#geto suguru imagines

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈 𝐍𝐄𝐄𝐃 𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐎𝐋𝐃𝐄𝐑 ❞

❝ PROF. GETO'S CLASS IS SO HARD, BUT HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part one of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you were a 4.0, straight A student, until professor geto's class, the same far too hot ethics professor fawned over by faculty and students alike. you didn't understand what was so special about him...until you start having dreams about him.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, masturbation (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), getting off to his voice in recorded lectures, arousal from reading his writing, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, art by @/jatinsohanvi, google scholar graphic by platonic loml @laneysmusings

✧ wc: 10,149 (i have a problem) | part two

“You’re late,” 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto’s class was that you could never be late again, unless you would like to be chided in front of all your peers for your tardiness. 

Your first impression of Professor Suguru Geto himself was that he was truly the most breathtaking man you’d ever laid your eyes on. His inky black locks tied into a neat bun, his deep royal purple vest buttoned over a crisp white button up with pressed gray slacks, his pretty lips pressed in a small frown, as his dark gaze pierced through you. And you don’t know what stirs in your chest — a fleeting moment that is tucked away under a bite of your bottom lip and burning cheeks. 

And now you knew why when you had walked into class, the amount of unfamiliar faces in this course had far outnumbered the ones in your usual course load — the same reason why this man undoubtedly had three chili peppers next to his professor rating on some website out there. 

And now you were faced with him staring you down as you stumbled down the stairs of the all too full lecture hall. 

As you muttered apologies, and took your seat far too close to the front of the class, smack dab in the very front of the very same professor whose eyes still were concentrated on you, before sliding back to the class at large. 

“Now, where were we?” he says, continuing the lecture. 

Ethics was not your major — you were a philosophy grad student, and although the two went hand in hand — no, they were not the same thing. Ethics are the moral principles — like rules to follow to live a moral life — people can follow, while philosophy is the study of knowledge, reality, and existence. And this class encompassed both — an ethics and moral philosophy class. Your eyes slid around the room — and compared to all the random majors stuffed into this classroom, you had no doubt you’d do well. Your eyes met Professor Geto’s — maybe one slight doubt. 

And when you get your first essay back, you eagerly flip to the last page of the paper, wondering what accolades and compliments you��d receive this time. Your eyes find the grade, and your stomach drops, a gaping maw that consumes you from the inside out. 

You got a B. 

A B+ — an 88 on your paper in this course, and you stared at the grade on the very last page of the paper you had collected from his desk — Professor Geto had insisted everyone submit their papers both physically and electronically — his scrawl in red pen littered each page of what you thought was a thoughtful and even clever paper on the existence free will and the ethical and moral dilemmas that surround it. And he had given it an 88. 

You had a 4.0 point average — you had gotten the highest scores in some of the most difficult courses required by your major, and now you were going to be derailed by a class you took on a whim? That’s not happening. No, you were going to get him to change your grade. You were seeing as red as the ink that tore your paper to shreds. 

“Come in,” your knuckles had rapped against Professor Geto’s door, your heart in your throat, as you heard his reply, entering his office. His office was as pretentious as he was. A much larger office than you had seen before (poor Professor Ijichi had a shoebox of an office), while Professor Geto’s was three times the size, outfitted with large, beautiful windows, distinct bookshelves, and even a lovely deep mahogany colored couch with decorative cushions. And you knew why that was the case — Professor Geto was an expert in his field, revered, even at his relatively young age. And the university had coveted him, and managed to lure him to work behind these ivy covered walls. While other professors who have been here longer are stuck with offices that don’t begin to compare. 

Academia was truly hell. 

And yet, Professor Geto seemed to rule over it with an iron fist. Even now, you found your professor looking as annoyingly perfect as ever — his elbow resting against his desk, pen in his other hand, as he flipped through more papers on his desk, his hair in a messy bun, a few black strands falling across his furrowed brow, his pretty lips pursed in concentration, and his dark gaze flicks up from his work to you, and his lips curl, your name leaving his lips, “good to see you, please sit,” 

You had planned to attend these office hours in victory, to apologize for your misstep in the first class, and let your professor praise your paper to no end — but instead you were going to see why your paper was graded so harshly. 

Your speech was ready, you were going to lay it out, you had the perfect explanation and the excellent reasoning “Professor Geto—” 

“I know why you’re here,” he cuts you off, lips forming in an utterly condescending smile, “you want to discuss your paper, correct?” 

“I am, I wanted to—” 

He sits forward in his chair, setting down his pen, “I’m going to save us some time by explaining my comments on your paper, do you have it?” and you close your mouth, pulling the paper out of your folder and handing it to him, “Your paper was one of the best in the class — it was thought provoking, grounded in research, persuasive, even made me consider some points I hadn’t before—” 

You blink, his praise catching you off guard, your thoughts twisting in on themselves, “Then why did you give me B?” 

“You didn’t allow me to finish,” he sighs, as he flips through your paper, looking up to meet your gaze,  “your paper was excellent when it came to philosophical concepts, but your ethical conclusions on the other hand, could use some work,” 

You gaped at him, “What did I possibly—” 

“To put it simply, you were trying to use your knowledge of philosophy to cover up your lack of knowledge in the field of ethics,” 

“I wasn’t—” 

“And that’s okay, because that means I have something to teach you don’t I? That’s why you’re in this course, to learn,” he gives a tight lipped smile, tilting his head. Oh you’d like to learn a lot more from him — like the ethical dilemma of wanting to murder your professor, “and I’m here to teach — and this paper is a teaching moment — and from your expression, I assume you didn’t read the comments I left in detail,” 

And your cheeks burn, as your eyes fall away from him, “Not fully in detail,” you still swallow your shame, and meet his gaze, “I don’t mean to be a bother, Professor, but how can my paper still receive a B — I’ve never received that low of a score on any single paper—” 

“There’s a first time for everything,” and you have to bite back your retort, “yeah first time having an annoying prick for a professor,” and he rises from his desk to hand you back your paper, “the bottom line is, I know you’re capable of better, this class isn’t going to be easy — I’m not going to hand you accolades for no reason. You have to earn them — if you aren’t up for the challenge, you can drop the class.” 

The option was there — you could simply drop the course, rid yourself of Professor Geto and his ridiculous criticism forever. You could take a class with one of the many professors who delighted in your papers (even the ones you’d written at 3 AM and submitted not proofread), and go on with your life and preserve your 4.0 GPA with ease. 

But then you looked at him again. He was unfairly hot, even when he was fucking putting you down, he stood in front of you, offering your paper, his fingers long and thick brushing yours by mistake as you took back your paper, a watch on his wrist gleamed in the low light of his office. You glanced around his office, saw the awards on his walls, pictures of him giving lectures or receiving honors, and the books that lined his shelves weren’t dissimilar to your own academic shelf at home. And your eyes fell back to his, as he stared at you curiously, lips pursed, as your paper slightly crumples in your fist. 

“Next paper is due in two weeks?” and he pauses, before his lips curl in that same grin. 

“Yes it is,” and a smile graces your lips, lightning quick.

Like hell you were going to let him win. You were going to get him to praise your papers (and maybe that wouldn’t be the only thing he praised) — if it was the last thing you do. You’d get an A in his class, hell, you’d get him to beg you to be his teaching assistant (he’d look very nice on his knees for you, wouldn’t he?). 

You rise from your seat, and grab your bag, “I’ll see you at your next office hours then, to discuss my paper topic,” and he watches you leave, his eyes piercing into your back as you do. 

“See you soon.” 

Oh, he would. 

“Right on time,” Professor Geto barely looks up now when you knock on his door, his door now always ajar for office hours. 

Now you had made a habit of showing up for his office hours, you’d bring your paper topic all picked out, along with your handpicked sources you had chosen for your paper, all typed up in a neat bibliography. And he’d kindly rip it apart with that same damn smile on his lips. It had been a few weeks, a few papers later — and you finally had worked your grade up to an A-, not quite an A+, but you’d get there. You had to. 

Because it wasn’t just about your GPA now — you were going to get Professor Geto to praise you — through any means necessary. The man was stubborn, even when you’d come back with an improved draft, he’d only hand it back to you with a smile barely tugging at the corner of his lips, with no compliment to be had — only small check marks scribbled in the margins in your papers, with the occasional “good” written next to it. 

“Well, we all know what happens when I’m late,” he laughs, a noise that makes the ice dagger clutched behind your back ever so slightly melt, “I made you laugh, extra credit?” 

And he rolls his eyes, and you notice that his dark eyes are hidden behind glasses today — and god, why does it only make him even more gorgeous? He’s already brilliant, it’s unfair for him to look as if he was sculpted by the gods as well, “It takes a lot more than a chuckle to earn extra credit,” and you can’t help but bite your lip. 

No, no, he’s the worst. It didn’t matter he was the epitome of every academic’s wet dream, you were above that. You had a goal. 

“So, can we discuss my next paper?” you hand him your bibliography, and he takes it, delicate fingers flipping through, your mind notes the absence of a ring on either hand, before brushing the thought aside. 

“You’re writing on the morality of good or bad actions,” he hums, as he looks over the sources you had chosen, “Scanlon, good — have you read—” 

“‘What We Owe to Each Other?’ Only about a million times — well more like six,” and he nods appreciatively, “of course you’ve read it,” 

“I didn’t just read it, I wrote a paper on it, similar to yours, actually,” and your eyes flick up to meet his, he’s leaning forward in his chair, red pen in hand, as he scribbles notes in the margins, as well as on the back of your bibliography, “of course I don’t have your penchant for rambling,” 

You pout, “I don’t ramble — I like to make my point—” 

“Many times, and the same one,” and your mouth opens, only to find a wry smirk on his lips, “I’m teasing, another one of my very tedious qualities, and how you stand it during class astonishes me,” 

You cross your arms, unable to meet his eyes, as you choose to stare at your bibliography instead, “You’re not completely tedious, more like irritating,” and he huffs a chuckle. 

You had to admit, begrudgingly, Professor Geto was a…good teacher. And you had your fair share of awful teachers — many of them were brilliant, accomplished people in their fields, but didn’t know how to translate and convey that in their lectures to students who simply knew less than them. But Geto…he knew how to break down complex concepts and theories of moral philosophy and ethics to a science, he knows how to make students understand these complicated topics that you had seen other professors fail to, and he does it while being an intellectual dreamboat to most of his students — the ones that swarm his desk after class, still there even as you slowly make your way out of the lecture hall. 

“A rare compliment from you,” he raises an eyebrow, “I’m touched,” 

“You’re one to talk,” you furrow your brow, and a smile pulls at his lips. 

“Didn’t know you wanted my approval,” he tilts his head, leaning forward to lean on his elbow on the desk, “well, you have improved remarkably in the class so far, and if you keep going like this, I may have no choice but to praise you,” 

“You will,”

“Someone is very sure of themselves,” a pause and then he adds with a quirk of his lips, “as you should be,” and he’s sliding your bibliography across the table again, and passes it back, “read the sources I recommended, and see about adding them to your paper — you may have some overlap in the other papers you chose so use your discretion on which ones you use,” 

“So don’t repeat myself?” You raise an eyebrow, and he leans back in his chair, crossing his legs. 

“You learn fast.” 

And you do — returning to your apartment to work on your paper, as you flip through his notes — as much as you hate to admit it, his notes and criticism did help — annoyingly so. He was far more detailed and perceptive than any other professor you had. Most had let you skate by without a second thought, and you wrote papers like you deleted your internet history after a scandalous romp through elicit websites — tools, clear history — and then onto the next paper or exam. But Professor Geto forced you to face your shortcomings, face the things that you didn’t like to give a second glance to, lest your rejection sensitive self feel the agony of having to deal with criticism. 

Each time you did it, you got a little better, and he had a little less to say — time and time again. 

You leaned back on your bed, scrolling through the papers he recommended, but so what? So what if he was a good teacher? Doesn’t mean he has to be as infuriating as he is — he knew exactly what to do to get under your skin, and he didn’t prod at it, he scratched it. 

And you found yourself typing his name (“suguru geto”) and T.M. Scanlon’s name into the search bar of your university’s library collection, and his paper pops up right on top. 

You stare at the paper for a good minute, before you click on it — and you start reading. And reading. And reading — and fuck— 

It was good. It was more than that — it gave you so much insight on this topic, it made you rediscover T.M. Scanlon’s work in a new light — and you bite your lip. And it wasn’t just the research — the way it organized, the way it was presented, the way it was written — it was eloquent, but it wasn’t unreadable or incomprehensible. It was…really good. 

You imagined him, pouring over Scanlon’s work as he wrote notes in the margins of his copy, pages dogeared and passages highlighted, as he sat in his office typing away at this paper. His sleeves rolled up, his hair let out of his usual bun, his glasses perched on his nose as he read, only his desk lamp and computer illuminating his office. The keys of his computer clacking under his touch, lengthy fingers pitter pattering as he wrote his thoughts and analysis of Scanlon’s work — his brow furrowed in thought. 

And you felt yourself flush, swallowing the lump in your throat, as you kicked off your blanket — it was so warm all of a sudden, pressing your thighs together. You shook the thoughts from your mind — what the hell were you doing? You glanced at the time, 2:39 AM it read back at you mockingly. You sigh, shutting your laptop down, and putting it aside — you need to do your skincare and brush your teeth. You glance back at your laptop—the familiar of your flush clung to your skin like a forbidden kiss— 

And you clearly needed sleep. 

“Can you read this passage to me?” Professor Geto’s voice said, as he stood in front of you in the lecture hall — as you stood behind the podium that faced the entire class — hands in his pockets, in an olive henley, his hair tied in the usual neat bun, his black bangs falling in his eyes as always, glasses on, instead of the usual contacts. The class sat all around you — his exercise in getting the class to participate and get comfortable speaking in front of others, just as philosophers had done in the past (his very own “literary salon” he called it). 

You swallow, keeping your eyes fixed on the book in front of you, “‘When I ask myself what reason the fact that an action would be wrong provides me with not to do it, my answer is that such an action would be one that I could not justify to others on ground I could expect them to accept—’” 

“What do you think Scanlon meant by this?” he asks you, but his gaze was different this time, it held the amusement it always did when it came to you, but it was warm — no — it was burning. His lips were pursed, as he crossed his arms, the henley’s fabric seemingly straining under the action. 

“He meant that an action that is wrong in his eyes when he couldn’t expect others to accept the ground on which he could justify it,” and his lips curve into that damned smile, as he takes a few steps closer, rounding the podium, as he brushes past you, the brief touch of temptation incarnate — the dangling apple of Tantalus personified before you. 

“And can you give me some examples of what kinds of actions would be wrong?” and he’s standing behind you now, and you can’t bring yourself to look at him — but you can feel his gaze on you. 

“Senseless murder,” and he hums in approval, his breath felt like it was warming your skin, “wanton violence, reckless assault—” 

“What other everyday wrongdoings could fall under this category?” and suddenly the class before you is gone, and it’s just the two of you in an empty lecture hall, “theft, lying, student-teacher relationships?” 

And your breath catches in your throat, his cologne strangling any sense left in your mind, as his body heat nearly radiates off him, “Professor Geto—” 

“Suguru,” he corrects you, and he’s reaching for you, but he pauses, “can I—” and you only can nod, and his fingers brush your hair aside, ever so gently, “would this be considered a moral wrongness, sweetheart?” his lips press a chaste kiss to your shoulder, and you shiver at the softness of his touch. 

“Well, I am a student in your class, and even though I’m of age, it presents a power dynamic and a favoritism that might be—” and your sentence cuts off as his arms wind their way around your waist, pressing himself to your back, “I—” 

“Go on,” he’s murmuring his words against the nape of your neck now, as he pulls his glasses off to place them on the podium, “might be what?” 

“Might be viewed as morally wrong—” and he’s chuckling, the vibration sending a delicious shiver down your spine, as he presses more butterfly kisses to your neck. 

“How can something be wrong when it feels so right?” he asks, and his hand is sliding down your side, “feels so good, does it even matter what society views as right or wrong? Do their rules pertain to what we’re doing here?” and his fingers toy with the hem of your pants, teasing and pulling, as he pauses, waiting for your answer, “what do you think—” 

“Please,” you swallow, as you turn to look at him, seeing his lips in that same smile that haunted you, “touch me,” 

And his smile only grows wider, “Good girl.” 

BUZZ. BUZZ. BUZZ. 

Your eyes flutter open, your breath caught in your throat, as you stare at your ceiling, your hand reaching for your phone to silence the alarm. And you squeeze your thighs together, a distinct ache between your legs, your skin all too warm. 

What the fuck was that? 

You skip office hours the next week. You couldn’t bear it — you could barely tolerate going to class now, as the dream invades your nights, with filthy variations that leave you perturbed and horny (mostly horny). The common theme only being that each time you get close to anything remotely that’s anything (a kiss, a touch that’s more than a caress, anything at all), you wake up. 

It’s as if your dreams are edging you — you groan into your pillow — and it was working. 

You’re so wound up, you’ve even resorted to using your vibrator before bed, wondering if that would make a difference — it did, but only with you having a dream of Professor Geto using a vibrator on you during class — the vibrations growing even faster when you were speaking as he watched you— 

You needed to stop thinking about this. But how can you? 

God, it’s even worse when you’re in class. You sit in your usual seat, front and center — and why does it feel like his eyes are on you far too often? Even as he lectures Professor Geto attempts to catch your eye during his lecture, trying to make a point, you all but glue your gaze down to the textbook and your laptop, typing away his words, trying to drown out the whispered words and groans from your dream that ring in your ears. You can’t stop seeing him — unless you want to skip class, which you really couldn’t when attendance and participation counted for a good chunk of your grade. 

Class ended and you were packing up your things. You had to weather the storm — avoid being alone with him until the dreams were just a distant memory— 

And then you heard him say your name— 

Your eyes flick up to meet Professor Geto — who had his usual swarm of students waiting by his desk, but he parted the crowd, he approached your own seat, hands in your pockets, “Do you have a class after this?” 

“No, I don’t—” the words slip out before your sleep deprived mind can put the pieces together. 

“Then can you please stay after class? I’d like to talk to you,” he says, and before you can say anything, he turns to speak to the students waiting for him. 

And now you wait — your anxious energy singing at the frayed ends of your nerves, as you tried to hold yourself together — wondering what he could possibly want to speak to you about. His students dissipated one by one, until it was just you and him left in the lecture hall. 

Just. Like. Your. Fucking. Dream. 

You round the row you sat in, before walking down to speak to him, “Is there something wrong? The next paper isn’t due until the end of next week—” 

“It isn’t about the paper,” and your heart squeezes, as you try to keep your breathing even, as he steps closer — and why, why did he have to opt to only wear a button up today —  and a deep royal purple one no less,  “I wanted to check in with you,” and he begins to undo the cuffs of his shirt, rolling them up — exposing his forearms and the pretty veins that ran along them — the same arms that he had used in one of your dreams to bend you over that desk, the whispers of heated kisses along your neck—

You needed to get out of here. 

You blink, “I’m fine,” and he tilts his head. 

“I only ask because you’ve looked tired the last two classes, and you didn’t show up for office hours this week,” he crosses his arms, unhelpfully, as he purses his lips, the lines of his brow furrowed. 

“I’m fine, Professor, I appreciate your concern — I just haven’t been sleeping well,” you admit — it was the truth, “and that’s why I didn’t come to office hours. I was trying to catch up on sleep,” 

He nods, sighing, fingers raking through his hair — those same fingers that would feel so pretty around your neck— “I know I’m hard on you,” oh he would be, “but it’s because I know you’re capable of more — most of these students are taking the class for an elective, but I know it’s more than that for you,” yes, it’s so you can finally earn his praise, “but I’m also here for your benefit, so if you need an extension or anything else, please let me know,” 

God, all you wanted was for him to maybe wrap you in his arms and kiss you, or bend you over, pull your clothes off and fuck you, or just to leave you alone all together. 

You weren’t sure which one you wanted the most at this moment. 

“I will, Professor Geto, I appreciate it,” you murmur, biting your lip, as you try to focus on the task at hand — getting out of here, “I don’t think I need an extension, I’ve made good progress so far. I just need to finish it, so I can revise,”

“Well, let me know if anything changes,” his lips curl, “ok?” And you nod, and if you weren’t so hyperaware, you swore you would have imagined it — but you didn’t, “good girl,” 

And you pause a moment — his lips did move, you pinch yourself discreetly — and you know it isn’t a fucking dream. You only smile in return, giving a curt nod and goodbye, before beelining out of the classroom. 

But you didn’t stick around long enough to see the slight flush on Professor Geto’s cheeks — nor did you know that you two were thinking the same thing about yourselves— 

What the fuck were you doing? 

But to your relief, the dreams do subside, and you’re finally able to rest — but the thing that doesn’t subside is your awareness of your professor. 

You sit in class, watching him teach — and you knew he was attractive, hell, it was one of the things that made you all the more embarrassed to have him ream you out — having your super hot professor rail at you for your mistakes wasn’t on your list of shining achievements (lest it was him actually railing you—). 

You needed to stop doing that. 

But it felt as if you weren’t the only one who was hyper aware. You felt as if his eyes skimmed over you during class this week, his replies to your weekly discussion board were less biting than usual, and his office hours were surprisingly canceled this week. First time all semester, but you weren’t so full of yourself that you thought it had anything to do with you — right? 

Either way, you had submitted your paper and now you were done with this week—and as class finishes, you slowly pack up, looking forward to the week being over with and for a personal rendezvous with your bed. But as the usual gaggle of students make their way to chat with Professor Geto, your eyes flicker up to meet his, as he stares back a moment. 

And you can’t make yourself look away, and for a moment, neither can he. 

But then a student calls for his attention, so his eyes flicker away, a smile on his lips as he spoke — and you turn to leave, grabbing your bag, as you look back— 

But why did his smile look so strained? 

There must be something wrong with him. 

Professor Suguru Geto drummed his fingers against his desk, but he felt more like shoving his things off his desk — if only to distract him for a moment. He pulls his glasses off, and runs a hand down his face—god, he hadn’t been sleeping well. No, his nights were plagued, plagued by you — you had slipped into his dreams ever since that day he stopped you. 

Why had he stopped you? 

It wasn’t the first time he had personally stopped a student who seemed to be struggling, he could count the times he had on both his hands. 

But this, this felt different. 

You were different. 

But why were you different to him? He rubs his temples, from the moment you had stepped into his office he thought he had read you — an overachieving student used to getting their way, As handed out to them, and an inability to take criticism. 

He knew, because he used to be one of them. But he knew you needed to be challenged to grow — but it was a matter if you would accept it. And from the moment you asked him when the next paper was due, he couldn’t help but smile. 

And his time spent in office hours with you grew more enjoyable each time you came. And when you hadn’t last week, he couldn’t sit still, checking the time, checking his email, and even checking if his office hours had been accidentally listed wrong in his weekly email to the class (they weren’t). And the hour and half passed with many students hungry for his time and his charm  — but not the  one he was looking for. 

Then those words had slipped from his tongue when he had stopped you, left his mouth like he was possessed, and now he had found himself here. Found himself thinking about how your lips parted when he said it, thinking about how you were feeling, thinking about you, you, you— 

There’s a knock at the door, “Professor Geto?” 

And it was you. 

“I apologize, I know you canceled office hours, but I just had a few questions I didn’t get to ask you in class,” your fingers toy with the ring you wore, a folder in hand, a soft smile on your lips. 

“Of course, come in,” and you did, your dress was painfully short, the fabric riding up as you sat, the folder in your lap, “is this about your paper?” 

“It is, I was reading a few papers, and after our conversation, I couldn’t help but find your paper,” and he tilts his head, “and I want to include it as a source in my paper, but I had a few points you made that I wanted clarified,” 

He raises an eyebrow, and he can’t help but tease,  “Clarified or criticized? Are you planning on turning the tables on me?” 

“Well I do have a red pen,” you click your pen, lips curved in a smile, and there’s a hint of heat that he wishes to unearth, pluck from the earth and possess himself, “but I promise I’ll be civil,”

 “I have no doubt,” he had a million when it came to you — but that wasn’t one of them. He runs his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “of course, let’s discuss it,” 

“You discuss Scanlon’s idea of a social contract, everyone within this moral society agrees on what’s right and what’s wrong — the basic principle is that if there is a rule no one can reasonably reject as a basis, but is there such a rule that can exist?” 

He tilts his head, “Scanlon’s theory relies on this premise — are you questioning me or the premise?” 

“Both, actually,” you shrug, crossing your legs, “is there a magic switch that changes every person to be rational? Because I think only rational people can agree on what rules cannot be reasonably rejected — what about people who are cruel, inconsiderate, self-absorbed? Do those traits go away when operating under Scanlon’s social contract? You propose in your paper that moral reasons are not subjective — nothing is uncolored by human opinion,” 

“No, but—” 

“How can we agree on what is truly right or wrong? How can one hundred people agree on that when everyone views these actions in different ways? Right and wrong? Black, white, or gray?” you rise from your chair to hand him his paper printed out, the paper more red than white with the amount of writing you’ve done, “like for example,” you lean forward, your hand braced against the edge of his desk, “can one hundred people agree that student-teacher relationships are wrong? Because one veto,” your hand trails ever closer to his, toeing that dangerous line either of you had even yet to approach to cross. But here you were, seemingly barreling toward it. 

And he didn’t want to pull away. 

He swallows, whispering your name, “This can’t—” and you were so close — too close, your perfume hypnotized him, your fingers brush against his and he can’t help but hold them, his thumb rubbing across your knuckles, “they can agree that it’s wrong — the power imbalance from the authority of the professor and the age difference—” 

“I disagree, so the rule isn’t legitimate, right? Even if one disagrees, the rule cannot be make valid,” and his breath catches as your fingers slide up his arm now, resting on his shoulder, as you lean over his chair now, as your other hand toys with the loose strands of his hair, “if the two of us can’t even agree, then how could a hundred, or a thousand, or a million?” 

“But—” 

“But what?” you pout, your fingers dragging down his chest, toying with the top button of his button down, “I don’t see you pulling away, do you want me to stop, Professor? Because I will,” 

And he swallows thickly, but he can’t stop you — he doesn’t want to, “But, we shouldn’t — it isn’t a reasonable objection—” he tries his hardest to stand firm, but he only crumbles when your fingers brush his cheek, tracing the cut of his jaw. And it feels like flames tickling at his skin, begging him to thrust his hand into the fire. 

“Like I said, people are not reasonable,” your lips draw closer, and he can feel your breath warm his own, and god, why are you so tempting? And your lips stop short, barely an inch between your faces, “and besides, would you rather be reasonable or satisfied?” 

And there’s only one answer — you. 

He leans forward, lips nearly brushing yours— 

RING. RING. RING.

He jerks awake from his desk, papers sliding as he does, his breath caught in his throat, and his eyes wander — and finds no one else there. 

A dream. He runs his fingers through his hair again, crumpling the paper he had oh so lovingly drooled during his nap. He needed to get his shit together. 

But his current predicament wasn’t making that easy — his cock strained against the fabric of his pants — was he a grown adult or a horny teenager? 

Fuck. It wasn’t going away — no matter what he thought, his mind kept circling back to you. 

And his eyes slide to the time: 1:40 AM. 

Far past the time any soul would be here, even cleaning staff would have been long gone. It was just him—

And you. 

“So good for me, baby,” he’s panting, palming his erection, an embarrassing amount of precum drips from his cock for a barely wet dream. He ignores the gnawing guilt in the back of his mind — but he can’t help but imagine the image of you, spread out on his desk, hiking that oh so teasing sundress up, only to find your underwear drenched — just for him. 

His fingers would slide up your plush thighs, squeezing to draw a gasp from your pretty lips, “Professor—“ you’d say, unable to form a sentence, all those brilliant falling away under his touch, until it was just him occupying every crevice of your mind. 

“Where’s that mouth now? So needy f’me,” he’d murmur, “but such a good girl,” and you were, his thumb tracing his slit, smearing his pre-cum, as he imagined you spread on his desk, your puffy folds nearly showing through your far too translucent panties, “my best student’s so pliant for me now,”

And his hand moves faster, and he can imagine your fingers reaching for him too, your smaller fingers wouldn’t be able to even touch as much as he can — but god it would feel so much better. 

But he’d want you to feel even better than he did.  

He’d tug your underwear down, stuffing it in his pocket (his fee for all of additional office hours), and he would prep you right — fuck you open with his fingers, two or three, before he tasted you. Your fingers would dig into his scalp as you moaned his name again and again, before you came all over his face. 

He’d lick his lips clean of your release, before dragging his cock down your sweet cunt, watching his precum mix with your cum, as your walls flutter around nothing, craving to have him sink into you. 

“Professor, please,” you’d beg with pretty, kiss bitten lips between pants, “please,” 

“Where’s all those quips now, sweetheart?” he’d tease, as he would let his tip tease your clit, pulling a moan from your lips, “all those words fall away when you want this cock, don’t they? Been thinking about you like this, wondering what you’d look like spread out under me,” and he would lean down to kiss you, “it’s even better than I expected,”

He’s jerking himself off in earnest now, the lewd noises of his hand around his cock filling most of the silence, his low groans filling the rest. And he’d finally sink into you, inch by inch, until he’d kiss your cervix with his weeping tip. 

And, god, he wishes his fingers fisted around his cock would be as good as your cunt would feel around him. He would fuck you slow at first, “I know those boys can’t fuck you as good as I can, as well as I can,” he’d tell you, as he would pick up the pace when you’d tell him to, making you cum again and again with his cock, thumb rubbing at your clit, until he was finally close. He’d either cum all over your stomach, marking you with his release, or if you’d let him, he’d cum inside you, filling you with his seed—and then he’d watch it drip out when he would pull out. He groans your name lowly, shuddering as he comes all over his hand, hard. 

Fuck. 

That’s the hardest he’d cum in a long time. He’s a mess — panting and flushed, as he leans back, head against the back of his  chair, too spent to even clean up. And then he finally does, cleaning himself up well, and collecting his things to leave the office. 

But he only treated the symptoms, not the problem itself. His hard-on is gone, but his mind is still filled with thoughts of you. How he’d kiss you sweetly after, how he’d clean you up, care for you gently, make you rest because you never seem to do enough of that, and he’d let you relax — finally relax, as you slept the night in his arms. 

As he heads to his car, he knows that he’s utterly fucked (without even being fucked) because he has feelings for you. And he didn’t know if they were going to go away as easily as he hoped. 

But he hoped they would. He owed it to you, your education, and your future career not to act on these feelings. 

And he sighs as he sits in his car, starting it, but why did it hurt not to? 

It was that time again. 

Your next paper had come around again, and you needed to prepare a topic before you went to speak to Professor Geto. You had put it off, something you had never done with his class, but you wanted to limit the amount of time you spent with him, if only for the sake of your heart. 

Watching him in lectures was bad enough, your thighs pressing together as you watched him speak, his impeccable looks and intelligence a deadly combination for your heart (and your body). You could barely focus, your eyes too fixed on the way he wrote on the board —  his fingers too lithe and too thick, his voice all too alluring when discussing Kant and Aristotle and you can’t help but think what he’d sound moaning your name. 

God. Fuck.  

Either way, you needed to listen to the lectures again since you weren’t able to pay attention. Maybe without watching the video would be better, you settle on your bed, notebook and pen in hand, as you place your headphones on. His voice filled your ears, and you’re scrawling notes. 

But your mind begins to wander. He’s lecturing on the deontological ethics, and all you can think about is how he could make you cum with just that voice of his.  

Shit, you shifted your thighs again, feeling that familiar ache again. What would he sound like when he moaned? How would it sound to have him touch you, run those long fingers down your thighs, and whisper filthy things in your ear? 

As you listened to the lecture, his voice became white noise as your fingers slipped past the waistband of your shorts, and you shut your eyes. 

“That’s it, sweetheart, spread your legs for me,” he’d murmur in your ear, his chest pressed to your back and he’s urge your thighs wider, and his fingers would press against the wet patch on your panties, and he’d hum, “so wet f’me and I haven’t touched you yet, Princess,” his lips would kiss your pulse, “you like my voice that much?” 

“Professor,” you gasp, as his fingers would tease you through your underwear, the fabric growing more soaked by the second, “please—“ and his thumb would ghost around your clit, teasing you, as his long fingers would piston in and out — they would reach so much fucking deeper “I need to—“ 

“Already begging? I knew you learned fast, but not this fast,” and his fingers would tug the crotch of your panties aside, his fingertips tracing around your outer lips, before a finger pushes past your sweet cunt, “fuck, my favorite student’s pussy is so fucking tight. These boys are not fucking you right,” and you whimper, his finger would be so much thicker than yours, as you glide another finger inside you, the two dragging against your walls, “listen to your pretty cunt,” he’d grin against your skin, “and the wet squelch of your pussy, “so pliant for me, takes my fingers so well,” he’d murmur with a chuckle, “practically swallowing me up,” 

And you’re bucking your hips against him, wanting, needing him deeper, because your fingers don’t reach as far as his does, moans leaving your lips. 

“I’m so—” you’re moving faster and faster, his lecture still filling your ears, your pre-cum soaking your shorts and onto the bed sheets, “I can’t—” 

“Come on, Princess, use those big words of yours, you have no problem usually,” his hot words would whisper in your ear, and you’d hear him rub his erection against your ass, trying to get himself off, and you’d grind against him, wanting any friction, “tell me,” 

“Let me cum, please,” and he would smile, running his fingers through your hair, before he bore his thumb down on your clit and sunk a third finger into your needy cunt, just as you did now. And it’s too much for you, your toes curl, your messy walls fluttering around your fingers, as you cum all over your shorts and sheets with a groan of his name. Your fingers were soaked, as you pant, trying to gather yourself, as you came down from your high. 

“Fuck,” you murmur, tugging off your headphones, so your cunt doesn’t have to twitch listening to his dulcet words again. And you’re pulling your fingers out, your cum dripped down your fingers, as you shifted, far too wet underneath you, as you tried to slip off your bed to take a shower and clean yourself up. 

And then you realized, you didn’t even hear any of the lecture. 

Double fuck. 

Why was this so difficult? 

You stood near his office, trying to work up the urge to approach his door for office hours? Since it’s almost the end of the semester, there had been an influx of students attending office hours, and with everything, you had found excuses in your head to avoid office hours. But you couldn’t avoid him anymore. 

For your final paper in the class, you had to have a meeting with him during office hours to discuss your topic, complete with bibliography and outline. And it was almost time for your meeting. 

But you didn’t know how to go in. 

The last few weeks in class have made things worse. You couldn’t help but watch the other students fawn over Professor Geto, his lips curled as he spoke to them. And you’d leave class without a word. You had to stick through the semester and your feelings would disappear with time. You wouldn’t have to see him, you wouldn’t have class anymore, and you couldn’t talk to him. 

Or wouldn’t. 

But now you had to. And you didn’t know how— otherwise than just to do it. 

You knock at his door, “Come in,” and you open the door to see an empty desk, blinking, “I’m over here,”

And your head snaps to your right, and Professor Geto is sitting on his couch, his legs crossed with a stack of papers in hand. His jacket is slung over the side of the couch, his deep maroon button up sleeves rolled up, glasses perched on the tip of his nose. 

“I thought you lived at your desk,” you raise an eyebrow, “decided to change it up for the end of the semester?” 

“Everyone needs a change of scenery,” he leans forward, placing the stack of papers on the table in front of him, “do you want to sit here or move to the desk?” 

You shift in place, before moving to the couch beside him, “This is fine,” he stares, “what?” 

“Just surprised, you always have something to say,” he leans on his elbow, “no smart remarks today?” 

“Fresh out, can I offer you my proposal for the final paper instead?” You say dryly, and he cracks a smile, holding out your proposal. He clicks his red pen, readying his sword. 

He takes it, his dark eyes darting back and forth as he reads, his brow furrowed in concentration — and you can’t help but want to reach out and smooth his brow for him, tease him that he’ll get wrinkles. But you can’t. Can’t because that would cross a line that neither of you should cross. 

“You’ve come a long way,” he says, as he flips it back the front, writing only a few notes here and there. 

“But?” You wait for it. 

His gaze flickers up, a tilt of his head, “That was the end of my sentence,” 

You pause a moment, “Really?” 

“Really,” he scribbles a few more notes, “I look forward to reading the paper, it will be excellent I’m sure, maybe you’ll even get higher than a B+,” 

“Oh, ha, ha,” sarcasm dripping from your tongue, but you can’t help but smile, “you’ll miss me and my endless need for academic validation,” but was it really academic validation you were after now — your eyes gazed at him sitting with the tip of his pen pressed to his lips — or was it his? 

And it’s his turn to pause, and his lips curl into a soft smile, “I will,” 

Your breath catches, “Really?” 

He chuckles, “Really,” he licks his lips, his eyes glancing downward at your proposal than at your face, “I’ve enjoyed our chats this semester,” 

“Have you? Even when I argued with you,” a half nervous half serious laugh dies on your lips when his gaze meets yours, far too serious for your heart to take. 

“Especially then,” his fingers run through his hair a moment, before he speaks again, “I can’t say you could say the same,” 

“And why couldn’t you?” his eyes flicker with an emotion you can’t grasp fast enough, before it slips away into the depths of his dark irises. 

“Because you stopped coming,” his voice is soft, his tone barely even, and this gives you a real pause, heat flushing your body, as if his words had set every nerve ending alight, your mouth growing dry along with it, and it gives him a reprieve he needs to brush it aside, “you don’t have to, of course, these office hours are not relevant to your—” 

“I didn’t stop coming because I didn’t enjoy it,” you cut him off, swallowing the lump in your throat, “I stopped coming because I did,” 

He stares, “What do you—” 

“I don’t want academic validation anymore, I don’t care about my GPA,” you consider it a moment, “ok I do,” and he snorts, “but I care more about validation from you,” 

“From me?” he says, and his gaze tries to meet yours and it can’t — but his fingers brush against your skin, making your breath catch, your eyes finding his, “and what kind of validation do you want?” 

And you can’t find the words, and you hesitation makes him shake his head, “I apologize, I shouldn’t have—” 

“Will you have a drink with me?” and he’s speechless for once, “after the semester is over, of course — I know it wouldn’t be ethical before,” 

And his eyes find yours again, “Some would say it would be unethical after too,” 

“I would say it depends,” 

“On what basis?” and you can’t help but smirk. 

“Am I being graded, Professor?” and you delight in a small crack in his smiling veneer as a light flush dusts the tops of his ears, “and if I’m good, will you call me a good girl again?” 

He swallows, “I don’t want to cost you your education or your—” 

“I understand the risks, but we aren’t contemplating shifting a trolley to hit one person or five, or murdering one healthy person to save five sick ones,” and he raises an eyebrow, “it’s a drink to celebrate the end of the semester,” 

“And if it's something more?” he nearly whispers, the softness of his voice reflected in his features, as his fingers that rested on the couch twitched beside yours. 

“Then we’ll cross that bridge then,” and then you add with a small smile, “Or hit the metaphorical person with the trolley,” and it pulls at the corners of his lips. 

“You make a fair point,” and you gasp in mock surprise.

“The first time all semester you agree with me,” and he chuckles, a noise you wished you could hear him make innumerable times more. 

“Not the first,” he replies, before leaning forward, pressing your outline back into your hands, his fingers brushing yours, “we both agree you’re a good girl, don’t we?” 

And your breath catches, his words warm your skin, turning your blood to lava, “Professor,” and he smiles again. 

“When we go for drinks, call me Suguru.” 

~~~~ 

The semester wears on and finally draws to an end, but finals induced hibernation begins for you. A mix of papers and exams, you finish everything — including your paper for Professor Geto’s class. As always, he has you submit a paper and electronic copy, the paper copy to be dropped off at his office mailbox. And you do just that, the mailboxes being only around the corner from his office, and your heart squeezes at the thought of him. After this, the class was over, it was done. You weren’t his student anymore. 

And you place the paper into the mailbox and sigh, chewing your lip as you pass by his office, but find the door closed (and locked, as you quickly turned the doorknob to test it). Where was he? This was the time he was usually in his office, but maybe he had left campus for the semester — had he forgotten about your drinks? 

Fuck. You hadn’t even discussed a time or place, you had left it vague — “after finals.” Your cheeks burned at the memory, you were far too flustered to elaborate. And you had spent far too many nights imagining him calling you a ‘good girl’ in many other situations. 

And then you heard a call of your name, your gaze snapping up, your heart leaping, but only to see the department head. 

“Hi Professor, how are you?” and the two of you make polite chit-chat, until he asks you. 

“Have you applied to be a T.A. for the department?” and you blink, “applications just opened and I think from what I’ve heard about you around the department, I think you would be an excellent candidate.” 

“I’d love to be — how does the application process work?” and he explains that it’s a double blind process where applications are viewed without personal information of the candidates, and then matched with a professor based only on resume and writing samples. 

You can barely listen to the department head, still far too distracted with thoughts of Professor Geto — so you agree to apply, if only to placate the department head, and make an excuse to leave. 

It had been a week or so, as you lay in bed in your apartment, staring at your ceiling — you hadn’t even bothered to get Professor Geto’s personal number. You couldn’t even reach out to him if you tried, as the only way you could was through his university email, which was out of the question — the university had rules against a professor and student dating, and if anyone found that email — you sighed — it wouldn’t be good. 

Maybe it was for the best. 

The only communication you had gotten from him was an email from Professor Geto’s mailing list to the class from a few days ago, stating that he was out of state in a conference, and he would return soon, but your grades would be emailed to you. But the paper copies would be available to pick up in his office from 3:00 PM to 6:00 PM on Tuesday. It was almost time to pick up your paper, and your nerves bit at you as you thought about the possibility of seeing him. Who knows if he would even be there to begin with. 

Would it be anything? Would it be nothing? Was there not any point to this at all? 

Oh, great, you were becoming existential. 

You sat up, the only thing you could do was go. So you do, taking your time to get dressed. If you were going to see him, you might as well look your best. 

Fuck. You couldn’t go in. It had taken you longer to get back to campus than you thought, and now there were only a few minutes of his office hours left.

And you’re about to knock when the door opens, and you find yourself face to face with the man who has consumed every thought of yours for the last few months — good and bad alike. 

“Late again?” and you can’t help but smile. 

“I prefer fashionably late,” and his eyes rake over your outfit, making your cheeks burn. 

“You certainly are,” and he steps aside to allow you into his office, and you glance between the couch and the desk, but he makes the choice and sits at his desk, “I have your paper right here,” and he’s rifling through his file of papers, “how did your finals go?” 

“If I have an A on this paper, perfectly,” and a smile tugs at his lips, and you raise an eyebrow, “what? Something funny?” 

“Not at all,” and he pulls your paper out, ha “I just recall you saying you wanted something more than, what was it? ‘My academic validation?’” 

And your cheeks flush, “I did, but I also didn’t hear from you,” and your fingers reach for the paper, and he holds onto it, “Professor,” 

“I couldn’t reach out to you because I was still your professor, but once you get this grade, I’m not anymore,” and his gaze is sharper without his glasses today, his dark blue Henley doing nothing to help the flush on your cheeks — memories of your dreams flooding your mind, “and once you get this grade back, I’m not anymore,” 

“And what does that mean?” you can’t pull your eyes away from his, but his fingers let go of your graded paper, “how about you look at the last page of your paper and see?” 

You pull the paper into your hands, flipping to the last page: 

99 — I was impressed by this paper not only by the content but by its comprehension and use of both ethics and philosophy. But I was also impressed by the person who wrote the paper. You’ve shown determination and growth throughout the semester — and you have reminded me what we owe to each other. And I think we owe each other a drink, and a chance for this. 

You feel his eyes watch you as you read, your eyes finally meeting his — his brow knit together, his lips pursed, concentrated gaze trying to decipher your reaction. 

“Why a 99?” And his eyebrows raise, as if to ask, “that’s your question?” 

“You had some spelling and grammar errors,” 

“Really? You couldn’t let it slide?” And he tilts his head, before he sees your lips curling into a grin. 

“So you think it’s funny to mess with your professor?” And his voice drops, a playful tone that makes you nearly shiver, as he leans forward, resting his chin against his elbow. 

“You’re not my professor anymore, are you, Suguru?” he likes that by the way his teeth bite his bottom lip briefly, his eyes flitting to your lips for a moment and back to your eyes, “so I guess we’re using that trolley after all,” 

“If you want to,” he says softly, “I wouldn’t blame you if you change your mind, it’s a risk,” 

It was. It was a risk to your reputations, your careers, your futures — especially to yours. But, your eyes met his again. 

“Contractualism is about avoiding risk,” and he nods, as his gaze falls away, “but some risk is necessary in life, and I think this is one that’s worth taking,” 

“We will have to be careful,” he murmurs, but already his fingers are twitching, far too eager to touch you, “we can’t make any mistakes. I don’t want to hurt you,” he adds softly. 

“I know, I don’t want to hurt you either,” and you rise before slowly rounding his desk, “but I want to know what it’s like,” 

And he can’t stop himself — he gets to his feet, his fingers finding your cheeks and he kisses you. You can taste the black coffee on his lips, his kiss is gentle at first, so chaste and fleeting that you’d swear he didn’t kiss you at all — and so it’s not a second before your lips find his again, in a deeper kiss that steals every ounce of breath from your lungs, and leaves only heat behind. This was dangerous. The very risk you were both trying to avoid, but as he’s pressing you into the edge of his desk, you can’t find the logic you misplaced when those goddamn fingers you’ve been dreaming about squeeze your hips. 

“Fuck,” he’s panting — god that word sounded more sinful on his lips than it should — as he presses sweet kisses to your neck, “we shouldn’t be doing this here,” 

“Not very ethical,” you chuckle breathlessly, as your fingers rake through his now disheveled bun, “but I can’t find the sense to care,” your noses brush, as you can’t help but smile, “what would Scanlon or Kant say about this?” 

And his arms lift you onto his desk, several papers crumpling underneath, “Who the fuck cares?” he’s hissing, his lips find yours in a searing kiss, as his thighs press yours apart, as he settles himself between your legs, his knee grazing your core, drawing a delightful gasp from your lips, “I know what I want,” and his eyes soften, his fingers tracing the length of your cheek, “do you?” 

Before you can answer, two pings catch your attention — your phone and his computer lighting up with a notification, and you both pause a moment, as your eyes glance at the banner notification on your phone, skimming over the words. The T.A. positions have been assigned. 

“Fuck,” you hear him mutter, and you gaze snaps up to his on his computer, the email now opened on his screen, “this can’t be right—” 

“What is it—” and the question dies on your lips as your eyes find where his rested — 

You — you were his T.A. for next semester — for the very class that you met in. 

Fuck, indeed. 

✧ read part 2 now

✧ a/n: lets all remember that student and teacher relationships are bad in real life. it's ok to live vicariously through reader but unfortunately no professor will be as hot as professor geto or gojo T_T. s/o to @/laneymusings and @bucky-of-the-opera for beta reading this for me and being just absolutely wonderful!!

✧ tag list: @sokkasmoon, @unoriginalideas, @waytootiredforthisss, @sinnerstardoll, @secret-pages-of-my-heart, @drthymby, @hanlay, @catsgomurp, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @esuz, @difficultdomains, @poopyface222, @iwassentfromhell, @diogodxlot, @totallynotcc, @llovekami, @deadmarygolds, @teatreeoilll, @carcarcraziiv2, @forest-hashira, @aliyalala, @esuz, @that-goth-bisexual, @hehehehesthings, @imjustmememe, @j1jay, @iwassentfromhell,

[faintrustle]

[xxsabitoxx]

Pale Blue [Part One]

Geto Suguru x AFAB Pregnant Reader

READ PART TWO HERE

Warnings: THIS FIC IS CANON COMPLIANT, if you are not caught up on Jujutsu Kaisen's manga, or at the very least if you have not seen "gojo's past" you WILL be spoiled. This story contains darker themes, heavier topics, pregnancy and all the lovely details of it, and lastly explicit sexual content. Read at your own risk!

A/N: Here it is!! Part One!! This fic is super self indulgent for me and I'm very excited for y'all to read it. The idea literally came to me in a dream like a month ago and I woke up and immediately started writing. It's been a long ass time since I've written a plot heavy fic, and it's been well over a year since I've actively planned a multiple part story and gone through with it. So, this fic is kinda like... my baby lol.

Word Count: 19k | Playlist

September 2007

Your mouth felt like chalk, hands trembling ever so slightly as you set the small wand on the countertop in your bathroom. You couldn't think straight, but that unfortunately wasn’t anything new, it had been that way for the last three weeks. Ever since he left, you had felt like your head was stuck in a fishbowl. People eyeing you with pity at the world you had been dropped into, their whispers muffled into incoherent nonsense as you walked by. Satoru was no better off, but he could at least tug his emotions off of his sleeves and place them in his heart where nobody could see them, except for you. At least you would be able to see them if he didn’t shut you out. 

Not that you had been any kinder, you had withdrawn too. 

The only one who seemed alright was Shoko, her reaction to Suguru’s deflection was nothing out of character. Not many things could shock her to her core, even something as absurd as what Suguru had done couldn’t wipe the gentle smile from her face when she saw him again. You envied her for that level of composure. You envied her for getting to see him again, just as you envied Satoru. For some reason, the man evaded you as if you were the plague. Or perhaps it looked like you were merely chasing after a ghost, a figment of your imagination. You kind of wished that it was true, that Geto Suguru had been someone you conjured up in your mind. 

But he wasn’t, he was a real, breathing human who had taken over one hundred lives…. Including his parents. The thought made your mouth taste like metal, everytime you zoned out too long and thought too hard, you’d bite your inner cheek until it bled. Three weeks later you still felt like you were moving on autopilot, the only thing that could pull you out of it would be his gentle embrace. You blinked a bit, the metallic taste coating your tongue as you unclench your jaw and look in the mirror. You hardly recognize yourself, for a moment  you think you look just like him, and it's enough to steal the little air you had in your lungs. 

You had never thought you'd experience a heartbreak as severe as this one, and you especially didn’t think it would be dealt to you by Suguru. Though you saw all of the signs, the hundreds if not thousands he put out and never let you touch. No, his cries for help were always directed at Satoru. The white haired man never seemed to catch them, and if he did, he never said a thing. Suguru had refused to acknowledge his issues when he was with you, no matter how many times you tried to sit him down and get it out. He’d change the subject and move on. 

He’d sweet-talk you, making you forget why you had been so concerned in the first place because there, for a fleeting moment, was the boy you had fallen in love with two years prior. He’d fill your mind with nothing but good things, pretty noises, good feelings. Not stopping until his name was all you could utter, not stopping until you fell asleep in his arms, content and sedated. He was a master at avoidance, trying so hard to keep things perfect just for you. You were beginning to hate him for it, but even the idea of hating him made bile burn your throat. 

You were left in emotional turmoil, love mixing with hate mixing with rage and depression. No matter how many times the word hate flashed through your mind, it was never truly directed at Suguru. Rather the jujutsu world, the things they had forced upon him, the pressure he had been made to feel. You especially felt that bubbling hate for a certain man by the name of Fushiguro Toji, who caused this whole spiral. He was long gone now, Satoru had effectively put the man down and he would not be getting back up. Though it killed you to no end that he got the easy way out. You almost wished that Satoru had kept the man alive. 

You couldn’t stomach it as your back pressed into the cold wall of your bathroom, arms folded over your chest as you stared at nothing in particular. Eyes refusing to focus on anything of importance but making a point to avoid the developing test on the counter. 

Suguru had left you a note, shortly after his final conversation with Satoru. You had returned to your dorm to see it on your bed and you recognized his handwriting before you even read your name on the envelope. You could still feel your hands trembling as you ripped the paper, flinching as it cut your skin, crumbling as tears dripped down your cheeks. You read it three times before finally comprehending the words, the paper littered with tear drops and your blood. Every word was written with care, you could hear his voice as your eyes passed over each sentence, see his face before you as if he was speaking. 

It was an apology, his resolve and a goodbye all in one. Leaving you more empty than you had felt before. Still, it sat on your nightstand, you couldn’t throw it away. As if his sweaters weren’t still hanging in your closet, like the blanket he got you wasn’t still sitting on your bed. You held onto that letter like it was the last thing you had of him. Mourning him as if he had died, like he wasn’t still alive and breathing and walking around within the very city you were in now. You almost thought it would be easier if he had died. At least you’d feel some sort of closure, knowing he’s not coming back. But this, this was a form of torture for you. 

To know that you could bump into him at a restaurant, or even pass him on a busy street. He wasn’t gone, if anything he was doing better than he ever was. Leaving you, Satoru, Shoko, and everyone else behind to pick up the shattered pieces. Still, you couldn’t hate him for that. No amount of anger would mend the torn pieces of your broken heart. You were fairly certain nothing would, the only cure was the one man you could no longer call your own. You’d spend the rest of your life with your heart ripped wide, an empty void filling the space. 

You inhaled deeply, pushing off the bathroom wall and taking a hesitant step towards the counter. The test was upside down, you couldn’t see the small little window that would show you the results, for a moment you wanted to pick it up and throw it in the trash without even looking. There was nothing stopping you from doing so either, but you held back anyways. The only reason you were taking a pregnancy test in the first place was because your period was two weeks late. You could easily chalk it up to stress, but at the same time you knew all too well that you and Suguru often went without protection. Idiot. 

Somehow, despite his inner battles, Suguru’s sex drive never slowed down. Maybe it was the craving for physical touch or maybe sex was a great way for him to forget about his issues for a while. Regardless, you had always been eager to oblige, even if it meant falling into his traps and luring your attention away from the real issue at hand. You had no idea how long it had been and if the damn thing was positive you were sure it would show up by now. So you picked it up and flipped it over in your hand, tired eyes scanning it. Your forehead creased for a moment, eyes squinting in frustration because you couldn’t tell if there was a second line or not. 

If it’s positive, it's too early to tell. Your grip tightens around the small plastic test, anger flooding your heart as you chuck it in the trash can with such force it rattles as it hits the wall. Once again you are left with uncertainty. It seemed nobody could give you a straight answer anymore. Truth be told, you weren’t sure what you wanted that test to say. The thought of being pregnant with his child would have elated you two months ago. Now the thought made your insides twist and turn, for a moment you thought you were going to puke again. At the very same time, the idea of the test being negative felt like a rug being pulled out from under you. 

As if you didn’t know that feeling well enough. 

In a twisted way, you thought that being pregnant would bring him back to you. As if it would erase every heinous crime he had committed and bring the man you loved back into your arms. You were foolish, but not foolish enough to really believe in those daydreams. You hauled yourself out of your bathroom and back into your dorm room, falling into your disheveled bed with a soft thump. His t-shirt was hanging loosely on your body, it still smells faintly of him. It’s the only shirt of his that you’d been wearing, too afraid to lose his scent on the others. 

It was still early enough for you to sleep for a few more hours before Shoko was knocking on your door and hauling you into the world. You hated it, but she assured you that you’d thank her for it in a couple months. You doubted it, and for some reason you felt like she did too. 

Your sleep was dreamless, it had been since Suguru left you. You weren’t quite sure if you were thankful for that or not. Suguru was still the last thing you thought about before falling asleep and the first thing you thought of when you woke up. His absence consumed your every thought, impossible to ignore, unable to forget. There had been a few tough nights where you dragged yourself down the hall towards Satoru’s room. The man was usually still up, sitting on his bed with a book in hand that you could tell he wasn’t reading. Just an attempt at distraction. 

He welcomes you without a word, scooting over a bit so you could sit beside him, head on his shoulder as he tosses the book to the floor. You remain like that until you fall asleep, no words spoken but nothing needed to be verbalized to understand you were both mourning the loss of a man who wasn’t even dead. In an odd way, you felt as if you were mourning Satoru as well. His smile, his jokes, the way his eyes seemed to sparkle, all of those things had dwindled. To his credit, he was managing to pull himself back together, at least better than you had been. 

A harsh knock at your door signaled that Shoko was there. You hadn’t even realized that you fell asleep, but you felt even more groggy than you had a couple hours prior. “I’m up.” It’s hoarse and unconvincing but you hear Shoko utter a small “ok”. You know she’s still there, she always waits for you to get dressed and emerge from your room yourself. If you make her wait any longer than fifteen minutes she's usually barging in herself to pull you from your bed. Your body aches as you sit up, stumbling across the room to the bathroom because you need to pee yet again. 

The air almost feels stale as you get your routine done in the bathroom, the test is still sitting in the small can beside your sink. It’s presence is heavy, to the point you question if you should take it out with you despite only having a couple tissues accompanying it. You decided against it when she knocked again. “Just getting dressed.” You mumbled softly, listening for her small “Hmph.” At least letting you know she heard you. Your uniform still felt foreign on your skin, it had for the last three weeks but you tried to ignore it. “About time.” Shoko smiled as you emerged, Satoru beside her. “Oh? You’re both here?” Your tone was questioning but not mad. 

“Yeah, Yaga said we should take the day to be normal or something like that.” Satoru drawled, circular glasses sliding down his nose as he rolled his eyes. “Us? Normal?” You snorted, pulling your door shut as Shoko began walking down the hallway. “He just doesn’t know what to do with us at the moment.” Satoru offered in a low tone, Shoko would scold him for speaking like that, especially to you. The thing is, he wasn’t saying anything that you hadn’t already thought of yourself. “I don’t know what to do with us either.” You could assume Yaga was being vigilant, the guilt of not seeing what was happening with Suguru was weighing on him too. 

The flick of Shoko’s lighter was heard as you stepped into the morning air, laughter bubbling in your chest as you looked at her. “It was killing you, wasn’t it.” Yaga had been cracking down on her bad habit, trying to limit her by saying no smoking in the dorms. “Just a little.” She teased back, inhaling deeply before blowing the gray smoke past her lips. “Shoko, gimme one.” Your eyebrow cocked as Satoru stuck his hand out. Her eyes met you for a moment before begrudgingly handing the lighter and pack to him. “New habit?” You commented softly, watching as he stuck a cylinder between his lips and held his hand up to block the flame from the wind. 

Satoru shrugged, inhaling a bit before blowing out, moving to hand the pack to you. You hesitated, the test in your dorm trash can still lingering in the back of your mind. “I’m good.” You took them anyway, handing them to Shoko. Neither of them said anything but they shared a knowing glance, they couldn’t be mad at you for trying to quit a bad habit. “So where are we going?” You didn’t like the prolonged silence as the two of them puffed away. “I didn’t think you’d want to go anywhere, but if you want we can go get breakfast.” Shoko’s eyes flickered over both you and Satoru, as if she was looking at two temperamental children. 

“Breakfast sounds good.” Satoru offered, shoving one hand in his pocket while the other plucked the cig from his lips. “It does.” You added softly, stomach turning at the very thought of food but you couldn’t let them know that. You had lost your appetite shortly after he left, but you still forced yourself to eat at least one substantial meal a day. The nausea that had settled in your gut most days usually deterred you from anything else but plain rice and maybe some soup. Still, it was food and the only thing you could keep down at that. “Alright, I’ll call for a driver and we can go get something to eat.” Shoko pulled out her phone, clicking on a number she saved. 

“You’ve been eating, right?” You jumped a little, eyes sliding over to Satoru. His tone was low, just low enough for only you to hear. “Yeah, I’ve been eating… you?” He looked the same, tall and lean with broad shoulders. Satoru nodded, pushing his glasses up to sit on the bridge of his nose. “The car will be at the gates for us in five minutes so let's get going.” Shoko started walking, like always you and Satoru followed behind her like ducklings. Satoru’s question still lingered in your mind, his ability to read your thoughts nearly rivaled Suguru. 

You had to wonder just how much those six eyes of his could see. 

The three of you clamored into the car, Satoru taking the passenger seat while you and Shoko took the back. You had no idea where you were going, not even when Shoko gave an address to the driver. It was somewhere in the city, you knew that much, but you trusted her judgment and prayed they would have something plain for your stomach. None of you spoke as the car barreled forward, your eyes glued to the surroundings zipping past you, as if you’d catch him walking down the street on a busy morning. You knew you’d always be looking for him, everywhere you went, your eyes would search for him. 

You tore your eyes from the window, glancing at Satoru in the passenger seat. You couldn’t see his eyes, but his head was turned towards the window. If you had to guess, he was doing the very same thing. Looking for someone who would never appear. Unless you were Shoko of course, you still felt your throat tighten at the thought. You knew Suguru had chosen to reveal himself to her for a couple reasons. One being that she wasn’t nearly strong enough to take him down single handedly. The other being her easy going nature, he knew there would be little to no conflict or questions to answer with her. If roles were reversed, you’d do the same. 

“Hello?” You blinked, looking at Shoko with parted lips. “You okay?” her head tilted, brown eyes lingering over your features. “I… yeah.” You swallowed, the car was still moving so you didn’t space out for that long. “What are you in the mood to eat?” She repeated the question she had asked seconds prior while you were clearly on another plane of existence. “Something plain.” You offered lamely, hands clasping together in your lap. “Plain?” Satoru questioned, eyes shifting to look at you through the rearview mirror. “My stomach has been sensitive. Plain foods are all I can really get down right now.” You shrunk into the seat. 

Shoko hummed, eyes observing you intently now. You could almost hear her silently listing all of your physical symptoms, noting in her head the various things that could cause them. Most could be answered with heartbreak, but that didn’t typically make you sensitive to certain foods. Shoko and Satoru knew of Suguru's relationship with you. They knew you were serious about each other, that you often slept in the other’s dorm depending on the day. They knew you went on dates and bought each other gifts. They knew you had long since confessed your love to one another and were not strangers to holding hands when you thought nobody was looking. 

It didn’t take a genius to figure out that the two of you slept together as well. 

~

“Quiet.” You sunk your teeth into the side of your cheek, struggling to stifle your noises as Suguru’s fingers curled inside of your tight heat. “You don’t want them to hear us, right?” he cooed again, lips ghosting the shell of your ear as he pressed you harder into the empty desk, nearly pushing it into the wall of the classroom with the ferocity of his hunger. 

You shook your head, not trusting your voice in that moment to make any coherent sounds. Your nails dug into his bicep, legs splayed hazardously over the sides of the desk as you used your free hand to brace yourself. Two fingers continued to plunge in and out of you, curling perfectly and sucking the air from your lungs as he found that one particular spot. 

Suguru watched in fascination, dark eyes glazed over as they flickered between his hand and your face. Each draw back revealed the slick shine of your arousal on his digits, each push forward was accompanied by a squelch. It made his throat tight, arousal making him feel hot all over as he continued to fuck you with his fingers. 

“Sugu…” You choked, face warming considerably as you realized how desperate you sounded. “Hmm?” a gentle hum, his fingers burying deep and massaging your walls until your thighs twitched. “I need you.” Your head fell back, hand leaving his bicep to slap over your mouth in an attempt to silence the cry that left you. “You…need me?” 

Those words were jarring to him, as if a chain of firecrackers had been ignited under his skin. You nodded, helpless and at his mercy as you prayed Satoru and Shoko wouldn’t wander off to figure out where the two of you had gone. You couldn’t quite comprehend what happened next, the sudden retreat of his fingers left you feeling empty, clearing your foggy mind for a second. 

They were quickly replaced with something else, something wet and soft. Your eyes widened considerably when you looked down to see Suguru on his knees, hands gripping the plush of your thighs with his face buried between. He would have given you more if it weren't for his damn pants, he was too impatient to struggle with the high waisted fashion choices he made. 

You couldn’t think again, mind immediately fogging over as you focused solely on Suguru’s head between your legs. The flat of his tongue licking up your folds before delving further, bumping your clit with his nose and earning a strangled noise from you. You bit down on your fist now, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to silence yourself for a bit. 

Suguru didn’t mind, if anything he wanted them to hear you. He wanted to see the shocked look on Satoru’s face when he realized what was happening. He couldn’t lie, this whole rendezvous had started because of an offhand comment Satoru made. One about how he was likely better at pleasing women than Suguru. You knew that's why you were in here too, you felt like you needed to thank Satoru for pushing Suguru to this point, whether that was his intention or not. 

Heat continued to build in your gut, if you could trust yourself to stay balanced you would have let go of the desk and buried your hand in his hair. You wanted to tug the silky black locks from the confines of the bun he always kept them in, watch them cascade around his handsome face and turn messy because of your fingers. Then again, that may make it a little too obvious to your two awaiting friends. “Sugu…” 

You gasped, hand flying from your mouth to grab the desk as you nearly lost your balance. Suguru had started to stand, knocking you back as his arms wrapped around your lower half in a bear hug. Suguru was standing at his full height now, your knees bent over his shoulders while only your mid-back and shoulders pressed into the desk. You could have melted into a puddle the moment his eyes met yours, his mouth still pressed firmly to your cunt. 

“Suguru…” You choked again, hands moving to grip the sides of the desk for some kind of grounding. You could feel him smirk, eyes burning into yours as his tongue lavished you. It was all too much, too lewd, too risky. Your orgasm was building faster than you anticipated, the tingling arousal shooting down your spine and making your legs tense as he teased you. You came with a choked cry of his name, eyes squeezing shut as you rode out your orgasm. 

~

“We’re here.” You blinked, eyes scanning your surroundings as Satoru got out of the car. “Are you sure you’re okay? We can get the food to go and head back to campus.” Shoko’s words were out of concern but her tone was still relaxed. “I’m alright, I could use some time in a busy space.” You lied, the quiet of your dorm room had never sounded so inviting. “Thank you.” You muttered softly to the driver, his small smile told you he was well aware of what was going on. Satoru was already by the front door of the cafe, putting out the butt of his cigarette on a nearby trash can before dropping it in. Shoko did the same, following after you as you entered. 

Satoru’s looks tended to come in handy, his glasses sliding down his nose to show the startling blue of his eyes was all that was needed to get the three of you a seat and bypass the wait. “At least you’re good for something.” You teased him, watching him roll his eyes before smiling. “It’s my duty to get the two of you quick service and good food, even if I have to whore myself out.” For some reason, that had laughter bubbling in your chest, the genuine kind. “Such a noble sacrifice.” You laughed, the menu in your hand shaking as your shoulders bounced. You were too distracted to see the way Satoru’s shoulders seemed to sag in relief as he watched you, for a moment it was like nothing had changed.

If it weren't for the gaping, empty space in the booth beside him, he would have been convinced. 

“What are you going to get, Shoko?” She was the only one actively looking over the menu. “I’m not sure yet, but they do have some options that would be easy on your stomach.” You weren’t sure why but it made your heart ache just a bit, she had been more concerned over your meal than her own. At the very same time, it made you feel small, like you were a bit of a nuisance for having stomach issues… or whatever they were… in the first place. “Oh, alright.” You focused on the menu, aware of their eyes on you as you tried to find something small but appealing. You settled on tamagoyaki and asked for it to be made on the salty side rather than sweet. 

Shoko went for a traditional meal as well while Satoru ventured into their “western” cuisine. His choice sounded so sweet that the thought of it made your teeth hurt. “I don’t know how you do it, Satoru.” you sipped your tea slowly, letting the hot liquid slide down your throat and settle in your stomach. He only shrugged, smiling softly “I’ve yet to find something too sweet for me to handle.” Normally he would have added something flirty but he decided against it. Despite knowing you and Suguru were a couple, it never stopped Satoru’s flirtatious comments. It only bothered Suguru a little bit but he knew his best friend would never cross that kind of line. 

“You may go into cardiac arrest before you meet your match, Satoru.” Shoko snorted, sipping her coffee as she took in the surroundings of the busy cafe. For a moment, you wondered if she was doing what you and Satoru had been subconsciously doing for the last three weeks. “I keep waiting for him to appear.” Your tone was just barely above a whisper, as if even bringing up his existence would cause the world to implode around you. “Me too.” Shoko spoke softly, eyes still looking anywhere but the two of you. Satoru kept quiet, face unusually somber as he sipped his coffee. “I think I’ll eventually go insane.” 

You tried to sound lighthearted but the crack in your voice gave the opposite effect. 

Satoru’s eyes flickered up at that, making your shoulders shrink into the booth. You had quickly come to learn that both of your friends were treating you like fragile porcelain. Though you partially felt the same when talking to them, especially Satoru. Despite the frequent and long nights with each other, little to no words were ever spoken. “I’m fine.” You tried, voice a little stronger than before. “We can talk about these things without falling apart.” It sounded like you were trying to convince yourself more than them. Before anyone could speak, the waiter was walking over with your food, effectively stopping any further discussion. 

“Satoru…” You choked as the waiter walked away, eyes focused on the sugary, gooey concoction on the plate before him. “That’s your ticket to the ER.” Shoko was gawking at it too, a bite of food already halfway to her mouth. Satoru, on the other hand, looked like a kid on christmas morning, glasses sliding down his nose with a smile on his face. Your stomach grumbled as he cut into the pancakes, the feeling making you jump just a bit. You actually felt hungry, mouth watering as you looked down at your own plate and moved to take a bite. 

Silence fell over the table as you all ate, within minutes half of your food was gone and you were quietly wishing you had ordered something a little bigger.

“You need a napkin.” You laughed softly, handing Satoru your spare napkin so he could wipe the syrup off of his cheek. “Thanks.” For some reason you couldn't help but think he looked like a little kid. For another reason you couldn’t quite explain, it made sadness sink into your shoulders. He should be here with the three of you, eating and laughing and bringing you the comfort you always looked for in him. Your hands shook as you moved to eat more, not willing to let the surge of emotion get rid of the appetite you rarely had nowadays. 

As you finished your plate, you felt the bubbling wave of nausea build in your stomach. You inhaled slowly, trying to find a way to ease your worries and keep your food down. “Are you okay? You look a little green.” Shoko eyed you with concern, not even a second later Satoru was signaling the waiter for the check. “Y-yeah… told you my stomach was sensitive. That’s the most I've eaten at once in the last three weeks.” You couldn’t stand the embarrassment of making a scene or wasting money on the food you had just consumed. “I’ll be back.” You slipped out of the booth, your friend’s concerned eyes zeroing in on you as you disappeared for the bathroom. 

Luckily for you the bathroom was empty, the fluorescent lights making you flinch as you stumbled to the sink and turned the water on cold. You leaned over it, hands and wrists submerged under the running stream, chest heaving with the effort to remain calm. You were desperate to keep the food down, so desperate you could feel sweat forming on your temple as you tried to focus on anything but the nausea. Suguru’s face flashed through your mind and for a moment you were convinced your knees would give out from under you. 

~

“I told you to take it easy.” He huffs softly, fingers running through your hair as he rakes it away from your face. Carefully, he’s looping one of his elastics around your hair to keep it in place. Your head is still buried in the toilet, you had just finished throwing up for the third time in the last hour. “Are you still with me?” His hand is on your back now, rubbing slow but deliberate circles. Feebly you give him a thumbs up, throat burning from the sting of alcohol coming back up. 

“You didn’t eat much today and then you went and got shit-faced with Shoko.” Suguru stated the obvious, trying not to scold you because he knew you weren’t doing good right now. “I don’t think you have anything else to puke up, do you want some water?” You lifted your head now, reaching for toilet paper to wipe your mouth. “Water sounds good.” Your voice was weaker than Suguru had expected it to sound, his heart aching a bit as he sat beside you on the bathroom floor. 

“I’ll be right back, okay? Just yell if you get scared and I’ll be by your side before you know it.” You nodded, thanking him softly as he got up and disappeared out of your bathroom. You were only seventeen at the time, acting far older than you were and thinking you could get away with it. Now, you are facing the consequences of being naive. Typical for someone your age. Suguru had returned in under two minutes, handing you a glass of room temperature water. “It’ll be easier on your stomach at this temperature.” He chuckled as you grimaced. 

He moved to grab a washcloth from your cabinet, turning the sink water on cold. “And this…” he wrung it out twice before turning off the water “will help focus your attention on something other than the nausea.” He placed the cloth on the back of your neck, watching your shoulders sag in relief as something finally cooled your clammy skin. “Thanks, Sugu.” 

~

“Sugu… I’m scared.” Your voice was barely audible, tears burning your eyes as you squeezed them shut. Somehow it was working, your pain outshining the nausea as you tried to stop yourself from sobbing in the middle of the restroom. A year had passed since that moment in time, you were only eighteen now and yet you felt as if you had grown a decade. Yet, you were reduced to a scared and crying child because of nausea. Get it together. You forced yourself to straighten, hands slightly numb under the current of cold water. 

You forced yourself to make eye contact with your reflection, observing how stark the dark circles were under your eyes. Shoko had been right, you did look a bit green, but it was fading steadily as everything subsided. You let your hands sit under the water for a minute longer before bending over the sink and splashing some on your face. The door to the restroom opened as you straightened again, Shoko was looking at you with worry. “Did you get sick?” you shook your head, turning the water off and reaching for the paper towels. 

“Managed to fight it off… for now.” 

“Satoru paid already, there is a convenient store a couple shops down. We can get you some nausea meds and a barf bag for the ride back… just in case.” You nodded, smiling a bit. “That would probably be a good idea.” you followed her out of the bathroom and through the restaurant, Satoru was standing on the sidewalk with a new cigarette between his lips. “Damn, you really did develop a new habit.” He only shrugged, inhaling deeply before blowing more out. “I’ll get over it at some point.” Knowing him and his will-power, he probably would. 

“I’ll call for the driver, Satoru take her to the convenient store and I’ll catch up.” Satoru nodded, saluting her with a quick “yes ma’am” before grabbing your hand and dragging you along. You didn’t speak until Shoko was out of earshot. “Do you think it’s going to get better?” You appreciated the weight of his hand in yours, though you were certain he could feel how clammy it was. “I think it’ll get more bearable with time.” not better, but tolerable. The thought had your chest feeling heavy as you stepped inside of the small store. 

“Nausea meds and barf bags.” Satoru chuckled, reading the signs above each aisle until he spotted one that seemed like a good start. “You’ll have to see a doctor if this doesn’t ease up… how long has it been going on anyways?” You shuffled behind him, arms crossing due to him letting them go a moment prior. “Shortly after he left, after I found the letter.” Only Satoru knew about the letter that had been left behind. How Suguru managed to get back onto campus and leave it in your dorm was beyond him. You had even let him read it, breaking his heart again. 

“Shoko!” Satoru called, noticing her walk down the aisle before you could even turn your head. “I’m not good with this stuff, what should we get?” Satoru had already grabbed a box of blue cylindrical barf bags for you but the actual meds were basically foreign to him. “I’ll handle it from here, Satoru. You can wait in the car, he should be upfront by now.” Satoru’s brows furrowed, so did yours, but the look in Shoko’s eyes had him shrugging and handing the box to you. “Alright then, I’ll see ya out there.” 

He whistled as he strolled by, your eyes narrowing on Shoko. “What’s this about?” you watched her shuffle through the shelves, picking up one and reading the box before setting it down and moving onto the next. “I don’t know what you mean.” She commented offhandedly, plucking another box and reading it before sighing. “This one should work.” She turned, handing it to you while motioning you to follow her down the aisle. You read it over, nothing out of the ordinary so you truly couldn’t figure out what made this one different from the others. 

You stopped short when Shoko did, eyes scanning the aisle and feeling your stomach drop. “Shoko–” You sighed, she was standing in front of the pregnancy tests. “Listen, I know it’s probably the last thing you want to even think about but I think you should take one.” She was grabbing a box of the cheap tests, the same test that was still residing in the trash can of your bathroom. “Shoko, it's not necessary.” You couldn't bring yourself to tell her you already took one, for some reason you couldn’t tell her it was negative either. 

“I’ll buy them, and you’ll keep them. If this nausea doesn’t subside in like two weeks, I’m forcing you to take them.” You felt your face burning, clutching the nausea meds tightly in your hands as you looked away from her. “Fine.” You sighed, head tilted at her shoes as you followed her up front to the register. Everything was placed neatly in a brown bag so nobody could see the contents. Once in the car, you popped open the barf bags just to keep one ready in the event your nausea returned full force. “I figured you would forget this.” 

You looked up to see Satoru handing you a bottle of water, your lips parting in surprise. “You know me well, Satoru. I did forget.” you took it from him, grabbing the box of nausea meds and ripping them open. You took them and sighed, gulping down water when you realized how thirsty you had been. “If we have nothing else to do today, I think I’ll take a nap.” You were aching for your bed, more tired now than you had been after any missions. “Alright but we’ll wake you up for dinner if we don’t hear from you.” Shoko smiled, cracking the window to light a cig. 

“It’s not even 11am yet.” you snorted. “Yeah but you can sleep like the dead when you really need it, if we don’t wake you, you’ll sleep straight through till tomorrow.” You opened your mouth to deny it, about to use your frequent bathroom breaks as an excuse but stopped yourself. Saying that would only confirm the very thing Shoko was suspicious of. “Alright, fine, whatever.” You resigned with a playful huff, arms crossing as you turned to look out the window. Luckily for you, you managed to make it through the ride without needing to use the bag. 

“I’ll see you later.” You called after them, waving as you headed for the dorms. They both waved back, finding shade under a tree to enjoy more of the sunny morning. You felt your shoulders sagging with each step, your social battery diminished far faster now that Suguru wasn’t always by your side. You had almost grown a bit too dependent on him, thinking he would be a constant in your life. You inhaled shakily, the brown bag crumbling between your fingers as your emotions bubbled to the surface yet again. You couldn't seem to get yourself to your dorm fast enough, hot tears slipping down your cheeks as you shoved the key in the lock. 

It came in heavy waves, making you feel weak as you could only succumb to the sadness festering in your chest. You dropped the bag by the door, kicking off your shoes and shouldering off your uniform jacket. Moving on autopilot, you drew your curtains shut and took off the rest of your clothing, sliding his shirt over your head until you were enveloped in his scent. You were gasping for air by the time your body hit the mattress, curling in on yourself as you sobbed. “I miss you.” You hiccuped, rubbing your eyes as if it would stop the tears. 

God dammit, Suguru, why did you have to do this?

You buried your head in your pillow, trying to drown out your own feelings before sadness turned to anger and you ripped your whole room apart because of it. 

~

“Stop wiggling so much.” His voice sounded like gravel, rumbling the back of your head as he spoke. “Can’t help it.” You retorted, trying your best to settle into a comfortable position. Suguru had you wrapped in a bear hug, his favorite form of affection, especially since he knew you couldn’t get out of his grasp. His arms were covered in thick muscles, something you initially didn't expect because his uniform and choice of baggy clothing typically hid them.

 You could use all your strength and his grip wouldn’t falter.  

“Why not?” he mumbled again, if you had to guess, his eyes were closed as he spoke. “Cause it’s warm, Sugu.” you were both laying on top of the covers, little to no clothing on because of the heat and the broken air conditioning that the school was still trying to fix. Nothing but an old fan swiveling side to side to create some sort of relief. Still, Suguru couldn’t sleep unless you were pressed flush to him, warm or not. “It’s not that bad.” 

“Oh it absolutely is.” you immediately countered, turning your head back to try and look at him. “It could be way worse.” he tried again, fingers thrumming against your side. “Yeah, it could, but it could also be better. Like if you let me go for example.” You wiggled a bit, trying to create space before he pulled you tightly to him again. “Nice try, it’s not happening.” You groaned, going limp in his arms as he began to laugh. “I could totally make it worse for you.” He added softly, lips ghosting your ear. Despite the heat, you shivered. 

“The weirdest things turn you on, Sugu.” 

“Hey, it’s not nice to call yourself weird.” 

You slapped his arm, earning another rumble of laughter as he moved to hover over you. “C’mon, if I make you sweat, it’ll make the breeze from the fan feel colder.” You rolled your eyes, studying his features as he looked down at you, hair framing his face and ghosting yours. “That’s counterproductive, you know.” Your hands were running up his biceps anyway, moving to wrap around his neck and pull him close to you. “Maybe it is, but you can’t say I’m wrong.” 

His head was lowering, giving into your pull with no hesitation. “You’re right, I can’t say you’re wrong. But… I want to.” You smile, pulling him further until your lips melt together. He was radiating warmth, his teeth grazing your bottom lip to ask for entrance. Your lips parted, hands snaking up into his hair and tugging at the strands until he groaned. Suguru braced himself on one hand, making the mattress dip just by your head. The rest of his weight was settled on his knees, caging your hips in so you truly couldn’t get away from him. Not that you wanted too now. 

You felt small beneath him, his bare skin radiating warmth as he used his free hand to push your shirt up. You could ignore the heat for the time being, more focused on the steady beating from between your thighs. “Sugu…” You parted with a gasp, watching him lean up and pull you with him, allowing him to drag your shirt over your head and toss it to the floor before pushing you down again. His lips didn’t return to yours, instead they moved to your neck, kissing along your pulse point until you were whining. “Quiet, baby, don’t forget we’re in my room.” 

Satoru was asleep next door, that realization set in like ice water being dumped over your head. “Suguru.” You choked as his head dipped lower, licking along your collarbone before moving to one of your breasts. He wasn’t going to answer you, and you knew that for a fact by the way his lips curled into a smirk against your skin. “You’re evil.” You gasped, hand fisting his hair tightly as he scraped his teeth along your breast, nipping at the soft skin. Your other hand found its home on his shoulder, nails scratching lightly as his muscles flexed under your grasp. 

You sunk your teeth into your cheek when his lips wrapped around your perked nipple, arousal making it pebble slightly as he sucked. Suguru’s tongue lavished your skin, flicking the bud until your back was arching into his touch. It wasn’t nearly enough, your breath coming out in short pants as you tried to pry him off and focus on your other breast. “These would look so pretty if they were full of milk.” You choked, eyes wide as he looked up at you through his lashes. “Don’t you think?” You couldn’t breathe for a moment, stunned into silence by his comment. 

“C’mon baby, don’t act so shocked.” He cooed softly, the tip of his tongue trailing up your sternum. He didn’t stop until he reached your lips, kissing them softly before dipping his head again. His hand toyed with the breast he had just teased endlessly, brown eyes observing the rate of your breathing before lowering onto your other breast. He repeated the same motions, nipping and sucking the senstive skin until you were squirming from the wetness between your legs.

“You haven't answered me, sweetheart.”

“B-because I don’t know how to answer that, Sugu.” You knew exactly what he was implying, but you couldn’t form a coherent response for him. “You just have to tell me if you agree, it’s pretty simple.” He chuckled, pushing himself up to look down at you. Your hands fell to your sides, his neck just out of your reach. “Just think about it, pretty girl.” You watched him, completely entranced as he pulled his briefs down and his erection sprang free. “Because I’ve been thinking about it a lot.” 

“You have?” You sat up a bit, fingers shakily pulling off your own underwear to save time. “I have.” He confirmed, cheeks turning a shade of red that you could see even in the moonlight. His hand slid along his length, spreading the precum drooling from his tip while his boxers rested at his mid-thigh. “Take those off, Sugu.” You smiled a bit, reaching for the waistband and pulling them taut before letting them snap back against his thigh. “So demanding.” He snorted, letting himself go to push the material off, tossing it to the floor just as you had done with your underwear. 

“So are you, demanding an answer for something so…so…” you couldn’t find the right words, not when his eyes were on you, devouring you whole. “…so what? How does it make you feel?” He redirected, pumping himself leisurely as your thighs fell open for him, still supporting yourself on your elbows as you waited. “How does what make me feel?” A stupid question but you were still reeling from the initial statement. Suguru laughed, hand still gliding over his length as he sat on his knees.

“How does it feel knowing I think about getting you pregnant… all the fucking time.” You couldn’t deny the thought made you feel hot, hotter than you felt from the heat and arousal mixing. Like molten lava was running its way through your bloodstream. “F-feels fucking…” you squirmed a bit, legs moving to close involuntarily until his hand shot out and stopped them. “Go on, pretty girl. Tell me.” You sat up, glaring at him with warm cheeks. “How about you fuck me. Then, maybe, I’ll tell you how I feel about your little fantasies.” Suguru groaned, head falling forward for a moment. 

“Sounds like a good deal to me.” He moved forward, pressing you back into the mattress as he pulled your thighs towards him. Your lips found his neck, sucking on it harshly as he ran the dull head of his cock between your slick folds. You let him move you however he pleased, your legs being pushed almost painfully to your chest as he pressed into you. You gasped in unison, his cock stretching you open easily despite no prep. “Shit…” his head fell forward again, nearly bumping yours as he bottomed out, no space left between the two of you. 

Suguru stayed in place, eyes shut as he focused on the way your walls fluttered and squeezed around him, unable to stay still. Your nails dug into his scalp, pulling a groan from his lips as you tried to relax but couldn’t. He was big, bigger than any fling or partner you had in the past. No matter how easily your cunt accepted him, it still stung for the first few seconds. You had grown to love the deep ache, the weight of him inside you, the way his tip would brush your cervix depending on the position. Like now, with your legs pressed so tightly to your body. 

“Can I move?” his voice was soft, eyes peering into your own once he gained his composure. “Y-yeah.” You breathed out, the feeling of his hands on your skin still sent shockwaves of arousal through you. Especially when his grip tightened, bracing himself on you as he drew his hips back half way before rolling into you again. You moaned, eyes squeezing shut as Suguru found his rhythm, hips meeting yours with a soft slap. “D-Don’t forget Satoru is…” You wailed softly, pleasure building quickly as he moved. “I know…” 

But the smirk on his face told you he no longer cared, he’d gladly listen to his white-haired best friend bitch and moan in the morning about being woken up by you. Suguru’s rhythm only sped up, hips angling perfectly to brush along that one particular spot as he thrust into you, cock head brushing your cervix every few thrusts until your vision was blurring. The pleasure ebbing through your body was more than enough to block out how uncomfortable your current position was. 

A wet squelch started to emit between your legs, loud enough to be heard over the drone of the fan as Suguru pounded into you. “So…” he started, voice strained as sweat dripped down his temple. “... can you tell me how it makes you feel now?” You blinked, awestruck that he was still hooked on getting an answer from you. “S-suguru…” you whined, head falling further into the pillows. “I’m not letting it go…ha… Tell me how it makes you feel.” he ground out, hips slowing just a bit. When you didn’t speak, he pressed more of his weight into you so one hand could break free. 

You moaned, loud and unrestrained as his fingers ghosted across your swollen clit, the sudden contact making you see stars. “Tell me how it makes you feel.” he repeated, watching your face go slack as his fingers and hips worked in tandem. “Makes me hot…” You admitted with a heavy breath, eyes struggling to focus on him. “I want you to do it, Sugu… fuck me till I’m pregnant.” The look on his face had you shrinking further into the mattress, an almost animalistic look taking over his eyes as he stopped moving all together. “Say it again.” 

“I want you to fuck me ‘til I’m pregnant, Suguru.”  

~

You woke up in a sweat, gasping for air as you stumbled out of bed and barreled to the bathroom. You couldn’t stop the nausea this time, knees hitting the tile floor with bruising force as you heaved into the toilet. You hadn’t even remembered falling asleep, but your dream was enough to send you into a death spiral. Tears burned your eyes as the little bit of breakfast you hadn’t digested came back up. Luckily for you, you had slept long enough that your food from this morning wasn’t a total loss. Nothing more than bile was left as you finally calmed down. 

You reached for toilet paper, wiping your tears and blowing your nose until you could at least breath without difficulty. Aching, you got up, flushing the toilet and washing your hands and face. You had no idea what time it was but you assumed it wasn’t late enough for dinner if Shoko never came to wake you up. At least that’s what you thought as you stumbled back into your dorm room slightly sweaty. That’s odd… The sun had begun to set just beyond your window, your eyes flickering to your alarm clock. 7:23pm stared back at you in big red numbers. 

I slept for over eight hours? You looked for your phone, seeing the missed text from Shoko. 

Shoko: I decided against waking you up, I figured you could use the sleep. Just text me when you’re awake and I can bring you dinner

You were partially grateful for her decision, your face still warm as your dream lingered in your mind. Dreaming of the past, how cliche. You sighed, sitting on the edge of your bed. You had woken up so suddenly, adrenaline blocking out the sleepiness at first. Now, your body seemed to thrum with a dull ache, the headrush coming back around to kick you while you were down. You reached over to turn on the small lap residing on your nightstand, eyes squinting for a moment as you adjusted. Your eyes focused on the brown bag from earlier, the one you discarded on your floor after coming back. 

You knew there was water in there still, so you got up and grabbed it, looking at the bag contents in disdain. You emptied it on your desk, nausea meds, barf bags and the box of pregnancy tests. You studied then as you gulped down some of the water, easing the burn in your throat. The pregnancy tests Shoko had insisted on were identical to the one you took this morning. Weirdly enough you wished she had grabbed the more expensive digital ones. That way you wouldn't have to strain yourself trying to figure out if a second line was present or not. 

“Fuck it.” you sighed, dropping the now empty water bottle in the small barrel you kept beside your desk. You still had one more test in the box from this morning, you’d take another one just because of the memories lingering on your mind. Your face felt warm as you recalled that particular night from a few months back. Suguru had been pretty adamant after that, fucking you raw and in ernest with every intention of knocking you up. You, stupidly, let him because you love him and loved the idea of having a family with him. “Idiot.” 

You scolded yourself again, ripping the foil wrapper and tossing it in your trash with the now empty box. You went through the same process as you did that morning, peeing into a cup and dipping the absorbent end into it for ten seconds before capping it and discarding the rest of the contents. You forced yourself to leave the bathroom this time, convinced it would make time go by faster. The text Shoko had sent was still left unanswered, you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel hungry at that moment in time. 

You’d text her in a little while though, or else she’d likely come breaking your door down thinking you had run away. Just then, your phone vibrated with the ringtone you had set for Satoru. You grabbed it, flipping it open to see what he had to say. On the screen there was a message from him, asking if you wanted to hang out on the rooftop to watch the stars later on. You smiled a bit, it was rare for Satoru to ask things so formally. You clicked out a message, telling him yes and that you could use some fresh air. 

It took him no time at all to send a happy emoticon, one that had you rolling your eyes as you typed back that you’d meet him at his dorm when you were ready. You backed out of the chat, eyes lingering on a particular contact, your message to him was naturally left unanswered. You had given up texting Suguru’s number when the messages no longer got delivered. You figured he’d discard his phone, throw away any direct contact he had with the three of you. You snapped your phone shut a moment later, you’d text Shoko after you got dressed.

Opening your closet was still proving to be a bit difficult, especially as your fingers trailed over the material of the clothing Suguru had kept in your room. They smelt like the laundry detergent he used as well as his cologne, it took your breath away for a moment. You forced yourself away, grabbing some comfortable clothes that were actually yours before shutting the door. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to discard his clothing, despite knowing he wasn’t coming back to you. 

You pulled his shirt over your head, grabbing your own and replacing it. You pulled on a pair of shorts after, rubbing your face with your hands as you looked at your appearance in the mirror. No amount of sleep seemed to help the dark circles under your eyes or the sickly look to your complexion. You could only hope Satoru was right, with time it would become more manageable. You glanced at your alarm clock, 7:48pm stared back at you now. The sky outside your window had turned indigo, the sun minutes away from being completely out of sight. The summer was coming to an end, filling your chest with melancholy.

You couldn’t stand being alone in that moment, grabbing your phone and shoving it in your pocket as you made a beeline for your door. You made your way down the hall, remembering as you passed Shoko’s dorm that you needed to text her. Stopping in your tracks, you figured it would just be easier to see her in person. “Shoko?” you called, fingers tapping the door softly because she hated when people knocked too loud. “Coming.” You heard her rustling around her room before the door opened, a half smoked cigarette hanging from her lips. 

“Thought Yaga told you no smoking inside.”  

“What he doesn’t know won’t kill him, and my window is open.” 

You smiled, “I’m hanging out with Satoru on the roof if you wanna join us.” Shoko exhaled, puffing just a bit of smoke in your direction. “I’d love to but I spent the whole afternoon with him ‘cause you were sleeping.” You sighed, rubbing the back of your neck “my bad.” but Shoko was waving you off. “Don’t apologize, you need sleep… I’ll trust Satoru to feed you if you’re hungry.” She smiled as you rolled your eyes “Alright alright, enjoy the rest of your bad habit and I’ll take Satoru duty.” The look in Shoko’s eyes made your smile falter for just a moment. 

They looked oddly wistful, but it vanished just as quickly as your smile faltered. “Aye aye captain.” Shoko started to shut the door as you turned to leave, watching you go for just a moment before shutting it completely. “Satoru.” You drawled, banging on his door so you could be heard over the music he was playing. “Oi, keep it down!” the door swung open a moment later, a cheeky grin on his face as he looked at you. “Ready to go?” He looked cozy in an oversized black hoodie and sweats, sunglasses resting on top of his head. 

“Sure am.” you returned his smile, the ache in your chest easing just a bit. It was more bearable when you had someone who understood the pain you felt deeper than surface level. You watched him turn, shutting off his music and the lights before stepping into the hallway. “Are we going to take the normal way or are you going to test out your blue?” Satoru’s eyes seemed to sparkle as you suggested he use his curse technique. “If you insist on blue…” You couldn’t even make a sound as his arm wrapped around your waist, hauling you off of your feet. 

In the blink of an eye, you were exposed to the cooling night air. “Damn.” You laughed as he set you down, shuffling over to the small lock box you kept up here with spare blankets and, as Shoko claimed, “necessities”...Which were just two cartons of emergency cigarettes. “Didn’t disorient you, right?” Satoru was standing on the edge, observing the glow of the city in the distance. “Not even a little, you’ve improved a lot, Satoru.” your back was turned to him, so you missed the way his eyes widened slightly, cheeks turning pink. 

“Thanks” 

You turned back to him, blankets in hand. “So…” You walked over to where he was standing, taking a seat just before the edge and letting your legs dangle off. “...So?” Satoru looked down at you, watching you settle. “Why did you want to come up here… I’d love to gaze at the stars but it’s not like we’ll actually see any with all the light pollution.” Satoru sighed, dropping down to squat beside you. “I guess I just wanted your company… ya know since you’re probably the only other person that understands this.” his tone was awkward, it wasn’t often that you were sentimental… or serious for that matter… with each other. 

“Your welcome to have my company any time, Satoru. I don’t know what I’d do if I didn’t have you.” It was so heartfelt it made you feel strange. “Sorry.” You added, a bit meeker than before when he stiffened a bit. “Don’t be sorry, just not used to being so… serious with you.”  He sat fully now, shoulder brushing yours as a silent invitation for you to rest your head. You did, just as you always had, watching the lights of the city a few miles away. “It’s strange, isn’t it?” You spoke in a gentle tone, hoping he knew what you meant. 

“It is. Knowing he’s there, that he’s okay… while we’re sitting here sulking like idiots.” There was a small bite to his tone as he finished, one that quickly left when he exhaled. “It pisses me off.” It made you upset too, anger bubbling in the back of your mind like a pot of boiling water that was going to overflow at any second. “It pisses me off too, because I truly can’t understand it. I’ve killed myself over the last three weeks trying to understand, to make sense of it. I can’t and I don’t think I ever will. But it’s not my place to reason with it, you know?” 

Satoru was silent, waiting for you to continue. “It’s not my life, it’s his. I tried for months to get it out of him, I tried so goddamn hard to get him to open up and he never did. Always redirecting, always avoiding.” You sounded defeated by the end, blinking away the tears that blurred your vision so you could regain composure. “Why didn’t you come to me?” Satoru questioned softly, letting your words sink in like an anchor. 

“He gave you so many signs, Satoru. If you couldn’t see them, it wasn’t my place to assist.” 

Satoru felt like that should have made him angry, but it didn’t. Mostly because you were right, it had been obvious from the start but he had naively pushed them to the side, pretending it wasn’t true. He was just as much at fault, if anything he was willing to shoulder all of the blame. Because at least you tried. He couldn’t say the same, and he knew that far too well. “Suguru made up his mind the moment he entered that village. There is no stopping a man who is set in their resolve. You said it yourself, Satoru. He looked healthier, happier, content.” 

Satoru took in a shaky breath, leaning into you just as you leaned into him. “I just don’t get why he needed to kill his parents.” Your eyes closed, that was the thought weighing heaviest on your mind. “He needed to prove to himself that he was doing the right thing. That nobody, not even his parents, were an exception to his newfound ideology.” It killed you to say it, especially since you had met his parents last winter break. They were kind, at least his mother was. His father was a bit colder but there was still an undeniable love for his son. They had welcomed you so openly, they were proud of the son they had raised. 

Now they were gone, nobody but Suguru was to blame. 

“In a fucked up way, I don’t care that he killed those people.” The words felt bitter on your tongue, but his letter flashed through your mind and for a moment you understood him. Those two little girls, beaten and caged, scared and facing death for things they never did. Hell, had you gone on the mission with him, you may have encouraged his choices. That realization felt weird as it settled in your gut. “I… I don’t really care either.” Satoru admitted softly, thinking back over the last year, thinking about Amanai. He had been seconds away from doing the same thing. 

But Suguru had been his voice of reason, stopping him with a simple command. It should have been obvious then, that Suguru’s life was completely altered from that moment forward. “It was so obvious.” He hissed softly, head falling forward just a bit as anger squeezed his heart. “There is nothing we can do now, Satoru. Nothing we can do will reverse the damage that has been done.” You wished you could believe your own words, part of you wanted to catch a train into the city and barrel into that religious group he took over. 

You weren’t even sure what you’d do if you did. Hit him, yell at him? Crumple into his arms like the sucker you were. Maybe a mix of all three, no, it would definitely be a mix of all three. You couldn’t help but wonder how he would react if he saw you again. He made it clear in his letter that he loved you, he still loved you, he would always love you. If you made the choice to leave, would he welcome you in with open arms. Or was he resenting you already for not doing so sooner. Was he waiting for you? Or was it nothing more than sweet-talk. 

“You’re not breathing.” Satoru muttered softly, tilting his head just a bit to look down at you. “Oh…” You inhaled deeply, laughing a bit  as you exhaled “got lost in thought.” You felt Satoru relax again, head resting against yours. “I get it.” You fell into a comfortable silence, watching as the sky steadily turned from a deep blue to pitch black. There, if you squint hard enough, you could make out a couple of sparkling stars. 

You knew if you asked, Satoru could probably whisk you somewhere far away. Somewhere clear so you could actually see the stars with no obstructions. 

Yet you were too comfortable, too warm. 

Sitting where you were now was more than enough for the time being. That feeling of content actually took the air from your lungs for a moment, blinking steadily as you took in your surroundings. There was a fleeting moment where your heart felt light, that aching heaviness that had been plaguing it for the last three weeks wasn’t present. You wondered quietly if Satoru felt it too. Given the way his body seemed completely relaxed into yours, you assumed he did. 

~

You were stumbling down the hall like a drunkard. Your mind felt numb as you moved, head tilted down and expression blank. If anyone were to cross your path at that given moment, they probably would have been unsettled by the sight of you. A zombie moving on autopilot, your brain moving so quickly that it had reduced everything to a quiet, droning buzz. 

Murder. 112 people. His parents too. He’s gone. He snapped. He’s a murderer. Suguru is gone. 

Nothing made sense, not a single bit of the information you had received made any sense. The fact that Suguru wasn’t answering your frequent texts wasn't making sense. The fact that you had woken up to an empty bed wasn’t making sense. The fact that people were telling you Suguru, your Suguru, had taken over a hundred lives in the span of one night wasn’t making any fucking sense. 

Your knees nearly gave out the moment your hand met the wood of your door, pushing it open so quickly it slammed into the wall with a loud thud before coming back at you. Not that you cared, at that moment you could be set on fire and you wouldn’t blink an eye. 

You stood in the middle of your dorm room, eyes scanning the room as if it were something foreign. Nothing was making sense, not even your bed looked like your own. It was the pressure cracking down on you already, sinking its claws into your shoulders and forcing you to your knees as the weight of your new reality hit you like a freight train. You couldn’t even bring yourself to cry in that moment, too shell shocked over the report Yaga had read to you and Satoru. 

Satoru. 

You had stumbled away shortly after the report was finished, barely registering the way he had started to yell. You hadn’t looked back, but it wasn’t like either of them tried to stop you. Despite having just stumbled away from him, you found yourself moving to leave and find him again. At least you would have if your knees didn’t give out on you. You gasped, more out of surprise than pain as your legs made contact with the wooden floor. You sat there for a moment, arms feeling equally as weak as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. 

You felt your chest tighten, every breath felt strangled as you tried to inhale. A cold sweat seemed to cover your skin, fingers shaking slightly as you pushed your hair from your face. You couldn’t move, completely paralyzed by shock. It felt like your heart was shattering, every shaky inhale deepening the wound. Still, your tears would not come. Not even as black spots began to obstruct your vision, chest heaving as you began to hyperventilate. 

Despite your body vibrating in distress, you felt a nearly silent calm. Like someone had flicked off the switch and stole your ability to hear.

Nothing and everything all at once. 

~

“Hey? Y/N wake up…” You jumped a bit, hand coming up to touch the wetness on your cheeks. “You were crying in your sleep.” Satoru muttered softly, hand smoothing over your hair as he cradled you. “I-I was?” You didn’t even realize the change in position or the change in scenery. You were no longer sitting by the roof’s edge, instead you were sitting in Satoru’s lap, his arms holding you tightly as he looked at you with worry. 

“You were.” he confirmed, letting you go just as you woke up fully. “Sorry for worrying you, I was just thinking about him… it’s so strange. I’ve been having such intense dreams of the past… I've had dreamless sleep for the last three weeks… so why now?” Satoru sighed, watching you get up to stand and stretch your limbs. “I don’t know. I’ve been having odd dreams about him but I don’t really remember how most of them go by the time I wake up.”

“It’s the universe’s way of torturing us… as if we haven’t been tortured enough. Wait, how long have I been asleep?” The temperature had dropped significantly, the moon was shining high in the sky now. “About an hour or so, I was actually going to bring you back inside but you started to cry and… well here we are now.” Satoru got up, stretching dramatically as you sighed. “You’d think after sleeping for eight hours I wouldn't be tired.” 

You walked to the edge of the roof again, feet pressing firmly to the ledge as you looked down. “Being depressed will suck the soul out of you.” For some reason you couldn’t help but laugh. “You seem pretty wide awake, Satoru.” He joined you on the ledge, pushing you a bit to the side. Your training gave you quick reflexes so you didn’t flinch when he did it. “Oh please, you know I’m right.” You glanced at him, laughing softly. 

“You are, but so am I. We can be depressed morons together.” His voice was dripping with sarcasm, earning another laugh as you punched his shoulder. “Touche, Gojo” 

“Yuck, never call me that again.” His face had morphed into a scowl as you used his last name. He never liked hearing you call him anything other than Satoru. “Fine.” you crossed your arms over your chest, inhaling the cool air. “I think I’m gonna go shower and maybe make something small for dinner… Just so Shoko doesn’t string the two of us up on a lamppost.” Satoru nodded, watching you step off the ledge and move about the roof to put the blankets away. 

“I’ll accompany you.” he jumped down, trailing behind you as you moved to open the door that would bring you downstairs. “In the shower? I’m flattered but–” the way his eyes rolled were enough to stop you mid-sentence. “Joking, Satoru.” he sighed out an “I know” closing the distance to haul you up. “Using the stairs is boring.” Within the blink of an eye, you were back inside and standing in front of your dorm room. 

“Text me when you’re done showering and we can go get food.” 

You nodded, one of the perks of attending school in Tokyo was the fact that the city never slept. You could go find a place to eat at three in the morning and they’d still serve you hot food. Your body sagged against the door of your dorm after shutting it. Flicking on the lights lit the room in a warm, golden glow. For the last three years you considered your room a sanctuary, it was your happy place after a long day of training. Now, it feels oddly cold. 

You walked over to your dresser, pulling the top drawer open to grab a fresh pair of underwear and pajamas for after. You tossed them on your bed, reaching down for your bottom drawer to grab a particular towel you liked. It didn’t take you long to put your hair up, not in the mood to wash it just yet, and head to the bathroom. You squinted a bit as the nearly white fluorescent lights filled the room, if you had your way you’d change them to something softer. 

It took all of five seconds for your world to come crashing down around you again, eyes zeroing in on the pregnancy test sitting on your counter. I fucking forgot about it…

You set your towel down on the counter, holding your breath as you took the step and reached for the test. You gave yourself no time to prepare, eyes scanning the results once before it hit you like a ton of bricks. You dropped it, letting it clatter on the porcelain counter as a jagged sob ruptured from your chest. Your hand came up to cover your mouth, the other resting on your chest, your heart thumping so wildly you were certain it would burst. 

There, on the test, were two lines. It was positive. 

You nearly fell forward, dropping down to the trash can beside your sink and rummaging through it without hesitation. Your fingers wrapped around the plastic test from this morning, yanking it up and looking at the results again. There, on the initial test from that morning, were two lines. You didn’t drop it this time, eyes staring at the results as if they’d change. Positive, this whole time it had been positive. You just hadn’t let the first test develop long enough. 

“When… How…” You uttered softly, the logical part of your brain screaming at you to be realistic for a second rather than acting so surprised. The irrational side of your brain was still reeling from the revelation. As if Suguru hadn’t been adamant in trying to knock you up for months. “You fucking bastard… you get your way and leave me with the aftermath.” You were struggling, there was no way you’d be able to pinpoint when it happened until you found out how far along you were. For some reason, that was what made reality really set in. 

Hot tears streaked your face, sobbing so harshly that it felt like your lungs would collapse on you. You moved in a blur, legs carrying you out of your dorm and down the hall until you were pushing open Satoru’s door. “Woah there, sounds like someone’s hun…” He looked up, the teasing tone in his voice dropping immediately when he saw the tears streaming down your face. “What the fuck happened? Are you hurt?” Satoru crossed the room in two long strides, hands cupping your face as your lips wobbled. 

You couldn’t get the words out, crying harder as he ran his hands over you searching for some type of wound. “C’mon, what happened?” His tone had more of a bite to it than he intended but you were causing panic to seep through his veins. You couldn’t breathe, legs nearly buckling under the weight of your reality. Satoru seemed to catch this, hands shooting out to support you as he brought both of you to the floor. “Y/N, please.” he urged you, throat feeling tight. 

You shook your head, still sobbing as you raised your hand meekly, the positive pregnancy test out in the open for him to see. Blue eyes widened significantly when he saw it, he didn’t even need to see the two lines to understand why you were so hysterical. “Oh…oh.” he swallowed, hand shakily taking the test from your hand to look at it. “Oh fuck.” it was just barely above a whisper, arm holding you just a little tighter as you cried into his chest. 

At least part of you was aware of the possibility, Satoru on the other hand felt completely blindsided. “You two didn’t use protection?” He uttered softly, rocking you slightly without thinking as your cries continued, you couldn’t think at that moment, unable to calm yourself down. You managed to shake your head in response, unable to feel embarrassed as you admitted to not using condoms when with Suguru. “Fuck… did you ever use protection with him?” 

He knew the answer, of course he fucking knew the answer. Suguru was utterly obsessed with you, so in love it was nearly nauseating. You shook your head again, confirming that you’d never once used protection with him. “Hey… c’mon…” he started softly when your body shook with the force of your cries but you were no longer making any sounds. He wanted to say it would be alright but he wasn’t sure if it would be. 

That answer relied on you. 

He couldn’t expect you to be alright, you had your heart broken three weeks prior by the man who often talked about proposing to you as soon as you all graduated. If those were the kind of conversations Suguru was having with him, he couldn’t imagine the conversations Suguru had been having with you. Well, that was a bit of a lie. Considering your reaction to the test results, it seemed this was a long sought after goal. Your cries were from heartbreak, not fear. 

~

“I’ve been looking at rings.” Satoru glanced up, noodles dangling half way from his lips. “Hah?” He watched Suguru grimace a bit, some broth splattering as Satoru questioned him. “I’ve been looking at rings for Y/N.” Suguru stated again, a little more cautiously now, watching Satoru slurp the rest of the noodles into his mouth. “Suguru, we haven’t even entered our third year.” 

“I know, but…” he shrugged, unable to formulate the right way to say it. “...But? You’re not even eighteen yet, neither is she.” It wasn’t that Satoru didn’t think it was okay, he just figured you were both way too young to even fathom those things. “I don’t intend on proposing to her until we’ve graduated. Listen I know it seems fast but…” Suguru's hands fidgeted with his utensils for a moment, eyes avoiding Satoru until he was ready.

“I love her, Satoru. I didn’t even think it was possible to love someone as much as I love her.” 

Satoru blinked, a bit taken back by such a bold declaration over a bowl of cheap ramen. “I’m not doubting that you love her, Suguru. I just think it’s a bit crazy to think about these things so young.” Suguru sighed, watching Satoru with weary eyes as he moved to eat more noodles. 

“We’re sourcers, Satoru. A long life isn’t guaranteed.” 

~

“Breathe, please. You’re going to pass out.” Satoru’s hand was slapping your back as you coughed, the tears had finally begun to slow but you still weren’t able to form a coherent sentence. “Please…” he tried again, watching you try your best to take a deep breath. It was followed by another, this time it wasn’t superficial. After a couple more, you were able to rub the tears from your eyes and look at him without blurry vision. 

“S-satoru I’m so so-sorry.” you hiccuped, your throat feeling raw from your crying. “You have nothing to apologize for, stop feeling like you have to apologize for everything you do.” he let you go a bit, motioning for you to get up with him and sit on his bed rather than the floor. He watched you crawl under his covers, curling up against his pillows, sniffling softly. Despite the weight of the conversation you were about to have, Satoru couldn’t help but chuckle. 

He crawled onto his bed as well, sitting beside you but above the covers. “So… I guess the best place to start is… how did this happen. By that I mean, was it intentional?” You sighed, toying with the end of his pillow case as you spoke. “Suguru had been trying to get me pregnant for months now.” You felt warmth flood your cheeks, it felt awkward admitting something like that. “I knew the bastard had a breeding kink.” Satoru said it more to himself than you, but that didn’t stop the shrill yell of his name as you slapped his arm. 

“I’m being honest! He just seemed like the type.” Satoru shrugged, holding back laughter as you rolled your eyes and settled back into sulking. “I shouldn’t be so blindsided by this, but it’s fucking ironic that he got what he wanted after he fucking left me… us.” you corrected softly, feeling selfish for being so focused on yourself when Satoru was hurting too. “The universe knows how to play cruel jokes, I’ve thought that my whole life. But, that’s beside the point. We can’t sit here and sulk over it, we need to talk about what to do next.” 

You looked up at Satoru, eyes red from crying. It hurt his heart, you looked like a kicked puppy. In that moment he realized how heavily he relied on Suguru, because even now he found himself itching to grab his phone and call him for advice. What was worse, you were now looking to him for help, when really he was just as scared as you. “The next logical step is I need to find a doctor who can run a blood test and confirm the store bought tests are accurate. After that, they need to tell me how far along I am so I can pinpoint when this happened.”

Satoru nodded, you’d both have to fill in Shoko in the morning, she’d be able to help with all the medical bits. “I… I know this seems a bit invasive so please don’t take offense… but are you going to keep it?” Satoru fidgeted a bit, eyes watching as you seemed to zone out and think. Your initial answer was yes, of course, but were you really capable of raising a baby on your own? Then again, you didn’t think you could stomach giving them away for adoption, and you certainly didn’t want to get rid of them. Not after you chased this goal for months, regardless of the way things were right now. “Yeah, as terrifying as it is, I want this baby, Satoru.” 

“Okay, so we got two of the biggest things out of the way. Now, the hardest…” you huffed as he trailed off, you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to answer the next question. “What do we do about Suguru, that’s what you’re going to say, right?” It was Satoru’s turn to huff now, nodding as he looked away from you to stare at his hands.

“He… he needs to know.” 

“No the fuck he doesn’t.” 

You both stared at each other, completely scandalized by the other’s response. “Satoru… He needs to know… he…he’s the fucking dad? How am I supposed to jus–” Satoru shook his head, hands coming up to rub his face before letting them fall back to his lap. “Suguru is a fucking criminal now, he murdered people. Hundreds of people I should fucking remind you and you just want to waltz back into his fucking life and tell him that shit?” You sat up now, eyes burning holes into his skull as you waited for him to at least look at you. “Do you hear yourself?” 

You were seething, that same anger you held for Suguru leaving was now bubbling at Satoru for uttering his name like it was pure filth. Satoru stiffened, eyes turning to glare at you. But, every ounce of anger seemed to drain from his body when he saw nothing but hurt glowing in your tired and puffy eyes. “I fucking get it, Satoru. I know what Suguru did but fuck, how am I supposed to just get over him? How am I supposed to carry his child for nine months and push it out of my body just to raise it on my fucking own and never tell him? He’s the one that wanted this in the first place!” Tears glossed your eyes over, hands shaking as they fisted in his sheets.

His mouth opened before closing again, eyes looking away from you because he knew he'd never be able to try and talk sense into you when you looked at him like that. “And what if the child is unable to see curses?” he sounded defeated. “What then, Y/N? What if you give birth to this baby and they lack the ability to see them? That baby would be the very thing Suguru hates.” You froze, it felt like someone had poured ice water down the back of your neck. “If he didn’t spare his own parents, he won’t spare his own child.” Satoru swallowed, looking like he wanted to say so much more but didn’t. He let the words hang there, heavy and dark. 

The silence stretched on between the two of you, mostly because you knew he was right. Just because both parents had the ability to see into the curse world and use curse energy, it didn’t guarantee that their offspring would also carry the same blessing. You blinked, hand subconsciously moving to rest over your stomach, as if it would do anything to protect them. “Suguru he… he wouldn’t…” Your words were weak and at that moment Satoru couldn’t bring himself to really fight with you. “But he would, y/n that’s the fucking issue, he would.” his voice was breaking, unsure if he should say what he wanted to say next. 

“Then what am I going to do?” You were going to dissolve, tears burning your eyes again as the harsh reality began to sink in. “Let me help you, let me help you raise the baby. I can easily provide for the two of you.” He turned to look at you now, eyes burning with such intensity it stole the air from your lungs. “What?” you hadn’t meant for it to sound offended, you were shocked to say the least, but still the hurt that flashed through his features made you feel the urge to reach out and hug him. “Satoru I didn’t mean for it to come out so harsh…” You moved forward, arms wrapping tightly around his neck and hugging him. 

It took a second but his arms came up to wrap around your middle, holding you tightly. “It’s okay, it was a bold statement to make so suddenly.” he soothed you when really you felt that you  should be the one soothing him. “No it’s fine, really it just caught me by surprise and…” you hugged him a little tighter, burying your face in his neck. For a moment you nearly stiffened, that was something you usually did to seek comfort from Suguru. In that moment, you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away, finding comfort in Satoru’s reassuring embrace. “You don’t have to answer me tonight.” He hushed you, hand coming up to smooth your hair as he kept you close. “I doubt you have an appetite now, how about we just sleep?” 

“I still need to shower.” You pulled away, laughing softly when you remembered what you had been in the process of doing before your world flipped. “Okay, then go and shower but please come back to me when you’re done.” His tone was quiet, something in it held no room for you to disagree. So, you let go of him reluctantly, nodding as you crawled over him to stand. “Again, you don’t have to answer me tonight, or tomorrow, or even next week. But please, think about what I said.” He stayed on his bed, watching you shakily grab the pregnancy test before heading for his door. “I will, Satoru. Keep my spot warm.” you smiled at him over your shoulder, heart still heavy as you disappeared through the open door. 

The hot water on your skin wasn’t enough to wash away the dread growing in your chest. You found your hands absentmindedly running along your abdomen, still finding it hard to believe something was there, something that would grow into a living breathing human in a few months time. A mix of you and Suguru, how strange. This wasn’t how you imagined it would happen, nor were these the feelings you expected to experience when the time came. If anything, it made you more upset. You should be happy, you should be fucking estatic. You should be basking in the euphoric state of knowing you’d be having a child with the man you adored. 

Instead, you had sobbed in the arms of his best friend, completely hysterical. And the man you loved had no idea you were even pregnant, that the very thing he wanted had been achieved and he wouldn’t even get to know. At least not yet. You had taken Satoru’s words into consideration, of course you did. But in the back of your mind, you knew there was no way you’d be able to go on with your life without ever telling Suguru. He would know, he would know of his child, you were already set on that. You twisted the knob, the water turning off a second later as you got out and dried yourself off a bit before wrapping the towel around you. 

Your body was aching from the events of the last few hours. Returning to Satoru’s room and sleeping in his warm bed sounded like heaven to you. Sleeping next to someone again felt like heaven to you. You had to wonder what Suguru would think if he knew you were sharing his best friend’s bed – albeit nothing sexual was occuring between the two of you. And even then, Suguru had broken up with you in that letter, you were technically no longer his. The thought made you feel sick as you reached for the clothing you had laid on your bed. You pulled the shorts on first, reaching for the oversized shirt second, trying to ignore the nausea building in your gut. 

You moved around your room without thinking, flicking the lights off before heading out the door and back down the hall. Satoru had changed into his own pajamas, hair damp from the shower he must have taken while you went to take yours. He only had his bedside lamp on, the pace beside him vacant and waiting for you. “Are you sure you don’t want food?” he questioned softly as you shut the door behind you. “I’ll eat a good breakfast if my morning sickness allows.” Those words felt foreign, referring to your nausea as morning sickness felt so bizarre. “Alright but if you wake up in the middle of the night starving don’t hesitate to wake me up.”

You laughed softly, huffing out an “okay” as you crawled over him and under the covers once more. Satoru pulled the blankets up over both of you before reaching over and flicking off the light. “Goodnight.” he spoke softly, settling into his bed as you rolled onto your side to get comfortable. “Night, Satoru.” You whispered back, eyes already feeling heavy, the comfort his bed offered was no match for the gnawing reality you were facing. For now, you were thankful for it. 

~

“Think fast!” You laughed, hurtling one of the poles directly in Satoru’s direction. He turned, using infinity to block it just before it hit his face. “Nice! Your reflexes are getting faster.” You picked up another weapon, Suguru was watching you intently, an easy smile on his face. “Sugu!” You called, aiming to throw another pole. “Think fast.” you repeated, arm going back before using every ounce of strength to beeline it straight at him. Suguru smiled, summoning a curse easily to deflect it. “Not bad.” you winked, watching him roll his eyes as the curse disappeared.

“Y’all are gross.” Satoru drawled, pushing his glasses up his nose. “We didn’t even say anything?” Suguru countered, stepping out of the shade and into the sun. “You don’t need to say anything, the tension is almost unbearable.” Shoko chimed, twirling her lighter around her fingers as she watched the three of you. This time you couldn’t help but laugh, letting Suguru close the distance and wrap an arm around your waist. “See, gross!” Satoru sighed dramatically as you kissed Suguru’s cheek. “It’s called being in love, something you wouldn’t get, Satoru.” You stuck your tongue out at him, laughing as he rolled his eyes. 

“Well if you’re gonna be all gross and lovey with one another, go do it in private.” 

“Okay.” 

You and Suguru spoke in unison, a shrill laugh leaving you as he bent down and hauled you up and over his shoulder. Naturally Shoko faked a gagging noise, watching as he carried you away with a smile. “They’re so gross.” Satoru commented again, eyes following the two of you until you were completely out of sight. Though, he couldn't deny the small smile tugging at his lips. 

“Suguru.” you slapped his back lightly, he was still carrying you over his shoulder even after entering the dorm buildings. “Hmm?” he paid you no mind as he climbed the stairs, his end destination would be your dorm room… more specifically your bed. “You can put me down now.” You knew he wouldn’t, so you opted for running your hands along his back, feeling his steps falter for a moment before composing himself. “I’ll put you down when I’m good and ready.” 

You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting at his ass. “Alright, that's it. You’re getting punished.” His words were very matter-of-fact, so much so that you couldn’t help but burst out laughing. “Okay dad.” Suguru didn’t miss a beat, stalking down the hallway towards your dorm room. “Yeah, I’m trying to become one so it would help me out if you cooperated.” You made a strangled noise, it had been three weeks since Suguru admitted to wanting to get you pregnant. Needless to say, he wasn’t giving up any time soon. 

“You just want a reason to fuck me.” You tried to counter, jumping a bit as he pushed into your dorm room and kicked the door closed behind him. “I don’t need a reason to fuck you, baby.” You couldn't describe the noise you made, whiplash taking over as he tossed you onto your bed. “I guess that’s true…” You pushed up on your elbows, watching him pull his white shirt up and over his head, knocking his hair out of his bun in the process. “You’ll be good for me right?” He was dropping to his knees before you, a gentle plea of his name leaving your lips.

“Atta girl.” he murmured, warm fingers hooking in the waistband of your shorts and pulling them down. You watched him with parted lips, watching the way his eyes observed you. “Already wet? How fucking filthy.” his hands splayed along your thighs, pushing them wide open so he could really look at you. “Just because I picked you up? Or maybe it was from wrapping my arms around your waist?” He teased, pulling one hand from your thigh to spread your cunt open instead. “Tell me, pretty girl… what has you so worked up already?” 

“All of it.” You’re breathless as you look at him, no shame in your eyes as you admit how badly you want him. Suguru smiled, fingers keeping you spread as he watched the arousal pool at your entrance. “All of it, hmm? I make you that horny?” His tone was light but the look in his eyes was anything but. You could feel him devouring you whole. “Yeah, you fucking do.” You tried to keep your hips still, praying he’d do something other than watch you grow wetter by the second. “Tell me something, would you?” he pulled his eyes away to meet yours. 

“Anything.” You comment softly, waiting to hear what he had to say. Suguru smiled, fighting the urge to reach up and tuck some of your hair behind your ear. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.” His voice was barely a whisper, pupils blown wide as he looked at you. You audibly groan, face feeling warm as your head falls back. “Eat me out, Suguru.” You drawl, no longer embarrassed by the things he makes you say. “As you wish.” He couldn’t even tease you for such an honest answer. Suguru’s head dipped lower, tongue licking up your inner thighs, teeth grazing the skin eagerly. 

“Sugu…” You whined out, his lips growing closer to your aching cunt. “... can I suck you off after?” 

Suguru’s whole body jolted as you uttered those words, mouth moving to lick and suck along your folds as his honest answer. You took that as a yes. You couldn’t help but squirm as his hands began kneading the flesh of your thighs, all the while his tongue was lapping at your cunt. Each movement sent electricity up your spine, one hand shakily reaching out to hold his head as his lips wrapped around your pulsating clit. “Oh fuck… Suguru…” you were embarrassed by how quickly he had learned to make you cum, the pressure already building in your gut. 

He didn’t slow, rather he slipped two fingers into your slick entrance and scissored them in time with his sucking. He loved to put on a show for you, going as far as to slurp your juices just so he could hear you cry out. You couldn’t think straight when his tongue was wiggling against your clit, stopping every few seconds to suck until your back arched. Suguru continued this until he felt your fingers tighten in his hair, pulling harsh as your moans turned into breathy gasps. He pulled away with a slick pop, smiling deviously as your head shot up to glare at him. “Suguru!” You wailed, letting go of his hair angrily. 

“Not yet, I don’t want you coming yet.”  

“No fucking fair!” you whined, head falling back against the mattress in defeat. “So selfish.” Suguru laughed as he pushed himself off the floor, now making a show of pulling the rest of his clothing off. “There goes your chances at getting head.” you chided, watching as that shit eating grin remained on his lips. “You think this is funny!” you whined again, the echoes of your denied orgasm making you close your thighs to try and alleviate the pressure. Suguru watched you, cock throbbing as he kicked his pants off the rest of the way and tossed them to the side. 

“I do think it’s funny, mostly because you look so cute when you’re so worked up.” his hands wrapped around himself, pumping languidly as you spread your thighs again, eager for more. Suguru smirked, always defiant until his cock was out. “Nah baby, I don’t think you deserve this right now.” he continued to stroke himself, head falling back just a bit as his own aching arousal was finally being relieved. “Sugu…” you choked out in a hushed whisper, mouth watering as he let out a breathy sigh, fingers toying with the sensitive tip. You were regretting your earlier statement. 

“Sugu…” you spoke softly, watching him lift one leg to plant his foot on the mattress, hand still gliding along his shaft as his jaw slackened. He ignored you, continuing to get himself off. He was waiting for you to do something, that realization had you pushing yourself up, pulling your shirt up and over your head and tossing it to the ground. You pulled your legs off the side of the bed, maneuvering yourself until you sat on your knees before him. “Let me suck you off.” breathless, hands folded neatly on your lap as you waited for his response. 

Suguru smiled at you, watching the mattress move as your hips squirmed. “I thought you said the chances of me getting head were gone.” he teased, hand massaging just before the head of his cock, making his own voice falter as he spoke to you. “I never said that.” which was kind of true, you didn’t say those exact words. Suguru cocked an eyebrow, unable to maintain his stern demeanor as your tongue moved to wet your lips, eyes completely focused on his fist. “Please, your hand is so boring Suguru, especially when you could have my mouth.” you tried again, eyes sliding up his torso, admiring the dips and plains of his muscles. 

“When you put it like that, it’s hard to say no.” he murmured softly, letting his cock go. You scooted closer, until your knees were nearly off the edge of the mattress. “Thank you.” You whispered softly, watching his face flush a shade of pink, eyes quickly looking away from you to try and regain some sort of composure. The first touch was always enough to make him weak in the knees, your tongue gliding gently over his weeping tip before lowering to the underside of his shaft. He met your eyes, face still flushed as you looked at him with such adoration. All the while your mouth was doing sinful things to him, your duality was enough to induce whiplash. 

His fingers came up to rake through your hair, guiding you as your jaw slackened, head moving to engulf him in the wet heat your mouth had to offer. “Oh fuck…” Suguru choked when you didn’t stop moving, throat constricting as your nose brushed the unruly mess of black hair at his base. You held yourself there, drool dripping down your chin as your cheeks hollowed. Slowly you dragged yourself back, watching the shiny coat of saliva covering his shaft in your wake. You repeated those motions, finding a comfortable place to bob your head at, his length heavy on your tongue. “So good for me… fuck you’re so good for me… I don’t know what I did to deserve you…” 

You merely hummed, ignoring the slow but steady ache building in your jaw as your hand moved along his shaft. You could tell he was starting to really feel it, his cock twitching every few motions, head tilted back as his eyes fluttered shut. You had to admit you were impressed he managed to stay on his feet. Most times, when Suguru dared to eat you out while you were standing, you were nearly a dead weight in his grasp by the end. The only thing keeping you up was the wall he stuffed you against and his shoulders because he tossed your legs over them. You stopped when you felt him twitching violently, jaw clenched tight as his head shot forward to look down at you.

“Gonna make me cum, pretty girl.” He choked out, hands cupping your cheeks to guide you as you moved your head again. Your hands shot out, holding his thighs tightly as you let him use your head how he pleased, guiding you to a pace that made your eyes water before he stilled all together. You forced yourself to relax as Suguru spilled down your throat, letting you greedily swallow all of it before pulling off of him with a lewd pop. “Fuck…” he nearly fell into the bed, dick still hard as he crawled onto the matress with you. “How about we do this…” he sounded breathless, laying on his side and guiding you to do the same. You knew what he wanted, swollen lips parting as you sighed, settling with your back just barely touching his front. 

You let Suguru grab one leg, lifting it up slowly to create enough space for himself. “Lazy boy…” You teased over your shoulder, letting his arm hook under your neck, large hand resting on your chest. “Maybe I am, but you fucking love it.” You couldn’t complain, not when he was angling his hips and pressing the weeping tip of his cock at your entrance. He pressed into you, adjusting both of your bodies until he found a comfortable position to properly rut his hips into you. All you could do is let him, whining loudly as he split you open, stuffing you full. “How’s that, hmm? Does it feel good?” Suguru whispered against your ear, panting as your walls constricted around him and tried to push him out at the very same time. “F-feels so good…so good…” You whined loudly. 

Suguru didn’t give you a verbal response after that, instead focusing all of his attention on finding a good rhythm to fuck you too. You couldn’t stop the noises that spilled past your lips, each drag of his cock in and out of your heat was enough to make your vision blurry. It took everything in you to at least keep your head up, tilted downwards to watch where he disappeared and reappeared between your legs.  “Suguru…” a breathless plea, one that turned into a steady mantra as all you could think about was him and what he was doing to you. Had you not been so overwhelmed you would have heard his quiet grunts of praise each time your bodies connected. 

Suguru watched a shaky hand slide down your front, in your whimpering daze you managed to slip two fingers down there to rub sloppy circles on your clit. “Gonna cum, aren’t ya?” Suguru gasped, his cock twitching violently as your cunt suctioned to him, nearly making his thrusts falter. “Y-yeah…” you managed to get out, no longer having the strength to keep your head up. You let it fall, resting snuggly in the crook of the arm he was using to support you. “Then come for me, pretty girl. I wanna feel you come all over my cock… then maybe I’ll fill you up, yeah? You’d love that…” you responded with a loud whine, walls fluttering around his length each time he pushed it back in. 

“There we go, come for me.” He encouraged again, warm breath ghosting the shell of your ear and earning a shiver in response. You could feel it, the aching build of a damn that was on the verge of breaking, every breath you made was nothing but a labored pant. Your heart was beating erratically, just as you were about to fall over the edge, Suguru gasped. You couldn’t help but gasp with him, his release pumping into you, hot and sticky. “F-fuck sorry…” he grounded out, his own orgasm sneaking up on him and completely catching you by surprise. Not that it mattered to you, that strained and embarrassed apology was all you needed before you felt yourself coming as well. 

You both essentially collapsed, Suguru holding you tightly as he angled himself to remain inside of you, to keep his cum inside of you. “You okay?” he mumbled softly, hand lazily reaching for the one you had used to rub your clit and bring it to your lips. You whined as he popped the shiny fingers in his mouth, cleaning them with his tongue. “Yeah, I'm good…great really.” You chuckled, eyelids feeling heavy as he hummed. “Good.” he mumbled softly, pulling your fingers from his mouth to kiss them gingerly. “You know I love you, right?” Suguru’s voice was tender, so tender it nearly pulled the air out of your lungs. “Yeah, of course I know that Sugu… you know I love you too, right?” 

“I know.” was all he said in reply, you had to wonder why he was suddenly so sentimental. Suguru was typically softer with you after sex, aftercare was one of his specialties. But something about his tone felt different, something about his question felt like there was more meaning behind it. You had been noticing the bags under his eyes for the last few weeks, but every time you asked he always brushed you off. “Is everything okay?” you tried to turn your head to look back at him, but the angle he had you in proved to make movement difficult. “Mmhmm, just want to make sure you’re okay.” but he hadn’t  been that rough with you. “Yeah, I’m okay… but you haven’t answered me.” He stopped kissing your hand, setting it down gently as he moved to kiss your shoulder. 

“I haven’t?” 

“I asked you if you were okay.”

“Well, I did answer you. I said yes.” he didn’t sound offended, more or less he sounded amused. “Mmhmm isn’t a yes, Suguru.” You, on the other hand, sounded a little less enthused. “I’m okay, baby. Is that better.” you couldn’t see it but you could hear the smile on his lips. “Yeah, that’s better.” But for some reason, you couldn’t shake the worry clinging to your heart. 

~

“Hey… hey…” you woke with a gasp, eyes wet as you tried to remember where you were. “You okay? You started crying in your sleep again.” A worried but groggy voice was speaking to you, one that was familiar but your brain couldn’t seem to catch up. “Y/N? It’s me, it’s Satoru.” There it was, you nearly fell back into the pillow with relief as he spoke. “Shit I’m sorry… I was dreaming and it just… fuck it felt so real. I couldn’t remember where I was…” you wiped your eyes, slowly adjusting to the dark room again. “It’s okay… you’ve been dreaming a lot.” Satoru sighed, he remembered you saying that your nights had been pretty dreamless for the last three weeks so why was that changing now? 

“I know… it just started happening too. Maybe it's because of the baby.”

Your hand lowered to your stomach, palm resting flatley against it. You still couldn’t process the fact that there was something in there, something that was growing, a mix of you and him. “Can pregnancy make you dream more?” Satoru chuckled, blue eyes shifting to read his alarm clock. It was just past four in the morning. You had slept pretty well until a few minutes ago. He had been watching you, woken up by your body growing restless. He woke you up the moment he heard you start to sniffle. “I dunno, maybe.” you sighed, eyes feeling heavy again. “Sorry for waking you, Toru.” You didn’t hear the way his breath hitched, your yawn effectively shutting it all out. 

You hadn’t called him by that nickname in weeks, he hadn’t really realized how much he missed it. “Don’t apologize, I told you to stop that.” Not stern, just tired, he wanted you to go back to normal but he knew that was impossible. Things would never go back to how they were. “Oh, yeah… I guess you have told me that.” You chuckle, turning on your side to face him in the dark. “I won’t apologize for forgetting this time, okay?” You grinned, eyes closing and unaware that he was able to see it in the dark. “Okay.” He sighed, a grin creeping up his own face as he let his eyes shut again. Hopefully you’d sleep through to his alarm at 8:30am, you had a busy day ahead. 

~END OF PART ONE~

Thank you for reading! I hope you look forward to part 2 <3333

Likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated ;3

[tojisbbg]

𝙣𝙚𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙠𝙣𝙤𝙬

❝you're exciting, boy, come find me; your eyes told me, "girl, come ride me".❞  

♡ geto suguru ♡

a/n: was scrolling through twitter and stumbled across yunonoai's new geto piece here. i love the roommates idea and decided to write a quick little smutfic for him ;)

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated! <3

content: roommate!geto suguru x fem!reader, modern au, smut, fluff/crack, not edited.

---

"yes, satoru." geto sighed, pressing his phone to his ear before raising his shoulder to hold it in place, one of his hands filled with grocery bags while the other dug inside his pocket to fish for the house keys.

"you're so rude, suguru. it's been so long since i've talked to you, i feel like i'm gonna die from lung cancer." gojo dramatically whined on the other side of the line, making geto roll his eyes.

"i just got home from work and we literally talked last night." he deadpanned, making gojo huff in discontent.

"that's still too long." the white haired man snickered.

"gay ass." geto mumbled under his breath, finally unlocking the door as he twisted the knob to enter.

"i have a girlfriend! unlike you. you're my bro, it's always bros before hoes." gojo poetically recited, half of his words flying out of geto's other ear as the man had a long day at work.

"surprised you got one before me." he yawned, slipping out of his sneakers to slip on his house slipper. geto distanced his phone away from his ear momentarily.

"y/n, i'm home." geto announced, but there was no response heard back from you.

"hater, you're just mad that my dick is better than yours. anyways, wanna grab dinner together? i need to tell you about what happened in my morning class today, i nearly busted my lungs out from laughing." gojo offered, already laughing midway through his sentence because he's a whole clown.

"some other time, i'm gonna cook dinner for y/n tonight." geto declined, walking inside the living room, tossing his keys on the sofa.

"feed her your dick instead."

"shut the fuck up."

"y'all didn't fuck yet?"

"hanging up, talk to you later." with that being said, geto could hear gojo about to protest, but he was quick to press the red button to end his conversation with the annoying man. he set the bags of groceries down on the counter, rubbing his temple in annoyance.

geto noticed how you weren't in the living room nor in the kitchen, where he usually finds you around this time. curiosity piques his attention, walking over to your room.

as he inched closer to your door, geto could hear soft whimpers and groans exiting your room. his eyebrows knitted in confusion... until he stood in front of your closed door.

"nghh~ feel so good, suguru."

"f-fuck, just like that!"

"ahhh~ need your cock inside my pussy, sugu."

"i-i'm gonna cum!! oh my go-god!"

geto's eyes widened at the mentioning of his name slipping out of your mouth in such a lewd manner. you were masturbating to the thought of him. he could feel heat creep up to his cheeks, bringing a hand up to his face to cover his mouth as he continued to hear your moans.

"shit." geto mumbled to himself, feeling his pants tighten as a tent now formed around his crotch area. he was so fucking hard just by hearing you whine for him like a bitch in heat.

eventually, your voice died down, red alarm signals going off inside his head. geto quickly left from his spot as quietly as he could, heading back inside the kitchen.

he had a silly little plan that he wanted to execute on you.

so, he continued on with taking out the groceries, as if he heard nothing; gathering all the things he needed to make a quick home-cooked dinner tonight. a little smirk painted over his lips, hearing your door creak open before hearing your footsteps.

geto looked up, meeting your eyes, as you were startled to see the man whose name you were moaning a few minutes ago appear in your shared kitchen. he gave you a small wave before going back to his work of chopping some veggies on the cutting board, some other things already sizzling in a pot next to him.

you quickly cleared your throat, offering him a nervous smile as you played with the hem of your t-shirt.

"o-oh, you're back home so soon, sugu." you stammered out, leaning over the counter as you watched him stir the pot, his broad back turned to you as his hair was wrapped into a neat bun.

"mhm, got off of work early today to get groceries." he responded, looking back at you as he took note of your flushed face and disheveled hair.

you looked like someone just fucked your entire existence out of you.

you chewed on your bottom lip as you began to overthink, trying to recall if you'd heard the main door open during your little private session. but, your mind was absolutely fucked out during that time, only being fogged by the dirty thoughts of geto plunging his cock inside of you instead of your pathetic fingers.

oh god... did he hear you?

the thought of him catching you moaning his name while pleasuring yourself created a huge wave of shame and embarrassment, colliding straight at you as you turned even more red. geto, who was peacefully cooking, could sense your panic as his smirk grew.

"i'll be in the living room." you quietly informed, dashing out of the kitchen where he was making a heavenly concoction, the aroma of different spices already welcoming your senses.

but, unfortunately, you had bigger things to worry about than the raging appetite in your stomach.

you sat on the couch, trying to knock some self-assurance into your anxious mind. you took in a deep breath, falling into your own train of thoughts.

surely, if geto were to hear you, he'd probably feel at least a little weird about it, right? like probably give you some weird stares, side eye you or like maybe not even talk to you???

yeah, you were freaking out.

you lightly smack your cheek, bringing yourself back. you convinced yourself that geto didn't hear you, he was still chopping veggies and loading the fridge when you walked out. this meant that he had to arrive after you were done.

besides, he was acting pretty normal with you.

you sunk into the couch, a heavy sigh leaving your lips as you tried to shoo away your thoughts. you've been roommates with geto for about two years now, the both of you meeting in your organic chemistry class during the first year of college.

you were still living with your parents, while he was living with his best friend, gojo. however, you soon decided that it was time for you to break away from your parents' protective shell, wanting to experience true adulthood and independence.

and for geto... well, gojo was a handful to live with, in short.

so, you both met by fate, sitting next to each other in the painfully boring and difficult class. about a month passed and you guys grew pretty close to each other, frequently partnering up for experiments and mini projects; which were done primarily over his place since gojo was barely home after sunset.

you were apartment hunting during that time, which was so hard as the rent was outrageous, especially near campus. when geto heard your little rant about it, he offered to be your roommate so that the rent wouldn't be so burdensome on you.

of course, you agreed without hesitation because the man was so incredibly nice. geto was a gentleman, every single good trait and positive word that exists in the dictionary could be used to describe his personality.

needless to say, you were not disappointed. he was clean, organized and responsible. geto paid his rent on time, did the groceries on days where it was his turn and sometimes on your days as well when he sees you stressed out. he cooks dinner for you both frequently since your cooking is very limited, if not, takeout is always there as a solution.

geto made sure to kill any bug, big or small, that threatened you; especially in the summer heat when those fuckers slipped in through the window. he was your knight in shining armor, whacking them dead with his slipper.

not to mention that it's rewarding to see such a hot man in your house every day after a depressing eight hours of lecture plus work. there was no denying the fact that geto suguru was incredibly attractive, and he was extremely popular amongst the female students as well.

on really hot summer days, you'd see him in skimpy tight tank tops, the fabric hugging his slutty narrow waist while deliciously exposing his muscular arms. his beautiful luscious black hair resting a little below his shoulder.

oh, and of course, he smelled so fucking good.

a mix of coconut from the shampoo he uses along with the scent of expensive cologne and his body wash.

with all these factors coming into play, having a silly little crush on geto suguru was quite reasonable to you.

"you feeling sick, y/n? your face seems flushed." the sudden intrusion of geto's voice awoke you from your trance, looking up at him as the man stood in front of you. he looked down at you with a concerned look, the back of his hand coming up to touch your forehead.

"hm, no fever." he concluded, eyeing you for an answer.

"oh, it's 'cause i just woke up from a nap and it was super hot in my room." you lied, making him cock an eyebrow.

"hot? it's the middle of november." geto snorted, making you mentally wince because you were slowly getting caught in your lie.

"the heater was on blast in my room." you defended, making him cross his arms over his chest as he looked like he was thinking really hard.

"weird, could've sworn i made sure to lower the temperature on the thermostat before leaving this morning. oh well." he shrugged, deciding to not pick on you anymore as he took a seat on the sofa in front of you.

you let out a sigh of relief, thanking god that he dropped his interrogation with you. your eyes followed his body, watching him plop on the sofa as he leaned back, shifting his hips forward before manspreading.

holy.

fuck.

you ogled at the sight, shamelessly eye-fucking him as your mind began to mentally strip him. almost immediately, your eyes fell on his lap, seeing the prominent bulge in his sweats. of course, geto's eyes noticed your staring, biting back a grin as his plan was working.

"you know, it's not nice to stare, sweetheart." geto playfully snickered, the petname that was directed to you sent heat between your legs, making your thighs clench together.

fuck, he made you feel so hot and bothered.

"i-i.." your words were stuck in your throats as you met his piercing onyx colored eyes, watching him give you a half-lidded smirk.

"hm? can't hear you from there, why don't you come over here and tell me." he patted his thigh, inviting you to sit on his lap. your eyes were the size of two full moons as you never expected to experience this side of geto.

either way, who were you to decline this gorgeous man's invite?

so, without hesitation, you got up from your spot and walked over to him. the both of you locked eyes, with you now standing in between his legs. geto's arms laced around your waist, pulling you down on his lap as you placed your legs on either sides.

as you pressed down against his lower half, you felt something poke your ass, making you gasp. geto chuckled, moving your hair away from your neck, exposing the skin.

"gonna help me take care of that, y/n?" geto whispered, pressing open mouth kisses on your neck, making you whimper as you wrapped your arms around his neck. you grind your hips on his hard on, earning a groan from him.

you felt his tongue swipe against your skin before feeling his teeth digging in ever so lightly, sucking the flesh. you let out a shaky breath, feeling him kiss, suck and lick all over your neck.

"s-sugu.." you stutter out, biting your lower lip to contain a shameless moan that itched to leave your throat. geto pulled away, looking up at you with lust clouded eyes. his hand grabbed the back of your head, pulling you towards his face as he crashed his lips against you.

geto could taste the sweetness of your fruity flavored lip balm, feeling his lips smoothly mold into yours. you sucked on his lower lips before giving it a soft lick, telepathically asking him to open his mouth, which he did. so, you shoved your tongue in his mouth, wet smooching sounds radiating off of you two.

he tasted like mint, so fresh and sweet. your hands cupped his face, angling your face in a way that you could kiss him deeper, his fingers dancing on your spine. you felt the wet muscle intertwine with yours, making you suck his tongue as you rubbed your clothed cunt against his bulge.

geto moaned in your mouth, the impact of your warm cunt against his painfully clothed cock sent waves of pleasure to his brain. you both soon pulled away, gasping for air as a string of saliva was connected to the both of your lips.

"can i help you with this?" you softly asked, pressing down on his cock once again, eliciting a gruff groan from him. geto looked at you, your eyes were practically pleading him, lashes innocently batting as you oh so politely asked him.

"of course you can, sweetheart." geto replied, making your heart jump to your throat as you eagerly slid out of his lap, now sitting on your knees in between his legs. with attentive eyes, he watched your hands tug down his sweats, which he helped you with.

it was adorable how impatient you were, so excited to have a taste of his cock. you've seen geto shirtless on multiple occasions, eyes always never failing to catch the deep v-lines that ran down the side of his body.

so, it meant that he definitely had a monstrously huge cock hiding in those tight calvin klein boxers.

you wasted no time in pulling down the waistband of his boxers, hand reaching in to grab his cock. however, as soon as you felt the sheer length and girth of it, unable to properly grasp it in your hand; you harshly gulped.

fuck, he was hung.

by the looks of your hesitation, geto's ego immediately jumped a whole tower up, leaning his head back against the sofa as he wrapped his arms behind his head.

you pulled his boxers down, his hard cock springing out and hitting his stomach, your eyes widening at the sight. he was huge and thick, standing no less than a good seven to eight inches in length. the tip of his cock was a cute blush color, leaking out so much precum as a single prominent vein ran on the underside of his cock.

you wrapped your hand around his cock, giving it a few teasing pumps, making him grunt as the soft flesh of your palms did wonders on him. your thumb cheekily made it's way up to his tip, circling it as the pad of your thumb became coated with his precum.

geto jolted at this sudden action, looking down at you with an expression that was so beautiful and arousing.

"f-fuck, why don't you give it a little kiss, baby." he requested, making you hum as you pressed a feather-light kiss on his tip, feeling the small bead of the wet liquid on your lips. you smirked at how his chest heaved up and down at your teasing, your tongue licking a long stripe up his vein.

"stop teasing." geto groaned, getting a little impatient. you giggled at his words, placing the tip of his cock on your tongue before wrapping your lips around it. you sucked on it a little before shoving as much of his cock as you possibly could into your mouth.

"o-oh my god.." geto's eyes screwed shut as he felt the warm encasing of your mouth around him. you began to bob your head up and down his throbbing cock, pushing him down your throat, while your hands simultaneously worked to pleasure the inches that you couldn't fit.

"mmm, just like that— being such a good girl for me." he praised, a hand coming down to encourage your movements, pushing you deeper. you gagged a few times, but that seemed to only drive him off the edge, as every time your throat contorted or tightened, it deliciously squeezed his aching cock.

you could feel tears prick at your eyes, your hands fondling with his heavy balls, giving them gentle squeezes. geto's thighs began to ever so slightly shake, small curses and whimpers exiting his plump lips as the movement of your mouth and hands quickened.

"gonna let me cum down your throat? take all of it like a good girl." his hips began to desperately buck into your mouth, one of his hands gathering your hair into a makeshift ponytail as he thrusted into your throat. you let him throat-fuck you, your nails digging into the flesh of his thick muscular thighs.

"shit." geto swore under his breath, feeling his cock twitch inside your mouth as his vein pulsated. with the release of a guttural moan from his mouth, geto came hard and deep down your throat; as thick wads of white cum spurted out.

you made sure to swallow every single drop, licking his cock clean before giving his tip one last kiss as you pulled away. geto looked down at you while you looked up at him with a cock-drunk smile, making him smile.

his hand came down to your face, long and thick fingers wiping away your tears.

"made me feel so good, sweetheart. let me reward you, yeah?" geto sensually spoke, making your clit throb with arousal. he helped you up, once again placing you on his lap as he pulled you in for a needy kiss, tasting himself on your tongue.

geto's hands sneaked inside your shirt, caressing your sides as you shuddered in response to his touches. you tried to focus on the kiss, but you soon felt his hands creep up to your tits, giving them a squeeze through your bra.

"suguru!" you gasped against his lips, making him bite your lower lip.

"off." he commanded, tugging at the hem of your t-shirt. you obliged obediently, pulling it over your head before throwing it on the floor. with very skillful movements, geto unhooked your bra, removing them before having it join your t-shirt on the floor.

your tits deliciously spilled out, perky nipples which were swollen from the lack of attention. geto wasted no time in taking a mouthful of your tits, sucking on the hard bud as you let out a whimper. you pulled his head closer to your chest, grinding your pussy on his cock through your shorts.

geto gently rolled your nipple between his teeth before giving it a playful bite, making you shake in his hold. he sucked the mounds of fatty flesh, making sure to leave a copious amount of purplish marks on your skin.

suddenly, he placed a hand on your back before shifting to the side, gently laying you down on one of the cushions. geto pulled down your shorts, eyes coming into contact with the wet patch on your panties.

your cheeks heated up in embarrassment, averting your gaze from him, which made him laugh.

"eager are we?" he playfully threw at you, making you whine. not pushing it any further, geto soon pulled down your panties as well, a thin line of your arousal being attached to the fabric. he threw your shorts and panties to the floor before taking in the sight of your soaking wet cunt.

"fucking hell, sweetheart, you're dripping." he commented, making you clamp your thighs shut from how bashful his vulgar words made you feel. however, geto didn't appreciate you covering up, strong hands now on your thighs as he spread them apart.

"don't be greedy, y/n. let me see, baby." geto scolded, pressing a kiss on your inner thighs, which made you yelp.

he wasted no time in giving your clit a feather-light stroke, making your thighs twitch from the sudden stimulation. geto liked that reaction, now using his thumb and middle finger to spread your wet folds open. he had to gather some self-control to not shove his face into your cunt.

"so fucking pretty." he complimented, gawking at your puffy cunt and swollen clit, giving it away that you indeed played with yourself moments before. you were so wet for him, it was absolutely ridiculous, your hole clenching on nothing as it leaked more of your juices.

"do something, sugu. need you so bad." you begged, bucking your hips up to feel more of his fingers. he snickered at your actions, landing a wet slap on your clit, making you whimper.

"good girls get what they want. so, be a good girl and be patient while i admire you, 'kay?" geto shortly lectured, making you softly protest at his constant teasing, needing to feel some part of him on your body.

the man watched you squirm and softly grunt with a contented grin on his lips, seeing how your thighs threatened to close every few minutes from his light touches. however, geto wasn't that mean and he's practically been dreaming of this moment ever since he’s met you.

and after what he heard earlier today? oh no, baby, he's gonna make sure to memorize every detail of your pussy today.

geto slid his middle finger between your folds, slowly rubbing it up and down, the tip of his finger nudging your clit once he dragged his digit back up. your breath hitched, hands flying to the back of your head to grip the cushion.

"tch, that's all you're gonna give me? you weren't so shy about being vocal earlier." geto scoffed, making your eyes widen as you looked at him with a shocked expression. he smirked, rubbing your clit in a quickened circular motion, making your brain stop working as you completely forgot about what he just told you, eyes screwing shut as you choked out a moan.

"fuck, suguru!" you cried out his name, breathing heavy as geto continued to stimulate the sensitive bundle of nerves, his free hand coming up to pinch your nipples and squeeze your tits.

"mhm, there you go. but, i gotta hear more from that pretty mouth of yours, sweetheart." with that being said, geto dragged his finger down to your needy hole, prodding it open.

you felt him enter his middle finger, groaning as it was longer and thicker than yours. geto began to thrust his finger in and out of your cunt at a slow pace, watching you fidget. he soon added a second finger, the stretch of his thick digits was too much as it made all the wires in your brain fuse.

"nghh~, s-shit, feels so good!" you cried out, feeling him scissor his fingers back and forth into your wet cunt. he suddenly plunged in a third finger, making you choke on your moans as they began to rub your tight walls.

"yeah? taking my fingers so well." he whispered, moving his body up, slotting himself between your legs while his fingers never faltered. geto captured your lips in a sloppy kiss, while you whimpered against his lips.

he moved his head down, taking your tits in his mouth once again as he continued to thrust his fingers inside of you. you babbled random things, eyes rolling back as you felt the familiar knot tightening in your lower stomach. your walls clamped down on his fingers, making geto grunt at the sudden squeeze on his fingers.

"such a naughty girl, you are, y/n. playing with this pretty pussy of yours while moaning my name when i'm not around." geto's voice was laced with faux sympathy, the squelching wet sounds of your cunt was like music to his ears, encouraging him to plunge his digits deeper and faster; hitting your g-spot.

"hnghh, g-gonna cum!" you squealed, hands coming up to squeeze his biceps, eyes pooling with tears as you could feel your brain becoming rewired. his palm rubbed against your clit while his fingers abused your hole, completely fucking out your senses as your brain became mush.

your throat released the most pornographic moan ever, clenching onto his fingers as you came hard on them. geto could feel your hole twitch and pulsate, your creamy cum dripping down his fingers and down your inner thighs onto the sofa.

"better than these, right?" he teased, using his free hand to bring your fingers to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on them. you nodded your head, not even comprehending what the fuck he just told you as you tried to calm down from your intense orgasm.

geto pulled his fingers out, making you wince as your hole felt empty. he shoved his cum soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean as you watched the lewd sight of him eating your cum.

"so sweet." geto grinned, seeing you pant and flush into a deep red.

"sugu... p-please, hmphh—" you were cutoff by the sudden kiss, his lips smooching yours pretty noisily, coating them with his spit.

"what you need, sweetheart?" he whispered against your lips, tugging them between his teeth.

"need your cock in me, please." you breathed heavily against his lips, looking up at him with pleading lust glowing eyes. geto smiled against your plump flesh, sitting up on the sofa before pulling you up along with him.

"help yourself then." geto gave you the cue, helping you straddle his lap once again. you sat your bare cunt right on top of his hard cock, as it slipped between your folds, the warm leaky tip brushing against your clit. a soft whimper left your lips, eyes looking down at the porn-worthy sight.

you realized that his t-shirt was still on, pouting as you tugged the hem of it. geto cocked an eyebrow, feeling the fabric being yanked.

"off." you blurted out, the same way he did when undressing you. this made geto laugh, looking at you with teasing, narrowed eyes as he stroked your cheeks.

"so demanding." he playfully sneered, pulling his shirt over his head before discarding it with the rest of the pile of your mixed clothes on the floor. you placed your shaky hands on his shoulders before tracing his defined collarbones.

you moved down to his chest, intentionally brushing over his nipples, which made him shudder from the sensitivity. curious eyes shamelessly roamed around his upper body, seeing the well-sculpted abs he had from working out multiple times a week.

"like what you see?" geto playfully asked, making you scoff.

"like what i see? i'm trying so hard to not eat you right now." you grumbled, attaching your lips back onto his, muffling out his chuckle. you teasingly pinched his nipples to evoke a reaction, and you weren't left disappointed as he jolted, whimpering in your mouth.

you slightly opened your eyes, seeing from the corner of your eyes how his face was turning red from embarrassment.

"you're so adorable, suguru." you giggled, making him tsk as he landed a tight slap on your ass, making you yelp.

"yeah? tell me that when i'm sending you to poundtown." he countered your words, making you roll your eyes with a snort at the comment.

"looking forward to it, sugu." you said in a flirty tone, sending a wink towards his way, making geto's heart thud against his chest. you dug your face in the crook of his neck, kissing his skin as you began to mark it with hickeys.

you could feel his pulse point throb, lightly grazing your teeth against it, making him let out a heavy breath.

"you little minx." he grunted, arms kneading your ass before giving it a few slaps as a punishment, making you moan. his actions made you pout, wanting payback.

you began to slide your hips back and forth on him, feeling his hard cock easily slide between your wet folds. you trembled in his hold, feeling the grip on your waist tighten as you did this a few more times. the lewd wet sound of his girthy cock rubbing your dripping cunt made you even more aroused, his tip bumping into your clit, making you whine.

"hmm, i could cum from this." you shamelessly admitted, grinding yourself harder on him, watching geto bite his lower lip to suppress a moan. this annoyed you as you wanted him to be vocal, pressing your lips on his before shoving your tongue in his mouth, swallowing his moans as you glided your sopping wet cunt over his throbbing cock.

"stop.. i wanna cum inside you." geto said in between his breaths, forcefully stopping your waist as soon as his tip rested on your hole. he looked at you with a dazed look, his large hand coming up to brush your hair away from your neck.

"gonna let me feel you, sweetheart? pretty please?" he said in a low voice, kissing your collarbones before moving up to your neck.

"y-yeah.." you stuttered out, no longer being able to handle this game of teasing anymore. you raised your hips a little, taking a hold of the shaft of his cock, aligning his tip with your hole.

you began to lower yourself on him, slowly entering his fat tip in, your eyes shutting tight as you winced in pain from the sting. geto held onto your waist as support, his fingers gently rubbing your sides.

"there you go, easy, baby." he encouraged you, words being chased by a gruff grunt as you managed to shove a third of his cock inside of you. you could feel your knees slightly shaking, breathing heavily as you gripped onto his shoulder tightly to support yourself.

"need some help?" he gently murmured against your neck, eyes peering up to see tears forming in your eyes as you struggled to take in his cock. you nodded your head, making him hum in acknowledgement. geto sneaked a hand between the both of your bodies, the pad of his thumb stroking your clit.

the sudden mix of the pleasure from stimulating your clit along with the stinging pain of his cock bullying into your hole made your body shake. geto could feel your hole start to relax a little, using the arm around your waist to gently push you down as he continued to play with your clit.

"t-too much, it's too much!" your breath hitched, feeling yourself sinking in a few more inches of his lengthy cock. his mouth latched onto your nipple, sucking on the swollen bud, while his thumb continued to pleasure the tiny bundle of sensitive nerves between your legs.

"nghh~, f-fuck.." you let out a long moan, finally shoving in the last few inches of his cock, completely bottoming out. geto let out a guttural moan, throwing his head back on the sofa, as you both stayed like that for a minute.

"shit, baby, y-you're squeezing me so tight." geto choked out, while you tried to adjust to the stretch of his cock. you slouched your body forwards, hugging him tight as you craved for more skin-to-skin contact with him. geto happily accepted, firmly wrapping his arms around you as his hands stroked your back as you both breathed in each other's scent, molding into each other's body.

"feel so full, sugu, you're so big." you chuckled, laying your head on his shoulder as you pressed tender kisses on his jaw and chin. geto hummed, a proud grin painted on his lips as you stroked his ego.

"is that so?" he turned his head to the side, kissing your forehead. you began to slowly rock your hips, as geto progressed to shallow upward thrusts; the both of you letting out a blissful moan in sync.

you decided to completely lift yourself off of his, only his tip remaining inside you before slamming down on him, knocking the wind out of his lungs. geto looked at you with half-lidded eyes, jaw wide open, as he moaned shamelessly at the tight grip of your dripping cunt.

you adjusted to the size of him, beginning to bounce on his cock while holding onto his chest for support. geto squeezed your ass before giving it a spank, making you squeak.

"fuck, feels so good!" you cried out, feeling your knees burn as your hips went up and down on his dick, the tip of his cock kissing your cervix each time you pushed down. geto pulled you in closer, watching your tits bounce in front of him before capturing one of them in his mouth, sucking harshly.

you cried out in pleasure, beads of sweat beginning to form on your temples as it dripped down the sides of your face. your eyes fell down, watching where you both were connected, seeing how your pussy swallowed his entire cock in one swift motion.

your juices were dripping down on his shaft, wetting his balls and the fabric of the couch below you guys. the vein that decorated the underside of his cock deliciously grazed against your walls.

the living room was filled with heavy breathing, wet skin slapping, the shlick and squelching sounds of your drooling pussy colliding with his cock; along with the mix of moans and curses.

geto released your now swollen nipple from his mouth, his drool coating the bud as he looked at you, completely pussy drunk.

"you don't know how hard it was to resist you. u-ughh, had to fuck my fist to the thought of you every night." geto confessed, making you imagine the picture of him laying on his bed with his legs spread open like a whore, fisting his hard dick while moaning your name.

this alone made your pussy flutter, unintentionally making you squeeze him; earning a gruff groan from the man.

"you liked hearing that, didn't you? dirty girl." he let out a breathy laugh, making you frown as you grew embarrassed at how your body betrayed you.

"shut up, you talk too much." you grumbled before shoving your nipple back in his mouth to hush him and save whatever dignity you had left remaining. geto smirked, playfully giving your nipple a bite.

"suguru!" you yelp as you smacked his upper arm. as an apology, geto swirled his tongue around the bud, pinching the other neglected nipple as he fondled with both of your tits equally.

you could feel heat slowly building up in your lower stomach, that knot tightening feeling once again returning as your thighs began to tremble while you bounced on his cock. geto noticed your struggle, deciding to help you out as he grabbed a hold of your waist, still suckling on your nipple.

suddenly, he began to thrust upwards, his pelvis meeting your clit each time you bounced down on him. the impact of his action made your eyes roll back, feeling your orgasm draw in closer. your hand reached for your clit, rubbing it fast as geto began to increase his pace in thrusting his cock into you as you rode him.

"fuck! g-gonna cum! oh my god— hnnghh, i-i.." your voice died down, mind completely fucked out as you began to babble random shit while geto pounded into your cunt. a ring of cream began to form at the base of his cock, your pussy so incredibly wet that it was easy for him to slide in and out with no problem.

"fucked you dumb already? you're so needy." geto mumbled against your tits as they smothered him while you tried to chase your orgasm. your shaky hand reached behind his head, smoothly pulling off the hair tie that kept his hair in a bun.

you watched his ebony locks fall on his shoulder, nearly cumming right then and there at the sight of him.

god, he looked so babygirl.

geto's face was completely flushed, swollen lips suckling on your nipples, hair tousled, and sweat dripping down his face as his eyes were closed shut.

your fingers found home in his hair, tangling with the smooth locks as you pushed him closer to your chest, bouncing on his cock while he thrusted upwards in you.

geto felt your pussy twitch and squeeze around him, indicating that you were gonna cum soon. so, he made sure that his movements remained sharp and fast; plowing into your messy cunt, his balls were completely coated with your slick as they slapped against your ass.

"make a mess on me, sweetheart." he said, not sure if you were able to hear him from how fucked out you were. but, you didn't need to hear him as with a loud moan being ripped out of your throat, the intense stimulation on your clit and nipple along with the harsh pistoning of his cock into your cunt made you gush around him.

geto let out a soft whimper, feeling the warmth of your juices leaking down on his shaft. with a few more desperate thrusts as his tip brushes against your cervix, he came deep into your pussy. you shuddered at the feeling of his thick cum painting your walls, as he dumped in a huge load inside.

you both were a moaning mess, breathing heavily as your mixed fluids began to messily trickle down his cock. geto released your nipple from his mouth with a 'pop', looking at you through his fuzzy vision.

he noticed the dried streaks of your tears on your cheeks, the corner of your mouth with drool. you tugged on his hair, pulling him in for a sloppy kiss full of tongue and the sound of teeth clashing, riding out your highs with small thrusts.

you sucked on his lower lip before releasing it, pressing one last soft kiss on his lips before pulling away. you looked at him in a daze, pushing away the single messy bangs that covered his eye.

with his cock still plunged deep inside you, you hugged him while resting your head on his shoulder; trying to cool down from your orgasm and catch your breath.

"you okay, sweetheart?" geto asked softly, his fingers coming up to your cheek to stroke the burning hot flesh. you hummed with a nod.

"yeah. you feel so warm, sugu. don't wanna let go." you mumbled, pressing a soft kiss on his pulse point. geto decided to indulge into you, wrapping his arms around you as he held you close, both of your heartbeats synchronizing.

"we should clean up soon, it's well past dinner time." he deeply chuckled, making you sigh.

"okay." you responded, picking your head up before leaning in to give him one last kiss. geto looked at you with playful eyes as you gave him a shy smile.

oh yeah, his plan worked out perfectly.

---

"mmm, this tastes so good, sugu!" you gasped, trying to speak with your mouth full, as you praised the taste of his food. geto made one of your favorite dishes, coconut shrimp curry with rice; his culinary skills were seriously no joke.

"hm, make sure to eat up then." geto chuckled, ruffling your hair before taking a bite out of his own plate. you both ate peacefully, talking about each other’s day along with making jokes here and there; as if he didn't rearrange your guts like twenty minutes ago.

"y/n?" he suddenly called out, making you look up at him with anticipating eyes.

"hm?" you hummed in response. you watched him clear his throat before playing with the shrimp on his plate with his chopsticks.

"i didn't want that to be like a one time thing between you and me. the thing is— i've liked you for a while now." geto confessed, making you nearly choke on your mouthful as you quickly chewed on your food, swallowing it.

"i like you too, sugu. although, i thought i was being pretty obvious." you sheepishly smiled, averting your gaze away from him as you grew shy.

"i guess i was being a little dumb. but, masturbating while moaning my name was definitely a game changing sign!" he teased, watching your nostrils flare up in embarrassment as your cheeks now became tinted with a soft blush.

"suguru!" you threw a balled up napkin towards him, making him burst out into a fit of laughter.

"i'm kidding! but, i won't lie, that shit made me so hard." geto casually stated, making you drop your eyes to the table.

"god, how much did you hear?" you gasped, growing a little worried. geto grabbed his chin, pretending to think hard.

"hmm, let's see. up till the part where you were like nghh~ need your cock inside my pussy, sugu! oh my god, i'm gonna cum!" he imitated your moans in an obnoxiously high-pitched voice, making you cover your face in embarrassment. geto let out a quick laugh at the sight, making you pout.

"damn, can't even fuck myself in peace." you mumbled to yourself, making him snort.

"well, now you can fuck me instead." geto nonchalantly replied with a smirk, making you choke on your food.

"god, you're so shameless!"

"i was being straightforward."

"whatever." you sighed out, rolling your eyes.

"go on a date with me this friday to the carnival." he suddenly offered, his smirk now replaced with a warm smile. your heart fluttered, feeling it stuck in your throat as your lips curled upwards.

"i'd love that." you accepted, and the both of you continued to finish up dinner.

since geto cooked for you both, you insisted on doing the dishes in return, although he tried to convince you that he had it covered. nonetheless, you were pretty stubborn, and geto decided to step away and let you clean up.

he made his way to the living room, sitting on the sofa as he grabbed his phone, clicking on the second person on his favorited contact list. geto waited patiently as he fixed his hair on the camera and after two rings, he finally picked up.

"you call me at the absolutely worst times, suguru. i'm literally about to dick down my girlfriend." gojo whined on the other side of the line, a frown tugging on his lips, making geto roll his eyes at his best friend's complaint.

"let's grab dinner tomorrow. i got something to tell you." geto smirked, and as if gojo telepathically knew what his best friend was gonna tell him, the white haired male gasped.

"no fucking way!"

[yuuuhiii]

Geto teaching u how to give head

includes : 800 words , inexperienced!reader x geto suguru, smut, blowjob, explicit words,

Suguru knew you were inexperienced and he explained to you that it was okay and he’d be ready whenever you were. You always were thankful of how patient he was, he was fine with just satisfying your needs.

However one night you were feeling extra needy and wet. Suguru wasn’t helping either.

You know your boyfriend can’t help how extremely hot he is but the way his baggy shirt and sweats hugged his body was making your thighs clench.

Suguru knows you, probably even more than you do yourself. So of course he notices your squirming, setting a big hand on your thigh.

“You alright baby?” His deep voice resonates throughout the room only making your panties grow wetter.

You shake your head, your doe eyes peering up into his. He lazily smiles, rubbing your thigh, slowing inching to your heat.

“What’s wrong? You need me?” He lightly teases and you nod.

“Well you got me pretty.” He lets out an airily laugh yet you bite your lip.

Right before he’s about to sink to his knees to have a taste your words stop all of his movements.

“Sugu, can I suck you off?” He gulps, clearly caught off guard by your question, a small blush rising to his cheeks.

“A-Are you sure?” He almost whispers and you nod eagerly.

“If you’ll be patient with me.” You fiddle with your fingers.

“Of course I will baby, c’mere.” He pats his thigh, however instead of sitting on his lap like you usually do you sink to your knees in between his legs.

He’s already hard at just the sight of the position you’re in. He can’t believe that the day had finally come. He helps you pull off his sweats and you’re met with fully erect cock. You gape at his length, it lightly hitting your nose.

“Y-You’re already hard?” You whisper, your hot breath hitting his tip. He shudders, smiling dazedly.

“See what you do to me?”

You squeeze your thighs, finally wrapping your palm around him. He sighs, gaze already clouded with lust. You experimentally twist your wrist, tugging at his cock. He hisses, his lip tucked between his teeth.

“Fuck, good start.” He huffs out, throwing his head back.

The sight of him crumbing just from your touch spurs you on to make him feel even better.

“Alright, the tip is the most sensitive part, just like your clit ok?” He mumbles and you nod, staring directly at it.

The next moment your tongue lies flat along his slit, making him gasp.

“Oh fuck.” He moans, resisting the urge to buck his hips. It’s not like it was his first time getting head but god did you make him feel like a virgin.

“I-If you can’t fit me all in your mouth then just jerk the rest with your hands.” You nod, slowly leaning down to engulf him in your mouth.

The moment your mouth encased around his cock, taking him deeper and deeper he moans loud.

“Oh my god baby.” He says breathlessly, his hands making a makeshift ponytail with your hair.

You gaze up at him with your mouth stuffed full of his cock and he swears he can cum just from the sight.

“Alright baby, bob your head but make sure to watch your teeth yea?” You hum around him and he whines.

When you begin to move, you hollow your cheeks, growing faster by the second. He’s a moaning mess, chest heaving and slightly tugging at your hair.

“Ngh—good girl, sucking me so good.” He groans.

Before he can even ask you to your taking him deeper until his tip hits the back of your throat.

“S-Shit!” He jerks, his balls tightening. You gag around him and release his cock with a pop, slowly jerking his tip.

“M’not gonna last much longer.” He moans, he’s slumped into the couch, his thighs shaking a bit.

You wanted nothing more than your boyfriend to finish in your mouth so you pull out a trump card, something you read online.

Without warning you deep throat him once again and he whimpers. You keep his tip hugged against your throat and at the same time you swallow around him, one of your hand moving to massage his balls.

He gasps, his hips bucking against you. His legs twitch and against your hold you can feel his balls tighten.

“M’cumming!” He moans loudly, hunching over you.

His warm seed fills your mouth and you swallow everything you’re given. When you pull of of him he’s a mess.

“Fuck, baby I came a lot.” He lets out a raspy laugh. You place pecks along his softening cock and he jerks again.

“Hey don’t overdue it, you’re gonna make me hard again.” He holds your chin and you smile.

“Did you feel good?” You shyly ask and he smiles, pulling you next to him.

“Of course I did, you did such a good job for me pretty girl.” He whispers, kissing you needly.

His tongue enters your mouth, tasting himself on your tongue. You both moan in the kiss and his hands are gripping your thighs.

“Let me have a taste now yea?”

© yuuuhiii 24 : don’t plagiarize, translate, or post my work on other platforms

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

Just imagine sleeping on Suguru’s lap when he speaks to his followers, as he caresses your hair gently 💕

Suguru Geto would be sitting just like in the picture, and you would be resting your head on his lap, your body laying between his legs as you peacefully rest on your sweet husband.

The soft fabric of his attire would feel so comfortable under your cheek while you hear the honeyed words coming from Suguru’s mouth as he whispers in your ear reassuring words during his speech.

Suguru would also never halt the movements of his hand on your back and through your hair. The curse user caressing your form in the most gentle way, lulling you to sleep as he presses kisses from time to time on your face.

And his followers are all already warned that if one of them dare to wake you up in any shape or form, then Suguru will take care of the troublemaker with a quick cursed energy slash coming from his hand.

A sweet smile appearing on his face as the body of the one who woke you up fell to the ground. Suguru then shushing you gently as you almost woke up because of this monkey, cradling you in his arms like you were made of glass as Suguru kiss you back to sleep.

« Shh, it’s okay, precious. I’ve got you, everything is fine. Rest easy now, my angel »

🤍 Suguru Geto Masterlist 🤍

[hoshigray]

𝐓𝐢𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐔𝐬𝐞 𝐌𝐞, 𝐋𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐌𝐞 | getō suguru

𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬: rigger! Geto x fem/afab! reader - shibari; rope bondage (boxtie, breast, crotch, elbow) - blindfolded - gagged (handkerchief) - fingering (f! receiving) - pleasure denial - oral (m! receiving) - pet names (angel, baby, little/pretty bird, sweetie, ) - mention of drool/saliva and tears.

𝐀𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐍𝐨𝐭𝐞: c'mon now, y'all KNOW geto would be into rope play. matter of fact, it's canon cuz I'm part of gege's assistant team, lol. also, tysm for 2.5k, y'all are too kind ♡

inspired by a talk b/w me and @ramonathinks (ily hon!!)

"Thank you so much for the help, Geto."

"No problem, now be good and always behave from now on."

"Oh, I will!" The spiky raven-haired offers a warm smile to the woman as two men usher her out of his room, the three dark figures seen from the sliding door disappearing with footsteps heading to the corner of the hallway. Geto then gets up from the tatami flooring and stretches. 

He then stands and looks at the door for three seconds. Ten seconds. Twenty. Thirty.

After a full minute, his purple eyes peer at the sliding door to his right, taking light steps when approaching the room next door. Geto hovers an ear next to the door, trying to hear something from the other side if it contrasts with the silence of the room he’s currently in. He gives it a few more seconds before sighing through his nostrils, a sly smile creeping up. Geto brings a hand to the handle, finally sliding it to the right and revealing what was inside.

And to his mischievous glee, his smile grows from ear to ear. Because it wasn’t a what that had him chuckling to himself — it was a who. 

And who laid on the tatami floor before him was you. You were nude, your body covered in red rope, your mouth gagged by a red handkerchief, and your eyes covered in a black blindfold. 

There, you lay on your side on the floor. The red rope around your body restrains your arms and hands behind your back in a boxtie position, and your bare chest prompts up for exposure. The cord separates your breasts to each side, leaving a unique and alluring design that crosses throughout your abdomen and down south. No undergarments in sight; therefore, your chasm was out in the room’s air, the red cable slithering down between your folds, leaving a wet residue on the strict texture. 

And, good Lord. The whimpers you use to comfort yourself in this situation. All naked and isolated to the confines of this dark room, away from light and hospitality. Your meek voice is the only thing that holds familiarity to you. That is until you hear Geto close the door behind himself, the sounds of his light footsteps dancing around the room.

“Well, hello there, little bird.” The warm tone in his voice sent shivers down your spine, for you could hear the words parade condescendingly. Geto walks around the room, lighting up the candles. The smell of smoke and the rosy scent enter your nostrils. “Sorry for leaving you in the dark like this. Were you lonely?”

 He can only hear the mumbles confined from the handkerchief, which he can only assume was confirmation. “I apologize, baby. I had to leave our little session to tend to some business with some monkeys.” He said the last word with such slight vexation; you were bright to listen hard enough to catch it. Geto comes to you and sits next to your restricted body. “But now, you have my full attention, sweetie.” 

Cold, slender fingers touch your cheek, causing you to jerk at the sensation. It makes him snicker. “You know why I have you like this, yeah?” His palm cups your cheek, thumb swiping off drool at the corner of your mouth. “I saw you, my pretty bird, in the garden yesterday. You looked so beautiful and pure with the world — my world.” They snake down to your neck and brush your collarbone. His fingertips now become warm from the friction of your enchanting skin. “Then, I saw some parasite — a man worth for sore eyes — come and talk to you. He even had the gall to touch your hands with his filthy palms.” The hand now comes to your breast, a small gasp when they brush your nipples. “And you, such an amiable and accepting person, let him touch you like that. Unbeknownst to my vision.” Those same digits tweeze the bud or your mound, resulting in a sharp pant covered by the cloth in your mouth. “Who? Who told you to let that happen? Hmm?” 

Of course, he doesn’t wait for your response; what response? Your muffled moans and puffs of air? How silly. Geto brings his mouth to your other nipple, taking it in and sucking on it. The lapping motions of his tongue and the grazes of his teeth distract you from his hand snaking down with the red rope to your cunt. His digits now intrude on your southern lips, playing with your wetness in a teasing manner. And when you feel his forefinger about to enter your slit, you can’t help but sway your hips to invite him in. And it’s detected by the raven-haired man.

“Oh? You want me to put them inside, baby?” He already knows the answer; it’s no surprise when you nod helplessly. However, he clicks his tongue. “I don’t know, angel. Or should I even call you that anymore — how can an angel of mine be stained by the stench of such a foul monkey, huh.” His fingers move away from your cunt, now toying with the flesh of your inner thigh. Oh, the way your brows trench and how you whine for him. It always awakens something in him — something carnal. And how can he subject himself to the cries of his little bird? “Alright, alright. But if you really want me so badly, prove it to me. You can do that, right?” 

Geto removes his hand and mouth from your body, your chasm and nipples feeling outcasted from his warm touch. You jolt when the handkerchief in your mouth loosens and soon meets the tatami floor. Yet, your vision is still shielded by the black cloth. “Su–Suguru,” you chant his name in trembles. “Please forgive me, I—“

“I will forgive you,” the sound of clothing rustling fills the space, indicating that he’s now removing his monk attire. The black yukata comes undone, revealing his upper body while he pulls his pants down to his thighs. Something touches the plump of your lips, the tip seeking entry to your oral cavity. “Just suck me off like you always do, and all will be forgiven. You’re still my angel, right?” And with that, you accept the head of his cock with patient yearning, hallowing your cheeks while your tongue welcomes the underside of his limb. And it takes everything in Geto’s power not to rut your face with relentless vigor. He wants to take this slow first. He needs to see if you deserve his kindness. “Mmmm, good. Just like that…”

A few bobs to the base of his length is enough to put you in a trance, especially with the blindfold hindering your sense of vision, forcing you to rely on others. His smell is so intoxicating, the taste of his precum overcoming your tastebuds and the slap of his balls on your chin. Unhurried thrusts slowly but surely dial up to speed by the seconds. Your euphoric hums become frequent as his dick hits the back of your throat, every inch of him sinking deep into your mouth and throat that strains of saliva streak down to the dent of your chin. Your toes curl when he grinds his pelvis down to your lips, nose pressed to the pubes that fill your nostrils with his raw scent. Good God, it feels so good, the throbbing sensation in your chasm between your legs flourishing within.

And it goes the same for Geto, too. Both his hands find purchase on your head, keeping you in position for him to rut your face. Your tight throat grips him so nicely, the gummy walls holding onto him so deliciously that he can’t fight the wanton need anymore. Erratic hits to your face become apparent, making your mouth soaped with saliva that drips down to the room flooring. And you take the jabs to the back of your throat with ease, mewling on his cock with pleasure while being used like a toy as the head of his shaft bullies your insides. 

He pulls his head back, beads of sweat forming on his forehead as his body jerks to the electric shocks climbing up. He’s close/ So, so close. “…Haaahh—Mmmph!! Damn, you feel so good for me…I’m cumming, angel. Gonna—Ahhhh! Christ…Hmmph!!” With gritted teeth, Geto drills his dick deep within your throat, the warm fluid excreting out his glans greeting its velvety walls. Blissful hums from you vibrate your throat, sending shivers to Geto while he experiences his crescendo. 

When he’s finally done with his high and his load is inside you, he gradually removes his length from you. The tip of his cock resting on your tongue, which licks off any excess come. He then moves to free your shut eyelids from the black blindfold, your eyes fluttering at the scene of the warmly dimmed room, and Geto is now inches away from your face. Your watery eyes sparkle from the candlelight, and tears strike down and slide down your breast until the red rope captures it. “Forgive me, Suguru. I will always be yours. Only yours…”

He gives you a playful sneer, using a finger to wipe a tear from your cheek. He'd be a fool if he let you off the hook, especially now when you look at him as if he's your entire world. That's all he wants from the person he loves more than anything.

“You’re forgiven. And now, my pretty bird,” you can see the slight devious glint that harbors in his dark, violet eyes. 

“I shall reward you.”

© 𝐇𝐨𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐠𝐫𝐚𝐲2023 – transparent edit made by me + dividers from @/animatedglittergraphics-n-more.

[teddybeartoji]

彡 A THUNDERING FIRST

☆. contains: suguru geto x gn!reader; meet-cute, fluff, trigger warning for a sweaty suguru, double warning for a very flirty suguru!! mentions of teeth and biting bc yk i love that shit wc: 4k

reading in the park can be such a good way to spend the day – you get to hear the lovely little birds sing to each other, you can see the kids faceplant onto the ground and laugh it off, you can smile at passing dogs, you can feel the sun and you can feel the wind and for just a while – everything is good.

it's more windy today than it is sunny but that doesn't bother you too much. the gentle spring wind dances in the trees, swaying the tiny green leaves that are just beginning to grow. the ground is still wet from yesterday's rain but it's not too muddy. you're grateful for the shower anyway, excited for the fresh grass to rise from the soil, pretty flowers alongside it. everything smells good, too. the air is crisp and filled with new beginnings and laughter and now you feel yourself getting a little too poetic.

looking down at your book, you twirl your pen between your fingers as you try to bring your focus back to the words on the pages. okay, reading in the park can be a little distracting sometimes. but most of the time it's not that bad—

you raise your head from your lap when you hear the steady steps and it's weird because you've learned to not give your attention to every passerby.

but this isn't just some passerby. the soles of his feet dig into the ground as he approaches and something about him just pulls you to him. you only have a second to look at him before he passes but it's enough to peak your interest like nothing else.

a pair of dark grey shorts with some black underpants underneath them, a pair of surprisingly clean sneakers on his feet, a pair of black socks, a dark blue almost skin-tight jacket and a black cap are what pull on your ropes but the messy black bun that peeks from under the cap, the various piercings and the dark purple eyes are what tie the knot.

his phone is in a little make-shift bag that surrounds his very big and glorious bicep and he has earphones on. you've never been this observant with a stranger before.

right when he passes by you, his eyes flick down to yours for a fraction of a second and then he's already gone. steady pace and steady steps as he heads down the path in the park, leaving you longing behind him.

you shake your head and once again, try to focus back on your reading. but it's even harder now that you know a man like that is just jogging around the place. you eye him from a distance away, wiping his sweat as he passes another runner. you've never seen anyone run as gracefully as he does. you force your eyes from him and glue them to the pages that lay neglected in your lap.

around eleven minutes later, you hear him again. you just know it's him by the sound of his steps, by the sound of his shoes hitting the ground – you look up and find him already looking at you as he closes in on you. there's a slight flush to his face, beads of sweat rolling from his temple and he looks gorgeous. he gives you a small smile, a really fucking charming one, and jogs on, leaving you staring at him again.

he does glance back at you, though. when he's a minute away and just when the path turns back around, his eyes search for you over the field of trees. his lips pull into a smirk when your head raises toward him and you drop it the second your eyes meet from far away. cute.

another ten minutes have passed and you've reread the same page four times now. the thought of quitting on the book is heavy on your mind as you consider just focusing on the man instead. it feels silly – stealing glances at a random crush at a park but you can't help it. he has wooed you with just about nothing; you don't know nothing about him other than the facts that 1. he's ridiculously good-looking and 2. he's a really fucking good runner. the lap he seems to be doing is one of the biggest ones in the park and yet he seems to be completing it in record time. maybe it's those long legs of his?

you twist and twirl the pen again until it slips from you, rolling onto the ground. you curse under your breath and then you hear him again. scrambling from your spot, you hastily grab the pen – a little afraid to be in his way; scared to embarrass yourself in front of him.

he's a bit more flushed this time around, sweatier and sexier. he exudes confidence; like not the type to be an annoying fuck-boy but more of a dangerous one. the type to break your heart like it's nothing but a glass toy. but then he gives you another smile and the thoughts fades. his smile is soft and his eyes crinkle as he does so. he nods his head at you and you do it back – you reckon you're really getting somewhere here. is this flirting works?

you watch him run off and almost die when he glances over his shoulder to get another look at you. a blink and you would've missed it – a wolfish grin; wide and sharp, it merely flashes at you but when you squint your eyes to observe him closer, he's already too far again.

your heart is beating way too fast for a person that's literally sitting down and your hands feel clammy. damn. luckily, you have the wind to help you cool down as you try to think of a plan to get his attention. you'd offer him water but that's a bit too far from a complete stranger. you'd ask him— what would you ask him? how's the run? no, that's bad. how's the weather? horrible. what kind of music are you listening to? c'mon, you can do better than that. come here often? awful, just awful. you decide that you won't say anything – stopping his run for some small talk would just be awkward and you'd rather just keep looking at him. that's the safe bet, that's what you'll do.

he's back. he's on his fourth lap and he doesn't seem to be stopping any time soon. all self-respect has gone with the dancing wind as you blankly stare at the handsome stranger. the tips of his ears have grown red too and he's really panting now. he's just so— he slows down. his steps falter a few feet from you and your eyes widen. well, you didn't really consider the possibility of him starting the conversation. you check the name of your book to make sure you won't make a complete fool of yourself and repeat your own name in your head. there's no room to fuck up with a guy like him.

he glances down at his feet and your eyes follow. oh... his laces are undone. that's... disappointing. you're about to curse yourself for even thinking that he'd actually wanna talk to you but his silky smooth voice breaks your little bubble.

"may i?" his slender finger is pointing the bench your sitting on and you can't to open your mouth, humming an reply instead. his posture is extraordinaly as he walks to you and plops down a bit too close for a stranger (you most definitely do not mind).

it's quiet for a moment before he speaks up again. "what are you reading?"

you quietly thank yourself for checking the name and introduce it to the man beside you. even as he's tying his shoelaces, he has a strong presence. he keeps glancing at you from the corner of his eye, letting you know that he is in fact listening to you. when he's done he leans back against the bench and sprawls out his arms on the backrest; one of his is dangerously close to your shoulder but he'd never make that move this early. he just wants to make clear that he is as interested as you are. he lets his legs spread out a little wider, situating himself a bit more comfortably on the wooden bench and you stealthily pinch yourself for stealing a look at his strong thighs.

"you know, i thought about what to say but i couldn't come up with anything good... 'how's the run?' is pretty stupid, isn't it?" you ramble as you feel yourself melt under his gaze.

"you thought about what to say?"

...

"i– "

your head falls down to your chest as your whole body heats up – now you're actually afraid of melting away. you hide your burning face in your palms and you sigh. so much for not embarrasing yourself, huh? he in turn, lets his head fall back as he grins up at the sky. his lip piercing shines under the greyish light and his eyes fall shut as he basks in your flustered state.

when he feels like your cuteness meter is just about full - he lets you off the hook. "that's really sweet of you."

peeking from between your fingers, you look at him. his eyes peer from underneath his cap, and in a way, it's really adorable how you're both hiding your eyes from each other. maybe not even hiding, but just, sheltering them. gauging when to finally drop the act and let yourselves stare at each other freely just the way you actually want to.

"not totally embarrassing?" you joke, forcing down the nervousness and letting a smile sprout on your lips instead.

"not at all." he assures with his saccharine voice. you almost believe him.

"it's never a bad thing to be prepared." you've known him for mere minutes but you know he's teasing. the tease is smoothly hidden in his charismatic tone but it's there nonetheless. a bead of sweat rolls from his temple and he wipes it with the back of his hand.

you bite the inside of your cheek as you drop your hands but avert your gaze, turning to the trees for a boost of strength.

he'd never admit it but... he too had to think of a way. he too thought that it'd be too weird to just ask about your book – he had to think of a way to break the first barrier. so, he untied his laced before he reached you. but that's a secret.

"suguru."

you whip your head your back to him, surprised by his little introduction. you repeat his name out loud and it tastes like honey, the syllables falling from your lips like a sweet goo. he does the same with yours and you swear you've never heard anyone say it the way he just did. there's a purr to his voice, coming from deep inside his chest - each letter is given so much thought and care. accompanied by the determined look in his eyes – you're just grateful you're already sitting down; he has your knees feeling weak, the muscles in your body tensing as he shifts just a little closer. barely an inch but it's enough to speed up your heart even more, enough for your body temperature to be reaching a new high.

his hand reaches over and you follow it in slow motion; you can hear your own heartbeat pounding in your ears as his fingertips graze your cheek. heat blooms from the touch and you feel like you're about to burst into a thousand little butterflies.

"you got a little something here..."

he takes notice of the warmth even though the contact lasted a fraction of a second – he's as observant as ever. his foxy eyes twinkle with a dose of smugness, a certain heat running through his body at the effects he seems to have on you.

pulling his hand back, he displays the single eyelash he just caught on his pointer finger right in front of your face. "c'mon, make a wish."

he watches your eyes flick from his finger to his eyes and then back down, he watches your brain work out your silly little wish. he thinks about what his would be and wonders whether you'd want the same.

you inhale sharply before blowing on his finger, letting the eyelash take flight and disappear with the wind. smiles bloom on your faces – the childish act bonding the two strangers forever.

"the run was good, by the way." he rests his hand back behind your shoulders, making you subconsciously lean closer. "the weather is good; i like this better. hard to focus when the sun is bearing down on you."

you nod your head, utterly bewitched by the man before you, and he knows it too. "'though it's hard to focus when i have you sitting here, too."

he has you hooked and he won't let you go. your eyes widen as his bore into you, absolutely feeding off of your every reaction.

"oh, you're killing me..."

"am i? i'm sorry for that, sweetheart."

you can't keep the groan that bubbles from the depths of your throat as you double over, hiding your face in your hands again. his quiet laughter rumbles through his chest and when you swear that when you raise your head, a singular sunray shines from behind the clouds. it lights up his smile, his eyes crinkling in the process. wow.

"when are you gonna come here again?"

there's no time to waste – you have to shoot your shot. you have to.

he lets the laughter die slowly, impressed by your sudden burst of confidence. "tomorrow."

"you run every day?" his ego grows in size at the surpised tone and he nods. "wait, how come i've never seen you before then?"

"maybe you were actually reading your book all those other times, hm?"

your heart does a little flip in your chest and you bite down into the soft flesh of your lip. he's sooooooooo...

he adjusts his hips on the bench and catches you looking. he's tempted to make another tease but—

"i would've definitely seen you if you were here. you're kind of hard to miss. very hard to miss actually."

he hides his reaction with a deep hum, infatuated with the fact that you can keep up with him so well despite your flustered state. "i just recently moved here, so... it'd actually be very nice to have somebody to show me around. the coffee would obviously be my treat, you know, if you're down for it, if you want to be that person for me."

his offer almost flies over your foggy head but his last words sink their claws into you at the last minute. the butterflies in your stomach are making you feel sick, a giddy nervousness swimming in your veins.

"i'd love to be that person for you." you nod your head, gluing your eyes to his as the final push to show you that you're as interested as he is. as if that wasn't clear enough already. "mainly for the the free coffee, though."

"right... right..." one of the corners of his lips is crooked upward and he looks so good. he looks like he bites, like he would sink his teeth into you so, oh, so gently and then lick the wound to make you all better again. you're really in it now.

unbeknownst to you – the sky has turned a shade darker, grey clouds now swarming the entirety of the field of blue above you and suddenly you feel a cold drop on your warm skin. and then another. and another. craning your neck up, you take in the foggy ceiling as the rain starts to soak your clothes.

you scramble to pack your bag, throwing your precious book in there before frantically looking for your pen only to have suguru hand it to you with a smile. "here."

"thank you."

you don't want to go. he doesn't want to go. the strap of your bag sits on your shoulder, the soles of your feet dig into the ground but nothing. you chew on your cheek and he picks at his fingernails – neither of you ready to part with each other just yet.

but thunder booms, yanking yourselves out of it. reminding that this chapter is only beginning and that the first page is always the shortest one anyway.

"you're gonna get a cold like this..."

"like what?" the water droplets cascade down his neck as he leans closer.

"oh, i don't know... sweaty and hot? what if the wind and the rain get to you and i don't get to have my free coffee, hm?"

he does want to bite you. his canines bite into his bottom lip as he observes you. how you're completely unfazed by the rain, how your confidence is clearly growing as you tempt him with your words.

"the wind and the rain have nothing on me, angel. i'd kill to get you that coffee." lightning strikes as his words fall from his tainted lips and he can't tear his eyes from you.

finally, he pushes himself off the bench and you watch him stretch his whole body like a big cat. an inch of skin shows itself from below his jacket, his happy trail making your eyes bulge before you clear your throat with a quiet cough and push yourself up aswell. making sure you have everything, you check your bag and your pockets and turn to him, only to find him already staring down at you. he's tall. he looked tall before too... but now that you're standing next to him – he's really fucking tall. and he seems to be thinking the same thing as he takes the oppurtunity to assert a little dominance by closing the distance between you.

"and maybe the rain will do you some good too... maybe it'll help you cool off, yeah?" there it is again – hidden by a tone of genuine advice – the tease. it slips from his curved lips with ease, with too much ease, and you hate that you can't even argue with him. you burn under his eyes and the rain is seemingly the only thing that's keeping you alive at this point.

"i think you should buy me so many coffees." you sigh, clutching onto your bag strap. he's towering over you, so you need just about anything and everything to keep your composure.

"yeah? what for?" he laughs. god, you love his laugh.

"for putting up with your teasing. i think i deserve a reward, honestly."

it looks like a scene out of a romantic little movie – the two lovers standing in the storm; fingers twitching beside their bodies, gazes lingering on each other for longer than they should. nobody would guess that this is your first meeting.

"terrible manners, by the way. i can't believe i'm still talking to you." you give him another sigh, albeit an overly dramatic one this time.

suguru hasn't been this beguiled since... ever probably. yes, his friends tend to give him snarky comments like this but it's entirely different coming from you. it gets his heart pumping like nothing else – the rush from the run has nothing on you.

"oh, my deepest apologies, your highness. shall i kiss thy hand before we part?"

his little bit coaxes out a loud cackle – his chest swells at the sweet melody, getting addicted already.

"yes! yes, i think you should do that, kind sir." your cheeks hurt from smiling when you hold your hand out for him, testing whether he'd actually do it.

(he's forcing down a full-body reaction at you calling him sir.)

suguru is not a man to back down and you're about to learn all about it. the thunder rumbles loudly, echoing through the park he takes your smaller hand into his bigger ones, raising it to his mouth. his purple eyes twinkle at you and your breaths are getting shorter and shorter. his lips graze your wet skin before he's fully pressing them against you, all while keeping eye contact with you.

a shiver runs up your back and you're about to pass out. or throw up. or die. something is happening to you and he's the sole reason behind it.

he lowers your hand and offers you another dangerous grin; his sharp teeth glint from behind his pretty lips as the lighting flashes again and you gulp.

"don't die on me now."

...

your jaw drops and you place your hands on your hips, tilting your chin up to show your 'annoyance'. "exactly what was the point of the kiss, if you plan on continuing your little act, hm, suguru?"

"the point is to get to kiss you again."

..................................

oh.

this stranger will be the death of you. your whole body flushes again, your own built up cockiness fades away, leaving you small and shivering before him. the perfect prey ready for picking.

"not today though. can't have the highness grow too big, now can i? but perhaps next time? over that promised coffee?" his voice is sticky and sweet, meant as a trap to catch little doves like you.

you squeak out a mhmm as he's already getting his phone from his little bag.

by now, you're both absolutely soaked. the spring thunder cleans you from the groggy winter feelings and thoughts and gives life to... whatever this is going to bloom into.

you exchange your socials, giggling at how the screens refuse to cooperate under the rain but you get it done nonetheless.

"please, don't get sick."

"if i do, you'd nurse me back to health though, wouldn't you?"

you slap his chest, unable to bear the teasing little remarks any longer. his charisma knows no bounds and it's 100% not what you expected him to be like. maybe you should've – the eyes betray him.

"probably, yeah. nurse you from this horrendeous act. where are you learning it from anyway? some terrible love coach?" you scoff.

"something like that yeah." he trails off, once again hypnotized by the way your wet eyelashes shine when you blink up at him.

"okay-okay, we have to stop this now or we'll both get sick." you shake your head, physically trying to remove every thought of him that has been swimming in your head for the past hour or so. he hums as a reply. he fixes the cap on his head and awaits for you to make the first move.

it's taking everything in you to do so – it's almost as if you're glued there, right in front of him and it just feels right. his voice is right, his words are right, his eyes are right, his lips, his teases; but when the thunder booms again, you know it in your guts that he's gonna be in your life for a long time.

this kind of turned into smth way different than i intended but i'm not mad hihihi

[getosbigballsack]

sure lol, if you are ok with it

"imagine stoner bf geto being a total munch. obsessed OBSESSED with eating you out and god did is he good at it

if you wrote this, could i request theres no stepcest or blackmail tho?"

𝑮𝒆𝒕 𝒎𝒆 𝒔𝒐 𝒉𝒊𝒈𝒉

𝐷𝑟𝑢𝑔 𝐿𝑜𝑟𝑑! 𝐺𝑒𝑡𝑜 𝑆𝑢𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑢 𝑥 𝑆𝑡𝑜𝑛𝑒𝑟 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: 𝐴𝑓𝑡𝑒𝑟 𝑎 𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑘 𝑜𝑓 𝑎𝑣𝑜𝑖𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔 ℎ𝑖𝑚, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑠𝑢𝑑𝑑𝑒𝑛𝑙𝑦 𝑓𝑒𝑙𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑒𝑑 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑣𝑒 ℎ𝑖𝑚 𝑏𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑒𝑔𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑜𝑟𝑒

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑀𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑜𝑓 𝐷𝑟𝑢𝑔𝑠, 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑠 𝑎 𝑏𝑖𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑎 𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑖𝑒, 𝑜𝑟𝑎𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑥, 𝑢𝑛𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑡𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑠𝑒𝑥, 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑠 𝑑𝑟𝑢𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑑 𝑑𝑢𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑠𝑒𝑥 𝑒𝑡𝑐

𝐴/𝑁: 𝑎𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑡𝑒𝑑. ٩(◕‿◕｡)۶ 𝑠𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑙𝑦 𝑔𝑒𝑡𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑔𝑢𝑦𝑠. 𝐼 ℎ𝑜𝑝𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑜𝑛𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑡𝑜 𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑙𝑖𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝑊𝐶: 4.6𝑘

✯𝐺𝑒𝑡𝑜 𝑆𝑢𝑔𝑢𝑟𝑢'𝑠 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑚𝑏𝑒𝑟𝑠

𝐸𝑛𝑗𝑜𝑦❤︎

There is something wrong with you. You knew that, just by the way you casually strolled out of bed, took a quick shower and once you were done, you dressed yourself in nothing but an oversized zipper coat before grabbing your wallet, keys and your phone and walking right out of your apartment. 

It is a Friday night tonight, hence the reason the streets looked so busy tonight. Women and prostitutes alike running after those rich old men cars in hopes to get their cunt fucked for a few dollars to night. Horny men hiding in the shadows just waiting to see a fresh new target for them to pounce on. “Fucking disgusting,” you spat and rolled your eyes at them before walking into the convenience store to buy a pack of cigars. 

“Smoking again Y/N?” the cashier or let us say your neighbour asked you. 

“Mhm…” you answered as you handed her the cash before grabbing your cigar and quickly walked out of the store to avoid her questioning you any further. You neighbour Akia, she is sweet, and she cares about you a lot but sometimes, she is all too up in your business. Besides, you had somewhere to be right now, and you did not want to waste any time explaining to her why you have been smoking again. 

With a cigar in hand, you quickly made your way towards a payphone that was close to the store. You had a habit of using this phone whenever you wanted to call someone who you had no interest in texting. And this guy that you are about to call is one of those guys who you clearly had no interest in giving your number to, despite the kind of relationship you both had. 

Once you were inside the phone booth, you pulled out a few coins to insert inside the coin thing before picking up the phone and calling his number, and after the second ring, he picked up. “I’m starting to think that you may never give me your number, princess.”

“Funny, at this point, knowing who you are, you probably already have my number stored,” you said to him. He chuckled. “How did you get my number?”

“I have my ways,” he replied vaguely, and you huffed. “What is it that you want?”

“I want to stop by,” you answered. “I want to see you.” 

“You want to see me after you called me a cunt and told me to jump off a cliff and burst my head open?” he questioned and you vividly remember yelling at him last week, cursing him out for being a cunt all because he denied you a bag of weed. 

“Well things have changed, and I am not mad anymore. Now are you gonna let me see you,” you asked yet again. 

You heard what sounded like a desk being pushed around and him standing up from what you presumed to be his seating position. “I don’t know princess; it all depends on your reasoning.”

You sighed heavily, you were in no mood to go back and forth with him currently. So, you told him the truth, well half-truth. “I just missed you.”

“Is that all?” he pressed on. 

You rolled your eyes before saying, “I miss you and I want you to eat my pussy.” 

He let out a loud laugh, loud enough for you to hear it rumbling in chest and echoing through the room he was in. “Of course, that is the only reason for you to see me. You just want my tongue in your pussy.”

“Well, that’s the only thing you’re good for currently,” you snapped at him. 

“Is that so?” he asked, and you hummed yes through the phone. “If that is the case then, go home. I am quite sure that the toy you have tucked away inside your panty draw would be kind enough to help you out.”

You huffed, your cheeks puffing out as you yelled, “Geto fucking Suguru.”

“I thought we agreed that you’d call me daddy,” he said, cutting you off in the middle of your sentence. He could hear you huffing and puffing through the payphone. His mind rushing back to the many conversations you had with him that ended in you huffing and puffing and he honestly thought it was cute of you to do so.

“Stop playing with me Suguru and just come let me see you.”

He wanted to tease you a bit longer over the phone, but he was not going to be bothering with that, so instead he replied, “I’m at the office.”

“Which one?” 

“You know which one,” and with that said you hung up the phone and set off to find his office that was located on one of the most dangerous streets in your area. 

Geto Suguru, a thirty-four-year-old man you just happened to meet about a year ago at a club your friends dragged you off too. At first you thought that he was just some rich politician's son, especially after witnessing him hanging around the now famous gifted politician to have ever walked this earth, Gojo Satoru. That was just the kind of vibe he was giving off.

You had no interest in mixing with people from his class, but a drink and a bag of cocaine and molly had you glued to him for the rest of the night. You do not remember much of what happened that night, but you did remember walking up the following morning in a hotel room still dressed in the clothes you had on the night and Geto sitting across from you on a chair casually reading a book.

“Uhm…” you began stuttering in a frightened tone, having just become aware of the circumstances you are in. You were fully dressed still, but who is to say that he did not touch you with your clothes on.

“Morning! Do not look so frightened. We did not do anything. I have no interest in sleeping with girls who are completely intoxicated. Hence the reason I brought you home to sober up.” 

“You should've just left me at the club,” you said. He scoffed and waved you off with a flick of his wrist. 

“I guess I should have, but I didn't,” is all you could remember from the very brief conversation you had with him that escalates into you arguing with then stranger before he grabbed you by the throat, flung you on the bed and fucked your brains out (consensual of course). 

That day marks the beginning of this awkward relationship you had with Geto. It was obvious that he was very much interested in you, but due to his life and the type of work that he did, you had to be very much careful how you approach having a committed relationship with him.

Geto Suguru is what most people would refer to as a king ping, drug lord and most commonly a stoner. You found out about it the very same day he fucked you inside of the hotel. He was just casually having a conversation with the then running candidate for Prime Minister Gojo Satoru about an illegal shipment that was made to the country, and he was getting sick and tired of tidying up Geto's mess. And on that very same day, you saw no less than fifty pounds of tightly wrapped cocaine powder being brought in by a few men that work for him.

Do you remember the part where I mentioned that there was something seriously wrong with you? Yes, that day also proved that fact. Any normal person would freak out if they found out that they wind up in bed with a drug lord, they will even risk their own lives to get away from them, but you oh no not you. 

You were intrigued, too excited to see how much cocaine he managed to snuggle into the country and to think that you had access to such luxury, you just knew that you had to hold onto him. 

But that came with a price. 

When he realised how surprisingly calm you were with the situation you were suddenly placed in, you both struck up a deal. It is simple, you are to be his whore (girlfriend) and in exchange he provides you with all the drugs and money that you need to get on with your daily life.

It is weird, but there is nothing else to it. 

It is a complicated relationship, it is not exactly easy to explain the dynamics of your relationship with him, but it wasn't too hard for anyone to see that you both cared for each other and neither of you had any intentions of letting the other one go. 

Back to the story. It took you half of an hour to get to that part of town on foot. It would have been a bit quicker if you had taken a taxi, but you did not want to seem all the bit desperate, even though you were. 

It has been a week since you last had your cunt fucked and eaten. You became so addicted to his tongue and lips working the walls of your pussy and your sensitive nub. Nothing beats the euphoric feeling of cocaine seeping through your system than Geto's head between your thighs stretching your poor little cunny out with his fingers and tongue. 

He is obsessed with eating you out, he even went as far as to say that he thinks he is obsessed with eating you to the point where it almost feels like an addiction. You would even take it a step further to say that he is the reason you are so hell bent on getting your pussy eaten right at this very moment, and just maybe fuck you stupid on top or over his office desk. 

Slowly but surely with your hands tucked away in the pockets of your coat, you briskly walked inside the building that was before you. It was not particularly attractive on the outside, but inside told a different story.

The hallway leading towards the main lobby looked like the outside, but once you burst open those double doors, you are met with something entirely different. You had a chandelier hanging from the ceiling, white marble floor. Furniture that cost more than your rent and let us not forget the expensive plants and paintings that helped bring this lobby to life. 

You would never imagine a drug lord’s office to look this good. 

Enough with ogling the building. There was a man sitting at the front desk when you walked in. Messy dark hair, a jagged scar on his top lip, green frosty eyes and he was flashing you the most disgusting smile you almost vomited in your mouth. You recognized him, his name was Toji… yes Toji Zenin. You have met him a couple times at the clubs you would frequently visit with Geto. 

“Here to see the boss, little lady?” He asked. 

“Hm where is he?” 

He grinned, “Upstairs in his office as usual.” 

“Thanks,” you said to him as you turned on your heels and made your way towards the elevator. 

“Make sure to keep your voice down,” he yelled in your direction. 

You flipped him off with a middle finger and followed it up with a loud, “Fuck you,” before stepping inside the elevator and quickly rode it up to Geto's office. 

You hated that man, he always had to find something irrelevant to say to you. He knew he irritated you so much, to the point of not wanting to even be in the same room as him. 

You might ought to tell Geto to get rid of him, well maybe after he gives you heads that is. The sound of the elevator coming to a stop brought you back to reality. 

“Well, here we go!” You said to yourself before taking a deep breath then walked out of the elevator and down the narrow hall towards his office. “Sugu!” You yelled before knocking at the office door. “I'm horny let me in.” 

You could hear him laughing and the sound of his shoes clanking against the marbled floor, and he got closer to you, and just seconds later he opened the door and there he stood face to face with you and a big grin plastering his face. 

“It's nice to see you too,” he said before stepping aside and letting you walk into his office. “I am busy you see, but no worries, I'm kind enough to spare you a bit of my time.” 

You hissed your teeth and rolled your eyes at his statement. “Huh! I think I should be the one saying that.” 

“Is that so?” He asked and you shook your yes. He only chuckled and shook his head at you. It is not worth getting into petty arguments with sometimes, even though he found it to be the most enjoyable. “Sit on the desk and spread your legs.”

And that is all you needed to hear before sprinting towards his desk, but soon stopped when you saw a few stacks of cash next to what looked like the white stuff and weed. “Oh Sugu! Are we about to get high?” You turned around to ask him, only to receive a slap on your clothed booty cheek before being pulled towards the desk. 

“Not yet!” 

“Why?” You asked him as you folded your arms across your chest. 

“I thought we had this conversation before. I do not wanna be responsible for your drug addiction,” he said as he rested both hands on your hips, lifted you up and sat you down on the desk. He took a seat in his chair on the table in front of you and then accepted another stack of cash and began counting. 

“But you are a drug lord though. Isn't that one of your responsibilities?” You asked. 

He rolled his eyes at you. He really had no time to go back and forth with you today. “Did you come here to get your pussy eaten or did you come here to bicker with me. Pick one.” 

“No fun!” you grumbled beneath your breath as you hopped off the table to take off your coat and reveal your naked body underneath.

“No clothes?” He asked, having just realised that you had nothing underneath that huge coat of yours. 

“I thought you liked easy access,” you teased as you tossed your coat at him, the cigar packet falling from the coat and into his lap. “Shit!” 

“Really!” he said while shaking his head. “You really wanna get high and have your pussy eaten huh?” he asked, and you shook your head yes. “Get on the desk. I will give you what you want, after I am done counting these stacks though.”

And with that said, you giggled and hopped on his desk and patiently waited for him to count his stack.

…

You gasped at the feeling of Geto's rough hands on your thighs, pulling your legs apart and resting them both on the desk leaving you bare and open for him to ravish you with his eyes. You are used to this, the way he would eat your pussy up with his eyes, thinking of ways he could have you clawing, curling, and screaming against his tongue. 

A shiver ran through your spine the moment you felt his fingers slowly parted your lower lips, his thumb making quick work to gently massage your clit as he leaned his head down a bit from his seated position and licked a stripe through your folds with had you jolting a bit from the intensity. 

“Sugu!” You gasped, feeling his rough hands grabbing onto your hips to keep you perfectly still while he feasts upon your nectar. His breath felt hot against your cunt, wet lips gently clasping your clit, sucking the sensitive bud so deliciously it had you tossing your head back, releasing yet another sweet sultry moan from your lips.

Slowly, you lifted your head to take in the sight of such a beautiful man between your legs. “Such a sweet little pussy princess,” he moaned into your pussy as he continued to suck on your clit. 

“Ugh!” You moaned, moving your hand from the desk to grip at his soft black hair that formed a curtain around his face, blocking your view entirely. “Ah… Sugu!” 

“Daddy,” he said just before releasing your clit to press his tongue into your pussy, swirling and licking the gummy walls. Your dainty hand gripped tightly onto his hair, hips thrusting desperately, riding your cunt into his mouth to get his tongue to thrust deeper. “Be still princess,” he mumbled, sending waves of vibration through your body. 

You shook your head no and muttered “no,” fingers grabbing at his hair to keep his mouth pressed onto your cunt. He chuckled against your cunt and used little strength to pull his head away from your dripping pussy. “Sugu… ah!” you screamed; eyes widened in fear as you stared down at your pussy to see two of his thick, calloused fingers tapping at your clit. 

“Tsk… Dare to defy me? I said keep still or else you will not get to cum,” he warned before smacking his whole hand on your cunt, your body twitched, and your toes curled from the sudden impact. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes…” SMACK! “Yes Sugu! I will be still,” you cried out. He hummed a bit, a satisfied smirk riding his beautiful face as he lowered his head yet again to continue to feast on your pussy. Your hand found purchase in his hair yet again, slowly combing your fingers through his hair and that earned you a moan. You glanced down at him, the top button on his shirt opened exposing that dragon tattoo on his left pecs. His eyes tightly closed and that tongue of his lapping up your sweet arousal that he enjoys very much. 

“Fuck… Mhm hm,” he moaned into your pussy. He loves eating you out, and that was very much obvious to you. He loved being between your plush cute thighs, rubbing his head against the soft heated skin before lingering enduring kisses on each side of your thighs as he stared at your cute, pussy. He especially loves the smell emanating from your creamy pussy that sends his mind into sensory overload. 

You are moaning out. Your back arching, legs trembling as Geto brought you closer to your long awaiting orgasm. “Sugu, I’m close,” you cried out. He smiled, eyes finally opening to take in the sight of your beautiful face and must say this is a face he could never get tired of seeing. “I am cumming… I’m cumming,” you cried with a sense of urgency in your voice. 

Your hips bucked when he switched up; you could feel his mouth clamping around your clit, sucking the swollen, sensitive bud into his mouth. “You gonna cum in daddy’s mouth princess?” he groaned against your trembling cunt, and you shook your head. You're dripping into his mouth, clit swollen, pussy pulsing desperately for a release. 

He’s so messy, all your pussy juices dripping down his chin, and God it’s so hot how filthy he sounded with his tongue and his mouth greedily sucking up your sweet, creamy pussy. “Fuck… Fuck,” you screamed, legs trembling on the desk. His hand squeezed at your thighs, pulling you closer to bury his face against your cunt. He didn’t want a single drop of your cum go to waste. Your chest rapidly moved as you desperately grasped for air. His lips kept moving, and your hips kept bucking violently against his mouth. You were feeling so overwhelmed with pleasure; it had you cumming into his mouth without even realising it. 

“Sugu!” you cried, and he moaned as he drank up every bit of your cum. He allowed you to continue to ride out your orgasm against his face until you couldn’t feel your legs anymore. “Suguru… Suguru I wanna kiss you,” you said as you pulled his head away from your cunt and tried to pull him up by the head. He laughed and stood up, your hand falling from his hair to cup his cheek and pulled him in for a hot kiss. “I want you… I want more.” you begged. 

Your hand hastily moved from his cheek to make quick work of his belt. You wanted him, his tongue wasn’t enough. You need to feel him, and he knew that too. You slide the belt from the tight loops, drop it on the floor before popping open his pant button, pulling down the zipper and quickly yanking his cock from his briefs. 

“Slow down princess,” he whispered against your lips, chuckling at how needy you were for him. “Thought you only wanted me to eat your pussy.”

“Change my mind,” you gasped, still messily thrusting, and wrapping your tongue around his as you gently stroked his erect cock. “I want something bigger.”

“That so?”

“Yes… I want it. Please fuck me,” you begged yet again as you pulled your lips away from his, slide your body against the wooden desk until your managed to wrap both your legs around his slim waist, pulling him closer until you could feel his throbbing cock poking at your entrance. “Sugu! Please… fuck me.”

“Hm…” he chuckled against your lips. “I’ll give it to you if you call me daddy.” 

“Not in a million fucking years,” you mumbled as you continued to stroke his cock while rubbing his cock up against your cunt. 

“I’ll take my dick and go then. You don’t need it,” he said as he tried to pull away from you, but you quickly let his cock go and wrapped both legs around his waist and grabbed his shirt to pull him even closer to you. 

“Suguru.”

“Daddy…” he whispered. 

“Sugu…” 

“That's Daddy to you princess.”

You pouted cutely at him because you knew that there's no winning with him sometimes. You swallowed what little pride you had before whispering, “Daddy, can you please fuck me.”

And that's all it took for him to hoist your legs back onto the desk, strip himself from his shirt and quickly lining up his cock with your leaking entrance. “That’s right, you should always call me daddy,” he whispered before thrusting his cock inside your wet warm pussy, pushing against your spongy walls until the tip brushed against your g-spot.

Your breath hitched in the back of your throat, hand gripping onto his shoulders for support as he pulled out of you and slammed back into your hole.

“I'm so full,” you cried out. 

“Full of daddy’s cock princess,” he whispered, kissing the side of your neck while thrusting in and out of you at a rough and fast pace, his cock stretching your pussy deliciously past its limit. 

You gripped his shoulders tightly, nails scratching the surface of his pale skin as his thick cock penetrated you deeply, his angry red thick mushroom tip pounding repeatedly at your g-spot. It's not even been a full minute and you feel like you were already about to cum.

“Feeling good princess,” he whispered, and you shook your head yes. “Wanna feel even better?” 

“Yes… yes please,” you begged and cried.

He smirked and slowed his thrusting a bit to quickly open his desk drawer and pull a bag filled with pills. Your eyes glimmered with excitement, finally you thought, Geto was about to drug you out and you had no problem with that. You wanted it, you wanted to be high off in ecstasy, experiencing every bit of orgasm he was bound to give you. 

You watched him carefully, opened the bag, took a pill, and popped it in his mouth, “C'mere,” he said as he dropped the bag back into the drawer, grabbed both of your hands and wrapped it around his neck. 

The next thing you know, his lips were pressed tightly against and his tongue forcefully pushing past your lips to transfer the pill inside your mouth and once that pill was resting comfortably inside your mouth, he began his relentless thrusting. 

His cock mercilessly pounding your pussy against the wooden desk. “Oh God… yes,” you cried out, your legs lifting and twitching with each harsh thrust. 

You swallowed the pill hoping that it'll take effect soon because with the way you are feeling right now, you knew that deep down the pill would make this experience ten times better.

“Look at you, so desperate for my cock and a few pills,” Geto whispered, slightly pulling away from you to wrap his hand around your throat before smiling. He loved watching as you face twisted with pleasure, that gleaming adorable look in your eyes, pleading and begging him to fuel your arousal even more with drugs only he can give to you. 

And he was tempted to put another pill in your mouth but wasn't going to do that to you. He cared too much for you to do so. “Oh God, my fucking pussy is about to cum,” you choked out, your head tilting slightly downwards to get a view of Geto destroying your pussy with his massive cock. “Sugu, rub it please… ugh… my clit… please touch it.”

“Ohh, the pretty princess wanna cum?” He choked as his grip around your neck tightened, which caused you to gasp desperately for air. Through all that you managed to nod your head yes at him, spreading your legs a bit wider and bucking your hips to meet his every thrust. “Mhm… well if you wanna cum, then you'll just have to cum from my cock only.”

You threw your head back and let out a loud cry. Geto can be mean at times, always teasing you when you need pleasure from him the most. 

“Sugu please!” You begged but he only chuckled before pulling your head closer to his by your neck and kissed your lips. His tongue thrusts past your wet swollen lips, licking every nook and crannies. 

“If you wanna cum…, do it with just… my cock,” he whispered. He was pounding you so hard, hard enough to feel your clit rubbing against his pelvic area. Hard enough to make the desk rock violently beneath you. “Cum on you know you want to let it out.” 

You could feel it, the blood rushing to your head, the tightening in your core and that heat rising in the bit of your tummy, slowly travelling down to your aching cunt, you were so close to cum. “Ha… ha… ha God Sugu,” you shouted, tossing your head back as you feel muscle tensed, cunt twitching as you cum all over his cock. 

“Hm! There it is,” Geto chuckled, watching as your legs twitched and a ring of cum formed around his cock as he continued to fuck you through your orgasm. “That’s a good princess.” 

“More! More!” you cried out, pussy sensitive but still with the way his cock was stretching you out, you wanted more, and the pill still hasn’t settled in yet. 

“I’ll give you more,” Geto responded, and just as he was about to pull out of you and flipped you over; the door burst open and in came senator Gojo Satoru, eyes widened as he took in the scene before him. 

“Oh fuck!” you said knowing that nothing good comes when Gojo’s in the room and by that we mean, Geto's gonna leave you waiting and dripping all over his desk while he has a conversation with Gojo. 

And with you not knowing that the pill he gave you was an aphrodisiac, ah shit you were in for one hell of a torture.

𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑜𝑟 𝑟𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑖𝑛𝑔. 𝐼'𝑙𝑙 𝑠𝑒𝑒 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑖𝑛 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑞𝑢𝑒𝑠𝑡. 𝑌𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑐𝑜𝑚𝑚𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑟𝑒𝑏𝑙𝑜𝑔𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦 𝑚𝑢𝑐ℎ 𝑎𝑝𝑝𝑟𝑒𝑐𝑖𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑑. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑦 𝑚𝑎𝑘𝑒 𝑚𝑒 𝑠𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑒. 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑘 𝑎𝑙𝑠𝑜 𝑓𝑜𝑟 4.5𝑘 𝑓𝑜𝑙𝑙𝑜𝑤𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑖𝑡𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛𝑠 𝑎 𝑙𝑜𝑡 𝑡𝑜 𝑚𝑒❤︎

٩(◕‿◕｡)۶

@getosbigballsack 2024

[maeby-cursed]

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who waits for you in the parking lot after class. clad in a black hoodie covered in bleached designs, and baggy jeans, he looks like something straight out of your dirtiest fantasies.

he smiles when he sees you, the dimples he got from his cheek piercings in full display. he looks sweet as a peach pie like this — a feature that seems out of place coming from the wild-haired, smoky-eyed boy —, but you know that nobody else gets to see him the way you do.

that makes you smile.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who teaches you how to ride a skateboard. he sits you down on the deck and positions himself behind you, keeping your legs between his. you both propel yourselves with a couple of kicks to the ground and speed down the ramp of the park.

his friends laugh at the sight of you shrieking with delight, and he smiles, pushing your hair to the side so he can see your eyes, brimming with adrenaline and a danger that begins to taste like him.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who is there for every single one of your firsts and kind of regrets not being able to experience his own with you. he holds your hair during your first hangover, doesn’t laugh when you cough after your very first drag of a cigarette, and sleeps under your lilac covers after you’ve spent your first night with him.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who drops out of school because he finds it tedious, who is kicked out of his parents' house. who now lives with his best friend satoru, and is studying cosmetics at a course.

you've seen his sketchbooks, his delicate and intricate designs. you've seen how he braids some of his hair when he's tense and how he applies red shadows with care whenever you two go out on a date. you’ve seen how much talent he has. 

he dreams of being a tattoo artist and you’re sure he will be.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who is reluctant to tattoo you. he's been doing this for two years now; he's done full backs, arms and legs. he's even done piercings; eyebrows, nipples, bellybuttons. 

but your skin is different. your body contains your person and he doesn't feel quite ready to mark it.

yet he's never been good at saying no to you so he ends up giving in.

teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who, at twenty, spends his evenings in your shitty apartment contemplating the little heart he carved into your hip and kissing it.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who helps you with your studies, who's not quite a teenager anymore but who still takes you to the park from time to time, to watch that shine in your eyes come to life when you ride his skateboard again – just like it did that first time.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who never gives up his black eye shadow even if the years go by, who keeps a little bit of his old self in his combat boots, in his chipped nail polish.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who at twenty-six adopts two girls whose parents also threw them out, who works double shifts every day until he’s twenty-nine and is able to open his own tattoo shop, who keeps on working so they can get the lives he believes they deserve.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who still listens to his favorite songs. ‘one of us’ and ‘american idiot’ and ‘teenagers’; who dances with you and your little girls to all of them.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who, although his exterior never truly softens, has always been full of kindness and clouds.

grown teenage dirtbag!suguru geto who deep down knows that a part of him will be eternally misunderstood by everyone else, yet who recognizes something in your eyes; something that assures him that in this house – this house he’s built with love and devotion to his true self – everyone else does understand him. and know him.

and love him still.

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 ❞

❝ BEING PROF. GETO'S T.A. IS SO HARD BECAUSE HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part two of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you're now professor geto's t.a. for the semester, forced to spend time with the man that you so desperately want, either of you barely able to hold back when you're around the other, so what happens when you're forced to go to a conference with him...and there's only one bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, so much mutual pining, bed sharing, cuddling, masturbation (f + m), oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), semi public sex (sorta), office sex (kinda), amateur's take on moral philosophy and ethics, art by @/nino84391425

✧ wc: 16,821 (apparently i am writing a novel lol) | part one | part three | part four

“On time for once?” Professor Suguru Geto remarks without looking up from his notes on the podium, even as your footsteps echo in the empty lecture hall, “color me surprised,” 

“Couldn’t be late on my first day as a teacher’s assistant, now could I?” and his lips curl in that damnable smile, as he finally glances up from his notes to see you looking far too gorgeous in his button up — one you had oh so generously relieved him of last night, pilfered away in your bag seemingly. 

“But you could be late on your first day as a student?” and you lick your lips, as you draw closer to him, “seems like you’re quite the hypocrite, not very ethical,” 

“Don’t think what we did last night was very ethical either,” you murmur, enjoying the way his dark eyes glaze over for a moment with the thoughts what you both did — the places touched, the moans heard, and the pleasure had — “plus, I definitely have an incentive to be on time now,” your fingers graze his, and why does his touch always feel like coming home. 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, running the back of his hand against your cheek. 

“Your gorgeous face,” you smile, leaning close as your lips brush, “and some stolen kisses before class,” 

“And what makes you think you’ve earned them, my favorite student?” He teases, as his fingers slide to the back of your neck, and his other hand snakes around your waist, tugging you close. 

“Oh, I have a few ways to earn them, Professor,” your fingers drag down his chest, “but I don’t know if we have the time before class to—“ 

And his lips find yours — needy and bruising, as your fingers clutch at his shirt, the pressed fabric now definitely creased under your touch, “we’ll make time,” he murmurs, as he leans back to drag his thumb down your plush lips, “I still have many things to teach you, and what time is there like the present?” 

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips— 

RING. RING. RING. 

Your eyes snap open, a groan crawls its way out of your throat, as you fumble for your phone to silence the dreaded ringing. You lie back on your bed, a distinct ache between your legs that makes you squirm, and only want to bury yourself back into your bed and possibly the reality that existed within only your dreams. 

But this was sadly reality, and you had about two hours before your first class as a teacher’s assistant for Professor Suguru Geto’s ethics and moral philosophy class. And two hours before you would see Professor Geto for the first time since you had made out. 

You turn over, pressing your face into your pillow. You wondered if you tried hard enough, if you could suffocate yourself before then. 

Probably not. That would be far too lucky. 

~~~

Professor Suguru Geto couldn’t sleep — instead he spent his time staring at his ceiling, the blades of his fans spinning above him, just like his mind was — in circles. It was as if he almost didn’t want to risk his dreams taunting him, it was the same reason he had buried himself in research over the semester break, the same reason he had put off emailing you the materials for the semester, and the same reason he hadn’t seen you since that day you had kissed. 

It was too much of a risk. 

You were risk personified, even for a risk averse theologian he liked to think himself as. But you were the thing of myths, the dangled food for Tantalus, the far too warm sun for Icarus, and the promise of gold for King Midas. But you were not a myth — you were real, his student made of flesh and bone, the same flesh he had pressed into his desk just a few short weeks ago, his legs parting your thighs, his fingers itching to rip your pantyhose off your legs— 

He sighed, this wasn’t helping — his bedside clock blinked back at him mockingly — he only had a few hours before his first class. He should try to sleep even a little. So he did, shutting his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t dream of you. 

But he couldn’t possibly be that lucky. 

How many times have you stood in front of this office door? Your Professor, to which this office belongs, would joke that it was far too many to count — and you’d be better speculating how many times that Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the same hill. But the last time you had been in it was the thing that made you hesitate now. 

But that was your entire relationship wasn’t it? A game of chicken, wondering who would hesitate first — and neither of you were the type to hold back. Except when it came to this — except when it came to your feelings for the other. 

You shake your head, trying to shake your anxious thoughts free of their eternal bounce around your skull, and grit your teeth before finally knocking. 

“I’m actually right here,” a voice behind you says, making you jump, as you whip around, nearly pressed against his office door. And now you stood face to face with the man who owned it.

And how was it that every time you saw him, he was achingly more perfect than the time before? His ebony hair was half down, black locks brushing against his shoulders, the rest tied up in a neat bun. A crisp white button up underneath a neutral toned knit sweater vest, the shirt very much like the one you had stolen in your dream. 

Perfect. 

“Professor Geto,” you offer a small smile, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, instead of drifting over his form, “it’s good to see you,” 

“It’s good to see you as well, and so prompt,” he says, brushing past you to unlock his office, “made a habit of being on time these days?” 

“Well, when your professor reprimands you in front of the entire class, you try to make a habit of being on time,” why did it feel like your dream was repeating yet again? It’s not as if your relationship with him wasn’t cyclical enough — life imitating dreams was almost far too much. He opens the door for you, letting you enter first, before he follows you in, “and aren’t you the late one this time?” 

His lips quirk, as he rounds his desk, and takes a seat, “You really can’t make it a conversation with me without giving me shit, huh?” 

“Language,” you chide, as you sit across from him, “not very appropriate for an academic setting,” and you have to bite back the want to say that you’ve done plenty of inappropriate things in this office the last time you both were here. 

“Well, our track record isn’t known for being very appropriate, now is it?” Or maybe you didn’t need to say it, because the way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. But that didn’t mean either of you would act on it. He licked his lips, mouth parted to say something, his gaze heavy. 

And the moment is broken when his email goes off — you squeeze your bag a little tighter, as you busy yourself with digging through your bag for the materials to go over. That sound was nearly traumatizing in this office, not only did it usually signal the start of some assignment you had to trudge your way through — it also was the sound that had ended your relationship before it even really began. 

“Class starts in an hour, so I thought we could have this meeting just to review the syllabus and see if you have any questions — as well as just overall any questions you had about being a T.A.,” he explains, pressing his pen to his lips, “I understand this is your first time being a T.A.?” 

“It is, I hadn’t really considered it until the department head approached me about that,” and he nods, a flash of emotion that surfaces for only a moment before dissipating, “what will my responsibilities be?” 

“Good question,” a smile pulls the corners of his lips, “obviously, as a T.A., you will have office hours that you can decide with your own discretion—” 

“So it’s okay if I have them once a month at 3:00 AM?” and he rolls his eyes as you bite your lip at the sight — why was everything he did so effortlessly attractive? 

Fucking unfair. 

“Witching hour, how apt,” he murmurs, as he tilts his head, “but they should be weekly, as I’m sure you know, and held not in the middle of the night, when nights should be used for other things,” and you have to bite back your reply, like what? 

And then he continues to explain, “You can also help with some grading — mostly entering grades online for me since you know I love to handgrade,” 

“Oh yes, truly enjoyed having my self-esteem cut to shreds after receiving a paper back,” you scribbled notes down in your notebook, “glad I won’t be on the receiving end this time,” 

“If you’re good, that is,” and you knew it slipped from his lips — from the way his lips parted, the way his body froze for half a second as if he had shocked himself — and he had, because the spark between you two remained, a weed stubbornly cracking through concrete, “sorry—’ 

“You don’t have apologize,” you shake your head, waving him off, “it’s really fine,” 

“It’s not,” he said softly, placing the syllabus down on the desk, “I know we agreed to keep our relationship professional,” 

“We did,” Yes, you both did — sort of.��

“And I want us to do that—” 

And you ask the question you weren’t brave enough to ask the last time you two had seen each other, “Why is that again?” 

When the email had come, it was as if a spell had broken — the rosy colored lenses had come off, only to leave the hard glare of reality behind. Your limbs still entangled while you both reread the email off of his screen — as if it would say something different the millionth time over. 

It didn’t. 

And then the awkward clamor of disengaging, slow limbs pulling apart, as the warmth of his embrace left as quickly as it had come. Silence as the two of you let the news settle in, like a noose tightening around your necks, and you slowly slid off his desk. 

“If I’m your T.A.,” you had said slowly, adjusting the skirt of your dress, “we can’t do this, can we?” and he had only nodded, his gaze unable meet yours, fixed to the rug on the floor of his office, and he could only muster two words as you brushed past him and gathered your things—

“I’m sorry.” 

But even so, you couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea? Why was it so wrong for the two of you to do this? What difference did it make that you were his T.A.? It was still against the rules either way — it was still unethical either way — so why, why did it matter? 

But he knew why, from the way his brow creased with lines and his lips pursed and the way his eyes yet again couldn’t quite reach yours — as if you’d spot something in them that he didn’t want to see. 

“Because we’re going to working together all semester long, with students in class who will see us each week,” he licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, “because it was already problematic if we saw each other without any classes or connection, but now — if you’re my T.A. and my girlfriend, how would I even properly supervise you?” and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he blows air through his teeth, before his voice grows softer, “how would I focus on guiding you and our students if I’m too busy gazing into your eyes or staring at your lips or wanting to—” he cuts himself off, “you know it’s not a good idea,  most of our students probably wouldn’t notice, but rumors spread and it takes one good rumor to ruin your career,” and he adds, “with how things work, you don’t need me to tell you why it would be worse for you than me, even if I tried to take responsibility,” 

And you did know, knew very well that rumors got out that the two of you were together that nothing would happen to his reputation — perhaps he would be scrutinized a bit more, some judgment and side-eye from other professors and higher ups, but he wouldn’t get vilified like you would. Called a slut or a whore — and those would be some of the kinder names you’d be called, and you can’t imagine what it would do for your career, especially if you stay in academia. And then the rumors would fester and grow, more wondering where your grades came from — whether you had obtained them through honeyed words whispered over pillows and rumpled sheets instead through late nights spent at your desk and weekends practically living at the library. 

“I do know,” you said quietly. But it didn’t mean you wanted to do it anymore than you had that day. A part of you wished he had stopped you when you had turned to leave his office, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into his arms—but this was hardly a romance novel, “and you’re right,” 

He still has his gaze fixed anywhere but your face, settling his syllabus on his desk now, the silence familiarly filling the room yet again, muscles tense if your body didn’t know whether to flee or to draw closer. 

So you did neither, and instead broke the silence. 

“So would T.A.-ing provide an opportunity for me to teach the class?” and he blinks, eyes snapping up now, as a glimpse of sadness slips away behind his now thoughtful expression. 

“Would you want to do that? I don’t know if I could allow you to lead an entire class, only because some students may take some issue with another grad student teaching them—” 

“I don’t blame them with the tuition costs,” you mutter, and he nods, “don’t nod, it’s your salary I’m paying for,” 

He laughs, a noise you wished you could bottle because you knew it’d be the same as bottling happiness, “Well worth your money after how much your writing and understanding of moral philosophy and ethics has improved,” and you roll your eyes. 

“I see your ego is the same as ever,” and his lips curl, as he crosses his legs, and you fight the cruel temptation of your gaze flickering a little downward. 

“Well, Kant did say an ego is necessary to understand the world meaningfully and therefore act in a moral way,”  you tilt your head, being defensive with philosophy? That was a new one. 

But you weren’t one to let things go — as he very well knew. 

“And he also said that an ego can lead you astray from living a moral life if we become too self absorbed,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you calling me self absorbed?” 

You bite back a laugh, “Well, you are certainly self interested,” and you gesture around his office, “look at this office,” 

“What about my office?” he gapes at you, and you snort, you’ve seemingly struck a nerve by how wide his jaw dropped. 

“It’s a little…pretentious,” and dare you say it, your professor had a touch of pink painted across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, 

God he’s even pretty when he blushes. 

“I’m just teasing Professor,” and then you add, “it’s one of my more tedious qualities,” 

And he blinks, before his lips curl in the smile you never tired of seeing, “not tedious, more irritating,” 

You chuckle, before trying to get back on topic, “So you think you could work out me teaching a part of the class?” 

And he nods, “Let me discuss it with the department head — it should be fine,”

“Do I have any other responsibilities?” 

“If it doesn’t conflict with your schedule, you can also attend some classes, students can stay after and ask you questions as well,” and you nod, looking over his class times in the syllabus. 

“I can make the Tuesday one,” and he makes a note, as you rise, “we should go. Don’t want to be late for the first class now do we?” 

And he smiles the same damnable smile, “That would be a terrible first impression,” and his shoulder brushes yours as he opens his office door for you, “after you,” 

God, you thought as you stepped past him, the warmth from the brush of his body still there, this was going to be a long semester. 

If there was one thing you had learned from being a teacher’s assistant for Professor Geto’s class, it was that the students were even more desperate for your professor’s attention than you had thought. You thought your introduction had went relatively well — besides the pointed glares of several….enthusiastic students. 

After his detailed overview of the class, he reaches the resources section of the course syllabus, “Now, I am available at my listed office hours, in which you can make an appointment online. There’s also tutoring services through the university listed as well. And lastly, we have a T.A. for this class, for the very first time,” and he smiles, “Class, please meet your T.A. for this semester,” Professor Geto says your name and gestures to you, sat up in the corner of the lecture hall, and you stand, waving, “your T.A. took this very class last semester and showed great grit and dedication in the class assignments,” you have to stop yourself from shooting him a look, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips, “She is also a philosophy student, so please, feel free to reach out to her,” 

“Thank you Professor Geto for that…generous introduction,” your pause was slight enough that he caught it, a smile tucked behind an all too fake cough, “I really look forward to working with you all — this class truly had a great impact on my perspective about the world,” and you catch a flicker of an emotion ripple across his face out of the corner of your eye, “my office hours will be posted soon, and I hope we can get to know each other well over the course of this semester.” 

You sit as the students cast their gaze forward again, and the class continues on as usual. You make use of your time by reading for some of your other classes, until class was over. 

And that’s when you really learned something. As requested, you joined Professor Geto at the bottom of the lecture hall to help field questions from the students. 

Except, the students were far more interested in Professor Geto than they were in the course material. 

But maybe it was simply because it was the beginning of the semester right? It couldn’t happen again right? 

It was a good thing you weren’t getting graded because you would earned yourself a zero. As again, the next week, students were only interested in Professor Geto — whether it was because it was for his intellect or — you glanced at the students mooning over him — something else. 

Something you knew very well. 

You were forced to watch a female student flutter her eyelashes, then another brush against him, as she showed him what passage was confusing her, and then another student couldn’t stop staring at his lips. And then you wonder, if it had been another student who kept pestering him week after week, would it have been them instead of you? Would they have shared those moments together? Maybe even they would actually gotten to be in a relationship, instead of watching other people flirt with him—

“Excuse me,” your eyes snap up from your reverie and you see two students, seemingly waiting to speak to you. 

Those students had seemingly taken pity on you and spoke to you about the class, tips, and asked about your office hours. But soon enough, the students filed out one by one until it was just you and Professor Geto. And he’s collecting his things, as he glances at you, lingering still as you check your email on your phone, “Don’t you have class after this?” 

You blink, “how’d you know that?” 

And he’s straightening his notes to place back in his bag, before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, “well you’d always rush off after class so it was either you had class or you didn’t want to be alone with me,” he looks back to his bag and you hear the click of the zipper, “I was hoping it would be the former,” he adds. 

“Well, I never lingered after class when I was taking it either,” you adjust your bag, toying with the strap — why was it anytime you were with him it felt like stepping into quicksand, the more you struggled, the more you sunk — and even if you didn’t move at all, you were still stuck all the same, “didn’t want to get in the way your students stroking your ego,” 

And he raises an eyebrow, “Are we back to my ego again?” 

“I don’t see you shying away from smiles and praise from your students,” and his brow knits together, as he places his bag down on the podium, “no wonder your ego is so large,” 

“What students?” 

“Oh please, the ones swarming your desk after clsss. Didn’t you ever wonder why so many students from different disciplines take your class?” he opens his mouth and then you add, “and don’t say philosophy and ethics apply to every aspect of life,” 

And then he seems to consider the thought, as before his lips curl, as he leans against the podium. 

“Am I detecting some jealousy?” he smirks, and you pause before you scoff — far too quickly. 

“No,” and he only smiles wider. 

He chuckles, “That was convincing. I’m glad your ability to teach is much better than your ability to lie,” 

“I’m not—“ 

“Jealous or not,” and you have to bite back your retort, his gaze freezing you in place, a softness you hated to see — because you didnt know whether it made you want to push him away or pull him close, “there’s only ever been one student who caught my eyes,” 

Ah, there is was — you were sinking again. 

“Really?” you mumble, crossing your arms, “not even one other? You have a habit of unethical behavior for an ethics professor,” 

He’s grabbing his bag, before he’s taking a step forward to whisper, “Only when it comes to you,” and you have to force yourself not shiver at his words warming your skin, “I’ll see you next week,” 

And he’s gone — as you stand in the empty lecture hall next to the podium, the very one from your first dream— and you’re right back where you started. 

Professor Suguru Geto wasn’t the type to make mistakes. He was always meticulous and methodical — he used the very principles to help guide his life — because it gave him a moral framework, a way to interpret the world and his own actions. That’s what had drawn him to ethics in the first place. But then he met you. 

And it seems like he’s made nothing but mistakes since. 

He sat in his office after he practically fled the classroom, forcing his pace to be normal, hoping you didn’t see the flush on his face. Fuck, he tossed the pen he had picked up to start grading away, what was he doing? 

He had told himself it was for the best — again and again when he watches you leave at the end of the last semester. He held his muscles taut as he watched you gather your things, stepping over the crushed pieces of both of your hearts. The two words he had barely choked were the only ones he could manage before he watched his office door shut behind you. 

It was for the best. It was for the best. It was for the best. 

That sentence was on repeat in his mind as he tried to work on his paper over the break — “try” being the operative word. It felt as if even his work hadn't been untouched by you — your impact widespread and all consuming — just as your actual touch was. 

Fuck, he rakes his fingers through his hair, how was he going to survive this week much less this semester? 

He couldn’t afford to be selfish — for your sake and his own. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be. He runs a hand over his face — he all but blatantly admitted that he had feelings for you after class. After promising to keep things professional — he was the worst. 

He only wished he was worse enough to do what you both wanted when you asked him in his office why you both couldn’t be together. He wanted to tell you the reasons why you should be — because he couldn’t stop thinking about you despite never seeing you over the break, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you standing in front of his office, and because he couldn’t help but smile when he could see you hesitating in front of the door — but he couldn’t help but smile when it came to you. But he didn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

But he also couldn’t help but toe that damn line in the sand, the one that he had drawn, but the one so desperately wanted to cross. 

And then there was a knock at his door, he sighs, “Come in,” 

The department head enters his office, as Suguru blinks before he gets to his feet to offer his hand, as they exchange greetings, before gesturing for him to sit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I saw your email about having your T.A. teach part of your class, and I wanted to get a little more detail about it,” Suguru nods, his face composed, but his body tense — paranoia scratching at the back of his mind, no one happened to see them kiss had they? No one was on campus really at that point. And the door was closed — he probably just wanted more information.  

“What questions did you have?” and the department head runs down his list — what topic would you cover? How much class time would it take? Would he be asking the class first? Would he review your materials beforehand? 

“Well, you both seemed to have thought a lot about this,” he leans back, crossing his leg over the other, “I think having her teach a part of a class is fine, but I would like you both to do it sooner rather than later,” and Suguru opens his mouth, but then he adds, “and I’d like to attend that class,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “You would like to attend my class?” He considers his words carefully, “I was under the impression, based on the rules, the only thing needed to allow a T.A. to teach was the approval of the department head,” his anxiety begins to pick away at his nerves, “it’s not unusual for a T.A. to teach here correct?” 

It was his first time having a teacher’s assistant at this university so perhaps this was a quality check? To ensure both you and him were meeting the standards of the university — and his anxiety added, and to make sure no rules were being broken by either of you. 

“Yes, it’s not unusual, and I have my reasons which I’ll discuss with you after the class,” he checks the time and rises from his seat now, “I have another meeting soon — do you think she can present in two weeks?” 

Suguru hesitates, “I’ll have to ask her but most likely that should be fine,” 

“Okay please send an email cc’ing her and confirm the details,” he says his goodbyes, and he’s gone, as Suguru sits and considers this — what could he be planning? 

Or, his nerves add, what could he be looking for? 

Either way, he pulled up your email — it was going to be an interesting two weeks. 

“Deontology determines whether an action is right or wrong based on a set of rules and principles instead of the consequences of the actions,” you speak to an empty lecture hall, your voice echoing in the silence, “therefore an act that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” 

You had come into the lecture hall to practice yet again this week. You were cursing your past self for inflicting this optional task on yourself — it had taken far more time than you had expected (what’s new?), taken far more preparation than you thought (again, of course), and now had the fun added pressure of the department head attending. And why was he attending? A wonderful and complete mystery. 

The last two weeks have been amazing for your mental health, truly. 

You were lucky the lecture hall and the building at large was deserted at 8:00 PM — all of the staff and students had all but fled, and you were left with the perfect place to practice. It had been many nights of honing your presentation to the allotted time, leaving time to pose a thought exercise, time to discuss, and for questions. 

You don’t see the door behind you open, nor do you hear it close, as you use the clicker to go through your PowerPoint, switching to the next slide. 

“For example, killing an intruder, based on the consequence would be wrong, as I hope we all know killing is wrong — otherwise, I worry about what will happen when you get your grades back,” you give a brief chuckle — and hope some of the students would pity you with some laughs, and that’s when you hear a small laugh behind you. 

Your head snaps around, flushing when you see Professor Geto standing by the door. He’s wearing a deep royal purple button up and gray slacks, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms. 

God, this wasn’t a dream was it? 

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, his footsteps against the floor grew closer, and your body tenses, until they stop, “go on,” and he leans against the wall behind you. 

“But when you do kill an intruder to protect your family, that’s viewed as right under deontology,” and you can’t focus with his gaze running over you, an all familiar feeling settled over you. Would life imitate dreams again? Would he come over and ask you to continue your presentation as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder? Would he— 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you can’t meet his gaze, but you hear his footsteps, “should I go?” 

“No, no, it’s just,” you shake your head, “a little deja vu,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “deja vu?” 

Your blood runs cold. Fuck. 

“I don’t recall you ever presenting like this in my clsss before,” you can't decide if his voice is more thick with confusion or curiosity. 

“Yeah, no, sorry it’s nothing,” you brush him off, your eyes fixed on your notes on the podium, and you know he’s still staring, “what?” 

“I see you’re still not a very good liar,” and you scoff, “what is it that’s gotten you so bothered?” 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“The more you say that, the less I’m convinced,” and now he’s walking closer, closer still — but you’re fixed in place, “what is it?”

“You never let anything go, do you?” And you turn, your breath catching when you saw how close he was — inches from you, his pretty eyes wide at the sudden movement, his breath warming your lips. Black strands fall in his face, and you have to stop yourself from tucking them behind his ear. Stop yourself from wanting to touch him, stop yourself from wanting him to lean forward, stop yourself from wanting him. 

Nothing good ever came from your want. 

“Only when it’s you,” but this man makes it impossible not to want him. Not when his voice is soft, not when the back of his finger, a knuckle brushes against your cheek. And no words are needed — you can hear it in the silence between you both, you feel it in the gentleness of his touch, and in the softness of his gaze. 

And you know you’re in love with him. You are.

But you can’t be. 

“I’m not telling you,” you murmur, looking away — and it seems to break the spell, as he steps back, nodding, a flicker of sadness that slips away under his facade,  “but maybe I will sometime, over a drink,” you add. 

A smile tugs at his lips, “Well we know how well that went, or didn’t go rather, and you know, we can’t anytime soon,” 

“Well sometimes an action that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Using deontology to convince me?” He tilts his head, “not a bad strategy — maybe I’ll have you write a paper,” 

“And willingly subject myself to your red pen? No thanks,” and he snorts, before the smile fades into a frown, brow wrinkled in thought, “what is it?” 

“Nothing, I’m just…” he crossss his arms, “I’m wondering why the department head wants to observe your presentation,” 

“He didn’t give any indication why?” and he shakes his head, “maybe he just wants to evaluate how good a job you’re doing,” you add, “you are relatively green,” 

“Not that green,” and you see his lips pressed together — and is he? — he was — he was pouting. You bite your lip how fucking adorable — but you know you’d be met with a scowl if you said that out loud, “don’t you worry that the dean may suspect something between us?” 

The thought had crossed your mind, but class had been nothing but professional so far, and you’d be too busy sweating bullets (and perhaps dodging them from the students if the presentation went poorly) to even consider your feelings for him. 

You sigh, “Look, nothing to do but get through it, right? It should be fine, we’ll deal with whatever comes after. As long as I don’t choke, and you don’t stare at me too adoringly, we should be fine,” 

And you expect a retort, a cheeky reply, or even a quite sarcastic one, but he only gives a small smile, “Right,”

You feel your cheeks burn and you can’t meet his gaze again without feeling your heart flutter. 

Fuck — maybe there was something to worry about. 

Despite the concerns, the presentation goes off without a hitch. You spot the dean sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, pen and notepad in hand, which did nothing to soothe your poor heart (nor did the far too many cups of coffee and the total lack of sleep). 

It happened quick — a blur of speaking, forcing yourself to slow your words down, a necessity when presenting — as you knew you always spoke faster than you believed you did when presenting. You think you even made the students laugh a few times, led an interesting thought experiment with a rousing debate that ended with no clear answer (as always), and then you answered questions. 

All the while, Professor Geto stood in the back, and you’d catch a glimpse of him by the corner of your eye, his lips curled in that smile that haunted all your nights and days. 

By the time it was done, you had barely realized time had gone so quickly, as you passed the metaphorical baton back to Geto. And you took a seat off to the side, opting to watch him lecture, rather than busy yourself with other work. 

It felt like old times, you thought, as you watched him speak. You couldn’t blame the people that took his class just to watch him speak — he was unfairly beautiful when he spoke, gesticulating as he read a Kant quote. And you kept your face as neutral as possible, but he catches your eye for a moment, corner of his lip twitching upwards. And a flush settles over your cheeks, as you discreetly press your thighs together, trying to look suddenly engrossed with your notebook. 

Your heart ached as much as your body did. You wanted to walk over and just kiss him, swallow his smart words along with his gasp, and feel those hands run along your body. You wanted to know every thought in his head, every part of his day, and fall asleep beside him. 

You glance up to see him still speaking — a black strand falling in his face. You bite your lip, before looking back down. 

This man would be the death of you — and it was even worse being alone with him. You’re thankful that your T.A. check-ins with him were every other week, because you couldn’t imagine having to spend more than an hour with him every other week. 

“You want us to do what?” You blink at the Dean, his lips curled in a smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Apologies for all the secrecy, I did not receive confirmation about this until earlier today,” he explains, “but I want you two to attend this conference on ethics and philosophy  — it’s over the weekend, two weekends from now. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the both of you to make connections and attend presentations, as well as mingle with prospective students. It would also afford us an opportunity for both of you to help put our university on the map,” 

You glance at Professor Geto, his lips parted in surprise, “Sir, is it appropriate for a male professor and a—“ 

“Don’t worry, the accommodations will be separate and it’s a public event, as long as everything remains professional, there’s no problem, right? As long as you two are okay with it and there’s no problem,” he glances between the two of you, “is there a problem?” 

And Professor Geto’s eyebrows knit together. It was a lose-lose situation — saying no meant raising some suspicions that there was an issue between the two of you, but saying yes meant going on a trip with the same professor you had kissed at the end of the last semester. And if anything happened on this trip...it could be very bad — ethically and otherwise. 

So you make the decision for both of you. 

“That’s fine. I’m happy to attend if Professor Geto is,” and you know you have no choice — you had to spend the weekend with him, alone. At a conference. In a hotel.

“Do you have everything?” Professor Geto asks, as you hand him your suitcase, your fingers brushing as you do.  He lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car, his black t-shirt riding up as he does, a quick flash of the expanse of his muscles—

Fuck, you bite your lip, stop, stop. Professor. He’s a professor. 

It didn’t matter that you had felt him part your thighs, as his lips slid against yours, nor that every time you saw each other, you felt this undeniable ache to touch him, comfort him, hug him, nor that you knew he felt the same and wanted to give in as badly as you did—

No, it didn’t matter. 

You consider his question, scrunching up your face in thought, “I think so, wait,” you snap your fingers as he glances at you, “forgot the rest of my apartment upstairs — you think that’ll fit in there too?” 

He smirks, rolling his eyes as shuts the trunk, “Ha, ha, ever consider becoming a comedian instead of a philosophy major?”

“Every day, but then I think what would my favorite professor do without me?” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m your favorite?” 

“Who said it was you?” you grin at him, as he shakes his head and you open the passenger door seat and slide in, as he slips into the driver’s seat. He adjusts his mirrors, buckling his seatbelt, as a sudden wave of guilt bombards you. You had dragged him down this rabbit hole with you — and now the two of you had to spend the entire weekend together, alone. 

You lick your far too dry lips, “Sorry if I roped you into this,” you fidget with your phone, tapping on the screen absentmindedly. 

He starts the car, engine roaring underneath your feet, before he glances at you, brow furrowed in seeming confusion, “What? It’s not you that roped us into this,” 

You purse your lips, “But if I didn’t agree to it—“ 

He sighs, “We were in a position where we didn’t have much of a choice,” his fingers drum against the steering wheel, as his eyes flicker to make sure your seatbelt was on, “it’s not your fault — and it’s not a bad thing — we’ll spend time at the conference, we’ll mingle, and then return to our hotel rooms,” he adds, “don’t worry. Nothing will happen.” 

And his reassurance is almost a punch to the gut instead — and your brain chides you for being so childish — you knew it was for the best, you knew it was the right thing to do, and you knew he was trying what was best for you, and for him. 

But why did it hurt so goddamn much? 

You steal a glance at him as he pulls into the street and begins to drive, dark gaze forward, his hair tied into its usual neat bun, and a chain poked out from underneath the rounded opening around his neck. And then your eyes flicker back out the window.  

Was it really not a big deal to him? 

Because the last two weeks were consumed with nothing, but thoughts of being alone with him. Days spent in conferences, sitting beside each other, whispering thoughts and inside jokes; evenings spent socializing together, waiting for the other to give the signal to leave; and nights walking back to your rooms, fingers brushing as you walked beside each other. You were sure it would take a slight bend of the rules, a gaze that lingers a little too long, to break the paper thin resistance either of you had to the other. The two of you could barely be alone for more than a few minutes without temptation rearing its ugly head — even now your eyes can’t help but trace the curve of his jaw, the way the sunlight catches his eyes, the way your fingers want nothing more than intertwine with his hand that rests on the console between you two. 

But you don’t. You give a weak smile, glancing out the window as the streets of Tokyo pass you by — “Yeah it should be fine.” 

Just fine. 

“There was a problem with your reservation,” 

And after half an hour of waiting off to the side, with your luggage stacked up and irritation creeping its way to a new high as you watched others easily being checked in to the hotel, you assumed there was a problem. If there wasn’t a problem, you would wonder if this was a new take on Waiting for Godot that would end with the both of youu sleeping in the lobby. You rubbed at your temples, as Geto dealt with the hotel staff, his arms crossed, lips a tight line, “the hotel double booked one of your rooms, so we only have one room available for you.”  

You barely heard the rest of the argument your professor had with the hotel staff, the same phrase ringing in your ears — one room, one room, one room. With nothing more to argue about, they finally escorted you both to your room in awkward silence. And as they opened the door, you spotted it — there was only one single queen sized bed. 

One. Bed. 

You felt your cheeks flush, as you couldn’t even meet Geto’s eyes, as he began to speak heatedly with the manager again. And the excuses began, as the manager wrung his hands, about how no other rooms being available due to the conference and another event happening in town. 

“There is a couch though,” he offers,  pointing to a far too small couch, and the sharp glare that Geto gave him would put even his red pen to shame, “we will see about comping half—“ Geto crosses his arms, “all of your stay here,” and with that, he’s gone. 

“So,” you sigh, glancing at Geto, with a strained smile, “I have dibs on the bed?” 

Was this a cosmic joke? You wondered as you turned off the water of the shower, squeezing your eyes shut. Was this a version of ethical karma for what you had done last semester? An ultimate ethical test that you would surely fail? A fucking prank show? 

You didn’t know. You dried off and got dressed, pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, your hair still damp, as you took a breath and stepped out, towel slung over your shoulders. 

Geto was still on the phone, pacing back and forth — he was trying to call other hotels to see if there was anywhere else with two rooms or at least a room with two beds.

“Yes I understand it’s very last minute—“ he sighs for what must have been the billionth time today, “yes, there was a mistake at the hotel I’m staying at—yes, ok, well, thank you,” he hangs up, setting his phone down. 

“No luck?” You sit on the edge of the bed, wiping your hair, and he shakes his head. 

“The one thing they were right about is that every hotel room is booked solid — not only is our conference in town, but there’s a physical science consortium happening as well,” he rakes his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “I’ll have to give the Dean a call to update him on the situation,” 

You nod, “So what should we do about sleeping?” And he can’t quite meet your gaze, “are there no trundle or rollaway beds?” 

“No, apparently those have all been spoken for,” he grumbles, and he prepares to call the dean, “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed—“ 

“Professor, we can—“ and his gaze snaps to you, “we can share—“ 

“No, we can’t,” he says softly, “you know we can’t do that,” 

“We’re both adults—“ 

“And we’re still a professor and a student,” he draws the line between you two again, the gash even deeper than before, the gap that’s meant to keep you safe — the chase meant to protect you — so why did it feel more like a punishment? “I’ll take the couch,” and he calls the Dean to update him on the situation. 

You busy yourself with drying your hair in the bathroom, before coming back out to see him hanging up the phone. 

“Well, are we in an ethical bind or should I go sleep in the lobby just to show there’s no funny business?” And he shoots you a look, “there have been stranger bedfellows,” and he opens his mouth, “and a single word comes out of your mouth, and I’ll join you on that couch,” 

And a very pretty flush adorns the tips of his ears and cheeks, “He said it was fine, it was out of our control, but to just document everything, including the hotel’s incompetence for legality reasons,” 

“You’re also a lawyer as well as a professor?” 

“You have to hedge your bets,” he shrugs with a smile pulling at his lips, before he checks the time, “I’m going to take a shower,” he sighs, pulling his hair from the messy bun, letting his black locks down. And you watch him run his fingers through his hair again, sighing, as he heads into the shower. 

You lay on the bed, biting your lip — as you turn over to use your phone, as the shower turns on. And you glance at the closed door — the thought of him in there, pulling his shirt over his head, shedding his pants and boxers. Your cheeks burn, burying your face in your pillow as if that would help (it did not). 

You curl up on the bed, turning away from the bathroom door, using your phone. And a few minutes pass, as you kind of drift off into sleep, and you hear a creak of the bathroom door open that rouses you from sleep. You don’t move at first but you hear shuffling, the sounds of a zipper. You finally turn on your other side, eyes fluttering open, and you’re met with the sight of bare skin. 

You blink, eyes flickering up to see your Professor’s flushed face, before your eyes slowly following a bead of water slip down his bare chest, black hair dotting along the middle of his chest and abs, down to a happy trail that was hidden by a towel wrapped around his waist. His clothes in his hand, and your eyes find his own, your lips parted and mouth impossibly dry. 

Oh. My. God. 

“Uh—“ and his cheeks flare red, as you try your best not to let your eyes flicker downward, “I forgot my clothes—“ and you turn away, as he darts back into the bathroom, “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled through the door. 

“It’s okay!” You reply, your heart thumping against your ribcage, squeezing your eyes shut to only be met the memory of his bare torso, “fuck,” you mumble under your breath, as you turn onto your back, and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you. A distinct ache below at the thought of him. 

Your eyes flickered to the shut bathroom door. You hear the sound of water running again — maybe he needed to wash up again. Either way, you slid under the comforter, hand slipping into your shorts, you had some time. You wish you could have grabbed his hand before he fled into the bathroom, sat up on your knees, fingers sliding to his cheek. 

“Kiss me,” you’d murmur, and he would, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips sweetly, as your fingers glide up his bare chest. You’d swallow his gasp with delight, as your other hand finds his wet locks, fingers tangling in his black locks, “please,” you would guide his fingers to the hem of your shirt and he would oblige, lifting up and over your head. And your fingers would tug his towel away, letting it fall to the ground. 

Your fingers press against the wet patch on your underwear, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you gasp, imagining it was instead his eager fingers that tugged your shorts down. You sunk one finger in and then another, pumping slowly, and you knew he would get you ready for him. He would fuck you with his thick fingers, as his mouth latched to your clit, sucking gently as he fucked you open. You moaned his name softly, as you imagine his fingers stretching you open. 

“Do you want me, my pretty girl?” He would murmur between your thighs, lips glossy with your release, “s’good for me, taste as good as you look,” and he would press your back gently into the mattress as he would meet your lips again before, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy lips, “tell me what you want, Princess,” 

“Please,” you whispered, as you moved your fingers faster, adding a third finger, but you know his cock would feel so much thicker, and reach so much deeper, “fuck me,” 

And he would, sinking into you, his pretty cock parting your folds, his quiet grunts and moans whispering in your ear, as he works himself inside to the hilt. His lips would find yours as he would rock his hips into you — your cunt would flutter around his length. He would press your thighs apart further, long fingers digging into your soft flesh, the wet squelch of your cunt and the sounds of his skin slapping against yours would ring in your ears.

“S’close, Sugu—fuck,” you would keen against him, instead of your fingers, “please,” and his thumb would find your clit, just as yours did, and you would cum all over his cock, squeezing around his length, as he sinks even deeper, until his tip is brushing against your cunt. The moan of his name slips out, as you press your forearm against your mouth to barely stifle it. 

Fuck, you come down from your high, panting. And you glance at the bathroom door, thinking you’ll clean up once he gets out. You roll over in bed, as you pulled the pillow over your face. 

This was going to be a long weekend. 

Suguru lingers in the bathroom for far too long after that, the embarrassment of the moment still far too fresh in his mind, his cheeks still a dusty pink at the thought. Not only was it bad enough that he was trapped in this hotel room with you for an entire weekend, but now he had paraded out practically half naked for you to see. 

Fuck his life. 

He had hurried into the shower if only to get a break from being in the same room as you. It had been hard enough to endure the last few weeks as a T.A., but now he had to spend an entire weekend sharing a hotel room — and deal with situations like that one all weekend. Seeing you emerge from the bathroom, only in a t-shirt and shorts, still damp from your shower — wet hair in messy tangles that he wanted to run his fingers through— and that’s why he excused himself to the bathroom. A reprieve if only for a moment. If he had only remembered to bring his clothes into the shower — he wouldn’t have had to finish his shower, with only his discarded clothes to wear that had slipped off the clothes rack and onto the damp floor. 

He had stepped out, towel around his waist, as he peeled out, only to see your back to him, the sounds of soft breathing told him you were asleep. And he crept out, silently cursing as the door creaked and rifled through his suitcase for clothes. He had found them, and gone to retreat back when you roused and turned all at once. 

God, he sighed, it was such a mess. 

But the way you looked at him…lips parted, gaze flicking across his body, the way your eyes lingered a little too long on his torso — and now he had an entirely different problem. 

His cock tented against the towel, as his eyes slid to the bathroom door. What if he just hopped into the shower for a second again? The towel dropped to the floor, as he steps back into the shower, turning on the water. 

He groans, his fingers slide over his mortifyingly hard erection, teasing his slit as he would imagine you would, as you would open the bathroom door, murmuring his name, “Professor? Are you okay?” And you wouldn’t wait for his answer as you stepped into the shower with him, eyes raking down his body, a teasing grin on your lips, “not very ethical is that?” And your fingers would curl their way around the base of his cock, making him shudder with pleasure, “I can take care of that,” and you would kiss down his chest and stomach, even despite his protests, until you reached where he wanted your touch most. 

And god, you would look so pretty on your knees for him, as your fingers pumped him far too slowly, teasing him with a chaste kiss to his tip, tongue dragging against his slit, better than how his thumb did, “s’good for me, Professor,” you’d say, when you heard the hiss he just let out, “I wonder what other sounds you could make for me,” and your lips would close around his tip, sucking lightly, as he gasped, his other hand clasped over his mouth, muffling his sounds. 

He would look down with half lidded eyes, and see your head bobbing as you took him so well, your fingers toying with his balls, spotting your eyes flicking up to meet his — glazed over and desperate, just he imagined his were. Your mouth would feel so much better than his hand, the wet squelch of his pumping would not compare to you swallowing around him, sucking and licking around his length, his pre-cum and your drool slipping down the corner of your mouth. 

You’d swallow around him, as his fingers would slide into your hair. And maybe you would let him fuck your mouth, hips rolling slowly as you adjust, before he slowly would thrust faster. He would repay the favor tenfold once you were done, burying himself in your sweet cunt, until you were begging him to stop. His fingers moved faster around his cock, his low groans and wet squelch bouncing off the bathroom walls, hopefully drowned out by the running water.  Fuck, he wished he would feel how it would to have his tip brush against the back of your throat. 

He was close, the twitch of his dick in his hand told him so, and he imagined what it would be like to cum in your mouth, watching you swallow his release, if you’d want to, or cumming all over your face or chest, letting his cock drag over your tongue as he pulled out. 

Fuck, he shudders, moaning your name against his fingers, he cums all over his hand and the wall of the shower, his release running down mixing with the water. He rinsed his hand off, leaning his head under the water again, hoping it would wash away any traces of you. 

It didn’t. 

And as he emerged from the shower, making sure any trace of his act had slipped down the drain, but the towel around his neck, wondering if you’d see what he did on his face. But you wouldn’t — because you were fast asleep. 

His lips curled as he watched you sleep for a moment, your lips parted, curled up facing away from the bathroom — your feet sticking out of your blanket. He adjusts the blanket for you, and you shift a little in your sleep, mumbling something under your breath, before settling back in. 

And he bites his lip before turning away — he would never be clean, would he? 

Not when it was you. 

“How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here?” you murmur, the smile plastered on your lips nearly starting to chip and crack. 

Professor Geto sipped at his drink hiding his frown, long fingers cradling the wine glass far too perfectly, “at least another hour,” he sighs, “when in academia, one must get used to mindless conversing if only it will lead to another needless connection,”

And this day had been nothing but an exercise of that — lectures, panels, presentations — any other word that meant someone or several someones sitting in front of you, talking at you — with only maybe 30% of the people actually listening (if you were lucky or interesting). And now you were one hour deep into a mixer that had you engaging in dry chit-chat that had your mind going numb by the first ten minutes. Your only reprieve being by Geto’s side. 

You hated how he could make the dullest of things enjoyable for you, or rather—

You hated how much you loved it 

“How pithy — Plato?” And he snorts, as you finish off your own drink, “I’m going to get a refill, do you want anything?” He shakes his head, and you head off to the bar. 

You were so restless after sitting for so long. Not to mention the slight rash you got from not washing up soon enough. You woke an hour and half later and cleaned yourself up — luckily Geto had passed out by then. You saw him sleeping half scrunched up, half sprawled out on the couch — one of his legs were hanging off the couch — and even his blanket had slipped off. You stifled a small laugh, taking a quick picture of him — so stubborn that he wouldn’t sleep on the bed with you. Your gaze had softened, as you picked up the discarded blanket and placed it over him softly, your fingers gently tucking some of his hair from his face. You fell asleep again after heading back to bed, and woke up refreshed — while Geto had woken up with a very sore back and neck. 

“Can I get…” you look at the menu, ordering your favorite drink, standing by the bar as you adjust your dress, you had opted for a black dress with sheer tights — one you had worn a suit jacket over it. You tap against the bar top, checking your phone as you do. 

“Can I get what she’s getting?” A dark haired man sidles up beside you, his mouth curled in a smirk drawing attention to a scar in the corner of his mouth, and his voice drops to a whisper, “though I think I’d enjoy you more than the drink,” 

You raise your eyebrows, “and I think you’ve certainly had enough tonight,” you say under your breath, giving an awkward chuckle, but he doesn’t seem to notice as the bartender comes back with your drink. Your eyes flicker over the crowd as you search for Geto but you can’t find him. 

“What’s your name, pretty?” And your skin crawls as his dark gaze slides over your body, “mine’s Toji,” and you bite back a sigh, introducing yourself, “it’s very nice to meet you — I’ve met a lot of people tonight but you definitely have been the most interesting,” and the bartender comes back with his drink. 

“Then you must have not met a lot of interesting people so far,” you say, eager to look for any out to escape this conversation, “my friend is waiting—“ 

“No, I’d say that you’re just that interesting,” he sips his drink, “can I get you another drink?” 

And right when you’re about to respond, “No, I don’t think she’s interested,” And you tense a moment before you register the familiar voice, Geto smiles at Toji, if you could call that a smile — it reminded you of one a predator gave its new prey, “especially because she’s a student, and you’re most assuredly not,” 

Toji raises an eyebrow, “But she is an adult, she can speak for herself, so why don’t you let her, Professor?” 

“Because—“ his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach for you but he can’t. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. And you know why he can’t. 

Geto’s smile wavers, and you intercede, “I can, and I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” you pay your tab, “let’s go back to the hotel, Professor,” 

And Toji pulls his card out, handing it to you, “If you change your mind,” he raises his glass, leaning against the bar, before he leans closer to you, whispering, “if you ever get sick of him, call me,” 

You give a polite smile, tugging Geto away until you reached the outside of the building, silence filled the space between you two, until you found your way outside. 

“What did he say?” He asks as he calls a car back to take you both to the hotel, and you don’t know how to answer that — not without making it worse, “actually, never mind. I shouldn’t have asked,” 

“Professor—“ 

“You’re an adult, he’s right — you should be allowed to make your own choices,” he licks his lips, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen, “I’m sorry if I—“ 

“Can you let me speak?” you sigh, as you wave your hand in front of his phone so he would look at you, and his eyes meet yours, “you’re fine — I was trying to get out of there — I just felt very trapped.” 

He huffs out a chuckle. “When you took that long, I wondered if the group of solipsists had taken you hostage,” 

You grimace, “I guess when you believe everyone else is an illusion, you also think manners are an illusion too,” he laughs in earnest now, “now there’s a real smile,” He tilts his head, “the smile you had inside, real scary kind of smile,” you tease, as his eyes can’t quite meet yours.

“Oh yeah?” he suddenly seems very interested in his phone, “our rideshare is almost here,” 

“Almost like you were jealous,” and he scoffs. 

“Of him?” 

“Uh huh, he is pretty attractive, maybe I will give him a call—“ and you notice him grip his phone tighter, and your lips curl, “but I probably won’t, not really my type,” 

“Not your type?” he asks. 

“More into the intellectuals, that man was far from it — I like an academic, sweater vests, glasses, a pretentious little office—“ and the glare is back, as you laugh, the rideshare sparing him from you continuing this conversation, but you also didn’t get to see the slight smile on his lips as you slipped into the back of the car. 

“Just sleep on the bed,” you say for probably the thousandth time, but he only shakes his head, as he sits on the couch, combing out his black locks. Even freshly showered, he looks unfairly hot — a loose gray t-shirt with sweatpants, contacts switched to glasses, and now his hair brushed against his shoulders. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch — it was fine last night—“ 

“Your spinal cord would beg to differ,” and he looks unamused, as he struggles with his comb, “what are you doing?” 

“I can’t get this knot out of my hair, and I can’t get you out of my hair either,” he adds, as you roll your eyes, slipping off the bed and walking over. You ease the comb from his fingers, biting your lip at the brush of his fingers, “what are you—“ 

“It’s easier if someone else does it,” and he sighs, giving in, as your fingers undo the knot in his hair gently, “your hair is really smooth and fine, probably why it tangled so fast,” and he only hums in response, his body relaxing under your touch, as you comb through the rest of his hair. You bite back a smile, he’s almost like a cat, keening under your touch, “feels good?” You murmur. 

“Yeah, it does,” and you don’t want the moment to end, you want this excuse to touch him to remain, the first time you’ve been able to breach this wall between you two — and it’d be over in an instant, “I think that’s good,” he mutters. 

He lays his head back on the top of the couch to look up at you — pretty obsidian orbs stared back at you — and your heart squeezes. He was so close, within reach, and all you had to do was lean down, press your lips against his, and maybe you wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore, maybe you wouldn’t have to hide from him, maybe you could be— 

“We should go to bed,” he sighs, the moment breaks, as he sits upright, adjusting his pillow on the couch beside him, “we have an early start,” 

“Don’t remind me,” you turn back to him, “but you’re right - we should go to bed—“ you grab his pillow, “on the bed,” 

“No—“ 

“Like you said, we’re both adults,” you tilt your head, as he purses his lips, “I think I can handle sleeping in bed beside you, just sleeping, we can even put a pillow between us,” and you add, “if I try anything in my sleep, you challenge me to a pillow fight, and push me off the bed,” 

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I really can sleep on—“ and then you raise your eyebrows, eyes flicking to the hand on his neck. He sighs, “fine, but I really will push you off the bed, I’m a restless sleeper,” 

“Then it’s equal opportunity,” you grin, as you slip into your side of the bed, stretching. Suguru is slower to get in, taking his time and adjusting his pillow and blanket before he finally gets into bed, “good night,” 

“Good night,” he turns to face away from you as he sleeps and you do the same. 

But it wasn’t a good night. Not when you couldn’t fucking sleep. 

For someone so smart, you really were very stupid. The bed that seemed expansive and open yesterday now felt Tom Thumb tiny, every shift of your body felt like a ripple effect, as you’d feel the slight shift of Geto right beside you. He was so close — you swore you could nearly feel the heat radiate off of him, the weight of his body beside you felt far too close and way too far — a chasm you could never cross.

And it was close to driving you insane enough to follow your wants all the way down it. 

But you couldn’t — but you could look, stare into the void, without becoming part of it. 

You shift again to face him this time — how could the back of someone’s head be so beautiful? Jet black locks that you had combed yourself fanned out on his pillow. But you could spot the nape of his neck through the tresses, a lovely spot that you only wished you could lean over and bury your face in. Your eyes began to droop. 

Hypnos finally took pity. You could only sleep this way. Your eyes finally flutter shut — you should have known — you were always the most comfortable with him in your sight. 

Suguru knew that you had fallen asleep — because your soft breaths fell into a rhythm, the crinkle of your sheets had grown silent, and the loud thoughts that filled up your head had gone quiet. He was glad one of you could sleep. 

He surely wouldn’t get a wink tonight. 

This was certainly more comfortable than the couch, but at least he had slept on the couch. He would be lucky to get thirty minutes at this rate. This weekend had already been too much — and he felt his will to stay away from you slowly snapping, a few strands away from breaking away completely. 

When he had seen you with Toji — he didn’t think, he just acted. He could see you were uncomfortable, the way your body leaned away from him, the way your eyes flickered around the room, and the way you toyed with your glass. It was a simple choice, but what happens when the next person that flirts with you is someone you’re interested in? Would he have to stand by and simply let it happen? Watch as you’re able to date this person but not him simply because of his title? 

He was jealous. Not of Toji — but of the idea of you being with someone else — of your attention drifting from him, of you drifting from him. He turned to lay on his back, he really was fucked wasn’t he? 

He turns his head to look at you. It never helped that you were effortlessly adorable, even now as you slept. Lips parted, body curled up, your hair falling in your face yet again. His fingers tuck a strand behind your ear gently, and you shift, a quiet hum leaving your lips as you settle back into the arms of the sandman. 

How were you so close but so far? You were mere inches away but you might as well be across the country. Because he couldn’t touch you, he couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t kiss you. The kiss he shared with you haunted his dreams — a daydream wrapped up in the nightmare of reality. He couldn’t ask you to wait — wait for your degree to be completed so the two of you could date. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but what about this was fair? 

And he turns on his side to face you, his fingers brushing your cheek gently — maybe if he couldn’t be with you in reality, he could allow himself to dream, his eyes flutter shut. 

Just for a moment. 

And his unconscious allows it — allows him to dream of you. 

Dream of your face buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths warming his skin, his nose buried in your hair. Your fingers grasped at his shirt, your other hand thrown over his middle. Why was your scent so intoxicating? He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer, and you shift, your leg sliding around his waist, as you pressed closer, pulling a groan from his lips as your core grazes right against his morning…visitor. 

And you move again, nose brushing against his collarbone, his name on your lips, quietly whispered like a secret against his skin. It was perfect — you were perfect. 

But what if this wasn’t a dream? The back of his mind prods — but that’s not possible, he was home in bed, right? This wasn’t real. It was the same dream he always had, of waking up in your arms, a lazy morning spent together in bed, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the sheets becoming dappled in sunshine. 

No, there was no way this was real, he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, but even if it was, he thought as he drifted, he didn’t want to wake — not yet. 

A distinct buzz stirs you from your sleep. But you don't want to wake — you were far too comfortable. But the buzzing persists, so you reach blindly for your phone and to turn off the alarm. And settle back into bed, eyes still shut, as you find your way back onto your pillow — or what you thought was your pillow. 

Except pillows didn’t move, or have an arm they could wrap around you. 

Your eyes open, to find yourself entangled with someone else — your brow furrowing in confusion that melts away to silent horror. Professor Geto. 

So much for sticking to your sides. 

Fuck.  

You tried to extricate yourself to no avail, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his body, your legs entangled, aside from your leg thrown over his waist, you realize, a small squeak escaping your lips, as you try and fail to move away. Instead you brush up against something very…hard. 

You flush, cheeks burning so hot that it’s truly a miracle he didn’t wake from the heat of your skin against his alone. His morning wood was pressed right against you, nearly between your thighs — just like the last time it was  against you — why the fuck would you think about that now? You resisted the urge to press your legs together — lest you have another new problem, and a mess to deal with. 

You manage to only pull your head away, urging yourself up so that your faces are an inch or two apart now. His soft breaths warmed your lips, his brow relaxed, locks of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Your fingers reach and tuck the locks behind his ear, tips skimming his skin. And the arm around you almost seems to tighten, and you bite your lip, the comforting presence of his arms far too tempting to drag you into wanting — as if you ever left. Wanting was dangerous, because wanting can only ever lead to need, needing him was as foolish as it was to share a bed with the man you were in love with. 

But how foolish was it that you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away? It was okay right? Okay as long your lips didn’t touch, as long you didn’t follow this slope all the way down — it was treacherous to press forward, but why did you want to anyway?

Your eyes flutter shut again for a moment — and your eyes glanced at the morning sky — the sun had just breached the horizon. You could allow yourself a few minutes — even if you had to give up a lifetime with him. 

The blaring of your phone only seems to grow increasingly loud, as you give a small groan, rolling over to your phone again, slapping the screen to snooze it again. And your eyes flutter open a moment, lazily flickering over the screen — 8:45 AM. 

Your eyes close — before your mind fully wakes — 8:45 AM? 

“Fuck,” you shoot up to get up, a tangle of limbs,  jolting Geto awake, his eyes popping open, his arm instinctively grabbing you by the waist, and you land with an oomfph back onto the bed—wait, not the bed. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, your body against his, noses brushing, your eyes unable to tear away from the other — his eyes were even prettier this close — a dark brown, nearly black, with flecks of another color — purple? You can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat or his that’s racing with how close you are, chest to chest. And even as you try to shift, you make it worse by slipping, your hips rubbing against each other’s. 

Fuck. 

You both freeze for a moment, his eyes flickering to your lips and back, as yours does the same, before you both scramble apart. 

“We’re late. We’re really late,” you spring out of bed, grabbing random clothes from your suitcase, “I’m going to get ready, really fast,” you don’t even bother to look at his expression, and you almost wished your heart had shattered your ribcage, with how fucking hard it’s beating, if only that you wouldn’t have to spend another day in the conference with him. 

You sighed, as you brushed your teeth hurriedly while doing your hair — well maybe a lecture or presentation would take your mind off this morning. 

So that wasn’t a dream, Suguru was only glad you didn’t even glance at his face when you ran off, or you would have seen the lovely tomato red that graced his cheeks. He could still feel the warmth from your body, slowly receding, and he swore he could still feel you against him, your soft skin, your pretty lips against his neck, and your leg around his waist. 

Fuck. 

God, he had another fucking problem to deal with — as he shifted awkwardly, his morning wood up and erect with a tent that could put most large circus tents to shame. Fuck, he didn’t have time to take care of this — especially with you in the bathroom right now. 

But still, he pressed his inner palm to his lips, how was he going to make it through the rest of the conference with the feeling of your body still lingering in his mind. If the situation was different, the two of you would have woken up with smiles on your lips, spent the morning cuddling without a care, and probably a little more than that—

But the situation was the same, and his eyes slid to the bathroom door, so why was it that he still thinking about you? He wasn’t the type to dwell, he accepted things for what they were — he had his principles and his beliefs, and he stuck to them, unless proven otherwise. He was a man of guidelines, of rules—

So why were you the only person that ever made him want to throw every rule away? 

“We are going to be discussing ethical dilemmas faced in universities and how to approach them,” the lecturer begins, “can anyone tell us an example of one such dilemma?” 

You both had barely made it into a lecture — barely even speaking as you ran-walked into the conference — choosing a lecture at random, as the two of you ran a good fifteen minutes late. You both arrived, hiding your pants, as you both grabbed water bottles from the back, and sat down. 

And of course to make matters worse, your phone goes off, making the entire room turn to look at the two of you. You silence your phone, murmuring a quick sorry as the two of you take your seats. 

Could this possibly get worse? 

Your eyes glanced at him — it was already bad enough to begin with. Geto had barely spoken a word this morning, even as the two of arrived at the conference, the only words he spoke were to the attendant that parked his car. 

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, adjusting your clothes. And if that wasn’t enough, you were going to spend the day sweaty and disheveled. Meanwhile, you stole another glance at your professor — his skin flushed from running, button up not buttoned up all the way, glasses instead of contacts, and his hair in its usual bun, but a few strands were nearly coming loose — he still looked fucking delectable. But he wouldn’t meet your gaze, his body positioned to lean away from yours, his eyes fixed ahead. 

You held back your sigh as you focused on the presentation — you just needed to get through today — as the lecturer picked someone who raised their hand. 

“A student-teacher relationship is one such ethical problem faced in universities today,” and Geto nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly, as you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of this morning, “it presents several ethical problems — including the role the professor plays in the student’s education and future, their ability to provide praise or reprimand, and even grant recommendations gives them great power over their student. It leaves the student without much freedom in the relationship.”

Oh, what the fuck. 

The rest of the conference is spent in relative silence with a thick film of awkwardness perfectly overlayed. When you both finally return to the hotel room, your only consolation is that you’ll be leaving tomorrow. You toss your things onto the couch, “I’m going to wash up,” you tell him, and he only nods in reply, as you enter the bathroom and shut the door, back pressed against it and sliding down. 

Oh this is such a mess. You sigh, maybe a shower will help. 

It didn’t. You were still just as much of a mess as you were before. You sighed, as you stood in front of the sink, wiping your hair with a towel. This could be so simple if you both could be together — so easy. There would be no tension, no hurt feelings, no awkwardness — you could just be. But that’s not an option. So the only other option is to let him go. 

But you didn’t know how to begin to. 

Either way, hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t solve a thing — and you finally opened the door, “I’m done if you want to wash up,” he nods, sitting on the couch, reading a book. His glasses rested on the tip of his nose, lips pursed, and legs crossed. 

You walk over, grabbing your things from the couch and put some of your things away in your suitcase. But after all of that is done, you realize one thing is missing — your cellphone. 

“Shit,” you murmur under your breath, searching through your suit coat pockets, your pants pocket, anywhere that your phone might be. 

“What’s wrong?” Geto says, book in his lap, as he tilts his head. 

“Can’t find my phone,” you mumble, cheeks burning — god, it was already awkward enough, and now this? 

“Is it on ring?” You nod — your phone was usually on ring, sometimes to your detriment — you cringe at the memory in the lecture this morning, “I’ll call it,” 

He calls you — and you glance at his phone screen, your contact is just your name, no picture, nothing. You bite your lip, what were you expecting? A heart next to your name? And the sound of your phone ringing catches both of your attention. 

“It’s over here, somewhere,” he says, lifting up some of cushions of the couch, and reaching underneath into the creases, as you walk over — “I found—“ 

And you were so concerned about your contact information in his phone that you forgot about his contact information in your phone. 

The screen flashed with the image of him sleeping all lopsided on the couch from that first night, as you covered your mouth in both horror, but also to stifle your laugh. 

His eyes flicker to you, “When did you—“ and you reach for your phone, but he moves it away, “not until you answer my questions,” 

“This isn’t class, Professor, I want my phone—“ you reach for it again, and he’s holding it above your head, “oh real mature—“ 

“Like the picture you have of me as my contact picture?” He raises an eyebrow, a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “thought I should resort to my student’s level,”  

“Your T.A.,” you correct, as you reach for your phone again, but he’s using his height to his advantage, and he’s beginning to walk backwards, “come on, give it back—“ 

“Not until I change and delete that photo,” and he’s trying to hold your phone up to your face to unlock it, and you gasp. 

“Oh my god, give it back!” And you grab his hand, and he’s grabbing at the other, giggles leaving your lips, as he laughs too, as the two of you struggle for the phone, your fingers closing over it, and over his own fingers as well. 

And you realize how close you are to him. 

The two of you freeze a moment, laughter on your lips fading away to soft smiles, and his fingers squeeze yours lightly, as he passes you your phone back. But he doesn’t move away — and you don’t either. 

“Why did you let go?” and it seems like it’s a force out of your control that draws you together, no matter how much either of you try to let go. 

“Because I can’t help giving you what you want,” he murmurs, and the heat of his gaze melts your heart, as you drop your phone onto the couch, and reach for his hand again. 

And you lean closer, your other hand gently brushing against his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, “So if I ask for a kiss, will you give it to me?” You won’t close the gap anymore than you have — he needs to reach for you too, let himself give into gravity. 

He does, as his hand brushes against your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone, “will we stop at just a kiss?” He murmurs, leaning so close that your eyes want to flutter shut. 

“Only one way to find out,” and his lips brush yours. And it’s not chaste like your first kiss was, no, his lips slide against yours, as his other hand slides to the back of your neck. He swallows your gasp eagerly, if the smirk you feel against your lips is anything to go off of. Your teeth graze against this bottom lip teasingly, drawing a small groan from the back of his throat. 

Neither of you couldn’t stop at one kiss, and you both knew that, even as your lips parted for a small breath of air, they found each other again — just as you both always did. Because you could never let him go — no matter how hard you tried. 

RING. RING. RING. 

And this time it isn’t an alarm. But rather his phone, flashing with a name that brings you crashing back to reality. 

The department head. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, as he parts from you, his warmth leaving all at once, as he grabs his phone, and turns away, “Hello? Yes, the conference is over. Everything went well. No, no, nothing out of the ordinary.” 

You stared at his back, this would always be the case wouldn’t it? Even as you crashed together, something would pull you apart, and neither of you could break the cycle. You take your phone from the couch, and crawl into bed, but you could start. 

You close your eyes, your fingers brushing against your lips for a moment. You needed to start — otherwise, you would just end up broken. 

And you don’t hear him hang up — or see him stare at your figure under the covers — and he would break along with you. 

Suguru didn’t know what to say the next morning — especially when it seemed couldn’t even bear to look at him, much less speak to him. You had busied yourself with packing, even before he had awoken. His back ached from the night he spent on the couch, he couldn’t fall asleep for far too long, and by the time he did, he kept sleeping — through his many alarms it seemed. 

And it wasn’t the couch that kept him awake. 

You both had the most lovely timing, didn’t you? He thought, as he combed his hair in the bathroom, the memory of your fingers running through his hair as you gently undid the knots in his locks still ever present — it seemed like any time you two wanted to act on your feelings, the universe was doing what it could to keep you apart. 

Was this fate versus free will? 

You both kept choosing each other — but fate kept pulling you apart. Did he have any control over his actions or did he have no control over his actions at all? Was it all predetermined by some force he couldn’t perceive? Some force intent on pulling you apart. 

He sighed, as his phone lights up with an email from the department head — department head position opened up in Jujutsu University: Kyoto — 

And so maybe he should let it. 

The next few weeks pass by far too quick. As your semester picks up, you stop attending Professor Geto’s classes, opting to send an email to let him know, and he replies back with a simple response — Ok. Please let me know when and if you are available to input the grades for the midterm paper. 

The rest of your T.A. work is done online and over email — and you do your best to keep busy, keep yourself occupied, and keep your thoughts from straying to him.

And you maybe succeed 10% of the time. It doesn’t help that your unconscious does not wish to cooperate since it seems that once you stopped seeing your professor during waking hours, he’s infiltrated your sleep — sneaking in and out by the time your eyes open. 

And then you’re left with the fragments of his touch, his voice, his kisses, and soft, loving words. 

Just as you always were it seemed. 

And before you know it, the end of the semester comes, and you find yourself in front of that same office door yet again. It felt like an eternal reoccurrence — stuck to repeat the same events again and again in an infinite loop. Was there any exit from this loop? 

You didn’t know — you knocked on his office door — but you could try. 

“Come in,” you do, entering his office to find him sitting at his desk, hair half up for once. And his eyes flicker up to meet yours, his head tilting at your stare, “see something interesting?” 

“Your hair—“ and your cheeks burn — so much for trying — “it’s different,” 

“Thought I’d try something different — my hair is growing out,” and you have to repress the want to curl a lock or his hair around your finger, “do you not like it?” 

You shake your head, “It looks nice, just different,”

And he hands you the papers he’s graded, “you can input those, I’m just finishing up a couple more, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit?” 

“Not at all,” a silence falls over between the two of you, the quiet scratch of his pen as he grades, the occasional ding of his e-mail breaking up the silence. You sneak a glance at him — ebony tresses brushing against his broad shoulders, his brow furrowed that you wished to run your fingers along to smooth his worries from his mind, pretty lips parted as he reads a sentence silently to himself. 

Fuck — no, no, you can’t do this. 

You busy yourself thumbing your way through the papers, spotting the familiar red scrawls littering these pages, as they once did yours. You were so pissed when you got your first paper back — indignant even — a whole Karen ready to speak to his supervisor. But when his honest criticism and blunt words rang true, you found yourself not only wanting to prove him wrong, but a want to be better. To earn his respect. And of course, later, you wanted to earn a little more than that. 

You bite back a chuckle, and here you still were — by his side. Except next semester you wouldn’t be his T.A. 

But you would still be a student. And he would still be a professor. 

But one other thing that hasn’t changed is how brutal the feedback is — you couldn’t help but feel bad for “Itadori Yuuji” — whoever that was. 

“What are you smiling about?” Your eyes snap up to meet his, his head leaning against his palm, elbow resting on the desk. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but he looks unconvinced, “just thinking about our first time in this office,” and then your cheeks burn at the double meaning, “I mean our first office hours appointment—“ 

He waves you off, “I know what you meant,” a small chuckle in his cadence, as he continues to grade, “you certainly weren’t happy with me,” 

“No I wasn’t,” a small smile on your lips, “but it worked out in the end,” you add, “you got an amazing T.A. after all,” 

His eyes meet yours, “More than just that,” 

Why can’t you help but get pulled in time and time again? And why can’t you help but ask questions that will only hurt you in the end? 

He continues to grade when you finally speak, “What do you think would have happened if I didn’t end up being your T.A.?” 

And his pen stops, lips pursed, “We shouldn’t—“ 

“Why shouldn’t we?” you felt like a child demanding an answer from their parent. 

“We agreed—”

“I don’t remember an agreement-” 

“It was unspoken—” 

You scoff, crossing your arms, “You really are only a professor because an attorney would know that binding agreements can’t be unspoken,” he falls silent, his voice soft. 

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” his words are wrought with conflict, pain seeping into every syllable, “I don’t want to keep going down this road only to for you to get hurt in the end — I don’t want to jeopardize your future for something that might not last—” 

“But what if it does?” and he swallows thickly, “what if we can make it work? We’re both adults, we can be discreet—” 

“So discreet that we end up making out in my office?” he takes off his glasses only to run a hand down his face, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, and you huff out a chuckle. 

“A little more discreet than that, we’ll lock the door next time,” it’s his turn to scoff, and you rise from your seat, lips curled, “close the lights, or maybe even kiss in a place that’s not on campus,” but he does the same, meeting you on the side of his desk, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently as if you’d shatter under his touch. 

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your career,” he says, his fingers finding your hand regardless, fingers interlacing, “I don’t want you to—” 

“It’s my choice, Suguru,” you murmur, as you lean against his warm palm, your fingers sliding against his palm and into his inky tresses, “don’t you owe me a choice, and a drink?” you add, and his lips curl in a knowing smile. 

“I do, if you’ll still have me,” and he’s leaning close, sucking the air from the room, and the logic from your minds, as his lips barely graze yours, “shouldn’t we lock the door?” 

“Fuck it,” and you pull him into a deep kiss that pulls a groan from his lips that makes your cunt ache, as he’s already pushing you into the lip of his desk, his hand sliding down to your waist. 

“Now who’s being unethical?” he murmurs, pressing eager kisses along your jaw, that makes you melt against him, your legs nearly jelly at this point, “what kind of example are you setting as a T.A.?” 

You bite back your moan as his lips find the soft spot of your neck, teeth grazing it far too fucking teasingly, “Well students learn by example,” and his hands are slipping under thighs to lift you so you’re sitting on his desk — you spread your legs for him in the dress that you’re in, pantyhose underneath, his heavy lidded gaze raking over your body, “and look at my professor staring at his T.A. so lustfully, even with a clear power dynamic—” 

And his fingers find your thighs again, squeezing, before his fingers dig into the sheer hose, tearing holes in it, drawing a gasp from your lips, “How’s that for a power dynamic, princess?” far too pleased, “don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs, “now just be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he says, as he pulls away the ruined pantyhose, and he’s undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand — one, two, three — before your fingers take over, leaning to press kisses at each inch of exposed skin, until the shirt falls open. 

Then his lips find yours again, his silver tongue asking for you to part your lips and you do — as he extracts every want you have with his burning touch — his lips against yours, his large hands parting your thighs, his knee pressed against your twitching cunt — and only leaves your want for him behind, until it becomes a need. 

“Wonder what our students would think of you,” his fingers tease your inner thighs, drawing a whine from your lips, “wanting your professor to fuck you in his office instead of inputting their grades,” he whispers in your ear, as his fingers finally skim the wet patch of your underwear, “so wet f’me, already? Look I think you even soaked my slacks,” he tsks, as his thumb and forefinger find your chin and tilt it up, “what are you going to do about that?” 

“Suguru—please,” and he smiles as his finger starts to tease your puffy clit through your drenched panties, “don’t tease—” 

“How can I not when you’ve nothing but tease me with your existence?” he pulls the crotch of your underwear aside, “I’ll oblige my favorite student this time—but I won’t be so nice next time,” he adds, biting your bottom lip. 

RING. RING. RING. 

It was his fucking office phone. You groan, but his finger continues to sink into you, “Suguru—” 

“Let it ring,” his lips find yours in a bruising kiss as his finger deliciously sinks into you, “I have all I need right here,” he whispers, and you pull him back into a kiss by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, your hand sliding up and down his chest, while he worked a finger into your cunt, “so fucking wet f’me, so perfect,” 

And your hand flies back to support yourself as a second finger begins to sink into you — but your hand grazes his office phone, and the messages begin to play back.

“Fuck, sorry,” you mumble, as you reach blindly for the phone, only to knock it back, as he chuckles and reaches behind you, trying but failing to help — your noses brushing, and he smiles before kissing you again. 

Mr. Geto, sorry we missed each other, I was calling, hoping that you would still be in office for the day, but I must have just missed you. I wanted to call to offer you the job as department head at Jujutsu Tech University: Kyoto—

You freeze, your lips parting from his as you look up at him, his eyes wide as he stops the message from playing back any further — and the words settle over the mood like a sheet pulled over a dead body. 

And you’re the first to speak, always asking the questions that will hurt you in the end, “You’re moving to Kyoto?” 

✧ a/n: so i'm sorry for that ending hahah, i promise there will be a happy ending later on for these two. thank you to @gaylatteart and @laneysmusings for betaing and just being the best. also if i tagged you please comment / reblog because tagging on tumblr sucks, it takes very long.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon,

[faintrustle]

Hot enough to convert non-believers.

[xxsabitoxx]

Confession | Kinktober

Priest Geto Suguru x AFAB Reader

Warnings: religion, sacrilege, fucking a priest, blow jobs, finger fucking, explicit language, squirting, pet names, mild gaslighting

A/N: Day three is here! This one may be offensive to anyone who is religious so please proceed with caution.

WORD COUNT: 3.6K

“Tell me, what have you come here for?” You squirmed a bit against the uncomfortable wooden chair. The box itself was pretty dim, only a small, uncovered lightbulb was illuminating the musty space. Through a mesh window on your left, the man spoke with a gentle tone. “I’ve come to confess my sins to you, father.” You couldn’t calm your racing heart, hands twisting tightly together as you mentally prepare yourself to receive his blessings. “Is that so? Please, my dear, tell me the things that haunt you.” Again, his tone was enough to make you shudder. Although it was gentle, it sparked something warm deep within your gut. 

“You see, father, I’ve been a terribly naughty girl.” You swallowed, eyes shutting slowly as you tried to focus on your own words. “Go on.” This time it was a little less gentle, a little more gruff. It made warmth flood your cheeks, your eyes blinking open in surprise. You knew what the priest looked like, having attended some of his masses before. You knew he was a devastatingly attractive man, one around your age, and one unfortunately sworn to celibacy. That, however, didn’t make you want him any less. “Father Suguru, I’ve done things I shouldn’t have… to myself.” You spoke in a low tone, listening to him hum softly before asking “Like what? What have you done to yourself?” he took the bait, your heart hammering in your chest. 

“I've touched myself, for my own pleasure.” You held your breath, vaguely certain that Father Suguru did too. After a moment of your confession hanging in the air, he spoke up. “Oh? How many times have you committed this sin?” his tone wasn’t as gentle now, rather it held a level of strain to it. You could hear him shifting in his seat on the other side of the small confessional wall. “Many times, father. I’ve lost count… which is why I’ve come to you. I want to be cleansed of my filthy acts, only your generous mercy can free my tainted soul.” You stroked his ego with each word, a devious grin plastering to your lips as you heard him clear his throat. 

“Sweet girl, by his grace I can cleanse you. But for it to truly work, I’m going to need you to be a little more specific. Tell me how you committed this act, recall one of the moments for me.” you could have choked on the little saliva that was in your mouth, heat pooling deep down as you recalled the last time you masturbated. “Oh well, last night I…” You stopped when you heard him inhale sharply, your teeth sinking into the side of your cheek before you asked “Father Suguru, are you alright?” You tried to sound innocent, praying your smirk wasn’t evident in your tone. “I-I’m alright, I was just taken by surprise. I didn’t think you’d be so bold as to touch yourself the night before coming to see me. But by all means…” his tone was mildly condescending “... go on.” 

Your thighs pressed together, alleviating the mild ache just a bit. You hadn’t even gotten into the details with him, yet you could feel your own arousal dampening your underwear. “Well, you see, I was laying in my bed all alone. I got bored, my mind wandered and I started to think about such sinful things, Father. They got the better of me and I found myself kicking off the sheets and using my hands to toy with my breasts.” You swallowed, one hand coming up to hold your breast as you spoke, as if needing a physical reminder for all the things you had done. “A-and that wasn’t enough. I felt so achy down there that I couldn’t help taking my panties off and spreading my legs…” You stopped again, letting it hang in the air as you tried to compose yourself. 

Beyond the confessional wall, Father Suguru was gritting his teeth, trying desperately to even his breathing as his cock started to strain against his pants. He wasn’t supposed to know who was sitting beside him, but your voice was recognizable. What a sinful girl you were, always attending his masses in such short sundresses. Your smile was addicting, just like the way your hips swayed as you walked up to him to chat after the mass was done. The thoughts you made him think, the things you made him feel… you must have been a temptation sent by the devil. But god dammit, it turns out he was a weak, weak man. He couldn’t resist the temptation of you for much longer he feared. Especially now. “And then what did you do?” he breathed out, quieter. 

“Father, is this really necessary?” you feigned innocence again, all the while you were slowly parting your legs. “Y-yes, go on. For your sins to be properly forgiven, you must tell me in detail.” You could hear his voice straining again, threatening to crack if you asked him something else. “Alright then…” you sighed, legs spreading enough for your hand to slip down and press on your aching cunt. You nearly whimpered, swallowing the noise by clearing your throat. “I used my hand to reach down there and play with myself.” You admitted with warm cheeks, the heat radiating from where your fingers were pressing was enough to make you squirm, the old wooden chair creaking as your hips  swivelled. Father Suguru was losing the battle, hand shakily holding his fully erect length and squeezing it roughly in hopes of helping the ache. 

“And?” he said again, as if working on autopilot. “I played with my pussy until I climaxed.” you stated boldly, using two fingers to press directly over your aching clit. You heard it loud and clear now, a deep rumbling groan from the priest beside you. “You know, such a sinful act needs more of a demonstration.” he spoke with a surprisingly level tone, letting go of his aching bulge to stand. You, on the other hand, had frozen in your seat. “A-a demonstration? Father Suguru, I just bore my soul to you by explaining verbally.” But you heard him click his tongue, “Nonsense girl, you’ve yet to bare your soul to me in any capacity.” You pushed your dress down, hand resting on your lap instead of your cunt as you straightened, Through the mesh window, you could see he was standing. “An intervention for a tainted soul like yours needs to happen face to face.” 

You couldn’t help but gasp, watching through the window as he pushed the door to the confessional open and stepped out. A moment later you were standing, shamelessly pushing the door open to stand in front of the clearly worked up priest. “Father Suguru…” you started innocently yet again, as if you weren’t the direct cause of his raging erection. His jaw was clenched tight, his hair out of its uniform bun and instead styled in a half up half down look. It only made you want him more, especially with the way his tanned cheeks were flushed red. His pupils were swallowing the pretty brown of his eyes, his fingers were tugging at the tight collar of his black clergy top. Your eyes zeroed in on the bulge in his pants before trailing back up. 

“You need to get on your knees and beg for forgiveness.” You blinked, eyes roaming the empty pews of the cathedral’s main room. His voice was echoing, sending a shiver down your spine as stain glass windows looked back at you. “Father Suguru I…” you swallowed, truly not anticipating the priest to go as far as he was. You hadn’t gotten this far in your daydreams, because you always convinced yourself the holy man wouldn’t give into temptation. Yet, you were taking a step forward, dropping to your knees before him on the cold marble floor. You felt like you should be ashamed of what you were about to do, not only in front of an altar, but with a priest… a man who swore his life to this work. 

“Don’t speak.” he commanded slowly, fixing you in place with a hard stare. Your lips closed again, any sort of reason leaving your mind as he started undoing his belt with one hand. The other came down to tuck some hair behind your ear, the motion far too gentle for the flames burning in his gaze. “Be a good girl for me, open your mouth and stick out your tongue.” You obeyed, Suguru’s eyes watched with dilated pupils as your pretty lips parted and your tongue appeared. He breathed out through his nose, leaning over you a little as his belt came undone. You flinched as he spit, saliva landing perfectly in your mouth. “Swallow it, sweet girl.” you did, eyes locking with his as you swallowed the contents in your mouth.

“You must really want forgiveness.” He mused, quickly undoing the button and zipper of his black slacks. You nodded slowly, being mindful to remain quiet just as he had asked. “Surely, this is your ticket to salvation.” You held in a gasp as Suguru pulled out his cock. It was certainly bigger than you had anticipated, tanned and long with pretty veins running up the sides. “Father Suguru… please…” you rasped, mouth watering at the sight of his pretty cock. “Atta girl, beg for your forgiveness, you can speak now.” Your lips parted, eyes trained on the oozing tip as Suguru wrapped his hand around the middle of his shaft. He was taunting you with it, moving it side to side just to watch your eyes follow it wherever it went.

“F-father Suguru I… I want to be forgiven for my sins… I want you to cleanse my soul with your gracious hands… Father Suguru please…” you begged him, breathing turning laboured as you waited for him to stop the torture and give you what you wanted. Suguru held his breath for a moment, heart racing as each syllable fell from your lips. “Please… god please.” you were breathless, eyes watering as you looked up at him. “Yes…” Suguru whispered, squeezing his length tightly before taking a half step forward. He was in mouth’s reach now, making your hips wiggle as your lips parted for him. “Please…” you said again, shivering as his second whisper of yes reached your ears. You took initiative now that he gave you his permission. 

You kept your hands folded nearly on your lap, only using your mouth to take him. With Suguru’s guidance, the weeping head of his cock was slipping between your lips. You inhaled through your nose, jaw struggling to open wide enough to accommodate him as you pushed your head further down his length. You were determined to take the priest’s entire cock, you wanted to hear his pretty moans bouncing off the walls of the cathedral. You locked eyes with him, swallowing around him just to see his eyes nearly roll back. You had to wonder if this was the first time he had ever gotten head, maybe this would be the first time he ever got to touch a woman. The idea of the priest above you being a virgin made your cunt clench around nothing. 

Suguru’s lips were parted, letting go of his cock as you began to bob your head, hands obediently on your lap. “Such a good girl… such a good girl… so so good…” be babbled softly, hands coming to cup your cheeks and guide you as his cock slipped in and out of the wet cavern of your mouth. You got off on his praise, fingers itching to sink between your thighs and toy with your clit just as you had described to father Suguru moments earlier. “So good, you’re such a good girl for not touching yourself yet. Surely you’ll be forgiven…” he groaned, head tilting back as your nose brushed the dark mess of hair at the base of his cock before you pulled back again. Each pass over your tongue, each time your throat constricted around him, it was enough to send him into a blissful state of euphoria. It was enough to make him question his beliefs. 

Your mouth was too preoccupied to ask, but you desperately wanted to touch his balls. They were sitting there, taunting you, growing shiny as your saliva cascaded down his shaft. You moved one hand, eyes still locked on his neck and chin since he was tilting his head back, to test the waters. Suguru didn’t seem to notice as your fingers danced up his thigh, tongue still lavashing him as your head moved back and forth in a steady rhythm. You hesitated for only a moment before gingerly cupping him, watching as his head shot forward to look down at you with a shocked expression. They were warm and heavy with his cum, tightening as you massaged them between your fingers. “Oh… good girl…” he said again, voice a little more broken than before as he uttered the same praise for you. 

The repetitiveness of it wasn’t an issue for you, if anything it got you going more. Every time he uttered the phrase, you felt yourself grow wetter, you were certain your panties were absolutely destroyed at this point. “I-I’m going to cum if you keep doing that… is that what you want, sweet girl?” he cooed, regaining a little composure as he spoke to you. You hummed, sending vibrations straight through him and eliciting a moan from his lips. “You want my cum, don’t you sweet girl. You want me to shoot my load right down your throat, right?” you hummed again, moaning around his twitching length as you squeezed his balls a little harder. Suguru cursed, the sound coming from the priest were enough to have your nipples bubbling, brushing uncomfortably against the material of your bra. “Fuck…fuck…” he panted, cheeks flushing a dark shade of pink as his fingers buried in your hair, no longer gentle as he rutted his hips into your mouth. 

You gagged, fully unprepared for the priest to take over the way he had, the sound echoing and only fueling the fire in his gut. Tears welled in your eyes, spilling over and down your cheeks as you let him thrust into your mouth as he pleased, fingers fisting in your hair just as your free hand fisted in the material of your sundress. You inhaled through your nose, lightheaded as the priest abused your throat to his liking. “Gonna… fuck gonna cum… oh yes, fuck… gonna cum down that pretty throat.” you whined, eyes nearly shutting before he commanded you to keep them open. “Look at me, the only way you can be forgiven is if you look at me, sweet-ah-girl.” He gritted his teeth, the pleasure ebbing up the back of his spine was going to make his knees week. Dutifully, you kept your eyes on him, watching his jaw go slack before he finally came. 

You flinched, throat constricting at the extra intrusion but relaxing a moment later. You swallowed, mildly disappointed he had waited until he was nearly down your throat to cum. You didn’t get to taste much, not until he drew his hips back and the salty taste dragged over your tongue. Suguru was panting, watching you reach up to rub your aching jaw as he tried to even his breathing. “You’re on the road to forgiveness, sweet girl. But I don’t quite think you’re there yet.” You looked at him with mild hurt, you had thought you had done so good. “Be a doll and strip for me… sit on the pew and demonstrate your sins from last night.” the priest was tucking his now softened cock away, trying to act as if he weren’t flustered in the slightest. “Father Suguru…” you spoke, voice slightly raspy from his use. 

“Yes? I believe I made myself clear.” he watched as you stood to your full height again, pulling your sundress off with no shame. You held his gaze as you pulled your ruined panties down, making sure he could see how destroyed they were before dropping them on the cold marble and walking down the few steps to the first row of pews. “I would much rather instruct you, I think it only makes sense for your pure hands to cleanse me of my sins in the deepest way.” You sat on the cold, polished wood, looking up at him where he stood on the elevated stage. He seemed to ponder your implications, huffing out a laugh before responding. “I guess that makes the most sense, you’re quite a smart, sweet girl.” You smiled at him, spreading your legs and moving to plant your feet on the pew. You were fully spread, the position mildly uncomfortable but you couldn’t really think past that point as cool air met your slick, displayed cunt. 

“Father Suguru, please… I want to be pure.” you coaxed him down, watching as he took shaky footsteps before dropping to his knees before you. “Tell me, sweet girl. Tell me how you indulged yourself and tainted your soul… let me save you.” You shivered as his fingers trialed up the bare skin of your thighs, brown eyes observing your cunt dutifully. Your hands found their home pressed flat to either side of you, supporting you against the polished wood. “My clit… I played with it until I left a wet mark on my sheets… I didn’t let myself cum for a long while…” you breathed out, watching as he nodded, cheeks red and lips glossy as his tongue swiped across them. “I see…” he started, moving one calloused finger to swipe up your slick folds. “...like this? Gentle strokes and circles, right?” he used his thumb to press against your clit, rubbing it in circles until he felt you twitch. “Y-yeah…” you sighed, head falling back. 

Suguru smirked, not moving any quicker. Your pretty sounds began to fill the empty cathedral, your arousal dripping down to the polished bench below you. He was careful with his movements, slowing until he was barely moving when he noticed you clenching around nothing, trying to draw your orgasm closer. “Be a good girl and let it happen… don’t force your body to cum because you think I’ll leave you hanging, sweet girl.” you whined, releasing the breath you didn’t know you were holding until he said that. You forced your head back down, face warm as you realized he was still intently staring at you. Granted you had done the same to him as you got him off. “Tell me, is this how you were sinning last night?” Suguru waited until you were about to speak, using two fingers and slipping them straight into your slick core. “Y-yeah…” 

Your body tensed again at the intrusion, moaning loudly as he massaged your walls. “I promise you, sweet girl, I will cleanse you.” he cooed, eyes focusing solely on you as he gauged your reactions. He would find that one particular spot, he was sure of it. “Please Father Suguru… cleanse me…” you cried out as he brushed it, a smirk curling the ends of his lips as he pressed his fingers into the front of your walls, thumb still sloppily rubbing your clit while his other hand squeezed your thigh. “S-Su…Father Suguru…” you croaked, tears leaking down your cheeks as he abused that one spongy part of your cunt. You couldn’t think straight, mind blanking completely as wave after wave of pleasure washed over you. “Go on, sweet girl, cum on my fingers.” He encouraged, voice so gentle you would have never guessed he was knuckle deep in your cunt. 

Suguru could feel it of course, your walls fluttering and twitching around his fingers as more and more of your slick arousal slipped out of you and down to the pew. “I’m gonna cum… Fa-ahh” you couldn’t get the rest out, hip jerking as your orgasm hit you before you could truly prepare. You cried out, the noise bouncing off of the cathedral walls as the priest continued to finger your cunt and circle your clit with his thumb. “S-Stop oh fuck s-stop…” you wheezed out, an unfamiliar feeling building in your gut as he continued to abuse that one spot with his fingers. “No, this is what you need, sweet girl, let it happen.” he encouraged, lips parted as he watched where his fingers had disappeared inside of you very intently. Your eyes screwed shut, trying to fight off the feeling but it was useless, the priest was unrelenting in his movements. 

Shockwaves of your orgasm turned into a full blown tsunami, your head falling back as a gush of fluid sprayed out of you and onto the bench and marble floor below. You cried out, his name mixed somewhere in the jumble of your babbling, utterly embarrassed. Finally, Father Suguru stopped, withdrawing from your body entirely and getting off his knees. “Sweet girl, what a mess.” he scolded you, a devious grin on his face still as he looked your wrecked frame over. “You’ve been cleansed, pretty. But I would argue that we should double… or even triple check to make sure it’s really working.” Your body felt heavy, eyes lidded as you merely nodded, cunt still fluttering at the thought of getting more of the priest before you. 

“I’ll make sure you are pure, my sweet girl.”  

[chosok-amo]

WHAT ARE WE? : SUGURU GETO

cw. college! suguru. misunderstanding. cheating. break-down.

you and suguru are having an argument about your relationship after a one-year affair with you.

suguru holds onto your waist loosely as you lay in front of him on your side, face to face. his hand continues to trace soft circles on your arm, a soothing motion that seems to calm both of you. for a few moments, neither of you say anything, enjoying the quiet intimacy of the moment. but after a while, suguru speaks up again, his voice soft and gentle.

“y/n... can i ask you something?”

“hmm?”

suguru takes a deep breath, his expression growing serious as he gathers his thoughts. he tilts your chin up, so that you're looking directly into his eyes. he hesitates for a moment, as if weighing his words carefully. then, he speaks, his voice almost a whisper.

“what are we doing, y/n?” he says quietly, his voice is serious. he watches your expression growing with no confusion, just staring at him with an expression he doesn't seem able to put his finger on. “when you try to tempt me like this... is it just because you can? because you know i can’t resist you, no matter how hard i try?”

he says quietly, his voice filled with a tinge of emotion. “you know how weak i am when you’re this close to me… when you look at me like that. it’s like you have a power over me, and you know it,” his eyes look for yours, searching for something he doesn't know either. you're looking at him, right?

his warm hand squeezes your arm a little, “it’s like you enjoy toying with me, like you take pleasure in seeing how weak i become around you.” suguru gazes at you intently, waiting for your answer. his hand continues to rest on your waist, holding you close, and he studies your face for any hint of emotion. the seriousness in his eyes contrasts with the soft touch of his fingers on your skin, and the quiet intensity of the moment hangs in the air.

suguru's words hang in the air, the weight of his question lingering between you two. he continues to hold your gaze, his eyes searching your face for an answer.

he's waiting for your response, for some sort of explanation. but you can feel the tension in his body, the coiled-up restraint that he's holding onto. he's conflicted, torn between his desire and his loyalty. after a long moment of silence, he speaks again, his voice strained. “say something.”

the silence is deafening, and suguru's question seems to echo in your ears. you can see the tension in his body, and you know that he's waiting for you to say something— anything. he's looking at you with an intensity that makes your heart flutter, and you can feel the weight of his question hanging in the air.

you hesitate for a moment, unsure of how to answer. the air feels thick with anticipation, and you can almost hear the ticking of the clock on the wall. but finally, you speak.

“i...”

but your mouth closes again as soon as it opens. the lump in your throat tightens, your chest hurts from the thunder inside you. suguru's grip on your waist tightens slightly, his frustration and impatience growing as he waits for your reply. he can feel the tension building, the pressure mounting as the silence between you stretches on.

his eyes remain fixed on your face, studying every change in your expression as he waits for you to speak. his hand still rests on your waist, but it's no longer gentle. instead, it's as if he's holding onto you, as if he's afraid that you might slip away if he lets go.

his voice comes out as a low, frustrated growl. “damned it, y/n, say something,” he repeat, more desperate.

your hand is gripping tightly on the bedcover under your palm, “I..” you are trying to see right through his mind, losing on his purple orbs, “I.. isn't this what you want?—” you stop for a second, gulping before you continue, “Is it wrong if I said I want to be with you?”

you grimace in silence, feeling the ache in your chest as the words roll out of your tongue and land on his mind. the guilt eating you alive as your mind wanders to shoko ieiri. the imaginary slow motion of her knowing what happened between you and the man in front of you, her boyfriend already torn you apart.

suguru's expression softens slightly at your words, the more when he see the conflict in your face, the guilt in your voice, the hesitation in your eyes. knowing that you're struggling with the same internal battle that he is.

he let out a sigh, “come here.”

he adjusts his position to lying on his back before pulling your waist closer until your bare skin touches his. his muscular arm wrapped around your waist possessively as you rest your cheek on his bare chest.

you take his hand and intertwine your fingers with his. he looks down at your hands, the sight of them intertwined sending a pang of emotion through him.

he's silent for a moment, his mind racing with thoughts and doubts. but then, he looks back up at you, his eyes meeting yours. there's a glimmer of hope in his gaze, but also some lingering guilt.

“you know it's not that simple,” he mutters, his voice low. “i have a girlfriend.”

your heart sinks at his words, the reality of the situation crashing down upon you once again. “i know.” repeat, your voice barely above a whisper. “i know that.”

“i know...” you muttered, more to yourself.

silence fills the room again. your head is resting on his chest, and the steady rise and fall of his breathing is soothing. each inhale and exhale a quiet reminder of his presence, his body heat radiating against yours.

the guilt gnaws at you, a knot in your lower stomach. the situation is complicated, and there are so many factors at play. but in this moment, lying in his arms, it's hard to deny the powerful connection you feel between you.

you shift on his chest, propping yourself up on your elbow to look at him. your eyes linger on his handsome features, studying the planes and grooves of his face in the dim light. “but...” you start, pausing as you struggle to find the words. “but I know you don't love her.”

at your statement, suguru's expression changes, a flicker of emotions cross through his eyes — conflict, guilt, and resignation. he turns his head away from your gaze, avoiding your eyes as he continues staring at the ceiling.

his grip on your hand tightens, his knuckles turning white as he clenches his jaw. he wants to deny it. he doesn't try to justify anything, he tries but the way your face shines under the dim light of your shared room he already knows that he's trapped, that he's torn between love, loyalty, and his own desires.

there's a long pause before he finally speaks, “no,” he finally admitted, his voice low and quiet, “i don't love her.” he looks for your eyes, his own searching for any hint of judgment. “but i can't... just leave her.” It's a quiet, strained admission.

you smile a little, “i know,” you sigh softly before back to lying your head on his chest, watch your hand intertwined with his, playing with his fingers.

“i know that, that's why we better not talk about it,” you try to swallow the harsh truth, “let's just keep whatever it is inside our room and pretend like we hate each other, like we used to,” your voice wavering, come out more like a whisper.

suguru's expression softens as he watches you play with his fingers, a silent understanding passing between you. but there's also sadness in his eyes, a deep-seated pain that he can't seem to hide.

he nods, sighing again. “yeah... you're right. it's for the best if we keep this under wraps,” the resignation on his voice echoes. suguru is quiet for a moment, his expression unreadable. but you can feel the tension in his body, the way his muscles flex involuntarily under your fingertips. he's conflicted, caught between his feelings for you and his loyalty to his girlfriend.

his gaze fixated on your hands. then, he speaks up again, his voice barely above a whisper. “but it doesn't make things any easier,” the words finally got to you.

he lets out a low sigh, his breath hot against your skin. “it's not... that simple,” he mutters, his voice hoarse. “i don't think we can just... ignore what's happening between us.” you know what he's saying is true. it's impossible to ignore the growing connection between you two, no matter how hard you try to distance yourselves from each other.

suguru takes a deep breath, the weight of the situation finally hitting him. his voice is strained, “what are we supposed to do?” he looks down at you, his eyes searching your face. “we can't just... keep going like this, ignoring what's between us.”

he's frustrated, torn between his love for you and his loyalty to his girlfriend. the conflict is written all over his face, in the tightness of his expression, the creases on his brow. the silence between you is deafening, both of you struggling to find answers to the impossible situation you're in.

you raise your head again, looking at him. your expression is a mix of pain and determination.

“then... what are we supposed to do?” you ask, your voice barely hiding the hint of pleading. “how are we supposed to go on, knowing that we... that we—“ your voice hitches. “what do you want me to do, suguru?”

suguru doesn't respond immediately, his expression hardening as if he's deep in thought. but his grip on your hand tightens, almost unconsciously like he needs that connection to stay grounded. he hesitates for a long moment, wrestling with his thoughts before finally speaking up, his voice is rough. “i... i don't know,” he mutters, his voice heavy with uncertainty. “i just... i don't know.”

suguru's expression becomes conflicted, his brow furrowing as he tries to answer your question. he looks down at your hands, his thumb tracing slowly circles on the back of your hand. he's silent for a few moments, his thoughts racing as he tries to sort through his feelings.

then, he speaks up again, his voice heavy with emotion. “i want you. i want you more than anything. but i can't have you, not without hurting shoko.” you groan, rolling your eyes as you try to brush away the feelings that annoyed you so much you wanna throw up.

harshly you wipe your tears away, “oh, I bet she's gonna be in euphoria when she finds out that you're screwing with me behind her back,” your words come out sarcastic as you look at the wall beside his bed.

suguru's expression darkens at your sarcastic remark, his jaw clenching in frustration. he knows that you're hurting, that you're coping with the situation in the only way you know how.

but the words still stung, and he can't help but snap back at you. “you think i haven't thought about that?” he mutters, his voice sharp. “you think i haven't thought about how she'll react if she finds out about us?”

again, you rolled your eyes, “i don't know, suguru, haven't you thought about it now? oh wait, how about the first time you fuck me a year ago?” you snap back. your eyebrows narrow in anger.

suguru's expression darkens further at your words, his muscles tensing under your touch as your scathing tone hits him hard. he closes his eyes for a moment, his jaw clenching as he takes a deep breath to control his own anger.

he's been trying to avoid thinking about that first night, to push it out of his mind, to pretend like it never happened. but your words force him to confront it head-on, to acknowledge the guilt and the shame he's been trying to bury.

suguru's expression hardens as you snap at him, and you can see the mixture of guilt, anger, and resignation on his face. he doesn't respond for a long moment, his grip on your hand tightening even more. finally, he lets out a low growl, his voice strained. “don't you think i've thought about it every day since then?”

he sits up, leaning against the headboard as he glares at you. the frustration and tension between you is palpable, the air heavy with unresolved emotions. he looks at you, his violet eyes intense as they lock with yours. “i haven't been able to think about anything except you, y/n. you've consumed my mind.”

you sit up as well with your body facing him, your frustration and anger still boiling under the surface. you meet his gaze with equal intensity, refusing to back down.

”bullshit.” you snap back, your voice quivering with anger. “if you've been thinking about me the way you say you have, then why are we in this situation in the first place?” suguru's expression became dull, bitter as his jaw clenched the more he listens to you. he knows that you have a point, but he's too frustrated to admit it.

“are you thinking about me only when no one is around for you to stick your dick at?” you glare at him as tears stream down your face. “that you only come to me when it is convenient for you?” he watches you wipe your tears, and your sarcasm cuts through the air, adding another layer of tension to the already complex situation.

he grits his teeth before finally responding, his voice laced with frustration. “don't... don't say it like that,” he grunts. “it's not just some casual thing, y/n, I'm head over heels for you here.”

you're seething, the tears streaming down your face as the full force of emotions come crashing down on you. all the pent-up frustration, pain, and confusion that you've been pushing down come pouring out.

“then what the hell is it, suguru?” you snap, your voice strained. “you keep saying you can't make a choice, that you want me but you can't have me, that you're stuck between us. so what is this, then? what are we doing?” for a second your face mixes with anger and confusion.

you laugh, a sarcastic one, “oh god, I can't wait for shoko to find out that her boyfriend has been having an affair with me for a year.” suguru is strained at your words, the harshness in your tone cutting through him like a knife. his frown deepens as he looks at you, his eyes darkened by the guilt and frustration he feels, and a hint of anger.

he lets out a scoff, a bitter chuckle escaping his lips. “yeah, I'm sure she'd be thrilled. and let's not forget how much you'd enjoy seeing her humiliated,” his own words filled with sarcasm.

you both fall silent again, the anger and hurt hanging in the air between you. the tension is palpable, and the more you speak, the deeper the wounds you inflict on each other. but despite the harshness of your words, there's a sadness in both of your eyes, a pain that neither of you can hide. you both know that this situation is complicated and that neither of you can ignore how you really feel about each other.

but suguru's words hit a nerve and you can feel the anger flare up inside you even more. you clench your fists, trying to control yourself, but the mixture of anger, frustration, and hurt is overwhelming. “is that what you think of me?” you snap back, your voice sharp. “that i'd enjoy seeing her humiliated? you think i'd relish the chance to hurt her like that?”

you pause for a moment, your eyes narrowing. “oh, fuck you, geto! i thought you knew me better than that.” you look at him with pure disgust.

suguru's expression falters momentarily, surprise and pain flickering across his features as you snap at him. he's caught off guard by your reaction, the use of his last name stinging like a slap to the face.

he knows he crossed a line, that he said something that hit too close to home. but he's too frustrated and guilty to fully apologize. instead, suguru's jaw clenches at your response, anger and frustration bubbling up within him. he can't help the anger that comes with feeling attacked.

“don't act like you're not enjoying this,” he snaps back, his voice strained. “you've been practically itching for the chance to push her out of the picture and have me all to yourself.” he glares at you, his expression hardening as he continues. “don't pretend like you're any better than me in this situation, y/n.”

he sits up straighter, his hands balling into fists as he glares back at you. “oh, i know you, y/n,” he retorts with venom, his voice harsh. “and i know that deep down, there's a part of you that would love to see her suffer.” you are stunned for a moment, eyes wide open as you look at his angry feature. there's something beneath your flesh that is trying to scrunch your beating heart, wanting to explode from the pain.

you seethe as you listen to his words, the anger rising within you like a fiery inferno. how dare he judge you like that, how dare he accuse you of enjoying the pain of others.

“how dare you?” your voice comes out as a whisper. “you're the one who's started all of this, geto. do you think how many times I have run away from you? you're fucking everywhere—” you choke on your own sob. “i didn't say i'd enjoy seeing her humiliated, but you seem more than happy to throw the blame in my face,” you snap.

suguru's expression obfuscate further as he continues to glare at you, his patience running thin. he's struggling to keep his own emotions in check, but the anger and frustration are threatening to boil over.

“oh, don't act like you're innocent in all of this,” he snaps back, his voice laced with bitterness. “you were just as willing as i was. you could have walked away anytime, but you didn't.” he clenches his jaw, his eyes narrowing. “and stop playing the victim here. you know damn well that you're just as guilty as i am.”

you stare at suguru for a moment. looking at his hardened steel face bathing with anger and frustration while tears make a rain onto your cheeks. you can feel your eyelashes battling, wet, as you look at the man in front of you. “I hate you,” you whisper, the only words that can come out of your trambling lips.

the words come out of your mouth before you can even stop yourself, and they hang in the air like a weight, heavy and final. suguru's expression hardens at your words, his own anger and resentment surging to the surface. he stares at you, his jaw clenched tightly.

but beneath the anger, there's a hint of pain in his violet eyes, a trace of the hurt that your words have inflicted. he's silent for a long moment, the silence only broken by his ragged breaths. the pain in your voice cutting through him like a knife. but despite his own guilt and shame, he can't help but push back.

“no, you don't.” he grits his teeth, his voice strained. “if you hated me, you wouldn't be here. you wouldn't keep coming back to me every time,” he scoffed. you bite your tongue in frustration, knowing that he's right. you hate that he can read you so easily, that he knows the truth about your feelings.

but you're too stubborn to admit it, too proud to acknowledge how you really feel. so you stay silent, staring back at him with a mix of anger and heartache. you let out a bitter scoff at his words, your own anger and frustration growing with each passing moment.

“oh, of course,” you growl, your voice dripping with sarcasm. “i must secretly love this whole shitty situation, huh?” you meet his glare, your own eyes narrowing. “you want to know the truth? i don't hate you. but i do hate the fact that i can't seem to stay away from you, but..” you clear your throat, “let's just end all of this,” your voice dripping with resignation.

suguru's expression falters for a brief moment as he hears your words, a flicker of vulnerability seeping through his frustrated exterior. he knows that what you're saying is true, knows that you're struggling just as much as he is.

but he can't let himself show weakness, can't let his own feelings overcome his resolve. so he responds with a scoff of his own, his voice tight with frustration. “yeah, right. i'm sure you'll be just fine, running back to the arms of whatever poor schmuck can give you an ounce of attention.”

your eyes widen, a mix of confusion and shock flooding your features. your brows knit together as the words sink in, and the hurt becomes evident in your gaze. your lips part slightly as if you want to respond but can't find the right words, your expression a silent plea for understanding amidst the pain his words have caused.

so you just look down at your hands while gripping tightly on the blanket. feel ashamed for the way you're acting and letting yourself into this situation.

suguru's words hit you hard, sending a jolt of pain straight to your heart, making your sobs more pronounced. his harsh tone and piercing gaze made you feel like the worst person. you struggled to hold back your tears, biting your lip in a desperate attempt to control your emotions while also trying to catch your breath.

suguru's expression softens at the sight of your sobbing form, guilt and regret washing over him. he feels a pang of shame for the harsh words he had just spoken, the way he had let his own frustration and anger get the best of him. “i.. I can't do this, anymore,” you whisper between your sobbing as you refuse to look at him. his heart twists as he hears your whispered words, the resignation and pain in your voice cutting through him like a knife.

he watches you for a moment, the weight of your words and the pain in your voice heavy on his heart. he's torn between his own anger and his love for you, caught in the crossfire of his own emotions. he lets out a soft sigh, reaching out to slip your hair behind your ear before touching your chin gently.

“hey...” softly.

you feel his fingers brushing against your face, gently tucking your hair behind your ear as he touches your chin. the gesture is both comforting and painful, reminding you of the complexity of your relationship.

your eyes flutter closed at the feel of his fingers against your skin, and you let out a shaky breath. “don't.. don't touch me,” you mutter between sobs, your voice strained with emotion.

suguru's hand falters as your words reach him, his own heart clenching at the pain in your voice. he knows that he should listen to you, knows that you're struggling to maintain your composure. yet he can't resist the urge to comfort you. He longs to hold you and offers reassurance, so he disregards your words, his hand still gently cradling your chin.

he gently lifts your face, tilting it up so that your eyes meet his. the hardness and intensity usually present in his gaze have softened, now bim with an aching tenderness. he takes a shaky breath, his concern evident in the way his voice trembles slightly. the depth of his care for you is clear, cutting through the tension between you both.

“hey, look at me,” he gently murmurs, his touch feather-soft against your skin. “don't cry. please don't cry.” he pulls you closer by the waist until he can feel your skin on his. his arm holds you tight, “i'm sorry baby, please don't cry,” he whisper in your hair.

you resist his touch initially, your body taut and tense. but as he pulls you closer, your resistance melts away. you let yourself sink into his embrace, the tears streaming down your face as you bury your head into his chest.

you wrap your arms around his waist, clinging to him like a lifeline. the pain and anger between you seem to melt away as you listen to the sound of his heartbeat, the steady thump-thump a reminder of the bond that still tethers you together.

“i hate you,” you whisper once more, your voice muffled against his chest. suguru lets out a soft sigh, his arms encircling you in a protective embrace despite the harshness of your voice. he can feel the heat of your tears on his chest, the way your body trembles against his as you sob.

he knows he’s the reason for your pain, that he’s the one who has hurt you so deeply. despite this, he can't bring himself to let you go or push you away. Instead, he tightens his embrace, holding you closer, his chin resting gently on the top of your head. he takes a deep breath, his heart aching with regret and love. “I know,” he murmurs softly, his voice husky with emotion. “I know you do, baby. I'm so sorry.” his words are a quiet plea for forgiveness, filled with the weight of his own sorrow.

for a long moment, the two of you sit there in silence, the only sound the occasional stifled sobs that escape your lips the gentle rise and fall of suguru's chest as he holds you. suguru holds you close, his arms wrapped around you like a protective cocoon.

he rubs his hand up and down your back in a slow, soothing motion, trying to offer at least some small comfort to your pain. he can feel the tension in your body, the way your muscles remain clenched with frustration and hurt. his touch is gentle, a silent reassurance that he's there for you, despite the turmoil between you. his heartbeat echoes in the silence, a steady rhythm against your side as he holds you close, silently hoping his presence can ease some of the anguish he causes.

you cling tightly to suguru, seeking comfort within the safety of his embrace. with your face buried against his chest, you find solace in the steady, reassuring beat of his heart amid the storm of emotions swirling within you. gradually, you lift your head from his chest and look up at him. your eyes are red and puffy from tears, but a sense of resignation now mingles with the lingering pain. his presence has brought a moment of calm, a fragile peace in the aftermath of your emotional outburst.

suguru looks down at you, his own expression mixed with guilt and vulnerability. his eyes studying your tear-streaked face. he reaches out, gently wiping away the tears from your cheeks with his thumb, his touch gentle and soothing.

he's silent for a moment, his expression conflicted. he knows what he should do, knows that this whole situation is a mess that he shouldn't be dragging you into. but as he looks at you, he can't help but feel drawn to you. your vulnerability, your pain, and your undeniable strength pull him in like a moth to a flame.

his mind warring with his emotions. finally, he lets out a soft sigh. “i don't want to hurt you,” he says softly, his voice barely above a whisper. he pauses, his eyes searching yours, “but I feel like I'm losing you with every single word we speak.”

you stare back at him, your heart aching at the rawness of his words. you know that he's struggling as much as you are, that he's torn between his love for you and his loyalty to shoko.

you reach up, your fingers gently tracing the side of his face. “i don't want to hurt you either,” you respond, your voice laced with pain. “but i can’t keep pretending that this isn't killing me inside.” your gaze drops, your voice becoming quieter. “i don't know how much more of this i can take.”

suguru lets out another soft sigh, the pain in your voice cutting through him like a knife. he knows that he's the cause of it, that his own selfishness has led to this point and he hates himself for it.

he gently cups your chin, tilting your face up so you're looking at him again. his eyes are filled with pain and vulnerability as he speaks. “i don't want to lose you,” he mutters softly. “i don't want to hurt you. but i also can't pretend like i don't have feelings for you.” you took his hand, held them, “let's not talk about it, hm? at least for tonight?” you give him a little smile, a force one.

suguru looks at you for a moment, his expression conflicted. he knows that you're trying to put on a brave face, to push the pain away for just a little while longer.

but beneath the smile, he can see the pain in your eyes, the exhaustion from the emotional rollercoaster of the day. he hesitates for a moment, but eventually nods. “alright,” he mutters softly. “for tonight, we won't talk about it.”

the tension in the room eases slightly as you both agree to put the discussion aside for the night. suguru's grip on your hand relaxes a bit as he looks into your eyes, silently studying your face before he took his boxer and his black oversized t-shirt shirt from the floor. wearing the boxer and give the t-shirts for you to wear, cover your naked body. you let suguru help you change into his clothes, the soft fabric of the t-shirt gently enveloping your body.

“you're tired,” he remarks quietly. “come on, let's move to your bed,” his voice softly drowns you. he carried you from his bed to yours, knowing how much you hate sleeping on the bed that is covered with cum and sweat. you silently appreciate his thoughtfulness, knowing that he understands your discomfort about sleeping on the other bed.

as he lifts you gently, you wrap your arms around his neck, your body relaxing into his embrace. he carries you like a fragile doll, walking from his bed to yours with careful steps. “lay down. let me hold you for a while,” he says few words as he lowers you onto the bed, his touch tender and gentle. you let out a small sigh of relief as you're moved to your own bed, the clean sheets a welcome comfort after the intensity of the emotional upheaval.

as suguru positions you to lie down, his words are like a balm to your weary soul. you scoot over, making space for him beside you and he climbs into bed, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you close. your head rests against his chest, the steady thumping of his heart a soothing rhythm that begins to lull you into a state of relaxed exhaustion.

as you curl into his embrace, the tiredness of the day starts to set in, your body yearning for rest. suguru's arm is around you, his fingers gently tracing circles on your back, an intimate and soothing gesture.

he gazes down at you with a mixture of concern and tenderness in his eyes. “are you comfortable, baby?” he asks softly, his voice low and soothing. you nod slowly against his chest, finding a small measure of comfort in his embrace. “I'm okay,” you assure him, but then add with a faint mumble, “I can't feel my leg, though...” the lingering sensation of your legs trembling slightly from the rough intimacy you shared earlier hasn't completely subsided.

suguru's mouth curls downwards in a frown as he hears your mumbled confession. he knows that he was a little too rough with you earlier, that your body must be feeling the aftermath of his passion.

he carefully readjusts his position so that you're closer against him, cradling you softly. “sorry,” he mutters softly, his voice laced with no guilt. “i got carried away. i didn’t mean to hurt you.” you hummed, “I know you didn't feel sorry,” your voice comes out light, dripping with a bit of teasing.

suguru chuckles lightly at your comment, his chest rumbling beneath your ear. he knows you're right, that there's a part of him that's unapologetic about his rough handling of you.

he can’t deny the primal satisfaction it brings him, the primal desire to claim you as his own. but he also knows that he crossed a line, that he's responsible for causing you pain. “you're a smartass,” he mutters affectionately, his fingers continuing to trace slow, lazy patterns on your skin.

“I know.”

he lets out another soft chuckle, the sound low and deep in his chest. your sassiness always brings out a playful side in him, a part of him that he rarely lets surface. he adjusts his position again, pulling you even closer so that your body is flush against his. his fingers gently brush against the skin of your back, tracing feather-light patterns.

“i know i should feel guilty about this,” he mutters, “but i don't. not really.” he leaned down to give your lips a small kiss, “and you also have a smart ass,” he mutters while smiling on your lips, his fingers giving your rear a light smack.

you let out a small gasp as his hand connects with your rear, the unexpected gesture eliciting a mixture of surprise and pleasure. he chuckles lowly, amused by your response. “and a pretty one at that,” he responds, his hand gently caressing the spot he just smacked. “I never realized how much I missed your smart mouth.”

you chuckle lightly as your head moves forward, place your chin on top of the back of your handset rest against suguru's chest, “this smart mouth just brought you a disaster before.” he hums in agreement, his hand continuing to gently caress your rear. “it did. but it also never fails to amuse me.” he pulls you closer against his body, his arm wrapping around you possessively. “i hate how much i love that sassy mouth of yours. and how much i love shutting it up.”

he lets out another chuckle at his own witty retort, his hand still gently tracing your skin. “your smart mouth brings me a lot of things,” he quips back, his grin widening. “trouble, sure. but also pleasure, passion, and a whole host of other things that I can’t even begin to describe…”

your mouth curves into a small smile as you hear his words. it's true, your smart mouth has gotten you into trouble more times than you can count. but it's also been the catalyst for some of the most intense and passionate moments you've ever experienced. “you always know exactly what to say, don’t you?” you murmur.

he grins lazily, his eyes glimmering with amusement. “you know I do. especially when it comes to you.” his hand moves from your rear to your hair, his fingers gently running through the locks, caressing your scalp. “you know,” he says, his voice low and husky, “there are plenty more ways i can shut up that smart mouth of yours.”

you try to suck your smile under suguru's violet gaze. “yeah? tell me about it?” he chuckles at your attempt to suppress your smile, his hand moving from your hair to the side of your face, his thumb gently tracing your lips. “you want me to give you a demonstration?” he asks, his voice dripping with suggestion, his eyes fixed on your lips.

“shut up,” suddenly a wave of shyness washing over you. you roll down from his chest to lying on your back. he watches as you roll onto your back, your sudden shyness bringing a smirk to his lips. “aw, why'd you move?” he teases, rolling over to lie on his side beside you. he reaches out, his hand gently caressing your hip, his voice deep and suggestive.

”i was enjoying having you close.”

his voice nearly whispered. he was just admiring your face for a while before he leans in, “i love you,” he whispered. his voice is low, almost a whisper, but the words are powerful, his violet eyes boring into yours with an intensity that takes your breath away.

“i love you,” he repeats, his hand gently cupping your face, his thumb tracing the contour of your cheek. he leans in even closer, his body pressing against yours as he hovers over you, his lips just a breath away from yours.

“you have no idea how much...”

your heart flutters at his words, a mix of emotion and disbelief flooding through you. you've heard him say those words so many times before, but every time feels like the first.

you turn onto your side to face him, his proximity making your heart race. you open your mouth to respond, but no words come out. instead, you reach out and touch his face, your fingers tracing his jawline.

and even without words, he knows what you're trying to say. “i love you too.”

[ramonathinks]

who’s your god? — geto suguru (oneshot; no part two)

summary: suguru geto is the reincarnation of a powerful god or so he claims, using his abilities to prey on as many weak minded housewives as he can.

warnings: (18+, minors/ageless/blank blogs will be blocked) mention of church/religion, sex, adultery, cult like themes, sacrilege(?), begging, pet names (good girl, slut), corruption, finger sucking, public sex, people are watching, geto refers to himself as god, spanking, manipulation, race isn’t mentioned but i envision all my y/n’s as black so yeah. yes, repostttt

A-are you sure?” You swallow and gulp, staring at the man in front of you. His dark hooded eyes staring back at you.

“I have no reason to lie to you.” He says in a hushed tone as your husband walks up the stairs. With every painful creek of the staircase you can’t help but to wince. “Your purity… is in danger, has been for a long time… many of those in higher powers have spoke to me, they do want to help you to remain pure… to be in a good standing of course. That’s why I’m here.”

“Is there anything I can do?” With pleading eyes and shaky hands you scoot closer to him. You children deserved a pure mother, one to help them cross over when the time approached. You longed to be reunited with your husband when time was right.

“Why, of course.” He did a sly slimy smile. “We’ll sit some time aside and pray on this together at the temple.”

“Thank you. Thank you so much sir– eh, master geto.” You could see his lip curl at the name change and seen his nails dig into him palms. Pulling out a simple cross necklace from the insides of his black robe, he handed it to you, placing it into the center of your palm and closing your hand to form a fist.

“Keep this. Wear it. Don’t take it off until we next meet. It’s vital for the ritual we’ll have to preform.”

So you did. You wore it everywhere and didn’t take it off. Anything to keep your purity safe. You showed with it on, wore it underneath all your shirts and dresses.

“The gods spoke to me,” A phone call on the early morning after three weeks had passed. “It’s time.” It wasn’t even dawn yet, just a little past 3am and you were drowsy. “Wear something light. Very thin.”

You swallowed and looked over yourself, all of the sudden nervous and self conscious. Your body a bit more full and plum since the birth of two babies, everything thin you owned was tight against your body.

But you slipped into a long sleeved dark old dress you owned, that covered your entire body and hugged your figure.

You couldn’t help but feel so out of place and so weird when you walked into the sacred temple. Masked and cloaked individuals stood still, you could barely tell that they were breathing yet alone alive.

Swallowing, you made your way to the center of the temple, where you knew Geto would be waiting.

He stood with great posture and a small cross between his fingers, pressing his lips against it before rubbing his fingers against it, up and down. Your core tingled and you gripped the sides of your dress, feeling too hot to keep walking. Your knees buckled and your hands clutched at the wall by your side.

“Master Geto, he—lp!” You slipped and fell to the floor, landing with a small oof that left your mouth. A buzzing sensation on your clit and even feeling a rough hand on your folds. Massaging and pulling them apart.

“Just let it over take you. Just be glad, I didn’t do this while your husband was around. I’m being mighty merciful to you, my dear.” His voice is a shiver up your spine and his presence overtakes you, you feel him all over and he hasn’t even walked over to you yet.

“Tell me, my dear…” His voice cures your ails, making every moment more breathable again. “If I told you that the only way to keep your purity intact would be the touch of a god, would you still be willing?” His voice is sly and cocky.

You squeeze your eyes tightly, a light relief of touch making you moan heavily before it’s quickly snatched away. “That was just a taste, a small taste of purity that could welcomed back into your little soul.”

Something stirred up inside of your chest and a heavy weight made you groan, making you painfully uncomfortable and aware of just what you were missing.

“I need it.” You voice hoarse and detached, you weren’t sounding like yourself. “I’d do anything for it—!” You voice faded.

You felt several hands on you all at once but nobody was there. Solar bright hotness scarred your chest while the cross marked itself into your skin, the smell of burnt flesh all around you.

As if hours had passed, Geto finally approached you. Putting your head in his lap. He crouched and whispered in your ear, “I’m going to fuck the purity back into you.” Licking the insides of your ear before biting and sucking on the lobe. “You’ll be clean again.” He promised.

Slipping your dress up and removing your dainty underwear. “Already so soaked. You’re already ready for me.” His finger caressed your lips and he kissed you. His tongue licking throughout your mouth and sucking on every inch of your tongue.

Cloaked and masked individuals circled around you both and you clang into his grasp, shivering.

“They have to watch. They have to be here.” He explained calmly. “They’re praying over us, praying for you and your purity… shall I ask again, if you really want this? Remember the feeling that you felt…” That feeling was all you could think about, his touch and his voice amplifying everything.

He knew you wanted it. Hanging it over your head. Watching you pant and groan, your thighs sticky and your head spinning. “Please… you know I need it.”

“What would you husband think of you now…” he twists his fingers in your mouth, drawing them in and out. “Watching you beg like a little slut for me to fuck you… would he like it?”

You couldn’t bare to answer. “Please just fuck me already…” you pleaded with him, your eyes clouded with lust, his filled with sin and all he could do was drink it up.

The dizziness continued as the people watching stepped closer, you gulped and trembled, feeling like you can’t breathe.

“I’m going to give you exactly what you need to be pure again.” He pulls his robe off quickly and your eyes follow. His body sculpted to perfection, lean and a perfect built. Your eyes trailed down to his cock and you tried not to moan aloud.

Long and girthy with a dark pink tip, standing curved and full at your attention. You swallowed hard.

Leaning over you, he rubs himself between your cool wet gooey folds, lining his cock against your entrance. “Ready?” He murmurs and your eyes look between his then to his cock before you look to the lingering eyes around you.

“Yes. I’m ready.” Your voice strong and steady as your hands grab at his shoulders.

He slipped between your thighs and all of the heat and sweat around your body disappeared when a small moan left your lips. His cock completely splitting you open and his fingers digging into your thighs. Your legs spread wide as his hips thrust forward, hard.

Burying his nose into your neck he does a deep laugh. His hips wild with ever thrust, the splashy wetness from your pussy echoing around the temple. Moans bounce around with each time he plunges in and out of you.

Clenching around him, he groans, pulling himself out before quickly tapping his cock against your wet folds that open wide for him. He feeds your deprived insides his merciful cock with a sinister smile before he says:

“Tell me, who’s your fucking god now? Huh? Who do you belong to? Who is fucking you, hm? Who’s fucking this pussy pure?”

Gripping his shoulders harder and meeting his thrust you finally whisper, “You… you are, master Geto.”

His hips stutter when you tighten up on him, “Oh, so tight… so fucking tight.” He squeezed your thighs and ram inside of you, both of your moans loud. “Gonna fucking cum inside this pretty pussy.” He promises, jerking his hips and fucking deeper inside of your core.

Feeling every twitch from you, he uses two fingers to rub at your needy swollen clit. “Oh you like that? You like when I fuck this flower open?”

He plants kisses up and down your throat. “Please just…” you lock your legs around his waist, tightly. Wetness sliding down your thighs.

He shutters and sighs, rocking his hips and thrusting harder inside. His eyes intense as they glare down at you. “Such a good girl,” He says, his voice guff and his cock throbbing hard.

Your nails dig into his skin and your pussy squirts as he works his way in and out of you.“Take it.” He tip kissing your womb ever so gently before he’s pounding inside again, watching your thighs jiggle with every moment.

“Take my cum.” He growls, stilling over you. His body shakes and so goes yours, once his cum is planted inside of you, your body feels cool again.

Panting, you look into his dark eyes. “Am I pure?” Your eyes shining with hope and pleasure.

“Far from it.” He says and your face falls. “Turn around.”

Embarrassed and confused, you turn on your stomach.

You feel his rough hands touching on your ass and squeezing the plushness of it before he does the unexpected. A loud slap rings throughout the temple and you grown in pain. “Count.” He does another one to the opposite cheek.

“O-one…” Your soaked folds growing even wetness. “Two…”

Rubbing his cock between your ass he does another slap. “Three—!”

“I’m going to have my way with you for the rest of the day… until you physically can’t anymore.” He says with a deep chuckle. “Ready?”

[sugurugetofavoritemonkey]

Suguru Geto comforts you with his hugs and kisses…as well as his fingers.

Smut with fingering and soft Sugu

900 words

As you open the front door of your apartment and start to slowly walk into the living room where your husband Suguru is sitting on the couch, it doesn’t take long for him to notice your tired and troubled face. Suguru looks at you with soft eyes, as you remove your shoes and your coat in silence, as he waits for you to look up at him. He beckons you closer to him as he lightly taps his thigh with his hand, silently proposing you to sit on his lap while still gently holding your gaze with an understanding smile.

The second that you feel Suguru’s arms enveloping you in their familiar protective warmth, a sigh escapes your lips at the comforting feeling. Soon after, you can feel your husband's chin resting on the crown of your head, while his hands draw random reassuring shapes on your back, soothing you into a peaceful atmosphere.

You both know that you don’t need to explain to him why you’re feeling a bit down today, because just the presence of Suguru surrounding your entire being is more than enough to resolve the problem.

That and also maybe the few kisses that he presses on the top of your skin. And his favorite spot in moments like these was always to kiss your temples. When his lips gently touched this area, it was like nothing could happen to you right now, that Suguru would always welcome you home, no matter your day, with his arms wide open, holding you in his arms while smothering your entire face with kisses, surely making you laugh in the process.

On the other hand, Suguru also knew another way of turning your bad day into a pleasant one.

As whispers of reassurance and endearment are being spoken by Suguru while he keeps taking care of you, his right hand slowly goes down your body, towards your sensitive area to caress your pussy through your panties under your dress. And as Suguru was about to ask how you felt about this, no words were needed as you let out a moan of pure pleasure due to his warm touch, bringing a proud smile on his face.

It doesn’t take long for Suguru’s smile to transform into a low-pitched sigh as he feels your pussy coats your undergarments in your fluids, as well as wetting his fingers, making it hard for him to wait any more longer as he slips his fingers into your panties, sliding them between your puffy lower lips to tease you with his touch.

When Suguru hears you whine more and more, craving for him to touch you where you need him the most, he can’t resist you for too long. The pads of his fingers easily find your clit, circling it so deliciously that you press your face in Suguru's chest to hide your moaning face, your hands clutching tightly at his shirt.

But Suguru isn’t one to let you hide your beautiful face from him, as two of his fingers thrust into your already clenching hole to make you look at him. And the sight he’s currently graced with, is sure one to behold, at least in Suguru’s eyes.

Your eyes struggle to stay open with all the sensation he’s offering you and your mouth is slightly agape as Suguru hears the pretty moans that you always sing so beautifully, just for him.

Chants of his name echo around the room as his thumb keeps applying a pleasant circle motion on your throbbing clit, while his free hand gently caresses your face, as Suguru was holding your gaze with so much love in his eyes.

« You’re alright precious, you just have to focus on me, all right pretty ? You’re gonna be my good girl and relax for me »

This sentence alone, being whispered with attention from your sweet husband, was already enough to make you reach your climax with little whines of his name coming from you.

But the way his mouth was dropping kisses here and there on your skin, ending with one on your lips…it was too much sensation all at once.

A kiss that soon transformed into a passionate one as the tip of his tongue was slowly entering your mouth to deepen the kiss, his hand still caressing your cheek while blessing you with the most pleasurable kiss.

One that stole all of the oxygen from your lungs and was making your orgasm ten times stronger.

After coming undone in Suguru’s arms, breathing heavily on his shoulder as he stills holds your shaky form in his protective arms with so much care, you can feel Suguru’s lips finding their way on top of your mouth that now shines with a mixture of your saliva and his. After his lips brush against yours, they next appear on your forehead, followed by your nose being pecked as well, Suguru not forgetting to also plant a kiss or two on the top of your cheeks.

As your face is being covered in his attentionate kisses, his tender gestures slowly lull you to sleep, your eyes closing themselves as Suguru makes sure to whisper an “I love you” right beside your ear before you fall asleep in his arms.

Look at this beautiful man with his tea and pretty face 🫶🏻

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