Being loved by the strongest is complicated.
Being married to him as a sorcerer from a despised clan makes you dangerous.
But no one is foolish enough to cross the line of an utterly devoted man, right?
cr: @_3aem on X
CW / Fic tags: NSFW. Married couple/Established relationship. Plot & Smut. Possessiveness. Vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, praise kink, creampie, oral sex (f and m rec), inappropiate use of cursed technique, fluff, hurt/comfort. Satoru Gojo goes insane
The first week after the wedding, Satoru Gojo stopped pretending he had any self-control. Not that he’d had much to begin with. But now? Now he didn’t even try.
He was fairly certain he was going to live in a permanent honeymoon state forever. And honestly, he wasn’t complaining.
“You’re being obnoxious” you murmured under your breath, keeping your tone carefully neutral as he leaned down behind you, his chin settling comfortably on your shoulder. His weight was lazy, both arms draped around your waist like he’d decided this was his new default position.
“Mmm-no,” he corrected lightly, breath warm against your ear “I’m being a married man”
You kept your eyes forward, expression composed, because the second you acknowledged the fact that Satoru Gojo was practically purring into your neck in front of the entire staff, you would lose whatever dignity you still had left.
You met him at Jujutsu High, back when you were nothing more than two stupid teenagers with too much power and even less sense. It hadn’t been instant. Not even close.
You were a year younger, and he behaved like he owned the place—which, in hindsight, maybe he did. Still, that wasn’t the point.
Then came shared missions. Long nights. Close calls. Feelings you hadn’t planned on—feelings Satoru had made very sure would take root.
And now here you were. Married. Seven days in.
He squeezed your waist once — absentmindedly possessive. You pinched his wrist in retaliation.
He grinned. You didn’t need to see it, you could hear it in the way his shoulders shifted, smug and pleased with himself.
You finally slipped out of his hold just enough to turn and look at him.
“Didn’t you have a class to teach or something?”
“Hm?” one hand came up to his chin, thoughtful “I don’t th—”
“Sensei.” Megumi’s voice cut in before he could finish — flat, cold, and deeply unimpressed.
He stood a few feet away, posture straight, expression carved from stone as always. His dark eyes are fixed squarely on Gojo’s face.
“Stop behaving like a teenager and come teach the class” he says evenly. “We’re waiting.”
There’s a beat of silence.
Slowly, you look up at your husband.
Megumi’s gaze shifted then — just slightly — and softened when it landed on you.
“Mrs. Gojo” he says, bowing his head a fraction.
“In my defense,” Satoru says thoughtfully, “I forgot.”
Megumi exhaled through his nose.
“You didn’t forget,” he replied flatly. “You ignored it.”
Satoru grinned, shameless.
“Details”
Megumi looked like he was reconsidering every life decision that led him here.
“Sensei” he said again, warning creeping into his tone.
You stepped back, folding your arms. “Go. Teach.”
Satoru sighed like he’d been asked to endure something truly unbearable — but before moving, he leaned down and pressed a quick, warm peck to your lips.
Casual. Unapologetic. In front of Megumi.
“You’re doing that on purpose” you muttered
“Of course I am” Satoru replied brightly.
He finally stepped away, squeezing your hand once more. You smiled, shaking your head as you watched his broad back stroll off toward the exit without a care in the world.
“Let’s go, Megumiiii” he sing-songed as he passed his student.
But Megumi didn’t follow immediately.
He lingered by the doorway, posture relaxed, expression unreadable.
“Mrs. Gojo.”
You looked at him, resisting the urge to tell him he didn’t need to be so formal—neither you nor Satoru cared—but Megumi was endearingly respectful, so you let him have it.
“Megs” you answered, tilting your head.
“He’s worse lately.”
You blinked once. Then raised an eyebrow. “Worse?”
“More…” He hesitated, searching for the word. “…attached.”
A soft huff escaped you before you could stop it. “He’s always been attached.”
Megumi’s gaze dropped for half a second, then returned—sharp. Certain.
“This is different.”
The words settled heavier than they should have, and you didn’t answer right away.
He wasn’t wrong.
There was something different. Something that had crept in quietly beneath the teasing and theatrics, beneath the hands on your waist and the shameless affection.
Something denser. More deliberate. Protective, yes—but not playful. Watchful. Like he was constantly counting exits. Like he was listening for threats that hadn’t arrived yet.
You straightened without realizing it, shoulders squaring.
“Don’t worry,” you said, offering Megumi a small smile. “I’ll fix it.”
It was only half a joke.
You’d known Megumi since he was six years old—played with him, walked him to school, watched him grow. You knew him well enough to recognize concern when he buried it. And the last thing you wanted was for him to feel responsible for something that wasn’t his to carry.
He studied you for another second, then nodded once. Without another word, he turned and headed inside.
You stayed where you were.
And for just a split second—you felt it again.
That distant awareness.
Like someone, somewhere, was watching.
—
Nanami found you where he always did when your thoughts grew heavy.
A quiet corner of the campus, far enough from the main buildings that the noise faded into something distant. You’d started coming here years ago, back when you were still students—back when you and Nanami were simply classmates learning how to survive the system.
Same year. Same rank. Same expectations.
Your friendship had been built in silence, shared exhaustion, and the unspoken understanding of what it meant to be useful to the wrong people.
You were leaning against the railing when he approached, his glasses catching the late afternoon light before he removed them.
“You’re thinking too loudly” he said, resting his forearms beside yours against the cool metal.
That earned a quiet huff of a laugh. “That obvious?”
“With you?” he replied. “Yes.”
For a moment, neither of you spoke. Nanami didn’t push—he never did. He waited, patient as always.
He was the person you trusted most after Satoru. And right now, the only one you could speak to freely.
“I feel like the higher-ups have been circling,” you said eventually. “Not openly. Just… watching.”
Nanami turned his head slightly, jaw tightening almost imperceptibly.
“They’re unsettled.”
“Because of Satoru,” you said.
“Because of you” he corrected gently.
You closed your eyes for a moment.
Your technique had never been flashy—no explosions, no spatial distortions. Just amplification. Pure. Terrifying. When you touch another sorcerer, their attacks become absolute. No misfires. No wasted effort.
And power like that had always made people nervous.
Your clan had never fit neatly into jujutsu politics either. Old, but not obedient. Powerful, but uninterested in tradition for tradition’s sake. They’d refused council seats that demanded compliance. Refused marriages arranged for optics.
The higher-ups had done everything they could to keep the Ataru at the edges.
Until you married Satoru Gojo.
“An Ataru married a Gojo” Nanami said quietly. “And not just any Gojo —him. ” he paused only a fraction before adding “They won’t forgive that”
“No” you murmured, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear.
Silence settled again—heavier this time.
“They don’t like that an Ataru now has access” Nanami continued
You nodded.
You weren’t just married to a Gojo. You were married to Satoru. The strongest sorcerer alive. A man the higher-ups couldn’t control, punish, or touch.
But you?
You were reachable.
“I won’t abandon my clan,” you said. “And I won’t apologize for my marriage.”
“I wouldn’t expect you to.”
From somewhere deeper in the campus, Satoru’s voice carries—loud, dramatic, unmistakable.
Nanami’s gaze flicked briefly in that direction. When it returns to you, it lingers.
“He will protect you” he says. Not reassuring. Just stating a fact.
You don’t answer. But he notices the way your shoulders have gone rigid. The way your hand tightens against the railing, knuckles paling slightly. Your gaze drops, lashes lowering as your brow knits without you meaning to.
He exhales quietly. He has always been good at reading what people don’t say.
“You don’t want him to” he says after a moment.
The words catch you off guard. You look up at him, surprised —Because he’s right, and because you hadn’t let yourself put it into words yet.
Megumi’s voice echoes in your head.
This is different.
Not the affection. Not the attention. The weight behind it. The way Satoru’s presence sharpens when he’s around you.
“He already carries enough,” you say “Just.. being who he is.”
You vaguely hear Nanami say your name, but it barely registers.
“I don’t want to be another thing he needs to get his hands dirty for.”
Nanami studies you for a second longer.
“If you can’t—or don’t want to—talk about it with him,” he says evenly, “at least trust me. Don’t fight this alone.”
You hesitate.
It’s brief. Barely noticeable. But it’s there.
“Thank you” you say quietly.
Nanami inclines his head once, accepting it without comment.
When you finally turn and walk back toward the building, your gaze drops to the ring on your finger.
Proof.
And the terrifying reminder of what Satoru Gojo is capable of when something matters to him.
Morning light poured in through the penthouse windows, catching on bare skin, rumpled silk sheets, and the solid weight of Satoru above you.
“Toru” you warned, already breathless, hands still tangled in his hair.
“Yes, wife?” he replied, lifting his head just enough to look at you, those devastatingly bright eyes fixed on your face from where he was settled between your ribs, completely unbothered.
He’d already fucked you as a good morning, and then decided you wouldn’t be escaping the bed. Or him.
“I have a meeting” you grumbled, palms pressing uselessly against his shoulders. He was all lean muscle and stubbornness. “If I’m late because my husband decided to be a menace before breakfast, I’m blaming you.”
“What are you talking about?” he said, shamelessly grinning “I’m having breakfast exactly right now.”
Then his tongue dragged in one slow, deliberate lick along your sternum.
“Four years together and I still can’t get enough” he murmured against your skin—and proved it a second later, shifting just enough to press himself into you.
You gasped, before you could stop yourself, fingers tightening in his nape.
God. He was addictive.
And you’d known exactly what you were signing up for when you married him.
His mouth found your neck, warm and open, while one large hand slid down to your hip, fingers spreading possessively, grounding himself while keeping you still.
“Are you bored of me yet?” he murmured, grinding once more, a low sound slipping from his throat as his nose brushed your jaw.
This was the side of Satoru the world never saw—the raw, needy hunger of a man who spent his life being treated like a god and only felt human when he was tangled in your sheets. Infinity off. Blindfold gone. A small, fragile bubble where he was just a husband enjoying his wife.
“I could never” you breathed, caressing his cheek “But I have to go”
He leaned into your touch before resting his forehead against yours, breath warm, familiar. For a moment, neither of you moved. Then—reluctantly—he eased back
“Just because it’s sexy,” he said, smirking, voice low and lazy “you going to work while I stay home playing housewife, begging you to stay.”
You snorted softly, thumb brushing along his jaw.
“That’s crazy. Anyone would think the Six Eyes user might actually have a lot of work to do.”
“Never heard that before” he replied smoothly, unfazed.
You laughed, the sound light, and tugged the robe closed as you finally stood. His eyes followed the movement with open appreciation, head tilting slightly like he was committing the image to memory.
You leaned down again, unable to help yourself, capturing his mouth in one last slow kiss. He responded instantly, hands coming up to your waist, pulling you closer like he still wasn’t done with you.
“You’ll be late too” you warned lightly against his lips, half a tease, half genuine.
“I’m the strongest,” he said easily, mouth brushing yours again. “I can afford it.”
“Arrogant.”
“You married me anyway”
You sighed, forehead dropping briefly against his shoulder, smiling despite yourself.
“Can’t argue with that”
When you finally pulled away, you felt it—the warmth, the safety. The last uncomplicated moment of your day.
—
You’d already finished reading the folder by the time you spoke. The papers now lay closed on the desk between you and Yaga.
“A support assignment,” you said, eyes still on the folder.
Yaga remained quiet, hands folded on the desk.
“For a grade one sorcerer” you added, skepticism threading your voice.
You lifted your gaze.
“Why me?” The question lingered in the air for only a heartbeat before you shook your head once—a small, humorless motion.
“No,” you corrected yourself quietly. “Actually, I know why.”
Yaga didn’t interrupt. He simply waited, eyes steady, as if he already knew the shape your thoughts would take. As if he’d watched you learn to trace them years ago.
“My cursed technique almost guarantees success for any sorcerer’s strike” you continued, almost absentmindedly.
Yaga didn’t react. He didn’t need to—you’d had this conversation in pieces years ago. He had been the one to help you understand it in the first place—back when you were still clumsy with your cursed energy
“But it’s most effective when paired with lower-grade sorcerers,” you continued. “It corrects their cursed energy output. It removes the margin for failure.”
You paused, fingers curling slightly against the arm of the chair.
“With Nanami,” you went on, more carefully, “there’s nothing to compensate for. He’s more than capable of handling this alone.”
Silence settled between you—heavy, but not uncomfortable.
“Not only that,” you added, because accuracy mattered, “I’d be a nuisance. This assignment doesn’t require me.”
“I know,” he said.
Two words. Flat. Honest.
“The order came with specific instructions,” he continued. “They requested a sorcerer.”
A pause.
“By name.”
Your jaw tightened, just slightly. It was a reaction you didn’t bother hiding. It wasn’t a surprise for either of you.
“The mission is in a few days. I can’t cancel it or alter the assignment” Yaga said. “But I can make sure you’re not walking in blind.”
You looked down at the folder again, though there was nothing new to see. You hesitated—just barely—before speaking.
“They think they’re subtle,” you said. “But this doesn’t look procedural.”
“That’s exactly why I’m worried,” Yaga replied. You understood immediately what he meant.
“I don’t want Satoru to know” you said, voice low but steady. “I don’t want him intervening.”
A breath.
“Please.”
He studied you for a long moment—not as your principal, not as your superior, but as someone who had watched you grow from a reckless first-year into something far more dangerous. And far more exposed.
“You’re asking me to withhold information that concerns you from Satoru Gojo” he said evenly. “Are you aware of that?”
“I’m asking you to trust me,” you replied.
Another pause.
“And I do,” Yaga said at last.
The words weren’t light. They carried responsibility.
“But you won’t underestimate them,” he continued. “If anything changes—”
“If this stops being manageable—”
“I’ll tell you,” you said immediately. No hesitation.
He studied you a moment longer, searching for cracks that weren’t there. Then he nodded once.
“Good.”
The meeting ended.
But the quiet understanding that something had begun moving—carefully, deliberately—whether any of you liked it or not, lingered long after.
—
You rested two fingers against Inumaki’s shoulder—just long enough for your ritual to take hold—then stepped back.
You’d been working like this for weeks. Inumaki’s technique had always been particularly brutal on himself; every command exacted a price, every word tore something from his own body. Precision mattered. Control mattered. And today—finally—it held.
He inhaled.
“Blast away.”
The command detonated through the training grounds with surgical accuracy. No backlash. Nothing wasted. Nothing misaligned.
When it was over, Inumaki’s hand flew to his throat on instinct.
Then he froze.
No pain. No tearing burn.
He looked at you, eyes wide, and relief washed over his expression—soft, unguarded.
“Salmon?” you said, smirking as you spoke his language.
“Salmon” he replied, cheeks faintly flushed.
You laughed softly. “Perfect. Go rest.”
He bowed quickly, a little clumsy with excitement, before hurrying off toward the dorms.
You watched him go, warmth settling in your chest—quiet pride, simple and deeply satisfying. Beyond exorcising curses, moments like this were exactly why you stayed. Why you kept doing this job.
Your phone rang, the sound cutting cleanly through the calm you hadn’t realized you were holding onto.
Nanami’s name lit up the screen. You closed your eyes for a brief second before answering.
“I was informed this morning,” he said once you picked up, skipping pleasantries entirely, “that your name was added to my upcoming assignment.”
You knew that tone. Years of friendship had taught you how to recognize when his anger was carefully restrained.
You turned slightly, lowering your voice out of habit, even though no one else was close enough to hear.
“Yeah,” you said. “I figured you’d find out.”
“This isn’t standard procedure,” Nanami continued. “They know very well I don’t need an amplifier.”
You exhaled through your nose.
“I’ll go. They want me there” you said, already anticipating where this was headed. “I’m not going to disappear. I can fight. I can exorcise. I can handle myself.”
“I’m aware.”
“For them, it’s a win either way,” you went on “They’ll discredit me if I don’t do my job well—call it inefficiency—even when they know they’re sending me to a mission I’m not needed in the first place. And on the other hand,” you added, more bitterly “they get the chance to see me hurt.”
“It’s not fair. And I won’t let—”
“I want you to treat me like I’m not there” you cut in.
Nanami went quiet.
“If you prioritize me,” you continued, firmer now “if you adjust your movements or your decisions because of me—then they get exactly what they want.”
A long breath came through the line.
“You understand” Nanami said slowly “that the moments you’re amplifying me, you won’t be able to defend yourself.”
“I do.”
“And you’re still intending to amplify me,” he went on, voice tight, “while asking me not to cover you.”
A pause.
“Yes.”
Another beat of silence.
“If I’m going,” you said quietly, resolute “then I’m going to do my job.”
Two days had passed since your meeting with Yaga and the call with Nanami.
Two days during which you had tried—really tried—not to let the conversation replay itself in endless loops inside your head.
You buried yourself in routine. Morning classes. Stacks of mission reports waiting for your signature. Faculty meetings where the same three voices dominated the room while everyone else nodded and pretended to take notes. Familiar motions. Predictable rhythms. Things you could control.
That morning, you had finally spoken to Satoru about the upcoming mission.
You had left out the part where your name appeared on the support roster—not because anyone needed your particular skill set, but because someone had requested you specifically. You omitted the detail that you’d be supporting Nanami unnecessarily, assigned to a role that didn’t actually require you.
On paper, it was clean.
In reality, you knew exactly how it would look through your husband’s eyes. And you knew he would be right.
I don’t want him to be another thing he needs to get his hands dirty for.
You had said those words to Nanami without hesitation. And you had meant them.
Still did.
By the time the sky began to dim into early evening, exhaustion had settled into your bones. It was almost six when you finally left the building, mentally listing the groceries you still needed to pick up before heading home.
You were halfway when a figure detached itself from the covered walkway.
“Mrs. Ataru.”
You stopped, and slowly turned.
You recognized the intermediary immediately—one of the elders who never quite reached the inner circle but carried their messages with almost religious precision.
You offered a courteous nod and ignored the deliberate omission of your married name. They had all done it at first. Some still did. A quiet, stubborn refusal. A reminder that, in their eyes, Ataru's blood still ran in your veins and that was all that mattered.
“We will be requiring a formal review,” he continued, tone measured and unhurried, “of your operational role moving forward.”
You tilted your head just enough to signal curiosity rather than alarm.
“My role?”
“Your marriage constitutes a significant shift in existing power alignments.”
Ah.
You understood immediately. Satoru and you were expecting it since the wedding announcements went out.
Of course they were going to keep an eye on you. To make sure an Ataru who now belonged to the Gojo family didn’t interfere more than expected. To keep a rein on an amplifier who had married the strongest sorcerer alive—a man who already stood at the pinnacle of power without any amplification at all.
“You’re concerned about a conflict of interest,” you said calmly, almost conversationally.
The elder didn’t deny it. He inclined his head a fraction—confirmation and dismissal wrapped into one small gesture.
“We believe a reassessment is appropriate.”
You felt the shift before you saw him.
Not a sound. Not a footstep. Just a sudden density in the air behind you, like the atmosphere itself had thickened.
Satoru stood several paces away, white hair catching the dying light, dark glasses firmly in place. He had clearly been on his way home.
Now every line of him radiated something lethal, leashed only because he want it to be. The elder clearly stiffened at the new unexpected presence
“My values and my judgment haven’t changed.” you said firmly
The elder recovered quickly, though his eyes flicked once to Satoru before returning to you.
“That remains to be evaluated.”
Satoru laughed, stepping closer with lazy confidence.
“Evaluate me instead,” he suggested lightly, as if recommending a restaurant. “Since I’m the conflict, clearly.”
“We are well aware of your position and capabilities, Gojo.”
“Are you?”
Two words. The Infinity flexed. The courtyard lanterns flickered once, as if the bulbs had momentarily forgotten how electricity worked.
You moved without thinking, your hand lifting toward Satoru’s chest—right over his heart. Infinity stopped you just short of contact, but it didn’t matter. The message landed anyway.
He looked down at your hand first. Then at your face.
He knew somewhere beyond the quiet campus, behind closed doors and carefully measured conversations, men with too much authority began calculating risk. But here, in the fading light, with his attention wholly—dangerously—focused on you, Satoru Gojo wasn’t thinking about politics. He was thinking about you, and the catastrophic mistake of anyone who mistook you for a weakness.
So he smiled again—slow and deliberate— and let the pressure ease.
“Of course,” he said brightly, voice slipping back into its familiar lightness. “Oversight. Committees. Reports. Love that for us.”
The elder bowed stiffly—more reflex than respect—and retreated down the walkway, his measured pace doing very little to disguise how quickly he wanted distance between himself and the two of you.
You waited until the sound of his footsteps disappeared completely.
Only then did you lower your hand.
“Don’t.”
The word left your mouth softer than you intended, but it didn’t tremble.
“Don’t what?” he asked.
“Escalate.”
The courtyard felt too open all of a sudden. Too exposed. You were aware—acutely—of how easily he could turn this into something irreversible. How thin the line was between restraint and spectacle.
You knew, and you had expected it. The scrutiny. The political recalibration. The quiet attempts at pressure disguised as procedure. You had known they would try to test you. Test him. Test the space between you.
You had walked into it willingly.
“They’re underestimating you.”
You held his gaze.
“And you?” you asked softly. “Are you underestimating me?”
You asked because it mattered. You weren’t shrinking. You weren’t flinching. And you needed to know that he saw that.
His eyes sharpened immediately.
“Never.”
You stepped closer—closing the last of the distance so there was no ambiguity left between you.
“This is manageable,” you said. “It’s annoying. It’s intrusive. But it’s manageable.”
He studied you for a long moment. The way he sometimes looked at unfamiliar cursed techniques right before dismantling them
“You knew this would happen,” he said quietly.
“Yes.” you answered without hesitation.
“And you married me anyway.”
There it was. A confirmation.
“Yes”
Something flickered across his expression, and you barely had time to breathe before the world folded.
There was no warning—just the sudden, disorienting snap of space collapsing. The penthouse materialized in a blur of glass and twilight, and before your mind could catch up, Satoru had you pinned against the cool glass of the floor-to-ceiling window.
Tokyo glittered thousands of feet below—distant, irrelevant. All you could feel was the radiator heat of his body pressed flush against yours.
“Satoru—”
You really looked at him then. At the tight set of his jaw. At the sharp, dangerous focus behind the lenses of his glasses. At the way all that power narrowed until it was only you.
“What did we talk about,” you said breathlessly, “teleporting me home without warning?”
“Right now, I don’t care.” His voice dropped into a rough register that sent a sharp ache straight through you. “They don’t get to touch you.”
He still hadn’t used his hands. Just his weight. His chest rising and falling against yours.
“They don’t even get to look at you like you’re something they can put on a scale.”
“I handled it,” you said, pulse finally catching up. Your fingers trembled as you hooked them into his collar. “You saw that.”
“I saw a dead man walking,” he corrected. He leaned closer, mouth hovering inches from yours, breath warm—coffee and something rawer beneath it. “You were too polite. Too professional. You’re too good for them.”
“You don’t get to go feral preemptively,” you said, trying—and failing—to ground yourself.
His mouth curved into a sharp, dangerous smirk. “Feral?”
“Yes. I can see it building.”
You said it lightly. Almost teasing.
Inside, you were deadly serious.
He laughed under his breath.
“You have no idea how feral I am right now. Seeing them omit your name. Seeing them treat my wife like a line item in a budget.”
That was when he finally moved.
His hands came up—not to your waist, not yet—but to your wrists, pinning them above your head against the glass. The cold at your back and the furnace of him in front made your thoughts blur.
“You married a monster,” he murmured, nose tracing the line of your jaw.
“No,” you corrected, breath hitching as his mouth brushed sensitive skin beneath your ear. “I married a man.”
Something in him broke.
Just for a second.
Raw. Unguarded.
He pulled back enough to look at you, blue eyes burning brighter than any cursed energy—stripped of every shield he wore for the world. You felt the exact moment his control wavered.
His grip loosened.
You slid your hands free and cupped his face, lifting his glasses away.
“And I love that man so much it hurts,” you whispered, thumb brushing his lower lip. “So let me take care of you tonight, Satoru.”
His breath stuttered.
And even as your thoughts churned—the conversation with Yaga, the call with Nanami, the mission in which you had never truly been necessary—is this the right thing to do? Am I making this worse? Should I have handled things differently?—deep down, the truth was that you didn’t regret it.
You had chosen to protect him from one more thing that might demand blood.
You didn’t want this weight on his shoulders.
Didn’t want him thinking that marrying you had turned your life into a liability.
Didn’t want him carrying guilt for decisions you had made on your own.
If you could give him even a moment of peace before everything shifted—before the mission, before the scrutiny, before whatever came next—then maybe, just for tonight, that would be enough.
if you’re thinking “wait, didn’t you already post this?” no ❤️ you didn’t see anything. It's not on my masterlist🤫
reblogs are always appreciated!! <3
-> next part
masterlist
after a long day, it’s no surprise that you’re left with no energy to take care of yourself, let alone clean up and drag yourself off to bed. luckily for you, your two boyfriends— satoru and suguru, the infamous strongest duo who are as weak as kittens for you— take it upon themselves to bathe you and wash your hair. princess treatment has never felt this good.
⋆.˚ content: SFW but MDNI 18+, fem!reader, canon jujutsu universe (alt au where geto doesn’t defect), fluff fluff fluff, humor, established polyamorous satosugu x reader, gojo and geto are WHIPPED for you and for each other, domestic intimacy, a fair amount of suggestive jokes (but the entire fic stays non-sexual), mentions of battle wounds & scars
a/n: this is a requested drabble for the non-sexual acts of intimacy prompts “taking a bath together” and “having their hair washed by the other” for a fewww different anons 🙂↕️🫶🏽 hope you all enjoy cos this was sm fun to write 💓 masterlist.
Bathwater laps softly at the porcelain edges of the tub, warm enough to turn your skin dewy beneath the draping of steam that hangs hazily over the air like a wedding veil. The bathroom's steeped in the mellow glow of an amber and blossom-pink sunset filtering through the windows that overlook Tokyo. More jasmine-sweetened steam drifts in languid, translucent ribbons from the oversized tub fashioned to fit three (thanks, Gojo clan money).
Lounging with your lovers, everything is pleasantly heavy— your limbs, your eyelids which have long fallen together, your subdued thoughts— and softened by the calming ease of being in Suguru's and Satoru's presence.
You sit between them, back resting against Satoru's steadily beating chest, his ridiculously long legs fallen open for you to sit between them with all the careless assurance of a man who has never once worried about taking up space. Suguru rests against the opposite edge of the tub with one arm curled along the rim and his legs similarly extended. Satoru's and Suguru's calves and thighs skim against each other where they border yours beneath the water, neither inclined to break the comfort of simple touch.
"You've gone quiet." Suguru's observation echoes off the tile.
"Mhm." Your answer is only half there.
"You awake?"
"Ehhh… Kinda sorta, sorta kinda," you mumble, seesawing a hand.
Satoru leans forward until his forehead lightly bumps your nape. "No sleeping yet, pretty girl. Ragdolling while we try to get you clean is a surefire way to go down Ben Drowned-style,” he teases.
You whine a little in protest even though the reference makes your lips tick. "But you guys made me so comfortable already..."
And they truly have.
The bath had been waiting for you before you'd even thought to ask for one. Actually, the idea was planted in Satoru and Suguru's heads the moment you texted that you were dead-tired and grimy to the group chat from the back of Ijichi's car. You had been the only one to head out on a mission today, Satoru spending the day teaching and training the first years and Suguru mirroring him with the third years— Satoru had weaseled his way into a full hands-on day with his students, claiming he needed somewhat of a break, and Suguru spent most of his time teaching rather than hunting curses anymore, anyways.
(You and Satoru have been on the offensive with the higher-ups for years to nail down this arrangement for Suguru. Sure, Suguru still took on the occasional mission when everyone else was stretched thin by their own duties, but for his mental health’s sake, it was best that he stuck to guiding and nurturing the current generation.
You never want to see him as hollowly depressed as he was after everything that went down when he was a student.)
When you'd finally wandered into your shared house with knotted shoulders and your thumbs aggravatedly digging out the soreness from your temples, both your boyfriends snatched you up at the genkan and herded you like wildly insistent border collies to the master bedroom's ensuite, which had been transformed into a luxury spa during your twenty minute commute.
Towels were folded up in their warmer, candles swaying happily, the massive tub brimming with fragrant bathing oils and mineral salts— literally the whole nines. All the tiny things you'd long forgotten mentioning you preferred for a long soak were present, that information lovingly archived inside two impossibly attentive minds.
Before you could burst into happy tears at the lengths they went to for you, Suguru helped peel away your clothes before passing you off to Satoru, who offered both hands the moment you stepped toward the siren call of the water on sore legs, smoothly bowing as though escorting you into a ballroom instead of a bathtub.
Between them, lowering yourself into the steaming water (which was the fucking perfect temperature, holy hell) was less like climbing into a bath— another chore to hustle through before bed when you were already so worn-thin— and more like mindlessly handing yourself over for what they both dubbed your 'princess treatment.'
Suguru's smile is a ray of gentle light coloring his words, "Are we supposed to apologize for being good boyfriends?"
"Yeah. And you have to live with the consequences," you sigh, slumping further back into Satoru. The water rocks with you.
"You hear that?" Satoru says to Suguru over your head. You feel his chin nestle into your crown, arms loosely coiling at your waist. "She's blaming and threatening us."
"This is what happens when we go out of our way and draw us all a nice bath, huh," Suguru kisses his teeth, theatrically disappointed in you and what his and Satoru's efforts have come to. "Shame. I guess we won't be doing this ever again."
That finally gets your eyes to crack, blinking past the steam shrouding your slivered vision. Suguru watches the both of you with a sleepy beam curling the corners of his mouth, midnight lashes dampened and beading at their tips from the humidity. In spite of his long hair being wound up in a picture-perfect bun straight from Pinterest— his thorough wash-day took place yesterday and he's in no hurry to rewash his hair all over again— the baby hairs coiling at his nape and hairline are helplessly frizzy, fallen victim to the moisture in the air.
Suguru's gorgeous, a fallen angel meant to tempt you into the salacious temptations of the forbidden— much like the equally stunning blue-eyed beauty cuddled up to your behind, fluffed up white hair as refreshing as winter's first snowfall and his innate charming smile ten times more devastating than the cursed techniques sown into his very DNA.
"Hey," you protest, somewhat impressed by how he's twisted this situation to his benefit. "I didn't say all of that…"
A big warm palm finds a home on your shoulder, the callouses at the base of Satoru's fingers dragging a satisfyingly scratchy path over your skin. "I didn't agree to that either. Who's gonna appreciate all our hard work and dedication to pampering her if not, well, our princess?" Satoru wonders aloud, each richly pronounced syllable traveling in a velvety rolling rumble through his chest to your back.
Suguru cocks a brow, though he soaks up the reminder with a smoothly executed drag of the wooden bath tray closer to the corner of the tub's edge. Fancy crystalized bottles rattle, winking rainbow prisms across the walls; the oceanic waves of Satoru's irises, the deep earthiness of Suguru's.
You see them in everything, the two men coloring the world you traverse in a gallery forever curated in their likeness, to the point that you couldn't name a single thing on this planet without your lovers tinting your glasses.
Sometimes, you wonder whether the sky was always that boundless, cotton-candy blue, whether the nature crawling dense coils up Tokyo Jujutsu High's mountain campus had always carried such comforting shades of chocolate-brown, or if loving them has simply trained your eyes to always pay homage to Satoru and Suguru. Whatever the case, you're ridiculously smitten.
"Appreciation isn't the point, Satoru," lightly sniffs Suguru.
You wish you could see the stupid grin smeared across Satoru's countenance as he counters, jokingly, "It absolutely is."
"It really isn't," Suguru deadpans, looking to you as if to say get a load of this guy. You giggle.
"I don't know about you, babe, but I wanna be praised for my generous deeds," Satoru announces. "It hits like a line of coke after a long day."
Suguru slowly nods his assent. "That is true… though in your case, I'd say that cake is more your style than coke of all things."
"Snoooore," you loudly mime, deadpanning.
Satoru's laughter sears through your skin, beating a hearty rhythm between your shoulder blades. Suguru fans his fingers over his mouth as he joins in on Satoru's chuckling, amusement blossoming in the air. "Alright, alright. The deluxe princess treatment package is on its way now, promise," Suguru sing-songs with a little flap of his hand, finally easing up now that he's found a way back on track. "Satoru, you'll wash her hair and I'll do her body?"
"For sure," he chirps.
Ah, how nice it feels to lounge around like prized, celebrated royalty without a care in the world while your boys work a plan to pamper you.
All it takes is a simple curl of Suguru's black-painted finger for Satoru to obediently thrust his hand past your head, palm paralleling the ceiling as Suguru pops the glass stopper of a bottle and drizzles a generous heaping of shampoo into his hand's cup.
Satoru loops his arms around your front and works the shampoo between deft palms before your eyes, vanilla and camellia blossoms wafting up to your face, which you dip towards the comforting smell with a hum. It's Suguru's favorite shampoo— you're always surprised when he shares some of it and his conditioner with you, given how he treats it like the holy grail that he alone was blessed and entrusted with.
(Even funnier how he flat out refuses to let Satoru get his hands on it. Not that the white-haired sorcerer cares all that much anyhow; he uses a 3-in-1 shampoo and calls splashing tap water on his face a 'proper face wash.' You'd think a man so prideful about his vanity would splurge on products to properly care for himself and his Adonis body— the same way he buys from luxury clothing brands on the daily— instead of winging it like a head-in-the-clouds college fratboy, but alas…
You've gotta give it to him though: his genetics are killer. Curse Satoru and the goddamned perfectly pretty Gojo bloodline. It's not fair for the rest of you 'simpletons' who actually have to put in the work to groom and maintain yourself in order to look even half as unfairly attractive as he does on a random Thursday morning. The universe shamelessly plays favorites, and Satoru is its dazzling golden child.)
"Tilt your head back for me," he murmurs, long fingers immediately finding your hair— already sufficiently wet— the second you obey.
Humming an absent tune that lulls you into closing your eyes once more, Satoru gathers up all your hair, his usual boundless energy replaced by surprising patience. You can envision the way he's likely got his tongue peeking slightly between his teeth as he smooths the shampoo down your head, working up a rich, pearly lather from your crown to your ends with painstaking care exactly as Suguru once taught him.
Nobody from Jujutsu Tech— not Shoko, not Ijichi, not even any of the students— would expect such gentleness from the strongest sorcerer alive. The same man that tears into curses with calculated, almost joyous violence and blows them apart with a well-placed Red and a dry “oopsies,” is unbelievably tender in his task of shampooing the outer layer of your hair before diving to your roots, firm yet gentle. Reverent, really.
His nails glide along your scalp in purposefully light scrapes that send shivers down your spine. A contented sigh escapes you before you can stop it. "Satoruuuu…" You subconsciously roll the r in the same purring cadence that Suguru speaks his name in.
"Yooo, chill," Satoru splutters behind you, sounding alarmed by who knows what.
Suguru fills in the blank with a suggestive smile and thinning of his eyes: "Moan my name next, baby. I'm feeling left out."
Ah. Curious, you shuffle your hips back further into the cradle of Satoru's pelvis, glad to feel a distinct lack of engorged arousal insistently pestering your back; he's as flaccid as the day he was born. Your foot goes splashing water Suguru's way next. He catches your ankle beneath the surface and chuckles sunnily beneath the playful heat of your half-hearted glare.
"You're such a hater," he chastises.
"Excuse me for trying to enjoy my bath and the princess treatment you both promised me while you two horndogs try to make something out of nothing," you say dryly, though the pretense of sarcasm is rendered null by the next (accidentally) suggestive noise that floats its way past your lips when Satoru tugs a strand of shampooed hair just shy of too roughly.
"I didn't mean to do that, sorry!" Satoru jumps to apologize, presuming you'll give him shit for it and kick him out. But the joint snickers that both men promptly share over your head informs you that they're not exactly remorseful; and they're not even trying to play it sly.
"There's gonna be floggers and pillories in my online shopping cart by the end of the night if you two keep it up," you warn even though you're chuckling yourself. "That, or a sounding rod for you to share."
"Yes, ma'am. Sorry, ma'am," Satoru and Suguru innocently chorus.
Devils, the two of them.
But you're not any better, for you praise them in the sweetest purr possible, "Thank you. Good boys," and you all too joyfully reap the color budding across their already bath-flushed cheeks, tipping your head back against Satoru's shoulder to see his properly.
Suguru and Satoru: 1.
You: also 1.
You'll break that tie soon.
Fingers still wrapped in a delicate snag around your ankle, thumb sweeping over the protruding bone, Suguru one-handedly pumps a decent dollop of body wash into his palm, making a fist and dragging his fingers through it to warm it up a tad. "Lift your leg a little higher for me, sweetheart," he instructs, voice no louder than twinkling rain shimmering in silvery ribbons from the sky.
Conscious yet uncaring of the fact that you're already flashing him your most private parts (both your boyfriends have literally seen it all in every sexual and non-sexual scenario possible), you do just that, trusting that Satoru's solidity will keep you from sliding forward on your ass and submerging your face. Your hip flexor and quadricep tighten in a show of undemandingly easy dexterity— the movement of the latter has Suguru's eyes flicking down to watch as though you're his favorite film made human.
He scrunches his legs up in order to fit into the 'v' your own make. Shifting his grip to the back of your calf, he paints your skin in fragrant body wash from your foot, kneecap, to the crease connecting hip to thigh, coating you thoroughly and treating you to an impromptu massage along the way, thumbs kneading tenderly into muscle.
You're practically purring once he's done with your left leg. Suguru eases it back into the steaming bathwater and rinses you off with sweeping strokes of his broad hand until the jasmine-scented suds melt into the surface. Then, without breaking the tranquil rhythm you'd both settled into, he gathers your right leg in his grasp and starts anew from your foot upward, every motion as meticulous as the last.
You don't startle an inch when Satoru picks his task up again whilst Suguru works his soothing magic up your shin. Circles that bloom sweetness through your body are drawn into your scalp with the pads of Satoru's fingertips, thumbs gliding behind your ears before sweeping upward along your crown, coaxing the rich lather deeper through your roots.
His fingertips dance across your hair in broad, enthusiastic circles, working the shampoo in with enough vigor to make your head tip slightly. It's embarrassingly effective in making you lose track of where one minute ends and another begins. The little remaining tension loosens from your body like water through a sieve.
"Oh my godddd," you moan, blissful, completely swept up in their pampering that comes without a price. You melt between Satoru and Suguru without thinking, trusting the secure cradle of their bodies as completely as breathing itself. "This is exactly what I needed. This is heaven."
"You deserve only good things, especially tonight," Suguru murmurs affectionately, gently dunking your right leg and rinsing that one off, too.
"All the time, really," Satoru agrees. He leaves your hair once he's sure each strand is thoroughly lathered up. "Seeing you turn into a cute little puddle is the best bonus I could ask for. Just let us take care of you, yeah?"
He returns to you with a wooden rinse pitcher that Suguru hands to him. He cups warm bathwater into it, stray droplets sprinkling across the bath's surface when he pulls the pitcher free with an audible gulp of water. Anticipating what follows, you tip your head back and stay still as Satoru pours the first cascade of water over your head to cleanse you of the fragrant foam, his free hand shielding your forehead to keep it from spilling over your face.
"You wanna know a neat trick I thought of?" Satoru asks, voice overflowing with prideful excitement. You and Suguru rumble low noises from your throats at the same time, encouraging. "If Blue allows me to pull buildings apart at minimum output by drawing everything towards the impossibility, then it makes sense that if I put the tiiiiniest possible output into Blue—" you feel a tempered spike of cursed energy that makes the dampened hair at your nape prick to attention, "—the field of attraction is weak enough that I can siphon water from hair."
Before the dirtied water can rejoin the pooling bathwater lapping over you all, it peels from your hair like a clean, satisfying strip of tape as though the laws of nature, too, submit to the wonder that is Gojo Satoru.
You feel each saturated lock of hair lighten by degrees more than you see it. Suspended at your sides where you can spy it from the corner of yout eye, the extracted water gathers into a lazily revolving sphere no larger than a melon, pale with diluted shampoo that swirls in pearlescent ribbons beneath the bathroom's amber light. You can tell that Satoru's flicked his fingers behind you when it all goes gliding into a bucket by the tub— he probably thought to put it there in advance, you realize— with a muffled sploosh. Suguru whistles, impressed.
"There!" Satoru chirps, grin crystal-clear in his voice as though he'd unveiled the world's greatest scientific breakthrough instead of an absurdly overengineered bath hack using one of the greatest cursed techniques in history. "No gross rinse water in the tub."
"That was cool, Toru," you gush.
Suguru's laugh slips free in a quiet puff. "Good idea, baby."
The dual praise has Satoru radiating like an overjoyed sun behind you. "Right? Right?" He boasts with no modesty whatsover, chest jutting proudly against your back.
"You'll have to do that for my hair sometime, too," Suguru sighs longingly, tilting his head with a charmed look on his face. He's so cute. "I could use one of my curses, but Blue'll save me so much time. My hair's getting even longer than it already is, if you can imagine."
"Please never cut it," you and Satoru pipe up in genuine agony.
Suguru titters, enchanting brown eyes creasing in a blinding smile, brighter somehow for it. "Relax, you two. I won't. Aside from trimming split ends— knock on wood." He raps the wooden bath tray with his knuckles.
The exchange coaxes an involuntary smile of your own, the stretch of your lips so overly fond that your cheeks ache. It is so wonderfully, unmistakably the three of you— Suguru's easy indulgement forever balanced alongside Satoru's irrepressible enthusiasm and your habit of matching them both exactly where they stand.
Suguru re-lathers his hands to work on your abdomen, muscles fluttering in delicate butterly wings behind the bountiful garden of your skin at the ticklish feeling of his slickened touch; Satoru ladles another pitcherful over your head and repeats the process of gathering and discarding every soapy drop with Blue. Suguru glides soap up the valley between your perked breasts and beneath them as well, even massaging your tits without a lick of sexual intent; Satoru gives you one last rinse before passing curious fingers through your hair until the strands slide cleanly through his hands, gently teasing apart the few stubborn knots left over. The bathwater gently rocks against your ribs whenever they both shift, focused on their individual tasks but nonetheless in tune with one another.
By the time Suguru finishes off your front by washing your collarbones and shoulders and Satoru's just teased apart the few stubborn knots left over in your hair, your hair hangs sleek and impossibly clean, you're feeling squeaky clean from head to toe, and the bathwater around your bodies remains as clear as when you'd first slipped into it, aside from the body wash that's sluiced off of you.
You feel as though they’d somehow washed away not only the day's sweat and oils, but every bothersome thought that had settled there alongside them. You could seriously fall asleep any second without realizing you'd slipped into unconsciousness.
"Look at us working together in sync," Satoru lilts, signaling for the conditioner over your shoulder. Suguru hands it off from the bath tray without missing a beat. "The G.G. Salon is taking off."
"G.G.?" You ask, faint laughter already bubbling through your nose before he even elaborates. You're anticipating something so stupid that it's somehow funny.
"Get gucked," Satoru supplies, only to shriek a soprano's pitch and jackknife his leg through the water when Suguru aggressively pinches Satoru's big toe. "Yeesh, can't a guy joke around here? I meant the Gojo-Geto salon."
Suguru smiles serenely.
They make quick— but not rushed— work of the rest of your treatment. Suguru reaches between yours and Satoru's bodies to bathe your back while Satoru conditions the ends of your hair with the creamy fixture.
Clearing your hair of conditioner after it soaks in is easy as it was for Satoru with the shampoo. He splashes water along your back to finish off Suguru's work, and Suguru leans in to nuzzle a brief kiss against your forehead, lips lingering for only a second before he settles back against the tub's rim again, the picture of handsome relaxation. A moment later, Satoru cranes his head to smooch the side of your neck as if unwilling to be left out, then ducks past you to peck Suguru's mouth.
No words are needed in the wakeful peace that draws a curtain over you; you, Satoru, and Suguru seemingly come to a silent agreement to soak in the jasmine-fermented bath a while longer, all of yours eyes closed in bone-deep gratification. Heat loosens muscles and peels the firm grip of old aches and pains stemming from battles old and new, determined to ease your bodies that've been carved out from years and years of sorcerery. You only clamber out when the bathwater is cool enough to be drained, yours and Satoru's and Suguru's fingers and toes pruny from the extended soak.
The tired little shiver that quakes you when the air hits your damp skin is noticed immediately by Suguru, who quietly directs Satoru to empty the bucket of dirtied water down the tub before turning to you with towels straight from the tower warmer. He wraps one loosely around your hair and gently squeezes away the excess water.
His sweetened cooing of how cute you are when you're all sleepy and doted-on makes you duck your head into his touch if only to hide your face from the loving searchlights of his eyes. You allow Suguru to similarly wrap your body up in a second towel and you gleefully burrow into the fluffy comfort of it.
Satoru zips to your side in literal seconds with two more towels bunched under his arm, blue eyes alight and completely comfortable in his nudity. "My turn," he announces.
"Didn't you have plenty of turns in the bath?" Suguru amusedly points out in a lowered tone. "She's already dried off, anyways."
Satoru pokes his pretty pink lips out in a pout, sulky as a cat denied its dinner. "I want another."
"You always want another," you hum, eyes half-closed and about ready to conk out on the tile of all places. A plane could crash outside and you wouldn't even be fazed, your mind too up in the clouds and doped up on the princess treatment your boyfriends gave you to care.
“Well, I like taking care of you both,” Satoru admits with some sheepishness, scratching his shorn-short nape that you're sure is soon to be warmed pink as you and Suguru look at him with hearts for eyes. "Can't blame a guy for being in love, yeah?"
You really can't; not when you're just as stupidly infatuated with them both. Especially when, adorably, he surprises you both by turning to Suguru and toweling him off with great attention, making your dark-haired partner flush an even ruddier red than the hot water gave his body. For all of Satoru's impossible strength and impossible speed, his hands fuss with deliberate care as they work the plush fabric around Suguru's waist, folding one edge neatly over the other before tucking it securely against his hip. Then Satoru guides a stray bang that fell loose from his bun behind his ear, fingers lingering sweetly.
Suguru blinks once, twice, as though momentarily caught off guard by the simple gesture. "... Thank you, Satoruuu,” he purrs warmly.
The words are accompanied by a smile so soft it melts years off of Suguru's face, leaving behind only the boy who'd once looked at you and Satoru with that same impossible tenderness after late-night konbini store runs and shared umbrellas beneath summer rain as you all ran back to campus after shared misions— long, long before that accursed village sent him into a year-long spiral. Affection settles visibly into every elegant line of him, warming his browned eyes until they resemble polished amber.
Color rushes into Satoru's ears as he's blasted with the full superlunary rays of Suguru's love, almost shying away from his exuberant beam. "Don't mention it," he mutters, already smiling despite himself as he finally slings his own towel around his hips.
A laugh escapes you before you can stop it, sleepy and airy, and both pairs of eyes snap toward you with such immediate fondness. Your heart gives such a smitten start that it damn near ping-pongs off your ribs.
And then you open your unfiltered mouth, "You're both so cute. You two act like you guys haven't explored each other's holes for literal years."
Their expressions slacken into ones of pained amusement immediately. "Sweets, I love you so so sooo bad, but do you ever think before you reduce years of heartfelt intimacy to digging out each other's asses?" Satoru snorts.
"Please don't say it like that," Suguru bemoans, propping one hand on his towel-wrapped hip while the other drives a thumb into his creased forehead. Even so, he's openly snickering, even moreso when he slaps Satoru's chest. "Are you under the impression that you're any better?"
Satoru touches his heart with theatrical offense. "I've never said anything outrageous as her."
"You literally just did?" Suguru points out, exasperatedly tickled.
You attempt to muster a joke to chip in with, but a yawn stretches your jaw instead, eyes watering as exhaustion overtakes any dignity you might have had left.
"Awww," Satoru breathes out an impossibly stricken coo. "She's gonna fall asleep standing up like a horse."
"I was thinking the same thing," Suguru murmurs, tilting his head at you.
"I am awake and alert and alive," you mumble automatically.
Clearly, neither of them believes you for even half a second. Suguru chuckles beneath his breath before stepping forward, large hand finding the small of your back through the towel. "Looks like the delirium's getting to you, huh, angel? You've had a long day."
Satoru immediately appears at your other side. "For sure. Let's go get dressed and go to bed." Without ceremony, he bends his knees and scoops you into his arms bridal-style as though you weigh nothing at all. You let out the weakest little noise of surprise imaginable before instinctively curling against his warm chest, your cheek finding the familiar place beneath his collarbone.
"I c-can…" Your own yawn slashes the sentence in half, making Satoru throw his head back laughing as he turns towards the bathroom's entrance, "… walk."
"Oh, sweetheart," Suguru rumbles out a laugh.
"I can,” you grumble.
"You just lost consciousness mid-sentence."
"Mmmf," you say intelligently.
Suguru reaches over to straighten the towel atop your head one final time, brushing his knuckles fondly across your temple. "So spoiled," he whispers.
You hum contentedly, already halfway to sleep. "Your fault."
"Our fault," Satoru corrects, carrying you toward the door with Suguru walking beside him, shoulder brushing his every few steps. Then, as an aside to Suguru, "To be fair, we kinda made her expect this."
"I think I deserve princess treatment everyday," you exhaustedly pipe up, words dragging as you gradually drift off.
Satoru and Suguru exchange looks over your lolling head. So cute.
‧₊˚ ┊ 18+ mdni!! — satoru and suguru are so bad at sharing that they have to eat you out at the same time ꒰ ◞ ◟ 𓏼 ྀི꒱ 🩰
you weren’t exactly sure when it started, the strange way they’d been acting around you. the lingering touches and the sultry gazes. like they were barely able to hold themselves back from destroying you. it was hard to tell whether or not you liked it, it would be weird to feel that way…right?
one thing was for sure though, the relationship you had with your roommates wasn’t exactly common.
they loved to kiss you on the neck, to steal your lacy panties as a joke, and just adored having you in their lap from time to time. sometimes they’d fight over you. tugging you around like you were their little doll. it was as if you blinked and suddenly you found yourself trapped in an erotic, and extremely abnormal friendship with the two of them. if you could even call it friendship.
it wasn’t long before you were finally laid bare before them. your cunt sopping wet and exposed to the cold air of your small apartment. all because they hated the idea of passing you back and forth. each one wanted you for himself, and this seemed to be the only solution.
you shifted on the couch, subconsciously bringing your pussy closer to their pretty faces. you watched as satoru traced gentle patterns into the skin of your inner thigh; he bit it, teasing you, loving the way you jolted.
suguru, seemingly inspired by his friend, did the same. biting at your inner thighs and toying with your patience, which was growing thinner by the minute. he smiled up at you, and you couldn’t take their teasing for much longer.
“please, just do something already…” you practically whined, and suguru laughed at your pure desperation. his fingers were careful as they delicately rubbed along your opening, sticky and oh so sweet. you dug your fingers into the soft fabric of the couch.
suguru leaned forward, breathing you in.
“smells so fucking good.” he sighed, eyes already filled with pleasure and he hadn’t even done anything yet.
satoru smiled, his hands getting dangerously close to where you wanted them. “bet she tastes good too.”
“please! i can’t keep waiting…i need it…” you were begging, drunk off of the fantasies that ran wild in your mind. how would their mouths feel on you? would they tease you? maybe they’d try to make you cum as fast as possible.
whatever they had planned, you wanted to be the one to feel it.
“what do you need, pretty?” suguru whispered, placing the smallest of kisses on your clit, already throbbing in anticipation.
you jerked your hips without meaning to, chasing the feeling.
“i need your lips on me…i need it so fucking bad.” you whined, pathetic and covered in sweat. you couldn’t take their teasing much longer.
satoru grinned at you quivering figure, leaning in so that he too could smell you. “you’re so cute when you’re desperate.”
with that, they decided not to waste time anymore, practically throwing themselves at your pussy.
their mouths were hot and wet against you, sloppy as they tried to push each other out the way. satoru’s hand was steadily gripping your thigh, nails digging into the skin as he whispered “perfect” over and over again.
suguru kept is hand on your hip, using his lips to lightly suck on your puffy clit, hypersensitive and swollen. he laughed lowly every time you whined, each sound you made going straight to the heavy cock twitching in his pants.
“keep your eyes on us.” satoru’s voice was muffled yet demanding just as you were starting to lean your head back; his pretty fingers slipped inside of you, curling so softly, teasing with the way they slowed down and sped up spontaneously.
suguru’s lips and tongue were relentless against your bud. he spat on it, lapped up your slick and his saliva like it was a scared delicacy, worshiped your very being with his wet tongue. smiling as he watched you struggle to stay focused.
it was hard to keep your eyes open, the pleasure making it difficult to do anything but squirm. yet it was impossible to look away from the sight in front of you. satoru and suguru’s pretty faces buried deep in your gorgeous pussy, their tongues swiping over every inch of you, gliding against each other. suguru never looked away from you, and satoru seemed so lost in your perfection. his eyes were closed and his brows were quirked. he looked lost, dazed, practically euphoric.
“tastes so fucking good sweets. doesn’t she taste good sugu?”
suguru nodded, desperate. “pussy tastes perfect, better than we imagined.”
you looked down a little further, gasping once you saw that both of their pretty dicks had been pulled out. both of them rubbing over their sensitive tips while they devoured you. you hadn’t even noticed satoru slip his hand off of your thigh to get himself off.
but before you could say anything, satoru spoke up.
“hey…let me suck on her clit a little bit.”
suguru shook his head. “no, i wanna keep going.”
gojo whined, growing just as desperate as you. “y-you’ve been, oh fuck, up there this whole time.”
he scoffed. “….fine.”
they shifted a bit, adjusting themselves accordingly so that satoru could wrap his soft lips around your clit this time, and suguru could gently tongue fuck your fluttering cunt. it was starting to become a bit too much, your head was swirling and you weren’t sure how much longer you’d be able to last with the two men consuming you.
you arched your back, pushing yourself deeper into them.
“nngh fuck- i’m close, so fucking close.” you whimpered, shuddering into their mouths with trembling hands and legs. you knew they could feel it, the way your clit throbbed in satoru’s mouth, the way your pussy clenched around suguru’s tongue.
your hands grabbed fistfuls of their hair, pulling them as close as possible, smothering them into you.
“go on, pretty. cum for us. be a good girl and do it.” suguru moaned into you, his voice muffled. something about his sweet praises were driving you over the edge.
you were cumming before you even realized what was happening. your body was covered in sweat and tears were pooling out your eyes. broken sobs left you, chest heaving as you tried to come down from your high.
but they wouldn’t let you. they weren’t done.
both of them still kept their mouths on you, they didn’t let up. you felt suguru fuck you deeper with his tongue, satoru sucked harder on your clit, moaning into your hot cunt. everything was sensitive and you couldn’t handle it. not anymore.
“please oh my god! i can’t- i can’t it’s too much!” tears burned in the back of your eyes, threatening to spill over once again. and yet the two of them didn’t stop, you could see the hint of a smile on their faces, enjoying your cries of overstimulation.
“oh fuck, mmngh i’m- i’m gonna cum again!” you whimpered.
“then do it. cum as many times as you need to. we aren’t going anywhere.” satoru whispered as suguru nodded, never once breaking eye contact with your fucked out face.
it was going to be a long night.
a/n 🪽: i’m in a mood rn. don’t talk to me unless you wanna get cracked (lowk thinking abt doing smth similar w tojikuna but we’ll see)
𐙚 country boy ! gojo & 𐙚 country boy ! geto x city girl fem! reader | art by @/aransmind | divider by @/cursed-carmine | MDNI | m.list
𐙚 “Don’t worry City Girl, l’ll take goood care of ya’.” When your car breaks down on the long country road, your dad sends two very hot guys to recuse you and fix it up.
𐙚 a/n: idk about yall but i like when reader’s a lil easy sometimes
Your car couldn’t have picked the worst time to break down- no- die. You blamed your dad. You only ever came out to the country side to visit him for a bit.
Riding with the windows down in your beautiful pink car, drop top, music blasting as you rode smoothly down the old country road, the fun could only last you as long as it could before your engine sputters. “No…”
“No, no, no, noooo- cmon baby!” You whine, hitting the top of your steering wheel as you pull over on the side of the road, bringing your car to an unfortunate stop. You try to crank the engine up but it only made a sad putt putt putt.
“FUCK!” You scream, hitting the steering wheel. One, you were stuck on a long road with no houses in view. Two, the sun was starting to set. Three, you didn’t know shit about cars. Naturally you step out of the car to call your father. It took about two rings before his thick accent filled your ears.
“What’s up, sweat pea? You outside?”
“Dadddyyy…” your sobs loud in his ear.
“Ah shit- what’s wrong baby?”
“My car died!” You sniffle, “And m’stuck on this stinky ass road and there’s no houses and daddy she’s dead!”
“Alright, alright calm down. The car’s not dead, silly girl. Gonna have to take a look at it. How far you out?”
“Like…I don’t know. Maybe thirty minutes?” You wipe your eyes, looking into your mirror to make sure you didn’t mess up your blush.
“Alright sweet pea, you stay right there m’gonna give some guys a call to come pick you up.”
“But what about Serenity?” You’ve had your car since your eighteenth birthday. Your dad tended to spoil you, being his only daughter, it was only right.
He sighs, “You named that dang car Serenity?”
“Mhm!”
“Tch, Serenity,” He grumbles, making you giggle, “Alright, sweet pea you hang on tight. Got some guys comin’.”
Then phone clicks as you hang up, a tired sigh leaving your lips. This was the worst, maybe even the worst day of your life. You loved your father, but you didn’t like being in the country too much. There were fields for miles, cows all around that stunk, deers that you had to be cautious of, and worst of all: bugs. You hated bugs, and you absolutely afraid of them. Even as a child, you’d scream whenever a wasp flew by or you started crying whenever a fly would graze just your arm.
Moving to the city for college was a breath of fresh air, in a way. The environmental shift making you happy. You enjoyed every bit of it, but you were your daddy’s daughter, so of course you stayed with him every now and then.
Except your car just died. Maybe you were a bit dramatic, as your father calls it, but what else could you do? You didn’t know shit about cars.
You sigh softly, stepping out of the pink vehicle to sit on the back of it and watch the sunset. The heels of your boots clicking against the ground. It was…pretty. That’s one thing you couldn’t disagree with when it came to being in the country. It was beautiful. The landscape, nature, and getting to see the sunset in its fullest without any buildings blocking it. You were sitting on the back of your car for at least thirty minutes before you hear the engine of another.
A black truck parks in front of your pink car. You get off of its hood, watching as two big guys step out, the clack of their cowboy boots reminding you of where you were. Oh.. You pause in your steps as the doors close. They were wearing matching cowboy hats, but you could see the white of one’s hair and the long dark hair of the other.
“Got the tool box, ‘Toru?”
“Course I do.” Toru answers. You watch as he jogs around to the open back of the truck, hitching one foot up on the thick tire to grab the large tool box. The other takes his hat off, a smile on his pretty face as he walks towards you. “ ‘Scuse me Angel, you Y/D/N’s kid?”
Nodding slowly, your eyes run over his large frame. Tall, long hair, and he had ear gauges. There’s a piercing that ran through the left side of his lip, and one in the opposite eyebrow. Three of the buttons on his shirt were open, his chest exposed with a tattoo peeking out from his chest. He extended his hand out to you, his sleeves rolled up just a bit, exposing another tattoo on his arm. You hesitate, your pretty eyes staring right into his dark ones that were already fixtures on you.
“Scared? I don’t bite too hard.” He winks. Your soft hand shakes his rough one before he pulls back. “Suguru. Came here to save you.”
“Nd this must be Serenity.” The man called ‘Toru’ pops up behind Suguru with a laugh as he tapped the hood of your car. ‘Toru’ was a bit taller than Suguru with a head full of white hair. His eyes were the bluest ‘blue’ you’d ever seen, and you didn’t see any visible tattoos or piercings, just old faded scars that littered the bottom part of his face.
“Yeah…she’s my baby. I hope you can fix her.” You glance at the car with a sigh while to two men give each other a small look before Suguru steps around to the hood.
“Nice to meet you baby. Name’s Satoru, but y’can call me whatever you want sweetheart.” He extends his hand towards you, more scars on his sun-kissed skin. Butterflies. You place your hand in his, but instead of shaking it Satoru brings it up to his lips, kissing your soft skin. “Mm mm mm, y’smell good sweetheart.”
“Thank you-“
“Toru.” Suguru huffs. Satoru winks down at you before walking over to join Suguru. They exchange a few words before Satoru bursts into laughter. You stand awkwardly, tapping your boot against the ground.
They seemed like good people. Your dad wouldn’t have sent them if he thought otherwise. He’d never put you in danger.
You step around the car as Suguru beckons you forward with two fingers. “Yes?”
“Do me a favor Angel and get in the car real quick. Wanna see what’s going on under this hood.” He taps it with a smirk, tilting his head. “Can you do that for me?” And for some reason your stomach fluttered once again.
“Y-Yeah..” you clear your throat. It didn’t help that they were gorgeous as well. You open the car door and get in, staring up at Suguru as he nods. “Alrighty, now pull that lever down there.”
You frown as you look down around your car. “Lever?” Satoru folds his arms as he leans on the car, nodding. “Yeah sweetheart, should have a lil’ car on it with its hood up.” After looking around for a bit, the two men watch as your face lights up.
“I found it!”
“Atta girl, now be a sweetheart for me nd’ pull til it pops.” You could’ve sworn you heard Satoru purr, but you do as he says, flinching at the little pop ! before Suguru pops the hood open. “Thank you Angel baby, now go sit in the truck and wait for us alright?”
Every little command had you buzzing, your body tense. Two pairs of eyes set on you as you got out, leaning over the middle set to grab your purse from the passenger side floor. You also don’t miss the whistle that leaves Satoru’s mouth, and you remind yourself of the micro shorts you were wearing.
The ride back to your father’s house was…interesting. You learn that Satoru and Suguru were good friends of your father. Satoru’s family lived just a few houses down from your dad’s house before they all moved away, leaving Satoru the house. Satoru’s father and your father were good friends, so your dad looks out for him. Since your dad stays alone, Satoru visits often alongside Suguru who’s been best friends with the white haired man since they were kids. You also learned that your dad talks about you a lot.
It was dark when your father’s house came into view, the older man standing there on the porch. You were out of the truck before it even stopped, running towards him. “Daddy!”
“There’s my Sweet Pea.” He hugs you tightly before kissing your forehead. “She ain’t give yall any trouble did she?”
You scoff, watching the two men jump out of the truck laughing. “Damn near filled the truck with tears when poor ol’ Serenity got picked up by the tow truck.” Suguru smirks, your duffel bag swinging in his arms while Satoru carried your purse.
You felt your face warming as you turned away from them. Your father pats their shoulders with a laugh. “Baby’s always been a crybaby.” He moved past you to open the front door. “Hope yall hungry, I cooked.” The smell of sweet potatoes and cornbread fill your nose, your stomach growling.
“Good. Feel like I can eat a whole horse.” Satoru rubs his stomach, his arm wrapping around your shoulder. “Y’Know your daddy’s the best cook ever sweetheart?” The giggles that left you sounding like heaven to the man, smile forming on his lips while you all walked in.
“Sweet Pea where the hell ya clothes at girl? Don’t see nothing but legs.” Your dad calls behind you as Satoru drags you off to the kitchen.
You were the first to finish up your father’s long awaited dinner, leaving a sweet “goodnight” to your father and the other two. Tummy full as you walked upstairs to your room. It will always be your room. Walls decorated with old posters and new, you always added to the room whenever you’d visit. Your desk cluttered with trinkets. The walls a sweet baby pink like your car. Even though you brought clothes and such, you already had all of those things waiting for you in the closet as you’d left them.
The warm shower felt like heaven. You hum softly, listening to the water hit the surface of the tub, the bathroom fogging. What a fucking day. Your car dying, being saved by two very hot guys who just so happened to flirt with you. They were flirting right? Your brows furrow curiously. They had to be, Satoru kissed your hand- and the random nicknames. You knew it was a common thing in the country but fuck it sounded sexy rolling off of their tongues.
Your nipples harden, Suguru’s “Angel” replaying in your head. Was it so wrong to think about them in that way? Your dings said no, thumbs flicking the hard nub of your pierced nipples, biting down softly on your lip to suppress the moan that threatened to spill.
“Sweetheart.” Your pussy clenches at the thought of Satoru, pinching at your nipples. The water running down your hot flustered body. “Fuck this is so wrong.” You whimper, fingers dipping between your legs. The difference between the water and your slick making you moan. You gather the slick, rubbing over the sensitive pearl of your clit, head tilting back slightly as your eyes closed. Stuttering hips rocked forwards to your fingers— and fuck it had been so long since you touched your pretty pussy.
If only you were in your room you could grab your vibrator—
Knock Knock Knock
You freeze, looking towards the bathroom door through the foggy glass of your sliding shower door. You turn the water off, frowning because you knew damn well your dad didn’t come upstairs when you were home. The shower door slides open as you rush to wrap the large pink dry towel around your body. “J-Just a moment please-“
“City Mouse you in there?”
You pause again, staring at the door. The immediate silence making the person on the other side of the door chuckle. “I can wait don’t worry baby.” You swallow thickly, and you hated how you couldn’t tell who was talking by how loudly your heart was beating — City Mouse?!
Once you were done drying off, you take off the plastic shower cap and substituted it for your bonnet. Your skin smooth and moisturized, clean. You open the door with the towel wrapped tightly around your body, clothes in hand. The man on the other side leaning against your room door that was only a step away.
“Suguru?” You squeak, his eyes landing on you, trailing down to your slippers and back up to your flushed face.
You note that his outfit was entirely different from earlier. Simple sweatpants and a tank top. More tattoos littered his shoulder. His hair loosely falling around his shoulders. “Did I scare you?” He chuckles. You rolls your eyes, “Just a little.”
“Awww, I’m sorry baby.” you could smell the sarcasm off his breathe.
He coos, stepping out of the way for you to walk into your room— only for him to stop you in your tracks. “Wha-“ He leans down towards your neck, so close. He takes a deep breath, releasing a small, deep groan. “Smell good, City Mouse.” Smirk on his face once he lets you pass, leaning against your door frame as he watched you toss the dirty clothes into your hamper. Sleeping clothes sprawled out across your bed. Tank top and shorts, no panties.
“I-If you’ll just give me a sec Suguru I won’t be long..” He closes the door for you, a heavy breath leaving your chest as you dropped the towel from your body, hands coming up to cover your moisturized face. Fuck fuck fuck he’s right there- behind the door- and I just touched myself to his voice.
And he smelled so fucking good. You didn’t pay attention to it earlier but the scent stuck to your nose like a blanket. He was dripping in appeal.
You quickly got dressed, tossing the towel in your hamper before shoving it back in your closet. Is my room decent? You swallow, looking around the neat space before nodding. The door opens to the man still standing there, dark eyes staring down at you— your piercings saying hello to him through the shirt. He turns away, coughing as he entered your room.
“Got it smellin’ like a bakery in here City Mouse.” He takes a seat on your bed, legs spreading just a bit as he watched you fiddle with your fingers nervously by the door. “Nervous?”
Yes. You were. and horny. “City Mouse…what happened to Angel?” Suguru’s smirk only grows more. His hand pats his lap as Suguru leans back just a bit, “Cmere…told you I don’t bite too hard didn’t I?”
Suguru watches in amusement while you close the door. Your nervous feet carries you between his legs, his welcoming arms beckoning you into them. “Atta girl.” He licks his lips and you swear your pussy jumps for joy at the sight of the metal ball on his tongue. You sit down on one of his legs, throwing your legs on his other one. His face leans into your neck again, taking a deeeep sniff before he sighs. “Smell good City Mouse.”
Your body hot, his tone suddenly lower as he looks up at you. “You wanna be called Angel, don’t you?”
“Y-Yes..” It comes out into a broken whimper, one hand wrapping around your waist while the other cradled your legs.
“I can do that, Angel.” Your bare cunt throbs against your shorts. Shifting slightly in his lap, your eyes never leaving his. “Are you staying the night Suguru?”
“Mmmmhm.” He hums, eyes fluttering shut the moment your fingers entangle themselves into his hair. Soft, clean, thick. “Is this alright? I’m sorry it was so temping-“ Your hair’s gorgeous.
“It’s alright sweet girl. Feels good.” He hums, pulling your body in closer. “Is this okay? Me touchin’ you?”
“Yes…it’s fine.” Touch me more.
So caught up in the moment you swallow in the beautiful silence in the air that you suddenly thought of Suguru’s other half-
“Where’s Satoru?”
One of his eyes peeks open at you, “Went home. He jus’ stays a few houses down.,.why? Want em here too?” His knee bounces you, hand squeezing your hip. “He might get jealous.”
“I was just curious is all.” You whisper. Fingers running through his hair, grazing his scalp and tugging ever so gently. The adam’s apple bobbing in his throat as Suguru’s lips part. You bite your lip, maybe if you just… tug.
“Fuck..” It was low, very low, but you heard it. His hand squeezing your hip harder.
“I-…Do you live close by Suguru?” Calloused fingers rub the soft skin of your thighs. his knee bouncing you again. “Mhm, more closer to town though. M’usually jus’ here watchin’ over your daddy. Strong man but he’s old y’know?”
That warms your heart. While you talked to your dad all of the time, the drive back to your apartment in the city took so long to go home every weekend from college. “Thank you, Suguru.” You smile, his smile mirroring yours as you tug softly on his hair again. His hand squeezes your thigh, “ ‘Course Angel. Your daddy’s amazin’. Me and ‘Toru would do jus’ about anythin’ for em.”
“I guess I’ll have to thank Satoru tomorrow.” You shift again on his leg.
“Gonna thank me tonight, Angel?” Another tug to his hair gives you a deep groan from Suguru. “Careful now..”
“…or what?” You whisper.
His eyes peel open, the hand on your thigh reaching to grab your chin, his thumb grazing your bottom lip. His eyes flicker from yours, to your lips, back up to your eyes, the question lingering in the silence you shared. You nod slowly, leaning in to brush your lips against his.
Suguru respected your father. Your father was like, well- a father to him. Suguru was only a few years older than you, a whopping 26. He came over and helped your dad cook and clean, helping him with his long-ran truck driving business, he even stayed over every now and then.
Suguru also knew that despite your dad being an old man, he was a tough cookie who was protective of his family. He considered Suguru to be family just as he did Satoru, but the long haired male knew that if your father were to ever catch him like this with you…he’d be a dead, dead man.
“That’s it Angel…Good fuckin girl, ride that dick-“
Suguru silenced you the best that he could, his hand around your throat. Your hips slamming down on his biiiig cock that stretched your lil’ sloppy pussy. “Takin’ it so good f’me.” His rough hand giving your ass a loud smack ! that has your pussy clenching around the thick base of his cock.
“M’fuck S—Suguru-!” Helpless little whimpers spilled from that pretty mouth of yours. Pretty Suguru laid on his back on your bed, his hair sprawled out against your pretty pink sheets, a sweaty moaning mess you made out of him. Suguru truly underestimated you.
You sit fully on his cock, your hips swaying back and forth, his big cock brushing that sensitive spot inside of you as your sloppy pussy loudly squelched, your messy juices running down the length of his cock. “Mhm. Feels good don’t it?”
“Y-Yes! So good Suguru.” Your head tilts back, his hand giving your neck a small squeeze that sends a shiver down your body. His mouth watered at your swollen nipples, piercings up and at attention from how much he sucked on them, flicking the metal on his tongue against them.
His thick cock splitting you open, fingers leaving small dents into your hips as you gasp, placing your hands on his chest. “So fucking good Suguru…” You whimper, hips starting to bounce again. Sweet eyes filling with pleasure filled tears while your mouth parts.
Suguru hisses, staring right at the bulge in your stomach every time your hips slammed down. “Fuck girl- sh-shit slow down.”
“Can’t stop— ohhhh fuck nghhh.”
“Y’daddy’ll kill me if he knew i was— Fuck Angel baby— he’ll kill me if he knew I was f-fuckin you.” Suguru’s hips buck into you, another loud whimper leaving your throat. “You like that don’t you? You a lil’ slut City Girl?” Tears slipped from your eyes, answering in heavy pants, nails digging into his chest while he lands another hard smack !
“Answer me baby.”
“W-Will be if you w— want me to-“
“Fuckin’ a man y’jus met today, naughty girl Angel.”
“You like it.”
“I love it baby.”
Suguru’s moans filled your ears as the warm tears slipped down your cheeks. Your ass recoiled with every warm hug of your pussy milking his cock while you rode him. And Suguru- the pretty boy lying beneath you blushing, watching the milky white ring around his cock get bigger, sticky strings connecting your juices. “So fuckin’ wet. All this for me baby?”
You let out a quiet whine, body leaning over him, your breast jiggling right above his pierced lip. He sticks his tongue out, cocky smile on hjs face. “Feel you squeezin’ round me baby. My pretty girl’s about to cum ain’t she?”
Nodding your head, your eyes shut tightly. “Gonna cum Suguru— fuck right there…” Your legs tired and sore, your movements slowing down while you humped against him. “I gotcha, Angel.” He coos in your ear, your head laying limp on his shoulder, lips instantly sucking on the skin beneath his ear. Feet planted on the bed, Suguru begins to fuck into you. Hips buckling into your welcoming heat. Your pussy squeezes against his hard- deep thrusts. So deep you felt him alllll the way to your belly button.
You were so glad your father’s room wasn’t directly below yours, and that he was a heavy sleeper.
“Suguru-“ You gasp, nails scratching at his skin. His hand smacks your ass again, grabbing a handful and spreading you open. Your juices trickle down those pretty veins lining the underside of his cock. “Say it again baby.” He moans, that heat pooling in the both did your stomachs. Suguru’s bangs begin sticking to his forehead.
“Suguru!” He felt so deep inside of you, and you questioned whether this was real. His cock pounding into you with no remorse, except for the loud moans he held back. “ah- hah fuck- ‘gin baby—“
You lift your head just a bit, hand grabbing at his chin, Suguru’s heart thumping out of his chest. You were the prettiest lil’ thing he’s done seen in a good, good minute. “M’so full Suguru,” You gasp. Every moan, every expression- Suguru took it all in, cock twitching violently inside of you. “You’re gonna make me cum..” You whimper, and Suguru just looses it.
“B-Baby wait- fuck! Got- ah—! Gotta pull out-“ You grab his chin, your lips a whisper over his “Fill me up Suguru.”
His lips moved against yours- melted into yours. The last of his thrusts sloppy as your pussy clamped down onto him as you orgasmed. The waves crashing down through you as you shuddered, his tongue flicking over yours. The warmth of his seed planting deep into your womb, your hips rocking against him pathetically.
After a short while of sloppily kissing, your breaths panting together, Suguru lifts your hips to pull out. “Easy now..” He whispers, your head tucking into his neck as you gasp at the loss, a loud squelch leaving your pussy when you squeezed around nothing, his warm seed spilling.
You shudder, yawning as he pulled the covers over your bodies. “Suguru?”
“Hm?” His eyes closed, chest rising and falling. His warm hands wrap around your waist, adjusting you to a more comfortable position. “What did you want? Figured you didn’t come up here to fuck me.”
You feel the vibrations of his laughter through his chest, “I didn’t. Was jus’ commin’ to tell you goodnight .” You said nothing else after that, yawning as your eyes fluttered shut
-
The smell of biscuits woke you up the next morning. You groan into your pillow—? as your body stretches in the empty bed. “Suguru?” You frown, eyes opening and quickly closing at the bright daylight shining through your window.
You were rolled up in your sheets, alone. Your eyes open back up and you glance around your room. He was really gone, or perhaps just downstairs. You get out of bed with a slight tremble to your legs, moving slowly across the room to go shower.
This time there was so Suguru to stop you while you were wrapped in your towel. The discarded shorts from last night folded neatly in your desk chair. You yawn, opening up your drawer for a pair of panties when a knock at your door has you pausing.
“You up sweetheart?” Satoru. What the hell was their deal with catching you as soon as you get out of the shower? Still, you open the door after throwing on a random large shirt that went pretty far down your body and your panties.
“Satoru!” You smile, opening the door to the large man nearly as tall as your door frame. He gives you a surprised smile back, looking down at the shirt swallowing you whole. “Hey there City Mouse. Comin’ to see if you were up for breakfast.”
“Did you both just collectively decide to call me City Mouse?” You groan, mind drifting back to Suguru last night. Suguru… You look away from Satoru towards the mess of your covers on your bed. He hums, looking towards it before his eyes shift back to your body, large shirt slightly revealing the dark red spot at the top of your chest.
“Mhm, thought it was funny. You must’ve spoke to Suguru before bed?” He smirks, watching as your feet shifting nervously. “What’s wrong sweetheart?” His voice soft, leaning down to graze your chin with his fingers. Satoru lifts your chin up to meet your shy gaze.
“Let’s go eat, hm?”
Your legs felt like jelly. Satoru waited until you put on a sweater and shorts before he trailed carefully behind you down the steps, watching as you trembled slightly with every little step.
“Morning Sweat Pea.” You dad kisses the top of your forehead, handing you a plate full of food. “How you sleep?”
“How you sleep? Didn’t give Suguru any trouble last night did you?” You spare the long haired man a glance as you sat down at the table right next to him. Suguru on your right, Satoru across from you, and your dad next to Satoru. “I slept good daddy, no troubles at all.”
Suguru chuckles while leaning over to place a fork next to your plate. You flinch just a bit as his hand grazes your thigh, oblivious to the blue eyes staring at you, “She did jus’ fine.” He hums. Your father just lights up. You watch as the three conversate, your dad found Satoru to be hilarious. The both of them loud and filling up the dining room. You realized you had no idea what the hell they were talking about either as you ate your food quietly.
You peek over at Suguru who was surprisingly already sparing you a glance. He smiles softly, fingers rubbing your thigh, “Doin’ alright Angel?” He winks, your face heating as you nod. “M-Mhm..”
“Gonna stop by the store later t’get you um…somthin’.” His hand squeezes your thigh and you stare at him in confusion before the realization hits you- He came inside of you. “U-Unless you’re takin uh-“
“I’m not…..thank you in advance Suguru.” You turn back to your breakfast, humming softly as you finally put take the fresh goodness of the biscuit. “ ‘Course baby.” He murmurs. Satoru takes a sip of his drink, watching you carefully. As if by fate (funny enough), your father’s phone rings.
Breakfast is cut short once you see him get up, “I’ll be back a bit later chaps. Gotta head to town for a bit to check on m’truck. Suguru can y’drive me there?”
The man nods, standing up quickly to finish the last of his eggs. “Be right back Sweet Pea-“ he points a finger at Satoru, “don’t let nothin’ happen to my baby.” He said it in a joking way but you and Satoru both knew he was dead serious. You smile, waving him off. “I’m fine daddy go get your truck.”
Being left alone with Satoru wasn’t so bad. After the table was cleared and cleaned, you ended up walking down to his house alongside him as he yapped.
“It’ll only take ‘bout an hour til they come back. Thirty minutes there, thirty back, but knowin’ your dad he’s probably gonna talk to some folks nd’ Suguru won’t leave unless he does.” You knew it would be longer since the longer haired man had to stop by the store.
You nod alongside him, the large home smelling just as good as he did. You could tell it was a family home. Everything was clean, wood polished, floors swept without a speck of dust.
“And you live alone?” Satoru takes his boots off by the door, and you do the same with your shoes. You trail him slowly into the living room, large tv hanging from the walls. There was a beautiful set placed down- two cozy couches and a recliner. The rug on the floor was the softest you’d ever felt beneath your feet. You watch him plop down onto the recliner, motioning you forward. “Mhm! My folks wanted to be closer to town since my mom’s gettin old. She didn’t wanna have to drive so far just for groceries y’know?”
You shuffle forward, and his arms reach out for you, pulling you into his lap. “Satoru-“
“Don’t worry City Girl, l’ll take goood care of ya’.” His arms wrap around your body as the chair rocked. “Mmmm not many sittin’ positions for two in this thing.” You could hear the smirk on his face while you fixed your legs to be on either side of his hips. “Sweetheart, it alright if I touch you more?”
“I’m already straddling you Satoru.”
“Just bein’ courteous.” His hands found a comfortable spot on your hips as you stared down at him. You found him to be so pretty. Those blue eyes resting behind pretty white lashes that matched his hair. His rough hands felt soft on your skin, his thick fingers sliding up the legs of your shorts. “This okay?” He murmurs. Your arms wrap around his neck, as you nod.
“It’s alright..” Your lips ghost over his, his sneaky fingers slipping underneath the lace of your panties. “s’pretty sweetheart..” Satoru pulls you into closer, his lips smashing into yours.
He was surprisingly very gentle with you. You expected roughness and impatience from Satoru, wanting to fuck through the shame of having only meeting him yesterday- well, you also fucked Suguru yesterday, and they were friends of your much older father.
The way Satoru kisses you gently, his lips biting down softly on your lips while his fingers traced over that wet spot in your panties— you felt like you were going insane while he teased you. It felt almost similar to Suguru— almost !
Until Satoru had you holding your knees up until they touched your pierced nipples, his hand around your throat while he landed a mean smack ! to your gaping pussy.
“Gonna kill that fucker. Who told em he could touch you before me, hm? His eyes filled with lust and annoyance, your pussy twitched while he rubbed your sensitive clit side to side, your slick waiting for him to take a dip in.
“S-Satoru—“ you gasp, head tilting back onto the soft pillows of his king sized bed. “That’s right sweet girl. Want you moanin’ my name.”
Your nails dig into the underside of your thighs, the hand around your neck squeezing tighter. “Couldn’t wait on me?” His eyes flicker up to you, locking with yours before he smirks.
“Answer me.” He gathers your sticky mess before one of his fingers push right into the warmth of your dripping pussy.
“I-I—“ Another finger slips in. Satoru raises a brow, “Go on, spit it out baby.” The fingers thrust inside of you fast. You let out a sharp gasp, squeezing your thighs while you moaned.
“Cmon now.” You wince at the stretch of a third finger. Satoru’s hand releases from your throat, his thumb pressing down on your clit as the fingers inside of you curl. The pressure so high in your stomach you could only whimper. “I-mm sorry T-Toru—!”
“No, no, no… don’t apologize sweetheart.” He coos, his fingers thrusting into your deeper, feeling around your gummy walls for that pretty spot inside of you. “You ain’t do nothin’ but take it.” Satoru whispers.
You bite down on your lip as your eyes shut, his thumb caressing your clit with teasing calculated touches. Satoru trying to figure out your body, every reaction you made went straight to the raging bulge in his pants. “Gonna be a good girl nd’ take it for me too?”
“Mm-mhmm-“ Heavy whimpers fall from your lips. Satoru’s fingers felt so deep, so intimate the way he licked his lips staring down at your pussy. The sounds so lewd, so nasty he was testing his patience trying to hold out from fucking you right then nd’ there. “Gonna cum Toru…” Your pretty pussy throbs around the thick fingers.
“Mm mm, can’t have that yet sweet girl.” Satoru pulls his fingers from your sloppy mess, your cream coating the digits. He brings them to his lips, moaning at the taste. “On your stomach sweetheart.”
Satoru was very different from Suguru, not that you were complaining. His actions laced with jealousy and need. Not at the fact that you’ve had sex with Suguru, but the fact that you had sex with Suguru first.
The white haired man wasted no time taking off the rest of his suffocating clothes. His cock the prettiest pink you’d ever seen (a close second to Serenity of course), the tip thick and angry, dripping with precum as it slapped against his abs- earning a small hiss from the man.
You lay flat on your stomach, your head resting on folded arms. Satoru giving his thick cock two longgg wet strokes before hovering cautiously over your back. You were nervous, you felt like a fucking virgin. “Hips up just a lil’ baby…that’s it…good girl.” Your leg raises just a bit, and so does your hip, giving Satoru room to slip his hungry cock between your wet pussy folds. His arm slipping underneath yours to grab your neck again. “S-Satoru-“
“I gotcha sweetheart. Jus’ relax for me so I can fuck you.” He guides his tip to your waiting wet hole, feeling your back arch just a tinge before he’s pressing it in…nice and slow, letting out a shudder breath as your ring sucks him in. “Such a good girl…” His hand squeezes your neck, and in one swift motion his cock plunges into you- hard. Your eyes slam shut, the moan that ripped from your lips filling up the empty bedroom.
The skin of his body felt hot on your back, sweet kisses littering the side of your head. His hips draw back before rutting into you again. In and out, Innnn and out. Long, hard, slow strokes claiming your messy pussy. “Fuck—! Ohhh fuck-“ You whimper, Satoru’s hand holding onto your hip tightly as he found a comfortable rhythm.
The bed creaked steadily underneath you, headboard hitting the way with a thump..thump..thump. You whined beneath Satoru, hands fisting the emerald sheets. “Takin’ me s’good sweetheart- shit…hahfuck m’gonna kill Suguru.”
“I jus’ know he fucked you s-so good.” He smacks your ass, burying himself deep into your womb. “He fill you up too?”
“Mhm….was so full.” That wet string of saliva trailed down your chin, feeling each and every vein of his cock twitch inside of your pussy.
“Naughty girl…your daddy’s gonna kill me.”
-
Suguru knew immediately. In his hands the box of plan B and a sprite while he stared at Satoru’s shirtless frame in the doorway, his brow twitching.
“Y’know I’m gon’ kick your ass Suguru?”
“Shut the fuck up and move before I’m a daddy.”
“He’s gon’ kill us both.” The two men exchanged a glance. Your father trusted them enough for you to be in their company, and you were grown after all. But the point still stands… Your pretty fucked-out body lying across Satoru’s bed as you snore into the soft comforter.
The Sun God had never been in love. Until he saw a lovely nymph, whose beauty made his heart race with a feeling impossible to capture in the sweetest words. Until he was struck by Cupid's arrow of love, sending his mind spiralling into an obsessive lust. Until he decided to... soothe you a bit, like a true, filthy scum. But well, Satoru Gojo was truly just a man in maddening love!
included in tales, myths, romances
˖𖤓 ݁˖ pairing: ꒰ Apollo!Gojo Satoru x Nymph!Reader ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ content & warnings: ꒰ MDNI 18 + :: Greek Mythology AU :: half mythologically accurate :: MY WIFE FEMJO MENTIONED :: yandere Gojo Satoru :: obsessiveness :: possessiveness :: virgin reader :: masturbation :: strong reader :: she's also meannn :: Satoru is a SCUM in love :: drugging (with aprodisiac) :: lose of virginity :: Suguru is a scum too :: we're fucking on the beach :: posessive sex :: breeding :: mating press :: oral sex :: pussydrunk Satoru ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ words: ꒰ 11.4k ꒱
˖𖤓 ݁˖ notes: I need to learn how to write short fics, because it was supposed to be 6k. Anyway, it is half-mythologically accurate, as I, of course, added a few changes. There's not much said in mythology about Daphne's (nymph's) character, so I played with it a bit. Enjoy!
The common truth seemed to be that Apollo had been stricken by the wicked arrow of love by Cupid himself.
During the fight of sorts, Apollo, always so proud and pugnacious, killed the serpent Python. He slew him with a thousand arrows as the beast wrought devastation across the lush lands of mankind.
And so the God defeated it grandly, with his handsome cheeks and eyes kissed by the Mother Sea itself, shining majestically beneath the golden rays of the Mediterranean sun.
The end of the story it could be, yet the God of Music and Poetry and Sun, to put it bluntly, did not know how to shush a cheeky mouth of his that boasted round and round.
One day, flushed with foolish pride, he saw a God of Love, Eros, bending his bow, arrow drawn taut. A boy of young age who seemed too sweet not to tease, and as Apollo was known for his wicked, playful mind, he poked the little divinity with a laugh.
A laugh it was supposed to be, yet he went too far.
He joked a few too many times, laughing at how Eros shouldn't handle a weapon reserved only for the truest men. After all, who killed the serpent Python if not Apollo himself?
He had every right to be arrogant, yet the Gods and Goddesses couldn't stand the wicked smirk and unwavering haughtiness that always clouded his mind. He was beautiful and sleek, yet no one on Olympus's peak could ever match his arrogance and boldness.
Apollo was powerful, yet Eros was unkind. After he poked and played and had his fun, Apollo left Eros alone in the forest, giving him no mind. He didn't know, however, that the God of Love would prove far more wicked than he had thought.
As with his hurt pride, Eros plucked a few creamy feathers from his wings and prepared two arrows. They were completely different, one creating love, the other banishing it entirely. A savage decision, truly, yet how could a prideful man of Eros's sort leave Apollo without the fruit of his wrath?
So he drew the arrow of love and shot it right through his bones. Letting it seep deep and gravely, spreading the lustful obsession of the most wicked charm. The utterly deadly one, making one obsessed and wretched over the darling of their desires.
Usually, his arrows were meant to strike those who wished to be deeply in love. Yet, as the rage was ravaging Eros's mind, he decided to make Apollo the most obsessed yet unhappy man in the entire world.
As for the other one, meant to banish the love, he shot at the daughter of the River's God.
The most beautiful nymph of all, with a face carved by the waves themselves. A chin utterly kind and cheeks wholly sweet, as eyes carried a gentleness of petals' peppered kisses. A wild birdie she was, basking carefree beneath the searing sun, as she lay and drank and danced without giving a mind to no mankind nor other little divinities. Nothing plagued her cheeky mind, and no worry could ever haunt her velvety forehead.
After all, she was the River God's most precious child, and he allowed her everything, guided by a parent's blissful love.
Her giggle bloomed in the nearby trees, and tender gaze lit the powdery midnight sky. A true beauty of utterly rare sight, so impossible it seemed too not be caught in Apollo's sight!
The God of Sun and Music and Poetry had never been in love. He enjoyed the bodily pleasures rather often, yet had never come upon a thing so deadly and wicked called love.
He knew that Gods and mortals joyed in it with the passion seething in their blood – for there were Hades and his Persephone, Aphrodite and Ares, even Orpheus and Eurydice, too, although it seemed that love of humankind was of a rather cruel sort.
Apollo, or, well, Satoru Gojo, as his true name was, never gave it much thought. The Goddesses and Gods were utterly beautiful, true, yet none of them had ever made his heart race with the swell and tenderness that all the poets wrote of.
He had never felt this tickling pinch his spine, nor the sudden blissful pain puncturing through his heart. No lover had ever bewitched his soul in an almost maddening way, and so he thought that the thing called love was simply not a part of his fate. Even if, that was rather fine too.
And yet… the serpents of fate are wicked.
Another summer evening it was, while Dionysus threw a joyous party as Gods usually liked to do. With wine spilling all over the golden cups and jolly laughter swirling through the tall grasses of the midnight land.
Gods there were of all sorts – trees and rivers and plants, each with loveliest offspring too, joined the grand feast.
It happened thirty moons or so before Eros shot Satoru with an arrow of maddening love. One evening, when the God who devoted his mind to no one set his eyes on… you.
A Goddess? Dearests, no.
As if you were the Goddess, he would fear that Aphrodite, driven by jealousy, would quickly pluck your eyes out. For the moment you entered the banquet held on the hidden beach, where waves rolled in deep foams, and moonlight spilt its cold kisses onto the heavy stones, Satoru needed to hold his breath.
This feeling, which he had read – written – about so often, suddenly bloomed in the swells of his heart. His hand flew towards his chest, crumpling the ivory tunic that covered the sizzling skin. His mind was struck, as if by a trickery spell, making him lose interest in the men and women chirping by his side.
The lyre in his hands felt heavy as he plucked the crystal strings, producing an unpleasant tone. But how could he not, if his eyes were devouring a beauty he'd never seen before?
And that evening, he followed you like a lost pup. With an ocean gaze lingering longer on the swells of your body, wrapped in a flimsy dress, and on your sweet cheeks, giggling foxily as the salty breeze smooched them. The flicker of the candles peppering long tables cast a lovely flame upon your skin, basking it in gold and warmth, as he imagined licking it clean.
Satoru Gojo was a poet too. A God of Poetry, after all, yet his mind was miserably empty whenever he tried to put your beauty into words. No one had ever shone brighter than you, and no giggle forced this weird, foreign feeling to seep through the marrow of his ribcage.
He was always responsible for the music and jolly, while his dearest friend Dionysus spilt the wine into guests' cups. The merry atmosphere tickled him in a pleasant way, and the mere thought of going back to one of his temples with a few little birdies forced a cheeky smile upon his brazen lips.
The women, Goddesses, and little divinities who didn't wish to be smooched by Satoru's muscular arms were indeed few. Yet the nymph who bewitched his mind in the utmost wretched way didn't bestow him with lovely eyes even once.
Dionysus noticed Apollo's frown crumbling, so he jumped to his side with a whisper, "Hm, isn't she your type, my dearest God?"
Satoru glanced at the slyness on Suguru's lips and bit the inside of his soft cheek. "That's the problem. And yet it seems I'm not quite hers."
Suguru pushed a raven lock of his hair back behind his ear, and lavender eyes oogled your giggling body with a slight grin. "Do you wish me to give her a bit of my special wine?"
The special wine was simply spiked with an aphrodisiac. Some Gods loved to use it to heighten their own sexual pleasure, while others too… made the object of their desires a bit mellow. A bit more balmy and sweet, and so Satoru already imagined your body melting beneath his fingers as he held it dearly within his delicate grasp.
Feeding you the special wine would be easy. And yet, Satoru didn't wish to be a bastard.
"Oh, but you are," Suguru chuckled, sensing the thought in his friend's mind. "I don't think there's any God more selfish than you."
Satoru knew it was the truth, for his character was rather… oh well… let's simply say he wasn't known to be the kindest and most lovable pick among the women. The most beautiful one? Surely. The best in offering sexual pleasures? Indeed. Yet he was the most arrogant bastard on the Mountain's peak, and every creature living beneath the Midetarrean sun knew of it far and well.
You most likely knew it too, so that's why the stars bouncing off your eyes did not look his way even for a second.
His head fell against Suguru's shoulder, the heavy wine coating his tongue with a sweet taste. His mind buzzed with a clash of drunken and desperate thoughts, a pulsing desire already flowing like liquid through his veins.
"I want to approach her in a nice way," he muttered, feeling Suguru's body tremble with wicked laughter.
"You can only dream, my God. She had rejected all attempts to woo her. The men and the Gods were rebuffed before they could grasp the weight of her eyes," Suguru hummed, feeling Satoru's head suddenly grow heavy on his shoulder.
"Is it her father's fault?"
Suguru shook his head. "The River God wishes for nothing more than to see his grandchildren's blooming cheeks. It's she who sniffs at all her suitors. After all, she is a virgin huntress, bound by Artemis's chastity laws." Satoru's head grew heavier. "You'd better forget about her, my God."
But how could he! His heart raced for no one but her. And even if she was a virgin beauty, Satoru didn't mind it at all, for he truly believed in the power of his charming soul. The arrogant confidence of the Sun God was truly impossible to dim!
And so that evening, Apollo decided to fulfil your father's deepest wish and become a man worthy of his daughter's hand. The one who would turn the virgin huntress into his most delicate, lovely petal.
At first, he began strolling around the meadows you usually spent your time in. Where the river curved and bent like a serpent's snake, and crystal droplets smooched your body, immersing you deep. You often sat with other sisters, and Satoru would approach you all with his foxed smile, dripping with a few sweetish words about your utter charm.
The other nymphs giggled, blushing gently at the lyricism spilling from his lips, as if the words of the most passionate, heart-throbbing kind were meant for them indeed. They looked at your unfazed face with a sly smile, knowing that their sister would reject Apollo's advances as she did with all her other suitors.
The Sun God knelt on the riverbank, looking down at your naked body hidden beneath the water's gentle swells. He could see nothing but the swell of your breasts, with perked nipples smooched by the river's kisses. You were meant to stay a virgin, true, but no one said you couldn't use the charms of yours to make the men spill miserably right beneath your feet.
So you glanced, for the first time, at God's idyllic face and waved your hand with a soft sigh. "I don't need your courtship, my God. There's nothing you can say that will force my mind to change. And to answer the question you most anticipate – no, I won't marry you."
Other suitors would back away instantly, feeling the intimidating air your glance carried across the lush plains. Your head tilted wickedly, lips curving into a playful beam, as if you knew the wretched state you always left them in.
Because a man's nature was to challenge his luck. Who didn't think that maybe their fate would be to change the virgin's mind? As all of them thought of you as the gentle, timid petal, not knowing that the virgin huntress was indeed a true beast hidden beneath the loveliest female cheeks!
But the Apollo, of course, couldn't be more turned on by your harsh rejection. The truth was that he almost didn't hear a word. No, instead he focused on the way your lips curved into a tricky smile. How crystalline droplets clung to your half-dipped breasts, with liquid sun spilling all over your warm skin. He traced them one by one, dripping from the damp hair and down the chest. His eyes seemed to be enamoured by your heavy gaze, slightly squinted and teasing, as if you already knew that your rejection would pinch his wretched heart.
And so a truthful, "My Goddess, you're ethereally beautiful with this wrath-wrinkle of yours," fell with his deep, obsessed sigh.
The nymphs gasped, covering their lips with gentle hands. Their mingling eyes glanced between your squinted gaze and the God's wretched sigh, as they awaited how this concern would unfold.
"I'm not a Goddess, and I don't need your praise," you said, your voice dripping with disinterest. "Find yourself another muse, my God. There's no need to waste your precious time on a simple nymph."
You bounced off the river's edge and swam to the other one, where the Sun God knelt. With the golden halo smooching his pale cheeks and ivory tunic crumpling on muscular shoulders. Feet clad in long, serpent sandals, golden laurel laying high on frosted head.
You've seen men of his sort, yet he was the first to look down on you with such a wretched gaze. Like a doomed lover, trapped in a circle of unrequited love, as if his heart had never swelled for any beauty but your gentlest soul.
He watched you carefully as you swam his way, unhurriedly, slowly. Water flowed over your body in soft waves, and warm wind shook the sole strings of your hair as it fell.
Your arms rested on the lush grass as you looked up at him through a curtain of wet lashes. "My God, I think it's time for you to go."
Satoru smiled – foxily, slyly, yet truthfully – before his hand reached out to cup your lovely cheek. You quickly pulled back, letting the tips of his fingers only catch a whisper of your soft lips.
His head tilted, a few creamy strands falling loosely over his straight brows. "I don't wish to hurt you, my Goddess." He grabbed the hem of his tunic. "I simply hope you'll grant me a chance."
He was kneeling, propping himself on his toes, as his fingers itched to grab a single lock of yours.
"I won't. I pledged Artemis my virginity. I'm a huntress, not your silly muse. Leave this place, or you'll taste the blood of my arrows."
And these words had indeed been bold, as all three realms of this world knew that no man had been more skilful in archery than Apollo himself.
If anyone else had spoken them in such a daring manner, the wrath of Apollo would bring painful consequences.
Yet when he heard it in this lovely yet viper-like tone of yours, a shiver ran down his spine. His hair stood on end as if electrified, and an ethereal aura smouldering around his figure suddenly intensified.
He wasn't afraid, oh surely no.
But rather, the swelling enamour, pinching his fingertips, washed over his heart. Your wicked personality wasn't an issue of any sort, but rather made the Sun God burn with an unexplainable desire. Heat that seeped down to his loins as he took a whistling breath.
"My Goddess, do you know who you're threatening to?"
You knew, of course, yet the urge to play with his boastful ego suddenly proved stronger than the choice to simply leave him be. You've met men like him before – too proud, too arrogant, the ones who'd never heard the word no. Yet of all you'd rejected, Apollo – Satoru Gojo – was the worst of all.
He was the Sun God, after all, who took satisfaction in the fact that the world, indeed, revolved around him. A personification of vanity and smugness, surpassing even Narcissus's pompous pride.
He knew what spell his wicked beauty cast over the nymph's petal cheeks. He knew the virgin maiden would fall for him most pitiably, needing only a single glance from his lustful eyes. His touch was soft, and his hands roamed over the women's tender bodies in the most loving way, yet never leaving them with the true tenderness that should fill his heart.
Satoru Gojo was a simple scum you wished to have nothing to do with. A cheeky smile tugged at your lips as you rested your arms on the river's edge and lifted half your body out of the water.
He didn't try to hide the ocean gaze, immediately snapping down towards your perked nipples, with crystal droplets dripping down the lush glass. Your head tilted, eyes turning kitty-like, as the blessed kisses of sunshine, of his sun, peppered your wet cheeks.
"To just yet another miserable man," fell almost mockingly, prompting a sudden movement around his hips. You've noticed it, and so you turned your lips into a disgusted grimace. "Go away, my God, and know my mercy. I won't be that nice next time."
You fully lifted yourself from the water, standing next to his kneeling body, naked. His gaze followed up your thighs, the mound of your pussy, the plush of your belly, tracing every crystalline line carving into your body. When it finally met your eyes, his throat bobbed.
"My Goddess, you're truly underestimating my feelings for you."
A scoff slipped past your lips as your eyes rolled. "For the God of Poetry, I expected more flowery words."
And so, ignoring whether he wished to say anything next, you simply passed him by. Going deeper into the woods, leaving the Sun God with nothing but the lingering fragrance of your blooming skin in the air, and the painfully, wickedly wretched pleasure bubbling in his loins.
𖤓 𖤓 𖤓
You truly thought that he would give up.
That the Sun God, like any other man, wouldn't wish to pursue a woman who looked at him with nothing but a deep scowl between her beautiful brows.
And yet, for the next thirty moons, he always seemed to be there. Somewhere around, following you like a shadow, with eyes and lips and mind always speaking loudly, giving you neither peace nor serenity among the quiet fields of your home.
Whenever you went hunting, his arrows sliced through the air faster than yours, striking the animals and beasts with power that crumbled the heavens themselves, and a gasp always slipped past your lips.
Quiet, voiceless, yet somehow leaving you speechless upon seeing the strength the Sun God possessed.
He found you every single day, appearing like a spectre by the riverbank, a bow slung over his muscular shoulder, gold and softly feathered, mingling beneath the rising sun.
"Where are we going today, my Goddess?" He jumped to your side with a smile, immediately sniffing the fresh, flowery scent that clung to your sparkling hair.
You gave him no mind, simply following deeper into the warm, moist woods. The sun was barely high, and so you watched the trees wake from the slumber's tight arms.
"I'm going for breakfast, and you can do whatever you want."
Yet you knew that no matter how mundane your day was, Satoru Gojo would follow you nonstop. Just to steal a glance at your lips as you wrapped them around the orange's sweetest juice, the sugary stickiness dripping down your blooming cheeks. To watch the way your back bent whenever you drew yet another deadly arrow. How muscles beneath your flimsy tunic worked, and the sweat bubbled at the back of your neck as he traced it with a hungry gaze.
A few weeks had to pass before you started to tolerate his daily company.
He still acted bold and proud, often boasting like a peacock right in front of your irritated eyes, yet tried to keep his hands away, even though you'd noticed how his fingers curled whenever your tunic brushed their tips.
But then one day… something had changed.
You didn't know what, but well, he did.
Eros's wicked arrow had struck his bones, making his gut leak with maddening love. He was aware of the wretched ache in his heart, yet only after being struck by a love-spell of sorts did something beastly unlock in his mind.
As for the arrow meant to banish love, Eros shot it towards Apollo's dearest one. As all the Gods on Olympus already knew of his wretched state, Eros played his dirty trick, ensuring that the sweetest nymph would never glance at Apollo again.
But… well. A man in such haunting love is truly a hellish creature himself.
When the love-bound arrow struck his back, he took it with a wicked pleasure. Yet, when he saw another one flying boldly towards the curve of yours, he grabbed it swiftly, before the leaking peak could ever brush your skin.
It was a sudden movement as he stepped closer, his hand shooting toward something over your shoulder.
It happened yet another day, as you both walked the serpentine paths through his temple's lush garden. There's a little cove I wish to show you. How about a quick dip? After spending a month in his presence, you sighed and nodded, as nothing gave you more wicked pleasure than seeing him lose his mind at the sight of your naked body in fresh mountain waters.
And so, while your tunic fell to the ground and a warm wind brushed your hair with a soft tickle, he suddenly stepped closer.
Too close. Before a sudden crack of splintering wood sounded behind you, he drew an arrow, his long fingers clenching it.
"What is it?" you furrowed, looking at the long wooden arrow crushed in his strong grip.
He threw it to the side, taking the ivory tunic off his body. "Nothing, probably someone's lost arrow. Give it no mind."
But how could you, when something deep in your chest panged? You were a huntress, after all, so how could you not notice an arrow slashing at your side? There was never a moment when you would let your guard down, and yet, being in Satoru's presence somehow pulled a blissful laziness to seep into your mind.
He was always there – looking, watching, carefully observing each of your moves. Swooshing away a few men who dared to approach your side while he kept his eyes on you for too long.
To tear their limbs apart and unleash plagues across their lands with a single arrow. Something… you didn't know about, since there was no need to trouble your sweet mind. To reveal a sinister side of him that would shatter the gradually improving image you held of him.
His mind was already wicked. Heart wrenched by the pull of love so strong that it seeped into him from the inside. So the moment the love arrow struck his back, the feelings he had tried to keep within his heart suddenly burst with brutish, uncontrollable force.
He simply needed to make you his.
So you hummed softly, taking the first step into the little cove, with water slipping in from the nearby sea. A crisp chill hugged your limbs as you took a deep breath.
He watched you with a smile before dipping into the water too. "Rather good, isn't it?"
You nodded, leaning your arms over one of the sizzling stones. "Mhm."
Your bashful eyes roved over his ethereal body, lingering a moment longer on the broad, muscular back and meaty thighs. A warmth seeped through your loins, so you quickly looked away.
But he saw it. Of course he did, and so his body drifted a little closer, just to feel the saltiness wrapping your skin. Your hair fell loosely over your wet shoulder, and warmth crept up your soft neck.
The slight ache from the morning's hunt still pinched your muscles, so you turned to him again, only to see that he had suddenly come far too close.
A soft cough escaped your throat as you pressed yourself closer to the stone. "Could you, hm, give me a quick massage, my God?"
Satoru chuckled. "A massage? Is that how you wish to use the powerful Sun God?"
A scoff slipped past your lips as you turned back and rested your cheek against the warm stone. With eyes slightly lidded, you knew he, anyway, would give you whatever you wanted.
"Is there anything else you're good for?" A cheeky question slipped past your lips, followed by a low sigh.
He stood mere millimetres from your arched back, and the heat radiating from his body was smouldering your drenched skin. Long, thick fingers settled gently on your shoulders before he began pressing the muscles. Your body melted beneath his strong touch, and your mind went all fuzzy – nothing but soft moans and sighs would fill the little, hidden cove.
"I'm sure you can find a few things you could make good use of," his voice dripped with seduction, tickling your hair-covered cheeks.
A tsk fell past your lips. "You have only filth in your mind."
Well, how could he not? When your back arched so deliciously, with water hugging solely your slightly dipped hips? He could see the swell of your ass almost brushing his thighs, and if he took a little step forward, the tip of his leaking cock would surely brush your skin.
It was a blessing that you lay pressed to the stone in a blissfully unaware state, not knowing that the Sun God was going through pure torture right behind your back. With the fat, long cock sticking to his abdomen, little pearls of precum dripping down the veiny curve.
"You make me act filthy, my Goddess."
A month ago, you would have smacked his cheek and left him be. But now, with his fingers digging deep into the muscles of your back, a lovely laugh slipped past your lips.
"It's a pity I'm a wretched virgin, hm?" You straightened your spine, as if trying to give him a better view. "My God, you truly have extraordinary restraint."
Oh, how he loved this cheeky side of yours. The pure filth spilling from your virgin lips, eyes taking on a nasty look whenever you caught him staring at your nipples peeking through the tunic. The way you always undressed yourself in front of him without blushing like a birdie, taking full pleasure in the fact that he couldn't touch you as he wished.
Who said that a virgin should be timid and cowardly? If you could keep your chastity while still enjoying the wretched state you put men in?
And which God would be more fun to tease than the one who slipped through numerous affairs?
Satoru hummed, pressing your back a little harder. Slipping lower, and lower, through your ribcage and waist, rolling the little dimples just above your hips. "Have I? I'm afraid this restraint might one day snap."
A shudder ran down your spine as you tried to keep your head steady. Your bow lay still on the river's bank, and if he tried to misbehave even a bit, you would simply shoot him clean.
And yet, your hips rolled, as if trying to chase the pleasure his touch gave. "I'll be there when it happens." You looked over your shoulder, not missing the squint he gave you… "And I'll make sure to bring you to your senses," …and the reddened tip sticking to his hips. "I think you might wish to take care of it. Maybe with one of your muses?"
Or whores, as you actually wanted to say.
His cock trembled as you looked at it, and Satoru could only chuckle. Nastily, mischievously, with the fingers pulling your hips a bit closer. Yet not close enough for your wet pussy to feel the meaty shaft graze her lips.
"You are my muse, Goddess," he leaned closer, his warm breath brushing your cheeks. "Do you wish to hear the poems I've written about you?"
The sizzling sun licked your spine, eyes followed as his plush lips leaned to your ear. "Are they as filthy as your mind?"
He nodded, fingers slipping down towards the swell of your hips. Rolling deep circles, loosening the tightness in your muscles. "How could they not?" Snowy hair almost tickled your ear. "Who do you think I pleasure myself to? You may be a virgin, my Goddess, but I have my needs too."
With a sudden movement, he flipped you over, pressing your back to the warm stone. His thick cock stuck to the white trail of his abdomen, yet still not touching your dripping cunt.
You may've pledged chastity, yet you couldn't control your body's simple needs.
"You can't do anything to me," you said, yet something in your voice quivered.
His head tilted wickedly, and his eyes shone as he gripped the fat shaft. "But you can watch, hm?" A thumb swirled over the pearly tip, smearing the sticky cum over the reddened head. "Or is it also against your chastity?"
Maybe it was. Yet your head shook as back pressed closer to the stone. The water swelled over your hips, leaving your breasts bare to his starving gaze.
"Hm, thought so." His fingers slipped to your cheek, brushing a few wet locks away. "My Goddess, you truly are a wicked creature."
Pleasure, distress, haunting desire clashed with each other in your mind, yet your body froze in place. Lips fell only slightly open, eyes bulging like porcelain plates, seeing the fatness he gripped. Leaking with creamy droplets of precum, soaking his long fingers and veiny thickness.
Saying he was large would be an understatement.
Something in your belly squeezed, imagining his bulging head hit the deepest–
"Stop," the word slipped out in a shudder as you turned your head away. With warm cheeks and a trembling lip, as if the Sun God's look of himself pleasuring himself solely on your blooming face were against every pledge you had made. "Go and find one of your filthy muses."
Satoru chuckled before his fingers pinched your chin, turning your head back. He leaned closer, his lips almost brushing yours. "I can't think of anyone but you, my Goddess. Look what a wretched man I am because of you." His thumb brushed your lower lip, then slipped boldly onto your tongue. "Do you truly wish to put your Sun God through such a tor–"
Yet before he could finish, your hand met his cheek. A slap bounced off the water, turning his face left. To bring it back to face your wrath, you slapped it again.
His creamy face bloomed like the softest rose, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Excitement pinched his heart as fingers clenched around the fat shaft with a low, groany moan.
He bit the inside of his cheek, looking down at your face, burning with rage. "Slap me again, my Goddess, and I'll make you arch that pretty ass of yours for me again."
You didn't know where this sudden change had come from, yet the man standing in front of you was not the one who had pestered you for the past thirty moons.
No, as Satoru Gojo, who now stood mere millimetres from your body, with his musky scent clouding you tight and his fat cock trembling at the sheer look of yours – look much, much madder.
Wretched, obsessed, with the flame dancing behind his watery eyes and a wicked smile tugging at his rosy lips
Another shiver ran down your spine when he started pumping his shaft faster. Smearing the creamy cum all over the bulging veins, throwing his head back yet still following the gentle rise of your trembling breasts.
The rage bubbled beneath your heart, and a tiny thread of heat smouldered on your cheeks. He leaned a bit closer, and closer, and closer, until his forehead rested against your shoulder. He didn't touch you in any other way, yet the sole impact left you breathless.
"My Goddess, you smell so good," he took a deep breath close to your neck, letting another groan escape his lips. "So delicious, ah, I can only imagine how sweet the scent is down there."
A shuddered breath escaped your tightened throat, feeling his muscular, massive body looming over yours like a deathly threat. Long fingers pumped his cock faster, breathless moans hit your drenched skin, before he finally stilled.
With the gentle, petal kiss upon your shoulder and his cheek nuzzling against your skin.
Something warm spilt over your belly. And you didn't need to look down to know what it would be.
"You're disgusting," fell in pure wrath, as you pushed him away. "Nothing but filthy scum. I hope this satisfied your hunger, because the next time I see you, my God, not even your wicked arrows will be able to save you from my rage."
You left the water with a shuddering, vexing tremor washing over your spine, and this little, agonisingly rubbing feeling that spilt hotly all over your mind.
Satoru followed your body with a slick smile, the saltiness of your skin still tasting heavy on his lips.
The Sun God was of a cunning nature. Wicked and wrathful, always doing things one way. His way.
Three weeks had passed before he had a chance to see you again.
His heart heaved in agony as he couldn't find you anywhere. As always, he came at the first break of day to join you on the morning hunt, but you simply weren't there. Waiting for him with a scowl, yet still giggling at all his foolish jokes and accepting a bit of help.
He was waiting by the river's bank from morning till night, yet you hadn't appeared even once. As if the waves themselves had trapped you beneath the surface.
He asked around – the nymphs, the Goddesses, the plains – yet everyone said they hadn't seen you for days. Or maybe they simply lied to him, as you couldn't simply disappear.
And so for the next three weeks, he walked through the lands like a shadow. He barely enjoyed anyone's company, sitting in his temple only to get drunk on the sweetest wine, letting his creamy skin be scorched beneath his own, merciless sun. A shadow of a man he was, as his heart simply couldn't bear the separation you imposed with such anger.
After two weeks, he met his twin sister, Artemis, to whom you pledged your chastity. He loved his sister dearly and knew her like the back of his hand. Thus, with a single glance, he could tell she knew everything that had happened between the two of you.
And based on her furrowed forehead and tsk that fell when she saw his grinning face entering her temple – she wasn't happy.
"I won't tell you where she is," she murmured, brushing her long, creamy hair aside as she enjoyed the warm kisses in the sun.
She lay on the sofa by her pool, with nothing but a long tunic gently wrapped around her body. Satoru hung over her wrinkled forehead and pressed a finger to satin skin. "My sister, such a beautiful woman you are, and yet you always seem so angry."
Shihori smacked his hand, glancing up at his brother with the same blue eyes. "Because you always make me angry, fool."
Satoru lifted her legs and rested them on his thighs as he joined her on the sofa. "Tell me where she is."
Shihori couldn't care less about her brother's wicked wish, so she shook her head. "You know she pledged her virginity, hm?"
Satoru hummed, playing with the long tunic as he brushed his sister's ankles. "I do."
"So you also must know what will happen if she breaks her vow?"
Of course he knew. That's why he came here.
"What if I told you I love her?" he asked, drawing his sister's attention. "I want to make her my wife. Give her to me, and I promise I will be in your debt forever."
Shihori propped herself up on elbows, letting long white hair brush her rosy cheeks. She was as beautiful as her younger brother – by a minute only. Possessing the same archery skill and a power that trembled the heavens.
With a slim chin and wicked eyes, matching the proudish smile. Strong and bold, with neatly carved muscles bulging beneath her satin skin and an authoritative tone that always made Satoru slightly squirm. But she was his older sister, after all, so how could he not feel the utter love and respect for the same blood?
"And why would I do that?" Shihori lifted her straight brow. "Why would I change my rules for this little nymph?"
"Because you love me," Satoru grinned. "And I suppose it would be rather proper to remind you that enjoying women's company also counts as losing one's virginity. My dearest virgin-goddess sister."
Shihori squinted, kicking his side with her foot. "Whatever I do with my nymphs is none of your business."
Satoru grabbed her ankle before biting her big toe, just as he used to tease her when they were children.
"I suppose some Gods would be interested in how the protector of young women and their virginity fucks with her dearest followers," he chuckled as she kicked him again. "You're no better than me, my sister. The same scum-blood runs in our veins. So let me have her, and I won't say a word."
Shihori glared at him. Morality and the need to give her little brother everything were clearly at war in her mind before she waved her hand and lay back down.
"Fine, I won't punish her. Just don't do anything stupid," she laughed, feeling Satoru's sweet kiss on her cheek. "She'll join another feast in a week. Just wait for her there. Oh, and bring me some of this Suguru's special wine."
Satoru tilted his head, another wicked grin already tugging at his lips. He knew his sister wasn't the saint everyone took her for, yet he had no idea how coy she was.
"And what do you need an aphrodisiac-spiked wine for?"
She opened one eye, shooting a set of daggers straight at his heart. But before another bark could pass her plush lips, Satoru chuckled once again. "Ah, what was this rumour, hm…" His eyes gleamed with a foul grin.
"What rumour?" Shihori asked through her teeth, yet the rosy warmth hit her cheeks.
Satoru stood up from the sofa, giving his muscular back a long, groany stretch. He scratched his chin before looking over his shoulder towards his sister. Oh, her anger only fueled his playful mind.
"Nothing, just that our dearest stepmother has been surprisingly benevolent lately," he observed, another wave of warmth wrapping around her neck. "I suppose it's because Hera truly enjoys the company of her stepdaughter. I wonder what makes her so happy that even Zeus no longer gets scolded for all his affairs."
Shihori slipped a pillow from beneath her head and threw it at his head. "Go out, before I change my mind!"
And so he left, with a crackling chuckle bouncing off the temple's walls and his older sister burning from embarrassment.
Yet now, with his sister's blessing, there was nothing that could stop him from pursuing your love.
And so he knew that the next time you met, he would make you his, whether you liked it or not.
𖤓 𖤓 𖤓
The moon spilt coldly over the feast's heavy tables as the Gods and Goddesses gathered around the flickering candles. The night was warm, as the summer breeze tickled the cheerful cheeks of the giggling nymphs, who listened to Satoru playing soft harp tunes.
An ivory tunic, as always, fell down his muscular shoulders, as the moon spilt dripping kisses on the lightened side of his face.
Finger played softly through the harp's gentle strings, yet lingered on your laughing cheeks. Something panged deep in his chest at how carefree you were with other divinities. You sipped your wine without giving Satoru much thought, as if you hadn't disappeared from Earth for the past three weeks.
Your laugh sliced sweetly through the air, tickling his ears. He desperately tried to force eye contact, yet you gave him nothing but the lovely side of your cheek.
An irritated tsk escaped his lips, an unpleasant anger bubbling deep in his chest. A few Gods approached you with a smile, forcing another wave of rage to wash over Satoru's spine.
Before he could step in, seeing how you slowly warmed yourself to some small God's side, a low, chuckling whistle slashed through the air.
"It seems like things didn't work your way," Suguru said, brushing Satoru's arm with his. "What? She rejected you?"
Satoru sighed, rolling his tense shoulders. "She's just a little nervous."
Suguru squinted his lavender eyes, clearly dissatisfied with such a roundabout answer. Raven hair tickled Satoru's cheek as he tilted his head. Satoru rarely saw his friend concerned with anyone but him, yet his forehead furrowed with a gentle wrinkle.
"Give her some of this wine," Satoru mumbled.
Suguru drew in a long breath, shooting his head towards Satoru. "But you said–"
He started, but Satoru quickly added. "I know what I said." He bit the inside of his cheek, his eyes squinting furiously. "Give her a little. Just to soothe her a bit."
Suguru chuckled, hitting his friend's back. "As you wish, my God."
"Ah, also, prepare a bit for Shihori."
Looking over his shoulder, Suguru rolled a laugh. "Your sister? What does she need it for?"
Satoru gestured with his chin towards the start of the table, where three of the brothers and their wives sat among the elite. With Persephone straddling Hades's hips, a quiet goddess wrapped around Poseidon's arm, and Hera… sitting utterly bored and giving Zeus's drunken laugh no mind.
Suguru followed his gaze before a devilish laugh escaped his throat. "Don't tell me she fucks with the queen mother herself?"
Satoru crossed his arms over his broad chest and let out a soft hum. Suguru tilted his head, admiring Hera's gentle cheeks. "Well, she's quite beautiful. No wonder she's stopped going crazy over Zeus's affairs lately."
Satoru watched as his friend took another pot of wine before rejoining the Gods. His golden tongue whispered the sweetest secrets, and the divinities laughed and blushed beneath Dionysus's soothing lines. After all, a God of Laughter, Wine and Theatre, he knew exactly how to play on people's minds.
You weren't an exception. As he approached and wrapped his arms around you and your friend, a gentle laugh made your eyes lift. Satoru bit the inside of his cheek, catching Suguru's sly glance, while his fingers clenched around your soft arm.
But still, he poured you another cup of the sweetest wine, watching you close as you took a sip. And another, another, another, before humming softly about how delicious it tastes.
A few minutes passed before something warm began to spill across your chest. A kind of fog clouded your mind – sweet and gentle, yet sizzling like the sun.
The nymph sitting right next to you grabbed your arm, looking at your hottish face with a furrow. "Hey, are you okay? Do you need some water?"
You drew in a sharp breath, feeling her cold skin against yours. Your head shook as a soft "I'm fine" barely passed your lips.
Excusing yourself, you rose from the chair and headed to a quieter part of the beach, where gentle waves lapped inside the small cove. Surrounded by the forest and shielded by tall trees, the spot offered a peaceful retreat. The salty breeze gently touched your cheeks, while your throat felt parched, and you scratched it with long nails.
The fog clouding your head was getting thicker, denser, spreading all over your body till the fingertips tingled with a pinching pleasure.
Something wet dripped down your inner thighs, and as you hid yourself behind a tree and slipped a hand beneath the long dress, you felt the stickiness coating your sizzling skin. But more so… the moment your finger brushed your swollen folds, a low bounce of the softly rolling waves.
"Fuck," slipped in a whisper, as you felt the burning pleasure fill your lower belly.
You looked around, seeing that neither mortal nor God peered into the little cove. The bay seemed completely private, with nothing but moonlight spilling onto the smooth sand and soft whispers rolling off the crystal waves.
You took a deep breath, unconsciously rubbing your thighs together. Just to feel a faint friction, yet too embarrassed to slip your finger up again.
You've never felt it before. This… sensation.
Pleasure.
Or maybe you did, yet your mind refused to accept that Apollo, or Satoru Gojo, was the only man who woke a dangerous flame deep in your chest.
Maybe you simply wished to forget about the warmth that boiled deep within your lower belly when his muscular body stood right in front of yours. The look on his handsome face, lost in utter pleasure, and his long fingers wrapped around his filthy cock.
You tried not to think of it again, as the moment the image of his shaft slipped again into your mind, another moany sigh rolled past your lips. Your pussy clenched around nothing, letting another batch of stickiness coat your thighs. Trickling down the skin, till you've noticed a little, wet drop landing on the sand.
"Fuck, fuckfuckfuck," you cried, feeling the burning sensation pinch your skin harder. Perking your nipples, softening your body, as if preparing you to accept the pleasure that needed to be spilt.
Bracing yourself against the stony wall, you took a few steps. On trembling legs, you felt the weakness slowly seep into your marrow. You walked slowly, trying to go deeper into the nearby forest, just to reach the river.
Somewhere safe.
You moved slowly, with wetness dripping down your legs and heavy breaths escaping your burning lungs. Your eyes were misty, nearly teary, as the feverish, floral heat enveloped your entire body.
Waves rolled past your bare feet, sandals long forgotten somewhere in the back. Your burning body couldn't bear the dress clinging to your skin, so you began to undress unconsciously.
One cloth after another, before falling down your knees, to crawl towards the river's banks.
"Do you need help, my Goddess?"
Someone's voice filled your balmy mind.
No, not someone's.
His.
Of the God whom you wished to see the last, as the sole fragrance of his skin pinched your senses in an utmost sinful way.
And, oh, he must've watched you now in such an embarrassing stance!
Kneeling with your sizzling body, you shed the sea-drenched dress behind you. The intense desire overwhelmed your reason as you presented yourself fully before his daring gaze.
"Go away," you barely breathed. "You can't see me in such a state."
But Satoru merely chuckled before you heard his heavy footsteps coming your way. Ocean eyes hummed at all the garments you'd left behind before settling on your clenched thighs and slightly arched back as you tried to crawl towards the nearest river.
He squinted, seeing the wetness dripping down your thighs and a gentle shimmer from your swollen pussy.
"My Goddess, it seems that you do feel unwell," He chuckled, taking another step your way. "Is there anything I can help you with?"
Your head shook as you tried to crawl faster, only to get away from him as fast as you could. An attempt to stand up ended in a miserable fall onto the sand, drawing a soft giggle from Satoru's lips. He knelt by your side, brushing away a few strands of hair sticking to your cheeks.
"Oh my," he hummed, seeing the utter loveliness of your drugged face.
With cheeks sweet as fresh cherries and eyes softened by an alluring scowl. A gentle pout tugged at your lips as you unconsciously nuzzled against his skin. Another hand cupped your cheek as he held your face in a possessive grip. His big thumbs, tight yet delicate, brushed your skin.
"What is it, my Goddess?" He whispered, allowing a lenient sigh to spill past your lips. "What happened here, hm? Are you a bit too drunk?"
You nodded, thinking of nothing but the pleasant grip of his fingers.
Fuck, fuck, fuck, you were slowly giving in.
A miserable attempt to push him away ended solely with you even more pathetically landing on the soft sand. Your back hit it with a dull thud, as Satoru placed his fingers on your knees. Thumb rolled gently in circles, as if he knew how much pleasure your body took from each brush of his skin.
"Say it," he muttered, leaning closer. Plush lips brushed one of your knees, eyes never leaving your fogged face. "Say that you want me to help you, my Goddess. I know how to make you feel good."
Oh, and you knew too, which is why your knees tried to close again. But his grip was too strong, and he brutally forced them forward, folding you in half.
With your bare pussy dripping filthy onto the sand and perked nipples waiting to be softly brushed by his thumb.
The moonlight kissed his handsome, sharp side as he leaned in once again. To hang right over your face, observing with wicked pleasure the tears forming beneath your lids. As if he could see the fuzzy mess of your mind, with morality and a simple, human need drawing a brutal tight.
"I c-can't," you mumbled, feeling the heat drip down your tongue. It felt much heavier than before, barely touching your feverish roof. "Stop, I can't, the chastity–"
"Shhh," Satoru cooed, pressing your thighs to your chest. Till the swell of your ass glued off the drenched sand. "Artemis will forgive you."
His nose traced the plush of your cheek. Lips peppering your skin softly, leaving traces down your chin. His tongue swirled sweetly around one of your nipples, through the burning neck, perked breasts.
You wished to fight it – you truly did, yet a sugary moan slipped past your lips.
"No, she–ah!" you cried, as he softly bit your nipple.
"It's alright, my Goddess. Don't resist it," he murmured, with one hand feeling your breasts as his lips traced a path down your body. He gently bit, grazed, and nipped your skin before resting his cheek against your mound. "Allow me to take care of you. Just say you want it," he whispered, as his finger rolled your nipple, causing another cry to escape your lips.
"I'm a v-virgin, wait…" Your hand landed on Satoru's head, tugging softly on his hair.
Satoru groaned, feeling your gentle finger scratch his scalp. "I'll take good care of you. It won't hurt, I promise," he mumbled right into the drenched mound of your cunt, as the fragrance of sugary juices already hit his senses. "Fuck, my Goddess. Just let me have a taste. I won't put it in…" promise?
You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling his warm breath almost brush your core. Not quite, yet the mere sight of him, lying so handsomely between your thighs, was enough to force a nod.
A nod, which would never happen if your mind wasn't on the verge of spilling. If your body wasn't melting beneath his touch, thighs spreading even wider, just to open your cunt to his starving mouth.
It was utterly embarrassing, humiliating, mostly sinful act and yet… when his tongue finally licked the juices off your clit, a shuddering moan bounced off the cove's stones.
He didn't waste a time, pushing the drenched muscle right inside your spasming cunt. Slurping, ravishing on the waves of wetness that spilt from your hole in unnaturally large bursts. Droplet after droplet, trickling down his chin and landing softly on the sand.
"My Goddess, fuck, I knew you would taste so good," he slurred, letting your juices stick to his lips. "My sweetest love, mhm, I was waiting a month for you."
Your fingers clenched around his hair as you tried to slightly pull him back. "W-wait, that's–nghhh–too much, my God!"
Your body had always been much weaker than his, but now, with neediness running through your blood, it seemed impossible to do anything but allow yourself to be wrapped in his lips.
He took your hand, slipping it down your belly. Down to your clenching cunt, only to press your two fingers against the swollen clit.
"Do you feel it, my Goddess?" He chuckled, looking up at your warm cheeks. "Do you feel how wet you are? That's what you wanted to take away from me."
He directed your pads to press softly, pinchily, till another moan spilt past your lips. His tongue slurping on your tight core, fingers of one hand rolling your nipples. Squeezing the plush breasts, till a painful pleasure tickled your spine.
And the other hand…
"Wait!" You screamed, quickly catching his wrist. "N-no penetration… just…" Oh dearest, how embarrassing it was to say out loud! "… use your tongue. I can't lose my virginity."
My sweet foolish nymph, Satoru thought, before an innocent, "Of course, my Goddess," fell past his plush lips.
The waves and waves of ethereal pleasure washed over your spine as he devoured your sweet pussy with a starving need. Nose all glued with your juices, cheeks nastily squeezed by your trembling thighs, tongue working on your clit and hole, trying to stretch her as much as he could.
His creamy forehead furrowed with a wrinkle, brows tight, as you pushed a few soft strands of his hair away.
"My God, please t-take a breath," you cried, yet the spilling lustfulness seeped like a flame through your skin. "I'm–mhmm–t-there's something…" Before you could point at your lower belly, his hand pressed right there.
Squeezing your little pouch, as if trying to feel the slick, filthy cum splashing beneath your skin.
"You need to cum, my Goddess," he mumbled drunkenly, sucking on your plush clit. "But for that, I need to put my finger in."
You bit your lower lip, looking down at his wretched face.
His cheek nuzzled against your soft thigh, kissing the clit softly. "Please? Just a finger. I promise, it'll be fine."
Oh, he looked stunning. With those alluring eyes and innocent pout, as if aware that his angelic face alone was enough to make your head spin.
So you nodded, rather unconsciously, and watched him push one finger in.
"Oh," slipped moany at the new feeling. "Oh, my God, mhmm, i-it's–"
"Now you can cum for me," Satoru whispered, going back to sucking your clit.
He knew where your sweet spot was – how couldn't he? – so within a second, you started squirming beneath his grip.
One of his hands rested on your belly while the other was deep inside your tight, clenching walls. He kissed, brushed, and lightly peppered your most sensitive spot with his finger until your thighs finally clenched around his head.
Locking him in a tight, shuddering embrace as he drunkenly moaned over your spilling juices. With a single flick of his tongue, you melted beneath his maddening touch, squirting all over his cheeks, chin and nose, till the Sun God was left nothing but a wretched man, hugging nastily to your velvety skin.
Your head felt a bit less feverish, with the crimson fog finally clearing from in front of your eyes and fresh summer air finally filling your lungs.
For a mere second, you felt normal again.
Satoru still lay between your spread legs, kissing the slippery skin of your inner thighs softly.
"Welcome back, my Goddess," he muttered, licking the last juices dripping from your pussy.
You watched him with pure terror swirling behind your eyes. "I… this feeling…"
"Mmm," he hummed, softly biting a plush of your thigh. "Someone must've spiked your wine, my Goddess. Have you angered anyone recently?"
Oh, he was such a scum.
Your lovely brows furrowed, a drop of sweat slipping down your temple. "No, I… I don't know. There was…" you, wanted to slip, yet you bit down on your tongue.
Satoru pouted, but his eyes sparkled with mischief. "My Goddess, I vow to find that bastard and slash his throat," he whispered, kissing your thigh and moving upward, even biting gently into your calf. "But for now, brace yourself for another wave."
And true to his promise, the heat once more kissed your cheeks. It climbed up your neck, seeped into fingertips, curled beneath lower belly, and caused another slick to slide down your cunt.
A fogginess once again swirled in front of your eyes, and an anxiety bubbled somewhere deep in your tightened throat.
Satoru flipped you onto your belly, with a soft, "Shhh, it's fine, my Goddess. You'll be fine."
Gentle, wet kisses landed on your shivering spine, leaving hottish traces down the skin.
"What a-are you doing?" fell shuddered.
But you didn't catch his reply. Truly, you heard nothing at all but the swoosh of his tunic as it landed close to your sand-plastered face.
"My God–ah!" Slipped in a pitched moan, as something fat poked on your swollen pussy.
The heat was teasing, gently pinching your damp folds, rolling waves of intense pleasure whenever Satoru stirred your cunt. His fingers spread the heat in a soft hum, and something heavy, round, pressed against your tight entrance.
"My God, what–"
"My love," Satoru let out an utterly innocent whimper, as if trying to stifle the tears wracking beneath his lids. You couldn't see the devilish smile tugging at his lips, his face tightly pressed into the sand. "Allow me to make you feel good. I can make the pain go away, just let me…" His swollen head slipped in a little, forcing a shattered moan from your throat.
"Wait!" You tried to crawl away, but he pressed a hand between your shoulder blades. Keeping you tight in place, with his massive body fully resting on yours.
"It's okay, my love. It won't hurt, I promise," he hummed, another hand massaging the swell of your hips. Spreading your drenched folds a bit farther to see the tip of his cock getting sucked by your weeping cunt. "My Goddess, don't make her wait any longer. She's just wishing to get fucked, ahh."
You bit the inside of your cheek, trying to stop your hips from slamming against his. As, dearest heavens, the way his sole head stretched your cunt brought an unparalleled, maddened pleasure, bubbling deep inside your belly. The pledge you made re chastity was trying to fight the aroused, lustful thoughts. The thick, warm fog that made your body liquefy beneath his touch, and your mind go all hot.
"My virginity–" You started, yet Satoru quickly snapped back.
"I talked to my sister, love. She won't punish you," he whispered, leaning down to lick a long stripe down your spine. "Because now you're mine. So say you want it, hm? Say you want me to fuck your tight cunt and fill her up."
He bit, licked, kissed your skin, while slowly, oh so painfully slow, poking your drenched hole.
"Just the tip, my love," he whispered, brushing away a few strands of hair hiding your lovely side. "I don't want to hurt you, my Goddess. I'll slip just a little tip."
And with an arousal fogging your mind, you nodded. Forcing a wicked laugh past his plush lips as he kissed your cheek.
"Mhm, that's right, my love," his cock slid through your tight walls, snugging inside your plush warmth. "Oh fuck, my Goddess, you truly are a fucking virgin."
You drew in a sharp breath, feeling his heavy cock slip into your belly. It was anything but the tip, forcing a sudden burst of tears to roll down your cheeks.
The pain mixed with pleasure as his shaft forced its way deep inside your pussy. You could feel every pulsing vein throbbing against your walls, the pumped head smooching your sweet spot, as he pushed and pushed, while pressing your body to the sand.
A moany cry bounced pitifully off the crystal waves before he quickly rolled you again.
This time, your back hit the sand, thighs folding up to your chest.
And when you looked up at his face… oh.
The Sun God hung over your crying cheeks with nothing but an utterly wicked, handsome smile. Eyes shining beneath the cold moon, adding to their ocean-blue hues a kiss of sin. He giggled, kissing the single tear that soaked your cheek.
And an angel, no, rather a demon, keeping you in his tight, possessed embrace.
Your hands pressed to his chest, as he pushed harder. "My God, you said just the tip," fell harshly, seeing a grin coiling in his gaze.
"My Goddess, you truly are ruthless," he leaned down to place a soft kiss on your lips. "How could I ever lie to you? I'm barely in, I promise."
Yet when you tried to look down, his strong fingers grabbed your chin, keeping your eyes fixed on his.
"You don't trust me?" He pouted, peppering your skin with soft kisses. "Don't look down there, my love. Focus on me."
Your head lulled right as he bit the side of your neck. Licking, sucking on it gently, while still forcing his cock through your walls.
It wasn't just the tip, and although you should be angry, the way he kept you folded left little room for movement. With his single arm pressing your legs tight, fingers keeping your chin up, and massive, heavy body leaning on yours.
He started to move faster, faster, faster, pumping you poor, weeping cunt with his heavy cock. It hit every inch of your lower belly, brushing past the sweet spot and smooching up to the slowly swelling womb. You could feel his round head nuzzle deep inside your pulsing warmth, as your tight walls wrapped around him, as if trying to lock him in.
A low hiss slipped past his rosy lips as you cried out in painful pleasure. Your blood ran hot as he tried to fuck each drop of aphrodisiac from your veins, pushing your body deeper into the sand.
The nasty squelch bounced off the water, spilling deep into the cave and catching in your scattered hair. He brought your face back, giggling at the sight of your utterly fucked eyes.
"My beautiful Goddess," he whispered, before slipping his hand down your belly. At this point, with heat bubbling in your belly, your thighs stayed open, pressed to your chest, as if your body was freely inviting him in. "My sweet, beautiful Goddess. Tell me how good you feel."
His demand forced wrath and balmy submissiveness upon your fucked mind, and so a sweet, honest, "G-good, ahh, you're filling me s-so good," fell embarrassingly past your lips.
As no matter how much you wanted to refuse, it did feel good. Dearest, it felt amazing, handling his hefty cock fully sliding inside your warmth, till wet balls hit your lifted ass. Head kissing your womb, veins pulsing in rhythm with your plush walls, as they pushed out waves and waves of fresh cum. Coating his full length in your juices, till whenever he pulled out, a crystal thread formed between your cunt and his creamy, happy trail.
His hands kneading your softness turned your mind to balm, and fingers playing with your swollen bud forced a moan, so you truly, shamefully so, allowed your body to give in to his touch.
"My God, nghh, I'm going to–"
Before you could finish, he crashed his lips against yours. He slipped a groan deep inside your throat as he started to fuck you faster. More relentless, brutal, forcing upon your virgin cunt a strength you weren't used to.
"My God, p-please–ahhh–slow down," you cried into his lips, yet received only a low chuckle.
"I know how to make you cum, my love. Your pussy needs to be fucked properly," he licked the tears dripping down your cheeks before capturing your lips again. "You're close, hm? I can feel it in your belly."
His hands pressed to your lower pouch, feeling his cock hit the soft skin, before slipping down to your cunt. Rolling your clit in mean, squelching pinches.
"S-satoru," his name finally escaped your throat, as you wrapped your arms behind his neck. "So good, you're–ngh–filling me–ahhh."
He chuckled, seeing your lidded eyes and messy blabber falling past your lips. "I know, my Goddess, your–ahh–pussy feels so fucking good. My sweetest, I promise to take good care of you."
He hid his face in the crook of your neck before finally going still. Your back arched, nipples pressing to his chest, before a soaked cry ripped from your throat. Juices gushing all over his abdomen, cock, as he hit your womb painfully, filling it with sticky ropes of cum. Till you felt the heavy creaminess sticking to your walls, stuffing you heavily, madly full.
A filthy fog once again seeped into your mind, and for a single minute you felt your strength return to your body. For a mere moment, it allowed you to smack his fair cheek. It left him fully unfazed, with a cheeky grin still plastered to his handsome face and a low chuckle forcing its way past his lips.
"My Goddess, is that how you should treat your future husband?" he asked, then brutally turned you back onto your belly. You tried to crawl, kicking him back, but he simply smacked your ass. "Come on, my love. Don't try to fight me. If I hadn't found you, who knows who would?"
Your breath hitched when you felt his cock harden again. Still snuggling deep inside you cunt, as you felt his shaft stretch your poor, weeping walls.
"I–ahh–I fucking hate you," you snapped through gritted teeth, your hips slowly rocking against his. Whatever you'd drunk still flowed in your veins, forcing another fog over your mind. "I hate you, so, s-so–mhm Satoru, just, fuck, p-please–"
His fingers dug deep into your perked-up ass, ocean eyes glimmering at the sight of your arched back. Sweat beaded on your neck, and your teary gaze looked over your shoulder in a furious, desperate, pleading manner.
He chuckled, taking a little vial from his tattered tunic. Opening it with his teeth, he handed it your way.
"What is it?" you asked, trying to sound at least a bit suspicious.
His eyes squinted, lips turned wickedly up. "Just a simple water. You'll feel a bit better."
"Drink it first."
"You don't trust me?"
You bit down your lip, shaking your head a bit.
Satoru hummed before taking a sip of the liquid without hesitation. It seeped warmly through his body, dripping down to the burning loins.
Seeing that he truly acted normally, you took it from his fingers and drank it all in one go. But… oh.
You shot head his way, seeing nothing, but a nasty grin. "This…"
He leaned closer, pressing his hand back between your shoulder blades. His face drew nearer, then he licked your lips with his wine-sweetened tongue. "Tastes similar, my love?"
A wave of heat was rolling faster, an even stronger aphrodisiac flowing through your veins. Breathing became harder, your mind already blind, as he pushed your melted body into a deeper arch.
"I love you so much, my Goddess," he whispered, peppering your sizzling cheek. "I'll make you feel so good. So fucking good, I promise. My sweet, beautiful wife. Just trust me."
in which two pirates try to prove to you that they're the better one!
contains: pirate!satoru x islander!reader x pirate!ace, constant bickering over you because you're just so hot and smexy like that 🥰, pining and yearning because we DESERVE it, not quite lore-accurate to Ace's backstory because I'm not doing that to myself again okay 💔 let a girl have some smut in her life, we give satoru a lightning type devil fruit power because he can't be left out, reverse cowgirl, eating out, blowjob, p in v, unprotected, doggy style, and all the good stuff!
for @madamechrissy's crossover event, I had so much fun writing this omg thankyou for letting me 🧡 !
Also, I genuinely forgot who I got this animated divider from and whether they needed credit or not. If someone finds the exact same one, please tell me so I can give them credit if needed!
3.6k
Surely being childhood friends meant the trio would have similar interests?
Yeah... that's what you thought.
You couldn't say you hadn't seen it coming when Ace and Satoru proclaimed they wanted to be pirates, while you had wanted to be a baker your entire childhood. You also couldn't say you hadn't seen it coming when the two of them immediately got irritated and started beating each other up for the title of the better pirate.
But that was when they were ten years old! Nearly a decade later, you all were young adults. While you lived out your quiet, ideal life on the island the three of you had grown up on, residing in the cutest cottage right by the beach, the other two had become well-known names across the Grand Line. Their bounties were too high for you to comprehend; you assumed that they had grown out of their childish tendencies and become more serious because of the harsh waves and enemies.
Unfortunately, you know what they say about assuming. It makes an ass out of you and ming. (PLEASE CATCH THAT REFERENCE PLEEEEEEEEEEASEE)
"Look, look, I reached the shore first!"
You rubbed your hand over your face as you watched Satoru bound over the sand towards you, followed by Ace shortly behind. The bastard had leapt off the mast to beat Ace's ship, and you quite frankly didn't know how his legs weren't broken yet. He used his lightning underneath the soles of his shoes to speed him up as well, smiling widely at the sight of you waiting for them on the beach. Well, in his mind, only waiting for him.
"You fucking cheater!" Ace shouted behind him, using his flames to propel him forward as well. You dodged the two bullets by sidestepping and letting them fall into the sand, sighing at the sight of two major pirates acting like eight-year-old kids.
"I did not cheat, I used leverage!" Of course, Satoru couldn't let Ace be the only one showing off his powers, appearing in front of you faster than you could blink. You were then crushed onto the sand by two heavy men, groaning underneath their weight.
"Get off me!" You protested, voice muffled against one of their chests, honestly you couldn't tell anymore.
"Yeah, get off her, Satoru."
"Shut the fuck up."
The two only scurried off when you threatened not to give them dinner, dusting themselves off and following behind you like ducklings into your home and sitting down at your wooden table, the chairs probably too small for them, though they never complained. You placed the pan on the stove, finishing up the meal you always made for the two of them whenever they were over. You smiled to yourself as you watched them argue from over the countertops, dusting in the spices to your recipe.
"Okay, big shot, what did you get this time?" Ace acted bored, resting his head on his hand like he wasn't the least bit interested. You knew he was, though, considering that whatever Satoru had gotten for you this time would either outshine or undershine his gift.
"You probably couldn't even compare to it, by the way." he pulled out a small box from one of the many slips on his coat, its velvety coating shining in the light. By the looks of it, he'd probably gotten it from Loguetown.
"I probably could," Ace argued back, removing a similar box from the pocket in his pants, placing it on the table by Satoru's. You sighed with relief, bringing out three plates to the table.
"Thank god it's just jewelry," you groaned. "Last time, you gave me bags of gold."
"My pile was way bigger than his, too!" There Satoru went, starting up the argument again. "Actually, where are they?" The two looked around your house in confusion.
"I gave it to the mayor for charity-"
"Hey, that was for you!" Ace protested, folding his arms.
"It went to charity, Portgas."
"Still," he frowned, watching you serve the two of them with a smile. He knew you would have probably given it away somehow, but it still made him a bit sulky. "I wanted you to buy something for yourself."
"I did!" You protested, passing a spoon to Satoru and sitting down between them, starting to eat. "But you can't expect me to use all of that money. I could have probably bought out the entire island."
"Yeah, with my pile-"
"Shut up and eat, Toru," you smacked the back of his head lightly. A few more glares were exchanged before they settled down properly, the conversation finally starting to flow. Though most of it was just the two of them bickering, you always enjoyed sitting back and watching the yaoi unfold (One day, you swore, one day…). It was nice to see them coordinate their visits every few months or so, the three of you managing to spend at least a night together before returning to your ordinary lives.
The sight of them always made you feel bittersweet. You wondered what would have happened if you'd chosen to be a pirate instead. Sometimes, you found yourself staring wistfully at the sea as well, thinking about how surely a ship would be able to have a furnace to bake in. Maybe the three of you could have started your own crew, instead of you making them travel all the way to one of the islands on the Grand Line, making them pause from whatever quest they currently had going on. You knew how hard it was for them to get their hands on eternal log poses in the first place. Plus, pirate life seemed so much more exciting than customer service. The salt in the air, the wind in your face…
"Hellooooooo," Ace waved his hand in front of your face. "Are you listening?"
You snapped out of your Wattpad thoughts, blinking. "Yes, sorry, what?"
"Open them," Satoru nudged your foot with his, gesturing his head towards the boxes on the table. "And by them, I mean mine-"
Cutting him off, you simply opened the two of them simultaneously, taking away your breath twofold. Inside lay two almost identical rings, thin gold which you could tell had already been made to fit your finger perfectly. While Ace's had the prettiest ruby you'd ever seen, Satoru's had a glittering diamond, competing with the red stone for your attention.
Ace growled at Satoru, reaching over the table to try and choke him. Yes, violence is always the first reaction, king. "You're such a fucking copycat!"
"How was I supposed to know you were getting her a ring too?!" Satoru protested, clawing at the hands around his neck and sending zaps of electricity to shock the skin on Ace's hands. "Mine is just better than yours, that's why you're so salty."
"As if; she clearly likes red better than blue. Look, she's staring at my ring longer."
"No, diamonds are a girl's best friend; has nobody taught you that sentence? Oh wait, I forgot, you didn't go to school-"
"I love them."
They quieted down as they turned to you. You had placed both the rings on your fingers quietly while they were arguing, the ruby going on your left and the diamond on your right. You admired them with a smile wider and more precious than any jewel could account for, stealing their breath. "I love both of them. Thank you."
Satoru's cheeks turned red, stammering as he tried to act nonchalant. "Well, it's nothing, just some pocket change."
Ace agreed, small spits of flames already bursting up from the tips of his ears. "We're glad you like them, sweetheart."
A melancholy look passed over your face the more you stared at your rings, fighting back tears in your eyes before you even knew they were there. "…When are you guys leaving?"
"Tomorrow morning," Ace answered as if he hated it himself, leaning back against the chair with a defeated sigh. Satoru had already started removing his jacket and hat, flopping into your bed.
"Well, no use sulking about it," he patted the spot next to him, blowing out the candle on your bedside table. "Sleep. We'll still be here in the morning for you to say goodbye."
So you slept, sandwiched between a furnace and an ice block. Well, they slept, while you lay awake, staring up at your ceiling. You had bags underneath your eyes as you waved to them from the bay the next morning, the sun rising. The blue sea contrasted with the orange sun, exactly like the two boys waving back.
"No, but my ring was better, right?" Satoru yelled over the water, his voice carrying over the waves. You laughed as Ace yelled something incomprehensible to him, sticking up his finger as the ships sailed apart from each other.
You sat down on the bay and watched them leave, familiar tears stinging at your eyes once more. You seemed to be the only one who cried whenever they departed, but you just couldn't help it.
Sometimes you really wished you could go with them.
The next time, they reached your island a day early.
You clearly didn't know this, busy sunbathing in the soft evening light, finding the afternoon too hot for you. You lay some feet away from your house, lying flat on your back and letting out a contented sound. You stretched your arms above your head like a cat, slipping in and out of naps. You were taking in as much relaxation as you could get before the two fucking muppets decided to grace you with their presence again, making every aspect of your life far louder than it usually was.
You frowned as a shadow blocked your sun. You waited for a few seconds, hoping it was just a cloud, before opening your eyes and startling yourself with the sight of Ace and Satoru standing above you.
"What the fuck?" You yelped, skittering further into the sand.
"I should be asking you the same question!" Satoru grumbled, picking you up without a second thought, Ace rolling up the blanket and following you. "Why are you lying out there naked?"
"I'm not naked!" You protested, struggling in his grip. Ace tried to grab you from him, growling. "Why do you get to carry her bridal style?!"
"Because I got to her first." He stuck out his tongue at him before looking down at you pointedly. "You literally are."
"I'm wearing a bikini," you accentuated the word, as if teaching it to a toddler, watching his ears get redder and redder. God, it was cute. "And you guys weren't even here! How was I supposed to know not to wear this?"
"Oh, so you would wear it in front of the other villagers but not us?" Ace huffed, opening your door and shutting it behind him, locking it. Satoru put you down on the wooden floorboards before immediately looking away. It seemed that he had gotten shyer and shyer the longer he had been carrying you.
"Well, yes, the villagers have not been pining after me for ten years," you retorted, watching the sun already halfway set from outside your window. Dammit, you knew you should have gone sunbathing in the morning instead.
"Touche."
Ace shut his mouth as he saw your hands. "You're still wearing them?"
"Of course I am," you muttered defensively, holding your arms over your stomach. You were starting to get as red as Satoru, realising the partial state of undress you were in. The dark black strings that held the pieces of cloth over your body were strong, but not stronger than their patience. You could already see their gazes slowly tracing over your body, trying to stay subtle but failing miserably.
"God, you're such losers," you sulked, watching the sky turn darker and darker every moment. "Why didn't you tell me you were coming so early?"
"We wanted to surprise you, obviously," Satoru murmured under his breath, stepping closer to you and holding up your right hand, the one with his ring on your finger. "It looks pretty on you."
"Yes, I know," you found a smile reach your lips despite trying to stay mad at them, Ace moving closer to you too.
"Seriously though, which one of us got you the better ring?"
You groaned. "Not this again."
"But it has to be mine!" Satoru pouted. "It's a diamond!"
"So what if it's a diamond? My ruby shows my undying love and affection for her!"
"I really can't choose," You pouted. You'd spent a good amount of time pondering over which ring was the prettier one, but both of them looked so gorgeous that it was hard competition.
"Well, mine is a wedding ring!" Satoru blurted out, crossing his arms over his chest. "Take that."
"Mine is too!"
"No, it's not!"
"Is too!"
"Is not!"
"They're wedding rings?" You asked, jaw agape. No wonder they'd looked so flustered when you'd slipped them on so easily.
"Uh-huh, I got them from a whole marital shop and all."
"Oh, you're so special-"
"I'm not going to marry you," you interrupted them, their words dying in their throats like somebody had poured gallons of cold water right on top of their heads.
"…You're not?"
"Well, not yet!" You objected as they slowly started to corner you against the bed, devastated looks on their faces. "I mean, it's not like we're actually dating, right? We haven't even kissed or anything!"
"Right," Ace muttered, taking off his hat and tossing it somewhere in the room. "If we, say, were dating, then you would marry me?"
You were getting more flustered each second, your calves hitting the edge of your bed. You had nowhere left to run. "I mean, I don't know?" You started to nervously ramble, eyes flicking from Satoru to Ace and back. "Maybe? And I can't just do eenie meenie miny moe or something; look at the two of you, you'd die!"
"That's why we've been competing for so long!" Satoru complained, looming over you, close enough for you to feel his breath. "You just refuse to choose one of us, no matter how many things we do for you. We're on our wits' end here, baby."
"I can't do that," you tried to explain weakly. "You're both my best friends. There's nothing left for you to compete on."
"There is one thing," Ace tilted your chin to face him instead.
Your bikini was far too easy to get off.
You had to give them credit for how slow they moved, really. They'd given you every chance and another to move out of the way, to tell them to stop, to slap them and probably ban them from ever seeing you again, but you hadn't. No, you'd shivered when one had attached his lips to your neck, moaned against the other's kiss.
So, due to the consequences of your own actions, you were now you were pressed against Ace's back while Satoru ate you out like a starving man. Oh yes, and you were also getting pretty much dicked the fuck down. You let out the prettiest noises into Ace's neck, one hand grabbing onto his arm that encircled your waist, and the other threading harshly into Satoru's hair.
"Slow- fuck, slower-" you bit into the soft flesh of his neck, thighs tightening around Satoru's head before Ace forced them open. He continued to thrust his hips upwards into your welcoming pussy, using his grip on your body as leverage. His beads jingled lowly every time you bounced a bit too hard on top of him, squirming.
Satoru, meanwhile, was worshipping your clit like it was its own person. His lips had locked around the bead, sucking and slurping while fingers stretched open your entrance even further. He groaned as a burst of your slick fell across the bedsheet, lapping up whatever was still stuck to your body. To make it worse, he used his electricity on his tongue, giving you small shocks on your clit to stimulate your nerve endings further.
"Toru!" You jumped in surprise, causing Ace to moan and roll his head back against your headboard. "God, princess, don't do that."
"She can do what she wants," Satoru argued back, though a cocky grin was plastered on his face, giddy that it had actually worked. He continued to slurp against your pussy, Ace trembling as his thrusts became sloppy. "Please, I'm so close, oh my-"
Your legs instinctively clamped tightly against Satoru's face as you came, arching against Ace and riding out your orgasm on both his cock and Satoru's tongue. The orgasm hit you unexpectedly, washing over you with a force that caused you to go cross-eyed for a few seconds.
Satoru hummed into your core, both the vibrations and the sparks hitting Ace as well. He buried himself to the hilt, mouthing at your shoulder as he spilled inside of you, long ropes of cum covering your walls. When he pulled out, it dripped from your entrance sultrily.
"My turn," Satoru flipped you impatiently onto your knees, giving you a few seconds to catch your breath before teasing your entrance with his tip. It was already flushed red from how much he'd been rutting into the bed, stroking himself while eating you out. He pushed himself in slowly, already going dumb at just the feeling of your walls around him. "Fuuuckk-"
Ace pulled you closer to him by the back of your neck as Satoru eased in, his cock already hardening up once more. He didn't have to say more; your hand grabbed the base of it and stroked.
When Satoru pushed all the way in, you jerked forward, mouth hitting the tip of Ace's flushed cock. It was flared, sensitive from his previous orgasm. Each thrust from Satoru pushed you further towards the man in front of you, your mouth parting to swirl your lips around him.
"So, doll," He leaned forward till his chest reached your back, hand moving around your stomach to play with your overstimulated clit, still coated with his saliva. "Who does it better?" You couldn't really answer through your mouthful of fucking dick, Ace using your hair to bob your head up and down his length.
"Me," Ace choked out, hips bucking up into your throat. Tears prickled at your waterline as you struggled not to gag. The squelching sounds were filthy, pushing your hips back to match Satoru's pace.
"I won't choose between the two of you," you pulled back for air, thumbing his slit and spitting on it. "I can't just break us apart like that."
"Don't be- fuck, don't tighten on me like that, baby," Satoru's eyes rolled back as you clenched around him like a vice, hands moving to play with Ace's balls gently. Anything to make them shut up, god, did they ever stop talking?
Clearly not, seeing as Satoru was a babbling mess in the moments before he was about to come. Murmuring sweet nothings in your ear as if he couldn't help it, hating that he got turned on by the way Ace whimpered against his arm and came into your mouth, white dribbling out from the corner of your mouth. Hating that it practically drove him to the edge, squeezing your tits and waiting for you to come so he could a second later. He shuddered at the feeling of your warm walls, releasing spurts of seed right into your womb.
You felt it leak out even while he was still inside you, mixing with Ace's cum and dribbling down your thighs. You swallowed whatever you could, holding onto Ace's thighs while you enjoyed your blissful orgasm once more, skin sticky with sweat.
Falling onto each other, the only sound you could hear in the room was the mutual panting and sighs. Just when you thought it was getting too quiet, you saw them open their mouths to speak once more.
Absolutely not. You covered both their mouths with your hands, rolling onto your stomach and throwing Satoru onto the other side. "I said," you repeated, softer this time. "I won't choose. I can't."
Your fingers traced patterns on their chests, rings glinting on your hands like trophies, breathing into the pillow like oxygen was a limited resource. "You guys don't understand, I can't just like one of you better than the other. We grew up together. Both of you are everything to me." You stiffened, waiting for chaos, but were surprised to hear only quiet sighs instead.
"Okay," Ace pulled you into his chest, kissing the top of your head. His voice was quieter now, even though he really did want to protest when Satoru moved to hug you from the back, burying his face into the crook of your neck.
"If you don't want to," he trailed lazy kisses up the column of your neck. "I don't think there's any way to convince your stubborn ass."
"Excuse me?" You turned and swatted at his head, causing him to giggle. When your nose touched his hair, you smelt the sea salt from his time on the ocean, your longing hitting you once more.
"What's wrong?"
"…I think I might want to be a pirate too," You muttered shyly, remembering all the times you'd berated them for wanting the same thing. Looks like it had come back to bite you in the ass.
"Join my crew."
The two overlapping voices broke the peaceful serenity you had finally built up through your afterglow. You let out a frustrated sob as they glared at each other from over your body. Fuck, you shouldn't have said anything.
"No, Ace, she's going to join my crew."
"Suck my dick, as if I'd ever let that happen!"
Might not be my best work, but Pirate Satoru is the absolute goat. Now I just need to commision a fanart of Ace kissing Satoru and we're perfect 🥰
Exam stress leads to a late night horny decision. Everything is going great, until the guy in the video starts sounding a little too familiar
part 1 here! . part 2 here! . part 3 here! . part 4 here!
cr: 3vangel1ne_ on X
If you like listening to music while reading, I recommend this!
-
You woke up the next morning with a dull pounding in your skull and your mouth painfully dry. For one merciful second, your mind was blissfully blank. Then the memories crashed over you all at once.
The dimly lit hallway.
Satoru’s tall frame pressed back against the wall.
The broken whimper that escaped his lips when your mouth found his neck.
Your own lips still felt faintly swollen, as if you could still taste the warmth of his skin—sweet, soft, and addictive. Between your thighs, a traitorous heat lingered at the mere recollection of his hardness pressing against you.
The memory refused to leave you. Every time you closed your eyes, you saw his flushed face—lips swollen, eyes wide with shock and something dangerously close to desperate want.
But it was the scent that haunted you the most. He smelled so good—deliciously masculine, soft, and unmistakably him. And now, as you lay in bed, the faint trace of his cologne still clung to your skin, inextricably entwined with your favorite vanilla fragrance.
By the time you dragged yourself to the small breakfast counter in your dorm, guilt twisted sharply in your stomach making it impossible to eat. The jealousy that had fueled your drunken courage the night before now felt pathetic and ugly in the daylight.
The chat with Satoru had been open for nearly thirty minutes. The cursor blinked mockingly at the end of another half-written message you’d already deleted twice.
Hey, about last night…
Delete.
I’m really sorry. I’ll finish the project, you won’t have to see me anymore.
Delete.
Satoru, I need to tell you something important. I know about your channel. I’m not going to tell anyone, I swear. I just—
You stopped.
How the hell were you supposed to explain this without sounding like a complete stalker? Hey! I’ve been getting off to your videos while pretending I didn’t know it was you and then I basically attacked your neck cause the real thing was too much to resist?
You groaned, burying your face in your arms on the counter. He hadn’t texted you either. But what were you expecting him to do anyway? After what you’d done, he was probably avoiding you cause he thought you were insane.
“Fuck” you muttered.
By the afternoon, the guilt had become unbearable. You still hadn’t texted him, instead, you forced yourself to open the shared document for the chemistry project. You tried to work for a while, adding a few clumsy notes and sources, but every sentence felt forced and meaningless.
Shoko texted asking how you were feeling. You replied with a vague “hungover af, but alive” and quickly ignored her follow-up asking if you’d talked to “pretty eyes” yet.
Eventually you gave up on the document, flopping onto your bed, grabbing your phone to try and write an apology one last time.
Hey. About last night… I’m really sorry. I was way too drunk and I shouldn’t have done that. Can we still work on the project? I promise I’ll keep things professional.
You didn’t send that one either. Professional. As if you hadn’t left hickeys on his neck and felt him hard against your stomach while he whimpered into your mouth.
You realized then that you were terrified of the silence between you. If you sent that message, you would be forcing him to acknowledge what happened, and you weren’t sure you could handle his rejection—or worse, his pity. You just couldn’t do it.
You were just about to lock your phone when a notification banner slid down from the top of the screen.
⤷ blue.sg uploaded a new video! 2 min ago
You knew you were a hypocrite. A massive one. You’d spent the entire day feeling guilty, writing fifty different apologies, and yet, here you were—thumb pressing on the notification before your brain could talk you out of it
There was no title. Just a short description: from last night.
The video started abruptly.
The camera was propped up on the sink, slightly crooked, as if he had thrown it there in a rush. Steam already filled the bathroom. Satoru stepped straight into the shower, fully naked, and the water crashed down on him immediately. His face was out of frame, but the water ran down his abs and over his impossibly hard cock.
He didn’t tease. There was none of his usual slow, shy build-up.
This was pure desperation.
His large hand wrapped around his throbbing cock and he started stroking immediately — fast, rough, almost punishing. The wet, obscene sounds of his fist flying over slick skin were loud even over the running water.
“Fuck…” he groaned, voice already wrecked. “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”
His hand moved frantically, squeezing tight, thumb pressing hard against the sensitive head every time he stroked upward. Precum mixed with the water, making everything look deliciously slippery.
“I accepted that—fuck—invitation cause I knew you were going to be there…” he panted as hips jerking forward into his fist. “I hate these things but I just wanted to see you.”
His strokes became even faster, almost angry.
“I was trying to make up my mind to send you a text….something I would never do anyway —ahh—fuck—but then you show up in front of me looking like the prettiest fucking angel I’ve ever seen in my life and I completely forgot how to function”
His voice cracked beautifully as he twisted his wrist on the upstroke. A broken whimper escaped him, high and needy.
“I know you were drunk… I know it didn’t mean anything to you. You weren’t thinking straight, but I… fuck—”
He was breathing hard now, almost sobbing between words. He fucked his fist harder, hips snapping forward desperately. Water ran down his toned abs and over his throbbing length as he squeezed tighter.
“I can’t stop thinking about it. That vanilla is like a fucking drug. I can still smell it on my skin. You smelled so fucking good.” he whispered the last word as he leaned his forearm against the tiled wall for support “Your lips were so soft and wet… you tasted like alcohol and sweetness and I— ahh— I got so fucking hard it hurt. I came in my pants like a desperate loser. I couldn’t even move. Just sat there on the floor with your lipstick on my neck and my pants ruined like a pathetic puppy.”
A particularly filthy moan tore out of him. The camera caught everything: the way his heavy cock throbbed in his hand, the way his abs clenched, the way his knees almost buckled.
“I’m so fucking pathetic for you…” he whimpered, voice hoarse and trembling. “And I know it was nothing to you, but to me— fuck, to me it was everything. I wanted to beg you to keep going. I wanted you to push me down, sit on my face, use my cock however you wanted. I would’ve let you ride me right there in that hallway”
He let out a ragged, shuddering breath, his head dropping.
“I wanted to cry after you left. I sat on the floor with cum in my pants and still got hard again ten minutes later just thinking about your tits pressed against me” He let out another filthy, desperate moan “—fuck—I wanted to grab them so fucking bad, wanted to bury my face between them and suck on them—ahh— please… even if you regret it, even if I’m just a mistake, use me. I don’t care how pathetic I sound. I’ll whimper and beg and cum all over myself every time you want. Just— fuck— just let me have something.”
He was stroking so fast now the motion was almost blurry. His balls were drawn up tight, cock swollen and dark.
“I’m gonna— I’m gonna cum— fuck—!”
A loud, broken cry ripped out of him as thick, powerful ropes of cum shot against the shower wall. He kept stroking through it, moaning shamelessly, body jerking with every spurt. There was so much that even with the water running, it dripped down the tiles in messy streaks.
He stayed there for a long moment afterward, breathing hard, forehead pressed against the tile, water cascading over his trembling figure.
Then, almost like he suddenly remembered the camera existed, he reached out with a wet, shaky hand and stopped the recording.
You sat there in silence for a second, heart hammering against your ribs.
The screen went black, leaving you staring at your own reflection. Your breath was shallow, your heart still racing, and the air around you felt thick with the heavy, lingering presence of Satoru’s confession.
He’s talking about me.
The realization slammed into you with dizzying force.
You’d spent the whole day torturing yourself, convinced you’d crossed an unforgivable line by watching his content and then kissing him. Meanwhile, Satoru had an entire secret porn channel dedicated to jerking off and whimpering for you.
And last night, after what happened at the party, he had run straight home and broken down in the shower once again because of you.
The irony hit so hard you almost laughed, except the sound came out as a shaky exhale. For a long moment you just sat there, chest heaving, panties soaked and thighs pressed together.
Suddenly, all the guilt transformed into something hot and sharp in your chest.
Power.
This shy, sweet boy who blushed when you looked at him had been secretly obsessed with you. Filming himself falling apart for you. Begging the camera for you.
And now you knew.
A part of you wanted to close the app, to preserve the sanctity of what you’d just witnessed, but the need to see how the world reacted to your boy was too strong to ignore. You tapped it.
You read through them, a wave of possessiveness washing over you, layering itself onto that newfound sense of power.
You didn’t need to watch any more. You had seen enough. The adrenaline thrumming beneath your skin had shifted into something else entirely, no longer fueled by the video itself, but by the idea already taking shape in your mind.
Without another thought, you opened your messages and typed:
Cho. I need a favor.
—
The hallway outside room 127 smelled faintly of instant ramen and laundry detergent. Your heart hammered against your ribs as you stood outside Satoru's door, your fist hovering in the air for a split second before you finally knocked.
The lock clicked.
Satoru looked exhausted. His white hair was a mess, as though he'd been dragging his hands through it for hours. Dark shadows sat beneath his eyes, and an oversized black hoodie swallowed his frame. His blue eyes widened when they landed on you.
“Can I come in?” you asked.
He swallowed, then stepped aside without a word.
The apartment was quiet. The small living room was neat enough to look recently cleaned, yet something about it still felt lived in—a mug abandoned on the table, the white hoodie tossed over the arm of the couch, the faint scent of coffee still hanging in the air.
Satoru hovered awkwardly by the kitchen counter.
“You can... sit.”
You lowered yourself onto one end of the couch.
He remained standing for another second before sitting on the chair opposite you, hands resting on his knees, unable to meet your eyes for more than a moment.
“Do you want anything? Water? Tea...?”
You shook your head.
“No.”
Silence settled between you, but it wasn't uncomfortable. It was suffocating.
Satoru’s knee bounced almost imperceptibly. His fingers twisted together before he forced them apart again.
Every few seconds, he'd glance at you, only to look away the instant your eyes met.
You reached into your pocket without saying a word.
Unlocked your phone.
Opened the video.
Then, leaning forward, you placed it face-up on the coffee table between you and gently slid it across until it stopped in front of him.
He frowned, then looked down. The moment he recognized what was on the screen, every trace of color vanished from his face.
The video replayed from where you’d left it paused.
The shower. His voice. His hand.
Slowly—almost fearfully—his gaze lifted to yours. His expression was pure panic.
You held his eyes for a long moment before finally speaking.
“Were you filming yourself while thinking about me, Satoru?”
the song that sounded in my head after the end
1- I'm sorry
2- bro is so famous he got 248 likes in like 10 minutes
3- that ""smau"" took SO long to make. I hated every second of it. it doesn't make ANY SENSE but I needed to do it.
4- actually I'm not sorry
Reblogs are sooo appreciated
part 6 coming soon !
masterlist
Pairing: Nightwing!Gojo x Spy!Reader x Red Hood!Geto
Synopsis: The plan is simple: walk into the museum auction ball, seduce your target, steal the diamond, and complete your mission. As a skilled spy and the top jewel thief in Gotham City, it seems easy enough. Except there are three problems that present themselves early in your mission. Number one, your target is Nightwing who is more cunning than you realize. Number two is Red Hood, another annoyingly hot vigilante. And number three is the sneak attack you set off that turns out to be an aphrodisiac. What happens when you hide from the cops and end up in very close quarters with the two vigilantes?
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: IT'S FINALLY HERE!!!! I'm so so so excited to finally get this out for my JJK "I Need A Hero (or a Villain) collab!! I really hope y'all enjoy it!! Please just drop me a comment or DM me if you're interested in joining the collab! <3 -love, Jazz
Credits: Nightwing!Gojo fanart by thatsallitchief on X & Red Hood!Geto fanart by kayaxxo on X!
You stand at the threshold of the museum entrance, right across the street from its mountain of steps.
The sound of Friday night in the city—cars honking, someone blasting music from their car—fills the night air buzzing with activity.
On a night like this, you’d be at home on the couch or having a girls’ night out. But instead, you’re spending your night at an auction party in the finest cocktail dress you could find in your closet. Your boss ordered it as part of your undercover work. You have to “look the part”, so why argue?
Especially when you look so damn good. You visited a hair salon this morning to get the perfectly seductive curls, pinning them up into a high bun with rivets and wisps of curls cascading down from your up-do. It goes perfectly with your wine red cocktail dress–body-hugging, sexy, and has a high slit at the thigh. You paired it with some Loboutine heels and your favorite MAC lipstick.
Perfect for seducing a certain vigilante.
You press two fingers to your right ear, right against the tiny ear piece that could be mistaken for an earring stud. “Testing, testing, 1, 2,” you speak into the earpiece. “This is Nightowl about to enter the vicinity. Target not yet in sight.”
There is a bit of fuzz and then a familiar voice belonging to one of your fellow agents. “Roger that, Nightowl. We’ll be in the building as soon as you give the signal. Target should be inside.”
You feel that familiar stomach flip; the one you usually get before a mission that often vanishes by the time it begins. Nowadays, you don’t get nervous anymore having done this for years. You learn to adapt and to sneak, turning into someone else for the time being until the mission is complete. “Roger. Over and out.”
You square your shoulders and slink into that seductive, secretive persona that you keep in your closet for missions like these. Any mission where you must seduce someone and take them off guard is when you pull her out–the mysterious, sly sex kitten that knows what she wants and how to get it. Nobody can resist her…not even a certain bat-based vigilante taking over Gotham City.
With a strut in your step and a sway in your hips, you walk over to the museum and walk up the steps to the double doors. Every click of your Loboutine heels prepares you for tonight’s festivities. Everything that can and might happen. Everything that you either are or aren’t prepared for.
You love nights like these. You crave for them. You feel electric as you walk into the museum, smiling when you hand the host your invite. You notice the way he checks out the curve of your tits in your dress and the shape of your red lips. He barely checks your ticket because he’s too busy checking you out.
You smile and bat your lashes, thanking him. This means your job should go easy tonight.
When you fully step into the museum lobby converted into a party room, it is in full swing and brimming with luxury, excitement and the energy of the rich, nightlife crowd. The room is surrounded by glass cases of history on display: historical artifacts, old paintings, gems and jewels glittering with temptation. All for the taking.
You would gladly snatch up all of them if you could, but you’re after just one in particular.
It is shockingly easy for you to blend in, but then again, as a renowned agent and jewel thief, you know exactly how to do so. It makes it easy to slink past staff and security to the ‘Staff Only’ room and snatch a random employee tag.
You pin it to your dress and slink back out to the party without anyone noticing, the weight of your secret weapons strapped to your thigh and in your purse grounding you.
As soon as you walk back out into the party, you are bombarded by the sound of a live band playing and the aura of luxury. It is all around you—on the snack table where a crystal bowl of punch and champagne flutes sit; in the tasteful decorations; the conversations and laughs of the guests decked out in their best designer
You keep your clutch close to your side, your little Glock hidden beneath your switchblade shaped as a lipstick tube…and your lipstick. You can’t ever leave the house without your MAC. You press your fingers to your ear again, keeping your voice low. “Night Owl within the vicinity. Target not in sight yet.”
You begin to look around the room, scanning it to find the man of the hour. You studied his appearance for weeks before coming here. Though you have no idea what he’ll be wearing tonight, you know that once you see him, you’ll know that it’s him.
And sure enough, you do. You find him sitting at the bar in a tailored black suit, all long legs and looking so tall and big even while sitting. He is nursing a club soda in his big hand as he reads off a pamphlet about the upcoming presentation tonight and tonight’s auctioned items, his blue eyes shifting as he reads.
There he is: Nightwing, in the flesh. You feel your throat tighten and your heart pound against your ribcage. Your agency has been on this man’s tail for months the same way he has been on theirs, tracking down his real identity. When they finally found him, your boss slapped his manila folder on your desk and smiled at you. “We got him,” he said. “Now it’s your turn.”
Nightwing has been a thorn in your boss’ side for months now, cracking down on his most skilled agents and traffickers. Every Gotham newspaper shows a new arrest on the front page, courtesy of Nightwing and his stupid tight spandex suit and charming grin. No one has ever seen him out of his mask or suit…except for now. And you are more than excited to expose him tonight.
Smuggling is an art form itself. It requires much time and discipline. Being a spy is exactly the same, requiring a precise form and act that makes you your boss’ top spy at his underground agency.
Which is why he chose you for the job. If anyone can get Nightwing on a silver platter, it’s you. You’re more than happy to do so. Anyone ruining your job and chances at getting your hands on some more pretty prizes is evil in your eyes.
The plan is simple: get the man comfortable, perhaps get some drinks in him, seduce him enough to take your offer for privacy in the basement, and then bam! He gets caught with his hand in the cookie jar and you get your hands on the museum’s newest find: a diamond worth millions. One of history’s finest artifacts recently dug up and shipped here. Never before seen.
With the taste of danger and another pretty thing in your roster on your tongue, you strut over to the undercover vigilante and take a seat next to him, catching his attention immediately. It’s almost comical. You give him a small smile of acknowledgement as you place your clutch on the polished bar.
You then wave your manicured nails at the bartender, flashing the vigilante your glossy, red nails. “Bartender, a Brandy Alexander, please.” The woman in the white and black uniform nods, getting started on your drink. You sit in silence for a moment, both of you testing the other to make the first move.
You glance at Nightwing, eyeing him curiously as he pretends to read the pamphlet sitting in his lap. His pants seem to stretch across his muscular thighs…not that you’re checking him out. “So are you gonna say something or just act like you’re not staring at me?” he asks without looking up at you.
You blink at him, taken aback. “Sorry?” He finally turns to look at you, smirking, his blue eyes devastatingly pretty. Damn him. “Pardon the bluntness. I had a glass of champagne earlier. But I can feel your eyes.”
You raise your brow at him, feeling your own smirk curl onto your lips. “Oh, really? How do you know they were mine?” The vigilante shrugs, sipping his club soda. “I’ve been to parties like this before. Or rather, auctions for historical art pieces and valuables.”
“So have I,” you reply, nodding in thanks when your drink is given to you. The vigilante watches you take a sip, eyes zooming in on your red lips. “Hm. Well, you’re certainly dressed for the part. I notice the name tag. You work here, Ms. London?”
You damn near forget about the fake name on the tag you stole and nod, smiling. “That, I do, uh…” You pretend to look puzzled, pulling an annoyingly attractive chuckle out of him. “Satoru,” he replies. “Gojo.” So your agency’s research was correct. Nightwing and Satoru Gojo, a Gotham-based college thirty-something year old, are, in fact, the same person.
Quelling the excitable flip in your gut, you shake his hand, ignoring how big and calloused it is. “Pleasure to meet you, Satoru. I’ve been working here for a year now, so dresses like this are the norm for auctions. I’m glad you like it.”
A small blush coats Satoru’s cheeks, making him slightly endearing. He has two sides to himself it seems…or three, counting Nightwing. “Heh. Well, I’m sure everyone does. It looks very…expensive.” You giggle, eyeing his clothes. “As does your suit.”
He quirks a brow at your compliment, happy with the praise. “Ya think so, huh? Guess that Bloomingdale’s employee wasn’t bullshittin’ me then.” He flashes you a white-toothed grin, dimples popping. He is so charming that it’s disarming, making you slightly uncomfortable. You’ve never felt this way about a target before.
“I can’t say I’ve seen your face around here,” you say, still turning up the heat. After all, this is your job. “I would’ve recognized you as a regular.” You make sure to put a flirty tone in your voice to catch his attention. Sure enough, it does.
“I’m a lover of the arts. Got an invite from the Gotham Art Museum as a member and took it. Plus, there’s a free bar, so why not?” He smirks, sipping his drink. “That’s usually what brings people in here,” you chuckle. “Unless you’re an art buff.” You sip your drink too, leaving a red stain on the glass.
Satoru’s eyes flick from the rim to your face, your wicked ways working on him. “Oh, I am. Nothin’ like gettin’ your hands on somethin’ as valuable and precious as a piece of art. A painting, a sculpture. Even the finest jewel.” His tone is so sly; so seductive. He’s trying to work his charm too…but why?
“Oh?” you purr, hiding your suspensions. “How so? Is it the history that turns you on? F-For art, I mean.”
Satoru chuckles at your little intentionally unintentional innuendo, ducking his head in a way that is both boyish and sexy. “Yeah. Plus, they’re just so damn pretty. I mean, look at this necklace here!” He shows you a photo of one of the artifiacts–a gorgeous necklace from 1800 England dripping with sapphires. “Beautiful, isn’t it?” he asks.
You nod, struggling to not inhale his cologne as he leans in to show you the photo. “It is,” you hum. “There are plenty of more pieces I can show you, if you’re interested.” He eyes you then, his blue eyes like the purest oceans. “Very. Lead the way, Ms. London.”
You smile as you finish your drink for that liquid confidence and stand. He presents you to his elbow and you take it, trying not to get too excited over how easy this is. It may seem that way, but you need to be on your toes. This could go very wrong in an instant. For example, falling victim to the vigilante’s charms as he smiles at you and leads you around the party.
You show the items you’ve seen on the museum’s website, feeding him info you researched and bullshit you make up on the spot. He seems to eat it all up, sipping a glass of champagne, even getting one for you to clink his glass against. Satoru doesn’t seem bored by anything you tell him, nodding in interest and slipping in little jokes between your presentations to make you giggle.
After about two hours of your “roleplay”, things start to accelerate when you’re on your second glass of champagne and back at the bar for a mocktail. You’ll need to at least be semi-sober for this next part. As you’re reaching into your clutch for some cash to pay for your mock martini with olives, someone beats you to it.
An older gentleman with a horrible combover grins at you, not even trying to hide his lecherous eyes. “Here. A pretty thing like you shouldn’t buy her own drink.”
He slips you a bill, standing a little bit closer to you than you’d like. “I appreciate that,” you giggle, taking the money from him just as the bartender returns with your drink. “How can I repay you for such a kind act?”
The old man pretends to think, puckering his lips in a way that you’re sure is supposed to be sexy. “Just your number. I could make sure you don’t have to ruin those feet walkin’ around for your job anymore.” He nods down at your fresh pedicure and designer heels, licking his chapped lips.
You swallow your repulsion, feeling Satoru’s presence sitting behind you at the bar. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t take numbers from married men.” With joy, you watch the old man’s smile fade and he slinks away, giving you the dirtiest look known to man. Satoru nods, impressed. “You got quite the eye.” You shrug, sipping your crisp mocktail. “When you work here long, you learn to catch on.”
He reaches over, clinking your glass with his new drink: a Brandy Alexander this time. “I could’ve told ya he was married though,” he chuckles. His laugh is smooth and rich yet deep and lethal, like a shot of whiskey.
You turn to him, raising a brow at him as you sip your martini. “And how would you know that?” you question. “He didn’t have a ring on his finger.” You only knew because you saw him with his wife when you came in.
Satoru chortles again as if you’re some dumb little girl he needs to school. “Don’t have to. Rings can come off, ‘specially at events like these.” He takes a sip from his drink, eyeing you across the rim. “There’s plenty of pretty women like yourself swimmin’ around here for the pickin’.”
His gaze is hot like fire licking across your exposed skin. The air that the old man left tense becomes even more so, but you straighten your neck and regard him with a smirk. “Like me?” you scoff. “I doubt he could’ve even been able to afford me.”
You take another sip of your martini, leaving a red stain on the rim, before fishing out the toothpick rowed with olives. You pluck one off with your teeth, knowing that he is watching. ‘Just keep up the act. Hook, line, and sinker.’
“And how would one afford you?” he asks, curiously glistening in his eyes. “You merchandise? Up for grabs like these beauties here?” You swirl your tongue around in your mouth, sizing him up. You try not to think about how fun it is to flirt with him. To tease him. This is your job. “Depends on how much you’re willing to bet on me.”
That’s what finally breaks the tension and Satoru’s smile grows rather lustful. “Maybe we can discuss somewhere more private,” he suggests. He slides his hand into yours and you allow it, ignoring how your heart pounds. “You got a room?”
You take a sip of your drink, smirking. “Plenty,” you giggle. Satoru mirrors your smirk, eyeing you down into your stool. “Little spitfire, ain’t you?”
You laugh as he helps you out of your stool. You do your best to act like your knees aren’t weak and that his touch doesn’t send electric shocks through your body. You tell yourself that it’s just because your mission is going so well. Finally, you’ll get what you want. “So I’ve been told. I’ve got just the place for us though. Follow me before someone knows we left.”
Satoru nods, his expression like molten fire as his eyes lay on your ass when you walk ahead of him, hand in hand, towards the elevator. The auction is underway so people are preoccupied, meaning it’s easy to sneak away with the vigilante to the basement.
Minutes later, you’re getting pinned against the basement wall and Satoru’s lips are on yours. He showed surprising self control in the elevator, even when you felt the sexual tension building and his hand on your waist growing tight. The basement is quiet and empty, only filled with supplies and other museum artifacts moved for safe keeping.
You moan against Satoru’s kiss, his soft lips just as heavy as the darkness descending upon you. The silvery moonlight is the only light cutting through the open window above, illuminating Satoru’s snow white hair and handsome features. His hands cup your face as you grasp his shoulders, welcoming his big frame pressed against yours.
You’ve kissed many targets before. You’ve even slept with some. Not that you’re proud of it, but it’s the name of the game. However, with Satoru, this doesn’t feel like a simple roleplay or job. His lips are soft and chaste of champagne, making you drunk. It’s so dangerous. You need to stop this now.
Luckily, the glittering of an object catches both of your eyes, causing you to stop kissing. Satoru keeps his roaming hands on you as he gazes at the glass case of a gorgeous diamond glistening with all kinds of yellows, pinks, and lavenders. “Wait…is that the newest diamond?” he questions. “The one found in a cave in the Himalayas?"
You nod, slinking your arms around him as you gaze at the diamond. “Yeah,” you purr. “They brought it in a month ago to present tonight.” And if anyone touches it, it will start an alarm. You know from sneaking in here weeks ago for a tour of the museum, committing every room to memory.
With your eyes trained on Satoru, you give him a lustful stare, body tingling in anticipation. “Now shut up and take off your clothes. Step back a bit for me so I can undress.” Satoru grins and begins to do just that, reaching for his tie as he blindly steps back, the glass case right behind you.
Click.
You freeze when you feel the cold barrel of a gun in your back, making your muscles tense. “Hold it right there,” an unfamiliar voice croons. “Move one inch and you won’t like what happens next.” You do as he says, not moving, while Satoru glares at the stranger over your head. “What the fuck are you doing here?” he hisses.
The stranger chuckles, his voice deeper yet softer than Satoru’s. “Now is that anyway to greet your friendly neighborhood vigilante?” he jokes. “‘Specially since I could’ve just left your dumb ass here.” The gun cocks, making you gulp. “Turn around,” he orders.
Slowly, you turn and sure enough, you’re staring at yet another Gotham vigilante that’s been bugging your boss: Red Hood, in the flesh. Dressed in his red and black uniform, muscles outlined in his suit, his long, black hair cascading down his shoulders and back. A white streak shoots through one lock in his face, right over his indigo eyes peeking over the red mask covering his mouth and nose.
Satoru glares at the vigilante that seems to be flipped around from the same coin, just a different side. “Seriously, Suguru? You stealin’ my target from me now?”
Target?
“Don’t use my real name,” Suguru aka Red Hood growls from behind his mask. “And you were ready to fuck my target, Nightwing. Don’t you realize this woman is tryin’ to play you? She wants someone to take the fall while she steals the diamond.”
Slowly, you turn to stare at Satoru, hoping that you aren’t this stupid. Sure enough, the white-haired man rolls his blue eyes. “Why else would I have come down here so willingly? I’m not that much of a whore, asshole.”
He turns to you with a smile, popping open his top to reveal the black suit with a big blue bat symbol stuck on his chest. “Pleasure to meet you by the way, Night Owl.” You gape at the bat symbol then at his face. You can’t believe it! You’ve been had! “You…you tricked me,” you hiss.
Satoru doesn’t even look the least bit apologetic, but why would he? “Sorry, but I couldn’t have you tossin’ me to the cops. I know you ain’t gonna flap your gums about my secret identity…unless you want people to know who you are too.”
Your eyes widen an inch, your stomach flipping with fear. He’s blackmailing you? “See, I’ve been after you for quite some time now,” he continues, giving you that stupid grin that you want to smack off of him. “You’re the most wanted jewel thief in Gotham. Frankly, I just wanted to see how far you’d think I’d fall for your plan.”
“Fuck you,” you growl. “Neither one of you is gonna arrest me for this. The cops and Batman are all the same: fuckin’ idiots.” Suguru and Satoru share a look, silently deliberating. “Good thing they got us,” Satoru chuckles. “We’re not as dumb as you think we are, honey.”
“Mmm-hmm,” Suguru hums, the gun still cocked at your head. “You don’t give us superheroes as much credit.” You keep quiet, simpering with anger. How could you be so dumb? How could you be so reckless? So–
Crackle-crackle. “Night Owl!” your fellow agent yells into your ear. “Come in, Night Owl! There’s an initial target! It’s–”
“Tell your people that you know already,” Suguru says, close enough to hear the feedback of the "conspicuous" ear piece in your ear. “And tell them that we’re about to give you an ultimatum. All you have to do is surrender and–”
POOF!
The vigilante can’t finish his sentence because he’s getting a mouthful of the pink smoke bomb you slipped out of your bra. It is tiny yet lethal; a new weapon created by the tech department at your agency. It comes right in handy, creating a thick fog that fills the entire basement with pink smoke. “Goddamn!” Satoru coughs. “What the fuck was that?!”
Quickly, you turn around to knock the gun out of Suguru’s hand, the fog allowing you the perfect cover. Then you give him a swipe with your leg, tripping him backwards. Though he perfectly catches himself and kicks his legs back up to stand upright, you’re already pulling a tiny remote from your clutch and aiming it at the ceiling.
“Sorry to cut this meeting short, fellas,” you chuckle. “But I’ve gotta run. Nice meeting you!” Then with one click, a rope with a hook at the end extends from the remote and punches a hole into the ceiling window. You zoom up right out of the building through the window before releasing and landing on the museum building’s rooftop.
Unfortunately, the fog is a little bit more potent than you realize. It explodes from the broken window, traveling up onto the rooftop. Right under your nose. You breathe it in without even realizing it and begin to cough, your throat and eyes stinging. Those fuck ass scientists!
Quickly, you hurry to the edge of the building and stare across to a skyscraper. You could zip across that no problem. You could be out of here in just a….whoa. You suddenly feel light on your feet and your vision grows wavery, everything suddenly foggy and unfocused.
“Oh, fuck,” you exhale before you feel yourself falling forward, about to hit the pavement…and you would’ve if Satoru didn’t catch you. He grunts as he grabs your arm and hugs you to him, positioning you so he’s carrying you bridal style.
You stare up into his blue eyes peaking out of his black mask before your vision is eaten up by darkness. “We’ve got you now, sweetie,” he whispers. “We’ll take good care of you. You’ll see.”
“Wakey, wakey, babydoll. Let us know you’re still alive.”
Slowly, your eyes peel open and you’re staring into the ocean blues behind a black mask. The man attached to the mask wears a black and blue spandex suit with black gloves and boots. If it isn’t for the white hair and silky voice, you would not have recognized Satoru. “She lives!” he mockingly gasps. “Thank God. We thought you died on us, honey.”
He grins at you, blinding you with his white teeth. You groan as you come to your senses, feeling achy and unbalanced. Slowly, you sit up, finding yourself on the floor in some secret room–it consists of a tiny cot bed, wooden boxes of food supplies, and a stool that Red Hood occupies. Suguru, you heard Satoru call him. He is still in his suit, but his mask is gone, revealing his handsome features and the snakebites embedded in his plump, pink bottom lip.
“W-Where am I?” you mutter. “Why do I feel so dizzy?” You place a hand on your head, still coming back to reality. You look around, seeing the towel under your head and your dress still intact. Did they…move you here?
“You passed out after inhalin’ that smoke shit you blew at us,” Suguru explains from the stool, using a pocket knife to stab a hole in the drywall. He twists it to the right to the left, focusing hard on his movements.
“I-I did?” you whisper. Then you panic, your memories flooding back. The smoke bomb. “Oh, no, no!” you gasp. “I have to get outta here! R-Right now!” Quickly, you try to rise to your feet only to slump back down, still dizzy.
“Ah-ah, little miss,” Suguru tuts. “You ain’t goin’ nowhere right now.” He rises from his stool, arms crossed. His sleeves are rolled up to expose his muscular arms inked with tattoos but you ignore them…or you try to. “And who’s gonna stop me?” you growl at him, glaring up at him.
Satoru glances at the both of you before rising to his feet, whistling. You watch him waltz over to a painting hanging up on the wall that you didn’t notice before and sloooowly moving it aside to reveal a tiny hole in the wall that Suguru surely made. “Well, them for one,” he replies, showing you a sliver of the museum lobby where you once were.
Only now, it’s surrounded by Gotham City cops. ‘Shit!’ you think. panicked. Someone called the cops?! What if Batman shows up too?!
“And definitely not if you’re feelin’ weak,” Satoru adds, crossing his arms over his buff chest. “Whatever that sneak attack was is sneakin’ up on you too.”
You don’t answer, grabbing your clutch beside you and then feeling around your ear for… “My earpiece,” you gasp. “W-Where’s my earpiece?!” You begin to look around, searching the small room for the tiny black dot. “You’re what piece?” Satoru asks, confused.
“That thing that her team was talkin’ in her ear with,” Suguru explains. “And don’t look at me. I don’t have it. Must’ve fallen out while you–”
He doesn’t get a chance to finish because you’re rising to your feet again only to stumble, falling into the wall. The two vigilantes quickly descend upon you, using their strong hands to help you out. “Hey, hey, relax,” Satoru gently says. “Sit down and take a breath.”
You watch them suspiciously as they sit you down on the edge of the bed, leaving you be once you’re off your feet. Why are they being so damn gentle with you? “Now explain,” Satoru firmly says, leaning against the wall. “Who are you? What’s the thing with robbin’ these museums?”
Instead of answering, you keep quiet, stubborn and bratty. Satoru rolls his eyes at you like you’re a disobedient child. “Listen, we’re gonna be here for a while, so you may as well talk…unless you want us to alert one of these cops.” He picks up his fist and raps it quietly on the wall, making your heartbeat scatter.
Damn these damn vigilantes! Always one step ahead of you. “I’m a spy,” you begrudgingly confess. “I work for an underground organization that deals in jewel trafficking. I was tasked with stealing the diamond in the hopes of leading Batman to my boss.”
The two vigilantes share a look, silently talking to each other. Are they wondering what they'll do to you? How to torture you to make you talk? Will they use Suguru’s pocket knife to slice off your dress? Will they strip you down and spank you till you cry? Make you suck their big cocks until you’re begging for them to fuck you? Slide themselves inside of you and fill you up until you’re begging for them to stop?
You blink at the sudden onslaught of dirty, nasty thoughts and the images flashing across your brain. Where the fuck did that come from?
And then you feel it: that warm flush that engulfs your body like you just stepped into a sauna. Then you feel your heartbeat accelerate, pumping hot blood until you can practically hear it throb. You press a hand to your forehead, finding it coated in sweat. What is happening to you?
The sound of Satoru’s silky voice doesn’t help your situation. If anything, it makes your body feel even weirder. “Well, sorry to disappoint you, sweetie. And for what it's worth, sorry to ruin your mission too.” He pauses, cocking his head to the side and squinting at you as if he’s just now seeing you. “You’re a lot prettier than that diamond though.”
The compliment comes out of nowhere and he looks just as perplexed as you feel from it. “What?” you and Suguru both ask. You blink, seeing how pink Satoru’s cheeks are, noticing how Suguru is pulling at the collar of his skin-tight suit.
Then it hits you. “Oh, no…the bomb! It’s working on us!” you lament, instantly scooting as far across the room as you can. As you try to check for loose structure in the wall to knock down and escape, the vigilantes share a confused glance. “What do you mean?” Suguru demands. “What the hell was in that thing anyway? Jesus, are you two as hot as I am right now?”
You are–it feels like the room has grown to about 100 degrees and is quickly rising. “It was an aphrodisiac bomb,” you weakly explain. “It was made with bi-products to help distract my target and weaken their defenses by using arousal.”
You don’t look at the vigilantes as you continue to tap against the wall, searching for a way out. But are you really searching or just pretending so you don’t succumb to the temptation of the two irresistible men standing behind you?
“Wait, you used a fuckin’ aphrodisiac on us?” Satrou growls. “Is that why I’m so goddamn…” He pauses, letting out a broken exhale that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand up.
“This shit is workin’ fast,” Suguru exhales, suddenly sounding a lot closer. You feelin’ it too?” He’s asking you, but you don’t answer. You don’t even turn around, too afraid of your loss of control. You can’t trust yourself anymore.
“I-It doesn’t matter. We have to get out of here now.” You try to stand again, bracing your hands on the wall, but your knees buckle, loose like jelly. “Oh, no!” you whimper, tears springing into your eyes.
“Hey, hey,” Satoru coos. His hands are on you, gentle and supportive, helping you stand upright. “Relax, doll. You’re okay.” Not the pet names. God, no, anything but those!
“You don’t understand,” you whisper, trying to wrangle yourself out of his hold. He feels too good, his broad chest pressed into your back. If this continues, you don’t know what will happen and that scares you. You’re supposed to be finishing this mission!
“What don’t I understand?” he murmurs. “Tell me.” But you can’t. You can’t focus on anything except his strong, gloved hands on your waist and his silky voice in your ear. Slowly, he turns you around to face him and you’re staring deep into his sapphire eyes glistening at you from beneath his mask.
“Your eyes are really pretty,” you hear yourself softly admit. His lips curl into a proud smile, all dimples and charm. “Thank you, baby. Yours ain’t too bad either.”
And then suddenly, you’re kissing. You don’t know if you lean in or if he does, but at some point, the tension that the aphrodisiacs caused reach a boiling point, steaming and overflowing. Satoru’s lips are just as soft as they were earlier in the basement, but this time, his kiss is slow and seductive, taking his time to taste you. It feels so, so fucking good.
“No,” you whimper against his lips, some of your common sense still lingering. “T-This is all wrong.” Even so, your hands feel up his chest, indulging in how big his pecs are beneath the spandex.
Before Satoru can protest or argue, the thud of footsteps behind you stops him short. Suguru’s hand caresses your hair, brushing it away from your neck. “Only thing that’s wrong here is me not bein’ included,” he rasps. You begin to tremble, sandwiched between their big, hard bodies, each of them towering over you. You’ve never been so intimidated in your life.
Satoru chuckles, soft and sexy, as his thumb strokes your cheek. Though he’s speaking to Suguru, his eyes stay planted firmly on you. “Join in if ya want. There's plenty of this bad girl to go around.” His fingers trail down to your chin, tilting your head up to stare up at him. “You deserve some punishment for pullin’ that little stunt on us, don’t you?”
Suguru hums in agreement, his fingers tangled in your hair. You can’t think, too distracted by the mingling scents of their cologne and your own arousal. “I-I don’t…” You dig your teeth into your bottom lip as Suguru toys with your dress zipper, making your skin tingle. “You don’t what?” the vigilante pushes, a teasing smile in his voice. “You don’t know? Oh, we think you know quite well, little lady.”
“Y/N,” you murmur. “My name is Y/N.” Not that you hate the petnames, but it’s also because you want to hear them utter your name. Satoru smiles, pleased. “Pretty name. Better than that London shit you were goin’ with.” He is teasing you and it’s working its magic on you, totally hooking you to your targets.
Their kisses don’t make shit any better for you. They each share you one after the other, snatching you away if one of them is taking too long with your lips. Satoru’s kiss is more possessive and sloppy while Suguru is slow and seductive. However, their lips are soft and their tongues are tantalizing, drawing soft moans out of you as they push against you, trapping you between them.
You can’t get enough of their tastes; their tongues sliding against yours. Their big hands are roaming your body. Suguru sucking on your bottom lip while Satory caresses your neck, soft sighs and moans traveling between you. It is electric. It is magic. It is perfection.
Your limbs feel loose like jelly. If it isn’t for the vigilantes holding you up, you’d definitely crumble to the floor. They have made you weak. Satoru chuckles as if sensing this, teasingly licking a stripe across your throat. “Poor baby. All she needed was a little attention.” He takes your hand and places it on his very hard, very throbbing dick. “And maybe a little dick too,” he pants.
“Definitely not little over here,” Suguru teases. Oh, you can feel it. He is just as big and just as stiff as Satoru, pushing into your backside. You are sweating at this point, your pussy throbbing impatiently at the feeling of their bulges packed tight in their suits. “Don’t know about you though, Satoru,” Suguru smirkingly says.
Satoru tsks, rolling his eyes. “Liar. You know all about the weapon I’m carryin’, don’t you, baby boy?” Suddenly, he’s reaching over to grip Suguru’s arm and yanking him in for a sloppy kiss. You stare, shocked and aroused, their soft moans drifting through the air as their lounges slip against each other.
You weren’t expecting some hot shit like this…but you ain’t complaining either. Your body responds immediately: hard nipples, flushed cheeks, and a very wet pussy that drips down your thighs. Satoru’s blue eyes tick over to you and he pulls away, smirking. “Oooo, baby girl’s gettin’ turned on from seein’ her guys kiss, hm?” he chuckles. “What’s the matter, honey? Can’t take it?”
Both vigilantes stare at you, their teasing making you shy. “N-No,” you stammer. Suguru raises a brow, not convinced. “Oh, no? Then prove it.”
Suddenly, you’re indulging in your first three-way kiss. All soft lips, tongues, and moans that travel straight to your core, making it warm and fuzzy. Your pussy drips slick down your inner thighs as Satoru grinds against your front while Suguru rubs his cock against you from the back, making you feel every inch of them. The taste of champagne coming off of their tongues is intoxicating, making you drunker than any alcohol could.
Satoru pulls away, pulling his fat, pink tongue away from you. “Bet these lips would feel real good around my cock,” he whispers. You shiver at the dirty statement, biting your bottom lip.
Suguru agrees with a hum. “Absolutely. How ‘bout it, mama? It’s okay to need a nice, fat dick in here, right?” His thumb swipes your bottom lip, making you tingle all throughout your body.
His smile fades as he watches you watch him, his gaze molten hot and lustful. You have no choice but to watch him unbuckle his pants with one hand and unzip the front of his suit, pulling his cock out. Your eyes widen at inch at his long, thick, pulsing shaft protruding from a nest of black curls. Especially at the glistening silver ball at his bulbous head.
Red Hood has a dick piercing.
“Suck that dick f’me,” he demands, his tone firm and serious. “It’s the least you can do for the trouble you caused.” You feel your eyes watering and your lips quivering. Everything in you is screaming at you not to comply…but there is one part nesting in the deepest, darkest depths of your being that is interested and curious. You’ve always wondered how Red Hood and Nightwing looked and tasted…and now, you’re about to find out.
But as you kneel on the bed before Suguru, facing his thick cock, you start to gulp. He smirks, cocky, dick bobbing in your face without him even using his hands. “Too big, mama? Don’t worry. You can try on this.” He then glides his gun out of his bat belt and holds it out to you, making your eyes widen and your heart pump. “Suck, slutty girl. Let’s see whatcha got.”
And to your utter surprise, you wrap your lips around the gun and suck. You stare into Suguru’s eyes as you blow the pistol in your face, its cold metal warmed by your soft, lush lips. Satoru watches, just as astonished and aroused as Suguru is, as your throat sinks lower down the barrel. “Mmm, no gag reflex? That’s my kinda girl.”
Suguru’s violet eyes grow dark with lust as you bob up and down the gun, hollowing your cheeks. “Mine too. Keep those eyes up here, mama. Let me see that pretty face.” He reels you in like a fish on a hook with those eyes, hooded and piercing, drinking in the way you suck off his gun. Your spit coats the cold metal, your lips quivering when you catch his finger on the trigger.
You can only hope that it’s unloaded, but to your surprise, you don’t feel fear; only a thrill. But you get a thrill like no other once Suguru has had enough of the foreplay and decides to finally feed you his big dick. “Time to show me what that mouth can do…other than talk back.”
You stare at the thick cock in front of you, the silver balls teasingly glinting at you. Swallowing your pride, you start by kissing and licking along Suguru’s shaft, introducing yourself to his dick. He softly groans and hums in enjoyment at your ministrations, pushing his hips forward.
He does so in a way that makes his cock slip between your lips and in your mouth without your permission. You gasp as his thick cock passes the threshold of your mouth, the taste of him all over your tongue. “Mmm, that’s a good girl,” he moans, using one hand to grab the back of your head.
His deep thrusts cause your hair to loosen from its updo, your curls falling down. Quickly, they are swept up by a fist, held up out of your face so you can focus on swallowing the dick down your throat. “Allow me,” Satoru hums. “Can’t suck good dick if your hair is in the way.”
He then pushes you forward onto Suguru’s dick, making you take him deeper. You force yourself to open your throat and to breathe through your nostrils in an effort not to choke. “Shit,” Suguru groans, watching as your lush lips stretch around his dick, taking him to the hilt. “You’re so good at this, angel. You make me wanna fuckin’ cu–”
“My turn. You’re takin’ too fuckin’ long,” Satoru quips, tearing you off of Suguru’s cock. The long-haired vigilante glares daggers at the Nightwing as he takes his place, smirking down at you. “Be prepared for some greatness, sweetie.”
Zzzzip. Satoru smirks as he unzips his pants and slides his dick right out for you to behold. He is just as thick as Suguru but lightly curved, leaning with a hook. He is all smooth skin and muscle, not a stitch of hair coating his pelvis except for his thighs. “Like whatcha see, naughty girl? That sneak attack made me so hard f’you.”
He bites his lip as he wraps a hand around his cock, stroking it oh-so slowly in your face. The little beads of pre-cum at the head drizzle down his shaft like the droplets of an ice cream cone.
He hisses as his thumb strokes the sensitive underside of his head, his bottom lip quivering. “A-Ah–catch it, babes. Don’t let me go to waste now.”
You don’t know what possesses you to stick your tongue out to lick up the salty droplets. Maybe the drug or how hot he looks so desperate for you. Either way, you lick up his pre-cum and then suck on his cock like you mean it, hollowing your cheeks to take him easier. Suguru watches close by in both envy and arousal, stroking his fat dick as his eyes flick between you on your knees and Satoru fucking your throat.
Satoru lets out a loud, throaty groan, one hand tangled in your hair. “That’s it, cutie pie,” he groans. “Take that fuckin’ cock. Y’know, you’re almost better at this than ya are fightin’.” He pushes in deeper, making you gag and nearly triggering that button in the back of your throat, making you gag. Satoru loudly groans at the feeling of your throat flexing around him. “You should think about changin’ occupations…bein’ a little cocksucker is way more fittin’ for ya, pardon the vulgarity.”
He begins to fuck your face now, slowly at first, but he is still brutal and rough. You have to force yourself to keep breathing to avoid throwing up all over his dick. “You could be my little cock slut,” he growls. “My baby. You’d like that, wouldn’t ya?”
Yes.
You gurgle and gag in response, your throat forced to flex around his cock interrupting its natural state. You feel as if your throat and mouth are being molded into his personal fleshlight with the way he fucks your face, grunting and groaning like a desperate man. His balls slap against your chin, filling your nose with the scent of his cologne and his dick, making for an extra arousing aroma.
“Time’s up,” Suguru says, his voice rasped with need. “You’re either sharin’ or you’re not, Satoru. Don’t be greedy.” He practically shoves the Nightwing out of the way, making Satoru roll his eyes. “Well, sorry,” he snorts. “I didn’t realize you were feenin’ for her mouth, Red Hood. Just look at all that pre-cum!”
Sure enough, Suguru is dripping pre down his fist, oozing down to his heavy balls. Satoru smirks as the Red Hood taps his cock against your plush lips, softly moaning. “You gonna drink it all up for him, baby?” he coos. “Be a good girl and lick it aaaalll up for us.”
You do so, licking up Suguru’s pre-cum before he pushes in and uses your mouth again. And then passes you off to Satoru. They allow you to stroke both of their dicks in time with your sucking, alternating between each one in your face, throbbing hard. Their groans and whimpers egg you on, making you ignore the ache in your jaw and how your mascara drips just to hear more of their pleasure.
You’ve never been used in such a way. You are being resorted to nothing but a toy. A hole for the vigilantes’ own use. Saliva drips from your chin and down onto your tits, making you slick and pussy like another part of you between your thighs. The more they fuck, the more your cunt throbs and pulses in anticipation for it to be fucked the same way.
What is wrong with you? You can only ask yourself this question with every passing moment that your mouth is used like a fleshlight, blowing each dick like it’s your job. Soon, the vigilantes have had their fill though they haven’t cum yet. “Not bad, cutie,” Satoru pants, cheeks flushed. “Now we gotta give our girl a reward, don’t we, Sugu?”
“Mmm-hmm,” Suguru hums, stroking loose hairs out of your face. “Need to make sure you’re ready for us later.”
Excitedly, your eyes tick down to their throbbing dicks again, your pussy throbbing impatiently for either one…or both. Then you catch the glint of Satoru’s handcuffs dangling from his belt. He smirks, taking them out for you. “Oh, you want these?” he teases, dangling the cuffs in your face. “Can’t say I ain’t been wantin’ to cuff your ass all night. I think it’s fittin’ for a naughty girl like you.”
He crooks his finger at you, causing you to stand on wobbly legs. You softly gasp when he suddenly forces you to turn around, facing the bed post. “Hands behind your back, pretty. Let’s hike up this dress too.” You swallow as you obey his sultry command, allowing Satoru to carefully cuff your hands behind your back.
Meanwhile, Suguru kneels down to hike up your dress over your hips. As he does, their groans of arousal at the sight of your plump ass in your lace panties make you gush in your panties. Before you know it, you’re getting bent over the edge of the bed, presenting your ass to the both of them. “Good, baby?” Satoru murmurs, thoughtfully stroking your ass. You nod, unable to speak.
SMACK!
You gasp as his palm connects with your ass, hard, making tears spring into your eyes. “What was that?” Satoru asks. The fiery sting makes you flinch, but your pussy has never been wetter. You’re feening at this point, needing dick like you need water to drink. You look over your shoulder at Satoru, drowning in his molten hot gaze. “Yes, I’m okay, sir,” you whisper.
Satoru and Suguru share a praiseful smile, cooing at your obedience. “So polite! Why weren’t you this sweet earlier, hm?” Satoru hums, pressing a kiss to your ass. But then Suguru tugs on your wrists, making you grunt. “Such a little brat,” he growls. “Lucky for you, mama, I love me some bratty girls.”
Satoru hums in agreement, pressing a kiss to your panties, making you whimper. “Me too…so just what should we do to a bratty pussy like yours?” His bottom lip drags over your ass, his fat tongue licking down, down to your inner thighs. Suguru kneels with him, teasing you with his soft lips and cool tongue piercing, bathing your skin in his spit.
Your body feels unbalanced and your legs are wobbly. To some degree, you’re thankful for the bedside to hold you up as you feel Suguru’s big hands glide down your ass and thighs. Then, suddenly, you feel his breath caressing your asscheeks and something cool on your skin.
You realize what it is when you feel your wet panties slice off of your body. A knife. “Don’t fret, mama. This is just to get these panties off…but if you want, I can use it on the dress too.” He presses the cool metal of the knife into your thigh, making you feel the jagged edges.
“You can be a good girl for us, can’t you?” he whispers, a wicked smile in his voice. He doesn’t give you the chance to answer before lightly licking you against your slit. You gasp, your wrists straining against the cuffs. His big hands glide up to force your hips back, causing your ass to jut into his face. “F-Fuck!” you stammer, gasping as sparks of pleasure explode through your core. You can’t even grip anything because of your cuffed wrists, so you resort to curling your toes in your heels.
“Don’t leave me outta this,” Satoru purrs. “I want a lick too.” You feel him give your ass a wet, open-mouthed kiss, making you moan as Suguru slides his fat tongue up to tease your clit. “You can handle both of us, can’t you, babydoll? A tough girl like you?”
Neither of them give you a chance to answer. Instead, your pitiful moans and slutty whimpers answer for them, filling the small room along with the soft, wet sloshing of their tongues caressing your dripping pussy. They hum enjoyment, licking and sucking away at your pussy that seems to grow wetter with every ministration of their tongues.
“O-Oh, shit,” you whimper. “Mmm, fuck!” You try to hold back your moans, but you can’t. Plus, the knife against your thigh doesn’t allow you. One wrong move or something that Suguru doesn’t like, and that knife could be cutting your skin…and that turns you on like you’ve never been in your life.
So let them do as they please. But you don’t really have a choice either. All you can do is shake and shudder as Sugruu sucks on your ass and Satoru swirls his tongue around your clit before he dips the muscle inside of you, moaning at your taste. Your mouth falls open on a loud moan, his soft lips cushioning your clit.
Satoru lightly pulls on your pussy lips, earning a whimper from you. “Isn’t this so much better than fightin’ us, baby?” he asks before French kissing your cunt once again. He kisses you sloppily and messily, his tongue licking and sliding this way and that.
At some point, you hear him and Suguru making out with your pussy between them, their soft moans and hot pants fanning across each sensitive part of your pussy, making you a panting, overstimulated mess. You push your ass into their faces, riding their tongues, desperation blooming in your core along with the familiar warm, budding sensation of an oncoming orgasm.
“Please!” you whine. “A-Ah…oh, fuck, please!”
Satoru smiles, still licking and sucking your pussy with all of the vigor of a hungered man. “I like you beggin’,” he replies. “Do it again for us, nice and pretty.” You have no choice when he continues on slurping on your cunt and fucking your hole, his nose swiping against your clit.
“Please, please, please!” you sob. “Please let me cum!” Your begging must satisfy the vigilantes because their tongues move a little faster, their pace causing your body to quake against the restrictions of the cuffs. Their hot, wet mouths cause your orgasm to wash over you quickly yet powerfully, controlling every part of your body. You let out a whine of pleasure as your cum explodes in their mouths, drenching their lips in your juices.
While you’re still cumming, Suguru, ever the sadist, presses his thumb against your clit as his knife skates up to press against your pussy lips, the cold metal making you whine. “Cum more for us, baby,” he coos. “You can do it.” Then Satoru is shoving his tongue up inside of you, making you damn near scream. Fuck!” you explode as your orgasm peaks, making your eyes roll back and your legs shake.
You don’t even realize that you’re squirting until you hear the vigilantes exclaim in surprise, catching every drop in their mouths. “Oh, shit, she’s a squirter!” he says with glee. “That’s too fuckin’ sexy.”
Your eyes roll back as your hips buck and your pussy quivers, more and more of your honey exploding onto the vigilantes’ tongues until you are absolutely spent. Even when you slump against the bed, exhausted, Suguru stands behind you, dick up and ready to blow. Pla-pla-plap goes his cock slapping against your sensitive clit, making you hiss.
“We ain’t done yet so you’d better get it together,” he softly demands, his big hands gripping your ass. Instantly, your stomach grows fluttery with butterflies and your core grows warm. You know exactly what is coming next. You can’t stop. You can’t avoid it. And more frighteningly, you’re not even sure if you don’t want it.
Especially when Suguru finally slides that big, thick, long cock inside of you. Slick and open from your orgasm, he makes his home between your velvety walls, making you feel fuller than you’ve ever felt in your life. He groans into your ear while your mouth falls agape on a silent moan. “God, you’re tight!” he hisses, already bumping his hips back and forth against your ass. Slow and deep.
You think you’re already feeling pleasure until Satoru gets involved, still kneeling behind you. He hooks one of your legs up and Suguru takes control, keeping your leg hiked up as the Nightwing tilts his chin up to face your pussy getting stretched out on some dick. “C’mere, you two,” he pants. “I wanna hear you both scream.” Then his fat tongue is caressing your clit and Suguru’s balls as the vigilante pounds you from behind.
You are a moaning, whining mess, damn near drooling in pleasure. Suguru digs his nails into the fleshy part where your ass meets your hip, his fingers indulging in your body. “Fuck, baby!” he grunts into your ear, panting hotly. Even he can’t get a grip on himself. Your pussy feels too good wrapped around him, stroking him of all he’s worth.
“Take it,” he demands. “Take that fuckin’ dick. You know you need it.” His other hand grips your neck, keeping a strong grip on your throat as he fucks into your wet heat. “So let me give it to you,” he huffs. “Lemme give you everything that pussy needs!”
His hips hammer harder and faster into your ass, making it quiver and recoil. Your moans are loud and high-pitched, unable to be silenced due to his pistoning thrusts. He fucks you like a machine, pumping in and out, out and in, his cock pulsing inside of you. “F-Fuck!” you stammer. “Wait, S-Sugu! You’re going t-too fast!”
Your pussy feels like it’s going into overload, being stuffed too much and too quickly. Satoru’s tongue doesn’t make things any better; he is a master with his tongue, giving you sloppy licks and sucks as his partner fills you up again and again. Tears spring into your eyes as Suguru grips your throat tighter, cutting off your air for just a moment. “Oh, but you can take it, can’t you, tough girl?” he chuckles. “You’re bein’ so good already.”
Short moans and gasps leave your lips as he continues to squeeze, still fucking you dumb. Your knees buckle and your head feels fuzzy from the overstimulation and the grip on your throat. The pleasure somehow mounts to astronomical heights, leaving you a dumb, mindless mess.
You’re about to cum. Your target is going to make you burst all over his big, fat cock as if you’re his lover and he’s deserving of all of it. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum!” you warn. “Please, please let me cum, sir! I can’t take it!” You grip the cuffs for dear life as he fucks and fucks and fucks you. Your knuckles go pale, an indication of the pleasure you’re experiencing.
Satoru chuckles, enjoying your torture, staring up at your bouncing tits above him. “Aww, but the fun just started, baby,” he condescendingly coos. “You gonna cum already? Is that vigilante dick just too good?” You whimper in response, your eyes fluttering closed.
SMACK!
Satoru slaps your clit hard, making it sting. “I don’t hear an answer,” he growls. You sob, tears threatening to drip down your cheeks. “Yes! Yes, it feels so fucking good!” you babble. You can feel yourself careening closer to orgasm, your head going blank as you get closer to the edge…
And then Suguru slows his pace, putting an end to your euphoria. “Then we’ll need to make it feel extra good,” Satoru cackles, his blue eyes glittering with wickedness. “I wanna fuck her too, Suguru. Don’t be greedy now.” He stands up, his hand on his fat, hard dick pulsing for you.
Suguru looks between you and Satoru, raising an eyebrow. “So you wanna steal her other pretty hole? Is that it?” You blink, the gears in your brain turning, processing what your “other pretty hole” means. They can’t possibly mean–
“W-Wait, wait,” you protest as Suguru maneuvers your body, turning you around so he’s holding you up. You squeak, staring at a wall of broad chest and tattoos inking his pecs. “I-I’m not–”
“Ready?” Satoru finishes, smirking as he gets behind you, one leg hiked up to expose your dripping pussy to the both of them. “Don’t worry, babycakes! We’ve got you. That’s what these fat tongues are here for.”
Again, you’re bent over the bed and the vigilantes’ are sharing your hole again. Only this time it’s your asshole. They spit and slobber into your puckered hole, your asscheeks pried apart in their gloved hands. All you can do is moan and whine as they lick and suckle on your asshole, even using their fingers to gently fuck you there until you’re good and open.
“Oooo, look at that gape!” Satoru cackles, grinning at the way you’re so stretched and open now for some dick. “You’re nice and ready for me now, cutie pie. You’re gonna look so beautiful stuffed with our dicks.”
You whimper, your body burning with need and arousal. You’ve never been this horny in your life. You suspect that Batman will come at any minute to toss you in a mental facility because of how diabolically, deviously horny you are for his protégé. “Let’s get these cuffs off of you,” Suguru murmurs, taking Satoru’s key to unshackle you.
Once you’re uncuffed, you’re sandwiched between the vigilantes again, a prisoner in two walls of muscle. You are facing Suguru again, your arms around his neck, moaning as he gives you a slow, sloppy kiss, while Satoru is behind you.
He rubs his cock against your asshole, making you whimper at the feeling of something so hot and hard trying to enter you there. “Don’t you wanna be a big girl for us?” he coos. “Don’t you wanna prove how tough you are?” You feel his tip lightly brush your entrance and flinch, nails digging into Suguru’s chest. “T-Toru,” you stammer. “Please…”
Satoru shushes you, peppering your neck in minty, champagne-spiked kisses. “S’okay, doll, we’ve gotchu. Nice and slow now…” He nods at Suguru and together, they hold you up by your leg and sink deeeeep inside of your holes.
You gasp, your eyes widening as you see twinkling stars. There is a slight burn as Satoru shoves himself in your asshole, but it is numbed by Suguru in your pussy, pleasure and pain mixing into one. After some slow, gentle strokes, they go harder, deeper, faster. Skin against skin. Moans in your ear.
You feel stretched. You feel full. You feel used. And you feel absolutely, positively amazing.
“Ah, fuck, baby, yes!” Satoru moans into your ear, pawing at your tits and ass like you’ll vanish if he doesn’t. “God, you–ngh, feel so fuckin’ good!”
Suguru locks a hand around your throat and presses his lips to your ear, his lip ring cool against the shell. “A pussy like this would make me ditch the cape. Make me rob a fuckin’ bank for you.”
He loosens his hold on your neck, allowing you time to breathe. But you can’t breathe. You can’t even speak. Your mind is full of cock, unable to focus on anything but Satoru’s big thighs slapping against yours and Suguru’s handsome, flushed face, their dicks pummeling into you. Their thrusts grow quick and brutal, turning your pussy and asshole into mush, making your clit sing and your brain fall right out of your noggin. You are gone. And so are the vigilantes.
“Ngh–Goddamn, you feel so good,” Satoru groans, gripping your ass so hard that he’ll leave fingerprints. “How are you this fuckin’ tight?” His hand comes around to toy with your lips, his long fingers prying them apart so you can suck on his digits.
“You’ve got me so c-close,” Suguru grunts in your ear, stammering out his words. “N-Need…oh, fuck, I need to go harder.” Harsh pants and heavy breaths leave his lush lips as he fucks you faster, his balls slapping against your clit. “You want that too, mama? Do you want us to make you cum again?”
You bounce on their cocks between them, leaving crescent marks in Suguru’s shoulders as you dig your nails into his skin. “Ah, yes, yes, please! Make me cum again!” The two vigilantes slow their thrusts for a moment to share a look, silently telling each other the same thing: let’s slut this girl out.
Suddenly, you’re posted on your back with Satoru underneath you and Suguru on top, forcing you into semi-mating press with Suguru holding your legs open for his partner. Your moans and whines of pleasure bounce off of the walls as Suguru taps his dick against your pussy, ready to give you deep-dicking like you never had. “Ready, baby?” he whispers against your lips. “Beg for it.”
“Suguru–”
SMACK!
This time, both vigilantes spank you, on your pussy and your ass, the double assault making you yelp. “Beg,” Satoru growls in your ear, gripping your throat. His cock is nestled deep in your ass, not moving, just there, driving you to the brink of insanity. You can’t think. You can only feel.
“Please fuck me,” you whimper out. “Make me cum again, sirs. Please.”
And so they do. They fuck you until you’re seeing stars and forgetting all about your stupid mission. They fuck you with all the mercy of sinners, drilling your holes. They fuck you into the rickety little bed until it rocks and squeaks, fuck whoever hears. Satoru fucks up into your ass while Suguru rams your pussy, the push and pull of their thrusts pulling your soul right out of you.
It doesn’t take long for that knot in your core to snap. “Oh, fuck!” you whine, damn near screaming for all to hear as you cum hard around Suguru’s cock. You don’t have time to warn them–it just happens, exploding out of you. Suguru moans as you tighten around him, drawing his cum right out of him. “Cum for me,” he groans. “Shit–c’cmon, baby, cum! Give it to me!”
Your orgasm hits you hard and intensely, sending you on a trip as you thrash in the vigilantes’ hands. Your pussy and ass grip their dicks tighter than a vice as you cream onto Suguru’s cock, coating them both from cockhead to balls in your juices. They share a slutty moan in pleasure by how tight you’ve grown, gripping and stroking them until they have no choice but to cum.
Satoru’s thrusts grow sloppy as your asshole massages the spunk out of his dick, making him whine in pleasure. “Gonna cum!” he whines. “F-Fuck, I’mma cum for you, baby!”
“Me too,” Suguru groans, eyes squeezed tight from how tight you are. How velvety and wet you feel. “Take it all…all of it! It’s all for you.”
You gasp as you feel two hot loads of cum shoot deep into your holes, making you gasp. The moans of release that escape the men are fit for a porno, their thrusts growing sloppier and erratic as they chase their orgasms inside of you. But that isn’t enough for them. Slowly, still hard as rocks, they pull out and have you on your knees so they can pump the rest onto you.
Their moans, gasps, and grunts fill the room as warm spunk hits your face, dripping down your cheeks, lips, neck, and juicy tits, making your skin sobbing wet and sticky with him. Your breath comes out in short puffs of air as you recover from the vigorous fucking, completely spent. You kneel there, body aching, pussy and ass sore from being stretched.
You feel perfect. Even when the effects of the bomb begin to wear off, you still feel that addictive satisfaction that comes after some good sex. Even when the vigilantes recover and that awkwardness grows in the room, you feel no regrets. You can’t help but wonder what it means.
After a while, still in the bed with each other, Satoru is the first one to speak. “Well, uh…that was unexpected.” He clears his throat, cheeks flushed pink. Even Suguru looks shy now, his muscles glinting in sweat. You don’t say anything, too afraid to do so. You aren’t too sure what to say anyhow. You desperately want to say something to cure this horrible silence, but Satoru beats you to it. “So…what do we do now?”
Suguru, tying his hair up in a long, sexy ponytail, looks around for a solution. “Guess find a way to get out of here without alertin’ the cops. What do you think?” He looks at you now, expectantly.
You feel hot with their eyes on you now, a lump growing in your throat. “U-Uh…well, sure. But it might be awhile before the side effects of the bomb wear off.” The words are out before you can stop them. What exactly are you implying? That you want them to stay? That you want more?
You open your mouth to try and take it back, but Suguru is already agreeing: “She’s right. We’ll definitely need to recuperate.” You gape at him, surprised, and see the little wink he shoots you. Satoru yawns, stretching his muscular arms high over his head. “Sounds like a plan. I think that bomb had a sleep potion too!”
You feel those damn butterflies return, realizing that tonight isn’t over. “But there’s only one bed though,” you state, looking at the small, rickety bed you’re sitting on. The vigilantes just smirk at each other and then at you, making you burn.
“Then I guess we’ll have to share,” Suguru coos, raising an expectant eyebrow at you. That won’t be a problem though, will it?”
You don’t dare tell him that it isn’t. You just let them sandwich you between them in the bed, limbs tangled and the afterglow engulfing you the same way your vigilantes do. You can’t hide the satisfied smile that grows on your lips as silence descends upon you again…but this time, it’s nothing but bliss.
“We should be safe to depart here,” Suguru murmurs, coaxing you to walk up the small staircase to the rooftop first.
You do so, your high heels clicking across the gravel as you sneak into the night air. The vigilantes follow right after, now in their super suits and masks. After some recovery and after-sex cuddling, Suguru passed you a towel to sob up the cum from your skin and Satoru found your clothes.
After slipping your dress back on like nothing happened, you snuck out of the room with the vigilantes through a loose floorboard that dropped you into the basement. From there, you went out the back of the museum and up the fire escape to the rooftop, figuring that escaping by air would be better than risking being seen by a cop.
The side effects of the bomb have since worn off, but the feelings of lust are still there. After such amazing sex with the two heroes, it is impossible to not crave more. You stand before them now in the night air, the starry sky the perfect backdrop for them. Satoru clears his throat, sheepishly rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, uh…this was fun. Pretty interestin’ night, I’d say.”
“Yeah,” you awkwardly say, your heart pummeling in your chest. You stare at both of them, trying to get a sense of where their heads are at from their eyes. “So you guys gonna go back to the batcave to discuss this or–”
Beep, beep, beep!
“Night Owl? Come in, Night Owl. What's happening over there?!” The panicked voice of your boss comes from in your clutch. You gasp, unzipping it and fishing out your earpiece. You had it this entire time?!
The vigilantes look just as shook as you feel when you clear your throat, already sensing the inevitable. “Night Owl is present, boss,” you say as firmly as you can into your ear piece. “I’m alive. Um…just out of curiosity, how much of that did you hear?”
You desperately hope that your boss is clueless as to what you’re talking about, but you know you won’t be that lucky. Judging by his awkward pause, you guess he heard everything. “Uh…just enough. Did you find the targets?”
You try to think of something professional to say while also letting the vigilantes off the hook, but Satoru speaks for you. “Oh, she did!” he chirps with a grin. “And now she’s about to make us talk with some extra torture device. Thanks for checkin’ in!”
Quickly, you end the call and toss the ear piece back into your clutch. “I’m so totally fired,” you sigh. Satoru shrugs, placing a hand on your shoulder, making your skin tingle. “You could always come work with us. Wouldn’t mind havin’ you around for some Gotham bullshit.” His smirk is sexy yet genuine. Not a hint of humor in it. He’s serious.
You cock your head at him, sizing him up with your eyes. You did your best to fix the makeup that the cum wiped off, including your pretty eyeshadow and mascara. “I thought you work alone,” you tease with a hand on your hip. “Especially you, Red Hood.”
You nod at the tall, long-haired vigilante who has been checking you out for all the minutes you were chatting with Satoru. “I do…but you’ve got some potential.” He crosses his arms over his broad chest, eyeing you up and down. “You’d definitely need to be trained to be my trusted sidekick though.”
Your body zings at the flirty banter between you, so natural and easy as if you’d been doing it for years. “I’m nobody’s sidekick,” you scoff, eyeing the superheroes down. “But I’ll give it some thought.” Satoru rolls his eyes like you’re playing so hard to get while Suguru chuckles. “Fine. In the meantime, you keep your hands to yourself.”
The Nightwing puts his hand out for a shake. After some time sizing up his intentions, you take it, shaking his head, only to gasp when he pulls you into his body. His lips are suddenly at your ear, his voice low and hushed. “Unless you want another personal visit,” he purrs in your ear.
Lucky for you, you know how to play the game of seduction. Plus, the idea of toying with the sexy vigilantes of Gotham, making them lose their cool, doesn’t seem too unexciting. “Hm. I may just take you up on that,” you hum into Satoru’s ear, gently kissing his cheek and leaving a ring of gloss there.
You do the same to Suguru, standing up on your tip toes to give him a kiss. You feel his body stiffen as you leave a sticky print there, marking him up. Then you take a step back, smiling coyly. “Thanks for the fun tonight, boys,” you purr to them. “And for the souvenirs.”
Their dreamy expressions turn to confusion, brows scowled. Your smile widens as you flash them the diamond in your clutch before quickly getting out your rope gun and hitting the button.
Before either of them can yank you back, you’re soaring through the air across the rooftop and landing perfectly in your heels on the rooftop across from the museum. You turn back to them staring at you in awe, but they are smiling. “You little sneak!” Satoru yells across the night at you. “We’ll get you back for that, Night Owl!”
You blow each of them a kiss, winking. “Lookin’ forward to it!” you giggle. “Farewell, batbrains!”
And then you strut off into the night, feeling like a new woman.
Pairing: Surfer!Geto x Lifeguard!Reader (Enemies to Lovers)
Synopsis: You were expecting to come back to your shoreside town for a vacation after freshmen year of uni...not spending boring, hot summer days working as a lifeguard. You think things can't get any worse until Geto Suguru, your childhood nemesis and the cocky, hot surfer shows up again after giving you your first kiss and breaking your heart when he moved away. Will you be able to focus on the future at hand? Or will the past and simmering sexual chemistry with the surfer finally bubble to the surface?
Warnings: 18+ (MDNI); No Curse/Modern au; Older!Geto (Early 20s) x Younger!Reader (18-19 Yrs Old); Secret Childhood Crush; Past Heartbreak; Summer Romance Trope; Some Angst; Love Confession; Beach Sëx/Public Sëx; Experienced!Geto x Inexperienced!Reader; Oral (Giving & Receiving); 69ing; Spanking; Pussy-Drunk!Geto; No PIV; Outercourse/Cock Grinding; Clit Rubbing; Dom!Geto x sub!Reader; Mutual O; Reader Cums 3x; Cum on Ass; Aftercare
Word Count: 11.5k
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters mentioned in this fic. However, as this is my writing, I do not give permission for my work to be reposted on any other sites that are not from my own accounts. Thank you!
Writer's Note: Celebrating the 4th of July with a hot little Geto fic for y'all. I wrote this last year & decided to revise it cuz i loved it so so much. I need to write more surfer!JJK fics before the summer ends fr. I hope y'all enjoy this! <3 -love, Jazz
Credits: Dividers by @angeliicide!
You sigh as you sit in the high chair overlooking the beach and the ocean sparkling from the hot summer sun high in the sky.
It is a beautiful summer day, not a cloud in the blue canvas expanding beyond you.
You should be chilling on this beautiful beach or by the pool in your childhood home in a bikini, sunglasses on your face with a big glass full of something strong. Or even attempting to surf a wave like you used to before you quit surfing for good.
Not here in a lifeguard uniform with enough sunscreen on your body to coat an elephant, bored out of your mind and on the verge of insanity. You've been doing this for only two weeks now and you already want to quit.
You thought that coming back to your old seaside town after a year in the city attending university would allow you the relaxation and decompression you needed before heading back in the fall to start your new semester...and officially becoming an adult.
You didn't feel quite like an adult even after you graduated high school and went to college in a city far, far away from your little town by the shore. Precisely a train to the airport, a plane ride, and a taxi away. This school was at the top of your list when it came to biology, with their acclaimed (and expensive) science program and influx of internships.
Since you were a little girl watching 'The Little Mermaid' and obsessing over the aquatic mammals at the aquarium, you've wanted to be a marine biologist. You've always been attracted to water, fish, and the big, beautiful sea. You carry a sea turtle plushie around (even to took it to college!) and own about five different shark figurines.
Getting through your major was hard, especially in an unfamiliar place, but you and your parents knew that you had to spread your wings in order to succeed. Once you aced your exams and got a job after interning with an aquarium your freshmen year, it seemed like all the stress and rough days were worth it.
Going to school away from home was the best decision you ever made, you believe. You've met so many people, explored so many places in the city, and did all the things your small town wouldn't allow, yet you never forgot about where you came from.
So when the opportunity came to return home for the summer came, you took it...including this part-time job as a lifeguard. While it isn't ideal, the money is going towards student loans, books, and tuition. Plus the uniforms are cute: a red bathing suit reading 'Lifeguard' in white letters on the front, a whistle, and a hat.
After being back in town for two weeks and being gone for a year, it seems like barely anything has changed. The only thing that has are the people. Shoko, your longtime friend and one of the lifeguards, has grown out her chestnut brown hair and cut down on smoking. Two more trainees, Yuji Itadori and Todo Aoi, have been hired to join the crew.
There seems to be more kids and tourists surrounding the beach and boardwalk now, taking advantage of the sun and trinket shops. Your parents have gotten older, but still fuss over you and their beach house. The scent in the air is still the same breezy, sea-scented air you've always loved.
But there is one person you haven't seen yet that you wonder will ever come back...and then you stop yourself. Why are you thinking about him?
'He left before you finished high school,' you think to yourself, scoldingly. 'He isn't thinking about you, so why are you thinking about him? He's the reason you quit surfing!'
Not just competitive surfing, but surfing period. Because every time you got on that board and tasted the saltwater, you were reminded of him. He sucked the freedom and joy out of it, not to mention made you feel incompatible with his skills. It became a competition with you two: who can surf the longest? Who can ride the biggest wave?
Until he kissed you and left without ever saying goodbye or keeping in touch. After that, you quit for good.
So you go back to your job of overlooking the beach, occasionally blowing on your whistle, and checking out the hot guys that the beach has to offer. Your hometown always had its studs, practically serving one up to you now: he is a tall, long-haired drink of water, his body practically built from granite stone.
He has his back turned to you as he stands near the water, wiping down his board, so you can't see his face, but you notice the tattoos roping his arms and his back dimples. You peer at him behind your shades, glad to have a discreet hiding place high on top of your tower.
You watch as the sexy stranger drags his board out into the water and slides onto it stomach-first, paddling into the sea. He passes by splashing kids and relaxing adults, swimming deeper and deeper into the water. You scowl in confusion at him as he passes the line, even as a big wave comes hurdling towards him. "What the hell is he doing?" you whisper to yourself.
You lift your whistle to blow, but stop when the man stands up, his arms out and feet planted firmly on the surfboard. He then begins surfing the wave, doing so as if he has done this many times before. The sun glints in his long, black locks and against his toned body as he twists against the wave. Chasing it. Dancing with it. It's quite impressive.
"Y/N!" someone calls. You snap out of your trance and look down to see Shoko in her uniform and sunglasses. "It's your break time. We can switch now."
You sigh in relief, happy to have some time alone and get something to eat. But as you are gathering your beach bag, you hear a sudden scream. "Help!" someone wails. "Please someone help him! He's drowning!"
"Surfer overboard!" another calls. "He's too far out! Can anybody swim?!"
You snap your head towards the commotion at the same time as Shoko, both of you in savior mode thanks to your training. A small group of people have surrounded the shoreline where they look out at the surfboard currently being swept up by the waves. But no surfer.
Quickly, you jump from the tower and land perfectly on the sand before dropping your bag and racing over to the crowd. "What happened?" you demand. They all looked relieved to see you.
"He swam out too far, got hit with a wave, and fell off his board," one kid rushes to explain, clutching an inflatable donut to his chest. "We tried to throw a floatie at him, but he's too far!"
You look out to where the surfer is currently, the water rippling being an indication of where he sunk. "Stay here," you order before ripping off your hat and gunning for the water. You blow your whistle three times-a sign that someone has drowned-and Shoko and the other lifeguards quickly get people away from the water.
You have only saved about two people in your life since the beginning of your lifeguard position. This is the third time, but like the other times, your training comes rushing back to you, making you act quick.
With your red 'Lifeguard' rescue tube strapped to your body, you dive into the water and begin to swim as fast as you can towards the surfer. You pop your head up every so often to breathe and make sure you're heading in the right direction, catching glimpses of the surfer's black hair.
Your limbs burn the more you push yourself in the undercurrent that pushes back, but you continue to move, knowing that if you don't, this poor person will die. Luckily, you finally make it to him and manage to snatch his arm in the water. "Gotcha!" you grunt, pulling him towards you.
You feel your heart jump at how deep the water is, the floor nowhere in sight, but you use your rescue tube for the both of you. You fling the surfer's arm over the tube while you do the same, the both of you now floating together with your other arm wrapped around his shoulders.
The man sputters, his wet, black hair covering his face. You pat his back to get the rest of the water out, trying not to pay attention to his sexy neck and shoulder tattoos. "It's okay, sir," you pant. "Just breathe; I've got you." You push the man's hair back so he can breathe better. "Nothing is going to..."
Your words die in your throat when you catch a glimpse of his very handsome, very familiar face. A face that you know all too well despite having not seen him three years. "Geto?!" you exclaim.
Your old nemesis opens his eyes, his violet irises slightly unfocused. "Y/N?" he mumbles. "You..." His eyes flutter closed and his head lulls back before he can finish his sentence.
Pushing away your shock at seeing him back in town, you quickly toss his other arm over your shoulder and begin to butterfly kick your way back to the shore, grunting from the dead weight of Geto. Fortunately, a white rope appears in front of you as a lifeline. "Ms. Y/N!" Todo calls from the shore. "Grab on! We'll pull you two back to safety!"
As you wrap a hand around the rope and let yourself be pulled to the shore, you turn to stare at Geto. The sunlight glints against his skin and long lashes fanning his eyes. He looks the same but different; there are a few slight changes in his features.
When you finally get him to shore and allow the lifeguards to help you lay him down on the sand, you see the changes more prominently. Back then, he had less tattoos and was quite lankier yet still clean. His hair was shoulder-length and he often wore it in buns.
His hair is now down to his back and he has way more tattoos: a sleeve inks his left arm while his thick neck and right ribcage are inked. He is also buffer and bigger, lean muscles glinting with droplets of water in the golden sun rays.
You would be thirsting after him if he wasn't practically dead or on your shit list. What the hell is he doing back here?!
"Jesus, Geto," Shoko hisses, looking upon the surfer in worry. You almost forgot her and Geto have always been close. "He's not breathing," someone gasps. "Wasn't he in the national surfer's championships earlier this year?"
You are reminded of the past like a slap in the face: Geto had moved to Los Angeles to become a professional surfer. At the time, you were about to enter your sophomore year of high school while he just finished his senior year. The last time you saw him, he had thrown party to celebrate being drafted in the championships and his soft lips were on yours.
"Everybody back up, please!" Yuji yells, bringing you back to reality. "Make room! Let the guy breathe and the lifeguard do her job."
Now everyone's eyes are on you. 'Stop this,' you think to yourself. 'He almost drowned and you need to save him. He could die.'
Quickly, you kneel before Geto and stare down at his plump lips. You swallow hard, biting back a grunt of frustration. You lean down and pry his lips open, tilting his head back for easier access. "You'd better not be faking," you hiss before you press your open mouth to his.
You begin to exhale into his mouth, filling his air with lungs. The crowd waits with bated breath, watching you save the golden boy. Finally, Geto lurches beneath you and you quickly leap away to let him recover.
He sputters before lurching forward and coughing up the water in his throat, retching on the sand. When he finally stops, he lays back on the sand, taking deep breaths, and his violet eyes lull to the side to stare at you. "Y-Y/N?" he murmurs, recognition flickering in them. "So I wasn't hallucinating earlier. That was really you."
You would laugh if this situation wasn't so dire. "Yeah," you reply. "It's me." A slight smile appears on Geto's lips. "It's been so long," he softly says. "How are you doin'? You graduated, right?"
Quickly, you reassess the situation and allow Todo and Yuji to help him up. "Uh, let's talk after you get yourself checked out," you say. "Todo, please escort this man to get some first aid for his knee please."
The big, buffed boy nods, already leading Geto away by his shoulders as the crowd disperses. "You got it, Ms. Y/N!" But as they head towards the small lifeguard hut, Geto turns to look at you over his shoulder. You ignore the clench in your stomach from his eyes meeting yours.
"You knew that guy?" Yuji curiously asks, watching too.
"That was Geto, an old childhood friend of mine," Shoko explains, happy to speak for you. "He moved away from here three years ago to be a professional surfer. He came back just yesterday."
You gape at Shoko in shock. She knew and didn't tell you?! "Y/N hated him back in high school," she continues, not even looking at you.
"I didn't hate him," you protest, glaring at her. "I just never liked his cockiness. I doubt anything's changed."
"Excuse me, lifeguard," someone says behind you. "Did you happen to see a tall, dark-haired guy with an ugly face 'round here?"
You knew that suave, sexy voice anywhere and turn to see none other than Gojo Satoru, Gojo's surfing buddy, with his white-hair, striking blue eyes, and abs worth dying for. You've always liked Gojo, his goofiness and charm.
"You don't recognize me, 'Tarou?" you question, putting your hands on your hips. His blue eyes widen at the sight of you. "Y/N?" he gapes. "Fuck, girl, look at you! What, you not gonna give me a hug?"
He swoops you up in a big embrace that makes you giggle, your feet lifting off of the sand. "So how's school? What are you doin' back here in this small town?" he chuckles. "I thought you left for the big city last time I heard."
"School is school," you reply with a shrug. "Came back here for a break until the fall. Why are you here?"
"Championships are over for Geto, so he came here to teach some kids how to surf for some kinda program." He gives you a crooked smile as puts his sunglasses on his eyes. "I'm just here for the fun."
"Well, you'll find your friend at first aid," Shoko replies, jutting a thumb back at the station where Yuji retreated for the bathroom. "He almost died, so Y/N had to fish him out."
Gojo rolls his eyes, shaking his head. "He's such a show-off. Well, lemme go find him and beat his ass. You two stick around and we can link up later." He gives you both a wink before he runs off in the sand to find his friend.
That afternoon, you and Shoko get off from work. You change out of your sweat and water-soaked uniform and into some cut-offs and a bikini top before meeting Shoko out on the beach. She is smoking in her own cut-offs when you arrive, watching the families pack up their kids for the afternoon.
"Why didn't you tell me Geto was back in town?" you immediately ask her. She glances at you behind her designer shades, barely looking taken aback by your question. "Was I supposed to?" she shoots back.
You scowl at her, crossing your arms over your chest. "Well, you never came off like you liked him before," she says, shrugging, "so I figured it wasn't a big deal. He didn't know you were back either."
Shoko has been friends with you since HS, but was also friends with Geto and Gojo, tutoring them before the duo graduated. The fact that she is so friendly with the guy you despise still rubs you the wrong way...even when you know it's stupid.
You sigh, rubbing your hands over your shoulders. Goose pimples appear despite it still being warm. "I just don't want things to be awkward," you whisper.
Shoko cocks her head at you, confused. "Why would they be? You didn't fuck the guy, did you?" Her eyes widen, shock on her face. "Wait, did you?" she pushes, grabbing your arm. "I thought you only kissed!"
"Ugh, never mind," you huff, waving her away. "And no, I didn't. He and Gojo are sluts; they'll fuck anything with a skirt. At least Gojo is nicer than Geto is."
"What's this about Gojo bein' nicer than me?" a familiar voice asks.
Shit. You turn, finding Geto standing behind you with a towel wrapped around his broad shoulders and not looking so unconscious now. "I'm guessin' I wasn't supposed to hear that," he chuckles, smirking at you. "Glad to see you haven't changed much, Y/N."
You stare at him, speechless. Seeing him again is like a tsunami hitting you, especially when looks so damn GOOD.
Gojo comes skipping after Geto, tossing an arm around his friend's neck. "Well, we run into each other again." He grins at you. "You pretty ladies want some drinks? We're headin' to the bar and we're buyin'...well, I am. Told Sugu I'd treat since he almost died."
"I didn't almost die," Geto sighs, rolling his eyes and taking Gojo's arm off of him. Ever the self-assured prick.
"Yeah, 'cause of her," Gojo argues, pointing at you. "Good thing this lifeguard was on duty and knew CPR." Geto's violet eyes widen, his shock evident. "You did CPR on me?" he asks you.
You flush despite the fact that you were forced to since he nearly drowned. "It's part of my job," you deadpan. "You weren't breathing, so I had to."
"It's not like he hasn't tasted you before," Shoko sniggers, side-stepping your pinching fingers. "Sounds tempting, but we need to shower first. I smell like seawater. I like my drinks strong too."
Gojo sniggers, waltzing over to your friend. "Yeah, we know. Too bad your legs ain't as strong as your tonsils." He then snatches her shades off and books it across the sand while she chases him. "Hey, you prick!" she shouts. "Bring those back! They're Gucci!"
That leaves just you and Geto to walk alone side by side to follow the running pair. It is so awkward and tense that you'd have to cut through with a chainsaw. Words left unsaid for three years hang between you, suspended by a thin thread.
"Hey," he finally greets.
"Hey," you say back, lacking all kinds of enthusiasm. You stare at your white toes to avoid looking at him and his perfect body. He clears his throat, aware of the awkwardness. "Thanks...y'know...for helping me out earlier." You shrug it off. "Just doing my job."
"If this is awkward, I can leave you be," he says, stealing a glance at you. You pretend not to notice it. "Don't worry about it. It's awkward being back here anyway."
A slight chuckle leaves his lips. You ignore the butterflies it gives you. "I'm sure it is. You're a big city girl after all. Ivy League, right?" You bite back a chuckle. "Not Ivy League; just a marine biologist in the making."
"I take it school is goin' well for you then?" he continues. You don't understand why he's making so much conversation. "What are you doin' back here anyways? Last time I checked, this town was too small for your dreams."
You feel guilty for saying that now since you're happy to be home, but being a marine biologist (and before, a competitive surfer) wasn't going to happen in this little town. "Needed a change and I felt homesick, so I came back. I start my sophomore year in the fall with a new job at the aquarium."
Geto hums in acknowledgement. "I saw that on your IG. Congrats." You pause, letting him walk a little ways ahead before he realizes that you've stopped. "You...keep up with my IG?" you ask, squinting suspiciously. "Why?"
The surfer shrugs his broad shoulders, oblivious to the context. "Shoko is a mutual friend and I just happened to see you pop up. I never followed you or nothin', but I keep up with what you do." He looks deadass and genuine which makes it worse. Why is he checking up on you? You were never close friends and you never dated.
You push away the confusing thoughts and keep walking with him in tow. "So what are you doin' back here?" you ask. "I would've thought Cali was the place to be."
He catches the sarcasm in your tone and sniggers, moving to pull his hair into a long ponytail. The act is annoyingly hot. "It is," he chortles. "The beaches are way bigger there. The championships are over till next year, so I came back for the summer to teach kids how to surf. It's part of this program I put together to give back to the community."
"That's good for publicity, I'd guess," you dryly joke. The words are out before you can stop them. But luckily, Geto snorts, getting your humor. "Oh, like you wouldn't believe. Women love men with kids."
You roll your eyes at his cocky remark, but then again, you asked for it. Silence descends upon you again but less tense than last time. It is as if you have opened up a bottle that needed to be a long time ago.
"Listen," Geto suddenly says. He sounds almost...nervous? "If you're not too tired, I'm havin' a party at my Air BNB tonight. Somethin' to celebrate my win." He pauses to give you a crooked smile. "I won, by the way. The championships. Thanks for your congratulations."
And then the moment is over. You huff to yourself, already sick of him. "I don't watch sports," you mutter. "But congrats." He puts a hand on his heart, pretending to be touched.
"You and Shoko should come through if you want," he continues. "We'll have beer, games, music-"
"Geto, what are you doing?" you question, finally looking at him. Really looking at him and not daring to look away. "Why are you doing this? We haven't spoken in years."
'Not since the kiss.'
He stops walking and so do you, both of you staring at each other in the setting sun. You can see it in his eyes like golden sparkles glistening within pools of violet. "What's wrong with reconnecting?" he asks with a smile. "Besides, this will give us a chance to catch up. Have some fun before the fall, y'know?"
You don't know what is definition of 'fun' is, but you don't want to find out. He shrugs once more, backing off to give you space. "Just think about it. You've got sand on your butt, by the way."
He leaves you to stand alone and look at the sand coating your asscheeks popping out from under your cut-offs. You angrily wipe the grains away. "Asshole," you huff to yourself. He hasn't changed at all either.
You sit and stare at Geto's rented beach house aka his Air BNB, and it feels like you're about to enter the gates of Hell.
"Shoko, I-I don't know about this," you nervously say as you stare out at the gorgeous beach house from Shoko's car. "There's a lot of people we don't know in there."
You wondered why Geto decided to stay here when he could've stayed at his childhood home, but if he was planning to party, you guess this was smarter. The house is beautiful, sitting right on top of a sandy hill with a driveway, a pool, and a breathtaking view of the beach. Perfect for a morning surf and a nighttime skinny dip.
Shoko turns to you in her driver's seat, applying eyeliner to her eyes. "Who cares? We're here for the drinks and to have some fun. Plus, you look GOOD."
You're wearing your favorite frilly white sundress for the occasion paired with gold sandals and your waterproof mist on your face to freeze your makeup. Your hair is braided back to accentuate your face, much to your mom's liking. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do," she told you when Shoko pulled up to the door. "And tell Geto I said hi."
You only grunted as you grabbed your bag and left to meet your friend. The ride over here was like going up a rollercoaster, fear and apprehension twirling in your gut as you threw back a shot of vodka and puffed on the vape you forced Shoko to give you even though you don't smoke.
"This about Geto?" Shoko asks now, giving you a knowing look. "Don't lie to me. I can tell when you do."
You look away to stare at the party, biting your lip at the sight of partiers in the pool. "Did he say something to you?" she demands and slams on the wheel. "I knew he'd fuck up again! When I catch him-"
"No, no, it's me," you reassure her. "It's just weird, y'know? We haven't seen each other since he left for LA and now we're still at odds.” You want to ask Shoko what she meant by Geto "fucking up again". What did he do to fuck up the first time?
"Then this is the perfect chance to patch things up. You only live once, right?" Shoko gives you a reassuring wink before she coaxes you out of the car and into the balmy, sea salt-scented night. There is a clear, inky sky full of stars; a perfect night for an adventure.
The pool is full of inflatable animals, beach balls, and drunk people while the rest of the house is full loud music, red solo cups, flashing disco balls hanging from the ceiling, and even more drunk people. Including Gojo.
"Weeell, look at what we have here!" he announces. He saunters over in his backwards cap, his face flushed pink and eyes aglow as they rake over your body. Daaamn, Y/N! You look like you tryna do somethin' tonight...or someone?" He quirks a curious brow at you.
"Don't get your hopes up, Satoru," you laugh. "I'm not doin' anything with anyone. Just here to have fun." He nods in approval, taking your hand. “Then let's get you girls some shots and get you on the floor."
He leads you and Shoko over to a back table covered in bottles of booze, cups, and a bowl of spiked fruit punch. You take a cup of the punch and sip on it, the vodka warming your tummy with every sip you take. Soon, you are flush from the alcohol and feeling looser, laughing with people and swaying your hips in your dress to the music.
You're not thinking about Geto or saving his life or why he invited you here...until you are forced to. When your cup is empty and you turn to get more punch, you practically fall right into the surfer's muscular back. "Sorry!" you exclaim, horrified and feeling like a stupid drunk.
When Geto turns around and you realize that it's him, dread creeps in and the false confidence that the alcohol provided fades. He looks absolutely delicious in his shorts and Hawaiian-print shirt peeled open to reveal his abs, tattoos, and the silver chain dangling like a treat from his neck.
His violet eyes widen an inch, shocked at seeing you here. "You came," he states, giving you a smile. He actually looks happy to see you. "I didn't think you'd show up. You look good." His eyes rake over your dress, lingering a bit too long on your legs.
“A party's a party," you deadpan, fixing your face as if you ate something sour. "It was Shoko's idea to come." He doesn't look the least bit disappointed that it wasn't your decision. "Well, m'glad you did," he replies, sounding genuine. "Hopefully, you'll stick around this time."
A sudden flashback appears in your mind: Geto, age eighteen, looking down at you with those damn violet eyes as he stands on his childhood home's back porch. "I’ll be right back. Stick around for me." He turns to go inside, leaving you to touch your lips where his once were, claiming he wanted to teach you in case you did it in college and didn't know how.
You remember that after waiting fifteen minutes for him, you had gotten up and left the party, but texted him that you did. He never answered. The next day, you got the news that he left for California in the dead of night. He hadn't even said goodbye prior to you kissing.
"What does that mean?" you ask him now, squinting at his muscular back as he turns to pour himself more beer. Does he mean when you left his party? Does he mean when you ghosted him the same way he did you?
'What does he mean?!' your drunken mind screams, frustrated.
Before you can turn him around and force him to answer, Gojo comes to break it up. "Heeey, there's the winner!" he shouts, tossing himself at Geto. "We got beer pong started! You two stop bein' so antisocial and join in!"
But before he can wrap an arm around you and force you over to the beer pong table, you give him a wavering smile and side-step him. "I-I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you stammer before running off to get out of there as quickly as humanly possible.
You squeeze through the throng of partiers, getting your toes stepped on and accidentally bumping people before making it to the staircase. Quickly, you wedge yourself upstairs and walk past closed doors until you find out that is cracked.
In your drunken and panicked state, you push it open to see nothing but darkness. "Dammit," you huff, pressing your hand against the wall to find a light switch. Luckily, you find it...the bad news is that you're in a bedroom.
Geto's bedroom. You can tell from the surfboard sitting in the corner of the room and the framed photos of his life in Cali on his dresser and armoire. It is a beautiful room with a king-sized bed coated in a combat bedspread, a flat-screen, and a balcony overlooking the beach.
"Shit!" you hiss, stumbling backwards. "This isn't the bathroom!" You have to leave now before you're caught! But as you turn to rush out, you clumsily knock a photo off of Geto's dresser. "Shit!" you hiss again, panic seeping in your veins. You're so sure that you'll be caught.
Quickly, you kneel down to pick up the framed photo of a young Geto and his parents at a surfing competition, but something stops you short. There, on the floor, is a blue greeting card covered in fish that change colors in the light. With shaky hands, you open the card and find your handwriting: "Good luck in Cali - Y/N"
'He kept it,' you think to yourself, in shock. Your mom told you to buy it for Geto despite you not wanting to. You had handed it to him in a hurry, flushing with embarrassment, but he just smiled at the card before taking you outside to sit with him on the back porch.
Before he asked you about college. Before he mentioned dating. Before he lightly teased you about kissing before he realized that you've never kissed anyone. Before he showed you how, his lips soft and his tongue piercing gliding against your tongue.
Before he went back inside and left you sitting there, starstruck and then forced to confront your actions. Before he left for LA and never returned until now, bringing the past back with him.
"Hey." You squeak, dropping the card and finding Geto standing there in the doorway. Quickly, you pick up the items you dropped and stand. "I was just looking for the bathroom," you lamely explain. "I got lost."
He huffs out a laugh, his squinted eyes full of humor. "Don't sweat it. There's one in here you can use; just don't puke in my toilet." Quickly, you hand him the items and rush to the bathroom door near his bed, feeling calm only when you are finally alone.
You manage to pee and check yourself in the mirror, finding only slightly smudged mascara and a glow to your face from the spiked punch and your setting mist's hold breaking up, before exiting after washing your hands.
Geto turns from his dresser, his eyes concerned. "You good?" he asks. You primly nod, awkwardly fidgeting with the ruffles on your dress. "You kept the card I gave you," you murmur.
He looks confused, obviously tipsy too, before he looks at the fish-coated card. "'Course I did," he chuckles. "It's a cute card. You always loved your fish." He stares down at it rather adoringly, making you feel weird butterflies. "Y'know, it's funny, but I always knew you'd leave here too. You were always so smart...destined for bigger and better shit."
You hug yourself, squeezing away the flutters. "Yeah, well, I only started college. I could flunk at any time."
Geto shakes his head, looking serious now. It renders you breathless. "You won't. You never will, Y/N. That was never you." He pauses, shaking his head as he looks back at the card. "You were always so dedicated. So determined. So fuckin' hard-headed."
So much for the nice shit. "Thanks for the compliment," you murmur. "I've been told that by guys before." He chuckles to himself, the sound airy and sexy. "So you dated around at school?" he wonders aloud.
You scowl at him, weirded out and confused by his sudden interest in your dating life. "Of course, I did. I'm a nineteen-year old girl, Geto." You cock your head to the side, sizing him up. "Why're you askin' me that anyway?" Geto keeps giving you that strange look, one you can't decipher.
CRASH!
You both flinch at the sound of something breaking outside the door. "Shhhh!" someone shushes while giggling. Geto unclenches his fists at his sides, sighing defeatedly, before giving you a small smile. "Wanna go somewhere more private?" he asks.
You make out the hope in his tone, his eyes alight with something. Not lust, but it's still there, looming before you. You keep silent, unsure. Sensing your hesitation, he bluntly says, "I'm not tryin' to do anything, Y/N. I wouldn't do that. I just meant let's talk. We can go on the beach and take a walk if you down."
Still, you're silent, weighing your options. Standing near the cracked balcony doors, you feel the summer breeze cool from the sea, relaxing and serene. Geto's expression grows softer, his eyes and lips drawing you in. "It's your choice, sweetie."
Between the sea breeze and the music pounding against your skull, you are more inclined to agree...and not at all because of the random ass pet name he throws at you. "Fine then," you reply. "Let's talk."
You never knew how quiet the beach could be until you and Geto start walking side by side in complete silence on its shores.
It's a beautiful night; a night fit for a painting with its starry sky and soft waves crashing against the shore and mossy rocks. A fat, white moon hangs in the sky, suspended like a spotlight. The beach stretches on and on, your footprints from your bare feet in the sand leading all the way back to the AirBNB.
You and Geto have been walking for at least five minutes, but with the silence and the tension in the air, it feels like five days. As the ocean breeze blows, you shiver slightly, holding your sandals against your chest.
Geto notices. Of course, he would. "Cold?" he asks. You shake your head, pressing your lips tight together. They are slick with a fresh coating of Fenty Beauty lip bomb gloss. "I'm fine," you mutter.
Suddenly, he unrolls the blanket he's been holding under his arm, having carried it in case you wanted to sit. You shake your head, emitting a laugh from him. "Don't fight it, Y/N," he chuckles. "You've always been so stubborn."
You flush as he places his blanket over your shoulders; it smells of sea salt and citrus. You continue to walk with him, the tension brewing now. "You always treated me like a kid," you say way harsher than you intended. "Even when we were younger."
Geto hums to himself, acknowledging your statement. "Is that why you always hated me?" he suddenly asks. You glance at him, your stomach jumping at his words. "What?" you dumbly question.
His smile is wry; weak. "It's not a secret, Y/N. You never liked me, even as kids. I never knew why 'cause I always liked you."
You scoff, calling bullshit. "Is that why you always picked on me? Why you always acted like you were better than me? 'Cause you liked me so much?" You tick to fingers up and down, air-quoting "liked".
Geto is silent for a while, leading you to look at him only to find him gone. You turn to find him some ways behind you, having paused in the sand to stare at you in the moonlight that illuminates his handsome face. "Is that what you think?" he questions, squinting those damn eyes at you.
Why does he sound so surprised? You find yourself becoming irritated by his mock obliviousness (you're also kinda drunk). "You were always so cocky," you shoot. "Always knew more than me. Always did better than me at everything. I could never compete."
You know you're saying too much. You know that you're uncapping a bottle that should stay closed...but you can't anymore. The vodka and the sea and Geto's cologne are all pushing you to be vulnerable tonight.
The surfer's eyes soften more, gazing down at you as if you are a wounded kitten. "Is that why you quit surfing?" he softly wonders. Your anger subsides, replaced with fear. He knows. And he's heard which is worse. From Shoko? Maybe by your parents?
You stare down at your feet, biting your lip. "It wasn't just that," you admit. "That night after your party...when we..." You grow hot in the face. "Say it," Geto softly urges. "What did we do, Y/N?" He has gotten closer and you are hyperaware of it. "We...kissed," you whimper bashfully. "And you left and never called me again."
"Well, you never called me either," he rebuttals, a smile in his voice. "I figured you moved onto bigger and better men. Plus, we never dated to begin with. Like I said, you hated me."
"I didn't hate you," you rebuttal, not liking how he's painting you or how he's making you feel: guilty. Ashamed. "You were just always rubbin' shit in my face."
Now it's Geto's turn to feel guilty and ashamed. "I never meant to make you feel like that, Y/N. I'm sorry...but you never should've quit surfing. Not because of me and my mistakes."
Damn. That hurt. It hurt more than you'd like to admit. "So giving me my first kiss was a mistake?" you blurt.
The surfer sighs, exhausted. "You misunderstood me. That was never a mistake, but I couldn't let you get involve in me. In this." He ticks a finger between himself and you. "Everything. You were on your road and I didn't wanna ruin that for you."
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip again, tears threatening to push past your eyes. Why is he saying all of this now? "But I always thought about you," he professes. "I never stopped thinking about that night, sweetie. How you looked...how you tasted..."
His words set you on fire, making you feel like you just stepped foot in lava. "W-We shouldn't talk like this," you stammer. "You shouldn't be saying this. Not to me."
You turn to walk off, mostly to cool down and clear your swimming head, but Geto gently takes your hand. It's so much bigger than yours. "How come?" he murmurs, his face intimately soft. You stare at your hands locked together, wondering what his fingers would feel like on your body. "Like you said; I'm on my road and so are you. We'll both be leaving in the fall anyways."
Geto raises a brow. "So?" he asks. You have a logical rebuttal in your head; it's there!
"S-So...so..." And yet, you are bumbling and fumbling over your words now, your mind going blank. And then you feel the drunken tears pushing up, your embarrassment and these stupid feelings making you feel so small.
"It's okay, Y/N," Geto comforts. "Come here." He pulls you into him and you let him, his big arms embracing you. You let yourself melt into his touch, against his rock-solid body. You inhale his scent, falling into a field of citrus fruit and saltwater.
In his arms, you feel safe. Safe enough to admit the thought that's been pushing at your skull for three years now. "You showed me how to kiss before," you whisper against his chest. "You wanted to teach me how to be good for guys in college."
"Mmm-hmm," he hums. "I did. I'm sorry that I-"
"Show me again," you interrupt. "Teach me." Geto's body tenses and he pulls away to glare at you, confused and alarmed. But you keep your gaze soft, hoping he'll see that you're serious.
Quickly, the confusion melts and his eyes grow hooded, making heat pool between your thighs. "Have you kissed anyone since you left?" he asks, his voice husky and deep. You bite your lip, nipples hardening beneath your dress...though they've been hard since he hugged you. "Yes," you reply.
"Did they kiss like me?" he questions. You stay silent, unable to speak and expose yourself even more than you already have. Geto's hand presses against your cheek, gentle and intoxicating. "Tell me, sweetie."
"No," you manage to squeak out. He inhales slowly as if he can barely contain your response and then, slowly, carefully, he leans down to swoop you up in a soft, passionate, earth-shatteringly magical kiss that nearly makes your foot pop like a girl in a romcom would.
It is just as amazing as the first one you shared was, only this time, you're older and so is he. So he can deepen the kiss if he wants to. You can allow him to slide his tongue against yours, the cool metal of his piercing caressing your tongue. You can moan into his mouth as your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer. He's still the best kisser you've ever had.
Suddenly, Geto pulls away with a soft groan and tilts your chin up slightly to kiss your neck. Each kiss leaves a trail of fire across your skin as you grasp his broad shoulders. "Suguru," you softly moan. "People might see us."
Your body screams with need as he pulls you close to him, pressing you flush against him. "I don't care," he rasps out. "Let them. I want this." You can feel it: it's pressing into your thighs now, hard and throbbing thanks to his trunks.
"I want this too," you mewl. "I want you." He pulls away to look at you, allowing you to stand on your toes and kiss him again, hungry and needy.
"Fuck," he whispers against your lips, astonished. He pulls away from your kiss, taking his bottom lip with you as he gently suckles on it. It excites you, making your pussy throb beneath your dress. "There's a couple things I'll have to teach you then," he softly chuckles.
You wonder what he means by that until he takes your hand, interlacing your fingers. "Come here, with me."
You let him lead you away down the beach, yards away from the house, behind a small, secluded surfboard hut. Colorful surfboards hide you from view and Geto lowers his beach bag down to pull you close. It is now just you two standing alone, unbothered and together.
"So what now?" you wonder aloud, giddy with excitement and thrill. A wicked smirk appears on the surfer's lips. "I'll show you. First, you need to get out of this sexy lil' dress." His big hands slide your spaghetti straps down, revealing your tan lines.
You find yourself giggling yet feeling nervous as you help him slide your dress off, revealing the string bikini underneath. Geto salaciously bites lip as he helps you pull each string off, letting each article of clothing fall to the sand. That leaves you naked, exposed to him and his cock pulsing beneath his shorts. "You're perfect," he sighs. "Better than I ever dreamed."
That makes you smile and your pussy gush between your thighs. He joins you, only having to kick off his slides and peel off his shorts. Your mouth grows dry at the sight of him: his tanned, lickable abs lead down to a happy trail and pale, muscular thighs untouched by the sun where his beautiful, throbbing cock swings.
He, too, is as perfect as you dreamed he'd be. He is what you'd imagine while with other boys in college, while you'd rub your pussy in your dorm room, biting your pillow to not wake your roommate. Your childhood nemesis of all people!
"C'mere," he huskily orders. You do so, wanting so badly to be near him. You begin to kiss and touch each other the way you've dreamed, indulging in all you have to offer. His body is a wonderland, thrilling you in ways a wave can't.
Geto pulls away from kissing your lips again to focus on your breasts, massaging them with his big hands. He pays close attention to your fluttering eyelids and soft moans, moving on to gently sucking on the hard peaks of your nipples.
You gasp and cup his head against your tits, tingling with pleasure. Your nipples are usually very sensitive, meaning that every tweak of Geto's fingers and swipe of his slick tongue sends your pussy into a frenzy. "W-Wait," you stammer, rubbing your thighs together. "I'm really–"
"Wet?" he finishes, chuckling. He pauses, staring up at you with glinting eyes. "That's the idea, sugar. That's how I want you." He presses a chaste, wet kiss against your lips as his hand ducks between your thighs to asses the lips down below.
"Shit!" he hisses, his cock visibly twitching as his fingers become soaked with you. "Did you get this wet when we kissed that night?"
You jerkingly nod, embarrassed. Despite the way the night ended, you did feel a wet spot as he slowly made out with you that night.
He looks satisfied with that, his violet eyes glistening like two sugilite gems. "Good girl," he coos. "Such a pretty girl." He gently runs his fingers along your slit, making you whine, before taking them away.
"Such a pretty pussy," he murmurs, bringing his fingers coated in your juices to his lips. You watch, transfixed and so, so horny for him. Hornier than you've ever been for any guy. "I really wanna taste you," he hoarsely says. "I want you to hook your leg over my shoulder and make up for lost time."
A heat builds in the pit of your stomach that drops down to your ass. He notices your sudden change in attitude and silently asks with his eyes. "I've...never had that before," you softly admit.
In all your time in college, you've never had anyone go down on you before. You've given blowjobs and split your legs open for dick plenty of times. But cunnilingus? Never happened.
Geto looks perplexed, tilting his head to the side. "No one's ever eaten you out before?" he asks, shocked. You think he'll laugh at you, but he just looks plain whipped. "That's...such an honor, sweetie. I'll make it real good for you. You just relax for me, okay?"
He then kneels before you and swings a leg over his shoulder, forcing you to grab onto him for balance. He smirks, pressing a kiss to your ankle where your gold anklet glistens. "And don't worry; I'm a good diver. I can hold my breath."
"Okay," you reply, giggling slightly. Your heart races wildly in your chest, anticipating what comes next. From your first kiss to your first lick.
And God, can this man lick! When Geto says he's a good diver, he isn't kidding. He goes head first, starting off with gentle, slow kiss and tongue flicks against your wet slit, prying your pussy lips apart to gently suck at your clit.
You moan at the contact, the feeling so foreign yet pleasurable. When he begins to run his lips over your clit, you giggle out, "Sugu, that tickles." He smiles against your pussy before slurping at your juices, running his tongue around your entrance.
"Oh, fuck," you moan, tilting your head back. "Sugu, that's so good." You press your head back against one of the surfboards as you grip your surfer's shoulders, your white nails contrasting against his tan skin and tattoos.
He hums appreciatively against your clit, pulling away to smile at you. "Told you I'm a good diver," he jokes. "Shit, you tasted so good." He sounds like he means it, even gazing lovingly at your glistening cunny slick with your arousal and his spit.
He goes right back in, gently sliding his tongue inside of you as his nose glides against your clit. Your mouth falls agape, your eyes wide as saucers. "Oh, my God," you whine. "Sugu, yes!" You throw your head back from the sheer pleasure, shamelessly grinding your pussy into his tongue.
You've never felt so high before, especially off of someone else. You feel like you're riding a big wave, feeling the high and rush of being on top of the world before a wipeout. Geto's hands grip your ass, keeping you pressed firmly against his mouth, locking you down so there is nowhere to go but up.
And up, and up, and up as you get closer to your orgasm. "Sugu," you whimper, winding your fingers through his raven locks. "Oh, fuck, I'm gonna...you're gonna make me cum!"
The surfer hums an eager "mm-hmm" into your pussy, sending vibrations throughout your body. He licks faster, curling his tongue up to toy with that spot that nearly makes you unravel at the seams like an old sweater.
And soon, you do. With a loud moan of his name and a couple of "fuck"s slipping from your lips, you cream all over Geto's long, wet tongue, still grinding your pelvis into him, riding his mouth. Your orgasm is intense, making you shiver and shake. Your surfer grips you tight, keeping you grounded as you roll and whine your waist for him, riding out your O.
Finally, your moans grow weak and your hips slow their movement, the pleasure almost painful now. You feels 100x better than you did moments before; freer and sexier. All because of Geto's magical tongue.
He pulls away to kiss and slurp at your inner thighs, giving you a playful bite. Slowly, he unwinds your leg from his neck and stands, his lips slightly glistening and his eyes lust-blown...and his cock extra hard. "You're so hard," you softly gasp, staring down at the appendage.
You can't stop yourself; you gently grasp his dick and begin to stroke him, up and down, up and down. His soft groans encourage you, welcoming your touch with a pulse and a twitch. "Yeah? That's all for you. You should've seen me after we kissed that night."
You feel your pussy throb at the newfound knowledge that he was just as horny for you as you were for him that night. For years you wondered what his cock looked like...felt like...tasted like...and now, here you are with it hard and heavy in your palm.
"C-Can...can I taste you too?" you softly ask, peering up at him through your thick lashes. "Maybe we can 69?"
Geto looks taken aback by your bold suggestion laced in such sweet shyness, but then a crooked smile appears. "So you want my tongue again?" he teases, his cock throbbing against your fingers. "Is that it, mama? You like my mouth that much?"
He cups your chin in his hand, forcing you to keep looking at him. The possessiveness in his grip makes your overly-sensitive cunt twitch. You find yourself nodding, responsive to anything he says.
He groans, pushing his hips forward so his cock can slide deeper in your hand, fucking it. "Sure thing, sugar; whatever you want. Let me just lay this blanket down."
After reluctantly tearing himself away from your hand and laying the soft blanket on the sand, he lays down on his back, his thighs open and his hard cock on full display for you. You find your place on top of him, hovering just above his face while your legs straddle each side of his shoulders.
"Fuck," he softly groans, staring up at your pussy hovered above him. His big hands grip your ass, gently prying them apart to see your other pretty hole. You whimper, biting your lip in a mixture of embarrassment and arousal. "You're absolutely perfect, y'know that?" he murmurs, giving your inner thighs an open-mouthed kiss on each.
You could say the same thing about his big, beautiful, rock-hard, throbbing cock displayed in front of you. The urge to lick and suck on it is almost as powerful as your uncertainty about sitting on his face. "S-So...how do we..." You trail off, bashful.
Geto chuckles, his breath fanning against your wet pussy, making you twitch with need. "Just sit on my face, sweetie. Don't worry; I can take it."
He gives your ass a firm squeeze, making you moan. "Then you swerve your hips around, like you're ridin' a wave," he continues, his voice huskier the more he stares at your sobbing wet pussy above him, waiting for a taste. "Just pretend I'm your personal surfboard," he raspily jokes. "I think I'm a little better than one though."
And just as he instructs you to do, you slowly close the gap between your dripping pussy and his face, gasping when his lips and tongue make contact with you. "Oh, fuck!" you shout to the stars, moaning in pleasure. Everything feels so much deeper and intense in this position.
You hope he feels the same when you begin to stroke and suck on his cock slowly yet greedily. You've been wondering what he would feel like in your mouth, stretching out your throat. You wondered what his moans would sound like as you pleased and stroked him with your wet mouth, caressing him with your tongue.
Well, now you do, and you have front row seats. His toes curl and his hips slowly grind up to meet your mouth every time you pull your head up and down, humming from the taste of pre-cum on your tastebuds and his tongue fucking your pussy.
You are sure that you're dripping all over Geto's pretty face, but he sloppily eats your hole like he needs more, massaging your ass while he does so. You continue to grind against his face, alternating between rubbing your clit against his top lip and nose.
"Mmm, baby," you moan, wetly popping off of his cock to verbally tell him of your pleasure. "Sugu, you're mouth is s-so good!"
Geto grunts into your pussy as he juts his cock up to rub it against your tits, desperate for relief too. You go back to giving it to him, slipping him down your throat, hollowing your cheeks and opening the tight hole of your throat for better access. You want to give him all of you.
At some point, for what feels like hours of constant sucking, licking, and slurping each other up, you find yourself cumming again. You muffle your moans and slutty sounds of your O with Geto's cock, keeping your lips wrapped around it as he swallows your cum, moaning about how sweet you are.
You tremble and shudder from the orgasm, digging your nails into Geto's tree-trunk thighs to ground you. You have never had two intense orgasms back to back before, and it leaves your body drained.
Slowly, you slip off of Geto's face to allow him air to breathe and straddle his chest instead. You look back at him lying behind you, lips glistening with your cum, his hair a mess, and a dazed look in his eyes. He's never looked sexier. "Tired, sweetie?"
"Not at all," you quip back. "You didn't cum yet." You wrap a hand around his spit-slicked cock and begin to stroke him, earning a moan of enjoyment. "Did you want something more?" you suggest, hoping you don't have to elaborate on that.
You don't. From the look in Geto's eyes, he knows exactly what you mean. "Yeah, but...I don't think I have a condom," he sheepishly admits, a pink blush coating his cheeks. It's so unlike him yet so endearing. "I'm sorry. I can go back and-"
"No," you cut in, shaking your head. "I mean, there are other ways, right?" The surfer silently stares at you, making you think that maybe you said the wrong thing...until his lips curl into a salacious smile.
"You want this dick that badly, huh?" he teases you. Whimpering, you turn your head to face away from him, but he stops you with a sharp smack on your ass. "No, no, don't run. Say it to me. It's just me here, mama."
It must be the need you feel or the sharp sting of his ass smack that has you so horny and eager, but you turn around and peer down at him through your lashes, heat pooling in your core and making you soak his abs. "I want you, Suguru," you whimper. "Badly."
A seductive light sparkles in Geto's violet eyes and he nods, his chest rising and falling with anticipation for your cunt. "Do what you want with me then."
He doesn't have to tell you twice. You brace yourself on his thighs and lift yourself up to hover over his cock, but before you can come down, he stops you, his eyes flaring with a passionate fire. "But when this is over with, I need to you to know that this is not just a one-night thing for me. I want this to be real."
You stare at him over your shoulder in shock, nearly craning your neck. Desperately, you search for a little glimmer of a lie in his eye. A twitch in his lips. A sign that he is just toying with you and doesn't mean these serious, intimate things...but you find nothing but a hot determination.
You swallow hard, feeling a lump form in your throat. "Sugu—"
"Just listen, please," he hoarsely begs, pleading with his eyes. "I've been thinkin' about you for over a year, Y/N, wonderin' how you are, where you are, who you're with." He sits up to plant a soft kiss on your back, your shoulder blades, your waist.
"I'm sorry I didn't take that chance to go down your road with you. I'm sorry I never told you this before, but now...now we're here and I'm not wasting another second not bein' real with you."
He wraps his arms around you, holding you in his lap, locking you there. "I want you," he rasps. "I don't care if you leave and go back to the city to live your life. I'm always gonna want YOU, Y/N. And if you don't feel the same, say it now so I'm not makin' myself look like a fool."
Those words, saccharine sweet and filled with so much yearning, make you wetter than you've ever been in your life. He has freed you from the past and your resentment for him. You now know that you can be real too.
You feel tears push past your eyes, most definitely fucking up the rest of your mascara, as you take his hands and interlace your fingers with his. "I want you too, Suguru," you softly sob. "I need you." You grind your pussy against his cock, emitting a groan from the both of you.
Geto leans back on the blanket, eyes hooded and so dark that you can see the stars in them. "Then take me."
With the flames of a thousand horny fires lighting your loins up, you push yourself up, your hands still locked with Geto's, and then come down to grind your naked pussy against his shaft. Your surfer gives a low hiss while you lewdly moan, sparks of pleasure shooting throughout your bodies.
Your pussy lips are sticky and wet, sliding so easily against Geto's thick, gorgeous cock, your twitching clit singing with pleasure. You're so wet that he could easily slip inside and fill you up to the brim with all of him, stretching your walls out and tattooing himself against you so you can never forget the feeling.
"Shiiiiit, sweetie," Geto hisses, making you giggle from the sheer force it takes for him to hiss out that one swear. Is your pussy really that good? You turn to stare at him over your shoulder, becoming transfixed at the way his face screws in pleasure, cheeks flushed and lips plump from kissing.
You release his hands, letting him grasp your hips as they grind and roll against him, his cock sliding between your dripping pussy lips, coating his shaft and balls in your juices. "How's it feel bein' my surfboard?" you joke.
Your surfer cracks a smile, a laugh leaving his pretty lips. "Fuckin' perfect," he replies. "A wave don't compare to this."
You concur, your eyes rolling back from the magical feeling of your clit sliding against his dick. Moans of "ah" and "mmm" leave your lips as you grind quicker, speeding up your movements and applying more pressure to your clit, stimulating yourself on your surfer with every intention of cumming.
You can tell Geto isn't far behind from the sound of his moans growing louder and his grip tightening around your hips. "S-Sugu," you warn. "If we're not quick, someone could come soon."
"Yeah," he hoarsely agrees, "and it's gonna be me if you keep that up. Fuck, the way you move makes me wanna visit your city as soon as the fuckin' fall hits."
You know he's referring to the way you're gyrating your hips forward, causing your pussy to slide against the base of his cock, so you continue.
"I want you to cum," you whine, turning back to look at him. "Please, Sugu, baby. Cum with me."
The man is practically in agony, his neck tense and his jaw tight as he gets closer and closer to cumming. "Fuck, Y/N!" he gasps, lifting his hips to meet your grinding. "Keep lookin' at me like that. Need to see you cum for me."
You frantically nod and close your eyes to focus. Focus on your hips moving together. Focus on your clit tingling as you reach your peak. Focus on that tightening knot in your core getting tighter and tighter until...it snaps.
"Fuck, Sugu!" you whine, definitely loud enough for the rest of the beach to hear. You don't care; not when your third orgasm of the night is so good and euphoric. You spill your cream all over Geto's cock, leaving you both sticky and wet with your cum.
Geto continues to grind himself against your cunt, repeating lewd moans of "fuck, fuck, fuck" until he forces you to bend forward, presenting your ass to him. He wraps a hand around himself and furiously fucks his fist until he finally spurts his cum all over your ass.
You shiver in delight as he moans from his release, the sound echoing throughout the salt-scented air, mingling with the soft crashing of the waves. A giddy and delirious giggle escapes you as you feel his warm spurts of spunk hit your ass, marking you with his scent. You always hated it when guys did this to you back in college.
But with Geto Suguru? You welcome it.
After some recovering and some small kisses on your backside, Geto helps you lie down with him on the blanket under the starry canvas of the night sky. Together, you curl against each other, his chest your pillow and your arms becoming anchors as they wrap around his waist.
You close your eyes, letting your head swim and your heart race decrease. You feel better than you've had in weeks. "That was so nice," you sigh against his chest.
"You definitely were," he chortles, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I'm sorry I couldn't give you more." You hum in disagreement, pressing a kiss to one of his pecs, stroking the dark outline of his tattoos. "It was more than enough," you promise.
And then reality hits you like a big wave right in the face, causing you to giggle to yourself. Geto looks down at you expectantly, raising a brow. "What?" he probes.
You shake your head though you grin to yourself, still stroking his ink. "This is...just crazy, y'know?" you snort. "Me sleeping with my childhood nemesis who confessed his romantic feelings for me? Shoko won't believe it."
Geto laughs with you, using one of his big hands to stroke your hair. "Nah, she will; Gojo too. They always knew I had a thing for you."
Of course, they did.
"I meant what I said earlier," he suddenly says. You look up at him, confused. His eyes are soft and intimate. "That I'd visit you in your city. That wasn't just sex talk. With my type of money, I'll fly wherever you go."
You laugh and pinch his nipple at his cocky little quip, earning a pinch on the ass in retaliation. "I'd love that, Sugu," you purr, snuggling into his side. Your stomach flip-flops with hope, wondering if this truly is a done deal. "So this can really work? Us? When we leave here in the fall?"
Geto hugs you closer to him, his arms secure and strong as they lock around you. "I'll make it work, but only if you want that too."
You want that more than anything. "Well, you know I love challenges," you giggle into his chest. "I'll gladly try dating a celebrity athlete." You sigh, draping your legs across his, intertwining them in a heap. "At least we have now."
"And the whole summer," he murmurs into your hair.
For a while, you stay like that, you the little spoon and he the big spoon, snuggling on the blanket in your afterglow against the soft lull of the waves. But after a while, reality sets in again and the night remains young.
"So...what now?" Geto wonders aloud. You sit up on the blanket, his hands still stroking your thighs. "Well, we do have this open beach...and these surfboards right here."
Your eyes click to the colorful surfboards presented before you before you give Geto a knowing glance. He cocks his head at you, smirking at signature smirk that makes your panties drop. "Are you challengin' me, L/N?" he teases. "You must wanna get that ass whooped."
You scoff, shooting off of the blanket to find your bikini. "Don't play me. I may be rusty, but once I get back on that board, I'm doin' the whoopin' here."
You stick your tongue out at him as you bend down to pull your bikini bottoms over your soaked pussy. You are just tying the strings around your waist when you feel a hand sharply smack your ass from behind.
SPANK!
You squeak, looking up to find Geto already gunning for the water with his asscheeks out, his trunks in one hand, and a surfboard under his arm. "Sugu!" you squeal. "You cheated!"
He turns to look at you, his grin as bright as the summer sun. He is the epitome of joy as he steps backwards into the frothy water. "Don't hate the player; hate the game, mama," he laughs. "Now get your ass in this water with me!"
You finish getting dressed and take a surfboard before running after him, laughing giddily, joy spilling out of you. As soon as you hit the water and surf the first wave in what feels like decades, you feel complete. Especially with your new boyfriend.
synopsis: satoru gojo hasn't slept in thirty-one days because god told him.
god has told satoru gojo the world would end if he closes his eyes, and he believes him.
notes: hellooo!! this is my new on-going gojo x reader fanfiction. ofc its angst and slowburn what else can u expect from me??!! comment if u wanna be added to the taglist
There were roses on your mother.
The kind that bloom from the inside out, purple going green at the edges.
They moved.
Monday on her forearm, Thursday at the jaw.
You were four and you would press one finger to the center of a petal and watch it go white under your touch and fill back in slow.
You thought everyone's mother grew like that.
You thought it was something bodies did, something ordinary as weather.
She eventually left him, took you and walked out of a house to a one-bedroom with a deadbolt she checked three times before sleeping.
The hum of a microwave at midnight because she got home too late to cook and too tired to eat but you needed to eat, so she stood there watching the plate turn behind the yellow glass, and that was dinner.
She worked for rent and electricity and the coat you needed in October and the inhaler you needed in March and she poured herself into the cracks until there was nothing left of her by evening.
You loved her.
Of course, you loved her.
--
What no one will ever understand about you, is that nothing happened.
You want there to be a door, a moment someone came into the room and broke the part of you that was supposed to want this.
But there is no door.
You came into the world like this — pre-emptied, the pilot light out before anyone thought to check.
As far back as you can reach into yourself, you find the same thing: flatness.
There is no sadness.
At least sadness you could hold in your hands and show to people and say here, look, this is mine, this is what's wrong.
You went to school.
You sat where they told you to sit.
The other kids moved around you in their herds, bright and frantic, grabbing at each other, wanting so much so loudly — a spot on the swings, a best friend, the approval of their peers.
You watched them with genuine curiosity, the way you'd watch an anthill.
Why.
Why do you try so hard.
Why do you want things.
What does wanting feel like.
Does it hurt.
How do you do it.
You had nothing to give them.
You'd open your mouth and reach down for something to say and your hand would come back empty every time, lowering a bucket into a well and pulling up only the rope.
You grew a second skin around you and inside it, at least, you didn't have to pretend.
--
You are twenty-three years old now.
You are in the back of a car that smells like vinyl cleaner coffee.
There is a woman driving whose name you've already forgotten and a stack of intake paperwork on the seat beside you, and outside the window the world is going about its Tuesday: a man hosing down a sidewalk, a dog tied to a parking meter with its chin on its paws, a neon sign for a nail salon with the N burnt out so it just says ail.
And you are thinking:
I am so tired of almost.
You keep getting found.
You keep being pulled back by some ordinary grace that feels more like cruelty — a roommate's early shift, a dosage you got wrong, a fall that wasn't far enough, your own stupid shaking hands.
You are not brave.
You are not brave and you are not crying out for help and you are not doing this for attention.
You are just bad at the one thing you have ever wanted to do.
I can't even do this right.
The stranger woman is talking, something about the facility, the program, visiting hours.
You watch her mouth move and the sounds enter your ear and fall to the floor of your skull like coins.
You look at your hands in your lap, there's a raw place at your wrist.
It doesn't hurt, nothing hurts anymore, and that's the problem.
You'd kill for pain, you'd get on your knees and beg for the kind of sharp bright feeling that would prove you're still in here.
The building is painfully ordinary.
Beige brick. Sliding doors.
A woman behind a desk who smiles at you soft but careful.
They take your bag.
They take your phone.
They take the string out of your hoodie and the laces out of your shoes and the spiral wire out of your notebook, and you think, distantly, you could have at least left me the notebook, I don't even write in it, I haven't had a thought worth keeping in months.
They give you socks, gray, with little rubber grips on the soles.
Grippy sock jail, that's what your roommate would have called it.
She was not a person who made jokes often.
She was the kind of person who called 911 with a perfectly steady voice.
A nurse walks you down a hallway that smells like cafeteria food and something chemicals.
She talks, she points, she shows you a room with two beds, industrial frames.
A window that opens four inches.
A bathroom with no lock.
"You'll meet with the doctor in the morning," she says.
"Okay," you say, and it is the first word you've spoken in a long time.
At least since the floor of your apartment with the ceiling light buzzing overhead and your roommate saying your name, saying it again, and again, and again.
You sit on the bed and the mattress crinkles.
Nothing here will fix me.
It's a thing that is true and will still be true when you leave this place, if you leave this place.
The pills won't fix you because there is no chemical slightly off-balance that a milligram of something could nudge back into place.
The therapy won't fix you because you don't have a hole to fix.
You have a house with no foundation.
Nothing will fix me.
Only God could do something like that.
Only God, if there were one.
---
Gojo Satoru came into the world white-haired and screaming and strange.
That's the truth of it.
The nurses passed him around.
What a pretty baby.
They pinched his cheek, help him up to the light like a shiny rock they'd found at the bottom of a river and couldn't quite identify.
His mother looked at him then looked away.
There is a photograph somewhere — hospital bed, her arms around him, her face forcing a smile.
He was too pale, too bright, too loud, and she was twenty-four and already tired enough.
He doesn't remember this, of course.
In the version Satoru remembers, the nurses wept.
They wept because they knew, of course.
Even then, birth-slick and barely breathing, the holy light was already coming off him and they could feel it, they could feel that this was not an ordinary child, and they held him not out of duty but out of reverence, and his mother —
Well, his mother loved him obviously.
Of course she did, what kind of question is that.
---
He was raised by a woman named Ayumi who was not his mother.
She had thick hands and a small mouth and she was paid to keep him fed and dressed and out of the way, and she did all three efficiently well.
When he misbehaved — and he misbehaved often, he was loud and fast— she'd pinch the soft skin at the back of his arm, the way you'd snap a dog's leash.
He doesn't remember this either.
Or, he remembers it differently.
To him it was just the way prophets are tested in the wilderness.
You don't become what he is without being broken in first.
She was not cruel, she was the first trial and he passed it.
This is what Satoru does.
The world hands him a bruise and he makes it a medal.
---
He grew tall.
Taller than everyone and then taller still, as though his body couldn't stop reaching for the heavens above him.
The white hair never darkened.
The eyes stayed that color — the blue that makes you look away and then look back.
Teachers liked him.
Girls liked him.
Boys hated him or wanted to be him which is the same thing at that age.
He was smart without trying, funny without meaning to be, and beautiful in the way that all beautiful people are when they know it, which is to say: unbearable.
He let them love him and he let them stare.
Of course they stared, of course they did.
He would have stared too.
And somewhere in the years between fourteen and nineteen, slowly, one molecule at a time, his confidence changed.
He didn't just think he was special anymore.
He knew, the way you know the sun will come up.
A certainty so total it didn't need evidence, didn't need agreement, didn't even need to be spoken aloud because the truth doesn't need to announce itself, the truth simply is, and the truth was:
He was chosen.
---
God had sent him.
Not metaphorically, how people say I feel called or I think I have a purpose.
Those are human words for a human feeling, and Satoru was not — he understood this now, — Satoru was not entirely human.
He was the second son, the new covenant.
Sent down in a body that was too tall, too bright, because the vessel had to be strong enough to hold what was inside it, and what was inside it was a light so old it had been burning before the earth had a name.
And he shall come in the form of man but he shall not be of man, and by his suffering shall the world be preserved.
He heard this.
He wasn't crazy, he wanted to be clear about that, he wasn't hearing voices the way those crazy people did but there was a frequency, and it spoke to him, and it was God, and it told him things.
It told him:
You must not stop.
Above all others.
You must not stop.
Because his too-tall, too-pale, too-beautiful body was load-bearing.
The world was a ceiling and he was the pillar, and if he sat down, if he rested, if he closed his eyes and slept, the ceiling would come down on everyone.
Every person in every city on every continent, every child in every bed, every mother cooking dinner, all of it, crushed, because he was selfish enough to rest.
So he didn't rest.
He hadn't slept more than two hours in how long now? A month? Longer?
Time had started folding over on itself, Tuesday becoming Thursday becoming Tuesday again, and he couldn't always tell if the light outside was morning or evening but that didn't matter because the light outside was his doing, it came from him, and as long as he was standing it would keep coming.
You must bear it.
The hatred, the cruelty.
Every sin committed by every person in every second of every day, and there were so many, so many, the numbers were staggering, he had to absorb them.
That was the price, that was the deal and that was why his back—
There were marks on his back.
He had put them there himself, with a belt, methodical, counting.
One hundred for one hundred sins.
And then again.
And again.
Because the sins didn't stop, they never stopped, and his flesh was just flesh, it would heal, it had to because his body was a tool.
Suguru saw his back on an ordinary Wednesday.
---
Suguru is not an easy person to frighten.
He is the kind of person who doesn’t speak a lot but means every word and he’s someone who has thought about things long enough to stop being surprised by them.
He has known Satoru since they were fifteen.
He has watched his confidence curdle year by year, the arrogance shift from charming into something that Satoru was living inside of now like a cathedral he'd built around himself, and he had worried, and he had waited, and he had told himself it's just Satoru, it's just how he is, he's always been like this.
Till he saw his back.
Satoru had been changing.
Just pulling a shirt over his head in his own apartment, easy, careless, the way he did everything.
And Suguru was sitting on the couch and he looked up.
He looked at the mess of welts and broken scabbing, you could see that each mark had been placed with terrible care, and he kept his face very still and he thought:
I have waited too long.
Then Satoru pulled the shirt on and turned around and gave him that enormous white stupid grin that had been getting people to forgive him for things his entire life and said,
"You wanna get food?"
Suguru said, "Yeah."
They got food.
They didn't talk about his back.
Suguru drove home and sat in his car in the parking garage for forty minutes with the engine off.
The next day he made a phone call.
---
Here is how you get a god to walk into a hospital:
You don't call it a hospital, first of all.
Suguru thought about this for a long time.
Longer than he'd thought about most things in his life, and he was a person who thought about everything.
He sat at his kitchen table at 2 AM with a cup of tea and he ran through every possible version of the sentence you need help and he knew, with the same certainty that Satoru knew he was chosen, that none of them would work.
You can't tell a messiah he's sick.
Sickness is for other people.
If Suguru said I think something's wrong, Satoru would smile at him with those horrible blue eyes and say I know, that's why I'm here.
So he didn't say something was wrong.
"There's a place downtown. It’s a building full of people. Their minds... they are under attack, Satoru. Some kind of… I don't know. The doctors can't cure them and they need someone strong enough to go inside and protect them, someone like you."
He said this.
He said this ridiculous phrase looking Satoru right in the face.
Suguru could see him processing it, his eyes went somewhere.
His jaw set.
His fingers, long and pale and shaking slightly from the caffeine.
"How many," Satoru said.
"A lot."
"And the doctors can't…?"
"No."
The refrigerator hummed and a car alarm went off three streets away and stopped.
"Okay," Satoru said. "Okay, yeah. I'll go."
Suguru nodded and pressed his tongue against the back of his teeth.
He did not cry, but a stone sat in his throat for three days afterward.
He drove Satoru to the hospital on a Friday morning.
Satoru talked the entire way.
About the patients and the healing he was going to do, the light he was going to bring into the building.
About how God had been preparing him for this : all the sleepless nights, the suffering, the marks on his back, it was all training Suguru, it was all leading to this, and he should have seen it sooner, and wasn't Suguru smart for figuring it out first.
Suguru kept his eyes on the road and said "yeah" and drove his best friend to a psych ward.
He told himself it was love and it was, it was love, but it was also betrayal, and he knew Satoru would see it that way eventually.
And that's how he ends up here.
In the same fluorescent-lit, floor-wax-and-cafeteria-smelling building where you have been sitting on a plastic-lined mattress for sixteen hours, not doing anything at all except existing in the most minimal sense of the word.
You hear him before you see him.
A laugh that takes up a whole room and then the hallway.
The kind that makes the nurse at the desk look up and the guy watching the Simpsons in the common room turn his head and the girl in the corner with the bitten-down nails stop picking at them for one second.
You're sitting there because the nurse said it would be good for you.
The Simpsons is playing.
The volume is too low to hear the dialogue but you can see the shapes of it, the bright flat cartoon colors, and you are watching it without watching it, the way you do everything now.
Then the door opens.
He takes possession of the air in the room and all the light in it and every pair of eyes that happens to be facing his direction.
He is absurdly tall.
White hair, the white of new paper, of fresh snow, pushed back off his face.
And the eyes.
Not blue like the sky or the ocean.
This is the blue at the center of a flame where the heat is so intense.
He is grinning.
He is looking around the room assessing, pleased, making plans.
The nurse next to him is saying something and he is nodding the way you nod when someone is telling you things that are beneath you.
And then he looks at you.
Oh God, this is hell. Hell has obnoxious blue eyes.
He grins wider, and you think he’s heard your thoughts.
"Hey," he announces to the room.
To the Simpsons and the flickering overhead light and the girl with bitten nails and the guy who talks to himself and you, you especially, you specifically.
You and Satoru Gojo - your best friend since grade school - had just one night, a bad break up, a bunch of drinks, but you promised to not let it ruin your friendship. That is, until a couple months later, when telltale lines show - you're pregnant with your best friend's baby! Panicked, you find Satoru is not nearly as upset as you thought - in fact, he is supportive and sweet. Just what you need, but the tension is there, and you don't know what is 'as a friend' or 'helping out' or what is more.
pairings - best friend! gojo x f! reader
warnings - mdni, oral, fingering, pregnancy, squirting, creampie, a bunch of fluff, friends to lovers, pregnant sex, oral fixation, soooo cute, nerdy/sweet and soft Satoru, mentions of insecurities w/reader, tension, mutual pining, happy ever after - wc- 8.1k
this won the poll hehe, late father's day oneshots - ty to my bb @lizatonix for proofreading againnn <3 Art by @mango on x
You're fucking pregnant.
Fuck.
Fuck, fuck, fuck!
Staring at that stick, your hands are trembling, gasping and dropping it as you look right at those two tell-tale lines, of the one and only time you and your best friend had sex. A terrible night where you were both broken up with, where you all had agreed just once, to take care of each other, to feel better.
Where the best friend you've had your entire life had rutted his cock into your needy cunt, and pressed your face down into the plush of your mattress. Where you'd arched up and he'd sucked in a breath when that damn condom broke, cursing as he pulled back.
The night you all didn't have another one– and you told him -
Fuck me.
Just fuck me and pull out… please?
The night he did just that - you know he had pulled out, especially when you had felt those sticky ropes of cum up your skin, painting your back with white. You had already been squirting right before, so sensitive, he'd rubbed his tip up and down your slit to get you to do it again, and again, before cleaning you up.
The night you had lost yourself, both of you tipsy, giggling and fumbling until he hit you with those mean fucking strokes, the ones that had you breathless. The night that plays over and over in your head on repeat, and won't stop, but you'd gone back to normal - stayed best friends, kept that agreement.
Until you felt sick two months later, dizzy from one little drink, your nipples aching.
And now...
The phone rings and you jump, looking and seeing his name, fingers trembling as you look from the phone to the stick, over and over.
How do you tell your best friend that he knocked you up!?
“Um.. hi?”
“Hey,” Satoru’s rubbing the back of his neck, pacing back and forth. Since that night a couple months ago you’ve barely hung out – he wants to say it’s because college is over, because you both have your own lives.
Yet he worries he fucked it all up that night.
But how could he not give you his cock, fuck into your needy, wet little cunt? How could he not have you cum all over him, ass arching so fucking pretty, god it looked like a heart from that angle. He has it in his head as he jerks it to you – feeling like the worst friend on the planet.
He’d beg to have you again, but he knows he can’t – he knows he needs to stay distant, to be your friend. One night where he let down his guard and whimpered an “I love you” was enough – you both were tipsy, and you were cummin’ too hard to hear it, the little confession.
The next day you were back to normal, but he’d felt you quiver around him, he’d watched you drool as he drilled his cock mean into your hole – tip bruising that cute cervix. Pulling out was a tragedy – but he was happy that fucking condom snapped, sadistic as it was for sweet, nerdy Satoru Gojo.
He wished he could have filled you with all those creampies.
“I made everything weird, yeah? That night-”
“No! No, no, it’s not that. I just…” You trail off, and he feels his heart hammering, pulse racing with nerves. “I need to tell you something.”
“Is anything wrong!?”
“No, yes – well…” You sigh again. “I’m coming over if that’s okay.”
“Of course.”
“Maybe um, smoke some weed first? Have a drink?”
Satoru pauses. “How bad is the news?”
“Just get… relaxed first.”
*****
“You’re… pregnant?” He manages to ask, eyes locked onto you as you pace back and forth in his living room. “You’re sure?”
“I need an official test, but yes,” you keep pacing now, shaking your head, sighing. “I was ovulating, I should have known better. Ugh! And now… Toru, you don’t have to help if I keep it, okay? I don’t want you thinking I like did this to get something, like because you’re rich or-”
“Excuse me?” He stands now, walking to you, gripping your shoulders gently, turning you to face him. “When would I ever think that about you?”
“But so many women would fucking do that to you,” you whisper, eyes full of tears. “And I know you’re scared of that. I know it’s why you’re cautious with dating anyone.”
That’s part of it.
The other part is he compares them all to you.
“I know it’s an accident, fuck I’m just as responsible, I was more than happy to fuck you without one,” you flush then, and he clears his throat. “Sorry, I know we aren’t supposed to bring it up.”
“Hard not to, now,” you sigh, letting him cup your face. “I’m so sorry. Really, I know you have so much on your plate, and-”
“Stop apologizing.”
“You’re taking this way better than I thought,” you admit softly, letting him hug you, sinking against his warmth. “I thought you’d panic, or worse… hate me.”
“I’d never hate you,” he whispers, his mind rushing a million miles a minute – of course it’s scary, and of course he has no clue about kids at all. He doesn’t even know what you’ll wanna do, but fuck if he won’t support his best friend – the girl he’s been pining for secretly for years.
He sure couldn’t bring any of that up now, not when you need support, when you need him to just be there.
“We need to make a doctor’s appointment, yeah?”
“I already did,” you sniffle, and he swipes your tears. “Do you wanna come with me?”
“Of course I do,” his brows draw together. “You’ve known me since we were babies almost, you really think I’d let you do this alone?”
“I knew you wouldn’t, but to resent me,” you trail off now, emotions burning in your throat. “I really always wanted one. Not now, but, I did.”
“Yeah, me too,” you blink a bit. “Didn’t know that?”
“You never talked about it to me,” you sniffle again, nausea suddenly hitting you, making you sway a bit. “Fuck.”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’m gonna…” you rush off then to one of his bathrooms, not one of your finer moments, and as a best friend always does, he holds your hair while you’re sick – it’s not like he hasn’t done it at high school keg parties, or the beginning of college for you – but it’s been a while since you’ve needed it. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t apologize, please,” he sighs now, standing. “I’ll get you something for your tummy, you have a toothbrush you can use under the sink, okay?”
“Thank you, Toru,” you hang your head as he walks out, soon you’re on his couch with your legs over his thighs, you all frequently sit like that – but now everything is different. He’s got you nibbling on saltines, and a ginger ale – he’d door dashed them so fast you were surprised.
Then you found out it wasn’t doordash – it was just Ijichi.
Poor Ijichi, really, but you suppose he’s paid well to be at Gojo’s beck and call all the time.
“I’ll throw it up again.” You nibble, little teeth marks on the cracker as you try to chew it a bit. “I keep getting sick.”
“How will you grow a baby if you don’t eat, hmm?” His words hit hard, the sweetness in them, the way he’s looking right at you. “Chew.”
“Yes sir,” you mumble, chewing again.
“Swallow.”
“Don’t say that!?” You’re choking almost on that cracker now as he snorts, smirking just a bit and leaning close.
“Oh, why not? Mind somewhere?” He teases, as if it’s just another day, and watches you get all flustered, playfully shoving him. “Perv.”
“Me!? You got me pregnant!”
“Well, you told me to keep going.”
“You little shit,” he shoves the ginger ale can in your hand again, narrowing those baby blues.
“Drink.”
“Just don’t say swallow, god,” he snorts and rolls his eyes a bit, leaning back on the couch, you see it’s getting dark outside now. “I need to head back soon.”
“Just stay,” it was normal to stay, before that night, before you knew how good his lips felt on your shoulders, his teeth sinking into the nape of your neck, cock railing your cunt from behind.
It was not normal anymore.
You look at his lips, wondering what it would be like to press yours on them, they were soft on your skin, but things were so hasty you both didn’t do that. Probably for the best, they were too plump and glossy, unfairly pretty like all of Satoru Gojo was, really, best you don’t even think of it.
“I should go,” you finally manage to say, and Satoru frowns. “I really have a lot to do tomorrow with work.”
Work.
He forgets you have your summer job, concern hitting his features then. “In your condition?”
“I’m barely pregnant, silly,” you playfully push him again, standing now. “I will see you at the appointment?”
“Of course,” he hugs you a little too long at the door, he can tell you’re fucking terrified as you hug him back, but…
Satoru’s not upset, at all actually.
Instead, he orders anything and everything a baby could need, and a million baby books, studying everything there was to know, picturing it all.
No, he was…
Excited.
Terrified but fucking excited to think of it – of the one girl he’s always loved carrying his baby, but he tries to rein it all in, the last thing he needs to do is pressure you either way with any decision. So instead, when you text him the details and a little good night with a heart, he simply writes back –
See you then. Night, sweetheart
Before studying again like a little psycho all night – by the time your visit comes, Satoru Gojo is an entire fucking expert on everything pregnancy related, in fact. What else was a best friend for, really, if not to support you with everything?
And if in the next week he jerks it hopelessly to the thought of fucking you and cumming in you, well…
He can’t really help that.
*****
The next week
The gel is cold against your skin as the doctor spreads it across your stomach with the little wand, your shirt slid up to your chest, showing a tummy still mostly flat.. Gojo sits beside you, his hand clenched in yours, his face paler than usual despite how supportive he is being.
You've both been quiet since arriving at the doctor, even in the back of his car as his driver brought you, there was not much said. He tried to lighten the mood by showing you videos of dumb things, but when it didn’t work, and he knew you needed the quiet? He gave you it, just keeping a hand touching your thigh the entire ride.
Comforting, he was comforting you – as the reality of this situation was sinking deeper with each passing moment.
A baby.
Would you have it? Would you keep it? Part of you has always loved kids, but you never expected to be a mother yet, especially not being married or at least with someone. Not your best friend – and was he still going to be that? Would he resent you for your decision, would-
"Alright, let's see what we can find," the doctor says, moving the wand across your belly and thankfully cutting off your thoughts. “Hmm… let’s try here.”
You stare at the screen as he delves lower, pressing a bit on your pelvis – your heart is pounding so quickly you can hear the blood rushing in your ears. There's just static for some time, and you feel yourself getting sick as Satoru watches with you, seeing the shape of your uterus right on the screen.
Fuck - what if something’s wrong!? What if…
“Hey,” Satoru smiles at you, feeling your panic – he’s always known you so fucking well, and now is no different. He runs his thumb across your knuckles softly. “Hear that?”
“No I…” There it is.
A flicker. A tiny, rapid fluttering on the screen, and the sounds, little whooshes quickly echoing in the room, it’s so fast, you can’t take what it does to you in that moment, feeling tears in your eyes. “See?”
“A heartbeat…” You whisper, he grins all big, his teeth white and bright, that smile fucking ruining you.
Another pregnancy symptom?
Apparently being too fucking horny – and being around Gojo made everything a million times worse. Did he have to be so attractive? Did he have to smell so damn good? Did he have to hold your hand like this with his pretty blue eyes glittering, like he’s got it all together when you don’t?
How were you ever just his friend before, you always had something for him, sure. High school crush, college crush, puppy love – but through it all you always knew that friendship was the most important thing. Yet now you know what it’s like for him to grip your hips, to hold you, to bend you over and break you apart on him. To have his body on top of you.
How could you forget it when you’ll be seeing him constantly for years?
"That's the heartbeat," the doctor says with a smile, shaking you out of your heated thoughts. "Strong and healthy. Looks like you're about ten weeks along."
Tears spring to your eyes as you turn to look at Satoru, seeing his own are affixed now to the screen, his lips slightly parted. He looks from the screen to your stomach, then back again, his expression one of pure awe.
"Is that… that’s the baby?”
“Yes, it’s hard to see this early,” the doctor takes a few pictures, it’s a tiny, moving little thing, so small it’s hard to tell.
“That's our baby,” you whisper, then curse softly. “I mean…”
“Shh,” Satoru murmurs, his own heart hammering so fast he almost feels faint. He was of course nervous, but seeing it and seeing you – the girl he’s loved as long as he can remember? He can’t help his dopey fucking grin. “It is.”
“Yeah,” you murmur, all pretty, flushed cheeks, blushing when Satoru offers to clean the gel off your tummy and you sit up, it squishes just a bit, making you curse. “Ugh, already.”
“You look perfect,” he says it before he can stop himself, his hand moving gently to wipe your skin clean, you look down, thighs pressing together, as his eyes flick to yours. “You’ll be pretty, all pregnant.”
“No way, my mom got huge and I will too!”
“So? It’s part of that,” you frown again. “Hey.”
“Yeah?” He tilts your chin as you slide your shirt down.
“What’s going on in your mind right now?”
“That I’m selfish, self centered to think of my body,” you pout a bit. “Stretch marks, titties getting so big, tummy huge. God, my ankles will too! My friends have all been so miserable, ugh. And I should worry less about that, and more about how I’ll raise this damn baby. Am I…”
“Shh,” he kisses your temple now, and you lean against him, eyes fluttering shut. “You’re in your early twenties, pretty normal to be worried about your body changing, I don’t think that’s selfish. Okay?”
“You always make me feel better,” you snuggle against him, loving this too fucking much, inhaling his scent, feeling his warmth.
“What are friends for? Besides… getting you pregnant I mean.”
“Satoru!”
“Well…” You snort and shove at him, shaking your head. “When’s the next appointment?”
“Two weeks for a physical type check… do you…”
“I’ll be there.”
*****
The next physical went great, and Satoru’s been reading even more baby books – you’d decided to keep it and had let him know it was his choice, of course, if he wanted to be involved. Because this was both your choices.
Of course Satoru did.
There was no world he’d ever let you do this alone and not support you – though he doesn’t tell you exactly how excited he really is, he is so nervous in these moments, especially knowing how scared you still are. So he tries to be comforting, reassuring, there for you.
He was right there on time, taking you there, and fuck he looked good. He had on this sweater that was so soft you wanted to snuggle against it, that cologne in your senses, almost making you salivate.
Fuck.
As if you didn’t want him before, at three months pregnant it was worse than ovulation, it was like you needed to cum constantly. You’d played with your pussy every day to avoid this, to hope that you could act normal with him, but when he’d brushed this tiny stretch mark on your skin and smiled?
When he’d murmured cute.
When he held the door open for you, sliding in and talking about everything he’s researched on babies? Well, that’s when it’s almost fucking impossible to control, thighs pressed together with your hands between them, as if you can keep yourself from touching him somehow on the drive back.
You're impossibly quiet in the back seat of his sleek black car, Ijichi drives Gojo everywhere, you’re not even sure Satoru can drive – there’s no point really though. You don’t blame him one bit, but it was always pretty fucking cool in school to get those rides home with him – memories twist and blur just a bit as he brushes a lock of your hair back, smiling at you.
You shift uncomfortably, trying to discreetly press your thighs together even more, to not just straight up whine out from the friction, but it's no use. You're so horny it hurts, your panties soaked to all hell, your clit pulsing with need, literally twitching from his proximity.
What sort of pregnancy thing was this? This wasn’t in a book.
"You okay, sweetheart?” Satoru asks softly now, glancing over at you. "You've been squirming, are you uncomfy? I think cramps can still happen – and your back can hurt from it. I can rub it?"
“No! I mean!? No!? I mean…” You curse, shaking your head. "I'm fine is all I meant!”
“Fine?” You nod quickly, making him sigh. “Am I being too touchy with you? Offering to-”
“No, no. God I appreciate you so much, never,” you mumble, shaking your head. “It’s not that at all.”
“Okay…” He exhales now.
“You thought that?”
“You’re so tense around me,” he brushes his hand against your thigh softly. “Like you’re clenched up, I worried I…”
“No… I’m just… not okay.”
"What's wrong?" he asks, brows furrowing just a bit. "Are you in any pain or anything? I need to know if you are."
"Not exactly," you admit, your cheeks flushing, burning fucking hot, god is this car just hot!? Is his skin burning!? "It's just... I'm really... uncomfortable."
"Uncomfortable how? I can turn up the AC, and you can lean on me?”
You hesitate a bit, he’s being so fucking sweet, and you feel like a deviant right now. Your brain is on nothing but how long his fingers are, how good they’d feel inside you, fuck when you’d been together you’re not sure he touched you much. He had slipped them in for a moment but you were so needy you had begged him to put it in.
Oh and that stretch.
But they’re long, and they’re thick, thumb brushing your thigh. You sigh, shutting your eyes again.
“You know you can tell me anything, yeah? Known you since the fucking fifth grade, now is not time to get shy.”
“Right…” You take a shaky breath. “It’s embarrassing."
“Okay, how?”
"I'm horny," you blurt it out, watching his own blush, cursing a bit. "Like, painfully horny. I feel like I will jump you, straddle you, fuck your hands are so big and… Satoru, were they always this big!?”
“Were they…” He laughs nervously. “What?
“Were they always this big – and why do you smell like that?” He blushes brighter as you lean forward, your hand covering his. “I’m going to lose it, I can’t act like this, but it’s like I’m going to die if I don’t cum. I’m wet from nothing.”
Oh fuck.
He can’t take that, looking at you as you lean forward, your tits are right in his view, that sleeve falling off your off shoulder sweater, showing too much of your pretty skin. He swallows nervously, it takes everything not to just drag you on his lap and pump you full of cum.
God, what would your nipples look like dripping milk? How big and full would your tits get? He feels like he’s the pervert, and you’re over here worrying, he can see it as you pull back just a bit.
"Oh. That's... that's a thing? With pregnancy?” He tries to act calm, cock throbbing.
"Apparently," you mutter, shifting again. "And it's fucking awful right now, I am not trying to be… distant, okay? I…”
The car hits a bump and you whine out.
“Ugh!” You cover your face, Satoru is quiet for a moment, then clears his throat, taking your hands down slowly, making you look at him. “This is embarrassing!"
“Nah, it’s… just…” He swallows a bit, nervous as his fingers wrap around your delicate wrists. "I could... I mean, if it would help... I could help you out. As a friend if you um… want? As… a baby daddy… friend or-"
You blink then. "What?"
"Just... to take the edge off I could help you feel better," he murmurs, his cheeks still slightly flushed, eyes dark. "I helped you get in this state, I could at least help you with this, to make you cum, hmm?”
“Make me cum?” You’re trembling a bit at that. “Like and… it’s fine with you?”
“Is it fine with me,” he laughs a bit, shaking his head, tilting your chin up. “You askin’ if I have a problem making you cum for me?”
“I just,” you bury your face against his chest, his hand slipping up your thigh achingly slow. “Make me cum how?”
“You keep staring at my hands, do you want my fingers inside you?” You suck in a breath, burying your face again, feeling his thumb brushing your skin. “What else is your best friend for, hmm?"
“Satoru,” you laugh softly, biting down on your lip, peeking over at the partition. “Would he hear?”
“You were loud,” you gasp and playfully shove at him. “I’m kidding… kind of. You really were.”
“I’ll be a little quiet,” you whisper. “You were loud too.”
“Brat, tch,” you giggle, and it feels perfect.
Satoru is your best friend.
Satoru got you pregnant.
Now Satoru Gojo’s fingers are sliding up your thighs, his fingertips tugging at the waistband of those leggings, you love wearing them lately, with your body already changing just a bit. “Are you sure you want me to?”
“Yes,” you whisper, a hand slipping up his chest, shaky just a bit as his fingertips slip lower. “Helping me as my friend.”
“Best friend.”
“Best ever,” you whisper – delusional – nodding so he has the okay, his fingers are just a bit hesitant at first, gently tracing the edge of your panties before slipping underneath, finding you. “Mnh!”
You gasp as his fingers brush against your folds, already slick with arousal, embarrassingly so in fact – so wet the squelch is loud as he darts it up your slit, Satoru moans softly, looking into your eyes and slipping lower. His fingertip dips in, and even more slick drips out, your panties already sticky, he lets out a little hum, running them up, studying you.
You shake your head in response, spreading your thighs wide for his fingers to explore you, he finds your clit easily, circling it gently and all teasing, making you whine out in frustration before applying more pressure, drawing patterns like he had that night months ago.
“Satoru!” You whisper it, trying to keep quiet as you arch against his hand, a desperate whine escaping your lips again, hands gripping at his sweater too tightly.
"Like that?" he asks, his voice soft, god does he have to sound like that? You’re trying to keep it together, but the faster his fingers rub your twitchy lil clit, the worse.
"Yes, y-yes like that I…. mhm!”
He knows your body, he has no problem sliding two in deep, curving up and letting the heel of his palm graze your needy clit, squishing noises even louder as he watches you, waiting for you to fall apart for him.
“So wet,” he murmurs, moving faster. “You’re close, hmm?”
You nod quickly, letting him lean forward – as if he may kiss you, just hovering a centimeter away as he works your cunt, lifting his chin and looking down at you, eyes hungry and bright blue.
“Then cum, let go,” he whispers, and you do it like on command, earning his soft, murmured praise, orgasm rushing through you until you’re high from it, resting your face against his neck.
“Toru,” you breathe out, eyes shutting, the orgasm so much better than what you can do yourself.
"Better?" he asks softly, pulling his fingers back just a bit, eyeing that slick and moaning. “Fuck…”
"Much better,” you mumble, seeing that amount of slickness and panicking. “Oh god sorry…”
“For what? Being soaked?” He smirks a bit. “No need.”
“I um…” He sucks your cunt off his fingers, making your lips part at the filthy little act, something you’ve never seen with any other partner.
He just tasted your cunt, his cheeks hollowing.
“I um… you uh…” Words. Use words. “I… th-thhank you?"
"Anytime," he says with a small smile, chuckling a bit as your flavor hits his tastebuds. “What sort of friend would I be if I let you hurt like that?”
“Right, you’re winning the best friend – baby daddy award,” he snorts, and the two of you act fine, act as if this was just that.
You’re both too fucking scared to admit what it really is.
*****
A month later
You're staying over at Gojo's place again – it's become more frequent since the pregnancy was confirmed. The two of you spend a lot of time together, preparing a bit or just enjoying each other’s company. You had to tell your families, which was not an easy conversation, especially with Satoru’s parents.
They’d been appalled quite frankly, Satoru was supposed to marry who they wanted him to, they were anything if not distant and terrible as long as you knew him. You’d held his hand that night during that dinner, and asked if he wanted you to stay over again, quiet as you both drove home.
“You don’t have to,” he murmured softly, shaking his head. “I’ll be fine, I expected much worse.”
“I still want to,” you had said, kissing his cheek, your eyes fluttering shut, his hand had instinctively touched your tummy, getting rounder now, something so intimate and sweet it almost broke you.
You hated going home alone.
There were plenty of rooms – but tonight you couldn’t just sleep in one, tossing and turning until you got up in the middle of the night, peeking to see Satoru asleep, sprawled across his bed with his lankly limbs – the sheets tangled around his waist. You watch him for a moment, you’ve seen him asleep countless times, but everything lately has felt so different.
“Toru?”
“Hmm?” He opens his eye and turns, peeking at you. “Yeah, sweetheart?”
His voice is all raspy with sleep, making your heart flutter. God he’s even cuter, leaning up in the dark, brushing a hand through his hair with a sleepy smile. “Could I sleep in your bed?”
“You want the comfiest one, hmm?” He teases, holding up the blanket for you to crawl in beside him. “Come closer.”
“You sure?” He nods, tugging you against him and sighing, burying his face in your neck. “Will it be too much?”
“No, not at all,” he feels so good, he’s so warm, his body against yours. “Get some sleep.”
But sleep still eludes you, you instead can’t stop thinking of how badly you crave not any kind of food or drink like a normal pregnant girl.
You’re craving Satoru.
God, thinking of that hardness pressing against you in your mouth, to taste him for once, feel him harden on your tongue and pulse. Swallow him down, suck him till he’s whimpering, cumming over and over?
“Whatcha thinkin’ about, hmm?” He teases you again. “I feel your brain whirling over there.
“I’m having an odd craving,” you mumble, turning over to him now, he raises a brow at you, yawning.
“I’ll order whatever, what is it?”
“You can’t order it,” you bite your lip now, and he laughs.
“You want me to make you cum again?”
“No.”
“No?” You slide down the bed, gently pulling back the sheets a bit, and his breath catches in his throat. He's only wearing boxers, and you can already see the outline of his cock, thick and growing, a little dark spot where pre is slipping. “Oh you… you’re craving…”
“I really want your cock in my mouth.”
Is Satoru fucking dreaming!?
He wonders as he blinks rapidly at you, your fingertips trailing his abdomen, making them tense. “You want my cock in your mouth?”
“Yeah, that sounds insane. I want…” You sigh. “Cum.”
“Cum!? Is that even safe!?”
“I don’t know, that’s not in a book!” You pull back now, sighing. “God I’m so sorry.”
“No, no, don’t go,” he catches your wrist quickly, tugging you against him. “I would never turn down your mouth, you fuckin’ kidding?”
“You sure?”
“Am I sure,” he shuts his eyes, trying not to act as eager as he really is, and completely failing. “In what world does anyone turn that down? Especially from you.”
“You want it then?” You whisper, reaching out to trace the length of him through the soft fabric, he whimpers just a bit, the sound making you ache.
“You really wanna suck me till I cum? You don’t want like… ice cream with pickles or something?” You laugh softly, shaking your head, and he tugs you more, your hair falling against his skin, brushing his thigh. “Yeah, go ahead then, sweetheart. You can suck me any time you need.”
“Oh can I?” His hand brushes your hair back reverently as he tugs his cock out, he’s close to telling you he’s in love just when you kiss his flushed tip, tongue lapping to grab a little bit of white.
“Anytime,”he murmurs again instead, watching as you gently take the tip of him into your mouth, hot and wet. “Fuck…”
“Mnh,” you’re aching as you eye him, and his hand entangles gently into your hair, easing your head down so you can taste him – clean and slightly salty with the white coating your tastebuds. You moan softly as you take more of him in, your tongue swirling around to hit his frenum, making his hips buck up.
“God… so this is really your pregnancy craving?"
You hum around him in response, which makes him groan, thickening in your mouth as you move up and down, reaching for your pussy and touching it, letting him fuck into your throat, pausing then.
“Is it too much?”
You pull back with a messy pop, shaking your head. “I want it.”
“Fuck you’re pretty like this,” he whispers, his hand gentle but firm on the back of your head as you work him with your mouth, taking him deeper with each pass until he's hitting the back of your throat, and you’re gagging on him. “Takin’ me like that? So fucking good, doin’ s’good I…”
He’s mumbling, stuttering as he fucks your throat – just like you were dying for, making you suck harder, aching to taste all of him. Him whispering your name as you drool down his balls, his tip gliding past your uvula, while your fingers fuck in and out of your needy cunt.
“You’re touching her?” He asks softly, you hum in response, he’s lost at how good your throat feels, how tight with every little gasp. “Sucking me has you that needy, hmm?”
“Mhm,” you suck even harder, and he fears he won’t last long, not when you’re cumming, shaking and your throat is contracting, his thick length stretching it so good.
“Want all of that cum in your throat?” He whispers hoarsely, you moan again, eyes looking up under your lashes as he holds your hair in a ponytail. “I’ll give you all of it, then, sweetheart.”
He is not quiet when he cums, no, Satoru Gojo moans – husky and fucking loutd as his hips buck up, and he’s busting his creamy release. It’s spilling down your throat, and you greedily swallow every drop, slurping it all as he gently fucks your throat a few more times, whining out, sensitive.
You take your fingers of your cunt, slick and messy, sucking him up and down, still semi hard, eyes locked on his.
You just sucked Satoru Gojo’s cock.
Your friend since fifth grade.
You pull off, a thick string of saliva and cum dissolving from your licks, as your little pink tongue then gently licks him clean.
“You’re so perfect I…” He trails off, swallowing nervously and then tugging you up. “C’mere.”
You gasp as you land on his chest, and he wraps an arm around you, kissing your lips, tasting his own cum right off you.
You haven’t even kissed Satoru yet.
That’s what’s insane, you’ve gotten pregnant, you’ve fucked him, came on his fingers, but it was as if you both knew the kiss would ruin you, and it does, desperate, needy and sweet. How his hand tangles in your hair, and his lips move, plump and soft against yours.
That’s when the inevitable fact hits your heart – you didn’t just crave cum in your mouth, you wanted to make him feel good, wanted him to fall apart for you, his tongue glides on yours and you can’t help but sigh into his mouth. You lean up a bit, hands on his chest, a smile so big and goofy on his face you melt.
“So, was that just a craving?”
“Were your fingers just helping a friend out?” You ask, he laughs and shakes his head, cupping your face.
“What do you think?” You bury your face nervously, letting him hold you against his body, your heart racing.
“I think everything is insane. And scary and… I don’t ever, ever want to lose you, Satoru.”
“You won’t,” he whispers, kissing gently across your cheek, to your temple, but the words still don’t make it from his lips.
I love you.
It’s like they’re stuck, until you’re fast asleep, and he murmurs them like he did that night you conceived your baby.
*****
It goes on like that, sucking Satoru for your oral fixation, and fuck he’s not complaining, but soon it’s not enough, neither is you letting him finger you when you’re aching. You’re so sexy with your tummy swelling, and your tits so full, your face is glowing and your goddamn eyes are glittering.
You are sinking to your knees after work at your place when he halts you, shaking his head, making you pause.
“Oh um, not today?”
“You stand here,” he says instead, kneeling and making you blush, looking up at you under his snowy lashes. “I want to taste you this time.”
“Toru, you c-can’t… I’m getting big already and-”
“You’re perfect,” you melt when he gently slides up your dress, groaning when he sees your slick, pretty pussy. “Call it my pregnancy craving.”
“You got ‘em too, hmm?” he laughs softly, tickling your skin.
“Why don’t you sit down and spread your thighs,” you obey him – how can you not – sitting at the edge of the bed, eyeing the reflection of you both in your mirror for just a moment, the sight as filthy as it is sweet, worshipping you when he kisses up your inner thigh. “Good girl.”
“You can’t just say that, Toru,” he doesn’t know what it does until this very moment, when he spreads your plump lips, watching the slick pool down, so fucking pretty. His hand brushes up the curve of your tummy, tongue gathering that mess and drinking it with a greedy bob of his Adam's apple. “Mnh!”
“Fuck,” Satoru’s lost now – hand adjusting his straining erection, his other slipping higher, squishing a tit, feeling the weight of it in his palm as he looks up at your body, your face, head falling back.
You’re too pretty pregnant.
All he can think is how he’s almost glad you are right now, he knows it was an ‘accident’ but he’s so fucking happy, having you with him all the time, having your touch, your nearness. Seeing all the changes and knowing in this way the two of you are connected, a toxic little thought nagging at him that he’d love to do it again, next time on purpose.
Maybe he’s very happy pulling out didn’t work, and that the condom broke, when his fingers press into your thighs, and he’s greedily slurping at your cunt now. All gentleness lost as your flavors hit, ones he’s had little hints of at best, watching you suck him was amazing, but Satoru thinks he loves this just as much if not more, drinking your cunt up as you tremble, as you fall apart.
“I’m c-close, fuck I’m…” You’re pressing your thighs on either side, he pulls back, your wetness making his face glisten.
“Hold ‘em open,” he murmurs softly, you prop your feet up on the bed as he sinks further onto the plush of your rug. “Just like that.”
“I’m spread wide though…”
“And you were when I got you this way,” he grins as you blush. “You wouldn’t let me touch you, it was just – in me.”
“Well I wanna say it again,” you admit softly. “But also…”
You tug his hair, bringing his face against you, his moans vibrating on your messy, sensitive clit. Satoru slides two fingers in and fucks them in your hole, slick and drooling onto the carpet with every thrust, his mouth sucking your little clit inside it. A few more flicks and hums, and you’re shattering, cumming so hard you squirt all over him, soaking his shirt.
“Fuck…” He looks at you in wonder, you gasp, covering your face.
“Oh god!? I’ve never…”
“Good,” he is possessive then, as he stands up, sliding your dress until it’s off you completely, leaning forward and kissing your lips. “I’m glad if I made you first.”
“Are you getting possessive of your ‘friend’?” You tease – you both know the word is nonsense at this point, but you’re also scared to say more.
That you’re in love with him.
“Maybe I am…” He admits, his voice breathy and sensual, as you taste yourself, the sweetness from his mouth mixing with your own flavor, addictive. “Maybe I wanna pump you full of me, hmm? Maybe I’ve been wanting to.”
“Then do it,” you whisper, eagerly tugging down his zipper, seeing just how hard and thick he is. “Cum in me.”
“Fuck, seriously!?” You giggle a bit at that, nodding. “What position though? Can you… be on your back? Can you…”
“You didn’t read that part, hmm?” You tease him then, laying back and seeing how his eyes darken, his pretty tip leaking. “I can, but no weight on the tummy at this point so…”
“Got it,” he whispers, hands on your hips, standing between you as you lay there, thighs wide, your mess dripping in rivulets still from your thighs, when his tip hits your slit you both take a breath.
“Ah!” You’re so sensitive during this stage of pregnancy, you almost cum from a rub, embarrassing as it was to squirt on his damn face, you can still see where you soaked his shirt as he leans down, careful not to put weight on you. “Sensitive…”
“Yeah, are you, baby?” You nod quickly, he keeps rubbing it, like to torture you, kissing you while holding himself up and standing, achingly sweet even as his fat cockhead is going faster between your folds. “Yeah you are – gonna cum like this, hmm? Like that night?”
“You r-remember?” You mumble, losing control of your senses, clinging to his biceps, nails pressing over his shirt, Satoru sighs, kissing you again, as you feel your body tense up.
“Of course I remember,” your eyes meet, and you can’t help but shatter with another glide of his tip against your slit, impossibly more squirt spraying him. “God you’re wetter than before. Is that even possible?”
“In me, fuck… stop teasin’ me…” You are already cockdrunk from his tip, and he knows it – smirk on his handsome face. “Toru!”
“Lemme take my time, know how long I’ve waited?” You can’t answer, not when he glides his cock in, careful when in three thrusts he bottoms out, waiting for you to adjust. “Feel so fuckin’ good… you’re soaked…”
“Mhm,” your thighs tremble, he is easing back, his hands trailing down your changing body in a way that should make you nervous.
But you just want more.
“Beautiful…” He whispers, easing back and looking at the mess with every slow stroke, how your puffy lips are moving around his thickness, coated his raised veins till they’re glittery. “Look at you, sweetheart. These tits, so full, I can’t wait till there’s milk dripping.”
You whine out then, eyes rolling back as he begins to move, standing and lifting you just slightly, angling your hips so his cock can rub right on your sweet spot, hitting the little sponginess of it over and over in sweet little kisses. You shatter again, and again, cumming so much you get dizzy, your ears ringing, his cock filling you and stretching you more than you thought you could take.
He’s whispering your name in a way that’s nothing like ‘a friend’ or even a baby daddy, the way he says your name as he rests a hand on your ribcage, the other on your hip, fucking into you? It’s filthy, it’s loving, it’s everything and anything but how he’s said it your whole life, and yet…
It’s still the way he said it the day he met you.
When he first learned your name, the two of you became friends, and he shared his lunch with you because you forgot to make your own. The way when he took you home after school, and when he’d hold open that umbrella, the two Satoru Gojos meld – that one, and this one, a man fucking you up, holding you, his shirt half slid up from your hands.
“Off, off,” you tug impatiently and he laughs, doing just that, letting you touch his abdomen, his chest, gripping his obliques when he starts to move faster. “Ah!”
“Y-you okay, sweetheart?” He manages, pausing then. “Am I too…”
“I’ll give you anything when you ask so sweet,” he eases out and you gasp, scowling at him. “I’m just going to make you more comfy, don’t you glare at me.”
“I said more and you… oh…” He’s gently putting a little pillow underneath your hips now, and you sigh, lashes fluttering. “That is better.”
“Mhm, impatient girl,” he glides back in, hitting your spot even better, every drag of his tip having you closer and closer. “You sure you want my cum? You wanna be so full of me it drips out all day?”
“Yes,” it’s automatic, your answer, Satoru whines out then, his cheeks all flushed, his eyes lidded and heavy – you feel him pulsing inside, he’s so big in your slick, messy walls. “Please… cum inside I… mnh!”
“Fuck,” Satoru gives you just that – all his milky cum, coating your walls in white, trembling as you milk him for every drop.
Oh, and when he sees that mess pouring from your pretty cunt? Well he can’t help but fuck it back inside, but this time with you on your knees, your head resting on the bed as he holds your body up. Watching the thick coating of his own white release slipping down his cock, his balls heavy again.
He gives you more of it – more of him, desperately whimpering in your ear, cum getting fucked back inside, whispering those treacherous words that you didn’t hear last time. But this time you do, you turn your head, drool spilling, eyes all fucked out – Satoru swipes your drool as he busts his load deep in you again, three now just getting fucked deeper, slipping from the mess you both are.
“You l-love me?” You mumble, brows drawn together. “Is that like… just talk during it or…”
“I love you,” he whispers again, a little louder, seeing your eyes glimmer. “Not just because I’m buried inside you and pussy drunk, no. I do love you. God I do.”
“I love you too, Toru,” you whisper, letting him kiss you, drinking his sighs and moans in as he gently rocks his still hard cock inside, in the stuffed full, creamy mess he’s made of you. “I love you too.”
It’s whispered over and over, when he’s showering you, helping you shave, being so gentle and sweet – like he wasn’t just railing your pussy, like he wasn’t fingering his cum back in. No, it’s perfect, the way you can finally not call Satoru Gojo just your friend anymore.
*****
You had a baby with your best friend by accident – but it’s anything but a mistake, in fact when you’re holding her in your arms and smiling at her, seeing the same blue eyes you’ve loved your whole life? When Satoru’s making a bottle downstairs and you’re rocking in the chair in the nursery he had made?
When she’s all milk drunk later in your arms and Satoru is laughing at her little face, brushing her cheek with his thumb? You know it was all for some reason, even if it’s a little too soon, and even if you’re not fully ready yet – you know it’s perfect here, having him kiss your head, sighing and looking at her.
“She’s so cute like this,” he says softly, brushing some of her downy hair that’s forming, you ease the bottle and she is still sucking. “She needs a binky?”
“Mhm,” he hands you one, and you slip it in her mouth, grinning all big up at Satoru now. “She looks so much like you. I’m not sure my genetics tried.”
“Well, I do have Gojo genes,” he’s all puffing his chest, you can’t help but giggle, before wincing a bit at the pain. “You okay, sweetheart?”
“Still sore,” you admit, he gently takes her and places her in the pretty little bassinet, swaddling her up tightly before coming to you, helping you up. “Thank you… Toru, thank you for everything. I was scared at first, but…”
“I was too,” he admits, peeking down at you – still so beautiful, but the strain of having her has taken it’s toll. You’ve got dark circles, and your color isn’t all back yet, he picks you up before you can stop him.
“Toru!”
“You’re taking a nap.”
“I can walk!”
“I know,” he holds you anyway, you yawn and bury your face against his neck, lashes tickling his skin. “I love her so much.”
“I do too,” you admit, giggling. “So much I almost want another.”
“Another, hmm?’
“Not any time soon!” He just grins as he lays you down. “You deviant, don’t even think about it for at least two years!”
“Sure, I wasn't thinking about it at all,” he sighs as he sees your nipples dripping though, thumb brushing over one, tasting it. “Oh it’s sweet.”
“You little freak,” you tease, but you let him have just a taste, a little flick of his tongue before he tugs up your top. “Take a nap with me.”
“All right,” he is tired too, just trying to keep wide awake for you, but when he cuddles you to him, and feels you against him, he can’t stop his grin.
He got his best friend pregnant by accident – but the next time will absolutely be on purpose.
Synopsis. Long ago, the four nations lived together in harmony. Then everything changed when the Fire Nation attacked.
You knew of Geto Suguru before he was the Fire Lord responsible for tearing apart the nations, you knew of Geto Suguru before his name was soaked in rage and dragged through battle: the banished prince with a sad smile. You knew of Geto Suguru because…you were his first love. And his only.
And now you’re arranged to marry him. But it’s not a ceremony of love; you want revenge—and Geto carnally needs you.
Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem!Waterbender!reader, Firebender!Geto, Avatar: The Last Airbender AU, Fire Nation prince!Geto, past, best friends once, school shenanigans, fortune tellers, PLOT letters, hurt and comfort, poIitical schemes, Naoya gets what he deserves, Fire Lord!Geto, water generaI!reader, sIight enemies-to-Iovers, best friends-to-Iovers, getting together, arranged marriages, poIitical marriages, peace, wedding nights, oraI (fem rec.), pússydrúnk Geto, spítting, p sIapping, fíngering, Geto’s LONG tongue, lNNAPROPRlATE USE OF BENDING POWERS, impact pIay, sIight knifepIay(?), just sorta holding it to his throat, dilemmas, tension, he’s DESPERATE, matíng presses, manhandIing, confessions, REALLY gone Geto, p talking, cIit pinching, teasing, sIight praise and degrad, powers going out of control, creampíes, cúmpIay, sIight cúmfIation, HAPPY ENDING, vioIence and bIood, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 16.0k
A/N. AAAAAAAAAND look where those Zuko scenes get us smh- based on my Fire Lord!Geto headcanon here <3
“There is someone in your heart.”
For the first time since entering Lady Tsukumo’s quarters; you’re alert. The room is oblong and alluring—it wore its candles around the perimeter like jewellery, and swathed itself in a scarf of smoke. The saturated smell of jasmine clung to the air, and you have to shake your head just to focus on the woman before you.
Here, on Mount Inferno, there isn’t much to look forward to.
The Fortune Teller’s hut drew you in like a mistress, and told you things just as rousing.
Orange candles leak. Prayer beads rattle. Dissolute shadows dance to an inaudible tune, then creep closer towards you in search of touch. She closes her eyes and whispers to her spirits—around you, the thick smoke screen writhes like a snake. It coils like an ouroboros.
Almost wrapping around your ankles- keeping you in one place.
As a smile spreads across her handsome face. “You love him, do you not?”
You feel splashed with cold water.
“I…”
“Or perhaps that’s too soon…” She trails off and looks deeply into your palm once more, humming to herself. “Yes, far too soon…”
“I don’t understand.” And you’re sure the hint of crossness seeps its way into your tone- if not, then your expression. This was your third and final year at Mount Inferno, and your friends had finally convinced you to pay a visit to the famous fortune teller—you’d put it off long enough, tomorrow you’d be graduating.
Tomorrow, you’d be leaving this mountain - and everyone you met atop it.
A long-extinct volcano, though life still bubbled at its peak.
Columns of paper. Red headbands. The sound and trundle of mastery in pursuit. The best of the best; from all nations far and wide, every tribe, every village, students are summoned to the Fire Nation to study at the ancient Mount Inferno. For three years until adulthood. The school was scattered across the Inferno volcano range, deep amongst curdling springs and prickly growth, the pride of the Fire Nation, with its courtyard situated on the very highest peak. It was a truce between nations- and more than that, an intermingling of the future’s most famed. Some students have gained reputations for their powers before even starting here, and it had been somewhat jarring to see all these big, big names come to real life before you.
There was the Waterbending child prodigy that turned water into ambrosia - Ieri Shoko. There was the heir to the Earthbending Zenin family, nobles recently handpicked as ambassadors for the Fire Nation royals, pompous yet powerful (you and Shoko dunked him into one of the cold springs on your first day). Even more, there was Masamichi Yaga, the renowned Earthbending master, as your teacher.
And most of all, there was Geto Suguru: prince of the Fire Nation.
Or at least, he was in blood.
Though in name…it was murmured and known across every tribe that there was bad blood between the Fire Lord and the prince. He was the sole heir. He was their hope. He was their future- and yet, the first cracks in the picture-perfect royal family were shown when Geto had been sent to Mount Inferno.
Normally, imperial members were honed to become the deadliest of weapons in the confines of their palaces. Private tutors, techniques, and rigorous training hours you couldn’t even imagine.
No one knew the exact reason, but the message was clear enough.
You yourself had gotten your invitation (more like summons) to Mount Inferno the day after.
Your parents had yelped in joy and told the village elders; the first student in a hundred years to be called from the most revered of the Fire Nation from your little tribe, they celebrated for seven days and nights.
And on Mount Inferno is where you met Geto Suguru.
In your first year. Walking along Mount Inferno; head held high and his air untouchable even in punishment. Students - from first-years to third-years - looked but didn’t speak. Hair down to his shoulders, tied. Robes lined with golden. Equally as golden shoes stepped down the gravelly pathway in a painfully trained staccato, and they were just about to pass you like the rest of them before—
A droplet of water leapt out and splashed Prince Geto’s golden shoes.
You and Shoko had just dunked Naoya’s head into the cold springs anew- thrice for talking garbage about women in the first place, once more for each time he refused to apologize.
You wouldn’t kill the idiot, of course- you’d just teach him a lesson. At fifteen he should know better.
And this was about the twenty-third time and your arm had grown tired from holding down the stupid aristocrat—but you weren’t going to give up on making him eat his words any time soon, alright? Especially not now. Especially not after all he’d said. It didn’t matter if you had to miss orientation and stay here until Yaga had to drag you away- you’d only go kicking and screaming.
And perhaps ‘accidentally’ throwing a first at the damn Zenin brat who-
“Whaddaya staring at?” So, needless to say, you weren’t the happiest of benders when you caught stopping and staring at you less than a foot away.
The spring was on one side of the path leading to the courtyard, and any student walking could easily have avoided it altogether - most did. Most flickered their eyes to the commotion and flickered them away even faster, either not wishing to get involved or not wishing to help Naoya of all people. You see, he’d already made an impression.
One that’d left you slightly more than just cranky- “You wanna be next or what?” You glowered at the long-haired boy. You wouldn’t be expelled just for this- you and Shoko doubted anyone would speak on behalf of the Zenin tyrant anyways. Besides, this was before your first lesson, and if you two weren’t recognized as students yet—then there was technically no expulsion to be done, right?
But to your surprise, Shoko reached across Naoya’s bent-over body to elbow you. “Oi- shut your mouth if you wanna keep it.”
Narrowing your eyes suspiciously at her, “Why?” You’d just met the girl today, but you had an inkling you’d be good friends.
“Don’t you know who that is-”
“Should I?”
She looked at you with widened, disbelieving brown eyes. And it seemed as though she was about to continue-
But before that, the boy casually cocked his head to the side. His deep, charcoal-black hair framed his aristocratic face in a way that looked like a picture. “You’re both Waterbenders, correct?”
You and Shoko shared a look. “Yes…?” She answered. Both Waterbenders; though from different tribes - Shoko was of more nomadic origins, the village of water healers. Whilst yours was a quieter, more diminutive tribe of fishermen and marine waterbenders—you grew up with honed steel and the scent of blood. If you cut yourself, then the strongest healer was several villages away.
The elite-ling before you surely grew up with padded cushions and perfume to make your eyes roll. That irritation weighed down your brows, “What’s it to you?”
His eyes flitted between the two of you, before ultimately resting on you. And to your surprise, he smiled- smiled.
Long and feline.
Ear to gauged ear.
That was the first time Geto Suguru ever smiled at you. Had you known that at some point in your future, those smiles would grow so rare and ravishing, then you would have counted your blessings more scrupulously.
But back then, you’d merely blinked.
And he’d been feeling a tendril of black hair between his fingers, scrutinizing, before he threw it over his shoulder. “Oh, nothing.” He began to walk off without even a single glance backward, “Seeing as you two are Waterbenders, I was just hoping you two didn’t know that my friend Naoya here has a certain…aversion for sharks. That’s all.”
You and Shoko looked at each other once more.
And it would have sounded like yet another goad- it would have. But you and Shoko looked at each other with a whole new understanding—huh…is that so? And whilst she held Naoya down, you reached your dominant hand out and concentrated on the spring water with all your might. The ripples of it. The drowning texture. Power coursed through you, aqueous, and in the absence of its shape- you bent the water into the shape of a gaping shark underneath.
And made it dart straight for Naoya dunked underneath.
Bubbles erupted furiously on the surface of the water as he screamed and thrashed- yet you and Shoko only held him down harder. Held him down until the dagger-like teeth of the ‘shark’ were but mere centimeters from his face—
Then - and only then - do you pull him out by his close-cropped brown hair.
The pinkish face of the Zenin heir gasped for air, and through blubbers, through tears, through swears, he somehow managed out. “I-I’m sorry—!” He clenched his eyes shut, “Fuck- I’m sorry, I won’t say women should walk three steps behind…”
Your fingers dug into his collar even tighter.
“I mean-” He quickly rectified, pathetically shaking both the water and the thought out of his head. Like this, you couldn’t help but snort at him. “I won’t say…such things ever again-” His beady eyes slid to the side and narrowed at you, “Just- please- let me go—”
“Sure.” You eyed him just as wickedly, “If you admit it now that women and other folk can be just as powerful benders as men?” In support, the water gurgled and whirled into a conspicuously-shaped jaw. A shark.
Naoya sputtered, “Y-yes—yes. Women and- o-others can be just as powerful benders as men.” Thrashing even harder, “Please let me go—!”
“Sure thing.” You glanced at Shoko. And at the same time, you both unhanded Naoya’s twisted-up arms and let him fall face-first into the spring with a deafening splash! Cheekily, the water shaped at your whim into the open maw of a shark just as he plummeted. Hungry.
And it was all Naoya could do to let out a high-pitched squeal as he fell into the sharp-toothed, watery abyss. He crash-landed into the spring once more and scrambled to his feet, pushing past other students as he scurried in the opposite direction.
You and Shoko hooted at him the entire way down, only stopping once you lifted your head and caught—
Just a glimpse of amethyst eyes.
Before he turned back around, long hair swaying from side-to-side as he made his way up those steep stone steps. The number of students still making their way up were diminishing, and the first bell was likely to ring soon- but you stood there frozen in your red and black Mount Inferno robes, a blue gem fastened to your belt. Looking after a boy with a red gem attached to his own. “Shoko…who was that?”
“You seriously didn’t know?” She picked her satchel up from where it’d been discarded by some shrubbery on the pathway, and looked at you closely. “That’s the crown prince, Geto Suguru.”
The myth. The prodigy. The disgrace.
“The Geto Suguru?” You asked.
She nodded seriously.
How odd it was that a boy that elicited such a reaction would be the only one to save you two seats for the courtyard orientation. How odd it was that he’d whisper little facts to you about the lost Airbender at your first lesson.
How odd it was that Geto Suguru, the punished fire prince, became your best friend.
He was attached to you by the hip, practically.
He was part of you enough.
Goading you into training long nights at the dojos, throwing spirals of water and fire shooting off cliffsides and seeing who could send them the farthest, helping you discover new springs on Mount Inferno (then promptly pushing you into them), whispering schemes to dunk Naoya or another one of his misogynistic reverse-harem again. For teachers, there was a higher chance of finding you both as a unit - and a trio with Shoko - than finding either one separated.
Which also meant that punishments for breaking one of the Fire Nation’s 80,000 rules was also handed out as a collective.
You win some, you lose some.
Though he’d been off at some meeting or the other with bending master Yaga when Shoko - your other best friend - convinced you to make a dash for it- just a last hurrah. Down the volcano to fortune teller Tsukumo, in and out, before anyone ever notices that you broke curfew. After graduation tomorrow you might never see her again—this was your last chance.
Though she was a Waterbender, Lady Tsukumo was known to be nomadic.
And with Shoko’s urgency buzzing in your ears, and the never-ending uncertainty of what life held after graduation nagging at you- you made the descent.
Which is where you found yourself being heartily laughed at by the blond-haired bender, her head thrown back and her candles flickering - it made it seem as though even the shadows were having a guffaw at your expense.
“Don’t understand?” She asks, what seems like much later. She wipes away a mirthful tear at the corner of her eyes and looks at you in bewilderment, “Don’t understand—? Oh, of course, you don’t understand- tied for first place in scores with the prince, and yet you don’t understand, hm?”
You gape, “How did you-”
“A teller always knows.” The older woman winks, and pulls your palm closer for her to examine. “Tell me now, my dear, what is your type?”
“My- my type—” Sputtering.
“Yes, yes-” Lady Tsukumo tuts impatiently, “Your type. And be specific.”
And even though there was no one here but the two of you- you couldn’t help but cast a sidelong glance around the room. Feeling your heartbeat start to pick up, “I suppose…someone kind. Someone smart- emotionally smart. Someone that loves me for m-”
“Booooooring—!” She announces.
And your jaw just- drops.
What the…
Gaze wide as a mad glint creeps into her eyes. Shoko, you shall never be forgiven. “E-excuse me-”
“You’re excused.” Lady Tsukumo - you wondered whether she had given the title to herself - waves a hand breezily your way. She continues looking down at your upward-facing palm, “Now here’s what I actually see about your type-”
You gulp.
“Tall.”
Alright.
“A powerful bender.”
Well, alright.
“Handsome- no, gorgeous.” She looks most excited at that one—“Long hair. Pretty face. The stuff you write songs about.”
Well, certainly alright…
She turns your palm from side-to-side to capture every angle- then presses two fingers to your wrist and listens to your pulse. Lady Tsukumo’s eyes close. “Hmmm.” She pauses and listens, “And it’s exactly who you have in mind.”
You gasp-
And her eyes sparkle with excitement before—
“I-I didn’t have anyone in mind-”
“Liiiiiiies~!” The blonde-haired woman proudly announces. Before digging her polished nails even deeper into your pulse and seemingly reaping every sweet secret held inside. “I sense tension. I sense confessions long held. I sense agony-” Catching the look in your eyes, “Oh- but the good kind.”
She beams and you narrow your eyes suspiciously at her.
“The good kind- I promise…at least for me to read in here about.” And before you can call her out on it, she presses even harder. “I sense…a wedding here in the Fire Nation.”
And beside yourself, you can feel something at the pit of your stomach lurch. “A w-wedding—?”
She nods, “A royal wedding.” Having successfully put that little hiccup aside, she only grows more excited now. “With public announcements and a national holiday…you’ll wear the traditional Fire Nation garments-” To which you frown, as you’ve always loved the thought of getting married in your own traditional clothes. “-and the feast will be merry and plentiful. And at the end of the night…”
Suddenly, she stops.
A little furrow forms between her brows.
In silence, Lady Tsukumo runs her hand up and down your forearm as though playing the harp. Counting your pulse. Reading your veins. Almost to your elbow. Pressing harder at your wrist to confirm—
“There will be death.”
The words pierce right through you- you feel faint.
But Lady Tsukumo’s grip on your hand is unyielding. She’s almost breaking through skin with her nails - “Death is lonely here.” By now, her hazel eyes are shot wide open and staring right through you - unseeing - as she continues almost in a daze—“A single life will be lost on your wedding night at your hand. Before Dawn has defeated darkness, darkness shall be defeated within. And red shall stain the floors of a royal suite.”
Those all-seeing eyes of her close.
“In blood as we are borne, two worlds reunite under life and death.”
The candles hush.
Darkness.
By the time that Lady Tsukumo has waved them back alight again, you still have your hand reached out and your palm facing upwards. Though the tips of your fingers have started reaching inwards - they remind you of the fire lilies that Geto snuck you out to watch blossom your first year. Shoko had been caught cheating by Yaga and made to do revisions whilst you two explored. A valley of them between the furthest peaks of your school: they were the most beautiful things you’ve ever seen. And so you’d returned.
Your second year. And then your third year.
Though they were ephemeral - just a few weeks of blossoming per year before they crumpled.
And with it, something else crumples, too.
Tsukumo Yuki softly intertwines your fingers with hers and squeezes. Then she says in a soft voice, “I’ll tell you a little secret, young Waterbender. Just as you reshape the water, you have the power to shape your own destiny.”
The night is different when you’re finally stepping out.
Crisp and cool; almost to a sharp fault. The door to the fortune teller closes behind you with a click! and you’re standing upon her step- looking up at the moon.
“I know you’re there, Suguru.”
And from the darkness emerges a playful groan. “How did I pass stealth lessons again?”
You chuckle, “I just know you too well.”
“I’ll say. Shoko told me you came down here so I thought I’d come to escort you.”
Geto Suguru - eighteen just like you - steps into view underneath Lady Tsukumo’s hanging lanterns; admired so ardently by flying termites that flutter around the light in infatuation until their wings fall off mid-flight, and they drop to the floor—crawling around in bafflement as they try to reach their radiant lover once more before they inevitably die.
Under that same light, you’re taking him in.
It’s been quite some time since you’d splattered spring water over the young prince’s golden shoes- and Geto Suguru has grown considerably since then.
His hair had gotten longer. His smile just a little more feline. The princeling you’d had to look down at to speak had hit a sudden growth spurt once he’d reached about halfway through your first year. First to become lanky. And then his body had given him about two more surges in his second year just for the hell of it, just to leave him amongst the tallest in the grade.
And it didn’t matter how tall you yourself were- Geto was at least a head taller and it honestly got on your nerves a little that you now had to raise your head to speak with him.
Your best friend.
Your best friend…right?
Third year was when he started filling his frame out more.
It honestly wasn’t something you thought about until you just-so-happened to notice - and once you did, you just couldn’t seem to stop.
Because Firebender Geto had always been painstaking about keeping his training schedule rigid, keeping his techniques exceptional, never dropping below a cool #1 in Firebending ranks. Never one to fall behind, that was what influenced you to claw up to #1 yourself in Waterbending- and though Shoko wasn’t the type to take things as seriously as the two of you - at least not outwardly - you could tell that she put a certain amount of ‘effortless’ effort into maintaining #2 in Waterbending. But of course, #1 in all healing lessons.
He was one of the earliest to master Firebending.
And it was exactly those extra hours of training and duels that left you a honed warrior- and Geto…someone that was hard to keep your eyes off of.
All that height? He was now padding on extra muscle n’ heft to make his frame much more intimidating - like those royal warriors you’d see mentioned in history classes. Corded shoulders. Defined pecs. Chiselled abs.
Little by little; training sessions with your best friend had begun getting a lot harder when he’d take his helmet off to let his long, river-like black hair cascade down his shoulders. Sticking to his forehead. Pushed out of his thoroughly pretty face. Glistening with sweat—Geto would pant as he tears through the sizzling layers of his armor, bearing more and more skin than you think you could bear-
You once did.
Before everything got so…strange. Whenever Geto would take off his armor - complaining about it being too hot to duel - you’d merely used to throw your helmet at him and do the same.
But now when he was calling your name, breath ragged, staring at you with half-lidded exhausted eyes…
The one thing that ran through your mind was how his waist was so grabbable-
Before you know it, the real-life Geto Suguru is leaning down and giving your forehead a good flick. And the thing about him is that he doesn’t hold back, either, so you’re left paying for the absence of your own caution.
Your best friend.
Your best friend.
Your best friend.
Whining as you rub over that spot, “I’m killing you.” The two of you begin heading the treacherous trek up the volcano. “I’m going to finally report you to Yaga for stealing his prized kale cookies- I swear.”
“Sure thing.” He smiles that feline smile, “Just make sure to add that you ate about half of them, too.”
“On second thought, why steal and tell?”
Geto laughs into the night at that. And you can’t help but turn your head and watch him—so free and unabashed.
It makes something fuss at the back of your mind- “Hey, Suguru…”
He turns to you, profile illuminated by the pale moonlight. “Yeah?”
“What’d Yaga have to say to you?” You ask—it wasn’t like a teacher to set a meeting so late, and especially right before graduation. Attempting at a joke- “He isn’t failing you or anything, right? It’s nothing serious?”
“As much as I’d love to join you as a super senior—” You snort. You both knew you were making the speech as class first tomorrow. “-no. It wasn’t anything serious.”
Looking to him for more information.
To which Geto merely looks at you and smiles- he had this little quirk where sometimes his eyes went completely shut as he smiled. And you honestly hadn’t thought of it too much until now. Now…you think it’s the type of thing where one could write a song about it-
“We just talked about the security measures for when my father arrives.” Geto ultimately sighs, amethyst eyes straight ahead. “Royal visitor and all those tedious things…”
Your lips part, “Ah…” Right. The Fire Lord himself.
“Honestly, I didn’t even think he’d come.” And though he sounds casual about it- you can tell there’s real weight behind Geto’s words. After a few more steps, he turns the questioning onto you. “What about you? What made you decide to go to the fortune teller after all this time?”
You shrug, “Change of pace? Shoko wanted me to do so- ah.”
“Oh yeah? What’d she say?”
And that—that makes you feel so many things at once. So many.
The excitement. The elation. The heart-stopping moment. The crush. They’re all slamming into you at once- and it’s a complete miracle that you’re able to get out…“Honestly…not much. Guess m’not that predictable, huh?”
Geto speaks slowly, “Is that so…”
“What about you?” Turning curiously to him, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you going down there?”
He breaths out a silver cloud into the cool night air, “I have once. My first day here.”
And that makes your brows raise- you’ve never known…“What’d she say?” Your heart races, and your palms feel sweaty when they clench—
“Honestly?” Geto leans in close- reeeeeally close. He brings his face towards yours - and there’s a brief moment where his gaze drops down to your lips—you think he’s going to do it. You think he’s going to close the distance. You think he’s going to kiss you. You think he’s going to prove every premonition right and wrong and so right at the same time. “Not much.” Before he’s pulling back his index and flicking your forehead once more.
You summon a nearby spring to fashion into an oversized fan, and chase him with it all the way up to the dorms.
He laughs the entire way.
Tomorrow was graduation, but every tomorrow after would still be the same.
Would it not?
.
.
.
You wake with a gasp.
You wake to the drums of war.
The morning awakening. The rhythmic beating of a scorned heart. It punctured and pierced and honed itself against the coarse air of the Fire Nation; the crescendo of your traditional drums, followed by the chanting of your nation’s most valiant benders, and the undercurrent of melee when scimitars met jaw blades. You’d gotten used to the sickening crunch of bones being fitted back into place, though the cries of your people still left your stomach churning.
Like prey in wait, the world of battle never really slept.
Just last week, the Earthbenders had made the journey from their encampment to yours—and by now the gashing of boulders, the screeching of metal, and the accretion of unique war cries had become accompaniments to such mornings, too.
Rousing.
Dust erupted from the savanna plains and a thin layer of it rained down on you from the gaps in your tent. You’re blinking awake at the flood of pus-yellow light, and raising your head off the table- you’d fallen asleep poring over your war plans yet again.
You can’t remember the last time you slept in a bed - a bed, let alone a comfortable one. But such things were frivolities at a time like this. Everything could be far, far worse.
You’re leafing through the yellowed parchments on muscle memory, embossed with the insignia of every Earth and Water tribe in the land. There were many such papers; each one differing in only slight revisions, though with the same contents and proposition addressed to the Fire Lord. Your once-friend.
It’s been nine years since you graduated at the top of Mount Inferno—Geto had been standing right beside you that day as Earthbending master Yaga announced your class as he’d announced you all as the new generation of bending masters. The future. The hope. And you exchanged a look with Shoko and Geto that day, tenderness churning within your chest when it sank in that this would be the last time you’d be standing in this courtyard like this. The last time that Mount Inferno would truly ever be yours.
And so you nodded- you’d planned for this moment for a long time.
As Yaga finished his speech, you kept your hands behind your back and flicked them- just a flick. Enough to summon droplets of clear, glistening water from every surrounding spring.
They rose high above your heads and half-crystallized in ice—like diamond shards. Shoko hovered her hand and manipulated the water particles in the air to spread them out across the entire courtyard, and Geto lazily waved his hand to increase the temperature. To make the icicles suddenly pop! and rain down - refracting with the daylight to create a brilliant rainbow above you all.
As the audience awed and gasped then, Geto had stepped - just a single step - closer to you. His shoulders brushed your own, and you remember the tip of his littlest finger grazing yours—barely there.
Before Geto had caught the eye of his father - tunneling through him with his vicious stare - and the heir had stepped away.
Your hands had chased his touch, his warmth then.
But you should’ve known- that should’ve been your first sign.
No matter how many times you promised to write and keep in touch with your two best friends; only one of them responded. Letter after letter to the Fire Nation’s Royal Palace - and all of them went unanswered.
Though, even years later, you were writing.
You hadn’t lost hope- at least, not until your village elder one day asked whether you weren’t invited to the crowning. Whose crowning? Oh, Prince Geto’s crowning as the Prince Regent, of course. His father had become bedridden, and he was overseeing the nation without being formally crowned yet.
That was how you found out.
Seven days after Geto’s induction as the regent, the Fire Nation attacked.
It was on a group of peaceful air nomads that were already far and few between. Then came the villages. Then came the towns. Ultimately—you remember hearing whispers that Lord Geto was actually the one that poisoned his father in hopes of seizing the crown. The Fire Nation had no King for now, though it did have a monster.
In just a few years, life as you knew it was set aflame.
You can’t remember what exactly you’d said in your last letter to him, but you were sure it was some mangled mess of disbelief and threats. You wondered where that old Geto you knew went, you promised you’d make him pay for what he’s done…be it whether you were arrested and charged for treason or not. You never were.
You went through a mountain of papers trying to write something coherent.
And when you finally had it arranged to be sent, you joined the rebels.
Over the course of years, you trained and toughened. You fought your opponents hard and you fought yourself even harder—you knew that Geto Suguru had eyes everywhere across the land. You calloused, you bled, you fell. There was no time to grow gradually used to the ugliness of battle, you were thrust straight into it and forced to grow wiser than your ages. You knew he must know you’ve joined the building uprisings against him.
And you couldn’t disappoint your old classmate, could you?
They granted ascending titles for every one thousand enemy attacks one diverted. At the age of twenty-seven, you were general of the Waterbending faction.
And the battle was becoming decisive.
On one side of the tent was a picture of him from your schooling days - eyes crossed out, and pins and daggers stabbed into him whenever you and your war generals mulled over plans. And at your feet lay the half-melted remains of ice blades you’d been training with.
Sometimes, when the nights were really quiet (as quiet as a battle camp could be), you fashioned sharp streams of water and sent them jetting straight at that picture. Just like you and Geto used to in competition, on a cliffside so long ago.
Only now, there was no laughter.
As you’re straightening up, a rough canvas blanket falls off your shoulders—Shoko must have entered some time during the night and put this over you. Of course she would.
Always a healer, no matter what.
You’re holding the fabric close to you for a few seconds before letting go. A general had to carry only what was needed.
Freshening yourself up with the shallow basin of sun-warmed water at the corner of your tent, you’re donning your sea-blue cloak and walking past the tent flaps. Midday Sun licks at your skin as you step outside.
The Sun in the Fire Nation always seemed hotter than the one in your land, but right now it was the only thing you could feel. You turn your face up to it in greeting and breathe in deeply.
Your brief moment of respite is suddenly shattered by a call of your name - urgent. The sound of an approaching horse. Alarmed; your eyes shoot open and your hand immediately falls to the bone knife fastened to your waist, dropping only once you recognize the approaching men as one of your own—his blue cloak flutters in the wind.
As he nears, you register his wide eyes and his pallid face.
A cold sweat seemed to coat his features despite it being scorching out. And once he’s close enough, other warriors stop his horse by the reins- and he all but collapses onto the ground. Crawling on all fours to you—before you’re waving away your soldiers and helping the man stand up yourself.
“Ijichi.” You support him up and firmly tap the side of his sallow cheeks, “Ijichi! Get yourself together, soldier. What happened?”
As a non-bender, Ijichi was still an integral part of your battle. He was your messenger - and your most trusted one, at that. He was the one that’d successfully delivered your last letter to Geto as your friend, and your first letter to him as Lord: the proposition. You knew Geto wouldn’t lay a hand on Ijichi, no matter what the contents of your letters were.
He knew how just dear your friends were to you- he knew very well.
“He…he…” Ijichi’s pale lips tremble.
Your pulse races. There was only ever one he that could deign such a reaction- “What happened—” Signalling one of the nearby warriors to hand a flask of water over, you wet his mouth with it. Lightly shaking him. “Speak, soldier-”
“H-he has an answer, general.” Ijichi sputters. Hand weakly gesturing towards his satchel-
Your soldiers tear open that brown hide satchel and present you with the sole thing inside—a smooth, strong parchment tied up in a red velvet ribbon. Though it didn’t have the signature embosses and the gaudy golden envelopes that most communication with the palace did, there was no doubt that it was of imperial origins. The only difference was in the way it seemed to be from the hand of the Regent himself, rather than any old elder…
This was straight from Geto.
And you have to be careful not to display the slight quiver at your fingertips as you open it-
‘My dearest best friend,
It has been accepted.
Yours, Suguru.’
Though the handwriting itself was far different from what you remembered his to be. But people change.
“What is it, general?” One of the warriors pipes up from the gathering crowd. The Earthbending masters and other commanders have joined, too.
And you’re looking straight ahead - at no one and everyone in particular - as you just give a single…simple…nod.
Lord Geto Suguru has accepted your marriage proposal.
.
.
.
Riiiiiip—!
You’re clenching your jaw and fisting your hands together as a Fire Nation attendant tears out wax strips smeared down your legs, yanking out the hair underneath. She stares in wonderment for a brief moment, before starting to do the same on your hands.
A scream strangles in your throat.
The journey from the camp to the palace hadn’t been too extensive, and you’d arrived to the roar of trumpets and the wariness of the Fire Nation public. The palace announcement itself had been shaky- but they had to open the doors to you.
They had to.
You were their future Queen, after all.
Just perhaps not what they expected.
Scrubbing and plucking you raw, honey glazes, and milk baths. They’d taken special offense to that little callous between your thumb and index from holding a sword too much.
They’d attempted to scrub it away and failed.
Who would’ve thought that years of battle meant that other things took priority over a little waxing and powdering? Apparently the poor, pampered asses of ‘war’ generals in the Fire Nation’s Royal Palace couldn’t stand any evidence of the raging battles that took place outside their numerous gilded walls—perhaps guilt or inconvenience? Possibly the latter, you doubted they had a conscience. And thus, you hadn’t made it two steps inside the sprawling palace before you were whisked away by a cloud of attendants. To be made into an imitation of something you weren’t.
You’d seen the way they looked at you- as if you dirtied the palace with your mere presence. To your surprise, it seems a majority of the council had long since been taken over by the Zenin elders.
It seems that Zenin Naoya had made a name for himself as the head advisor.
That fool couldn’t advise a cow to moo.
You hadn’t even gotten to see Geto yet - and here you were already being prepared for your wedding.
If it were up to you, you’d forgo all this levity and carry out the plan here and now. You’d barge past all these plumes of dresses and golden antiques, and—
“Now for your perfuming, Your High- ah, I suppose not yet.” The orange-haired girl smiles to herself as she fogs you with some expensive perfume.
You crinkle your nose and expect the worst - some throat-clogging, saturated scent that makes you gag…but what meets you is the soft undercurrent of the ocean, of jasmine, of memories long-gone and hidden. And your eyes are shooting open in surprise.
“It’s good, hm?” She nods excitedly at your reaction. “His Highness had it concocted specially for today.”
“I didn’t take Geto to be the perfumeering type.”
She laughs softly to herself and you look up in curiosity. “Oh- sorry.” Bowing ever-so-slightly—you’re hurrying to tell her that she didn’t need to. “It’s just that…my lady, you refer to His Highness so intimately yet it seems you have not the faintest idea. Lord Geto is the one that has chosen everything for this wedding; from the perfumes to the flowers, to your dress. Oh! Though such strict…presentation aspects were demands from the council.”
Eyes darting to meet her warm honey-brown ones in surprise.
“He had it all thought out, my lady.” She finishes.
“That…” Your lips part. “I don’t understand.” You turn around and let the silk overcoat glide against your skin like a second one, “How does a monster have time to plan a wedding?”
She gasps and skirts her eyes around—as though merely speaking in here could land her in the dungeons. And you wouldn’t be surprised if it did.
The girl looks at you with pleading eyes- about to say something, but you’re shaking your head reassuringly. “It’s alright. You don’t have to answer.”
With a relieved sigh, she goes back to moisturizing and massaging your aching limbs.
“But tell me this-” You continue, as the silence prolongs. “-how did so many of the Zenin family find posts in the palace? Last I knew, it was just Naoya’s father that had a position here.”
“As head advisor, yes.” She nods. “The Zenin advisors have only increased in number and notoriety. Before we even knew it, they went from just one in the palace- to now having the entire family in power.”
You hesitate, “Regent Geto’s doing?”
“Not at all.” To your surprise, she shakes her head. “It started when His Highness Geto Suguru was banished as a prince- that was when the family first came to power. And in the three years of his schooling, they’d only increased. When the young prince returned, there was no extracting them. They controlled it all…or so the old palace keepers whisper.”
Your brows furrow, “Is that so…”
Looking around nervously once more—surely rehashing the palace history wasn’t a crime? “And they also whisper that…” She leans in close, half-covering her mouth conspiratorially. “There’s something strange about Advisor Naobito being the only one to serve His Majesty the King with his breakfasts- but His Highness doesn’t seem to care.”
Shivers down your spine.
“I-I see.”
You do.
You really do.
Nearby, the in-chamber water fountain starts to bubble. The girl gasps and looks between you and it-
That’s what makes you snap out of it - shaking your head and looking up at her with a slight smile. “My apologies. What’s your name?”
She hesitates, likely wondering whether you were going to report her for divulging so much information. But whatever she sees in your face seems to convince her that you’re not like them- you’re not like the Zenins. And she answers, “Kugisaki. Nobara Kugisaki.”
Nobara keeps you company until another flurry of attendants arrive - and soon enough, you find yourself dolled-up in countless layers of red and white silk. Golden patches and embroidery on your sleeves, nimbly designed into visions of mountaintops and fire lilies, the emblem of the Geto family on your back—it bore heavy. You were surprised - you expected more of his name upon you. Your face is painted. You’re perfumed once more. Roses were woven into your hair, and your feet are slipped into golden sandals.
It hurt that your own tribe’s name wasn’t anywhere on your outfit.
When you tried reaching for the sea-blue cloak you loved - not as lavish as the Fire Nation’s robes, but your most prized possession - the attendants had shook their heads.
Still, you tucked it into the wide circumference of your sleeves nonetheless.
As those double doors opened and you were led outside, some of your guards stationed outside - in case of any funny business - froze. Shoko smiled sadly. Ijichi’s jaw dropped—
And you weren’t sure how to feel about everyone reacting to you like so.
The procession was long and mind-numbing with luxury; it gets to a point before opulence becomes vile. And in the Fire Nation, most weddings were status symbols rather than actual ceremonies of love. For the Prince Regent - the future King as far as anyone knew - most of all.
You could hear it outside.
The clothes. The music. The swell of a public that cascaded never-ending into the widespread palace courtyard and watched, and the passing of appetizers leafed with gold. Red-hot ribbons and lanterns, the oversized faces of dragons with drunk ministers atop them—throwing flowers and bits of golden paper - cymbals clashed and dancers of all sorts and music made their way into the palace pavilion. Drummers banged. Children squealed at firecrackers. In contrast, you walked quietly shouldered by your warriors and being led down the pathway to your husband.
The place where the binding ceremony would take place was the pavilion overlooking the Fire Nation public. Where the entrance of the palace was.
At the very top of a hundred stone steps, where the audience convened below.
The elders had drawn a circle of ash for you to step into.
And so you do.
Perfectly placed on display.
A hush falls over the crowd. Caught between merriment at the war ending and morbid curiosity and fear, they were chanting in dialects that you didn’t understand - though the stay word or two you’d learned through intelligence cracking made you recognize they were singing about love, about unison.
Today there would be none.
There would be blood.
Lady Tsukumo’s prediction still lingered at the back of your mind. Though you kept your eyes downward and awaited your fate.
Your fate being the tall, red-clad shadow at the edge of your peripheral vision. He stands next to you.
Your breath catches as it hits you that this was Geto- and he seemed even more broad and intimidating than you remembered. The only things you can make out: long, dark hair and arms crossed behind his back. His uniform seemed to glint with something- gold? Though you don’t look up to confirm, you’re training your eyes down at the stone steps—and feeling the man straighten up beside you.
“It’s a lot of people, isn’t it?”
You almost jolt-
Had you been any less disciplined, even an ounce, you would have darted your head upwards and gaped at him in disbelief. Here was Geto Suguru…speaking to you as if nothing ever happened.
How could he do that? How could he speak like that? What gave him the right—? The very same that broke your heart over and over- no, this was a very different Geto from the one you knew on the mountaintop. How could he stand there like this - wearing the same body, the same face, the same voice but slightly deeper, and smile at you like that-
And pretend like everything was okay?
You speak in an even tone, “It is.”
“I haven’t seen this many people since the graduation.”
Your chest hurts. “I have.” And for the first time, you’re looking at him squarely. “On the battlefields.”
And the first thought that should hit you was how much he’s changed—how his face now frames his face and cascades down his back like ink, his jaw has set into something sharper, his features have become more refined. Melted away the baby fat to reveal the handsome man within. Years of training and war have left him more chiselled than before- and even through the billowing robes of his traditional attire, you can make out the corded muscle underneath.
He’s both familiar and not. Familiar in those eyes like polished crystals peering down at you, not in the severity that hid beneath them. Geto wore the traditional red and black sokutai; not just any red, but the red of blood after its long since been spilled, of battlefields. Piqued shoulder pads. High collar. Fine gold tracing.
Even a section of his hair was bunched-up into a knot atop his head whilst the rest of it flowers, held up with a gold pin. And on his waist was a golden belt studded with…a singular blue sapphire.
He looked so much happier in your memories.
The first thought that actually - actually - hits you is that he’s grown into everything he feared he’d become.
A fiery breeze ruffles Geto’s long hair and makes him look as though a dream. Or a nightmare.
Despite what you’ve said, his gaze remains unwavering. “I see, general.”
Suddenly, the ash around you erupts in flames, like a phoenix—and the marriage rites commence.
.
.
.
You meant it when you said that Fire Nation weddings were known more for their status than their emotion.
Because the actual rites were stiff and sped-through; as though they were hurrying through the sole sentimental part of the wedding in haste to proclaim the two of you married. Once the circle of ash had been set alight, the Royal Fire Sage had appeared behind you two and boomed out invitations to the spirits and ancestors.
And then you’d been made to recite your vows to one another for the entire courtyard to hear. To make it known - to someone else if not the two of you - that you would have to cherish one another, to understand one another, and to…love one another.
Through good times and bad.
And to bring an heir.
As you repeated after him, you wondered just how much of it could have applied before.
And as the two of you finished, you were handed a porcelain sake bowl that looked dipped in gold. As though a wabi-sabi artwork, but every bit of it had been shattered. You both took three sips each of the rich, translucent liquid—promising unity.
Your hands tightened on the bowl.
And then you placed your offerings of evergreen branches as newlyweds, down on the sacred circle of ash, then clapped twice and bowed.
To the public.
The roaring cheers were deafening.
You closed your eyes tightly against the noise.
There was a reception afterwards, of course, and it was just as disgustingly lavish as you thought it would be; though as the married couple, there was rarely any time for you to eat or drink. You couldn’t indulge when there were ministers and master benders and government officials begging for your attention—most of all, you couldn’t kill when you had a plan.
But oh- did you think of bypassing that plan and going in for the strike when Zenin Naoya had come sneering to your raised table. Wishing the newlyweds a long and prosperous life together.
He spat it out like venom.
Even more so when a new attendant had wished ‘the future King and Queen’ a long and happy life together.
Other big, big names came and went. However Geto’s father wasn’t in a befitting state to make a public appearance, and you’d watched Geto’s reaction closely as this was whispered to him by one of the advisors.
He was as still as a stone statue.
But you could forgive the too-tight embraces from families attempting to woo their way into the good graces of the future monarchy, and the ministers that sloshed their sake on you. You could forgive the generals that eyed you suspiciously, and the young aristocrats that tugged on their guardians’ robes and asked which nation you were from…and whether that was allowed. You could forgive it all. You weren’t wearing your nation’s colors—and you had to smile as your soldiers bowed to you as per your royal title.
You never let them bow to you when you were their general. Just general.
You could forgive it all, because your plan started only after the wedding reception.
When the curtains were drawn, and alcohol suffused into the air. When you were beckoned by the team of attendants that readied you for the wedding, and escorted away into the privacy of the royal baths.
You wondered if it was just you who felt like some in the reception were leering like they already knew…
Readied, once more.
By the time you’re donning a sheer red robe, and guided to Geto’s sprawling princely chambers, he’s already there sitting at the edge of the bed. Back turned to you.
His armor removed and attire half-off - draping over one broad shoulder. And the other….was a pale body underneath the luminous moonlight filtering in—rippled with muscles and slightly freckled. Though they looked faded, as if he’d gained them once a long time ago and had rarely been out in the Sun since.
You could guess they were from Mount Inferno.
Tonight was to be your consummation, and you knew they’d be checking for evidence in the morning.
You walk up to the Fire Lord.
Soundless steps.
And yet, he still turns. His long, jet-black hair falls off of one shoulder and tumbles down his back like a waterfall—it’s glossy and reaches down past his waist. There’s a slight dampness to it, and you wonder whether he’d been scrubbed and perfumed down to the bone, too. You don’t know why but you mourn the way his hair covers most of his toned back.
Quickly, however, you snap yourself out of such nonsense.
You gulp and take a step closer. “I have arrived as the attendants have directed me-”
“Must we be so formal with one another?” He speaks. Geto’s tone is deeper than it was on the mountain, with a polished edge to it that spoke of years of lessons—rigorous. More mature. You think back to your first impression of him- no, it wasn’t just padded cushions and perfume after all, huh? “We’re married now, y’know.”
You’re looking up and realize there’s a smile playing at his lips.
“We are.” And your voice, too, sounds so much more mature than back then. “But that doesn’t mean we’re not strangers-”
“But we’re not.”
“We are.”
There’s a frosty silence that stretches between you two, and you’re starting to think it might last until sunrise- but then Geto puts his face in his hands and sighs. Heavy and unbroken. “At least…at least just for tonight…” Voice something so small—something that reminds you of the Geto from nine years ago. “Could we not be strangers?”
You don’t answer.
But as he stares at you - piercing through your very being - your hands move as if hypnotized to the sash of your robe. And his eyes grow murky- they grow dark—following you like a predator follows its prey.
Though which one of you was the predator, it’s hard to say.
With a single flick of your fingers, your robe is dropping off of you.
And if you thought his gaze was smoldering before, they’re practically glazed and blackened now. In almost a trance, he keeps his eyes on you and reaches his hand outwards- and murmurs in a low timbre. “Come to me.”
“Is that an order as King?”
“We both know I have no power as King.”
A plea.
You step. Silently.
And soon enough, you’re standing in front of Geto Suguru - in-between his manspread thighs. He gazed upon you, and you gaze upon him. It’s now that you’re noticing his outer layers had been stripped through, and the only thing that he’s donning now were baggy white trousers doing little to hide the muscles underneath, and a hitoe: it was a dark, draped robe that almost looked like a yukata. Loose and flowy.
Shifting aside to reveal a puffy pink nipple on his left side.
Then before you know it- you’re both pushing him back onto the bed by his shoulders—and crashing your lips into his.
And you’re not sure what you’re expecting- fuck, you’re not sure how long you’ve agonized over this very moment, but Geto’s kissing you and you’re kissing him. And it’s everything you’ve imagined in all your most innocent girlhood dreams.
He tastes of jasmine and crisp summer air - the curtains behind you flutter with a breath of cool air, and you’re gasping. It’s then that Geto takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss.
Clasping the back of your head, he angles it to one side and lets his delicious tongue inside. Exploring your mouth for a few seconds before fishing it back out n’ then leaning even closer to suck on your tongue. The moment he tastes you, he groans. “Please…”
And you think - for a brief, stupid moment - that you’ve wanted nothing more.
But Geto’s canines nip at your lower lip, and reality’s hitting you all at once. All at once.
You’re breaking the kiss with a sickeningly sweet pop! and pushing him down by his shoulders. Geto’s scorching hot pants fan your face, his long hair tickles your neck. Perhaps too afraid to look him in the eyes- to see what expression he has on now, you’re shuffling down his body. Pawing between his legs.
But just before your knees can hit the floor—an arm reaches out and stops you.
Grabbing ahold of your own, he’s pulling you up.
In split-seconds, you’re finding yourself back on the bed - this time with the positions flipped. You have your body rested against a mattress that feels like a thousand clouds. You have your cunt throbbing wildly as Geto beckons you to stay and kneels down on the bedside.
Like he’s praying.
Though the only plea he whispers is between your naked legs.
Getting swallowed up almost instantly in the cute, slobbering kiss he’s pressing against your plump, puckered lips. Just so ready for him.
Geto’s dark brows contort as your legs jerk open a bit further and your cunt’s sloshin’ out.
Lascivious ribbons of creamy slick empty out of you n’ end up dripping down his chin - it glistens underneath the cool, blueish moonlight - and you’re watching as he sticks the very tip of his tongue out to taste. You see those clouded amethyst eyes start to grow even murkier, heavy and half-lidded. He looks up at you in half-shock as the syrupy taste of your cunt enters his mouth, and the infamous Fire Lord can’t help but moan—
“Honey, I want to taste you for eternity.”
“You’re not s…oh.” Eyes clenching shut. Breath catching in your chest. Whatever you were about to say- Geto’s lappin’ the words right out of you.
With the slightest inch of his tongue squeezes in- hot and pulsing between your folds. The ridged texture of his tastebuds glue to your most sensitive parts—polishing off every ounce of the gloss that coated between your pussylips. And once he’s downed it all like the sweetest of mead, Geto purses his pink lips and spits.
A stream of glittering saliva that hits you.
You flinch-
“Too cold?” Geto’s voice just seems so loud in your eardrums. Low and so much more ruined than you remember it- it makes you blink up at him. And whatever he’s seeing in your expression, it seems to answer his question.
Because then he’s running a thumb down the wad of spit plastered to your cunt. Tap-tap-tapping.
And before you know it, you’re feeling the frigid, exposed parts of your pussy turn into something sizzling.
Fuck.
Bubblin’ over and fizzing.
He was using his powers to…your brows shoot up to your hairline.
You’re clamoring onto your elbows. You’re quaking your thighs shut- and actually getting them shoved even further apart—by both of Geto’s bulky shoulders lodging himself even further between them. His sticky, hot breaths were practically basking your cunt - and soon enough Geto’s nose-deep between them and slobberin’. “Sh-shit, now that’s unfair…”
Prolonged, open-mouthed kisses. From the tender edges of your pussylips to fishing his tongue between them- swirling inside your wet hole.
Now that he’d heated up the spittle touching your cunt, it was Geto’s time to smear it all over using his mouth and pretty face. “Mmm, not too bad, huh?”
“Don’t get ahead of yourself.” You scoff. Raking your fingers through his raven locks.
“Ahead of myself? No, no…” Geto murmurs- and he’s purposefully doing it so the vibrations shot up your spine and made you arch into him. The crown of his tastebuds sloshed between your folds and gave you such luxurious licks prodding inwards. Flattened top. Teasing edge of his tongue. Then Geto reaches his right hand up and swats the glistening top of your cunt. Soon enough, you’re feeling the slippery layers of his saliva grow even hotter. “You need to know your place, my little Waterbender.”
“That’s general to you.” You’re tugging on a fistful of his hair. Still damp; though by now it was less with water, and more with sweat.
“General…” Geto repeats. Another swat- controlling and ebbing the heat in a way that made fogginess coil around your brain. “And do you realize that you’re in enemy territory, general? My best friend?”
“I- am aware.” Gritting out—more so because you couldn’t handle the slight whimper that threatens to crackle on the edge of your tone.
You’re dragging an even less merciful handful of his hair in retaliation- dragging and dragging until his lips almost pop off of your cunt. He’s grabbing onto you with a single hand groped underneath your ass, and such a desperate husky noise.
To his credit, you just didn’t expect Geto to moan.
But then again, he didn’t expect you to put a blade to his throat, either.
Geto’s purple eyes snap wide open at the ice-cold feeling- and the air prickles with the power of bending. It wouldn’t take a genius to figure out that you’d used the dampness of his lengthy hair - the water particles, the ravenous sweat - and melded it into a steel-hard dagger that pricked at his pale throat. Just a single gulp of his Adam’s apple leaves Geto Suguru nicked.
And crimson beads down to his robe—matching. Wedding colors.
‘A single life will be lost on your wedding night at your hand Before Dawn has defeated darkness, darkness shall be defeated within. And red shall stain the floors of a royal suite.’
It would take just a single flick- just a single flick of your wrist to end the Fire Prince’s life right here and right now. To end this all. But you take your time to admire him…at least before the life drains out of his eyes.
That second of eye contact lasts longer than lifetimes- longer than an eternity together. Just the two of you in the royal suite. Geto’s mouth on your cunt, and your dagger at his neck—and to your surprise, he doesn’t look like he’d be anywhere else.
In fact- to your offense, he flickers his eyes down to the callous that was peaking out in the web between your dominant thumb and your index. And slowly - almost snake-like - Geto’s inching his face closer and pressing a soft kiss—right as you were holding the dagger.
Your breath hitches- it’s silent. It’s oh-so-silent.
And Geto’s darting his eyes up at the sound of it, cautiously pulling away. But not to any sort of mortal safety, of course, because when has Geto Suguru ever followed your expectations?
He’s instead maneuvering his face- and unsure where he was going, you’re following his actions with that deadly blade of yours. But the Fire Lord doesn’t run. He doesn’t beg. He doesn’t change. He merely tips his head ever-so-slightly at an angle, then sidles his hot face between your clammy thighs to…to make out with your cunt.
Make out.
Not just lapping and lickin’ like he’d been doing before.
Your mouth falls open, “Oh.”
Not just prodding away between your pussylips with the tip of his tongue.
“O-oh, fuck.”
He’s properly gaping his mouth open and massaging the forefront of your cunt with his muscle. Again and again. The thick, flattened plane of him rests on top of your pussylips n’ drags up and down, back and forth, teasing you mindless before swabbin’ his wet inches inside.
Geto’s practically glued to you- the tiptop of his tongue rovering for every sweet spot inside. Long, drunken thrusts. And with every single one, you’re reaching your arched hips upwards. “Fuck- fuck—”
The silvery tip of your dagger digs against his skin, and the prince flutters his eyes open all feline-like.
Lightning shoots through your body as you take in the utterly dazed sight of him. “You realize that I can- hah, that I can just kill you now, right?”
“I’m aware.” Languidly, he’s blinking his eyes open properly. Your pussy just tasted so good lacquering his tongue like this; in such a warm…wet layer of your sap. And the only thing the fearsome Firebender can do right now is tip his head back and let those juices drain to the back of his throat. “And it’s only makin’ me harder.”
“This?” Pressing the blade even harder. “This.”
In response he can only nod.
Nod and nod and nudge your pulsing clit with his nose.
Your jaw’s just dropping. Was he making fun of you…?
“Fuck- I-I think I get it now.” You’re blubbering, hand tremoring. “You really are a monster-”
“I am.” Though you can’t decipher his tone of voice. Merely feeling the way Geto presses a few more noisy kisses on your cunt, before he’s raising his hand and-
You shut your eyes.
You’re hearing the solid smack! on those swollen, needy lips before you feel it. Hot. And just as soon as the searing sting makes its way through your thrumming vessels, Geto’s attached his mouth to your cunt once more and is tunneling his tongue crazily into your pretty hole. Just so wet n’ needy for him that you’re sucking him up after every hackhammerin’ thrust. Squeezes him closer.
He moans- fucking moans as he cuts himself off from breathing. He doesn’t care if he suffocates - as long as it’s between those tremblin’ legs of yours.
Though it’d be a damn cold day in hell before you ever let him beat you to your mission objective.
So you’re pulling back your deadly dagger, and you’re catching the slight surprise flickering in Geto’s eyes at the act. Quickly replaced by something more knowing, something…far darker and unreadable when that blade finds itself positioned back on his beautiful throat.
The vertical line of it stands out starkly. A thin line of crimson draws itself on the edge.
You’re somehow clenching through gritted teeth, “I…need to kill you—for the good of this world.”
He keeps perfect, ruinous eye-contact with you as he leans his pretty face forwards. He keeps eye-contact with you as he raises his hand and spanks your pussy once more.
“So do it.”
Hot sparks explode behind your eyes.
And the imprint of all five of Suguru’s doughy fingertips seem to emblazon themselves on your cunt- you’re realizing then that he’s using his powers again. He’s leaving a mark on your pussy…for however long he may be alive. For however long you may let him stay alive.
And he’s eating you out like it’s the last meal he’ll ever have.
The sweetest of sultry desserts latched onto his mouth - Geto ties your legs tighter around his head. Then he’s mouthing aside your soaked pussylips to stick his tongue in and out, in and out, in and out. He’s pinpointing every hidden spot inside you with his dexterous tongue- quirking it juuuuust right to one side and hittin’ your g-spot ruthlessly.
“I am going to—” Though the words feel weak, even on your lips. “I-I am going to-”
“So fucking do it.” He’s a man on death row. He’s a man starved- your dagger moves even further upwards and Geto’s sharp white canines make an appearance as he hisses. “Do it…”
“I-”
“I dare you.”
And for all the world, you might have possessed the steadiest arm in all of the land. But the way he’s makin’ your eyes roll to the back of your head - just the winding, zig-zagging slashes of his tongue squeeeeezing into your pussy - would be enough to make anyone tremble. Even during their life’s mission. “I…sh-shit.” Bucking your traitorous hips upwards - so hard that it leaves a smear of glittering slick from his upper lip n’ to the tip of his nose.
Slash after slash.
Probe after probe.
He’s just so fatal with his tastebuds - sizzling against your velvety inner walls. And you wondered whether that was just you or his powers…
Before another hot smack! resounds against the sprawling corners of the royal suite. And Geto’s taking your star-struck moment to swirl the ends of two fingers inside, scissorin’ and bullying all their slender inches.
They were the hands of the strongest Firebender of today.
And they were smearing apart your snug channel. Squelching. Smushing themselves inside- the sheer length of them…oh, it felt like they were about to go on for daaaaays. And you’re rutting up into his vicious thrusts with a whimper, “P-please…”
“Please, do it if you must.” He breathes out scalding pants. Nostrils flared. Skin red. You’re left utterly shocked at his admission- you look up into his eyes and they’re crystal clear. “If it shall bring you peace- do it.”
Gaping, “Wh-what do you mean me…”
But he’s only honing his slick-glossed, slithering digits. And he’s such a quick learner, too, he’s locating your g-spot with only a few more thorough thrusts—his favorite target. That pulsing area writhes underneath his touch- and you know where he is exactly when the heat spreads from Geto’s fingertips.
Leaving you ruined both inside and out.
Leaving him grinning around the gummy nub of your click. Sucking.
“If that is to be your wedding gift-” The mound of his voicebox pushes deeper against your blade, a hairsbreadth away from something irreversible. “-then take it-”
“Sh-shiiiiit—” Tearing up.
“If that is what you’ve been dreaming of all this time-” He continues, voice growing more and more guttural by the second. Geto’s practically gulping your pussy into him, clinging onto him. Quivering. “If revenge is the only thing th-that’s let me cross your mind…if only for the briefest second, then I shall thank it.”
Streaming down your cheeks now. “Su—fuck.” You could feel the twisting and turning at the pit of your stomach as you grew ever-closer.
He continues. “If it is what my wife desires…then so be it.” Was he fucking drunk? Was he talking out of…of your pussy? There was a slurring edge to Geto’s words, toppling over one another. And those beautiful amethyst eyes of his struggle to remain open - blinking lazily - as he laps n’ keeps lapping at your leaking pussy. Those juices smearing all over his jaw. “Kill me.”
Then down to the column of his throat.
Then collecting on your trembling blade.
Geto’s boring straight into your eyes as he utters. “But until then, m’gonna keep making you cum over and over again.” Quirking the curvaceous tips of his fingers to ram straight into your g-spot- he makes you shatter. “For as long as I have left to live, m’gonna make you the happiest woman on Earth.”
“That’s just unfair-” You’re damn-near sobbing. One of your hands claws through his night-black hair, and the other uses the flattened edge of the dagger to let you see his face better. “That’s just really, really unfair…”
“I was never a fair man.”
Then you’re being fucked through your waves of bliss like never before- those looooong, arching cresendos of dopamine through your body. Those white-hot stars. The edges of your vision blurring.
And the only thing your muddled mind can think to do is plant your feet flat on the mattress and arch- and press your drippin’ cunt closer to his face. As Geto Suguru suckles on your clit, he traps it between his teeth and draaags it out far enough that you yelp.
All the while, his fingers were slammin’ straight into your g-spot. Over and over.
Rubbing the softened tips of it to that pulsing spot—he’s elongating your orgasm like never before. He’s making you feel those carnal sensations in eeeeevery single ridge and crevice inside your cunt, three of his fingers stuffing you full by now. “Never was an understanding man.” He gasps through French kisses on your clit - every time he rolled his tongue over it, you were mewling. “Never was a kind man- hngh. Never was a good man.”
Smack!
It resounds even louder than the last few, the feeling of his heated-up fingers spanking your cunt.
And you swear you’re sent straight over the edge for a second time—
“I can only promise to be the damn best husband for as long as I have.”
It’s with this notion in mind that you’re dragged through your intense peaks, and once you’re finally coming back to - it’s to the sound of Geto pulling away from your spent pussy with a loud slurp! He follows the stray wires of sap that still connect him to you- pressing a final few kisses before finally wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
Then looking you deep in your eyes as he then licks off the glowy sheen that covered his skin.
This was what did it for you.
You’re raising your stone-cold blade high—high, higher, and even higher then. Until it was well above his head, and then—
Slashing it down to decimate his outer robe.
Even Geto himself looks shocked at this- before you’re grabbing ahold of him by the shoulders and dragging him up onto the bed. It dips with a groan at the weight of you both, its ancient springs equally as shocked, and you don’t care if you’re causing a commotion when you pull him by a lock of his hair till your back rests against a vast metal headrest. Against your skin, you could feel the twists and twirls of some intricate wooden carving - but the only thing you could focus on right now was him.
Him and the aching, throbbing erection he was sporting in his loose trousers.
The fabric paper-thin. The outline of his cock obvious.
He was so looooong and deliciously curved to the right, hard enough that you could spot at least one thick vein prodding down the side of him. Precum had seeped from the top of his blushin’ red crown and darkened a patch in his trousers; it sticks slightly to his skin as Geto rests a hand on the hemline and teases taking it off.
“Do I need to bend a dagger for that, too?” You quirk a brow.
“Hah…” Geto huffs out a laugh, “No need to exert yourself, my little Waterbender- or more like…my wife.”
Ah, his wife.
His wife.
His wife.
And then your…husband does the honor of stripping down his only remaining piece of clothing.
And the first thing you notice is that he’s even bigger than what your imagination had concocted. Red-hot and throbbing.
A slight spattering of black curls dust his base, and partway up his navel. It glistens with beads of precum that just refused to stop streaming from the tip of Geto’s cock - hard. So painfully hard.
Fucking painful.
Even contact with the frigid air seemed to make him quiver, n’ his cock was pulsing so hard that you could physically count it from where you were seated. Eyes wide and gaping - you don’t feel the slightest bit abashed about staring, and Geto doesn’t seem the slightest bit self-conscious. He’s got a gorgeous cock, and he knows it.
It feels so hot as he places the ruddied tip straight on top of your raw cunt and presses down. Not even easing inside- just smushing your folds down so that you’re getting a good feel of him.
And you do, of course.
You’re grabbing Geto by each one of his luscious deltoids and digging your nails into the firm muscle. Crashing your lips into his. Hissing, “I-inside.”
Making his velvety, sap-covered tip squeeze between your pussylips. He’s entering you with a buck and a cracked groan at the back of his throat—“I already am, general.” Just a single inch inside and he sounds breathy. Just a single inch inside and his head drops forwards- a curtain of inky black hair falling around you like a veil to the world.
You’re reaching upwards and taking out his signature golden hair pin. Even more of it.
You don’t think you’ve ever seen him this…vulnerable.
And then the Fire Lord’s throwing your legs over his shoulders and bending you flexibly down in half, hands finding purchase upon either side of your waist n’ slamming his hips into you like a madman. “And I’m have a d-damn good time fucking my wife.”
Geto’s reeling his lower half back- all the way until his ruby-red tip is purposefully stretching your hole out. Feeling you - just feeling you.
Before giving you a thorough thrust from the crown of his cockhead and down to his thick base. So thick. Your mouth’s falling open into a similar ‘oh’ that your pussy’s being expanded into.
Then repeating.
And repeating.
“Fuck, she’s so wet. Is that because you’re the- hah, land’s greatest Waterbending master-”
“Shut up.”
“And if I refuse?” There’s that hint of mischief in his voice you recognized from your past. “And if I claim that this pussy actually lov- liked this mouth of mine not too, mmm, long ago?” Through a clenched grin and furrowed brows, he somehow manages out. “So what do you have to say about that, general?”
Your maw keeps dropping open the more and more of his jagged thrusts he’s placing. “W-weren’t you the one who said he’d be happy to- even hngh—die by my blade?”
“I was. I am.” He replies - and it’s so earnest that you don’t have anything more to say to him. Suddenly, Geto’s giving you a right slam! of his cocktip- colliding against what feels like the very back of your throat. “And I stand by- ngh, every word I said.”
“Th-then…”
Before you’re able to sputter out anything more, he’s reaching his right hand down. Snaking his long fingers between those plump pussylips of yours - Geto plaps! the flattened edge of his thumb down on top of your clit. Then starts rolling n’ rolling over it in time with his solid thrusts. And just as every passing second made you keen out more…it also made you more honest.
And he could tell.
Geto’s feline smile presses on top of your forehead: a chaste kiss. One he’s repeating on your temples, your nose, either side of your cheeks, your chin, and finally your lips.
Humming against them, “But the reason I said that was because I’m in love with you.” And he says it so easily. Shock courses through your body- or perhaps that was just the feeling of him slammin’ into your g-spot. You get the distinct feeling that Geto had known where it’d be all this time - already having mapped you out with his roving fingers - and that he’d been holding out until this exact moment. “But why aren’t you completing your mission, yet?”
Your lips tremble- “I…”
“Let me make it clearer for you.” Gravelling tone pitching just a bit—just as he punishes out another slam! of his fingertips against your stuffed pussy. “Why haven’t you killed me yet?” He tosses his head with an attractive smile, “Is it because it feels too good? Be honest.”
Well…You’re scoffing, “You wish-”
He grins an irresistible grin before scorching his fingertips against your swollen cunt once more. Those Firebending powers of his certainly weren’t at full capacity - they weren’t even being used at a fraction of it.
And yet, it still made itself known in how even the tiniest bit of contact made heat sprint through every atom, every axiom of your being.
And you can only clench your hand around Geto’s damp hair, feeling the glide of those silken locks through your fingers. It makes the man hoverin’ above you on the bed wince—letting out a throaty noise of ecstasy as you’re handling him so meanly. He fucking loved it.
He’s dreamt of this for too fucking long.
Noticing this, you’re wrenching him back by his hair and spitting straight into his pretty mouth. Those pouty lips of his enclose immediately ‘round the sweet glob of spit you’re letting out - and he’s trying to kiss you almost immediately. “Mmmm…” Geto’s long lashes bat shut. At the very split-second that it had landed, you swore you could’ve felt his bashin’ cockhead swell even bigger. “Thank you, my wife.”
Eyes opening once more- you see there’s such a carnal glint in them that you can’t explain.
“But don’t think that’s gonna make me forget.” And suddenly, you’re understanding just why his name was whispered far and wide. Why not a soul in his palace seem to speak a word against him. For fear, or…Yet another swat. “Why haven’t you killed me yet, my little Waterbender?”
It was honestly feeling more like an interrogation at this point.
Mockingly, Geto cocks his head to the side and bears you his throat.
Perfectly unharmed and unscarred. The thin line where your blade lay earlier was practically invisible.
“C’mon…let me make this even clearer for you.” He goads, “Here’s your target. Here’s your enemy—kill me, my wife. Let’s see if you can, general.” Something almost maniacal in his grin, Geto’s dashing his dark hair backwards like a mane and pressing his forehead to yours. “Aren’t you the greatest Waterbender alive? You’re here because you’re bound by duty, are you not? Then why don’t you?”
A few harder thrusts.
Eyes wide. Tone crazed. “Why don’t you—?”
Why don’t you? Any other soul would stop themselves out of fear- perhaps out of proximity.
Good thing that you weren’t just any old soul.
And so you’re summoning that blade once more in a way that feels almost subconscious- your mind wasn’t really concentrated on the weapon. How could it be? When Geto’s plummeting cockhead was only growing speedier and speedier by the second - his round, reddened tip swirling about your insides and pinpointing every spot with his white precum. They were just the sloppiest strikes.
Again and again.
Upturning even the smallest slick orifices and bruising his circumference into your spongiest depths. Your cervix stung with the imprint of him.
Absolutely tortuous despite your training.
Which might be why the handle of your blade’s already half-melted; water dripping down your hand by the time you’re raising it to Geto’s pretty throat once more. “I…I am bound by my duty.” You breathe.
The enemy Lord’s grin widens as he registers your words. So you were finally taking the bait…
He looks down at the misshapen, gnarled excuse of a blade pushed to his throat—and notices the droplets of water cascading down your arm. And without a single warning, he’s craning his neck down - avoiding the sharp edge of the weapon - to liiiiiiick up those ice-cold droplets on your skin. It feels almost teasing looking at his tongue like this, already knowing what it’s done to you once.
Murmuring almost awe-struck, “I am the general of the rebellion’s Waterbending faction and I am here to kill you.”
“Yes—” He whispers. Pitch raising. Octaves higher. “Yes.” There’s a thundering squelch! between your legs as he then grips onto your clit with torrid fingers.
Your blade raises- ready to strike. “Geto Suguru, you are hereby to be assassinated at the hands of the new age. An act of revolution.”
“Yes—”
“An act of peace.”
“Fuck- yes.” Brows knitting once you clench.
“An act of…love.” Impatiently, Geto then turns to smack! the glossy top of your clit. To pinch it. And he does it with heat-coated fingers that make you see stars.
He stares at you, and you can’t look away. “So do it.” Almost gruffing the words out at you. And for how long he’s been saying these words to you, it’s just now hitting you at full force that this was a challenge. And how cocksure he was…“So kill me if you can bear to do it.”
For your nation, for others, you have to do this—you have to. Your hand trembles on the handle of the squat dagger. It feels small and almost…childish in your hands. But the longer the pause stretches between you two, the more it melts - until your weapon is nothing in your hands at all.
It was futile and you always knew it was. He did, too.
This was never going to happen.
Especially not when he was fucking you so incredibly—
And you’re merely wrapping both around the back of Geto’s head and tugging him to you.
You’re crashing our lips into his with a moan. “I can’t-” You gasp. You gawk. You’re barely breathing every time his mouth’s parting from yours and slamming back down with an even harder kiss. “I can’t bring myself to kill you, Suguru.”
Pain. It sounds like defeat. But to Geto Suguru, he’s heard no sweeter music. “And why is that…?” The infamous Fire Lord tugs on your bottom lip with his teeth.
“I-I don’t-”
Smack! Right on top of your clit. Honesty, remember?
“That’s not an answer.”
Heat coils between your legs - almost feeling like flames licking at your skin. He was making it clear that you were putty in his hands. “Please-”
Smack! Harder.
“It’s b-because I…”
“Speak up, general.” Smack! Smack! Smack! Harder. Three consecutive slaps of his fingertips- before you could even attempt to formulate an answer. Though Geto wasn’t completely merciless…at least not with you - he soothes over the sting with a few glissades of his fingertips. Pressing down on your knobbly clit then and combatting the pain with pleasure. Pinching. “Your soldier can’t hear you.”
And then you don’t know what exactly is doing it for you: perhaps the flared ridge of his tip, oh-so-perfectly grazing over your g-spot—or perhaps the way those half-shuttered eyes of his were staring down at you.
Practically boring down.
Seeking your soul.
There’s such an intensity about him- and you’re pretty sure you’re not imagining the way the air around you two heats up a few degrees. Palpable to a degree. Your skin perspires, and a bead of sweat runs down Geto’s own temple.
Tensely balancing at the edge of his jawline as he whispers. “Tell me, my heart…”
“I-it’s because I love you, too.” The confession comes rushing out of you before you even realize it. But once it’s out in the sweltering open air - there’s nothing more to do.
Nothing more to see. Nothing more beautiful than Geto Suguru’s pinched brows as you somehow - somehow…as though refusing to let himself believe such an idea - surprise him. His eyes glisten, his lips part. And that toned chest of his shudders just a lil’ as his breath hitches.
For a long time, Geto doesn’t let out anything but a few rasping grunts as he fucks you—fully and thoroughly—
And then he’s collapsing on top of you n’ puncturing out a few more sloppy strokes. Body hunched into yours. Mouth open and pressed on the column of your throat.
Heat bends around Geto’s fingertips - thrumming with energy, nearly vibrating - when he captures your clit. Harder.
Geto feels you clenching around him - throbbing furiously - and echoes out a prolonged grooooan as your third high of the night overcomes you. “Sh-shiiiiit—” It’s not one that you were expecting, and the sudden flashes of white behind your vision leave you startled. Your head drops back, and you’re mewling out Geto’s name twofold. “S-Suguru-”
“You haven’t called me that in years.” A drunken grin spreads across his face. One hard thrust that bangs into your g-spot. “Say it again-”
“Suguru-”
And one more spank. Sparks of pleasure more than you could register.
“Suguru—”
Your yelping n’ yowling were like music to his ears; the sweet sound of victory. And every time his pace quickened, your pupils are left dazed and confused—blinking up at him blearily.
Babbling.
“What’s thaaaat, my little Waterbender?” Geto’s pert lips twitch with amusement on either side, and he’s soon leaning his head down to hear you. To tease you by mimicking not hearing you—“You’ve got something to say to your lover? Heh- or maybe it’s to your husband?”
“It’s something to the- hngh, pain in my ass.” You snipe out.
His free hand reaches down n’ gropes a good handful of your ass. “We haven’t gotten there yet.”
And as your mouth drops open as his sheer audacity- Geto wastes no time returning your favor from earlier by spittin’ straight into your maw. Letting you swallow it before he’s thumbing over your clit again, “As I was- fuck! saying…”
“Mhmmm?”
And instead of just telling him - you suppose that showing him would be just as effective. And you’re running your hands all over the curves and muscles of his sturdy body; along the plush area of his pecs, and then down wherever you could reach his abs—pathetically reaching to grab onto Geto’s dripping, ruby-red cock. “I need you inside.”
His fingertips flare with his- slamming down on your clit once more. You just felt so raw and perfectly overstimulated. “I already am…?” Geto raises a brow.
“No—” You shake your head. And as for the bending powers…two could play that game. Without a single warning, you’re bending the moisture at the tips of your digits and dropping their temperature starkly - making the powerful Firebending master shiver at the play with heat. “I need you to cum inside me, Suguru.”
And you always did know he was weak for first names, didn’t you?
Because in no time, Geto’s then hiding his blushing face into the crook of your neck- and gluing his ravenous hips to yours. With a few twitches deep inside, his scorching-hot tip bubbles over—finally.
And then he’s pouring out bucketload after bucketload of hot, gooey cum.
Body bowing. Toes curling. His long hair was knotted and dampened with perspiration, sticking to your own clammy body as he’s tangling the two ever-closer.
Geto isn’t even completely done with the crescendo of his high before he’s already attempting to fuck every ounce of it inside you.
Sticky. It’s a satiny mess between your legs, and Geto’s ecstasy was just the tip of the iceberg. “Fuck.” The true sloppiness presented itself when it was time for him to fuck each and every wad into you - directing the sheer volume of it with his fat red cock. A thorough prod of his shaft leaves a few droplets being swerved straight into your womb. “O-oh, fuuuuuck-”
“Shit.” Just as he utters his sensual sounds - all of the stray parchments in the room catch on fire and peter themselves out. Instant. He’s bending the combustion in the air around you two. “Oh, gods…”
Without a single word.
Without a single intention.
You’re still suffering from the sultry aftershocks of your own high- and yet you have to clear your head. You have to be the rational one. “Suguru-”
SLAM!
Before you can sputter out anything more, he’s reaching an arm out to grip onto the headboard and leaving you speechless.
Just the sound of you saying his name- just the sound of you saying his name had his heavy balls clenching once more. And suddenly you’re feeling an even greater warmth seep into your stomach—Geto’s cumming once more. And the veiny length of his shaft was just accumulating it all at the back of your pussy with squelch after squelch!
Broken, mangled remains of your name escaping his throat.
You can’t help but stare up at the corded muscles of his biceps- arms enough to…kill for. Almost as soon as you’re thinking the thought, you watch as Firebending seeps out of his limbs n’ melts through the metal headboard. Geto’s catching the look on your face with a priggish smile.
“Oh, shut up.” You roll your eyes.
“I didn’t say a thing.”
He didn’t have to. Because he’s pressing on your stomach after the final zap of his high has completed - burnished red cockhead finally calming down - and he’s watching the cum drip out of you. All of him—that he’s stuffed lovingly inside your pussy.
And Geto doesn’t think he’s felt more victorious.
“Suguru..” You start. “Earlier, when you said something about you having no power-”
“I meant it.” He wasn’t lying. He looks deep into your eyes, “As the Prince Regent I am technically the one authority in the palace. Yet it remains a farce…my father still holds one true reign, and the council has decided unanimously that he rules from his deathbed. How competent, yes?”
You ponder, “I see.” Then you ask—“Did you ever read…”
He looks at you so intently, and you shake your head and rephrase the question.
“Why didn’t you answer any of my letters?”
“Letters?” Geto’s eyes flash. “You wrote letters?”
“Oh, Suguru…” Such sadness in your tone. It was obvious they’d never even reached him. “Almost every week for the first few years. I stopped when the war commenced…seemingly by your doing.”
Nearby, a loveseat catches fire and immediately puts itself down. Lips trembling, he grits out—“I…I had no idea.” Enraged. “Those fucking elders- I wondered whether you’d just gotten sick of me-”
“What? No, don’t be stupid-”
He chuckles, “Glad to know you still think so highly of me.” Nuzzling your cheek.
“I do.” You stubbornly hold back your tears, “And I need to know…how in league are you with the Zenins?”
And to your surprise, a smile spreads across his face. “The Zenins?” He rests his forehead against yours and sighs, “Silly Waterbender. The entire reason I was sent to Mount Inferno in the first place was over a fight about the Zenins- and even then, they bartered their son in there to keep an eye on me. And if I was in cahoots with the Zenins to any degree, would I have started the rebellion?”
Your heart skips a beat. “You’re the one that started the rebellion?”
“Yes, from the confines of my lavish prison, unfortunately.” Geto grimaces. “Though I’m glad it got strong enough to this point. It was me who sparked and funded the idea…even misinformed the imperial guard away from where riots took place. But the uprisings, the community, the victory- that was entirely the peoples. While the only thing I could do was sit here and play nice with the Zenins.” Bitterly.
Pulling him deeper to you. Two halves of the same future: you think back to Lady Tsukumo’s prediction. “My big, strong husband. Was poor wittle tea time tough?”
“Oh, it was deplorable.” He jests.
And Geto exhales properly as though the first time in years.
You ache for him.
Just as he aches for you. For your past and for your future. “I’m sorry, my wife.” He tremors after a long stretch of silence. “All this time…I wish I could’ve been a stronger prince.”
You can’t help but punch him softly on his shoulder, “Stupid Suguru. It’s okay. We’re all just grown-up kids pretending we know the way.” Sniffling. You could have a real wedding later, you could make up for time later. “But you better make it up for these nine years we didn’t see the fire lilies, or else…”
“I’d do anything for you.” He breathes. Lips pressing to yours, “I’d let the world burn for you.”
.
.
.
History will remember this day.
As the start of how a bender from the Water Nation would one day become the Queen of the Fire Nation; as the start of a reckoning that started from within the palace itself and spread like a disease into the lands outwards; as the day of revolution.
The Zenin family has long since held the palace captive.
Sitting up on their perfumed, padded cushions and ordering the extinguishment of anyone that wasn’t like them. It was upon their orders that the Fire Nation attacked—and on their orders that the war was prolonged. Nine years of death and destruction.
And that night, after wiping yourself down, you’re sneaking out of the royal suite once Geto’s eyes had closed. Roaming the dark, winding hallways like a predator at night; your eyes were wide and your Waterbending thrummed at your fingertips. Now it had an edge and was begging to meet flesh.
The first chamber that you’d encountered after exiting the marital bedroom was the current King’s chamber - one that Geto had told you had been banned to him since he could remember. He hadn’t seen his father since he’d first gotten here nine years ago. Perhaps because of the decoration and distraction of the wedding, the door had finally been left unlocked and you could peer in. And from the foot of the doorway, you stood watching—as one of the Zenin ministers sped a spoonful of curdling concoction that should’ve been medicine. Perhaps.
But the sweet, simpering smell that drifted from it told you something else.
Fire lilly.
Poisonous when cooked.
Your fingers twitched—and you were just about to send a deadly stream of water spearing through the man. But a sudden tap on your shoulder make you jump-
Whirling around to find Geto.
He smiles at you warmly, and then mouths something in the semi-darkness. It’s hitting you instantly what he means: this one is mine. It’s his revenge to take. Nodding understandingly, you watch as the spark of Firebending starts to curdle around his digits—and you’re scurrying off into the darkness with a kiss pressed to his cheek.
You know exactly where you need to go.
You’d made note of the layout when Nobara had escorted you around.
And she’d given this room a wide berth.
Silent as the shadow that falls, dawn licks at the edge of your figure once you’re walking up to a bed chamber and knocking. Just a light rap. And before whomever was inside can answer, you meld into the shadows behind—just as Zenin Naoya steps out, you’re wielding a dagger of your water and ending him.
A clean cut. Right across the throat.
Because the Zenins, in starting this war, never intended for Geto Suguru to become King. They hoped for him to abdicate such a blood-soaked throne, or at best for an assassination from you…which was why Naoya himself had written you the letter. You did think it was strange that Geto’s handwriting wasn’t even the faintest shadow of what you remembered it to be. They had an inkling that you wouldn’t be giving yourself up to the Fire Nation so easily.
They wanted Zenin Naoya to be King.
The body falls.
A single life will be lost on your wedding night at your hand. Before Dawn has defeated darkness, darkness shall be defeated within. And red shall stain the floors of a royal suite.
The Sun is clawing away at a new day.
In blood as we are borne, two worlds reunite under life and death.
✧ synopsis: you spent most ot your life convinced that your over independence and unapologetic personality were just means to protect yourself. then suguru geto came along, tore down your walls, and made you fall hopelessly in love with him. but what happens when you discover that his devotion was nothing but a paid assignment?
✧ pairing: patrick verona! suguru geto x kat stratford! reader
✧ warnings: college setting, alt! suguru, gojo's here too, yuki is our sister, slowburn, pining, falling in love, he's down bad, drinking, parties, first kiss, regret, hurt/no confort, angst, complicated feelings, heartbreak, possesive! sugu, ex! choso, fluff. smut, solo mastubation!m->and he's so pathetic abt it!, suguru has piercings, making out, panty sucking, oral f! rec, hair pulling (suguru rec.), dry humping, unprotected piv, pussydrunk! sugu, aftercare + confessions. WC: 13.4k
✧ a/n: currently sucking my wifes toes for letting me be a part of her romcom event @uzugeto <3 and also thank you for reading through this. based on the movie "10 things i hate about you". 《 fanart by @chu-cho | divider by qtdecor 》
life was easy for a mysterious social reject like suguru geto.
famous around campus for being 'the worst of the worst', his reputation preceded him—people usually steering clear of him in hopes of not being set on fire like he'd been rumored to have done before… or just get eaten alive like that one duck a few months ago.
which, of course, are things only morons would believe; but thankfully, there were plenty of those at the university he was attending—plus, it helped keep up his 'unapproachable bad guy' persona—and there's probably nothing that geto hates more than superficial, incompetent people.
…with the exception of his friend, satoru gojo.
beneath all the money and dashing good looks that sorority girls and modeling agencies would line up for, satoru was nothing but a walking headache for geto; a cocky, self-centered, sometimes-fun-to-be-around headache.
that's exactly what awaited him behind the class doors he so-fashionably opened just a few minutes before the period would start.
you, on the other hand, have already been busy reading whatever anti-patriarchal book had currently caught your attention—because let's be honest, professor yaga's class is not all that interesting most of the time, so you might as well put your free time to better use.
comfortably sitting in 3rd row, legs stretched under the desk while flipping through the pages, you were almost unaware of whoever entered the class or walked by you—just as you intended; music blasting all too loudly in your earbuds for you to hear much.
not that there was much to be heard when suguru geto walked in. stealthy as a cat yet still managing to catch the gazes of a few people with the corners of their eyes as he sat in the desks at the very back.
MCR and linkdin park pins rattled as suguru threw his backpack onto the ground, earning a prying look from gojo, who was sitting next to him.
"you still a loser?" he quipped, elbows perched on the desk and smile bright as always.
"you still an asshole?" suguru shot back, leaning back into his chair and manspreading like he owned the place. typical.
"ouch. that depends. you interested in some fun?" satoru raised a brow.
"how fun?" —in gojo terms, speaking. their ideas of "fun" did not always align.
"that fun," satoru pointed towards you, who apparently, had the same stone-cold face you've always had on, rammed into your book as if socialising with the lower life forms around would kill you.
suguru was not that much of a loser to be getting no play. he managed. but at no point was he desperate or miserable enough to be okay with complicating his life with you.
"that's not fun, even for me," he replied, face twisting into a grimace.
"not even if i provide generous compensation?" satoru shot a hopeful charming grin
he huffed a laugh, "how generous?"
"how do fifty bucks sound?"
suguru shot you a look—only to see you smack your book against some poor soul's head. you may be pretty, but looks weren't enough to cut it. only glancing back at satoru was enough to let him read his thoughts.
"fineee, sixty." he whined. "take her somewhere. who knows? two negatives make a positive—she might be a match for your reclusive self."
nerd.
"what's in it for you, anyway?" he raised an eyebrow, glaring. satoru would rarely share any of his hook-ups (not that suguru would want any of them), much less pay him to get some play.
satoru sighed, leaning in. "i wanna make a move on her sister, yuki, but she can't date until she does." who knew getting some pussy would be so much trouble these days?
"so what?" suguru snorted, "you want me to play chaperone? keep her from getting a felony charge?"
"and hopefully you not getting any charges either, but that's besides the point—take her on a date, do something nice, help a guy out,"
the appeal was barely there.
just as professor yaga had entered the class, he gave you another look, feeling the last shreds of his dignity slip away. you had abandoned your earbuds on the desk, now (miserably) paying attention to your surroundings.
how bad could it be?
"a hundred." he sighed, sealing his fate.
"deal," satoru grinned, voice low, not to draw attention in the subsiding class.
suguru didn't know you that well—not that he's ever even felt a pull to do so either, but he's heard enough to form an idea in mind. you were a loner. intensionally so. you'd either be seen hanging out with your friend, utahime, or cursing out whoever was unfortunate enough to cross your path at the wrong minute—though you've always sworn they'd deserve it. least to say you were… opinionated.
but that wasn't gonna make suguru back out. he liked a good challenge—whether that be occasionally violating college rules and dodging expulsion, or going on a date with a certified man hater.
he'll make it work.
suguru had until the end of class to come up with something to swipe you off your feet. but honestly? he's got nothing, and it seems like resorting to his wits and charms might be the only hope right now—which usually, was enough for most girls to succumb to.
after gathering up his things and shoving the money in his back pocket, he wasted no time before following your trail as you walked out of the classroom through the sea of people.
"hey there, pretty girl," suguru tapped your shoulder, raven bangs waving in the air as he put on his most charming face.
unfortunately though, he was hit with an immediate glare.
"how was class?"
"pretty peaceful, until you decided to disrupt it," you gave him a faux smile, not bothering to look in his direction for more than two seconds.
"…talk about a touching first impression," suguru teased, walking to match your pace, "consider me intrigued."
"my mission in life," tsk. who even is this guy? "but obviously, i struck your fancy. so you see, it worked."
"pick you up on friday then?"
"oh right. friday, uh-huh," you snorted, quickening your stride. points for dedication, you thought—but you had better places to be rather than his company.
"what if i promise to take you places you've never seen before?" suguru asked, voice perfectly smooth and concealing how you're probably stepping on his ego.
"like where? your fathers garage? i'm good, thank you."
"i was actually thinki—"
"get lost, weirdo."
this was gonna be a little more difficult than he thought.
but, suguru was not one to give up so easily, and for the next week, he'd accidentally bumped into you more times than either of you could count. after your classes—he was right there to help you carry your backpack, even after you'd insist you didn't need any assistance. at the library? suguru seemed to take a liking to the same feminist novels you've been reading; you just have so much in common, right!?
well, you weren't exactly on the same page regarding this subject… but it's a good thing he's a dedicated man.
next stop? the music store.
it was a good day today. it really was. you and your sister got along, nobody seemed to make it their lifes goal to annoy you, and you managed to stop at the store and grab a few guitar picks and a cd of your favourite band's newest single.
but, of course, all of that just had to come to an end the moment you've seen none other than suguru geto lean against your car like an asshole.
"nice ride," he called out, snake bites piercings glinting in the soft light of the afternoon sun.
he cannot be for real.
"are you following me?" you spat.
"just passing by and saw your car. thought i'd say hi," geto clarified, watching you roll your eyes and simply walk past him. tch. dramatic.
"hi." you deadpanned, reaching for your door handle just as he slid sideways against your car, blocking your way and not letting you get in.
"not a big talker are you?" he pushed. deal or not, you've caught his eye.
"depends on the topic. your freaky piercings and 'can't take a hint' personality don't really whip me into a verbal frenzy."
geto tilted his head, pretending to get a better look at you, "you're not intimidated, are you?" he purred, the grin on his lips so begulling it almost convinced you—though, mostly, you just felt repelled.
"why would i be intimidated?" you snorted.
"most people are," he shrugged. truthfully so, geto wasn't known for having the most inviting personality—you just happened to be an indifferent hag about it.
"well i'm not."
"maybe. but i'm sure you've thought about me naked," he grinned, fox eyes trailing your features.
…and there goes the final ace up his sleeve.
"am i that transparent?" you asked, words glazed in irony, "oh, geto! i want you, i need you! please, take me to those bedsheets you probably haven't changed in two months!"
getos face has progressively dropped more with each sound coming out of your mouth which seemed to be enough for him to finally get out of your way and let you inside the car.
sigh.
right when you were about to get moving, another car pulled up behind you, not even bothering to park. mercedes' newest model in an obnoxious blue, and an even more obnoxious driver—satoru gojo.
he trotted his way out, abandoning his car halfway on the street and shooting geto a confident wink—most likely believing his previous investments are paying off. right… so, about that…
"do you mind?" you yelled in gojo's direction, hinting oh-so-sweetly to move his car the fuck out of the way.
"not at all," he replied smugly.
"fuck!" the scream he let out could've probably been heard from three blocks away when you carelessly reversed, hitting your bumper straight into his shiny, expensive car door and putting a wide smile on both yours and getos faces.
"whoops," you pouted.
and with that, you were on your way home. back to the comfort of your small apartment, which you've personalised and decorated so it truly felt like you.
so you put on some music, grabbed one of the countless sylvia plath books on your shelves and threw yourself onto the couch in hopes of having some well deserved moments of relaxation.
you should be in your element.
so why are you thinking about him?
☆
geto was positive you were some type of witch.
there was no other explanation for the way you pulled him under your spell.
at this point, he had to convince himself he was still doing it for the money. mentally clinging to that fading excuse every time he'd follow your trail just so he could collect more information and tips on how to get through to that stone-cold heart of yours.
he had to push aside the fact that he felt like a loser and actually do something about it; but it's like every time he comes near you, his charm and charisma evaporate into thin air.
suguru had to get in close if he truly wanted progress.
so that's how he ended up stopping your sister, yuki, after classes.
just at first glance, he could tell where most of your amiability probably went. smiling brightly and warmly, your sister walked by him after he'd discreetly dragged her to a less populated area of the campus. he couldn't risk anyone knowing his master plan just yet.
"sooo, why am i here exactly?" she asked him, her bubbly voice cutting through the momentary silence.
"you are here to help me get some insight of your sister's twisted mind," geto muttered, lighting the cigarette that parted his lips.
yuki laughed, studying his face for any indication that he's just joking, waiting for him to crack. it just seemed that unbelievable that someone might be interested in you. "wait—you're actually serious?"
unfortunately.
"please don't make it into a big deal…" getos eyebrows knitted upwards. just the thought of you finding out he came to ask your sister about you was enough to make shivers of regret creep up his neck.
"oh my god! i really thought she'd die alone!" she exclaimed; a sparce, uncomfortable silence following right after.
"'m not making any promises yet…" the thick, awkward tension that saturated the air seemed to target geto alone.
"okay, first off—she's not a fan of these…" yuki spoke, plucking the half-burnt cigarette from geto's hand and throwing it on the ground.
his face soured at the sight of the smushed tobacco, "so i have to be a 'non-smoker'…?"
"yup."
geto could only pout at her response.
"so… what does she like?" even if he was going to commit to the role fully, starting with the negatives has already lost him a point. "what's she into?"
"well, she likes pretty guys," yuki giggled lighthartedly, "so good luck with that!" geto scoffed mentally; the frown on his face able to be seen from a mile away, along with the disbelief painted on his expression. was he not pretty?
"buuut, if you really want to know, she likes thai food and listens a lot to that indie—angry girl music, or whatever it's called," yuki explained. "oh, and she's really into those feminist prose books she always carries around."
geto evaluated all the information, making sure to take a mental note of each thing. "so, what; i'm just supposed to buy her some noodles, a book, sit around and listen to girls who can't play their instruments?"
seems easy enough, he thought.
"have you ever been to club skunk?" yuki asked, "her favourite band plays there tomorrow, she's got tickets!"
geto defensively crossed his arms, his gaze briskly drifting in the distance as a couple of outcast memories flooded back from the depths of his mind. "no—no, i cant be there, alright?"
out of all places, did it really have to be the one where he drank until projectile vomiting all over the counters at eighteen?
"but don't you wanna see her?" yuki pressed, a scolding pout pushing out her bottom lip; although her real concern was her being able to date, rather than you.
"of course i do, i just—" geto muttered before cutting himself off. his mind reeled back to you, then back to his past experiences at the club; and lastly, to the money he's gotten for the sole reason of going out with you. lost in thought, the world around him seemed to fade for a moment before yuki snapped him out of it.
"…she's also got a pair of black panties if i'm not mistaken," she chirped with a devious smirk on her face, making getos eyes widen slightly.
was this a test? it felt like a test.
"very enticing, i'm sure," he narrowed his gaze before pulling back a step. "also—don't tell her i came to you, alright?"
"good luuck," yuki replied in a sing-song voice as she made her way off.
"thanks," geto nodded.
as soon as his head hit the pillow the coming night, geto knew he'll have a hard time falling asleep.
his intentions were fighting against the reality of the situation, one in which you didn't actually like him, in which he was paid to take you out. and the worst part of it? he couldn't stop thinking about it—about you.
staring at the ceiling for well past half an hour now, the only thing running through his mind was you—along with your unruly attitude and breathtaking smile. it was enough to bring geto to his knees.
his heart yearned to see you again, more than his mind would like to admit. he wondered what you were like when you were actually enjoying yourself for once, surrounded by people close to you—although, that thought made something stir within his chest.
a soft sigh escaped his pierced lips. he didn't want to acknowledge it, but the feeling was clawing from behind his ribs. he didn't want to see you with anybody else; smile at anyone but himself. in his eyes, you were meant for him alone.
geto felt that in his body and soul, the waves of realisation washing over, dragging him to the bottom and drowning him in the intoxicating essence of your mere memory.
his mind wandered, heedlessly picturing your smile—your lips, how they'd feel pressed against his cheek, drawing lower down his neck. how would you react if you saw him right now? would you be surprised? fuck… would call him pathetic?
the mattress beneath his toned body felt softer all of a sudden, as if hugging his frame; though it couldn't be a match to how delicate your touch would be, geto was sure of that.
too lost in the vastness of his imagination, the tent in his loosened sweatpants was only growing, along with the pressure in his bare abs. heat dripped off his body, his tan skin searing hot while thinking of you.
"don't… don't wanna do this, fuck—" geto squirmed under his breath, amethyst eyes squeezed shut. you'd hate him if you knew what was going through his mind right now, but it only made his cock harder.
frustration bubbled in his chest, a satin sheen of sweat coating his forehead as he dragged his hand over the growing bulge. geto couldn't help the groan that escaped him, his cock far too hard and sensitive under his veiled touch.
"i'm sorry, i need it…" he slurred, slipping his fingers under the fabric and curling them around his throbbing length. he imagined you sitting before him, right between his muscular thighs. geto heard your voice in his head, guiding him, guiding his movements as he began stroking his swollen cock.
"mmphh," he moaned at the slight relief, lips pressed together. his grip was firm and messy as it dragged back and forth around his length, using the ample amount of glossy precum as lubricant. the roughness of his hand squeezed and twisted with every pump, putting extra care over his reddened tip, just like he thought you would.
getos thick, silver rings felt cool pressed against his veiny shaft, making each motion feel more intense. his free hand gripped into the sheets beneath him, fingers curling into the soft material when the pleasure would rise above his ability to control himself.
his chest was heaving already, too absorbed in the moment not to rush. his need for release took over, and the pace of his hand increased, strong hips beginning to match the messy strokes until tears gathered up at his lashline, making the soft black eyeliner smudge around his violet eyes.
"oh god, fuck—fuck, i'm gonna—" geto whimpered, voice broken as his back arched against the mattress, "gonna—hngh—cum." he was breathless, desperately pumping his leaking cock until the warm, syrupy cum splattered onto his abs, coating his rings as the last spurts trickled down his tight fist.
he cleaned himself up, and once a few moments had passed and he'd regained control over his mind, the guilt following hit him like a train at full speed. how can something feel so good, yet leave such bittersweet traces behind?
geto could only groan into his pillow, letting the drowsiness seep into his bones and swallow his thoughts. he has one more shot tomorrow, right?
so much for 'good luck'.
☆
the hours passed by quickly until the evening finally came.
the quiet worry that crawled up his neck felt like a rugged caress in the back of his mind, reminding him of the unethical actions from the night before. geto couldn't let it show, though. not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulders… or impress you, at best.
after putting out his final cigarette, geto walked into the sea of people waiting inside. the scent of sweat mixed with the various notes of perfume lingered in the air, along with the faint aroma of alcohol, everyone around either dancing or drunkenly lying with their head on the nearest flat surface.
the voices of the singers currently playing reminded him of a screeching owl getting run over by a car, if anything; the speakers probably loud enough to rupture his eardrums and make a small part of him regret he even came.
but, his purpose for being there snapped right back into focus once he spotted you in the littered crowd.
a soft smile spread on getos lips before he could think to stop it. you were dancing, movements flowing and carefree as you spun to the blasting rhythm with your arms up in the air. nothing in the entire space looked as striking and lively as you did while the coloured lights painted your skin. you looked beautiful.
his gaze flickered between you and the bar as he made his way to it. no more than a few minutes pass until he's sipping from the liquor filled glass in his hand, seemingly unbothered and nodding along to the music once he notices you swaying over just less five feet away from him.
"just a water, please," you spoke loud enough so the bartender could hear. looking over to your side as you waited, suguru geto was right there, with a grin so massive on his lips that not even the glass in his hand could mask as he covered his face.
"if you plan on asking me out again, best just get it over with," you scowled at him, rolling your eyes.
"oh, it's you," he glanced over, setting his beverage on the sticky wooden counter. "do you mind? you're kinda ruining the atmosphere for me," he tilted his head, though the corner of his lips was curling upwards.
your gaze narrowed, "how come you're not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke?"
"i quit," geto clarified, leaning in so you could hear him better over the music, "i've heard they're bad for you."
"oh, you think?" you snorted.
he took another sip of the alcohol before speaking, "you know, these guys 'the raincoats', they're not bad." now, that perked up your ears.
geto pushed himself off the chair before walking into the crowd, well aware you'd come after him after hearing him mention your favourite band.
"you know who the raincoats are?!" you yelled over the blaring noise, the disbelieving part of you wanting to ask him to name five songs.
"why, don't you?" geto smiled, pleased with your reaction. his eyes trailed down your figure, how the dress you chose hugged you just right, and how your smile seemed to light up your face.
"you know, i was watching you out there," he turned to face you, voice smooth but loud over the blasting music—even when it suddenly stopped, "i've never seen you look so sexy," he echoed throughout the quiet, chattering space, everyone around turning to look in your direction and breaking into laughter.
in that moment, though, your attention wasn't on them. it was on suguru, and how he didn't seem to be ashamed or even embarrassed for what he had said; the look on his face showed happiness, with a smile just as bright while he watched you laugh.
"come to chosos party with me," he offered, traces of warmth and longing in his tone.
another tune had started playing in the background, it was more subdued than the former, but loud enough to have to talk louder if you wanted to be heard. you glanced over to the band before speaking, the song was one of your favourites—and suguru picked up on that.
"you never give up, do you?" you smiled, and for once, the idea of spending time with him didn't seem so bad.
"w—was that a yes?" he raised his voice, curling one hand behind his ear pretending he couldn't hear you.
"no!" you laughed, stepping back into the moving crowd.
"well that wasn't a no!" suguru shot back, following you through the people.
"no!" you laughed again, heartly—looking back over your shoulder at him.
every step suguru took felt lighter somehow, like just being in your presence was enough to spark a flame in his chest. seeing you have fun and feel comfortable around him made it all seem like a dream he's had a hundred times beforehand.
he caught up with you, just like intended. what took you by surprise was the way he took your hand in his, pulling you in and spinning you around right when the peak of the song had started.
you gasped, the movement too quick for you to react—but it over before you knew it, and suguru caught you before he could feel the sharpness of your wits.
"dance with me," he leaned in, just enough for you to hear the purr in his voice, "lighten up, hmm?" he teased, quick to cut your protests short, and even quicker when he swept you off your feet, pulling you into the crowd and guiding your movements to his, matching the music's rhythm.
"let me go, you psycho!" your complaints were all but empty, broken between laughs, and blatantly ignored by suguru. his hands slipped from your shoulders all the way down to your hands, interlocking his fingers in yours before lifting them up into the air.
"not happening," he grinned, letting your movements flow in tandem.
the vast space of the club was basically crawling with people, dancing and moving from one place to another, the air heavy with smoke and heat—yet all you were aware of right now was eachothers presence, and how the subtle intimacy found its way through the fissures you let happen tonight.
sweat illuminated your faces as you continued swaying to the rhythm, fatigue slowly catching up to you and giving your cheeks a red hue.
"i'm tired!" you exclaimed, a smile still adorning your face even through the ache in your feet. thankfully, the song had ended before long after, and only then did suguru finally let go of your hands.
"come on, let's get you some water," suguru coaxed, waiting for you to step forward before following your trail, "or would you prefer i carry you all the way there?"
"something tells me you'd enjoy that more than me," you teased back.
once you sat down at the bar, the wicked voice in the back of your head encouraged you to favour a glass of cranberry vodka rather than some water. once your lips pressed to the cold rim, the sweetness soothed the stinging burn of the alcohol, leaving you with the slightest weightlessness in your limbs.
you glanced over to suguru, "that was maybe a little fun."
his elbows were perched on the wooden counter, a playful smile making its way onto his studded lips, "was that a compliment?"
"don't get used to it, geto," you snorted, taking another sip from your glass.
it felt weird but, you were starting to notice things you haven't before; like how his onyx hair seemed to fall so perfectly around his face, or how he fidgeted with his rings right before he was about to say something. it must've been the alcohol tainting your mind... but your heart has never felt so drawn to another person in a long time.
"i'll try my best," suguru grinned. his amethyst gaze caressed over your features, taking in every detail, every expression, as if it were a sight he'd be content with seeing forever and still not be enough. a soft knit formed in between his eyebrows as he glanced away for a moment, gathering his thoughts, almost afraid to overstep, "so…"
"so…" you sustained, waiting for him to continue.
"what's your excuse?" suguru asked, his voice low.
"for…?"
"for acting the way we do," he explained, studying you.
"i don't like to do what people expect…" you answered, "why should i live up to other people's expectations instead of my own?"
"so you disappoint them from the start, then you're covered, right?" suguru pushed, though he wasn't exactly wrong.
"something like that, i guess."
"well, then you screwed up," he said softly.
"how is that?"
"you've never disappointed me," suguru stated, without a trace of dishonesty in his tone.
his answer made you feel bare. after spending so long building up your walls, he's walked right past them in a way that didn't make you feel afraid of being seen.
the taste of alcohol lingered on your lips again, though the sweet aftertaste wasn't quite as strong as before. one glass turned into two, two turned into five… and that eventually led to a good time, until you were too drunk to stand up…
you hung onto suguru like a magnet as he helped you exit the bar, your mind far too fuzzy and your limbs too heavy to be doing any of it yourself.
"this 's so patronizing," you complained, eyes half lidded and barely able to see something that wasn't spinning.
"leave it to you to use big words when you're wasted," he groaned, basically dragging you up the steep hill leading to the park nearby.
"i don't think sooo," you chirped, sluggishly walking until you accidentally stumbled over air. suguru helped you up, his hands holding you from under the arms like a toddler, "why are you doing this, though? you don't care if i live or die," you mumbled dramatically.
"of course i do," he replied with a grin, setting you down on a swing.
"why?" he took your hands in his, "because then i'd have to take out girls who actually like me," he teased, eyes set on your wobbly figure.
"as if you could find one," you shot back, smirking as you leaned against the chain of the swing.
"see, that— who needs affection when i have blind hatred?" suguru chuckled.
"wait—just, let me sit down for a while," you mumbled, not really taking in his witty remarks. everything felt floaty, like you could fly away or sink into the ground at any moment.
you took a few deep breaths, letting the chilly air fill your lungs and ground you—and that's all it took for you to lose your balance and almost fall off the swing if suguru hadn't been there to catch you.
thanks to the alcohol, you could only laugh at the misfortunes of your own doing, suguru asking if you're okay going in one ear and out the other—of course you were!
he sat down on the swing next to yours, finally getting a moment to catch his breath. a part of him was glad he was here to take care of you, but the other felt guilty for how far he's let you go.
"you've had a good time… right?" he asked you softly.
"i… i—yeah…" you've gone quiet before being able to finish the sentence properly, your head lying against the chain while you slumped over with your mouth parted.
"nonono, hey—you have to wake up, okay? stay with me," suguru jumped, crouching down to be head-level with you while lightly slapping your face with the tips of his hands.
you've only been passed out for a couple of seconds before you woke up again. you were in a haze, starry eyes looking up and straight into sugurus as he held your face, his thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks—and for a moment, he could've sworn his knees got weak.
"your eyes have a little violet in them," you smiled, almost lost in the purple hues.
but, all good things come to an end, and sugurus warm smile was the last thing you saw before involuntarily hunching over and hurling your guts out.
"alright, that's good…" he frowned once you 'cooled off', pushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face, "you feel better now?"
"a little, i think," you sighed, "never drinking again."
"good," suguru huffed a laugh, reaching to take your hand, "i have some water in my car, let's get you home, okay?"
you groaned, linking your hand to his as you got up. the alcohols effect hadn't worn off completely, otherwise the embarrassment you would've normally felt would be a hundred times worse.
suguru's car was nicer than expected, a black, older model chevy, that was also surprisingly comfortable. the ride back to your apartment felt like a breath of fresh air after all of the chaos that has happened beforehand, quiet music playing through the radio.
"you wanna start a band?" he asked, gaze drifting between you and the road.
"no, i wanna sell car stereos," you scoffed, smiling, "yeah, start a band. i'd like that.
"mm, yeah, i can see you doing that," suguru agreed.
"oh, so now you know me?" you asked mockingly.
"i'm getting there…" he replied, looking over to you as he parked outside your home.
a moment passed before you answered, "the only thing people know about me is that i'm scary…" you spoke, voice somewhat quieter than usual—unsure, or maybe too aware.
"yeah… well i'm no picnic myself," suguru stated, matching your tone. the lampposts outside were the only source of light steeping though the window, making the rings on his fingers glimmer as he lay his hand atop the steering wheel.
you looked at him—really looked at him, past the harsh contrast of his exterior and what everyone deems him to be. you let yourself see the carefulness in his actions, the honesty in his voice; get lost in the warmth of his eyes.
"they don't know you, not the real you, anyway," he reassured.
"you're not as vile as i thought you were, suguru," you smiled, making him let out a light chuckle.
your chest felt warm, heart thrumming beneath it all of a sudden. everything felt so quiet—so real and intimate, like the only choice you had to make had already been written down for you. instincts had taken over as you closed your eyes and leaned in, waiting for his lips to press against yours just like you needed.
but the kiss never came…
just his voice, cutting through the deafening silence,
"maybe we should do this some other time."
you felt your heart sink to your stomach. a mixture of hurt and disbelief painted on your face.
your breath was shaking as you got out and slammed the car door in your wake. you couldn't stay here, not when he's made you feel so stupid.
"fuck…," shallow curses slipped under suguru's breath. his face was pressed against heels of his palms as he leaned into the steering wheel.
he couldn't do it, not right now. not when the alcohol was still clinging to your senses.
he wanted it to be a special moment, would have waited however long necessary for it to happen as it should.
now he's watched any chance that might've remained vanish, get torn away from his very fingertips.
and the worst part of it? you probably hated him right now.
even after the multiple attempts of trying to see you, you avoided suguru like the plague.
you couldn't let him win by giving him the satisfaction of thinking he can just get away with what he did.
and maybe you didn't cry, but the cuts of opening up to him just to get played went deeper than you'd like to admit. you replayed that night so many times in your head, wondering if you really were the one at fault, or if he was just an asshole.
you're still torn between the two.
suguru on the other hand, was running out of options.
you've been skipping the only class you shared with him. he even went to the music store hoping to catch you there, though you preferred tuning some random guitar rather than acknoedge his presence. when slipping notes into your locker only proved a further lack of results, suguru knew he'd have to resort to more drastic attempts of regaining your attention.
and that meant spending almost half of his savings buying you that guitar he saw you with.
plus, spending that much money after accepting some to take you out would make it even, right?
(wrong, but it was nice to think that.)
that's how he ended up writing you a small letter reading 'can we talk? pick you up tomorrow after class.' and tucking it neatly beneath the guitar strings. with a little more help from your sister, suguru managed to leave it in the passenger seat of your car, just waiting to be found by you.
to say you were positively surprised when you saw it was a slight understatement.
you didn't need a name to know who it was from. maybe suguru really did see through you far enough to get past the surface level, and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. you didn't want to give your trust to him again just yet, but the push you needed to give him another chance made its way back into the light.
tomorrow came by fast after you'd spent the rest of the evening testing out your new gift. strumming each cord and mindlessly matching the notes to the song that was playing when you met that night at the bar.
so now here you were, standing face-to-face with suguru right outside your classroom—who definitely hasn't been waiting for the past twenty minutes just to make sure you won't sneak away before he could get there.
you'd be lying if you said that nothing stirred in your chest upon seeing him again. his inky hair was tied up in a bun, only the bottom half remaining free and flowing over his shoulders. subtle black eyeshadow was smudged lightly around his eyes, making the violet in his gaze so striking it seemed intentional. you couldn't deny the fact that you missed this sight.
"you can't just buy me a guitar everytime you screw up, you know that, right?" you initiated, a faint smile tugging at your lips.
"well, hello to you too," suguru mused, leaning against the lockers. considering you haven't immediately started the conversation by cursing him, he'd say things were going on the right track. "you did like it though, right?" he asked.
you should like it. he's stalked you well enough to know it was your favourite model.
"i do, yes," you trailed off, eyeing him.
"i'm glad," he shrugged, giving you a subtle grin, "i was running out of options."
"so you'll indulge me?" suguru continued, pushing his weight off the lockers and reaching his hand out to you.
"i wouldn't go that far just yet," you bit back a smile, beginning to walk off.
'yet' is all suguru heard though, even as he felt your ever-so-cruel intentions of tearing his heart to shreds with every step taken away from him.
it only took a few long strides for him to catch up to you, points for having legs as long as half of your height.
for the past twenty minutes, the small talk seemed to create more tension rather than release any—for you at least. you probably asked suguru "how long until we get there?" more times than a toddler on their first road trip, although he'd insist on not telling you where you're going even. you were on the teetering edge of calling the police to report a kidnapping.
shortly after the five hundredth exasperated sigh suguru let out, you finally arrived at the intended location; at the docks. not for any ferries or ships, but paddle boats.
"is this supposed to be the government-level secret you were so unwilling on letting me on?" you asked, amused.
"thought a quiet, secluded place like this might be more fitting," he shrugged.
"certainly fitting if you want to kill someone," you snickered, walking by his side over to the little ticket stand.
"in broad daylight? tsk, who do you i am?" suguru asked—deeply hurt and offended by your accusations.
"fair enough. but you're paddling." you warned, watching him pay for the tickets before handing you yours.
"right away, princess," he smirked, walking in front of you to the paddleboat and holding your hand to help you on-board. the sneer you gave him was almost involuntary—even though you might've been touched in the slightest bit by the courtesy.
the warmth of the sun entangled itself with the soft breeze swaying above the lake, the feeling of it reminded you of silken ribbons brushing over your skin. a brief moment of silence took over, the only noise being heard being the quiet sloshing of the water as you paddled further into the lake. you looked over to suguru; sleek strands of hair were dancing in the wind as he looked into the distance—not lost in thought, but as if something weighed on his mind.
his gaze drifted into the ground; the stillness made your skin crawl, and that wasn't going to change unless one of you spoke up.
"why did you take me here, sugu—"
"i'm sorry," his head snapped towards you, voice mellow yet somehow hurried as he cut you off. anything you might've thought you wanted to say got stuck in your throat at the sight of suguru's knitted eyebrows and doleful eyes. the apology took you by surprise.
"i wanted to have a chance to explain myself," his hands were in his lap, sunlight reflecting softly off his rings as he chipped away at the black polish coating his nails; a habit of his you've noticed oftentimes when he'd try gathering his thoughts, "i understand how i may have come across last time…"
"yeah…" you mumbled, unaware of what to say but keen on what he has to say.
"that was the last way i wanted things to go," suguru stated carefully. "the risk of seeing you again only for you not to remember… or even regret what had happened… turning you down seemed like the best option in that moment," he continued, finding your gaze, "even if it pained me to do so."
you could've sworn your heart skipped a beat upon hearing the last words. his eyes felt heavy on yours, glints of hope and guilt visibly sparking the same emotions in your chest—which suguru was quick to pick up on.
everything felt stuck in time, your thoughts, your surroundings—just swallowed up by the setting sun as you stared into the distance, a part of you wanting to protect herself by avoiding the situation, while the other strived for an answer to give.
"i just didn't want you to feel played."
suguru stole your attention once again—regret, regret, regret—is this what would've ended up of your heart? what would happen if you followed through? or is it just another tactic you made yourself believe in order not to risk becoming heartbroken?
the piles of proof suguru had given you about his intentions could form walls around you by now—just staring back and mocking you, telling you how stupid you are for believing otherwise. he is good, you were just to scared to admit it.
"what does that mean now?" you asked him.
"whatever you want it to mean," suguru said softly, a light tilt in his head as he looked at you, "i'm here now."
a pacing silence followed before he broke it once more with a forlorn chuckle, "it would suck if it didn't mean anything, but if that's the case—"
"kiss me."
"wha—"
your body moved without you, lips crashing onto his in the fragment of a moment in which it all felt right.
awe and surprise was laced into the sweet, minty taste of sugurus lips as they prudently interlocked with yours, his hand slipping over to cup your cheek once he got the confidence to lean in deeper into the kiss.
he tilted your head to the side to gain better access, his thumb brushing over your skin with a gentleness that turned you to putty in his hold. it felt surreal almost—for both of you, but falling into place like two pieces of a puzzle.
one hand wrapped around his forearm while the other reached to brush his hair back. the initial shyness of the kiss melted into a slow, easy comfort. his lips moved against yours at a languid pace, the familiar cool touch of his metal studs becoming a sensation you no longer just tolerated, but craved.
suguru broke away from the kiss first, but both of you were left breathless. the warm, orange hues of the sun painted over your skin like spilled honey, melting into the quiet space between you. for a moment, neither of you moved; his hand remained on your cheek, his touch soft and featherlight as he pulled you into his side.
"who could've guessed you tasted so sweet?" suguru purred smoothly, despite the chaotic rhythm of his heartbeat thrumming in his chest.
"don't get sappy now," you chuckled. there was an effortless warmth in resting your head against sugurus shoulder, a comfort that quickly became second nature.
the rest of the evening snapped by faster than you felt; paddling back to shore whilst in each others arms, listening to music on the car ride home—and before you knew it, you were back on the doorstep to your apartment, the kiss suguru had left on your forehead previously still lingering on your skin and letting butterflies roam wild in your stomach.
not long after you'd settled in bed, ready to go to sleep, your phone rings—a text from suguru, no less.
you crawled closer to your phone and unplugged the charger—the battery almost dead after having spent the past two hours on the phone with utahime, yapping and giggling about how your day had gone with him.
suguru: hey, i forgot to ask you earlier. you'll come to tomorrow's party with me, right?
suguru: no need to answer that. i'll pick you up at 7pm.
you couldn't help but smile at his determination, but you asked yourself, was a party really the place for you? especially when your ex was the one hosting it? whatever, you replied before being able to overthink.
you: do i have a choice?
suguru: nope. see you tomorrow
you: who knows, plans can change until then
suguru: goodnight to you too, princess:)
you: goodnighttt
☆
normally, you wouldn't be bothered to apply any makeup or dress a certain way—much less for a man—yet all day all you were able to think about was the way sugurus gaze trailed down your fancy, dressed up figure that night at the bar. would it be so wrong to want to pull that reaction out of him again? a little eyeshadow and a little black dress never hurt anybody afterall.
the knock on the door came sooner than expected, ten minutes earlier to be exact, but thankfully, you managed to finish your look by then. a few puffs of perfume and your purse were all that was left on your way out.
you couldn't blame suguru for being a little impatient to see you, right?
but even if he knew how just beautiful you looked before opening the door, his eyes would have sparkled all the same.
to say he was speechless was an understatement. his lips parted, but all that came out was an awkward "hi" as his gaze flickered, unknowing where to stop.
"hi," you replied, biting back a smirk after seeing his reaction—just what you intended, maybe even better, "you don't look half bad."
a lie. he looked apatising to say the least, even though not much was changed from his usual look. the worn leather jacket was still hanging off his shoulder, letting view of the way his black, fitted t-shirt accentuated his figure—biceps especially. a few thin, silver chains dangled over his chest, a perfect contrast with his rings and piercings, while his hair laid freely like spilled ink.
"i—thanks," suguru huffed, stumbling over his words.,"you look amazing."
"why, thank you," you coaxed, "should we throw the party on my doorstep, or…?"
"i wouldn't be opposed to it," suguru raised an eyebrow, his grin wiped off his face right as you smacked him in the arm. "after you," he teased, unlocking his car as he made way for you.
chosos parties weren't like the others, where the space would be crawling with drunks, fights and loud, deafening music. maybe that was a part of why you agreed to come, or maybe it was just an excuse to see suguru again.
his arm was wrapped around your lower back as you entered, a gesture you weren't exactly opposed to, surprisingly. the smell of weed, tobacco and hard liquor was the first thing that greeted you once you made a few steps in, strong enough to make a part of you regret you even came. a few familiar faces were scattered throughout the rooms, and double the gazes watching as you came in with suguru.
the thing about smaller, quieter parties was that naturally, peoples attention would be drawn a lot easier.
including chosos.
a low tune played in the background, one of your favourites, actually, as you hid away on a couch with suguru. leaning into his side as if it were your rightful place, you nodded along to the music while yapping something about your history teacher being a pervert—he wasn't really listening, too busy admiring how your legs looked in that dress.
that wasn't a problem for choso, though; smoothly cutting through the crowd before approaching you.
"hey, you enjoying the party so far?" choso spoke up, raising both you, and sugurus glances, "you look beautiful, by the way.
that was enough to make sugurus hand wrap just a little tighter around your waist, aware of how choso only reffered to you, as well.
"it's not too bad, i guess," you and choso didn't part on bad terms—more like differences of opinion—and even though its been more than a year since your breakup, he knew you well enough to know that what you said was a compliment.
"glad i could level up to your standards," choso chuckled, "let me know if you want anything, i could show you some of this new stuff i got, if you're intereste—"
"she's not, thanks," suguru cut him off. the more choso talked, the more it got harder for him not to snap. does he have the right, though? a kiss didn't mean you were his.
your attention flickered between the two before reassuring choso of what suguru said. you could tell how the energy shifted, how his hold became firmer and his tone sharper. it would be a lie if you said you weren't enjoying it.
"thought it would be nice to ask anyway," he smiled. and oh, if only looks could kill, choso would be dead by now.
"so, you know eachother?" suguru caved, looking between the two of you. the sear in his chest felt irrational, but he couldn't shake it.
"if you can call it that, sure. it's been a while, though," you bit back before choso got the chance to, knowing his response would not match yours.
"ouch," choso gave a half-smile, "sorry, are you together?"
as if the tension couldn't get any worse, the few seconds of silence that followed felt like a whole hour had passed. you had no answer. no idea of what to say, only the slightest hope that suguru would say yes.
and so he did—his tone firm and sure, masking the worry beneath perfectly.
by the time you managed to process the storm of emotions rushing through your chest, choso had left, letting out a halfhearted apology and goodbye before turning on his heel.
you could feel your heart pounding in your ears, surges of heat and something you couldn't quite name flowing through your veins. you weren't sure if the look you gave suguru reflected how vulnerable you really felt, but your voice surely let it be known.
"what was that about?" you asked, your voice thin and breathy. the possibility of him just saying that to get a rise out of choso scared you.
the sharpness in sugurus gaze evaporated into thin air once he caught you back in his view. music and chatter dimmed into nothingness, the softness in his eyes igniting a spark in your heart that only he could set aflame.
there was no need for a verbal response to know what was next. sugurus closed the distance within the blink of an eye, his lips merging with yours into a kiss that seeped of need and devotion.
your mouths swayed with no particular rhythm, a constant push and pull of your desires blending to eachothers will. involuntarily, you went in to cup his face, feel him, pull him closer, which only made suguru suck in a sharp breath as he slipped his hand over your thigh.
a swift moment of clarity washed over you, reminding you where you are still, and the amount of people just hanging around. you broke away from the kiss, a string of spit left in the wake of your flushed lips.
you wanted him in ways that were concerning to feminism.
"hey," you spoke, breathless.
"hey."
"we should get out of here."
"yeah," he agreed, seemingly entranced as he got up, letting you walk in front and carefully dragging your dress lower from where it rode up.
suguru shut and locked the door behind as you entered the first room you caught empty. bounds were off, no one to interrupt or make this moment fall apart.
his leather jacket ended up somewhere on the floor—unimportant, the only thing worth his focus was the taste of your lips and how your body melted against his as he slipped his tongue into your warmth. low groans and whimpers fell freely now, each more intense with every hungry push and twist of his tongue.
searing heat rose up in your chest, spreading throughout your body as you slipped your hands under sugurus t-shirt, feeling every ridge of his abs and how warmth radiated off him. the pads of your fingers dug into his sides, desperate to have more of him. a lewd, loud whine escaped you just as your tongue clashed into his, letting you feel something you weren't aware of before. a tongue piercing.
suguru picked up on your reaction almost immediately, though already drunk on the idea of all the ways he could use his piercing to please you. his mouth trailed hot down the side of your neck, nipping softly at the tender skin and eliciting the sweetest sounds from you while simultaneously massaging the pillowy curve of your ass.
"tell me what you need, i'm here," suguru rasped, the warmth of his breath sending chills as he spoke into your neck.
"just you, sugu. need you," you panted.
"fuck, i need you too, baby," he breathed out, dragging his pierced tongue over the purpley-red hues decorating your skin. this feeling alone could send you into overstimulation, your body tense and trembling with want and anticipation.
sugurus hands slid up your back, making you arch into him and gasp when you'd felt his hands drag down the zipper of your dress, letting it slip off your figure and leaving you in nothing but the black, lacy underwear you chose for tonight.
"i know, sweetheart," he coaxed, his voice low and thick with lust, "it's okay, sugu's gonna take care of you."
he became your center of gravity as he led you backwards onto the bed. maybe it was the comfort of the mattress, or maybe it was the view of sugurus bare, defined upper body—but you felt on cloud nine.
the way his lips began a trail of wet kisses down your body reminded you soft feathers brushing over your skin, too. smooth, ebony hair cascaded over the sides of his head like silk as he made sure to give an equal amount of attention to all of you—starting with your jaw, the valley of your breasts, and down your abdomen. your composure breaking down without save, wetness soaking your panties and making them stick to your mound—just waiting to get peeled off.
yielding to your impatience, you reached to hook your fingers beneath the hem of sodden material, desperate to feel anything close of relief. any further motion was cut short by sugurus hand wrapping around your wrist, giving you a disapproving look from between your legs. his face was so near you could basically feel every huff of air melting over your clothed cunt, doing absolutely nothing to release any tension.
"don't tease…" you complained, no real bite in your voice.
"you gonna let me taste you, pretty girl?" suguru hummed, acting as if unwrapping you was something only he gets to do.
"fuck, yes—" your voice was cut by your whimper, or more like the tip of sugurus nose skimming over your veiled slit with the weight of a feather—which was more than enough to light up a spark in your devoid senses.
suguru felt intoxicated, a low groan escaping him as he mindlessly dragged his tongue along the darkened, wet patch of your underwear. it was almost too much for you to take in—how the lace barrier could feel so frustrating, yet distributing the pleasure much more vastly thanks to the way it clung to you like a second skin.
the feeling only amplified when his lips began working their part—sucking and slurping the honeyed juices seeping from your clothed cunt until drool was leaking down his chin. with ragged, shallow breaths, suguru kept his nose pressed against your puffy clit, anchored as if he couldn't get enough.
"mmph—fuck," you cried out. the motion made your hips buckle; he was relentless—tongue dragging and prodding at your entrance with no real reward. you were getting pissed.
the lack of patience and need for more made your body move on its own, your hand reaching straight for sugurus messy hair and pulling a nasty moan from his lips. "do it right if you're gonna do it at all," you retorted, observing the meek look on his face as he unwillingly parted from your pussy.
"fuck," he mouthed, and you could've sworn you also heard a quiet " 'm sorry" before he pulled your soaked panties to the side and hooked his arms around your thighs.
suguru wanted to take it slow, he really did; but his eagerness to unravel you took over, and it didn't take long for him to figure out which buttons to push. a hum of relief escaped him as he dragged his tongue through your folds, circling your clit and talking in the way your thighs twiched in his grasp.
"mm, is that it?" he purred, eyebrows knit as he looked up to see the weak nod you managed to get through.
"yes, you're doing s—so well," your breath hitched. there wasn't an ounce of control in sugurus pace; sucking and flicking the hot muscle against your clit, the pace he set up was desperate—designed to make you clasp your shaking thighs around his head.
his painted fingernails dug crescent moons into the plush of your hips, pulling you closer into the heat of his mouth as if the proximity still wasn't enough. your back arched against the bed, greedily chasing more of that overwhelming pleasure sugurus tongue was fucking into you. it was dizzying; your coherency succumbing to nothing more than a string of needy whimpers falling from your lips.
the knot in your stomach kept getting tighter with every excessive flick of his pierced tongue, the metal barbell forcing surges of intense pleasure as it repeatedly brushed over your sensitive nub. the feeling of your hole fluttering around his muscle made suguru moan shamelessly into your heat, thrusting and swirling his tongue until he could feel you getting close.
"keep going, please—suguru, make me cum," you gasped, clawing the bedsheets with one hand while the other was still snug in his inky hair, eagerly trying to pull him closer. his face was messy and dripping with your slick, the air in his lungs lacking as he made out with your cunt, his nose nudging against your puffy clit with every movement.
yout breath caught when the first wave of your orgasm hit, sending a violent shudder through your core that made your body buckle. suguru remained unyielding against your heat, his hands gripping the curve of your hips, pinning you in place and overriding the breathless shoves you gave him in your sudden sensitivity.
low hums escaped him as he licked away any remains of the sweet, creamy sap that trickled downwards. the taste of you filled his senses as it did in his dreams—tantalising, and irresistible, but that just wasn't enough for him much longer. suguru felt weak, yet his body moved on instinct. he rolled his hips into the mattress, completely intoxicated by your essence as he pressed his clothed, aching cock against the soft surface beneath him.
you didn't have much time to recover from your high before sugurus pierced lips began kissing up your body again. the warmth left behind made you shudder, realisation that this might not be the end just yet washing over you in waves of heat and anticipation.
sugurus large frame engulfed you as he hovered above, pure need dripping off his lips and on to yours as he cut the distance. the kiss was anything but tempered—raw, and desperate; his tongue slipping into your mouth and tearing each sound from you.
"see how sweet you taste?" he rasped, pushing his hips forward and making you gasp at the contact—all too aware of how his cock squeezed in between your bodies, stiff and throbbing; urging to feel your walls stretch around him.
your hands did quick work of undoing his studded belt, and helping him slide off his cargo pants. just the thought of being in this position made you nervous—would his cock be thick? have that curve you've imagined so many times? the material of his boxers was all that was separating you right now, but as you dragged your palm over his bulge you could feel the surge of buzzing heat rushing through your core.
neither of you could mask how badly you wanted eachother, half lidded eyes gazing into the other as if missing one moment was not something you could afford.
once fully undressed, sugurus cock laid stiff on your stomach—thick, and leaking, it almost went up to your bellybutton. the phantom feeling of it already making you ache on the inside.
"tell me if anything feels off, okay? we can stop, no questions asked," he spoke carefully, leaning in to press another kiss on your cheek.
"i want you, suguru," you replied, meeting his lips halfway. your heart fluttered for every moment spent together; each one bringing you up to where you are now, with the person that you are with now—who you wouldn't replace even if given a hundred chances.
suguru cradled you in his arms from above, your faces only centimetres apart as the warmth of his bare skin melted into yours. it all felt so real—so much like the reality you've craved since long before you've even admitted.
your breath hitched once he pushed in. the gentle, yet overwhelming feeling of his tip slipping in past your folds was intoxicating; how you stretched around his length, so slowly it let you discern every ridge and curve of him.
getting lost in you wouldn't be a difficult task for suguru, who could already feel himself slip away more and more with every inch buried. his lips parted, face beautifully framed by the silken black hair flowing—such an alluring look for someone whose heart nearly stopped working the second he had you so perfectly wrapped around him.
barely halfway in, suguru stopped; his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek so lightly one could believe he was afraid to hurt you. his violet gaze searched for yours, a silent request for confirmation.
"it's okay, you can move," you smiled, voice breathy and soft. the sudden stop made you squeeze around him, eager for more.
hushed moans left you once suguru began moving again. your hands found their place holding onto his back, while your legs stayed hooked around his waist. the angle made your abs tighten, each thrust measured so that it swept over your most sensitive spots. surges of pleasure spread through you like wildfire, your thighs starting to tremble thanks to the continuous build up.
sugurus breath faltered, low pants falling off his lips as he eased into the pace. he couldn't rush, not when savouring you was so much more compelling. the sound of your voice only spurred him on, feeling himself twitch within your sopping walls just by hearing it.
each collision was accompanied by quiet plap!, leaving behind strings of slick catching in between your bodies. your thighs wrapped tighter around his waist, pulling him in closer before meeting his lips in a kiss. you let yourself be guided by him, too absorbed in the rising pleasure to even think.
suguru felt the change in the air; how your chest heaved, how you pulled him closer and kissed his lips. you took him apart, piece by piece. and made him fall into his urges and hasten his rhythm.
"shit—suguru, feels s—so good," you choked out a whimper, digging your nails harder into his back and making him hiss.
you were both driven by hunger and desperation, drunk on the pleasure searing beneath your skin. the kiss quickly escalated to a point where you couldn't get enough of eachother; tongues clashing and lips bitten.
"kept me waiting all that time—" he rasped into your mouth, accentuating each word with a sharper, almost punishing thrust, "fuck—can't stay away from you."
suguru pulled away first, pushing himself higher until his necklaces dangled above your face. nothing could make him take his eyes off you right now; he was entranced, feeding on the reactions painted all over your face.
louder, helpless moans ripped from your chest, mirroring the frantic rhythm of sugurus hips as he slammed into you. his cock split you open again and again, reaching so deep it made the coil in your belly feel as if it could snap at any moment.
you were dazed—neither of you coherent enough to say anything but eachothers names like a prayer. your body felt as if it were on fire, tense and overpowered by the feeling of your high approaching. you searched to press your face into the pillows, embarrassment flooding as your expression twisted in pleasure.
sugurus elbows were perched on either side of your head now, his hands cupping your cheeks and setting your gaze back on to him. "don't hide, need to see you—fuck, please baby," he pled, his voice uncharacteristically needy and soft.
"mmphh—oh my," you gasped, holding on to him tighter.
"gonna cum, pretty girl? yeah?" he panted. his pace was faltering, sloppy even; yet his cock still managed to slip in and out of your cunt so effortlessly, hitting every spot that mattered as if it were his only motivation. "gonna cum together, right? gonna let me feel that perfect pussy cum on my cock?" suguru slurred his words, eyebrows knit as he slammed into you praying he won't cum before you.
to say that suguru was in a state of bliss was an understatement; his mind was reeling, faded so that all he knew was the feeling of getting swept away by the currents of pleasure—with you as the anchor pulling him to the very bottom. he didn't mind it, though; suguru would gladly get swallowed by the ocean if it meant you being there to witness it—after all, you were the one able to give him air as well as take it.
and less could not be said about you, either. delirium flooded your mind, magnifying every touch with breathtaking intensity. you held on to suguru as he were the only thing keeping you alive right now, the threads of his being getting woven into the back of your mind and patching up spots you thought you've long forgotten.
he made you feel whole again; replacing the dimmed out light for a fire raging in your chest—stirring and spreading throughout your entire body until it consumed you from the inside out, making you shake and writhe beneath him.
"suguru—" you gasped as he leaned in until your foreheads touched, shattered breaths colliding as intimacy enveloped you. a few long, deep drags of his cock were all it took before getting pushed over the edge, your walls clamping and leaking down his length while he continued to drive into your dripping warmth, dragging out your orgasm.
"mine—mine, all mine," suguru whispered it like a chant, almost like he couldn't believe it still. it made you clench tightly around him, and that was enough to make him gasp as the air was cut from his lungs, "fuck, i love you so—haah."
you were up in your own head, dazed—hearing, but not listening to what suguru had said. whatever piece of you comprehended his words could do nothing but return the emotion, and you found those very same syllables slipping from your lips, unable to stop them.
"i—i love you too, suguru," you sounded breathless, and despite his craving to mark you fully, he pulled out—cock pulsing with each reliving spill of white, hot cum painting your stomach. his eyes were screwed shut, chest heaving and gleaming with sweat as he stroked himself, letting the last spurts of pleasure trickle down his flared tip.
strands of hair clung to his forehead as the rest cascaded down his back—it was a heavenly sight. but as the fog began to clear from your mind, it left you wandering the sharp, gutting edge of reverie, replaying those words in your head, unsure whether or not to blame your imagination.
the feeling of suguru using a damp cloth to wipe down the mess on your lower half is what snapped you out of your trance-like state. after sliding back into his boxers, he found his way next to your frame once more.
"you okay?" suguru asked softly as your eyes met, opening his embrace to welcome you in his arms. you nodded with a subtle smile, creeping up next to him. the following moments dragged out slower than ever, and you almost hated how comfortable you felt nonetheless; lithe hands caressing the side of your face, his lips pressed against the top of your head.
suguru picked up on your unusual silence though, and you felt the weight of his gaze, "what's going on?" he spoke lowly, brushing your hair with his fingers.
"did you mean it?" you replied, quicker than you meant. you weren't sure what to expect—whether your wishful expectations got the better of you, or that worry stirred in your gut unnecessarily.
the corner of his lips twisted upwards, inducing your undoing, "did you?"
his answer only made you feel more reluctant, scared even. you want to push it away and deem it as overthinking.
you want to trust the way suguru holds your beating heart in his hands.
you love him.
"suguru," you urged.
the ghost of a smile traced his pierced lips as he breathed out, the sound almost blending with the silence, "you know, i didn't have much hope the first time i approached you… much less the second, or even the third," suguru laughed, "you made me lose whatever speck was left of it."
"and yet i couldn't find myself away from you." his voice was laced with honesty, and you visibly sharpened your focus at those words.
"i wanted to know more about you, the reason why you steer everyone away when you're the most captivating person in every room."
your voice seemed stuck in your throat, and your breath hitched once suguru held your face in his hands and kissed your cheek, "i loved how bold you are," then the other, "i loved how funny, and sweet you really are," then pressed another kiss to your forehead, "and how you totally hated me." heat rose up in your cheeks as you both giggled at that, suguru looking at you as if bewitched.
then finally, his lips met yours in a short, tender kiss that spoke of nothing but devotion.
"and i love you."
your pulse quickened, just enough to make you crave more, to lean in and kiss him again—deeper, slowing time down just to let you savour this moment and etch it in your mind. "i love you, suguru," you replied, nearly out of breath.
a teasing smile spread on suguru's face, "mmh, when did you get so romantic?
"don't push your luck," you giggled.
oh, he wouldn't dream of it, not when everything felt so right. not when you looked at him like he was the only one for you.
the sense of fulfilment lived fiercely behind suguru's ribs, joy powering each frantic beat of his heart even after the shared moments of sincerity. you couldn't have said otherwise about yourself either, or deny the subtle pep in your step only suguru was keen enough to notice as you walked down the stairs to the first floor of the house.
the music died down, only a few, small groups of people remaining throughout the space, but none worth spending the rest of your night with.
that wasn't up to you though.
but to a very wild and wasted gojo.
you heard him long before you actually saw him. even after you and suguru had retreated to a quieter corner of the kitchen to enjoy your drinks, the sheer volume of his voice cut right through the distance.
"yo, suguru!" gojo's lips twist into a grin; he was adressing your boyfriend, yet looking at you, "looks like you got my money's worth!"
your eyebrows knit together, skeptical of what he meant. suguru's hand tightened unconsciously around your waist as he replied to the white haired man, "not the time," he retorted.
"why not, huh?" gojo laughed, feet dragging heavy as he walked closer.
people attention's been drawn like a moth to a flame by now, dozens of pairs of eyes watching the scene unfold. you've never liked gojo, he was arrogant and obnoxious, and right now, you were unaware whether or not to pay any mind to the word of a drunk like him.
"go away, man. you're drunk," suguru shot at him, echoing your thoughts as he strode over to hook his arm around gojo's neck, trying to guide him away. why was he so disturbed by his friend's presence?
"i'm gooood," gojo slurred, "how 'bout you, geto? you good? you get laid yet?"
you grimaced.
"or are you still playing house with her?"
gojo wasn't hiding in any way with what he said. he wanted you to hear.
your chest felt tight all of a sudden, heavy with the weight of disbelief—but one look at suguru was all you needed to confirm what you've heard.
his eyes were wide, locked with yours—though the image was growing blurrier by the second. murmuring a quiet "get the hell out of here," to gojo as he pushed him away, his steps were adamant on his way over to you.
you wanted to dissappear; to slap him and just ask him for an explanation all at once. everything played back in your mind again—'playing house'? suguru being next to you right all thanks to gojo's pretty dime?
you felt like a joke.
"hey—look, i can explain," suguru tried, reaching to hold your hands. his voice was low, laced with obvious shame.
you slapped his hands away before he could finish, "explain what, huh? that he paid you to take me out?" you exclaimed, trying not to let your voice crack or your tears fall.
you could feel your composure fraying the longer you had him in your sight. you'd never seen suguru this way before; sharp eyes now filled with worry, expression burdened by remorse—a facade you were done falling for.
"just—please, let's get out of here so i—" suguru caught onto the sides of your arms as you tried to leave.
you rushed through the crowd, shoving past bodies without a second thought. every collision echoed with their mocking laughter and pity. you've never really noticed suguru in your class before or around campus, but now it as if he were taking up the whole room, suffocating you.
it was too much for you to fully process. your knees felt weak with the thought of being used. your throat tight with all the lies you've consumed.
"i love you."
nothing but a cruel joke.
the fresh air did little to nothing to ground you, it turning to cotton in your lungs when you'd heard suguru's sickening voice call you. tears threaten to spill the more you acknowledge the part of you that craves only an explanation, a possibility that any of what you'd heard was a made up lie.
despite everything, suguru still knew you well enough to read you. every expression, every word, or moment of silence—engraved in his mind as if it were something vital.
so how could he bear to lose you?
"i wasn't intrested in any money, they're not the reason i'm here right now, okay?" suguru spoke up, doubt making his voice waver.
you scoffed, a swift pause before you replied, gaze still hesitant on meeting his. "what's the reason then, sleeping with me? congrats on that."
suguru shook his head mindlessly as he stepped closer to you. the warmth he saw in you not long ago, now replaced by a callousness he didn't want to recognise.
"my reason is that i love you," he said firmly, "and i regret what i did—but i'm thankful it brought me here, with you." a fleeting spark lit up your eyes for a second, but it was short lived; flashes of your moments together shot through your mind, each kiss, each worthless "i love you", each lie you've only now come to realise—it just made you angrier, weaker.
"i have a hard time believing you, suguru," your voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the bitterness and emotion behind it. "if you loved me, then i wouldn't feel used right now—or lied to, or ashamed of myself for not seeing through your selfish games,"
suguru kept his gaze averted, unable to look at you. your words cut through his defenses like shards of glass, shattering his delusions and forcing him to face the cold reality—you were right.
you knew spending anymore time in this moment would only end up with you acting like none of this has ever happened. but god, you wanted that; for someone to pop up from out of nowhere and say it's been a joke.
however, the only joke right now was you thinking that you could forgive suguru.
"and i fucking hate you for it," you ended sharply.
you wish that were true.
you could act tough all you want, but it wouldn't change the truth. a single tear was caught in the dimlight, slipping down your cheek as you finally turned away, leaving suguru exactly where he stood—no concrete apology given or trying to stop you.
he didn't deserve you,
but suguru loved every face of who you are. he would've happily spent his forever with the witty, sharp tongued side of you—but losing the real you left a hollow ache he never imagined he'd have to bear.
✦ synopsis. sae is a bad soulmate; you're not any better. but somehow, you two make it work.
✦ content. 11k words. soulmate au, slice of life, coming of age, self-inflicted injury, <- you can feel your soulmate's pain and reader does that to get back at sae (he lowk deserves it idk), getting together, fluff, angst with a happy ending, banter
✦ foreword. disclaimer that this was written by someone who despises itoshi sae. at least i did before i finished this fic. /stares into the distance/ happy birthday, sae. this will never happen again!!!!!!
You were eight when you thought you hated your soulmate.
It began in your knees—a bright, clean sting that made your crayon drag an uneven line of maroon across the paper. Then your ankle throbbed, your shoulder ached, your fingers stiffened as if you’d been clenching them too long. You stared at your small hands in bewilderment.
By the time your mother called you for dinner, the aches had dulled to a heavy pulse. You told her your body hurt for no reason, and she only smiled.
“That’s your soulmate trying to say hello,” she said, drying her hands on a towel before cupping your face. “You must be feeling what they feel. Isn’t that wonderful?”
You frowned. “They hurt me.”
She laughed softly and pressed a kiss to your nose.
“It means you’re connected. Soulmates share something sacred—pain. What we hide from everyone else, they’ll always see.”
You didn’t understand. You thought it was stupid. If someone was your soulmate, why would they let you hurt?
Still, the pain came and went in waves. Skinned knees, twisted ankles, bruises that never showed. You got used to wincing for no reason. Sometimes you’d mutter, maybe you should be more careful, as if the stranger on the other end could hear you.
When you turned twelve, it became less about scraped skin and more about something deep and shapeless—a pressure behind your ribs, a loneliness that sat heavy in your throat. It came without warning. Some days, you’d be laughing with your friends, and suddenly you’d want to cry for reasons you couldn’t explain.
You told your mother again. She just said it meant your soulmate was growing up—that pain changed as people did. You went to doctors, too. They told you nothing was wrong and maybe nothing was at all. But you learned to live around it, to stretch your fingers when they ached like they belonged to someone else, to lie in bed and wait for the quiet to come back.
Sometimes, before you slept, you’d wonder what kind of person they were—the one who hurt this much, this often.
You imagined they must fall a lot. Maybe they didn’t care about their own body the way you did. You promised yourself that when you met them, you’d tell them to be careful. You’d tell them that their pain made it hard to draw, hard to run, and hard to breathe sometimes.
But the years went on, and you never stopped hurting.
You just learned to call it living.
By the time you turn fourteen, the pain has settled into the rhythm of your life. It comes and goes like the weather; some dull reminder that somewhere out there, someone is still running and falling and fighting the world with their bare hands.
You stop complaining about it. You stop waiting for it to stop.
Instead, you join the volleyball team.
At first, it’s just to fill your afternoons—an excuse to be too busy to notice the phantom ache that accompanies you like a shadow. You learn to dive and sprint and spike until your arms throb and your knees burn. The other girls laugh when you groan about the drills, but the pain feels good. It’s real. Most of all, it’s yours.
When you stagger home after practice, you think to yourself, See? I can hurt too. If your muscles ache enough, maybe you won’t notice the other ache underneath—the quiet one that doesn’t fade with ice packs or sleep.
It works until you dream of a boy you’ve never seen before.
He stands in a wide, gleaming hall where everything is alight with movement—wheels clicking over tiles, a woman’s voice echoing over some unseen speaker. Light pools against glass walls, and the air smells faintly of metal and rain.
His face is blurred at the edges, swallowed by distance as people drift past him in waves. Somewhere in front of him, a smaller figure calls out, reaching out with a chubby little smile.
The boy hesitates, just once. Then he keeps walking.
When you wake, your cheeks are wet. Your throat aches like you’ve been shouting, though you don’t remember making a sound.
For a while, you stare at the pale strip of dawn leaking through your curtains. The ache in your chest isn’t sharp, but it takes the shape of something missing. You can’t name it, but it feels too large to be yours.
When your mother knocks, you tell her you’re calling in sick. She leaves a glass of water by your bed, and you spend the morning tracing the ceiling cracks with your eyes.
It was just a dream. Just another trick of the bond.
But even when you close your eyes, you can still hear it—the murmur of a place meant for departure, and the echo of footsteps that never turn back.
You don’t remember when the ache turned into hatred.
Maybe sometime between the late-night practices and the mornings you woke up feeling like someone had scraped you from the inside out. Maybe it was when you realized that it didn’t matter how hard you trained, or how many bruises you earned for yourself, your soulmate’s pain was always worse.
You try to ignore it, the same way you always have. You focus on the court, on your team, and the satisfying smack of the ball against your palms. But even in those moments, there’s that flicker of something else beneath your skin.
It happens just before a match point.
You’ve been serving strong all game, riding on muscle memory and adrenaline. Interhigh season is always the most anticipated run of the year. The light in the gym is harsh, the air thick with heat and sweat. When the whistle rings throughout the court, you toss the ball, step forward, and something inside you shatters.
Not pain. Not the kind you were used to.
It’s worse.
A hollow sound, deep and gutting, like a sob echoing through an empty room. A flash of helpless rage, of despair so wide it swallows you whole. It slams through your ribs, floods your lungs, blinds you. Your knees hit the floor before you realize you’ve fallen.
You could take a twisted ankle or a bruising arm. Anything but the pure misery carving itself into your chest.
The noise around you is distant now—muffled shouts and sneakers squealing on varnished wood. You can’t breathe. You can only feel it—the weight of someone else’s ruin pressed into your chest.
They’re breaking.
And they’re taking you with them.
When you come to, the world is sterile white. Your throat is raw, your eyes swollen. A nurse sits beside you with clear worry creasing her brow.
“I didn’t find anything wrong physically,” she says softly, as if that should be comforting. “No signs of fainting, no heatstroke either.”
You stare at your trembling hands. They don’t even feel like they belong to you.
“My soulmate,” you whisper.
“Hm? What was that, sweetheart?”
You swallow hard. “…My soulmate is the one doing this to me.”
The silence stretches into something poignant until you see a flicker in her eyes—recognition, maybe even pity. She takes your shaking hands in hers and squeezes gently, as though she understands more than she can say.
For a moment, you remember your mother’s words from years ago: Soulmates share something sacred—pain. What we hide from everyone else, they’ll always see.
You want to laugh.
Because if this is sacred, then love must be the cruelest religion in the world.
Since then, you’ve turned your body into a weapon.
Not because you loved the hurt, but because you want it to mean something. You want it to land back where it came from. Twofold, threefold, tenfold. Just so they can feel a fraction of what you’ve had to live with.
So you trained until the edges of you were raw. You practiced serves until your shoulder ached in protest. You dove for every ball as if the court were a battleground, and you could bury your soulmate under the weight of your bruises.
Your teammates started to notice the shape you were taking. They called you relentless behind your back, admiring and alarmed in the same breath. Even your coach sat you down once after practice.
“You look like you’re running on a grudge,” he said. “Relax. Play smart.”
You merely smiled at him like he was naive.
At home, your mother watched you stitch ice around swollen ankles and wrap your wrists every night. She worried the way mothers do, and sometimes she said the practical things— eat more, sleep earlier—and other times her worry came out like superstition.
“Soulbonds aren’t cruel on purpose,” she said once, as she pressed a bowl of soup into your hands.
You wanted to spit at the word soulbond. But she looked at you with the same small faith she’d used to kiss your scraped knees when you were a child, and the words stayed in your throat. You let her think what she needed to think. You let her hold the story that made your pain seem like destiny. It made her sleep easier.
Inside you, the resentment calcified. You stopped imagining a face when the ache sharpened. You pictured instead an absence to fill with pain—a space you could punish. You served harder. You hit harder. People started worrying about you more and more, but you stopped caring.
Just like your soulmate never did.
So when Interhigh championship folded into the last set, you were all teeth and motion. You were a machine wrecking itself in the name of not being helpless. Every spike was a declaration. Every block a small, furious sermon.
You played like a monster. You didn’t listen to rhythm; you listened to vengeance. The opposing captain kept receiving your powerful strikes—and you snapped after her, lunging for one last impossible return.
You hear it before you feel it: a thud, followed by a sound like a twig breaking under strain. Your knee folds the wrong way, and the pain blooms in your bones with a clarity that makes everything else stupid and small. The world tears into a single bright, reeling point that has taken root beneath your knee pads.
You stay conscious long enough to see the scoreboard change, your team’s chance sliding out of reach. You try to bite back the scream but it pours out of you anyway. Someone is already at your side. Your teammates’ faces are splintered into horror as the bench dissolves into chaos. You feel hands under your thighs and shoulders, feel a stretcher, hear someone call your name like a curse.
They carry you out of the gym as the court lights throw long strips across your face. When they strap you down, the pain in your knee flares white-hot, and you bark out a laugh—a sound full of spite and something like triumph.
It’s directed at the faceless thing that had been living in your bones all your life, at whatever shadow had been siphoning you dry. It was neither poetic nor clean. It was everything you’d been holding in for years, finally thrown like a brick through fragile glass.
I hope you feel this, you muse.
Hope it haunts you forever, bastard.
The diagnosis doesn’t surprise you.
A partially torn right ACL. Not as catastrophic as it felt when you collapsed. Therapy is recommended over surgery, and recovery is more than possible—if you care enough to walk yourself through it.
You nod when the doctor explains the regimen, and sketches out the months ahead in words like commitment and discipline and hope. You thank him because that’s what people do when someone delivers bad news kindly. But the whole time, you’re staring at the light glinting off his pen, thinking how small the words sound compared to the noise inside your head.
He calls it an injury. You call it closure.
Because the truth is, you never loved volleyball. You loved what it gave you—a place to pour the pain until you could almost believe it was yours. But now the ache in your knee is constant and heavy and real. You no longer have to chase it. It follows you. It anchors you.
So when your coach calls a team meeting and everyone gathers in the school gym that still smells faintly of resin and defeat, you already know what you’re going to say.
They’re all crying before you even finish.
One of your fellow seniors grabs your hands with red eyes and snot trailing down her face. “You’ll come back next year, right? When we’re all in high school?”
You just smile. Because you’ve already learned what happens to people who believe in futures.
“I’ll try,” you lie.
You leave your uniform neatly folded in the locker. The air hums with nostalgia you can’t feel.
After that, your life condenses into a series of small, sterile routines: Class. Therapy. Home.
Your world is smaller now, quieter without the shriek of whistles and sneakers scraping against the floorboards. You walk with a brace that squeaks if you move too fast. You’ve learned the names of all the physical therapists on your rotation, and which ones actually care enough to look you in the eye when they ask how you’re feeling.
The pain in your knee overshadows everything else—it’s your own brand of suffering, your own proof that your body doesn’t need the pain of your soulmate to betray you.
One afternoon, while waiting for your session, you find yourself sitting in the hospital hallway beside the vending machine that only takes coins. The walls are a muted beige, designed to soothe patients into docility. Across from you, two men are talking in low voices.
“…that kid, what’s his name again?” one says, scrolling on his phone. “The boy genius?”
“Oh, right. Sae Itoshi,” the other replies. “The one who went to Spain. He’s only turned sixteen, hasn’t he? There’s an article about him here, says he’s—”
You don’t catch the rest.
Your therapist appears in the doorway, calling your name with that practiced cheer reserved for patients who’ve stopped believing in progress. You push yourself up with a wince, your knee throbbing in familiar protest.
For a brief moment, you think about that conversation you caught in your periphery, about the name Itoshi, the word Spain. They mean nothing to you. Just noise in a waiting room, another life orbiting somewhere far from yours.
You don’t know that if you’d lingered a few seconds longer, you’d have heard the rest of it.
“…suffered an injury last week, poor kid.”
But you’re already limping toward the therapy room, where pain feels simpler because at least this time, it belongs to you.
By the time you turn seventeen, the world has grown softer around the edges.
The sterile white hallways, the shrill whistle of matches, the sharp clarity of ambition—they’ve all faded into memory, dulled like the faint scar that curls around your right knee. Sometimes, when you run your fingers over it, you can still feel the echo of what it cost you.
But you healed. Everyone said so.
Your doctor smiled at you after the last check-up, and said you were lucky—that it could’ve been worse, you could’ve lost more. But he didn’t know there are some pains you don’t come back from. You just learn how to walk differently with them.
You never rejoined the volleyball team in high school. You couldn’t; not after that. But some afternoons, when the last bell has long faded and the court lights glimmer against the twilight, you linger by the open doors of the gym to watch the life you could have had.
You tell yourself you’re fine. You even almost believe it.
Time has made you quieter, but also gentler. You don’t hate the world the way you used to. You don’t even hate your soulmate—whoever they are, wherever they might be. Because hate is a heavy thing to carry forever. Somewhere along the way, you just… set it down.
Maybe that’s why the ache faded for a while.
It’s been months since you last felt the throb of their pain through the bond. No sudden stabs beneath your ribs, no lingering bruises that weren’t yours. Just silence.
You’d like to think they learned to take better care of themselves—that, somehow, across the great, invisible distance between you, they’d understood what you’d been trying to communicate. You imagine them finally learning how to live in a way that doesn’t bleed into someone else’s body.
It’s foolish, even if it comforts you.
But then you start waking in the early hours with a heavy heart, the same way it used to be before everything went wrong. The first few times, you tell yourself it’s nothing—a dream, a memory, the phantom pull of something long gone.
But it happens again. And again. And again.
Calling it pain doesn’t sound right. It’s heavier than that. Loneliness, maybe. Despair so deep it feels like falling through someone else’s chest.
You’ve learned to expect it the way other people expect the sunrise. While you’re rubbing sleep from your eyes, your soulmate must be winding down, thinking too much in the dark. You’ve come to accept that your mornings belong to their nights.
Until one day, they don’t.
You lie awake one evening, staring at the ceiling as the quiet presses in from all sides. It’s unbearable, this heaviness that doesn’t belong to you. You twist in your sheets, bury your face into a pillow as though you can smother the feeling before it swallows you whole.
But it lingers. It crawls under your ribs and throbs with every breath.
Finally, when you can’t take it anymore, you whisper into the dark:
“What happened for you to hurt this much?”
One day in the summer, your best friend Ayane drags you to what she dubbed as "the most anticipated soccer game in the season." Her good-for-nothing boyfriend Oliver got her two tickets to see it, and you’ve since learned how to say yes to things you don’t care about.
She’s beaming in her U-20 jersey, hair tied back with a ribbon that matches the team colors, and well, you’re just there to keep her from embarrassing herself too much.
“You’re going to love it,” she insists, tugging your wrist through the stadium gates. “The Itoshi brothers are facing off!”
You squint at her. “The who?”
Ayane stops in her tracks, turning on you with a look people reserve for the hopelessly uninformed. “You seriously don’t know? Sae Itoshi? The prodigy from Spain?”
“Can’t say I do.”
She groans. “Just watch, okay? You’ll see.”
You let her lead you to your seats, halfway up the bleachers. The air hums with thousands of voices and the metallic buzz of excitement before a kickoff. You’ve never really cared about soccer, or their prodigies, but Ayane’s joy is infectious, so you let yourself be pulled into it.
The teams spill out onto the field and under the floodlights. The U-20 squad walks with confidence that comes from reputation alone. Blue Lock, the ragtag team of challengers, looks hungry and reckless. You’re scanning the crowd when the announcer’s voice cuts through:
“—and the star midfielder of Japan’s U-20, Itoshi Sae!”
The moment he walks out, something inside you twists.
You don’t know what you expected from a name like that, but it wasn’t him. He moves like gravity bends a little closer around him, like the air itself has learned to make way. Under the lights, his hair burns a deep maroon, a color that shouldn’t exist outside of fever dreams, and when he glances toward the stands, the cameras catch his face.
For a moment, you forget to breathe.
Those eyes—clear and sea-green, detached in a way that feels almost cruel—meet the lens, and your chest lurches like someone’s hooked a hand inside it and pulled.
You press a hand to your sternum, the way someone might if they’ve just been struck. It’s not new, this sensation, but it’s never been this immediate. This real.
Ayane’s voice is distant, muffled by the roar of the crowd. “See? I told you he’s insane—! Hey, are you okay?”
“…Just got dizzy for a second,” you tell her, forcing a small laugh. “Not used to crowds this big, I guess.”
She narrows her eyes, clearly unconvinced, but the referee’s whistle pierces the air, and the game begins before she can press further. You use the distraction to ground yourself—the roar of the stadium, and the buzz of tension that climbs higher with every second.
You focus on anything but the ache still coiled tight in your ribs.
The U-20 defense moves like a single organism. At its center is Oliver, cutting off every pass before it even happens. He slides in clean, rises smoother, barely sparing a glance at the forward he just stopped cold.
Ayane screams beside you, practically shaking your arm off. “OLIVER! DID YOU SEE THAT?! OH MY GOD! THAT'S MY BOYFRIEND!”
You laugh, startled and captivated by how loud she is. But when your eyes stray past Oliver, catching on the faint gleam of red hair just ahead, the pang in your chest returns.
Itoshi Sae.
There’s something surgical about the way he plays. When the ball is with him, every motion is precise, pared down to intention. He threads passes through impossible spaces like it’s a reflex. While everyone else is fighting to prove themselves, he’s simply… existing—as though he’s already proven everything he needed to, years ago.
His teammates know this. You watch as he receives a pass with the ease of someone bored by difficulty, shifts his weight once, and sends the ball slicing across the pitch like a whisper turned into a blade.
The crowd gasps. You do too, though you’re not sure why.
The camera finds him again with a glint of sweat on his jaw. Under the lights, he looks almost unearthly. Too composed. Too controlled. You wonder, for the first time, if a person can be built entirely out of restraint.
Ayane grabs your arm again, nails biting through the fabric of your sleeve. “Look—look!” she squeals, half out of her seat.
You follow her gaze. The U-20 offense has surged forward. There’s a narrow opening; just a breath of space at the corner of the penalty area. Sae’s there before anyone else can react. You see the line of his body as he draws back his left leg, smooth and devastating, and then—
The ball arcs cleanly into the net.
When the crowd roars, it’s deafening. The commentators explode into praise, Ayane’s screaming into your ear, Oliver’s name is somewhere in there too—but all you can do is stare.
And feel the way your leg aches as though you were the one who made that shot.
It shoots from the ball of your foot to your calf, ricochets up your knee like a firecracker going off in old scar tissue. You jerk back in your seat because you know this pain. You’ve felt it your entire life. It’s the sharp, buzzing ache that once wrapped itself around your bones until you wanted to tear it out.
No way.
You scramble for logic. Maybe you’re projecting. Maybe it’s just a coincidence, or your own fraying nerves. There’s no way Itoshi Sae is at the other end of your soulbond. The thought alone feels absurd, too big to fit anywhere inside you.
The roar of the stadium dulls to a distant rush. You sit unnaturally still, watching every movement, every calculated pass, every sharp pivot. The way Sae glides across the field feels like he’s already five steps ahead of everyone else.
You barely register the crowd losing its mind as the Blue Lock players push back against the U-20 with reckless brilliance. None of it matters. Your pulse thrums in your throat; your entire focus narrows to a single maroon blur. If this is some cruel joke from the universe, you want to catch it in the act.
Then, like fate baring its fangs in your face, it happens.
It’s a small thing—so small anyone else would miss it. Sae doesn’t use his dominant left foot this time. The angle’s too tight, the defense too close. So he pivots, draws on his right leg, and sends the ball spinning to a teammate with effortless precision.
And the world lights up in your knee.
The familiar, sickening pull rips through the scar like an old wound being split open. You choke on your breath, clutching your leg with eyes wide. The agony burns through you like hellfire, and you have to keep absolutely still to not make Ayane worry.
On the field, Sae keeps moving, calm and flawless to everyone else, but you see the truth tucked in between his strides—a ghost of a limp. Familiar. Personal. Something you’d only recognize if it’s lived inside you before.
“No fucking way,” you whisper despite the roar of the crowd, your heart beating just in time with the ache in your knee. But the truth is here, right before your eyes.
It’s him.
It’s always been him.
It’s one thing to know your soulmate is a football prodigy. It’s another to know what to do with the information.
You go home after the match without saying a word—to Ayane, to your mother, to anyone. You don’t even remember the train ride, just that the crowd’s cheers are still ringing in your ears when you lock your bedroom door and collapse in front of your laptop.
You type his name into the search bar before you can stop yourself.
The results are endless. Headlines, photos, clips of his goals and passes edited to cinematic soundtracks. You scroll through them like someone trying to understand a stranger wearing your heartbeat.
Every article says the same thing: Genius midfielder. Prodigy from Japan. The youngest to debut overseas. Cold. Arrogant. A machine made flesh.
They talk about how he left for Spain at fourteen, how he turned down endorsement deals worth millions just to “focus on soccer,” and how he’s rumored to hate interviews because he thinks most journalists aren’t worth his time.
And yet… you can’t stop scrolling.
Because nothing about him on that field looked empty. Detached, maybe. Controlled, yes. But you’ve felt the kind of pain that hollows a person out, and this—this doesn’t look like that.
The person in the photos doesn’t match the one tied to you by pain and sleepless nights. The world paints him as a monster of precision, a boy who traded his heart for discipline, who doesn’t feel anything except victory. But you know better. You’ve felt him. The quiet agony that used to hum through your bones wasn’t born from pride or perfection. It was loneliness. It was exhaustion. It was someone who hurt enough to make the universe take notice.
You scroll until your eyes sting. Clip after clip. Headline after headline. And still, you don’t find anything that resembles the person your body recognizes. In fact, you would have scrolled indefinitely until you find an article buried deep in a sports blog dated only a few days ago.
“Though originally scheduled to return to Spain following passport renewal, sources say Itoshi Sae has shown interest in Japan’s Blue Lock project and may remain for the foreseeable future.”
You stare at the words until they blur.
Then you close the tab, shut your laptop, and lie back on your bed. You trace the old scar on your knee with your thumb with a quiet exhale.
You stare at the ceiling as the ache behind your ribs starts to simmer again. You don’t know if it’s yours or his anymore—only that it’s still there, pulsing in time with a stranger’s heartbeat.
For a moment, you almost pity him.
Because no one that brilliant should have to bleed this much just to shine.
“Come on, it’s Oliver’s birthday this weekend,” Ayane pleads over the phone one day. “He’s renting out a place in Roppongi. It’ll be fun!”
You nearly drop your pen. “As in Roppongi Roppongi?”
“Yes, duh.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Ayane, that’s underage drinking.”
She laughs like you’ve told her a joke. “Please. We can totally pass for twenty.”
“That’s not the point.”
“The point is,” she cuts in, “you’re coming with me. I’m not going alone.”
You open your mouth to refuse, but the image of Ayane in some too-short dress, hanging off Oliver’s arm in a district known for everything your parents warned you about flashes in your head. The thought of her going there alone knots your stomach.
You sigh. “Fine. But I’m not dressing up.”
Ayane cheers like she’s just scored a victory. “You never do!”
When the fated day comes, the summer night air is thick by the time you reach the station. You’ve done exactly as you promised—plain shirt, long, flowy skirt, and sneakers. Something you can run in, if it comes to that. The district is alive with neon lights bleeding into the pavement, and the smell of asphalt and alcohol hanging in the heat.
Ayane arrives two minutes later, already dazzling under the street lamps. Her top is cropped within an inch of its life, her skirt definitely illegal in several prefectures, and her lipstick a dangerous shade of red. You take one look at her and wordlessly hold out the extra jacket you brought.
She blinks. “What’s this for?”
“You,” you say flatly. “Because I don’t trust your shitty boyfriend to have one.”
Ayane laughs, throwing her arms around you. “You’re the best. I knew you’d have my back.”
The bar Oliver rented out is small but expensive-looking—black marble counters, low lights, the faint thrum of bass curling through the air. A banner that says HAPPY BIRTHDAY OLIVER!! hangs crooked above the bar, surrounded by a few too many bottles already opened. It’s a place that reeks of money and pretense.
Oliver spots Ayane first and breaks into a grin. “There’s my girl!”
You hang back as she runs into his arms, watching the way he leans down to kiss her like he’s performing for an audience. You’ve met him twice before—once at the mall, once outside a karaoke bar—and both times, you left with the same impression: charming in that slippery, practiced way people use to get what they want.
“You remember my best friend, right?”
Oliver turns his head, and his grin sharpens. “Of course. Hard to forget.”
You force a polite smile. “Hi.”
“Hey,” he says easily, eyes flicking down and up in one slow sweep that makes your skin crawl. “Didn’t realize Ayane’s best friend was this cute before.”
Ayane laughs, swatting his arm. “Stop, you’re embarrassing me.”
You smile tighter, knuckles whitening around the strap of your bag. The only reason you don’t clock him right there is because it’s his birthday—and because Ayane’s eyes are too bright, too happy to ruin it for her.
For now.
You tell yourself you’ll stay for an hour. Two, if Ayane needs you.
The bar hums with too much bass, too much laughter, too much everything. You pick a corner stool by the bar, the farthest one from the music, and order a glass of water despite the bartender’s confused look.
“Just water?” he asks.
“Just water,” you repeat, because someone in this place needs to remember sobriety exists.
The glass comes slick with cold. You press it to your lips, scanning the crowd over the rim. Most of Oliver’s guests look familiar only because you’ve seen them before, sprinting across the field or on Ayane’s phone screen when she’s bragging about her boyfriend’s team. A few wear the U-20 crest on their jackets, half a drink away from spilling secrets they shouldn’t.
You search for red hair and don’t find it. The relief hits embarrassingly fast.
Good. You can handle Oliver. You can handle athletes pretending they aren’t below drinking age. What you can’t handle is running into him. Not when you still don’t know how to breathe around the truth that binds you together.
So you do what you came here to do: keep an eye on Ayane.
She’s radiant, spinning between tables, laughing too hard at Oliver’s teammates’ jokes, her borrowed jacket tied loosely around her waist. You track her like a tether. It’s easier to focus on her than the haze pressing in from all sides, and the faint burn of spilled alcohol staining the air.
You were an athlete once. You remember the discipline that came with it. So seeing top-level players like Oliver chugging liquor like it’s water makes something in you recoil with disgust. It’s all so loud, so far from the quiet hum of purpose you grew up with.
You’re so busy staring at Ayane’s outline through the shifting crowd that you don’t notice someone sitting beside you until a voice cuts clean through the noise.
“Water,” he says to the bartender.
You glance sideways—just polite enough to acknowledge, just careful enough not to engage—and then your breath catches mid-sip.
For a moment, you’re not sure if it’s the lighting or your brain short-circuiting. But the color of his hair gives him away before anything else—the unmistakable maroon, muted in the bar’s dim glow. Then his side profile, sharp and unyielding, with a face cameras adore and people call cold because they don’t know what else to name it.
Itoshi Sae is less than five feet away from you, sitting like he has every right to be there.
Your first instinct is to look away. Your second is to bolt. But neither comes fast enough; the world’s already narrowed to the sound of his voice and the distance between you that’s suddenly too small.
You’ve imagined meeting your soulmate a hundred different ways, but none of them included the faint smell of gin in the air, or the buzz of a bad pop remix vibrating through the floor.
Yet, here he is.
As real as the ache still hiding behind your ribs.
For a while, neither of you say anything. You’re both just two people sitting side by side, pretending the air between you isn’t crackling. Sae isn’t even looking at you; his gaze drifts over the crowd with the same detached calm he wears on the field.
You try to focus on the chaos—Oliver laughing too loudly, someone clinking shot glasses, Ayane half-dancing with a drink she probably can’t handle—but the awareness of him presses against your skin like heat.
You don’t notice you’ve been fidgeting until his voice cuts through the noise.
“Are you an athlete?”
You blink. No greeting. No introduction.
For a second, your brain refuses to catch up. What kind of question is that? Does he know who you you are? Who Ayane is? He wasn’t supposed to be here at all—you’d assumed he only joined the U-20 squad for that Blue Lock match. So what is he doing in a Roppongi bar surrounded by temporary teammates and cheap neon light?
And why is he talking to you?
You clear your throat, trying to find your voice somewhere between disbelief and the faint tremor under your skin. “I used to be. Why’d you ask?”
Sae hums before taking a measured sip of his drink. His sea-green eyes flick toward you for the briefest moment.
“I saw your knee brace.”
The words land like a punch.
You freeze as your breath snags in your throat. Your skirt covers it—you’d made sure of that. He shouldn’t have noticed it at all unless…
Your foot had been propped on the rung of your stool earlier.
You feel heat rise to your cheeks before you can stop it. “Oh, yeah. It’s an old injury. Started acting up again, so I—uh—thought I’d wear it just in case.”
Sae only hums again. He doesn’t press. He doesn’t even look like he’s listening, eyes half-turned back toward the crowd. But nonetheless, you can feel the pull. That silent, unspoken thread that vibrates between you like a heartbeat neither of you can claim.
Does he know?
Does he know about the pain he carved into you without ever touching you? Does he know about the dream you tossed aside just for the sake of getting back at him? Does he know that your pulse has been sprinting ever since he sat down?
…Will it even matter if he does?
But despite how carefully you both preserve this silence, it doesn’t last.
It starts with a tremor at the edge of the crowd—raised voices, the scrape of a chair, a glass shattering somewhere too close to the music. You turn instinctively, catching sight of a woman you’re certain wasn’t there before. She’s older than the rest of you, mid-twenties at least, her dress short enough to make a statement and her heels sharp enough to follow through on it.
She looks furious.
“What the hell, Oliver?” Her voice cuts like a blade. “Who is that brat?”
You follow the direction of her glare and your stomach drops.
Of course she means Ayane.
Oliver’s got an arm around her shoulders, grinning that easy, careless grin he’s always had—one that looks good in photos and terrible everywhere else. But the second the older woman opens her mouth again, even he can’t smirk his way out of it.
“I thought you said I was the only one,” she snaps. “You told me you weren’t seeing anyone else!”
Ayane blinks, her expression freezing halfway between confusion and horror. “He told me you were just an old friend!”
You can almost see the headache forming behind Oliver’s eyes. He exhales, palms up, like he’s trying to settle a pair of unruly pets. “Ladies, come on. Can we not do this here? It’s my birthday. Let’s just relax, yeah?”
The woman’s response is to swing her purse at him.
It hits his arm with a sharp whack that makes the nearest table burst into laughter. Ayane lets out a shocked noise and suddenly she’s throwing herself forward, nails and all. The crowd erupts. Phones come out. Someone yells, “Do it again!” and that’s all it takes for the bar to devolve into complete chaos.
You’re already on your feet, cursing under your breath. “For god’s sake—Ayane!”
You wedge yourself between them, grabbing at her arm. She’s stronger than she looks when she’s drunk, all flailing limbs and misplaced fury.
“She called me a brat!” she slurs, trying to kick free. “She called me—”
Her kitten heel catches your knee.
Right where the brace is.
The pain flares white-hot, so sudden you almost see stars. You stumble back, hand flying to your leg as your breath hitches in your chest. The world narrows to a single throb—deep, familiar, and cruelly precise.
Ayane and the woman are still shouting. Oliver’s pretending to mediate but mostly just shielding his face. The rest of the bar watches like it’s free entertainment.
You steady yourself on a nearby table with gritted teeth, willing the pain to ebb. But across the room—
Sae shifts.
He hasn’t moved much since the chaos started, still seated at the bar, one hand curled around his untouched glass of water. But now his jaw tenses. His fingers flex once before sliding down to his right knee.
He doesn’t look at you right away, but you feel it all the same—the pulse that jumps between you, invisible but undeniable. That same echo of pain, the aching flicker that kept you company in late nights and early mornings.
You bite down hard on the inside of your cheek, breathing through the sensation. When your gaze finally meets his across the crowd, you realize he felt it too.
Neither of you say anything. The connection speaks for itself.
Like an ache that doesn’t know it’s supposed to heal.
By the time the night’s noise fades behind you, Ayane’s half-asleep on your shoulder, and her breath smells like peach schnapps and regret.
You keep an arm wrapped around her as you guide her down the quiet street, her heels clicking unevenly against the pavement. She’s clutching your jacket to her chest like a security blanket, mumbling something incoherent between sniffles.
“I told you those shoes were a bad idea,” you murmur, mostly to fill the silence.
She lets out a wet laugh. “You told me Oliver was a bad idea.”
“Well,” you say softly, “I wasn’t wrong.”
“Yeah. You were right.” Ayane sniffles, her voice cracking halfway. “He’s the worst. I can’t believe I fought someone over him.”
You glance down at her. The smeared eyeliner, the reddened nose, the faint scratches tracing her arm.
“You’re not the first person to make a bad call while drunk,” you tell her. “Just—maybe don’t date guys who drink under twenty next time.”
“Okay,” she says, small and sincere, leaning more of her weight against you. “I promise. No more shady guys.”
“Good.”
“I’ll stay loyal to my soulmate instead.”
You nearly trip over your own feet. “What?”
Ayane giggles weakly, eyes half-lidded as she looks up at you. “Isn’t that what you’re doing? Waiting for yours?”
The words hit harder than they should. You open your mouth, then close it again. There’s nothing to say that doesn’t sound like a lie.
“You’re drunk, Ayane.”
“I’m observant,” she mumbles.
You don’t answer. By the time you reach her house, her head’s already lolling against your shoulder again. You manage to get her up the steps and ring the doorbell with your elbow. The porch light flickers on.
“Go to bed, okay?” you say, gently pulling your jacket from her hands once she’s inside.
She nods. “’Night, soulmate girl.”
The porch light flickers once, then fades. The street settles into stillness.
Each step back crunches against the gravel, the weight of the night pressing down heavier with every breath. You’re still thinking about Ayane’s words when the car comes into view. Black, sleek, and idling at the curb.
Sae’s elbow rests on the window frame, head tilted slightly, sea-green eyes following you even before you reach him. The streetlight turns his hair to copper, and makes his expression even more indecipherable.
You clutch your bag tighter, unsure what to do with the sudden awareness crawling up your spine. “You didn’t have to wait.”
His reply is instant. “You shouldn’t walk alone at night.”
There’s no softness in it—just that same flat certainty he probably uses to tell people how to play football. Like facts are things you obey, not argue with.
You huff out a quiet laugh, too tired to hide your annoyance. “You really didn’t have to—”
“I’m already here.”
“…Do you always talk like that?”
He doesn’t answer.
You shake your head and reach for the back door anyway, but his voice cuts through the still air before you can slide in.
“Don’t treat me like some drive for hire.”
Your hand freezes. “Excuse me?”
His reflection catches yours in the rearview mirror, eyes narrowing just enough to be infuriating. “Sit in the passenger seat.”
You stare at him for a beat. “Are all geniuses this bossy, or is it just you?”
Nothing. Not even a smirk.
You sigh, muttering under your breath as you circle to the front. The leather creaks softly as you sink into the passenger seat, refusing to look at him. For a moment, neither of you speak. The engine hums low, the city outside blurring into quiet shapes through the windshield.
It takes you a minute to realize he’s waiting for you to tell him where you live.
You clear your throat, trying not to sound as flustered as you feel. “Uh—left at the next corner. Then straight for a few blocks.”
Sae doesn’t say anything, but his hand finds the gearshift, movements smooth and practiced. The car groans forward and the city lights slide past in streaks of white and amber. It’s quiet. So much that it leaves lots of space for thought.
You glance sideways despite yourself.
His sleeves are rolled just enough to show the sharp line of his forearm, a silver watch glinting whenever the light changes. The pinstriped shirt and tailored slacks fit him a little too well; even his posture radiates precision. Everything about him feels controlled—down to the way his fingers rest on the wheel like they own it.
Your eyes trail to his face before you can stop them. Strong jaw. Unbothered expression. The faintest crease between his brows that might mean irritation or focus. You can’t tell the difference anymore.
And then his gaze flicks toward you.
You tear your eyes away immediately. Great. Perfect. Exactly how you wanted to spend your night—getting caught staring at your soulmate like some lovesick idiot after watching your best friend brawl in a bar.
“So you’re the one who’s been giving me a hard time.”
You blink. “What?”
Sae doesn’t look at you. “Do you know what that injury of yours cost me back in Spain?” His tone is maddeningly calm, almost conversational. “A place on the starting roster. I could’ve snagged it earlier if you’d just taken better care of yourself.”
You gape at him. “If I’d taken better—? Are you serious right now?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Something hot snaps inside you. “You— You think I wanted this? You think I asked to feel your pain every time you got tackled or twisted your knee chasing a ball halfway across the world?”
Your voice cracks, but you don’t care. The words spill out like they’ve been waiting years to escape. “It’s not just the bruises, Sae. You think I don’t know what it’s like when your chest feels so empty, you want to die? When it feels like you’re running on fumes just to keep going? You think I don’t feel that too?”
His knuckles tense on the steering wheel. A muscle in his jaw shifts, the only sign that your words have hit somewhere close to home.
You lean back, the air between you buzzing with everything unspoken. “Don’t you dare act like this is all my fault. I’ve been carrying your hurt for as long as I can remember.”
The car slows to a red light. Sae clicks his tongue once, before turning his head toward you.
“Then stop feeling it,” he says flatly.
Your pulse spikes. “Then stop causing it!”
It comes out sharper than you intend, breathless and shaking. Your heart’s pounding so hard it almost drowns out the traffic outside. You hate the way he makes you feel. Cornered. Small.
Alive.
Sae studies you for a long moment, his expression unreadable under the glow of the stoplight. For a second, you think he might snap back. But instead, his gaze softens like a shadow easing off a wall.
“You shouldn’t let it control you,” he says finally.
But it’s never been about control. This thread between you has been cutting into your ribs since you were children—something beyond control or reason. You even promised yourself, if you ever met him, you’d tell him to be careful.
But there’s nothing careful about Itoshi Sae.
The light turns green. He looks away, one hand shifting back to the wheel.
“Try to rest,” he murmurs, eyes forward again. “You’ve had enough for one night.”
You want to argue, but you don’t. Instead, his car rolls on as the city unfolds around you, and for once, the silence doesn’t feel entirely unbearable.
Itoshi Sae is the most demanding person you’ve ever met.
You learned that the same night he dropped you off. He didn’t even wait for you to say thank you or slam the car door shut in righteous fury. Instead, he shoved his phone into your hands and said:
“Type your number.”
You blinked, certain you misheard. “I’m sorry, what?”
“Your number,” he deadpanned. “Put it in.”
You stared at him, completely lost. After everything you talked about, you’d expected him to want nothing to do with you. Honestly, you were fine with that. What could you possibly offer a man who already had everything?
Your thumb hovered awkwardly over his phone screen. “Why?”
Sae rolled his eyes. “So I can tell you to stop being a nuisance. In case you decide to start crying or whatever on your end of the bond and it distracts me in the middle of a game.”
You gaped. “Crying? Excuse me—”
“Just type it in.”
You did, mostly because it was easier than arguing with him again. He snatched the phone back without another word, saved the contact, and drove off before you could tell him to fuck off.
That was that.
That night became the blueprint for your so-called relationship: a tangled mix of snark and irritation, stitched together by a soulbond neither of you wanted.
Days passed. Then weeks. You don’t hear from Sae aside from the headline about him renewing his passport and flying back to Spain.
You tell yourself you didn’t care. Not about him, not about the dull ache that settled under your ribs whenever the bond went quiet again. It isn’t longing. Just... background noise.
Until one afternoon, while you were buried in notes for your midterm, your phone buzzes.
World’s Shittiest Midfielder: can you stop
Me: ?
Me: stop what
World’s Shittiest Midfielder: that
World’s Shittiest Midfielder: you’re picking at a scab on the back of your foot
Me: ...you’re bothered by THAT?
World’s Shittiest Midfielder: i’m in the middle of a meeting. cut it out.
You grin. Then, out of pure spite, you dig your nail under the edge of the scab and rip it clean off with a yelp in surprise.
World’s Shittiest Midfielder: what the fuck is wrong with you
Me: consider it payback for the car lecture, genius.
Three dots blink for a moment before vanishing.
You leaned back in your chair, smiling to yourself despite the sting in your heel. Maybe this was your new normal—occasional cross-continental bickering with a world-class footballer who happened to share your pain, your pulse, and your bad habits.
You could live with that.
Probably.
You don’t hear from Sae for weeks after that.
No texts, no calls, no late-night complaints about phantom paper cuts or the occasional pulled muscle. The quiet is almost disorienting. You’re loath to admit, but you’ve gotten used to the constant static of his irritation.
But then, summer fades, and your mother falls ill right when the heat finally breaks.
The days start shortening, and your world follows suit. Between lectures and two part-time jobs, your life blurs into a rhythm of running between work, school, and the hospital. You learn the names of every nurse on the night shift, the brand of the bitter coffee from the vending machine downstairs. You start sleeping in chairs.
You don’t think about Sae much. Except when you feel that familiar hollow ache in your chest flare—like the bond itself has turned brittle with all the grief you’re carrying.
When your phone buzzes at midnight, you almost ignore it. But the screen lights up with an international number, and your stomach sinks. You swipe to answer, pressing the phone against your ear as quietly as you can.
Sae’s voice cuts through, cool and irritated as ever. “What the hell’s going on with you?”
You close your eyes. “Hi to you too.”
“I’ve been feeling it for a month,” he goes on. “Whatever it is—it’s unbearable. If this is you spiraling again, I’d rather quit soccer than deal with another second of it.”
You huff out something that might be a laugh if it weren’t so broken. Your gaze drifts to your mother, her face half-hidden under the hospital’s dim light.
“Are you done?”
Sae exhales through the receiver. “Do you want me to add more?”
You shake your head, even though he can’t see it. A small, bitter smile tugs at your lips. “I wish I could stop hurting, Sae. I wish I could rip this stupid soulbond out so neither of us has to feel each other anymore.”
Your throat tightens, but the words don’t stop. “I wish my mom’s soulmate didn’t leave her too early. Maybe then I wouldn’t have to watch her slowly die alone.”
The silence rings so loud in your ears, it almost stings.
Finally, he asks, “What do you mean?”
You wipe your tears with the back of your sleeve, voice dropping to a whisper. “It’s nothing, Sae. I’ll get my shit together soon. Good night.”
“Hey—”
You hang up before he can finish.
The phone slips from your hand and lands in your lap. The heart monitor keeps its steady rhythm beside you, and for a moment, you pretend that’s enough.
You’ve been seriously considering dropping out.
It’s your last year of high school, but the two part-time jobs you’re juggling aren’t enough to cover your mother’s medication for long. When you bring it up to her, she cries—hands trembling as she clasps yours, pressing her forehead against your knuckles like she’s praying.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers. “I’m sorry the burden has to fall on your shoulders.”
You shake your head so fast it almost hurts. “It’s not a burden, Mom. I love you. Of course I’ll do everything I can to keep you alive.”
And you mean it. Even if it means pressing pause on your own life for a while.
That afternoon, while she sleeps soundly beside you, you’re back to scrolling through job listings—anything that’ll pay more than your current shifts. The glow of your laptop makes the room feel smaller. You’re trying not to think about how much longer you can stretch your savings when the door opens.
It’s one of the nurses. She’s usually kind but careful, always wearing that look of pity that makes your stomach twist. Today, though, her face is lit up.
“Good news,” she says. “Your mother’s outstanding balance has been paid in full.”
“…What?”
She nods. “And the referrals to the specialists you mentioned—those will be billed to the anonymous donor. You can start arranging for further treatment right away.”
You stare at her for a long second, half-suspicious. “This isn’t a scam, is it?”
“Not at all.” The nurse laughs softly. “You can check the billing records yourself. Everything’s been processed. Would you like me to contact the specialists on call?”
Your eyes flicker to your mother—the frail rise and fall of her chest, her once-strong hands now folded weakly over the blanket. The woman who taught you there was something sacred in pain. You don’t even think twice before nodding.
“Yes. Please.”
Later, while your mother is surrounded by a new team of doctors, you find yourself staring at your phone, thumbs hovering over a contact name you just thought of changing last minute.
Me: you didn’t have to do all that.
Me: how did you even know where to wire the money, asshole…
Sae: ?
Sae: what are you talking about
You huff out a laugh. He’s a terrible liar. But the grief that’s been curling in your chest for weeks finally loosens a little.
Me: whatever
Me: thanks, genius
Me: i might owe you one after all
Sae: i’ll fly back to japan next week
Me: so soon? could’ve sworn you just tried to run me over with your car
Sae: if you want to pay me back, treat me to dinner on the 10th. that’s my birthday
Me: you’re booking a flight for a birthday dinner????
Sae: i’m just collecting what i’m owed
You laugh, too loud for a hospital room. A doctor glances over; your mother does too, but you don’t apologize.
Because for the first time, your heart stirs at the thought of Itoshi Sae—not in anger, but something dangerously close to affection.
It’s already mid-autumn, and you’ve missed the first few weeks of your last year—something that would’ve wrecked you months ago. But now that your mom’s treatment is covered, and she’s stable enough for you to leave her bedside without guilt, you can actually breathe again.
Ayane nearly tackles you the moment you step into the classroom. She insists on helping you catch up, piling notes and worksheets on your desk like a one-woman rescue mission.
Halfway through reviewing algebra problems, she blurts out, “By the way, I was the one who told Sae about your mom.”
You blink. “You—what?”
Ayane pouts, twirling her pen. “Sorry! You were burning yourself out on both ends! Someone had to do something.”
You stare at her, horrified. “Ayane.”
“What?” she says, lips twitching. “Who am I to keep your soulmate from knowing something that important?”
The words hit you like a bullet.
Oh god. She knows.
Heat floods your face instantly, and you drop your pen, burying your head in your textbook.
“He told you about our soulbond?”
Ayane grins like she’s watching her favorite drama unfold. “Don’t give me that look! That’s Itoshi Sae! Your soulmate is a literal football superstar, and you’re shy about it?”
You groan. “Please shut up before I evaporate on the spot.”
Her laughter rings out across the study hall, drawing a few looks your way. But she eventually lets you off the hook, mumbling about how “soulmate privilege” should come with bragging rights.
The rest of the week passes in relative peace. You start feeling like a normal high school student again. But then your phone buzzes that evening while you’re eating dinner in the hospital room with your mother.
Sae: flight just landed.
Sae: hope you didn’t forget about tomorrow.
Me: yeah, yeah.
Me: all you’re getting is cheap katsu curry though
Me: no complaints or i’ll poison your food
Sae: 👍
You snort softly, shaking your head. The sound draws your mother’s attention. She’s sitting up, eating her soup with a bit more color in her cheeks than before.
“Who are you texting?” she asks, her tone light but curious.
You freeze. Then, without thinking, you tell her, “You’ll meet him soon.”
The words hang in the air like smoke. Your brain immediately short-circuits.
What the hell did you just say?
Your mom just smiles, completely unaware of your internal meltdown.
Later that night, you curl up on the couch you’ve claimed as your own, the room dim except for the faint glow of the monitors. You tell yourself you’re only staying up because you’re not tired.
But when the clock hits midnight, you unlock your phone, open your messages, and type before you can second-guess it.
Me: happy birthday, genius.
You are eighteen when Itoshi Sae asks you to be his girlfriend.
Except he doesn’t really ask, and you don’t really answer.
It happens on graduation day.
The sky is painfully blue, the kind that almost hurts to look at, and the air smells faintly of cherry blossoms drifting in from the courtyard. Your uniform is crisp for once, the pleats sharp and the ribbon tied neatly beneath your collar.
Your mom is sitting in the front row, clapping like her hands might fall off, eyes shining with pride that makes your throat ache. Beside you, Ayane is sniffling onstage—mascara already smudged, clutching your hand so tightly you can feel her nails through your sleeve.
When the principal finally announces your class, she lets out a watery laugh. “We actually did it,” she whispers, voice wobbling.
You bump your shoulder against hers. “Told you we would.”
It’s true. You made it.
Through the sleepless nights, the part-time jobs, the grief that used to gnaw at your ribs. What’s more is that the soulbond that once felt like a chain doesn’t drag anymore; it just hums quietly, a familiar weight you’ve learned to live with.
Sometimes, when Sae’s overseas, you forget it’s even there. Other times, you feel the faint pulse of him through it, steady and distant, like a heartbeat echoing from another world.
Having Sae as a soulmate doesn’t hurt anymore.
Not even the seven-hour time difference can stop you from blowing up his phone with inane messages when you’re bored: screenshots of terrible memes, blurry photos of your mom’s cooking, voice notes of Ayane snoring during class. He replies more often now, though he’ll never admit it.
Sae: stop sending me things when i’m in training.
Me: just thought you needed motivation.
Sae: you’re insufferable.
Me: you love it.
Sae: shut up.
You’re not really sure what to call whatever this is.
Friends? More than friends? Something in between?
Sure, maybe you had fun during his last visit to Japan. Maybe your mom had taken one look at him and said, “He’s polite. I like him,” which was suspiciously high praise. (She still doesn’t know he’s the one who paid her hospital bills, and you plan to keep it that way.)
Maybe you’d kissed the corner of his mouth in the hospital hallway before he left for his flight. Just a soft, nervous brush of lips, quick enough to pass for gratitude. You hadn’t looked back to see his reaction, but you felt it. The bond flared hot in your chest, pulsing with something wild and new before settling back to stillness.
That was months ago. You told yourself it didn’t mean anything. You told yourself you didn’t mean anything. At least, not to Itoshi Sae.
So why the hell is he ambling by the school gates like some sort of delinquent?
He’s standing under a blooming cherry blossom tree like he walked out of a commercial for expensive cologne. He’s wearing the same pinstriped shirt from Oliver’s birthday last year, sleeves rolled to his elbows, dark slacks tailored too perfectly for someone who insists he doesn’t care about appearances.
Behind him, his poor manager Dabadie looks seconds away from a cardiac arrest, scanning the crowd like the paparazzi might materialize from the bushes.
He’s not supposed to be back in Japan this soon. He’s not supposed to be here at all.
You break off from your mother, who’s busy chatting with Ayane’s parents, and march up to him, clutching your diploma to your chest.
“What are you doing here?” you ask in an attempt to sound casual. “You usually tell me about your visits like I should be grateful you’re gracing Japanese soil again.”
Sae doesn’t rise to the bait. He doesn’t even blink.
Instead, he gestures toward Dabadie—who looks immensely relieved to be acknowledged—and takes a bouquet from his arms. It’s a gorgeous arrangement of hydrangeas the same blue-green shade as his eyes. Nestled in the center is a small velvet box.
He holds it out to you.
“Congrats,” he says simply.
You blink at him. Then at the flowers. Then back at him.
“You…what— Sae,what is this—”
He just smiles, and you begrudgingly take the bouquet because, well, what else can you do? The velvet box wobbles slightly between the blooms, and when you open it, there’s a necklace inside. Silver. Simple. The pendant bears a single kanji.
His name.
You stare at it for a long moment. “You’re impossible.”
“Yeah,” he says, hands in his pockets. “You say that a lot.”
Before you can respond, your mom swoops in. She lights up when she sees him, linking her arm with his like they’ve known each other for years.
“Sae-kun! You came all this way! Oh, you shouldn’t have,” she gushes, eyes sparkling. “You look thinner—are you eating enough?”
You’re… stunned. The cold, snarky Itoshi Sae, looking almost sheepish under your mother’s fussing. He’s actually letting her straighten his collar.
Dabadie appears at your side, lowering his voice. “He arranged for a celebratory lunch at his favorite restaurant. Don’t worry about the expenses.”
You pinch the bridge of your nose. “Of course he did.”
Later, in the car, the flowers rest between you. Your mother is engrossed in conversation with his manager at the front. Sae reaches for the necklace box, wordlessly lifting the chain from its cushion. You hesitate only a second before turning your back to him. His fingers brush your skin as he fastens the clasp, warm and careful.
For a moment, the bond hums—steady and bright.
You glance at him over your shoulder. “You really didn’t have to do all this.”
“I wanted to,” he says flatly.
And you realize, in that quiet stretch of spring sunlight, that there are still so many things you don’t know about him. You don’t know why he carries so much pain that goes beyond soccer. You’ve never even met his brother or his family. You don’t know what made him decide to show up here and now.
But you do know that he likes salted seaweed with his rice. That he’s weirdly fixated on athletes’ butts. That he has an inexplicable fondness for seagulls.
There’s so much you don’t know about Itoshi Sae.
But when the car slows to a stop outside the restaurant and you catch the small, absentminded smile on his stupidly pretty face, you think maybe you have all the time in the world to learn.
The hydrangeas in your lap rustle softly as you smile.
“Hey, Sae?”
“Hmm?” He glances over as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “What is it?”
“...I’ll pay for dessert.”
That earns you a faint laugh—one that makes flowers bloom inside your chest as he flashes you a rare, but beautiful smile.
“Deal.”
✦ afterword. YAY YOU MADE IT TILL THE END!! THAT SAID! we have a few post-show notes i'd like to go over with you lovely people here <3 thank you for reading! i loved writing this more than i thought i would hic... sniffle... it would mean the world to me if you let me know you liked it!
summary: You had always heard a weird, mocking voice in the back of your head telling you that the things were going to end just like that between you and Satoru. The Prince and the Pauper. You were destined to eventually drift apart.
Or not?
tags: AU, angst to fluff, breaking and making up, classical disparities, insecurities, gojo is a certified loverboy and a yearner as usual. mdni! eventual smut, p in v sex, soft emotional sex. nobamaki cameo!
MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT! PLEASE HAVE YOUR AGE IN YOUR BLOG!
word count: 13.9k
author's note: hi everyone!! this is not the oneshot i wanted to finish in may, but i had some ideas brewing for quite a long time, though the concept is not really original. happy ending won, soooo enjoy and let me know your thoughts! art in the banner by @/yamada_souko. dividers are mine.
Looking back, you realised you had never got it easy for Satoru.
The tale as old as time: the Princess and the Pauper. Or, in your case, the Prince and the Pauper.
And you couldn't put it in a better way.
Satoru Gojo — the Prince of the campus, the heir to the Gojo Enterprises, the man who would get the business world in the palm of his hand, the captain of the university basketball team, whose face was plastered all across the campus, the president of the Alpha Delta Nu, so on and so forth. You got the gist. The crowd parted before him, the Universe shifted itself to accommodate his presence: he walked in every room as if he owned it, which he pretty much did — ruling every place with a charming grin and a quick wit. Guys were wishing to be like him. Girls were dying to be beside him. He barely granted anyone more attention than needed — keeping people at arm's length, except for a couple of his friends. Of course, you didn't belong to them. Not like you desperately wanted to. You were well aware of the hierarchy of the university: people like Satoru Gojo rested at the top, eyeing the crowd down. People like you? Scrambling to get to the middle. If you were lucky enough.
One spring day, you realised that either Satoru Gojo didn't know about those unspoken rules or couldn't care less about them. Because you couldn't come up with a plausible explanation for why he suddenly started pestering you. Or, in his eyes, flirting.
It began rather innocent: him accidentally bumping into you, flashing an apologetic grin; asking for a vacant place at the cafetery at your usual table in the corner, the one where the noise cut down a little and you had a better view on the students — naturally, that place become the center of everyone's attention, because wherever Gojo was, the crowd followed; helping you to get a book from the highest shelves in the library and then crushing your study sessions; waiting for you after the classes just to walk you out to the next campus with an excuse that it was on his way (it didn't. Business majors classes were hold in the corpus 20 minutes away from yours).
At first, you politely declined every single invitation to a frat party or a match. Then you tried to ignore him, but your disinterest would even more pique Gojo's attention. After this, it turned into clipped, gritted-out "no's". You even attempted to talk to his friend, Shoko Ieiri, the girl you shared the Advanced Chemistry class with.
"I don't think there's something I can do," she would murmur, eyes firmly set on some sample through the microscope, when you turned to her as a last resort. The sigh that left your lips was truly desperate. Shoko's gaze softened a tad as she looked up finally, since your presence kept looming over her like a tiny, grumpy cloud. "Satoru can be pretty stubborn, unfortunately. Especially, when he's pretty set on something."
"Yeah," scoffing under your breath, you crossed your arms, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in your chest. "Unfortunately for me. Am I another check mark on his to-do list? I just don't get it." The pencil in your hand almost snapped from the strength of your grip.
"Listen, I am not in a position to advice your something or anything," Shoko's lab chair screeched — the sound annoyingly loud in the tense silence of the lab — as she turned to face you fully. The irritation at her words flared up in you, but you forced yourself to listen to her. If not her, then who?! "But you might try to hear him out. He's not that bad of a guy."
Grimacing at her, you turned to return to your own table. "If he's not that bad, he would've taken a hint long ago."
An indifferent shrug was the only response you got.
After talking to Shoko, Gojo's pitiable attempts at "courting" you had weakened severely until coming to a complete halt. You couldn't believe your luck. But what annoyed you even more than Gojo himself was the way you would jump at seeing the familiar spark of frosty white hair in the crowd; the way your heart would do a little flip at the sound of his distant chuckles. The way the loneliness would engulf your usual table in the corner of the cafeteria without his company: you subconsciously craned your neck to see him, for all his persona and the impossible height were impossible to miss, and slumped in your seat, when he didn't happen to stroll in with a familiar effortless grace in his stride. In the quietness of the library, after the countless hours of studying, you could basically hear the grin in his voice as he handed you a couple of blueberry muffins and the bergamot tea from your favourite bakery — you didn't have the slightest idea how he managed to find out your usual order — and tapped on your nose, remarking that you actually should eat.
Somehow, Satoru Gojo annoyed you enough to...like him. Managed to creep under your skin like an itch you couldn't get rid of.
Or… didn't want to?
***
One basketball match changed everything.
"Sorry, sorry, oh— sorry again," you mumbled awkwardly, navigating through the crowd and somehow managing to balance two beer cups on your way to your seats.
"Geez, finally, where have you been?"
Rolling your eyes at Nobara, your bestie slash roommate slash the only person who made your university life not so miserable, you handed her the cup and tried to shout through the cheerladers' voices, the endless roaring of the crowd and the music coming loud from the speakers.
"There was a line!"
"Huh? What?"
"THERE WAS A FUCKING LINE!"
She took a sip from her cup with a satisfied nod and grimaced at you. "Don't scream at me."
Her audacity stole your voice, and you slumped down in your seat, huffing rather indignantly.
"Hey, don't pout. Sorry for that." Nobara lightly elbowed your side and opened a pack of salted peanuts, offering you a truce.
"Can't believe I agreed to go with you," a light grumpiness coloured your voice as you drank from your own cup.
"Aw, that's because I am awesome and you love me so, so much," she chirped gleefully and planted a kiss on your cheek. With her head on your shoulder, Nobara sighed dreamily at the sight of Maki Zenin — the manager of the university's basketball team. "She's so cute, isn't she?"
Meanwhile, Maki gestured widely, screaming something at her phone (not very pleasant as you might assume from your seat) and threw her bag at a guy in front of her. The guy followed her figure with puppy eyes.
Your lips twitched with a barely concealed smile that you hid behind another swig. "An angel, truly."
"Hey, what's that supposed to mean?"
Her words fell on deaf ears because at that moment, some airy melody rang from the speakers, followed by the joyful voice of the commentators to finally announce the start of the match.
Swallowing nervously, your eyes darted across the court, and the moment your gaze landed on the tall figure with stark white hair, your heart galloped at a racing speed.
"Who are you gawking at, huh?"
Gojo might've really had the eyes on the back of his head — he wasn't called Six Eyes for nothing, some weird sixth sense that you assumed related only to the basketball court — because that very moment he turned around and briefly scanned the audience. His eyes widened in surprise as he spotted you: the bright blue of his gaze and the joyous smile that broke on his face caught you so off guard you nearly dropped the cup. Like he was happy to see you there. Actually happy.
You offered Gojo a shy wave — a subtle move of your fingers — that only made his grin wider. Then, Suguru Geto tapped on his shoulder, and he quickly turned back.
Your hand fell limply to your side.
"Babe, what the hell was that?" Nobara hissed, jerking her chin towards the players gathered around for the last guides from the coach Yaga. "Have you just casually flirted with Satoru Gojo? Don't you hate his lungs?"
The next words came in a breathy voice. "I don't know anymore."
Your knowledge of basketball was rather... limited, but you dutifully roared along with the crowd the moment your university scored yet another point. The people's excitement was contagious, seeping right into you as well and lacing your voice with joy. You booed at the judge when he gave advantages to the rivals, screamed at the top of your lungs and held your breath at the last quarter. Your team went neck-and-neck with the other, and every point was crucial. You could see it in the way the player's uniform was drenched in sweat, their hair stuck to their temples, and laboured breathing. The stakes were too high.
The scorebox showed the fifteen seconds left — mere moments for you and the whole eternity for those at the court. Your eyes drifted to Gojo, as driven to him by some unknown force. His sharp gaze quickly darted from one teammate to another, calculating the last opportunities to score. And then...it found you amidst the sea of spectators. Cheeks flushed, hair a total mess, chest expanding with deep breaths. A small grin tugged at the corner of his lips as he took you in. Adorable.
But for you, the moment Gojo's gaze landed on you felt completely different — resembling more of a bolt of lightning that sent every nerve in your body on fire. You couldn't hear your own thoughts with the blood pounding at your temples.
Gojo barely tilted his head, nodding towards the basket and mouthed.
"This is for you."
He dodged one guy, then the other with perfect dribbling — you barely saw anyone in their element as much as Gojo was at the basketball court — and finally went for a shot.
Time seemed to stop moving in the gym of the Jujutsu University. The hundreds of eyes watched the ball cutting through the air with an impeccable trajectory.
Until it went through the net without hitting the rim and sealed the win.
You barely released a shuddering breath when Nobara crushed you in a hug, her beer mercilessly spilling on you both, but no one gave a damn. The crowd erupted with an ecstatic cheer and rose to their feet right then and there. The commentators were on the verge of crying, judging by their voices, but your world narrowed to one particular person. Gojo's teammates ruffled his hair, patted his back, and hugged him by the shoulders; someone even put him in a playful headlock, to which he responded with a wide grin.
A tight knot in your chest slowly seemed to loosen a bit.
Gojo found you later, at the party.
You stood a little away from the crowd, watching Nobara laughing with Maki Zenin near the bonfire. The light painted her auburn hair in copper tints every time she tilted her head, and judging by the way Maki's gaze lingered on her form, she noticed that too. A little smile curled your lips at the sight of lovey-doveys.
"Your friend has a crush on Maki, huh?"
Putting a can to your lips, you mumbled absent-mindedly, "She's pretty obvious."
"They both are, actually."
A light brush against your shoulder finally caught your attention. You lazily shifted your gaze, only to gulp at the sudden proximity to Satoru Gojo.
He stood beside you, hands tucked in his pockets, watching the rest of the party unfold with a faint smirk on his face. Standing there, existing, like he wasn't the one who flipped your world upside down a couple of hours earlier.
A forced smile made your cheeks hurt as you tumbled out nervously, hastily wiping your mouth, "I am— I, I mean, congratulations! You did so great! I don't understand much about basketball, but you—," your worried your bottom lip for a second before breathing out, "you were magnificent."
At your words, Gojo finally turned around. His grin softened into a gentle smile that showcased a pair of dimples on his pale cheeks. The firelight danced on his hair strands that seemed more ivory tinged now.
"You think so?"
"I do!" A sudden feeling of boldness flooded you as you stepped forward and reached for his arm to show how sincere you were. Or maybe it was just a beer.
Gojo immediately cast his gaze down and slowly wrapped his long fingers around your wrist. You gulped, but didn't look away from his face. The gods clearly spared nothing in sculpting it, otherwise you couldn't explain the sharpness of his jaw, the plumpness of his lips and the prominence of his cheekbones.
No one had a right to be that beautiful. Satoru Gojo wasn't aware of it.
His thumb pressed just a tad against your soft skin to feel an erratic pulse beneath it, but you did not attempt to pull your hand away. On the contrary, it felt strangely...natural.
"I am glad you were there." A gentle murmur hit you harder than expected.
Breath bated, you searched Gojo's face for any hint of the usual theatrics and grandeur until you saw none.
"You are?"
"Yeah".
The words about the last shot were on the tip of your tongue already, but they quickly died at the sight of shimmering blue in his eyes as Gojo finally looked up and released your hand from his grip.
You already missed its warmth.
"Listen, I knew I was a jerk towards you. Crowding and flirting and so on. I know, I know," a self-deprecating chuckle left his lips as the ironic roll of his eyes followed. You watched every expression, soaked it like Gojo was about to disappear again from your life. "I am not proud of this, I admit. I want to apologise to you for this."
You parted your lips to answer, but Gojo cut you off with a slight shake of his head.
"But I am not going to apologise for my feelings," his voice grew stronger, rising from the gentle murmur to the steady tone, eyes boring into you with an unsettling intensity that left you speechless. The people's cheerings fade into the background, and that chilly evening, thick with emotions so deep you couldn't name them, enveloped both of you in its bubble.
"I meant everything. I do like you. I like the way you smile when you finally grasp the concept you've been studying. The way your voice goes all that animated when you talk about the book you were reading. That little sparkle in your eyes when you saw the last cherry pie in the cafeteria...I love it all. And that shot was for you. I really meant it."
"I am gonna ask you just this once, and if you reject me, I will step back and never bother you again. You have my word," the weight of Gojo's promise would almost physically pin you to the ground, if not for the desperation lurking behind his gaze, darting between your eyes and your lips. He forcefully tore it away to glance right into your face. "Will you go out with me?"
You didn't believe what you were about to say. But hey, that day was already weird enough. You offered Gojo a crooked smile. "Yeah."
"Just one date, you won't — ", he blinked in surprise, a light frown crossing his handsome face. "Wait, what?"
You stifled a laugh and nodded, stepping closer, until you felt the hard planes of his chest. "I will go out with you."
A slow, almost dopey in its joy, grin curled Gojo's lips, until a small disbelieving chuckle left him. "You will? Just like that?"
Now you couldn't contain a smile either. "Just like that, Gojo."
A whoop full of happiness cut through the air and the noise of the party that slowly came to its eventual end as Gojo swept you off your feet and twirled you in a bone-crushing embrace. Your laugh was the prettiest sound Gojo had ever heard.
"Thank you! Thank you, thank you, thank you! I swear you won't regret it!"
Satoru Gojo kept his promise. And many others he whispered in the dead of the night to you beneath the star-spilt sky. His hand was a steady anchor amidst the stormy life that awaited both of you. His voice offered you peace of mind when the world was a little too harsh for you. His fingers traced reverently the silk of your skin every time he shared a night with you. His gaze was the first you searched for in every crowded room. His arms had become the safest place in the world.
Satoru memorised the way you organised your life, but you were more than happy when he eventually disrupted your usual order. Not because he was doing that on purpose. Rather, since that was Satoru: he was too big for your world, and you didn't want him to shrink himself into someone he wasn't. Dimming Satoru's light was the last thing you wished.
He had learnt by heart the things that even you didn't pay attention to: for example, your toothbrush always had to face the door — Satoru wordlessly turned it the way you preferred; your favourite plant was Zamioculcas that he made sure was always watered visiting you; you usually carried a few packs of wet cat food for the stray babies in your enormous bag — he ordered large boxes, so you wouldn't run out of them; your drink of choice was Margarita that you shared only while hanging with Nobara — Satoru learned on his way to pick you up; you hated the loud harsh sounds, and Satoru was the first one to whisper sweet nothings to you and rub soothing circles against the small of your back until you calm down. In other words, he made your life easier.
You, on the other hand, only added more difficulties to his. Satoru never told you that, not even mentioned in any way that you were somehow different from him. But some things didn't have to be pointed out to catch your eye.
Like his Prada glasses, which cost like your monthly rent or two. Satoru could leave them somewhere without batting an eye. Or the luxurious gifts he would get you out of nowhere just because you barely glanced at something while strolling. That warmed your heart, yes, but the cheque that Satoru couldn't care less about startled you. You stayed in the lab until you almost fainted from fatigue just to finish the project before the deadline to get an extra payment to spend on the gift, since you were adamant that the relationships were about taking and giving in equal measure. Not to mention the one social gathering he invited you to, just off-handedly, before the day it actually happened; you drained your bank account to look presentable by his side, and lived on the instant ramen the entire month after. Maybe if you had accepted Satoru's offer to live together, none of that would have happened, but you learned the hard way to rely only on yourself. Luckily, the iron argument sealed the deal: your tight schedules at the lab and his as a pro basketball player didn't match well.
The Gojo family was another... topic. While no one said anything directly to your face, you noticed the way their brows knitted in confusion for a fleeting second, eyeing you up and down. Sensed the baffled glances and fake, saccharine sweet smiles behind your back, questioning the fact of your presence. No. Your existence. The mere raise of the brow from one of Satoru's distant cousins at the sight of your shoes — the ones you borrowed from Nobara, who got them after the Fashion Week in Paris, albeit last year's Dior collection — had you doubting your entire life.
Complaining had never been on your list, though some thoughts did cross your mind. You made sure not to voice them, stoically listening to all the hushed whispers. Not once did your smile falter in front of them. It was the least you could do for Satoru. You knew he didn't have a lot of joy in standing up for you every single time, so, eventually, the gatherings got shorter, the invitations came rather rarely, and the calls, already small in number, would always leave him in a bad mood. The sound of your name appeared quite frankly between the gritted words and heated yells.
"Don't worry, baby," Satoru's lips always found the crown of your head in the reassuring kiss when you asked him what was going on. The bitterness in his voice poisoned your already tired, insecure mind even more. He was a master at hiding his emotions, but never from you. "I got this."
A strained smile — the corners of your lips lifting just barely — was your usual answer.
"Of course."
Satoru then offered you a quick grin that never reached his eyes. His large hands cradled your face in the gentle, trembling grip, and the faint murmur would twist yet another knife between your ribs. "I love you. I love you so much. You know that, right?"
Leaning into Satoru's palm like a kitten, seeking warmth, you bit inside of your cheek not to cry. Your hand came up to cradle his hand against your cheek just to memorise the way it perfectly engulfed your face.
"I love you."
Not to dwell on the way you voice cracked, akin to ice beneath one's feet, you simply moved forward to capture his lips in a kiss, until all you could taste were tears. Yours, his... Did it matter anymore?
And then, under the pale moonlight coming from the lone crescent peering right into the bedroom of his large penthouse, your gaze drifted unabashedly over Satoru's face, taking in every flutter of the long, snowy eyelashes. Every breath that left his lips. Every faint twitch in his expression, and even every tiny snore. Your finger tenderly traced the bridge of Satoru's nose, making its way to the perfectly sculpted mouth and down to the sharp cut of his collarbones. Committing each pale freckle and beauty mark to memory.
For you knew that night would be your last one.
Satoru loved you, and you loved him. He loved you fiercely, with the force so burning it could rival the Sun itself. It was only fair for you to step back and let him shine. Not to drive another wedge between him and his family. You loved Satoru enough not to burden him with your presence. He should soar up in the sky, not stay chained on the ground by the dead weight of you and waste his time knocking some sense into his parents.
A muffled sob escaped your throat as you pressed a small kiss between his collarbones. The next thing you felt was Satoru's strong arm curling around your waist to pull you against his strong chest. The faint smell of musk still clung to his skin, but you had never revelled in it as you did now.
"Why aren't you asleep, baby? Something's wrong?" Satoru's voice came in a deep, throaty tone that would usually have your toes curling.
The edge of the blade dug deeper into your heart, drawing blood.
"Nothing, love. Just some weird thoughts, that's all."
A boyish grin adorned his face — so handsome even in the middle of the night — as he lightly flicked your forehead.
"Your head will hurt from all the overthinking. Head so tiny, yet so many thoughts. Come here," Satoru let a shuddering yawn and tucked your head under his chin, nuzzling gently against your hair. "Better?"
Biting on your lip, you prayed to all the gods that Satoru wouldn't hear the tremble in your voice. The steady beat of his heart lulled you to sleep, but you knew you wouldn't close an eye that night. "Yes."
"Try to sleep, okay?" Satoru's finger came to play with a lone strand of your hair. The smile in his voice was evident. "And if you don't, just wake me up. We can talk or watch that documentary you mentioned earlier. I mean, did Tyra really not take any accountability?"
You gathered any ounce of your strength not to fall apart right then and there.
"Of course, Toru. Go to sleep now."
He sighed in mock exaggeration. "Always so bossy."
His chest rose steadily under your cheek. His skin felt warm under the weight of your palm. You registered it all subconsciously, clinging to every part of Satoru.
And only when his breath fully evened, you allowed yourself to whisper to the night.
"I love you. And I am so sorry."
***
You sincerely thought you were a nice girlfriend for scheduling your breakup over the weekend. Waited until Satoru finished showering and emerged all smiley and happy from the bathroom. Waited until he recalled all the TikToks he sent to you in the early morning, not even knowing you already had blocked him on all the socials. Waited until he dug in the last breakfast you cooked for him — fluffy pancakes with strawberry jam.
"Babe, this is so delicious," Satoru hummed, pointing a fork at you. "Are you sure you didn't wanna become a chief? I mean, this is the gift from the heavens."
"I think we should break up."
Satoru paused mid-way, mouth still open. He slowly closed it and heaved a hollowed chuckle, chewing on the pancake with more force than necessary. "Very funny, sweets. An excellent joke."
Straightening in the seat, you furrowed your brows in confusion. Weren't you clear enough?
"I said we should break up."
That time, Satoru finally stopped chewing and slowly lifted his gaze at you. The electric blue pierced deep in your soul as he pressed again, "And I said it was an excellent joke."
"Satoru," the movement of your throat was sharp as you fumbled with words. "I am not joking."
The desperate flex of his fingers caught your attention immediately when Satoru curled them into a fist before taking a deep breath. The smile that carved into his lips was as sharp as the knife.
"Care to explain why?"
A thousand thoughts twirled in your mind those days like a restless whirlpool, each of them seemingly worse than the previous: "I don't love you anymore", or "You suffocate me with your love", and the traitorous "I cheated on you."
All of them lie, of course.
So, you settled on offering Satoru the least you could do — the truth.
"We just don't work out, Satoru. It's better to break up before — "your voice was so tiny and fragile, Satoru thought he was hallucinating: his worst nightmare coming to reality, " — things get more serious."
The loud, screeching sound of the chair being pushed away, followed by a self-deprecating, disbelieving laugh, filled the room. You glanced up at Satoru only to find him pacing around like a caged animal. Your words punched him right in the gut.
"We don't 'work out?' Before 'things get too serious', huh? Sweets, that's gotta be a joke. The most shitty, not funny and cruel joke you have ever pulled on me, but okay," he nervously carded his fingers through the white hair, before walking to you. "Tell me this is it. Please."
You cast your gaze down, not able to see the way his eyes frantically searched your face for any hint of a joke and hear the crack in his voice, usually so steady and certain. A rock, a lighthouse in your stormy ocean.
The shake of his hands was violent as they came up to frame your face. You choked on a heavy sob, trembling like a leaf with the tears blurring your eyes so hard you couldn't see anything.
"But we were —, are working just fine. Have I done something wrong? Is it because of me? Just tell me what to do, I swear I'll fix everything!"
"It's not about you, Satoru. Never has been. It's about me."
His white brows furrowed in confusion. "You? What about you? But you are perfect for me," he chuckled almost tenderly — a small sound frayed around the edges — that only ripped your heart out. "You listen to all my stupid jokes, know how many sugar cubes I put in my coffee, and put the curtains down because you know how sensitive my eyes are. You stayed with me at the hospital after the injury and cheered for me the loudest." His voice rose just a tad to coax a smile from you. "You have never told me how to be someone I am not. Always seen me, not the Gojo heir. Not the star player. How can it be about you? No one in the world knows me as well as you do. Like —," his gaze swept across the room like something might've helped him to talk you out, "like your last Christmas gift, huh? That premium card you swore you just stumbled upon in the store, but I knew better how much it — Wait."
Satoru's smile slowly died as the realisation downed at him like a wicked joke of fate. "No, no, no, no. That can't be it. Is that because of money? My status? I told you countless times that it doesn't matter to me! What I have is yours." His voice dipped into the fragile, almost sacred warmth that he reserved only for you. "All I have is yours."
You couldn't do that anymore. Not even in the wildest thoughts did it occur to you that breaking up with Satoru would hurt that badly. It rather resembled a never-ending torture.
He never understood it. Growing up in a family that barely made ends meet. Pouring your blood, sweat and tears into studies to get a tuition fee waiver, because there wasn't any other option for you to get into the university. Scraping by taking double shifts at the cafe. Fighting tooth and nail over the place in the chemistry lab.
And never would.
Pushing Satoru away, you closed your eyes in defeat before forcing yourself to look back at him. He didn't dare to mutter a word, watching your face twist with pain as you shouted.
"It matters to me! It matters to me, Satoru, how fucking inferior I feel next to you!"
Something in his gaze faded away. He didn't recognise his voice when it came in a short, fractured breath, devoid of all strength.
"What?"
A violent sob rattled your frame as you hid your face in your palms. You cried and cried and cried until your chest tightened with pain, and you managed to utter hoarsely. "Every time I get into your home, or every time someone sees me besides you, I want to run and disappear into the cave. Don't you see that, To — Satoru?" No. He wasn't your Toru anymore. "I am like, dunno, a disastrous glob of ink on Monet's painting. A patch of dirt on the Versace gown. A bling-bling amidst Graff's and Harry Winston's. Well, you get it. Something to wipe away or hide in the closet. Someone who doesn't deserve to stand by your side."
"I don't get it," Satoru dragged his hands over his face and shook his head, letting out a humourless laugh. His eyes flashed with a weird gleam. "Did my parents or anyone at that point say something to you? Because if they did, I fucking swear —"
"No one said anything to me, Satoru! It doesn't matter. Because they say it to you —"
"And as I said, I don't care — "
"BUT I DO!" The rise of your voice to a frenzied cry startled both of you. Satoru stared at you with a gaze so desperate that a kiss of the gun would've been more merciful. You fiercely wiped your snotty nose — hell, you must've looked so ugly — and walked over to cup his face. He watched your every move as if you were about to disappear. In a way, you were going to.
"I do not want anyone to say something about me to you. I do not want you to fight with your family over me. I want you to be happy. Do not be torn between me and the world you belonged to."
Satoru wanted to shake you by the shoulders just to knock some sense into your head, scream and shout what a total bullshit your words were, but instead, he got rooted to the spot by your doe eyes. His stomach twisted at your next words.
"You'll meet a beautiful, smart, and kind girl, who wears pearls that cost more than I will ever be able to make, plays Brahms at the family gatherings, and who doesn't turn red in the face, while asked about favourite Japanese modern artists. Well, now I know plenty." You couldn't help but huff a tiny chuckle. Nothing twitched in Satoru's face. "And you will fall in love with her, and your whole family will like her. Everything will be just fine."
Satoru couldn't believe what was happening. Nothing in his life could ever prepare him for the pain that would follow with your leaving him. It didn't feel real. Probably, never would.
He slowly tilted his head down and rested his forehead against yours, whispering, barely audible. Like every word cost him a fortune. "Please, baby, please. I swear on my life, I will do everything. Just don't leave me. I don't —," Satoru's hands slip up your face as well, but you closed your eyes in defeat. Any ounce of strength left in your body evaporated. His arms fell to his sides as he croaked out helplessly. "I don't know who I am without you."
"You are you, Satoru. Always have been and always will be. A brilliant, wonderful, kind boy with a golden heart. And I..I am just me," you pressed your lips in a thin line before forcing a smile. "But I will work on it. As I said, it's all because of me."
"You don't get it." Somehow, Satoru's lifeless whisper hit you harder than any scream would. Because Satoru never raised his voice at you. Even now. There was a hunch to his shoulders that you rarely saw, if ever, as he turned from you and gripped the edge of the table. "I want to marry you. To become your family. But guess that doesn't matter anymore. Before things get too serious, huh?"
The room spun around you as you knitted your brows together, slumping in the nearest chair. Marrying… you?
But, on the other hand, it didn't change anything. You were still miles away from each other, standing on opposite sides of the societal hierarchy.
"I am so sorry, Satoru," words clawed up your throat as you shook your head.
Satoru finally turned around, and the dimmed, utterly devastated blue of his gaze tore you apart at the seams. "You are not sorry. If you were, you won't be leaving me now."
You didn't have enough in you to counter this. Words seemed meaningless, slipping like sand through your fingers.
"Please, Satoru. Let us go. It is for the better."
You had never seen an expression that hopeless and defeated on his handsome face.
"Is that what you want?"
"No," you wanted to scream, to shout, to cry out loud. "How can I possibly want to leave you? I have to. For both of us."
The silence stretched thin between you for so long, Satoru sincerely thought you didn't hear him. He stepped forward only to see you giving a short nod, almost cruel in its curtness.
After all, he never denied you everything. Even that. Even if it killed him from the inside.
Standing by the door with your bag, you couldn't help but steal a last glance at him. You parted your lips to say goodbye, but nothing even remotely plausible came to your mind. Satoru sat on the couch, shoulders slumped and gaze fixed on the floor. His name left your lips for the last time.
"Satoru."
His head snapped up as if he had been waiting for it that entire time. Maybe you changed your mind?
"Yes?"
That fragile hope in his tone twisted your insides.
"I love you."
Before he could answer, you slipped out of his apartments. And his life.
***
These months, the four agonising months, marked by Satoru's absence in your life, had sucked. Mildly put.
You sincerely thought you were doing the right thing — well, still were — breaking up, sparing his life from your presence, but it didn't mean it hurt any less. In a way, it was the opposite.
Pushing the love of your life away and then grovelling in the silence of your small apartment after putting on a brave face and assuring everyone that you were okay sucked. Crying yourself to sleep sucked. Feeling your heart breaking to pieces each time your gaze stumbled upon something that instantly reminded you of Satoru — like a photo on the fridge, his note with a smiley, kissy face between the pages of your comfort book and the tome of the manga he was reading — sucked. Walking around the places you used to hang out sucked.
What sucked even more was the fact that Satoru's presence seemed to linger everywhere. His laugh haunted you while you were lounging on the couch. The look of pure happiness on his face was ingrained in your mind while you were walking in a familiar park. And when your eye caught sight of a ball? Didn't even mention it. Perhaps that was your punishment. Now you were subjected to a lifetime of loneliness.
Still, you tried to do the thing you promised Satoru the final time you saw him. Attempted to go out of your shell. Took on some hobbies. Had a lot, a lot of time for self-reflection (given that you were free most of the evenings when you didn't throw yourself into work). And took small steps to discover what made you whole.
What and not who. That realisation sank on you with the force of a tidal wave. Kept you awake in three of the morning. Occupied all your thoughts until you finally, finally, were getting used to it. Still, there was a lot to be done. You only wished for Satoru by your side, though. Were you allowed to think about him, after all?
The revelation, of course, only made your mind drift to Satoru even more. How was he? Was his injury getting better? Did his father officially appoint him as the next CEO?
Gods. You sure had no right to worry about him anymore. Not after breaking both of your hearts. An utterly desperate and lifeless look on his face flashed every time before your eyes when you closed them.
You dragged your feet back from the nearest combini: Friday had finally marked the end of a long, exhausting week (not like you had many left, huh) and you treated yourself with sushi and a bottle of wine. There was nothing you wanted more than to run a bath and put Sex and the City on, rotting under the blanket. It would've been thousands of times better if Satoru were there, but alas...
A few raindrops fell on the asphalt, successfully putting the train of your miserable thoughts to a halt, and you hurried to the entrance of your block. Quickly fishing a pair of keys, you glanced up from your bag as something caught your attention in the periphery, and you got immediately rooted to the spot.
You would recognise the set of those shoulders, now slightly hunched, everywhere. A grey hoodie did nothing to hide his figure. White tufts fell over his forehead under the hood, and something twisted viciously in your chest at the sight. Your fingers twitched with the urge to feel the silk of that hair under your touch.
You took a deep breath, trying to take a rein over your hammering heart, and stepped closer, calling the man out softly. Rather hesitantly.
"Satoru? What are you doing here?"
Satoru went rigid for a moment at your voice. His shoulders tensed even more. Your throat clogged up.
But then he turned around and smiled. A tiny, almost pathetic lift of his lips, and he offered you a small wave. Just like the one you gave him at that basketball match.
"Hi, ba —" Satoru immediately corrected himself, wincing just for a second. His smile wavered, as did your composure. "Hi."
The effort that took you not to drop your things right then and run into his arms was only between you and the gods.
"Hello to you too." Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stepped forward. That totally wasn't the way you imagined that meeting would go.
"What are you doing here?" You prompted again, trying not to sound either harsh or desperate. Desperate to hear his voice. See his eyes. Look at his face.
"Just... was going around. Stumbled at your place. You still live here." Satoru lifted one shoulder in a nervous shrug, and his little smile morphed into a quick, uneasy grimace.
You didn't question those stalker-ish tendencies, but the doubt was clearly evident in an arch of your brow, because Satoru instantly raised his hands in surrender.
"No, really. I guess my legs just carried me there. Some memory, you know," he rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, but then sighed, seeing your suspicion. "Come on, sweets. If I had been stalking you all that time, I would've done it way more discreetly."
That brought you some relief. "Guess you would've."
His Adam's apple bobbed with an effort. "Can we, uhm, talk?"
Something in your guts was telling you had a pretty good sense of the way this talk would go. You weren't sure it was the right time and way.
Casting your gaze down, you worried on your bottom lip before breathing out, "I'm — I'm not sure this is a good idea, Satoru."
"Please", his voice took on a pleading edge. You closed your eyes for a brief moment. "I just want to know how you are. That's all."
He was lying. And he knew you were well aware of it.
But, in the end, wasn't that what you wanted? To see him, at least? Well, here Satoru was.
Thunder roared somewhere in the distance, and you were pretty sure that soon you both would be drenched to the bone.
"Besides, you don't want to get me standing under the rain, do you?" An amusement curled Satoru's lips before he let a humourless chuckle. "Have some mercy on your ex-boyfriend."
That sounded like a slur coming from Satoru. You glared at him. His smile turned even sharper.
Torn between the current state of your... relationship, and the fact that Satoru was standing right in front of you, you completely didn't know what to do. You didn't part your ways that badly. And you had never wanted to be that person who would resent his ex and scowl at every mention of them.
Because that was never true. You loved Satoru. And, judging by the yearning lacing his gaze and the nervous flex of his hands as he awaited your response, he still loved you, too.
After minutes of debating, with the rain intensifying, you finally gave in and nodded towards the entrance.
"Get in."
Satoru's wide smile now resembled more of a child's on Christmas.
"Yes, ma'am."
The weight of Satoru's gaze, burning a hole in your back, felt rather physical. The tension in your kitchen threatened to suffocate you both, while you busied yourself with making tea and a gigantic cup of hot cocoa for Satoru.
You placed the drink in front of him, and Satoru shot you a small, curious grin.
"Whoa, marshmallows."
"Yeah," you still absent-mindedly bought them at the grocery store. Habit. "You know, three years of always getting your marshmallows weren't in vain."
Satoru looked at you as if he seriously considered offering himself as a sacrifice at your altar.
Damn those puppy eyes.
Rubbing your palms up and down your thighs, you cleared your throat and offered an awkward smile. God, you wanted the ground to swallow you. "So, uhm, how have you been, To — Satoru?"
He pressed his lips together and leaned back in his seat, right hand on the back of it, like he was incapable of sitting straight. Well, some things never changed.
Satoru didn't look at you, instead glancing out of the window at the heavy rain, drumming against the windows.
"Not so good."
You immediately dropped your gaze, hugging the cup with sea buckthorn tea. The scorching liquid might've burnt your hands a little, but it was nothing in comparison with the sharp pain in your chest.
Licking your lips, you forced yourself to look up at Satoru. He was still staring at the rain like it held something only visible to him. The muscle in his jaw jumped.
"I am sorry, but —"
Satoru released a long sigh and turned to you. You almost flinched at the sight of his eyes — usually so bright blue, flashing with mirth and charm, now reduced to the lifeless, dull grey. Under the better light, you also noticed the dark bags under Satoru's eyes, the hollow in his cheeks and even the light stubble. You had never seen him like it. Like he aged ten years or more in those months.
That was all because of you, right?
Tears filled your eyes so fast you couldn't even blink them away, when you felt salt on your lips.
You wanted to apologise once again, but then Satoru leaned forward and rested his elbows on the table, feverishly running his fingers through the white strands. Were you a little crazy, or even his hair seemed more…ashy?
"I am not gonna lie, I have never felt more awful and pathetic and miserable — well, you get it, in my entire fucking life," he waved his hand dismissively, and you closed your eyes just for a fleeting second, because you couldn't afford even a moment of not looking at him. That talk went even worse than you imagined. "But after you left, something has…changed."
You sat upright and drawled hesitantly, "Like…what?"
He huffed a humourless chuckle, and his eyes flashed with a weird, almost malicious glint. Your insides went cold.
"Well, I just told my father that he can suck my dick —"
You slowly covered your face with one hand. That was not good. Very, very bad, actually.
" — if he even for a moment thinks I was going to marry one of the girls he and my grandfather suggested. And then he started threatening to cut my trust fund off, blah blah, blah. Like I've ever given a single fuck about it."
Something in his tone was telling you that wasn't everything that had changed.
Satoru's voice sharpened in a way that could cut even the hardest steel.
"That was okay. Nothing I've heard before. But when he started talking about you," his voice dropped to a whisper and dangerously cracked. You couldn't hear it anymore. "That's where I draw the line. He knows that. Now everyone knows that."
A loud groan left you as you dropped your head in your hands.
"What have you done, Satoru?"
He just rolled his eyes. Harsh and sharp. "What I should have done, obviously. A long time ago. Tell all of them to fuck off."
"Oh —"
"Mildly put," Satoru scratched his head with a mild grimace. "And then got kicked out of the house. Trust fund cut off, obviously."
You couldn't believe what you had just heard. Satoru might've thought that his words would somehow soften you, so you could coo at him or whatever. But never did he expect you to slam your fist against the table and grit throught your teeth.
"Have you fucking lost your mind?"
Satoru blinked in shock, watching you suddenly stand up and turn from him, your hands curled into fists by your sides.
"What?"
Taking a deep breath, you tore your gaze from the windows and threw your hands in the air.
"Are you an idiot?"
Well, that kind of hurt. "I don't understand."
"Satoru." Oh no, he knew that tone. That only meant you were seething with rage. There were no means of escape, especially as you loomed over him. "So let me get it straight. You fought with your entire family, they kicked you out of the house and left you with no money."
"Pretty much, yeah."
"All because of me!?"
Satoru didn't like the way you said "me". As if you were something not even worth mentioning. The dirt beneath his feet.
"Satoru, we are not together! I am not your girlfriend anymore, I am not even in your life! We don't even talk! You can't throw your life away because of me! That's stupid!"
"Well, maybe I am stupid, hasn't it occurred to you?"
"Satoru," your voice trembled on the edge of tears. Why didn't he understand you?! "I am serious. This is serious. This is your life! This is all you have— had, especially given you can't damn play with your injury now!"
Satoru didn't answer you. You only saw the way he swallowed with effort, and the look of utter longing on his face told you everything.
You helplessly slumped back in your chair and hid your face in your palms for a small eternity. Satoru didn't dare to interrupt. He just watched you, soaking up every feature as if you were about to kick him out of your apartment forever. That was an option. You were pretty pissed.
He attempted to soothe you, "But there's something good."
You slowly glanced up, and Satoru almost snorted at the look of total disbelief in your eyes. "Such as?"
Satoru quickly stood up and kneeled between your chair, taking your hands in his. Cold as usual. Absent-mindedly, he rubbed your palms with his thumbs. As usual.
"I mean, you said it yourself, sweets. That is all I have known for my whole life. Rich kid, golden youth, spoilt guy born with a silver spoon in his mouth, all that stuff. I thought maybe it was it? My chance to find myself, huh? I don't want to be their toy to boss around all because of money."
Something crawled up your skin and twisted sharply in your chest as you breathed out, "What do you mean?"
Was he serious? So you both were doing the same thing all that time?
Satoru squeezed your hand harder and gave you a crooked smile.
"Just been here and there. Doing…some stuff."
You tilted your head in a silent question. He chuckled breathlessly and shook his head.
"Don't laugh, okay? I am teaching some kids basketball at school."
"Oh," your lips curled up in a tender smile as something warm bloomed in your chest. "That's really nice. You like it?"
"Yeah," Satoru's answer was immediate. And for the first time that evening, you saw a familiar spark in his eyes. "Kids can be a pain in the ass sometimes, but they are really cute. Listen to me, call me Gojo-sensei. Kinda gets in your head, you know."
A small snort escaped you, and the wide grin broke on his face. Oh, how he missed that precious sound.
"Where do you live now?"
"Crashing Suguru. He's not particularly happy when I drown my misery in another pint of strawberry ice-cream — "
Your smile slowly disappeared.
" — when he brings in some girl, but I bribe him with dark chocolate. You know he can't live without it."
"That he can," you uttered in a strained voice. Satoru's grin wavered as well, and he hesitantly reached to tuck the lone strand of your hair behind your ear. His hand trembled a little.
"What about you? There are boxes everywhere," he leaned back with a soft murmur, glancing around your apartment with packed staff around. "Moving out?"
Your heart suddenly felt twice its size, thumping violently against your ribs. "Uhm, yeah. Moving out."
"Where?"
Well, that was it. You squirmed in your seat, and Satoru's hand slowly fell to his side. He just waited.
"Eh…France."
He pinched his brows together with a slight frown and repeated incredulously, "You are moving to France?"
Satoru's sharp blue gaze seemed to pierce through you. Unable to meet it, you looked away.
"Yes."
"Why?"
Sighing deeply, you stood up and leaned against a kitchen counter, hugging yourself. Satoru immediately rose to his feet.
"That was a pretty much hard time for me too. Not delving into details, but…yeah. I felt like shit. Everyone was dating someone, or building a successful career, or, I don't know, just doing something meaningful," you gestured vaguely and combed your hair with a shaky hand. Satoru just stared at you like a lone, kicked puppy. "While I willingly kept fucking my own life over. Cooped yourself in that place. Left the love of my life."
Something in your face softened at the last words. Satoru forgot how to breathe.
"And that certainly shouldn't be…in vain, whatever. I told you I was going to work on myself, and I kind of do. Step by step, but I am going there."
"I still don't understand. I am happy for you, really am, but why are you leaving Japan? What about your mother, your job?"
What about me?
"My department's had its financing cut. My presence is not required anymore, as they said. I am just working the last two weeks, and that's it."
"Oh. I am..I am sorry to hear it."
"As for my mom," you didn't seem to hear Satoru's words at all, staring somewhere past him. "You know, she's never really cared that much about me anyway. She'll survive."
As cruel as your words might've seemed, you were right. Your mother was an…interesting woman indeed.
Satoru desperately cling to anything that could make you stay here like a lifeline.
"What about Nobara?"
Surely, you couldn't leave her. You two had been together from the first time he saw you at the university campus.
"Actually, she was the one who offered me that."
"Huh?!"
"She's recently been promoted at her job to the French edition of their magazine. Fashion weeks, runways, photoshoots… You know her, she's been ecstatic about it. So, when she asked me about it…I said I would give it a thought. I mean, it will be a nice fresh start, won't it? I don't have anything left here, so…why not? Gotta take risks, something like that."
Satoru couldn't believe his own ears. That would've been his nightmare coming true, if not for the fact that his worst one already was real. No. He wouldn't let you go that time. That was the stupidest thing he had done in his life, and if he had to beg…well.
The worst thing that you seemed pretty confident about it. But looking closely, he saw your hands trembled a little by your side, and your gaze darted nervously around. So, there still was some chance.
He ran his fingers through his hair. The gears seemed to work nonstop in his mind as he glanced around for any clue or sight for support. Until…
He weakly breathed out, "I am going with you."
Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. "You what!?"
Satisfied with your reaction and his genius mind, Satoru smirked lazily, "I am going to France with you."
Did you stare in The Office or something? Was there a hidden camera to look at?
Helplessly blinking, you finally managed to utter, "Excuse me? You going to France? With me?"
"I know, I know what you are thinking. He's crazy, an idiot, proper name, last name, backstory stuff, but hear me out!" Satoru walked to you and squeezed your shoulders, his eyes frantically searching your face for a hint of understanding. You still stared at him as if he had just announced he was going to fly to the Moon, no less. "You broke up with me because, citing "you felt inferior to me," right?
Pressing your lips into a thin line, you gave him a flat look. "Correct."
"But I am not superior in any way to you now! You're discovering yourself, me too, so why don't we do that together? Start everything from scratch? Including," his Adam's apple bobbed with effort as his hands slowly slid down your figure to rest on the dip of your waist. Your skin tingled at the contact. "Including us."
Blood defeaningly roared at your temples, and your heart jumped right into your throat. Wouldn't it be strange and weird? Getting back together after you pushed him away? After breaking both of you?
One of Satoru's hands drifted upwards to cradle your face, while the other pulled your figure closer to him. Your head spun at the sudden proximity. His thumb delicately traced the line of your jaw and settled on the apple of your cheek.
"How is that stupid and weird, if I love you?" Shit, had you been musing aloud? "And you love me."
You parted your lips to answer, but then Satoru tilted his head down just a bit, and it was enough to feel the faintest brush of his lips against yours. With knees slightly trembling, your hand flew up and twisted the fabric of his hoodie for support. Your tongue darted out to lick your lip for a mere second; it was enough for Satoru's gaze to flick there and stare at your mouth as if hypnotised.
"Or you don't?" You almost leaned in for a kiss when he suddenly pulled away, despite being a breath away from devouring you. You gulped and lifted a pleading gaze at him — and not like the look on Satoru's face was any better. A strange kind of bitterness settled in your chest at the shakiness of his voice: he really doubted it. Well, you gave him a good reason to, didn't you?
It baffled you. No. Weirded out in the worst way possible.
So, instead of answering, you simply stood on your tiptoes and pressed your lips against his. A feathery, almost invisible, but it was enough for Satoru to release a groan and kiss your back.
You forgot how to breathe. The room spun around you, and if not for Satoru's hand holding at your waist, you would've collapsed for sure. The familiar sense of heat shot through you as you boldly slid your hand up Satoru's toned shoulder, grazed his undercut — wait, did he actually whimper at that or what — and ran your fingers through the silky white hair. The months of raw longing, poured in that kiss, laced every brush of your tongues, stifled moan and impatient tug with desperate want. Damn, you almost forgot his lips slotting perfectly against yours, his gently nipping at your bottom lip, and his hot, raspy breath fanning over your cheek when you pulled away before delving in again and again.
Blinking away dizziness, you managed to gather your bearings together just to mumble, "Does it count as an answer?"
Satoru's chest rose up and down as if he had just run a marathon, and he slowly shook his hand in response before tilting your chin up. His eyes resembled more of a stormy ocean than a breezy sea, but his hold was as tender as always.
"I love you, Satoru. Still am and always have been. I told you the same when —," you swallowed the lump in your throat, "— when I left you." Voice sinking into a small, almost miserable whisper, you went on, "And I am sorry for that, so damn sorry, you didn't deserve it."
"No, no, no, baby, stop it," now both his hands cradled your face as his gaze gently caressed every twitch in it, every shift, every freckle and mole. "You did what you felt right to. I accepted that, even though it was the hardest thing in my life. Believe me or not, I felt so stupid and shitty and miserable for letting you go, but I had to respect that. I only wish I had noticed you feeling that way sooner," he ended with a small, bitter smile, placing a kiss on the tip of your nose before gently nuzzling it. "Missed you so, so much."
As much as you wanted to lean into Satoru's touch again with no care in the world, you felt the need to apologise for once again, "No, Satoru, but — Maybe if I told you that instead of going away, we wouldn't be apart these months. I am sorry."
"Stop that," his voice cut you off, not firmly but enough to shut you up. "Really, stop. I am not mad at you. I could never be mad at you. And maybe I need that too. Shook me good to realise what things really mattered in life."
A sad sigh left your lips when you remembered what happened between Satoru and his family. Yes, they were jerks, but you never wanted to be the reason for the wedge between them.
"But hey, now we're two psychos together, trying to figure out what to do with their life! Together, right?" Satoru's gaze carefully searched yours, and as you nodded enthusiastically, his face broke into the brightest grin possible. Maybe only rivalling the one he gave you when you agreed to go out with him at that bonfire party.
"Love you, love you, love you," you murmured between kisses, nuzzling against his jaw, eliciting shaky moans. Your hands slid under his hoodie to feel the hot skin under your palms, but the sudden roaring of the thunder made you jump.
"Oh, fuck."
Satoru wanted to tease you at first, but he quickly bit his tongue, remembering that noises like that still scared you. You mindlessly gripped his hoodie tighter, pressing your frame against his for comfort. His hand cradled the back of your head, and he tucked it under his chin, whispering soothing words.
"Maybe you wanna lie down or something?" Whispering into your hair, Satoru pressed his lips against the crown of your head as another tremble shook your body at the particularly frightening sound. His gaze briefly flicked at the sky through the windows. "Yeah, not getting better soon."
Without further ado, you sighed in response and gripped his hand to walk to your bedroom. In every other situation, his hands would've been on you in a second, but not now. Especially given that you had just gotten back together.
Your bedroom hadn't really changed: your favourite stuffed plush bear sat over the sheets, guarding your sleep; a stupid lava lamp that Satoru once gifted you was still on the bedside table, not to mention the horde of houseplants (he sadly noticed the absence of some) at the windowsill. You hadn't packed the bedroom stuff yet, though a couple of boxes obediently waited in the corner.
After all those months, Satoru's presence felt kind of weird in your bedroom, but now, with his hands enveloping you in an embrace, you had never felt happier.
You both stayed up the whole night: gods, you almost forgot how easy it was to talk to Satoru. He told you more about the kids he was teaching, the school, and that he tried to do some modelling photoshoots. It turned out pretty good. "Might be a nice gig," he shrugged nonchalantly, but you noticed his eyes sparkling with mirth.
You filled him in on the work drama, places you visited in your attempts to go out of your shell, hobbies you tried — his eyes widened at the mention of drawing and pottery, and he demanded to see your works the first thing in the morning.
You snorted quietly. "I don't think they are anywhere as good as your photos."
Satoru huffed under his breath and lightly nudged your shoulder. You both lie face to face now, smiling and giggling like a pair of students you once were. You felt as if you were floating in happiness.
"Come on, baby, don't be shy. I am positive they are nice."
"No, Toru, they are not. Believe me, my first flowerpot was disastrous." You turned a bit and waved at the deformed blob of clay, hiding in the corner. Satoru followed your move: his lips pressed into a thin line at the sight of a poor thing.
"Uhm…well, it's not that bad." His shoulders shook with a barely suppressed laugh, and you rolled your eyes good-naturedly.
"It's okay, you can laugh."
The laugh he let was truly thunderous, and even you, the mighty creator, couldn't help but laugh alone.
"Babe, I am sorry, it's just looking at me like I have to end its suffering," after some time, Satoru finally wept some tears and breathed out weakly with his hand on his stomach. You both looked at the hopeless blob. "Why do you keep it, anyway?"
Sighing in response, you murmured, "Dunno. I can't bring myself to throw it away."
Satoru just hummed in response and settled back against the pillows. "Will you take it to France?"
Your heart skipped a beat at the mention, and you just shrugged indecisively. The light mood you had slowly evaporated. After some minutes, you rolled back to face Satoru again, only to find him already watching you closely.
"Were you serious?"
He tilted his head in question; his hand came up to brush a hair strand behind your ear. "About what?"
The next words came in a hesitant whisper.
"Moving with me to France."
Satoru's thumb traced your bottom lip before he dropped his arm to the side. Shrugging casually, he lifted a steady gaze on you. "Are you still thinking about moving there?"
You swallowed nervously before nodding. "Yeah."
"Then I was serious too. We're dating again, it's only logical then."
You couldn't fight with that argument.
"Guess it is. I just…," you lifted one shoulder, still doubtful. "Can't believe you do that for me."
And he couldn't believe you questioned it. But instead, Satoru just blinked at you and muttered in the most serious tone possible.
"I told you I was going to marry you. Yes, I still want to. I wasn't joking and trying to hold you back in the heat of the moment —"
You wordlessly glanced at him.
" — okay, I did, but I was serious. And still am. Hell, baby," the mattress dipped under his weight as Satoru scooted closer. "You're the only thing — not a thing, person, I mean, you're the most serious I've ever been about anything and anyone in my life. I swear. Where you go, I follow."
His voice cracked at the last words, and you let a shuddering breath, cupping his face.
"Are you sure? What will your family say? Job? Suguru?"
Satoru lifted a corner of his lips in a small grin, recalling the same arguments he used to talk you out of moving.
"I am pretty sure I can find something there. Isn't this a part of discovering yourself, too? It could be pretty fun. Who knows, maybe I have some secret talent for pastries. Not just eating. Baking! Plus, I know French," he beamed at you like the Sun. You couldn't help but grin back. "It's a little rusty, though."
You both snorted, but then a frown crossed Satoru's face, and his tone turned more serious.
"Suguru…he'll understand. We still will be talking, right? Not as we used to, but…hey, now I will have an excuse to send him even more stupid memes."
"I am sure he will be ecstatic about it."
"He won't have any choice, heh. And my family…honestly? I don't really care. We both said everything we wanted to each other. I do not see any sense in bowing and scraping."
Your face crumpled in a grimace as you recalled that you were one of the reasons that entire thing happened, and hunched your shoulders. "Still sorry about it."
"And I am still saying you shouldn't be."
Minutes passed between you in a relative silence, interrupted only by the car noises and distant humming of the refrigerator as you stared at the ceiling. Finally, you turned to look at Satoru. Moonlight painted his features in an even more breathtaking way, highlighting the sharp jawline and illuminating the blue of his eyes.
"So…we are really going to France."
Satoru smiled at you — the gentle one he saved only for you — and reached for your hand to interlace your fingers slowly.
"We really are."
***
The morning sun crept through the blinds, bathing a bedroom in a soft, ethereal light, and its beams lazily caressed your face in feathery kisses. As your nose twitched at the sensation, begrudgingly, very begrudgingly, you blinked and reached for your phone. It came to life with a faint buzz; you tried to focus your bleary gaze on the time and sighed in relief as you still had half an hour before the alarm.
A careful attempt to sink back into the sheets didn't go unnoticed by the whole mountain of heat and muscle beside you. Satoru's arm snaked around your waist with an energy too restless for a sleepy man.
"Where are you going to, huh?" His voice, still deep and thick with sleep, felt like a pure sin against your nape. A shudder ran through your body as he gently nuzzled the soft skin there and pressed his lips against the point that shouldn't drive you crazy like it did. "Morning, ma choute."
Amusement curled your tone as you breathed out a chuckle, "Your favourite word, huh?"
Instead of answering, Satoru hummed something unintelligible against the curve of your neck, nosing it, while his lips found your pulse point.
"Can't help it. Not my fault if it fits you perfectly. So sweet," his head went into a dizzy, hazy state at the whiff of your chocolate shower gel and something so uniquely yours. "So soft." The hand that rested leisurely on your belly lazily drifted upwards to cup the tender swell of your breasts. Your breath caught in your throat as you arched into Satoru's touch with a quiet, sleepy moan.
"Ah, Satoru…"
When your voice dipped into that syrupy bedroom voice, laced with so much want, Satoru never could help himself. His hips bucked involuntarily, eliciting a surprised gasp from you, as you felt the throbbing of his length against your backside.
Your hair fanned over a pillow like a halo, catching the bright light, and Satoru's heart skipped a beat. He gently bit down on your pulse point, and as your gasp rose in a tone, he quickly soothed it with a lick of his tongue.
"Fuck, you're so beautiful. So, so beautiful. Can't believe you're mine." The heat crept up your body all the way to your cheeks, not only at the way Satoru rolled your nipple between his fingers, palming at the soft skin there, but at the bewilderment in his voice. As if he were actually shocked.
Another moan left your lips as you closed your eyes in the utter pleasure, coursing through your body and tightening your insides into the sweet knot. Subconsiously, you pushed your trembling thighs back against his front, to which Satoru responded with a low hiss.
"You're in a teasing mood today, huh?"
A sharp pang of disappointment shot through your body when his hand left your chest.
"Satoru…"
"Shh, patience, baby. Good things come to those who wait, don't they?" You almost whined at the loss of the contact, but then his hand — god, that hand — wrapped around your throat with a light grip, just enough to turn your face and capture your lips in a lazy, unhurried kiss. He licked at the seam of your mouth, and you immediately opened it, granting Satoru access. Your tongues lazily tangled, exploring each other; you slid your free hand down his toned pecs, sharp abs and wrapped it around the already hard cock. Giving it a few unhurried pumps, you heard Satoru moaning unbashfully against your mouth.
"Oh, fuck, yeah, keep going, love. Just like —, oh, just like that."
You fondled his balls with a sly smirk, to which he responded with a sharp, almost desperate cry, and…stopped.
"Hey, baby," the pout was evident in his voice, "That's not fair. Like totally not fair."
With a smirk widening, you turned just a tad to see his half-lidded gaze darkening with lust. "Haven't you just preached to me about patience, Toru?"
Satoru's head hit your shoulder as he let a groan, followed by a disbelieving laugh. "Vixen. You drive me crazy, you know that?"
"Yeah, yeah, yet you're still not inside me." After rolling your eyes impatiently, you finally heard the sheets rustling. Your insides clenched in anticipation.
Laughing quietly, Satoru kissed your shoulder, pulling you closer against his front. His hand slid under your hip, lifting it for better access, and hoisted it over his own. You almost whimpered as the thick head of his cock nudged your already wet entrance.
"Look at tha-a-a-t," the heat flooded your body even more at the cocky tilt in his voice and the way his fingers lightly grazed your folds. "For someone so soaked, you have a pretty big mouth running, ma chérie."
You attempted to glare at Satoru, but it ended rather poorly with the way your eyes were glazed with desire. Giving you a smirk, not even trying to hide his arrogance and smugness, he hastily fisted his cock and aligned it with your entrance, slowly yet surely filling you up inch by inch.
"F-fuck, you're so tight," Satoru's hot whisper fanned over your jawline as he pressed heated kisses up to your mouth. "So warm, so good, so p-perfect — babe, don't clench me like that, f-for me."
Your lips parted, forming almost a perfect "O" in its shape at the burn of the stretch, and the first loud moan tore from your chest, when Satoru finally gave you a shallow roll of his hips.
"Sa-Satoru, yeah…"
With no hesitation, you reached behind and tugged at the soft white tufts above Satoru's undercut, pressing his head into your nape to seek even more contact until your bodies fused in a messy, unintelligible tangle of limbs, needy touches and wanton moans. His hips built a slow, languid rhythm, moulding your insides into the shape of his cock; each thick vein and ridge of him against your velvet walls made your mind swim in pleasure, so overwhelming it drowned every coherent thought. One of his hands snaked up to squeeze your breasts, eliciting more shaky whimpers from you.
"Love you, love you so fucking much, you don't even, ngh, under-understand, shit, y-yes," Satoru slurred against your cheek after yet another sloppy kiss, his tongue darting to taste the salty skin as you literally cried in ecstasy when he hit that sweet spot inside. You were completely sure he would never let you forget this. His moves gradually lost their rhythm, giving in to a raw, primal desire. A string of desperate whimpers spilt from your lips, and you turned your head to muffle these cries in the pillow.
Wrong move.
Seeing it, Satoru's lips curled into a sharp smirk. He quickly wetted his fingers and dragged them down to press quick, tight circles on your clit, and with all the stimulation, your body jolted in pleasure. Heat, shameless and urgent, built at the base of your spine, coursed through your veins and lit every part on fire. His cock twitched inside you at the way you breathed out his name with such desperation that put all the prayers to shame.
"Give it to me, baby. Be a good girl, yeah? Cum for me."
Your thighs shook violently, which was a telling sign that you were close; he feverishly rutted against yours, rubbing your clit in quick motions, panting against the curve of your neck. His eyes rolled in pleasure as your cunt fluttered around him, coating his shaft in juices, and with a shameless guttural groan, he cummed too.
The sound of your name, spilling from Satoru's lips like it was the only word he knew, brought tears to your eyes. Of love, of longing, or devotion, you weren't even sure.
Satoru was still in you, behind you, wrapping you in his arms and scent, when you awkwardly tried to turn around. He lazily blinked at you — the blue of his eyes resembled the glimmering waves of the Mediterranean Sea, which lapped the shores of the city that had become your home. Swallowing a lump in your throat, you lean in to press a quick, almost chaste kiss on the corner of his lips. They twitched with a soft grin.
"Someone's awfully sweet. Good morning, I guess. Really good, that time. What if — "
Before Satoru finished, your hands framed his face, and you kissed him again, taking your time. He released a quiet, unexpected sigh and melted into it immediately, giving you all the reins. Sweet and soft, your tongue swept over his plump lips and explored his mouth, until you both pulled away to catch your breath. Resting your forehead against his, you muttered quietly.
"I love you."
Satoru didn't answer you right away; instead, he cupped your cheek, his thumb grazed the soft skin under your eyes, and he murmured back.
"I love you more."
You didn't want to delve into the endless fight of who loved whom more, so you just settled against his chest with a soft sigh. Satoru tucked your head under his chin and gently ran his fingers up and down your spine.
"How are you feeling? Wanna cuddle a little or go showering?"
"I wish we could cuddle more, but Nobara and Maki are coming in…very soon, actually."
Satoru stilled for a moment and released a groan, reluctant to let you go and leave that bed, jutting his bottom lip in the biggest pout known to the Universe.
"Is it today? Do we have to go with them, baby?"
"Yes. Toru, we promised them to show the Fine Arts Museum. Maki didn't visit it last time they were in Marseille because it was shut for some renovation. Apparently."
"Geez, I was hoping for a round two. And maybe three in the shower. Besides, we were there with Suguru last summer." His hand slid down to squeeze your butt in the last attempt to persuade you, but you stood your ground. With great effort.
"Satoru, no. We don't see them often. Get up."
Saoru's hand that reached to pinch your side as you hopped off to get to the shower, limply fell to his side. He groaned as his head hit the pillow, but as the sounds of water running filled the space, he enthusiastically got up and padded to the bathroom. He could be pretty…convincing when he wanted to.
Indeed, an hour later, Nobara suspiciously eyed both of you up and down — your hair told her everything she needed to know. Satoru didn't even try to hide a big dopey grin that screamed "I just got laid by the most gorgeous woman in the world". You elbowed him. Hard. His smile got even wider, so you sent him to help Maki with their suitcases.
"You know, I am so happy for you." You gave Nobara a cup of scorching latte, just the way she preferred. Her lips curled into an amusing yet soft grin. "No, really. You both look radiant."
She laughed heartily, nodding in gratitude; however, her gaze was fixed on your front yard. You followed the direction and chuckled as well, seeing Satoru and Maki trying to coax Nobara's cat — a fluffy, totally spoilt Persian named Lady — out of the carrier. She only hissed in response.
"Yeah. Me too. She's…I don't know how to explain it. But I am so happy she agreed to move here. The same is for you, by the way. Provence does wonders for both of you. Even Gojo."
You rested your elbows on the table with a melancholic sigh. Yes, the start of your journey in France was quite turbulent: a total mess with language, documents, fighting with landlords over the rent, and taking up any gigs for money…It only helped that you had some of it saved. Endless hours of work, tears and efforts poured into building your new life finally got its fruits: at one of the fashion shows, Nobara introduced you to the famous photographer, who instantly fell in love with your works. And Satoru…
"Phew, finally," the front door opened, revealing beaming Satoru with Lady in his arms, who…purred in content. Nobara's eyes widened in shock.
"Lady, what? He's a man! Have some dignity!"
"Can't help it if I am that charming," he scratched the kitty under her chin. "Even cats know that."
"That's, unfortunately, true." You squeaked in delight at Maki's tired voice and jumped into her arms. After a few solid minutes of hugging, you finally released her as she begged you to show her the bathroom.
"So, Gojo," Nobara drawled in a voice too casual. Satoru exchanged brief yet pointed glances with you. Lady cracked one eye open and yawned, staring at her catmom. "Do you have, by any chance, some calissons left?"
In Nobara's language, that meant she had been dying to taste them, but she would never admit it to Satoru. "Don't tell him, or his ego would grow even bigger!"
So you just happened to drop that you wanted to have those candies, and of course, Satoru whipped some up: they just waited to be baked. Judging by his cocky smirk, he already figured both of you out.
"Why do you call me Gojo? She's a Gojo too, you know?" The oven beeped a couple of times when Satoru put the tray with callisons inside. Nobara only rolled her eyes and hugged you with a grin.
And Satoru once decided to try his hand at the things that he loved the most in the world (after you, of course): sweets. In particular, pastries. To put it concisely, baking. It took a lot, a lot of time and years of learning in culinary academies under the guidance of chiefs, before he could finally name himself the one.
Marseille greeted you with arms open, the fresh scent of pastries lingering in the air, mesmerising views and the centuries of history ingrained in its walls. You left Paris after you realised it was high time to move forward, and since you mentioned a couple of times that you wanted to live in Provence for some time, Satoru started to look for a home and a place for his own bakery. His own thing. That he built only by himself, with no family barking and ordering him around. He and you. And Satoru could've never been happier for it.
You indeed had never made it easy for him. But now, seeing you laugh with your friends, among the paintings, with the sun casting a soft, almost amber glow on your figure, Satoru realised he would rather have things difficult with you than easy with anyone else. Because you were worth it.
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