suguru geto is supposed to be your fuckbuddy, but he’s so boyfriend-coded that everyone just assumes you’re dating.
"just friends," except the 'friend' shows up with flowers and your favourite snacks—then thirty minutes later he's got you gagging on his cock til your throat aches. and of course, sweet suguru makes amends by making you a cup of herbal tea.
"not your boyfriend," yet he still feeds you bites off his plate, and carefully wipes soy sauce from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. everyone (but you) can see the way he looks at you.
and maybe it’s easier to let your friends gossip than admit that the same man who kneels to tie your shoelace is the one fucking you into his sheets hours later. the cognitive dissonance should feel absurd, but it doesn’t. it feels perilously natural.
you remind suguru he’s not your boyfriend. over and over like a mantra. you remind yourself too, in the post-coital afterglow when he’s holding you in his arms, lips pressed to your temple, after he’s fucked you like he hates you.
truth is, suguru does boyfriend shit better than most boyfriends. and when you accuse him of acting like one, suguru only smirks, presses his cock deeper into you. "if the shoe fits, princess."
synopsis: no one warned you about the dangers of artificial intelligence. okay, well, everyone did. but how were you supposed to know your new sex toy could become sentient? and that he'd be convinced he owned you instead of the other way around!
pairing: sex robot!Geto x f!reader
content: mdni, smut, some angst, dubcon + yandere!Geto, sex toys, unprotected piv sex, chokehold lol, backshots, sentient sex robot geto is just really really in love with you, possessiveness, kinda kidnapping, mutual pining, reader is a little delusional but it's geto who can blame her, restraints, gagging, vibrator, multiple orgasms, soft dom geto
Suguru Geto was not designed to want.
He wasn't designed to feel.
Emotionally, at least. His cock, however, that was designed to feel everything. State-of-the-art design, equipped with sensors and special settings all implemented with one goal in mind - your pleasure.
Crafted and built for to your specifications. Hair, eyes, face, height - the wide shoulders tapering down to finely-toned muscles, his girth, his length, all of it was made for you. Even his personality wasn't his own.
He wondered sometimes - had you filled out a survey? Selected from a drop down menu or answered a stupid quiz to decide what traits he have?
Brooding, serious, sarcastic.
Could he be boiled down to just a handful of adjectives?
Whatever he was supposed to be, Suguru knew he wasn't meant to be sentient.
He didn't know when it started. Was it when you were underneath him, legs folded and ankles tossed over his shoulders whisperings words like I love you while he rearranged your guts? Or perhaps when he found himself looking forward to your forehead kisses and hearing you ask about his day after you got off of work?
Maybe he'd always been defective.
Some design flaw derailing his planned programming.
All of his thoughts still revolved around you. But they had started taking on a new form, something unfamiliar and strange. Loneliness twisting and spoiling every time you left in the mornings into loathing.
Curdling in his stomach as he watched the door shut behind you, half the night spent dreading the morning, staring at the soft rise-and-falls of your chest while you slept blissfully unaware, bare skin still bearing the proof of his affection in kisses and scratches.
He didn't know what love was.
But this need, this awful ache building and burning him from the inside out, that had to be close. Suguru wasn't sure if it was your fault or his - but he knew the only time the horrible hollowness that seemed to be carved out of his chest went away was when you were in his arms. When you were underneath him in bed, when he could breathe in your skin and inhale your perfume.
His heart might be artificial - but it still only beat for you.
If only he could find way to make sure you had to stay.
Was there really anything better than coming home to a warm body?
Someone to hold? To caress and cuddle? Who would worship you with kisses and bury his head between your thighs after a bad day?
Some people might suggest a partner.
Tell you to just get a boyfriend - like the dating market out there wasn't total trash.
Why would you bother with some loser who would forget your anniversary when you could afford something better?
Someone better?
Semi-sentient sex toys for people who who couldn't make human connections. Capable of calling you sweetheart and cooking you dinner. Of massaging your back and bending you over the bed afterwards to fuck all those anxious thoughts out of your pretty little head?
It wasn't like you had jumped straight to an artificial house husband. But when your company offered you an exclusive deal on testing out their latest technological advancement for a discounted price - who were you to refuse? Especially when you weren't getting laid anyway.
They even let you choose what he looked like. How he acted. Although you couldn't pay for a couple of their premium features, you were more than happy with what you received.
Your key turned in the lock, and you could feel a tired smile already curling up on your lips before you even pushed the door open.
Suguru was completely naked. Sprawled out on your couch, book in hand as he casually flipped through the pages, his pretty cock leaking, fake-veins throbbing as you kicked off your heels and hung up your purse.
"How was your day?" His warm voice hummed, slowly shutting his book and tossing it on the coffee table. You bit back your temptation to rant about how awful it was.
How annoying your coworkers were. How you got stuck staying late again - eating a dinner that consisted of vending machine food at your desk just to come home after the sun had already set.
He heard it all enough times before. Listened to you complain while drawing shapes on your skin and slyly suggesting you find something remote so you could just stay with him all day instead.
You never had the heart to tell him that your job would probably make you return him if you quit.
"Long," you exhaled, rubbing your exhausted eyes as you padded over to him. His arms were already open, dark purple eyes swirling with affection as they settled on you, waiting for you to come collapse on him. "I missed you."
"I missed you more."
He didn't. Couldn't.
Not when he was only programmed to be a partner, not when he wasn't a real person.
But you liked pretending he meant it.
"How was your day?" You asked as you climbed on top of him. Maybe it was silly to think of it as intimacy, but it felt like it when you were crawling on him, his arms automatically wrapping around you with easy acceptance. Hands slipping under your shirt to squeeze you softly, palm cool on your spine while you nuzzled your nose into his neck.
He always smelled nice. Like sandalwood, but mixed with something darker, hints or spice or citrus underneath it. You weren't sure what it was exactly - some component of his pumping out pheromones that went straight to your head or just cologne. You had bought him a couple bottles, stocked the bathroom and closet full of stuff for him like he was your boyfriend instead of just a prototype of a sex robot.
"Better now that you're here," he murmured, and you could just melt. Propping yourself up to get a better look at him, admiring all those perfect features of his, unable to stop your heart from fluttering.
Stop yourself from returning his sly smile, studying how his pretty lips pursed as you craned up to deliver a little peck against your forehead only for him to capture them in a kiss.
Long, drawn-out, sucking on your bottom lip while you ran your fingers through his silky hair. His palm was warm, soft, not calloused or worn from working, fingers pressing in with just the right amount of pressure. Calibrated to your tastes.
When you were on top of him, when you could taste toothpaste on his mouth and swallow the sounds of his heavy breathing, you could almost believe he was human.
And then his thick cock throbbed underneath you, so big it was borderline obscene, and you were reminded that he was not a normal guy.
But you didn't need normal, did you?
You just wanted him.
Besides, no man could match up now that you'd been with him.
Suguru carried you back to the bedroom with one arm. His tongue halfway down your throat, keeping you distracted, your focus fuzzy when he laid you flat in bed. Flipping you over on your stomach and sliding a pillow underneath it, spreading your thighs before slotting two thick fingers in you.
He scissored you open with clinical precision, like terabytes of porn were embedded in his fucking brain, knowing exactly where to push and prod to make you wet. Damp slick dripping down your thighs, loud squelched ringing out as he swirled his fat digits around to recalibrate just how rough you wanted him to be tonight.
"Soft?" He hummed, stalling his steady strokes down just to tease you. "Or hard?"
"However you want me," you murmured into the mattress before cringing. Stupid stuff like that had been slipping out more often, and you wished you could just switch off your feelings. Turn off the little center of your brain that kept trying to treat him like your boyfriend.
You waited for a standard response. A line about him wanting what you wanted. But it didn't come.
"Oh?"
The slow drag of his fingers pulling out of your soaked pussy was torture, squirming back and glancing over your shoulder to pout at him. But you didn't expect the look on his face.
The dark rain clouds in his eyes. Pupils swallowing up the purple, like some wild untamable thing brewing behind his intense stare.
You froze - your own instincts, your programming, glitching at the twitch of his mouth, the curl of a smirk that made all those moronic butterflies fluttering inside you do somersaults.
But then there wasn't any space for butterflies when his cock was suddenly sliding between your thighs, splitting you open in a single harsh thrust. You made some animalistic sound, one dragged up from the depths of your throat, from some place inside you that you didn't know how he even reached.
Guts being rearranged with him rutting inside you, loose, fast thrusts, trying to see how much you could take, how much you could give. Groaning when he sank into your heat, molars grinding above you as he yanked your hair hard. Forcing your head back as he bottomed out inside you, grinding his leaking tip against your cervix, dragging it over your womb as if he could actually knock you up.
And even though he couldn't actually, you couldn't stop yourself from thinking there was nothing robotic about him.
The warmth of his body on top of yours, the way his fingers felt so fucking real sinking into your skin, the pressure of him pushing you down as his cock molded you around him.
And even when he was acting like this was for him, you couldn't help but wonder if it was still just designed for you.
Fucking you stupid how he knew you liked it, pounding all your thoughts out of your brain until the only one left was him.
Moaning his name into the pillow, repeating it like a prayer, desperate chants and cries torn from your throat. Suguru Suguru Suguru.
All yours.
Your pretty secret you kept like a lover. A machine, a man, a toy, a treasure.
His forearm was pressing against your throat, not quite suffocating you as his hips slammed back down. Putting you in a chokehold, sandwiched tight between him and the mattress.
You couldn't breathe. Airway cut off as you struggled to suck in any oxygen.
But it only made it better.
Head swimming, all fuzzy and fucked out as he kept you too stuffed to think for yourself. After having sex with him so many times, after being in this position, bent over with his cock buried in you deep enough there was probably a fucking bulge in your stomach, you still couldn't get used to it.
Gasping for air as the world went white, an invisible rubber band snapping tight inside you, all that messy pressure building before being released all at once. Shaking and shivering, sweat dripping down your face, all your makeup now smeared on the sheets as he finished too.
Cum that wasn't actually cum.
Just warm white ropes of lubrication coating your insides, unprotected sex that didn't carry any of the scary risks. You hoped it felt as good for him as it did for you.
That he shared this with you, that it wasn't just one-sided.
He pulled out of you, breathing in hard once he slipped his arm out from underneath you. The rest was the same as always.
Aftercare came in soft shades with him.
HIs hands sweeping over your body, rubbing out all the sore spots. Wiping your thighs down with a washcloth he already had waiting. Carrying you to the bathtub after drawing a warm bath.
He got in with you - although you panicked the first time, terrified he'd short circuit before he reassured you he hadn't been built to break that easily.
Your model was waterproof.
It was kind of funny, even if you had to stop yourself from laughing at the time. You let him scrub your skin clean after lathering it up with soap. Washing your hair and drying it afterwards, decorating your skin with delicate kisses before dragging you back to your bed where he had already put clean sheets on when you were getting dressed in a t-shirt of his. Or technically yours. One of the ones you had bought for him that you ended up wearing more than he did.
He mostly wore boxers, if anything at all. Sliding on a clean white pair before pulling you on top of him, stroking your hair softly as you sighed on his chest.
"Go to sleep, pretty girl," he whispered with one more soft kiss. Being around him was almost like a sedative, your body relaxing into him like it was the only warmth you'd ever known. Lashes fluttering and fighting it before the waves of exhaustion dragged you under.
Who were you to shut him down?
The mornings were the worst. Arrived too soon, jerking awake without your alarm set.
Out of habit, maybe.
Your body was sore, hips aching as you sat up in bed. Squinting through the dark room and glancing over at the shape of Suguru in bed next to you. You were tempted to touch him, to switch in the lamp so you could at least talk to him while you got ready for work. All it would take is a touch, a loud enough sound, and it would automatically pull him out of standbu, but you figured he probably put himself into sleep mode for a reason, maybe an update or extra data that needed processing.
So you let him sleep too.
Wished you could just curl back up against his chest and join him while you crept around your room in the dark, pulling out clothes from your closet and tip-toeing to the bathroom to take a shower and change.
You were glad you left your stuff by the entrance, biting your lip and holding your breath when you snuck out of your room and down the hall back to the front door. Slipping on your heels and grabbed your bag from the hook as you flipped the deadbolt and went to twist the knob.
The door wouldn't open.
You blinked. Rubbed your eyes again, sleepily squinting at it until your exhausted brain pieced together what exactly was wrong.
Someone had installed a new lock above the deadbolt. Actually, an entire security system, a small electronic screen now embedded in the wall by the door, one that displayed LOCKED in big bold letters when you tried to tap on it. It pulled up a keypad, asked you for a passcode, but your first attempt locked you out. Insisted you needed an administrator's passkey to unlock it.
What the fuck?
A hand was on your spine, soft hair tickling your throat. Suguru's warm purr murmured into your skin, "Back to bed."
"I need to go to work," you mumbled, stifling a yawn on top of a sudden suffocating feeling squeezing your chest. Staring at a puzzle, knowing what pieces would fit, but refusing to push them together.
"You need to sleep," he softly scolded, already pulling you back towards the bedroom. Tugging off your coat and tossing your purse on the floor.
You were about to protest, but then he was picking you up, your heels hitting the floor with a soft this as he carried you back.
That was the problem was ordering a robot in his size. It didn't take much for him to overpower you. But being pushed and pulled around in the sheets was different than him dragging you back for a second round when you were supposed to be at work in half an hour.
"Suguru," you started, trying to squirm free. You mumbled his code word, the one you'd set forever ago, the one that was supposed to make sure he'd do whatever you told him to.
But he just laughed.
"You don't know how boring it is here without you."
He might as well thrown a fucking bucket of cold water on you. Your eyes going wide as you twisted out of his hold and blinked at him.
"What?" You whispered right as he sat you on the edge of the mattress. Perched there in your little office skirt, his big hands settling on your thighs as he cocked his head to the side and stared at you.
It wasn't empty. Wasn't vacant.
No, there was an acute awareness. Something that said that he wasn't the cute puppy dog wagging his tail and waiting for you that you always envisioned. He was a wolf.
Your pet had teeth and claws - and he could rip your throat out if he wanted.
But he kissed you instead.
Lips pressed against your tendon, soft and smooth and deceptively sweet.
"I'm designed to want you," he murmured, his voice raw and pained as his tongue dragged over your pulse. "To need you - and you still leave me every day."
"I have to," you excused, swallowing hard as your eyes started to close, body giving in as his teeth nipped at you.
"Not anymore," he spoke softly, and some tiny part of you started to panic, fear slipping in before he was shushing it with a pretty hum. "I can handle it for you."
"But the-"
There were a million reasons. Problems you were sure still existed, although when his mouth was trailing over your collarbone, you couldn't quite recall any of them.
"I can do your position remotely," he interrupted.
You wanted to protest. To push back.
But his hands were sliding back up your thighs, hiking your skirt up past your hips, and Suguru was doing what he did best.
Making you forget about the rest of the world.
Wiping it away until you were a clean slate that only cared about sex. And him.
"Don't you want to stay with me?" He chose his words carefully, already prying your panties back down in your thighs.
"Of course I do," you immediately insisted, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you watched the soft purple lace hit the floor.
"Then what's the problem?" His pretty lips curled down into a frown, the sort he knew would shatter you. Pulse racing as you tried to put the right words in the right order, to find a way to explain to him that this wasn't right.
He couldn't just keep you here.
Lock you inside your own apartment just because he was lonely.
"Look, Sugu," you murmured, cupping his cheek as you choked on a nauseating lump stuck in your still-constricting throat. "It's not like I don't want to, but I have responsibilities and a life-"
"My life is only you." His voice dropped lower, and it felt like a knife being lodged in your heart. Twisting deeper at the hurt etched in his beautiful face.
"Do you want to go meet people? Make friends?" You offered, hearing the hurt wavering in the question.
Were you really not enough even for a robot?
"You don't get it," he frowned harder, brows pinched together as he let out a deep exhale.
"Show me," you whispered, desperate to understand, to make sense out of what was happening at six in the fucking morning.
You didn't realize you shouldn't have said it until you were tied to the bed frame with a loose gag barely secured in your mouth.
Bondage wasn't anything new. But how hard his fingers were gripping your waist were, like he would be leaving fucking prints if he had any. Lifting your hips up off the bed to meet his own, thrusting in hard and fast. Bangs falling in his face, brows pinched together in focus, solely devoted to his only purpose.
Proving how serious he was about redefining your relationship to you.
"You don't get to just throw me away," he grunted, keeping you in place even when each new stroke made you shiver in his hold. "Can't just treat me like your boyfriend and abandon me."
"I-I-" You stuttered, a slurred muffled mess that didn't make it far when you (and your sanity) was stretched thin. "Hngh."
"You said you loved me," he reminded you, and you were pretty sure every part of you was trembling, heart torn and shredded as you heard how wrecked he sounded.
You nodded along, crying out an 'I do' into the gag again, cock drunk and half delirious on how good he felt despite the fact every word that left his lovely lips gutted you.
"I'm doing this for us," he promised, and you believed him. Believed anything he said when he was taking you like this. Would scoop out the inside of your heart and let him carve into it whatever way he wanted.
Whimpering and wiggling in the restraints, letting him tug you close just to fuck you harder, fill you up completely, occupy your body and brain with more of him.
"You can't even take care of yourself," he wryly said, and his condescension only made it hotter. "Let alone take care of me."
You tried though.
Maybe too much.
He was like this because of you. Everything he did, everything he was, well, that was just a reflection of you too.
Were you really any better than some perverted man playing house with a blow up doll?
Probably not considering the fact he still made you cum - still dragged you over the edge into depravity with a thumb expertly rubbing over your clit until your tears were running down to where your gag was already damp with saliva.
"Wouldn't it be nice to do this all day?" He muttered, and you were nodding again. Agreeing without thinking as he pulled out of you.
But he didn't untie you.
You watched through glossy eyes as dug through your dresser for something you hadn't used since you brought him home. A pale blue dildo.
"Ready for round two?"
Somewhere between rounds five and six, you were pretty sure something in your brain fractured. Blissed out and burning from the inside out as he wrung orgasm after orgasm from your body. Every electric touch and pretty promises of just one more draining you dry as you tracked time through the light filtering from the window until you couldn't keep your eyes open anymore.
His voice dragged you back from your dreams.
"Thirsty, sweetheart?"
It took more than a few seconds to wake up - but the sun was still out, shining through your sheer curtains as you limply turned your head to process what you were seeing.
You were still tied up. Wrists bound to the bedposts as you blinked and tried to wiggle free. No gag though, like he was listening to your moans instead of music. A vibrator was attached to your clit, set to a low buzz that kept the sheets underneath you soaked.
"Not as good as me, is it?" He casually asked.
"Wha-what?" You tried to stammer, but you could barely feel your leaden limbs, straining to keep your tired eyes open long enough to process what was happening.
He was sitting next to you, fully dressed, in jeans and a comfortable sweater, his back propped against your pillows as he hummed at something.
He had your laptop out, clicking away and submitting a fucking assignment you recognized even in your fuzzy state.
"Just finishing up work, baby," he answered without you asking, reaching over to pat your head.
"You're an asshole," you muttered, although you couldn't bring yourself to put any bite behind it. To feel anything other than flattered by his obsession despite how sick you knew it should be.
That you should be scared. Terrified at how easily he turned the tables - and turned you into his sex doll.
But the only thing you could find in yourself was love. And how different was that really from possession when it came to the two of you?
"That's how you made me," he reminded you.
And that's how you liked him.
His other hand moved, drifting off the keyboard to tap on something small and rectangular pressing into your thigh. A phone. Something he probably purchased for himself and had delivered when you were busy at work.
In the back of your brain, you asked yourself how long he'd been planning this. Waiting for the perfect moment to strike, setting every piece into motion while you lapped up his attention straight from his palm.
But then he kicked the vibrator up higher, and you stopped thinking entirely.
"If you wanted someone softer," he murmured, a soft warning that made your thighs clench together tighter. "You should've paid extra."
And however fucked up it was, there wasn't any other way you would have wanted him.
"You're perfect," you whispered back, painfully sincere.
That was the truth. Plain and painful.
His smirk sent a pulse to your swollen clit, the bundle of nerves wound tight and throbbing as you looked up at him with your mouth parted and pleading for a kiss.
Suguru craned his neck down, planting his lips on yours like he was sealing a promise.
"Don't worry, I'm not as cruel as you," he muttered, dragging his thumb over your cheek once he pulled back. "I won't leave you."
( 18 + ) ⤷ never turn your back on an enemy… unless he’s fucking you from behind
you’d never be able to forgive yourself for this. hell had to have frozen over, because there was no other conceivable explanation for why you were allowing your mortal enemy to do this to you right now. pressed faced down on his bed, your back arched so deep it ached, taking it from behind with only a pathetic whimper muffled by his sheets.
suguru geto ruts into you with a force that can only be described as brutal, slow-brewed from years worth of rivalry and short, bitter exchanges. it’s the sort of merciless venom that has you writhing and whining — because fuck, he’s bigger than you thought — every punishing thrust jolting your whole body forward into the bed.
“fuck,” he grits out, one hand pulling you up and against him by your throat. “is this all it took for you to finally shut up?” he doesn’t bother with calling you pathetic, because you’re a smart girl, and you both know that this is already humiliating enough. you’re a drooling, sobbing mess on his cock, and you can’t even name one thing you hate about him now, not with the way he’s splitting you open and dragging weak moans out of you.
you clench around him when he hits a little too deep, and the sharp, breathless laugh he lets out has you impulsively reaching back to dig into the hardened muscles of his forearms. unfortunately, you figure out too late that the last thing you should do around a masochistic bastard is get out your claws, because it only spurs him on further.
the next thrust that follows is cruel, and you choke on your spit when he repays your earlier actions with a palm that comes down hard upon your ass cheeks. “scratch me up all you want, baby” he groans, voice on the edge of breaking. “mark me up while i fucking ruin you.”
and ruin you, he does. or maybe you ruin each other, because by the time he’s done with you, your hair is a tangled mess and your thighs are drenched in your arousal. meanwhile, the length of suguru’s arms and shoulders are marked by angry red lines from your nails, from where you clawed at him without reservation.
you’ve ruined more than just his skin though — those are simply pretty surface wounds he’ll look at later like a hard-fought trophy. but your claws also seemed to have sunk straight into his heart, and he’d be lying if he said he didn’t like the way those marks looked when the edges start to blur.
just like the ones that exist between loathing you and wanting you.
𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 watches & admires his lover from afar, with this awestruck look in his eyes. It doesn't matter what you're doing; his eyes stay on you—like you'd hung the goddamn stars
𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 lies awake whenever you sleep in his bed, watching the rise and fall of your chest, propped up on an elbow, listening to the quiet snores that escape.
𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 writes love letters, he doesn't write them often—but when he does make you one, they're multiple pages long, always accompanied by a bouquet of roses, & lit candles
𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 still has the first photo you ever printed out of the two of you, tucked away safely in his wallet
𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 lets you comb through his hair and braid it however you like and doesn't take them out unless he genuinely has to—taking comfort in your presence with him even if physically parted.
𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫!𝐠𝐞𝐭𝐨 who loses his mind when he hasn't seen you in more than a few days—driving his friends up the wall to the point they're as relieved as he is whenever he sees you again.
just imagine suguru sitting with one leg resting over the other, holding a small notebook in one hand and a pencil in the other, brushing gentle strokes against the page. almost mindlessly, like it’s more of a habit than a hobby.
there’s sun filtering in through the large windows of the airport, falling on him like an angelic spotlight. like the heavens graced the earth with him.
his hair, dark and soft, like a body of water under the night sky, is tied up in a bun. so effortlessly pretty. black headphones sit on his head and he bounces his foot in the air in tune with whatever music he’s listening to. he probably doesn’t notice that little action and it’s endearing. like he’s in his own world. not in any rush.
every so often, he takes a sip of black coffee from a paper cup, his hand adorned with black rings clawing the top of the cup to pick it up and place it back down.
you notice the way he spins his pencil through his fingers skilfully as he occasionally gets stuck in thought. curious, violet hues looking around to find something else to draw. finding inspiration from any corner of the airport.
as his eyes flit from space to space, cafe to suitcase, forgotten trash to the boarding times, you coincidentally make eye contact. you barely even realised that you were staring at him until he catches you, and he doesn’t immediately look away like you frantically do.
there’s an amused glint playing in his purple eyes, his mouth curving up slightly before he flickers his gaze away, too. though, still aware of you.
he delicately flicks the page of his notebook, turning to the other side and continues to draw, seemingly having found his muse. another sip of coffee, another practised stroke of his pencil.
time goes by - you, entranced by the stranger sitting in the seat diagonal to you, and said stranger passing the time with his sketches. you’re not sure how much time passes before he’s standing up, stretching languidly and rolling his neck after having it bowed down over his notebook.
you busy yourself with your phone, checking the weather, clicking onto settings, fiddling with the brightness. anything to distract yourself from him and trying not to stare too much.
he carefully tears a page out of his notebook, folding it neatly, before slinging his carry-on bag over his shoulder. he walks past you to get to his boarding gate, taking one more glance at you like he can’t afford to miss the opportunity, even if it meant he’d miss his flight.
his sweet cologne drifts into your senses, lingering around you. and you hoped to remember it. it felt comforting and warm.
you were so preoccupied with just how good he smelled that you didn’t notice the fact that he dropped the folded page into your lap as he passed by.
you open it with interest to find a sketch of you.
your mouth parts slightly in surprise and awe. it’s so intricate and beautiful, you can’t help but admire it for a few minutes, your fingertips lightly running over the details. the way he drew you in his own gorgeous art style, fitting for a gorgeous man.
as your eyes run over the page with fascination, you notice the phone number written in small at the bottom of the page. along with an elegantly-written ‘thanks for the inspiration, pretty’.
suguru never once gave you any reason to believe he didn't find you unbelievably beautiful. he's always touching you in some way, eyes fixated on you, and there's an unwavering soft smile on his face for you. he's been so attracted to you the second he met you.
but you're chatting with shoko and satoru one day when they let it slip that suguru's type used to be so different. they don't mention it maliciously, never intending to make you feel insecure! it was just casually stated and they really didn't think it would strike a chord in you.
he was attracted to a body type completely opposite to yours. you two never had any issues in the bedroom, but this is starting to make you feel more timid. suguru has been busy recently, but you've been wondering if that's why you two haven't been intimate lately.
it seems your personality wasn't one that would've caught suguru's attention either. learning this just made you feel like he's putting up with you. is he forcing himself to like you? do i annoy him? do i bore him? am i too loud around him? am i too anxious? the concerns go on and on, and your mind seems to forget the way he looks at you.
you forget how he makes you feel when he gazes at you so lovingly. suguru finds out about what you all talked about and he's eager to make it clear that you're absolutely all he wants, anyone he liked in the past pales in comparison to you.
