Megumi's Puppet

[ttakdoll]

꩜ – FRAT PRESIDENT SATORU GOJO (and the shy girl he's obsessed with!)

(18+) HEADCANONS :: – frat!gojo x innocent!reader, college au, smut, dom!gojo, handjobs, praise, corruption kink, manipulative behavior, slight dub-con

frat president!satoru, who’s used to every type of girl at his party except you, all big eyes, wandering around his house like you didn’t know what to do. he’s asked suguru to offer you everything under the sun in the last thirty or so minutes — a drink, a smoke, a joint. you just politely decline, shaking your head so prettily.

frat president!satoru, who swears he’s just got an ego when he decides he’ll be the one to show you all of that and more. he could do it if suguru couldn’t, if no one else could.

he starts off all nice, walking you to all your classes, offering his sweaters in the lectures you had together (which he only started attending for you), buying you lunch and listening to your cute little rants about your worst profs.

frat president!satoru learns that you like being held when he’s the first one to find you after an exam you swear you’d failed. he doesn’t get it ‘til he’d realized your eyes are all glassy, so shiny as you peered up at him with wobbling lips, trying not to cry in front of him.

frat president!satoru loves the way you’d just melted into his arms after that. he calls you easy to his friends for it, but something inside him never wants to let go whenever you’re willing to press yourself into his chest, wherever you’re willing to do it.

frat president!satoru, who asks you what you’re wearing all the time and sends even prettier things to wear to your dorm when he thinks you can do better.

frat president!satoru, who’s spiraling at night, jerking off to your contact photo, wrapping his large hand around his dick and pretending like it’s that sweet mouth of yours engulfing his length. he imagines how shy you’d be, lips parted wide, smearing pre-cum and replacing your candy lip balm. he wants you tasting like him, those soft cheeks drenched in his cum, eyes screwed shut until he’s all you can think about.

frat president!satoru likes making you need him, doting on you and driving you around like a princess, spoiling you until you frown whenever his hand isn’t on your hip, or whenever he dodges your calls for fraternity meetings. he likes the idea that you might become obsessed with him (like he is with you). 

frat president!satoru, who’s grinning cruelly the minute you finally tell him, “you know, you do so much for me, I feel like I’m not doing enough for you.” in that nervous voice of yours one day, while you’re tucked into his side at your apartment.

frat president!satoru, who’s never missed a meeting or a call until that day, when he’s finally got you whimpering shyly in his lap while he gently mouths at your neck, tasting that perfume he’s been searching online for for weeks, whispering about how he’s so grateful you wanna help him out, how sweet you are for making it up to him too even when you didn't have to.

but he’s been waiting for weeks, you’re all soft and impressionable on him, and he’s not letting a moment of your kindness go to waste.

frat president!satoru guides you with a husky voice when he teaches you to spit in your own palm and wrap your hand around his cock, nearly shivering at the contact  — “make me feel good, pretty girl, it’s the least you can do.”

frat president!satoru, who just chuckles at the fact that you’re all nervous, looking up at him as if asking what to do next, just for him to wrap his palm around yours, engulfing it entirely. he groans lowly as he moves your palm up and down on his already-hard length, bottom lip catching between his teeth at how warm your hand feels against his dick.

“shit, just keep it like that, baby, up and down…”

frat president!satoru, who kisses you slow when you gasp at how he bucks up into your hand, keeping his own wrapped around it while desperately attempting not to just use you, jerk himself off with your tiny little fingers, maneuver you down and slam himself deep into your tight cunt. “hah — fuck, gorgeous, y— you’re good at this, huh? so good for me, so fucking cute…”

“i’ve never done this before,” you admit into frat president!satoru’s mouth, hushed and breathy like it’s a secret. he wants to fucking laugh, but he’s cut short by a low hiss as you thumb at his slit without him having to teach you, making him lose his mind piece by piece. shit, you’re just perfect, aren’t you? 

“am — am I doing okay, satoru?” 

frat president!satoru has nearly had enough of patience when you say that. shit, he bites down into your lip without even realizing, hand tightening around yours when you whimper. and it’s barely enough to notice at first, but he pumps your hand around him faster, growling into your mouth at the way your fingertips flex around his length, making a slick! sound that echoes across the room.

“you’re — shit, just like that — doing perfect, baby. so perfect.” frat president!satoru groans into your throat, even though he’s using your hand like a fuck toy now, smearing his own pre-cum mixed with your saliva all over his huge dick, bucking his hips up into your plush skin like a glorified fleshlight.

the only one he’s dreamed of in the past few weeks, at least.

frat president!satoru gets off on how eager you are to match his pace, his other hand cupping your cheeks to purse your pretty mouth open for him as he spits down your throat and relishes in your confused little whine. he doesn’t even realize how tightly he’s gripping your hand now, forcing you to jerk his cock faster.

“that’s it,” he pants into your lips, “just let me have you, okay? hah— so good, shit, you’ve been wanting this too, haven’t you?”

“satoru—” your voice is a wet dream, how it feathers off around the edges and breaks like you’re not sure.

frat president!satoru groans at the sound of your confusion. “been, fuck, thinking about this, baby. want you creaming on my cock next, yeah? or maybe it’s — haah! — too big for your first time. gotta — shit — prep you first.”

frat president!satoru spills into your hand with one last rough stroke of both your hands around his length, gasping low with his tongue down your throat as he finally lets your hand go. he watches the way your palm shakes, eyes dark, lifting your cum-covered fingertips to your mouth without thinking. and he thinks you won’t do it, until—

your sweet fucking tongue darts out to lick experimentally at your own fingers, and satoru thinks he’s gone to heaven.

frat president!satoru, who can’t help himself when he’s grabbing you by the waist now, laying you flat on your back and coming up to slot his knee between your thighs, committing the way your face scrunches up in both confusion and pleasure to memory. he thinks you’re the cutest fucking thing in the world, and he wants you broken in every way possible until you can’t fuck any other guy without imagining his dick. 

“thank you, baby,” he grins against your neck. “can i make you feel good now?”

frat president!satoru, who decided he’d never let you fuck anyone else anyways the moment you'd nodded.

@ ttakdoll, 2026

inspired by an anon request for a shy reader!!

[fireladylisa]

— the arrangement ∬ ֗ ₊

ა ˙˖ in which → you have car sex with your biggest op, satoru gojo

frat!jo 𝓍 fem!reader

Everyone knows you hate fraternities, especially Theta Phi and it's president, Satoru Gojo

It was a given. The sky is blue, grass is green and according to you, fraternities are the root of all evil.

Which is why when you started fucking Gojo, it was under the condition that this was strictly between the two of you and you'd ruin his life if he told anyone about this.. arrangement. 

Here's what not even your closest friends know about you: you had a very high libido and none of the men you were interested in had been capable of keeping up. you tried sleeping with athletes but even they didn't have the stamina to go for more than two rounds and while your vibrators always helped you, you had grown sexually frustrated and needed more.

You started snapping over the tiniest things, losing sleep and even daydreaming during lectures about getting fucked.

This.. arrangement started when you had been assigned to work on a project with Gojo, the arrogant white haired manchild you hated since the first day of uni. Now you were stuck with him for two months, working on a project he cared little about since he was too busy trying to charm his way into not just your pants, but your heart.

As if!

"Fuck, just like that, princesss. Come on, I know you can go faster." Gojo chuckles and grabs onto your hips, spreading his legs wider as he starts bouncing you on his cock so hard that the car is rocking back and forth, windows fogging up as he lifts his hips to pound into you. 

You should be working on this project that was due in a few weeks, but instead you let Gojo drag you to the backseat of his car with the promise that this would be quick, something to clear your minds so you could focus on your work without any distractions. 

Yet here you were four rounds later with cum dripping down your thighs from his previous loads that started to seep from the condom, body shaking as you neared your fourth orgasm.

"Screw you asshole, how about you get on top you lazy bast- oh!" Gojo lifts you off his cock and flips you onto your knees, awkwardly moving within the limited space until he’s behind you and lining his cock up with your entrance. 

"You're so fucking mean to me, I love it." Gojo leans over your body to suck on your neck, one hand holding onto your hip while the other grips the back of the seat as he pushes into you.

"You d-deserve it." You push back against him as he pushes forward, meeting him halfway until he's balls deep inside of you, your cunt hungrily squeezing him for more, eyes rolling back when he starts to slowly move his hips.

You hadn't meant for this to go on for as long as it has. You had been frustrated after a shift at work, then you walked in on your roommate getting her back blown out, and when you went to meet Gojo for a quick study session at the library, it was closed and he smirked and told you his place was around the corner.

You reluctantly got into his car, arms folded across your chest as you stared out the window the entire way there, ignoring his flirtatious comments. It had frustrated you to no end, so who could really blame you when you started drooling after he offered to help you with your little issue?

It was supposed to be a one time thing, a quick solution to your "problem" until you could find someone more permanent, someone you didn't despise. 

Only Gojo had matched your freak perfectly, going six rounds your first time and only taking a break once. You didn't want it to be him, did everything to convince yourself that he was actually terrible in bed but your vibrators had turned stale after that night, your mind constantly drifting to how hard Gojo made you cum on his dick and on his tongue.

He was just too good. 

You arch your back so he can hit deeper, hands tightly gripping the leather head rest to steady yourself, skirt yanked above your waist, bra and shirt long discarded on the car floor. 

You cry out when he hits a spot inside of you that has you seeing stars, head spinning from how deep he was fucking you. 

Gojo groans and leans forward, grabbing your chin to turn your head toward his, pink lips slamming against yours. The kiss is careless, his tongue fighting yours, you angrily biting his lip because you hate yourself for letting him fuck you when you swore up and down you’d never get involved with a fratboy. 

Gojo didn’t care, savoring the taste of his blood mixing with the spit you both traded.

When he pulls away, your brows furrow from the way he's staring at you, white hair falling into his face, lips slightly busted from your bite, a foreign feeling twirling in your belly. This was just sex, you wanted nothing more from him so why was he staring at you like he wanted to tell you something that would ruin your current agreement? 

"Look at you.” He whispers too softly. “Letting me fuck you like a slut in my car. Anyone could walk by, you know? See how good I fuck you, how well you take me. You want that?"

When you try to turn your head, he tightens his grip on your jaw and smirks, slamming into you as he thrusts grow sloppy. The sound of your wet pussy squelching filling the car has him dizzy with need.

"You don't have to answer, your moans are telling me enough." He kisses you one more time before letting you go and pulling back. 

You don't have a chance to dwell on what he was implying before he was gripping your hips and pounding into you at a pace that had you crying out as the coil in your belly tightens, your puffy walls gripping around Gojo's cock.

"M'gonna cum again!" You whined as his tip hit your cervix perfectly, fat tears escaping your eyes while your mouth dropped open in a silent cry. 

You try to fuck him back, really you do but your legs are noodles at this point and the only thing keeping you up was Gojo's steady hands on your hips, euphoria coursing through your body and making your head dizzy with need. 

“Come on, princess. Give me another one, yeah? You can do it, such a good girl f’me.” 

You hate him so much, hate that he knows exactly what to say to push you over the edge, that he was way too in-tune with your body as if he had been created to please you.

Gojo pulls you up against his chest and you let your head fall on his shoulder. He wraps one arm around your waist and squeezes you flush against him, his other hand moving around your body until he’s rubbing circles on your clit and you’re lazily bucking back against him.

“Feels so good Toru, haah, don’t stop!” 

The car reeked of sex, windows blurred from the breathy moans falling from yours and Gojo’s mouths as you both rock into each other. Anyone walking by would know what was happening inside. You thanked god it was late and the parking lot had been empty. 

“Really? Thought you hated me, pretty girl. Who knew- fuck, who knew you had such loose morals?” He laughs in your ear, hand pushing on your back to arch it even further while he split you on his cock. 

“F-fuck you, oh im close!” 

Gojo laughs and places a kiss on the side of your head that lingers longer than it should before pushing you back down to get a better angle and his next slam sends you over the edge, your orgasm tearing through your soul as you squirt all over his seats and cry out his name.

This was better than porn.

Gojo doesn’t laugh this time, doesn’t make any snide comments because he can barely breathe with the way your cunt is pulsing around his cock, your juices dripping down his thighs and he thinks he’s going crazy because he’s never had pussy this good. 

The fact that you hated him made this even better for some reason, motivated him to fuck you until you finally admitted that this was more than just casual sex. That he wasn’t delusional in thinking this could be something deeper. 

He squeezes your hips tighter, pushing as deep as he can as he pumps his third load into the condom, eyes rolling back and a strangled groan escaping his lips as thick hot cum drips from the latex and into your warm pussy. 

Gojo can feel it slipping it off, can feel your heat and gummy walls on his half free cock and it has him feral as he picks up his pace and fucks another load into you, his balls tightening and pulsing because you had never felt this good. 

“Shit, princess. You’re so fucking wet, so good, s-so perfect.” He drops against your back, still holding you up as his hips stutter and slow, pushing the last of his orgasm out while you both catch your breath. 

He stays there for a moment, his face tucked into the crook of your neck, thumbs rubbing circles on your hips as you both come down from your high. You can feel his cum leaking from you and down your thighs and you hate how it awakens something primal inside of you. And when the thought to push it back in had formed, you blamed it on your disheveled state. 

In any other instance you would have pushed him off you already, huffing that it was only sex and would never happen again even though you both knew that was a lie. 

Something about Gojo had you coming back for seconds and thirds. Every fuck session was somehow better than the last, making you forget that this was supposed to be a one time thing, something to hold you over until you found a more suitable partner. 

Only you were starting to realize Gojo might be the best you ever had. It made you hate him more.

You gasp when he slowly pulls out, pussy overstimulated and swollen from the multiple rounds you went in the span of an hour. Both of you sitting on the cushion, one of your arms draped across the seat, Gojo’s throw over his eyes. 

You sneak a look at him, heart thumping at how attractive he looked. His hair was all over the place, cheeks red from exhaustion, and his pants and boxers were still halfway down, cock still free and housing a half on condom. Your skin tingles at the sight of his abdomen and white pubes wet with your release. 

He looked as fucked out as you felt.

Not one for awkward silence, you lift your hips to pull your panties back up and your skirt down, stretching your body to reach into the front seat for your shirt, ass in the air and you almost have it, your finger literally grazes the blue fabric before Gojo grabs you and pulls you down. 

“Gojo! Oh my god, let go you freak.” You’re fuming, trying your best to wiggle out his grip but he just tightens his arms around your stomach, pulling you against him and lowering his head onto your back, littering it in soft kisses that burn through your skin. 

"Go on a date with me. Please?"

This again. You told him multiple times before that this was simply sex, two college students helping each other out and nothing more. No feelings outside of helping the other get off. His stubbornness would only hurt him in the end.

"God no, I don't date frat boys."

"What if I left?"

You freeze against him, a lump forming in your chest. "Aren't you the president? You can't just leave."

What a cruel joke. Not that you wanted him anyways but even if you did, Gojo would never leave his fraternity. Certainly not for you. You two weren’t lovers, weren’t friends and we’re barely acquaintances given the fact that he was your number one op.

You remembered the time in sophomore year when he publicly called you an uptight bitch because you told him his party sucked. You lived different lives, it could never work. He would never change and you would never see him as more than a quick fuck and your unfortunate  project buddy that you’d go back to ignoring once this was over.  

"I can do whatever I want sweetheart, did you forget my last name?" He lifts his head and kisses your shoulder this time, goosebumps forming on your arms. Of course, he always tried to fix everything with money and status, which is another reason why you hated him. 

You sit there quietly, lost in your thoughts. 

You couldn’t seriously be with someone like Gojo, right? He was brash, had an ego out of this world and was a bratty nepo baby that flirted with anyone with a hole. 

"So?" he asks, hopeful. HIs fingers gently dig into your belly to keep you from moving away, one hand coming up to grip your chin and turn your head back to him. 

"So?" You repeat, eyebrows scrunched in confusion as you lose yourself in his eyes.

For all of his.. lack of good qualities, he never failed in the facial department. Perhaps that was another reason you disliked him, because no matter how many insults you can throw his way, ugly wasn’t one of them.

Satoru Gojo was sculpted by the Gods themselves, which was unfortunate, because no one with a face like that should have a personality so catastrophically irritating. You can’t help but to let your eyes. traitorous things that they were, linger.

He notices because of course he does, and the smile that spreads across his face lacks any of his usual arrogance and for a second you imagined what life as his girlfriend could be like. 

The thought came uninvited, images of him giving you sleepy morning kisses nad taking you on dates vivid enough to make your stomach twist. 

Absolutely not.

Satoru Gojo was many things: powerful, insufferable, unbearably handsome, but he was not boyfriend material.

"Will you go on a date with me if I leave the frat?" 

"No."

You answer too fast and Gojo is once again left heartbroken as you pull away to finish dressing yourself, refusing to spare him another look. He could understand why you hated him, but if you would just give him a chance to prove he could be different, he knew he wouldn’t disappoint you. 

He would just have to keep trying, keep working for your favor because he would make you his if it was the last thing he did. He was competitive to his core and that wouldn’t waver just because he had finally met his match. 

On the contrary, it only motivated him more. He saw the way you looked at him, how you were starting to let him touch you longer than you would have when this first started.

He was slowly breaking your walls down and it was only a matter of time before he made you his.

❦ lisa's note: this will be a series! I'll post the masterlist for it soon but lemme know if you wanna be tagged! 😋

series masterlist

© art creds: gojouify, heart gif from @sweethearticism ❤︎

gojo &̶ jjk tags: @rhaewinsdaughter @timgiohlover1767 @kissprl @lunevarin @keiito066 @Stupidlyawesomegirl @pinkpantherrrrss @Spammyjammyy @lounastar @luvs-angel @luvbambiboo @scramblenigojo @nationalmegumidihhopper

perm tags: @icebearcucumber @tojisfavoritegun @writingintheskin @saturneni @sakurasweetiesworld-blog @sleeeepybee @locallyclementine @butterbeanandsparkleface

[angeltanked]

Pretty boy Yuji wants to cuddle with you?... • MDNI • Slight NSFW

Prettyboy Yuji! Absolutely loves it when you nuzzle your head on his chest when you two cuddle, his hands never leave your hips

Prettyboy Yuji! Loves to watch his favorite movies with you (just to get you closer to him), he even let's you pick out which one you wanna watch (⁠つ⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)⁠つ

Prettyboy Yuji! Pouts when you mention any other guy friends or Megumi, "don't say al'that stuff doll...y'know how I feel"

Prettyboy Yuji! Hid his Jennifer Lawrence poster when he heard you coming over, but it wasn't too long before you took it down. "Then at least give me a bikini out pic of you-", which he ended up getting a slap instead.

Prettyboy Yuji! Was practically screaming and jumping from the inside one time you asked him to help you fix the buckle on your skirt

Prettyboy Yuji! Wanted to express his love for you but sometimes would fumble up and say the exact opposite of what he wanted to, making you laugh and him flustered

Prettyboy Yuji! Once bought you a small lip balm he heard from Nobara that you liked, turns out it was the wrong flavour (strawberry shine instead of cherry)but you ended up wearing it everyday(⁠◕⁠દ⁠◕⁠)

« ☆ —⋆——꒰ঌ·☆·໒꒱ ——⋆— ☆ »

Prettyboy Yuji! Would rush to jerk off in his room every time he saw you training in shorts, so he always hurried to finish up training

Prettyboy Yuji! Was eyeing a porn magazine in his room when he realized the model looked really similar to you and....he jerked off -⁠ᄒ⁠ᴥ⁠ᄒ⁠-

Prettyboy Yuji! Really wanted to fuck sorry I meant make out with you but didn't know how so he played a bet of chess with you, and you lost so he won on the bet

Prettyboy Yuji! Leaned in kissing you desperately while caressing your waist, hooking his thumb on your waistband made you squeal,"Y-You want me to stop?", he pulled away slightly, a trail of saliva hanging between the both of your wet lips, he tasted like berry Xytol and that drove you crazy

Prettyboy Yuji! Touched your seeping wet pussy through your panties, "you're.....s-so wet....", his fingers moved on around your clit circling as you held on to his right shoulder, mewling

Prettyboy Yuji! Now had your knees over his shoulders, folding you in half on his soft mattress as you turned into a slobbery of moans and whimpers, clutching his salmon pink hair as he lapped and licked your pussy

Prettyboy Yuji! Looked up at you with admiration, his nose still brushing against your clit as his honey brown eyes locked onto yours

Prettyboy Yuji! Reaaaaaally wanted to fuck you, you looked so adorable right there he fought the urge to pound you into the mattress, but he didn't have a condom and was pretty sure Gojo would catch him so he resisted

Prettyboy Yuji! Would let you suck on a lolipop as he cleaned you up, "you're so adorable 'nd messy", he chuckled, bear hugging and cradling you in his arms.

Hii everyone for reading this I hope you guys love Yuji as much as I do, I've been wanting to dye my hair to Yujis shade cus omg I luv himmm♡⁠(⁠Ӧ⁠ｖ⁠Ӧ⁠｡⁠) please leave a follow for more demure content^^ I may go on hiatus due to studies

[mamashima]

WHINE AND DINE.

❤︎ SYNOPSIS: nanako and mimiko have a lonely papa—luckily for him, they’re master matchmakers. (alternatively, kids are smarter than we think.)

❤︎ CONTENT: f!reader, single dad!suguru, preschool teacher!reader, both are mid 20s-early 30s, and both are lonely asf, egregious usage of ‘y/n’ and this is your only warning, light angst, but mainly fluff, nanako and mimiko are very active participants, alcohol, first dates … 18+, minors and ageless blogs DNI.

❤︎ XOXO, PUMA: um. how does one interact with children.

♫ NOW PLAYING: back in love, suki waterhouse.

read on ao3 | 6.2k words | masterlist.

“MISS Y/N!” Nanako hollers. She always comes screaming into class, loud enough to make you to wince, loud enough to make you to debate whether it’s appropriate to tell a child that’s not yours to shut up. Mimiko trails right behind, clutching Mr. Bun tight to her chest. “Marry my Papa!”

And you, who was prepared to welcome your favorite girls with open arms—yes, teachers aren’t supposed to have favorites, but they do—stutter and falter. Nanako comes crashing into your knee, and somehow, knocks wind out of you in the process.

“Nanako,” Mr. Getō hisses from the entrance. He’s always the first parent here, work, you assume. Never too early, but early enough that you’re the only two adults in the room, early enough to barely miss the morning rush. You don’t mind the extra company, even if Nanako is a whirlwind and a half. And, as much as she tries to hide it, her twin sister isn’t much better. Just…quieter.

Mr. Getō turns to you with a polite smile, because that’s all he’s ever been—polite, kind, courteous. A bit distant. Not that you know many parents beyond drop off and pick up. If anything, you understand most of them through their kids. What Suguru’s daughters say about him, though, is beyond you.

“I’m sorry about her,” he apologizes, like his girls haven’t been in your class all year. Polite. You’d be lying if you didn’t say Mr. Getō was one of the more attractive parents, and unfortunately, all the single moms agree. The single moms, in their LuluLemons and Athleta and reusable Starbucks cups. You look down at your multicolored patchwork apron, the white dress underneath stained with every crayon and marker in your classroom. Yeah, definitely not his type.

Mr. Getō is clean—he’s made of sharp edges and hard lines, and you’re made of circles and vomiting rainbows. He’d definitely prefer someone clean and sharp like him. A business woman, maybe. With a really killer bob.

“It’s okay,” you wave it off before kneeling to give Nanako a proper hug. Lightly, Mimiko weasels her way in. “Did you two bring a lunch, today?

The question is superfluous—of course, they did. Mimiko is allergic to most things, and it’s a much safer play to simply bring food from home. But, if you forget to remind them immediately, they’ll forget to give it to you, and you’ll forget to remind them once the chaos of class starts. It’s an endless cycle of forgetting.

Nanako nods vehemently, digging into her themed backpack for two modern bento boxes, and hands them over with chubby fingers. “Yep! Papa made it!”

You smile and nod, getting to your feet to refrigerate them. With knees popping and aching on your way up, you wonder how long you’ll have until you feel truly, properly old. Mr. Getō lingers in the doorway, pays a swooning mother no mind as she unleashes her feral child in the room, and you find an excuse for small talk, because you can.

“What’d you make them?” You’re digging into the mini-fridge now, the one by the front door, and place their lunch boxes in the spot you always put them. Lower level, to the right. Mr. Getō shrugs in his suit like he doesn’t have somewhere to be.

“Just leftovers,” he says. You stand to your feet, brushing the apron off. “Tako sausage and omurice.”

“Awh, I love tako sausage,” you gush, and eye the room as it slowly begins to fill. Single mothers whisper behind your back. You know, becase your hackles raise. “I don’t know why, but sausage always tastes better squid-ified.”

Mr. Getō lifts an eyebrow. “…Squid-ified.”

“Yeah,” you nod away the stark reminder of exactly why you’re not this man’s type. He seems like such a no nonsense guy, and here you are, yapping.

“Well. If I knew that, I would’ve brought you some,” he offers with a kind smile, and your knees buckle. Just a little.

“Bah,” you wave the platitude away. “I’m an adult. If I really want tako sausage that bad, I can make it.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what.”

“Make it.”

“Oh! No.” You snort, suppress a giggle, and breathe. “I’m lazy.”

Crossing his arms, Mr. Getō rests a shoulder against the door frame. “Says the woman taking care of twenty gremlins on a daily basis.”

“Hey, they may be gremlins, but they’re my gremlins,” you say, eyes scanning the room. Yūji Itadori gnaws on a jumbo block. You should probably take it from him before he hurts himself. Thankfully (unthankfully) Mr. Getō checks his watch, and realizes—

“Shit, I’m going to be late. I will, um, see you at pick up,” he pushes away from the wall, smile never failing. Class is going to begin soon, anyways. Before you can respond, though, he perks up with an afterthought. “Oh, and—if Nanako says anything else, please disregard it. It’s not…she has a fixation, right now.”

You don’t even know what that’s supposed to mean.

“Um…okay?”

“Okay,” Mr. Getō exhales, wavering by the door for one more second. “See you at five?”

“Sounds good,” you smile, and avoid thinking about how it sounds like a promise. Lock the fuck in. You’re no better than any of the mothers that swoon under the smooth of his voice. And, you hate yourself for it, every single time.

Once Mr. Getō leaves, so do the rest of the parents—the mothers, lingering, hoping that he might give them a sliver of his day. Fools, you think, because they won’t get anything if it doesn’t concern Nanako or Mimiko.

You walk to the front of the room, taking Yūji’s block away from him on the way. Luckily, he’s not a crier.

“Okay, everyone! Quiet Coyote!”

“Papa’s crying again.”

“I know.”

“He’s lonely.”

“I know.”

Suguru Getō is such a good dad.

While this something you know, it doesn’t make your heart swell any less.

“See! He likes you, lots!” Nanako holds up the sticky note plastered to the interior of her lunch. You crouch to read, instead of taking the note and pulling it to your face.

have a good day at school! i love you both so much. please don’t give ms. y/n a hard time. (nanako)

And, while there’s no proof that ‘he likes you lots,’ you appreciate Nanako’s match making sentiment nonetheless. Mimiko eats quietly next to her. Eyeing the tako sausage in their bento boxes, your mouth waters. Just a little bit.

But, you brought a sandwich. God, adult food is so boring.

“Yes, your Dad is a very nice man,” you smile, and ruffle ginger hair. Nanako beams.

“Exactly! So you’ll marry him?”

“No, Nanako.”

Nanako whines at that, and even Mimiko seems a little disappointed. “What? Why not?”

You suppress a groan. How do you explain without alluding to adult concepts that run right over children’s heads.

“Because, that’s not how relationships work, Sweetie,” you sigh, and adjust your legs so your knees hurt less. “Both people need to be on board. It’s a partnership.”

Nanako frowns. “Pardnership?”

You hum and nod. “Yes. Like the buddy system—marriage is one big buddy system.”

“But,” her bottom lip warbles, and shit, fuck, “Papa wants a buddy.”

“And, he’ll get one,” you know he will, it just won’t be you. And, you’re fine with that, you barely know the man—he’s just nice to look at, and takes very good care of the only two angels on Earth. “But, he has to choose. You can’t choose for him.”

“But—”

“No buts, Nanako,” because, you really can’t have this conversation for much longer. “Eat your food before it gets cold, okay? Your Papa will find a buddy, soon.”

“But,” Nanako begins again, because she’s stubborn, and has never been a good listener unless she wants to be. “But, you’d be a good buddy—I want you to be his buddy.”

You sigh. Swallow. Pat Nanako on the head in hopes it’ll placate whatever is going through her little mind at the moment.

“Eat your food, Nanako.”

“Papa, why don’t we have a Mommy, yet?”

“Girls—you’re four years old. Papa need a little more time than that.”

“Why?”

“…Because.”

“That’s a bad reason!”

You’re a little lonely. You can admit that, at least.

It’s not easy—after wrangling 20 five year olds all day—to have the energy for much else but recuperation. You’ve gone on a few dates, during the summer when class is no longer an something to worry about. You make as much time as you can for friends, on the weekends, maybe once or twice a month, when you don’t have a laundry list of errands to run because you waited the whole week to do them. That doesn’t make your apartment feel any less empty, though.

Heating up the other half of your sandwich, you try to remember the last time you went on a second date. Your boyfriend from college, maybe? You both lived on opposite sides of the country, and it wasn’t long after graduation before everything fell apart. Most parents you meet are surprised that you don’t have kids of your own by now, but that’s not the case—the issue is that you have twenty of them, from eight to three.

(To five, if you count the after school program.)

The microwave beeps, and you take the sandwich out. It’s cold in the middle, you should’ve flipped it open, but you’re too tired to care. That’s been a reoccurring thing, lately—being tired. Being cold.

“But, you’d be a good buddy!”

Yeah. You wouldn’t mind a buddy, either, Nanako.

“…What are you two doing?”

“Nothing, Papa!”

“Girls—thank you. Now, go to bed. I won’t ask again.”

“Okay, goodnight!”

Click.

“There’s an h in spaghetti, Nanako—”

Now. As stated, Mimiko is just as bad as her sister. Possibly worse—at least, Nanako is easy to say no to.

“My Papa is sad—and you can make him happy.”

Yeah. That’s what she starts with. What the fuck.

She holds out a homemade card with two hands, thumb and index pinching both sides until it wrinkles. From what you can see, there’s a pink glittering heart on the cover, with the names Miss Y/N and Papa above in crayon and stilted handwriting. This is a form of guilt tripping you’re severely unfamiliar with.

You take the card—because fuck, are you supposed to just make her stand there?—and open it because you can. Curiosity killed the cat.

THEESE WEKEND

PAPAS HOWSS FOR SPAHGETI

You snort. It takes you way too long to understand ‘howss’ is house.

“Mimiko,” you sigh, because, out of the two sisters, “you know I can’t. Your Papa has to choose his buddy, remember?”

She lets out an exhale, curling a lip of frustration, and wow, Mimiko, the fuck. “Yes, but—he’s not choosing one.”

“And, that’s okay,” you smile, pocketing the card before kneeling to her level. This is totally going on your fridge, your feelings surrounding the situation be damned. “Maybe, he doesn’t want a buddy right now.”

“Then—Then, he doesn’t get to cry about it!” She stomps a foot, and you want to say who’s crying about what, but keep it to yourself. “He won’t even see Uncle Gojō anymore. Just—come this weekend. Please.”

You sigh. You won’t, but, “I’ll think about it, Mimiko.”

“Did you do it?”

“Yes.”

“Do you think—”

“Yes.”

“Did you know your daughters invited me to your house, this weekend?”

“I did not,” Mr. Getō huffs with levity, and you join him in watching the girls climb the monkey bars. It’s a few hours since school ended, and the afterschool program is in full effect. Luckily (unluckily), you’re in charge of that, too. It’s not like you have anything better to do.

You pull the card out from your apron, and wave the cover design in his face before opening it, and trying your best to stay true to the spelling. “Theese wekend…papa’s howss…for spahgeti.”

“Wow.” Mr. Getō runs a hand over his lower face, chucking before he asks, “May I see that?”

Gladly, you hand it over.

“This is what they were doing last night,” he realizes aloud. “I was wondering why there was glitter all over the floor.”

“Ah yes, she’s elusive,” you nod solemnly, remembering how many times that godforsaken powder followed you out the class and into the home. Mr. Getō lifts an eyebrow. “Glitter, I mean.”

He snorts, nods, and passes the card back like he knew you wanted to keep it. The twins finally notice their Dad waiting, and come bounding over, covered in a level of sweat and grime that only a child could tolerate.

It’s immediate—the way Mr. Getō lights up.

He kneels down with open arms, each girl taking one, squeezing and pulling with no care for his pristine black suit. He doesn’t seem to care, either, as he cradles both of their heads and leaves twin kisses in his wake.

“How was school?”

“It was great! Did you know bears sleep for so long?!”

“Miss Y/N is coming to our house this weekend.”

You gawk, and look at Mimiko with absolute betrayal, because that’s not what you said. “I said, I’d think about it!”

Mr. Getō looks at you over his daughters head with a grin in his eyes.

“Is she, now?”

“Yep, I invited he—”

“We invited her!” Nanako adds loudly, lifting a hand in the air like she’s still in class. “But Mimiko delivered the letter because no one can say no to her!”

You knew it. You knew it, that wretch.

Mr. Getō laughs and stands, patting his daughters on the head on the way. You sigh but keep a good natured smile, knowing you will be screaming about this into a pillow later.

“You two are scary,” he says with a smile, then redirects it to you, and you’re…

“Sorry, about that,” you breathe, because this is embarrassing. Beyond, actually, because it’s like his girls have a radar for your exact type—their dad.

“No, I should be the one apologizing,” Mr. Getō steps forward. Mimiko forces a conversation out of Nanako, a sidebar, away enough to give you two privacy. Both of their eyes drift, though. “I told you—they have a fixation. They’ll get over it.”

“Oh no, it’s okay,” you wave his words away with both hands. “I get it. Plus, it’s endearing, when it’s not…”

“Embarrassing.”

“Yeah,” your fingers curl into the bottom of your apron. “But um, you should, like, totally put yourself out there more—not that, um, only if you want, but y’know, you could have anyone! So, uh, go for it!”

Mr. Getō snorts, and the sunset dances in his eyes and turns them molten. He’s staring at you too much. You should probably put the anxiously supportive thumbs up away. “And, that was supposed to be…encouraging.”

You clear your throat. “Yeah, it was an attempt. I—”

“What’s your answer?”

What.

“What?”

“Or,” Mr. Getō tilts his head, edits the sentence. “What would be your answer. If I, um, asked you. For…spahgeti.”

You snort at the pronunciation, too focused on the way he smells to notice the fact that Mimiko and Nanako’s conversation has come to a lull. Now, they’re watching in rapt attention.

“Uh, sure—yes,” you blink, pinch your arm just to make sure this isn’t a dream, and—nope. It’s still Thursday. You’re still at school. Covered in washable paint. “Yes, I would, um, I like spahgeti.”

He laughs a little, and you scrunch away a smile. You want to hear that, again.

“Six on Saturday?”

“Yeah,” you nod, you keep nodding, you need to stop nodding. “Yeah, sounds great.”

“No, you cannot cook the spaghetti yourselves.”

“But—”

“Absolutely not—Mimiko, how’d you learn how to turn on the stove?!”

“…Watching you.”

Maybe, you shouldn’t be going to a random man’s house. But, that random man is Mr. Getō, and he has daughters—so it’s not like he’s going to murder you, right?

Though, you’re more worried about accidentally murdering yourself on the way. You don’t notice the bright orange hand until after you’re honked at, a third of the way through the crosswalk.

“Watch where you’re going!”

Well. Fuck you, too.

The bottle of wine feels weird in your hands—too heavy and too cold, and the closer you get to your destination, the closer you get to the expensive side of town, the lump in your throat swells to a softball. You get comfortable with regret when you knock on his door thrice, hurting your knuckles in the process.

Christ, Mr. Getō lives here?

It doesn’t take long for him to open the door…ostensibly, not in a suit.

It’s strange seeing him outside of school. The issue is, outside of school, you dress the same. Apparently, Mr. Getō doesn’t wear suits all day, in the comfort of his own home, and that’s…weird.

(Not that you thought he would—but also, he totally seems like the type of guy who would.)

“Ah, hello! Thank you for coming.”

Today, he dons jeans and a button down shirt, both oversized enough to be comfortable, but nice enough to be…nice. His hair isn’t as neat as it typically is, but half-up nonetheless, with a stray hair working its way out the hair tie. There’s a streak of green marker on his chin, and you giggle at it, gesturing to your own.

“You’ve got…um…”

Mr. Getō slams a hand over his chin with a groan. “Marker?”

He steps out of the doorway to let you in, and you take the opportunity with a smile. “Looks like it—”

“Miss Y/N!”

Nanako and Mimiko come screaming down the hall and around the corner. You take them to the chest—well, the waist—as Mr. Getō disappears to, presumably, wash the green off his face.

“You came!” Nanako beams. You give her a small smile, because the little girl has no idea what you went through, internally, to drag yourself out of your apartment this evening.

“I did,” you nod, and give a very happy Mimiko a soft glare. She doesn’t even waver. They both guide you to a pleasantly placed table in the dining room, decorated with the works—roses and candles and actual porcelain plates. You don’t even think you own actual porcelain plates. Certainly not due to your own volition. The lighting is warm, and cozy, and could easily put you to sleep.

They sit you at the head, fussing over your hair, your outfit, and apparently, the way you sit.

“Papa has been working all day,” Mimiko says as Nanako tries to push your chair in, but can’t, because she’s five and you’re four times her size. “He wouldn’t let us help. Be nice to him.”

That or else hangs heavy in the air, and you gulp. This isn’t intimidating at all.

Before you start to regret your decision for the third time, Mr. Getō comes out of the kitchen while patting his hands dry with a reusable towel. Immediately, the girls scatter—sprinting down a seemingly endless hallway, and duck into the third room on the left. The door slams shut. Then, a series of giggles.

“…I’ve never seen them move so quickly,” Mr. Getō mutters, and you laugh quietly in agreement.

But, now, without Nanako or Mimiko to fill the void with insanity, you don’t know what to say. Silence lulls, and it’s loud.

“Me neither.”

This…is awkward.

Mr. Getō seems to feel it too, because immediately, he gets the ball rolling, and points to the kitchen. “So, dinner is ready but, um, I don’t know if you want me to make your plate, or if you want to make your own, or…”

“I can make it,” you insist, standing to your feet and grabbing the very nice, probably very expensive plate. You pray that you won’t drop it, somehow. “I wanna see what your kitchen looks like, anyway.”

Mr. Getō chuckles, light and good-natured. And, if you sway, it’s not your fault. “Why?”

You shrug, following him into through a doorway. “Tells you a lot about a person.”

Mr. Getō makes a sound, a hum of contemplative agreement. And, the kitchen is…aggressively domestic. This is about to be the worst first date of your life, you already know—not because it’s going to end poorly, but because you kind of want this man. And, you can’t tell yourself the last time you’ve been on a second date.

Two bowls fill the island—one with spaghetti (spahgeti), one with salad—and a plate of garlic bread. It smells heavenly and your mouth waters, completely forgetting your mission to judge this man into unattractiveness.

(Though, there’s nothing to judge. All it says is that he’s quite organized, and loves his daughters.)

You notice a familiar drawing pinned to the fridge—it’s a simple one, with three stick figures holding hands, the two on the ends much shorter than the one in the middle. They stand on a poorly crayoned field, and the names mimi, nana, and papa are written above their respective figures in black crayon, along with a date in the corner.

“They drew that the first day of class,” Mr. Getō reminisces, coming around the counter to get a better look. The date lines up—as does the fact that you struggled to place it. “Came home ranting about how they wanted Miss Y/N to be their mama.”

You snort, and ignore every feeling in your being—including the weight of the plate in your hands. It doesn’t drop, though. “Kids have no shame.”

“None. Especially mine.” Mr. Getō adds, moving past you to rummage through a cupboard. Then, offering, “Water? Also—help yourself.”

As your eyes follow his arm when he gestures to the counter, your stomach grumbles on cue. It’s not your fault you don’t know how to cook. You nod, grabbing the giant plastic spoon, and try your best to not seem greedy.

“Yes, please! This looks so good, Mr. Getō, I—”

“Suguru,” he corrects, and you nearly jump. He’s behind you, now, reaching for something, you don’t know, you’re not paying attention. Suguru, your brain goes. Suguru, Suguru, Suguru—

“Y’know, I don’t think I ever knew your first name,” you realize aloud, taking the last spoonful you’ll allow yourself. He drifts away to fill the glasses with water, and you exhale, finally being able to breathe. You move onto the salad.

“That’s it?” He asks and hands you a glass, eyeing your plate. You gulp. Did you fuck up, already?”

“Have some more.” And then, he’s grabbing another spoonful of spaghetti—one much fuller than any of the three you gave yourself. “Please—I made so much food.”

“Well, yeah,” you defend. “But, y’know, Nanako and Mimiko are gonna eat some, so—”

“And, they’re five. They eat this much,” Suguru takes the plate from you (you’ve lost your privileges, clearly) and fills the spoon again, lifting it in the air like it represents ‘this much.’ “It’s okay if you don’t finish it, I just—I want to make sure you get enough.”

He hands the plate back to you, not before adding two pieces of garlic bread, much heavier than you found it. It’s accompanied by a sheepish smile, one that makes it seem like he’s digging a grave for himself deeper than necessary. Your heart swells nonetheless. Then, you stomp on it, chanting stupid, stupid, stupid, because, if you think he isn’t doing this just to humor his daughters, you’d be just that. Stupid.

“Oh!” You remember, “I also brought wine—I don’t know if you’re, like, a wine guy, or not, but—”

“Sure,” Suguru shrugs as he starts to fill his own plate. You waver with your own by the threshold, because you don’t know what to do otherwise. “There are wine glasses on the table. Let’s pop it open.”

“Yes, now kiss! K-I-S-S-I-N—”

“Shhhh—they’re going to hear us!”

“Opa!”

You love opening a wine bottle. You love the pop of the cork, the resistance from the air—but, you let Suguru open it this time. Because, God forbid your elbow goes flying, or the cork, and you knock over one of his lovely candles, and set his very nice place on fire. Suguru scrunches his nose with a smile at your exclamation. You remember where you are, again.

“Sorry,” you recant, and Suguru just shakes his head, slowly filling your glass.

“No—I like it when you’re comfortable.”

With that, he passes the glass back and smiles, and you…ignore what he just said, actually. Because, you’re already a hop, skip, and a jump from falling for this man, and there is absolutely no point in doing that.

“What do you do for work?” You ask instead, because anything other than small talk would turn garbled. Suguru eyes lift from his own filling glass, to you, like it was a question he wasn’t expecting.

“Oh, um, I’m a Lit professor, actually.”

“Lit as in…literature, or as in lit-lit, like turnt lit?” You’re reaching, you doubt the word lit is anywhere in Suguru’s vocabulary unless he means literature, but you just need to double-check.

“As in literature,” he chuckles, swirling wine around the glass like a professional. “I, unfortunately, doubt any of my students would refer to me as lit.”

“You never know,” you shrug, taking a bite. After a swallow and a hum, you nod. “This is really good.”

“Thanks,” he grins, and takes a sip of the wine. His eyes widen, like he wasn’t expecting it, but, “so is this.”

You thank him in return, and silence comes back screaming. You hate to say it’s because you’re stuffing your face, and you try to do so as politely as possible, but you are, and it’s not your fault—the food is good, and you haven’t found time in between grading obscure drawings and letter identification tests to eat today.

Suguru props a chin on his hand and watches you eat, swirling his glass again—you start to wonder if that’s just something he does with his hands. It isn’t until you realize his fork is clean, food untouched, that you finally falter. With food in your cheeks, no less.

“…Are you not hungry?”

Suguru blinks himself to the present, and whatever look he wore dissipates into his usual. He picks the fork up, after that.

“Yes, sorry,” he huffs a laugh at himself, seemingly self-deprecating. “You’re cute, is all.”

You start choking—partially, because you had the bright idea to swallow when he opened his mouth. You try to wash it down with wine, but when it only prickles the itch, you choose water instead.

“Sorry, was that too forward?” He asks, with a smirk, which makes you think he doesn’t mean it. Not in the genuine way, at least. You wave it off, recovering and trying to breathe through the embarrassment of choking on a noodle like a child.

“No,” you croak, though you want to say yes, but not in a bad way. “No, I’m just…”

You’re just what? Floored? Flabbergasted? Fucking sweating beyond repair?

“Flattered,” you finish. You should probably slow down on the food before you give yourself a stomach ache, but most of it is already gone. Suguru smiles as he chews behind a hand.

“Good.”

You are going to scream. What the fuck is this.

Because, you’re quickly beginning to learn, Mr. Getō and Suguru are two very different people. And, while Mr. Getō is hot, yes, Suguru is…

“What do you think they’re doing, right now?” Suguru’s eyes dart to the hallway, and you snicker.

“Probably eavesdropping!” You yell the last word, only to hear tiny feet scatter. Shaking your head, you mutter, “nosy.”

Suguru snorts. “Tell me about it.”

“Oh, I will,” you nod, unfortunately getting comfortable enough to yap. Well. There it goes—the second date. There it goes, sprinting out the door and on a flight to a different country, until the concept of a second date is no longer feasible. “Those two in class? Little rascals. Sometimes, I have to separate them.”

“Lucky,” Suguru laments with a chuckle. “Wish I could do that at home.”

You shrug, and take a sip of wine. “I’m complaining, but. They’re good kids. They’re smart, and they liven up the place. Even help other kids if they finish their work early—though, that’s mainly Mimiko…Nanako always finds something to do. You did good.”

“Thanks,” Suguru says, and suddenly, the burning candlelight is much more interesting than your face. “I get…worried, you know? That they don’t have a mom.”

“Sure, but,” and you look into the hallway again, wondering if the girls came back, how much of the conversation they can actually hear. “They’ve got you. And, from what I hear, you fill both roles spectacularly.”

Suguru shrugs. “I try.”

Suguru shrugs, and you overstep. Possibly. Maybe. “Am I allowed to ask what happened?”

“Oh,” he laughs, tight and bordering on bitter, with eyes trained tight on the plate before him. “I’m, um, technically not their dad. We’re related—cousins, but I’ve been taking care of them since they were babies. Their parents, uh, weren’t exactly up to the task.”

He keeps it vague but answers anyway. You take the hint, and don’t pry anymore. There’s a part of you that relaxes at that fact, the fact that there isn’t another woman, but you berate yourself for it immediately. It doesn’t seem like a good thought to have.

“Well—I think you’re the best dad they could ask for. This spahgeti? Fire.”

Suguru laughs, for what you realize, is technically the very first time—not around words or to hide behind, but an actual laugh, that rumbles from his belly outward with a smile that crowds his eyes. You want to hear it again, and again, and again, until you’re too dizzy, and have to get off the ride, or else.

He’s still smiling upon recovery. “You’re sweet.”

You frown, “but, I mean it!”

Suguru snorts, and looks back down to his plate. That smile doesn’t fade.

“I know.”

Dinner goes by faster than you want it to.

To stall, you offer to help with the dishes. Suguru doesn’t let you—but he does let you stay.

“—and then, she said God fucking shit.”

“No,” you gasp from your seat by the kitchen island. Suguru nods wisely.

“Oh, yes,” he hisses. You ignore the way his back works as he dries the last dish, opting to fiddle with a ring on your finger instead of drool, but, occasionally, lift to partake in the sinfully domestic sight. “I wish the walls weren’t so thin when I stub my toe, but.”

“But, they’re always listening,” you finish with a giggle, because, been there, done that. Suguru huffs in agreement.

“Yes,” Suguru laments, and after placing the dry dish into a cupboard, turns to you. “Top five most horrifying moments of my life when I heard her say it.”

“I can imagine. I…also stubbed my toe a while ago, said dammit, and we had a kid that wouldn’t stop saying it for weeks. Had to explain it to his parents and everything,” you sigh. The embarrassment from the whole situation comes back in full force as you tuck a head into your hands. He chuckles, placing the towel over the sink.

“Sounds like you have it worse than me.”

“Meh, only from 8-5,” you shrug, but he shakes his head.

“Exactly,” Suguru insists while resting a forearm on the island across from you. “And I have mine from 5-8—but only two kids, not twenty.”

“They wrangle each other, half the time,” you wave. “Quiet Coyote works wonders.”

“I’m sure it does,” Suguru chuckles, and stands up, pushing away from the counter. “Let me walk you out.”

Ah, yes. It’s that time, now, isn’t it?

Suguru walks you the few steps to the door, it not being too far from the kitchen. You’re about to say goodbye, maybe shake his hand or something else equally awkward—whatever people do after first dates when they don’t go horribly. But, the second you reach the foyer, little feet come bounding around the corner.

“You’re leaving already?”

“No, stay! We can have a sleepover!”

You giggle when Suguru sighs, getting down on a knee to turn to his daughters. “Girls—We’ve taken up enough of her time. Miss Y/N has a life outside of class, you know.”

Which, is false, but you appreciate the sentiment nonetheless. They whine and pout but Suguru has the last word, and after you hug them goodbye, he sends them to their rooms. Knowing them, they’re still lingering in the hallway, hiding behind a wall.

“Good to know they had fun, too,” you snort, and Suguru stands, fighting a smile and failing.

“Nosy little brats,” he mutters under his breath. Then, hollering over his shoulder, “Go to bed, you two!”

More shuffling feet, and you sigh. “They’re not going to bed.”

“Nope,” Suguru shakes his head in agreement. “Not at all.”

“Well, um, that’s my cue,” you say, stilted, and tightening the grip on your purse. “I should probably go before the trains stop running.”

“Oh! Yes,” Suguru says, like he forgot, and like he expected to linger with you in his doorway forever. “I had fun.”

“I did, too.”

Suguru makes no move to let you out—and you make no move to leave, because you don’t know how his front door works, whether you have to unlock before you exit, and would prefer to avoid embarrassing yourself after an genuinely decent night. Suguru scratches the back of his head.

“I was wondering, actually, if you’d like to go on a proper date,” he says it around a breath, one he was holding. “One without my daughters right around the corner.”

“We’re not listening!”

“…Like that,” he mutters, but you’re too busy trying to make sure your feet are firmly planted on his lovely wooden flooring, not floating in the air on cloud nine.

“Oh, as in,” you breathe, and promptly black out. Hopefully, you say something that makes enough sense. “Uh, yeah. Yep. Definitely down for that.”

“Okay, great,” he smiles, and it’s that smile again, the one you want to bottle and keep forever. “When are you available?”

“Oh, whenever,” you say, before you realize you should dial it back, dial it way back. “I mean—uh, preferably not school days, but I’m pretty free on the weekends.”

“How about a week from now? Next Saturday.”

Next Saturda—do you even have time to purge your closet by next Saturday?

“Sure, sounds good.”

“Ice cream, Papa!”

“No.”

“Pleaaaaase?”

“No.”

“Pretty please with a cherry on top?”

“…Fine.”

“Really?!”

Monday comes, and you’re fucking terrified.

Because, Suguru is a guy straight out of a YA novel—and you don’t know whether he asked you out again to humor his kids, again (you’re in denial), or if a guy that you actually find physically and emotionally attractive wants to go on a date with you. Again.

But, you’re about to find out, because—

“Good Morning, Miss Y/N!”

You put on a brave face, the bravest face you can muster. Also, just your luck, you’re running out of laundry, and instead of doing it Saturday night like you usually do, you went to Suguru’s. Sunday, you were too busy panicking to be useful. So, yes, maybe you have on the ugliest cat sweater you own—but it was either that, or a cacti shirt.

“Good Morning, girls, how was your weekend?” You ask, before quickly realizing playing dumb was not the way to go.

“It was good! You made Papa so happy he took us to get ice cream the next day, and he never does that!” Nanako tries to whisper, but she’s a child with little control over her vocal chords, and you flinch.

“Oh, really?”

Mimiko nods in agreement—but, before she can respond, Suguru is quick in ushering them deeper into the room and, more importantly, away from you.

“They need to stop telling on me,” Suguru chuckles as he returns to usual perch by the doorway. “Like, now.”

You giggle. “That’s all kids ever do, Sug—I mean, Mr. Getō.”

You’re sweating. That was a close one.

“Suguru,” he corrects, looking at you with eyes bordering on a beg. “Please.”

“Well, Suguru,” you say, swallowing panic when another parent gives you an appalled look. “Uh, how was your weekend?”

“It was nice,” he nods, watching the room. “My daughters harassed this woman into going on a date with me. Luckily, I already had my eye on her.”

Oh, you think, and try to wrack your brain for who it could be. Definitely not you.

Your stuck, actually, literally frozen, despite the sweat forming at the small of your back. Suguru keeps talking. “Six, again? I’ll pick you up.”

And, because your brain is stupid, and, you don’t know, maybe he wants to go on a hike or something—

“Wait—am or pm?”

Suguru snorts. “Pm.”

Oh. That’s like, date-date time. Though, you suppose it was last time, but this is an actual date, not a ‘my daughters won’t quit unless we do this’ date.

“Sure, yeah. Totally—six is great.”

Suguru squeezes your hand before he leaves for the day. His harem of single moms glare like you killed the child support they get from their divorcees. And you…

You almost forget to put Nanako and Mimiko’s lunch boxes in the fridge. Almost.

© mamashima/pumaya. do not edit, translate or copy my work without my permission. do not use for ai. MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DNI.

[angeltanked]

MDNI • Suguru x reader nsfw

Suguru caught you doing....what?

It was already late into the night, Suguru was late from work you assumed.

Sitting on the middle of the bed, you carefully turned it on, a pumping dildo that you bought a while back to aid the desire to get fucked by your husband Suguru while he was away. As it buzzed to life you carefully put the tip on the clothed thong you had, pussy already squelching desperate. Never had you cringed so much from the embarrassment this gave you, but at least you were alone.

Pushing the thong aside, the vibrator buzzed on your creamy, wet clit as your breathing got hitched. "F-fuck-.....so wet- nnh~", bucking you hips as it rubbed, jizzing. It made you feel weird but somewhat relieved from the pent up desire. You leaned on the bedframe and pillow, pushing the tip farther in enough to make you moan softly.

Soft strokes turned into pounding at a rhythmic pace as it squelched every time it got dragged out, just to get drilled back in and mix with juices. So lost in the sensation that you weren't even aware the door creeped open, with your husband Suguru quietly observing you losing it over a dildo. "S-suguru-~ f-fuck-.....ahn~", moaning while realizing he heard all that turned him on, the bulge in his boxer grew heavy, his cock throbbing from the dildo getting sucked in your wet pussy.

"what do you think you're doing?", he opened the door fully and stood on the doorframe, leaning on it, already furious. "S-sugu- i-i-its not what it looks li-"

A minute later you found your lingerie getting stripped away with Geto towering you, the dildo half slid out leaving the tip in only. "I said nothing 's gonna enter that pussy other than me", as he flipped you over, making you yelp. He studied the dildo, the tip pumping inside you halfway as you buried your face in a pillow, embarrassed. Suddenly, he yanked it out, making you squirt all over the place. "Needy lil' doll", he spanked your pussy and ass, leaving an imprint, making you shudder and mewl.

He then pulled out his own throbbing cock, leaking with precum as he pumped it. Arching your back, wanting something inside you. "Shameless.", he pushed the dildo back in your ass unexpectedly making you moan. "S-sugu-~~ hyuk-nnnh~---", he didn't let you finish your sentence as he pushed in his fat, veiny member into your poor pussy. "Your gonna take both for being naughty while I was away", he thrust into you as you mewled, squirming, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the two cocks stretched your holes painfully, but enough to satisfy you too. He dragged out the dildo halfway, cranking it to max speed, taking turns to fuck your pussy aswell while you melted into a slobbery, squirting fountain. "You squirt s'much doll", licking up some of the juices trailing down your thigh from his finger, pounding mercilessly into your pussy and ass, carefully hitting your sweet spot every fuck as you moaned sweetly.

This went on until you lost it and got knocked out from the pleasure, squirting every thrust.

Suguru pulled out, finishing wrecking both your holes as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead then pulled your dumb-fucked limp body up to kiss as he cleaned you up. The dildo now slid out, hanging from the abused hole as he pulled it out, making a slight wet 'pop'.

"Horny lil' thing", he tossed it to the side. After cleaning you up he took a shower and layed beside you, letting your limp body rest on him as he caressed your back.

Hii there angels I'm so so soooo happi ya'll loved my writing ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡ please don't put my work into ai use or copy it. Love ya'll byee^^

[angeltanked]

MDNI • Suguru x reader nsfw

Suguru caught you doing....what?

It was already late into the night, Suguru was late from work you assumed.

Sitting on the middle of the bed, you carefully turned it on, a pumping dildo that you bought a while back to aid the desire to get fucked by your husband Suguru while he was away. As it buzzed to life you carefully put the tip on the clothed thong you had, pussy already squelching desperate. Never had you cringed so much from the embarrassment this gave you, but at least you were alone.

Pushing the thong aside, the vibrator buzzed on your creamy, wet clit as your breathing got hitched. "F-fuck-.....so wet- nnh~", bucking you hips as it rubbed, jizzing. It made you feel weird but somewhat relieved from the pent up desire. You leaned on the bedframe and pillow, pushing the tip farther in enough to make you moan softly.

Soft strokes turned into pounding at a rhythmic pace as it squelched every time it got dragged out, just to get drilled back in and mix with juices. So lost in the sensation that you weren't even aware the door creeped open, with your husband Suguru quietly observing you losing it over a dildo. "S-suguru-~ f-fuck-.....ahn~", moaning while realizing he heard all that turned him on, the bulge in his boxer grew heavy, his cock throbbing from the dildo getting sucked in your wet pussy.

"what do you think you're doing?", he opened the door fully and stood on the doorframe, leaning on it, already furious. "S-sugu- i-i-its not what it looks li-"

A minute later you found your lingerie getting stripped away with Geto towering you, the dildo half slid out leaving the tip in only. "I said nothing 's gonna enter that pussy other than me", as he flipped you over, making you yelp. He studied the dildo, the tip pumping inside you halfway as you buried your face in a pillow, embarrassed. Suddenly, he yanked it out, making you squirt all over the place. "Needy lil' doll", he spanked your pussy and ass, leaving an imprint, making you shudder and mewl.

He then pulled out his own throbbing cock, leaking with precum as he pumped it. Arching your back, wanting something inside you. "Shameless.", he pushed the dildo back in your ass unexpectedly making you moan. "S-sugu-~~ hyuk-nnnh~---", he didn't let you finish your sentence as he pushed in his fat, veiny member into your poor pussy. "Your gonna take both for being naughty while I was away", he thrust into you as you mewled, squirming, eyes rolling to the back of your head as the two cocks stretched your holes painfully, but enough to satisfy you too. He dragged out the dildo halfway, cranking it to max speed, taking turns to fuck your pussy aswell while you melted into a slobbery, squirting fountain. "You squirt s'much doll", licking up some of the juices trailing down your thigh from his finger, pounding mercilessly into your pussy and ass, carefully hitting your sweet spot every fuck as you moaned sweetly.

This went on until you lost it and got knocked out from the pleasure, squirting every thrust.

Suguru pulled out, finishing wrecking both your holes as he wiped a bead of sweat from his forehead then pulled your dumb-fucked limp body up to kiss as he cleaned you up. The dildo now slid out, hanging from the abused hole as he pulled it out, making a slight wet 'pop'.

"Horny lil' thing", he tossed it to the side. After cleaning you up he took a shower and layed beside you, letting your limp body rest on him as he caressed your back.

Hii there angels I'm so so soooo happi ya'll loved my writing ꒰⁠⑅⁠ᵕ⁠༚⁠ᵕ⁠꒱⁠˖⁠♡ please don't put my work into ai use or copy it. Love ya'll byee^^

[angeltanked]

You reached out for your phone at 11:11 as Satoru swatted your hand away as you let out an exaggerated 'owww'. "Y'know those wishes don't come true right?". You glared,"Then stop looking >:C", as you held up your hands to make a wish, scooting away from him.

"Finee, I'll wish you too if it makes you happy.", as the white-haired idiot clasped his hands into a prayer, whispering a wish inaudible but it made you laugh. "Done, it'll come true one day f'sure", he grinned back while kissing your forehead, pulling you into his arms. "You think so?" ,"I know so."

Months go by and you find yourself on the bed cross legged, staring at your phone screen that read '11:11', you held up your hands at the same spot you wished last time by the soft cast balcony to wish, hoping that it'll come true. After all, Satoru wished you. You ended your wish, with the last word hanging in the air leaving the room silent as you found yourself crying.

Because Satoru wasn't there by your side anymore.

[angeltanked]

Overprotective Boyfriend Suguru Headcanons^^•reader-fluff •Strictly MDNI

 ‿̩͙‿ ༺ ♰ ༻ ‿̩͙‿

Boyfriend Suguru! Would wash your hair tenderly, taking his time to lather the foam up, though he'd always end up messier than you did

Boyfriend Suguru! Though stoic, he'd always make sure you felt loved and re-assured you every time you were scared at times

Boyfriend Suguru! Would bake items for you when you were in a fever or too sick to get up. He'd also braid your hair up,"you look extra adorable in this doll", he exclaimed while biting your cheek playfully

Boyfriend Suguru! Loved to tease and nip you by the ear, he loved the reaction of you getting flustered -3-

Nsfw Content Warning

Boyfriend Suguru! Though gentle at times, couldn't hold himself back from the urge to fuck you until all you'll do is pray his name

Boyfriend Suguru! Loved to see you squirm when he would hold you from the back at random times

Boyfriend Suguru! Once folded you in half on the kitchen counter, not being able to contain himself he pounded you until you were fucked dumb. You looked adorable not being able to process coherent speech and babble mindlessly after getting filled by him. "You're so loud 'nd messy", he whispered into your ear after planting a kiss on your forehead.

Boyfriend Suguru! Would eat you out until all you did was cry tirelessly, pining his hair up in a bun as he sucked your clit. He'd hold up you thighs as you would sob, mewling and crying into the pillow while he dined out and fucked your pussy with his tongue

Boyfriend Suguru! Would mock you at times when you whimpered from his size, insisting it's just 'not that big' and your pussy's just too tight while letting you cry into the nook in his collarbone as he drilled into you. "Awhh, sweet baby don't cry- daddy's gonna fill you up with his love right...here", as he hit your sweet spot making you squirt for the nth time

Boyfriend Suguru! Would hold you up Infront of the mirror with your back against his abs, making you watch as his digits slid into you. "You like seeing that bulge in you, no?", he teased as he circled the bump visible on your womb from his cock tip, making you shudder and arch your back.

Boyfriend Suguru! In the end would always clean you up carefully, kissing your forehead and laying your limp body on top of him as he spooned you, caressing your hair till you fell asleep

Haii everyone reading this uhh I'm so sorry that it turned out so shitty and corny as it's my first post (⁠｡⁠ŏ⁠﹏⁠ŏ⁠) I really can't write at times but I do look forward to improving and uhh plis don't steal writings or put them into ai use, love ya'll