#but give hime one of geto's babies

[incantat1ons]

it's not difficult to find her. you had been a TEENAGE GIRL once. not as SPRITELY as the Geto girls, of course. you were on the other side of the SPECTRUM there. both entranced and exhausted with the world around you. aching to be average but feeling too precarious to be anything else but a sorcerer. thus, you check the usual spots. frequent hang outs around campus and the surrounding area before @rake-rake is spotted.

tongue clicks at roof of mouth, hands folded in front of self. you are not upset. just concerned. eyes blink twice, emphasizing an almost motherly disbelief. you would have no children of your own. too committed to raising the next generations of protectors. so sometimes, it's nice to pretend. to feel what it would be like.

❛ you missed training today. is everything alright ? ❜

[silkscream]

CHAPTER 5: NOT THAT I'M ANYWHERE

ੈ✩ gojo satoru x reader, geto suguru x reader

In your prelude to adulthood, he’d driven himself wild about the physicality of you next to him. Smothered by him since the summertime. He liked that the two of you spoke in tongues, kiss-shaped secrets.

ੈ✩ chapter cw/tags: explicit content (18+ mdni) , oral sex (f receiving), nonconsensual voyeurism, alcohol usage, angst

ੈ✩ wc: 6.1k

ੈ✩ a/n: more satoru antics... featuring a curveball thrown by suguru. surprise

playlist ✸ read on ao3 ✸ series masterlist

December, 2008

You arrive a bit late, not that Satoru minds. For some reason, he had this nagging thought in his mind that you wouldn’t come at all, and he was trying to make peace with it all day. Luckily, you show up, a roseate blush adorning your cheeks that matches your lipstick. He wants to kiss it off of you. Tear off your sweater and the black tights stuck to your legs.

You situate yourself in between Shoko and Utahime, who are both engaging in the stash of alcohol in front of them that you knew belonged in a glass cabinet in the dining room, pristine and locked up. 

You hug your knees, watching Shoko and Satoru bicker about the rules of whatever game they’re attempting to force everyone to play. You accidentally make eye contact with Utahime, who smiles at you graciously as she fixes one of her pigtails. Every one of Satoru’s friends was beautiful, which suited him. You didn’t feel like you could be part of them.

She offers you a beer and you take it even though it isn’t your favorite. When you try to swallow it down, you catch Suguru’s eye. He gives you a teasing smile.

“Shoko, you always want to play strip poker. If you wanted to see Hime’s tits, I’m sure you can just ask—”

The brunette pushes Satoru roughly on the shoulder, an irritated noise groaning in her throat. 

“No, you just don’t know any other fucking card games. Don’t act like you don’t always want to get everyone naked, too,” Shoko protests.

“I will not accept such slander on my birthday—”

“It’s not even midnight, yet, idiot!” Utahime interrupts.

You and Suguru share a look, which makes you look away quickly as you snort. You feel Satoru watching, but you don’t indulge in his gaze. You used to imagine a red string between the two of you when you were in school. You would stalk the halls alone, walking past him and make enough brief eye contact with him that you would assume his eyes were on you, always. You’d exist in the world just for him to watch. You’d feel his gaze on your body even when both of you were barely teenagers.

A bottle of wine makes its way into your hands, passed around from Utahime on your right. You chug the way she does, needing the release of inhibitions. When you look up to see Satoru looking at you, he nearly gives you whiplash from the way he stumbles over to you in the circle and snatches the bottle from you.

“That’s enough, Twigs!”

“No, you’re way drunker than me!” you retort. 

“You’re a lightweight, baby,” he purrs. “I care about your brain cells.”

“You’re more of a lightweight than she is,” Suguru chuckles. 

“Shut up, Sugu!” 

“Leave him alone,” you laugh. He’s disarmed enough for you to grab the bottle back, which leaves him pouting. He rolls his eyes as he watches you share it with Suguru.

The feeling inside his chest isn’t burning. It isn’t. If anything, he likes that you’re enjoying yourself considering the shitshow on Shoko’s birthday. If anything, he wants you on his lap laughing.

“Are we doing strip poker or not?” Shoko drawls, taking a large swig out of her sake.

“I don’t even know how to play that,” you whine.

“Put on a movie,” Utahime suggests, nodding toward the flatscreen.

“Booooooring,” Satoru complains.

“You’re just a pervert who wants to see everyone fuck, Gojo.”

Satoru looks at you briefly with a shit-eating grin on his face. His eyes are starry. The length of his body exudes arrogance. “Maybe I do. It’s my birthday, anyway.”

“Not midnight yet, stupid,” you remind him. “I’ll figure out poker if it means you’ll behave.”

“No promises.”

Half an hour passes and the rules of the game don’t register in your brain, though the rest of the group helps you enough to get by. It doesn’t seem to matter anyway considering how drunk everyone is, therefore the rules are getting loosened and lost as the game progresses.

A movie is playing on the TV per Utahime’s request – an American horror film that was released last month. It’s mostly uncanny to you considering it’s American, and the vampire storyline doesn’t make much sense to you. Werewolves end up getting involved as you absentmindedly watch the screen and the plot is forgotten by you.

You’re left in your tights and your bralette. It takes over an hour to do so – meanwhile, Shoko and Utahime were down to their bare tits; Satoru and Suguru are down to their boxers.

The inclusion of the movie has everyone as distracted as you. Suguru eventually falls asleep on the couch while Shoko and Utahime retreat to the kitchen to make cocktails. Considering it’s been at least fifteen minutes since then, you assume they’re somewhere else in the house.

“Those two are definitely fucking,” Satoru deadpans, his eyes still on the screen. “Oh fuck, are they decapitating that guy?”

“I mean, he’s the bad guy that wants to eat the main character, right? It only makes sense.”

Satoru rests his head on your lap. It reminds you of the sight you saw at Shoko’s birthday party. Your throat tightens. When the movie ends, Satoru nestles himself into your stomach like a cat.

“I wanna go to bed.”

“So go to bed,” you say softly.

“Come with me.”

“Okay,” you breathe. 

You follow him. 

Satoru’s bedroom is an oasis. You felt weary about getting so used to it for months, but his soft sheets and king-sized mattress have begun feeling like home since September. Not to mention Satoru’s affinity for spooning you, arms around your waist, and a leg draped over yours to cage you.

He doesn’t give you much time before he has you pushed onto the bed, his larger frame engulfing yours as he kisses you and runs his hands along your soft body. He grins at the way you moan for him and grinds his hips into yours because he knows how wild you get when you can feel him. You buck your hips up the way he expects you to. You’re malleable in his hands, just the way he likes you.

“Satoru, w–wait—”

“What is it?”

“Got a present for you,” you laugh. You crawl to grab the coat you came with to fish something small from the pocket. You cover his eyes with your hand. “Okay, just— close your eyes. It’s not that special but I wanna put it on you.”

He closes his eyes. You slip a ring on his hand — a silver band with a glittering turquoise gem. It’s not extravagant, nor were you sure if it was Satoru’s style, but it had spoken to you in the tiny shop you were in and it mirrored the color of his eyes. 

“Is this how you’re proposing to me, baby?”

“Shut up,” you say, rolling your eyes. “Don’t make a huge deal out of it. You can open your eyes.”

When he settles his gaze on the ring you’d placed on his left index finger, his gaze softens. The stone is as bright as his eyes and it’s also elegant. Elegant in the same way you are, he thinks.

“It would look good with what you usually wear,” you stammer. “And– it matches your eyes or whatever. A good luck charm and stuff.”

“Twigs,” he grins. “I love it.”

He almost says he loves you with how drunk he is. But he knows better. He’d rather show it through actions, anyway. Mostly, he wants to fucking eat you out with how sheer your black tights are and how little fabric your bralette provides to cover your breasts.

“Wanna give you head,” he mumbles, parting your legs.

“I feel like I should be the one that– aah!”

He’s yanked down your tights and underwear in half a second, mouth already closing in your pulsating clit. He moans at the taste of you and how wet and warm you are. 

So fucking sweet. You were made for him ever since you’d entered his life.

“S-Satoru–”

“This is all I want, baby.”

“But–”

“But what?” He stops, pulling away as he wipes off your slick from his mouth. He looks at you for a second, brows raised.

“Nothing. Happy birthday, Satoru,” you coo. You stroke his hair with your fingers, then settle your warm hands on both of his cheeks. Cupping them. Reveling in the blush of his pale face. When both of you look, you see that the clock on his bedside table is close to one in the morning. 

“Thank you,” he chuckles. His laugh is saccharine-sweet, dulcet in your ears. “I want to indulge in my gift, now.”

“Okay.”

You let him, because how could you deny him? There’s no way in your right mind you could let go of him right now — it all feels so fucking good. The way he kisses you like he wants to suck out your bone marrow, plush lips on your clit as he massages it with his tongue. 

You whine when you feel the loss of contact. Of course he wants to tease you, ease you into turning into a brainless puddle for him until you beg. He sucks love-bites into your inner thigh while he rubs his long fingers along your folds in a languid motion. He chuckles at the sound of you whining.

“What’re you whining about?”

“Want your mouth.”

“Let the birthday boy take his time, yeah?” 

You squirm in his grasp, bucking your hips up, desperate for him to bury his face in your wet cunt like you’re his favorite dessert. He groans something, snapping a mumbled command at you as he continues to teethe on the delicate skin of your thigh. 

His mouth cascades down your thigh, pressing a kiss to each of your knees.

“What if I made you cum nineteen times? Doesn’t that sound fun?” he teases. 

“N-no, I can’t take it–”

“You sure? I’d do it if my dick physically could. You can cum as many times as you want, though.”

“Satoru–” you groan.

He simply laughs, then licks a stripe from your knee up to your clit. When you feel his tongue again, you shiver. His white lashes flutter when you whimper. You reach down to smooth his hair back to see his eyes darkened with lust.

He’s sloppier than usual because of his inhibited senses, but he makes a mess of your pussy as he laps up the taste of you. Every rhythmic pass of his tongue over your clit sends sparks to your stomach and short-circuits your brain. You remember the first time Satoru had eaten you out months before, how he’d made you cry. It’s similar to how you feel now.

He moans against your cunt as you close your legs around his face, but he pries them apart and takes a handful of your ass to squeeze. You mewl when you feel his hand slap the soft skin of your ass, and you can almost hear him laugh.

You can barely say his name fully. Your voice only comes out in gasps. You have to keep yourself from crying out when you feel his fingers enter you while he sucks on your clit. Your eyes roll back in ecstasy. 

Satoru loves to spoil you. It’s his favorite thing to fuck your cunt with his tongue, laving your clit until you’re melting before he switches his method. The combination of his tongue with his fingers inside your hole has you convulsing. He loves to watch your face during it. His own is spellbound and hungry.

After you cum, you’re begging for him.

“Satoru, let me–”

“No,” he breathes. “Want you. Stay still for me, sweetheart.”

“I– I can’t–

“You can,” he laughs, slapping your ass again. “And you will.”

Your head is in the clouds, high as can be, and far away from reality. The way Satoru thumbs over your clit while his mouth works on your pussy has you nearly ascending. Drunk and crumbling, squirming underneath his touch. Desperate for him. Pathetic for him.

“Oh, fuck, you look so good,” he pants. “Fuck, just like that. Let go for me.”

“Oh my god–”

“You’re gonna wake the whole house, baby.”

“You said– Sugu was a d-deep sleeper– aah!”

Your head is full of air. Your cunt is petal-soft, throbbing from his touch, and he makes you come undone above him again as he laps up your cum right before he sucks hickeys into your thighs.

You whine at the feeling of him nipping you, pulling his arms toward you. He groans, grunting as he hits the mattress face-down.

“Satoru, let me return the favor—”

He swats you away when you try to touch him, which surprises you.

“I’m okay.”

“What? It’s your birthday.”

“Don’t worry about it,” he mumbles, his cheeks red. He’s breathing hard, panting like an animal. Your eyes widen when you realize.

“Satoru, did you just cum in your boxers?”

“Babe, I’m so fucking drunk—”

“You came in your fucking pants from eating me out!” you laugh.

Satoru groans as loud as can be, an annoyed grunt in his throat rolling out into a petulant roar. He runs his fingers haphazardly through his hair as he enters the bathroom, shutting the door and locking it behind him.

“Satoru!” you beckon, knocking on the door. “It’s okay to come fast—”

“Go to bed, woman!”

You can’t help but laugh, realizing there’s no point in arguing with him. If you knew any better, you’d assume he was jacking off right now into the toilet just from having to face you after getting embarrassed.

That might be true, to be fair. It’s hard to look you in the eye when you smell so fucking good and when you look at him like that—

“Fuck,” Satoru grunts before he releases into the toilet. He’s never cum so much in one night — certainly not so much in a night where he consumed so many different kinds of alcohol.

It didn’t matter, he supposed. You were the only real drug to him. 

He feels grateful when he returns to your sleeping figure in his bed, breathing soundly. Satoru is too drunk to remember how much Suguru hates falling asleep anywhere that isn’t a bed. Too drunk to care about what room Shoko and Utahime might be fucking in. It didn’t matter.

He’s nineteen now and dead-tired, satiated after eating you. Maybe a little in love, too, but he’s too drunk to think about it very hard. He’ll shut off yearning’s broken record the same way you do. He only cares about your warmth at the moment. The softness of your skin lulls him to sleep.

“How are you the first one up? And you’re making pancakes on your own birthday?”

“Twigs helped me, duh,” Satoru says, turning around to meet a disheveled Suguru stalking toward the kitchen island. “She knows how I like ‘em.”

“Good morning, Suguru,” you greet him, placing a plate in front of him.

“Oh, she uses my name now.”

You laugh while Satoru rolls his eyes, shoving a strawberry in his mouth along with a dollop of whipped cream. He notices your constant glances at him, grinning at you teasingly as your eyes rake the expanse of his bare back and grey sweatpants. You’d had to resist him this morning, complaining about your hangover and the fact that he’d woken up at 7 am sharp like a little kid. You’d let him fuck you in the shower, anyway. It had woken you up, at least.

Shoko and Utahime emerge minutes later, to which Satoru teases them about their midnight excursion.

“At least tell me what room you guys stayed in so I can get the sheets cleaned, my god.”

Utahime bickers with him as Shoko watches with amusement. Satoru argues back, bored, eyes drifting to you across the table as you talk to Suguru about some book the two of you have read before. He’s absentminded, mostly thinking about the way your mouth parts when he hits the right spot in your cunt, and how plush your thighs are, especially with hot water running down your body–

“You dickhead, you aren’t even listening!” Utahime seethes.

“I don’t get how you’re so stressed out this morning. Shoko didn’t give it to you good enough?”

“Satoru!” Shoko whines, punching him on the arm. She’ll surely excuse herself for a cigarette within the next five minutes because of him. 

“These are really good,” Suguru smiles, nudging you with his elbow.

“Thanks. They’re Satoru’s favorite.”

Suguru opens his mouth to speak again, but not before Satoru reaches over the table to wipe blueberry syrup off your bottom lip. The action dazes you, has you blinking up at him. 

“So messy,” he chuckles. You roll your eyes.

He has the urge to switch seats so he can be next to you and talk your ear off, be the one to make you laugh. He frowns when you ease back into your conversation with Suguru effortlessly. He decides to be a nuisance in other ways. Kicking your feet under the table. Sneaking sips of  Suguru’s orange juice.

You looked good together. It put a lump in his throat, thinking about how Suguru would ask you to go with him to the party. How you would say yes. 

Satoru contains himself. He’s distracted by your face anyway, the way your nose twitches, and the way you bite your lip when you think. He’s barely tuned into the conversation. Something about international politics. Anticipations for Jujutsu Tech. A Grade 3 curse that nearly wiped out Utahime before Suguru caught up to her.

“How are you going to get to Grade 2 if someone who isn’t even a first-year yet is saving your ass, Uta?” Satoru yawns.

“Utahime-senpai,” she corrects, grumbling. “And Geto-kun was just at the right place at the right time–”

“You were cowering a little,” Suguru adds, chuckling.

“Hey, leave her alone,” Shoko scolds the boys. She turns her face to you. “I don’t know how you can stand being around them all the time.”

“Aren’t you always around them?” you ask.

“Well, yes, but they’re a package deal. Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum. I don’t think Satoru even had friends when he met Suguru–”

“Hey!” Satoru whines. “Twigs is right here.”

“You’ve been holding her hostage since she was a child. That’s Stockholm syndrome at this point,” Suguru jokes. 

You smile a little. Satoru knows better. When he glances at you, you look away. If you were in a better mood, maybe you would’ve laughed, because there was some truth to it. 

Satoru swallows down the rest of his coffee, too sugary, tooth-rotting. He thinks about how he would pretend to kidnap you when you were kids. Cops and robbers. Trapping you in the nest he’d made in his tree house for hours, forcing you to play video games with him. He would try and fail to braid your hair and you would feed him sour gummy worms.

It had been a while since the two of you had innocent fun like that, he realized. In your prelude to adulthood, he’d driven himself wild about the physicality of you next to him. Smothered by him since the summertime. He liked that the two of you spoke in tongues, kiss-shaped secrets. He wants to be alone with you again even if he’d had you in the morning and the night before.

“I’m a victim,” you huff, sarcastic but lighthearted. “Save me, Suguru.”

Satoru frowns at that. You stick your tongue out at him, trying not to appear flushed when you take in Suguru’s laugh.

You weren’t sure how Suguru felt about you, but you knew you hated that he had an inkling to your relationship with Satoru. Maybe he knew that the two of you were fucking, but that particular aspect didn’t matter. It was the fact that it was easy to figure out that you were attached to Satoru like an accessory, his pet since he was young. A chew toy. 

When you talk with Suguru alone, you find that you feel separate from Satoru for once. Your own person. You could exist as yourself, and you found the idea of Suguru liking you for yourself rather alluring. Not that Satoru didn’t like you for you, but it was… different. He had always known you, possessed you. Like you were assigned to him, almost.

A sick part of you enjoyed that, at least when he was inside you. At the moment, in front of his friends, it makes your skin itch.

December, 2008 (One week later)

The last month of the year is a dull ache. Swollen numbness. Frostbitten heart. 

The shock of warmth inside the kissaten makes your cheeks hot despite your face feeling frozen moments before. It’s Western-inspired and cutesy with its overflowing hanging plants and vintage movie posters. 

You think about texting Satoru, knowing how much he’d indulge in the sweets, though you refrain. He would never be able to let you study. How he received such high marks in school was beyond you — he had to have some kind of attention disorder with how distracted he could get and his outright refusal to be academically sensible. And yet, he was at the top of the class. 

For the first time in a while, you don’t care much for your exams. You don’t really care much about anything, lately. The thought of attending university in the spring hadn’t yet come to fruition in your head. Nothing remotely tangible — the future is a void where reality should be. Ironically, the fantastical nature of Jujutsu Tech started to sound more and more appealing the more time you spent with Satoru and his friends. You curse how easily influenced you are. If you feel small where you are now, you would certainly feel small there. 

Thirty pages into your book, your brooding is interrupted by the presence of another. A glass is pushed towards you, green with whipped cream on top. When you look up, a cat-like grin beams back.

“This seat taken?”

“Not at all,” you say. “Is this– for me?”

Suguru shrugs. “They fucked up my order. Wanted a regular matcha, not whatever… this is.”

“A matcha… float?”

“Something like that.”

“Thanks,” you laugh. 

Suguru’s hair is up like it always is, in a half-up bun with the rest of his hair down. His broad body drowns in an oversized black sweater. A vision of comfort. You always liked that he smelled like white tea and pine. 

“Where’s your guard dog?”

“Hm?” you look up at him quizzically, eyes narrowed. “Oh. Ah, probably home, I dunno. Don’t you usually keep track of him? Package deal and all.”

He laughs and holds his jaw in his palm as he leans closer to you. Satoru was obsessive when it came to you, Suguru had noticed. He wasn’t sure if Satoru knew – always oblivious to the shit that fell out of his mouth. He was arrogant that way, not that Suguru cared. He could sense that you cared, though. 

You’d never been alone with Suguru, you realized, nor had you ever been this close to him. He always had an air of aloofness about him from afar, but the crease in his eyes brought comfort up close. It made sense that Satoru kept him around. He was grounding and stable whereas Satoru was unconventional and wild – the moon that controlled the tide.

In between them, you felt like a stray. 

“He’s obnoxious when you’re around. Barely gives you any room to breathe, that brat.” 

He says it with a playful tease in his voice, yet still apologetic. Maybe Satoru was more of Suguru’s pet, able to be tamed by him. 

“He’s alright.”

You smile shyly into your matcha float, hair falling into your face. Suguru gets it – Satoru’s weird fixation with you. Attached to you like a baby blanket. He could feel guilty about wanting to steal you away, but the desire wasn’t for the sake of cruel entertainment. He was merely curious. He liked your face. Your mannerisms.

Suguru’s name gets called from the counter. You watch him collect his drink and a plate of ogura toast. 

“Have you eaten?”

“Suguru, you don’t have to offer me your food after you just gave me a free drink.”

“Fine,” he smiles. “It’ll cost you then.”

You shove him in the arm, gently. Bashful. He thinks it’s a good look on you. 

“Sorry. You were studying, weren’t you?”

“You can stay,” you shrug. “Just don’t be too distracting.”

“So you think I’m distracting.”

“I didn’t say that.”

You can’t resist his Cheshire-like grin, robbing you of your pride. Satoru did mention that Suguru slept around more than he did, which surprised you at first considering how quiet and reserved he seemed. Now, you understand why, examining him as he flips through the pages of the book he brought. He was beautiful. 

The hour passes quietly. You steal a few glances, but nothing major. Suguru wordlessly feeds you small pieces of his toast dipped in the red bean jam, surprising you at first. Blushing when his fingertips are so close to your mouth. 

Satoru would be pissed.

“Okay, I’ve had enough,” you sigh, rolling your shoulders and resting your head on your folded arms. 

“Of my company?” Suguru asks.

“Never.” You shake your head. You yawn. “Of studying.”

Bleary-eyed, you look at him, hiding your face less. His eyes are dark, absorbing light. The inverse of Satoru’s clear blues. You scrunch your nose when the boy pokes your cheek.

“Hey, you doing anything for New Year’s?”

“I haven’t thought that far ahead,” you admit. “I barely know what I’m doing for Christmas.”

You’ve never celebrated New Year’s like other teenagers. Maybe you’d stay up watching television with your mother, sharing a barely-alcohol champagne as a treat. The clock would turn and you would go to sleep. It was always quiet like that in your household. 

The same would go for Christmas – you hadn’t been to church in years even though your mother insisted. On some odd years, you and your mother would show up at the Gojo household and help make breakfast, and watch Satoru open endless gifts.

“You know about the annual Gojo formal, right? For New Year’s?”

“I do.”

“Would you like to go with me?” 

He waits patiently, even though you must look like a deer in the headlights. You aren’t sure if you heard him right.

“Like as– as a date?”

“Sure,” Suguru answers. “As friends. Or whatever you’d like.”

You echo the statement in your head, mulling it over. Whatever you’d like. Was he flirting with you?

“Did Satoru put you up to this?” You pick at a loose thread on the sleeve of your sweater, blinking at anywhere but his face. He had to be asking out of pity. It wasn’t like Satoru would take you, you knew that. You didn’t belong at one of his parties.

“Hey, don’t,” he coos. You had only started spending more time with Suguru in the past few months, usually with Satoru, yet it seemed that you didn’t mind when he touched you. It still shocks you a little bit, but it mostly comforts you – the way he caresses your chin softly, turning your face to look at him. 

“It was my idea to take you.”

You want to ask who Satoru is going with, but you think it would give the two of you away, regardless of Satoru’s lack of discretion. As if Suguru didn’t already know about your feelings. You’d be naive to assume so, but you still didn’t want to have to talk about it all so candidly. It was easier to swallow it all down, to keep Satoru like a secret the way he kept you. 

“I’ll think about it,” you smile meekly. “I should check with my mother, anyway. I’ve never… attended one of the Gojo parties as a real guest.”

“Let me know,” Suguru nods. “Shoko and Uta mentioned they wanted to take you dress-shopping.”

You aren’t even sure if you can afford a dress suitable for the formal. Maybe you could borrow one of your mother’s old kimonos. You’re dazed trying to process it all. You imagine standing next to Suguru at a formal event and it lights your insides on fire.

“I’ll let you know.”

Satoru’s birthday, a week prior

He’d woken up past midnight to blue light flooding the room – the television on standby in the otherwise dark room. Suguru rolls his neck, head swimming from alcohol and a bad taste in his mouth. They all were probably playing video games in Satoru’s room upstairs.

Losers.

He trudges upstairs to take a piss and brush his teeth but pauses at the crack of warm light outside of Satoru’s room. He hears you whine. Rasps of pleasure rumbled from the deep parts of Satoru’s throat. 

When he steps forward and tilts his head, he sees you. Sprawled like a ragdoll, heat-flushed from the boy’s tongue in your cunt. 

You curse pornographically, palm to your mouth after an outburst. Satoru laughs darkly.

Gonna wake up the whole house, baby.

You said Sugu was a deep sleeper.

Apparently not.

The nickname coming from your mouth – mewling, teased out by Satoru’s large fingers in you – hearing it makes Suguru’s cock twitch in his pants. The sight of you is seraphic. Hair a mess on those stupid luxurious bed sheets. Bralette barely hanging off your tits and stockings down to your ankles like a real mistress.

If it were him, he’d use more fingers, he thinks. You could take it like a good girl like Satoru calls you. A princess.

Suguru remembers your reaction to being called that. It had awoken him in a small way back then, something on the brink of hunger, now full-fledged as he watches you.

Maybe he’s dreaming. 

He’d had his fair share of weird homoerotic experiences with Satoru. Boyish flirting that would end in wrestling. Drunk open-mouthed kisses before Shoko would pick them up to go to the movies. Absent-minded touching. 

They’d fucked the same girl at least once, never together. Satoru never cared about any of them. Suguru would be kinder to save face. You, though – you were beyond a dream. Of course, Satoru was obsessed with you. It was the first time the idea of sharing irked him, Suguru realized. It was why he nearly kept you on a leash, tight-lipped whenever you were mentioned.

Sometimes I want to kidnap her, I swear. Never leave her out of my sight.

“Fuck.”

He adjusts his pants, palming his dick just a little, knowing he should probably go to the bathroom already in case he gets caught. He groans quietly at your noises in tandem with Satoru’s. 

The two of you look like angels. Bodies snug like puzzle pieces. 

Satoru is kissing you, marking you up. Suguru can taste your skin in his mind, the shape of his name in your mouth. He wonders what you look like when you’re crying. He thinks of glistening cheeks. Heart-shaped bruises.

He could get you both alone, maybe, if Satoru wasn’t so goddamn stubborn. Possessive. Suguru wouldn’t be surprised if you were already branded by him, a tattoo of his name on you.

For now, he leaves to go to the bathroom.

Mid-December, 2008

You miss the summer. Before the white plague of snow and seasonal depression, you might even admit that you were a little happy. Wrapped around your lover’s finger, of course. Heart bursting like new lilies.

It takes more than a few missed texts for him to come barging into your room unannounced, interrupting your hypnagogic peace. He frowns at the sight of you in bed and flips the record you were playing – an old Ryuichi Sakamoto from your mother. He’s annoying as he crawls into bed with you, all six feet and three inches of him engulfing the bed. He playfully snaps his teeth at you when you try to shove his face away.

“So clingy,” you mumble.

“You like me that way,” Satoru says. “I don’t like when you ignore me.”

“I have a life separate from you.”

A lie. Nothing occupies you much, these days. 

Satoru yanks down your sweater and bites your shoulder. He must’ve been bored to come all the way to your house just for this. A puppy running out of toys to play with. Apparently, he has teeth like one, too.

“Stop,” you grit. “You’re so annoying.”

He insists on tangling his long legs with yours despite your short-lived struggle. You’re nose to nose. It reminds you of when you were both small, seven years old, and sleepy. Swapping words of a made-up language and Pokemon cards. 

He was annoying then, too, tugging at your sleeve and pulling your hair at any opportunity he could. Spoiled rotten. It was probably one of the worst things about him.

“So rude,” he pouts, curling into you. He inhales your scent and pauses. You don’t notice, but discontent flashes in his sky-blue eyes underneath his sunglasses. 

“Weird. You smell like Suguru.”

“How would you know that?”

He rolls his eyes. He wears Suguru’s clothes sometimes, knows what his mouth tastes like. It was always clean, similar to himself, but somehow more masculine. Earthy, like a forest. Not that Satoru would relay the details to you.

“I recognize it. That and his residuals on your clothes. Six Eyes, remember?”

“I ran into him today. We had lunch together.”

“Oh,” he murmurs. “I didn’t know you guys hung out.”

You clear your throat, avoiding his gaze. 

“He asked me to your family’s New Year’s formal. As a date.”

Satoru clenches his jaw, unfairly irritated. He refuses to let it be known, but his poker face is starting to crack. 

“What did you say?”

“I said I’d think about it.” 

He knows it’s selfish of him to be pissed off. No matter how much he wanted to claim you, he ultimately wouldn’t. He didn’t even particularly care about the formal, anyway – considered an afterthought. As usual, he didn’t think ahead. Didn’t imagine the hurt look on your face when you asked him who he was going with. Of course, it didn’t even occur to him that you would want to go.

“Mei,” he answers. “A family friend of sorts. It was my parents’ idea. Sort of a networking thing, I don’t know.”

“Have you slept with her?” you ask, hiding your face.

“God– no. Mei Mei doesn’t care about anything except status, anyway,” he stammers. “We’re friends.”

“Like how you and I are friends.”

“What? No– I mean,” Satoru sighs. His heart sinks a little when he tries to touch you and you turn your head away. “It’s different with us. You’re different.”

“I know I’m different, thanks,” you mumble.

You wish he wasn’t so close to you. You wish the smell of him wasn’t so sweet, so captivating. The warmth of his body next to yours. You wish he’d leave.

“You know what I mean. Hey, look at me. Don’t be mad.”

“I’m fine,” you snap. “Will you let me nap?”

“No, because you’re upset about me having a family obligation–”

“It’s not about her, it’s about–” You choke up. He wouldn’t understand. 

Family obligation. The statement makes you laugh a bit. You flash him a sardonic glare as he stares back. He would never understand what it felt like to be lesser. Barely second-best, barely an option. You imagine him in a suit, his arm around a prettier girl, a girl that exudes the same opulence as him. Cut from the same divine cloth. It would never be you. 

Maybe you shouldn’t feel angry. If it was something that his parents forced him to do, being upset about it wouldn’t change anything. But the mere fact of it reminds you of how long you might have with him – if any of this was worth the trouble. 

“Never mind,” you mutter. “I understand.”

He frowns, his eyes pleading for more from you.

“Makes sense for me to go with Suguru, then, I suppose.”

“Oh.”

Satoru almost winces at the sound of Suguru’s name. His throat tightens. 

You’re right. If anything, beyond a date at the formal, perhaps Suguru deserved you more. He was more polite. Golden-hearted. Never as trivial or obnoxious as Satoru. Always honest. The thought of you two together makes something in Satoru’s stomach lurch. 

Your face is calm, suddenly. A little blank. There’s nothing left to say.

[certifiedloverboyyuuta]

fuck around and find out.

Flirt with Suguru at one's own risk. He’s gonna have his girl come handle that. Then handle him.

(ummmmmm....no woman should come on to my (too) nice man like this but if they do, I hope my man talks to siri like 'call. my. girl. now.’)

Contains; Hard(ish) dom geto suguru, rough fingering, name calling (slut, baby girl, probs whore too if i know myself) exhibition (he finger fucks her where some can see if they’re outside, but oh well) pussy slapping, spanking, one face slap, spit kink. character (you) is kinda rich girl brat/rude/actively entitled in the first dialogue oops get ready for more of her bc geto suguru is no1 brat tamer. Ouji (王子)means prince in Japanese and that’s Suguru’s nickname made a little less corny by being put in Japanese. Also her nickname is of course Hime (姫) bc im that guy.

--

“You know, you’re really pretty. What are you doing here?” Some girl asked him.

“With my girl.”

“No way you're this pretty out here with a girl.”

Suguru huffed a laugh, trying to get out of her radius, but she clung to his wrist. “You haven’t seen my girlfriend.” He laughed again, ripping his limb away from her. “Leave me alone, okay?”

“First years like you usually don't stick with the girls they start college with.”

Suguru gave her a bemused look out of the corner of his eyes, sighing off to the side, trying to track down Satoru and give her another target. For the first time ever, he couldn’t spot a mop of white hair bobbing across the crowd. Thing was, he really hated the attention. He was holding two drinks in his hand, and he needed to get back to his girl, but this chick wasn’t allowing him to get out from behind the little bar system the frat had set up. 

“Whatever you think. Can you move?”

The girl smirked. “I think you’re lying about your girlfriend. I think, me being older and farther along in college is making you nervous.”

Suguru sighed, repeating, “Whatever you think, can you move?”

“I don’t let pretty boys out of my sight that quick. C’mon, hang with me and my friends. We’ll show you a great time.”

His phone was beneath one of the cups, thankfully, so when he instructed ‘hey siri, call Hime-sama,” it dialed and you responded, a bit distanced so he could barely hear you call him a prince, but he still said, loud enough for his iphone to hear, “Some chick is hitting on me, come get her?”

“Are you really calling your girlfriend?” the chick asked, scoffing, “You’re really that loyal to her? You know where she was?”

“I don’t care, I know she’d call me if some dude was doing the same thing. Probably doing shots with her friends, waiting for me to bring her a drink, which you are blocking me from, mind you,” Suguru said, attempting to side step her again, but the woman stopped him again. Now he was getting frustrated. This had been entertaining, at first, but she wouldn’t move, and this kitchen wasn’t nice enough to have an island with two escape routes. At this point, he was considering calling you again, just so he didn’t throw a drink in this chick’s face and be the asshole. He was 20(21 this month) here, underage drinking, and this person looked 26/28, maybe? 

Suguru reflected briefly; this was Satoru’s dream situation. Older woman (kind of).

“Where are you going?” she asked, giving what he thought she thought was a seductive smile. 

His patience flew out the window. “Move,” he said, voice low and cold, glaring down at her. “I want to go see my girlfriend.”

“Just come upstairs with me.”

Thankfully he didn’t have to answer, because he saw his girl hurtling down the spiral staircase, hitting the main floor with a wobble, head whipping from side to side before you spotted him, rolling up the sleeves of your sweater dress. You nearly charged in, taking a look at the situation and making eye contact with him before you slid past the girl to wrap an arm around the back of his neck while you stood up on your tiptoes, kissing him once, twice. “Are you okay?”

“Honestly? Not really. She won’t leave me alone. Told me were bound to break up just because we’re fresh in college.”

You turned against him, your back against his front. He put a drink down to slide an arm around your waist, pressing a kiss to your cheek. You crossed your arms, glaring at the woman. “Can you move, so he can leave? You’re being real weird, right now.”

“I’m not, I just thought-” the woman attempted.

You interrupted, snapping, “Let’s run this down; you won’t leave him alone, he called his girlfriend to get out of this situation, and you’re still here, trying him? That sounds like pressure, that sounds like you are gonna make him do something he doesn’t want to.”

“She told me she and her friends would show me a good time,” he said, setting his chin on the top of your head, enjoying this too much to let anything slide. With your curls fluffed a bit from the humidity in the house by an excess of people you looked like a lion. A very annoyed one.

“What? After you told her you had a girlfriend?” You put your hands on your cocked hips, thick thigh peeking out of the slit in your dress.

Geto set down the second drink, putting both arms around your waist, any nervousness he’d had about the situation throughly calmed by you. He always forgot how good your were at managing people. A smirk touched his face. He was going to keep talking, no matter the consequences. So what he was being mean?

With a gentle kiss to the side of your temple, soft curls brushing his lips, he spoke close to your ear. “Right after, and then I asked her to move. A second time. I asked her three times. Even told me to go upstairs with her. Should.”

You glared in the girl’s direction, crossing your arms over your chest, disturbing the chain of your purse but in your anger you ignored it. “What’s your name? Are you here on scholarship? My dad is on the board. My friend’s dad is on the board. And I have a few acquaintances, with their parents on the board. I think you chose the wrong person to fuck with.”

“I’ll leave.”

“Yea, leave, but i’ll still find out your name,” you called after her as she ran out of the room, fuming next to him.

“Listen, get me a shirt with your face on it. Text that says ‘property of (f/n) (l/n)’ and on the back, ‘my girlfriend’s father is on the board’. These parties are so tiring.”

“I know, Ouji, but we have to seem sociable before we can ignore them the rest of the new year.”

He grumbled, catching you as you tried to leave the circle of his arms. “Let’s go home. Please?”

“Alright, but we can’t irish goodbye this shit. Gotta say goodnight to Satoru and crew.”

“Oh yea?” he asked, gripping your hips with both hands, drawing your ass against him. He leaned in close, murmuring, “feel that? You’re gonna get that as soon as we get home.”

You breathed deep, tipping your head up, rocking your ass back against him. “Promise?”

“For my savior? So many orgasms.” he caught you up by your hips,  squeezing tight. “And you are not going to get out of that, even if you want, pretty girl. Matter of fact,” he hauled you over his shoulder, slapping your ass, forgetting the drinks he was bringing you. “Text them, you’re coming with me.” He wanted out of this party immediately. All he wanted to do was spend time with you and some random had taken that away from him. 

“Sugu, can’t we be polite?” You asked, though you were laughing, two hands bracing yourself against his back as he carried you out of the party. 

 “Nah, call that uber baby girl. I’m gonna make you reconsider your life.” Suguru sat on the outside bench, setting you down on his lap, groaning as you moved to straddle him, struggling to catch your purse in the middle of rearranging themselves.

“Like always?” 

He smacked your cheek before he gripped your jaw, massaging open red lips so he could spit in your mouth. “Call the uber,” he told you, wagging your head back and forth while you swallowed his spit, “be a good girl, or I’m just going to have to fuck you right here.” You moaned at those words and he hummed amusement, gripping the hair at the nape of your neck. He pressed kisses to your cheek, the corner of your lips, raising his honey brown eyes to glance around them. A couple people were watching their antics, not that you noticed, eyes shut, enjoying yourself as you rolled your hips to his.  You draped arms over his shoulders, nails digging into his skin when he released your hair, setting his fingers to the corner of your mouth instead. Suguru sighed as a little ripple of pain went through him,  meeting a few gazes pointedly. Look away. He liked that his girl was enjoying all his fingers and certainly didn't need unattractive voyeurs. 

Eventually he caught your purse, pulling the phone out of the pocket in your cute purse you used for parties; it looked vaguely expensive but not as much as some of your other ones. He relaxed back on the bench and you followed him, tucking your face into his neck. Suguru entered your passcode into your phone, a bit distracted by the kisses you were pressing to his neck. He found the app, ordering the uber; the nice car version. Last time you were in an economy car you nearly had a panic attack. His free hand was cupping your ass, kneading lightly at the flesh, your sweater dress barely covering his hand. He slipped fingers under the lacy panties, tracing over your slit. Fifteen minutes till the escalade arrived. 

“If I make you cum out here, you better do it real quiet, okay?” He murmured, kissing your forehead, cuddling you closer to his chest. “You’re so fucking wet, did defending me turn you on?” You nodded, whining low as he slipped two fingers into your pussy, using his other hand to yank down your dress trying for some decency like it wasn’t obvious what they were doing. “You okay with two or you want three?”

You nodded, cheek rubbing against his chest. Your hips rocked to meet the push of his fingers into you, back arched. 

“Can you be quiet with three?”

Another head shake. This time a no, but pleading eyes looked up at him. You were so cute. He cupped your cheek, bringing you in for a brief kiss. He would give you the world if you ever asked for it. Anything you wanted that wasn’t a danger to your life, he would do it. Suguru couldn't help kissing you again, a bit needy this time, sucking your tongue into his mouth 

“Sit up against me,” he instructed, pressing his hand over your mouth when you did. “By the way, this doesn’t count in your reward tonight. Drink lots of water in that uber.” You tightened up with his words, and he swore he’d never find another girl who could would just go with the flow with him like this. Affectionately, he patted your cheek, murmuring to you, “nasty little slut, you think they all can’t see? I hope it goes around how much of a whore you are for your boyfriend.” You got tighter. He wished it was his dick inside you right now. “Ride my fingers a bit baby, my hand is tired from keeping that dumb chick away from me.”

So you did. He did you the courtesy of angling his fingers so it hit that spot he knew you were looking for. You were dripping down his fingers, poor baby, hips rolling to meet the pressure he gave you. You moaned into his palm, eyes rolling back in your head, hips giving a frantic couple shifts, pussy squeezing around his fingers. Suguru laughed, feeling you cry out against his palm. He shoved your sweater dress down, exposing your shoulders, pressing his lips just above your collarbone, giving your skin a kiss before he bit hard once, twice, different locations. You yelped into his palm, hips jerking again above him. He could already see red beginnings of bruises staining your caramel skin. 

He started a rough pace, fingering you from the back hard as he could, with how squirmy you were getting. So he said, “Stay still, and take it. Cum one more time before the uber gets here, okay?”

And you did. You were sobbing into his hand, tears getting his hand wet, clutching at his arms. Your palms and nails dug into his skin, one hand finally going to his hair, gripping tight, cumming hard again around his fingers. Geto gasped, gritting his teeth against the pain. You wanted to play this game before they got back home, huh? He sat up, two hands on your waist to steady you as he stood them up and pushed you down on the bench, pretty collarbone and pretty face so tempting, he almost had to put his face in your pussy. 

“Told you to stay still. Not grab my hair yet.” 

He put a hand over your mouth again, three fingers back inside you, shielding them from view. You were loud. Sobbing and moaning against his hand as he dragged a third orgasm from you, almost unwilling. He slapped your pussy one, twice, driving three fingers deep into you, feeling you cum again. Suguru laughed, watching you shake beneath him, your pretty brown eyes gazing up at him, a bit glazed over. He pressed kisses all over, fingers working you through your third orgasm in twenty minutes. Good thing you were so sensitive. You kicked at him finally, eyes pleading him for mercy, and he wouldn’t have given it to you had they been in their bed. But here, he did, taking his hand off your mouth, feeling your phone buzz beside you. Uber notification; driver was here. 

Didn’t really matter. He had ten minutes till the uber left. You were still trembling, legs quivering; he was sitting on his knees in front of you, pressing kisses to your thighs. Suguru cleaned each finger that had been inside of you singularly, letting you watch him. He sat up on his knees, arranging your sweater dress properly from where he’d pulled it. Geto even tried to press out the creases, kissed you when he was done and you moaned into his mouth, grateful that when he pulled away he continued to lavish you with kisses.

“Take me home?” You asked, voice airy. 

“Can you walk, or should I carry you?”

“Carry.”

“Anything you want, princess.”