A mission, a fancy hotel, one shared room, and years of feelings neither of you has been brave enough to talk about. What was supposed to be a simple overnight assignment with Satoru quickly turns into something much more complicated, especially when old tension starts getting harder and harder to ignore.
PAIRING: bestfriend! satoru x fem!reader
WC: 6.9k
WARNINGS: dry humping, a little bit of smut, no angst yet..
NOTES: erm there will be a part two im so sorry. it will be finished soonish! im still learning how to write in general but like specifically smut so i apologize if this doesn't read too well :( when part 2 is done, ill link it at the top here! there might be a few mistakes here and there, i didn't really edit it, but ill read through tmrw and fix wtv i can find lol. ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU GUYS ENJOY
pt.2
“Hey, cutie. What are you doing here?”
Satoru’s playful, velvety soft, and annoyingly smug voice booms from behind you. You didn’t get the chance to turn around before you felt his arms loop around your waist.
He was so confident in his actions and made it feel so natural, like they belonged there. He pulled you back until your back met the solid warmth of his chest and leaned down as if personal space were a foreign concept to him. His breath brushed your ear, soft and warm, and your body betrayed you before your mind had time to object.
You almost shivered.
Almost.
You locked your knees and stared straight ahead.
Satoru hummed near your neck. The sound carried mischief, comfort, and the kind of familiarity that made your heart do stupid flips inside your chest.
“Satoru,” you said, voice flat. “You know why I’m here.”
He laughed under his breath. His arms stayed around you.
To anyone else, the scene would look intimate, too intimate. A quiet embrace in Principal Yaga’s office. His chin close to your shoulder. Your back pressed to his chest. His hands resting at your waist like they had found their favourite place and refused to leave.
But this was Gojo Satoru.
He had always been like this, a touchy, careless, and shameless man. He leaned, grabbed, poked, tugged, and draped himself over people without warning. With you, he was worse. Much worse. It started when you two were students at Jujutsu High. He would steal the chair beside you even when three others were empty. He would rest his long legs across your lap during breaks. He would tug at your hair when he wanted attention, pinch your cheeks when you ignored him, and wrap his arms around your shoulders whenever he got bored.
At first, you fought him. You shoved his hands away and told him to fuck off. You glared so hard Shoko once said your face might get stuck that way.
Satoru never cared.
The first time you snapped at him to give you space, he blinked at you through his dark glasses, smiled like you had said something funny, and leaned even closer.
So, you gave up. Definitely not because you started liking it… yeah definitely not. That was what you told yourself. You gave up because Satoru Gojo was a mulish man, impossible to move once he decided where he wanted to go. And for some reason, he always seemed to move toward you.
You, Satoru, Shoko, and Geto had been stuck together since your first year at Tokyo Jujutsu High. Back then, the school felt like its own world. You spent your days running through the long halls, dragging yourself back from missions, and sitting through Yaga’s lectures like each one might last forever. Being an adult felt so far away. You were always too occupied with getting through the next curse, the next injury, the next report, and the next time Satoru opened his mouth and made everything worse.
You had all been young and reckless then, convinced that whatever pain could be laughed off if you tried hard enough. Years had passed since, and none of you were quite the same people anymore. Still, the four of you remained at the same school, bound to the same world, moving within the same familiar barriers.
The uniforms had changed. The missions had grown uglier, and the weight on your shoulders had settled in so deeply it almost felt natural now. But through all of it, your friendship with them remained one of the few things in this life you truly cherished.
Shoko was your anchor in a heavy storm with her dry humor, tired eyes, and cigarette smoke that clung to her like a second shadow. She always knew when you needed silence more than advice.
Geto had a quiet steadiness to him. He was patient, thoughtful, and strangely easy to be around. You used to tease him for sounding like he had already lived three lifetimes, always ready with some annoyingly reasonable advice when the rest of you were busy making terrible decisions.
With them, you always knew where you stood. With Satoru, nothing ever felt simple. There had always been something between you, something you could never quite name no matter how hard you tried. But you felt it. God, you felt it. In the extra second his hand lingered before letting yours go. In the way his teasing softened when it was just the two of you. In the way he looked at you with those impossible blue eyes, like there was something he wanted to say but never did.
From the first day you met Satoru, you made one very clear promise to yourself: you were never going to fall for him. At the time, it honestly did not seem that hard. Yes, he was gorgeous, annoyingly so, but he was also impossible. Spoiled, loud, shameless, always demanding attention. He flirted like it was second nature, throwing out smiles and stupid little comments just to watch girls blush when he walked by. And the worst part was that he knew exactly what he was doing. Satoru always knew.
Even with his glasses on, he was bad enough—tall, white-haired, unfairly built, with a grin that made it hard to keep your thoughts respectable. But when he took them off, it was like everyone around him forgot how to function. His eyes were ridiculous, too blue and too pretty for one person to have. You had once watched a girl nearly trip over herself after he looked at her for all of three seconds, and another go so red she turned away before he could even say anything.
You had rolled your eyes then, convinced everyone was being dramatic. And then Satoru turned to look at you. For one awful second, you completely understood. You were not blind, and you were definitely not stupid. Satoru Gojo was, without question, the most handsome man you had ever seen. Which was deeply irritating. The kind of handsome that made you roll your eyes on purpose, mostly because admitting he was that attractive felt like losing.
But his looks were never the real issue. It was the way he cared about you. That was what got you in the end.
Because underneath all the arrogance, the teasing, and that smug little grin you constantly wanted to smack off his face with a rolled-up mission report, Satoru was always there. When you called him at three in the morning because you wanted snacks from the convenience store, he picked up on the second ring. He complained the entire walk there, obviously, but still grabbed your favorite drink before you even asked. When you forced him to watch your stupid shows, he groaned like you were torturing him, took up half the couch, and interrupted every five minutes with questions. Then, somehow, he remembered every character’s name. And when you came back from a bad mission too drained to talk, he didn’t push or joke. He just sat beside you and stayed.
That was worse than the flirting. Worse than his face. Worse than the way his hand rested warm against the small of your back when he guided you through a crowd.
Shoko and Geto loved you. You knew that. They would be there the second you needed them, no questions asked. But Satoru was there for all the small, stupid things too. Somehow, he kept slipping into the quiet parts of your life until they did not feel complete without him there.
Maybe that was when your promise started to break. Not in some huge, dramatic moment. Just slowly, in little pieces, until one day you realized you had already fallen and had no idea when it happened.
Whatever you and Satoru were, it never fit neatly into one word. Friendship sounded too simple. Love felt like too much to admit. So, you didn’t call it anything; that felt like the safer choice.
And now you stood in Principal Yaga’s office with Satoru’s arms around your waist as if this was normal. As if your heart was not beating against your ribs like it wanted out. As if his thumb had not started tracing slow, lazy circles against your side.
You grabbed his wrist.
“Satoru,” you warned.
“What?” he asked, far too innocent.
“You know what.”
“I missed you.”
“You saw me this afternoon.”
“That was hours ago.”
“It was twenty minutes ago.”
“Exactly,” he said, tightening his hold. “Cruel.”
You opened your mouth to respond, but familiar footsteps sounded outside the office. Satoru released you at once. Not because he felt guilty. No. He released you only to lift both arms toward the door, preparing himself with the wide, dramatic confidence of a man about to annoy someone on purpose.
Principal Yaga entered and stopped in the doorway. For one silent second, he looked at Satoru’s open arms.
Satoru smiled. “Yaga. Come here.”
Yaga walked past him without slowing down and sat behind his desk.
Satoru’s arms stayed in the air.
You pressed your lips together trying to stop yourself from laughing.
“I need you two for a mission,” he said.
Satoru dropped his arms and leaned against the wall. “Aw. Together? You’re spoiling us.”
Yaga ignored him. “Its an overnight mission.”
That got your attention.
You straightened. “Us?”
Yaga folded his hands on the desk. “Yes.”
You glanced at Satoru. He looked delighted. That was never a good sign.
“Gojo can handle most missions alone,” you said. “Why send both of us?”
Satoru placed a hand over his chest. “Such faith in me. I’m touched.”
“You’re annoying.”
“And yet you keep me around.”
“I don’t recall choosing that.”
“You wound me.”
Yaga’s brow twitched. “Enough.”
Both of you went quiet and Yaga continued, “Gojo has a meeting with the higher ups near the mission site. He will be unavailable at first. You will begin the investigation and containment. Once his meeting ends, if necessary, he will join you and assist with the exorcism.”
You crossed your arms. “What grade?”
“Special grade.”
Satoru’s smile faded.
Yaga turned his attention to you. “The curses have been appearing near a commercial district. Civilian traffic is heavy during the day. Several people have already reported missing time, hallucinations, and sudden bursts of aggression.”
Your fingers tightened around your sleeve. Missing time was never a good sign and hallucinations were worse. Curses that messed with perception were dangerous in a different way. They could turn a normal street into a trap before anyone even noticed something was wrong. A safe path could lead straight into oncoming traffic. The voice calling your name could belong to no one at all. And by the time you realized your own senses had betrayed you, it was usually too late.
Yaga slid a folder across the desk. You took it and flipped it open.
The first page was filled with grainy photos from security cameras. A shattered shop window. A warped reflection caught in polished tile. Black residue smeared along one wall like something had dragged itself across it. Beneath that was a statement from a store owner who swore his own reflection had smiled at him just before he blacked out.
You sighed. This was not going to be a simple cleanup.
Satoru leaned over your shoulder, close enough that his hair brushed lightly against you as he studied the photos.
“Ugly little thing,” he murmured.
You glanced at him. “You see something?”
“Maybe.” The playfulness had left his voice. “The residuals are all over the place. Could be more than one curse. Could be one curse splitting pieces of itself off.”
You hummed, still glancing over the file before looking back up at Yaga. “Alright. And what’s the hotel situation?”
Yaga’s expression stayed perfectly neutral. “Ijichi booked one room for the two of you.”
For a second, you were sure you had misheard him.
You slowly lowered the folder. “Sorry. One room?”
“Yes.”
“With him?” you asked, turning your head just enough to indicate Satoru beside you.
Satoru pressed a hand to his chest like you had wounded him. “Wow. You say that like spending the night in my presence is some kind of punishment.”
“It is,” you said without missing a beat.
His mouth curled into a grin. “You don’t mean that.”
An irritating warmth crept up your neck, and you immediately looked away.
You hated him.
You hated him so much.
Yaga pinched the bridge of his nose, already tired of both of you. “The school is cutting unnecessary costs where it can.”
“Of all the places to cut costs,” you said, “you landed on making me share a room with him?”
“It’s a standard business hotel,” Yaga replied. “There will be two beds.”
Satoru gave a disappointed click of his tongue. “There goes my dream.”
You turned toward him slowly and saw that the idiot was already grinning.
For one very tempting second, you considered throwing the folder directly at his face.
Yaga spoke before you could. “Ijichi’s waiting outside. You’ll leave now, stay near the district tonight, and start early tomorrow morning. Keep civilians out of it as much as possible.”
You looked back down at the photos. A familiar tightness settled in your chest. Not fear, exactly. Something closer to readiness. That unsettling feeling that came before a fight, when your body caught on to the danger before your mind had fully sorted through it.
Satoru noticed. Of course he did.
His shoulder brushed against yours. “Don’t do that.”
You glanced at him. “Do what?”
“That thing where you decide the whole mission is yours to carry before we’ve even left the room.”
"Well, I am starting it alone,” you said. “You’ll be busy with the meeting.”
“For a few hours, maybe.”
“That’s still alone.”
He tilted his head, trying to catch your eye. “I’ll be nearby.”
You said nothing.
“Hey.” His voice dropped, softer now, stripped of the usual teasing. “I mean it. I’ll be close.”
The words settled somewhere deep in your chest, warmer than they had any right to be.
You looked away first.
“Try not to make the higher-ups cry," you said.
Satoru gave you a lazy smile. “I can’t promise anything. They make it way too easy.”
Yaga let out a tired sigh. “Gojo.”
Satoru straightened at once and threw up an overly enthusiastic salute. “Understood, sir. I’ll be on my absolute best behavior.”
“You are a grown man,” Yaga said flatly.
“Allegedly,” you muttered.
Satoru turned to you, scandalized. “Wow. I expected this from him, but from you? That hurts.”
Yaga exhaled through his nose, clearly at the end of his patience. “Get out of my office before I regret assigning either of you.”
Satoru’s mood brightened instantly as he headed for the door. “Come on, then. Our romantic overnight mission awaits.”
“It’s not romantic,” you said, following him.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “But it is overnight.”
“That doesn’t help your case.”
“And there’s a hotel room involved.”
“You’re making it worse.”
“And two beds,” he added, with a sigh dramatic enough to belong onstage.
You gave him a sideways look. “You’re actually upset about that?”
“I’m just saying, it feels a little unnecessary.”
“The beds?”
“The separation.”
You stared at him. “Keep talking and you’ll be sleeping in the hallway.”
He reached for the office door, glancing back at you with that pleased, shameless grin. “Aw. You’d miss me.”
Top of Form
Bottom of Form
You gave Yaga a quick bow, more from habit than anything else, then followed Satoru out into the hallway.
He was already a few steps ahead of you, hands tucked into his pockets, white hair catching in the afternoon light spilling through the windows. He moved with that same careless ease he always carried, like nothing in the world had ever been heavy enough to slow him down.
You watched him walk ahead of you, and that old promise twisted quietly in your chest.
Never fall for Gojo Satoru.
What a stupid thing to promise yourself.
He glanced back over his shoulder. “You know, if you keep staring at me like that, I’m going to start getting ideas.”
“I’m not staring,” you said. “I’m making sure you don’t trip over your own feet again.”
“That happened once, and I still think the floor had it out for me.”
“The floor didn’t do anything. You just tripped.”
Satoru nodded like you’d proven his point. “Exactly. That’s what it wants you to think.”
You tried not to smile, but it slipped out anyway.
Of course, he noticed. His grin softened just a little, and for a second, the air between you shifted in that quiet, familiar way it always did when neither of you knew what to say next. The hallway felt strangely still around you, like the rest of the school had faded into the background.
Then Satoru opened his mouth and ruined it.
“Since we’re sharing a room tonight, I’m claiming the bed by the window.”
You looked at him. “You don’t get to start making demands before we’ve even left the school.”
“I’m not making demands. I’m planning ahead.”
“You’re testing my patience.” You brushed past him with a groan, and his laugh followed you down the hall, loud and careless, echoing off the walls of the school.
Outside, the late afternoon air felt heavy and damp. Gray clouds hung low over the campus, thick enough that rain seemed inevitable. Wind moved through the trees near the entrance, sending a few loose leaves scraping across the pavement.
Ijichi’s car was already waiting.
He stood beside it with his usual rigid posture, clipboard held tightly against his chest as though it offered some kind of protection. The moment he spotted Satoru, his expression tightened.
“Gojo-san,” Ijichi said, glancing at his watch. “You’re late.”
Satoru looked offended. “We’re exactly on time.”
“You were expected seven minutes ago.”
Satoru leaned slightly toward you and lowered his voice. “He missed me.”
“He’s afraid of you,” you said.
Ijichi opened the back door with a strained sigh. “Please get in.”
You slid into the car first. The seat was cool beneath you, and the mission folder settled on your lap.
Satoru climbed in beside you, choosing the spot directly at your side despite the wide stretch of empty seat available. His knee knocked gently against yours.
You shifted away. A moment later, he shifted closer.
You turned to look at him.
He kept his gaze fixed out the window, smiling faintly as though he’d done absolutely nothing.
The car pulled away from the school, and Tokyo Jujutsu High slowly disappeared behind the trees and gray sky. The road curved down the mountain, carrying you toward the city, toward the mission, toward one hotel room, and toward the one man you’d spent years trying not to want.
Rain began to fall before you reached the main road. At first, it was light. Soft taps against the window. Then it grew, threading silver lines down the glass.
Satoru rested his head back against the seat. For once, he said nothing.
You looked at his reflection in the rain-streaked window. The curve of his mouth had relaxed. His glasses hid his eyes, but not the faint tension in his jaw.
“You worried?” you asked.
His reflection smiled. “About sharing a room with you? A little. You kick in your sleep.”
“I do not.”
“You do.”
You glanced down at the folder again. “What do you think it is?”
Satoru tilted his head, eyes moving over the reports. “Could be a curse working through reflections. Maybe sound, too. A few of them heard voices right before they blacked out.”
You flipped to another page. “One victim said her reflection moved before she did.”
His expression sharpened. “Then it’s probably not just messing with their heads at random. It has some kind of trigger.”
“A cursed technique?”
“Most likely.” He glanced at the photos again. “The question is how far it reaches and whether it needs direct contact or just line of sight.”
You frowned. “So, I shouldn’t rush in blind.”
“Exactly.” He turned toward you, his voice quieter now. “I know Yaga said to go in first but I think you should wait for me."
“I know how to do my job, Satoru.”
“I know.”
You looked at him.
Satoru’s face stayed angled toward yours, but his voice softened.
“I know you do.”
In that moment, the car felt too small. His shoulder bumped into yours, his knee still brushed your leg, and the smell of him, clean soap and faint sugar, filled your senses.
You looked away first and stared out the window. The city lights smeared across the wet glass like paint. Beside you, Satoru stretched his legs and sighed like a bored cat.
“So,” he said, voice bright again. “For our sleepover, do you prefer scary movies or snacks first?”
You closed the folder. “Neither.”
"Ugh, how boring.”
The rain kept falling as Ijichi drove on, steady against the car windows, softening the glow of streetlights outside into blurred streaks of gold and white. The quiet hum of the engine filled the space between the three of you, broken only by the occasional swish of the windshield wipers.
Your eyelids grew heavier with every passing minute. The warmth of the car, the low murmur of the road, and the exhaustion sitting deep in your bones all worked against you. Before you knew it, your head tipped gently onto Satoru’s shoulder.
A small, sleepy smile lingered on your face.
Satoru glanced down at you. For once, he didn’t immediately say something stupid. His expression softened, hidden from you as his fingers carefully brushed a few loose strands of hair away from your cheek.
“Isn’t she just so cute, Ijichi?”
Ijichi looked at him through the rearview mirror, his eyes flicking briefly from Satoru to your sleeping form. “I will never understand your relationship, Gojo-san.”
Satoru let out a quiet, breathless chuckle, careful not to jostle you.
Honestly, he didn’t understand it either.
All he knew was that something about you kept pulling him back. For a while, he’d tried to blame it on your cursed energy. It was easier that way. Easier to pretend there was some reason he kept ending up beside you, some explanation for why leaving never lasted very long.
But that excuse had worn thin a long time ago.
You had settled into his life so naturally that he barely noticed when it happened. You were simply there now, threaded into his days, into his routines, into thoughts he didn’t always mean to have. He hovered close, never fully crossing the line, never quite stepping back either.
And sometimes, when you leaned into him without thinking or looked at him with that exasperated fondness you tried so hard to hide, he wished something would finally shift.
But for now, he stayed where he was, quiet beneath the weight of your sleeping head, letting the rain and the low hum of the car fill the silence.
By the time the car finally slowed to a stop beneath the covered entrance of the hotel, you were still fast asleep.
You ended up waking up to a sharp pain in your cheeks.
Your eyes cracked open, unfocused at first, only to land on Satoru’s grinning face inches away from yours. His fingers were pinching both of your cheeks because apparently gently tapping your shoulder or saying your name like a normal person had never occurred to him.
“Ow, Satoru,” you mumbled, swatting weakly at his hand.
He giggled and finally let go, entirely too pleased with himself as he opened the car door and stepped out into the cool, rain-damp air.
From the driver’s seat, Ijichi turned slightly toward you. “I’ll be back tomorrow night to pick you both up.”
“Of course, Ijichi. Thank you,” you said, your voice softening as you gave him a polite nod before stepping out and closing the door.
The first thing you noticed was the hotel itself.
It rose high into the night sky, all polished glass and dark stone. Water spilled gently from the fountains flanking the entrance, their soft splashing mixing with the rain tapping against the pavement. Tall stone columns framed the broad glass doors, and warm light poured from within, golden and inviting.
This was definitely not what you had expected. You had prepared yourself for something decent, maybe comfortable if the budget allowed. Not this.
You walked toward the entrance beside Gojo, casting him a sidelong glance. The doormen bowed as the two of you approached, and one of them opened the door with a practiced smile.
The lobby was even more extravagant. Crystal chandeliers glittered overhead, reflecting off the polished marble floors. The air smelled faintly of fresh flowers and expensive candles. To one side, a small group of musicians played live near the seating area, their music flowing softly through the open space. Guests moved through the lobby in low conversation, suitcases rolling smoothly behind them.
You looked back at Gojo, suspicion building.
“Satoru…” you said slowly. “Did you change our hotel?”
He turned to you with a look of pure innocence that fooled absolutely no one. “Well, did you really expect me to sleep in some measly four-star hotel before I have to meet with those old geezers tomorrow? I need my beauty sleep.”
You sighed through your nose.
You don’t know why you bothered asking.
“Just relax,” he said, waving lazily toward the seating area. “Sit down while I check us in.”
You nodded and made your way over to one of the plush chairs near the musicians. The cushions sank slightly beneath your weight, and for a moment, you let yourself settle into the comfort of it.
The music was even nicer up close.
You watched the violinist move her bow in long, smooth strokes, her fingers shifting with practiced ease along the strings. The pianist beside her followed in perfect rhythm, not needing to look up. There was something soothing about how focused they were, how calm their expressions remained as the notes filled the space around you.
A light tap on your shoulder pulled you from the music.
You glanced up to find Gojo standing beside you, room key in hand. “Room’s ready. Come on.”
He extended his hand.
You looked at it for half a second before placing your own in his. His fingers closed around yours easily, warm and steady as he helped you to your feet. He let go a moment later, though not quite as quickly as he could have.
The elevator ride up was quiet, aside from the soft mechanical hum and the faint music still lingering in your ears. Gojo leaned casually against the wall, looking much too relaxed for someone who was almost certainly hiding something.
You should have known.
The moment the hotel room door opened, you stepped inside and stopped cold.
The room was beautiful. Floor-to-ceiling windows overlooked the glittering city below, rain tracing slow lines down the glass. A seating area sat near the windows with a low table and a neatly arranged tray of bottled water. The carpet was thick underfoot, and warm lamps cast a soft glow over the space.
But none of that mattered because directly in the center of the room was one bed.
One large, perfectly made, unmistakably singular bed.
You stared at it for a second, just to make sure you were not missing another one tucked around some hidden corner. Then you slowly turned toward Gojo.
“So,” you said, giving him a knowing look, “what happened to two beds?”
Of course, he immediately put on that fake, helpless expression of his. He rubbed the back of his neck and looked almost sheepish, which might have been convincing if you had met him yesterday.
“Well, you know,” he said. “It was the cheapest option. Had to consider the budget and all that. Really, I made the smartest choice here.”
You stared at him.
Then at the luxury suite.
Then back at him.
“God, I don’t even know why I put up with you.”
He smiled, entirely unbothered. “Because I’m delightful.”
You rolled your eyes and stepped farther into the room, setting your things down with a little more force than necessary.
The problem was that arguing about the bed would get you nowhere. Offering to make him sleep on the floor would never work. He would refuse on principle, probably with a dramatic speech about his back and his importance to society. And if you offered to sleep on the floor instead, he would absolutely drag you back into the bed the second you dozed off.
And if you were being painfully honest with yourself, sharing a bed with Gojo was not exactly the part that bothered you most.
You were not opposed to it. You would rather swallow glass than admit that out loud, but it was true.
The issue was everything around it. Your relationship was already strange enough, close in ways that were hard to explain and even harder to define. Sleeping in the same bed felt like one more step into territory neither of you seemed brave enough to name.
You needed a moment away from him before he opened his mouth again and made everything worse.
Grabbing your clothes and toiletries, you headed for the bathroom.
“I’m showering first,” you called over your shoulder.
Then you stepped inside and shut the door behind you.
You turned the shower on as hot as it would go, desperate to burn the thoughts right out of your head. When the water first hit your skin, you flinched, sucking in a sharp breath, but after a moment you forced yourself to stand still beneath it. Steam began to gather around you, fogging the glass and turning the bathroom hazy.
There was nothing inherently intimate about sharing a bed with someone. Not really.
You had slept in the same bed as Shoko plenty of times, and that had been completely platonic. You had even passed out on Geto’s bed while he laid down beside you playing video games. Sharing a bed with someone doesn’t have to mean anything.
The problem was that the person you were sharing one with was Satoru, and somehow he had a talent for making everything feel like something.
A glance held half a second too long. His hand brushing yours. A joke murmured too close to your ear. With him, even the smallest things had a way of feeling like more.
You exhaled heavily and tipped your face up into the stream of water, hoping it might clear your head. Unfortunately, it did not.
By the time you finally shut off the shower, the bathroom was thick with steam. You dried off, changed, and opened the door, sending a warm cloud spilling into the room with you.
“Jesus, woman,” Gojo said from somewhere near the bed. “I think the showers in hell are cooler.”
You waved him off as you stepped past him. “Yeah, yeah.”
He disappeared into the bathroom next, and you walked towards the bed. You were just about to climb in when the balcony caught your eye.
Fresh air. That sounded good. You crossed the room, slid the glass door open, and stepped outside.
The rain had softened to a fine mist, cool against your still-warm skin. Tokyo stretched out below you in glittering layers, streets shining with reflected neon, windows glowing from high-rise buildings, headlights drifting through the roads like tiny ribbons of light. From up here, the city almost looked peaceful.
You rested your hands on the railing and let yourself take it in.
You were not used to views like this. Most nights were spent at Jujutsu High, tucked away from the noise of the city, or running from one assignment to the next. Sometimes you forgot that a whole ordinary world existed outside of curses and missions and the constant threat of losing someone.
It made you wonder, not for the first time, what your life might have looked like if you had never become a sorcerer.
Maybe you would have gone to university like everyone else. Maybe you would have a regular job, a little apartment, and a partner. Maybe by now you would be married, or even have children of your own.
Instead, here you were, standing on a hotel balcony at night, trying to figure out what exactly you were with your stupid high school crush.
You were so lost in thought that the knock against the glass made you jump.
Turning around, you saw Gojo standing inside the room.
Half naked.
A towel hung low around his hips, and that was it.
For one horrible, terrible second, your brain simply stopped working.
Water still clung to his skin, catching the soft room light across the lines of his chest and stomach. His hair was damp and pushed messily back, exposing more of his face than usual. He looked entirely too pleased with himself for someone dressed so indecently in a shared hotel room.
You dragged your gaze upward with great effort and stepped back inside.
“Gojo,” you snapped, trying to sound annoyed instead of completely thrown off, “where the hell are your clothes?”
He looked down at himself as though he had only just noticed. “Don’t you know, sweetheart? I have to air-dry. Towels are just too rough on my baby-soft skin.” He tilted his head, smiling. “Do you wanna feel?”
“As if, princess. Go back into the bathroom and put some clothes on.”
He pouted but thankfully turned around and wandered back in anyway.
The second the bathroom door closed, you let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding in.
You needed to collect yourself. Mentally. Spiritually. Possibly medically.
So, in the most dignified response available to you, you sprinted to the bed and buried yourself under the covers.
From what exactly were you hiding? You were not entirely sure.
A few minutes later, the bathroom door opened again. Gojo stepped out, thankfully dressed this time, and climbed into bed beside you with irritating ease, like the situation was perfectly normal.
“I hope you know I’m a cuddler,” he said.
You turned onto your side to face him, ready with a retort. “I hope you know I’m a kicke—”
The word suddenly stuck in your throat. His face was much closer than you expected.
Close enough that you could feel the faint warmth of his breath against your lips. Close enough to catch the clean mint of his toothpaste and the damp scent of soap still clinging to his skin. His eyes, impossibly blue even in the soft lamplight, were fixed on yours.
For once, he was not smiling. Your throat tightened.
You could have sworn he started to move closer.
Before your thoughts could catch up, you turned away, facing the other side of the bed. Heat crept up your neck and into your cheeks, and you silently cursed your own cowardice.
“Goodnight,” you said quickly, reaching over to switch off the bedside lamp.
Darkness filled the room.
“Goodnight,” he murmured behind you.
His voice was lower than usual, rough at the edges, and it sent a shiver down your spine.
This was going to be a very long night.
You squeezed your eyes shut and prayed sleep would come quickly. For a few minutes, nothing happened. The room stayed quiet except for the faint hush of rain against the balcony glass and the soft rhythm of your own breathing.
Eventually, you began to drift.
Then an arm slid around your waist.
You let out a small gasp as Gojo pulled you back against him, your body fitting into his perfectly like a missing piece of a puzzle. His arm settled lightly at your waist while his fingers began tracing slow, absent circles against your arm.
You held still until something in you finally snapped.
You turned around to face him, the movement bringing you even closer than before. His hand stayed at your waist, fingers now moving in gentle circles over the fabric of your shirt.
“Satoru…” you began, though you had no idea what you meant to say after that.
His gaze softened.
Slowly, he lifted one hand to your face, cupping your cheek with a tenderness that made your chest ache. His thumb brushed lightly along your skin before he tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
He looked at you like he was waiting for you to stop him.
Then he leaned in.
His lips hovered just shy of yours, close enough that your breath caught.
“Can’t move away from me this time,” he murmured.
And then he kissed you.
It was soft at first, careful and hesitant. It was like he couldn’t believe that this was finally happening.
The second you kissed him back, he completely changed.
A low groan left him as he deepened the kiss, tongue intertwining with yours and his hand tightening slightly at your waist. Your fingers slid into his damp hair, tugging just enough to make his breath hitch. When you finally pulled apart, both of you were breathing harder, foreheads resting together in the dark.
“Tell me to stop,” he said, voice rough and unsteady. “Tell me you don’t want this, and I’ll stop. We can pretend it never happened.”
“Please, Toru,” you breathed. “Fuck—please don’t stop.”
That was all he needed.
He kissed you again, harder this time, hungrier, like the last thread of restraint had finally snapped. He pulled back only long enough to sit up, then lifted you with effortless ease and settled you onto his lap, your legs falling around his hips.
His mouth found yours again almost immediately.
He was intoxicating. Warm and overwhelming and far too good at making you forget every sensible thought you had tried to hold onto all night. Your hands slid over his shoulders as you grinded down on his hardening cock.
“Fuck, baby,” he muttered against your mouth.
His hands moved to your hips, helping you move against his cock as he kissed along your jaw, then lower, his lips finding the sensitive skin of your neck. When he lingered at that one particular spot, you couldn’t stop the soft moan that slipped out right beside his ear.
Satoru shuddered beneath you.
His restraint seemed to slip after that. His fingers found the hem of your top and pulled it up and over your head, tossing it somewhere into the dark. His gaze dropped to your bare breasts. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he murmured, voice rough with disbelief. When looking wasn’t enough anymore, he latches his mouth onto your tits, sucking and biting.
The stimulation from his assault on your boobs made you move faster against him as you whimpered, “Toru, please, I need more.”
“You have no idea,” he murmured, voice thick with desire, “how many times I’ve dreamed about this.”
Before you could respond to him, your phone started ringing from the bedside table.
The sudden sound cut sharply through the room, pulling you both back to reality. You glanced toward the bright screen and saw the name flashing across it.
Principal Yaga.
You reached for the phone, shooting Satoru an apologetic look as you answered. “Hello?”
His hand stilled at your waist, though his eyes stayed on you.
Yaga’s voice came through calm, but serious enough that your body tensed almost immediately. The curses you had been sent to investigate were no longer something that could wait until morning. Civilians were in immediate danger, and you needed to head out now.
Gojo was to remain at the hotel. If anything unnecessary delayed him, he could be late for tomorrow’s meeting with the higher-ups. And this one mattered more than usual. They would be discussing Yuji Itadori’s fate as Sukuna’s vessel.
By the time the call ended, the warmth of the moment had been gone.
You lowered the phone slowly.
“What is it?” Satoru asked, already reading the answer in your face.
You sat back slightly. “The curses are an immediate threat. Yaga wants me to go now instead of waiting until morning.”
His brows drew together. “Fine. Let’s go.”
You hesitated. “He said you need to stay here.”
Satoru’s expression flattened. “That’s ridiculous. It’ll be faster if I come with you.”
Normally, you would have agreed. Normally, having Satoru beside you would make any mission simpler, quicker, safer.
But this was not just any meeting tomorrow.
“It’s about Yuji,” you said quietly. “The higher-ups are discussing what happens to him.”
That made him pause.
You could see the argument still sitting on his tongue. The instinct to ignore orders, to follow you anyway, to make sure nothing touched you while he was around. But Yuji was his student. His well-being came first, and both of you knew it.
Satoru looked away for a moment, jaw tightening.
Then he exhaled through his nose. “Fine.”
You gave him a small, grateful nod and slipped off his lap, reaching for
your clothes. The room felt colder as you dressed in a hurry, the quiet between you now laced with disappointment.
Once you were ready, you turned back toward him.
He was sitting on the bed, watching you with an unreadable expression.
You stepped close, leaned down, and kissed him. It was soft, lingering just long enough to promise that this was not over.
“I’ll be back,” you murmured.
His eyes stayed on yours. “You’d better be.”
With that, you turned and left the room, the door clicking shut behind you.
you’d never gone out on a date before. never experienced any semblance of intimacy or any romance that everyone else already seemed to have mastered. kissing? not on your radar. but you got the bright idea to go on a dating app—matching with suguru geto.
PAIRING: suguru geto x fem! reader
CONTENT WARNINGS: 18+ content, MDNI. alternate universe/no curses. slightly awkward and inexperienced reader. cat dad sugu. consent checks. dry humping/grinding. nipple play. cunnilingus. blow job. unprotected p in v. pull out method. cum eating. some aftercare. stupid humor. pet names. a scientology visit.
NOTE: unfortunately this piece will have to be ripped away from my cold, dead hands. but i do apologize for the instability and for posting it once more <3
“you brought cookies.”
you held out the tupperware container filled to the brim with recently baked chocolate chips—the sweet, warm scent wafting through the plastic. "i did, yes. though i wasn't sure if you had any allergies, so don't feel any pressure to eat them or anything. i just thought it'd be rude to come over without bringing anything."
oh great. less than five minutes into this conversation and you were already rambling.
suguru took the container of baked goods from your hands with a wary look, bringing it up to his nose. "you're not a serial killer by any chance, are you?"
you blinked. "if i was, wouldn't it defeat the purpose of telling you now?" not very reassuring.
regardless, he gestured for you to come inside. you stepped inside the apartment and slid your shoes off at the door, taking in the sight of his living room.
the space was bathed in a dark red light accompanied by sonder’s one night only playing in the background and a couple candles flickering from the coffee table—the warm richness of sandalwood permeating through the air.
“you.. uh.. you really planned this out, huh?” why couldn’t you just have said it looked nice and moved on?
now it was just plain awkward.
well, awkward-er.
sure, you knew the concept of sex and how it was supposed to work, but what every hookup guide always forgot to cover was the before. even if you'd talked before this, the two of you were just strangers. what were you supposed to talk about with him?
how were you supposed to skip this part and go to where you were riding him like a pony?
suguru shrugged, padding over to the kitchen to leave the container of cookies on the counter. “did i do too much?”
“it’s just your apartment and all, but the lights seem a little.. excessive.” that was putting it as nicely as possible.
he took the criticism in stride, grabbing a remote from the counter and turning them off before flicking a lamp on, painting the room in a dim orange light. the room was immediately much more warm and welcoming than what’d you first walked into.
you stood at the door, taking a look at the little bits of decoration that you could now see more clearly. a couple figurines, expensive, if you had to guess, a couple books strewn around his coffee table, and a cat tree perched up near the window.
you remembered the small bag in your pocket. digging it out of your pocket, you held it up in between your fingers. “i saw your cat on that one thirst trap,” he didn’t bother protesting—it was a thirst trap, “so i got some treats on the way here. i hope you don’t mind.”
either you were a psychic or you just naturally had a knack for this sort of thing. “they’re her favorite, thanks. take a seat, we don’t bite.”
the previous girls that came over to his apartment usually just gave the cat a little coo or downright ignored her, but you seemed like you wanted to get to know her more than you did him.
suguru wasn't sure if he was amused or if his ego was slightly bruised. (hint: both.)
you took a seat on the black leather couch like you owned the place, patting your lap. “what’s your cat’s name?” you questioned, the cat peering up from her paw at the noise before going back to grooming herself.
“that’s sage.”
you lightly shook the bag of treats, trying to beckon the very uninterested cat with the promise of food and an unconvincing baby voice. your efforts were working. somewhat.
sage lazily trotted her way down from the top of the cat tree before making her way over to you, sitting at your feet. her eyes were calculating, analyzing if you were worth her time. you didn't dare move a muscle when she leaned in to sniff at your socked feet and legs.
just when you were convinced that you'd gotten a big fat F on her evaluation, sage seemed to decide that you were harmless enough. she hopped up on your lap and settled down like the self proclaimed royalty she was, nudging her head against your hand in demand for head pats. you complied.
your fingers ran through the soft black fur while the cat purred like a lawn mower underneath your touch.
"she normally doesn't like strangers," suguru noted, plopping down on the couch cushion next to you.
"do you use that line on everybody that steps foot in here?" well.... yes!
and it usually worked like a charm, thank you very much.
"wait, what, really?" the last girl he'd brought over to his apartment remarked, the very same girl that signed him up for lifelong scientology visits and the army two weeks later after he failed to respond within five minutes, staring at him like he'd hung up the moon and the stars.
"yeah." the cat in question, looked at him with as much disdain as her little body could muster. suguru made a mental promise to reward the cat with catnip and treats for helping him spit out the first bullshit that came to his mind. the girl seemed too happily convinced, going as far as calling herself sage’s step mom.
needless to say, the cat hadn't been all too happy about getting squeezed and cradled around like a baby by a woman she'd never seen before and never saw again after. her displeasure was obvious if the broken flower vases and scratches on his leather furniture were anything to go by.
he'd stopped using that line. or so he thought.
"...no."
you raised a brow, gaze full of suspicion as you stared at him. barely applying any pressure. and just like a rubber band, he ended up snapping within seconds, “…yes, fine, i have. but it’s the first time i’ve meant it.”
you weren't sure if he was full of shit. but the cat seemed to like you decently enough, starting her own biscuit factory on the fabric of your jeans with each ear rub. “how’d you end up getting her?”
suguru looked over to see you and his cat getting along decently well, finding himself a little lost in the scene when your question finally registered and you were staring at him.
“i found her locked up in a cage close to home. her owners called her a devil and all kinds of names, their own negligence, really,” he rolled his eyes, reaching out to pet her chin, “anyways, they were all too happy having someone to hand off the cat to.”
the two of you sat in a comfortable silence after a few questions from one another, getting to know each other a bit better apart from late night conversations. only the sounds of sage’s purring and the outside world filled the apartment.
that was until, "c'mere." suguru lazily spread his legs on the sofa, patting his lap.
“you do realize i’m not your cat right?” as if proving your point, sage got up from her spot on your lap over to his.
“fine, can you please come here?” he gave the cat one last scratch before setting her down on the floor, asking a little nicer. you got up from your spot, standing in between his legs before you lowered yourself onto his lap.
"hi," he murmured once you settled onto his lap, his hands instinctively moving down to your hips.
"hi." you braced your hands on his shoulders to keep your balance, suddenly feeling the reality of the situation crashing down on you. the pretty man underneath you wanted to have sex with you. you were going to have sex tonight.
sex and your first kiss, apparently. (you refused to count the time you'd gotten kissed as a dare in middle school.)
and as if he could read your mind, suguru took a hold of your chin and gently tilted your head up to face him, "can i kiss you?" you didn't miss the way his gaze flickered from your eyes down to your lips every .5 seconds.
you met him halfway, pressing your lips against his own. trying to go with the flow as many people said (what flow? you weren't completely sure yourself).
"close your eyes, i can feel you staring at my soul.” he pulled away, whispering the words against your lips and leaving you chasing behind his.
you let your eyes flutter shut, leaning into the kiss slowly. even going as far as tilting your head a little so you wouldn’t— “ow!” — do exactly what you just did. bump your nose straight into his.
you opened them back up to see suguru was more amused than hurt, a stupid smile on his face as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “try closing them when you’re already leaned in, hm?”
rolling your eyes, you shifted a bit on his lap before giving it one last go. one of your hands came up to cradle his soft cheek, leaning in and shutting your eyes at the last second. he tasted like mint and something else you couldn’t decipher.
his lips molded against your own in a languid kiss, each touch an experiment to know your body better. suguru’s hands moved down your body, each one resting on your ass like he wanted, no needed, you all that much closer. the exchange grew heavier, sloppier, messier.
everything was heightened—you could feel every single little thing. from the slight hitch of his breath when you captured his lip in between your teeth to your own traitorous heart thumping underneath your rib cage.
his lips moved from your own to the corner, down to your jaw, until he finally reached your neck. then that’s where he went ham. sucking, licking, kissing on whatever inch of skin was at his disposal all while taking note which spots had you shivering and squeezing your thighs together.
latching onto the sensitive skin of your collarbone, suguru placed a kiss out of reverence before he started to suck. he was practically in bliss all without taking his clothes off. if he were a weaker man, he would’ve shot his load the minute you’d settled onto his lap and got a whiff of your sweet, sweet perfume.
his hands moved up from your ass up your back, probably going to take your shirt off before his phone got the bright idea to interrupt the moment: want a break from the ads?
suguru had never regretted not investing into spotify premium as much as he did in this moment.
is your girlfriend unsatisfied in the bedroom? your stamina not being what it once was? if these symptoms sound familiar, you might suffering from erectile dysfunction. ask your doctor about levitra—
that was enough to get him up to his feet, crossing over to the kitchen counter in three strides. suguru quickly got his phone from the counter before the ad could continue, deciding that the ambiance was ruined and shutting the music off.
"do these symptoms sound familiar to you?" you teased, resting your cheek on your palm as you watched the scene with mild amusement.
"you could come to my room and find out." not nearly as smooth as he usually was, but good job suguru!
"are you really getting me into your bed with an erectile dysfunction ad?"
suguru tilted his head, "is it working?"
and you really wished it wasn't, but it was. you were quick to get up on your feet, padding over to where he stood and reaching your hand out. "let's go find out then."
his bedroom was much like the living room—a minimalistic design with a couple pictures hung up on the walls. his friends, if you had to guess. he led you over to the bed, sitting down on the edge.
not nearly enough bed-pouncing as you were expecting.
suguru spoke up, his hands resting on his lap, "you're allowed to change your mind, don't feel pressured to do anything you don't want to do. i’m here to please you.”
“i want this,” you responded, moving up the bed to rest against the headboard. he followed, keeping a reasonable distance between you two, “i want to have sex with you, suguru. let’s just take it slow.”
closing the distance, you straddled yourself over his lap, each of your legs next to his own. you lowered yourself down and placed your hands on his shoulders under the guise you knew what you were doing. and then, you started to rock and gyrate your hips against his clothed leg.
you rubbed and grinded your hips harder, faster against his leg in an attempt to feel something other than the friction of his sweats rubbing against your shorts—unsure of what to do other than rut yourself against him like a dog. maybe he was liking this?
should you start moaning?
“o-oh fuck.” a, what you hoped was realistic, moan left your lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders to really sell the point. suguru looked at you, wondering if he really looked that stupid.
you weren't sure what you were doing—that much was obvious. you were humping his leg, your rhythm too quick to be pleasurable for either one of you at this point.
"have you ever done this before?" were you really that obvious?
the question had your hips stilling their movement, your gaze falling down to his face. when you shook your head, suguru let out a small tut, holding your chin between his fingers, "that's okay, baby. we'll take it nice and slow, just follow me."
his hands splayed on your hips, slightly moving you up his lap before he started to guide your movements. and oh, now you felt it. his cock strained against the material of his sweats, each ridge rubbing against your warm heat.
well, at least now you knew the ad wasn't meant for him.
"oh yeah, that feels better huh?" he cooed in your ear, his cock twitching in his pants just by feeling how wet you were getting already.
you were dripping, slick stringing and sticking to your panties with each roll of your hips. he wasn’t much better—cock prodding against your entrance like it was begging to be released. “uh huh, better,” a breathy whisper left you, your back arching against his fingertips.
when he kissed you again, it wasn’t soft and gentle like he’d been at first. no, he’d tested the waters already.
now he was kissing you like he needed you, like he needed air to breathe. each breath grew labored like he couldn’t bare being apart. his tongue moved in a synchronized dance with yours, tasting and absorbing everything you had to give.
your lips moved with the same desperation, fingers gripping against the material of his shirt. trying to take it off before he seemed to catch onto your unspoken hint. he reluctantly pulled away before sliding his shirt off in one fluid motion, letting it fall onto the mattress beneath. and… wow. beautiful was an understatement when it came to him.
you let your fingers trail down his abdomen, the muscles tensing underneath your featherlight touch. tracing and poking whatever little beauty marks you found on your way down. he was just so.. pretty.
“you really think so?” his voice brought you out of your reverie, and oh shit, you’d said it out loud?
“like you don’t know it already,” you retorted, trying to downplay the situation.
suguru shrugged, watching your fingers intently as you traced and gently scratched down his pecs, “i like when you call me pretty.”
you rolled your eyes but gave in anyways, “you’re very pretty, suguru geto.” you felt his cock twitch underneath at the compliment. leading his fingers towards the hem of your own shirt, you guided him into taking off the flimsy article. he seemed all too eager to revere your body the same way you had his.
mumbled compliments of you’re so beautiful and so soft left his lips until he looked up at you, his hands gliding up and down your hips, "do you want me to keep going or do you wanna stop here?"
you grabbed his hands, bringing them up to your chest. “i want this, suguru. i want to go all the way with you, i promise.” his fingers tweaked and squeezed at your perked nipples, his lips ghosting above the left before he swirled his tongue around it. latching his mouth onto the sensitive flesh and sucking, working the other with his fingers.
strings of saliva connected his lips to your tits when he finally pulled away—deeming that he’d given them enough attention for now. suguru flipped the two of you over, hovering above you before slowly kissing his way down.
peck. your collarbone.
peck. your tits.
peck. your navel.
peck. the waistband of your shorts.
“you can take it off,” you assured him before he even had the chance to ask the question. suguru didn’t hesitate once he got the thumbs up, hooking his fingers onto your belt loops before sliding your shorts down your legs and shaking them off.
you could’ve sworn you caught a hint of drool once you were all exposed for him.
suguru kissed his way up your leg, each one leaving behind a slippery trail behind him. “so pretty,” he mumbled, sucking onto your calf before moving further up to your knee, “so perfect laid out for me.” each one sounded like a quiet admission to himself.
despite how desperate he seemed, suguru took his time when it came to finally undressing you. his teeth sunk into the lace of your underwear, your hips lifted when he moved down the offending material at the pace of molasses. trying to savor as much as he could.
he let them fall onto the pile of clothes next to you before admiring his meal. your cunt clenched around nothing when a slight breeze came in the room, your slick glistening against your folds, clit practically throbbing his name out in morse code.
but suguru prided himself on having some semblance of patience. thinly veiled patience, but patience nonetheless. he wedged himself in between your legs, his lips hovering dangerously close to your entrance before moving down to your inner thigh. repeating what he'd done earlier on your leg.
he pressed featherlight kiss after another onto the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, occasionally biting hard enough to leave behind a nice lil' memory for tomorrow. your legs instinctively spread, every sensation sending your body through a livewire and yet.. you were lost in thought.
you wondered how many people he'd had in this room, how long this would take, what'd you eat for breakfast tomorrow, and—"focus on me, pretty girl."
immediately broken out of your endless string of questions, you looked down to see suguru already peering up at you. "talk to me, what's going on in that head of yours?"
you shook your head, "just got lost in thought, i guess."
"then we'll just have to make it to where you can only focus on me, angel."
and then he dove in like he was a man starving.
his big hands gripped your legs and spread you apart like a feast, tongue flicking out to taste the slick dripping down your folds and thighs. "taste so good, thank you, thank you," he babbled, swiping his tongue up and down your folds before flicking it inside of your pussy.
your cunt gushed like an open sink against his mouth and chin, the man practically nose deep as he thrusted his tongue in and out of your sopping pussy. his jaw went slack, sucking and tracing your folds with the tip of his tongue before going back to eating you out.
soon, two of his fingers took place of his mouth. two long and thick fingers. your juices ran down to his knuckles while he spread you open, his fingers curling and hitting that one spot inside of you with ease. "fuck, it feels so good," you whined, bucking your hips up to meet his fingers.
"i knoww baby, just needed suguru to take care of you." he didn't let up, much too starved himself to even think about doing so. his lips latched onto your swollen, throbbing clit and sucked lightly onto the nerves. your grip on his hair tightened, a broken moan leaving from his lips.
"just like that," he hissed out, his hips rutting into the mattress underneath. you noticed a dark patch growing in the front of his sweats. "take what you want from me, y'know how to do it." your hips swiveled and thrusted against his eager mouth, spit and slick drenching his chin and dripping down to the mattress.
it was hard to think about anything other than him, you had to admit that much.
your legs shook with each thrust of his fingers, with each swipe of his tongue. just as you were about to press your legs together, suguru pried them apart once more with ease. "don't interrupt my meal, i'm not done eating." and how could he say that when he already sounded so drunk off you?
his tongue swirled against your clit, the tip drawing circles around the sensitive nub. "f-fuck, gonna cum, keep going," you whined out, nails digging into his scalp. the sound of your pussy gushing around his fingers was all you could hear, and yet, all you were focused on was chasing your own orgasm.
it was so close, you felt a knot building up in your lower tummy. "fu-fuck fuck fuck," broken babbles left your lips, your toes curling and legs shaking the more you felt that pressure increase. with one final thrust of his fingers, you came. the knot unraveled all at once, your release washing over you (and his fingers) like a tidal wave.
he'd never been such at bliss before.
each breath felt like it was splitting your lungs open, your chest heaving as suguru slowly pulled his dripping fingers out of you. he didn't mind staring you in the eye when he put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them off as if no drop could go to waste. "mm, wanna taste you forever." his eyes practically rolled back, his tongue swirling against the two digits.
once you finally regained your bearings, you sat up and asked, "do you want me to return the favor?"
suguru let out an indignant scoff like you'd just insulted his very existence. and in a way, you had. "i did that because i wanted to, because i needed to taste you," he retorted, shaking his head like he wasn't reevaluating his degree in munchology, "not because i was expecting anything out of you."
getting up from your spot on the bed, you padded over to where he was sitting and situated yourself right in between his legs. absentmindedly running your fingers up up up the thin material of his sweats, barely grazing your fingertips against the growing tent between his legs. before you pulled away altogether.
you looked up at him like you were sin incarnate, lashes fluttering against your cheek, "what if i really really want to suck you off?"
suguru swore his soul left his body for a minute. he'd gladly let you keep it if you wanted it at this rate.
“then by all means, go for it.”
that was all you needed to slide the flimsy material of his sweatpants onto the floor, his cock slapping up against his stomach once it was released. now it was your turn to nearly drool. you couldn't have imagined that a dick could be this pretty.
a nice tan color at the base with a hint of red at the tip, a curve settling to the right and precum dripping down his shaft just from having you in his mouth. it was fairly long and thick—as thick as your forearm, you could assume.
all the fanfiction you had saved in your bookmarks couldn't have prepared you for the sight of the twitching cock in front of you.
you stared at his dick like it was something out of an anatomy textbook, trying to figure out the best approach to go about this before ultimately deciding to throw it out the window and just try it out.
"a-ah fuck." suguru practically turned into putty the moment you took him in your mouth, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head. not pushing, never that; he'd never risk making you uncomfortable.
thick globs of spit dribbled down to your chin and down his shaft from the corners of your lips. "just like that, yeah, please." suguru wasn't afraid to be loud—letting you know what you were doing right. one of your hands wrapped around his cock, your fingers tightening around the base before you started to jerk your hand up and down.
you could hardly take him in fully—your cheeks hollowing out to make more space and it still wasn't nearly enough. "soo good, please don't stop," suguru’s voice drawled out when you tried taking more of his cock in your mouth.
you could feel tears pricking up at the edge of your waterline, blinking them back quickly. his cock was barely a couple inches in your mouth and the tip was already starting to hit your uvula, your saliva coating around the shaft to mix with the precum spurting out. once you were able to, you started bobbing your head up and down his length.
suguru’s fingers dug into the sheets beside him, his chest starting to feel like he’d run a marathon. your tongue, your mouth, just you, everything felt too stimulating, too good. the hand you’d been jerking him off with moved down to his heavy sack, your fingers rolling around his balls.
and just like that, suguru was a goner. he swore he saw the flickering of a white light above. you felt them tighten up underneath your fingertips, growing heavier and heavier with cum. you looked up to see him completely disheveled, mouth agape to let out shaky gasps and broken moans. and right before you swore you almost felt him cum, he pulled you off.
“did i do something wrong?” your question came out innocent, like you hadn’t nearly sucked the soul out of his body.
suguru let out a disbelieving laugh, pulling you up to your feet before feverishly leaning into kiss you. not seeming to care that he could taste himself on your tongue. “just need to cum inside you, can i do that, please? you still want this?”
he sounded completely and utterly ruined. but you nodded into the kiss, your fingers pressing into his shoulders. “i need you, sugu, need you so bad. please fuck me, please.”
he moved at the speed of light, setting you down onto the comfort of his mattress before he settled himself on top of you. his cock throbbed and twitched at the mere contact with your bare pussy, his fingers wrapping around the base as he swiped the tip through your folds. “you sure you want this?”
just one more time to confirm. you nodded.
“c’mon, use your words for me, pretty,” he whispered, rubbing the tip against your swollen lil’ clit. your throat bobbed as you swallowed back an embarrassing moan.
“i want this, suguru, i’m sure.”
"okay, take a deep breath in for me." you complied, filling your lungs with air before letting it out in a deep exhale. he slowly pushed his cock in, your walls tightening and clenching involuntarily against his shaft.
"there we go, that's it baby. takin' me so well." suguru's voice came out akin to a purr he didn't mention how he'd barely pushed an inch in. once he was certain it was okay, he pushed another and another in.
a choked gasp left your lips when he finally seemed to bottom out, feeling like your body had just been split in half. and maybe, just maybe it was, you wouldn’t necessarily doubt it.
suguru wiped away a couple tears that streamed down your cheeks, standing still while you got used to the intrusion. it was hard, he had to admit, when you felt so warm and wet around him. but anything for your comfort, he wouldn’t risk that.
“you can move, suguru,” you spoke up, one of your hands reaching out to take hold of his. his fingers grasped your own, placing your hand on top of your head before he slowly pulled out and thrusted back in one swift motion. your pussy drenched his shaft each time he pushed back in, each thrust smoother and faster.
suguru leaned down to kiss you, hair falling like a waterfall and covering his face completely before he ever got the chance to get close. you bit down on your lip, trying to keep yourself from laughing in his (hair covered) face before reaching out and moving his hair out the way.
so goes the super suave geto suguru.
a small giggle left your lips at the gesture, slowly starting to feel more and more comfortable being around him. (well how much more comfortable could you really get after having him inside you?) suguru let out a small huff, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance before handing over a hair tie.
you managed to make the world’s messiest ponytail in twenty seconds. go you!
“i’m glad my embarrassment’s amusing, but you okay?” he asked quietly, treating you as if you were a delicate piece of glass. long fingers trailed up your sides like he was admiring a piece of art, not at all like the strangers that you were supposed to be.
“i’m fine,” you assured, wiggling your hips and trying to thrust back into him, “you can go faster, though, please?”
suguru didn’t hesitate to follow that command, hips snapping into you almost immediately. your cunt sucked him in with each thrust, squelching with how much you’d drenched his shaft. his heavy balls smacked against your ass TWACK TWACK TWACK!
your legs wrapped around his waist like you were physically trying to intertwine your body as close as you could to him. “ah ah fuck, sugu, faster, faster!” your moans sounded like the best kind of melody to his ears, and well, who was he really to deny?
suguru hoisted a leg up on the bed for a better angle, hitting that spot inside of you with each quick thrust. your walls clenched around him like a vice, like you wanted to keep him trapped while you gushed and soaked around him.
“pussy’s so good, i’m never letting you go,” he babbled, his other hand gripping your hip to move you up and down his shaft as he pleased.
his middle finger rubbed desperate little circles against your clit, your eyes rolling back from just how good you felt. the hair tie was long since forgotten, hair falling onto his face as he leaned forward to capture your lips in what could only be described as a tangle of tongue and teeth.
everything about him screamed desperate and unhinged—and you weren’t any different.
“make me cum, make me cum, please,” you moaned out against his lips, your chest heaving and your breaths coming out in short pants. suguru nodded like it was his only mission in life, pushing his cock in and out sloppier and messier than he was at first. practically gliding with how wet you were.
your orgasm built up more intense this time, your nails digging into the sheets below as the coil in your tummy began tightening. “please please please,” for what were you begging for? you didn’t know. a scream that would probably wake up his neighbors left your lips as you came, dripping and soaking his shaft in your wake.
“so messy, my messy girl, that’s ittt.” he was a broken pussy-drunk babbling mess. suguru continued to rut into you, chasing his own orgasm while working you through your own. his hips moved desperately, balls twacking against you with each sloppy sloppy thrust until he finally choked out,
“w-where do you hic want it?”
you didn’t give it much thought, “my face, sugu. wanna taste you, come for me, need you.” that was all it took for the last bit to snap, barely managing to pull out in time before he was spurting out drops of cum onto your face and your open mouth.
you swallowed every last drop that landed on your tongue, your features contorting into a slight grimace once the taste settled on your taste buds. and just like you'd come out of a damn porno and his wet dreams, you stuck your tongue out.
"fuck, you're gonna kill me." a breathless laugh left his lips. he made sure to push his hair back this time around before he leaned into kiss you again, his tongue prodding into your mouth.
one time fucking awkward and slightly offputting girl pussy and he was ready to get your finger measurements to buy the most expensive ring he could find at the jewelers. maybe he'd start with just a date once he came back to his senses.
suguru plopped down on the mattress next to you, rubbing a drop off cum off your cheek with the pad of his thumb before bringing it up to his own lips. "was that okay? you need anything—water, a bath, your dignity?"
you let out an amused scoff, turning your head to face him. admiring his features in the post sex glow. you had to admit—to yourself mostly—he looked good worn out and panting. "my dignity's still intact, thank you. but some water and a rag would be nice."
he cracked open the water bottle and left it on the nightstand next to you before disappearing into the bathroom. you could briefly hear the sound of water running before he emerged once more, a wet rag in hand.
each swipe of the rag in between your legs was a gentle one, treating you with the utmost care in the world. “you don’t have to leave right away, if you don’t want to. i can make some mean scrambled eggs.”
“how inviting,” you teased, taking a sip of the water as you mulled it over. how bad would it be to stay the night if he’d already been inside of you? “but sure, i’ll stay. if only for the scrambled eggs.”
you weren’t sure how long the two of you spent up talking about nothing and everything in between, from what you did for school to how you got into baking. it was.. refreshing, in a sense.
you could picture yourself doing this kind of routine with him almost too easily. the last thing you remember before succumbing to sleep was his arms wrapped around your stomach.
holding you like he never quite wanted to let go.
loud knocking woke up suguru at ass o'clock in the morning, long before the sun even started to peek its head from the horizon. a groan left his lips as he forced himself to untangle his limbs from your own and get up.
you didn't seem to notice his absence, in fact, you almost seemed to enjoy it. a little too much, if you asked him. you laid in the middle of the bed, sprawling your arms and legs out like a starfish.
the knocking on the door grew more insistent—determined to get an answer one way or another.
"hi, good morning. i'm from the church of scientology." this time they'd sent a middle aged man to stand at his door and spit out the same spiel he'd heard for the past five months in a row, greeting him with a smile that suguru deemed unnatural this early in the morning.
a smile that quickly seemed to fade once the man took notice of the blossoming hickey on his neck, the scratches that ran down his abdomen.
the man grasped his copy of dianetics like he was clutching his pearls.
suguru would have to eat you out later just for this reaction.
the man cleared his throat, eyes averting down to the book in his hands, before he cracked it open to the first page he could find. suguru wondered how long it'd take the man to figure out the book was upside down.
"i'm here because you signed up to receive visits every weekend. for just the small price of ¥73,300, you could learn all about the church and how to reach enlightenment—" the more that the man rambled, the more that suguru was more inclined to start his own cult than join this one.
but regardless, he let the man finish his spiel before he tapped his chin in faux thought. “to join a cult or not to join a cult, decisions decisions…”
the man raised a finger to protest, pushing up the thick rim of his glasses up his nose, "well actually, we're not a cult, we're a religious group focu-"
the man was left rambling to the front door about the difference between a 'religious group' and a 'cult.'
but he relented, suguru had to give him that at least. the man remained at the doorstep, bringing his fist up to the door but never making contact. probably regretting coming over in the first place.
"who was at the door?" you were barely awake yourself, rubbing at your eyes as the bright morning light peered in through the windows.
suguru pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a small groan, "would you believe me if i said scientology?"
"who'd you piss off?" you questioned, standing by the kitchen with your arms folded.
this time, another groan. though he sounded more whiny than anything, “why does everyone always assume i did something?”
"am i wrong though?" you countered.
no, not at all. and suguru knew he wasn’t getting out of this conversation that easily. "come on, i'll tell you over scrambled eggs and those cookies you baked yesterday."
Synopsis : You moved in for cheap rent, not to get passed around. but with four insanely hot men under same roof, it didn’t take long before things got messy. now you’re cockwarming nanami at midnight, riding gojo in the shower, bent over for geto before dinner, and getting your throat fucked by toji. college? peace? who needs it when you’re getting dicked down for good?
one two three four five six seven eight nine ten
eleven twelve thirteen fourteen fifteen
chapter sixteen coming soon...
Side stories are here
A/N : this fic is very smut-heavy and most chapters contain multiple smut scenes. if that’s not something you’re comfortable reading, please feel free to skip this one *.✧
★ summary - suguru geto has always prided himself on his control. until you. the way you fall apart for him, the way your mind goes blank under his hands—it's an addiction. he can't stop chasing the high of seeing you completely undone, a babbling, blissed-out mess that belongs only to him.
★ pairing - suguru x fem!reader
★ warnings - explicit sexual content :: dumbification :: psychological domination :: rough sex :: overstimulation :: multiple orgasms :: degradation :: dirty talk :: hair pulling :: choking :: power exchange :: unprotected sex :: creampie :: adult themes (18+) :: cockdrunk reader :: mind break :: praise
★ wc - 3.5k. find the other days here on ao3
the world had become a soft, hazy blur, all its sharp edges sanded down to a gentle hum. you were aware of the weight of suguru’s arm draped over your waist, he scent of his skin, the slow, steady rhythm of his breathing against your back. you were aware of the dull, pleasant ache between your legs, a lingering testament to the first two rounds.
but forming a coherent thought? stringing together a sentence?
that felt like trying to catch smoke with your bare hands.
“you still with me, sweet thing?” his voice was a low, warm rumble, vibrating through his chest and into your spine.
you made a sound. it wasn’t a word. it was a soft, questioning murmur, a little whine that was all feeling and no meaning. you tried to turn your head to look at him, but your body felt too heavy, too boneless to cooperate.
a soft, dark chuckle was his reply. “there's my pretty girl,” he purred, his hand splaying across your stomach, his fingers pressing possessively into your soft flesh. “just let it all go. don’t think too hard, yeah? jus' focus on feeling good.”
his hand began to move, tracing idle patterns on your skin. then his fingers dipped lower, through your damp folds, finding you still swollen and sensitive from before. you jolted, a sharp, breathy gasp escaping you.
“shhh,” he soothed, but his touch didn’t stop. one finger, then two, slid into you with an easy, practiced familiarity. you were so open, so pliant for him, your body welcoming him back without a shred of resistance. “see? your body remembers. it doesn’t need your brain getting in the way.”
he began to move his fingers in a slow, curling motion, stroking that deep, perfect spot inside you that made your eyes roll back. a continuous, broken stream of sound fell from your lips—little ah, ah, ahs that matched the rhythm of his hand. you were trying to form his name, to beg for more or maybe for mercy, but all that came out was a slurred, “s’guru… ngh…”
“awwh. i know, baby,” he cooed, his voice dripping with a twisted affection. he shifted behind you, and you felt the thick, heavy pressure of his cock, already hard again, nudging against your entrance, right alongside his moving fingers that were now rubbing against your puffy clit.
the dual sensation, the fullness and the friction, was overwhelming. your thoughts, what few were left, simply shattered.
“look at you,” he whispered, his lips against the shell of your ear as he pushed into you, slow and deep, filling you up completely. you cried out, a raw, gutted sound as he stretched you, the overstimulation a sharp, sweet fire. “can’t even talk, can you? just a pretty, empty thing for me to use. my perfect, dumb little doll.”
he set a deep, grinding rhythm, his hips meeting the circles of his fingers, creating a relentless pressure that had you sobbing into the pillows. your hands clutched at the sheets, your knuckles white, your entire universe narrowing to the place where your bodies joined.
“gonna come again, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice hypnotic. “gonna come on my cock and my fingers, and you won’t even know why. it just feels good, doesn’t it? that’s all you need to know.”
it was true. there was no past, no future, no complex emotions. there was only the feeling of him, the sound of his voice, the building, coiling tension in your core that was demanding release. you were nodding, or you thought you were, your head lolling side to side, tears of sheer, mindless pleasure leaking from your eyes.
“that’s my girl,” he praised, his pace becoming more urgent, his own breath starting to hitch. “come on. let go. be a good girl f'me and come.”
his command was the final key. your third orgasm crashed over you not as a wave, but as a total systemic failure. your body seized, your back arching violently, a silent, open-mouthed scream trapped in your throat as you convulsed around him, your vision tunneling to a single point of blinding white light.
you felt him pulse deep inside you a moment later, his own groan muffled against your shoulder as he filled you, his hips stuttering through his release.
he held you like that for a long time, both of you trembling, connected, until he finally, slowly, pulled out. he turned you onto your back, his dark eyes scanning your face—the flushed cheeks, the glazed eyes, the parted lips still struggling to draw breath.
he brushed a tear from your cheek with his thumb, a slow, smug smile gracing his lips. “my baby girl,” he said softly, his voice filled with a profound, unsettling satisfaction. “so beautiful when you’re like this.”
he watched you for a long moment, his dark eyes tracing the dazed, blissed-out lines of your face. your eyes were unfocused, staring at the ceiling but seeing nothing, your breath still coming in soft, shallow pants. a slow, possessive smile curved his lips. he leaned over you, his shadow falling across your face.
“you okay?” he asked, his voice a low, velvety murmur.
there was no response. you just blinked slowly, a tiny, confused furrow appearing between your brows. the connection was still down. the lights were on, but absolutely nobody was home.
the smile on his face widened. he brought his hand up, not in a strike, but in a firm, stinging pat against your cheek. it wasn’t meant to hurt, not really. it was a reset button. a jolt to a system that had been overloaded with pleasure.
your body jolted, a sharp little intake of breath hissing through your teeth. your eyes, hazy and dark, finally flickered to his, struggling to find focus.
“h-huh…?” you slurred, the single syllable thick and clumsy on your tongue.
the sound of it, so utterly broken and confused, sent a thrill of pure, carnal satisfaction straight through him. he chuckled, a deep, rich sound that vibrated in the small space between you. his thumb stroked the spot he’d just patted, a soothing counterpoint to the sharp sensation.
“there you are,” he purred, his voice dripping with a twisted kind of affection. “welcome back. had to go and pass out on me, didn’t you?” he leaned down, his lips brushing yours in a soft, claiming kiss. “don’t worry. i like you better this way. when you're just my pretty doll.”
he shifted, his body settling over yours again, his hardening cock already nudging insistently at your thigh. your eyes widened slightly, a weak, protesting sound catching in your throat. it was too soon, you were too sensitive, too raw.
“shhh,” he whispered, his hand sliding down to grip your hip. “don't you remember? we’re not done until i say we’re done.”
your weak hands came up to press against the solid wall of his chest, fingers splaying over the warm, sweat-slicked skin there. it was a feeble attempt at resistance, your palms sliding uselessly against him, lacking any real strength or conviction.
a soft, broken whimper bubbled up from your throat as you felt the insistent press of him against your thigh, the thick length of his cock already hardening again, hot and unyielding.
"s-s'guru... waaaaaiiiit..." you whined, the words slurring out in a hazy, breathless plea. your body was still trembling from the last orgasm, every nerve ending raw and overstimulated, but the heat in your core was already flickering back to life, treacherous and insistent.
he paused, his dark eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch. one of his hands caught your wrist, pinning it gently but firmly above your head, his thumb stroking the racing pulse at your inner wrist. "what is it?" he murmured, his voice a low, coaxing rumble. "tell me what you want, beautiful."
your other hand faltered, pushing weakly at his shoulder before it fell limp, your fingers curling into the muscle there instead of away. another whimper escaped you, high and needy, as his free hand trailed down your side, ghosting over the curve of your hip.
"don't... don't stop," you whispered, the confession tumbling out before you could catch it, your voice small and cracked.
a slow, predatory smile spread across his face, his eyes gleaming with dark triumph. he released your wrist, only to tangle his fingers in your hair, gripping a fistful at the nape of your neck and tilting your head back, exposing the vulnerable line of your throat.
"that's my girl," he breathed, his lips brushing the shell of your ear, his voice thick with possession and amusement. "pushing me away like you mean it, but begging me to keep going. look at you—cockdrunk and desperate already. can't even think, can you? where'd my smart girl go?"
you shook your head—or tried to, the pull of his hand in your hair keeping you still, a sharp, delicious sting blooming at your scalp. "n-no... i— ah!" the sound dissolved into a gasp as he shifted his hips, the head of his cock sliding against your entrance, slick and swollen from before. he didn't push in yet, just teased, letting the anticipation build until your hips twitched involuntarily towards him.
"no, what?" he prompted, tugging your hair a little harder, forcing your gaze to meet his. his eyes were bottomless, dark pools that swallowed you whole, reflecting back the hazy, unfocused mess you'd become. "no, you can't think? or no, you don't want me to stop?" he leaned in closer, his breath hot against your lips. "say it properly, baby. use your words. go on, you can do it."
"can't... thiiink," you echoed, the admission spilling out in a whine, your cheeks burning with a mix of shame and arousal. your hands, free now, clutched at his arms, nails digging into the taut muscle as if anchoring yourself to reality. but there was no reality left—just him, filling your senses, overwhelming every last coherent thought. "please, sugu... more..."
he groaned low in his throat, the sound raw and approving, vibrating through his chest as he finally gave in to the demand. with one smooth thrust, he sank into you once more, burying himself to the hilt in a single, devastating motion.
the stretch was immediate and intense, your gummy walls clenching around him like a vice, drawing a sharp, shuddering moan from suguru's lips. "fuuuck," he hissed, his grip in your hair tightening as he held himself still for a moment, letting you adjust to the fullness, to the way he split you open all over again.
"see?" he murmured, his voice strained with restraint, his forehead pressing against yours. "this is what you are now. my stupid little slut. all filled up and brainless. this is all you're good for." he pulled back slowly, almost all the way out, before slamming back in, setting a deep, grinding rhythm that had your eyes rolling back.
each thrust punched the air from your lungs, turning your whimpers into a continuous, broken litany of sound that meant nothing and everything at once.
your body arched beneath him, hips rising to meet his despite the overwhelming sensitivity, chasing the pleasure even as it bordered on pain. "sugu! too much... feels so—" you babbled, the words fracturing into nonsense as he angled his hips just right, the head of his cock dragging against that deep, spongy spot inside you that made stars burst behind your eyelids.
"too much?" he echoed, a mocking lilt in his voice as he released your hair only to slap your cheek lightly again, the sharp sting cutting through the fog just enough to make you focus on him. your eyes fluttered open, hazy and tear-filled, meeting his smug gaze. "but you're taking it so well, aren't you? my dumb girl, creaming all over my cock like it's the only thing that matters. bet you don't even remember your own name right now."
you didn't.
or if you did, it was buried under layers of heat and need, irrelevant compared to the way he was fucking you senseless. "suguru!!" you choked out, your hands scrabbling at his back, nails leaving red trails down his skin. "just... you— fuck, suguru, harder—"
he laughed, a dark, throaty sound that sent shivers racing down your spine. "harder? greedy girl." true to his word, he obliged, his pace turning brutal, hips snapping against yours with a wet, obscene slap that echoed in the quiet room.
his hand returned to your hair, yanking your head to the side to expose your neck, his teeth grazing the skin there before sinking in—not hard enough to break, but enough to mark, to claim. "that's it. let me— shit— lemme fuck the last of those thoughts riiight out of you. make you nothing but a hole for me to use."
the words were filthy, degrading, but they lit you up from the inside, the tension in your belly spinning tighter and tighter. you were whimpering nonstop now, high and desperate, your body a live wire under his. every thrust pushed you higher, the overstimulation blending into something transcendent, something that erased everything but the feel of him—thick and hot and relentless inside you.
"m'gonna... i can't—" you gasped, your voice breaking as the edge rushed up to meet you, too fast, too soon. your walls fluttered around him, a warning of the impending crash.
"you can," he growled, his free hand sliding between your bodies to find your clit, rubbing tight, merciless circles that made your vision blur. he pulled your hair again, forcing you to look at him, to see the raw hunger in his eyes. "come on, baby. come for me. show me that pretty face."
it was the pull on your scalp, the command in his voice, the unyielding pressure on your clit that shattered you. anotherorgasm hit like a freight train, a full-body convulsion that had you screaming his name—or trying to, the sound coming out as a garbled, tear-choked wail. your body seized, clenching down on him so hard it bordered on painful, a gush of wetness soaking his hips as you came undone, utterly lost in the white-hot void of pleasure.
he didn't stop, fucking you through it with gritted teeth, his own groans turning ragged. "fuck, yes—milk me, just— h-haah— jus' like that, sweet thing. so tight, so— shit— fucking dumb for it." the sight of you—face slack, mouth open, eyes unfocused—pushed him over the edge. with a final, deep thrust, he hilted himself inside you, spilling hot and thick, his body shuddering as he rode out his release, his grip in your hair the only thing keeping you tethered.
when it finally ebbed, he collapsed over you, both of you panting, slick with sweat. he loosened his hold on your hair, fingers massaging the sore scalp gently now, a stark contrast to the roughness before. "shhhh, breathe," he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. "you're s'beautiful, even when you're all fucked out."
you could only hum, a weak, contented sound, your mind still floating in that blissful haze. he chuckled softly, rolling to the side and pulling you into his chest, his arms wrapping around you like a cage.
the room fell quiet, save for the slowing rhythm of your breaths syncing with his. but even in the afterglow, you felt the stir of him against your thigh, the promise of more.
he still wasn't done?
he let you drift for a while, his hand stroking lazy patterns down your back, but it wasn't long before his touch turned purposeful again. his fingers dipped between your legs, tracing the mess he'd left there, the combined slickness of your releases. you stirred with a soft whine, your body instinctively arching into his hand even as your mind protested the overstimulation.
"shhh," he whispered, his lips brushing your forehead. "just relax. let me play with you a little more, baby. please." his fingers circled your entrance, teasing without entering, building the heat back up slowly, insidiously. you were so sensitive now, every touch sending sparks skittering through your nerves, but the haze made it all feel distant, dreamlike.
"suguru..." you mumbled, your voice thick and slurred, eyes still half-lidded. you pushed at his hand weakly, more out of habit than anything, but he caught your fingers, interlacing them with his own.
"don't fight it," he said softly, but there was steel beneath the gentleness. "you know you want this. your body's begging for it already." to prove his point, he pressed two fingers inside you, curling them just so, and a fresh moan spilled from your lips, unbidden. "see? listen to that. so wet, so needy. you just can't get enough."
you shook your head minutely, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the intensity. "too... sensitive— please!"
he tilted your chin up with his free hand, forcing you to meet his gaze. "please what? please stop? or please don't?" his fingers moved faster inside you, the wet sounds obscene in the quiet room. "be honest. i can feel you clenching around me. you're dripping again— fuck."
the truth was humiliating, but undeniable. "don't... stop," you whispered, the words barely audible, your cheeks flushing hot. another weak push at his chest, but it dissolved into clutching, pulling him closer.
"that's what i thought," he purred, satisfaction lacing his tone. he withdrew his fingers suddenly, making you whine at the loss, only to replace them with the head of his cock, rubbing it through your folds. "always saying one thing with your mouth and another with that needy cunt of yours." he gripped your hair again, not as harshly this time, but enough to arch your neck, exposing you to his mouth.
he nipped at your collarbone, soothing the sting with his tongue. "gonna fuck you slow this time. make you feel every inch until you're begging me to stop."
he entered you inch by agonizing inch, drawing it out until you were trembling beneath him, filled to bursting. the pace he set was languid, torturous—long, deep strokes that let you feel every ridge, every pulse. your moans turned to sobs, pleasure-pain twisting in your gut as he coaxed you higher without mercy.
"look at you," he murmured, his hand in your hair guiding your head back so he could watch your face contort. "just a dumb toy f'me." he thrust a little harder on the next stroke, punctuating his words, and you cried out, your body clenching around him.
"p-please! s-s'good..." you babbled, tears streaming down your cheeks now, your hands fisting in the sheets. the world was narrowing again, everything fading except the drag of him inside you, the pull on your scalp, the filthy praise-degradation spilling from his lips.
"fuck, atta girl. doing so well for me," he breathed, his own control fraying as your walls fluttered around him.
his free hand found your clit again, rubbing in time with his thrusts, and it had you shattering once more, a keening wail tearing from your throat as you came, hard and sudden, your body locking up around him.
he followed with a guttural moan, spilling deep inside you, his hips grinding through the aftershocks. when he finally stilled, he didn't pull out, staying buried as he released your hair, his fingers combing through it gently now. "that's, what, five now? i've lost count." he whispered, a smug edge to his voice. "how many more until you're completely gone, hmm?"
you had no answer, just a soft, exhausted murmur, your mind blissfully blank. he chuckled, settling in to hold you against his chest.
as the minutes stretched, his hand began to wander again, tracing the curve of your breast, pinching the nipple lightly until you stirred with a gasp. "baby, m'tired..." you whined, but even as you said it, your legs parted slightly, inviting.
"liar," he teased, rolling you onto your stomach and pulling your hips up. his hand fisted in your hair once more, using it like a leash as he positioned himself behind you. "calling you a slut doesn't even cover it anymore. you're ruined for anything else."
he slid into you from behind, the new angle making you see stars, a choked sob escaping as he bottomed out. the rhythm he set was relentless, each thrust jolting you forward, his grip keeping you in place. "say it," he demanded, tugging your hair to arch your back. "tell me you love it"
"i love i-it," you whispered, burying your face in the sheets with embarrassment. the words tumbling out in a haze, your voice muffled against the pillows. it was true, and admitting it only heightened the pleasure, pushing you towards another edge.
"damn right you do," he growled, his pace faltering as he chased his own release. "my pretty, slut. gonna fill you up until it— ahhn— leaks out, mark you i-inside and out— shit!" with a final thrust, he came again, pulling you over with him, your sixth (?) orgasm ripping through you like fire, leaving you a trembling, incoherent mess.
he collapsed beside you this time, gathering your limp form into his arms. "you took it so well, baby," he murmured, kissing away the tears on your cheeks. "you did so well. i love you."
you nuzzled into his chest, utterly spent, your mind a peaceful void. but even in that emptiness, you felt safe—owned, cherished in his twisted way. and as his hand stroked your hair, you knew he'd coax you back to the brink soon enough. it was inevitable.
can’t talk rn my mouth’s gagged with her panties >_0 !
“haaahh—fuck baby just like that—nngh…”
“god you’re just a whore satoru. it’s disgusting.” you mewled, your hand pumping his flushed cock, up and down, his thighs shaking slowly while he throbbed in your hold. it was filthy, almost pornographic, the way he was moaning while you were giving him a mere handjob.
you whisked your hand away, with gojo practically whimpering at the loss of contact, before you slowly bent over, getting rid of your pretty blue laced panties, while gojo eyed your dripping cunt like a man starved.
you turned around, moving closer to him panties in hand while he eyed you like prey.
“you finally gna ride me pretty?” you moaned, almost smug, right before you leaned over, cupping his jaw, staring him right in the face.
“nah. just getting you to shut the fuck up so i can get the job done.”
“w—wha-mmph!” you shoved the baby blue panties wet with your slick into his mouth, muffling his voice before you wrapped your pretty hands around his cock again, jerking him off, your hands moving in quick strokes while he struggled to form coherent sentences, biting down on your soaked panties while lolling his head back on his stupid chair.
his tip was flushed an angry shade of red, leaking copious amounts of precum while you moved your hand along his dick, occasionally squeezing while he whimpered and whined like the pathetic slut he was.
“mmmph—nngh pphleashh—” tears were brimming at the corners of his eyes, gods you were so mean, it just wasn’t fair. :(
he came in spurts, his cum coating your hands and his abs while he whimpered into your panties, his cock slowly softening in your grasp before you gave it a final squeeze.
you moved your hands up, finally taking the panties out of his mouth, his drool pooling around his lips—a string of saliva connecting him to your poor, stained panties.
“now, that wasn’t so hard, was it ‘toru?”
and he swore he could feel his cock slowly harden. again.
yeah im a genius yooo
dividers: @/pixopix .
all works belong to @lilithkleia, do NOT copy, translate or feed to AI. lest you wish upon toji’s worm to crawl up your ass.
𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ older bf!toji can’t wait to break in his virgin!gf, but for now, he'll settle for some dry hūmping :: cws. smut. pwp. legal age gap. corruptíon kink. size diff.
toji loves to tease you—you know that very well. he thrives off your reactions to his dirty words, the subtle yet naughty touches that he sneaks in during conversations, the seductive glint in his half lidded eyes whenever you’re around . . he knows what he’s doing.
even more so when you’re in his bed at night. you usually cuddle, sometimes make out and grind against each other, but nothing too lewd yet. toji doesn’t mind waiting to get a taste of you. he knows it will be worth the wait at the end.
but oh—is it difficult. so, so difficult. especially when you allow him access to more parts of your body.
“shit, princess,” he pants, hissing a bit when the mushroom tip of his cock bumps against your clothed clit, “y’re gettin’ so wet, huh? just by looking at my cock ‘n feeling it rub against your pussy.”
your cotton panties surely are damp with arousal; from both toji and you. his pre-cum mixes with your juices, ruining your favorite pair of panties. the wet spot forming near your slit only gets darker and darker the more you allow toji to rub his dick back and forth over your cunt.
“mngh—fuck. need you,” you whine, unable to fight the urge to buck your hips against his fat cock. your eyes dart up to your boyfriend to express your neediness, but he grabs your nape and guides your gaze back to his red tip pushing against your sloppy underwear.
toji lets out a dry chuckle. “i know y’ do. y’r pussy told me that long time ago,” he comments while he watches your adorable reactions to him pushing and pulling his cock from your clothed pussy. he’s only interested in you—the way your eyes glisten with tears and pleasure.
if it isn’t for his self control, he would have fucked you by now. but he’ll patiently wait until the perfect timing to push through that invisible wall, to pop your cherry while he looks you in the eyes, taking that innocence from you that he oh-so loves.
“want my cock, doll?” toji asks with a wicked grin. his large hands runs over your chest to your tummy. he guides his shaft over to your belly, measuring how much of your insides it would fill. “mm, yeah—would mess you up pretty bad,” he hums as the tip reaches your belly button. even further than that.
the thought excites the older man. to be your first, the first man who’ll mould your pussy to only fit his cock. no one else will have the honor of stripping you from your virginity.
“want it. want it all the way inside me,” you reply back, voice shaking with excitement. you’re going to cum soon from him simply grinding against your clothed cunt. your poor clit is continuously being circled and bumped against by his tip and it’s driving you crazy.
toji swallows thickly. “don’t ya tempt me like that,” he warns you in a dark tone. he runs a rough finger over your wet panties, keeping your legs spread wide with his knees. he easily finds your little hole as the cotton material sticks to your pussy, showing the outlines of your lips.
“might just push in here. .” toji murmurs as he positions the leaking head of his dick against your covered entrance, “. . and fill you up while hearing you scream my name. sounds good, ay?”
you gasp and feel your cunt clench around nothing. his hips move back and forth, shallow thrusts against the barrier that is your panties, mimicking the real thing. “y-yeah—oh, ‘m g’nna cum,” your heart rate picks up as your back arches off the mattress.
toji raises an eyebrow, secretly finding it endearing how that is the action that pushes you over the edge. you’re so adorable; simply thinking of him actually fucking you senseless and the feeling of his tip seeking your pussy is enough.
“aww, she’s gonna cum,” the dark-haired man snickers after mocking you. toji gauges your reactions and grins when he sees your head rolling back against the pillow.
“do y’ wanna cum together? we can,” he smirks as he leans down to intertwine your hands—playing the role of the gentle boyfriend who’s having sex with his girlfriend for the first time. he’s trying to give you the full experience while not actually giving it to you yet.
“y-yes, wanna cum together,” you nod mindlessly, your mouth feeling dry. you squeeze your eyes shut while also holding tightly onto toji’s hand. your pussy tightens up around air while your hips buck up to meet toji’s thrusts against your covered, wet hole.
“c-close—ngh, toji!” your eyes widen once his tip pressing snugly between your pussy lips. for a second it felt like his cock had successfully breached through your panties. that short-lived moment is enough to push you over the edge and cum on spot.
toji witnesses the bliss in your facial expression and he groans. “fuckkk—take it. g’nna cum all over ya princess,” he presses his hips firmly against yours, his full length resting right between your wet folds, ropes of cum spurting out of his aching tip.
you feel the sticky liquid stain your belly, running down to the waistband of your panties and even staining the front part. your choked up moans are music to your boyfriend’s ears while he calms down from his own orgasm.
his big biceps tremble as he holds himself up above you, grinning from ear to ear. “keheh, made a mess out of you,” toji’s voice is filled with pride. he lets you cling onto him for as long as you need to.
his eyes dart down to the sticky mess on your tummy and panties. the older man leans back on his knees to admire the view. he really couldn’t wait to actually slide inside of your tight cunt—but this will suffice for now. the sight of his cute girlfriend trembling and whimpering beneath him makes up for everything.
his fingers hook around the waistband of your panties. “can i look, doll?” toji asks in a gruff voice, desparate to see your glistening cunt. you weakly nod and he doesn’t waste any more time.
the sight greeting him when he pulls your underwear down is nearly enough to make him cum again. your juices are everywhere, multiple strings of wetness connecting your pussy to your panties. they snap one after the other as your panties are slowly removed.
“oh, y’re such a messy girl,” toji sighs, leaning down to kiss your tummy, licking up some of his own cum. you shiver and your hands dart out to hold onto his black hair. he chuckles at the gesture, humming in acknowledgement.
his eyes darken when he catches a glimpse of your sopping pussy again. he’s so close to it — so extremely close. his gaze darts over to a drop of his cum that threatens to slide down and over your clit. the heat and smell of your cunt is driving that man to the brink of insanity.
toji lolls his tongue out, eyes glistening with desire while he pushes your legs up and over his shoulders, big hands holding onto your hips. drool gathers in the corners of his mouth as his face hovers right between your legs;
“mind if i have a taste of you, princess? jus’ a quick one, i promise.”
a collection of my favorite geto suguru fics i’ve read over the years that i want to spotlight, consisting of pieces that include fluff, angst, smut, and more. fics are divided by series/oneshots/drabbles. please heed all warnings & give all included authors their very much deserved flowers! shamelessly plugging my own geto fics as well :p i’ve marked superscript next to authors to indicate if they’ve been included multiple times in this post!
series:
best friend!geto (ongoing?) by @fricks ; i’ve reread all of the entries in this series so many times that i could beam this shit onto the back of my eyelids and reread them all over again just like that. i adoreeee geto’s characterization here (fricks is a geto expert truly) he’s such a charming little shit and the witty convos between him and reader are just tew good. i can’t decide on a favorite part cos they’re all amazing IM SERIOUS. THIS IS MY LIBRARY OF ALEXANDRIA PLEASE DONT BURN IT DOWN!!!!
dishonorable (complete) on ao3 ; regency/bridgerton aus are always divine and this fic is no exception. duke geto and reader’s chemistry is too good 🚬 love how they want to strangle each other yet they flirt with each other in the same breath. duke geto take it out its hurtingggguuuhhhh
six degrees of separation (complete) by @starmapz ² ; i read this yeaaaars ago so imagine my surprise when i dug this fic up again and realized trish wrote it 😭 the angst in this has stuck with me for YEARS . geto loves so hard and that facet really shines in this fic. the entire thing is incredibly true to his character as a whole and serves as an amazing analysis of his character. how am i even allowed to read this masterpiece without a price? like wdym this is FREE?
strangers (ongoing) by @yenayaps ; this fic will hit you hard cos jfc this is a truck of ANGST. i’ve never wanted eternal happiness and peace for two people so badly in my life. geto and reader have grown distant after a miscarriage and are in the process of learning & choosing to love each other again, and it makes me wanna bawllll. their arguments and thoughts are so grounded and feel incredibly real, making this fic all the more immersive and making the angst pack a few extra punches. i think about the diabolical restaurant scene once a month at least 😭
no. one party anthem (ongoing) by @indiewritesxoxo ⁴ ; this rockstar suguru right here is one i would suck right off the bone like hes a box of chicken wings. girl dad? charmer of the year n hes slick wit it too? THE PINING THE CHASING THE GROVELING THE TRYING TO BE BETTER FOR READER??? top tier truly. indie always shows out with her various geto series and this has gottaaaaa be one of the best. the angst and smut here are unparalleled. that hotel sex scene STAYS living in my head (gif of the duck smoking and shaking its head with a satisfied smirk). im forever rooting for geto in this fic IDGAF!!!!
meow or never (complete) on ao3 ; geto’s little shit of a cat (aptly named gojo) gets reader’s cat pregnant and chaos ensues. geto wants reader’s cookie so bad lmfaoooo just like gojo with reader’s cat… this whole fic is genuinely SO hilarious. super domestic, fluffy, and very slice-of-life too!
fwb!suguru (ongoing?) by @eraserbread ² ; elly’s prose is to die for and her word choice is so unique too so her works are always a treat to the soul. the way she writes geto.. mm… truly a five course meal. need geto and reader to communicate and stop trying to win the nonchalant-off (they’re both failing to be nonchalant). i’m shaking them. god i wanna smash these two together like barbie dolls 😢 (😏). let me get my wallet because it must be illegal to read this piece of art for FREEEEE?
lazy sunday morning and whispers in the library (complete) on ao3 ; going from domestic intimacy and first times in the first fic to some freaky exhibition shit in the second fic… yeaaaah this is my bread and butter. geto is SO romantic and sweet in these installments, especially the first part 😪 this geto needs to be in my bed by yesterday or i’m hanging myself by the ears on the nearest tower
smoking with stoner!getou suguru (complete) on ao3 ; been a while since i’ve read this but geto is slick and sexy ass motherfucker in this fic. his dialogue had me cheesinggggg I WANT HIM BAD BRAH! the exposition here is so lively and perfectly immersive, idk how to explain it but its SUCH a vibe. gojo and toji are total clowns in this fic lmfao the shit they were pulling in the background had me ctfuuuu. this fic is a certified fave
the roommate part 1 & part 2 (ongoing?) by @kenzieluvsnanami ; call this puth british with the way roommate geto is innittttt 🇬🇧 the way geto is written in these makes me nut untouched and on the spot… this man is a sexy ass fiend and ykw i like them crazy just like this. ESPECIALLY when it’s geto. love his cheekiness and tomfoolery here lmfaooo he’s entertaining asf
sometimes i peep on the handsome dad next door (complete) on ao3 ; the dilf suguru to beat all sugurus 🙂↔️ every time there was so much of a mention of either 1. his gray streaks or 2. how he interacts with nanako and mimiko, i started shaking like a little rabid dog on steroids. reader is such a freak in this LMFAOOJTKWHR just like me fr… i too would wake up at 5am just to watch geto get dressed 🤤 he’s so hot and assured and confident in this fic and it makes me wanna jump his bonessss. his and reader’s relationship and build-up is something you don’t wanna miss out on!
darling (complete) on ao3 ; the second i saw black reader x musician geto i knew this would be toe-curling. AND IT IS! op did such a lovely job of portraying the hard of hearing reader here. i adore how geto and reader use each other as inspiration for music and for writing, and seeing their arrangement develop into a relationship is so worth the read c:
breathe me in on ao3 ; fwb!suguru in this fic… i gotta light a blunt every time i think of him. i was sold the second he asked reader to come over not for sex but to cuddle and to have someone simply there with him. geto is soooo sensual to his core here like every thing he does and says feels like honey… and he’s SO smooth jfc. so fine. my sweetheart AND my little shit :,) the smut here is toe-curling
the ethics of relationships (complete) by @gojonanami ; i typically don’t read prof/students but this fic is just one of those onessss and if you haven’t read it then you’re missing out 🙂↔️ that’s how yummy this whole five course meal is. i’ve harassed so many friends with the link to this fic LMFAO i just want everyone to read this BAD… i’m due for a reread because it’s been a WHILE but so many scenes in this fic stand out in my memory. super good overall!!
brat (ongoing) by @kunareads ; producer geto and pop star reader you are so very famous to me! reader is such a vibe in this fic and it makes her relationship with geto all the more fun & enticing. their dynamic feels like snorting a line of coke in the best way possible but also i need these fools to communicate asap 😣 the formatting of this fic is SO fun and feels super interactive/immersive!!
vault boy (ongoing) by @indiewritesxoxo ⁴ ; fallout/apocalypse au!! if u havent gotten into fallout, indie makes the universe easy to understand. geto is such a sweetie pie in this fic and his humanity is devastating… MY POOR BABY :( i wanna hide him away in a bunker. speaking of bunkers, give me one to shack up with him in and we’d repopulate the entire world in just a few years TRRRRUST 🤣✌🏽
oneshots:
#INTRO2MUNCH101 by @satorena ; another situation where i read a fic years ago and became mutuals with the author later on (haiii serena). this fic is comedy fawking golddddd no joke but its also hot as hell. serena is too good at building up the chemistry between geto and reader (#welovemeanreadersbtw) and i love how desperate geto is here, he wants that cookie BAD. his fake nonchalant shit had no one fooled and every time reader called him out i was ctfu. the smut had me writhing brah WRITHING (and giggling profusely for many reasons)
rock you up on ao3 ; TA geto and professor reader is an unmatched dynamic brah YALL DONT EVEN GETTTT HOW MUCH I FUCK WITH THEM ANDDD THIS FIC… submissive geto was a very exciting surprise HEHEHEHEEEE i love seeing my man getting his shit rocked <3 the banter here is too mfing good and is something this writer very much excels at!!
why suguru’s wife is the best cook in the world! by @yunamoona ; a super good take on geto and his relationship with food AND the cutest meet cute to ever meet cute… yeah this is a banger. repeating what i said in the comments but when geto ate reader’s cookies i was smiling at my phone like a freak, because sometimes all it takes is just the act of kindness/love to be able to guide you down a path of healing :,) i love this fic sm. it’s one of a kind
what if you’re just someone i want around (i’m falling again) on ao3 ; post-jjk0 fix it fic where reader is assigned to watch over geto 😣💔 < the sound of my heart shattering. you can feel geto’s jadedness and bitterness radiating through the screen due to how vivid and deeply thoughtful each scene is written out. but despite it all, geto is such a sweetheart and lover to his core 😢
i’m afraid that’s just the way the world works (but i think that it could work for you and me) on ao3 ; an au where geto never defected and years later, reader and geto take in nanako and mimiko. such a heartwarming fic all around. i love my miminana forever and ever and they deserve the world
bed chem by @nanamiskentos ; this is sexy AND fucking hilarious, what MORE could you ask for. suguru had me curling my toessss in this fic jhtjwhrjsi his dialogue has me hot and ready like lil caesars. the descriptions here make me wanna lick my screen and digest every single word. best believe i’m cleaning my plate every time i reread this
it’s true i never write, but i would gladly die with you by @summer-oil ; post-defection fics where geto and reader used to be friends always destroy me in the best way possible :,) and ugh the prose here… no words can describe how beautiful and impactful it is. oh geto you yearner…
the haunting by @starmapz ² ; if you like horror fics this is absolutely the fic for you :3 if geto were my ex… shittttt i would crack him again and take him back too. this fic is a perfect blend of hot smut, angst, and unsettling horror. i can’t say much else cos of spoilers but the ending had me GAGGED
it will come back by @hellowoolf ; ballerina au with instructor geto and ballerina reader!! their push and pull in this fic had me reading with my hands (and puth 😣) clenched… the chemistry is SO buzzy and so loud. the smut is mfing fantasticcccc and the build-up to it is EXCELLENT. dialogue is on point toooooo everything geto says makes me giggle
top of the class on ao3 ; if my TA was as pretty (and pathetic) as geto in this fic, i’d crack tf out of them too 🤭 love the switch-up in the power dynamic here and how reader sooo effortlessly has geto wrapped around her finger
ghostface pussy killer by @saintkaylaa ; one thing about me is i loveeee a good fic where one chases the other and then they fuck nasty 😣 the aphrodisiacs being involved makes the stakes sm more intense (and hotter 😏). i’m obligated to reread this everyyyy october because this fic is peak
the best kind of remedy by @reignpage ; santa can i please get herbalist geto under my tree for christmas 🙏🏽 preferably naked and already oiled up 🙏🏽 stoner geto is absolutely and 100% my kryptonite everyyyy time and he’s extra sexy asl in this fic. DREAMY SIGH. the smut is so buzzyyyyy
a guide to hooking up by @thedivinegeneral ² ; this is a certified hood classic iykwim. every time this fic pops up on my dash or in my memory, i just HAVE to reread it. jade is really and truly the god of managing to make fics perfectly fluffy, hilarious, and smutty like whewwwww… geto and reader here are so special to me I LOVE THEM DEARLY 😣😋
how to baby trap marry your best friend! by @indiewritesxoxo ⁴ ; FUCK MY BABY DAD ALRIGHT!!! i love idiot best friends in love bro like just put the crush in the bag and pop the questionnnnn, the yearning in this kills me in the best way possible! the first time they have sex and take pictures of each other is forever branded in my head cos its tooooo hot 🚬
lessons in love on ao3 ; oh to fall in love with dilf geto and to retire with him… whimsical sigh. such a comforting slice of life fic. if my future partner isn’t this sweet and devoted and understanding, i don’t want em! geto here is really the perfect husband 😋
cry for me by @bunnieeteeth ; coach geto and figure skater reader! really cannot say much about this fic for the sake of spoilers, but also because i genuinely have no words for how this fic makes me feel. just wow. trust me when i say that this fic will have you sitting up in your seat and staring at your phone in shock. i want geto and reader to get together so bad but at what cost 💔
the torture of small talk with someone you used to know by @betterinvienna ; rockstar geto (and your ex) and photographer reader how you’ve both moved me and changed me irreversibly. geto is a first class yearner with a ticket straight to piningville because ohhhh my goddddd he wants reader back so mfing bad . he’s losing the nonchalant war #chalantking and i’m happy about it! such a good angst & hurt/comfort fic. i love exes fics. EVERY SINGLE SONG IS ABOUT YOU… WAH…. 😢😢😢🥺🥺🥺🥺
the practice of kissing by @lovelivision ; we all cheer for kissing practice fics!!! geto is such a mouthwatering tease in this fic ughhtksjrns i have got to fuck him . he’s such a cocky little shit but also sososo sweet with reader and so accommodating… his duality is unmatched!
praisekink4praisekink by @cherrys-wrld ; cherry always excels with writing familiar and cozy domesticity even during intimacy… dreamy sigh. geto is such a romantic WHY ISNT HE REALLLL (edit: i will update the link when this gets reposted!)
golden brown by @sixxels ; princess reader and knight geto you will be my undoing… the forbidden love here really packs a punch because they’re so desperate to be with each other and so in love, but they have to comply with the system :( i teared up while reading this fic. please never hurt me like this again (DO IT.)
ghost of you by @suguruss1ut ³ ; this fic is my 13th reason ☹️ post-defection geto and reader who still love each other despite geto’s actions/ideals is lethal. so lethal. this fic had me rolling around in bed thinking about it for dayssss after finishing it… it’s so heartbreaking UGHHHH 💔
#THE PARTY AND THE AFTER PARTY by @screampied ; lock me in a room with stripper!geto for about an hour (please trap us together longer though.) and he’s walking out pregnant god willing. whole fic had me twirling my hair and checking my wallet for extra cash to toss geto’s way
you & me by @getosurya ; perfect perfect perfect hurt/comfort after an argument between geto and reader. despite everything, they love each other sm and it bleeds through each and every action of theirs… this fic is so tender and reassuring that it makes me melt :,)
geto’s bride by @thedivinegeneral ² ; the effect that this fic has had on me actually needs to be studied because why am i so charmed by chucky doll geto to the point that i’ve sent this fic to multiple friends individually 😭😭 this shit had me CRYINGGGGG cos of how fucking funny it is alllll the way through lmfaooohtkwhrj and imagining certain scenes had me cracking up. i am such a sucker for sub geto in this fic… MAKE HIM WHIMPER!!!!
simply ear-resistible! by @indiewritesxoxo ⁴ ; bunny geto is the cutest fucking thing to ever existtttt 🥺😭 even if he has a massive attitude LMFAO. him retaining a few bunny traits/habits after returning to his original form actually makes me want to chew on his cheek. reader and geto are TOOOO cute here and i want the best for them :]
maw on ao3 ; there are no words to describe this fic or how it makes me feel without my description/thoughts majorly falling flat. i simply cannot do this fic justice… PLEASE READ IT.
ask me to bleed (for you i will) on ao3 ; post-defection geto and non-sorcerer reader who works at a bakery… another fic that is my 13th reason lowkey. this is another fic that i cannot do justice nor summarize my feelings for properly but i am once again urging you all to read this
purrrfect surprise by @suguruss1ut ³ ; do you like men who crawl on all fours while wearing cat ears?? look no further cos this is the fic for YOU!!! i love me some sub geto and this fic is pure peak. need him desperate justttt like this
drabbles:
(i’ve written so many summaries/thoughts already that i won’t be doing so for these fics. titles are all pretty self-explanatory for the most part, and these are all super good short reads!! 🫶🏽)
emo!suguru and his pretty pink princess by @epicderpface
suguru + independent gf by @satoruined
mornings with suguru by @hayajiku
sub!suguru wax play by @bluukive
arcturus beaming by @oporotheca
love, as if it were carved in stone by @go6jo
tutor!geto getting overwhelmed by @eraserbread ²
suguru volunteers to model for your art class and you didn’t expect him to have such a perfect dick by @gojosconsort
afterglow by @feyrinnn
kissing suguru by @sugurusbadhabit
binded bunny by @meowguru
domain expansion: unlimited creampies by @suguruss1ut ³
OVERVIEW: following a lead into a pleasure den alongside detectives gojo and geto, chaos ensues when you accidentally breathe in a potent aphrodisiac.
CW: mdni, suguru x reader x satoru, fem!reader, they’re all horrible detectives, reader under the influence for a bit, smut, smut, dry humping, sloppy kisses, threesome, marathon sex, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), satosugu sneak cuz they eat it at the same time, oral (m receiving), throat bulges, unprotected sex, hair pulling, choking, spitting, nipple play, flipped eiffiel tower, 6.3K words.
AN: anon surprise shawty! first threesome fic yay (?)
art by @/thatsallitchief
a woman is getting eaten out on the round table.
her body lies atop it like a lavish spread. chocolatey brown hair splaying against the wood in lustrous waves that ripple as she tips her head from side to side. cherry wine lips parting on a moan loud enough to make you wince.
she sounds like she’s being dipped into boiling hot water.
meanwhile, the man situated between her thighs goes at her like she's a dollop of ice cream that would melt away if he wasn’t fast enough.
your face is the picture of horror as you stare for a few seconds longer before looking elsewhere. man, if someone told you that graduating top of your class at the police academy would land you tiptoeing around a sex dungeon and watching the scene before you, you would’ve laughed right in their faces.
and it would have been with half as much amusement your partners cackled at your reactions with infuriating delight.
the men who argued as if they were seconds away from drawing their guns on each other seemed to find common ground—and of course, it’s at your expense. the girlish giggles that erupt when your lips gape are nothing like the deep-toned gruffness that dipped their voices low whenever they snapped at each other. their back-and-forths in your shoebox-sized office resembled those of two temperamental bulls trapped in the same enclosure. both rearing their horns in a completely unnecessary show of strength, and neither willing to back down, even when the argument no longer made sense.
you found yourself escaping to the break room more often than not, and suguru, ever the gentleman, or perhaps just the slyer of the two, would come over with a peace offering in the form of a cup of coffee.
you would have found the gesture sweet if it didn’t happen so very often.
coffee every other day, sometimes twice a day, was a little excessive, and you swore the caffeine rush was getting to you because you began to look forward to those few moments of quiet more and more each week.
he would sit next to you, somedays working on a file and others talking your ear off while you savoured every toasty drop. each cup he made tasted better than the last and it was surprising because you don’t recall telling him how you preferred it to begin with.
suguru was…tolerable, almost likeable but satoru gojo was another story.
between the less-than-subtle sexual innuendos and the sleazy pet names, you’re surprised you haven’t already turned in your badge number for an inmate number. and as if your morbid musings spur him on somehow, the man comes to your side and slings an arm over your shoulder. a muscle below your eye twitches when he leans down to whisper in your ear, soft lips grazing over the shell, “you should stay close, sugar. who knows what we’ll need to do to blend in?”
the question earns him an elbow to the ribs, and you smile at the loud “oof!” that follows.
“if it gets to that, i’d rather blow our cover, gojo.”
he pouts at your insistence on using his last name despite how many times he has told you otherwise, but it's how you got payback for all the terms of endearment he’d drawl your way as if they meant nothing. uh…not that you wanted them to mean something but—ugh whatever.
“that almost hurt as much as your freakishly sharp elbow.”
you almost chew him out but think better of it at the last second. there was a hitman to catch, so you couldn’t waste these precious moments bickering over trivial matters, especially when you finally had the suspects key identifiers after a year of investigating.
the man you were after was said to be japanese and his late thirties. he had a muscular build and stood over six feet tall, with a noticeable scar on his face. true to his alias, he appeared and disappeared like a ghost and he boasted a 100% success rate, taking down all his targets with daunting precision and leaving no trace of evidence behind. that is until he got sloppy and let the man you took in for questioning live.
and that’s how you found out that he frequented this hellhole for a victory lap after each of his kills.
naturally, knowing so much about the infamous hitman had your belly flipping in anticipation of bringing him in, but that feeling was soon subdued when your partners thew a shopping bag onto your lap. one look inside nearly had you dropping the whole case.
“we need to fit in.” they said.
bull.fucking.shit.
your simple pantsuits were swapped out for a pleated skirt that fit like a belt and a shirt with a neckline so low, it’s out of sheer luck you haven’t had a nip slip yet. your teeth clatter from the cold, and you start to regret elbowing satoru away so quickly.
he was really warm…you bet his hugs were to die for.
when your thoughts stray into unwanted territory, you turn your attention back to the search. your eyes burn a hole into the floor as pleasure-filled moans filter through the various rooms you walk past and you think a man starts to call out to you, but his words cut off into a croak mid-sentence, as if a hand snapped out and squeezed around his neck.
daring to look up, you find that his eyes aren't even on you. no, they’re focused above your head, filled with so much unease, you can't help but follow his line of sight. the glare satoru and suguru give him almost startles you too. their irises swirl, gazes melding into a deep blue-violet that emits a frostbite iciness and skin-searing heat all at once. when a hand touches the small of your back, you aren’t sure whose it is, but allow it to steer you away nonetheless.
the vip access card that satoru paid for—with suspicious familiarity—gave you free rein to roam wherever you wanted, so the three of you headed for the stairs. and stepping into the upper levels of the den feels like being pulled into a little pocket universe.
crystal chandeliers hang low from the ceiling. their shards tinkling against each other like wind chimes, and bulbs shimmering with a rich orange hue that warms your skin the slightest bit. sleek canopies suspend the domes, so polished they nearly gave the impression that they were silver, but you know they’d have to be steel to hold that much weight.
the lights make the pale walls look amber and being drawn in as if the very gem were being dangled before you, your feet carry you further inside. heels click over glossy marble floors and you take in the bespoke furniture scattered all around. the expensive kind with price tags that would’ve undoubtedly made you faint if you saw them.
definitely the kind of area a regular would lurk around.
you’re close. you know you are, and the prospect of finding the perp makes you stop hugging yourself like you’d catch something if you let go. suguru must see the opportunity too, because he stops walking and suggests splitting up to cover more ground, but satoru is already shaking his head before he finishes talking.
“there could be a killer in the building, and you want to split up? every horror movie starts that way, man.”
suguru’s lips twitch in the manner they always did before he lost his temper. before his words would lash out and strike like a whip. “then it’s a good thing we’re not in a movie. we can’t afford to stay here longer than necessary.”
they both had a point, but they were getting loud. too loud, and while you were fine with leaving them to it at the station, you showed a lot less leniency when they argued on the field. so, when they glance over, waiting for you to pick a side, your irritation must show on your face judging on how they quickly fall silent.
your glower lasts a second longer before you turn on your heel, and you amble closer to an area shielded by a white curtain. there’s a short pause before two sets of footfalls follow your path. satoru takes longer strides and gets to the opening first, holding the gossamer fabric open for you and smiling widely when you reluctantly thank him.
you have a feeling he doesn’t offer the same courtesy to suguru because he curses, and cool air brushes over your bare legs as the curtains are forcibly opened again.
inside the room, more drapes hang off the walls and cool-toned leds and ivy garlands branch over them like vines. marble flooring is swapped out for artificial grass that makes your footing a little wobbly as you walk further in. some people are sitting on the fluffy couches that line the wall. interactions varying from cordial conversation between strangers to heated kisses shared by lovers, and some people are doing a lot more than kissing.
when you realise the sight doesn’t leave you as scandalised as before, you want to hurry up and leave even more, because if a few minutes in this den could have you barely flinching at exhibitionism, who knows what else you may become desensitised to if you stayed longer? god forbid it became so bad you’d lean into the warm sets of hands that press to the small of your back, holding you steady when you stumbled. deep down, you know that the shiver that feathers over it has nothing to do with the cold.
the men’s touches last a moment longer before withdrawing to disperse and fan through the room to gather more intel.
satoru slides into a conversation with a small group sitting on the couch like he was part of them, and you shake your head when they easily make room for him to sit. suguru’s black-clad form blends into the shadowy corners of the room, stubbornly clinging to the walls as he listens for anything that may be valuable. and you are left to scrutinise the seas of people and check if anyone matches the description of the suspect.
unfortunately, walking over the fake tufts of grass in the stilettos and trying to find him between the bodies pressed together in sex-crazed coils turns out to be a lot harder than you thought. it takes you a while to clear the room as safe but once you do, you come to a stop near a statue.
you ignored it when you came in because it was the only ugly part of the makeshift indoor garden. sure, it was well sculpted, showcasing the female form in its glory of curves and dips in all the right places, but it’s the expression on the woman’s face that throws you off.
deep grooves are cut into the marble near its eyes, and its mouth is stretched wide in a scream. you think it's supposed to be one of pleasure, but she just looks terrified.
you lean in, squinting at it critically.
why were people so obsessed with seeing women in pain during sex? there’s no reason for such a beautiful piece to—
there’s a soft spitting sound from inside the statue’s mouth, and a second later, pink vapour explodes from it and sprays right onto your face. you splutter, backing up a few paces as the sweet-smelling fumes fill your nose.
yuck. you cough. what the hell was that?
rubbing your nose and exhaling sharply does nothing to expel the smell. if anything, the vapour only engulfs your senses more and leaves you a little dizzy.
feeling like you need a moment, you walk to the exit and shove the curtain out of the way. once, outside, you take long, deep breaths silently hoping no one witnessed that embarrassing moment.
but, of course, you aren’t that lucky.
“muffin?” satoru calls behind you and you nearly laugh because that was a new one. he’s so ridiculous, “you okay? you ran out like your ass was on fire.”
oh, thank god he didn’t see everything, it makes you feel a little better because he would never let you live it down if he did. you only turn around when the sickly-sweet scent disperses.
“i’m fine,” you reply. ignoring the strange buzz of electricity that starts humming under your skin. “didn’t find anything. you?”
satoru shakes his head, then looks towards the door at the end of the hallway, “we can move to the next room so long.”
“where’s suguru?” looking for him through the sheer drapes is a hopeless endeavour, and satoru doesn't even try as he loops an arm around your shoulders to steer you away. “i thought you said we should stay together.”
he pulls the door open, “but we are staying together. sugu’s a big boy, he’ll be alright.”
your snort shocks you almost as much as it does him. it’s unfamiliar and hearty enough to leave him standing at the door even when you walk further into the room.
oh.
it wasn’t just any room. it’s a bedroom. with a bed so wide it nearly touches the walls at either side and while it registers that there's no one in the room, and therefore, no reason to stay, your legs seem to have a mind of their own as they lead you to it.
the sheets are white and pristine, so clean they look brand new, and you breathe in the lavender-scented fabric softener with a pleased sigh.
ah, yes, this was much better than whatever you inhaled earlier.
you were freezing just minutes ago, but now liquid heat spreads all over your skin. it seeps under it, gliding south to spur low in your belly, then even further until it situates itself between your thighs.
the dramatic change must be what has the next words leaving your mouth.
“do you think people have orgies in here? at least ten people should be able to fit on this bed.”
satoru stutters and ivory brows skyrocket, “you’re…asking me about orgies?”
when you nod, gojo does something you didn't know he was capable of. he doesn't speak. he just lets the door close behind him and takes you by the shoulders, looking over your face like he was trying to find something that wasn’t supposed to be here.
“something’s wrong. what’s going on with you?”
his hands are too warm. it feels like his palms burn your skin where he holds you, so you shrug them off.
“nothing.” a giggle blurts out, so he knows that’s not the truth.
“your pupils are dilated.” it takes some time for him to catch up, but once he does, cerulean eyes go round. his hands go to grip your shoulders again. this time, you lean closer to him instead of pulling away, and action only confirms his suspicions. “holy shit, you’re on something! please tell me you didn’t eat or drink while we weren’t looking.”
you shake your head, then, seeing that he already knows, you decide to come clean.
“i think it was the screaming lady.”
satoru looks at you like you just grew a second head, and his brain can’t keep up with the sudden change in perception, “the what?”
“the statue. it sprayed something.”
you want to say more but give up at the last moment. your clothes are too tight. they're making your skin itch.
luckily, satoru nods in understanding.
“was it perfume or mist?”
you only shrug in response, then your hand lifts to fan your face. perspiration beads along your forehead, breathing a little too heavy.
“it’s hot in here.” you tug at your cropped tee with two fingers. “aren’t you hot? i…mean you’re obviously hot but—“
a snicker cuts you off, and satoru’s shoulders continue to shake even as he tries his hardest to hold his laughter in.
“oh, i’m never letting you forget you said that.”
you frown at him.
he never took you seriously, so you guess you’ll have to do something to force him to do so. fingers catch the hem of your shirt, and you see his jaw drop. he reaches out to stop you, but it’s too late.
“holy shit!”
you pull your shirt over your head, and satoru’s eyes follow the arc it makes as you throw it to the other side of the room. then slowly, almost hesitantly, his attention moves back to you.
being sans bra has his eyes landing on your bare tits, and you see his hands twitch at his sides.
“babe,” a nervous laugh follows, “i need you to put your shirt back on. right fucking now.”
you make no sign of listening, so with a wavering sigh, he takes a step in the direction of the discarded item—only to rush back to you when he sees your thumbs hook into the waistband of your skirt. as if it would be next to go.
this time, though, he does manage to stop you, and you groan out your displeasure.
“god,” a light flush settles over his pale cheeks, and he stares into your eyes a little too intensely. like he’s trying to keep himself from looking down at your tits again. “okay. why don’t you—uh—why don’t you sit down?” he lifts you and moves you towards the bed. “yeah, just stay put while i go call suguru.”
he sets you down, and sensing he’s about to pull away, your arms and legs wind around his form.
there’s a squeak of surprise a man with a voice as deep as his shouldn’t be able to make when you pull him into the bed with you. his back hits the mattress, and you think he curses again, but you don’t recognise the word so it has to be something in his mother tongue.
satoru’s hands come up to grasp your hips when you straddle him, and he whispers your name shakily. your actual name, not one of the terms of endearment you’ve reluctantly grown to love. you wonder if the sadness that settles over you is what he feels every time you use his last name, and not liking the idea, you decide to take a page out of his book.
“you're so pretty, toru,”
your lace panties are impossibly thin—and damp—so they do nothing to hide how his cock stirs under you.
“oh, i see what this is,” his eyes clench shut, wispy lashes fluttering, and his hands flex around your hips. “you’re trying to kill me.”
his laughter as he says that has a maniacal edge to it, and it has your nipples pebbling in need. reaching down for his hand and taking it off your body is a little difficult. it’s like he didn’t want to let go, but after prying it off your skin, you open his palm and lay it over your chest.
“’m not.”
his eyes flicker open when he feels soft skin under his hand, pupils blown so wide it looks like there’s a bottomless whirlpool within the seas of blue. your joined hands go to cover your breast and you swear his hips inch up a fraction.
and just when you can feel him beginning to crack, the door is pushed open. suguru stops dead in his tracks. eyes going blank as he takes in the scene before him.
“what,” he starts. voice completely flat. “the fuck?”
your skirt rides up your thighs, ass peeking out and when suguru’s amethyst eyes sweep over your half-naked body, your hips instinctively rock against the man pinned under you. the action emits something of a moan and a gasp. “she breathed in some kind of lust dust,” he explains, panicked. and suguru slams the door shut before stalking over.
“then why the hell do you have her on top of you?” sable brow furrow as he looks down at the man, and you could be wrong, but you think his eyes momentarily flicker to your bare thighs. “she’s clearly not in her right state of mind.”
“she’s on top of me!” satoru’s voice is shrill as he answers. “how is this my fault?” as if on cue, you squirm, hips shifting restlessly until you find the spot that has your eyes fluttering shut and finally, the ache in your cunt eases a little.
you’re not the only one affected by the change in friction because satoru shudders hard, pearly teeth baring in a soft hiss. “can you stop mean-mugging me and help?” he asks, and suguru finally allows himself to look your way.
he tilts his head, your name coming out as a whispered question before his hands stretch, but he doesn’t touch you the way you'd hoped. suguru cups the undersides of your arms, and when you feel him start to lift you, you fully go off the rails.
in an act of sheer desperation, you lean forward and kiss him. not on the lips, not yet. you just rest your mouth against the corner of his, breathing in his woodsy scent and feeling how the muscles of his face work as he clenches his jaw.
“okay, so this is not helping.” satoru chokes out with his body quivering like a live wire between your legs.
you pull away from the black—haired man, and his eyes are unnaturally dark when you look into them. he just stares at you, completely still and blinks few and far apart.
“how long does it take to wear off?”
he asks satoru, who has been watching the exchange with his lower lip folded between his teeth.
“four to six hours,” he supplies after releasing his lip with a wet pop. your chest tightens. there was no way you could wait that long. “but…” satoru continues, and you perk up. “the hormone spike after an orgasm can get it out her system a lot faster.”
oh. you like that option a lot more, and when you say as much, suguru shakes his head. “you’re not sober, sweetheart.”
maybe. but you weren’t blackout drunk either. the mist only heightened what was already there. made your body more sensitive and lips looser.
“i would’ve chased both of you out and taken care of it myself if i didn’t want you here.”
suguru’s brows pitch, and satoru hums as if agreeing with you.
but a sickly feeling begins to creep in at their hesitance. it’s possible that they just aren’t interested. and while it stings, you can’t be mad at them for not being attracted to you. not to mention you were all literally on the clock. the gun for hire could be lurking anywhere.
there was no time for this.
your hands tremble where they lie on satoru’s broad chest, and when you slowly lift them, he grips your hips a little harder. as if he knows what you were thinking, he shakes his head at you, wordlessly trying to dispel those thoughts with the simple gesture.
“baby,” you nearly smile, but the look in his eyes makes you hesitate. satoru has a habit of going from grave seriousness to wild playfulness at the drop of a hat. and now, he wears the former and tips his head at you.
it has your heart racing in your chest. erratic and slow all at once, thumping in time with the pulsing in your core. your mouth feels dry, and even when your tongue swipes over your lips, it doesn’t help. only one thing would, and satoru seems to know it too.
“do you want to wait it out, or do you want me to help you?”
your lips part—
“we’ll help.” your head swings to suguru, and you startle to find him already watching you. “if that’s what you choose.”
we as in both? at the same time?
well, it was easy to guess which option you’re picking. it was a no-brainer.
you’re spoiled for choice.
on the one hand, there’s suguru: sweet and attentive as he positions himself behind you with his strong legs on either side of satoru’s. he peppers gentle kisses over the column of your neck, hovering over the patch of skin where your pulse jumps and letting his tongue roll over it. the open-mouthed kiss earns a soft moan from you that quickly descends into a squeal when satoru digs his nails into the soft flesh of your ass.
you’re still straddling him, but he isn't being as bashful as he was minutes ago.
whereas suguru leaves featherlight touches over your tits and drags his hands across your navel, satoru’s hands are hurried, almost rough as he squeezes your rear and forces you to grind onto his clothed cock harder.
he does this even though your hips desperately rock against him, and thrusts in time to meet your movements. frantic, he folds your skirt up so he can see your panties, only to croon at the sight of the mess you’re leaving all over his pants.
“pretty fucking girl.” he huffs, rolling his hips hard enough to make you lose your balance, but suguru is there to steady you again. “yeah, baby just like that. rub that greedy pussy on me and make yourself cum.”
blood roars in your ears, heart thrashing painfully in your chest and as if the man behind you can sense it, he lays a hand over it almost soothingly.
ah, suguru was so sweet.
that same hand slithers up to wrap around your neck and tug your head towards him for a hungry kiss. suguru puts pressure on the sides, and when your jaw drops open on a breathless gasp, his tongue plunges into your mouth.
shit, never mind.
from his breathless groan, you know satoru is watching the two of you kiss again…he seems to like doing that.
you’ll admit that you're a little shocked by the seamless precision with which the men work to bring your body to the edge. there’s no jealousy or possessiveness behind their caresses, and even when they get carried away—hands brushing together, they carry on as if nothing happened. you almost get the impression they've done this before, and it has jealousy pricking goosebumps over your skin.
you try to shake it off by reminding yourself that these men hated each other, and focusing on that was much better than imagining how many women got the pleasure of experiencing this before you.
but as it were, the emotion never really leaves.
it just twines itself with everything else churning low in your belly. dizzying pleasure and the hot zip of pressure caused by the aphrodisiac. your head lolls forward, and even when suguru eases his hold, a strangled croak still escapes.
sensation explodes so suddenly that it has you crying out, and suguru slants his mouth over yours harder. he steals all the sounds you make and fervently licks at the mess of drool that coats your bottom lip like it’s the best thing he has ever tasted.
satoru pulls you harder onto his length with a sadistic chuckle when you whine from overstimulation and he keeps you pressed to him even as your body stops gyrating, falling slack when the heat that flooded over your skin finally bleeds away. both men’s bodies brim with wild tension while you come down from your high and knowing that the fumes are out of your system now, they start pulling away.
“more.” your mouth demands before your brain can catch up.
you can't even use being dosed as an excuse anymore. this was just who you were. and thank fuck, they don't make you feel bad for it.
you’re rolled onto the mattress, and you nearly melt into it when satoru sits up to take your heels off, and suguru pulls your skirt and panties down your legs. the hunger in their eyes once you’re completely naked sends a flush warm your cheeks, and it only worsens when they start undressing too.
you get an eyeful of their skin. tan and pale velvety expanses that span over thick cords of muscle as far as the eye can see. even so, you try your best to take in as many as you can, from thick beefy biceps to washboard abs and rippling pectorals that quiver with each heavy breath they take.
you’re glad they didn’t get undressed earlier because when your gaze travels south and lands on their hard cocks, you know you would’ve fainted if you saw them like this while the fumes were still in your system.
they approach at the same time, both settling between your legs, and you think their brief truce is over when you see them exchange irritated frowns.
“i’m going first.” satoru clarifies, and his roughened palms grip your skin like he's going to pull you away. it’s hard enough to hurt, so you aren’t sure why your thighs get wetter with slick that pools from your fluttering cunt.
“how about you let her decide?” suguru challenges with a mean smirk that makes him more handsome somehow.
something was wrong with you.
glittering amethyst eyes flicker your way, and the pad of his finger draws a line along the underside of your knee, while satoru plants a wet kiss on your inner thigh, eyelashes batting as he peers up at you.
how could they expect you to summon enough mental energy to choose who you wanted first? you were already struggling to remember how to breathe!
“i’m going to say neither of you if you keep arguing.” that was a lie. you know nothing could pry you off this bed, but satoru takes the bait.
with a growl, he bridges the distance and puts his mouth on you. your back bows with a soft gasp escaping from your parted lips. your mouth hangs open in a soundless scream when he latches his pinkish lips around your clit, feverishly suctioning it into his mouth. your surprised moan echoes off the walls of the bedroom when teeth graze over the sensitive skin.
the heel of your foot digs into the muscles of his toned back, trying to pull him closer, but suguru shoulders him away and takes his place. his hand moves to palm your ass, hauling you closer before spearing his thick tongue inside of you.
“oh fuck—don’t stop,” your tits bounce with the shudder that racks through you when he pushes deeper into your hole, and the reaction elicits a groan from the other man.
never known for his patience, satoru lowers between your thighs again, and since suguru isn’t willing to back up either, their hands push your legs apart before they both start lapping your cunt.
you’re a blabbering mess and completely soaked, that each each flick of their tongues resounds with a wet squelch. you try to say their names but end up slurring instead. your body shakes, and as your mind drifts back to the woman you saw getting eaten out what felt like hours ago, you feel bad for thinking her moans were fake. because yours was ten times louder now.
your fingers twist into both men’s hair. getting lost in black and white tresses so you can guide them right where you want.
saliva and arousal mix to make an obscene meld and no matter how much they licked, slurped and sucked at the stringy rivulets, more drooled in their place. you look down to see their tongues thumping over your clit, and your breath catches when you see the pinkish flesh smack together before swirling in a sodden tangle. it’s like in their efforts to one-up each other, they didn’t even realise they’re practically kissing over your cunt.
or maybe they do, and they just don’t care.
you can’t say the same, though. your hands act on their own accord, perverted little devils that tilt satoru and suguru’s heads towards each other by their hair, and they kiss without skipping a beat.
it's a hot, open-mouthed clash of teeth and lips that has them smearing the mess of your juices over each other's chins and mouths while swallowing pleasured groans.
“i’m gonna—" fingers promptly slide into you, you don’t even know whose, only that they shove you headfirst into an orgasm that darkens the corners of your vision and has your body convulsing.
they pull away from each other and satoru turns to you first. his mouth hikes up into a small smirk at the fucked out look you’re sporting.
“don’t tell me you’re too tired to keep going, sweets?” he asks, standing up, and your eyes track down to his cock. seeing where your attention his, he gives it two hard pumps, somehow making it harder and bigger than before. “guess not,” a wet kiss is pressed to your mouth and he whispers against it. “where do you want it?”
lips parting, you let your tongue hang out, and satoru makes a choked noise in the back of his throat.
he repositions you, angling your head at the edge of the bed and tapping his flushed tip against your tongue. creamy saltiness dribbles onto it, and wanting to taste even more, you push forward and wrap your lips around him.
the sound he makes is new. a blend between a hiccup and a whimper that has your jaw opening wider and your legs follow the action, parting in silent encouragement that suguru latches onto.
his cock nudges between slippery folds, then he slowly pushes into you.
“so,” suguru bottoms out, eyes pinching when he feels you struggling to adjust to his girth, “fucking” fingers tease over your fluttering clit, rolling the hood of skin up to expose a pearly bud, “beautiful.”
there's an almost innocent reverence in the words, but it's quickly dirtied when he parts his lips and lets a fat blob of spit splatter onto the sensitive flesh. slick pools around his length in a messy white ring, and unable to help himself, his hips snap into you with a shallow thrust. you moan, or try to because satoru takes the opportunity to shove himself deeper into your mouth.
“fuuuck—take it,” he grunts when the spongy tip hits the back of your throat, and a soft gag echoes. you breathe through your nose and swallow around him to draw out one of those high-pitched whimpers that have your pussy clenching.
“so good,” suguru’s thrust becomes less experimental, and he grips your thighs, pulling you to meet each drunken snap of his hips and rubbing his fingers over your clit harder when it pulses rather pathetically.
satoru’s eyes blaze as they follow the length of your naked body, then they settle between your legs and his lips pull into a feral smile. he stares at how hard you quiver as cock disappears between slick folds and hums.
“you gonna cum, baby?” you moan around him in answer. nonsensical gabbles that vibrate around his cock as he drives his hips forward. his pelvis touches your chin, and he watches with rapt intensity as a bulge protrudes with each thrust. it has his balls drawing up and nastily slapping against your face.
suguru paws at your tits, thumbs meanly rubbing over your nipples. “let it out, sweetheart. don’t hold back.”
oh, you weren’t planning to.
and when satoru’s hand closes around your throat, palm gently pressing to the bulge in it, you obey and cum with a strangled scream.
both men push themselves to the hilt, hips shuddering and hands gripping your body so hard, you know it's going to be littered with bruises in a few hours. their cum spills into your mouth and pussy in thick pulses. it's almost too much, but you take every drop and keep yourself still in case there’s more.
shivers rack through you even after they pull back, and their hands turn gentle to stroke your skin and pepper soft kisses over all the spots that feel a little tender.
praises are whispered into your ears as both man lay beside you on the bed, holding you in their arms and, little by little, you start to settle back into your body.
just when you feel the tendrils of delirium leave you, satoru speaks up, “we’re doing that again tomorrow.”
you snort out a laugh, and even suguru’s chest rumbles with a deep chuckle.
“why are you guys laughing? i’m not joking!”
the white-haired man insists, and suguru pushes his arm off you.
“shut up, man.”
*
*
*
untangling from the cage of limbs you wrapped yourselves in was no easy feat, but when the haze of lust dissipates, you force the men to get up. a quick sweep of the rest of the rooms at the pleasure den proves fruitless in locating the suspect, so you decide to head out and return another time.
the men walk ahead of you, arguing about god knows what, while your heels have you trailing many feet behind them.
you're too busy contemplating taking them off, not paying attention to where you’re going, that your breath sharply escapes when you collide with a hard chest. your eyes close, bracing for impact when you’re knocked off balance, only to be steadied by a strong pair of hands. with a sigh that’s both grateful and relived, you straighten in your heels.
these death traps had to be bought by satoru. you were sure of it.
“i’m so sorry,” you voice when you remember the person you bumped into. you almost ate shit while they barely moved. it was like walking into a wall. a well-built, muscular wall.
your eyes track up to the person’s face, mouth opening to give them your thanks…then you falter when you land on their face.
“you good?” the man asks, and his eyes trap you in their mossy green tresses. they’re shielded by dark hair that does nothing to hide their critical gleam as he watches you, and your heart comes to a stop in your chest. dread and excitement prick at your skin, threatening to sink their claws into you and tear you apart. and these feelings only fill to the brink and bubble over when you see the scar on his lip.
as if this day couldn’t get better, it seems you’ve just found your suspect.
mean!fratboy!toji who met you one night at a black out party his frat was throwing, curled up in the corner like some kicked puppy. he asked if you were okay, if you needed some air, maybe water, and that was that.
mean!fratboy!toji who fell head over heels for you that very same night, acting like he couldn't care less for the girl that was now stuck to his side n' holding his arm. yet, he knew deep down that your pretty little pout and tearful expression would soon be the downfall of his carefully curated tough guy act.
mean!fratboy!toji who's never actually had a girlfriend before, quick hookups and shitty talking stages were more his tune. but ever since he'd bashfully asked you to be his in the library after school, he'd promised himself to try and be the best he possibly could for you, his sweet girl.
mean!fratboy!toji makes good on his promise. well, mostly... he lets you get away with far more than he does with anyone else, that's for sure. when you're eating out, he lets you take whatever you want from his plate, even going as far as to snap photos of you stealing his food.
"up here, baby. smile f'me." he'd grin, but you were too busy devouring the best bits of his meal like the cheeky little shit you were.
now, if that were geto, or even worse, gojo? he'd have knocked them in their jaw for even thinking such a thought. not you, though. his precious little thing had far more privilege than those flops.
mean!fratboy!toji had convinced himself he hated physical touch, that a swift one-and-done was all he was cut out for. so, whenever anyone tried to initiate a hug, or even a pat on the back? he'd shrug them off with a deep scowl. but with you, he was so pathetically the opposite. at the start of every day? he's hugging you tight before the walk to class. moving through crowded hallways? he's grabbing for your hand. functions at the frat? you're sat up in his lap the entire time. every chance he had to be close to you, he took. maybe physical touch wasn't all that bad (as long as it was with you).
mean!fratboy!toji was a big guy, in every sense of the word. he was a 6'4 and 90 kg of pure muscle, and his ego wasn't too far off either. but probably his biggest asset, was his cock. the long, meaty thing he was a little scared to show you at first... you weren't that confident as it stood, what could make you wanna take this thing? oh well, it was something he'd work on...
mean!fratboy!toji always felt an overwhelming sense of infatuation wash over his body from watching your eyes widen with both fear and an adorable look of excitement whenever he pulled his thick cock out.
"toji... i...i'm sorry, i don't think i can take that..." you'd admit shyly, staring up a him through those long pretty lashes as you looked away from him shyly, a look so innocent it made his dick twitch and throb harder.
"aw, my poor girl, i know it's alot, but you can handle it. just let me work you open, yeah?" he'd reassure you. gently slipping in a thick finger until you whined and gasped for him to speed up.
mean!fratboy!toji gets real dirty with praise when you get sleepy. the minute your voice cracks he goes absolutely feral. he grabs the back of your neck and kisses you deep, whispering through his own moans,
“that’s my girl… keep giving me those pretty noises.”
he doesn’t stop feeding you praise that makes your stomach knot tighter.
“you feel so fucking good around my cock.”
“you take me so well pretty baby.”
“tell me what you want. fuck, i’ll give you everything.”
mean!fratboy!toji who thinks you look so pretty when you're all flustered and shy. he frequently goes out of his way to pull those cute groans from you, the ones that sound like he's seconds away from watching you pop from sheer embarrassment.
"pretty skirt, baby." he'd compliment, and just as your face lights up and you're about to thank him, he swoops in with the blunder. "d' look nicer hiked up your ass while i fuck you from behind."
he always had to try his best not to laugh at the way your eyes got glassy and your face all hot, you were just too easy to tease! he always apologised, though. weather that was with a hug or some action behind his claims was fully dependent on his mood.
mean!fratboy!toji had become a master at reading you. each of your faces meant a different thing, and with your shyness came the ability to determine what each of them meant due to your, sometimes, lack of conversational skills. when you'd go mute after he'd questioned you too long and hard about a difficult topic, he could clock the look that meant, hey, i've had enough. and if you keep going i'll literally cry. and he'd drop it immediately, scooping you up in his arms and peppering your face in soft kisses.
"m' sorry, sweetheart." he'd mumble into your neck, holding you tight so you knew you were still loved and cherished.
or when you'd get that sly look in your eye that meant you wanted to be touched, that might have been his favorite. one glance from you and he'd have you pinned down, marking up your neck and stripping off your clothes in mere seconds.
"i like how you always know what i want, toji." you'd pant through it all, and he'd take the praise as a sigh to go faster.
mean!fratboy!toji who too gets embarrassed sometimes. like, for instance, when he arrives to pick you up for a date and you come out of your apartment looking like a literal angel. blood might as well be gushing from his nose. he has to take a deep breath every time, or he's scared he'll get too excited and smother you in love, potentially ruining your pretty makeup.
on that note, mean!fratboy!toji gets insane cuteness aggression from his adorable, shy!girlfriend. one time when you're in your kitchen baking him some homemade protein bars for his workouts, toji walks in and his heart almost stops beating. you've got flour dusted on your cheeks, a cute little apron tied snug around your waist, and your hair thrown into a style you know he adores. he cannot contain himself. he stalks up to you and engulfs you in his mass, lifting you up and twirling you around in his strong arms.
"ahh! toji, put me down!" you giggle, smacking his shoulder lightly as he spins you around, pressing sweet kisses to your torso.
he eventually lets up, but when he sets you down on the counter, he's right in front of you peppering wet kisses all over your face. "you're js' so cute, can't help it." he admits, pressing one smiley kiss to your lips before letting you tend to the baked goods.
mean!fratboy!toji who can't stop talking to you at the frat, his friends are concerned the real toji up and died and this was his shitty doppelganger replacement. he'd get drunk after game day on thursday nights and just rant on and on about how much he missed you, how sweet you were, how no girl could ever compare, real simp shit.
"y' don't get it, kuna... she's the greatest fuckin' thing since avatar came out." he'd sigh, his head a little dazed but still fully focused on his pretty girl.
"yeah, i know. fuckin' talk about her every day, it's gay." the tatted man reiterates.
"how's it gay to like a chick, fucking idiot."
they were both sloshed, but the fact remained, even inebriated you were all that was on the big goof's mind.
mean!fratboy!toji who reeeeally shows off at his basketball games when you're there, wearing his jersey. the thing swallowed you whole, but that makes it all the more adorable. he'd constantly risk shooting three pointers much to nanami's dismay, but they always went in, so no harm no foul. it was all worth it to watch your eyes light up on the side lines while waved your flag in excitement, it made his heart feel full.
mean!fratboy!toji was still mean. and perhaps, even worse, he was possessively mean. whenever there was a party and you decided to come out of your sanctuary and tag along, the amount of men that would gawk at you really got him going. he loved and hated how attractive you were.
"the fuck d' you think you're staring at?" he'd snap at the particularly shameless ones, sizing them up and throwing them the dirtiest look imaginable.
they'd get the message eventually, because after a few too many punch ups with the guys who got handsy after he'd left you alone for a few minutes, the notion set in. you were toji's, and he'd sooner kill a man before letting anyone get a piece of you.
mean!fratboy!toji was definitely still mean, just not to you.
A/N: this was therapeutic but a little bit all over the place but like it's also 2 in the morning so like yeah
18+ MDNI, smut - accidentally calling bf!toji 'daddy' in bed
tojis got you on your stomach with your head turned sideways on the pillow. arms all wobbly and useless. you’re babbling - barely coherent - while he fucks into you slow and deep.
his hands firm on your hips. voice low and smug in your ear. “so fuckin’ tight, baby. makin’ all these cute little noises.”
you sob something that’s not really a word.
“what was that?” he huffs a laugh. “couldn’t hear you, sweetheart.”
your toes curl.
he’s big. that massive cock that always stretches you just a little too much until you’re wrung out and trembling. of course, tonight’s no different. he’s been fucking you for what feels like age. slow and punishing. letting you feel every inch like he’s trying to ruin you permanently.
your brain’s melting. your mouth moves faster than your thoughts.
“d-daddy-“
you freeze. he stills. mid-thrust. a beat of silence.
oh my fucking god. you did not just say that.
you bury your face in the pillow, mortified. “i-i didn’t- i wasn’t-“
he growls, “say it again.”
you peek up, startled. “what?”
his hand comes down, sharp on your ass.
you yelp.
“say it again, baby. you said it so sweet.”
you squirm. he rolls his hips into you, slow and filthy.
“go on. i’ll fuck you just how you like. but you first have to say it.”
you choke on a moan. “daddy-“
he groans.
grabs you by the waist and pounds into you - harder, deeper and rougher than before. the bed creaks. the air knocks from your lungs.
“fuck, that’s it. that’s my girl.”
he doesn’t let up. you’re clawing at the sheets. crying out with every thrust and he’s right there behind you. his breathing ragged, hands all over your hips and waist and thighs.
“you like that? like daddy fuckin’ you stupid?”
you nod frantically. “yes- yes- please don’t stop-”
“didn’t know you were such a little slut for it, baby,” he leans down and presses a kiss between your shoulder blades. “shoulda called me that sooner.”
you shatter after that.
cry out his name while you fall apart underneath him. your legs shaking. throat raw. he finishes not long after, groaning into your skin with his cock buried to the hilt. you both collapse in a mess of sweat and shaky limbs.
after a minute, he reaches for a tissue, still catching his breath.
“you alright, princess?”
you cover your face. “i can never show my face again.”
he laughs.
“what, because you called me daddy? please. you think i didn’t love that? i’m gonna bring it up every time you ask me for anything now.”
you groan.
he leans over and kisses your cheek.
“‘daddy can you get me a glass of water,’” he mocks you in a fake high-pitched voice.
you smack his chest.
he’s grinning.
“spoiled little thing. but you’re my little thing.”
A/N: I feel like I haven't written a toji fic that wasn't apart of the fushiguro family series in AGES! so here's one!!!
𝄢 summary. a pack of alphas stumble upon the princess running away from her betrothed. instead of sending her right back to the crown, they begin to take a liking to her.
𝄢 series warnings. NSFW/MDNI, DUB-CON, explicit smut, omegaverse, a/b/o dynamics, medieval au (reader is a princess), sub/dom dynamics, light royal politics, this could be seen as cheating but also not really, forced marriage, light angst, hurt/comfort, massive polycule, porn with plot, like this has minimal plot and lots of smut, but that’s what you guys are here for, group dynamics, loss of virginity, corruption, knotting, teasing, perversion, more tags tba.
𝄢 a/n. happy happy happy Valentine’s Day. what’s better than being a princess in a medieval time period AND an alpha trying to get in your panties? SIX ALPHAS!!!! this shall be the start of a (basically) purely smut series where sweet princess!reader shall be defiled each chapter by hot, ripped, primal alphas. each chapter will be marked by their specific content warnings. cross-posting on ao3 soon. dividers by honeyluvsw and dollywons.
playlist - archive
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX (tba)
…
series taglist (open—age must be visible on blog):
The twins! There’s nerdjo 🤭and then there’s fratjo too ig, I was really excited when i saw nerdjo trending so I grabbed the opportunity to draw him hehe
Suguru Geto doesn’t kiss. Only hits it from the back. Doesn’t stay the night. And he definitely doesn’t chase. Everything with him is simple and transactional— until the new girl at the party rejects him without blinking. Now he’s got something to prove. The only problem? The closer he gets, the harder it is to pretend it’s just a game.
a/n: chococat and frat!geto are both so underrated >:( and the amount of times i accidentally wrote fart instead of frat
(credits to @/VoidBringerr on x for that lucious fanart :P credits to @bhavihelps for the divider :D)
Suguru Geto, vice president of the frat, walked like the world had already signed itself over to him. Girls gravitated toward him like it was instinct. He didn’t chase. He didn’t try. He didn’t need to. They lined up anyway.
Suguru Geto who rolled into lectures twenty minutes late—that was if he even showed up at all—and still somehow pulled stellar grades. Suguru Geto who submitted assignments seconds before the deadline, unbothered, unhurried, like time itself would wait for him. Suguru Geto who never really had to work for anything.
Things just came easy to him. Until you.
Shoko introduced you at one of the frats parties.
You’d been her childhood best friend before your parents moved overseas for work, and when she found out you were coming back—same college, same city—she nearly lost her mind. Promised she’d show you everything. The best cafés. The quiet corners of town. And of course, the “hot parties.”
The hot parties were always at the same place.
Infamous brothers. Infamous parties. The kind of place people warned you about and went to anyway. Geto and Gojo at the center of it all, like twin pillars of chaos and charm.
They carried a reputation like cologne—expensive, heavy, impossible to ignore.
Even you, the new girl, had heard the stories.
Frat boys who only did casual. Hook up, have their fun, and send you home before you could even fully come down from the high of it. Don’t linger. Don’t catch feelings. It was practically printed in invisible ink on the walls of that house.
And honestly? The rumors didn’t bother them. If anything, it saved them the trouble.
Most girls knew exactly what they were walking into. Some even liked it that way. No strings. No expectations. No pretending it was something deeper.
And Suguru was always clear. He didn’t chase, he selects.
No lingering.
No feelings.
No kissing.
No sleeping over.
Clean lines. Clear rules. Strictly transactional. Mutual pleasure, nothing more.
You walked into the party trying not to look as out of place as you felt.
People moved through the frat house like they owned it—like they’d been born under neon lights and bass-boosted speakers. You followed behind Shoko as she pulled you through the crowd, grinning like she was about to present you with a prize.
“Satoru, Suguru!” Shoko called out.
Shoko looked like she had personally delivered a miracle. Her hands in the air around you. Basically like that one picture of Will Smith.
They turned immediately.
“Shoko has told me so much about you!” Satoru beamed before pulling you into a hug that was all limbs and spilled alcohol. His drink sloshed onto your top and his shirt. He didn’t even care, or didn’t notice.
“I’m glad I can finally put a pretty face to the name.” He pulled back, still holding your hand, and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. Surprisingly gentle. Almost princely.
You laughed, easing your hand back. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”
From the side, Suguru’s eyes dragged over you—slow, assessing.
“Good things, I hope?” Satoru grinned. He knew better. Most things people said about him weren’t flattering. Just accurate.
“Something like that.” you smiled, soft and amused.
The sound of your laugh did something strange to Suguru’s chest. A small, sharp skip. He frowned internally. That was new. He’d watched girls strip in front of him without so much as a pulse change. Why did a simple smile from you feel different?
“You must be Suguru, right?” you turned toward him.
He’d already been staring. He didn’t even pretend otherwise.
“Yeah,” he replied smoothly, confidence sliding back into place like it had never left.
“It’s nice to meet you.” You said. He stepped forward and pulled you into a hug, hands settling at your waist. Familiar. Controlled. Easy.
“Nice to meet you too, pretty girl,” he murmured, shifting so his arm rested around your shoulders afterward, keeping you tucked neatly under his side.
“Let’s get you something to drink.”
The kitchen counter was cluttered with liquor bottles, and red cups stacked in the corner. He grabbed one and started mixing something without asking what you liked. You took the cup when he handed it to you. Your fingers brushing.
“Thank you.” It was small. Polite. Not breathless. Not flustered.
He showed you around the house, introducing you to the brothers and the regular girls who might as well have been honorary members at this point. The house was massive, loud, vibrating with music blasted by DJ Yu—a freshman who’d apparently been given the job mostly to prevent him from launching himself off the roof into the pool and breaking his bones.
You laughed at that. Suguru liked the sound again. Too much. “Thank you for the tour, Suguru,” you said eventually, still loosely under his arm.
“We’re not done yet,” he replied quickly. “Haven’t shown you upstairs.” He winked. This was the part where girls usually blushed. Leaned closer. Whispered something suggestive. Begged, even. Instead—
“I’m fine.” You stepped away. His arm dropped. The music kept playing. People kept going around him. But something in his head went quiet.
Rejection? That… didn’t happen.
“I’m going to look for Shoko. Thanks for the tour though.”
You waved lightly before heading toward the couch where Shoko sat between Yuki and Satoru. You slipped down next to her, and she draped her arm around your shoulders—the same place Suguru’s had been moments ago.
He stood there for half a second too long.
Then he followed.
He sat on the armrest of the couch, close enough to still be in your space, but not touching this time. Not claiming.
Something in his ego felt… dented. You hadn’t blushed. Hadn’t hesitated, hadn't chased. You just walked away. A strange feeling settled in his chest. It was small, but sharp. Annoying. His pride stung in a way it never had before. This didn’t happen to him. Usually it was easy. A lazy wink. A hand at someone’s waist. A low comment spoken close enough to feel. Girls were already leaning in, already asking to go upstairs before he even decided if he wanted them.
He didn’t chase. He never had to. So why did the thought of you walking away still sit wrong with him? It wasn’t about you. It couldn’t be. It was just the rejection. He had something to prove something to himself now. He saw you as a challenge.
And Suguru liked winning.
He had been so sure he would win.
There was something in him that needed to prove it — not just to himself, but to his friends too. Even though they hadn’t seen him get rejected by you.
Drunk,immature, and his ego bruised in a way he’d never experienced before, he’d walked straight over to the other frat brothers — Satoru, Haibara, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna — like it was nothing. Like you were nothing. “I can bag her,” he’d said with a careless laugh. “Even when she’s being difficult.”
They’d teased him, of course. Raised brows. Doubt. Curiosity. He’d leaned back in his chair, drink in hand, acting like it was already decided.
“I like the challenge,” he’d added. “She’s my challenge.”
And Suguru had always been the one who could make even the most stubborn girls soften. Fold. Give in. And to him you were certainly one of those.
⋆˚꩜｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Next Friday, he stood near the couch, drink loose in his hand, eyes fixed on the front door more than he’d admit.
Waiting for you.
Satoru had insisted on the pajama party. “Intimate,” he’d called it. No one bought it. It was just an excuse to see girls in lace and silk. Satoru looked unfair as usual. Blue plaid pajama pants hanging low, thin white shirt clinging in a way that made people stare too long. He acted oblivious. He wasn’t.
Suguru wasn’t exactly subtle either.
Grey sweatpants. Black shirt. Sleeves pushed up just enough to expose strong forearms, veins faint but still prominent beneath warm skin. The cotton of his shirt clung lightly to his chest and shoulders, outlining muscle without trying too hard. It stretched when he moved, hinting at the strength underneath.
He looked comfortable. Relaxed.
The sweatpants hung low on his hips, the fabric thin enough to suggest more than it hid. When he shifted his weight or leaned back against the counter, the outline of his bulge noticeable. Not exaggerated. Just there. Impossible to ignore if someone let their eyes wander.
And people were looking. He could feel it. A few girls tried to be subtle. Most weren’t. Normally he’d smirk. Maybe lean back a little more. Let them look. Tonight, though, his attention stayed fixed on the door. Until you walked in.
Your eyes met his from across the room before you started walking toward him.
And just like that, something shifted. The air felt heavier. Quieter.
You were wearing a small purple lace and silk sleep dress — delicate straps resting on your shoulders, the fabric catching the light with every step you took. It skimmed your body just enough to leave very little to his imagination.
He loved your outfit.
The way the lace traced your silhouette. The way the silk moved softly against your thighs. The way it looked like it had been made just for you.
Heat pooled low in his stomach before he could stop it. His hand tightened subtly around the cup he was holding, pupils dilating as his gaze dragged — slow, deliberate — from your face down to the hem of your dress and back up again.
But it wasn’t just desire. It was the way you walked toward him. Calm. Unhurried. Like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.
When you hugged him — when your body pressed against his — he felt exactly how you fit against him. The thin layers of fabric between you did very little to dull the contact. Warm. Close. Distractingly close.
His body went rigid for half a second, hyperaware of every point of contact. The heat pooling low in his stomach felt even heavier, unwelcome in how fast it came.
You pulled away first. His hands lingered at your waist a second too long before dropping. He followed you into the kitchen without thinking about it. “Do you always do this?” you asked, not turning around, focused on pouring yourself a drink.
“Do what?” he replied, leaning back against the counter, palms resting against the edge behind him. Casual. Like he wasn’t watching you over the rim of his cup. “Following girls around,” you clarified, taking a sip before leaning back as well. Now you were beside him. Close enough that your arms brushed lightly.
He didn’t move away. “No. Just you.” Smooth. Effortless. Delivered like it wasn’t a line.
“You’re so rehearsed,” you snickered into your drink. You barely looked at him. Your attention drifted to the kitchen, the music, the people passing by. You adjusted the hem of your dress. Anything but him.
And that — more than anything — got under his skin. Because he was used to being the center of attention.
He was used to being watched. But you? You acted like he was optional. His jaw tightened slightly, though his smile stayed lazy.
“If I’m rehearsed,” he said, pushing off the counter. He stepped into your space, one hand bracing against the surface behind you. Close enough to crowd. Not close enough to touch.
“I wouldn’t be standing here trying to figure you out.” His head tilted slightly as he leaned in, just a fraction closer. There was something different in his tone now. Less polished. Less automatic.
He let it show — just a little — that this wasn’t routine. That he was actually trying. You raised a brow lazily, finally meeting his eyes. “But go on,” he continued, softer, almost coaxing. “If I'm rehearsed, tell me what you think I’m going to say next.”
His other hand came to rest on the counter behind you, boxing you in without quite trapping you. Testing. Seeing how much you’d tolerate. How far he could push before you pushed back.
You only chuckled. Took another slow sip of your drink. Like his proximity meant nothing. Like he wasn’t practically caging you in. You set your cup down and crossed your arms. “You’re trying to figure me out?” you said evenly. “You’re doing a bad job, then.”
A quiet beat passed. “Am I?” His voice lowered, amusement threading through it. He liked this. The resistance. The way you didn’t melt or giggle or fold. “And yet…” A lazy smirk curved his mouth. “You’re still standing here.”
The confidence was still there — but thinner now. Sharpened. His eyes dropped to your lips for a second. Just long enough. Just slow enough.
“I’m still here because I’m entertained. Not because I’m doing you a favor by letting you figure me out,” you said evenly. Calm. Almost absentminded.
You took a small sip of your drink. “I’m also curious what cheesy line you’re going to try next.”
Suguru’s lips twitched. A quiet breath left him — not quite a laugh, but close. “Cheesy?” he echoed softly. He reached up without asking, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. Slow. Deliberate. Tucking it behind your ear like he had every right to. Then he leaned in. Close enough that his breath ghosted over your skin, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “Wanna find out?” he murmured.
He pulled back just enough to watch your reaction. Waiting for the shift. The blush. The swallow. The crack in your composure. It never came. Your expression stayed the same. Relaxed. Mildly bored.
“I'm good.”
Two simple words. You nudged his arm away — not aggressively, just enough to move past him — and walked back toward the couch where Haibara, Shoko, and Yuki were sitting. Like it was nothing.
Like he hadn’t just made a move on you. Suguru stayed where he was. For a second, he didn’t move. He didn’t fully process it. The rejection hit slower this time. Not sharp. Just heavy. Settling somewhere behind his ribs.
His heart was still beating too fast from the closeness. From the warmth of you. From the almost. He wasn’t sure what churned in his stomach more.
The sting of being brushed off. Or the fact that he wanted to try again.
⋆˚꩜｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Suguru was fucked.
The scene from last Friday wouldn’t leave him alone. It replayed in his mind in sharp, unforgiving detail. The way you looked at him. The way you sounded. The way you said I’m good like he wasn’t worth your time.
He could still remember how close you were. The warmth of your body. The faint trace of your perfume that seemed to linger in his memory no matter how many showers he took.
He had thought about that single interaction more than the dirtiest things he had ever done. And he hadn’t even properly touched you. Every time it replayed, something twisted low in his stomach. Not lust. Not exactly. Something heavier. Stranger.
Something he’d never felt before.
His lecture dragged on endlessly. Some rant about foreign economies and stock markets. The professor also spiraling about his own investments tanking.
Suguru didn’t hear a word. His thoughts kept circling back to you. When class finally ended, he left without thinking, shoulders tense, jaw tight.
Everything felt dull. Boring. Until he saw you. Sitting on a bench outside. Headphones in. Sunlight spilling over you like it was intentional. Like the universe was presenting him with something he wasn’t sure he deserved.
You looked… beautiful. Your legs crossed neatly. Your outfit soft, effortless. Your hair falling perfectly over your shoulders. Brows slightly furrowed as you stared at your phone.
Beautiful.
The word made him pause.
He’d called girls hot. Sexy. But beautiful? Perfect? That was new. And he didn’t like how easily it was when it came to you.
He swallowed the thought down quickly. It was just the chase. That was all this was. Right?
He called your name as he approached. You looked up at him. And his heartbeat ticked up, just slightly. “Oh, hi,” you said, tugging one headphone out.
“You done for today?” he asked casually, already calculating how he could stretch this interaction. “One lecture left,” you sighed, slipping your phone into your pocket and pulling the other headphone out.
“When?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Come on. I’ll walk you.”
He didn’t wait for permission. He picked up your bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder like it belonged there.
“You don’t have to,” you called, following behind him as he started toward the main building.
“Where’s your lecture?”
He ignored the protest entirely.
“018.”
He adjusted his pace slightly so you could keep up, leading you toward the back of the building without another word.
The hallway was quieter here.
Room 018 came into view on your right.
He stopped in front of you. You stepped closer, reaching up to tug your bag off his shoulder. “Thank you for walking me,” you said lightly. “Even if it was against my will.”
He scoffed, crossing his arms. “So charming,” he muttered.
“I’ll see you later.” He ruffled your hair — casual, almost teasing — before stepping past you and walking away.
Good thing he walked away. Otherwise he would’ve seen it — the slight widening of your eyes, the faint warmth rising to your cheeks where he’d ruffled your hair.
The last time — at the party — he had been closer to you. Closer than this. But there had been dim lighting and music loud enough to swallow hesitation. Alcohol warming your skin. Shadows to hide behind. This time there was none of that.
No haze. No flickering lights softening the edges. Just daylight pouring through the windows. Just the quiet hum of campus around you. Just him standing there, fully aware, fully sober. Good thing he walked away.
Otherwise he would’ve seen it — the slight widening of your eyes, the faint warmth rising to your cheeks where he’d ruffled your hair. He would’ve known he’d affected you.
An hour later, you stepped out of your lecture hall. And stopped. Suguru was leaning against the wall across from the door. Like he’d been there the whole time.
His phone hung loosely in his hand, forgotten. He found your eyes almost immediately, a lazy smirk spreading across his face like this had been inevitable. “What are you doing here?” you asked, walking up to him.
He hadn’t prepared an answer. Not really. “Thought I’d walk you home,” he said honestly. The words leaving before he could dress them up. You blinked at him. “You waited an hour to walk me home?” A small huff escaped you — half disbelief, half something else.
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to,” he replied, pushing off the wall. His hands slipped from his pockets, reaching for your bag again and slinging it over his shoulder like it belonged there.
You fell into step beside him this time. “For someone with such a reputation,” you said lightly, “you’re being such a gentleman.”
“And what does that reputation entail?” he asked, glancing down at you like he genuinely didn’t know. Of course he knew. He just wanted to hear what you thought and heard.
“Come on,” you muttered, looking away. “You know what people say about you.”
“I do,” he replied smoothly. “But I’m wondering what you heard.” There was something different in his tone now. Less teasing. More searching. Because for once, it wasn’t about what the campus thought. It was about what you thought.
“You’re a manwhore,” you said plainly. No hesitation. No sugarcoating. His eyebrow twitched slightly. “You don’t do face-to-face,” you continued. “And you don’t kiss.” Your gaze stayed forward, focused on the path ahead. His eyes, however, were locked on you.
“People talk,” he said simply. Even though most of it was true. He had kissed a few girls back in freshman year. Early on. Back when he was still figuring out what he preferred during hook ups.
He’d learned quickly that he didn’t. Kissing complicated things. It made girls linger. Made them think. Made him pretend he wanted something more. “So it’s not true?” you asked, your gaze snapping up to him.
“I didn’t say that,” he chuckled, glancing back at you. This time, you were the one who looked away first. A quiet beat passed.
“Why no kissing?” you asked. There wasn’t judgment in your voice. Just curiosity. That made it harder to brush off. He exhaled through his nose, shoulders rolling slightly as he considered how to phrase it.
“Keeps things easy,” he said finally. “Sex is transactional. You feel good, I feel good. End of story.”
His tone was matter-of-fact. Almost clinical.
“But most people don’t get anything out of kissing,” he continued. “You kiss someone because you want to be close to them.” His eyes flickered toward you. “Seems more personal than sex to me.” He said it like it was obvious. Logical.
Like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. And you could follow what he meant. You understood the train of thought. You just couldn’t understand him. Because to you, that sounded backwards.
Detached. Safe. And maybe that was the point. “How do you even get in the mood without kissing?” you asked. You were trying to follow his logic. You really were.
“You just do,” he replied easily. “You don’t really get in the mood to do your assignments either, but you still do them.” He said it like it made perfect sense. You giggled. It was soft. Unfiltered. And something in him twitched at the sound.
He’d had girls whisper filth in his ear. Beg. Moan. Say things far more obscene. And yet a simple giggle from you did more to him than any of it ever had. “That’s… one way to put it,” you said, shaking your head slightly.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Mh?”
“What do you like?”
The question caught you off guard.
“Uh…”
You frowned faintly, thinking.
No one had really asked you that before.
You knew how to flirt. You’ve had boyfriends before — not many, you could still count them on one hand. From the outside they’d all seemed fine. Good guys. But when it came down to it… They hadn’t really known what to do with you. Everything had always revolved around them. Their pace. Their finish. “I don’t… know?” you admitted, shoulders lifting slightly.
“What do you mean? Even virgins know what they like.” He looked at you, genuinely confused.
“I’ve had a few boyfriends,” you said quietly, a hint of pink rising to your cheeks. “But they weren’t really any good. And whenever I tried to explain or try something different… it didn’t really work.” There was embarrassment there. Not dramatic. Just subtle. Like you’d quietly decided somewhere along the way that maybe you were the problem.
“Maybe I’m just not made for sex,” you added with a small, almost self-conscious laugh.
Something in Suguru hardened at that. Not lust. Not entirely. Something sharper. Because the idea of you thinking that — of some mediocre guys fumbling their way through you and leaving you convinced you were the issue — irritated him more than it should have.
“Or,” he said calmly, cutting in, “you just didn’t have the right partners.”
“When it happens with one boyfriend, it could be coincidence,” you said with a faint, bitter chuckle. “When it happens with two? That’s not really a coincidence anymore.”
He looked at you differently then. Not like prey. Not like a challenge. Like something he wanted to prove wrong. “If you had the wrong ones twice,” he said evenly, “that just means your sample size was bad.” There was a faint smirk there, but softer than usual.
“It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.” His tone wasn’t teasing. It was steady. Certain.
And for once, he wasn’t trying to get you into bed (well not completely) He was trying to undo something someone else had planted in your head. And that might’ve been worse for him. Because this wasn’t about winning a challenge anymore. It was about wanting to be the one who showed you differently.
“Thanks,” you said softly. “That’s… oddly comforting.” For a second, something warm settled between you.
“Maybe I could be the one to show you,” he added, a wink following right after.
And just like that, the warmth shifted. A quiet bucket of disappointment washed over you. Right. He was still him. Still the campus manwhore. Still the guy who turned everything into an invitation. “Yeah,” you said lightly, pushing his shoulder with two fingers, “no thank you.”
He laughed, not offended. But something flickered behind his eyes — quick. Almost unreadable. The conversation eased after that. Safer topics. His time in college. Your time overseas. Gossip about mutual acquaintances. Who dated who. Who cheated. Who dropped out.
It felt normal. Almost easy. And that was the dangerous part. Because you genuinely enjoyed talking to him. By the time you reached your building, the sky had softened into late afternoon gold. You stopped at your door. “Thank you,” you said, taking your bag back from him. “I really enjoyed our talk.”
And you meant it. His expression shifted — subtle, but softer than the smirking version he wore so easily. “My pleasure,” he replied. Polite. Controlled.
“I’ll see you around.” He gave you a small wave before stepping back from the entrance, giving you space as you unlocked your door.
He didn’t linger. But as he walked away, hands sliding back into his pockets, something about the interaction replayed in his mind.
He enjoyed talking to you. Not flirting. Not teasing. Talking. And for the first time, Suguru wasn’t sure if that made things easier… Or infinitely more complicated.
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“Where are you going?” he asked when you took a different turn instead of heading toward your building. He was standing outside your lecture hall again, like he had been for the past few weeks. It had become a routine of sorts — he would wait for you, walk you home, and talk with you about nothing and everything.
“I have to go to the library,” you replied. “My professor assigned something last minute, and I want to get it done before the weekend.”
Suguru fell into step beside you without hesitation. “Mind if I join?” he asked, his arm settling over your shoulder in a way that had slowly become familiar. At some point, you had stopped shrugging it off.
“Sure,” you said, looking up at him with a stern expression. “If you promise to be quiet.”
“I promise,” he replied, lifting his pinky in a childish gesture.
You sighed, but your lips curved slightly as you hooked your pinky around his. A pinky promise. The library was warm and quiet when you stepped inside, the faint scent of paper and coffee lingering in the air. You led him toward a quiet corner where a small table with two chairs sat facing each other.
To your surprise, he actually kept his promise. He opened his laptop and pulled up his own assignment, though he barely looked at it. Most of his attention was on you. He watched the way your hair fell forward when you leaned down to write, the way your sweater slipped slightly off one shoulder, the crease between your brows when you concentrated, the back of the pen resting against your soft bottom lip. His textbook sat open and untouched, the words blurring together because he couldn’t stop glancing up at you.
“I have to grab something,” you said eventually, standing from your chair. He stood immediately. “I’ll come with you.”
“You do that a lot,” you remarked as you scanned the shelves. “Following behind me.”
“Are we having this conversation again?” he replied lightly, his eyes focused on you rather than the rows of books.
“You’re like a big puppy.”
He laughed at that, an actual, unguarded laugh. “That’s what I’ve been reduced to?”
“That’s what you’ve been upgraded to,” you corrected as you spotted the book you needed. It was on the top shelf. You stretched up on your toes, your fingers barely grazing the metal edge beneath it. Suguru stepped closer behind you, not quite touching you but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him at your back. He reached over you easily and grabbed the book.
Instead of handing it to you, he lifted it just slightly higher. You turned around with a small frown, your brows knitting together as you tried to reach for it again. He watched you from above, his smirk lazy but his heartbeat louder than he liked to admit.
“Not even a thank you you? Or a please,” he teased. “Didn’t think you were ill-mannered.”
“Do you want me to beg you?” you countered, your tone unimpressed. The thought alone made something stir in him. “Would you?” he asked, leaning a fraction closer.
“No,” you replied immediately, crossing your arms despite the way your stomach fluttered at his proximity.
“Then you’re not getting your book about…” He glanced at the cover. “International politics.” You flushed faintly, embarrassed that he had said the title out loud when it was perfectly normal.
“Fine.”
He waited, expecting more. “Please, Suguru,” you said flatly.
It wasn’t breathless or sweet like he had imagined, but hearing his name leave your lips so casually still did something to him that caught him off guard.
“Not good enough,” he replied, shaking his head.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you said, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking flustered. “Do you have some sort of worship kink?”
He chuckled and stepped closer until his chest brushed lightly against your body. “Just trying to teach you manners.”
You scoffed. “Fine. Keep the book.” You pushed past him and walked back toward the table, your pride too intact to play along with whatever game he was trying to start. After a second, he followed you, the book still in his hand. This hadn’t gone the way he imagined. You didn’t fold. You didn’t beg. You didn’t give him what he wanted.
And he hated how much he liked that. “I’m going home,” you said as you began packing your bag. “Already?” he asked.
“Might as well. I can’t really go any further without that book.”
You walked ahead of him again, refusing to look back, your pride too strong to let him win.
And as he followed behind you — because of course he did — Suguru realized he admired that stubbornness far more than he should have.
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His room was quiet, the late afternoon light spilling lazily across the floor. Suguru lounged on his bed with his phone in hand, half-reading through the fraternity council group chat. Over a hundred messages flooded the screen about some reckless freshmen stunt that could get the house in trouble. Arguments about whether to kick them out or just put them on social probation dragged on endlessly. He barely cared.
His phone suddenly rang. Your name lit up the screen. The number you had reluctantly given him two weeks ago. A smile spread across his face before he even realized it.
“Sweetheart—”
“You really took that book with you?” you half-yelled through the phone.
His smile shifted into a slow smirk as he leaned back against his pillows. Usually you were composed, cool, untouchable. Hearing you slightly ruffled did something to him.
“You said I could keep it,” he replied lazily.
“I didn’t expect you to actually take it.”
“You told me to. Who am I not to comply?”
“Did you even register it, or did you just steal it?”
“It’s not stealing if I bring it back.”
He could practically hear your eye roll through the phone.
“What do you even want with that specific book?”
“For someone as smart as you, you’re awfully slow.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I dont want that book. I just want to hear you say please.”
“I already did,” you snapped.
“That wasn’t good enough.”
“Then you should’ve been more specific.”
“I was specific,” he said calmly. “Just say the words and I’ll give it to you.”
“Oh, please, Suguru,” you replied in an overly sweet, dripping tone.
It was sarcasm.
But the effect was very real.
“Go on,” he murmured, smirk widening.
“Fuck off.” The line went dead. He stared at his phone. You really just hung up on him. He almost pouted. Still, he was getting closer. You wouldn’t be this annoyed if you didn’t care.
Twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at his door. He rolled off his bed, expecting Satoru, maybe Haibara or another brother.
Instead, you stood there. Arms crossed. Cute frown firmly in place. “Give me that book.” No greeting. No smile.
“So impolite,” he tsked, leaning against the doorframe. He found it amusing that you had come all the way here for a book you could probably find online. A part of him wanted to believe you were enjoying this just as much as he was.
“Suguru, please. I have plans this weekend, and the deadline’s Monday.”
“You’re getting closer,” he replied.
You stepped inside his room without waiting for permission. It was surprisingly tidy for a frat house. You went straight to his desk and began rummaging through the drawers.
“It could save you a real headache if you just asked nicely enough,” he said, watching you search. You straightened and finally turned to face him. There was something different in your eyes now. Determined. Slightly desperate.
“Suguru,” you exhaled. “I really need the book. Please.” That one was more sincere. And it hit harder than the sarcastic ones. He didn’t move. From the outside, he looked unbothered. Inside, his stomach was flipping and his heart was beating fast enough to power a small city.
“Please,” you said again, softer this time. He swallowed. “Knew you could be polite,” he said lightly, ruffling your hair before stepping past you.
He grabbed the book from his bag. It hadn’t moved since the library. Your hands reached for it immediately. He pulled it back again. “What are your plans this weekend?” he asked casually.
Your expression shifted to mild annoyance. “Seeing a friend.”
A friend? His jaw tightened slightly. What kind of friend? Why did that word suddenly irritate him? “What friend?” he pressed.
You scoffed. “I came here to get a book, and now you’re interrogating me about my social life.”
“You want the book?” he challenged. You hesitated for a second. “I’m going on a blind date. Now can I please have my book?”
A blind date. The word landed heavier than he expected. Jealousy flared before he could stop it. It didn’t make sense. You were a challenge. A game. A mission to see how long it would take to get you in his bed. So why did the idea of someone else sitting across from you make something ugly twist in his chest?
He lowered the book without another word. You grabbed it immediately. “Thank you,” you said, smiling.
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Suguru laid quietly in his bed that same night you came storming into his room. His head clouded with jealousy and also lust.
You saying ‘please' and almost begging him really did something to him. It may have been because you wanted a book and not because you wanted him, but that didn't matter to him. The words that bordered on begging had taken their toll on him, and especially on his cock.
The room was dark, except for the faint glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains, casting shadows over the rumpled sheets. Suguru's chest rose and fell unevenly, his mind replaying the scene over and over.
'Suguru, I really need this. Please.' Fuck, the way your eyes had locked on his. It twisted something deep in his gut, even when he had completely taken your words out of context.
A hot coil of envy still in his stomach because of that stupid blind date, but his dick still throbbing with need.
He groaned low in his throat, palming himself through the thin material, feeling the heat radiate from his skin.
With a frustrated huff, Suguru shoved his boxers and sweats down his thighs, freeing his cock. It sprang up, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum in the dim light. He wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing firmly, and let out a shaky breath.
His mind flooded with images: you on your knees, not for your blind date, but only for him. Begging to touch him, to taste him.
'Please,' you'd probably whisper, lips parted, eyes dark with want.
He started stroking, slow at first, his fist gliding up the shaft, thumb swiping over the sensitive head to spread the slickness. A jolt of pleasure shot through him, making his hips buck involuntarily. Fuck, he was so hard it ached, veins pulsing under his grip. He picked up the pace, hand twisting slightly, imagining your mouth instead—wet and warm, sucking him down greedily.
His free hand clutched the sheets, knuckles white, as he jerked faster, the slick sound of skin on skin filling the quiet room. His balls tightened, drawing up as the pressure built low in his belly.
He muttered your name, head falling back against the pillow.
In his mind, you were there, begging louder, your voice breaking as you rode him, pussy clenching around his cock. He thrust into his fist, chasing that fantasy, breaths coming in ragged pants.
He couldn't hold it anymore.
With a choked groan, Suguru came, hot spurts of cum shooting over his hand and stomach, his body shuddering with the force of it. He milked himself through it, every last pulse, until he slumped back, spent and sticky. The jealousy lingered, a dull ache.
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Suguru had almost manifested it — the worst possible outcome.
And somehow, the night had gone exactly that way.
That’s how you ended up still wearing your date outfit — burgundy dress, black heels — on a grimy frat couch, completely out of place in the chaos of the house. But right now, you didn’t care.
The bass thumped through the house hard enough to rattle the walls, music vibrating through the floorboards. The air was thick with sweat, perfume, and cheap alcohol. Out in the yard, a small group lingered in the glow of porch lights, passing a blunt between them and laughing too loudly. Satoru stood near the kitchen island, effortlessly charming two girls at once, his grin bright and shameless, while across the dance floor Toji had a girl pressed flush against him, moving in a way that made it very clear neither of them cared who was watching.
Suguru sat beside you, arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. His thumb traced slow, absentminded patterns along your arm while he held his cup in the other hand, occasionally bringing it to your lips so you could take a sip.
You leaned into him slightly.
He leaned back into the couch, gaze lazily fixed on you, pretending he wasn’t studying every expression on your face.
“He was barely taller than me,” you complained, arms crossing. “And in the same sentence he claimed he was 6’1.”
Suguru brought the cup closer to your mouth again. You took a sip.
“That sucks, sweetheart,” he murmured, rubbing your arm soothingly.
“He wore this stupid expensive watch and could not stop talking about it. I swear I just sat through a forty-five minute TED Talk about watches.”
You let your head fall back lightly against his chest.
His heartbeat picked up immediately.
Your perfume. The warmth of your body. The way you looked — dressed up for some idiot who didn’t deserve it.
He kept his expression neutral. Secretly, he was relieved it had gone badly.
“And then,” you continued dramatically, “he showed me his stock portfolio. And then not even his car — the car he’s planning to buy after college. Like that’s supposed to impress me.”
“Business major?” Suguru asked knowingly.
“Ugh. He was.” You groaned into your hands. Hands completely covering your face now.
He chuckled quietly, then set his drink down and gently grabbed both of your wrists with one hand, pulling them away from where you’d buried your face.
You reached for his cup instead and took a long drink before handing it back to him.
“I don’t get it,” you sighed. “I think I’m cursed when it comes to men.”
His jaw tightened slightly at that.
“Or,” he said calmly, “your taste is just terrible.”
You shot him a look. He smirked faintly. “Good thing I could fix that for you.”
You chuckled and nudged him lightly with your shoulder. For once, you didn’t follow it up with a snarky comment or a casual rejection. You just laughed. And he hated how much that did to him.
It shouldn’t have mattered. It was just a laugh. Just you relaxing around him for once. But something warm and unfamiliar twisted low in his stomach. Maybe turning this into a challenge hadn’t been his smartest idea. Because somewhere along the way, it had stopped feeling like one. He told himself it was still about the chase. About winning. About proving that even you would fold for him eventually.
But hope had started to creep in. And that was dangerous. “Wouldn’t that just make you one of my bad decisions?” you asked, tilting your head up at him.
His eyes were already on you.
“You think I’d treat you like that?” he asked, and for once there wasn’t much teasing in it. There was something almost earnest there, like he genuinely needed to know.
“You want me to be honest?” you chuckled lightly.
“Depends,” he said, though his voice wasn’t as steady as he wanted it to be.
You studied him for a second.
“I think some bad decisions could be worth it.”
His breath caught before he could hide it. For a split second, his composure cracked — eyes widening just slightly, jaw tightening like he was processing what you had just given him.
Worth it.
His heart was pounding in his throat now, loud enough that he was sure you could feel it through his chest.
His hand on your shoulder tightened slightly, pulling you closer without him fully realizing he was doing it. Your gazes didn’t break — not once. Slowly, his free hand slid down to your wrist. He lifted it carefully, like it was something fragile.
His lips brushed against the pulse point there — soft, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of it.
Then higher, to the center of your palm. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t showy. It was deliberate. He looked back up at you. The music in the other room felt distant now. The world narrowing to the space between you.
“You won’t regret me,” he said quietly.
At first, the kiss was soft — exploring, tentative. But as it went on, it took on a life of its own. His tongue flicked against your lower lip, seeking entrance. When your mouth opened for him, he pressed closer, his body fitting against yours.
The kiss grew more urgent, more demanding. His hand left your cheek and tangled in your hair, pulling you even closer. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body pressed against yours without an inch to spare. And the sounds he made — low, almost desperate — sent a shiver down your spine.
His mouth left yours, trailing hot kisses down your jawline, to the spot where your pulse thundered in your throat. You felt him smirk against your neck — he knew what he was doing to you.
“Wanna go?” he murmured against your neck, his breath hot where your pulse fluttered.
You nodded eagerly. he was already on his feet.
Your hand stayed in his as he pulled you up with him, fingers tight around your wrist as he led you through the crowd and up the stairs. The music downstairs faded with every step, replaced by the sound of your own breathing and the rush of blood in your ears.
The second you stepped into his room, the door shut behind you with a heavy click.
He didn’t waste time.
His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you closer as his mouth crashed back onto yours. Tongues tangled languid and heated– exploring each other with deliberate strokes.
You toed off your heels with a quick kick, the clatter lost in the thrum of music drifting up from downstairs. His fingers found the zipper of your dress, tugging it down slowly.
The fabric loosened, slipping around your shoulders like a whisper of surrender. "Let me make you feel good," he murmured against your lips, voice low and rough, pulling back just enough for the words to sink in.
"I'll show you what your previous ones couldn't." His hands slid the straps down your arms, the dress pooling at your feet in a silken heap, leaving you exposed in nothing but your lingerie—lace clinging to your skin, a fragile barrier.
His mouth claimed yours again, the wet smacks of kisses echoing in the room, mingling with the bass-heavy rhythm from below. Both hands cupped the underside of your ass, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs hooked around his hips, and he carried you like that, devouring your mouth as if it were the last kiss he'd ever steal—deep, insistent, stealing your breath.
He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, settling you on his lap. One hand traced the curve of your waist, skin warm under his palm, before dipping lower to toy with the delicate lace of your panties.
His fingers lingered, teasing the edge, brushing close enough to make you ache. Then he slipped inside, parting your folds with a confident stroke. His thumb circled your clit in slow, firm circles while two fingers curled into you, pressing against that sensitive spot deep within. The stretch was perfect, building friction with each deliberate thrust—curling, twisting, scissoring to stretch you open. "This okay?" he asked, voice a husky murmur, smirking as he watched your face twist in pleasure.
"Must feel good, huh?"
You could only nod, breath hitching as he ramped up the pace, fingers pumping faster, thumb relentless on your clit. He leaned in, capturing your mouth briefly before his lips trailed to your neck, nipping at the skin. With his free hand, he reached behind you, unhooking your bra in one smooth motion. The lace fell away, and he palmed your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples, rolling them until they peaked hard under his touch.
Your whimpers filled the air, soft and desperate, and he groaned low, his cock twitching harder against your thigh. It had been straining against his pants since you kissed him back, thick and insistent, your sounds only adding to it.
Pressure coiled tight in your core, his fingers relentless, curling just right to hit that spot over and over. Your body arched, thighs trembling around him as the wave crested. A burst of colors exploded behind your closed eyelids—an orgasm ripping through you, fierce and shattering, the kind you hadn't felt in ages. Your walls clenched around his fingers, pulsing as you came undone, slick coating his hand.
You panted, chest heaving, but he was there instantly, mouth sealing over yours, swallowing your gasps like they were his to claim. You tried to kiss back, lips clumsy against his, but the aftershocks still quaked through you, leaving you boneless.
"Need a moment?" He leaned back onto the bed, propping himself on his elbows, biceps bulging against the fabric of his shirt, veins standing out in sharp relief.
The haze cleared just enough, and you slid off his lap, dropping to your knees on the cool hardwood floor. The chill bit into your skin, grounding you.
"You don't have to," he said, thumb brushing your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.
"Let me give you something back," you whispered, hands already at his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Your fingers shook, haste making them clumsy.
"Calm down, sweetheart," he chuckled, the sound dark and fond, his hand covering yours to steady it, unfastening the belt and popping the button with ease.
His cock sprang free as you tugged his pants down, thicker and longer than any you'd known before—heavy, veined, the tip already glistening with precum. You wrapped your hand around the base, stroking once, twice, before leaning in to swirl your tongue around the head, tasting him on your tongue.
He hissed, fingers threading into your hair as you took him deeper, lips stretching around his girth. You bobbed slowly at first, hollowing your cheeks, tongue pressing flat along the underside as you sucked. Saliva slicked him, your hand twisting in tandem with your mouth, working him with eager pulls.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, hips bucking slightly. "So proud of you, taking me like this. My sweet girl." His praise washed over you, spurring you on, but just as his breaths grew ragged, his grip tightened in your hair.
He pulled you off with a wet pop, right before he could tip over the edge. "Not yet," he rasped, eyes dark with intent. "I want to be inside you when I come."
In one fluid motion, he shrugged off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and abs. Then he scooped you up from the floor like you were weightless, manhandling you onto the bed. He flipped you flat on your stomach, the mattress dipping under his weight as he settled behind you. His cock pressed hot and heavy against your ass.
"Sugu," you moaned, voice muffled against the sheets, body arching back in desperate invitation.
He didn't make you wait. Lining up, he thrust in deep, filling you in one smooth stroke. The prone position let him grind against you, cock dragging along your walls with every snap of his hips.
His hands roamed—one sliding up to cover your mouth, fingers pressing against your lips, "Open," he commanded softly, and you did, sucking on his fingers as he fucked into you harder, the wet sounds of skin meeting skin filling the room.
"Bet you've never felt this good, huh?" he groaned against your ear, pace unrelenting. "You're so gorgeous like this.”
“How does my cock feel? Come on, tell me."
You could barely form words, pleasure overwhelming you—mewling around his fingers, body rocking with each thrust. It felt too good, too full, his dirty words stoking the fire higher.
But after a few minutes, he slowed, a frustrated huff escaping him. This position—it wasn't hitting right– not like he thought it would. He usually stuck to from behind, keeping emotional distance, but now... He pulled out fully, the sudden emptiness making you whine.
Grabbing your waist, he flipped you onto your back with effortless strength, manhandling you again, your legs splaying open. His cock looked even harder, flushed and straining as he positioned himself between your thighs.
"Fuck, needed to see you," he muttered, slamming back inside, the angle deeper, hitting new spots that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"Want to see your pretty face." His hand found your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he drove into you, mouth descending to yours in a messy, claiming kiss.
The combination shattered you—his cock stretching you, thumb working your clit, lips bruising yours. Tension snapped like a wire, your orgasm crashing over you, walls fluttering around him as you cried out into his mouth.
"I'm right behind you," he panted, thrusts erratic now, chasing his release. With a final, deep grind, he came, spilling hot inside you, body shuddering. "My pretty girl," he whispered, voice wrecked. "So pretty just for me."
You both rode out the waves, breaths mingling as he collapsed beside you, pulling you close. The high faded slowly, but even as warmth lingered, his thoughts lingered.
He had broken two of his rules to get you into his bed. No kissing. No face-to-face. Both gone. And he had hopefully broken your man-curse.
This was supposed to be simple. A challenge. A bruised ego that needed repairing. A girl who had rejected him and needed proving wrong. That’s what he had told himself from the beginning. That he was chasing the thrill, not you.
But somewhere between kissing you and needing to see your face, something shifted. He had never needed that before — never cared about eye contact, never cared about expressions. It had always been easier that way. Detached. Controlled.
With you, it hadn’t been controlled at all. He wanted to see you. Needed to. Needed your face in front of him like proof that this wasn’t just another meaningless night.
And that realization unsettled him more than anything. He liked you. Not because you rejected him. Not because his pride had taken a hit. Not because he had something to prove. He just liked you.
Still, even as that truth pressed against his ribs, he tried to smother it. This is why you don’t kiss. This is why you don’t do face-to-face. It complicates things. It makes it real.
You were just a challenge– a bet he had made with himself. So why did something twist painfully in his chest when he saw you slipping out of his bed?
You moved quietly, gathering your dress from the floor, smoothing it down like you were preparing to step back into your own world.
His hand reached out before he could stop himself, fingers closing gently around yours.
“Where are you going?” he asked, and the softness in his voice surprised even him.
You glanced over your shoulder at him with a faint, knowing smile.
“Thought you had rules,” you said lightly. “No staying over, and all that”
His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles. Instead of letting go, he lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a slow kiss against your skin.
He tugged you back toward him, and you fell against his chest, your body fitting against his like it had earlier. “I don’t think those rules really matter when it comes to you,” he admitted quietly.
He leaned in, pressing slow, unhurried kisses along your cheek, your jaw, your temple. There was no rush this time. When he reached your mouth, he paused, studying you for a second before kissing you softly. “Rules don’t apply to you,” he murmured against your lips.
You smiled despite yourself. The rational part of you knew better. It told you he probably said similar things before, that this was just another smooth line delivered in the afterglow.
But the part of you still tangled up in him, warm and softened and wanting to believe, chose not to argue.
“Besides. I'm not done with you”
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You and Suguru had settled into something dangerously undefined in the six weeks you’d been seeing each other.
Not official. Not casual.
If he wasn’t at your apartment, you were at the frat. There was barely a day you didn’t see him. He still walked you home almost every evening like it was routine, like it had always been his place beside you. But now it didn’t end at your door.
Now he’d stop halfway down the street and say, “You studied for hours. That deserves food.”
He called it a reward. He always paid. And when you’d protest — because you always did — he’d just shrug with that lazy grin of his. “You already do enough for me,” he’d say lightly when you would try to pay him back. And without fail it would always send a wave of heat within you.
And it turned out you weren’t cursed when it came to men. The men before had only cared about themselves. Suguru had proven that wasn’t a universal rule.
Your things had started to mix with his. Your apartment was slowly overtaken by his hoodies, sweatpants, jackets, a toothbrush he’d left behind and never taken back. But his room wasn’t much better. Duplicates of your skincare products lined his sink because he “wanted you to feel at home.” Your panties mixed into his laundry. Your perfume soaked into his sheets.
It was a challenge for Suguru at first, but that feelings were quickly replaced by something real– feelings? love?
You were tucked away in the library now, headphones snug over your ears, soft music humming in the background as you tried to focus on your textbook. Four hours of studying had drained you, and nothing new was sticking.
With a quiet sigh, you packed up your bag and started weaving between the shelves toward the exit. That’s when you heard it. “Have you seen Suguru and his girl?”
Satoru. You recognized his voice. Too loud for the library. You slowed instinctively. “Looks like he’s finally mature enough to have a girlfriend. Finally done with the ‘I have rules’ bullshit,” Satoru added, amused.
“Yeah, right,” another voice responded. Sukuna his voice.
You couldn’t see them clearly from where you stood, just shapes a few shelves away. You should’ve walked away. You didn’t. “Remember what he said?” Sukuna continued.
Satoru sounded confused. “What?”
“His ego got dented when she rejected him at that first party she showed. Said it was a challenge for him. Wanted to see how long it’d take for her to give in.”
The words hit before you could brace for them. Your heart dropped. The air felt thin.
“Oh,” Satoru muttered after a beat. “I feel bad for her. She’d be good for him.”
“She would,” Sukuna said. “Too bad he’s… him.”
Your vision blurred before you even realized tears had gathered.
Challenge.
The word echoed louder than anything else.
All the late nights. The borrowed hoodies. The way he’d said rules didn’t apply to you. Your stomach twisted violently. You didn’t wait to hear more. Your legs moved on their own, carrying you down the aisle and out of the library before your brain could catch up.
You were supposed to go to him today. You couldn’t. If Satoru and Sukuna knew, how many others did? How many people had watched you and thought you were just part of some ego game? The humiliation burned hotter than the hurt.
By the time you stepped outside, tears were already spilling freely down your face. You walked fast, almost blindly, ignoring the strange looks from people passing by.
You didn’t care. You just needed to get home.
You got home after what felt like eternity, and let your bag drop by the door. Your apartment felt different now. Smaller. Louder with memories.
Every corner held him. The couch where he’d pull you into his side. The kitchen where he slow danced with you at 4:00am after a rager. The bed where he made love to you multiple times. The faint trace of his cologne still lingering in the air like it refused to leave.
You walked to your closet to grab pajamas. It was littered with his stupid hoodies and shirts. You’d stolen them absentmindedly over the weeks, and he’d never asked for them back.
You pulled one down. Even after sitting in your closet for days, it still smelled like him. Ridiculous. Your throat tightened again. You changed slowly, forcing yourself to breathe, pushing the tears away with the heel of your hand. But the second you lay down on your bed, it all came rushing back.
Challenge. You were just a challenge to him
The words echoed over and over. Apparently that’s all you were. A dented ego. A game. A timer he had started the moment you rejected him. Your mascara smudged against the pillow, but you didn’t bother fixing it. You were too embarrassed. Too humiliated.
How many people knew? How many had watched you walk into that frat house nearly everyday while they secretly pitied you. The room blurred. You cried until exhaustion dragged you under.
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When you woke up hours later, the apartment was dim. Your face felt tight, puffy. You reached for your phone. Notifications flooded your screen.
Seven missed calls.
Twelve messages.
All from Suguru. Right. You were supposed to go over after the library. Your chest twisted. You dropped the phone back onto the mattress like it burned.
In the kitchen, you opened the fridge and stared at it without seeing anything. There was food. Plenty of it. You just weren’t hungry. Your stomach felt full of something heavier. Regret. Shame. Hurt. You closed the fridge and went back to your room, curling in on yourself again.
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Suguru stood outside your lecture hall the next morning, scanning the crowd. You weren’t there. He checked his phone again. Still nothing. That wasn’t like you. You always texted back. Always.
He sent another message.
Then another.
Then called. This time it went straight to voicemail. You declined him?
Something cold slid down his spine. Had he done something? He replayed the last few days in his head, searching for a misstep.
Nothing made sense.
Within minutes he was outside your apartment, slightly out of breath from walking too fast. His heart pounded harder than it should have.
He knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.
His jaw tightened as he knocked a third time, more urgently.
The door finally opened while you stood half-hidden behind it. Your eyes swollen. Skin blotchy. Dark circles under your lashes. It hit him like a punch.
“Sweetheart—” He stepped forward instinctively, but you shook your head. “Don’t,” you whispered.
His chest tightened immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, voice softer than he meant it to be.
“I’m not feeling well,” you said. The lie was obvious. Being sick might explain missing class. It didn’t explain the puffy eyes.
“Let me take care of you,” he said quickly. There was uncertainty in his voice now. Fear, almost.
“I’m fine.”
You started to close the door, but his hand caught it gently. Your eyes lifted to him again. God. The sight of you like this hurt more than he expected.
“Sweetheart, please,” he said quietly. There was no cockiness left. No smirk. No lazy grin. Just concern.
“No,” you said, firmer now. “I said I’m fine.” There was bite in your voice this time. He hesitated. But then slowly stepped back.
His hand dropped to his side and the door closed. And he stood there, staring at it, something unfamiliar and heavy settling in his chest.
He knew it now. You were mad at him.
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Suguru tried everything. For two weeks straight, he showed up at your door.
Sometimes you didn’t open it at all. Sometimes you did. And every single time, his heart climbed into his throat. The seconds between knocking and hearing the lock turn felt unbearable. A mix of dread and hope twisted together in his chest. Relief when you opened it. A selfish flicker of happiness just from seeing you.
And then the guilt.
Because every time you stood there, you looked a little more tired. A little more guarded. Like something inside you had dimmed. It was subtle to anyone else but not to him.
Your eyes didn’t light up when you saw him anymore. You didn’t lean into the doorway. You didn’t tease him. You didn’t call him Sugu.
He stood in front of your door with coffee from your favorite place and the sandwich you always ordered. It was early, but he knew you’d be awake by now. He had gotten up earlier than usual just to make sure he got it before the morning rush.
It took a while before the door opened. When it did, you looked the same as the night before. Puffy eyes. Skin slightly blotchy. A fragile kind of tiredness that made his chest tighten.
“How are you feeling?” he asked carefully, like speaking too loudly might break you. “Fine,” you said again, your voice still rough from sleep.
“I got you breakfast,” he added, holding up the cup and the small paper bag. He tried to smile, but it felt wrong when you didn’t mirror it. You took the food from his hands.
“Thank you,” you said politely. The door closed before he could say anything else.
You didn’t eat it. You couldn’t. The sandwich stayed untouched in the fridge. You took a few sips of the coffee, but even that tasted wrong.
The next day he showed up again, this time closer to evening. You still opened the door for him. That alone gave him a flicker of hope. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly.
Your eye bags were lighter, but the tiredness hadn’t left. Your lashes looked heavy, your nose faintly red like you’d been crying recently. He noticed. He didn’t mention it, he didn't want to push it.
“Dinner from your favorite place,” he said, lifting the bag slightly. You hesitated before taking it.
“Thank you.” The door closed again. More firmly this time.
The day after that, he tried something different. Maybe it wasn’t about food. Maybe it was about effort.
It was noon. You didn’t have lectures. He stood outside your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers tucked under his arm. He raised his hand to knock. The door opened before he could.
You startled slightly when you saw him there. You were dressed to leave — skirt, sweater, jacket, scarf wrapped around your neck. You looked put together.
Beautiful.
But the dullness in your eyes was impossible to miss. The spark that used to be there when you looked at him wasn’t there.
“Hi,” he said quietly. It felt strange standing this close to you again.
“Hi,” you replied.
“Going somewhere?”
“grocery store.” A lie. Your fridge and pantry were still stocked. You just needed some air.
“Ah,” he said, holding out the bouquet. “These are for you,” He watched your face carefully, searching for anything — softness, annoyance, something.
You took them. “Suguru, please stop doing this.” The flowers rested against your chest.
“Doing what?” he asked, though his voice was tighter now.
“Whatever this is. Stop wasting your money.”
You stepped back into the apartment and walked toward the kitchen. He half expected you to throw them in the trash. Instead, you grabbed a vase and placed them inside. Careful.
That hurt more.
He stepped inside slowly, unsure if he was overstepping. You returned to the doorway and stood there, leaving a respectful distance between you. Too much distance.
He took a step closer. You took one back.
His heart shattered.
“Please tell me what’s going on.”
You looked at him for a long moment.
Not angry. Not screaming. Just tired.
“Did you win?” Your voice was steady. Cold. But your eyes betrayed you — glossy with tears you were trying very hard not to let fall. He frowned slightly. “What are you—”
“The challenge,” you cut in, your hands sliding into the pockets of your jacket like you needed something to hold onto. “Did you win the challenge?”
You said it clearer this time. Slower. His stomach dropped.
It had started as something stupid. A careless comment. An ego he didn’t know how to soothe when you rejected him. He had never been rejected before. Not like that. Not calmly. Not without you even flinching. You had unsettled him. And instead of admitting that, he’d turned it into a game. A challenge. Something to conquer. He had said it drunk once. Careless. Laughing it off in front of people who didn’t matter. But somewhere between chasing you and actually knowing you, it had stopped being about pride.
It had become something else. Something he hadn’t planned on. You leaned back against the counter, watching his expression carefully — the shock, the dawning realization.
“Where did you hear that?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.
“That’s what matters to you?” you scoffed, pushing yourself off the counter. You walked toward the door.
A bitter laugh slipping out before you could stop it. One tear finally escaped, sliding down your cheek. He moved before thinking, his hand closing gently but firmly around your wrist.
You didn’t turn around.
“It started out that way,” he admitted. The words felt heavy coming out. “But it didn’t stay that way.” Silence filled the space between you.
“The first time you rejected me, at that party” he continued quietly, “I didn’t know how to handle it. I’ve never been told no like that. You left me feeling… off. And instead of dealing with that like an adult, I said something stupid to my friends.”
He stepped closer. You didn’t pull away this time.
“But when I got closer to you— when I realized I actually wanted to get closer to you… not to win, not to prove anything, but because I wanted you—” His composure held, but his voice cracked just slightly. “That’s when it stopped being a challenge.”
You finally turned your head just enough for him to see your profile. “How does that fix anything?” you asked quietly.
Your eyes were glossy now, tears threatening to spill, but you refused to let them fall again. You stood straighter, trying to hold yourself together. He saw through it immediately. And it broke him.
“I can’t fix how it started,” he said, voice low, steady but strained. “I can’t erase what I said. I can’t pretend I didn’t humiliate you.”
For a second, he just looked at you.
Then, before he could overthink it, he let go of your wrist — only to drop down in front of you.
Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just… down. Both knees hit the floor. You blinked in shock.
“Suguru—”
He took your hands in his before you could pull away, holding them gently, like he was afraid they’d disappear.
“I can’t change the past,” he said, looking up at you now. No smirk. No ego. No control. “But I can change what I do next.”
Your breathing faltered.
“I don’t want to win you,” he continued. “I want to deserve you.”
His thumbs brushed lightly over your knuckles.
“It started stupid. It started with my pride. But after everything. it stopped being about proving anything.” His jaw tightened slightly. “You weren’t a game to me. You weren’t something to conquer. You were the first person who made me want to stay.”
That word hung heavy between you.
Stay.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he added, quieter now. “And I don’t expect you to believe me just because I’m here.” His grip softened.
“But I’m not getting up until you understand that you were never just a challenge.”
Your fingers threaded through his hair, the movement so natural it felt like second nature. When your lips met his, he inhaled sharply, the sound almost a gasp. Your touch was soft, the kiss gentle but filled with longing.
His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle your face. He held you like you were something precious, something fragile.
As you broke away, he looked up at you, his expression vulnerable.
“Stand up," you ordered, voice sharp like shattered glass, cutting through the heavy silence of the kitchen. He rose slowly, eyes locked on yours,
You pushed up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was more punishment than passion—fierce, biting, a reminder of the hurt you carried. Pulling back just enough, your breath ghosted over his mouth. "I'm still mad at you."
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, not in affection but in the raw need to anchor yourself to something, anything, amid the ache in your chest. "That's okay," he murmured, voice breaking just a fraction as he leaned in, capturing your lips again.
His hands found your hips, shoving you back against the counter, the cold marble slamming into your spine like a slap. It stole your breath, the chill seeping through your shirt. He broke away for a heartbeat, eyes dark and pleading. "Take it out on me."
Your hands fisted the collar of his jacket, yanking him with you as you backed toward the bedroom, the hallway blurring in your periphery. He followed without resistance, letting you lead, letting you use him like a weapon against your own pain–something he caused.
In the dim light of the bedroom, you shoved him down onto the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You climbed onto his lap seconds later, straddling him, your skirt riding up your thighs. His hands hovered at your sides, hesitant, waiting for your cue. "Tell me what you need," he said, voice thick with desire, eyes burning into yours like he was memorizing every fractured line of your face.
"Touch me," you replied, the words vague, laced with the numbness you wielded like armor. But he knew. God, he always knew.
In a swift move, he flipped your positions, pinning you beneath him on the bed. The shift stole the air from your lungs, his body heavy and warm over yours, a stark contrast to the ache inside. His hands slid down, hooking into the waistband of your skirt and panties, dragging them off in one rough pull. Leaving you bare and exposed for him.
His fingers parted your thighs, tracing the slick between them before diving in. One digit slipped inside you first, slow and deliberate, testing your readiness despite the tension coiling in the room.
You were wet—traitorously so—your body responding even as your heart screamed no. He added a second finger, curling them deep, pressing against that spot that made your hips buck involuntarily. His thumb found your clit, rubbing in firm, insistent circles, building the pressure with each thrust of his hand.
The wet sounds of his fingers working you filled the space, obscene against the quiet sobs building in your throat.
He watched you, unblinking, as your breaths turned ragged, your walls clenching around him. "Let go," he whispered, voice raw, like he was begging for absolution.
The coil snapped, pleasure ripping through you in a violent wave—your orgasm crashing hard, leaving you trembling and spent. Tears welled up, spilling hot down your cheeks, not from bliss but from the pain he gave you, the reminder of what he had done to you. You cried softly, the sound muffled against his shoulder as he held you through it, his touch gentling but never pulling away.
He kissed the tears from your skin, murmuring your name like a prayer, but you turned your face away, the intimacy too much, too raw. When the haze cleared enough, you shifted, rolling onto your stomach, presenting your back to him—a wall he couldn't breach. He paused, hands stilling on your hips. "Why are you turning around?" His voice cracked a little, laced with confusion, the question hanging heavy in the air.
"Don't wanna see you right now," you said, the words heartless, slicing through him like a blade. You heard his sharp intake of breath, felt the way his grip faltered for a second, his heart shattering audibly in the silence. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. Positioning himself behind you, he freed his cock—hard, aching, a testament to how deeply he still craved you, even in ruin.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, filling you with a stretch that bordered on pain, your body yielding despite the emotional chasm. He moaned your name, voice breaking on each syllable as he began to move, thrusts deep and measured, grinding against you from behind. "I missed you so much. Fuck, I missed you–." His words were a litany, desperate pleas wrapped in groans, his hips snapping harder as if he could fuck the distance away.
You bit the pillow, stifling the moans that threatened to betray you, the pleasure building traitorously even as tears soaked the fabric. He reached around, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing in time with his pace, drawing you under despite yourself. Your body clenched around him, the orgasm pulling you apart—waves of heat pulsing through you, leaving you gasping, spent once more. He followed seconds later, spilling inside you with a broken groan of your name, his release hot and claiming, body shuddering as he collapsed over you.
He always came with you, your body the one thing that could still unravel him completely. But the warmth faded fast. He barely caught his breath, chest heaving against your back, before you were shoving him off, scrambling out of the bed. The sheets tangled around your ankles as you snatched your discarded clothes, pulling them on with frantic hands.
"I have to go," you said coldly, the fleeting spark of vulnerability from moments ago snuffed out like a dying ember. You didn't look at him, couldn't bear the devastation in his eyes. "Please leave as soon as you can."
The words landed like a final blow, the door clicking shut behind you as you fled to the bathroom, leaving him alone in the wreckage of the bed, heart in pieces on the floor.
To your surprise, when you stepped out of the bathroom, Suguru was gone. For a second, you just stood there, staring at the empty space where he had been. You had expected him to still be there. Leaning against the wall. Waiting. Stubborn.
A part of you had wanted him to stay. You just didn't want him to see you fall apart again. During Sex? a little embarrassing but could just be from the pleasure. But afterwards?
You needed a distraction. And he was right there. But now the silence felt heavier.
The tears came again, hot and uncontrollable. You didn’t bother wiping them away this time. You let them fall as you changed back into your clothes, hands trembling slightly as you pulled your sweater over your head.
You didn’t crawl into bed.
Instead, you slid down beside it, sitting on the cold floor with your back against the frame. Your knees pulled tightly to your chest, arms wrapped around them like you were trying to hold yourself together.
You missed him. That was the worst part. Not the humiliation. Not the anger. The missing. Because after he made a joke out of you and your self-respect, you still missed him.
His words replayed in your head.
It started that way, but it didn’t stay that way.
You didn’t know if you were strong enough to believe.
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Suguru was a wreck.
He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper than they had been when he’d stood outside your door. His room was quiet, but his mind wasn’t.
It felt like he was already halfway to completely losing you.
You had gone cold. You stopped replying the way you used to. No calls. No lingering touches. No softness in your voice. And the worst part was that just a few days ago, he’d thought things were finally going well.
You had let him into your space. You had kissed him. You had sex with him. And then you’d looked at him with those same eyes and said you didn’t want to see him when he fucked you. When you told him to leave, he felt something in his chest physically crack.
A knock sounded at his door. He didn’t move. “Come in,” he called out, his voice rougher than usual. Satoru pushed the door open without hesitation. “You missed the meeting today.”
Right. The fraternity council meeting. It had completely slipped his mind. Then again, everything had slipped his mind lately. The only thing replaying on a loop was the way you had looked at him when you said he needed to leave.
“Sorry. Forgot,” he muttered, still staring at the floor.
Satoru raised a brow and walked further into the room before dropping down beside him on the bed.
“What’s up with you?” he asked, nudging Suguru lightly with his elbow, trying to keep it casual.
Suguru turned his head slightly.
The dullness in his eyes, the exhaustion etched into his face, the way his hair hung loose around his shoulders — it was enough to wipe the grin off Satoru’s face. Suguru looked forward again, jaw tightening.
“She found out.” That was all he said. Satoru didn’t need more context.
“I’ve been trying to fix it for two weeks,” Suguru continued, his voice quieter. “I thought I was getting somewhere.” He stopped there, but the strain was obvious. Satoru leaned back slightly. “What happened?”
“She let me in,” Suguru said. “She let me into her apartment. She kissed me. We had sex. And then she told me she couldn’t look at me when i was fucking her. Said she didn’t want to see me.”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “And then she made me leave.”
Satoru tilted his head. “Isn’t that usually your thing?”
Suguru let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah. It was.”
The old him would have shrugged it off. No strings, no expectations. A girl walking away first would’ve been convenient. But this wasn’t convenient. “I don’t want that with her,” he said quietly. “I don’t want it to be casual. She’s not like the others.”
Satoru studied him for a moment before placing a hand on his back. “Then tell her that.”
“I did.”
“Then tell her again,” Satoru replied simply. “And again. Until she believes you. You don’t get to mess something up like that and expect one confession to fix it.”
Suguru frowned.
“You hurt her pride,” Satoru continued. “You made her feel like a joke. That doesn’t disappear because you look miserable.”
Suguru’s jaw clenched.
“So what do I do?”
“Show up. Not to win her. Not to convince her. Just show up because you want to be with her. "Be consistent." Satoru said while he gave Suguru a pat on his shoulder.
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A month had passed. Almost every single day, he showed up at your doorstep and would walk you to school or the library.
At first, it was awkward. You would put your headphones in and walk a step ahead of him, pretending he wasn’t there. But he didn’t complain. He was just grateful you hadn’t told him to leave.
After a while, the headphones disappeared.
You still weren’t chatty like you used to be. Conversations were short, polite. “Hi.” “How are you?” “Good.” But even that felt like progress. Hearing your voice again felt like something he didn’t deserve but desperately needed.
He felt like he was starting over. Now he carried the weight of every silence, wishing he could go back to one stupid drunken comment and erase it from existence.
Two weeks in, you spoke to him first.
Just a question about class. It was small, almost insignificant, but it felt like a door cracking open. After that, conversations came in fragments — short, cautious exchanges. He didn’t push. He took whatever you gave him.
His feelings didn’t fade with time. They worsened.
Every day you looked impossibly prettier to him. He found himself craving small things — the sound of your voice, the way your perfume lingered when you walked past him, even your soft smile that wasn't even directed at him but a stray cat lounging on the pavement.
After three weeks, it almost felt like before. You walked beside him instead of ahead. You talked about something dumb a professor said. You even laughed once. You were still guarded. He could feel it.
But he was a greedy man.
After four weeks, you let him wrap an arm around you once. Just once. He had to focus on breathing because his heart felt like it was trying to climb out of his throat.
And now, a full month had passed. He stood outside your apartment like he had every day before.
“Hey,” he said softly when you opened the door. You weren’t dressed for class. You were wearing a simple white dress and a jacket. Casual, but clearly not for studying. You looked beautiful.
“Suguru… it would be better if you didn’t walk me today,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.
Something uneasy stirred in his chest. His brows furrowed. “Why?”
You hesitated just a second. “I have a date.” The word hit him harder than he expected.
Date.
His mind went blank for half a second, like someone had cut the power. “What do you mean?” His voice came out softer than he intended.
“I’m going on a date,” you repeated.
He felt it then — panic. Not loud. Not explosive. Quiet and suffocating. Like something tightening around his lungs.
“Why?” he asked again, the question more raw this time.
“I thought it would be good for me to get back out there,” you replied.
Get back out there.
Like he was already something behind you. He stood there for a moment, unable to process it. He had known he wasn’t entitled to you. He had known you didn’t owe him anything. But hearing it felt like the ground shifting under his feet.
“Please don’t,” he said quietly. The air between you grew heavy. He wasn’t jealous in the old way. This wasn’t ego. It wasn’t competition. It was fear. Fear that he had taken too long. Fear that the progress he thought he’d made wasn’t enough. “Please don’t go,” he repeated, his voice unsteady now. You looked at him, unreadable.
“I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me whether I can,” you said, crossing your arms. You were right. That made it worse. “I’m going to be late,” you added, pushing off the doorframe.
He moved without thinking, his hand landing on your shoulder. He stepped closer, gently pressing you back against the frame. Not rough. Not forceful. Just desperate.
His hand slid from your shoulder down to your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours.
“Please,” he said again. His eyes were glossy now, and he didn’t even try to hide it. “It took me too long to say this properly,” he continued, his voice cracking just slightly. “But I’m in love with you.”
The words hung between you, heavier than anything he’d said before. “I still want you,” he went on. “I still need you. This past month has been torture. Watching you walk ahead of me. Not knowing if you’d ever look at me the same again.”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t care about pride. I don’t care about being right. I just— I can’t watch you walk away like this.”
“I’m so sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me,” he said, the words rushing out before he could stop them. His grip on your hand tightened slightly, not to hold you there, but like he needed something steady. “I would do anything to prove to you that you’re going to be it for me.”
“Suguru,” you said softly.
Your voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t angry. It was tired.
A tear slipped free despite yourself, trailing down your cheek. His thumb came up instinctively, brushing gently beneath your eye to catch it before it fell further.
“Stop,” you whispered. But he shook his head slightly. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever wanted to prove myself to,” he said, his own eyes glassy now, his composure barely holding. “And I plan on you being the last.”
Your breath hitched, and that small sound almost broke him.
“I don’t want to win you,” he continued, his voice quieter now, steadier in its vulnerability. “I don’t want to chase you because my ego’s bruised. I want to choose you. Every day. Even if you don’t choose me back right now.”
“I want to be better for you,” he said. “I really do. Even if it takes the rest of my life to prove it.”
There was no cockiness left in him. No pride. Just something raw and honest sitting in his chest, waiting for your answer.
Your hand found his wrist and gently pushed it away from your face.
“I want to believe you,” you said, your voice trembling despite your effort to keep it steady. “But I don’t trust you.”
This time, you wiped your own tears away. He didn’t try to stop you.
“I felt used and stupid” you admitted, the word sticking in your throat. “Because of you.”
His expression shifted immediately, something wounded flashing across his face. “I never used you,” he said quickly. “And you’re not stupid.”
“But that’s how I felt.”
That landed. Hard.
It knocked the air from his lungs because he knew it was true. It didn’t matter what he meant. It mattered what you felt.
And he had done that.
He had let you fall for him while knowing how it started. He had kept that piece of truth tucked away because it was easier.
“Please,” he said quietly now. “Give me the chance to replace that feeling.”
He looked wrecked. Not dramatic. Not performative. Just… worn down. Like someone who hadn’t been sleeping properly. Like a man who knew he had messed up something precious and was terrified of losing it. His shoulders weren’t squared the way they usually were. His confidence wasn’t sitting on him the same.
“I’m scared, Suguru,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”
His jaw tightened. “Then I won’t give you a reason to,” he said, almost immediately.
His hand rose slowly, carefully, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. When you didn’t, his fingers slipped gently beneath your chin, tilting your face up just slightly. So gentle.
“Please,” he murmured. “Let me prove it.” There was no arrogance in him now. No ego. Just hope. And for the first time in weeks, you smiled at him. Small. Fragile. But real. The tight, suffocating feeling in his chest loosened instantly, like something had finally unclenched.
“I really don’t know what to do with you,” you said with a shaky chuckle, another tear slipping free. The sound of your laugh — even broken like that — made warmth spread through him. That faint sparkle in your eyes, the one he’d been missing for a month, flickered back to life.
And he realized he would spend the rest of his life protecting that sparkle if you let him. “Don’t make me regret this,” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around him.
For a second he just stood there, stunned. Then his arms came around you — firm, almost desperate — pulling you into his chest like he had been holding that hug in for weeks. His warmth surrounded you again, familiar and grounding, and something inside you finally unclenched.
He exhaled into your hair. When he pulled back, it was only enough to look at you. Your eyes met his. You rose onto your toes slowly, giving him more than enough time to move away if he wanted to. Instead, he stayed completely still.
You pressed the smallest kiss to his lips. Barely there. Soft. Careful.
It had been a month, but it felt like relearning something delicate. Testing if you still fit each other.
His breath hitched almost imperceptibly.
One of his hands came up to cradle your cheek, not guiding you, not pulling you closer — just resting there. Letting you know he wasn’t taking control this time.
You were. You kissed him again. Still soft. Still unsure. Like the two of you were introducing yourselves all over again.
When you tugged him gently inside and shut the door behind you, he followed without resistance. No urgency. No hunger.
Just closeness.
Your lips met his once more — slow, polite, almost shy. There was no claiming in it. No desperation.
Just warmth.
He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin. For a moment neither of you moved. It felt fragile — like one wrong step could undo the careful rebuilding of the past month.
You kissed him again. Soft. Intentional.
He followed your lead immediately, matching your pace, letting you set the rhythm. There was no urgency in him, no greedy pull of his hands. Just patience. Every time you shifted closer, he responded. Every time you slowed, he did too.
He wanted you to feel it — that you were in control.
His hands rested at your waist, steady but light, as if he was afraid of holding you too tightly. When your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, he let out a quiet breath against your lips.
Not rushed. Not claiming. Just there.
You tilted your head slightly, deepening the kiss by a fraction, and he followed without hesitation, his thumb brushing gently along your side in a slow, grounding motion. He wasn’t leading. He was responding. Learning you again.
When you pulled back just slightly, he didn’t chase your lips. He stayed close, his nose brushing yours, waiting.
He let himself be guided by your movements, his mouth moving softly against yours. His hands remained at your waist, his touch light but firm, anchoring you to him.
He was almost hesitant with the way he kissed you, like he was re-learning the shape of your lips, the touch of your tongue. Every movement was deliberate, every breath synchronized.
He was letting you set the pace, following your every whim, like your body had become his compass. And as your hands tangled in his long hair, drawing him closer, he went willingly.
Every sense was heightened — the taste of him, the way he smelled, the way he felt under your fingertips. It was intoxicating, the way he responded to your touch.
You pulled away from his lips, but only to wrap your arms around him again. Your hands slid around his neck, your cheek resting against his shoulder as if you needed to make sure he was real.
“I missed you,” he whispered, his voice low and almost disbelieving.
One hand stroked gently over your hair, slow and soothing, while the other traced absent patterns along your waist.
“Me too,” you replied softly. It was barely audible, but he heard it. He always did.
His arms tightened slightly around you, like he was afraid the words might disappear if he didn’t hold you close enough. Without rushing, he slipped one hand beneath your thigh and lifted you carefully. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him as he carried you toward your bedroom, steady and protective.
He set you down gently on the edge of the bed. Instead of climbing next to you, instead of escalating, he walked to your closet.
He pulled one of his hoodies from where it hung among your clothes and handed it to you.
“Change,” he said quietly. In his other hand were the sweatpants and shirt he’d left at your place weeks ago.
“I’ll change in the bathroom,” he added before stepping out.
When he returned, he was wearing gray sweatpants and the black shirt you loved on him— the one that made you stare a little too long whenever he wore it. The hoodie swallowed you the way it always did, sleeves falling past your hands, fabric bunching around your thighs.
You sat on the edge of the bed waiting for him.
You did actually have a date tonight.
But you hadn’t been excited about it. Not really. Shoko had pushed you to try. To move on. To protect yourself. But your thoughts stayed on Suguru.
And here you were, listening to Suguru like it was second nature. He placed his folded clothes neatly on your desk before turning back to you. Then, instead of climbing into bed, he knelt in front of you. Right at your feet.
His head rested gently against your knee.
“Wanna be with you today,” he said quietly. “Forget that date please. I just want it to be me and you.”
Your fingers slipped into his hair, guiding his face up slightly. Your thumb brushed over his cheek.
“Please don’t go,” he added, looking up at you — eyes soft, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed anyone to see.
“I won’t,” you said. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips — slow, certain.
Then you tugged at his hands, pulling him up with you. He let himself fall back onto you– his arms keeping from crushing you, both of you landing in a quiet tangle of limbs and fabric.
He pulled the blankets over you instinctively, wrapping them around the two of you like a shield from the outside world. For the first time in weeks, there was no tension. No fear. Just warmth. He held you close, your head tucked beneath his chin, your legs tangled together.
His heart felt full — steady, content. And this time, he wasn’t going anywhere.
The rest of the day blurred into something warm and quiet. You stayed in bed far longer than either of you meant to. At some point your phone buzzed again — the date calling, then texting, asking where you were.
Suguru reached over without hesitation, glanced at the screen, and blocked the number before you could even respond.
You blinked at him. “What?” he muttered defensively. “He doesn’t need an explanation.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.
Eventually you crawled out of bed, but Suguru followed immediately — wrapping himself around you and following behind you like an oversized puppy. you complained half-heartedly as you tried to move toward the kitchen.
“And yet you’re not pushing me away,” he replied, his chin resting on your shoulder.
You ended up making dinner while he hovered behind you, arms loosely around your waist, occasionally pressing a kiss to your shoulder or cheek. It wasn’t possessive. It wasn’t heated.
It felt like he was afraid that if he let go for too long, the moment might disappear.
You ate at the small table in your kitchen, talking about mundane things — a professor’s weird habit, something stupid Satoru had said, a cat you saw earlier that week.
Halfway through a show on the couch, you noticed Suguru wasn’t even watching.
He was watching you.
When you caught him staring, he didn’t look away.
You fell asleep curled into him, his arm firm around your waist, your legs tangled together. The television kept playing long after neither of you were awake.
Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the room. The TV screen displayed a quiet, glowing message:
Are you still watching?
Suguru was breathing steadily behind you, his chest rising and falling against your back.
You tried to gently shift out of his hold, wanting to brush your teeth and freshen up before he woke. His grip tightened instinctively. “Don’t go,” he murmured, still half asleep, his face nuzzling into your shoulder.
“I’m just going to the bathroom,” you whispered. He groaned softly but loosened his arms.
A few minutes later, as you stood at the sink, toothbrush in hand, you caught movement in the mirror.
Suguru was leaning in the doorway, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep.
He walked over without saying anything and reached for his toothbrush — still sitting in the cup beside yours.
He paused briefly, almost surprised it was still there. You hadn’t thrown it away. He didn’t comment on it. He just started brushing his teeth next to you.
The bathroom was quiet except for the soft sound of running water and the hum of the light above you. It felt strangely intimate — domestic in a way that didn’t require effort.
When you finished and set your toothbrush down, he immediately stepped closer again.
His front pressed gently against your back, arms slipping around your waist.
He rested his chin on your shoulder, eyes half closed.
You could feel it now, his hard-on pressing against your ass. He left a small kiss on your shoulder, before turning your chin gently to meet his gaze in the mirror. His eyes held yours, full of quiet intensity. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered, voice low and earnest, giving you the space to breathe, to choose.
But you didn't want to stop. You leaned into him, your head tilted to his and he captured your lips in a deep kiss.
His hands slid up your sides, turning you around when he broke away for a second. He lifted you effortlessly onto the bathroom sink counter, the cool porcelain a sharp contrast to the heat of his body. Your legs parted instinctively, the kiss growing hungrier, tongues sliding together in slow, languid strokes.
His palms roamed your body without a word, one hand cupping your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it peaked under his touch. The other hand traced the curve of your hip, dipping lower to squeeze your thigh, pulling you flush against him. You arched into his caresses, fingers threading through his long hair, tugging lightly as his mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw, nipping softly. He kneaded your ass, grinding his erection against you through the fabric, the friction building a delicious ache. Your breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, bodies pressing and shifting in a wordless dance of rediscovery, his touches tender yet possessive, mapping every inch like he was afraid you'd vanish.
Finally, he broke the kiss just enough to scoop you up again, carrying you from the bathroom to the bed with ease. He laid you down gently on the soft sheets, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered above.
Starting at your collarbone, he pressed a feather-light kiss there. He moved to your nipple, taking it into his mouth with a gentle suck, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud until you gasped, his mouth ghosted wet kisses across your stomach, each one a promise, leaving a trail of heat.
His hand was already between your thighs, fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. He rubbed slow circles at first, coaxing slickness from you, before dipping lower to tease your entrance.
Then his head followed, settling between your legs. He licked a broad stripe up your folds, groaning against you as if savoring the taste. "You're so gorgeous," he murmured, voice muffled but fervent, before diving in fully—tongue lapping at your clit with frantic urgency, sucking gently as his fingers slid inside, curling to stroke that perfect spot.
"Missed you so much," he breathed between licks, the vibrations humming through you. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as you writhed. "Never letting go of you again."
He sucked harder onto your clit, tongue swirling, drawing whimpers from your throat. "So sweet," he praised, fingers thrusting deeper, faster. "Let me spoil you—let me make it all better." The words spilled out in a rush. His mouth working you relentlessly until the pleasure washed over you, your body tensing and releasing in shuddering waves.
“Sugu” A soft cry on your lips.
He crawled back up, lips glistening, and kissed you deeply. You didn't care about the taste of yourself on his tongue—it was intimate, raw, a shared secret that made your heart swell.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as he positioned himself, the blunt head of his cock nudging at your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open with a delicious burn that turned to fullness. You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed it, kissing you through the initial thrust, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm.
It was all soft moans and heavy breathing now, the room filled with the quiet sounds of skin meeting skin. He braced on his forearms, gazing down at you with eyes full of adoration, thrusts deep and unhurried, grinding against your clit with each pass. "My sweet girl," he whispered against your lips,
voice breaking with emotion. "I love you." He kissed your forehead, your cheeks blushing with each declaration. "I'm so in love with you." His pace quickened, but it stayed tender, loving.
"I'm all yours—always." He said through panting. You clung to him, nails digging into his back. Lost in the connection, the way he filled you completely, body and soul.
A few tears slipped from your eyes, A mix of overwhelming joy and the relief of being wanted so fiercely.
He noticed immediately, pausing to kiss them away, his lips soft on your damp cheeks. "I've got you." he murmured, nuzzling your nose with his
He shifted then, pulling back from your face to grab your leg, lifting it gently. He pressed a kiss to your calf, eyes locked on yours, before draping it over his shoulder. The new angle let him sink deeper, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, drawing gasps from you both.
The pleasure coiling tighter with each shared breath, each whispered endearment. Your walls fluttered around him, and he felt it, hips stuttering as he chased the edge with you. "Come with me," he breathed, voice husky, and you did—climax crashing over you in sweet, rolling waves, your body arching into his.
He followed right after, spilling deep inside with a muffled groan against your neck, holding you close as tremors shook you both.
His arms wrapping around you, peppering your face with lazy kisses as you came down, murmuring how much he loved you.
He stayed buried inside you for a moment longer, his chest heaving against yours in rhythm with your slowing breaths. His weight was a comforting anchor.
He lifted his head just enough to gaze into your eyes, a soft smile curving his lips. “So proud of you,” he whispered. He brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead with his thumb, then leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your temple.
Slowly, he eased out of you. “You did so well for me,” he murmured, his lips finding the shell of your ear. “My perfect girl.”
You melted into his touch, the praise wrapping around you warmer than the sheets tangled at your feet. He left you for a short while to come out of the bathroom with a warm damp towel.
With deliberate care, he began wiping you down, starting at your neck where sweat glistened on your skin. The cloth glided over your collarbone, tracing the swell of your breasts, circling each nipple until they pebbled again under the gentle friction. He paused to kiss the spot he'd just cleaned.
The cloth pressing tenderly between your thighs. Mindful of your sensitivity, his free arm holding you steady. “Look at you,” he said softly, eyes dark with lingering heat but softened by love.
“Still so beautiful, even after I wrecked you.” He kissed your shoulder, then your arm, working his way down to your wrist.
He tossed the cloth aside and gathered you closer, pulling the rumpled sheets over both of you. His body molded to yours from behind now, spooning you perfectly, one arm draped over your waist while the other pillowed your head. He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply.
Your eyelids grew heavy under the weight of his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you. His hand splayed possessively over your stomach, fingers tracing lazy circles as sleep crept in. You drifted off, limbs entwined, hearts beating in sync—the world reduced to this moment.
⋆˚꩜｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Suguru was waiting outside your lecture hall again. He still insisted on walking you everywhere. To class. To the café. Back home. Today, though, he didn’t turn toward your apartment. He turned toward the frat. You glanced at him but didn’t question it. He held your hand the whole way up the stairs, a little quieter than usual.
When you reached his room, he opened the door and then turned to you with a strange expression — somewhere between excited and terrified. “Stay here,” he said. “And close your eyes.”
You raised a brow. “Suguru—”
“Please.”
You sighed dramatically but shut your eyes anyway. You heard him moving around. Something fell over. A soft curse. Then the sound of plastic rustling. “Okay,” he said, a little breathless. “Open.”
You opened your eyes.
He was standing there holding a huge Chococat plushie and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The plushie had a small tag tied around its neck.
You took a step closer, reading it.
Will you be my girlfriend?
Your lips parted in surprise before you let out a soft giggle.
“Sugu…”
You took the plushie from him first, then the bouquet. He looked almost painfully nervous — hands hovering like he didn’t know what to do with them.
It had only been a couple of months since you’d started seeing him again. Officially unofficial. Rebuilding. Healing.
And even though your anxiety had lingered in the beginning, even though some nights you still remembered the hurt — the way he treated you now didn’t feel like strategy. It felt like certainty. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room. Like you were the only person.
“Well?” he asked, trying to play it cool and failing miserably. You stepped forward, your hand sliding up to rest against the side of his neck. Instead of answering, you kissed him. Slow at first. Then a little deeper. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, a nervous laugh slipping out. You nodded eagerly. Relief washed over his face so fast it was almost funny. He let out a breath he’d clearly been holding for the last thirty seconds — maybe the last month.
“You bought Chococat because I said you reminded me of him?” you teased, hugging the plush to your chest.
He nodded immediately.
“You said I had the same energy,” he defended. “You do,” you giggled.
He didn’t waste another second. He wrapped his arms around you, lifted you clean off the floor, and spun you around like he couldn’t contain himself.
“You’re officially my girlfriend,” he said, grinning like an idiot.
You laughed, clinging to him.
He set you down only to cup your face and press a firm, happy kiss to your lips.
“Won’t be long until you’re my wife,” he added, half-joking, half-not. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile.
ᓚᘏ𑄝 olderbf!oji will never not get tired of letting his girl use him as a stress reliever — virgin!reader
toji has this thing about watching you fall apart without even needing to take his clothes off.
he’s sprawled on the couch or the edge of the bed, legs spread wide enough that there’s room for you to slot yourself right between them. sometimes he’s still in those loose gray sweatpants, sometimes just boxers, but either way the thick muscle of his thighs is right there, warm and solid and waiting. he doesn’t rush you. he just pats one once, twice, lazy invitation, eyes half-lidded like he already knows exactly how this is going to end.
“c’mere,” he murmurs, voice low and rough from the cigarette he smoked earlier. “you look like you’re about to crawl out of your skin.”
you hesitate maybe half a second before you’re climbing into his lap, knees bracketing one of his thighs. the first press of your clothed cunt against the hard curve of muscle makes your breath hitch. he’s so fucking warm through the thin fabric. you can feel every ridge, every shift of tendon when he flexes just to tease.
his big hands settle on your hips—not guiding yet, just resting there, letting you find your own rhythm. and you do. slow at first. tentative little rocks while heat pools low in your stomach. your palms brace on his chest, fingers curling into the soft cotton of his shirt, and he just watches. lets you use him.
“that’s it,” he says quietly when your hips start moving with more purpose. “take what you need, baby.”
the friction builds fast. the drag of your clit against the unyielding muscle of his thigh, the way the fabric of your underwear catches and slides, the faint rasp of his leg hair under the thin material—it’s messy and imperfect and so fucking good. your breathing turns shallow. little whimpers slip out before you can stop them.
toji’s thumbs start tracing slow circles over your hip bones, encouraging without forcing. sometimes he’ll flex his quad on purpose, making the muscle jump and press harder against you, and the sudden spike of pleasure makes your nails dig into his pecs. he likes that. likes the little sting. likes knowing he’s the reason you’re shaking.
your rhythm gets desperate after a while. hips grinding down in tight, needy circles, chasing that spot that makes your toes curl. your forehead drops to his shoulder, cheek pressed to the warm skin of his neck, and he smells like smoke and clean sweat and something distinctly him. it’s dizzying.
“look at you,” he mutters, almost to himself. “humping my leg like you can’t help it. fuckin’ cute.”
the words hit like a spark. your thighs tremble, inner muscles fluttering around nothing, and you’re so close it almost hurts. he finally slides one hand up your back, fingers threading into the hair at your nape, not pulling, just holding. grounding.
“go on,” he says against your temple. “let it go. i’ve got you.”
and you do.
the orgasm rolls through you in slow, heavy waves. your hips jerk unevenly, grinding down hard one last time as you come apart against his thigh. it’s wet, messy, embarrassing in the best way—your underwear soaked through, a damp patch darkening the gray fabric stretched over his leg. you’re shaking, panting into the crook of his neck, and he just strokes your spine in long, soothing lines while you ride the aftershocks.
when you finally go boneless against him, he chuckles once, low in his chest.
“better?” he asks, like he doesn’t already know.
you nod, face still buried against him, too blissed out to speak.
he gives your ass a light squeeze.
“good. now stay right there a minute. i like feeling you twitch.”
summary. You only went to Toji Fushiguro’s gym to pick up Shoko’s stash like always—quick, discreet, in and out. But the shirtless, sweat-slicked dealer had other plans. What started as a tense bag handoff turned into him cornering you against the squat rack, folding you in half, and fucking you senseless across every piece of equipment he could think of: bench presses, power cages, lockers, showers, mirrors reflecting every broken moan. One brutal, mind-melting session became two… then routine. Now you’re not just his customer—you’re his favorite obsession. He pays for your nails, your lingerie, your rent, your everything, while railing you stupid whenever you show up. Is he your plug? Your sugar daddy? Your boyfriend? You don’t even know anymore, and honestly, you stopped caring the moment he pinned you under the barbell and made you count reps while he pounded you to failure. This is raw, filthy, gym-twisted smut: dominant Toji wrecking you with heavy lifts as metaphors for how thoroughly he owns your body, your orgasms, and—whether you admit it or not—your entire damn life. Dead dove, no brakes, all sweat and sin.
triggers and warnings. This series contains extremely explicit and graphic sexual content with no fade-to-black, featuring very rough/intense sex including choking, spanking, hair-pulling, manhandling, pinning/restraining, face-fucking, throat-bulging, breath play via face-sitting/smothering, degradation and verbal humiliation (heavy on slut-shaming, objectification, mocking your stamina/form, calling you toy/cum-dump/hole/etc.), overstimulation and forced orgasms (multiple, relentless, hands-free, to the point of shaking/collapsing/tears), edging and orgasm denial, cum play/creampie/swallowing/facials/marking/using your release against you, possessive/ownership language (“mine,” “my little slut,” “my personal rack”), mild impact play (face/thigh/ass/pussy slapping), light bondage/restraint (wrists tied to gym equipment, pinned in racks/cages), public/semi-public risk in a gym setting (benches, racks, showers, mirrors), dominant Toji/submissive reader dynamics with extreme power imbalance (Toji fully overpowers, humiliates, edges, denies, and breaks you even when consensual), strong filthy dirty talk (pun-heavy, degrading, gym-twisted), and emotional manipulation undertones like jealousy, possessiveness, and blurred sugar-daddy/boyfriend lines; aftercare is rare/minimal, the focus is on mean, greedy, sweat-drenched athletic porn with Toji unapologetically cruel and you getting sexually wrecked despite any resistance—dead dove: do not eat, proceed only if comfortable with all of the above.
TAGLISTS ARE CLOSE!
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꒰ ꒱ Edged Him Till His Balls Sent a Cease-and-Desist
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