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BABY DADDY DRAMA!

sugar talking ꕤ chapter index

instead of getting the girl, gojo just got her pregnant! how's he supposed to win you over when you only seem to see him as the baby daddy?

synopsis: when the frat president becomes the father of your daughter, the last thing you expected were his brothers to start bidding to be the step dad! can he prove that he's serious about starting a life together for the three of you - or will someone swoop in to steal both his girls?

pairing: frat!gojo x milf!reader x frat!geto (also starring frat!sukuna)

content: mdni!! fluff, angst, and smut, college au, unrealistic frat depictions, parties, drinking, accidental pregnancy, raising a baby, they all want to be the daddy, lots of pining, gojo being lovesick and stupid, denying feelings, possessive geto + gojo, titty sucking, lactation kink, heavy jealousy

art cr: @zeilorene0 on x div cr: @/tsumiinum

Going on a date with your baby daddy's best friend was probably not the smartest thing you could do.

"Would you like some wine?" Geto murmured softly, peering up at you from above his menu, the dim lighting in the restaurant casting shadows across his sharp features.

"Um, no thanks," you declined, glancing awkwardly around the restaurant as you felt the weight of his stare settle on your exposed cleavage, hyper aware of the low cut of your dress and the way your breasts were beginning to ache from how long it'd been since you pumped. "I'll just take a water."

Had Gojo remembered what time to feed her? Was she cranky right now, crying and wailing and beating on his broad chest waiting for you to come back?

"Thinking about Umi?" He softly asked, his honeyed voice soothing the ache in your chest as you offered him an apologetic smile.

"Is it that obvious?" You asked, swallowing the lump in your throat as you shoved down your discomfort, adjusting the straps of your chest and praying that your tits wouldn't leak through the nipple pads you slipped inside your bra.

"It's cute," Geto reassured you, reaching across the table to snag your hand, drawing a delicate star over your skin as you tried to match his smile. "You're a good mom."

You wanted to take the compliment.

But your brain was still unfortunately stuck on the white-haired father of your child who was probably pacing your apartment praying for you to come back any second.

Who would most certainly freak the fuck out if he found out where you were - and who you were with.

It's not like you meant to start sorta seeing Geto.

You weren't even sure if you could qualify it as dating.

He'd been around maybe even more than Gojo had since you got pregnant, and stayed afterwards. Staying late whenever Gojo wasn't there, helping you wash baby bottles and rocking Umi to sleep when you were too exhausted to keep your eyes open. Folding your laundry and keeping up with the chores, insisting that you shower and rest and take care of yourself first, murmuring softly that you were working hard enough as it was with that casual, crooked smile of his.

Until one afternoon, instead of your daughter falling asleep in his lap, you had, waking up to him stroking your hair with one hand and cradling Umi in his other.

And some awful part of you asked yourself what if he'd been her father instead?

Gojo might have flowers delivered to your door and fuck you when he wormed his way into spending the night with the excuse of helping on the night shift with Umi, but he hadn't been there before.

Not for half your appointments. Not for your labor.

God, if it hadn't been for Geto, he would've missed her birth.

He had been the one you met first. The one you knew better before his best friend went and knocked you up. The entire reason you even showed up to that party, chasing a stupid crush you were sure wouldn’t even notice you.

But he wasn’t the one you ended up sleeping with - or the one whose name was on the birth certificate.

"You deserve a night for yourself," Geto coaxed, and you knew that he was right. That you couldn't be there for her if you couldn't take care of yourself. Or let someone else help you do it.

Besides, wasn't it half Gojo's fault she existed anyway?

Maybe he’d worn the wrong condom size, but you were the one too stubborn to ask him to pay for a Plan B after it broke, clinging to your stupid pride. Too embarrassed to even face him after you hooked up until you absolutely had to, showing up to his frat house expecting him to shoo you away to get an abortion and slam the door in your face.

Perhaps if he had, you wouldn't feel the hints of guilt creeping in that you were sitting across from his second-in-command now, letting him say your name in that suave voice of his and tell you how pretty you looked in a dress that didn't quite fit your tits anymore.

Not that Geto seemed to mind, judging by the way you caught his stare drifting down to them no matter how chivalrous he was attempting to present himself tonight.

"It's just weird being away from her for this long," you shrugged your shoulders self-consciously, pulling back your hand to pick at the paint on your nails that was already flaking off despite the fact you'd done it only a few hours before your date.

You dropped Umi off with Gojo earlier, but he'd never watched her this long on his own either.

Would it start to become a more common thing? Afternoons or nights you swapped her so the other could go out and date around?

Despite Gojo swearing he only wanted to make this work with you, you had an incredibly difficult time picturing the campus's favorite playboy not pouring body shots on pretty girls all those Friday evenings he attended parties for his 'frat duties'.

You were sure that was just code for fucking other sorority girls and playing condom roulette to see if your daughter would get a half-sibling.

"She'll be okay," Geto reassured you, deliberately avoiding broaching who, exactly, was watching her right now.

That was the one topic the two of you tended not to discuss.

You wondered if it bothered him at all. Made him feel like shit when he held Umi and decided he'd rather be the stepdad instead of a supportive uncle figure.

Truthfully, you still couldn't understand why he decided you were worth fracturing his friendship with Gojo for.

If he had been courting you a year and a half ago, you probably would’ve been over the fucking moon. Thrilled that someone like him wanted you, but you simply weren’t the same girl.

It hadn’t slipped past you that all of Gojo's friends suddenly seemed to want you after he had you.

"Geto," you swallowed, unsure how to broach any of the thousand worries floating through your head as you worked up the nerve to bring up what had been looping through your head since he first started carving his own spot in your life for him. "You know Gojo will be pissed if he knows what we're doing right now."

"You didn't tell him?" He asked, amusement glinting in his dark eyes as you flitted your stare down to the tiny print on the menu below.

"You don't care?" You returned the question, sighing as you reluctantly looked back up at him.

"Do you want to be with him?" Suguru pressed, but you could tell be the curve of his smirk that he thought he already knew the answer, he just wanted to hear you say it.

Being with Gojo had never been a part of your previously well-thought out life plan. You had him pegged from the moment you saw him at a frat party your friend dragged you to during your first year here, surrounded by beautiful women and yes men, alcohol being poured in his pretty mouth. The kind of spoiled, stuck-up prick who breezed through life like they were used to winning first place just for existing. Handed the world on a silver platter.

And now he thought you were a prize he deserved simply because he got you pregnant.

But still, you weren't about to just make it easy for Geto either.

Not when you didn't even know if he really liked you, or the idea of stealing something from under Gojo's nose.

"Why do you want to be with me?" You returned his question rather than answering it, arching up an eyebrow and waiting for his response.

Even though you appreciated his help, it wasn't like you needed your support system of frat bros hanging around if all they wanted was to get in your panties.

Before he could reply though, a baby began to cry, and your head snapped up, scanning the restaurant as if it could somehow be yours, the ache in your breasts returning with a vengeance, a lot fucking harder to ignore when your tits were already confined in the tight dress you'd chosen tonight.

Maybe it was just how much you were missing her, your brain playing tricks on your ears, but it really did sound like her too, your heart squeezing and wrung dry as you glanced from table to table trying to spot where the baby was.

Wincing as you tried to readjust the strap of your dress, swallowing hard and cursing yourself for not bringing a pump or expressing the milk before you left your apartment, knowing that you'd probably have a clogged duct to deal with later. But before you could spot the baby, your waitress was returning, a practiced smile plastered on her face as she looked directly at Geto instead of you.

Probably sizing up the fact that a guy like him was a bit out of your league, or that this was a first date as she leaned over to his side and grinned at him, "Have we made up our minds?"

"I think we'll just get our food to-go," Suguru returned a polite smile to her, and a surge of panic spiked in your chest until his palm slid over yours with silent reassurance, his eyes narrowing as he slyly stole a peek at your chest like he knew why you were squirming before clearing his throat. "Baby's waiting for us back home."

The waitress's face deflated almost instantly.

Wrongly assuming that the two of you were more than just something casual. Thinking that the baby belonged to him.

"Oh, sure," she nodded numbly, regaining her composure. "What will it be?"

He ordered for both of you, and you just shuffled in your seat, caught somewhere between relief that he was freeing you from an hour and a half of discomfort and disappointment that your date would be ending like this.

But perhaps it was for the better.

Maybe it was a sign that this wasn't going to go anywhere.

And when she walked away with reassurances that she'd bring it out as soon as possible, you were about to apologize, but he just squeezed your hand as you started to softly say his name, "Geto-"

"How many times have I asked you to call me Suguru?"

You wished he didn't disarm you so effortlessly. Stalling your excuses with just a single look, with a simple motion of his thumb over your knuckle as he treated you like you were his girlfriend.

"Once the food comes out, I can go take care of you," he promised, and it wasn't until you were walking out to the car that it struck you how serious he was about that.

"You know, you don't have to-" You started, glancing down at the way he was still holding your hand in the parking lot, his fingers tightly gripping your hand and keeping you glued to his side as you tried to sound more collected than you really were. "I can just pump at home or-"

"I thought you liked it when I helped," he slyly said, teasing you in that soft voice of his, mouth curling up when your face flushed.

So what if maybe you let him get rid of your clogged ducts a couple times when Gojo was busy with work or class?

His big hands were good at it, thick fingers massaging and working the breast tissue as his lips latched on to you.

Besides, you liked the way Geto looked at you, even if it sort of scared you. The intensity in his stare, how he studied you like he was interested in every detail. How he spoke to you like you were something soft to be cradled, not just sloppy seconds or someone’s leftovers. The way he listened, his head tilted to the side as he nodded along with patience you’d never really received before.

You didn't need anyone.

Not Gojo. Not Geto.

Not even Sukuna, even if he was debatably the best when it came to helping with her or soothing her when she started to wail.

You could do it on your own.

But something about Suguru made you feel like it might be okay to be taken care of too.

“You know you can find someone better,” you bluntly blurted out as he held the car door open for you. He stopped, squinting down at you as you slid into the passenger seat.

Someone without stretch marks or, y’know, an entire baby with another man. Someone who would have all the time in the world to worship him without wanting or needing all the things you did.

“We need to work on your self-esteem,” he remarked, arching up an eyebrow with a sigh as he nodded towards your seatbelt to remind you to buckle up.

And before you could retort back that he hadn’t disagreed, he was shutting the door and walking back around to his side.

Like he could somehow anticipate what you were preparing to say, his mouth had already parted when he got in too, “If you want me to tell you how much I like you, all you have to do is ask.”

Suguru knew exactly how to shut you up.

And five minutes later, he had your dress pulled down, both breasts freed and exposed as he groped and squeezed and sucked you dry. Thick fingers dimpling your skin as he sank them in deep, his lips wrapped around your sensitive nipple and greedily drinking up every ounce of milk you leaked out.

Tongue dragging back over the peaked buds whenever any escaped, your fingers lacing through his dark hair as you tilted your head back and scrunched your eyes shut. Trying not to moan at the way he was holding you, one arm slipped around your back to pull you closer as he leaned across the center console to suck on your swollen breasts.

The to-go boxes half-forgotten in the backseat, the radio playing some slow, soft song as he groaned into your nipple, his sharp teeth grazing over it to send a sharp shudder through your body.

Glancing up at you with delight glimmering in his stare, possessively pulling you in as he popped off your chest.

“You’re wasted on Satoru."

And even though he didn’t say it, you could feel it.

Geto thought it should’ve been him.

ꕤꕤꕤ

Gojo wanted to bang his head against the steering wheel until the air bag went off.

Maybe if it broke his nose, he could get enough sympathy points from you that you’d stop seeing Suguru. And he’d never have to see his best friend sucking on your breasts from across the parking lot.

Umi was asleep in her car seat in the back, leaving him to his own embarrassing thoughts as he forced himself to turn the key in the ignition. To start the car after he completely and utterly failed the mission he should've never gone on in the first place.

You'd maim him if you knew he was spying on you with Suguru. Maybe accuse him of being a creep and somehow think even less of him than you already did.

And despite how much it fucking sucked, he forced himself to pull out of the parking lot and leave you there with your tit in Suguru's mouth, feeling like a moron for thinking tonight would ever end any differently.

Suguru was a good guy.

Didn't have the reputation he did. Was quiet where he was loud, soothing where he was brash. Wouldn't make you wonder where he was or what he was doing or who he'd been with before.

Of course, you'd choose him.

Gojo guessed he should just be grateful you'd have to at least spend the next eighteen years co-parenting with him. Attending parent-teacher conferences and planning birthdays and holidays.

But even when he made it back to your place, warming up a bottle to feed Umi, watching her big blue eyes sleepily blink up at him as her chubby little fingers still tried to grab it, he couldn't fucking imagine having to share her with Suguru.

Seeing her look up at his best friend and babble dada to him, at the apparently growing possibility he might miss her first steps, her first words, her first everything and Suguru might get them instead.

Spiraling long after he put her back down in her crib, laying flat on your couch and staring at the ceiling to count the seconds until you came back.

God, since when had he gotten so pathetic?

Why couldn't he just figure it out and fix this? What would it take for you to give him a try?

Did you want him to grow out his hair? Start watching pretentious foreign films?

He still didn't have a clue by the time he heard your key in the lock, sitting up straight and smoothing out the wrinkles and spit-up stain on his shirt as he automatically started walking towards the entrance, nearly running into you when you walked in.

"Hey," he muttered, running his hands through his hair and pretending he didn't notice how your lip gloss had smeared, or how stray strands of your hair were sticking out as you peeled your purse off your shoulder and hung it up by the door.

"Hey," you murmured, wiping the back of your mouth just to stumble a little trying to slip off your heels.

And even though he knew you didn't need his help, he was still holding out his arm for you to hold onto him and steady yourself while you took them off.

"Enjoy your dinner?" He murmured, and you cringed a little, looking up at him with the slightest hints of apology in your smile as you held up a to-go box in your other hand.

"Who told you?" You asked, even though he could see it in your stare that you already suspected the answer.

"Sukuna mentioned it," he admitted.

"I should've said something," you cleared your throat, the closest you could probably come to a sorry.

"It's fine," he lied, no matter how far he really was from it.

"Do you want the rest?" You offered, as if your leftovers were some olive branch.

One he'd gladly take it.

"Sure," he shrugged, grabbing it as you let go of his arm. "So, are you guys, like a thing, or-"

"It's not like you're not seeing other women," you defensively muttered instead of actually answering, scowling at him as he went slack-jawed.

"I'm not," Gojo huffed, unsure what the hell he had to do to get you to understand that.

Wear a fucking cock cage and give you the only key?

"Gojo," you said his last name, bottom lip pushed out all pretty, and he wished he could make you believe how badly he wanted to make it yours too. "Do you think I'm stupid?"

He actually thought you were incredibly smart.

Gojo would give up everything just to breathe in the scent of your soft skin every day and listen to your voice as you talked about your studies as he stroked your hair and nuzzled his nose against your neck.

But instead, all that came out was a stuttered, "N-no?"

"You're at frat parties every weekend," you pointed out, holding your nose up high as you exhaled, walking past him like you had come to your conclusion.

"B-but only as the president, I'm not-"

"You don't speak to the pretty girls that come up to feel your muscles and offer to play stepmom?" You sarcastically asked, and Gojo wished you could look a little less gorgeous when you were glaring at him.

"I mean, I only talk to them," he tried to explain, but he knew that was the wrong thing to say when you just scoffed and shook your head.

"Me and Suguru just talked then," you huffed, and Gojo hated how you said his name. Loathed that he probably got to hear it while he was still relegated to Gojo.

Especially when he had seen first hand what you meant by talking.

His mouth opened, but it never seemed to be able to form the right words to get you to see him.

"I'm going to bed," you stubbornly insisted, padding barefoot back to your room while he hopelessly stared at your shrinking figure.

What would it take to be the one you wanted to go to sleep with?

And how the hell could he make sure that Suguru never got the chance?

series | latest oneshots | patreon

p.s. everyone go check out this lovely art of baby daddy drama gojo

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