To say that Zuke woke up with a blinding headache, would be an understatement. His first thought was cursing Sokka- His second was to wonder who helped him clean up for bed and his third thought was the gasping panic of everything that happened last night.
He shot up to sit straight and looked around. The sun was quite high in the sky already and you were not in the room.
"Uh oh-" He swallowed hard as memories flooded back to him.
Not in broken fragments- Oh no. He remembered vividly everything he'd said. He'd done. He was mortified. He groaned, fell back into bed and scrubbed his face with his hands.
There was a knock and he winced. "Enter." Zuko mumbled and a servant opened the door.
"My Lord-" He bowed and brought in a tray of breakfast. "The Fire Lady has sent ginger tea for your headache-" He placed the tray on the table next to his side of the bed.
"Did she... say anything else?" Zuko asked, sitting up. Already dreading the possibility of anything at all.
"She- Umm- Sent a message." He sounded very uneasy. "That Please let His Majesty know that he may not drink with the Avatar and Chief Sokka unsupervised."
"Noted." Zuko groaned. "You may leave."
The servant scurried away, closing the door behind him. Zuko shook his head and went through the motions slowly. Cleaned himself, then poured himself tea. He was grateful of you but he was also currently very terrified of you.
Death would be more kind than facing her.
Zuko was successful in avoiding his own wife for most of the day. However, by evening- He knew he'd have to face you sooner or later, considering that you did share accommodations and all. Nonetheless, he stayed in his study much longer than he needed to. He was succeeding as well until a servant came to let him know that you had requested his presence for dinner in your shared chambers.
He was more and more terrified with each step he took until he was at the doors.
"May I- Uh-" He was about to knock when you opened the door. You smiled at him and he swallowed hard. "Hello-" He waved awkwardly.
"You've been avoiding me-" You teased.
Zuko sighed and gave you the smallest smile. "After the fool I made of myself, I think that's valid." He closed the door behind himself and followed you to the table, sitting on the floor across from you.
"I thought you were a very entertaining fool." You laughed a little.
"Spirits-" He sighed. "Perhaps I should abdicate. Let Uncle rule whilst I find a home with the badgermoles." That made you laugh more. "Please- Don't enjoy my misery." He looked at you. "I am so sorry for how I behaved last night. It was unbecoming of any respectable man. I shouldn't have drunk as if I was a teenager and I shouldn't have come to the room in that condition-" As he spoke, his face turned pink with shame. "I know we'd been making progress in our ... friendship. And I'm extremely ashamed of how I acted and of everything I said."
"Are you sorry that you said all that or that you didn't mean any of it?" You asked softly.
"I- I'm sorry because of how I said it all." He looked down. "I had hoped that I would have shared the matters of my heart in a more... romantic setting. Rather than as a drunkard in the middle of the night."
"I didn't mind it." You looked down, toying with the food. "You looked at me like I was something precious." You smiled shyly. "You called me your sun."
"You are." He leaned forward over the table. "You are precious. And you are My Sun." He said softly. "Please, look at me." You lifted your gaze a little. "Do you know why I called you that?" You shook your head. "Because this marriage may have started out as duty and allyship but somewhere along the way, you became my centre. My reason for being. I think of you as the sun because you are. You're the brightest part of my life."
You smiled and shied away from his gaze. "Zuko-" You waved him away, making him chuckle.
"And- And I do want to touch you as any husband wishes to touch their wife but-" He sobered up and paused, "But I know how intense and emotional I can be. I didn't want to burden you. with that part of myself." He explained, twiddling with his thumbs. "And then there's the whole issue of my... my scars-"
"I don't mind them-" You said a little too quickly. "I- Uh- I mean- It adds character to- to-"
"To?" He smiled a little, moving around the table to sit beside you.
"I forgot-" You whispered, unable to look away from his eyes.
"May I?" He offered his hands and you wordlessly placed yours in them. "You know something else I realized last night?"
"What?" You swallowed.
"That ... perhaps I should get drunk more often." He leaned down to place a gentle kiss to your knuckles. "Because it made an honest man out of me."
older bf!nanami making you squirt for the first time…
He has your legs spread, body naked and vulnerable, his thick fingers plunged deep inside of you as he slowly drags them over your g-spot, your poor, needy pussy clenching around him. You squirm in his lap, heavy breaths making the room hot and head dizzy. His other hand slowly rubbed your clit, following the same pace of his two fingers that were working inside you. He was always the type to help build up your orgasm, taking his time with you, watching you slowly fall into the pit of lust and ecstasy. He loved watching you become desperate, your body submitting to his touch, getting you so worked up to the point you can’t do anything but cum.
He listens to the way your breath waivers and your whimpers get louder, letting him know just what drives you up the wall. And he’s successful every time, leaving you a moaning, shaking mess. Only this time, you notice he purposefully curls his fingers to hook your g-spot. It’s not like he hasn’t before, but he’s constantly doing it, and slowly too. It feels different, too different. The pressure makes you squirm, each time he presses against it, it feels like you have to pee.
“Mmmph—Ken…can we stop for a second it feels like I’m gonna pee,” you shyly say. He doesn’t release his grip on you, if anything it only gets stronger. And his fingers? They’re moving faster, harder, deeper. “W-wait! Ken! I’m serious! I think I’m gonna pee!” You squeal, toes curling, a rush of embarrassment washing over you at the thought of peeing all over your boyfriend. He presses on your clit a little harder, rubbing faster.
Your whimpers turn into moans, brows furrowing as the pressure builds up, increasing each second. Each brush of his fingers has you threatening to explode everywhere. “K-Ken! You’re going too fast! Just let me use—ahhhh! Oh my god! I can’t…hold it! I’m sorry!” You meekly say, your pussy gushing everywhere. But was it really you peeing? It can’t be? Your legs are shaking and your body feels light, almost like…did he just make you squirt?
He keeps rubbing your puffy, sensitive clit, clear liquid still erupting from your poor cunt, soaking your thighs and your boyfriend’s lap. He pulls his fingers out from your sopping cunt, your juices dribbling down. “W-what…the fuck?” You ask between heavy breaths, your brain feels like complete mush.
Your boyfriend chuckles in your ear, his large palm lightly smacking your pussy, bumping your clit. “I knew you could do it, sweetheart.” You could hear the smirk in his voice.
“Y-you planned this?” You ask, legs quivering, body twitching each time he glides his fingertips over your slit.
“You’re so cute,” he laughed. “I need to pee! I need to pee!” He said mockingly. “My poor baby has never squirted before.”
“Stop!” You feel a wave of embarrassment wash over you, turning away from him.
“Did you feel good? You felt that oh so sweet release? Your body letting go?” He whispered in your ear, peppering kisses down your neck. You nodded, biting down on your bottom lip as his fingers still toyed with you. “Good. Now I want you to do it on my cock next.”
in which shy!reader doesn't know where her relationship with frat!kuna stands
a/n: super short fluffy drabble for my like real people do series to make up for my lack of a don't fear the reaper update this weekend lol was listening to cold cold man by saint motel when i wrote this if you'd like to give it a listen while reading! <3
cw: a little angst bc reader's a lil insecure in this one but sukuna is here to let her know she has no reason to be, fluff, suggestive content, MDNI
you weren't sure what to label your relationship with sukuna.
friends? fuck buddies? something more?
something shifted between the two of you since the last frat party, but you couldn't put your finger on exactly what.
you're not naive enough to think you're the only girl warming sukuna's sheets - he has a reputation for a reason - but somewhere along the way, the lines between friends with benefits and something more blurred for you.
sukuna no longer ignored you in public, but he wasn't affectionate either - acknowledging you with a simple nod of the head, occupying the seat next to you in your shared classes, somehow knowing which days were your busy days and bringing you food at lunch to make sure you didn't starve, walking you to your dorm if your last class got out late at night (those nights usually ended with him in your bed).
sex was different too. the first few times you slept with him, the sex was animalistic, hungry. and it definitely still is sometimes. but other nights, sukuna holds you like you're the most precious thing in the world, takes his time with you like he wants to savor you, cleans you up with a delicateness you were surprised to find him capable of, falls asleep in your bed after with his strong arms pulling you into his chest like this means more.
you were afraid to let it mean more. to admit to yourself how much you really like sukuna.
because sukuna didn't do relationships. he fucked girls until he got bored then moved onto the next. everyone knew this. you knew this from the moment he pulled you into that closet and he made you cum on his fingers.
these are the thoughts that plague your mind as you lay in sukuna's bed, fully bare and legs spread, staring at his ceiling while he tries to worship you between your thighs.
you jolt when you suddenly feel his fingers flick your forehead.
"you wanna tell me what's going through that pretty head of yours?" he asks, and you hate the way your heart jumps from the simple compliment. pretty.
"it's nothin, ryo," you lie, hoping that's enough to make him drop the subject.
you shiver as his warmth leaves your core and instead he is hovering directly over you, examining your face carefully, eyes narrowed, his lips downturned in an unconvinced frown.
"don't lie to me," he huffs, "can tell you're not into it tonight. what's wrong?"
you chew your bottom lip, trying to decide if you should be honest with him - no matter how stupid of an idea that seems - about to lie again when he rests his forehead against yours.
"talk to me," he murmurs, eye contact unwavering.
"that," you whisper so quietly you're not sure if he even hears you, but the way his brow quirks up tells you he did.
"what do you mean 'that?'"
"i get confused when you treat me like that."
"like what?" sukuna asks, forehead wrinkling as his brows furrow, lips setting into an even deeper frown.
"like i'm more than just a friend you sleep with sometimes."
"huh?"
"listen, i know i'm probably not the only girl you're sleeping with right now, and i know that this is just supposed to be fun, but when you treat me like i mean more, like maybe you actually like me, it's hard not to catch feelings," you admit, eyes darting away from his, a flush coming over your cheeks at your confession.
he grabs your face and forces you to look back at him, a smug smirk falling over his stupidly handsome face, "so you like me huh?"
you groan, "that's what you took away from all that?"
instead of answering, he captures your lips in a kiss, one that's different from the others. it's slow, soft. you gasp into it, and he takes the opportunity to snake his tongue into your mouth, the feeling of him taking over all of your senses.
he only pulls away after you're breathless, pupils blown, chest rising and falling rapidly from the way the kiss made you feel.
"for a smart girl, you really can be stupid sometimes," he smirks, laughing when your face pinches into a frustrated pout.
"what's that supposed to mean?" you whine.
"it means i like you too, idiot," he says, the smirk gone from his face, replaced by an uncharacteristically serious look that you don't think you've ever seen the man make.
you must look as shocked as you feel, because he huffs out another laugh before continuing:
"i haven't slept with anyone else since i started sleeping with you. can't. always thinking about you. thinking about the next time i'll get to see you, about the fact that i'm the only one who has ever had you like this."
"kuna--" you start, only for him to shush you.
"wait, fuck, let me finish," he says, making you giggle slightly, "i'm not good with words, and i'm kinda an asshole, and i'm not good at showing affection. but you really think i'd go out of my way to always save a seat for you in our classes if i didn't want you around? or memorize your crazy schedule just so i know which days you need me to bring you lunch or walk you home so you don't have to walk back by yourself late at night? or spend all my free time making sure those idiots from your astrophysics club don't get the wrong idea and think that it's ok to flirt with you?"
the last confession has you gasping.
"is that why they've all been acting so weird around me?!"
"that's besides the point," sukuna says with a roll of his eyes, "the point is i'm not good at this relationship thing, but i'm trying. for you."
his words have your body relaxing into his, an action that does not go unnoticed by sukuna. "there's my girl," he smiles, body shifting back to its previous position between your legs, face hovering over your heat.
"now, let me show my pretty girl just how much i like her."
-
you walk through the quad the next day, head in the clouds as you think about everything sukuna confessed to you the night before.
he likes you too.
your face breaks into a wide smile just thinking about it, relief washing over you that your feelings weren't just one-sided.
you still didn't know where your relationship with sukuna stood, but you felt less nervous, less insecure about it than before.
you're drawn from your thoughts when you hear a sharp whistle and a call of your name, head snapping over to see sukuna with some of his frat brothers.
you give him a polite wave, starting to turn the other direction before he's beckoning you over, "come here!" he shouts.
you begrudgingly shuffle towards the group, eyes on the ground, feeling overwhelmed by all the people.
you've spent much more time at the frat as of late, but usually you're just in sukuna's room, only saying hi to his brothers in passing. you've never really hung out with them aside from on occasion at one of their ragers where they're all way too drunk to remember your conversations anyway.
once you finally reach sukuna, you're shocked as you feel him casually wrap one of his large arms around your shoulder, pulling you directly into his side.
"what's up kuna?" you murmur, face beet red from all the eyes on you.
sukuna simply smirks, turning to face his frat brothers, squeezing your shoulder tight as he says, "just wanted to officially introduce everyone to my girlfriend."
you didn't choose to marry nanami kento. the marriage was arranged, the love absent, and your heart still clung onto another man who was everything your husband wasn’t - wild, untethered, and free. you thought it would be the end of you. instead, it’s where everything begins.
─ love doesn’t happen all at once, but nanami is nothing if not patient.
content: arranged marriage, reader is a sorcerer, enemies to lovers but it's entirely one sided, slow burn, nanami is the epitome of quiet devotion that never asks for anything in return, truly a good man, tw: archaic marriage practices, period-typical sexism, lots of sexual tension, yearning final boss nanami kento, references to reader's past lover, past heartbreak and healing, explicit content, non-explicit mentions of violence and suicidal ideation, past domestic abuse, loss of virginity, hurt/comfort, angst with a happy ending, inexperienced reader, NSFW
a/n: i kind of put half my soul into this, so i hope you'll like it and follow along for the ride <3 this is essentially a love letter written in appreciation of some of nanami's best traits: his steadiness, his devotion, and his enduring dedication (to you).
𓂃₊ ⊹ link to ao3 here
𓂃₊ ⊹ chapter 1: the end (5.2k)
𓂃₊ ⊹ chapter 2: tuesdays (4.7k)
𓂃₊ ⊹ chapter 3: animals (3k)
𓂃₊ ⊹ chapter 4: yours, nanami kento (3.8k)
𓂃₊ ⊹ chapter 5: spring (5.2k)
𓂃₊ ⊹ chapter 6: and the gentleness that comes (5k)
𓂃₊ ⊹ chapter 7: a choice to make (5.8k)
𓂃₊ ⊹ chapter 8: i'll be greedy if you let me (3k)
𓂃₊ ⊹ chapter 9: home, is in the warmth of your hand (5.6k)
𓂃₊ ⊹ chapter 10: the beginning (EPILOGUE)
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౨ৎ 𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: before Hawkins High crowned him “King Steve,” Steve Harrington was your best friend. the boy you biked home with after school, the boy who knew all your secrets, the boy who swore he’d never change. then freshman year happened. his new friends didn’t like that he hung around someone so “pathetic”, and Steve didn’t defend you when they cornered you. one stupid moment of betrayal was all it took to end years of friendship. You hardened yourself, dropped the girl he once knew, and built a life where Steve Harrington no longer existed. but when Will Byers goes missing and your little brother Dustin starts acting suspicious, Hawkins becomes anything but normal. you start noticing strange lights, weird noises in the woods, and a mysterious girl hiding in the Wheeler's basement, and suddenly, Steve is everywhere again. you don’t want anything to do with him, but the world is falling apart, Dustin is in danger, and Steve keeps proving he isn’t the same coward who let you down years ago. as monsters crawl out of the dark and secrets unravel, old wounds reopen and so does the possibility that maybe Steve Harrington was never meant to stay out of your life.
౨ৎ 𝐓𝐖: bullying, verbal harassment, language, violence, past betrayal, alcohol, parties, drugs, toxic relationships, abuse, manipulation, aggression, trauma, jealousy, possessive behavior, angst, canon character death, smut scenes (18+/skippable), normal stranger things stuff, (lmk if I missed anything!)
boyfriend!nanami who does not stand awkwardly outside the makeup store while you shop. no crossed arms, no aimless pacing, no impatient sighs. he’s right behind you the second you walk in, palm on your lower back. you ask if he wants to wait outside and he just raises a brow. “why would i?” and then he’s in there. scanning shelves like he knows what he’s looking for, gently nudging lipsticks toward you with a, “this shade would suit you,” even though he has no idea what undertone you are or what that even means. still—he’d buy it for you without a second thought. he just wants to see it on you.
boyfriend!nanami who follows you into the dressing room area, sits patiently on the little bench while you try things on. doesn’t even look up from his phone when the store clerk awkwardly tells him he can’t be there—“i’m her boyfriend,” he says, and doesn’t move. when you step out in something short, something clingy, something risky, his eyes drag slowly down your body and his jaw flexes like he’s debating whether he should let you leave the store in it or tear it off you right then and there. “get that one,” he murmurs, voice low. “i’ll pay for it.”
boyfriend!nanami who doesn’t just tolerate your routines—he studies them. holds out his hand when you’re swatching foundations on the back of yours, lets you use his skin for comparison like it’s nothing. when you’re indecisive, he reads the label over your shoulder, murmurs, “you already have something like this,” even though he pretends not to pay attention when you do your makeup in the morning. “but if you want it, get it.” and when you do? he slams his amex card down and he carries the bags, doesn’t let you lift a thing, and brushes a kiss to your temple while muttering something about how beautiful you’ll look—like you aren’t already.
I just finished watching The Fragant Flower Blooms With Dignity... I loved it. And I wanted to write something about it with Kento.
✦ ⎯⎯ㅤִㅤ୭ ୨♡୧ ৎㅤִ ⎯⎯ ✦
The mission had ended sooner than expected. Nothing that warranted long reports or awkward silences on the way back. Just light tiredness and that strange calm that sometimes comes when you survive something minor.
As you walked, you mentioned, almost without meaning to.
"There's an aquarium near here," you said. "Small. Not touristy or anything... but they say it's peaceful."
You didn't look at him when you said it. It was a sentence tossed out into the air, as if you weren't expecting a response.
Nanami walked a little further. The sound of his shoes was regular, methodical. He adjusted the watch on his wrist.
"If you're not tired," he replied, "we can go."
You turned around, surprised.
"Now?"
"Yes. I don't see why not."
He didn't smile. His tone didn't change. And yet, you felt that little jump in your chest that you couldn't quite put your finger on.
The aquarium was a blue refuge amidst the noise of the city. As you crossed the threshold, the world slowed down: muffled footsteps, hushed voices, the constant murmur of water seeping through the tanks.
Nanami walked beside you, his hands in his jacket pockets. He didn't invade your space, but he didn't stray far either. When you stopped in front of a tank, he stopped too. Sometimes he told you the name of a species, other times he just nodded when you made a trivial comment.
It was… easy being there with him. Too easy.
"I didn't know you liked places like this," he remarked softly.
"They relax me," you replied. "Everything seems… in order."
Nanami thought you seemed in order there too. Softer. More like yourself.
After a while, he cleared his throat.
"Excuse me," he said. "I'll be right back."
You nodded, distracted by a school of fish moving as if they shared a single thought.
You kept walking alone… until you saw her.
A little girl, standing in the middle of the hallway, looking everywhere. Her hands were clutched to her dress, her eyes glassy. She wasn't crying, but she was dangerously close.
You approached slowly and knelt in front of her.
"Hello…" you whispered. "Are you lost?"
She nodded, biting her lip.
"My name is Mina," she said. "My parents were here… and now they're gone."
You spoke to her gently. You asked her what they looked like, what they were wearing, if she remembered anything else. She clung to your sleeve without realizing it.
When Nanami returned, he saw you like this: you at her level, the little girl leaning against you as if she already knew you.
You stood up just enough to explain the situation.
"I think she's lost," you said. "I'll go look for her parents, okay?"
Nanami nodded without hesitation.
"Stay with me," he said to Mina, crouching down awkwardly. "You'll be fine."
She watched him closely. She didn't seem scared. Just… assessing him.
You moved away through the crowd, calling out softly, describing the girl. Nanami stood still, holding Mina's little pink backpack as if it were something extremely important.
A few seconds passed.
"Sorry," she said suddenly.
Nanami bowed his head.
"Why?"
"I ruined your date."
The word threw him off.
"It's not a date," he replied too quickly. "We're… colleagues."
Mina frowned.
"Oh…" she murmured. "I thought so. You two look like that."
Nanami opened his mouth to correct him, but something stopped him.
"Like what?"
"Like when someone likes someone," she said matter-of-factly, childlike. "I think I like a boy at my school."
Nanami looked at her, surprised.
"And how do you know that?"
Mina shrugged.
"When he smiles, I'm happy. And when he doesn't come around, I feel lonely. And I want to tell him things, even though I don't say them."
Nanami's chest tightened.
He thought of you, walking a few steps ahead of him to find her parents. How, without realizing it, he always matched his walking pace to yours. How your presence made the days... less burdensome.
"That sounds..." he murmured, "quite like liking someone."
Mina smiled, satisfied.
"So you're on a date too."
Before he could answer, they heard excited voices. You were returning with a couple who, upon seeing Mina, rushed toward her with absolute relief.
"Thank you!" they said again and again. "Really, thank you."
Mina hugged them, then turned to face you.
"Thank you for taking care of me," she said to Nanami. "And... good luck with your date."
She left.
You returned to his side, letting out a sigh.
"Thank you for staying with her," you said. "You were amazing."
Nanami looked at you. The blue reflection of the aquarium slid across your face. For the first time, he didn't try to analyze it. He didn't try to deny it.
He felt the warmth in his chest, the strange calm, the gentle fear.
"It was nothing," he replied.
But as you resumed your walk, side by side, Nanami understood something he had avoided for far too long:
It hadn't been a date.
But he had wanted it to be.
And now, he could no longer pretend he didn't know why.
you notice it first in the way nanami’s dress shirt pulls just a little differently across his middle when he buttons it in the morning.
then in the way he loosens his tie earlier than usual after dinner, palm flattening subtly over his stomach. also in the way he tries not to go in for seconds, but always ends up doing it anyway because you look at him with those hopeful eyes like do you want more, my love? and he can’t say no to you.
(it’s your fault, you know it. you’re the one who keeps cooking his favorites, who keeps sliding warm bowls toward him with an “eat, you’ve been working too much.”)
still, you don’t realize just how much until his mother opens the door on saturday morning.
“ah—kento!” she beams, eyes immediately sweeping over him. then she gasps, delighted, clasping her hands over her chest. “you’ve filled out!”
nanami makes a noise that you’ve never heard from him before; something between a groan, a sigh and a mortified choke.
“mother,” he says, flatly, but already pink in the cheeks, “please don’t start.”
she ignores him completely.
her hands are already on his face, squishing his cheeks like he’s still twelve. “look at you! you look healthy. finally. i was worried you were turning into a broomstick.”
you cover your mouth, trying so hard not to laugh. nanami shoots you a betrayed look. and then his mother turns to you, her eyes sparkling with the sort of warmth that feels like a hug.
“this is your doing, isn’t it?” she says, as if she’s caught you red-handed. “you’re feeding him properly.”
“i—um,” you stutter, embarrassed. “i just cook… sometimes. when he’s tired.”
“sometimes,” nanami mutters under his breath. “every night.”
“and you eat every bite,” you whisper back smugly.
he nudges your shoulder and you bite back your wide smile along with the desire to kiss him breathless.
his mother, of course, is enchanted by the whole exchange. she ushers you both inside like she’s been waiting months for this exact moment.
“come in, come in,” she says. “i made lunch, but maybe my son would like two lunches now that he eats like a normal person again.”
nanami’s ears go red.
ever since you’ve started having frequent cooking nights and with your strong attachment to showing your love through cooking, nanami has been softening up more and more. with field work out of the picture, it has been quite unsurprising for nanami’s otherwise hard body to become different: the ridges of his abs smoothing with fat covering them now, his usually sharp cheekbones becoming less defined. his shoulders and arms where still as strong looking as ever, mouthwateringly so, but he was overall looking like a proof of a relaxed life treating him well.
you follow them into the kitchen, trying to contain your smile, but when you glance at nanami—who’s tugging lightly at his shirt, clearly aware that his mom has noticed everything—you can’t help yourself.
you slip your hand into his and he squeezes it, soft and warm, the way he always does when he’s grateful.
“don’t laugh,” he murmurs, leaning toward you just enough that only you can hear. “she’ll never let me live this down.”
“i’m not laughing,” you whisper back, even though you absolutely are. “i like you like this.”
he looks at you, eyes softening the way they only do when he’s with you.
“yeah?” he asks quietly.
“yeah,” you say, bumping your shoulder into his. “means you’re happy. and eating. and home.”
he exhales, something fond and tender melting through him, and he lifts your hand to his lips for just a second before his mother whirls around with a stack of plates, ready to feed both of you like royalty.
“come, sit!” she demands joyfully. “and you—” she points at you, mock-stern. “keep cooking for him at home. please.”
nanami groans again. you laugh, hiding your joy behind your fingers. his mother beams like the sun, already piling food onto his plate.
and if nanami ends up reaching for seconds—well, you don’t say anything, just smiling into your tea.
Do you still take Hannibal requests? If you do, could you please write a story, where Hannibal get‘s very jealous after a night out in the opera. The reader had finally met Franklyn, who is very interested in her ( because she‘s friends with Hannibal and part of the cheese folk).Hannibal is visibly angry when they are back in their opera seats… Could you also please end it with smut ( if you are comfortable with that).Thanks for considering!<3
Jealousy, Jealousy
Hannibal Lector x Reader:
Warnings:smut, biting, kissing, penetration (p in v), fingering, possessive behaviour, public sex, unwanted flirting (from Franklin), fluff, happy ending, no use of y/n, female reader
Word count:2,9K
A/n: Hey Hon thanks for the request i hope you like it!
Hannibal is pissed. No scratch that. He’s seething. But you can’t see it. No one can. He’s just that good at hiding it. Even so, everyone has a breaking point.
This was Hannibals.
Franklin had met you at the last opera you and Hannibal had gone to and from that moment it seemed he had grown some sort of infatuation with you. Hannibal always loathed his sessions with Franklin, his ever growing desire to be Hannibal’s friends making the doctor rather uncomfortable, but he never imagined it could get worse. Boy was he mistaken. It seemed like Franklin couldn’t utter a single sentence without mentioning your name. Hannibal watched him dance around the subject for days until he finally got to the point.
“You think you could give me her number?”
“I'm sorry?”
“Her number. I wanted to ask if she’d be free for some wine tasting but I don't know how to reach her. And then I thought you must have her number since you two seem close.”
“I don’t think she’d be interested.”
“Oh well maybe you could give me it anyway and i could ask-”
“I will not be giving you her number and that is final.”
An eerie silence took over the room. Hannibal watched Franklin open and close his mouth silently before settling back into his chair. It seemed clear to Hannibal that his patient had finally gotten the message.
Once again he was wrong.
You were nursing a glass of wine that Hannibal had picked out for you as your eyes studied the opera house. Hannibal was next to you, his body mare inches from yours but not close enough to allow contact. You watched people come up to Hannibal in greeting before quickly going away.
“As always you’re quite the topic.”
“I don’t know what you mean dear.”
“Don’t be modest Hannibal. It's clear these people admire you. They may even wish to be you.”
You caught sight of a girl making flirtatious eyes to Hannibal and couldn’t help but smirk.
“Or maybe be with you. Either way they consider you appealing.”
Hannibal watched you as you spoke, his eyes never leaving your frame. It was intriguing how observant you could be and how unseeing you were at the same time. It didn’t matter how many women tried to impress him, his eyes always found themselves glued to you. You always had his full attention.
Always.
It was beginning to become a problem.
Hannibal had been so focused on looking at you that he hadn’t noticed someone new had approached. It was only when Hannibal heard the familiar voice that he realized you two had company. The doctor watched Franklin greet you with a kiss on your hand. The sight itself made Hannibal clench his hands into fists. He tried to remind himself he was in the middle of a very crowded place. A place filled with people who knew him. Seeing him throw a punch at a patient would ruin his career. Still he’d never felt an urge to knock someone out so much in his life.
You were always a kind person. Very well mannered and aware of your words. So it shouldn’t surprise Hannibal when you kept conversing with Franklin, occasionally even laughing at his terrible jokes. Hannibal zeroed in his attention on your lips. He observed the way they wrapped around the rim of the glass as you took a sip of your drink. The drink he’d picked for you because he knew you pallet better than anyone.
It had occurred to Hannibal a few months back that he was growing interested in you in a not so friendly way. But it was only when Franklin asked for your number that he realized how deeply he was falling for you. He wanted you for himself. And he would make that happen.
You were starting to get annoyed. Franklin was a nice guy but it was clear he didn’t know how to take no for an answer. You could see the way he was subtly, at least in his eyes, trying to flirt with you. It’s safe to say you weren’t interested. Not that he seemed to be getting that message. A noise rang out into the room telling you all the intermission was coming to an end.
“Well look at that, time just flies when you’re having fun huh?”
You gave Franklin a weak smile .
“We should be going, Franklin. Our seats are at the top so we have to climb a lot of stairs.”
“Oh okay.”
“Maybe we'll see you at the next opera?”
God you hopped not.
“Actually I was wondering if I could get your number.”
You froze, a concerned smile plastered to your face. Gosh he really didn’t let up did he? In a moment of pure panic at the thought of having to deal with Franklin calling at all hours of the night you grabbed onto Hannibal's arm. The doctor's focus moved to where your delicate hands were wrapped around his forearm. You looked up at him with pleading eyes before turning back to Franklin.
“Actually I’m already spoken for.”
“Oh wow I didn’t….realize.”
“Yes well we are very much together so…. Yeah.”
And uncomfortable silence covered the three of you. You tried to think of something to say. Anything to get you away from here. Before you had time to come up with something Hannibal spoke.
“Come on dear. If we don’t hurry we might miss something.”
You let out a relieved breath as Hannibal moved his hand to wrap around your waist, guiding you away from Franklin. You kept your eyes forward as the two of you walked. It was only when you were out of Franklin's view that you started laughing. You braced yourself on your thighs as you laughed.
“Oh gosh. That was just dreadful. He was so-“
“Annoying.”
“Incredibly annoying! Honestly Hannibal I don't know how you can deal with being in a room with him for an hour.”
“Didn’t seem like you were having such a hard time.”
You lifted your head to look at the doctor with a curious expression. He was looking down at you with a look you rarely ever saw, at least not directed towards you. Hannibal Lecter was annoyed. And at you no less. You crossed your arms over your chest.
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You seemed to be enjoying talking to him. Laughing at his jokes. Making small talk.”
“It's called manners, Hannibal. As far as I know you value them quite a lot.”
Hannibal stalked over to you causing you to take a step back. Your back hit the wall, making you gasp. Hannibal hovered over you, his eyes boring into your soul.
“Hannibal what are you-“
“Did you enjoy his attention? Did you like the way he was looking at you? He was staring so hard I was surprised his eyes didn’t pop out of their sockets.”
“What the hell’s gotten into you?”
“Into me? Weren’t you the one who was just clinging onto my body like I was your savior?”
You’d never seen Hannibal like this. For the first time since you knew him he looked like an animal. His usually neat hair was slightly flopping over his face and the expert calm facade he always had seemed to have slipped. He looked like a predator and you were his prey. You lifted your hand so that you could touch his arm. He looked at your hand on his frame. It was as if your touch was burning him. He needed to feel you but he was afraid of what that would mean. You whispered his name causing him to face you. You looked up at him with wide eyes, your lips slightly parted as you breathed.
He hadn’t even realized he was boxing you into the wall with his body until he felt the heat that radiated from you. He couldn’t think straight with you so near him but he couldn’t bear to be far from you either. It was then that he realized just how much he craved you. He felt like a lion who’d been starved for days and had finally been given a piece of steak.
He was going to devour you.
Without a second thought Hannibal shoved his lips against yours. Your body reacted immediately, hand moving to wrap around his neck as he deepened the kiss. Hannibal moved his hand to your leg, hitching it up. You gasped into his mouth as his fingers skimmed over your skin. He enjoyed the sounds you made as he pushed your underwear to the side. His fingers moved over your pussy and he couldn’t help but groan as he felt how wet you were. Your nails dug into his blazer as he inserted one of his digits into you. Your back rubbed against the wall as he continued to bully his fingers into your cunt. A moan slipped through your lips before you managed to cover your mouth, the realization that anyone could just walk by and see you finally becoming clear.
“Hannibal we-“
“Shhh I’m trying to enjoy the opera.”
You could hear the opera singer belting out a note from afar. The sound was dulled by the heavy doors but you could still make it out. Hannibal hummed the song as he continued to finger you. You were trying to keep as quiet as possible but he wasn’t making it easy on you. He knew exactly what to do to have you screaming out for him.
“Hannibal please, I'm so close.”
“Oh yeah? Think you deserve it?”
“Yes please. Please make me cum.”
“Even after flirting with Franklin in front of me?”
This little shit.
“Hannibal please…. I’m sorry.”
“Who do you belong to hum?”
“You.”
“Speak up dear, I can't hear you.”
“You Hannibal! I belong to you!”
“That's right. Go on then. Cum on my fingers.”
You hid your face in the crook of Hannibal's neck as a silent moan ripped through your body. He felt your teeth graze his collar bone through his shirt as your mouth opened in pleasure making him smirk. Your juices continued to coat his fingers as he attempted to help you through your high. Your body shook against him, your limbs spasming as you tried to regain control of your brain. You knew Hannibal's knowledge of the human body made him good at many things but you never stopped to contemplate the effect his expertise would have on a more sexual context.
Once you’d come back down to earth you pushed your body off of Hannibals allowing you to look into his eyes. You continued to breathe heavily as you looked at him trying to figure out what would happen next. You hadn't expected him to lean down and kiss your lips but you welcomed the action. You warped your arms around his neck tugging him even closer to you. Hannibal's hands made their way to your hips squeezing lightly at your flesh. You bite into his bottom lip as his mouth moved away from yours. You couldn’t help the giggle that made its way out of your lips.
Hannibal grinned down at you, his thumb caressing your hip bone as he continued to observe you. Your hair was covering your face and your lips were swollen from kissing him. Hannibal didn’t look much better, his pupils were dilated and his heart was hammering in chest. You noticed the wild look in his eyes and in a sudden burst of confidence you decided to move your leg up against Hannibal's body. His eyes darted to your leg before moving back to your face. You bite into your lip, your fingers moving to tug at the small hairs on the back of Hannibal's head. You watched his brows furrow a bit at the action.
“You gonna fuck me Doctor lector?”
“What makes you say that?”
“The look on your face.”
“And what look would that be?”
“The look of a man who is about to turn into an animal.”
Hannibal's expression faltered slightly at your comment. He wondered from a moment if you’d understand him if he told you what he was capable of. He wondered if your eyes would widen in fear or if they would simply spike up in curiosity. You placed your palm on his cheek causing him to focus on you once more.
“You okay?”
“No.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m starved.”
Hannibal gave you a wolfish grin as his hand made its way to your ass. You gasped as he pushed your body up, legs instinctively wrapping around his hips. You steady yourself on his shoulders waiting to see what he would do. Hannibal tugged your dress up your legs allowing him to view your underwear. He moved his hand to his pants tugging at the zipper. You watched him in anticipation, eyes widening as he pulled his dick from its confines. You whined as he pushed your underwear to the side, positioning himself near your entrance. A gasp left your lips as he pushed into you. Your nails dug into his blazer. Hannibal braced one hand on the wall as he began to pistol into you.
Your moans filled his ears as he continued to brutally fuck into you. The sound of you combined with the sounds of the opera far away were like music to his ears. He wondered why he’d never thought of doing this before. You’d been to his home many times it wouldn’t have been hard to get you into his bed but he supposed this was nice too. He felt a rush move through his body at the thought of someone walking in on the two of you. He wished it would be Franklin, the need to show his patient that you belonged to him becoming overwhelming. His head moved to your neck, tongue moving against the soft skin before he sunk his teeth into you. Your walls clenched around him at the action causing him to let out a grunt.
“Hannibal-ah ugh ah shit- don’t stop.”
He was never going to stop. He’d feast on your body for as long as he could, in every way he knew how. He would never be satiated with the feeling of you. There was no going back now Hannibal would have to make you entirely his.
He continues to nibble at your skin, desperately trying to mark you as much as he can. He wants to scare off any other suitors but he also enjoys the thought of you walking around covered in marks he’s given you. Mine, he thinks, this one is all mine. You're clenching around his dick like a vice which tells him you’re getting closer to your release. He wants you to beg for it, wants you to ask him to cum. It seems you can read his mind because without him even opening his mouth you’re already whining for him, telling him how good he feels and how much you want to cum on his dick. So he lets you but not before filling you to the brim with his seed. He wants you so full off him that his cum starts to seep out. He wants you to smell like him so everyone else knows who you belong to.
You’re having a hard time getting your heart to calm down. Hannibals still holding onto your body, trying his best to keep you upright as his own legs threaten to buckle. Neither one of you speaks, opting to just share the space in silence for a moment. You hear muffled applause, the sound telling you that the opera has ended. You pull your dress down covering your body once again. Once you think you're decent your hands move to Hannibal now soft dick, stuffing it back in his pants for him. He doesn't move away from you as you straighten his tie or when you fix his hair for him. He lets you build his facade back up without any complaint. As you finish making sure he too is decent you place your hands on his chest.
“Can’t ruin your reputation, can we now Doctor Lecter?”
He smiles at you, his own hands moving to fix your messy hair. Then he moves to place a gentle kiss on your lips. It's a tender action which causes your heart to skip a beat. As the two of you share a loving kiss the doors of the opera open. People pile into the hall you and Hannibal are in, not one of them aware of what was happening a couple of minutes prior. You allow Hannibal to guide you into the crowd, his hand comfortably warping around your waist. You let your body curl into him.
“Let’s go home my dear. I’m dying for another meal.”
Something about the way he talks makes you think he isn’t talking about food.
Hiiiii I love ur writing!!! If it's too much of a bother, I totally wouldn't mind if you don't write this😭😭 I understand that you might be busy with other things, butttt could you write about Martin from Another Round?? Him as reader's teacher (in like uni or something one where reader is legal) and like a punishment sort of thing that's happens to the reader while he's trying to teach them something after school bc they've been falling behind in their grades, and he eventually makes a deal that if they were to do a little "favor" they'd get an A?? Idk I just really like Martin😭😭 If possible, could you make the reader fem?? If not, gender neutral would be greatly appreciated, thank you!!!
- 🫧anon
♡: sorry this was so late, i just finished it and requests r piling up :[ hope u like it anon!
Good Grades
PAIRING: Martin X fem!Reader
CONTENT WARNING: SMUT (18+, mdni), age gap (obviously), unprotected sex, perverted martin, oral (male receiving), degrading, humiliation, hair pulling, biting, filthy martin, power play.
SYNOPSIS: You've always struggled with your history subject, more so when it came down to remembering which historic event took in what year — the numbers screwing you up. It wasn't a surprise when you were called in by your teacher to scold you about your downgrading grades but you didn't know there was a much easier to fix them right up.
You were in a state of panic.
When your teacher had asked you to stay behind, you knew damn well what it was for.
History wasn't one of your strongest suits, especially remembering the numbers. You tried your best to embed your mind with it but you failed at the end.
Your nails scratched the skin around them in anticipation, stomach twisting in nervousness and anxiety knocking at the doors of your brain to allow it in.
You only had to wait for the bell to ring and once it rang, all the students left. Rushing to catch their breaks and some letting out sighs of relief to finally be freed of this soul sucking boring subject.
You were alone with him.
Martin’s gaze captured you as he picked up the papers he'd graded, setting them aside after picking out one.
It had to be yours.
He walked over to you, dragging a chair and sitting down on it in front of you. You could feel your pulse throbbing in your neck, heart hammering rapidly in your ribcage. Your forehead had perspired and you let out a breath.
“What is this, miss?” He asked, holding your paper out for you.
Immediately when you saw the grade of it, you felt like passing out. Martin eyed you as you averted your gaze from him and the piece of paper, looking around.
You had no courage to face your failure.
“I'm asking you something.”
You licked your lips. “A paper.”
Martin leaned back into the chair, thighs spreading open. He sighed. “I know it's a paper and it is your paper, which you almost failed.”
You flinched at his tedious tone, not enjoying how he spoke to you. Truth was, Martin had kept an eye on you for so long. Unbeknownst to you, he always tried to focus more on you and make you learn.
But you didn't want to.
Head anywhere but here, in his class.
“This isn't the first time. If you keep falling, I'll have to kick you out of the class.” It was a threat and your eyes widened immediately, shaking your head.
You leaned forward, the unbuttoned shirt revealing your chest which Martin captured a glance of. His cock stirring in his pants at how your tits pressed together — forming the perfect view for him. “Please, no. You can't do that. Just give me a chance, I'll do anything to fix my grades.”
Martin raised a brow.
Anything you said.
“I'm sorry but there is nothing I can do. I've had enough of this. You never pay attention and you're always chatting with other students.”
You shook your head. “Sir please, I will focus more. I will pay attention.”
Martin eyed you.
You seemed so desperate. He could see the raw desperation in your gaze and something inside him snapped, seeing how your pupils had blown out. He swallowed tightly and after debating with his own mind, he finally came to a conclusion.
He had power over you.
Why not abuse it?
“Get up and lock the door.”
You blinked at his abrupt command but nodded nonetheless, rising up from your seat to lock the door. Once you had snapped the little lock in place, you turned around to look at your teacher.
“Come here." And you obliged again.
Sauntering towards him, your pale skirt flowing by your side when you moved towards him. Nervousness had crawled all the way up to your throat and you licked your lips, in an attempt to wet the chapped skin.
You stood in front of him.
“There's something we can do to fix your grades.” He spoke, voice now a few octaves lower. Your fingers engulfed the material of your skirt as you raised a brow.
Martin reached for your hand, taking it into his. His brown eyes drowning in yours and his lips holding a sweet smile as if he wasn't about to make an immoral offer. “How about you be a good girl for your teacher and suck his cock?”
Your eyes widened in horror.
Pulling your hand out of his grasp, you retreated and stared at him. You'd never thought about your teacher in that sense. Yes, he was very attractive and you had a thing for older men but this was completely unethical and unprofessional.
You inhaled sharply.
Confusion clouded your judgment. You didn't know what to do. The proposal wasn't as bad as your mind was making it appear. Just give him head, get your grades up and work harder next time.
That easy, yeah?
Your knees dipped in front of Martin’s spread thighs and his smile widened. A tent already visible in his crotch. He was so excited, as he would always wonder how your glossy pink lips would feel wrapped around his cock — your tight little throat fighting to make space for his length.
You blinked, profusely as you reached for the zipper of his pants. He noticed the tremor in your hands and smiled softly, loving how innocent you appeared. Your hand managed to unzip his pants and pull out his cock but the moment your fingers caressed his hardened length, Martin hissed.
Your mere touch felt like embers on his skin.
Your eyes widened upon witnessing his gaze, the sheer length and girth of it leaving you completely bemused. How was that even supposed to fit in your mouth? You wondered if you could grow used to his size.
“What you waiting for, pretty girl?”
You looked at him with your pretty eyes as you leaned forward and pressed a chaste kiss to his tip. It leaked with precum and the salty taste glossed your lips. You ran your tongue over his pink cockhead and then wrapped your lips around him while your hand began to stroke him from his base — upto his length.
Martin slumped into his chair leisurely as his palm opened and rested over your head, forcing you to take him further. His lips fell open as he shuddered, enjoying the warmth your mouth produced around him.
The more you took him into your mouth, the harder it became for you to breathe properly.
You tried to inhale oxygen through your nose, your hands both resting on his parted knees. Martin’s hand pushed you further down on his cock and you fluttered your eyes shut, feeling his cock glide over your tongue and make way into your throat.
“Fuck, such a tight little mouth you've got, baby.” Martin groaned and as you peeled open your lids, you saw a sight before you which made your cunt throb.
A few straight strands had fallen over Martin’s forehead, his lips parted as his chest heaved up and down. Chiseled cheek bones reflexing everytime he let a gasp slip.
You took him deeper, feeling his cock head slip into your throat and you whined, sending vibrations and tremors down his cock into his groin. His cock throbbed and twitched like crazy and you could feel every little movement inside your tight cavern.
Your windpipe felt like it was being crushed and you pulled back from his cock, to take him deeper again.
“You're pretty good at this.” Martin groaned, staring down at you with hazy eyes. “How many cocks have you sucked, hm?”
You shook your head, telling him that this was your first time. Martin thrusted his hips upwards, driving his cock deeper into your throat. He managed to catch a glimpse of his dick print in your throat and lost his restraint.
Callous hands grabbing your head, holding it in place as he began to fuck his cock into your throat. Thrusts harsh and vigorous, your heart galloped in your ribcage. Your eyes fell shut and Martin’s fingers engulfed your hair.
“Look at me. Show me those pretty eyes, baby.” You obliged, fluttering them open. Your lashes coated the apple of your cheeks and tears emerged from your tear glands — droplets sliding down. Martin discarded the chair as he stood up, using his full strength to chase his orgasm.
You sniffled, gagging over his cock. A white ring of spit accumulating around his length from all the choking. Your mouth was covered in drool as well as chin, streams of precum mixed with saliva going down.
Martin’s balls throbbed and his pace fastened, fucking your throat like it was a cunt. You felt a stinging sensation spread in your knees from how long you'd been kneeling on the floor. His stomach was taut and his thrusts grew slightly slow — hinting at his upcoming arousal.
Loud groans and gagging sounds filled the whole of classroom. “Fucking whore. On her knees just to g-get good grades. How desperate can you be.”
Martin was a mess. His forehead was sweaty and then after a harsh thrust in your tight throat, he finally released inside your cum. Though that didn't last long as he pulled out halfway, shooting ropes of cum all over your face. You closed your eyes as the warm liquid stained your face wet.
You breathed like you'd ran a fucking marathon. Shallow breaths being inhaled while Martin stared at you, admiring how his climax covered your cheek. You reached to swipe it off your face, sticking your fingers into your mouth to suck them clean.
“You look fucking pretty like this.” He praised, running his hand over your messy hair.
Your cheeks warmed up. “I-Is that enough? Will you fix my grades now, sir?”
He tilted his head, contemplating you. Lost in complete dilemma before he came to a conclusion. Martin didn't waste time lifting you up from the floor and you yelped — bemused by this abrupt action. He set you over the desk and smiled, causing his smile lines to appear.
“I can't let you go this easily, pretty girl. I need more now.” You blinked and stared at him, knowing what he was hinting at. You'd sucked him dry, there was no way he could regain his strength this quickly but when your gaze lowered and you caught onto his cock hardening, you realised his age did not work as restraints to his desires.
Martin took a step back. “Open your legs, show me that pretty cunt of yours.”
“Sir but you—”
“You want to fail?” He asked, brow raised. Deep voice hiding a threat underneath and you shuddered at the unexpected change of tone.
You nodded your head, face flushed and hair sticking to your skin. Parting open your thighs, you revealed your sticky panties and Martin’s chest rumbled with a primal growl at the sight. Your panties had a wet spot and that only worked to heighten his arousal for you.
His large hands held you open, staring at how your cunt produced more and more essence of desire. Your thighs shuddered when his knuckles caressed them, his hands tugging off your panties and slipping them inside his pocket.
“But..” You complained at the perverted action of your teacher.
Martin grinned at you. “Sh, I might need them for later when my cock becomes hard at the memory of being inside your little pussy.”
Martin didn't even care to prep you. He only held his cock in his hand and rubbed his tip up and down your moist puffy cunt. Then he entered you and the stretch of your pussy made you arch your back. Your palms gripped on the edge of the table as you whimpered.
You were all over the place.
Embarrassment crept up your body like vines when you registered the situation you were in.
Willing to sleep with your older teacher only to achieve good grades. If your parents were to find out, they would look down upon you and you'd probably be expelled from your university but none of that mattered.
You needed good grades and this was the only way.
“Fuck— you've got such a tight little cunt, baby.” Martin moaned, entering you till he's pelvis had pressed up yours. Soft little whimpers escaped you when you were filled to the brim. “I'm gonna fuck you, gonna dumb you down on my cock.”
You sniffled, a lone tear sliding down.
Martin leaned in and captured your lips in a kissing, licking and sucking at yours. A hungry kiss it was but it made your cunt throb around his hard cock.
He started to pull out, only to thrust back inside you with vigor. His hips snapped repeatedly, finally losing all sense of control.
Martin’s hands held your hips, digging into them as he drove himself into the warmth of your sweet cunt. He was fucking hysterical, each thrust delivered with passion and driven by need.
Crying out from pleasure and ecstasy, your body jerked upon feeling his cock nestle into your sweet spot. You reached for his sweaty nape, wrapping both arms around it for support. The desk underneath you quaked whenever Martin would snap his cock into you.
“S-Sir, oh my god. Sir please, someone might h-hear.” You sobbed uncontrollably from the unbridled lust.
Martin brought his hand upto your face and shoved his fingers into your mouth, pressing along your wet tongue. You choked a little but allowed him to shove his fingers down your throat, tips brushing against the palate of your mouth.
“Keep quiet, yeah? Don't want anyone to know you're getting fucked by your teacher for some high grades.” Martin shushed you, staring at you with pure lust swimming in his gaze.
You kept your thighs apart, abdomen shivering from your upcoming climax and your fingernails dug into Martin’s nape, scratching at the skin. He hissed and the pain only increased his strength, thrusting harshly inside you.
You squeezed your eyes shut, your release pounding at your taut stomach and with a loud cry you came all over Martin’s cock. He didn't give you any time to calm down, instead seeing how beautiful you looked when you made a mess on his cock only made him fuck you harder.
He grabbed your leg and pulled it up to his shoulder, leaning down and pressing his body firmly against yours. Martin dug himself deeper inside your tight cunt, as it clamped down on him and the man felt like you would snap him in half.
“You'll fucking cut my dick in half, baby. Relax a little, yeah? I'm close, so fucking close.” He reassured you, pressing onto your stomach to feel his cock push up against your cervix. His length grazing your walls.
He buried his face in your neck, digging his teeth into your skin. Tainting the unmarked canvas of a skin with red and blue.
Martin’s hips stuttered as he felt himself near, soon spilling inside you. His load heavy and filling you up to the brim. Thankfully you were on birth control so it didn't really matter but the feeling of his cum inside you made you twitch.
He pumped into you, emptying himself inside you for the second time but in your puffy cunt. You'd buried your head in his chest and Martin let you, finally getting what he needed from you.
He pulled out from you after you both had calmed down and caught a breath and you whimpered at the loss of contact. The blonde watched your gaping hole release his seed in drops, trailing down and making a mess on his wooden desk.
“Such a pretty, swollen cunt.” He whispered, shoving his cum back inside with his long fingers.
Your walls had grown extremely sensitive and you let out a whine when he did that. His tan skin glistened with sweat, making it appear gold like to the gaze. Hair a mess, similar to yours and his flannel shirt crinkled up. Martin fixed your skirt, pulling it down over your thighs and you realized he had fucked you in your skirt, which made this rendezvous even more hotter.
Your face flushed and sweaty, lips swollen and eyes watery.
Martin wanted to take a picture of how fucked out you looked. But he didn't — it would only cause problems if he was ever caught. Especially by his wife.
“W-Will you fix my grades now?” You asked, once you'd ran a hand through your hair and slid off the table. Lower body barely having any strength to support the upper one.
When you looked up at Martin, your eyes still held remnants of your innocence and he nearly swooned.
He nodded, pressing a lingering kiss to your lips. “With how well you took my cock, I'll fucking give you the highest grade.”
You smiled, pleased with the result. This was all you ever wanted. To pass and not be a failure and knowing your teacher’s weakness made it a whole lot easier for you.
best friend or baby daddy, one thing's for sure, you're not getting rid of him!
pairings: bsf!Geto x f!Reader
content: MDNI, smut and fluff and light angst, modern AU, mutual pining, heavy yearning, they want each other BAD, friends-to-lovers-to-parents, unprotected piv sex, mating press, creampie, fingering, oral (m! + f! receiving), lots of teasing and tension, taking pictures during sex, unplanned pregnancy, discussions of pregnancy/marriage, cravings, reader is a lil insecure, Suguru adores her anyway, short Gojo cameo, protective/possessive dilf!Suguru lol, idiots in love
part of this wikihow collab with @neovillains, art by @captainsalsaa divider by @animatedglittergraphics-n-more !
Step one?
Comfort you after you dumped yet another boyfriend.
Or maybe the first step had been one he never meant to take. Falling in love with the girl who pulled on his ponytail on the playground at age five. And at twenty-five? He fell even harder at the thought of what sort of face you'd make if he pulled your hair now, if you'd throw him a glare or a laugh, maybe pout your pretty lips at him before he bent you over his kitchen counter and -
"Suguru," You giggled, glancing over your shoulder, a playful glint shimmering in your eyes as you nudged his side. "Are you actually drunk?"
On you, maybe.
"No," He murmured, a cold hand finding your hip, an excuse, really, to pull you closer, press your body between his and the marble edge of the countertop as he reached over your head to grab the bowls he started keeping on the top shelf so you'd need his help grabbing them.
He caught the way your breath hitched in your throat, spine going stiff for a second, before relaxing into him like it was second nature by now, your head tilting to twist back against his chest and look up at him.
"You don't seem very heartbroken to me," He dryly commented, to which you just made a noncommittal hm, blinking a few times.
"I'm fine."
"Yeah?" He murmured, a little lost in your proximity, how right it felt for your back to be against his chest. "If he lost you, he must be a fucking idiot."
"Oh?" You giggled. "You know, he actually said we were in love with each other?"
"And? Are you in love with me?" Suguru teased, setting the bowls down to cage you in closer, his hand cutting off your chance at wiggling away when it landed on the counter, the fingers on your hips gripping a little tighter, wrinkling your dress.
Wishful thinking or not, he could almost feel the heat in your cheeks from here, your eyes crinkling when you just shrugged.
"What movie do you wanna watch?" You hummed, eyes flickering from his down to his lips, like you wanted to watch him reply, or maybe, hopefully, something more.
The game of pulling each other in just to push each other away at the last second still in swing after two decades.
"Whatever you want," Suguru shrugged back, the steady pop pop pops! of the kernels on the stove filling the background, the half-empty bottle of wine waiting to be polished off perched between two glasses. Yours was nearly full, but there were only a few drops left in his, despite drinking being your idea.
Showing up at his door on a Saturday night, gift bag in hand with tissue paper sticking out, wearing your favorite little sundress, cardigan hanging off your shoulders when you grinned up at him and asked if you could crash for a couple days.
"Boo," You did pout, and he hoped your proximity to his heart didn't mean you could hear it actually skipping a beat. "What if I want you to pick?"
He wished you only wanted him, period.
You stared sometimes and he could feel it there, simmering underneath your smile and living in the lines on your face. But you were always dating some other dark-haired asshole or he'd find himself in someone else's bed (who always looked a little too much like you, sharing the same shade of hair or the shape of your eyes). Living off of lingering touches and secret jokes and the moments where the boundaries blurred, where you'd be snuggled against his side or a kiss on the cheek would stray closer to the corner of your mouth instead.
Both of you waiting for the day the other one accepted defeat, conceded victory and came clean about the festering feelings you shared.
"Fine," He sighed, moving the pot to a different burner, flicking the heat off before taking off the lid, having to smack your hand away before you could snag a still-hot piece from the top before he could add any popcorn salt. "Just go sit down before you manage to burn yourself, okay?"
You rolled your eyes, poking his side before pouring more wine in his glass, carrying both over to the coffee table, too distracted watching him to pay attention to where you were walking, the corner catching your leg and sending you stumbling.
He would laugh at you later.
But now?
He was dropping the bowl back to the counter, hurrying over to help you up, your dress soaked and stained, clinging to your body, broken shards of glass littering the wooden floor.
"Shit, Sugu, I'm sorry," You frowned, chewing on your bottom lip as you pinched the sticky fabric away from your chest. But he caught the little glint in your eyes, the way one corner of your mouth involuntarily tugged up, like maybe you'd done it on purpose.
"Careful," He sighed, grabbing you by the waist to move you away from the safety hazard just to take your wrist anyway after he set you back down, pulling you down the hall to his room. "I'll throw that in the wash. You can just wear one of my shirts."
Sure, you already had a drawer full of your clothes at his place. But you both knew you'd rather wear something of his anyway.
"You're not mad, are you?" You asked, your face still scrunched up in disappointment when he pushed open the bedroom door.
"When have I ever been mad at you?"
He wanted to be, sometimes. When you introduced him to a new guy who would check out other girls when he should be thanking the fucking stars you even looked at him. When he thought about the time you got a little too wasted on your birthday a few years ago and kissed him in the backseat of a taxi just to forget the next morning. But the hurt could never hold it's shape, the anger could never set in, not when the need for you had engraved itself in his bones, to see you smile and hear your laugh at his jokes. No matter how much it ached to watch you offer yourself to others who didn't even see you.
Suguru went to grab a t-shirt off a hanger, glancing over his shoulder at you to find - fuck.
You already stripped out of your dress, perched pretty on the edge of his bed and staring at him almost innocently, your head tilted to the side as if to ask 'what?'
He shouldn't look, really, he absolutely should not, but his eyes don't know that, drifting down to the pretty swell of your breasts pushed out in a skimpy little lace bra that he was going to be thinking about long after you left, and his throat almost closes then and there.
"Here," He dryly choked out, his jaw clenching as he tossed you the shirt, dragging his attention down to where you discarded your dress.
"Thanks," You caught it, but barely made an effort to cover up your chest, your eyes following him as he bent over to pick it up, something that sounded close to a sigh escaping when he walked towards the door.
Suguru wouldn't crack. His composure couldn't. The only thing worse than you not being his was you not being in his life at all.
He could live with being in love with you. But knowing you didn't feel the same might kill him.
He didn't want a one-time thing, a single night spent in the sheets, but every part of you, every inch of your skin and second of your time. If you fucked him once just to say you couldn't be friends anymore, couldn't be anything, he didn't know what he'd do.
It was hard to know where the line was drawn when both of you had erased it so many times just to hastily scrawl a new one a little further back.
Carefully measuring out the laundry detergent and adjusting the settings on the washing machine before turning it on, the scent of your perfume and the wine clinging to him even after he turned away, glancing back down at the closed bedroom door. You were probably done changing by now, or close, at least.
He still knocked anyway, knuckles tapping against the wood, waiting for your reply.
"Can I come in?" Suguru called out, leaning against the door, trying not to think about what you looked like in his bed, the still image already burned in the back of his brain.
"Uh-huh," You hummed. Twisting the knob, he pushed it open, his stare locking onto you before he could even really process what he was seeing.
You were not done changing.
The hooks of your bra weren't even properly clasped, a tiny little thong hooked over your hips, your back to him while you rummaged through his nightstand. Something was in your hands that he couldn't see.
You glanced over your shoulder, a cute little smirk plastered to your lips that he wanted to kiss off of you, twist into a gasp, a moan of his name. "Hi."
"Hi," He echoed, low and gravelly, one corner of his mouth curling up to match yours.
You knew what you were doing.
And he was so tired of pretending he didn't.
"Say cheese," You giggled, holding up an old camera of his, finger hovering over the shutter while he folded his arms across his chest, his mouth set in a thin line even when you snapped a photo.
"Hand it over," He huffed, his focus straining to stay on your face while you walked over to him, bare feet padding across his floor until you were close enough to push the camera against his chest. The words were on his tongue before he could second guess saying them. "My turn."
The blush coloring your face made him feel warm, the sudden hints of shyness bleeding through when you tugged your bottom lip between your teeth, like you just remembered how little you were wearing, how close he was.
"Scared?" Suguru mocked, giving you an out he hoped you wouldn't take.
"N-no," You stammered though, a crease forming between your furrowed brow as you protested.
"Back on the bed then," He murmured, wondering if you'd pose for him, if this would be the only picture you'd let him take of you tonight.
You hesitantly perched yourself back on the end, glancing down at yourself then back up at him, swallowing hard as you tried to collect your confidence again. Scooting back, parting your legs just enough that he caught a glimpse of the small damp patch on your panties, chuckling at the realization you were more worked up than him.
"More," He instructed, watching the way your lips parted and froze, how slowly your limbs started to move.
He sighed, sitting the camera down on the mattress next to you before sliding his hands over your soft thighs, spreading them for you, pretending your little gasp at the contact didn't make his cock practically jump in his boxers.
"Lay down for me, okay, pretty girl?" Suguru requested, softer this time, and you nodded, listening as you laid back, your body stiff as it sank down on his comforter. Only starting to relax once his hands slipped higher, the feeling of your bare skin under his palm only fueling the burning need he'd been suppressing for so long.
Hooking two sturdy fingers under the band of your panties and slowly peeling them down your thighs, taking his time and waiting for some squeak of his name to leave your mouth, but you just watched him back, biting down on the inside of your cheek.
Once your underwear hit the floor, you hesitantly shifted, opening yourself up for him. "Like this?"
Suguru wasn't sure he was going to make it out of here with his sanity in tact.
Step two?
He was going to fuck you until you admitted you'd been waiting for this just as long as him.
"Look at me," He quietly said, picking the camera back up to hide the hunger in his gaze as he peered through the viewfinder at you.
Your unsure stare reflecting his own desperation, lashes fluttering as you tried to decide what face to make.
He could help with that.
Returning one hand to the inside of your thigh, tracing a soft path up to the slick on your skin as placed his hand over your entrance, his thumb dipping just barely in to the knuckle while he watched your face for every tiny flicker in your expression. Entranced by how easily he made you squirm, your pretty pout like you wanted more and knowing he wouldn't give it to you unless you asked.
And click!
Of all the candids he'd taken over the years, the collection of your smiles and scoffs saved in photo albums and in his phone's camera rolls, he knew that this would be his favorite.
"Sugu-" You started, the uneven rise-and-fall of your chest only drawing his attention the strap of your bra slipping down your arm.
"Yeah, sweetheart?" He breathed, stuck staring at the sharp edge of one of your canines was tugging on your lower lip, the glimmer in your eyes at how intimate the nickname suddenly felt despite how many times he called you that before.
"Are you sure?" You slowly enunciated every syllable, straining to speak as his thumb dipped deeper. Trying not to give away how much he was affecting you, like he couldn't feel the muscles pull tighter, see the twitch of your hips as they fought to buck up and force him in more.
"Always have been about you," Suguru simply said, pushing his palm down over your clit, watching you gasp at the sudden pressure, eyes fluttering closed as you harshly sucked in a breath.
"God," You hissed.
"Take your bra off," He instructed, and you listened, struggling to prop yourself up enough to reach around with one hand and fumble to undo the clasp, throwing it off with a clatter to the floor.
Fuck.
The way your breasts bounced as you moved, how the buds of your nipples were already perked up and hard, just begging him to roll his tongue over them, to pinch and grope and hold. Mark your chest and your neck with enough kisses to erase the fact that anyone else had ever touched them before him.
He wanted to be the last man who would.
How could he not when you were looking at him like you needed him?
"You wanna tell me what you want?" He hm-ed, slipping his thumb back out, the slick pad dragging up to trace a ghost of a circle over the swollen bud while you whined at the abrupt absence.
"You, please," You whimpered, and he didn't think he'd ever been this hard before. "S-Sugu, I wan' you."
It took every ounce of control not to pull his cock out and fuck you until you cried that out again and again, until pretty tears were collected in your eyes and all you could do was whimper.
He slowly slotted two fingers inside, the stretch making you shudder, thighs struggle to resist the temptation to close on his hand.
He clicked his tongue, once, twice, three times.
"Keep them open for me, baby," He teased, and you just pushed out your bottom lip, weakly nodding as all your muscles tensed again, muscles straining to stay in place when he crooked his fingers all the way in.
"Fuck, fuck, god, there." Your cute moan made his head spin, how your breath almost stuttered every time you sucked it in just for him to immediately force it back out, skin he used to try so hard to avoid staring at in swim suits now completely bare in his sheets.
Pumping his fingers in-and-out, the filthy fucking sound of how wet you were for him ringing his his ears, how right it felt to have you squeezing desperately around him, to be the one pushing you closer and closer to cumming on his fingers.
"That's it, pretty," He softly said, feeling you throb at his low voice, pausing to test it out again. "Come on, breathe."
You tried, sucking in a small breath and looking at him with glossy eyes, silently begging him to keep going.
"Use your words, sweetheart," Suguru purred, swiping his thumb back over your sensitive clit and you shivered.
"Please let me cum," You begged out loud this time, trembling at his touch.
He chuckled, dark and low, slotting his fingers back inside, already trying to memorize which spots made you whine louder, thrusting in, out, in, out, until-
"Suguru."
His name ripped from your throat right as his fingers found the spongy spot in the back, fingertips pressing against it just enough for you to cry out his name a second time, your legs snapping shut as you grinded up against his hand.
"Go ahead, baby," He murmured, letting you rut against his palm for extra pressure and friction, readjusting so his thumb was massaging circles over the swollen bud. "C'mon, cum."
And fuck, he never thought you'd looked more beautiful than right now - lashes fluttering, pretty lips parted as your back arched off the bed, his fingers buried knuckle-deep in your cunt while you came.
"Look so pretty like this f'me," He promised, his thumb rolling over your clit while you blushed and squirmed, still trying to catch your breath when he didn't immediately pull out.
"S-shut up," Your voice was small as you stammered.
"Can I take another photo?" He teased, slipping his slick fingers out, and popping them in his own mouth, needing to taste you on his tongue.
The image of him cleaning the ring of white off his fingers seemed to make you more flustered, your glossy stare searing through his heart.
"You want to?" You swallowed hard.
He climbed on top of the bed, pulling his fingers out with a pop! and grazing over your lower lip with his thumb, caging you in under his broad frame.
"That a yes?" He hm-ed, and you nodded, letting him tug your mouth open. He pushed the same two fingers that had just been in his mouth into yours, your tongue swirling over his knuckles, sucking softly and peering up at him with those pretty eyes.
"Mhm," Your muffled voice purred back.
He fumbled for the camera, holding it back up and hovering his finger over the button as you met his stare through the viewfinder, your own hand reaching up to hold his and push his fingers in deeper while he snapped the photo.
"My pretty girl."
His his his.
Pulling out his fingers while he leaned over to deposit the camera on the nightstand, your lips still open, waiting for a kiss or about to tease him for a sentiment so silly, but a soft smile curled up.
"Yeah, yours."
Suguru Geto was in love. Something he always knew, but only existed in the loops of his mind, the quiet score of his life, playing in the background of every scene. But this, with you here, it was loud. In every look and touch, in every breath he exhaled, the atoms crackling in the air between your bodies.
"I need to fuck you," He heard himself say, hoarse and thick with something caught between desperation and desire.
"Oh yeah?" Your airy little giggle was abruptly cut off with his mouth colliding against yours, wondering if his tasted like wine or you as he sucked softly on your lower lip.
Your hands were struggling to pull his shirt up, only breaking the kiss to shove it up and over his head, your warm palms skimming over his muscles and tracing over each ridge and curve like you'd thought about touching him half as much as he thought about touching you.
"Sugu," You giggled again, letting him pepper your cheek with kisses, his mouth leaving hungry sucks in a line down your throat, marks you'd probably have to wear a scarf or makeup to cover at work in a few days.
He really couldn't stop touching you. Caressing your face and groping your breast and tracing your collarbone and trying to find an excuse to catalogue what every inch of you felt like under him.
"Mm?" He barely paused, feeling your delicate touch start to tug down the zipper of his jeans, the rustle of you unbuttoning them next. He wrapped his mouth around one of your nipples, groaning softly as he dragged his tongue over it as you managed to slip your fingers underneath his jeans and the band of his boxers to feel how hard he already was. Swiping your fingertips over his leaking tip to collect the pre-cum there and wiggling back out to bring it to your lips for your own taste.
His throat went dry.
More than dry. Actually, it felt like someone stuffed fucking cotton balls down it and his pants suddenly felt two sizes too tight as you dragged your tongue over your fingertips and batted your lashes at him.
"I thought you needed to fuck me," You reminded him with the sort of soft sigh that made him dizzy.
He was pushing off his plush mattress to finish what you started, discarding his jeans and boxers in one go, his composure not just cracked but crumbled into a million little pieces he couldn't clean up, the need turning him into the kind of man who couldn't care less about appearances or control if it mean he could fuck your brains out enough that you'd forget about all of that too.
His cock was practically pink, swollen and hard, swinging up to smack against his dark happy trail and muscles, your eyes getting even wider, glued to the thick length.
"Um, S-Sugu," You stuttered, and it was cute to see you lose your own cool, scooting back higher on the bed and propping yourself up on your elbows.
"Uh-huh?" He wryly cocked his head to the side as he climbed back on top of you, pulling you down by your hips as your head fell back on his pillow. Spreading your legs back open, glistening and gorgeous and all his.
"Kiss me again," You quietly requested, and he was more than happy to oblige.
Returning his lips to your own to press a tender kiss there while his tip nudged against your opening, your body jolting when he pinned you down with his weight. Slipping one hand behind your neck to deepen the kiss, his tongue tracing the ridges of your teeth while his other hand held your waist, your wrists wrapping around his neck while you moaned in his mouth, unable to do anything but grind up where his cock was practically twitching against your clit.
Getting more desperate by the second, your muffled moan turning into a whine, bucking up harder to chase your high from earlier.
"Put it in," Your voice was a strained whisper in-between kisses, rolling your hips up again.
"Say please," Suguru taunted, kissing your frown away before he could even really form.
"Please."
He was letting go of your waist to grab the base of his cock, pushing the first few inches in and watching your body tense and stiffen around him, your thighs trying not to close as he pushed past the first ring of resistance, the gasp you attempted to stifle not going unnoticed.
"You okay, baby?" He paused, your body squeezing him sinfully before he hadn't even quite made it halfway in.
"You're, um, bigger, than I imagined," You choked out, and he wasn't sure if it was his ego or his dick that got fucking bigger hearing you admit you imagined him at all.
"It'll fit," He murmured, barely containing the urge to bottom out already, taking his time stretching you out, molding you to each vein and ridge. "Promise I'll take care of you."
You wrapped your legs around his waist, locked them there with your heels digging into his back, and the feeling of your soft thighs against his skin, the squeeze of the muscle had him burying himself in fully before he could stop it.
"Shit, Suguru, o-oh, oh," You mewled at him, nails scratching at his shoulder blades while you buried your face into the crook of his neck, moaning into his skin, teeth nipping at his collarbone.
He kind of hoped you would bite him. Leave little indents of your teeth on his skin so he could run his fingers over it in the morning.
"Fuck," He murmured, stalling for a second just to appreciate how it felt. The warmth of your body trapped under his, the taste of you still on his tongue while his cock was snugly sheathed inside you, raw and-
Shit, he wasn't wearing a condom.
You hadn't asked him to. And to be honest, he didn't even think he had one. It's not like he'd been seeing anyone recently or even considered the possibility he might need one tonight.
It would probably be fine.
He could just pull out or-
"Baby," Your voice, so needy, distracted him.
Suguru's brain shut off.
All higher reasoning had been abandoned, replaced only by the thought of making you cum again (and again).
Sliding out just to shove himself back in, gentle thrusts growing faster, harder with every one of your whines and broken rasps of his name, your hands running over his back and your mouth on his throat. Eventually un-hooking your legs from his hips to pin your thighs to your chest, angling himself to hit that same spongy spot he had before, half-incoherent murmurs whispered into your skin of how beautiful you were, how badly he wanted you, needed you.
And you were nodding back, tears brimming at your lashes and moaning his name, offering quiet little swears that you belonged to him like it was a secret meant for the two of you to keep.
"Oh, t-there, fuck," You whimpered, his cock practically grinding against your cervix as his hips smacked against your skin, planting another open-mouthed kiss on your lips while you both struggled to stave off your climax. Neither of you wanted it to end. "Suguru, m' so close."
"I know, baby, I know," He groaned, barely holding himself together, all the carefully assembled pieces of his life about feeling like they were about to fracture the second his restraint snapped.
There was no going back after this.
No mask he'd be able to wear now that he knew what this felt like. Knew what you looked like pinned under him in the filthiest fucking mating press imaginable, fucked-out and filled-up by his cock slamming again and again while his thumb made messy circles over your clit, rolling and pinching it just to see what sort of noises he could pull out of you next. Especially not after knowing what face you made when you finished, your shattered gasp and your glazed-over eyes focused solely on him and fuck-
Fuck.
He cumming before he could stop himself, your body wrapped up so warm around him, the delicious squeeze like you wanted to draw out every last fucking drop, painting your insides white before he even had enough brain power to start to pull out, but by then, only the last few drops were left to leak onto your thighs. Both dazed, blinking and breathing, his cock still hard in his hand while he stared down at his seed dripping out of you.
You were probably on birth control.
Probably.
Suguru reached over to snag the camera off the nightstand, one hand still pinning your thighs down while the other held the camera back up.
"Say cheese."
Step three?
Show up to your apartment after you'd been avoiding him for what? Two months?
Work stuff, you said, already made plans, you bluffed, feeling sick, you excused.
You hadn't left his place upset - no, you showered and practically stayed in his bed until you had to go to work on Monday. Kissed him on the lips and brushed his bangs out of his face, but when he replayed the 36 hours of heaven, none of the words exchanged had technically been confessions. Or at least, nothing that would put a name to whatever the two of you were now.
It's not like you hadn't gone a couple weeks without seeing each other in person. But this was getting ridiculous - and exactly what he'd been worried about in the first place. He knew you were probably overthinking it, probably just as worried as he was that it'd screw everything up, judging by the still-constant stream of texts you sent him every day.
But he couldn't take it anymore - close enough to just calling it like it was and asking you out officially if it meant you'd stop whatever this was. He'd spent more nights by now fucking in fists to the photos he'd taken of you, painfully-aware of how much better the real thing was.
He could tell by the sound of some shitty reality show playing too-loud through the door that you were definitely home, but you didn't answer the first time he knocked. Or the fourth.
By the tenth, he was flipping through his keys to find the spare one to your place, his text messages to you left unread as he turned it in the lock, calling out your name as he stepped inside. No answer.
Panic had started to prick at his nerves, glancing around to see your stuff scattered around like you usually left it as he crept through your empty kitchen and living room. There weren't any dishes in the sink though, just a few empty packs of crackers, a small trash can by the couch, a blanket thrown over the side and a crushed pillow like you'd just been there. He heard it then - the sound of retching.
Shit. You were sick.
He followed the noise down the hall into the bathroom, the door already cracked open, softly saying your name as he approached so he wouldn't surprise you, but you coughed again, glancing over your shoulder clearly startled anyway.
"What are you-" You weakly rasped, a few stray hairs plastered to your forehead with sweat, tired circles around your eyes before you got sick again. He hurried to hold the rest of your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing little circles on your shoulder blade.
"Hey, it's okay," He murmured, concern replacing everything else he'd been preoccupied with when he showed up. "I was worried about you."
Something that looked like fear flashed across your features when you finished and peeked back over at him.
"Suguru," You slowly said his name, and just speaking sounded like it must hurt.
"Come on, want me to carry you back to the couch? I can go pick up some medicine for you, whatever else you want too," He offered, his thumb rubbing over your your shoulder blade in comforting half-circles. You didn't immediately answer, a small frown still stuck on your face. "You been to the doctor yet?"
"Suguru," You said his name again, more serious this time and he froze.
"Yeah?" He swallowed hard, and you refused to meet his stare.
"I'm pregnant," You murmured, so quietly that was barely audible over the bathroom exhaust fan.
His brain stopped working.
His body too - stuck in place, his thumb still pressing down on the tense muscles of your back.
"You're-" He started, then stopped himself. Each word forming its own separate thought, struggling to piece each of them together when weight of them all combined threatened to crush him. "Is it my baby?"
Fuck, it had to be.
You nodded, just a small bob of your head, and he could barely blink.
Baby. A baby. Yours and his.
"Don't hate me," You whispered sheepishly, shoulders shrinking together. "But I want to keep it."
"I could never hate you," He hoped it sounded reassuring, straining to keep his own happiness in check, struggling to be steady the way you clearly needed him to be. "Whatever you want, I'm here for you. And our baby."
"You mean it?" You turned, just enough that he was able to tug you into his chest and wrapped his arms around you.
"Promise." He pressed a kiss against your hair, cradling you closer.
Your breathing was still shaky, sniffling a few times before your arms wrapped around his waist, face pressed against his shirt.
"Have you been to the doctor yet?" He asked again, although it had an entirely different meaning now, one that still hadn't sunk in all the way yet.
"I called, after, um, I got the positive test," You talked into his chest, voice muffled but you refused to pull away either. "My first appointment isn't for another two weeks."
"I'll go with you," He muttered.
"You don't have-"
"I want to," Suguru chuckled. "Let me take care of you, okay?"
"That's kind of how we ended up here," You reminded him, and he didn't have to see your face to know you were pouting.
He still laughed though, because he'd still do it again.
"Want me to make you something to see if you can keep it down?" He decided to shift the subject, rubbing your back in long, soothing strokes, content to play doctor or nurse (or husband) or whatever role you wanted from him.
Playing chef while he made you something warm, masseuse when he rubbed your back while you curled up next to him in bed, and boyfriend when you finally fell asleep, slipping out of your room to complete the chores that had started to pile up that you'd been too exhausted to do.
It was the least he could do when all your energy was already being devoted to his baby.
By the time he finished and crept back into your bedroom, you were still dreaming, the blankets kicked off of your body. The bed creaked as he climbed back in, settling next to your warm body.
His hand slipped down your side, readjusting so his chest was pressed against your back as his fingers drifted slowly over your stomach, just beneath your belly button, trying to picture it.
Would the baby be a boy? Or a girl?
A little mini-version of you running around, maybe with his eyes or hair?
You were already everything he ever wanted. Anything extra was just icing on top.
Step four?
Convince you to move into his place before the second trimester was over, it was bigger, anyway, had a spare bedroom he'd been using as a home gym he already started converting into a nursery. Spending the weekends building baby furniture and taking you out for dates disguised as shopping, buying little onesies and toys mostly so he could insist on treating you to lunch or dinner afterwards.
It was easier than he expected.
What wasn't?
Convincing you to marry him.
You were already carrying his child. Pretty and pregnant, the cute swell of your stomach you tried to hide under flowy dresses and oversized sweaters making his heart throb in his chest every time he saw it. His mouth would go dry, his eyes stuck staring if he caught you in the middle of changing, even when you shyly tried to turn away. Only having sex in certain positions where you could try to avoid letting him see it, although it usually ended up with him flipping you over on your back or pulling you on top.
"We're going to be late," Suguru sighed, throwing on a sweater from the closet.
"I just need a few more minutes," You pouted, halfway yelling from the bathroom.
He crossed over the bedroom, pushing the bathroom door open with two fingers so he could poke his head through. You were frowning at yourself in the mirror, readjusting your dress, like it'd make it any less obvious you were pregnant. Other clothing items were already discarded across the floor.
"Baby," He softly said, wrapping his arms around your waist, running a hand over your baby bump while the other slipped up to cup your swollen breast starting to spill out of your bra. Despite your insistence otherwise, your discomfort with your changing body, he still tried to offer to take you out to buy stuff for you instead of just the baby. "You look beautiful."
You did.
Everything in him ached to touch you constantly, and maybe it was protective or possessive or whatever you wanted to call it, but he hated that you wanted to hide it, the physical proof that you were his.
He wanted everyone to know it, wanted to slide a ring on your finger and have family photos on the fridge because you were carrying more of him with you now than just his heart.
You scowled at him in the mirror.
"I look pregnant," You muttered, like it was a bad thing.
"Yeah?" He chuckled, tracing the subtle curve of your stomach with his thumb. Twenty weeks. That was halfway there, wasn't it? He'd read more than a few parenting books in his spare time - looked up the latest articles on pregnancy and what to expect. He'd pour over the packets you left from the prenatal appointments with, asked off for each one in advance, absolutely refusing to let you go alone.
"I hate all my clothes," You huffed.
"You hated them before you were pregnant," Suguru sighed, pulling you closer and leaning down to plant a soft kiss against your throat. "You should probably wear something else though. Aren't they doing an ultrasound today?"
He phrased it like a question even though he knew they were.
You frowned again, wiggling away from him to slip out of his grip and walk over to the dresser, yanking out a pair of sweatpants.
"Everything fits weird," You complained, pulling your dress up and over your head, and Suguru stared, feeling the way his own jeans started to fit too tight at the sight of your exposed skin.
"We can go shopping for some new clothes after the appointment," Suguru absentmindedly said, still memorizing the pretty outline of your body.
He could kiss you, offer reassurance after reassurance that he did want you, but you were reluctant to believe him.
Your foot was still anxiously tapping the floor of the waiting room when you arrived, gripping his hand like it was a lifeline, your last tether stopping you from giving into the stress.
"It's gonna be fine," He leaned down to murmur in your ear, barely able to squeeze your hand back with how tightly you were holding it.
"What if it's not?" You were panicking, your other hand protectively placed over your stomach like you were shielding it from the rest of the world.
"Then we'll figure it out together."
His answer didn't seem to calm you much, the little circles he rubbed over your knuckles only making your foot tall a little slower.
"They keep looking at you," You eventually craned your neck up to whisper in his ear, frowning even harder than you had when you first walked in.
"Who?" He leaned down to whisper back.
"The other moms," You pouted, cutting a glare over to a woman who was, in fact, staring. She tried to turn away, but not before you both caught her blush.
"So?" He had to resist the smirk that wanted to creep up, lest he faced your wrath too. Like he could ever want anyone else when you were sitting next to him in the waiting room because his baby was growing inside of you, although this jealousy was something he probably would've killed to see you show over him six months ago.
"I'm probably going to be prying them off of you at the playground in a couple years," You huffed, and he couldn't help but chuckle picturing that.
But before you could focus your frown on him, a nurse called out your full name, his own forming at the reminder he was barely here as a boyfriend, that his baby might not even have his last name either.
He insisted on helping you stand, a hand on the small of your back even when you didn't really need it yet, following you through the hall and listening to you answer the same questions they always asked at every appointment until they led you to the small room that branched off the main hall. The lights were dimmed down already as he helped you lay back onto the table, the paper crinkling while you readjusted. He pulled the chair against the wall closer, slipping his hand back on yours while the nurse left and reassured an ultrasound tech would be there in a few minutes.
"Last guesses," You mumbled, chewing on your lower lip, breathing too fast. "Boy or a girl?"
"Girl," Suguru replied, although he didn't think it mattered much. Not as long as it was yours.
He did like the idea of the baby being a girl - if she had your eyes and your smile.
"I guess I'll go with boy then," You spoke quietly, eyeing the machine next to you. "I hope our baby looks like you either way."
Suguru didn't expect the way your sentiment made him feel - his heart practically stuttering as the words left your lips. Something squeezing tight in his chest, making it hard for him to breathe.
But there were two sharp knocks on the door and suddenly it was swinging open, a peppy woman in shrugs stepping in with cheery greetings, waving and taking a seat on the other side of you to get started. Asking questions about names you had in mind and if you wanted to know the gender while she got set up, and it was silly, but it was like he had a crush on you all over again, watching you chat about the baby, how your eyes lit up just to get sheepish and almost embarrassed when you looked back at Suguru to find him staring.
It didn't take long for you to be slowly pulling the band of your sweatpants down, tissues stuck under it to keep the gel from getting on your clothes while you held up your sweatshirt high enough for her to spread the gel over your stomach, pressing down hard with the wand as the image pulled up on the projector. Taking measurements and checking body parts until she paused right as the baby turned.
"You see that?"
Not really.
"Sorta," You squinted, trying to squint and figure out what it is.
"Looks like you're having a girl!"
And all the earlier anxiety had dissolved, melted into the shy smile on your lips when you glanced back at him, your warm palm giving him a quick squeeze and an excited gleam in your eyes.
"We're gonna have a daughter," You talked so quiet, so soft, like you were still holding your breath.
A daughter. You voice, those words played on repeat the drive home, while you traced the outline of your baby's face on the roll of ultrasound photos you got sent home with.
"Suguru, are you even listening?" You snapped him out of his thoughts, the idea of what you'd look like with a little girl swaddled up in your arms, already planning on taking you out shopping again tomorrow for more baby outfits than any kid could actually need.
"Sorry, honey? What?" He apologized, placing a palm on your thigh and rubbing it while you hummed.
"I asked what you thought of the name Kiyoko," You repeated, setting the photos down on your lap to pull out your phone and probably look up lists of baby girl names.
"That's pretty," He hummed, mostly just enjoying hearing your enthused chatter next to him.
"Or Yumi?" He caught a glimpse of you with your eyebrow arched up as you asked, your attempt at a serious expression falling flat from the thrill you couldn't hide.
He never thought he'd be able to love another girl as much as you - but he guessed his daughter was the only exception.
It wasn't until he started to climb into bed next to you that night that he realized you might not know that.
"Um, Suguru?"
There was something off in the sound of your voice, how hesitant you were to roll over and face him.
"Something wrong, sweetheart?" He readjusted, propping himself up on his side as he brushed your hair out of your face.
"Are, um, you," You paused, frowning as you restarted your question. "Do you think you'll-"
He guessed you were giving up on whatever you wanted to ask as you groaned and buried your face into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.
"Sorry, just, pretend I didn't say anything," Your voice was muffled, clinging to him, fingers wrinkling his shirt and forcing it to ride up higher until a thin strip of skin was exposed.
"You sure?" He stroked your hair, returning your hug as he pulled you in closer with one strong arm.
"Yeah," You huffed, wiggling free and rolling over till you were between his legs.
He was about to slip his hands under your arms to tug you back up, but then you let one finger skim under his boxers, looking up and batting your eyes at him and he paused, the question he was about to ask dying on his tongue.
Yours seemed to have an idea of it's own.
Fingers ghosting over his dark happy trail while you bit your lip, slowly tugging down his boxers just enough to pull his cock out, already hard from watching you undress and ditch your daytime clothes for a thin slip earlier that hugged your swollen breasts before you'd crawled into bed.
"This for me?" You hummed, running your fingers over the thick vein pulsing along the side while he sucked in a breath, the corner of his mouth twitching up into a smile on its own.
"Always," He murmured, the lump in his throat bobbing as you dragged your tongue along the length of him, mouth slowly wrapping around the tip.
God, it wasn't fucking fair.
How could he control himself when every part of you felt so good?
Head falling back on the pillow, jaw clenched as you slowly took him in inch-by-inch, swirling our tongue over him and down across the vein, traced the ridges until he was pressed up against the roof of your mouth, bumping into the back of your throat.
His hand grabbing your hair to help guide you, careful not to make you gag or bruise your throat, your fingers wrapped around his base to stroke what you couldn't fit in. Your moan when he pulled your hair harder than he meant to almost made him snap them and there.
Opening his eyes was his mistake.
He wished he could take a photo of this, the bob of your head and the way you peered up at him so pretty, his cock throbbing in your mouth and how eagerly your mouth softly sucked on him.
He barely pulled out before warm spurts of cum shot down your throat, meaning to cum on his own hand, but it didn't quite work. The thick almost translucent white coating your lips and making them glossy, half ending up on your face and the rest coating his hand as he roughly jerked long strokes.
"Fuck, sorry, I-"
You giggled, licking a little off your lips before wiping away at your cheek.
"It's fine, Sugu," You laughed, wiping your face off on his boxers, nose nuzzling through the fabric against his thigh. "Little warning, next time?"
"Yeah," He muttered, still dazed as he studied your face.
It seemed keeping it together wasn't something he could do when it came to you.
"Wanna shower?" You offered, getting off the bed, the bounce of your breasts as you carefully pulled your little nightdress off reminding him how badly he wanted to repay that favor.
"Sure," He shrugged, standing up after you and stepping out his boxers off before tossing them into the laundry basket.
He watched you get the water started, humming to yourself as you grabbed a new bottle of body wash from the cabinet underneath the sink and checked the temperature.
"Hey," He softly said, distracting you before you could step in.
"Yeah?" You paused, glancing over your shoulder at him.
"Wanna get married?"
You didn't react. Or maybe your lack of reaction was one in itself. A blank stare. A blink. Your hands still on the shower curtain.
"What?" You eventually choked out.
Suguru panicked - or came as close to panic as he could. Falling back on logic, all the facts you couldn't argue with.
"I was paying the bill for the last appointment, and you know, your insurance is terrible," He reasoned, keeping his expression serious, stoic, like you'd have to see his side. "I just think it'd make more sense for us to get married, use my insurance and save our money for the other important stuff."
He actually couldn't care less what the appointments cost or how much he spent on the baby - because he would make absolutely fucking sure you were both spoiled but, he wanted you to say yes.
"I can just pay for the appointments if that's the problem," You quietly murmured, a look on his face he'd never seen before he barely caught before you turned back around and stepped in the shower.
Shit.
He didn't have to guess to know that was a no.
Step five?
Try not to maim every guy that ever looked at you.
It had to be something instinctual - how it made his skin crawled whenever someone's shoulder brushed against yours on the street or a stare lingered too long on your face. Fuck, even Gojo sitting too-close to you had started to get to him, the easy way he slung his shoulder over the back of the couch and blabbered to you about his day while you laughed.
Normally, Suguru would not be silently struggling to maintain his polite smile when you offered to let Satoru feel the baby kick, new cracks starting to form in his facade as his best friend eagerly out his hand on your stomach.
"That's freaky," Gojo scrunched up his face, pulling his hand away at the first flutters of the kick.
"Jerk," You huffed, smacking his arm before struggling to readjust the pillows under your back, your own brows knitted together in frustration.
"Need something?" Suguru interrupted.
"I'm fine," You muttered, despite your discomfort.
"So, like," Gojo started, squinting down at your stomach before glance between you and Suguru. "Am I like, the godfather or-"
"Why not?" You shrugged right as Suguru shook his head no.
"Why not?" Gojo repeated in a whine, cutting him a look that only ever worked if you were the one directing it at him.
"I'd prefer my daughter lives off of more than chocolate and candy," Suguru sarcastically dismissed, scooting closer to you in the couch to slip the pillow that had been beside him underneath your back to help support it.
"I can cook," Satoru defensively protested, looking to your for support Suguru hoped he wouldn't received. "Besides, I have a great dentist so even if-"
"Shit, do we have to find her a dentist too?" You were ignoring the rest of his rambling, glancing back at Suguru with a frown at yet another task on the growing list of items to take care of.
"We can worry about that when she's actually here," Suguru shrugged, a hand settling on your shoulder and massaging the tense muscles there. "And has teeth."
"Okay," You sighed, still chewing on your bottom lip. You turned to your other side, your attention focusing again on your guest.
"You guys pick out a doctor yet?" Satoru asked, spreading his legs and leaning over to grab one of the still-warm cookies you baked after dinner. The sun had already set aside, only the glow from the TV and the kitchen light still on.
"Yeah, think so," You hummed, a hand resting on your stomach when you tried to get one too, pouting at your body's refusal to do what it used to until Suguru reached over to get the cookie for you.
"Got your hands pretty full, huh?" Satoru mumbled with his mouth still full, cookie crumbs sticking to his face.
"Suguru says we should just go ahead and get married," You sighed, taking another small bite before talking again. "For insurance stuff, I guess."
It was the first time you mentioned it in the past couple months since he first brought it up.
Satoru threw him a look like he was the biggest idiot on the planet before actually laughing.
"Just for insurance?" He cocked a brow up, an annoying glimmer of amusement flashing in the blue of his eyes while throwing Suguru a look that made him consider strangling his friend on the spot. "You know, my insurance is really-"
"Don't even think about it," Suguru shut him up before he could continue.
But you were glancing between them, a small frown weighing your lips down and a subtle crease between your brow. Were you actually disappointed?
"I'm actually pretty tired, guys, I, uh, think I'm gonna crash for the night," You mumbled, pushing up off the couch and ignoring Suguru's outstretched hand to stand on your own.
He could feel it sinking in his chest before you disappeared down the hall.
Another misstep. Pushing you away when he was trying to pull you closer.
"Insurance? Really?" Satoru snickered once you were out of earshot.
"Shut up," Suguru groaned.
"Just tell her you love her already and put a ring on it," He shrugged, leaning over to flick his arm. "Unless you want your kid to have a stepdad some day?"
Okay, Suguru really wanted to strangle him for suggesting that.
And it was his own fault for offering excuses, he knew that, still he didn't want to tell you he loved you and you think it was just because of the baby, or that was the only reason he was trying to tie you down to him. He wanted you to know he meant it.
To know he'd been waiting for the moment he could claim you his entire life, to call you his in every form, sign the paper and hear the word husband leave your lips.
Just being your boyfriend the past few months when you were having his baby was torture, enduring your unsure glances, the unease he tried and failed to kiss away.
What were you so scared of? And why was it him?
He still hadn't figured out by the time Satoru left, or when he eventually got in bed next to you, careful not to disturb your sleep - even if he suspected you were already awake.
Suguru was pretty sure he'd never been scared in his until he woke up to an empty bed. Cold sheets, no lingering body heat or even the scent of your shampoo clinging to your pillow when he rolled over to the empty space you should be.
Stumbling out of the bed still half-asleep himself, squinting as he rubbed his eyes and pushed open the bathroom door, but no, the lights were off and it was also empty. Calling out your name and crushing the budding anxiety clawing up his throat as he padded through the hall into the living room, the dim light from the kitchen hurting his eyes as they adjusted to the yellow glow.
His ears caught up first.
The faint sound of your sniffling reaching him as he rounded the corner to find you on the floor by the entryway, struggling to slip on your shoes, wearing a t-shirt and sweatpants that didn't do much to hide your baby bump as you wiped at your cheeks with one hand. Dressed like you were planning on going somewhere, purse laying on the floor next to you, phone and keys hanging halfway out of it.
"Baby," He yawned, trying to speak softly as he glanced over at the clock. "It's three in the morning. What are you doing?"
"Can't sleep. I want a slushie," You mumbled, blinking a few times, clearly just as exhausted as him. There was a faint shine to your eyes, a few teardrops still clinging to your lashes.
"You should've woken me up," He murmured, gently squeezing your shoulder.
"It's just a stupid craving," You dismissed, rubbing your own eyes as you gave up and threw your shoe back on the ground.
It was the first one you'd told him about. He wasn't even sure you even had any, but maybe you'd just been taking care of them yourself.
"I'll get you one," He stifled another yawn while he talked. "Let me get a coat and my keys."
You grabbed onto the hem of his pajama pants to hold him in place, peeking up at him with a pout.
"You don't have to."
"You think I'm going to let my pregnant girlfriend go out by herself to get one?" Suguru retorted.
Your pout only got deeper at the word girlfriend.
"Forget about it," You murmured, letting go of his pajamas to push off the floor, once again ignoring his outstretched hand to try and stand by yourself. "Let's just go back to bed."
He knew he could ask if you were sure and you'd grumble something sarcastic back before going to sleep upset.
"Hey," He paused, stopping you with a hand on the curve of your waist, pulling you into him, until your baby bump, his daughter, was pressed against the firm muscle of his own stomach. "Let's go together, okay?"
"You really wanna?" You hesitated, clearly wanting to say yes despite the streak of stubbornness that usually won out over your softer side.
Suguru pressed a kiss against your forehead, his hand appreciatively running over your stomach just for the mini-you inside to kick, the flutter under his fingers only reminding him how easily the two of you had him wrapped around your own.
"It's you," He'd remind you however many times you needed. "Course I do."
Step six?
Get you whatever craving or late night treat you wanted - even if he felt like he was sleepwalking.
Still groggy, he threw on his own shoes and grabbed his stuff, helping you over to the couch so he could get down on his knees and help you get your shoes on, tugging one of his sweatshirts over your head, although you didn't drown in it any more, he thought it was cuter now, stretched over your baby bump like this.
Rubbing his eyes with yet another yawn while he insisted on holding open the car door for you and driving you to the nearest gas station/convenience store combo that had a functioning slushie machine, keeping his mouth shut about the terrible food dyes in it while you picked out a cup and pulled the dispenser down on the blue raspberry flavor. It was nice. Your head resting on his shoulder and happily sipping through the straw while he paid the equally tired cashier, your hand in his after he pocketed the receipt while you walked to the car, his thumb rubbing over the bare spot beneath your knuckle where a ring should be.
The one that had been tucked inside a box in his closet, buried under photo albums and souvenirs of a lifetime you'd already spent together. One he'd seen through the window of a jewelry store on the street, the glittering stone and the thin band, the little offset gems, something about it that made him think of what it'd look like on you. He bought it even though Satoru laughed at him the entire drive home.
"You're not even dating her."
Who else would you marry if not him?
He glanced back over at you as he turned the key in the ignition, your sleepy eyes and your pretty smile, the way your other hand was settled over the swell of your stomach.
His girls.
The drive back home was filled with the sort of chatter that used to be casual for you two - your happy giggle ringing in his ears while you talked about some reality show you wanted to watch with him, swearing it was stupid but he'd still like it anyway, your hand drifting over to his leg, pausing on his thigh while you asked what him and Satoru talked about after you went to sleep.
Your slushie was almost empty by the time you made it back, taking the last few sips before tossing it in the trash in the kitchen and giving him a little look like you wanted him to help get your shoes off but didn't want to ask.
He did it for you.
Following behind you to the bedroom, tossing his stuff on the nightstand and flicking the lamp back on to bathe the room in low light.
"Thank you, Sugu," You softly said, yawning as you peeled the sweatshirt off first, shuffling out of your pajama pants until you were just in a thin t-shirt and panties, and all he could fucking think was how could you be thanking him? When you were giving him his dream on the prettiest platter he'd ever seen?
"You're so-" He started, but you weren't finished, shyly avoiding his gaze as your mouth opened again. The mood had shifted again, your face scrunched up like you were sad.
"I just feel bad, you know?" He didn't. "You're just, so, perfect, and so you, and you got stuck with me and a baby you didn't plan on."
"Stuck with you?" He echoed, blinking blankly at you while you kept stumbling over your words.
"I just, uh, I want you to know you don't have to marry me just because you feel obligated to, you know, if, um, you met someone else-" You looked like you were going to be sick just saying it.
Was this what had you so worried?
"There isn't ever going to be anyone else," Suguru bluntly cut you off.
"You don't know that," You argued, struggling to be the better person, not to be greedy when that was exactly what he'd waited years for.
"I'm in love with you."
You froze.
Glossy eyes wide with surprise, your lips parted and stained blue still, shoulders tense.
He turned back to the closet, snagging the box of the shelf and tossing it on the bed, shuffling through loose photos and little gifts you'd given him through the years he couldn't bear to break or lose until he found the velvet box at the bottom.
Getting down on one knee was the second-easiest decision he ever made in his life. The first was choosing you to begin with.
"Sugu," Your voice quivered, breath hitching in your throat.
"I bought this for you three years ago," He admitted, dark eyes piercing through to you, studying the way your face seemed to glow from the light of the lamp. And sure, of all the ways he'd imagined this moment going, he never once pictured it like this. But that didn't matter. Because this was real. Raw. "I love you. I did then, and I do now, and if you ask me again in fifteen years, I'm sure I will then too."
He popped the ring box open, and he didn't think your mouth could drop open any more but it did, your cute little gasp making his pulse thrum louder in his ears while your attention flickered back-and-forth between his sharp stare and the ring he hoped you'd accept.
"Marry me."
It wasn't quite a question, or a plea. An open statement of affection, a quiet promise of a lifetime of it.
You swallowed, barely bobbing your head up and down in a nod at first, a slow smile taking shape on your lips like you still couldn't believe it.
"O-okay," You stammered, an airy laugh slipping out while you tried to blink away the disbelief. "I-"
He grabbed your left hand where it was still hanging by your side, plucking the ring out of the box and slipping it on your finger, swiveling it a little around the knuckle for it to sit snugly at the base.
"You're really serious? No take backs, okay?" You murmured, holding your hand up to admire the way it glittered even in the low light while he laughed. You tugged him up to his feet by his hand, pressing yourself against his chest and glancing up at him, a hint of something unsure still lingering in the lines of your face. "You're mine."
That was supposed to be his line.
Then. Now. Always.
"We can go sign the paperwork Monday if you want, or have a wedding, before or after the baby-"
"I don't care how we do it," You interrupted him this time, reaching up to cup his cheek. The gentle touch, your soft fingertips, the adoration in your eyes when you got up on your tiptoes to plant a small kiss on the corner of his mouth.
"I always kinda wanted to see you in a white dress," He chuckled, grabbing your chin between his fingers to give you a proper kiss back, sucking on your lower lip, the taste of blue raspberry still on your tongue.
"Yeah? Seven months pregnant?" You laughed back when you broke away for a breath.
"You seriously have no idea what you do to me," He breathlessly murmured into your skin.
"You could show me," You tilted your head to the side, but your eyes flickered back to the ring on your finger, the proof of it already there.
"Tease," He muttered as his lips ghosted over your cheek, pulling you back over to the edge of the mattress. He used his free hand to tug the box back down to the floor, nudging it away with his foot.
Half past four in the morning and he was taking his fiancèe to bed instead of his girlfriend.
He made sure you were comfortable first, readjusting you until the pillows were nestled under your head, ignoring your giggles while he moved the blankets aside and climbed up after you, hooking a leg over his shoulder after he peeled your underwear down your thighs.
"I was kidding," You laughed while he licked a long stripe up the inside of your thigh, the sound turning into a pretty gasp when he dipped his tongue inside.
"I wasn't," His voice was muffled into your skin, fingers dipping against the soft flesh on your thigh and hip as he held on tighter, his tongue slipping inside deeper, dragging the muscle along the inside of your walls.
A taste he missed, too long since you last let him try it.
Your fingers tangled into his hair, moaning as he practiced steady patterns, pulling him closer into your heat while he used your hips like handlebars to refuse to let you squirm away from him again.
You still tried, writhing under the weight of his palms, although he knew his clipped nails wouldn't leave a mark.
"Oh," You squeaked, a cute strangled noise escaping when he dragged his tongue out and ran it over your clit, tracing small shapes with the tip of it.
"Better get used to being mine, baby," He hummed, peeking up to watch the way you still shivered at the sound of his voice, how you were finally about to be his in every sense of the word.
"I always was," Your lighthearted laugh cut off by another lewd moan, your hips still trying to arch up.
Planting open-mouthed kisses along your swollen bud while your fingers tugged at his scalp, your gasps of his name cut through the quiet.
Your thigh still up on his shoulder to give him easier access, the muscles pulling tense under his grip and the way your breath had started to stutter let him know you were close before you managed to barely stammer it out.
"Please, please, please."
Your legs were trembling, soft whimpers that were almost incoherent imprinting themselves in his memory while you unraveled underneath him, his tongue cleaning you up like it hadn't caused it. Teasing you before you managed to piece yourself back together, sucking softly on your oversensitive bundle of nerves just for you to let out a whine of his name.
"Tired, baby?" He couldn't help his smirk, leaving a kiss on the inside of your thigh before climbing off the bed to snag you a fresh pair of underwear from the dresser, slipping it up your legs for you so didn't have to do the awkward shuffle of getting it back on.
"Maybe," You admitted, rubbing your eyes as you patted the spot next to you for him to lay. "I am growing your baby."
He smiled.
"We can sleep in, alright?" He could feel his own eyes crinkle, flicking the light off on the lamp, the faint moonlight cutting the dark of the room. He pulled the covers up as he got in his side of the bed, readjusting until your head was resting on his chest.
Suguru usually got up before you, made breakfast and brewed the coffee and started the laundry, but tomorrow (or today, technically)? He would spend the sunrise holding you close and wait for you to wake up to take you out for brunch or lunch or whatever you wanted.
"Hey, Suguru?" You murmured, stifling a yawn as you peeked up at him through heavy lidded eyes.
"Mhm?" He stroked your hair back, admiring his future wife snuggled up in his arms.
"I love you."
want more dilf!Suguru with his post-partum wife? here!
Ridiculously so - of course he himself is huge... you wonder if it's everywhere, as he taps his thigh, and your lips part, tummy clenching with need for him, breath caught in your throat.
"Need something, sweets?" He asks so casually, smiling at you as you sit across from him, clearing your throat.
"No. No I'm sorry..." Fuck how long are his fingers!? Five inches?? More...
He chuckles a little, leaning forward, fingers slipping down off his thighs now, as he gathers up wads of cash to pay you. He surprised you when he started buying weed, him the star student at college.
But the two of you have become cool. You - the little stoner weeb, him - the straight laced perfect student. His fingers so long and thick are ruining you and your ovulation brain, as he counts the money.
"How much for this again-"
"How long are your fingers?"
He blinks a bit then, smirking at you, raising a brow behind those obnoxious shades he loves to wear. "Huh?"
"Shit... nothing..." Satoru sets the money down then, leaning forward, so close you heat up, tummy clenching and heating up. "That was so rude, I'm sorry..."
"How long are they?" He repeats, blue eyes lidded, when they brush up your thigh, elgant long fingers leaving goosebumps in their trail, making you tremble. "That what you ask?"
"N-no!? I mean..." He chuckles softly, some of that snowy hair falling over a brow, thick fingers even higher. "Maybe?"
"Long enough to hit that spot," you bite your lower lip, legs pressing together. "Or... probably long enough to hit your cervix."
Fuck.
"Would you like a demonstration, for research purposes?" His voice is like honey, his lips twitching at the corners, pink plump ones you want all over your body. "Of how long they are?"
That's how you end up with two of Satoru Gojo's long fingers buried inside your cunt, plunging all the way to the knuckle and curling up. He's knelt right between your thighs on that old suede couch of yours, pressure hitting as he moves them up and down, up and down, a hand braced on one side of you, that tie tickling your skin, earning your tug.
"F-fuck..." You're clinging to one of his veiny forearms, head falling back, eyes fluttering shut, pulling on that tie with a clenched fist, the other slipping down his veiny forearm.
"You're this wet just thinkin' about my fingers? Hah," he's smirking down at you, curling them mean and deep, making you gasp out. "I dunno, how many inches ya think? More than any dick you've had?"
"Shit you're conceited," he just grins, pausing those like he's gonna yank 'em out before you get to cum. "Y-yes. Don't stop. Fuck... all the weed you want."
"All I want, hmm? Better make you cum real good then," he whispers, starting to scissor them in and out of your syrupy folds, making you clench around him. He sucks in a breath, eyes locking. "Hah - ya gonna cum this quick sweetheart?"
"Mnh!" He's hitting your spots with expert precision, working you so good you're about to shatter, gasping out with every plunge of those thick digits in your messy hole - the word sweetheart doing shit to your brain.
"Easiest weed ever, making you cum like this," he whispers, leaning low. "I'll still pay though."
"W-why?" You manage to squeak out, as his lips hover an inch from yours, fingers scissoring faster, your cunt a drooling mess that he can't wait to bury his cock into.
"Because. I'm rich sweetheart," he looks at you under those snowy lashes, curling both fingers up in your gummy walls, making you scream out, back arching. He doesn't say the real reason - that he should be paying you for the privilege of getting his fingers deep in your hole. "Go ahead, cum for me pretty."
You're done for.
Nerdy, perfect Satoru Gojo has you gushing and dripping as your orgasm hits. His thumb from his other hand brushes your nipple, lips kissing down your throat, his glasses fogging up just a bit from the condensation of his breath, tickling your skin and making you pulse.
"Fuckkk," the word escapes so languidly from the back of your throat, the smoke you'd had earlier just enhancing how fucking good you feel. "Gonna... ah - gonna cum againnn!"
"So easy f'me," he murmurs, talking cocky even as his cock twitches, heated cheeks from just how pretty you are like this. Sweat on your brow while your cunt gets louder, messier, a creamy ring on his knuckles. "Greedy girl, go ahead, fuck yourself on them."
You're shameless, arching up your hips to do just that, cunt gushing and spasming, nails digging into his forearm now and making him hiss. "Ngh!"
"Would ya look at that," he huffs, lips sucking your throat now, right where your pulse flutters, feeling you cum again and wanting it to milk him dry. "There you go, doing s'good too."
He's talking you through it, leaning up and running his fingers through your soppy folds, moaning when you twitch and spasm underneath him. "Oh my god..."
He chuckles like this was easy or normal, slipping two fingers out of your messy cunt with a pop before slurping your slick right off his fingers. Your mouth drops, gasping at the filthy sight.
He sees fucking hearts in your eyes then.
"Mmm..." He moans and licks more of your embarrassing amount of cum off, before gripping your chin with his clean hand. "Open."
You open eagerly, and preppy, nerdy Satoru Gojo spits your cum in it, right on your tongue.
Oh fuck.
Your cunt has a heart beat. Your eyes have hearts in them... Are you fucked dumb and in love from Gojo's fingers!?!?
"So cute," he languidly says, leaning down and pressing a messy kiss on your clit, you whimper, hips jerking from the little brush, he parts those puffy lips and eyes it. "All jumping around. Aww."
"I... you... um..." You're done for, brain short circuiting, he helps you up and fixes your strap with the two fingers that were inside you, his lips glossy with your cum.
"So, how long do you think they are?"
You blush furiously, girl math isn't mathing. "Five inches?"
He spreads his fingers, contemplating. "Six I think. Small in comparison to..." He trails off, grabbing the cash, you shove it at him, shaking your head.
"No. Free weed. Take all of it."
He chuckles now. "Well, I'll have to give that clit attention next time then, as a thank you," he teases, kissing you and tasting your cunt mixed with cherry lip gloss and a hint of purp. "Thank you, sweetheart."
"Fuck, thank you..." He walks out with a smile, adjusting his nerdy cute little tie, when you light up a blunt and melt against the couch.
Your next question?
"How big is your -"
inspired by a tiktok thirst trap from @yenayaps thank her hehe <3
synopsis: you were giving up on him. for real this time. after years of silently pining over your friend's brother, you were done giving him any space in your heart. until a date goes wrong and he waltzes back into your life - seemingly intent on winning your heart this time. can you resist him? or will you just be repeating history?
pairing: tattoo artist!Sukuna x f!Reader
wc: 8.2k
content: mdni, angst + smut, some fluff sprinkled in too, hurt/comfort, HEAVY JEALOUSY, sukuna is an asshole at first but he learns!, he's UNHINGED though lmfao, lowk crazy and yandere bc this man is obsessed and plotting, aspiring artist!reader, heavy pining/yearning, gojo appearance but he's a bit of a dick, fist fighting lol, Sukuna scheming to win us over, regret, tattoos, fucking in the tattoo chair, fingering, unprotected piv sex, creampie
a/n: this was a commission by the lovely @ynishalee !! sukuna art is by @/to00fu + divider by @/d-oie !!
“Seriously? You thought this shit was worth showing me?”
You flinched. Stared at the portfolio you brought in veiny hands before he tossed it back on the counter, a few pieces of laminated paper slipping out before you scrambled to pick it up and shove them back in.
What did you think?
That just because you were friends (or as close to it as you could get) with Sukuna, he wouldn't be a complete and total asshole for once in his life? That maybe he'd be impressed with your attempts at art after making a career out of his own?
“I cleared my evening for this,” he grumbled, running his fingers through his soft pink hair, brows pinched together in a scowl as his dark eyes settled squarely on you. “I could’ve booked a client. One that paid?”
“Sorry,” you apologized, stepping back, glancing towards the door.
Stupid.
Stupid stupid stupid.
You should’ve known better. Should’ve realized that even after fifteen years, all you’d really be to him was a nuisance.
“Whatever,” he groaned, grabbing his jacket from where he’d left it on his stool and stretching out his shoulders before slipping it on. “You can buy me a beer to make up for it.”
This was what moderately nice looked like with him. And the only reason he even put up with you this much was because you were friends with his brother first. Jin was the opposite of Sukuna, soft-spoken and considerate and not a complete asshole, someone you met back in school. He introduced you to his twin brother – and that was history.
You’d been nursing a childish crush on him from that very first day.
It still made you feel like a fucking moron.
All you wanted was for him to see you.
Maybe you were asking for too much. But the rejection burned as you buried it deep in your chest, mumbling sure as you turned away from him. Rubbing underneath your eyes before you started needing to blink back tears, refusing to let yourself cry like a baby in front of him.
But you were apparently still lacking in the self-respect department when you held the door open for him in one hand and cradled your now-worthless portfolio against your chest in the other.
You drove separately.
Following his car to a seedy club downtown, parking a couple blocks away and jogging to catch up with how fast he was walking to the doors. He nodded at the bodyguard, the brute just waving him in before you mumbled something stupid about being with him before you trailed after him inside.
Sukuna ordered two beers, the cheapest drinks on the menu like he didn’t think you could afford more on your salary. He wasn’t wrong.
He rarely was.
You’d been working at your family’s bookshop most of your life. Managing the finances, stocking the shelves, working the cash register. Whatever was needed whenever it was needed. No questions asked. But your mind drifted, dreamed of doing something different – where you weren’t sleeping in a tiny studio apartment you could barely afford and got to express yourself outside of the stupid chalk signs you drew on to advertise on the sidewalk.
“Are you still all prissy because I said-”
“No,” you interrupted him, even though you knew he hated that. You sipped the awful beer, nose scrunching as you pressed your lips together and forced yourself to swallow.
“Good,” he grunted. “Don’t need that shit today.”
You didn’t reply to that. Stared ahead at the bottles of liquor lined up on the wall, the distorted mirrors behind them as you listened to the heavy music thumping behind you.
“First client was fuckin’ awful, didn’t even tip after I spent-” Sukuna was still talking, grumbling under his breath between swigs of his own beer. You weren’t paying that much attention though. Picking apart what you could make of yourself in those stretched-out mirrors, wondering if you’d really only be Jin’s friend to him. Someone annoying he could boss around, that he barely tolerated.
How much time were you wasting waiting for him to wake up and notice you were a girl? That you liked him?
“God, I need to get laid,” he continued, and your head swiveled over to him, brows knitting together as it hit you what he said.
He noticed, chuckling at whatever expression you were making before slamming his now-empty beer down.
“What? Are you, like, a prude?” Sukuna asked, and you flinched, flustered as your mouth fell open.
“N-no, I’m not,” you defensively said, heat crawling inside your skin, uselessly shaking your head just for him to laugh at you.
“C’mon,” Sukuna snickered, rolling your eyes. “I’ve known you, what? Like a decade? And you’ve never had a boyfriend?”
“I’ve had boyfriends,” you muttered, wishing you could drown yourself in your beer when you forced yourself to take another drawn-out sip.
Several of them. Some longer than others.
But they all came to the same conclusion you had a long time ago.
They weren’t the guy you wanted. And the one you did couldn’t care less about you.
“Sure,” he shrugged, all gruff and gravelly, waving over the bartender to get another beer. “Whatever you say.”
“You don’t believe me,” you pointed out before you could stop yourself, and all you got was another bob of his shoulders.
“It’s not my business.” Which really just meant he didn’t give a shit.
You could probably pick a random guy from the dancefloor and drag him back home with you and he wouldn’t blink.
Instead of a beer, the bartender pushed a stein of something strong to him, nodding down the bar to a pretty girl who was already looking at him, glossy lips curling up when his head turned in her direction. “On her.”
Sukuna smirked, and you wondered if he’d be leaving with her tonight.
“Someone’s got you beat,” he commented, glancing back over to her with a glint of interest in his eyes. It was a joke, you guessed. But you didn’t laugh.
Just felt it sit in the bottom of your stomach like a goddamn boulder.
She had his attention, and she barely had to try.
You pulled out your purse, scrounging together enough crumpled cash to cover the bill before tossing it on the bartop, swinging your legs off to stand.
“You’re mad at me,” he huffed, and you wanted him to stop you. Some sad little shriveled part of your brain desperate for him to do something to show you were more than just – well, whatever it was he saw you as.
“I’m not,” you insisted, even though a hot lump had formed in your throat, lungs constricting as you became acutely aware of how little air you could suck in.
He frowned for a second, but he didn’t say anything.
Didn’t reach out.
“Gotta get up early tomorrow,” you excused, even though he didn't ask.
For the first time in forever, you didn't look back when you left. And when you got home, you blocked his number after deleting the message chain that was mostly you sending him stupid shit he probably only ever skimmed over.
Removed the temptation entirely to text him now, tried to call and clip the image of him from the corners of your heart when you curled back up in your bed.
It wasn't like it was easy. But the humiliation of wanting someone like him had sliced too deep this time, embarrassment etching into your fingers every time you attempted to draw and thought back to his reaction. His rejection.
So you did the only thing you could do.
Move on.
Focus on your job, your meager social life, although you made Jin come over to your apartment when he wanted to hang out purely out of fear you'd bump into Sukuna’s at his place.
Two weeks passed, then three, killing time while you scrubbed the ghost of him from your mind.
Today hadn't been much different.
Stuck with another hour left at an exhausting shift, feet aching as you shifted behind the counter, a pen in hand as you attempted to sketch something on the back of a sticky note. A few animals, a couple of fish, thin lines and unsure strokes as you questioned what was even the point any more.
“Whatcha doodlin’?” A cheeky voice distracted you, snatching the crumpled paper from underneath your palm before you could stop him. You knew who it belonged to before you saw him.
The white-haired menace who only showed up for the sweets in the adjoining bakery, chocolate usually smeared in the corner of his mouth when he pretended to browse books. Although he'd always find some excuse to come chat with you, sometimes bringing around his friends who would buy stuff.
“It's nothing-” You started, straining over the counter to yank it back, but he was too fast.
Gojo held it over your head, squinting at the lines you etched into it and tilting his head to the side with faint surprise.
“These are cute,” he smiled, pointing at the little koi fish at the bottom.
“You don't have to lie to me,” you frowned back at him, getting just close enough to grab it. You rolled it into a ball, throwing it away in the trash can under the counter. “It's nothing.”
“I meant it,” he grinned, propping himself up on his elbows and getting on your eye level. “Don't believe me?”
Gojo was full of shit.
You hadn't known him as long as Sukuna or Jin – but you still knew him well enough to know he liked to flirt and fawn, none of it worth anything when he was like that with everyone. He was more of a mutual friend than just a friend, but boundaries were more like suggestions he preferred to ignore, physical, emotional, every flavor of rule he rejected.
“Not really,” you muttered, glancing down at both his rather huge hands. All pale and veiny, long fingers that weren't holding anything. “No treat today?”
“Want something a little sweeter tonight,” he hummed, and you stared blankly at him.
“Like what?” You deadpanned.
“A date with you.”
You blinked. But he didn't budge, waiting for an answer.
“Like, a date date?” It made you feel like a moron to ask, halfway thinking he'd laugh at you even when he brought it up.
“Duh,” he chuckled. “What time do you get off?”
“Um, an hour, but-” You started, and since it wasn't a no, he was already smiling like it was a yes.
“Or we could do dinner tomorrow if it's better, y’know, whatever's good with you is great with-’
“Tomorrow,” you answered, surprising yourself a little bit at how quickly you said it. Gojo was cute, even if he wasn't exactly the type you usually went for – i.e. tattooed men with commitment issues. He probably had a big dick if it was even half the size of his attitude.
It might not go anywhere, but didn’t you deserve a single night without him on your mind?
Sukuna could sleep around.
So why couldn't you?
Something was fucking wrong with him.
Sukuna’s life had been oddly quiet lately.
Something was different, missing, maybe– but he hadn't quite figured out what. Just that the world had been duller. The days dragged on longer, nights bleeding into morning in broken fits of sleep.
He'd never exactly been a man of emotions. Most of them he rejected entirely. But there was a pervading feeling that he could only describe as bad. One that refused to go away no matter how much he tried to drown it in alcohol or nicotine.
He hated half of his clients. Couldn't stand the bright city lights or boring chatter people constantly tried dragging him into. His old favorite songs sounded more like static and background noise, grating on his nerves when he turned it on to focus on new designs.
But despising the universe wasn't anything new to Sukuna.
Loathing his life was typical.
But this slimy pit in his stomach, balled up too tight to dislodge, stuck there and festering, that was something he wasn't used to.
It wasn't until he went to Jin’s to talk shit about his latest awful day that he figured out what it was.
Guilt.
Jin was alone, watching some boring movie on his couch, feet propped up on his coffee table without even sparing him a glance as he went straight to his fridge to find a cold drink. He glared at the healthy foods, fruits and meats neatly organized inside – only a couple sparkling waters in the back. He begrudgingly grabbed one, cracking it open and looking back to the living room just to freeze.
He stared at the empty spot next to Jin for a few seconds, struggling to conceive why he was looking at the couch like an idiot until it hit him why.
You weren't there.
“Where's your friend?” He gruffly asked, bringing the drink to his lips to sip.
“On a date,” Jin casually said, and he choked.
Drink dripped down his mouth and onto his shirt, wiping it away with the back of his hand as he cleared his throat.
“Her?” You?
It was inconceivable.
The girl who could barely even look him in the eye half the time? Who stuttered and stammered and could hardly get through a single sentence without getting flustered?
Honestly, Sukuna figured you were probably a virgin and too shy to admit it. It wasn’t like you weren’t attractive, but you’d always been off-limits.
Besides, there were always tons of other women out there – why would he stoop so low as to sleep with one of Jin’s friends?
“With Gojo,” his brother added, tossing a piece of popcorn in his mouth, completely oblivious to the way he froze behind him.
Did Jin just not give a fucking shit about you? Was he seriously letting you go out with that prick?
Gojo’s reputation was almost worse than his.
But just because he took girls on dates before he fucked and fled, he was somehow better.
At least he didn’t pretend he wanted a relationship just to get someone in the sheets. At least he didn’t lead them on and let them think they were something more.
“And you just fuckin’-” He clamped his lips shut right as Jin threw a confused look over his shoulder at him.
“What?” He asked, all confused, like he couldn’t fucking perceive the very apparant problem.
“That guy’s an asshole,” he protested.
Jin didn’t say it, but the look on his face made it obvious that he thought Sukuna was one too.
“Where’s the date at?” He grumbled, arms folding tight across his chest as he tapped on Jin’s fake wood flooring.
You weren’t his friend.
So why the fuck was he walking into some upscale restaurant on the nice side of town, fixing the collar of his jacket, ignoring the stares sticking to him.
“Sir?” A hostess tried talking to him, but he waved her off, already scowling.
“I need a drink,” he dryly said.
Preferably a strong one.
He beelined over to the bar, reluctantly ordering a ridiculously expensive whiskey in his best attempt to blend in before scanning the dining room for any sign of you.
He spotted you almost immediately. Sitting in one of those back booths, probably one Gojo told you would be more private – even though you were really just on display for the rest of the restaurant.
You dressed up. For him.
Sukuna didn’t know why it surprised him so much, dumbly staring at the sight of you in a short dress, the kind that clung to your thighs and your chest, too much cleavage showing. Too much skin showing period. Elbows on the table as you leaned in to listen to Gojo ramble on, who was surely too focused on the sound of his own voice to pay attention to how good you looked tonight.
He shook the thought from his head. Strangled it, actually, tried to twist it into nothing. Glad he didn't have any utensils to gouge his eyes out so he couldn't consider the cute tilt of your head or how glossy your lips looked when you chewed on your bottom one nervously.
Why the fuck were you here?
You weren't a moron. You knew better than to buy a guy like Gojo’s bullshit.
His last conversation with you came back up, floating from the depths of his brain in bits and pieces, his own words echoing. Was it because he commented on your lack of a love life? Asked if you were a prude?
Did you just go to the biggest manwhore (other than him) that you could find?
If you wanted to get laid, you could've just asked-
No, no. That was wrong, Sukuna reminded himself, blinking hard like it would change what he was seeing. You smiled at Gojo, mouth moving as you said something that made him chuckle and lean forward, reaching over the table to grab your hand like you were a couple. His thumb tracing down your knuckles, drawing little shapes on your skin that obviously made you giddy.
Sukuna wasn't jealous.
He'd never been jealous before. Over anyone.
He was, uh, just doing what Jin should've been doing. As your friend. Even if every giggle and grin of yours made him feel physically fucking ill as he watched and waited for the moment to intervene.
It wasn't like he could just let this happen.
Leg bouncing anxiously until Gojo got up, counting to thirty in his head before he followed him to the bathroom, glancing back over his shoulder to make sure you hadn’t noticed him. But you were glancing down at the table, tracing over the scratches on it, your face soft, almost serene. Pretty.
He kept walking, picking up the pace to catch up to Gojo, wondering how hard he’d have to deck him to make sure he’d stay down long enough for him to block off the bathroom door to prevent him from leaving. The staff would probably notice after a couple minutes – sooner if someone else tried to use it.
He didn’t have a real plan, his brain jumping from idea to idea too fast to let him land on one.
If he was less impulsive, more in control of the monster twisting around inside of him, maybe he would have considered having a conversation with Gojo. Threatening, sure, but mature enough to make it clear that you were not a girl he could screw and scram from.
Instead?
He was scanning the stalls in front of him to make sure no one else would overhear, noting that they opened out instead of in. Only spotting Gojo’s ridiculously shiny loafers, listening to him yap on the phone with one of the other pricks he chose to surround himself with.
“I know, I’ve gotta go, she’s waiting for me,” he was chuckling, his casual confidence already grating down his resolve not to dunk his head in the toilet. He laughed again at whoever was on the other line. “Shut up, you know I’ve been trying to get in her panties for months.”
Anger didn’t suffice.
Couldn’t cover the heat warping his judgment, boiling into something he couldn’t control at the idea of that white-haired fucker slinking around and searching for a way inside of you.
His body was moving on autopilot, banging hard on the stall door, fingers clenching into a fist right just in time for Gojo to hang up the phone and yank it open, his annoyingly bright blue eyes narrowing in an appalled squint at him.
“What the-”
His punch connected. Busting open his bottom lip, bruising Sukuna’s knuckles too as Gojo’s head snapped to the side. He groaned, stumbling and losing his footing, probably slipping in his own piss from his surely shoddy aim.
“The hell is your problem, dickhead?” Gojo grunted, pushing off the toilet seat, palm pressing on the stall as he struggled to stand up straight.
It was easy to push him back down, just another rough punch that he hoped fucking hurt.
But recognition was now glittering across the bloody face beneath him, amusement dancing in his dark stare as Gojo let out a low laugh.
“You’re here for her?” He said it like it was some joke Sukuna wasn’t in on. Or maybe he was just the butt of it.
“You’re not getting in her panties,” Sukuna repeated in a hateful hiss, more repulsed by the word when it was on his own tongue. “So stay the fuck away from her.”
His eyes flickered from the white-haired fraud in front of him to the toilet, considering it.
“Maybe.”
He saw the second it registered for him that it wasn’t just a threat. Then Sukuna leaned down, grabbing his phone from where it had hit the ground during his first hit.
“Wait-”
He tossed his phone in the water instead.
Sukuna kicked him while he was down, hard enough he heard a rib crack before he stepped back, slamming the stall door shut and looking around at what he had at his disposal. Dragging over a ridiculously heavy trash can from the corner, one of the obnoxiously designed ones that was supposed to be art as if people weren’t just tossing trash in it. He shoved it against the stall while Gojo groaned again inside.
He’d be able to get out, if he crawled under or climbed over the stall, or summoned the strength to shove it out of the way. But it’d delay him for a while. Enough that Sukuna was able to look back out of the bathroom, getting lucky enough to see one of the staff heading into a supply closet down the hall, marked employees only.
“You asshole,” Gojo snarled, voice muffled, strained from the pain of a probably broken rib.
But it was too late.
He was sneaking out and into the closet once it was empty, snagging an ‘out of order’ sign from a shelf before he put it back up on the bathroom door when no one was looking.
Sukuna wasn’t really one for fate, didn’t hold any believe in some higher power pulling his strings, but he could admit that it seemed like the universe was colluding with him when he caught the attention of some overworked waitress and casually commenting that they should probably block off the men’s bathroom if there was something wrong with it, pointing to the sign.
It had taken ten minutes, maybe fifteen, walking back to your table with a smirk twitching up in his lips at the thought of how long it would take Gojo to pull himself off of the floor and figure out how to leave. Especially now that he managed to get someone to move a bunch of those huge ceramic fake-potted plants in front of it to stop it from opening – and no one would hear him requesting help through the thick walls and the bland dining music still loudly thumping through the speakers.
He had won.
A little voice in the back of his brain said, for now, added addendums to his meager victory. Marked it down with the reminder that you might not be thrilled to see him after you left the last time you were together.
You were still staring at the table when you came back into view, but your nose was scrunched up, lips pressed together tightly. Aware that it was taking too long for your date to come back, fear starting to seep in that you’d been ditched.
And then you saw him.
For half a second, just a brief moment he almost missed, you smiled, relaxing reflectively before you suddenly went stiff again. Forcing a frown and tucking some hair behind your ear self-consciously, defensively.
“What are you doing here?” You asked, all wide-eyed, fiddling with your hands in your lap. Pulling the hem of your dress down like he hadn’t seen how high it’d been earlier.
“Saw you on a date with that loser,” he muttered, begrudgingly glancing around like he didn’t know where he was. “Did he leave?”
You swallowed, squirming as you shrugged.
“He said he was going to the bathroom,” you muttered, fishing your phone from your purse to check the time, or maybe send Gojo a message. Sukuna could see the way disappointment snuck up in your face, how it crept into the corners no matter how hard, how desperately you were trying to hide it.
There was an awkward pause, tense and heavy as he tried to figure out how to say what he wanted to.
“You wanna get out of here?” He gruffly suggested, pulling his wallet from his pocket and tossing down some cash on the table. Enough to cover your half – even though there was only an appetizer out.
You hesitated, your eyes finally flickering up to him.
Your stare was as soft as it had always been, but it was like he was seeing your face for the first time, the air in his lungs sucked out like he’d been knocked flat on his back.
Reassessing every little line, realizing that you weren’t just pretty, or cute, but beautiful. Lashes fluttering, canines chewing on your bottom lip as you looked back in the direction of the bathroom one last time.
You’d been there for so long. Lingering in the background and by his side. And he’d been completely goddamn blind.
“I’ll buy you some real food,” he added, nodding towards the barely-touched plate of pretentious-plattered blobs of food with herbs thrown on top.
“Fine.”
You weren’t that happy in the passenger seat of his car, riding shotgun, knees pointed away from him while you leaned against the cool window. He turned up the heat, the lump in the back of his throat bobbing watching you shiver and curl up inside yourself.
He couldn’t remember if you’d ever been in his car like this before. A couple years ago, he’d been stuck in the backseat with you in Jin’s sedan, crammed against the window while you were stuck in the middle, but back then, he’d been too distracted arguing with Kaori in the front seat to notice the weight of your thigh against his.
Now he couldn’t stop himself from wishing he paid more fucking attention.
Eyes flitting over to your form, throat going dry at the sight of your still-plush thighs so out of his reach.
“Why him?” He grunted when he pulled up to a stop light, fingers tapping his steering wheel, molars grinding as he stole another glimpse at you.
You shrugged, just a little raise of your shoulders while you sighed.
“He said he wanted to go on a date with me,” you murmured, refusing to look back at him. “Guess he changed his mind.”
“He’s a moron,” Sukuna half-snarled, cringing when he realized how it came out.
A flash of hurt crossed your face, as he felt the fear of fumbling this chance with you rear back up.
“For changing his mind,” he clarified, omitting the tiny detail that you’d be back on your date discussing Gojo’s salary or how big his cock was if he hadn’t intervened. “Not for-”
“Don’t,” you mumbled. Stopping him before he could say what he meant.
“Look, I’ve been a dick,” he started, discomfort churning in his stomach having to apologize for anything in his life.
“When aren’t you?” You muttered under your breath, swallowing hard as you continued to avoid looking straight at him. Just scanning over the road, glancing out the window or down at the floorboards, anywhere that wasn’t him.
He let out a disappointed huff, brow twitching.
“The last time we talked, I was a fucking asshole,” he added, gravelly and gruff, even when he was trying to sound sincere. “You didn’t deserve that shit.”
You turned to face him fully, but the light turned green, and he couldn’t see what face you were making as his foot shifted back to the gas pedal. He could make out your mouth starting to open in the edges of his vision, but he forced himself to continue.
“I’m sorry.”
You made a small noise that sounded like a squeak – and he was pretty sure his heart stopped. Something small but fierce sprouting in the deepest crevices of his chest, all his organs constricting as he struggled not to react with a noise of his own.
“You’re sorry?” You repeated, as if an apology was totally absurd.
“Yeah,” he soberly said, knuckles tightening across the steering wheel, barely able to keep his eyes on the road instead of studying your reaction.
“For what?” You asked, and it felt like a test.
One he was embarrassingly desperate to ace.
All of it?
Dismissing you and distancing himself the same way he always did? Convincing himself that all you would ever be was Jin’s friend?
“For not seeing you,” he said under his breath, the answer landing in the air.
You hesitated, pausing before you nodded.
He didn't know if he got it right.
But you relaxed over his version of dinner. Trading in your fancy appetizer for fast food, intently watching you dip your fries in sauce as you listened to him grumble about how shitty everything had been lately, begrudgingly admitting that he missed you coming around to his shop.
You casually shrugged, as if you didn't miss him back.
“Been busy,” you hummed, and he hated how the little curl of your lips after you said it made his stupid heart stall.
Somehow though, you were still free tonight.
Enough that by your fourth or fifth yawn, he talked you back into watching a movie at his place.
Jin would probably kill him if he knew. But then again, he hadn't stopped you from seeing Gojo. So how much could he actually care?
It wasn't like he was fucking you.
Even if he was beginning to consider just how much he'd like to.
But it felt almost more intimate for you to be this close, your thigh not quite touching his, knees curled up against your chest while you shared a blanket with him. Grabbing popcorn from the bowl on his lap and cracking jokes he might've called lame a few months ago before rolling your eyes at whatever was happening on screen.
“This movie kinda sucks,” you whispered to him, as if you were in a theater instead of his apartment.
Speaking to him like a friend, giggling a little as one of your buttered fingers reached up to poke the crease between his brows.
Were you always this fun?
This pretty when your the shadows from the tv flickered across your face? Did your eyes usually glimmer like that, looking up at him like he was some kind of knight instead of just another dickhead?
“Want me to change it?” He grumbled, already about to grab the remote before you shook your head.
“I still want to see how it ends,” you half-whispered, and the softness to your voice did something treacherous to the pit of his stomach. Ripped open a gash, pried him apart until all he could think of was how hollow he felt. Hyper aware of a missing piece he was pretty sure was right in front of him.
He wanted to see how this would end too.
If you were another girl, he would've made a move. Slipped a hand underneath the blanket and ran it over your thigh, leaned in to trail hungry kisses down your throat. A means to an end – all to get his dick wet.
But he wrapped his arm around your shoulders instead, pretended he didn't see the suspicious little glance you tossed his way. Satisfied himself just with the fact you didn't shove him away.
You didn't get to see the end of the movie after all. Lulled to sleep with the pressure of his arm or the quiet comfort of the dim lights and low volume. Head tilted to the side at an uncomfortable angle as you dozed off and dreamed about – well, he didn't know what, but he hoped it was about him.
He waited until the credits were rolling to creep off the couch, readjusting you until you were resting on one of his pillows instead, pulling up the blanket so you were covered.
Sukuna paused, just staring for a moment before he picked you up, cradling you against his chest and carrying you back to his bedroom where you'd be more comfortable.
You didn't wake up. Not even when he walked over to where you left your stuff by his kitchen counter. Or when Sukuna slipped your phone out from your purse, coming back to unlock it with your thumb while you were still passed out. Scrolling through your recent slew of texts to find where Gojo was basically throwing himself at you and clicking on his contact. There was a message from an unknown number too, a huge paragraph that Sukuna didn't need to read to know was from him too, pointing fingers and directing the blame for tonight right his way.
Blocking Gojo was easy.
Getting him to stay away from you?
Well, it wasn’t that much harder.
You softened up around him the next morning when you woke up and realized he'd taken the couch, nudging him awake to thank him before ditching like a one-night-stand would. But you were smiling again when you saw him, saying yes when he offered to pick you up and drop you off at work. Beaming when he admitted your drawings were never actually bad and asked to see them again. Letting him occupy your free time by slyly suggesting you come to his shop or his place for extra lessons and tips, a new weekly occurrence he caught himself thinking of as dates as one month bled into the next.
It wasn't like Gojo could slip back in your life if you were too busy.
And he couldn't visit you at work when Sukuna had made sure your family was aware of your, ah, stalker, and suggested they get a guard – claiming it would deter shoplifters too.
If you were suspicious, you didn’t say anything.
“So what, are you like, in love with her or-” Jin stopped himself mid-scoff, staring at Sukuna from across the counter, propping himself up on his elbows as he blankly stared at his brother. “You are.”
“No, I’m not,” he grumbled, counting the cash left in his register as the sun set behind the trees outside. You had said so yourself. Called him a good friend for showing you proper shading on your last piece, before tucking a sketchbook underneath your arm and disappearing through his door to go back to your place.
Despite his best efforts, you were still keeping him at arm’s length.
And through all his attempts at shutting down his own feelings, they only seemed to burn brighter, the flames fanned by the realization you were more than he had ever given you credit for. Far more than he fucking deserved.
Your awkwardness had become endearing. You were attentive and attractive and it was awful how many other things had only now started to register and rob him of his breath when you were around.
“Don’t even think about making a move on-”
The bell on the door chimed, and you were stepping through before Jin could say your name.
Your eyes landed on Sukuna, soft and sparkling, a lit match thrown inside his chest as your mouth curled up in a pretty smile. His brother knew him better than he knew himself.
Sukuna was falling for you fast. And he wasn’t sure he could catch himself anymore.
“If you guys have plans, I can-”
He didn’t let you finish.
“Jin was just leaving,” Sukuna grunted, glaring at his brother like he’d toss him out if he didn’t go soon.
You didn’t really get it. Couldn’t fully comprehend his sudden shift into being a semi-decent guy. You kept waiting for him to go back to normal, to push you back into the sidelines where you always belonged.
But he didn’t.
Week after week, he just seemed to worm his way deeper into your life, trying to occupy as much of it as he could. What? Did he have some weird change-of-heart and decide he didn’t want to be a dick?
Or were all those lingering touches and drawn-out stares just a figment of your imagination?
You glanced up at him again, mouth twitching into a smile you couldn’t help when you caught him already zeroed in on your face.
Jin let out a low exhale, but you didn't even turn.
“Don't make me an uncle,” he muttered, quiet enough you almost didn't hear him on his way out. Once it registered though, your nose scrunched up, now fully twisting towards him, ears perked like you were expecting Sukuna to scoff and say how ridiculous that was.
“Get out,” he grumbled.
You watched both of them, unsure eyes flickering back and forth until Jin left through the frosted glass doors.
Sukuna sighed, shutting the cash register a little too hard, his cheeks almost tinted pink under the warm lights, aware you were studying him and still not offering some snarky retort back.
“Surprised you didn't throw something at him,” you commented. This was it.
The moment he'd make it clear how he saw you and remind you of where you were meant to be in this weird relationship.
Except – he shrugged.
As if Jin wasn't in the wrong for suggesting there was something going on between the two of you.
“Are you really surprised?” He muttered, and you could only blink.
Holding your breath so he didn't catch how instinctively it hitched, frozen in place as your fingers fidgeted around your sketchbook.
And then Sukuna stepped closer, cocking his head to the side as he assessed your stunned expression.
“I like you,” he abruptly admitted, like he had to drag it from the depths of his stomach. Begrudgingly chewing over his next works as he walked right up to you, stopping just shy of touching before he plucked the book from your hands. “A lot.”
You waited for him to rip the rug out from under your feet and reveal that he didn’t actually mean any of it.
“Sukuna,” you started, swallowing hard like it would make it any easier to choke down.
How long had you been dying for him to say something like that? Dreaming of this moment right here?
And the best you could offer was his name?
“You don't believe me,” he accused, and all you could think of was being back at the bar, when those words came from your own lips.
He had said it wasn't his business then.
But what had made him decide you were now?
Was it just the idea of you slipping away? Becoming someone else’s? Faced with the fact you weren't who he thought you were when he saw you on that dumb date?
“Should I?” You asked.
“What can I do to prove it to you?” He frowned, thick brows scrunched together.
“I don't know,” you honestly answered.
And you didn't really expect him to try to find an answer for you.
It started small. Sort of. Awkward compliments he grumbled under his breath. Soda cans and snacks waiting for you when you came over. His fingers skimming over your skin, always standing a little too close.
But after a couple weeks of you squinting at him, convinced he was still just trying to have sex with you, something changed.
You just weren't sure which one of you cracked first.
Perched prettily on the stool behind his counter, drawing on spare paper as he cleaned up from his last client of the day, pretending you couldn't feel him staring.
“Hey,” he grunted, grabbing your attention easily as you glanced back at him.
“Hm?” You tilted your head, fingers pausing on the pen.
“You want a tattoo?”
He was a bad influence. You'd always known that. But his dark eyes dragged you right down to his level.
You couldn't believe you said yes.
Or that you agreed to a goddamn tramp stamp.
You readjusted, turning your head to the side, cheek squished against the cool leather as he tugged your shorts down.
Shivering as you tried to keep yourself from reacting, painfully aware of everything that he was doing.
Every step felt excruciatingly slow, each drag of his gloved fingers over the small of your spine as he cleaned and prepped it.
“Scared?” He grumbled, and you barely nodded.
“Kinda,” you breathlessly admitted.
“You change your mind?” He asked, and if you were smarter, maybe you would've told him to stop.
Instead, you shook your head no.
“Keep going.”
What was a better work of art?
You, face-down and shivering on his chair? Or the fresh ink on the base of your spine, permanently marking you as his?
The design was his, one you picked and approved, his initials worked into the fine lines.
R.S.
Maybe he should've pointed it out, but then again – you spent ten minutes reviewing the mock up and said you loved it.
And besides, he could always get your name on him too. Ask you to draw something just for him, sign it all pretty.
Make it even.
“You wanna take a look?” He softly asked, jaw locked as he tried to permanently imprint the image of you like this in his head.
“You can take a picture and show me,” you hummed, a cute little whine to your voice that made him unfortunately hard.
Sukuna was still working on his listening skills, pulling his phone from his pocket and obediently snapping a few, ah, artistic photos. Ones that included your pretty ass and how your panties were pulled low on them so he had the space to work on your tattoo.
It would be easier to walk around and show you, but instead he leaned forward, let his chest touch the top of your back as he held his phone in front of your face.
“Pretty,” you softly said, pleased.
“You're prettier,” he automatically replied, cringing when he remembered he was putting down his own work by accident.
But you just giggled, trying to crane your neck back to look at him.
“You did so good for me, gorgeous,” he murmured before you could mock him, purposely letting his mouth graze against your neck as you shivered. Shoulders scrunching up as you reflexively glanced up at you.
God, he wanted to fuck you right here.
And the way you were looking at him right now?
He'd wager you would let him.
“Do I have to pay for it?” You whispered, and he grunted.
“I don't want your money,” he scoffed.
He wanted something else.
And after so fucking long, he was finally about to have it.
Sukuna hooked two fingers in the band of your panties, tugging them down hard and letting them get caught around your knees. Pausing, waiting for you to tell him to stop just to be met with silence as he readjusted, moved to where he'd have better access.
Dragging his gloved hands up your thighs, spreading them apart and looking at how prettily you glistened for him. Soaked just from being in his seat.
He slowly took his gloves off, needing to feel you for real, skin on skin, truly touching instead of just skirting around it. Tracing over your ass, tender this time, taking his time to slip inside.
Your warmth was a fucking wonderland.
How many nights lately had he spent stroking it to the idea of this?
Hearing you moan was the closest he'd get to heaven, the sound reverberating inside of him as he added another digit, slowly shoving them in deeper, scissoring you open as your slick dripped down into the leather.
“Gotta stretch you out,” he hissed, throat constricting when you clenched down around him. “Make sure it'll fit.”
“Y-you're so cocky,” you whined, your lip forming a cute little ‘o’ as your cheek smushed against the seat. Moving in time with the thrusts of his fingers, wiggling down to meet his knuckles.
“Gonna show you why,” Sukuna promised, just to feel the way you shifted and squirmed underneath him.
It was addicting. You were.
All your reactions, all those pretty faces you would make, everything about you left him craving more, more, more.
His cock was leaking, aching pathetically where it was constrained in his boxers. Pre-cum dribbling out and making him aware of the dampness as he reluctantly pulled out to tug the zipper of his jeans down next, his dick springing up the second it was freed.
Your eyes went wide, glancing back at him with an expression that made his cock twitch. Veins pulsing Z he tried to contain his impulse just to shove it all the way in.
“I'll be careful,” he grunted, and you just nodded.
You trusted him.
And the thought of that made that little invisible string inside him snap.
Careful.
He repeated the word in his head, leaned against it like a crutch he could actually rely on. Shoving your shirt up higher, knowing he should probably fish a condom from his wallet for this, but unable to do anything except stare.
“I thought you liked me,” you murmured, hips shifting like you were trying to snare him even more.
“I do,” he breathed.
“Then show me.”
He was seeing fucking stars the second his cock was inside you. Eyes rolling back as inch by inch of his girth sunk into your heat, how you fit even better than his gloves did, snug and tight as he drove in deeper. Groaning your name, grabbing your hair, trying to tether himself to your body.
His sanity tied to the sounds you were making, those cute whimpers as he rammed his hips down into your ass, careful not to press down on your new tattoo.
“My pretty girl,” he claimed, gritty possession in his voice he no longer cared if you picked up on. So what if you did? You were his now. Not a fling or a fuck. Forever. “You're so goddamn perfect.”
“S-shut up,” you hissed back, nails digging into the chair as your grip on your own rationality slipped.
You didn't need reason anymore.
You had him.
“You like me,” he accused, cock throbbing inside you when you whined at his tip kissing your cervix.
“I-I-” You stuttered, so painfully pretty here. Sweat collecting on your brow, broken breathing loud in the quiet space, only the background music of his playlist joining it.
“You do,” Sukuna huffed, pressing a kiss to your shoulder blade.
Maybe he'd leave another tattoo there some day. His teeth marks? Some other subtle sign to mark you as his?
“M-maybe,” you half-whispered.
And that was enough for him.
Fucking into you harder, the chair beneath both of you creaking and protesting at the combined weight, his muscles straining as his thick cock continued to stretch you thin around him. His free hand slipped around your front, your body squirming at his touch, shuddering so sweetly. Rubbing drawn-out circles over your clit, massaging it with dedicated pressure, paying attention to how you liked it and adjusting properly.
Sukuna wanted to drag his tongue over your throat, taste your sweat and tears as you whimpered his name.
But he'd settle for feeling you twitch when you came, how your thighs trembled and shook, his hips rutting down as warm ropes of his cum spilled out into you.
You'd be dripping by the time he pulled out, but he kept you plugged full of his cum even when you were both finished, relief still some far-fetched dream when his body was burning so hot for you.
“Did you-” You swallowed hard, lashes fluttering as you looked back at him.
“I can buy you plan B,” he exhaled, still not pulling out – halfway hoping his seed would take anyway.
“Okay,” you sighed too, shutting your eyes as your face relaxed. Just accepting it. Letting him hold you like this the same way you let him leave his mark on your skin.
“We can shower at my place,” he muttered. “Still have to cover up your new tattoo.”
“Oh,” you yawned, like the sex had made you sleepy. Content. “Okay.”
You blinked though, eyes slowly opening back up as you looked back at him one more time.
“You're acting like you're my boyfriend,” you commented.
“Because I am now,” he huffed.
One of your brows arched up, lips pressing together. But you didn't say no. Didn't turn him down.
Your hips shifted, and he saw the pearly-white cum starting to seep out from where his cock was slotted between your folds, connecting him to you.
It was probably wrong to hope you'd get pregnant.
But really, all he wanted was to take care of you now. And that couldn't be wrong.
he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it at first. ryomen sukuna—king of the frat, two-time campus menace, unofficial titleholder of “most likely to break your heart and not care”—starts showing up differently around you.
less noise. less bravado. less of the smirk that usually means trouble. you show up to a party once, wearing something cute, and his friends elbow him like always. “bro, go get your girl.”
but he doesn’t go over to flirt. he goes over to take your cup, sniff it, and grumble, “who gave you this? you don’t drink this shit.” then you watch him pour it out and hand you water like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
he stops hosting ragers on thursday nights because you have an 8am friday lab and he “doesn’t want people stomping around and keeping you up.” he says it casually—shrugging, avoiding eye contact—but not a single person in the frat dares call him out because the look in his eyes is dead serious.
and the girls he used to flirt with? laugh with? entertain when he was bored? he doesn't even dare to glance at them now. one of them touches his arm during a mixer and he physically steps back, muttering, “nah. don’t.”
everyone stares. you pretend not to notice, but sukuna notices you every damn time. the night it finally hits you is when you’re studying on the couch in the frat house, legs tucked under you, hair messy from hours of focusing. sukuna comes in from practice, sweaty, exhausted, probably starving.
old him would’ve grabbed a beer, teased you, maybe tried to drag you upstairs. but instead he stops in the doorway, eyebrows pulling together. “you eat yet?”
you shake your head without thinking. he groans under his breath like you’ve personally wounded him, then disappears into the kitchen. ten minutes later he returns with a plate of food, a bottle of water, and your favorite candy bar he steals from one of his brothers’ stashes.
“eat,” he says, sitting next to you.
“i’m not hungry.”
he glares. “don’t care.”
you laugh and lean into his shoulder without thinking. he freezes for half a second, then melts just a little, tilting his head so it rests against yours. “you’re different lately,” you whisper, teasing.
he scoffs, looking away. “no i’m not.”
“you are.”
he shifts, face serious now, eyes warm in ways you’ve never seen on him. “…maybe i just wanted to stop being someone you couldn’t take seriously.”
he huffs, rubbing the back of his neck like the confession annoys him. “i’m trying here, okay? don’t make it weird.”
you grin, reaching for his hand. “it’s not weird.”
he squeezes your fingers like he’s afraid he’ll spook you. “good,” he murmurs. “because i’m not going back to who i was.”
and you believe him. because men don’t change for no reason. but sukuna? he’s changing for you. slowly, stubbornly. sincerely.
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