt to buck into your mouth. Attempt to force his cock just that little bit further down your throat.
Just when you feel his length begin to twitch more rapidly and harden even further, you cruelly pull your mouth off him. His dick falling against his stomach, twitching in need.
”That was m-mean.” Suguru pouts at you, chest heaving.
You stand up from between his legs, running your hands up his chest as you stand.
”Mean?” You ask with a raised brow.
The raven haired man is in a trance as he watches you unclip your bra and throw it across the room.
”But Sugu, if you cum now that means you can’t fuck me straight away.” You say innocently, doe eyes staring into his. “Don’t you wanna fuck me?” You ask, running your hand over your now bare chest, lightly grazing your nipple and giving him a teeth rottingly sweet smile.
You giggle at the way Suguru’s eye twitches, his restraint beginning to slip.
Before another thought can even cross your mind you’re on your back against his navy bedspread.
You gasp at the way your ex is now looming over you. His pretty violet eyes darkening with lust.
”You’re fucking evil.” He growls before he starts attacking your neck. Kissing and sucking like his life depends on it.
”S-Sugu—“ you moan when you feel his teeth lightly graze against your skin, your nails digging into his back.
You can feel Suguru smile against your skin.
”My favourite sound.” He mumbles softly.
Suguru leaves searing kisses across your collar bones as he begins to trail his lips south, stopping for a few minutes to give some attention to his favourite tits. Licking and sucking at them both before he continues his descent.
He kisses and licks his way down your stomach, groaning into your skin about how soft you are and how good you smell before he reaches the hem of your panties.
Those darkened eyes peer up at you as a smirk twitches on his lips at the way your breathing is increasing before he grabs under your knees and presses them back to slide between your legs.
Suguru begins pressing feather light kisses across the inside of your thighs. Your hand slips into his hair, gently holding onto the soft strands as he holds eye contact with you.
”P-please, Sugu. No teasing.” You pout softly. “Oh you want me to be nice after the little stunt you just pulled?” He chuckles.
As funny as it was at the time, that teasing is really starting to bite you in the ass right now.
Suguru takes his middle finger and gently pats where your clit is under your panties. The little plap!plap!plap! that’s heard in response makes your cheeks tinge red.
“Look at that. Always so fucking wet for me. Aren’t you, pretty girl?” He smiles when you try to hide your fluster behind your arm. Your hips unconsciously squirming closer to his face.
“Nuhuh, don’t get shy on me now. Who is this pussy wet for?” Suguru asks, his finger now rubbing gentle circles on your clit. “Y-you, Suguru. Only you.” You choke out.
You hear the rumble of satisfaction that leaves Suguru’s chest at your confirmation.
When Suguru pulls your panties to the side and the cool air hits your core, you could cry.
He’s got you worked up and desperate for the relief of his warm, wet tongue working you in a way only he knows how.
Your hand tightens in his hair when he leans forward and licks one fat stripe from bottom to top.
Suguru growls at the taste of you on his tongue again.
“Fuck, always so sweet.” He mumbles against your slick skin.
His hands grip your panties before a loud rip echoes through the air. All he gives you is a quick “oops.”
Then his attack descends.
He’s licking, sucking and kissing at your pussy like a man possessed. Diving his face into you like you’re his source of oxygen.
“O-oh my gooood.” You cry as he wraps his lips around your clit. Your legs tremble and your hands gripping his hair to keep him close.
Not like he had any intention of pulling away in the first place.
Suguru’s tongue is running up and down your slit before he starts shaking his head slowly from side to side.
It’s messy and so so nasty. The room filled with nothing but your moans, the loud squelching of your wet cunt and Suguru groaning into you in response.
You can feel your climax beginning to burn hot in your belly, the intensity slowly creeping up and up and up.
You know there’s every chance he’s about to take revenge at this moment for his teasing earlier, so you do the only thing you can.
And just as you’d done to him, Suguru pulls away before you can reach your high.
The mewl that escapes your lips makes Suguru chuckle as he places kisses on your skin.
“T-that was mean, S-Suguru.” You hiccup. “It makes us even.” He snorts. “Besides, the only place you’re cumming is all over this cock.” He tells you as he climbs back up your body.
“You see, first I’m gonna put just the tip in. Give that pretty pussy some time to get used to me again.” He begins. “Then I’m gonna slide allll the way in.” He whispers lowly, a smirk tugging at his lips as his fingers gently brush just under your belly button.
“And you’re gonna feel me riiiiight here, pretty girl.” He smiles, holding eye contact with you as he presses down gently.
“R-right there? But that’s s-so deep, Sugu.” You stutter. “Mhm. But you can take it for me can’t you?” He whispers against your lips. You nod slowly, your pussy clenching in anticipation.
Suguru smiles before he kisses you deeply, his tongue swiping against yours sensually. “Good girl.” He mumbles against your lips as you mewl at him in response.
Suguru begins to rut himself against you. You can feel him leaking all over your cunt. The lewd shlick shlick shlick sound from your combined juices echoing in the room.
Your hands slide up to hold his face, forcing him to look into your eyes. “P-please. I need you.” You whimper against his lips.
Suguru didn’t need to be told twice.
He sits back on his heels, grabbing himself at the base as he rubs himself up and down your aching slit.
Your legs are balanced around his hips and tremble each time his tip trails over your clit.
Suguru’s jaw goes slack watching and feeling the way you leak all over his cock and the sheets below.
Tears prickle your waterline as your hole clenches in desperation. Suguru can’t help but chuckle at the glazed over look in your eyes. He has you right where he wants you.
The second he presses his fat tip into your weeping hole your eyes roll back and your body relaxes in relief.
“Shiiiit.” Suguru hisses at the way your pussy clings to his tip desperately. He can’t relax for a second or he really will bust no more than 3 seconds in.
“M-more.” You pant frantically, your nails clawing at Suguru’s hips trying to pull him in further.
“Not yet.” Suguru grits out. “More, Sugu. P-please.” You cry. “All of it.”
You watch the way Suguru’s jaw ticks.
Before you can carry out any more pleading, he suddenly sinks all the way home. Folding your legs back further so he can get deeper. His hands, gripping under your knees with a bruising grip, tremble.
”F-fuck—uh—s-shit—“ Suguru curses as he squeezes his eyes shut. Mind trying to focus on anything other than the way his balls tighten and squeeze with the need to cum pressed right up against your cervix.
Your mouth hangs open and more tears begin to line your eyes as a choked moan rips from your throat.
God, your ex has a stupidly big dick with an even more stupidly mean curve.
You try to squirm back slightly, struggling to move in Suguru’s grip.
“Nuhuh. You said y’wanted more. Wanted all of it. Now you gotta—hah— take it.” He grunts, pulling you back down to the base. “C-can’t—“ you cry. “S’too much.”
“Oh, pretty girl. I’ve not even started yet.” He grins wickedly.
Suguru pulls his hips back until only the tip remains inside. His jaw clenching at the way his cock glistens and gleams in the light, dripping with your arousal.
When he slams his hips back into you a scream gets caught in your throat. Your hands scramble to grab onto something, anything to keep you grounded.
Your hands eventually end up reaching for Suguru, your nails scratch at his arms and shoulders as you pull him down to you so you’re now face to face.
“Shh, pretty girl. Shh. I’ve got you.” Suguru soothes as you gasp and whimper.
He pulls his hips back slowly before sinking into you again. Finding a slow pace to start at. To give you time to adjust.
Suguru chuckles at the tears beginning to slide down your cheeks as he cradles your head, rocking himself into you.
“You crying for me, baby?” He asks quietly. “Just feels so g-good.” You whimper as you cling to him. “Yeah? My pretty crybaby loves this dick, don’t you?” He teases as you nod pathetically.
“S’all yours, pretty girl. Just gotta take it.” He smiles as his hips pick up the pace.
You bite your lip, trying to hold back some of the noises desperately trying to escape your throat.
“Nope. Let me hear it, baby. Scream for me.” Suguru demands as he delivers a particularly hard and deep thrust.
As if on cue, a scream tears out of you. Suguru grunts appreciatively in response. “That’s it. That’s my girl.”
The next few minutes pass in a blur of ecstasy, filthy words and red marks down Suguru’s back.
Before you know it, he has you right back where you were before.
Your belly burning hot, tingles running up your spine, pussy clenching, legs trembling and jaw slack as you gasp for air.
“S-Suguru, Suguru, Suguru—“ keeps leaving your mouth like a mantra and Suguru can only grunt back, hips slamming into you relentlessly as his thumb slides over your clit.
“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum—hah—cum for me. Give it t’me.” He pleads.
Why did this man have to look so good when he was fucking you?
Raven hair sticking to his forehead, muscles rippling with his every thrust —not to mention the way his skin was glistening with sweat.
You didn’t know what was about to make you cum harder. His actions or just looking at him.
Your back arches as you cum so hard you think you’re about to pass out.
“Thaaat’s it. So pretty when you’re cumming for me.” He praises, hips slowing their pace as he watches you come down from your high.
Suguru chuckles when you finally go limp in his arms.
“You did so well for me.” He tells you as he presses kisses to your sweaty forehead. “Can’t f-feel my l-legs.” You giggle.
“Well you better find it cause I’m not done with you yet.” He grins as he pulls out and flips you onto your stomach.
Yeah, you don’t think you’re gonna leave here walking at this rate.
————————— ۫ ׅ ⭒ ♡ ⭒ ׅ ۫ —————————
A couple of nights later you lay in bed, giggling at the glowing screen in front of you as texts flow between you and Suguru.
He’s been asking to see you again for the past couple of days.
You can’t help the way you bite your lip and the giggles that continue to flow out of your mouth as the texting gets flirtier.
Should you be seeing him again? No. But one more time can’t hurt, right?
Across town Suguru lies in bed, smirking at his screen when a new text from you pops up.
The sheets rustle beside him, causing him to freeze and turn his phone screen to the side.
“Who’re you texting this late?” A tired voice comes from beside him.
A small manicured hand runs over his chest as Suguru clicks the screen off quickly, setting his phone on the bedside table.
“No one, baby. Go back to sleep.” Suguru smiles softly, pressing a kiss to her hand.
“Was it a girl?” The woman asks, rubbing at her eyes. “Course not. Just a friend. You know you’re my favourite girl.” He responds, charm turned up to 100.
The woman smiles softly as Suguru pulls her into his chest, drifting back off to sleep.
It’s a lie.
She’s not his favourite girl. Not even close.
She’s just yet another warm body that Suguru buries himself in as a distraction lately.
Is it messed up to be using her and every other girl he’s had over recently? Of course it is.
But what’s a man to do when his true favourite girl keeps telling him it's a bad idea.
Art is by arekushisu_11 on IG.
A/N: apologies for the delay on this but I finally got it finished. Hope y’all enjoy ex!Suguru. Also, this isn’t thoroughly edited so I apologise for any mistakes.
A/N: Hi besties! Here we have the 2k celebration smau. I have to say, I had a lot of fun making this. It was tied up between fluff and angst for the celebration but ultimately angst won by a dick hair hahaha. Don't worry fluff lovers, there's things to come for you guys. After all, it's almost valentines day 😉
