Soph

famous around campus for being 'the worst of the worst', his reputation preceded him—people usually steering clear of him in hopes of not being set on fire like he'd been rumored to have done before… or just get eaten alive like that one duck a few months ago.

which, of course, are things only morons would believe; but thankfully, there were plenty of those at the university he was attending—plus, it helped keep up his 'unapproachable bad guy' persona—and there's probably nothing that geto hates more than superficial, incompetent people.

…with the exception of his friend, satoru gojo.

beneath all the money and dashing good looks that sorority girls and modeling agencies would line up for, satoru was nothing but a walking headache for geto; a cocky, self-centered, sometimes-fun-to-be-around headache.

that's exactly what awaited him behind the class doors he so-fashionably opened just a few minutes before the period would start.

you, on the other hand, have already been busy reading whatever anti-patriarchal book had currently caught your attention—because let's be honest, professor yaga's class is not all that interesting most of the time, so you might as well put your free time to better use.

comfortably sitting in 3rd row, legs stretched under the desk while flipping through the pages, you were almost unaware of whoever entered the class or walked by you—just as you intended; music blasting all too loudly in your earbuds for you to hear much.

not that there was much to be heard when suguru geto walked in. stealthy as a cat yet still managing to catch the gazes of a few people with the corners of their eyes as he sat in the desks at the very back.

MCR and linkdin park pins rattled as suguru threw his backpack onto the ground, earning a prying look from gojo, who was sitting next to him.

"you still a loser?" he quipped, elbows perched on the desk and smile bright as always.

"you still an asshole?" suguru shot back, leaning back into his chair and manspreading like he owned the place. typical.

"ouch. that depends. you interested in some fun?" satoru raised a brow.

"how fun?" —in gojo terms, speaking. their ideas of "fun" did not always align.

"that fun," satoru pointed towards you, who apparently, had the same stone-cold face you've always had on, rammed into your book as if socialising with the lower life forms around would kill you.

suguru was not that much of a loser to be getting no play. he managed. but at no point was he desperate or miserable enough to be okay with complicating his life with you.

"that's not fun, even for me," he replied, face twisting into a grimace.

"not even if i provide generous compensation?" satoru shot a hopeful charming grin

he huffed a laugh, "how generous?"

"how do fifty bucks sound?"

suguru shot you a look—only to see you smack your book against some poor soul's head. you may be pretty, but looks weren't enough to cut it. only glancing back at satoru was enough to let him read his thoughts.

"fineee, sixty." he whined. "take her somewhere. who knows? two negatives make a positive—she might be a match for your reclusive self."

nerd.

"what's in it for you, anyway?" he raised an eyebrow, glaring. satoru would rarely share any of his hook-ups (not that suguru would want any of them), much less pay him to get some play.

satoru sighed, leaning in. "i wanna make a move on her sister, yuki, but she can't date until she does." who knew getting some pussy would be so much trouble these days?

"so what?" suguru snorted, "you want me to play chaperone? keep her from getting a felony charge?"

"and hopefully you not getting any charges either, but that's besides the point—take her on a date, do something nice, help a guy out,"

the appeal was barely there.

just as professor yaga had entered the class, he gave you another look, feeling the last shreds of his dignity slip away. you had abandoned your earbuds on the desk, now (miserably) paying attention to your surroundings.

how bad could it be?

"a hundred." he sighed, sealing his fate.

"deal," satoru grinned, voice low, not to draw attention in the subsiding class.

suguru didn't know you that well—not that he's ever even felt a pull to do so either, but he's heard enough to form an idea in mind. you were a loner. intensionally so. you'd either be seen hanging out with your friend, utahime, or cursing out whoever was unfortunate enough to cross your path at the wrong minute—though you've always sworn they'd deserve it. least to say you were… opinionated.

but that wasn't gonna make suguru back out. he liked a good challenge—whether that be occasionally violating college rules and dodging expulsion, or going on a date with a certified man hater.

he'll make it work.

suguru had until the end of class to come up with something to swipe you off your feet. but honestly? he's got nothing, and it seems like resorting to his wits and charms might be the only hope right now—which usually, was enough for most girls to succumb to.

after gathering up his things and shoving the money in his back pocket, he wasted no time before following your trail as you walked out of the classroom through the sea of people.

"hey there, pretty girl," suguru tapped your shoulder, raven bangs waving in the air as he put on his most charming face.

unfortunately though, he was hit with an immediate glare.

"how was class?"

"pretty peaceful, until you decided to disrupt it," you gave him a faux smile, not bothering to look in his direction for more than two seconds.

"…talk about a touching first impression," suguru teased, walking to match your pace, "consider me intrigued."

"my mission in life," tsk. who even is this guy? "but obviously, i struck your fancy. so you see, it worked."

"pick you up on friday then?"

"oh right. friday, uh-huh," you snorted, quickening your stride. points for dedication, you thought—but you had better places to be rather than his company.

"what if i promise to take you places you've never seen before?" suguru asked, voice perfectly smooth and concealing how you're probably stepping on his ego.

"like where? your fathers garage? i'm good, thank you."

"i was actually thinki—"

"get lost, weirdo."

this was gonna be a little more difficult than he thought.

but, suguru was not one to give up so easily, and for the next week, he'd accidentally bumped into you more times than either of you could count. after your classes—he was right there to help you carry your backpack, even after you'd insist you didn't need any assistance. at the library? suguru seemed to take a liking to the same feminist novels you've been reading; you just have so much in common, right!?

well, you weren't exactly on the same page regarding this subject… but it's a good thing he's a dedicated man.

next stop? the music store.

it was a good day today. it really was. you and your sister got along, nobody seemed to make it their lifes goal to annoy you, and you managed to stop at the store and grab a few guitar picks and a cd of your favourite band's newest single.

but, of course, all of that just had to come to an end the moment you've seen none other than suguru geto lean against your car like an asshole.

"nice ride," he called out, snake bites piercings glinting in the soft light of the afternoon sun.

he cannot be for real.

"are you following me?" you spat.

"just passing by and saw your car. thought i'd say hi," geto clarified, watching you roll your eyes and simply walk past him. tch. dramatic.

"hi." you deadpanned, reaching for your door handle just as he slid sideways against your car, blocking your way and not letting you get in.

"not a big talker are you?" he pushed. deal or not, you've caught his eye.

"depends on the topic. your freaky piercings and 'can't take a hint' personality don't really whip me into a verbal frenzy."

geto tilted his head, pretending to get a better look at you, "you're not intimidated, are you?" he purred, the grin on his lips so begulling it almost convinced you—though, mostly, you just felt repelled.

"why would i be intimidated?" you snorted.

"most people are," he shrugged. truthfully so, geto wasn't known for having the most inviting personality—you just happened to be an indifferent hag about it.

"well i'm not."

"maybe. but i'm sure you've thought about me naked," he grinned, fox eyes trailing your features.

…and there goes the final ace up his sleeve.

"am i that transparent?" you asked, words glazed in irony, "oh, geto! i want you, i need you! please, take me to those bedsheets you probably haven't changed in two months!"

getos face has progressively dropped more with each sound coming out of your mouth which seemed to be enough for him to finally get out of your way and let you inside the car.

sigh.

right when you were about to get moving, another car pulled up behind you, not even bothering to park. mercedes' newest model in an obnoxious blue, and an even more obnoxious driver—satoru gojo.

he trotted his way out, abandoning his car halfway on the street and shooting geto a confident wink—most likely believing his previous investments are paying off. right… so, about that…

"do you mind?" you yelled in gojo's direction, hinting oh-so-sweetly to move his car the fuck out of the way.

"not at all," he replied smugly.

"fuck!" the scream he let out could've probably been heard from three blocks away when you carelessly reversed, hitting your bumper straight into his shiny, expensive car door and putting a wide smile on both yours and getos faces.

"whoops," you pouted.

and with that, you were on your way home. back to the comfort of your small apartment, which you've personalised and decorated so it truly felt like you.

so you put on some music, grabbed one of the countless sylvia plath books on your shelves and threw yourself onto the couch in hopes of having some well deserved moments of relaxation.

you should be in your element.

so why are you thinking about him?

☆

geto was positive you were some type of witch.

there was no other explanation for the way you pulled him under your spell.

at this point, he had to convince himself he was still doing it for the money. mentally clinging to that fading excuse every time he'd follow your trail just so he could collect more information and tips on how to get through to that stone-cold heart of yours.

he had to push aside the fact that he felt like a loser and actually do something about it; but it's like every time he comes near you, his charm and charisma evaporate into thin air.

suguru had to get in close if he truly wanted progress.

so that's how he ended up stopping your sister, yuki, after classes.

just at first glance, he could tell where most of your amiability probably went. smiling brightly and warmly, your sister walked by him after he'd discreetly dragged her to a less populated area of the campus. he couldn't risk anyone knowing his master plan just yet.

"sooo, why am i here exactly?" she asked him, her bubbly voice cutting through the momentary silence.

"you are here to help me get some insight of your sister's twisted mind," geto muttered, lighting the cigarette that parted his lips.

yuki laughed, studying his face for any indication that he's just joking, waiting for him to crack. it just seemed that unbelievable that someone might be interested in you. "wait—you're actually serious?"

unfortunately.

"please don't make it into a big deal…" getos eyebrows knitted upwards. just the thought of you finding out he came to ask your sister about you was enough to make shivers of regret creep up his neck.

"oh my god! i really thought she'd die alone!" she exclaimed; a sparce, uncomfortable silence following right after.

"'m not making any promises yet…" the thick, awkward tension that saturated the air seemed to target geto alone.

"okay, first off—she's not a fan of these…" yuki spoke, plucking the half-burnt cigarette from geto's hand and throwing it on the ground.

his face soured at the sight of the smushed tobacco, "so i have to be a 'non-smoker'…?"

"yup."

geto could only pout at her response.

"so… what does she like?" even if he was going to commit to the role fully, starting with the negatives has already lost him a point. "what's she into?"

"well, she likes pretty guys," yuki giggled lighthartedly, "so good luck with that!" geto scoffed mentally; the frown on his face able to be seen from a mile away, along with the disbelief painted on his expression. was he not pretty?

"buuut, if you really want to know, she likes thai food and listens a lot to that indie—angry girl music, or whatever it's called," yuki explained. "oh, and she's really into those feminist prose books she always carries around."

geto evaluated all the information, making sure to take a mental note of each thing. "so, what; i'm just supposed to buy her some noodles, a book, sit around and listen to girls who can't play their instruments?"

seems easy enough, he thought.

"have you ever been to club skunk?" yuki asked, "her favourite band plays there tomorrow, she's got tickets!"

geto defensively crossed his arms, his gaze briskly drifting in the distance as a couple of outcast memories flooded back from the depths of his mind. "no—no, i cant be there, alright?"

out of all places, did it really have to be the one where he drank until projectile vomiting all over the counters at eighteen?

"but don't you wanna see her?" yuki pressed, a scolding pout pushing out her bottom lip; although her real concern was her being able to date, rather than you.

"of course i do, i just—" geto muttered before cutting himself off. his mind reeled back to you, then back to his past experiences at the club; and lastly, to the money he's gotten for the sole reason of going out with you. lost in thought, the world around him seemed to fade for a moment before yuki snapped him out of it.

"…she's also got a pair of black panties if i'm not mistaken," she chirped with a devious smirk on her face, making getos eyes widen slightly.

was this a test? it felt like a test.

"very enticing, i'm sure," he narrowed his gaze before pulling back a step. "also—don't tell her i came to you, alright?"

"good luuck," yuki replied in a sing-song voice as she made her way off.

"thanks," geto nodded.

as soon as his head hit the pillow the coming night, geto knew he'll have a hard time falling asleep.

his intentions were fighting against the reality of the situation, one in which you didn't actually like him, in which he was paid to take you out. and the worst part of it? he couldn't stop thinking about it—about you.

staring at the ceiling for well past half an hour now, the only thing running through his mind was you—along with your unruly attitude and breathtaking smile. it was enough to bring geto to his knees.

his heart yearned to see you again, more than his mind would like to admit. he wondered what you were like when you were actually enjoying yourself for once, surrounded by people close to you—although, that thought made something stir within his chest.

a soft sigh escaped his pierced lips. he didn't want to acknowledge it, but the feeling was clawing from behind his ribs. he didn't want to see you with anybody else; smile at anyone but himself. in his eyes, you were meant for him alone.

geto felt that in his body and soul, the waves of realisation washing over, dragging him to the bottom and drowning him in the intoxicating essence of your mere memory.

his mind wandered, heedlessly picturing your smile—your lips, how they'd feel pressed against his cheek, drawing lower down his neck. how would you react if you saw him right now? would you be surprised? fuck… would call him pathetic?

the mattress beneath his toned body felt softer all of a sudden, as if hugging his frame; though it couldn't be a match to how delicate your touch would be, geto was sure of that.

too lost in the vastness of his imagination, the tent in his loosened sweatpants was only growing, along with the pressure in his bare abs. heat dripped off his body, his tan skin searing hot while thinking of you.

"don't… don't wanna do this, fuck—" geto squirmed under his breath, amethyst eyes squeezed shut. you'd hate him if you knew what was going through his mind right now, but it only made his cock harder.

frustration bubbled in his chest, a satin sheen of sweat coating his forehead as he dragged his hand over the growing bulge. geto couldn't help the groan that escaped him, his cock far too hard and sensitive under his veiled touch.

"i'm sorry, i need it…" he slurred, slipping his fingers under the fabric and curling them around his throbbing length. he imagined you sitting before him, right between his muscular thighs. geto heard your voice in his head, guiding him, guiding his movements as he began stroking his swollen cock.

"mmphh," he moaned at the slight relief, lips pressed together. his grip was firm and messy as it dragged back and forth around his length, using the ample amount of glossy precum as lubricant. the roughness of his hand squeezed and twisted with every pump, putting extra care over his reddened tip, just like he thought you would.

getos thick, silver rings felt cool pressed against his veiny shaft, making each motion feel more intense. his free hand gripped into the sheets beneath him, fingers curling into the soft material when the pleasure would rise above his ability to control himself.

his chest was heaving already, too absorbed in the moment not to rush. his need for release took over, and the pace of his hand increased, strong hips beginning to match the messy strokes until tears gathered up at his lashline, making the soft black eyeliner smudge around his violet eyes.

"oh god, fuck—fuck, i'm gonna—" geto whimpered, voice broken as his back arched against the mattress, "gonna—hngh—cum." he was breathless, desperately pumping his leaking cock until the warm, syrupy cum splattered onto his abs, coating his rings as the last spurts trickled down his tight fist.

he cleaned himself up, and once a few moments had passed and he'd regained control over his mind, the guilt following hit him like a train at full speed. how can something feel so good, yet leave such bittersweet traces behind?

geto could only groan into his pillow, letting the drowsiness seep into his bones and swallow his thoughts. he has one more shot tomorrow, right?

so much for 'good luck'.

☆

the hours passed by quickly until the evening finally came.

the quiet worry that crawled up his neck felt like a rugged caress in the back of his mind, reminding him of the unethical actions from the night before. geto couldn't let it show, though. not if he wanted to keep his head on his shoulders… or impress you, at best.

after putting out his final cigarette, geto walked into the sea of people waiting inside. the scent of sweat mixed with the various notes of perfume lingered in the air, along with the faint aroma of alcohol, everyone around either dancing or drunkenly lying with their head on the nearest flat surface.

the voices of the singers currently playing reminded him of a screeching owl getting run over by a car, if anything; the speakers probably loud enough to rupture his eardrums and make a small part of him regret he even came.

but, his purpose for being there snapped right back into focus once he spotted you in the littered crowd.

a soft smile spread on getos lips before he could think to stop it. you were dancing, movements flowing and carefree as you spun to the blasting rhythm with your arms up in the air. nothing in the entire space looked as striking and lively as you did while the coloured lights painted your skin. you looked beautiful.

his gaze flickered between you and the bar as he made his way to it. no more than a few minutes pass until he's sipping from the liquor filled glass in his hand, seemingly unbothered and nodding along to the music once he notices you swaying over just less five feet away from him.

"just a water, please," you spoke loud enough so the bartender could hear. looking over to your side as you waited, suguru geto was right there, with a grin so massive on his lips that not even the glass in his hand could mask as he covered his face.

"if you plan on asking me out again, best just get it over with," you scowled at him, rolling your eyes.

"oh, it's you," he glanced over, setting his beverage on the sticky wooden counter. "do you mind? you're kinda ruining the atmosphere for me," he tilted his head, though the corner of his lips was curling upwards.

your gaze narrowed, "how come you're not surrounded by your usual cloud of smoke?"

"i quit," geto clarified, leaning in so you could hear him better over the music, "i've heard they're bad for you."

"oh, you think?" you snorted.

he took another sip of the alcohol before speaking, "you know, these guys 'the raincoats', they're not bad." now, that perked up your ears.

geto pushed himself off the chair before walking into the crowd, well aware you'd come after him after hearing him mention your favourite band.

"you know who the raincoats are?!" you yelled over the blaring noise, the disbelieving part of you wanting to ask him to name five songs.

"why, don't you?" geto smiled, pleased with your reaction. his eyes trailed down your figure, how the dress you chose hugged you just right, and how your smile seemed to light up your face.

"you know, i was watching you out there," he turned to face you, voice smooth but loud over the blasting music—even when it suddenly stopped, "i've never seen you look so sexy," he echoed throughout the quiet, chattering space, everyone around turning to look in your direction and breaking into laughter.

in that moment, though, your attention wasn't on them. it was on suguru, and how he didn't seem to be ashamed or even embarrassed for what he had said; the look on his face showed happiness, with a smile just as bright while he watched you laugh.

"come to chosos party with me," he offered, traces of warmth and longing in his tone.

another tune had started playing in the background, it was more subdued than the former, but loud enough to have to talk louder if you wanted to be heard. you glanced over to the band before speaking, the song was one of your favourites—and suguru picked up on that.

"you never give up, do you?" you smiled, and for once, the idea of spending time with him didn't seem so bad.

"w—was that a yes?" he raised his voice, curling one hand behind his ear pretending he couldn't hear you.

"no!" you laughed, stepping back into the moving crowd.

"well that wasn't a no!" suguru shot back, following you through the people.

"no!" you laughed again, heartly—looking back over your shoulder at him.

every step suguru took felt lighter somehow, like just being in your presence was enough to spark a flame in his chest. seeing you have fun and feel comfortable around him made it all seem like a dream he's had a hundred times beforehand.

he caught up with you, just like intended. what took you by surprise was the way he took your hand in his, pulling you in and spinning you around right when the peak of the song had started.

you gasped, the movement too quick for you to react—but it over before you knew it, and suguru caught you before he could feel the sharpness of your wits.

"dance with me," he leaned in, just enough for you to hear the purr in his voice, "lighten up, hmm?" he teased, quick to cut your protests short, and even quicker when he swept you off your feet, pulling you into the crowd and guiding your movements to his, matching the music's rhythm.

"let me go, you psycho!" your complaints were all but empty, broken between laughs, and blatantly ignored by suguru. his hands slipped from your shoulders all the way down to your hands, interlocking his fingers in yours before lifting them up into the air.

"not happening," he grinned, letting your movements flow in tandem.

the vast space of the club was basically crawling with people, dancing and moving from one place to another, the air heavy with smoke and heat—yet all you were aware of right now was eachothers presence, and how the subtle intimacy found its way through the fissures you let happen tonight.

sweat illuminated your faces as you continued swaying to the rhythm, fatigue slowly catching up to you and giving your cheeks a red hue.

"i'm tired!" you exclaimed, a smile still adorning your face even through the ache in your feet. thankfully, the song had ended before long after, and only then did suguru finally let go of your hands.

"come on, let's get you some water," suguru coaxed, waiting for you to step forward before following your trail, "or would you prefer i carry you all the way there?"

"something tells me you'd enjoy that more than me," you teased back.

once you sat down at the bar, the wicked voice in the back of your head encouraged you to favour a glass of cranberry vodka rather than some water. once your lips pressed to the cold rim, the sweetness soothed the stinging burn of the alcohol, leaving you with the slightest weightlessness in your limbs.

you glanced over to suguru, "that was maybe a little fun."

his elbows were perched on the wooden counter, a playful smile making its way onto his studded lips, "was that a compliment?"

"don't get used to it, geto," you snorted, taking another sip from your glass.

it felt weird but, you were starting to notice things you haven't before; like how his onyx hair seemed to fall so perfectly around his face, or how he fidgeted with his rings right before he was about to say something. it must've been the alcohol tainting your mind... but your heart has never felt so drawn to another person in a long time.

"i'll try my best," suguru grinned. his amethyst gaze caressed over your features, taking in every detail, every expression, as if it were a sight he'd be content with seeing forever and still not be enough. a soft knit formed in between his eyebrows as he glanced away for a moment, gathering his thoughts, almost afraid to overstep, "so…"

"so…" you sustained, waiting for him to continue.

"what's your excuse?" suguru asked, his voice low.

"for…?"

"for acting the way we do," he explained, studying you.

"i don't like to do what people expect…" you answered, "why should i live up to other people's expectations instead of my own?"

"so you disappoint them from the start, then you're covered, right?" suguru pushed, though he wasn't exactly wrong.

"something like that, i guess."

"well, then you screwed up," he said softly.

"how is that?"

"you've never disappointed me," suguru stated, without a trace of dishonesty in his tone.

his answer made you feel bare. after spending so long building up your walls, he's walked right past them in a way that didn't make you feel afraid of being seen.

the taste of alcohol lingered on your lips again, though the sweet aftertaste wasn't quite as strong as before. one glass turned into two, two turned into five… and that eventually led to a good time, until you were too drunk to stand up…

you hung onto suguru like a magnet as he helped you exit the bar, your mind far too fuzzy and your limbs too heavy to be doing any of it yourself.

"this 's so patronizing," you complained, eyes half lidded and barely able to see something that wasn't spinning.

"leave it to you to use big words when you're wasted," he groaned, basically dragging you up the steep hill leading to the park nearby.

"i don't think sooo," you chirped, sluggishly walking until you accidentally stumbled over air. suguru helped you up, his hands holding you from under the arms like a toddler, "why are you doing this, though? you don't care if i live or die," you mumbled dramatically.

"of course i do," he replied with a grin, setting you down on a swing.

"why?" he took your hands in his, "because then i'd have to take out girls who actually like me," he teased, eyes set on your wobbly figure.

"as if you could find one," you shot back, smirking as you leaned against the chain of the swing.

"see, that— who needs affection when i have blind hatred?" suguru chuckled.

"wait—just, let me sit down for a while," you mumbled, not really taking in his witty remarks. everything felt floaty, like you could fly away or sink into the ground at any moment.

you took a few deep breaths, letting the chilly air fill your lungs and ground you—and that's all it took for you to lose your balance and almost fall off the swing if suguru hadn't been there to catch you.

thanks to the alcohol, you could only laugh at the misfortunes of your own doing, suguru asking if you're okay going in one ear and out the other—of course you were!

he sat down on the swing next to yours, finally getting a moment to catch his breath. a part of him was glad he was here to take care of you, but the other felt guilty for how far he's let you go.

"you've had a good time… right?" he asked you softly.

"i… i—yeah…" you've gone quiet before being able to finish the sentence properly, your head lying against the chain while you slumped over with your mouth parted.

"nonono, hey—you have to wake up, okay? stay with me," suguru jumped, crouching down to be head-level with you while lightly slapping your face with the tips of his hands.

you've only been passed out for a couple of seconds before you woke up again. you were in a haze, starry eyes looking up and straight into sugurus as he held your face, his thumbs brushing softly over your cheeks—and for a moment, he could've sworn his knees got weak.

"your eyes have a little violet in them," you smiled, almost lost in the purple hues.

but, all good things come to an end, and sugurus warm smile was the last thing you saw before involuntarily hunching over and hurling your guts out.

"alright, that's good…" he frowned once you 'cooled off', pushing a few stray strands of hair out of your face, "you feel better now?"

"a little, i think," you sighed, "never drinking again."

"good," suguru huffed a laugh, reaching to take your hand, "i have some water in my car, let's get you home, okay?"

you groaned, linking your hand to his as you got up. the alcohols effect hadn't worn off completely, otherwise the embarrassment you would've normally felt would be a hundred times worse.

suguru's car was nicer than expected, a black, older model chevy, that was also surprisingly comfortable. the ride back to your apartment felt like a breath of fresh air after all of the chaos that has happened beforehand, quiet music playing through the radio.

"you wanna start a band?" he asked, gaze drifting between you and the road.

"no, i wanna sell car stereos," you scoffed, smiling, "yeah, start a band. i'd like that.

"mm, yeah, i can see you doing that," suguru agreed.

"oh, so now you know me?" you asked mockingly.

"i'm getting there…" he replied, looking over to you as he parked outside your home.

a moment passed before you answered, "the only thing people know about me is that i'm scary…" you spoke, voice somewhat quieter than usual—unsure, or maybe too aware.

"yeah… well i'm no picnic myself," suguru stated, matching your tone. the lampposts outside were the only source of light steeping though the window, making the rings on his fingers glimmer as he lay his hand atop the steering wheel.

you looked at him—really looked at him, past the harsh contrast of his exterior and what everyone deems him to be. you let yourself see the carefulness in his actions, the honesty in his voice; get lost in the warmth of his eyes.

"they don't know you, not the real you, anyway," he reassured.

"you're not as vile as i thought you were, suguru," you smiled, making him let out a light chuckle.

your chest felt warm, heart thrumming beneath it all of a sudden. everything felt so quiet—so real and intimate, like the only choice you had to make had already been written down for you. instincts had taken over as you closed your eyes and leaned in, waiting for his lips to press against yours just like you needed.

but the kiss never came…

just his voice, cutting through the deafening silence,

"maybe we should do this some other time."

you felt your heart sink to your stomach. a mixture of hurt and disbelief painted on your face.

your breath was shaking as you got out and slammed the car door in your wake. you couldn't stay here, not when he's made you feel so stupid.

"fuck…," shallow curses slipped under suguru's breath. his face was pressed against heels of his palms as he leaned into the steering wheel.

he couldn't do it, not right now. not when the alcohol was still clinging to your senses.

he wanted it to be a special moment, would have waited however long necessary for it to happen as it should.

now he's watched any chance that might've remained vanish, get torn away from his very fingertips.

and the worst part of it? you probably hated him right now.

even after the multiple attempts of trying to see you, you avoided suguru like the plague.

you couldn't let him win by giving him the satisfaction of thinking he can just get away with what he did.

and maybe you didn't cry, but the cuts of opening up to him just to get played went deeper than you'd like to admit. you replayed that night so many times in your head, wondering if you really were the one at fault, or if he was just an asshole.

you're still torn between the two.

suguru on the other hand, was running out of options.

you've been skipping the only class you shared with him. he even went to the music store hoping to catch you there, though you preferred tuning some random guitar rather than acknoedge his presence. when slipping notes into your locker only proved a further lack of results, suguru knew he'd have to resort to more drastic attempts of regaining your attention.

and that meant spending almost half of his savings buying you that guitar he saw you with.

plus, spending that much money after accepting some to take you out would make it even, right?

(wrong, but it was nice to think that.)

that's how he ended up writing you a small letter reading 'can we talk? pick you up tomorrow after class.' and tucking it neatly beneath the guitar strings. with a little more help from your sister, suguru managed to leave it in the passenger seat of your car, just waiting to be found by you.

to say you were positively surprised when you saw it was a slight understatement.

you didn't need a name to know who it was from. maybe suguru really did see through you far enough to get past the surface level, and maybe that wasn't such a bad thing. you didn't want to give your trust to him again just yet, but the push you needed to give him another chance made its way back into the light.

tomorrow came by fast after you'd spent the rest of the evening testing out your new gift. strumming each cord and mindlessly matching the notes to the song that was playing when you met that night at the bar.

so now here you were, standing face-to-face with suguru right outside your classroom—who definitely hasn't been waiting for the past twenty minutes just to make sure you won't sneak away before he could get there.

you'd be lying if you said that nothing stirred in your chest upon seeing him again. his inky hair was tied up in a bun, only the bottom half remaining free and flowing over his shoulders. subtle black eyeshadow was smudged lightly around his eyes, making the violet in his gaze so striking it seemed intentional. you couldn't deny the fact that you missed this sight.

"you can't just buy me a guitar everytime you screw up, you know that, right?" you initiated, a faint smile tugging at your lips.

"well, hello to you too," suguru mused, leaning against the lockers. considering you haven't immediately started the conversation by cursing him, he'd say things were going on the right track. "you did like it though, right?" he asked.

you should like it. he's stalked you well enough to know it was your favourite model.

"i do, yes," you trailed off, eyeing him.

"i'm glad," he shrugged, giving you a subtle grin, "i was running out of options."

"so you'll indulge me?" suguru continued, pushing his weight off the lockers and reaching his hand out to you.

"i wouldn't go that far just yet," you bit back a smile, beginning to walk off.

'yet' is all suguru heard though, even as he felt your ever-so-cruel intentions of tearing his heart to shreds with every step taken away from him.

it only took a few long strides for him to catch up to you, points for having legs as long as half of your height.

for the past twenty minutes, the small talk seemed to create more tension rather than release any—for you at least. you probably asked suguru "how long until we get there?" more times than a toddler on their first road trip, although he'd insist on not telling you where you're going even. you were on the teetering edge of calling the police to report a kidnapping.

shortly after the five hundredth exasperated sigh suguru let out, you finally arrived at the intended location; at the docks. not for any ferries or ships, but paddle boats.

"is this supposed to be the government-level secret you were so unwilling on letting me on?" you asked, amused.

"thought a quiet, secluded place like this might be more fitting," he shrugged.

"certainly fitting if you want to kill someone," you snickered, walking by his side over to the little ticket stand.

"in broad daylight? tsk, who do you i am?" suguru asked—deeply hurt and offended by your accusations.

"fair enough. but you're paddling." you warned, watching him pay for the tickets before handing you yours.

"right away, princess," he smirked, walking in front of you to the paddleboat and holding your hand to help you on-board. the sneer you gave him was almost involuntary—even though you might've been touched in the slightest bit by the courtesy.

the warmth of the sun entangled itself with the soft breeze swaying above the lake, the feeling of it reminded you of silken ribbons brushing over your skin. a brief moment of silence took over, the only noise being heard being the quiet sloshing of the water as you paddled further into the lake. you looked over to suguru; sleek strands of hair were dancing in the wind as he looked into the distance—not lost in thought, but as if something weighed on his mind.

his gaze drifted into the ground; the stillness made your skin crawl, and that wasn't going to change unless one of you spoke up.

"why did you take me here, sugu—"

"i'm sorry," his head snapped towards you, voice mellow yet somehow hurried as he cut you off. anything you might've thought you wanted to say got stuck in your throat at the sight of suguru's knitted eyebrows and doleful eyes. the apology took you by surprise.

"i wanted to have a chance to explain myself," his hands were in his lap, sunlight reflecting softly off his rings as he chipped away at the black polish coating his nails; a habit of his you've noticed oftentimes when he'd try gathering his thoughts, "i understand how i may have come across last time…"

"yeah…" you mumbled, unaware of what to say but keen on what he has to say.

"that was the last way i wanted things to go," suguru stated carefully. "the risk of seeing you again only for you not to remember… or even regret what had happened… turning you down seemed like the best option in that moment," he continued, finding your gaze, "even if it pained me to do so."

you could've sworn your heart skipped a beat upon hearing the last words. his eyes felt heavy on yours, glints of hope and guilt visibly sparking the same emotions in your chest—which suguru was quick to pick up on.

everything felt stuck in time, your thoughts, your surroundings—just swallowed up by the setting sun as you stared into the distance, a part of you wanting to protect herself by avoiding the situation, while the other strived for an answer to give.

"i just didn't want you to feel played."

suguru stole your attention once again—regret, regret, regret—is this what would've ended up of your heart? what would happen if you followed through? or is it just another tactic you made yourself believe in order not to risk becoming heartbroken?

the piles of proof suguru had given you about his intentions could form walls around you by now—just staring back and mocking you, telling you how stupid you are for believing otherwise. he is good, you were just to scared to admit it.

"what does that mean now?" you asked him.

"whatever you want it to mean," suguru said softly, a light tilt in his head as he looked at you, "i'm here now."

a pacing silence followed before he broke it once more with a forlorn chuckle, "it would suck if it didn't mean anything, but if that's the case—"

"kiss me."

"wha—"

your body moved without you, lips crashing onto his in the fragment of a moment in which it all felt right.

awe and surprise was laced into the sweet, minty taste of sugurus lips as they prudently interlocked with yours, his hand slipping over to cup your cheek once he got the confidence to lean in deeper into the kiss.

he tilted your head to the side to gain better access, his thumb brushing over your skin with a gentleness that turned you to putty in his hold. it felt surreal almost—for both of you, but falling into place like two pieces of a puzzle.

one hand wrapped around his forearm while the other reached to brush his hair back. the initial shyness of the kiss melted into a slow, easy comfort. his lips moved against yours at a languid pace, the familiar cool touch of his metal studs becoming a sensation you no longer just tolerated, but craved.

suguru broke away from the kiss first, but both of you were left breathless. the warm, orange hues of the sun painted over your skin like spilled honey, melting into the quiet space between you. for a moment, neither of you moved; his hand remained on your cheek, his touch soft and featherlight as he pulled you into his side.

"who could've guessed you tasted so sweet?" suguru purred smoothly, despite the chaotic rhythm of his heartbeat thrumming in his chest.

"don't get sappy now," you chuckled. there was an effortless warmth in resting your head against sugurus shoulder, a comfort that quickly became second nature.

the rest of the evening snapped by faster than you felt; paddling back to shore whilst in each others arms, listening to music on the car ride home—and before you knew it, you were back on the doorstep to your apartment, the kiss suguru had left on your forehead previously still lingering on your skin and letting butterflies roam wild in your stomach.

not long after you'd settled in bed, ready to go to sleep, your phone rings—a text from suguru, no less.

you crawled closer to your phone and unplugged the charger—the battery almost dead after having spent the past two hours on the phone with utahime, yapping and giggling about how your day had gone with him.

suguru: hey, i forgot to ask you earlier. you'll come to tomorrow's party with me, right?

suguru: no need to answer that. i'll pick you up at 7pm.

you couldn't help but smile at his determination, but you asked yourself, was a party really the place for you? especially when your ex was the one hosting it? whatever, you replied before being able to overthink.

you: do i have a choice?

suguru: nope. see you tomorrow

you: who knows, plans can change until then

suguru: goodnight to you too, princess:)

you: goodnighttt

☆

normally, you wouldn't be bothered to apply any makeup or dress a certain way—much less for a man—yet all day all you were able to think about was the way sugurus gaze trailed down your fancy, dressed up figure that night at the bar. would it be so wrong to want to pull that reaction out of him again? a little eyeshadow and a little black dress never hurt anybody afterall.

the knock on the door came sooner than expected, ten minutes earlier to be exact, but thankfully, you managed to finish your look by then. a few puffs of perfume and your purse were all that was left on your way out.

you couldn't blame suguru for being a little impatient to see you, right?

but even if he knew how just beautiful you looked before opening the door, his eyes would have sparkled all the same.

to say he was speechless was an understatement. his lips parted, but all that came out was an awkward "hi" as his gaze flickered, unknowing where to stop.

"hi," you replied, biting back a smirk after seeing his reaction—just what you intended, maybe even better, "you don't look half bad."

a lie. he looked apatising to say the least, even though not much was changed from his usual look. the worn leather jacket was still hanging off his shoulder, letting view of the way his black, fitted t-shirt accentuated his figure—biceps especially. a few thin, silver chains dangled over his chest, a perfect contrast with his rings and piercings, while his hair laid freely like spilled ink.

"i—thanks," suguru huffed, stumbling over his words.,"you look amazing."

"why, thank you," you coaxed, "should we throw the party on my doorstep, or…?"

"i wouldn't be opposed to it," suguru raised an eyebrow, his grin wiped off his face right as you smacked him in the arm. "after you," he teased, unlocking his car as he made way for you.

chosos parties weren't like the others, where the space would be crawling with drunks, fights and loud, deafening music. maybe that was a part of why you agreed to come, or maybe it was just an excuse to see suguru again.

his arm was wrapped around your lower back as you entered, a gesture you weren't exactly opposed to, surprisingly. the smell of weed, tobacco and hard liquor was the first thing that greeted you once you made a few steps in, strong enough to make a part of you regret you even came. a few familiar faces were scattered throughout the rooms, and double the gazes watching as you came in with suguru.

the thing about smaller, quieter parties was that naturally, peoples attention would be drawn a lot easier.

including chosos.

a low tune played in the background, one of your favourites, actually, as you hid away on a couch with suguru. leaning into his side as if it were your rightful place, you nodded along to the music while yapping something about your history teacher being a pervert—he wasn't really listening, too busy admiring how your legs looked in that dress.

that wasn't a problem for choso, though; smoothly cutting through the crowd before approaching you.

"hey, you enjoying the party so far?" choso spoke up, raising both you, and sugurus glances, "you look beautiful, by the way.

that was enough to make sugurus hand wrap just a little tighter around your waist, aware of how choso only reffered to you, as well.

"it's not too bad, i guess," you and choso didn't part on bad terms—more like differences of opinion—and even though its been more than a year since your breakup, he knew you well enough to know that what you said was a compliment.

"glad i could level up to your standards," choso chuckled, "let me know if you want anything, i could show you some of this new stuff i got, if you're intereste—"

"she's not, thanks," suguru cut him off. the more choso talked, the more it got harder for him not to snap. does he have the right, though? a kiss didn't mean you were his.

your attention flickered between the two before reassuring choso of what suguru said. you could tell how the energy shifted, how his hold became firmer and his tone sharper. it would be a lie if you said you weren't enjoying it.

"thought it would be nice to ask anyway," he smiled. and oh, if only looks could kill, choso would be dead by now.

"so, you know eachother?" suguru caved, looking between the two of you. the sear in his chest felt irrational, but he couldn't shake it.

"if you can call it that, sure. it's been a while, though," you bit back before choso got the chance to, knowing his response would not match yours.

"ouch," choso gave a half-smile, "sorry, are you together?"

as if the tension couldn't get any worse, the few seconds of silence that followed felt like a whole hour had passed. you had no answer. no idea of what to say, only the slightest hope that suguru would say yes.

and so he did—his tone firm and sure, masking the worry beneath perfectly.

by the time you managed to process the storm of emotions rushing through your chest, choso had left, letting out a halfhearted apology and goodbye before turning on his heel.

you could feel your heart pounding in your ears, surges of heat and something you couldn't quite name flowing through your veins. you weren't sure if the look you gave suguru reflected how vulnerable you really felt, but your voice surely let it be known.

"what was that about?" you asked, your voice thin and breathy. the possibility of him just saying that to get a rise out of choso scared you.

the sharpness in sugurus gaze evaporated into thin air once he caught you back in his view. music and chatter dimmed into nothingness, the softness in his eyes igniting a spark in your heart that only he could set aflame.

there was no need for a verbal response to know what was next. sugurus closed the distance within the blink of an eye, his lips merging with yours into a kiss that seeped of need and devotion.

your mouths swayed with no particular rhythm, a constant push and pull of your desires blending to eachothers will. involuntarily, you went in to cup his face, feel him, pull him closer, which only made suguru suck in a sharp breath as he slipped his hand over your thigh.

a swift moment of clarity washed over you, reminding you where you are still, and the amount of people just hanging around. you broke away from the kiss, a string of spit left in the wake of your flushed lips.

you wanted him in ways that were concerning to feminism.

"hey," you spoke, breathless.

"hey."

"we should get out of here."

"yeah," he agreed, seemingly entranced as he got up, letting you walk in front and carefully dragging your dress lower from where it rode up.

suguru shut and locked the door behind as you entered the first room you caught empty. bounds were off, no one to interrupt or make this moment fall apart.

his leather jacket ended up somewhere on the floor—unimportant, the only thing worth his focus was the taste of your lips and how your body melted against his as he slipped his tongue into your warmth. low groans and whimpers fell freely now, each more intense with every hungry push and twist of his tongue.

searing heat rose up in your chest, spreading throughout your body as you slipped your hands under sugurus t-shirt, feeling every ridge of his abs and how warmth radiated off him. the pads of your fingers dug into his sides, desperate to have more of him. a lewd, loud whine escaped you just as your tongue clashed into his, letting you feel something you weren't aware of before. a tongue piercing.

suguru picked up on your reaction almost immediately, though already drunk on the idea of all the ways he could use his piercing to please you. his mouth trailed hot down the side of your neck, nipping softly at the tender skin and eliciting the sweetest sounds from you while simultaneously massaging the pillowy curve of your ass.

"tell me what you need, i'm here," suguru rasped, the warmth of his breath sending chills as he spoke into your neck.

"just you, sugu. need you," you panted.

"fuck, i need you too, baby," he breathed out, dragging his pierced tongue over the purpley-red hues decorating your skin. this feeling alone could send you into overstimulation, your body tense and trembling with want and anticipation.

sugurus hands slid up your back, making you arch into him and gasp when you'd felt his hands drag down the zipper of your dress, letting it slip off your figure and leaving you in nothing but the black, lacy underwear you chose for tonight.

"i know, sweetheart," he coaxed, his voice low and thick with lust, "it's okay, sugu's gonna take care of you."

he became your center of gravity as he led you backwards onto the bed. maybe it was the comfort of the mattress, or maybe it was the view of sugurus bare, defined upper body—but you felt on cloud nine.

the way his lips began a trail of wet kisses down your body reminded you soft feathers brushing over your skin, too. smooth, ebony hair cascaded over the sides of his head like silk as he made sure to give an equal amount of attention to all of you—starting with your jaw, the valley of your breasts, and down your abdomen. your composure breaking down without save, wetness soaking your panties and making them stick to your mound—just waiting to get peeled off.

yielding to your impatience, you reached to hook your fingers beneath the hem of sodden material, desperate to feel anything close of relief. any further motion was cut short by sugurus hand wrapping around your wrist, giving you a disapproving look from between your legs. his face was so near you could basically feel every huff of air melting over your clothed cunt, doing absolutely nothing to release any tension.

"don't tease…" you complained, no real bite in your voice.

"you gonna let me taste you, pretty girl?" suguru hummed, acting as if unwrapping you was something only he gets to do.

"fuck, yes—" your voice was cut by your whimper, or more like the tip of sugurus nose skimming over your veiled slit with the weight of a feather—which was more than enough to light up a spark in your devoid senses.

suguru felt intoxicated, a low groan escaping him as he mindlessly dragged his tongue along the darkened, wet patch of your underwear. it was almost too much for you to take in—how the lace barrier could feel so frustrating, yet distributing the pleasure much more vastly thanks to the way it clung to you like a second skin.

the feeling only amplified when his lips began working their part—sucking and slurping the honeyed juices seeping from your clothed cunt until drool was leaking down his chin. with ragged, shallow breaths, suguru kept his nose pressed against your puffy clit, anchored as if he couldn't get enough.

"mmph—fuck," you cried out. the motion made your hips buckle; he was relentless—tongue dragging and prodding at your entrance with no real reward. you were getting pissed.

the lack of patience and need for more made your body move on its own, your hand reaching straight for sugurus messy hair and pulling a nasty moan from his lips. "do it right if you're gonna do it at all," you retorted, observing the meek look on his face as he unwillingly parted from your pussy.

"fuck," he mouthed, and you could've sworn you also heard a quiet " 'm sorry" before he pulled your soaked panties to the side and hooked his arms around your thighs.

suguru wanted to take it slow, he really did; but his eagerness to unravel you took over, and it didn't take long for him to figure out which buttons to push. a hum of relief escaped him as he dragged his tongue through your folds, circling your clit and talking in the way your thighs twiched in his grasp.

"mm, is that it?" he purred, eyebrows knit as he looked up to see the weak nod you managed to get through.

"yes, you're doing s—so well," your breath hitched. there wasn't an ounce of control in sugurus pace; sucking and flicking the hot muscle against your clit, the pace he set up was desperate—designed to make you clasp your shaking thighs around his head.

his painted fingernails dug crescent moons into the plush of your hips, pulling you closer into the heat of his mouth as if the proximity still wasn't enough. your back arched against the bed, greedily chasing more of that overwhelming pleasure sugurus tongue was fucking into you. it was dizzying; your coherency succumbing to nothing more than a string of needy whimpers falling from your lips.

the knot in your stomach kept getting tighter with every excessive flick of his pierced tongue, the metal barbell forcing surges of intense pleasure as it repeatedly brushed over your sensitive nub. the feeling of your hole fluttering around his muscle made suguru moan shamelessly into your heat, thrusting and swirling his tongue until he could feel you getting close.

"keep going, please—suguru, make me cum," you gasped, clawing the bedsheets with one hand while the other was still snug in his inky hair, eagerly trying to pull him closer. his face was messy and dripping with your slick, the air in his lungs lacking as he made out with your cunt, his nose nudging against your puffy clit with every movement.

yout breath caught when the first wave of your orgasm hit, sending a violent shudder through your core that made your body buckle. suguru remained unyielding against your heat, his hands gripping the curve of your hips, pinning you in place and overriding the breathless shoves you gave him in your sudden sensitivity.

low hums escaped him as he licked away any remains of the sweet, creamy sap that trickled downwards. the taste of you filled his senses as it did in his dreams—tantalising, and irresistible, but that just wasn't enough for him much longer. suguru felt weak, yet his body moved on instinct. he rolled his hips into the mattress, completely intoxicated by your essence as he pressed his clothed, aching cock against the soft surface beneath him.

you didn't have much time to recover from your high before sugurus pierced lips began kissing up your body again. the warmth left behind made you shudder, realisation that this might not be the end just yet washing over you in waves of heat and anticipation.

sugurus large frame engulfed you as he hovered above, pure need dripping off his lips and on to yours as he cut the distance. the kiss was anything but tempered—raw, and desperate; his tongue slipping into your mouth and tearing each sound from you.

"see how sweet you taste?" he rasped, pushing his hips forward and making you gasp at the contact—all too aware of how his cock squeezed in between your bodies, stiff and throbbing; urging to feel your walls stretch around him.

your hands did quick work of undoing his studded belt, and helping him slide off his cargo pants. just the thought of being in this position made you nervous—would his cock be thick? have that curve you've imagined so many times? the material of his boxers was all that was separating you right now, but as you dragged your palm over his bulge you could feel the surge of buzzing heat rushing through your core.

neither of you could mask how badly you wanted eachother, half lidded eyes gazing into the other as if missing one moment was not something you could afford.

once fully undressed, sugurus cock laid stiff on your stomach—thick, and leaking, it almost went up to your bellybutton. the phantom feeling of it already making you ache on the inside.

"tell me if anything feels off, okay? we can stop, no questions asked," he spoke carefully, leaning in to press another kiss on your cheek.

"i want you, suguru," you replied, meeting his lips halfway. your heart fluttered for every moment spent together; each one bringing you up to where you are now, with the person that you are with now—who you wouldn't replace even if given a hundred chances.

suguru cradled you in his arms from above, your faces only centimetres apart as the warmth of his bare skin melted into yours. it all felt so real—so much like the reality you've craved since long before you've even admitted.

your breath hitched once he pushed in. the gentle, yet overwhelming feeling of his tip slipping in past your folds was intoxicating; how you stretched around his length, so slowly it let you discern every ridge and curve of him.

getting lost in you wouldn't be a difficult task for suguru, who could already feel himself slip away more and more with every inch buried. his lips parted, face beautifully framed by the silken black hair flowing—such an alluring look for someone whose heart nearly stopped working the second he had you so perfectly wrapped around him.

barely halfway in, suguru stopped; his thumb brushing over your flushed cheek so lightly one could believe he was afraid to hurt you. his violet gaze searched for yours, a silent request for confirmation.

"it's okay, you can move," you smiled, voice breathy and soft. the sudden stop made you squeeze around him, eager for more.

hushed moans left you once suguru began moving again. your hands found their place holding onto his back, while your legs stayed hooked around his waist. the angle made your abs tighten, each thrust measured so that it swept over your most sensitive spots. surges of pleasure spread through you like wildfire, your thighs starting to tremble thanks to the continuous build up.

sugurus breath faltered, low pants falling off his lips as he eased into the pace. he couldn't rush, not when savouring you was so much more compelling. the sound of your voice only spurred him on, feeling himself twitch within your sopping walls just by hearing it.

each collision was accompanied by quiet plap!, leaving behind strings of slick catching in between your bodies. your thighs wrapped tighter around his waist, pulling him in closer before meeting his lips in a kiss. you let yourself be guided by him, too absorbed in the rising pleasure to even think.

suguru felt the change in the air; how your chest heaved, how you pulled him closer and kissed his lips. you took him apart, piece by piece. and made him fall into his urges and hasten his rhythm.

"shit—suguru, feels s—so good," you choked out a whimper, digging your nails harder into his back and making him hiss.

you were both driven by hunger and desperation, drunk on the pleasure searing beneath your skin. the kiss quickly escalated to a point where you couldn't get enough of eachother; tongues clashing and lips bitten.

"kept me waiting all that time—" he rasped into your mouth, accentuating each word with a sharper, almost punishing thrust, "fuck—can't stay away from you."

suguru pulled away first, pushing himself higher until his necklaces dangled above your face. nothing could make him take his eyes off you right now; he was entranced, feeding on the reactions painted all over your face.

louder, helpless moans ripped from your chest, mirroring the frantic rhythm of sugurus hips as he slammed into you. his cock split you open again and again, reaching so deep it made the coil in your belly feel as if it could snap at any moment.

you were dazed—neither of you coherent enough to say anything but eachothers names like a prayer. your body felt as if it were on fire, tense and overpowered by the feeling of your high approaching. you searched to press your face into the pillows, embarrassment flooding as your expression twisted in pleasure.

sugurus elbows were perched on either side of your head now, his hands cupping your cheeks and setting your gaze back on to him. "don't hide, need to see you—fuck, please baby," he pled, his voice uncharacteristically needy and soft.

"mmphh—oh my," you gasped, holding on to him tighter.

"gonna cum, pretty girl? yeah?" he panted. his pace was faltering, sloppy even; yet his cock still managed to slip in and out of your cunt so effortlessly, hitting every spot that mattered as if it were his only motivation. "gonna cum together, right? gonna let me feel that perfect pussy cum on my cock?" suguru slurred his words, eyebrows knit as he slammed into you praying he won't cum before you.

to say that suguru was in a state of bliss was an understatement; his mind was reeling, faded so that all he knew was the feeling of getting swept away by the currents of pleasure—with you as the anchor pulling him to the very bottom. he didn't mind it, though; suguru would gladly get swallowed by the ocean if it meant you being there to witness it—after all, you were the one able to give him air as well as take it.

and less could not be said about you, either. delirium flooded your mind, magnifying every touch with breathtaking intensity. you held on to suguru as he were the only thing keeping you alive right now, the threads of his being getting woven into the back of your mind and patching up spots you thought you've long forgotten.

he made you feel whole again; replacing the dimmed out light for a fire raging in your chest—stirring and spreading throughout your entire body until it consumed you from the inside out, making you shake and writhe beneath him.

"suguru—" you gasped as he leaned in until your foreheads touched, shattered breaths colliding as intimacy enveloped you. a few long, deep drags of his cock were all it took before getting pushed over the edge, your walls clamping and leaking down his length while he continued to drive into your dripping warmth, dragging out your orgasm.

"mine—mine, all mine," suguru whispered it like a chant, almost like he couldn't believe it still. it made you clench tightly around him, and that was enough to make him gasp as the air was cut from his lungs, "fuck, i love you so—haah."

you were up in your own head, dazed—hearing, but not listening to what suguru had said. whatever piece of you comprehended his words could do nothing but return the emotion, and you found those very same syllables slipping from your lips, unable to stop them.

"i—i love you too, suguru," you sounded breathless, and despite his craving to mark you fully, he pulled out—cock pulsing with each reliving spill of white, hot cum painting your stomach. his eyes were screwed shut, chest heaving and gleaming with sweat as he stroked himself, letting the last spurts of pleasure trickle down his flared tip.

strands of hair clung to his forehead as the rest cascaded down his back—it was a heavenly sight. but as the fog began to clear from your mind, it left you wandering the sharp, gutting edge of reverie, replaying those words in your head, unsure whether or not to blame your imagination.

the feeling of suguru using a damp cloth to wipe down the mess on your lower half is what snapped you out of your trance-like state. after sliding back into his boxers, he found his way next to your frame once more.

"you okay?" suguru asked softly as your eyes met, opening his embrace to welcome you in his arms. you nodded with a subtle smile, creeping up next to him. the following moments dragged out slower than ever, and you almost hated how comfortable you felt nonetheless; lithe hands caressing the side of your face, his lips pressed against the top of your head.

suguru picked up on your unusual silence though, and you felt the weight of his gaze, "what's going on?" he spoke lowly, brushing your hair with his fingers.

"did you mean it?" you replied, quicker than you meant. you weren't sure what to expect—whether your wishful expectations got the better of you, or that worry stirred in your gut unnecessarily.

the corner of his lips twisted upwards, inducing your undoing, "did you?"

his answer only made you feel more reluctant, scared even. you want to push it away and deem it as overthinking.

you want to trust the way suguru holds your beating heart in his hands.

you love him.

"suguru," you urged.

the ghost of a smile traced his pierced lips as he breathed out, the sound almost blending with the silence, "you know, i didn't have much hope the first time i approached you… much less the second, or even the third," suguru laughed, "you made me lose whatever speck was left of it."

"and yet i couldn't find myself away from you." his voice was laced with honesty, and you visibly sharpened your focus at those words.

"i wanted to know more about you, the reason why you steer everyone away when you're the most captivating person in every room."

your voice seemed stuck in your throat, and your breath hitched once suguru held your face in his hands and kissed your cheek, "i loved how bold you are," then the other, "i loved how funny, and sweet you really are," then pressed another kiss to your forehead, "and how you totally hated me." heat rose up in your cheeks as you both giggled at that, suguru looking at you as if bewitched.

then finally, his lips met yours in a short, tender kiss that spoke of nothing but devotion.

"and i love you."

your pulse quickened, just enough to make you crave more, to lean in and kiss him again—deeper, slowing time down just to let you savour this moment and etch it in your mind. "i love you, suguru," you replied, nearly out of breath.

a teasing smile spread on suguru's face, "mmh, when did you get so romantic?

"don't push your luck," you giggled.

oh, he wouldn't dream of it, not when everything felt so right. not when you looked at him like he was the only one for you.

the sense of fulfilment lived fiercely behind suguru's ribs, joy powering each frantic beat of his heart even after the shared moments of sincerity. you couldn't have said otherwise about yourself either, or deny the subtle pep in your step only suguru was keen enough to notice as you walked down the stairs to the first floor of the house.

the music died down, only a few, small groups of people remaining throughout the space, but none worth spending the rest of your night with.

that wasn't up to you though.

but to a very wild and wasted gojo.

​you heard him long before you actually saw him. even after you and suguru had retreated to a quieter corner of the kitchen to enjoy your drinks, the sheer volume of his voice cut right through the distance.

"yo, suguru!" gojo's lips twist into a grin; he was adressing your boyfriend, yet looking at you, "looks like you got my money's worth!"

your eyebrows knit together, skeptical of what he meant. suguru's hand tightened unconsciously around your waist as he replied to the white haired man, "not the time," he retorted.

"why not, huh?" gojo laughed, feet dragging heavy as he walked closer.

people attention's been drawn like a moth to a flame by now, dozens of pairs of eyes watching the scene unfold. you've never liked gojo, he was arrogant and obnoxious, and right now, you were unaware whether or not to pay any mind to the word of a drunk like him.

"go away, man. you're drunk," suguru shot at him, echoing your thoughts as he strode over to hook his arm around gojo's neck, trying to guide him away. why was he so disturbed by his friend's presence?

"i'm gooood," gojo slurred, "how 'bout you, geto? you good? you get laid yet?"

you grimaced.

"or are you still playing house with her?"

gojo wasn't hiding in any way with what he said. he wanted you to hear.

your chest felt tight all of a sudden, heavy with the weight of disbelief—but one look at suguru was all you needed to confirm what you've heard.

his eyes were wide, locked with yours—though the image was growing blurrier by the second. murmuring a quiet "get the hell out of here," to gojo as he pushed him away, his steps were adamant on his way over to you.

you wanted to dissappear; to slap him and just ask him for an explanation all at once. everything played back in your mind again—'playing house'? suguru being next to you right all thanks to gojo's pretty dime?

you felt like a joke.

"hey—look, i can explain," suguru tried, reaching to hold your hands. his voice was low, laced with obvious shame.

you slapped his hands away before he could finish, "explain what, huh? that he paid you to take me out?" you exclaimed, trying not to let your voice crack or your tears fall.

you could feel your composure fraying the longer you had him in your sight. you'd never seen suguru this way before; sharp eyes now filled with worry, expression burdened by remorse—a facade you were done falling for.

"just—please, let's get out of here so i—" suguru caught onto the sides of your arms as you tried to leave.

you rushed through the crowd, shoving past bodies without a second thought. every collision echoed with their mocking laughter and pity. you've never really noticed suguru in your class before or around campus, but now it as if he were taking up the whole room, suffocating you.

it was too much for you to fully process. your knees felt weak with the thought of being used. your throat tight with all the lies you've consumed.

"i love you."

nothing but a cruel joke.

the fresh air did little to nothing to ground you, it turning to cotton in your lungs when you'd heard suguru's sickening voice call you. tears threaten to spill the more you acknowledge the part of you that craves only an explanation, a possibility that any of what you'd heard was a made up lie.

despite everything, suguru still knew you well enough to read you. every expression, every word, or moment of silence—engraved in his mind as if it were something vital.

so how could he bear to lose you?

"i wasn't intrested in any money, they're not the reason i'm here right now, okay?" suguru spoke up, doubt making his voice waver.

you scoffed, a swift pause before you replied, gaze still hesitant on meeting his. "what's the reason then, sleeping with me? congrats on that."

suguru shook his head mindlessly as he stepped closer to you. the warmth he saw in you not long ago, now replaced by a callousness he didn't want to recognise.

"my reason is that i love you," he said firmly, "and i regret what i did—but i'm thankful it brought me here, with you." a fleeting spark lit up your eyes for a second, but it was short lived; flashes of your moments together shot through your mind, each kiss, each worthless "i love you", each lie you've only now come to realise—it just made you angrier, weaker.

"i have a hard time believing you, suguru," your voice was soft, but there was no mistaking the bitterness and emotion behind it. "if you loved me, then i wouldn't feel used right now—or lied to, or ashamed of myself for not seeing through your selfish games,"

​suguru kept his gaze averted, unable to look at you. your words cut through his defenses like shards of glass, shattering his delusions and forcing him to face the cold reality—you were right.

you knew spending anymore time in this moment would only end up with you acting like none of this has ever happened. but god, you wanted that; for someone to pop up from out of nowhere and say it's been a joke.

however, the only joke right now was you thinking that you could forgive suguru.

"and i fucking hate you for it," you ended sharply.

you wish that were true.

you could act tough all you want, but it wouldn't change the truth. a single tear was caught in the dimlight, slipping down your cheek as you finally turned away, leaving suguru exactly where he stood—no concrete apology given or trying to stop you.

he didn't deserve you,

but suguru loved every face of who you are. he would've happily spent his forever with the witty, sharp tongued side of you—but losing the real you left a hollow ache he never imagined he'd have to bear.

you'll never know that, though.

join the taglist<3

Being in fourth year also meant he was given opportunities on a silver platter to visit other prefectures during his missions to have his night busy, and experience the other tastes than what Tokyo has to offer. Every mission ended with him leaving the black car, smiling at the assistant managers to head back to the hotel first while he scoured around the city for a quick and easy hook up.

The girl with the nice ass in Osaka.

The girl with the big tits in Kyoto.

The girl with the pretty face in Nagoya.

His contact list in his phone was endless, his thumb mindlessly scrolling down down down, never allowing him to reach the bottom until a good moment later.

That night was no different. A university student studying nursing—a cute face with a blonde bob. Except she called in sick, apologising with a phone call, desperation hinting at her sweet words.

“You’ll call me again, right?” she asked, voice coyly cute and full of hope, yet masked by the subtle edge of panic.

“Mm… maybe not if you keep on asking me like that.”

He cut the call even before she could give him a reply and he let out a sigh, cracking a muscle on his neck. His eyes lazily travelled across the bright neon lights of Kabukicho, full of chaos and trouble. He could feel the stares of girls while they walked the dirty streets, or from girls outside of maid cafes, hostesses, the sex clubs' workers, and the eyes from guys wondering if they could use him to lure in girls to their beds if they invited him over.

He ignored them and searched through his pocket, trying to find some strawberry milk candies to wash away the irritation… just to notice he didn’t have any. His brows furrowed, slowly realising that you haven’t given them these past few weeks.

Strange, but he didn’t think too much about it.

With another sigh, he headed to the closest convenience store, searching through the rows of snacks under the white lights. He paused at the surplus of options in the display, and his eyes caught onto the new gummy that you were talking about a week ago, excited at the upcoming release.

Without realising, he slid the package off of the metal hook, holding it together with his own pack of candy and went to the register to buy.

Suguru brushed past the eager eyes and headed back to his dorms for once. Maybe he would barge into Satoru’s room next door to play Momotetsu that they left off last time. Maybe he could give the packet of gummy to you on the way there as well.

He quietly imagined the look on your face when he hands you his small souvenir. The simple thing making your eyes widen for a fraction, looking up at him with a surprised smile and uncontrollable giggles as you thank him sweetly as you do.

It made him smile a bit to himself. A slow spread of satisfaction sitting comfortably on his chest. He might have asked Satoru a month ago how to let you down easy, but considering the disappointing trajectory of his night, he supposed he could entertain you for a little while and see how it goes.

But then his brows soon furrowed at the silence that welcomed him when he knocked on your dorm half an hour later.

Shoko opened her door from beside him, a brow raised as she looked up at him in distaste. When he asked where you were, she mentioned something about your room being vacant these past few nights.

“Late night missions?” he asked, frowning in concern.

Shoko smiled slightly, eyes glinting. “You could say she has, hmm… busy late night missions. I don’t think the higher ups would like to know what she’s up to.”

Strange, but he didn’t think too much about it either.

His footsteps echoed across the old, wooden hallways leading up to his dorm room, when—

“Ah, ngg…! Hahh— Satoru!!”

Suguru stopped in his tracks.

The crinkling plastic sound of the gummy dropping to the ground reverberating in his skull. His eyes slowly widened as he recognised the high-pitched moans, ears ringing at the slam of the bed’s headboard against the wall. 

Satoru’s voice joined your cries of pleasure.

“Come on baby, want to—fuck—want to make you cum ten times tonight, we’re almost half way there—”

Grunts, meowls, whines—

Suguru shakily crouched down to pick up the packet of gummy, and as he did, he tuned into your voice. At the sweet pants and chants of Satoru’s name from your lips—lips he could imagine in the back of his mind glossing prettily from spit and cum.

Suguru’s face flushed, heart racing as he pressed his palm on his cock over his pants, feeling the thudding throb of it, chest heaving as he listened to the noise…

“Ah, ah… Satoru,” you slurred sultrily, slightly muffled and wet.

Suguru imagines your mouth pressed against Satoru’s ear, heavy hot breaths tingling his best friend's ear as your tongue scraped the shell teasingly.

“What is it, sweetheart? Can’t take it?”

“No, no, no… I can, I can,” you whined breathlessly, hints of tears lodged at your throat. “I-I am, aren’t I— hahhh…!”

There was a particularly loud slap of skin against skin and the loud squelch of your pussy, promptly followed by Satoru’s groan that chanted your name like a prayer.

Slowly, Suguru stood up and stumbled to his door, fidgeting with his keys and as soon as it unlocked, he barged into his own bedroom and crumbled to his sheets. 

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru…!

He leaned his ear onto the wall facing Satoru’s room, stroking his already hard-on with heavy breaths, chest heaving erratically at the pleasure that shot at the touch. He groaned every time whenever a particularly loud, sweet cry from you buzzed the wallpaper and rang in his ear, urging him to press his hand harder against his bulge.

Even through the wall, he could hear the obscene squelches of your pussy taking Satoru’s cock, making it easy for him to conjure up the image of your wet cunt, and how heavenly it must feel for him to slide his cock along your puffy lips.

Suguru cursed to himself and quickly shoved his pants and boxers down. Collecting a glob of spit, he let it trickle down his flushed tip as his thumb roughly pressed his slit, pre cum oozing from beneath his skin. He started slow, stroking his cock alongside the steady rhythm of the slap… slap… slap of Satoru’s hips meeting your skin. The wet sound that followed his hand wasn’t as loud as the noise next door.

“Agh, babe… stop… clenching,” Satoru grunted weakly, a pathetic whimper leaving him when it seemed like you did the exact opposite. Whether that was intentional or not, Suguru couldn’t tell. All he could do was squeeze his hand around his base in response, closing his eyes to imagine it was your wet pussy clenching and drooling around his cock. Just as you were right now tightening around his best friend’s cock.

“Sa-toru… f-feels too good…!”

Suguru groaned loudly with Satoru at the sultry, breathless moan, and found himself fisting his cock harder, faster. His fingertips grazed the protruded veins, precum and spit mixing and glistening over his ridges that bumped against his palm as he desperately tried to find his release.

“Shit, baby… I’m close,” Satoru whined, voice more distant and muffled. The image of his best friend folding you in half, legs spread and wrapped around his torso in a mean mating press that had your throbbing, puffy clit rubbing against his pubes, and said best friend burrowing his face into the crook of your sweat-slicked neck flashing in Suguru’s mind. He cupped his balls, groaning as he imagined how Satoru’s was sure to be slapping harshly against your plush ass every time he thrusted into your sopping cunt, smooching your cervix that had you crying out pathetically.

“‘M close too, Satoru…”

“Let’s cum together, yeah? ‘t’ll feel good cumming—ngh!—together…”

Suguru panted heavily in his empty room, thumb pressing harshly against the slippery slit every time his fist reached his angry red tip. He worked his cock faster, teeth biting into his lower lip to urge his climax. You sounded so sweet, so pretty, so adorable next door that the next thing he knew, he cummed at the scream that tore out of your throat, painting his abdomen with pearly white cum and staining his dark uniform. The cum on his hand a sticky mess as he continued stroking himself with a deep hum, his head dizzy from pleasure and cheeks dusted in a heavy flush.

“Fuck…” Suguru groaned, leaning his head against the wall that still reverberated from the loud thuds of the headboard banging roughly from the other side, obvious that Satoru was still determined to reach your sixth climax in hopes of reaching ten.

For the rest of the night, Suguru had to listen to the two of you fuck like rabbits in heat, and every now and then he would press his ears against the wall once more to palm his cock lazily. It lasted for hours and hours and sleep only finally found him when the two of you were nearing your end. But before he could close his eyes, he heard Satoru’s words that gave him an alarming jolt to his heart.

“Got Suguru out of your pretty mind yet, gorgeous?”

༊·˚°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

“Um… fun night?”

The two of you didn’t seem to notice the bags under Suguru’s eyes as he asked the question. Or at the bloodshot veins creeping towards his pupils. Or the way they seemingly reflected the troubled night before.

“Yeah, too much fun.” Satoru had the most shit eating grin ever, and Suguru caught onto his best friend’s hand crawling down behind him to squeeze your ass over the shirt you wore. Satoru’s favourite Digimon shirt. Faintly, he also heard your whine of protest and the scrunch of the cloth under your nails. “How was your night, Suguru?”

Satoru, Satoru, Satoru…! Your voice still rang in his mind nonestop, haunting him even in his dreams.

“Uh…” Suguru trailed off, his gaze fixated on you and all the blossoming marks littering over your skin, “…yeah… I guess.”

Slowly, Satoru’s voice tuned out and Suguru could only hear the crinkling of the plastic package of the gummy as he fisted his hand. The bag was too warm under his touch, and inside the sugar was starting to melt into a sticky mess, ruining the excitement you had over them.

i'd say this is how geto's characterised in the jp fandom 90% of the time. i still love him though :)

tags/taglist (open)! @daflex, @liahcharms, @moonlightbunnies, @brightbriefs

no one told you this as a secret. not shoko, not nanami.

in fact, he confessed it himself.

it was second year. you visited utahime on summer weekends in tokyo, planning to go shopping in shibuya, maybe inviting shoko as well.

you were standing near subway, in your casual clothing, looking through your flip phone. when you noticed them, approaching you, you frowned. shoko looked as usual, relaxed, cigarette between her lips, but now she looked amazed. curve of your lip upward betrayed her good mood, like something made her laugh.

utahime, on the other hand, looked mad. eyes soothed, puffing over something and holding something in her hands in a tight grip, almost squishing it.

"what's wrong?" you ask glancing between both of them.

utahime grunted, shoko chuckled. "we were asked to deliver something for you." ieiri replies lightly, lightening her cigarette.

you frown deepens, when utahime shoves something in your chest. is it… chocolate box?

"what did you even do? did you talk to him and put charm on him. he's an complete idiot!" utahime explaims.

shoko chuckles again. "relax, it's just a gift. maybe it will pass." pause. "but i agree, he's an idiot and not really boyfriend material."

you listened to them with half an ear, opening the chocolate box and seeing a letter inside. "who the hell are talking abo…?"

suguru's handwriting.

your eyes get wider and wider as you read, what he wrote. he calls you pretty, says you have nice laugh and that he likes you and wants to go out with you. "what?! is this a joke. how…?"

girls curiously looked over your shoulder, reading the letter.

"who taught him to be so romantic?! did geto actually write it?" utahime couldn't hide her surprise.

shoko rose her eyebrows. "huh, suguru for real has a crush on you."

"you don't help right now!" you say with high-pitched voice, pressing palms against your cheeks, absolutely flustered.

what did he find in you? almost your interactions contained you being mad at him because of his behaviour. yes, a few times you talked a little bit normally during goodwill event in the first year and then when you met them in tokyo, but that's it. nothing much.

that to be said, you didn't give any reply. but you didn't throw away his letter and chocolate either. sometimes, late at night, when you were in your dorm in kyoto jujutsu high, you opened the letter reading it all over again.

you had to admit suguru's handwriting was pretty, his kanji are drawn out neatly. like he took his time writing it for you. you also couldn't help, but think how romantic the gesture is.

you didn't know how you felt about him. he was still obnoxious in your eyes. still loud and snarky. but then there were moments when he looked cute with strand of his raven hair falling on his face or they he was smiling last time you saw him on a combined mission.

realising you think about him too much, you hide your face in a pillow, groaning. your feet is kicking the mattress under the blanket.

despite that, you tried to avoid him on the next goodwill event, running away as soon as you were getting a chance to. suguru was frowning, confused with your actions, but said nothing, patiently waiting for you speak up first. he even left a few flowers for you under your door, where you were staying.

and when he noticed you keeping them in your bag, he smiled to himself quietly, blushing a little bit.

✯

it was raining in tokyo, when you accidentally got lost. it wasn't just a rain, it was straight up downpour.

and you forgot your umbrella.

sneakers were soaked, backpack is wet, your hair is clinging to your skin.

you felt helpless, when suddenly you saw transparent umbrella above you and then its owner.

suguru was smiling at you softly, trying to hold his laugh. you bet you looked like a sad wet cat right now.

"got lost?" he asks, looking down at you. you simply nod, not trusting your face. "come on, we can still hit the subway."

his casual optimism worked on you as an anti stress, like suguru shared with you a little bit of his calmness.

as you two were sitting on station he kept asking about your state, making sure you didn't feel cold or too disturbed by the feeling of wetness.

the conversation went further, you talked about almost everything, still teasing each other, but now it felt lighter more wholesome.

at some point you found yourself laughing at something he said, holding your stomach and then you noticed his fond look

maybe suguru geto wasn't an idiot you always portrayed him to be, maybe your feelings towards him were as tangled as you thought.

maybe you actually admit that you did like him back.

"so uhm… is your offer to go out still up?"

You’re going to fill this scrapbook if it kills you, you scold yourself internally, thinking about the ways you can use up the failed attempts as background filler while you ready yourself to try again.

You’ve already assembled a page at home, pens scattered across your bedspread while you work on dating the caption; it’s all blue sea and white sand (and whiter hair, if you count the tufts poking into the frame) but you wanted something a little calmer.

You hear footsteps- nothing out of the ordinary, you are sat near a public beach after all- but they stop by you and you sit up properly, swivelling around to stare at the source.

“Hey.” There’s a man stood beside you, eyes flitting just slightly over the way your lips part around the ice before they come to rest on your face. He’s gorgeous, you’ll give him that- long reams of black hair, spilling like watery ink across his sunlit and tanned shoulders.

“Uh, hey.” You respond blankly, words muffled as you withdraw the popsicle, “do I know you?”

“Not… particularly. I’m Suguru Geto, by the way.” He announces, propping the purple surfboard up against the bench you’re sat on. Purple… you recognise it, the way it glinted in the sunlight next to a certain blue-eyed man’s body as they chatted on the sand. Fuck! “But I could hear you complaining from the beach.”

“Oh, sorry-“ you cringe, cursing Nobara’s lack of volume control, and your own inability to stay quiet, “I’ll go, if you’re trying to relax-“

“There’s nothing wrong with being a little loud. And you definitely are.” Geto’s voice is quiet, as calm as the waves lapping gently at the horizon, but an element of deeper innuendo rests in the lower part of his tone.

Your face warms. So he did hear you and Gojo, then; and now he’s stood in front of you, arms folded across the damp plane of his chest and staring through dark irises as you slowly flatten your tongue across the popsicle. It doesn’t really cross your mind if you look deliberately slutty or not, too focused on eating.

Unfortunately- or fortunately- Geto definitely notices. The way liquid pools on your pouted lips, sparkling in the sunset, and the way you eagerly swallow- it has his mind drifting in ways he isn’t particularly opposed to.

“You, um- you heard… us?” You say nervously.

“I did.” He smiles serenely, bicep tensing as he raises a hand to tuck a lock of sleek hair behind his pierced ear. The sun glints off his other piercings, one studded near his eyebrow, two silver hoops linked across the pinkness of his soft lips.

You briefly wonder if he has any that you can’t see.

“Satoru isn’t quiet either, though.” Geto continues casually, “so I suppose the fault isn’t entirely yours- but do you always squeak like that?”

You gasp around the icy sweet in your mouth, eyes widening. “You-“

He puffs out a laugh, his face drawing in closer to yours- close enough for your breath to mingle, for the piercings on his lips to brush against yours if you leaned in a little.

The popsicle in your mouth melts a little more, artificially flavoured water tracking down from your lips onto the thumb he presses the drops away with. Slowly, without looking away from your flustered face, Geto raises the digit to his mouth and sucks.

“I could think of a few ways to keep you quiet.”

That’s exactly what he does, your knees pressing into cushiony sand and your hands braced against his thighs; Geto’s hand fists in your hair, tight on the back of your head as you gawk up at him.

A shadow stretches across your face- the length is intimidating, sure, but that’s not why you’re gaping. A fraction of your shock may stem from it, from the veins dragging across his dick, from the pearly sheen of pre coating the shimmery tip- but it’s what else you see that shocks you.

“Never seen one before?” Geto asks, tilting his head cockily. You both know he isn’t just talking about his dick, but the tiny metal orb nestled right at the tip and gleaming in the slowly dipping sunset.

You gaze, transfixed, hand wrapping around his base and relishing in the way his head clunks against the secluded rock with a groan- it’s awfully familiar, and you grin as you start to move your fist.

“Do you and Satoru take all your hookups here, or just each other?”

He laughs breathily, guiding your spit-slicked lips to his tip by the fingers fisted roughly in your hair. “Just the hookups. It’s convenient, what can I say?”

Fascinated by the piercing, you only apply a little kiss to his tip before pulling back and gazing at his length. Just like the rest of him, it’s unfairly pretty for a man- rosy tip dribbling pre down to his base, the redness at the top blending seamlessly into a darker shade of tan.

Your hand slicks up easily, thumbing curiously over the silver orb. You expected it to be sensitive, but Geto throws his head back and moans like he’s about to cum already.

“Fuck,” he groans, hips jerking up into your closed fist with little squelching noises. You smile coquettishly up at him and only work your hand faster.

A generous slather of pre sheens on your fingers as you pump slowly, using your tongue every so often to keep the piercing as shiny as possible. Geto thinks he’s about to lose his mind, or at least have the corners unravel a little; every time he thinks you’re about to put him in your mouth, you stop just shy and begin the ritual again.

“Don’t be a tease.” He grits out. You stay quiet, enjoying having him wrapped around your finger like this. And then there’s tears springing to your eyes as he digs his fingers into your hair tighter, tugging at the roots just enough to get you to gasp.

“I told you not to tease, sweetheart.” He says lowly, hand still gripping your hair. “Now, listen to me.”

You hum, nod obediently, and seal your mouth around him, tongue kitten-licking at the tip as salt smears across your tastebuds. “Good girl.” Geto moans low in his throat when you take him deeper, throat constricting around the length while the texture of your tongue patters lightly at the flesh.

You drag the muscle up and down, lavishing attention onto the prominent vein studding the underside of his considerably thick cock. You gag just a little as he breaches your throat, spit pearling at the corners of your mouth, and it only makes Geto harder.

“You’re- shit- gorgeous like this-“ he sucks in through his teeth, cock bucking into your warm mouth and seeking purchase right at the back. Tears bead in the corners of your eyes as Geto fucks your face, streaming messily, but it makes you wonder how he’d feel doing the same inside you.

“You know-“ he groans, scraping your messy hair back further to reveal your eyes, “when me and Satoru were in the sea, we both wanted to fuck you." You cock a curious brow. "No, not at the same time, he’d be far too selfish.” He laughs breathlessly, pushing your mouth down further.

“I was jealous, I’ll admit-“ Geto pants, “but he didn’t see you like this, did he?”

You fervently shake your head as well as you can. “That’s what I thought.”

The piercing lightly scrapes the roof of your mouth every time you pull back, the small orb digging into your tongue in a way that isn’t entirely unpleasant. In fact, it’s almost satisfying, feeling the ball warm under your spit.

You don’t even realise you’ve slipped a greedy hand from his thigh into your panties until he comments, voice low and thick with arousal. “That feel good?”

“Mmm.” You agree, lashes fluttering while your fingers greedily circle your clit; you try to nod, since you can’t verbalise anything- but the action only sends more light vibrations along Geto’s cock, and his fingers tangle harsher in your hair.

You almost can’t believe you’re getting off on being face-fucked, but then again, how could you not when he looks like that?

Hair curtaining his face in loose strands as they slip unbidden from their tie behind his head, Geto’s lip caught between his teeth as his struggles not to moan too loudly. His cheeks are warmed, flushed with the blatant evidence of his arousal.

“If I was wearing- hah- my rings…” he groans suddenly, snapping you out of your reverie as both hands get used as leverage to tug your skull forwards and backwards as he likes, “I could use my fingers on you properly, not just grab your pretty head.”

“Yeah?” You ask, muffled and teary around his cock.

“Yeah. I could wear the chunky ones too, wouldn’t you like that?” The gritted tone he’s been fashioning wraps around the dirty little question. “They’d be cold, sure- fuckkkk, do that again, baby- but you’d get them warmed up, wouldn’t you?”

You nod vehemently, mascara tracking down your flushed cheeks, fingers still buried knuckle deep inside your weeping cunt. You’re almost shocked at how close you are, sopping all over your hand just at the feeling of being face-fucked.

Geto notices, eyes glimmering and quirking up into a breathless little smirk that doesn’t seem too promising for your throat. “Fuck, you’re gonna cum? From this?”

“Mmfh-“ you moan, hips rocking down onto the heel of your awaiting palm as your orgasm splits freshly open inside you, starry pops of energy bubbling up in your body as you twitch through it.

Geto finishes with a low, cracked moan, pressing your throat down so far your nose brushes his happy trail and you gag. When he harshly yanks you back, there’s an obvious sticky trail of saliva-coated slick dribbling from your mouth.

You cough and the strings snap, disconnecting your abused mouth from his cock while you struggle to wipe your lips with the shaky back of your hand.

“Gorgeous.” He breathes again, tucking himself away before helping you to your wobbly feet on the grainy sand below with a slight hint of a smirk on his face. “I hope it didn’t hurt too much.”

“No-“ you rasp, throat sore, “but I can’t speak properly.”

“It’s a shame, you have a pretty voice.” He replies, smirking a little behind his hair when you blush. He holds the hairtie in between his teeth to knot his hair back properly, and the little action makes you feel just a few degrees warmer.

You cough again, throat just a little bruised, and he tilts his head. “Sorry.”

Geto’s clearly not sorry at all as he walks with you to the bench from earlier. “See you around?”

“Yeah, maybe…” you muse, fiddling with your camera. The horizon has darkened now, glorious strips of pink and orange melting into darker tones of navy in preparation for the stars to make their appearance.

You wave him goodbye, noting the newfound spring in his step with a laugh. “Now…”

The picture is almost perfect, capturing the way the sea sparkles prettily beneath the diminishing glow of the sun. There’s a proud smile playing on your face as you waft it around and wait for it to come into total focus, beaming at the final result while you dial in Nobara’s number.

“Hey! Is there still ice cream?”

“Your voice sounds awful, maybe you need something cold more than I do.” She deadpans, “what did you do?”

A grin spreads across your lips. “I’ll tell you, but you can’t tell the others, okay?”

“Deal.”

series masterlist | check out the photo album! | regular masterlist

a/n: thank you for reading :p!! comments/reblogs are super appreciated <33

your roommate brings it up three days before finals week officially starts, which already tells you the idea is terrible. the two of you are sitting cross-legged on the floor of your apartment living room surrounded by open textbooks, half-folded laundry, and empty instant noodle containers.

she’s supposed to be writing a paper. instead, she’s online shopping for bikinis. “i actually can’t do this anymore,” she announces dramatically, laptop balanced on her thighs. “if i read one more discussion post i’m walking into traffic.”

you hum absentmindedly, highlighting a paragraph without processing any of it.

outside, rain taps against the windows in soft uneven bursts. campus looks gray and muddy and exhausted. even the frat houses have gone quieter this week. everyone’s studying, or pretending to.

your roommate suddenly gasps. “spring break,” she says.

“what about it?”

“we should go to your beach house.”

that gets your attention. you look up slowly from your laptop. “we?”

“yes, we.” she tosses a sock at you. “like. everyone.”

“everyone…us girls? or—”

“no, the frat too,” she says, smiling. “i want choso to be there.”

you roll your eyes, focusing back on your notes. she’s been glued to her boyfriend’s hip ever since they got together. it’s almost sickening, if they weren’t so perfect for each other. you’re rarely in the house alone anymore.

“dunno if that’s a good idea,” you say, because your brain immediately supplies the image of suguru geto.

it’s geto. always geto.

your roommates notices your change in expression instantly. the grin that spreads across her face is immediate and evil. “oh my god.”

you narrow your eyes. “don’t.”

“you thought about him first.”

“i literally didn’t,” you mumble, pushing your glasses up your nose.

“you literally did.”

you throw the sock back at her head and she dodges it, laughing. “you’re soooo weird about him.”

and she’s right. you are weird about him. not in an obvious way, no. whatever thing between you and geto occurs in fragments. in pauses and glances held half a second too long.

eye tag.

that’s what gojo called it once after catching the two of you staring at each other across the frat kitchen while everyone else argued over beer pong rules. “you guys do this every time,” he’d said.

you’d denied it immediately. geto had just looked away.

your roommate clasps her hands together. “please invite them. choso already said yes if you say yes.”

“you asked him before asking me?”

“well, yes.”

you sigh, rubbing your forehead. “the house isn’t huge.”

“it has four bedrooms.”

“one of them barely counts,” you point out.

“we can make it work.”

your parents are never at the beach house this time of year, anyways, and know you’re responsible enough to handle it on your own.

it’s few hours from campus along a quieter part of the shoreline. you haven’t been in almost a year.

the thought of ocean air instead of stale lecture halls makes you exhale slightly.

“aha,” your roommate says, pointing at you. “that was a considering face.”

“it was not.”

“come on. it’ll be fun.”

“it’ll be loud.”

“only a little.”

“imagine bonfires,” your roommate says dreamily.

“imagine property damage.”

“imagine volleyball.”

“imagine bail money.”

you already know you’re going to cave. despite everything the rest has somehow become tangled into your life over the past semester. in the middle of late-night food runs and campus events and parties is geto’s face and how you notice him before he notices you almost every time.

at parties, he’s usually tucked somewhere quieter while everybody else spirals around him in chaos. sitting on kitchen counters, leaning against walls with a drink untouched in his hand. watching. and eventually his eyes find yours, every single time.

the first few times it happened you thought you imagined it. you? nerd you? suguru geto looking at you?

but it kept happening. across crowded rooms and across lecture halls.

“you’re thinking about him again,” your roommate says.

it’s his deep voice and calmness and the way he rolls his sleeves to his elbows when he’s focused. the exhaustion constantly sitting beneath his eyes lately because he’s balancing classes and internship applications and responsibilities and everybody else’s problems too.

“shut up,” you say weakly.

“i’m texting choso. this is happening.”

you sigh, knowing that once your roommate wants something to go her way, it’s happening.

how bad can the trip really go, anyway?

“gojo’s already asking if the beach house has speakers.”

“tell him yes, but the neighbours don’t like noise past 10pm.”

“geto says he can drive.” your roommate looks up at you, chewing her lip, and you’re suddenly very interested in the notes you’ve been trying to read over.

now you’re imagining geto driving, one hand on the wheel, ocean air and his stupid rings glinting under the dashboard lights

you stand abruptly, gathering your notes before your imagination gets worse.

thursday - eight days from departure

geto realizes he’s in trouble on a thursday night while half-drunk freshmen scream-sing nextdoor to music that sounds like somebody attacking a speaker with a hammer. he’s sitting at the frat dining table with an untouched beer beside his laptop, trying to finish an internship application before midnight.

keyword : trying.

because you’re here. you’re not even doing anything particularly distracting either. you’re sitting cross-legged on the couch in one of those oversized university sweaters, glasses sliding slightly down your nose while you argue with choso’s girlfriend over how many bags of chips are too many for one week at the beach house.

you shouldn’t be this difficult to ignore, and yet geto’s cursor has been blinking on the same sentence for six minutes.

gojo and toji yell something at each other from across the room. everyone starts talking over each other, except for choso, who’s curled into his girlfriend’s side, and you.

you stay focused, tapping at your laptop with concentration pulling your brows together slightly. geto watches your mouth move while you talk.

that’s becoming a problem too. noticing little things. the tiny crease between your eyebrows when you’re annoyed. the way you tuck your legs underneath yourself without thinking.

it’s gotten worse recently, or maybe he’s just stopped pretending it hasn’t been happening. for months now, every room he walks in feels altered slightly if you’re there.

he hates how aware he’s become of you. worse, you notice him too.

geto’s not stupid. he sees the way your eyes snag on him before flicking away. the pauses, the tension, that look you get when he stands too close.

it’s there constantly, like static humming between you both.

“geto.” your voice cuts clean through his thoughts.

he looks up immediately. you’re staring at him from across the room now, brows raised slightly. his stomach does something deeply irritating. “yeah?”

“you haven’t answered a single thing we asked.”

gojo grins instantly from the kitchen island.

“he was staring at you.”

geto doesn’t react outwardly. years of dealing with satoru have made his self-control nearly supernatural.

you, unfortunately, do react. irritation flashes visibly across your face before you glare at gojo. “oh my god, shut up.”

“am i wrong?”

“yes,” both you and geto say at the exact same time.

toji starts laughing so hard he nearly chokes. “jesus christ,” he mutters. “you two are painful.”

geto drags a hand down his face slowly. you’re suddenly very interested in your spreadsheet.

cute.

“i made categories,” you explain, stuttering over the last word as you regain composure. “colour coded. it’s a shared excel sheet so you can all access it too.”

geto smiles softly. you’re focused and bossy and pretty. he thinks he should probably stop looking at you like that.

“okay,” you say, tapping the couch. “can everyone e-transfer me their share tonight so i can book groceries in advance?”

gojo raises a hand. “no. actually, toji and i pass.”

you run a hand down your face. “what?”

“we’re the entertainment,” he explains, like it makes total sense.

“eighty dollars, each of you, please,” you say, tilting your head back. “i hate all of you.”

“that’s not true,” gojo says. “You like suguru.”

the room goes quiet instantly. choso coughs into his drink. gojo’s girlfriend physically turns away to hide her smile.

gojo points between the two of you lazily.

“the vibes are crazy.”

“there are no vibes,” you say immediately.

“you look flustered,” toji notes helpfully.

everybody starts talking over each other again while you try defending yourself with rapidly deteriorating success. geto says nothing, because while the others laugh and argue his eyes stay on you.

you can feel it too. he knows you can. that tension pressing tighter every time your gazes meet.

your eyes lift to his and his gaze flicks to your mouth for one brief, horrible second.

you both look away just as fast.

sunday - five days from departure

your bedroom looks like a clothing store exploded. bikinis draped over desk chairs, shorts hanging off your bedframe, three different pairs of sandals abandoned in the middle of the floor. “i hate everything,” you announce.

your roommate barely glances up from where she’s laying across your bed with choso half beneath her like a human mattress. “dramatic.”

“none of this looks right.”

“you’ve changed outfits six times.”

“because i look weird.”

“you literally don’t.”

you turn sideways in the mirror, scrutinizing yourself harder. the dress is just soft black fabric that skims your body, thin straps, lower neckline than what you normally wear. you bought it for some finance networking event your department hosted last month because your mom said you needed “staple outfits.”

your roommate sits up on her elbows finally, exasperated. “you know most people going on beach trips are worried about, like, sunscreen?”

“i am worried about sunscreen.”

“i forgot you made a spreadsheet for sunscreen.”

“uv rays are serious.”

choso laughs quietly from beneath her, hands resting loosely on her thighs. you point at him immediately. “don’t encourage her.”

“i didn’t say anything.”

“the laugh felt judgmental.”

your roommate rolls her eyes before looking back at you properly. “you look hot,” she says flatly. “actually annoyingly hot. if you don’t pack the dress i’m stealing it.”

you scoff softly, turning back toward the mirror. “it’s too much.”

“for who?”

you shrug. some part of you already knows exactly who you’re thinking about, which is ridiculous. you’re literally standing in your bedroom overanalyzing a dress because suguru geto might see it.

your roommate seems seconds away from teasing you about exactly that when choso speaks absentmindedly from the bed.“geto likes that one.”

the room goes silent and you slowly turn around. “…what?”

choso freezes and his eyes widen slightly like he physically felt the mistake leave his mouth in real time.

your roommate lifts her head immediately. “what do you mean geto likes that one?”

“nothing,” choso says too quickly.

“choso,” she says.

“i’m serious.”

you narrow your eyes at him. “how would he even know this dress?”

another pause then choso makes the fatal mistake of hesitating. your roommate gasps dramatically. “OH MY GOD HE DOES KNOW THE DRESS?!”

“baby,” choso says weakly.

“no, no, come back.” she grabs his arm before he can sit up. “what do you mean he likes the dress?”

“i wasn’t supposed to say anything.”

you cross your arms slowly. “that’s an insane sentence.”

choso looks deeply distressed now. your roommate softens instantly though, because unfortunately for choso, she knows exactly how to handle him. she cups his face gently, pressing a tiny kiss against his jaw. “please?” she asks sweetly.

choso exhales heavily through his nose, cheeks going pink. weak man. he folds almost immediately. “okay but you cannot tell geto i said any of this.”

you and your roommate both nod way too fast and he points at both of you suspiciously before continuing. “you wore that dress to the frat one night.”

your brows pinch together slightly. “…when?”

“when you came to pick her up after that finance networking thing.”

oh.you remember that night.

you’d stopped by the frat around midnight because your roommate was too drunk to uber home alone. you were still dressed up from the event downtown. heels hurting. hair done. tired and irritated because gojo had answered the door already yelling.

you hadn’t stayed long, just long enough to drag your roommate upstairs to collect her stuff while half the frat stared at you like they’d never seen a woman before.

apparently including geto.

“what happened?” your roommate asks immediately.

choso rubs the back of his neck awkwardly. “nothing happened exactly. some guy made a comment after you left.”

your stomach tightens slightly. “what kind of comment?”

“just saying you looked good or whatever.”

“and?” your roommate presses.

choso sighs. “and geto got weird about it.”

heat crawls instantly up your neck. “weird how?”

“he just…” choso pauses, visibly trying to decide how much to say. “he looked annoyed.”

your roommate’s jaw drops. “he got jealous?”

“well, I dunno, not—”

“choso.”

“i’m serious.”

“what did he say?”

another long sigh. “he said you don’t even realize how pretty you are.”

your roommate physically collapses face-first into the bed, laughing into a pillow. you just stand there your heart suddenly beating way too hard. “that’s not…” you clear your throat softly. “that’s not that serious.”

both of them look at you. your roommate lifts her head slowly. “you are genuinely the dumbest smart person i know.”

“i’m not dumb.”

“he said you don’t know how pretty you are.”

“people say things.”

“not like that.”

choso looks like he regrets existing and unfortunately for him your roommate isn’t done. “what ELSE has he said?”

“nothing,” choso mutters, rubbing the back of his neck.

“liar.”

“baby.”

another soft kiss against his jaw, pretty doe eyes, and you watch the fight leave choso’s body. he groans quietly. “he just asks about you sometimes,” he mumbles, glancing up at you.

your stomach flips again. “asks what?” your roommate says immediately.

“normal stuff.”

“define normal.”

“like if she’s seeing anybody.”

your eyes widen slightly.

“or what her type is,” choso admits.

your roommate grabs your arm so hard you almost lose balance. “i knew it.”

“stop saying that,” you hiss, feeling too warm and out of place in your own body now.

choso keeps talking now that he’s doomed anyway. “there were these guys talking to you outside one of our econ buildings a while ago and geto asked after if you knew them.”

you blink. you remember that too. two business majors from another frat trying very hard to impress you after class. geto had walked by while you were talking to them and you hadn’t thought he even paid attention.

apparently he had.

“and,” choso adds carefully, “he asked if they were bothering you.”

something warm and dangerous and twisting settles low in your stomach, and your roommate looks one second away from planning a wedding. “this is insane.”

“it’s not insane,” you say weakly.

“he likes you.”

“you don’t know that.”

“y/n,” she says flatly. “be serious.”

you sit on the edge of your bed, the black dress clinging to your skin, and now all you can think about is geto noticing it. remembering it. liking it enough to mention it after you’d already gone.

your roommate watches your expression carefully from the bed and then smiles slowly.

friday - day of departure

departure day starts at eleven in the morning and immediately feels cursed. gojo is late, even though the meetup spot is outside the frat. toji's holding an iced coffee and is directing where bags are to be put instead of actually helping. somehow, your roommate's lost one of her sandals already. choso's carrying about fourteen bags (thirteen of which are his girlfriend's) and you?

you're standing in the driveway trying to figure out how seven people accumulated this much luggage for a beach trip. a seven day beach trip. “why do you have three suitcases,” you ask gojo’s girlfriend.

"two of them are satoru's," she says, patting her boyfriend's head, and he grins like a lovesick puppy. "i don't know why he has so many clothes."

geto’s car sits at the curb behind gojo's girlfriend's car - the two drivers for the trip. geto's leaning against it, typing on his phone, and of course the fact that he looks good pre-noon makes your heart pang. you can only imagine what you would look like standing beside him, what with your frizzy hair and crooked glasses.

he's wearing a dark hoodie and shorts, sunglasses pushes up into his hair while choso helps him load luggage into the back. you try not to stare but your brain seems to enjoy self-destruction.

because watching geto lift heavy bags with one hand while calmly reorganizing everybody’s mess should not be attractive.

"okay," gojo announces loudly, clapping once. "vehicle assignments."

getp closes his trunk with a final solid thud. "my car's got the most space," he says. "why don't you transfer all the luggage over from the other car?"

your roommate perks up immediately. "perfect."

"there'll be room for one person up front too," geto adds casually. then he looks directly at you. your stomach flips so hard it almost makes you angry.

you glance away first. before you can say literally anything, your roommate beams. "great! y/n'll go with you."

you whip around instantly. "what?"

"you get carsick in crowded backseats," she says innocently.

which is true. unfortunately. “i can survive.”

“and i want leg room,” toji says. "no fuckin' way am i cramming in the back with the lovebirds," he grumbles, pointing to choso and your roomate, "with this fucker in the front." he points his thumb to gojo, who's smiling happily.

"then you can go in the front with geto," you say.

your roommate gives you a deadpan look. gojo's girlfriend sighs.

"toji, just sit in the back, please," choso says quietly. "it's only a two and a half hour ride."

he opens his mouth to retort an excuse but gojo's girlfriend promptly elbows him in the chest. he grumbles but settles in the back of gojo's girlfriend's sedan anyway.

geto looks almost relieved, but he quickly masks it with his typical aloofness.

your roommate grabs your shoulder, grinning ear to ear. "have fun!"

you narrow your eyes at her. “i hope your phone charger breaks.”

gojo leans out the passenger window of the other car. “pee break every forty-five minutes!”

“absolutely not,” both you and geto say simultaneously.

gojo points between you both immediately. “they’re married already.”

you ignore him completely, mostly because geto is already walking around to the passenger side of his car and opening the door for you. which should not affect you this much.

it’s basic manners. normal behavior. except when you pass him, the scent of his cologne mixes with cool morning air and coffee and suddenly your thoughts short-circuit for half a second.

annoying. very, super annoying.

you settle into the seat while geto finishes loading the last bag.

the car smells clean, like sandalwood and detergent and something distinctly geto. you hate that you know what he smells like.

the second he slides into the driver’s seat beside you, the space feels smaller. you feel him glance at you before putting the car into start, and you're driving off, leading the other car behind you.

your phone buzzes immediately.

roomie: have fun on your first date ❤️

you: i’m going to kill you with my bare hands

you shove your phone away quickly before geto can accidentally see. “you have the address?” he asks quietly.

“yeah.” you pull up the map. “did gojo’s girlfriend save it too?”

“i sent it to her twice.”

“good.”

“you don’t trust them?”

you stare out the windshield where gojo is currently hanging halfway out the car window yelling something about his spring break arc. “…should i?”

geto laughs quietly beside you and the sound makes your head spin happily. you don't hear him laugh often, unless he's mocking gojo. this quiet, real laugh is something you notice every single time.

after twenty minutes you hit the highway and you sink back into your seat with a sigh. “finally.”

“you stressed?” geto asks lightly.

“i like plans.”

“i noticed.”

you narrow your eyes slightly. “that sounded judgmental.”

“it wasn’t.”

“mhm.”

he glances at you briefly while turning onto the highway. sunlight catches against the rings on his fingers resting on the steering wheel. your brain immediately decides to become unhelpful so you look out the window instead.

for another few minutes, it’s quiet except for road noise and the distant bass vibrating from the other car behind, then geto taps the screen on the dashboard. “you want music?”

“i don’t mind.”

“you sure?”

“...yeah? why?” you glance over at him.

“because now if you hate my music taste you'll have to be super polite about it and the car ride will be awkward.”

you laugh softly. “i promise it won't be bad. i won't be that harsh.”

his mouth curves slightly before he scrolls through his phone. music fills the car a second later and you recognize it almost instantly.

your head turns before you can stop yourself. “wait,” you say. “is this the smiths?”

geto glances over briefly. “…you listen to the smiths?”

“obviously.”

“obviously?”

“what’s that supposed to mean?”

“nothing,” he says, clearly amused now. “i just didn’t expect it.”

you scoff. “what did you expect?”

he thinks about it for a second. “something old. like classical music.”

"i don't mind classical, but the smiths have always been one of my favourites."

he flashes you a genuine smile, fingers gently tapping the rhythm of the song on the wheel. "i'm glad."

after that, conversation begins to flow easier. favourite albums, worst profs, gojo. (lots of gojo). he says something that makes you snort and that same small, real smile etches onto his lips and god, this is dangerous.

you watch the highway stretch under the pale morning sunlight while trees blur at the edges of the road. after a moment you steal another glance at him. he's relaxed, one arm resting near the window, sunglasses low on his nose.

he's so...pretty.

the thought hits so fast and hard it almost embarrasses you. as if sensing it, geto looks over suddenly. your eyes meet instantly and there it is again. that thing. that horrible, suspended moment where neither of you looks away fast enough.

his gaze flicks down briefly to your mouth then back up. your pulse stutters.

behind you, gojo’s girlfriend's car suddenly swerves slightly as gojo sticks his head out the sunroof, shouting something imperceptible.

the moment breaks. you clear your throat quickly, looking forward again. “they’re going to die before we even get there.”

geto’s laugh rumbles low beside you. “probably.”

gojo’s girlfriend has both hands gripping the steering wheel like she’s transporting explosives. “if you scream one more time,” she says flatly, eyes locked on the road, “i’m pulling over and leaving all of you on the highway.”

“that feels hostile,” gojo says from the passenger seat.

“you barked at a motorcycle.”

“it barked first.”

from the backseat, toji groans dramatically as choso’s girlfriend shifts closer into choso’s side again. “i’m in hell,” he mutters.

“you’re just bitter because nobody wants to cuddle you,” she says cheerfully.

“wrong. women love me.”

“do they?” gojo says from the front, shit-eating grin on his face.

“historically. your mother would know.”

“you don't know shit about my mom,” gojo laughs. “she doesn't have your fucking number.”

“that's cause she gave it to me.”

choso quietly adjusts his arm around his girlfriend’s waist so she can lean more comfortably against him. toji gags loudly. “there they go again,” he says. “the world’s most nauseating couple.”

"you're just single. quadruple-wheeling the trip. us, choso and his girl, and whatever the fuck is going on in geto's car."

toji kicks the back of gojo’s seat and the car swerves slightly.

everyone yells immediately. “if we die,” gojo’s girlfriend says through gritted teeth, “i’m haunting all of you.”

“you’d look hot as a ghost,” gojo says instantly.

she snorts despite herself. from the backseat, choso’s girlfriend glances down at her phone.

“they’re probably having the most awkward car ride ever right now.”

gojo twists around immediately. “you think they’ve kissed yet?”

“it’s been thirty minutes,” choso says.

“exactly.”

“they’re not kissing,” his girlfriend says, though she sounds deeply unconvinced.

toji stretches his long legs out miserably. “they do have weird tension though.”

“thank you,” gojo says, pointing dramatically. “finally someone sane.”

choso’s girlfriend smiles to herself a little, gaze drifting toward the road ahead where geto’s car moves steadily a few lengths in front of them. “i think they’re both just nervous,” she says softly.

“geto?” gojo laughs loudly. “nervous over a girl?”

if only they saw how bright geto's smile was right now as you talked animatedly about how well your finals went. with you and your legs propped up on the dash, smooth and perfect and he couldn't stop staring without seeming weird. how his heart skipped a beat every time one of your perfect smiles were directed to him.

if only they knew how gone for you he really was.

the second the beach house comes into view, everyone in the other car completely loses their minds. your phone starts vibrating before geto’s even finished pulling into the driveway.

SPRING BREAKKUHH

gojo: HOLY SHIT???

gojo: WHY IS IT HUGE

roomie: i warned u

you laugh softly under your breath as the other car practically screeches to a stop beside you. the house sits glowing gold in the late afternoon sunlight, all warm cedar and giant windows overlooking the water below. dune grass sways softly around the edges of the deck while waves crash faintly in the distance.

home.

you hadn’t realized how badly you needed this until now. gojo launches out of the car first. “BEACH ARC!” he screams.

“inside voice,” you call automatically.

“we’re outside.”

“future inside voice.”

toji steps out next, stretching dramatically. “thank christ. my knees were touching my organs back there.”

everyone starts unloading luggage in a blur after that. bags thumping against the deck, music already blasting from someones speaker, and of course, gojo attempting to carry six things at once before immediately dropping half of them.

you’re hauling one of the grocery bags up the front steps when your roommate appears beside you wearing the smuggest expression imaginable. “so,” she says casually.

you already know. “don’t.”

“you and geto looked cozy.”

“we were in a car.”

“alone.”

“with seatbelts.”

gojo’s girlfriend appears on your other side immediately. “the sexual tension was visible through the windshield.”

you nearly trip over the doorway. “there is no sexual tension.”

both of them stare at you and you adjust your glasses defensively. “there just objectively is not.”

“you’re doing the nerd thing,” your roommate says.

“what nerd thing?”

“the glasses push.”

your hand drops instantly away from your frames. traitors, the both of them. behind you, geto lifts two suitcases from the trunk effortlessly while listening to choso say something beside him.

he glances toward the front porch, toward you, and your stomach does the stupid thing again. once inside everybody immediately scatters to explore the house.

gojo runs directly toward the back windows dramatically. “the back deck is is insane.”

“don’t break anything,” you warn.

“you say that every time.”

“because every time you almost break something.”

toji opens the fridge. “this thing is bigger than four of the fridges at the frat.”

you kick your shoes off near the entryway while everybody talks over each other around you. the house smells faintly like cedarwood and ocean air, comfortable and familiar. comfortable. familiar.

geto pauses beside one of the windows quietly, gaze moving across the living room and you watch his expression shift slightly. he looks good, his hoodie sleeves pushed up, hair loosened slightly from it's usual knot, sunlight catching against his skin through the windows.

you look away before your brain gets worse.

eventually everyone gathers in the living room surrounded by luggage and grocery bags while you attempt to regain control of the chaos. “okay,” you say, clapping once. “room assignments.”

immediately, “dibs,” both gojo and choso say at the same time.

their girlfriends laugh. “obviously,” gojo’s girlfriend says. "we can take the upstairs bedroom, if you don't mind? the one on the side?"

“don’t be loud,” you say, and gojo flips you off. within seconds choso and your roommate have claimed one of the downstairs bedrooms, which leaves you, geto and toji, and two remaining bedrooms.

the master, upstairs. the guest room, downstairs, which has a double bed.

you’re mentally calculating sleeping arrangements when geto speaks first.

“y/n should take the master.”

your head lifts. geto’s leaning back slightly against the kitchen island now, arms folded loosely. “it’s her house,” he says simply.

heat flickers low in your stomach at how immediate the answer was. before you can respond, toji lets out a deeply offended noise. “what,” he says flatly.

everyone turns toward him. he gestures broadly at himself and geto. “so your solution is to cram two six-foot-plus men into a queen bed?”

“you survived the car,” gojo calls from halfway down the hall.

“barely. my spine compressed.” toji points accusingly at you. “i already sacrificed circulation for this trip.”

your roommate’s eyes flick between you and geto so fast it’s almost cartoonish. “easy fix,” she says. “geto and y/n share.”

silence, and your heart drops to your ass. nobody says anything immediately because apparently every single person in this house has collectively decided to make your life harder.

you stare at your roommate. she grins back innocently. beside him, gojo's girlfriend physically bites the inside of her cheek trying not to smile.

toji shrugs instantly. “works for me.”

“of course it does,” you mutter.

your roommate looks dangerously delighted now. “i mean…”

you whip around. “okay, that's--that's enough.”

“it makes sense.”

“does it?”

“logistically?”

you narrow your eyes. she smiles sweetly. geto has gone suspiciously quiet beside the kitchen island and when you risk one glance towards him he's already looking at you completely unreadable except for the faintest pink creeping up his ears.

your pulse stutters embarrassingly hard. “i can sleep on the couch,” you say quickly.

“absolutely not,” geto says immediately. too fast. the room goes quiet again and you feel every single person notice the tension. especially when geto clears his throat softly afterward. “i mean,” he adds more evenly, “it’s your place.”

gojo looks one second away from exploding with laughter.

toji stretches lazily against the armchair. “well i’m not sharing with him.”

your roommate suddenly stands. “perfect! problem solved.”

you stare at her in horror. “you didn’t solve anything.”

“you and geto get the master.”

your brain short-circuits. you open your mouth to protest then glance toward geto again. his eyes meet yours instantly, and you both look away.

biggest coward of all - your one and only, y/n.

everyone disperses after that. gojo immediately starts trying to connect his phone to the speaker system downstairs, toji disappears toward the back deck with a beer already in hand, choso and his girlfriend vanish into their room carrying bags and giggling like a disease.

you flee upstairs before your friends can torment you any further. your heartbeat still feels weird - you hate that.

the master bedroom sits at the end of the hallway overlooking the water, all soft linen and huge windows glowing gold from the lowering sun outside. you’ve always loved this room, not that you were in it often. throughout your childhood, it was occupied by your parents.

you especially love it at sunset. usually it calms you down.

usually.

right now all you can think about is the fact that suguru geto is sharing this room with you for an entire week.

it's insane and horrible and slightly thrilling in a way you refuse to examine too closely. you drop your bag onto the bed with a sigh before digging through your suitcase for something more comfortable. the drive left you sticky and overheated so you tug your shirt over your head absentmindedly, tossing it onto the bed before reaching behind yourself to unclasp your bra.

finally. freedom.

you’re halfway through pulling on a loose tank top when the bedroom door suddenly opens. you turn automatically.

geto walks in mid-sentence. “i was just gonna leave my ba—”

he stops completely. so do you.

silence detonates through the room because your bra is currently halfway off your arms and your tits are fully out.

oh my god. you yelp immediately, clutching the tank top against your chest. geto looks genuinely horrified. not in a bad way but shocked, like his brain physically short-circuited. his eyes flick upward instantly but it’s too late because the image is already there now, permanently burned into his consciousness forever.

“fuck,” he blurts immediately. “shit. fuck, sorry. jesus christ.”

you make another strangled noise while trying to cover yourself and pull the shirt on at the same time. geto turns around so fast he nearly walks into the doorframe. “i’m sorry,” he says again, voice suddenly rougher than usual. “i thought you were downstairs.”

“it’s okay,” you squeak.

it is not okay. your face feels approximately one million degrees.

geto grabs the doorknob blindly. “i’m gonna— yeah. sorry.” then he practically slams the door shut behind him.

you stand frozen in the middle of the bedroom clutching your shirt to your chest while your nervous system completely implodes.

oh my god.

OH MY GOD.

geto descends the stairs with a flushed face and rigid expression - the kind of forced composure that immediatley attracts attention in a house full of idiots.

gojo looks up from the couch instantly. “…the hell happened to you?”

geto keeps walking toward the kitchen. “nothing.”

“you look like you saw a ghost.”

“something like that,” geto mutters.

friday - 7 pm

by early evening, the house finally settles into something softer. the unpacking chaos dies down, most of your group is watching the ocean from the back porch. you’re cleaning up dinner dishes with choso, who keeps (politely) asking why you’ve got a weird look on your face.

it’s been four hours since that disaster upstairs. the awkwardness still hangs between you and geto, who can’t look you in the eye.

you change into one of your bikinis eventually, tugging an oversized button-up over it before heading downstairs with your glasses perched back on your nose. the second you appear, gojo grins. “beach time.”

“beach time,” you confirm with a small smile.

outside, the air smells like salt and warm cedar as everybody trails down the private wooden path toward the shoreline. the beach stretches mostly empty around you, pale sand glowing gold beneath the lowering sun while waves roll lazily onto shore. your roommate immediately grabs your hand and drags you toward the water. gojo sprints in after you both screaming for no reason. toji lights a cigarette. gojo’s girlfriend seems reluctant to put her feet in the water but she explodes into giggles when the white-haired man hauls her over his shoulders.

geto hangs back slightly. he still can’t think normally, not after upstairs. not after accidentally walking into the bedroom and seeing you half-dressed with your tits out looking shocked and all cute and soft beneath afternoon light.

jesus christ.

he’s trying very hard to be normal about it but the image keeps replaying against his will. the gentle curve of your chest and your startled expression and the way you scrambled to cover yourself.

he feels insane.

“you good?”

geto blinks. choso stands beside him now holding a cooler in one hand.

“fine,” geto says immediately.

choso hums, not believing him at all. ahead of them, you’re standing ankle-deep in the water now while your roommate splashes at gojo nearby. the ocean catches sunset light in shifting ribbons of gold and blue around your legs and fuck, geto’s pulse jumps instantly.

your oversized shirt hangs open slightly over your swimsuit whenever the wind catches it. your hair glows warm at the edges beneath the fading sun while you laugh at something gojo yells from farther down the shoreline.

pretty doesn’t even feel like the right word anymore.

it’s worse than that now. every time geto looks at you lately, something low in his chest tightens painfully. beside him, choso watches quietly for about three seconds. “you should probably stop staring.”

geto tears his eyes away immediately. “i wasn’t.”

“mhm.”

annoying.

they walk farther down the beach together while the others spread out ahead. waves crash softly nearby, the wind cool against their skin. “you know,” choso says after a minute, “she likes you too.”

geto nearly chokes. “…what?”

choso shrugs lightly. “i’m just saying.”

“you shouldn’t say anything.”

“okay.”

barely a pause before geto blurts, “does she actually?”

choso laughs quietly while geto rubs a hand over his jaw with a sigh.

this whole situation feels increasingly impossible to manage. before this trip, there was distance. space and campus distractions. now there’s shared car rides and a shared room and seeing you every five minutes. and apparently accidental nudity.

and of course there’s the fact that geto genuinely likes being around you. he likes talking to you. likes the way your brain works. the way you explain things when you’re excited. the little irritated face you make whenever gojo says something stupid.

it’s becoming a real problem.

“you’ve spent six months pretending you weren’t obsessed with her,” choso observes quietly.

geto glares at him. “i’m not obsessed.”

choso looks unconvinced. fair enough.

the sound of you laughing (at something toji or gojo did, likely) hits geto square in the chest. there’s something different about you here already. you’re lighter, less tense than you are on campus. he watches you push your glasses back up your nose while smiling toward the ocean, sunset washing warm gold across your skin.

beautiful.

the thought arrives with startling clarity this time, like he could spend an entire lifetime memorizing moments exactly like this. you glance back toward him suddenly and your eyes meet across the beach.

there it is again, that pull.

that awful suspended feeling like the rest of the world drops slightly out of focus whenever you look at each other too long.

friday - 9 pm

it's properly evening when you all head back to the beach house. the sky's a pretty shade of dark blue, stars shining little dots above your head. you all file into the house and you say something about not trailing any sand in, looking very pointedly at gojo.

salt clings faintly to your skin, your hair's a mess from the wind, and your brain still hasn't recovered from the way geto looked at you on the beach. you slip into the kitchen first to grab water, hoping for approximately thirty seconds alone to regain your sanity.

so, naturally, geto walks in immediately after you. of course he does.

you busy yourself with the fridge while he moves toward the sink beside you, sleeves pushed up again as he washes sand from his hands.

silence stretches, and it's not uncomfortable, exactly. it's worse - aware. you can feel him there without even looking. the heat of him beside you, the sound of water running over his hands. your pulse does something deeply irritating when his shoulder brushes yours accidentally reaching for a dish towel.

“sorry,” he murmurs.

“you keep saying that this trip.” you regret the words as soon as they come out. why would you bring up that incident?

his mouth twitches slightly.

before either of you can spiral further or say anything else gojo’s voice erupts from the living room.

“movie night?!”

you close your eyes briefly. saved by the idiot.

everybody migrates downstairs afterwards where the basement living room is. it's cozy and there's a huge projector setup against one wall, and an entire cabinet full of old dvds your parents collected over the years.

gojo kneels in front of it like he’s discovering sacred texts. “this is so fucking cool.”

“don’t touch them with your greasy hands,” you warn.

“snob.”

he ends up carefully plucking the first indiana jones movie from one of the shelves and hands it to you. "good pick? i've never seen it."

"great pick," you approve. you crouch down to the dvd player, fiddling with the wires to connect it properly to the projector. behind you, everyone's already claimed spots on the couches.

you don't think much of it until you finally turn around and freeze. one end of the sectional is occupied by toji's giant limbs. the rest has a very comfortable looking choso-and-roommate combo who are already curled into each other. the beanbag has gojo and his girlfriend squished onto it.

the only open spot left is beside geto on the loveseat.

your roommate suddenly becomes very interested in not making eye contact and gojo's girlfriend looks seconds away from laughing. you narrow your eyes at both of them before trudging toward the loveseat.

you sit as far from geto as physically possible, which on the loveseat is not very far. there's maybe a foot of space between you both ,close enough to feel hyperaware of each other's presence.

as the movie starts gojo's already stealing popcorn from his girlfriend and your roommate is practically asleep against choso's chest within minutes. geto's still infuriatingly still beside you, one arm draped along the back of the couch. not touching you, just there, and your heartbeat won't calm down.

you manage to balance this thin line of whatever-this-is between you and geto for half the movie, hardly paying attention to the plot, though you've seen the flick a dozen times. you keep gettind distracted by his arm (it's right there) and how if you inched just a liiiitle bit over, you'd basically be pressed against geto.

your bubble's interrupted by gojo bolting up from the beanbag, shouting about about a plot twist he 'totally saw coming,' and the volume of his screaming is so aggressive you jolt slightly.

your thigh brushes geto's. the rush that flows through you is electric and you both go still instantly. the contact lingers half a second too long before you shift subtly back except now geto's arm behind you lowers slightly. closer. his fingers brush your shoulder lightly and your pulse spikes so hard it hurts.

you stare very intensely at the movie screen pretending your entire nervous system isn’t imploding, then his thumb moves - small absentminded circles against your shoulder through the thin fabric of your shirt.

oh my god oh my god oh my god oh my god -

you stop breathing for a second and beside you, geto’s voice drops low enough only you can hear. “…this okay?”

your throat feels weirdly tight. you nod once, his arm sliding lower around you slowly, careful enough to give you time to pull away if you want.

you don’t.

so instead he gently pulls you against his side, warm and solid, your brain short-circuiting instantly. somehow curling against him feels natural already. your head settles near his shoulder while his arm stays firm around your waist now, thumb still tracing slow patterns against your side.

the movie disappears completely and all you can think about is him. his cologne and the warmth radiating through his hoodie and the steady rise and fall of his breathing beneath your cheek.

your heart feels seconds away from exploding.

geto feels equally doomed. having you tucked against him like this is significantly worse than he imagined. you fit there too easily. soft against his side and warm beneath his arm. he can smell coconut sunscreen faintly lingering on your skin from the beach and it’s actively destroying his ability to think. he's also trying very hard not to tighten his grip every time you shift closer unconsciously.

from across the room, toji announces, with zero social awareness, “i’m cold.”

toji’s voice cuts through the moment like a gunshot. you pull away instantly and geto’s arm drops from around you immediately like he touched fire.

“i can get blankets,” you say quickly, already standing.

“i’ll help,” geto says, glancing at you.

“you don’t have to—”

“it’s fine.”

you swallow thickly and nod, walking up the stairs, legs feeling like jello, geto right behind you.

from the couch, choso's girlfriend grabs a pillow and hurls it directly at toji's head. “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

toji catches it midair, deeply offended. “what?”

“they were having a moment.”

“how was i supposed to know that?”

“because everyone with functioning eyes knew that.”

gojo starts cackling.

when you make it upstairs, the silence between you and geto feels heavy and sharp and you move the hallway quickly trying to regain control of your heartbeat while grabbing blankets from the linen closet.

geto stands too cloise behind you that when you turn accidentally, you nearly walk straight into his chest.

your breath catches. his does too.

for one suspended second neither of you moves.

the hallway feels narrow suddenly and you're focused on warm, dim light spilling softly across his face and his dark eyes fixed on yours. your pulse pounds violently as geto's face flicks briefly to your mouth, then back up.

you think he’s going to kiss you.

you really think he’s going to kiss you.

instead, he quietly says, “…you don’t have to feel weird about downstairs.”

the words feel strange and your stomach drops slightly. “…weird?”

his expression shifts instantly like he realizes too late how that sounded. “no, i just meant—”

“right,” you say quickly.

humiliation flashes hot beneath your skin. he thinks you misread things, or worse, that he did. you step back first, push your glasses up too quickly. “no yeah. obviously.”

geto looks frustrated suddenly. “that’s not what i—”

“it’s okay,” you interrupt softly. “really.”

the tension curdles painfully into awkwardness as you grab as many blankets as possible before he can say anything else, then practically flee downstairs.

everyone looks up when you return. you toss blankets at people mechanically before settling onto the far end of the loveseat, as far away as you can from geto.

your roommate notices immediately. so does choso. so does gojo. gojo's girlfriend would've, too, if she weren't out cold asleep.

geto comes downstairs a second later quieter than before and he hesitates briefly looking toward you, then sits separately too.

on the floor.

distance stretches cold and strange across the room now. your chest aches and you tightly pull a blanket around yourself, staring at the movie screen without really seeing it.

geto watches the side of your face in silence from his spot on the floor and from that point on the rest of the movie feels wrong. nobody says anything outright but everybody notices, because thirty minutes ago you'd been curled into geto's side looking soft and shy while he stared at you like you painted those stars in the sky over the ocean.

now you're curled up like a hermit and geto's face seems almost painful as he stares at his feet.

gojo's eyes flick between the two of you every few seconds with all the subtlety of a car accident. his girlfriend, now awake, elbows him every time

choso notices too, though he’s more discreet about it. he just keeps glancing toward geto occasionally like he’s trying to figure out which one of you panicked first.

(toji remains blissfully clueless.)

you stay tucked beneath your blanket staring blankly at the projector screen while the movie plays out in blurry colors you barely register.

geto looks equally miserable. worse, actually, because now that he's replaying the conversation upstairs in his head, he realizes exactly how badly he phrased it. 'you don't have to feel weird about downstairs'. god. he sounded like he regretted it, like he was trying to backtrack, which is the opposite of what he meant.

he’d only wanted to make sure you weren’t uncomfortable. that you didn't feel pressured and that he hadn't crossed a line. instead he'd watched your face fall in real time. idiot. he's an idiot.

when the credits finally roll, everybody starts talking at once again. gojo arguing about the ending and toji asking if there's leftover chips and your roommate whispering something to choso while glancing at you.

you quietly push the blanket aside and stand. “i’m gonna go to bed,” you mumble. you’re not even sure anyone hears, but geto does. his head lifts immediately but you don't look at him, disappearing upstairs before anyone can stop you.

you trudge to your bedroom, straight to the en suite. the shower helps a little. the warm water and the silence as you scrub salt from your skin and try very hard not to think about how close geto had been in the hallway upstairs. or how badly you wanted him to kiss you.

humiliating.

by the time you finish changing into your university sweatshirt and tiny sleep shorts, exhaustion finally starts creeping in around the edges. the bedroom is dark when you return except for moonlight spilling silver across the floor through the giant windows.

geto isn’t there yet. your stomach twists at the thought but you climb into your side of the bed anyway, pulling the blankets up to your chin while ocean waves crash softly somewhere outside.

you tell yourself not to care, then eventually fall asleep anyway.

when you wake up again, the room is still dark. for one disoriented second you don’t know why your chest feels strange then you glance toward the other side of the bed.

empty. empty?

your brows knit together immediately. the digital clock beside the bed reads 4:07 am. you push yourself upright slowly. “…geto?”

nothing, and the bathroom’s empty too. confused now, you slip quietly out of bed and head downstairs.

the house is silent, dark except for one of the kitchen lights left on.

and there he is. geto's asleep on the downstairs couch, or at least attempting to be. one arm thrown over his eyes, long legs awkwardly cramped against the cushions because the couch is way too short for him, a blanket half falling onto the floor.

your chest tightens. he thought you didn't want him upstairs and guilt floods through you instantly. you carefully walk closer. “geto,” you whisper.

he wakes almost immediately. years of frat-house living apparently killed deep sleep permanently. his arm drops from his face slowly when he realizes it’s you standing there. his hair’s messy, voice rough with sleep. “…hey.”

you hesitate, suddenly nervous again. “why are you down here?”

his eyes flick away briefly. “didn’t wanna make things uncomfortable.”

your heart sinks. “you weren’t,” you say quickly. “i just thought…” you trail off awkwardly.

geto pushes himself upright slowly, watching you carefully in the dark. “thought what?”

you fiddle with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “that maybe you regretted it. when...we were on the couch.”

his expression changes instantly, softens to something almost confused. “what?”

“upstairs,” you mumble. “when you said i didn’t have to feel weird.”

geto exhales quietly through his nose then drops his head back against the couch cushions. “that is not what i meant.”

heat creeps into your face again. “oh.”

he looks up at you then, eyes all sleepy and honest in the dim blue light. “i was trying to make sure you were okay,” he says quietly. “because i wanted to kiss you.”

your breath catches hard. silence fills the room save for the hum of the fridge, ocean waves somewhere outside and your heartbeat going completely feral.

geto's gaze stays fixed on yours. “and i wasn’t sure if you wanted that too.”

you stare at him for one suspended second. “i thought you were going to.”

his mouth parts slightly, something warm flashing through his expression. “yeah,” he says softly. “i was.”

your pulse feels violent now and you shift your weight nervously. “you should come upstairs.”

geto studies your face carefully for another second like he’s making absolutely sure, then stands. the couch blanket slips forgotten onto the floor while you both just stand there in the dark living room breathing the same air.

when geto’s hand brushes lightly against yours heading toward the stairs, neither of you pulls away. walking beside him somehow feels more intimate than the almost-kiss downstairs. your hand brushes his once on the staircase and suddenly your pulse is trying to escape your body.

neither of you talks much once you reach the bedroom either. it’s painfully awkward now in that fragile post-confession way. you hover near your side of the bed, and geto stands near the dresser rubbing the back of his neck.“…sorry again,” he says quietly.

“for what?”

“all of this being weird.”

you blink at him then laugh softly despite yourself. “you saying that is making it weirder.”

his mouth twitches. “right.”

when you both scramble into bed you face opposite directions, approximately three feet apart. you can physically feel the tension across the mattress. as you stare at the ceiling you're trying very hard not to think about the fact that geto is right there.

same bed, same room, close enough that you can hear his breathing if you focus.

saturday - 10 am

you stir faintly as the sun wakes you up, bright enough to peek through the edges of the blinds. you stir faintly, something heavy resting around your waist. your brows pinch together sleepily.

wait.

you blink your eyes open slowly and realize with immediate horror that sometime during the night, both of you migrated completely across the bed. you’re practically tangled together now, your head tucked against geto’s chest, his arm wrapped firmly around your waist beneath the blankets, one of your legs halfway thrown over his.

before you can even process it fully, geto shifts too, his arm tightening instinctively for half a second before he wakes up enough to realize.

you both freeze then very slowly, geto looks down at you. his hair is completely loose from sleeping now, dark strands falling around his face messily and eyes still heavy with sleep.

his voice comes out rough and groggy when he finally speaks. “...morning.”

his voice sounds unfair, deep and sleepy and warm against the quiet room. you want to choke. instead you stare at him for one embarrassingly long second before scrambling backward so fast you nearly fall off the bed. “good morning!”

too loud. way too loud.

geto pushes himself upright slowly, clearly trying not to laugh.

you’re suddenly acutely aware now of your oversized university sweatshirt riding up slightly from sleep and the tiny shorts you forgot you were wearing. you can feel oil slicking to your skin and you probably look horrible, meanwhile geto looks basically offensively attractive for a man who literally just woke up. dark pools of hair fall over his shoulders, features softened

your nervous system cannot survive this week. “i’m gonna change,” you announce suddenly.

geto blinks once. “…okay.”

you point at him very seriously while backing toward the bathroom. “do not come in there.”

that finally gets a real laugh out of him, low and sleepy. “wasn’t planning on it.”

“good.” you disappear into the bathroom before your dignity can deteriorate further and once inside you stare at your reflection while trying to regain basic human functionality.

you slept wrapped around suguru geto. comfortably.

eventually you change into denim shorts and a fitted tank top before putting your hair up and emerging from the bathroom again.

the bedroom’s empty and for a confusing second you think maybe geto left downstairs already, before movement catches your eye through the balcony doors.

geto’s outside stretching in the early morning sunlight. shirtless. warm golden light spills cross his skin while he stretches one arm over his head lazily, back muscles shifting beneath the sunlight. his sweatpants hang low enough that the sharp v-lines disappearing beneath the waistband are very visible.

extremely visible.

you feel warm all over immediately because sure, you knew geto was attractive. obviously. but this feels actively engineered in a lab to ruin your life specifically.

outside, he rolls his shoulders once before turning slightly and immediately catches you staring. your soul leaves your body as geto pauses then very slowly raises a brow. “…morning again.”

heat floods your face so fast it’s almost violent. you look away instantly. “you could warn people.”

“about what?”

you gesture vaguely toward him without looking directly.

“that.”

his laugh drifts softly through the open balcony door and when you glance at him again you see how prettily the sun catches against the winding tattoos along his arms.

geto watches your expression carefully and smirks slightly.

you swear you'll die before noon.

the house is (unfortunately) wide awake as you and geto walk downstairs. gojo’s voice echoes through the kitchen before you even hit the last stair. “WHY IS IT SMOKING?”

you immediately close your eyes. “what did you do,” you say, voice dangerously low.

“nothing!”

you walk into the kitchen to find everyone gathered around the coffee machine like it’s a bomb squad situation. steam hisses violently from the side of it and gojo stands there holding the glass pot. “i pressed brew,” he defends.

“with no water in it,” his girlfriend says.

toji looks half asleep at the island. “natural selection should’ve taken him years ago.”

your roommate's eyes narrow immediately as she sees you and geto walk in. her gaze drifts to the living room, specifically the blanket crumpled on the couch and the pillow on the floor.

you grab a mug to avoid eye contact with her, geto moving toward the counter beside you like this is a completely normal morning.

gojo squints suspiciously. “…you two look weird.”

“you always look weird,” you mutter into your juice.

“true but irrelevant.”

“the coffee machine’s dead by the way,” toji interrupts.

“i figured as much,” you sigh, examining the machine with a frown.

“he killed it,” gojo's girlfriend says.

“it was weak,” gojo argues.

“it was a twelve hundred dollar espresso machine,” you say, rubbing a hand over your eyes. "my parents are so going to kill me."

gojo freezes. “it was how much?”

you groan softly, dropping your forehead against the counter. “i’m going back to bed.”

beside you, geto laughs under his breath, low enough only you heard it. your stomach flips and you glance at him accidentally and immediately regret it because his hair's tied loosely back and he's in a fitted black t-shirt that does nothing helpful for your concentration.

plus you know what's under it. worse - you know what it looks like first thing in the morning sunlight.

your brain needs to be chemically sterilized.

everyone slowly migrates toward breakfast eventually while arguing over plans for the day. gojo offers to toast bagels (provided he doesn't break the toaster, too) and your roommate keeps kicking your ankle beneath the island every time you look at geto too long.

“stop that,” you hiss quietly.

“make me.”

you’re still groggy as hell from waking up at four in the morning and emotionally spiraling before sunrise so eventually everyone starts looking at you expectantly when discussion turns toward plans.

“what’s the weather?” choso asks.

you glance out the giant kitchen windows toward the water. clear skies, barely any wind. perfect.

“it’s gonna be a good beach day,” you say, wrapping your hands around your mug (yes, still full of juice. you'd kill for coffee right now). “we can stay down there most of the afternoon.”

gojo pumps a fist. “beach arc continues.”

“then maybe head into town this evening,” you continue. “there’s a boardwalk and some restaurants by the marina.”

“shopping?” your roommate perks up instantly.

“you don’t need more clothes.”

“counterpoint, yes i do.”

“we can do dinner there,” you say. “then come back for the sunset.”

everyone nods along pretty quickly after that but geto’s not really paying attention anymore, because while you’re talking, sleepy and slightly disheveled in your little tank top with your glasses sliding down your nose, sunlight catches against your skin through the kitchen windows.

all he can think about is waking up with you curled against his chest.

you look over toward him mid-sentence.“does that sound okay?”

geto realizes a full second too late that everyone’s waiting for his answer. “…yeah,” he says quietly, eyes still on you. “sounds perfect.”

after breakfast, the second you head upstairs, your roommate and gojo’s girlfriend follow immediately with excited little grins. you barely make it into the bedroom before your roommate shuts the door behind her dramatically.

“spill.”

you blink. “about what.”

both of them stare at you. “y/n,” gojo’s girlfriend says flatly, “there was visible yearning at breakfast.”

“there was not.”

you move toward your suitcase quickly before they can corner you properly. “nothing happened.”

“liar,” your roommate says instantly.

“nothing serious happened.” you push your glasses back up your nose. you ignore their little comments and start sorting through your bikinis instead. “we’re focusing on beachwear now.”

“avoidance,” your roommate whispers solemnly.

“coping mechanism,” gojo’s girlfriend agrees.

you throw a swimsuit at both of them and eventually the three of you end up sitting cross-legged around the open suitcase debating bikini options. “this one’s cute,” your roommate says, holding up a blue floral set.

“i dunno why i packed that one.”

“this one?”

“too bright.”

gojo’s girlfriend suddenly digs deeper into the suitcase before pausing. “…wait.” she lifts a black triangle bikini from the pile. sleek black fabric and a tiny gold charp dangling between the cups

you laugh nervously. it's smaller than what you typically wear - you prefer more full-coverage, something that doesn't let the plush of your stomach and thighs fully exposed. the top'll push up your tits way more than anything you normally wear.

both girls stare at it reverently like archaeologists uncovering forbidden treasure. “THIS one,” your roommate breathes.

“absolutely this one,” gojo's girlfriend agrees.

you snatch at it immediately. “that’s too...much. i don't -”

“y/n, you're going to look amazing in it, no matter what comments you have to say about yourself or your body,” your roommate says. “you're hot. it's hot. you're going to look good.”

“i’m literally not wearing dental floss to the beach.”

“y/n.”

“what.”

“put it on.”

five minutes later you emerge from the bathroom already regretting every life decision that led here. the bikini really is tiny.

the black fabric contrasts sharply against your skin while the gold charm rests perfectly between your chest. the top pushes everything up unfairly well and the bottoms sit low against your hips with thin strings at the sides.

you instinctively cross your arms slightly. your roommate’s jaw physically drops and gojo’s girlfriend just stares.

“…holy shit,” she says softly.

“you HAVE to wear that.”

“i look insane,” you say, glancing at your feet. "bad insane."

“you look hot.”

heat crawls across your face instantly, and you glance toward the mirror again. okay. maybe it does look good. “it’s more revealing than what i usually wear,” you mumble.

“and you rock it.”

eventually they encourage you to keeping it on and you throw on a loose white cover dress afterward at least, something soft and flowy enough to hide most of the bikini beneath it.

then you start filling your beach bag. book, sunscreen, waterbottle, lip balm, portable charger.

your roommate watches with deep affection. “you pack for the beach like a divorced father.”

“preparation prevents suffering,” you say wisely, and gojo's girlfriend laughs while you shove sunglasses into your hair.

the three of you head downstairs together where the guys are still getting ready. gojo's already shirtless and toji's hoarding chips and choso nearly walks directly into a wall when his girlfriend appears in her bikini.

geto looks up from the kitchen counter when you enter. you feel his gaze drift down your face, down the cover dress you're wearing, and your pulse jumps instantly.

gojo ruins the moment by throwing sunglasses at him. “beach.”

everyone starts heading outside after that. the walk toward the shoreline is warm and breezy, sunlight sifting through dune grass while everybody talks over each other around you. you’re halfway down the road when somebody calls your name suddenly.

you turn instantly, recognizing the voice with a smile. “aaron?”

geto watches as a guy about your age jogs over from the neighboring property, grinning broadly. he's tall, sun-bleached hair, and apparently he knows you very well because he immediately pulls you into a quick hug.

“holy shit,” he laughs. “when’d you get here?”

“yesterday! i didn’t know your family was coming down this week.”

“mom wanted the boat out, even though it's kinda early.”

you smile easily at him - you did practically grow up together, summer after summer.

behind you, your friends have gone suspiciously quiet.

“oh, these are my friends,” you say, gesturing to your group. aaron shakes everyone’s hands easily while you chatter beside him naturally, smiling more openly than you usually do around new people.

geto watches the entire thing in silence and immediately dislikes this guy. he knows it's irrational but you look happy talking to him. not nervous or flustered, just easy and warm and familiar. aaron says something that makes you laugh and geto's jaw tightens.

logically, this means nothing. he knows that, but still. he watches aaron’s hand brush briefly against your arm while talking and suddenly feels the deeply primal urge to throw him into the ocean.

gojo notices instantly, of course, despite being a bumbling oaf most of the time. his eyes slowly widen behind his sunglasses. “he’s jealous,” he whispers as he leans towards choso.

“obviously,” choso whispers back.

the second aaron finally heads back toward his family’s place, the group starts moving again. something's shifted now, though. you notice it almost immediately walking beside geto down the sandy path toward the beach.

he’s quieter. thinking.

gojo notices too, his grin getting increasingly more dangerous every few seconds. eventually he speeds up to walk backward in front of you both. “so,” he says brightly. “beach boyfriend.”

“don’t start,” you sigh.

“he looked rich.”

“his parents are both lawyers and they own three beach houses here.”

“shit, well -”

gojo’s girlfriend drags him away by the arm before he can get worse. bless her.

for a minute it’s just you and geto walking side by side while the others move ahead laughing about something. ocean wind catches softly at your cover dress, your sunglasses rest pushed into your hair.

geto finally speaks. “…you two close?”

you glance over. his expression’s careful, casual sounding. “kinda,” you say. “i only really see him in summers though. it's been a while.”

geto hums once. silence stretches another few steps then before he can stop himself, he asks, “you ever date?”

your brows lift slightly.

geto stutters, “i just mean—”

“no, i know what you mean.” you laugh softly under your breath a little awkwardly now. “not seriously. we messed around a little as teenagers.”

geto goes still. you say it so casually, like it means nothing, and his brain instantly starts supplying images he absolutely does not want. you younger, laughing with that guy at bonfires, swimming together at night.

that guy touching you.

“oh,” he says evenly.

you glance at him sideways. “…you okay?”

“fine.”

liar. he’s absurdly jealous which is insane because he knows he has zero claim over you whatsoever. (and yet he thinks about last night and how you almost kissed and that soft look in your eyes and he feels waves of jealousy wash over him again.)

the thought of anyone else having touched you makes something dark and unpleasant twist low in his stomach. the walk to the beach is silent and the shoreline opens wide before all of you again.

everyone starts setting up camp and the warm sand burns pleasently beneath your feet. umbrellas, chairs, coolers, towels are all placed in motion

toji tries to ram an umbrella into the sand with zero clue what he's doing and you laugh softly, setting your beach bag down near one of the chairs.

geto watches you from a few feet away while pretending to unfold a towel as you reach for the ties of your cover dress.

his brain short-circuits instantly, watching the thin fabric slip from your shoulders. jesus christ, that bikini is devastating.

sleek little triangle top, gold charm catching sunlight perfectly between your chest, tiny straps against your skin. the bottoms sit low on your hips with those little thin side ties and geto physically has to look away for a second because blood rushes south immediately.

fast.

he’s actually in hell because now not only does he remember accidentally seeing your chest upstairs yesterday, but he also has visual confirmation that your body is genuinely engineered to ruin his life specifically.

nearby, your roommate whistles. “see?” she says smugly. “told you.”

heat creeps across your neck while you shove your sunglasses on quickly. “stop making announcements.”

toji glances from you to geto and laughs under his breath. “…dude.”

geto doesn’t answer. he's still staring until toji smacks his shoulder hard enough to jolt him back to reality. “get in the ocean.”

geto blinks. “…what?”

“cold water.”

realization hits instantly and his ears turn red immediately.

“shut the fuck up,” geto mutters. gojo walks by and smirks, shouting no way at the top of his lungs with absolute glee.

you look between all of them confused. “what’s happening?”

“nothing,” geto says too quickly.

toji’s grin turns downright evil. “he just really likes the scenery.”

your face burns alive instantly.

geto looks seconds away from committing homicide. he starts trudging towards the ocean, following everyone who's running towards the water.

choso's girlfriend stops him, pausing with the slyest smile you've ever seen in your life. “y/n needs someone to put sunscreen on her.”

geto stares at her blankly. “…okay?”

your roommate glares at him pointedly. “you dumbass.”

when realization hits, geto goes still, cause you’re standing there in that tiny black bikini looking suddenly very interested in literally anything except him, and now he’s imagining touching sunscreen onto your skin for an extended period of time while already painfully hard.

cool.

great.

awesome.

gojo’s girlfriend physically drags your roommate toward the lake before either of you can escape.

“have fun!” she calls sweetly.

silence settles immediately afterward except for distant waves and screaming from the water where gojo’s already drowning dramatically. you stand awkwardly beside the chairs clutching the sunscreen bottle and geto pushes a few loose strands of hair back from his face slowly before reaching for it.

his fingers brush yours. your pulse jumps. (his does too.)

“…so,” he says.

“mhm.”

“…where do you want it?”

you choke, brain interpresting that in the worst way possible.

geto's eyes widen slightly. “i didn’t mean it like that.” his ears are turning red again.

“right,” you mumble weakly. god, the tension between you lately feels actively lethal.

geto clears his throat once. “i just meant sunscreen.”

“i know.”

“okay.”

you very quietly mumble, “…just put it everywhere.” you realize how that sounds approximately one second too late.

geto shuts his eyes briefly like he’s asking the universe for strength then gestures toward the towel laid out beneath one of the umbrellas. “you can, erm, lay down. or stand. dunno.”

you nod quickly, and the sand's warm beneath the towel as you settle carefully onto your stomach. geto kneels beside you, close that you can hear the bottle of sunscreen click open. your heartbeat pounds harder instantly.

“tell me if i’m using too much,” he says quietly.

“okay.”

cool sunscreen hits your shoulders first, then his hands. geto’s fingers spread the lotion slowly across your skin, warm palms gliding carefully along your shoulders and upper back.

he’s trying very hard to stay normal about this but your skin’s warm from the sun and soft beneath his hands and when you shiver slightly when his thumbs press near the base of your neck it certainly doesn’t help his…situation.

geto swallows hard. “…cold?”

“no.” your voice comes out quieter than usual.

you hear him exhale softly through his nose and his hands move lower slowly, fingers spreading sunscreen across the middle of your back now, dragging lower and lower inch by inch. it feels intimate, the kind of slow touch that settles beneath your skin.

you wonder, briefly, what your roommate, or gojo’s girlfriend, or choso, or any of them really, think of the sight (if they’re looking) geto leaning over you beneath the umbrella with his hair falling loose around his face slightly while his hands move slowly across your skin like he’s memorizing it. you lying there visibly tense every time he touches you.

“you missed a spot,” you mumble weakly, pointing toward your side mostly just to say something.

mistake. big huge mistake because you throb as geto’s hand slides carefully along your waist, thumb brushing just beneath the curve of your ribs. as your breath catches so does his and his hand lingers one dangerous second too long against your side before pulling away.

“…done,” he says roughly.

you sit up slowly, face to face with him at extremely close range. his hair’s falling into his eyes slightly from the wine, jaw tight, expression unreadable except for the very obvious tension simmering beneath it.

the moment snaps apart before either of you can do something catastrophically stupid. “y/n!” gojo’s voice echoes from the water.

you jerk backward slightly like you’d been caught doing something you shouldn’t and geto clears his throat immediately and pushes to his feet a little too fast. “…i’m gonna get in the lake.”

“okay,” you say too quickly.

he nods once before practically escaping into the water, leaving you sitting there afterward feeling completely disoriented. your skin still tingles everywhere he touched so to attempt to distract yourself you grab your book from your beach bag.

it doesn’t work. you read the same sentence six times in a row without processing a single word because all you can think about is the feeling of geto’s hands slowly sliding over your waist.

you’re hopeless.

your roommate and gojo’s girlfriend eventually wander back up from the shoreline dripping water everywhere and both immediately clock your expression.

“wow y/n,” your roommate says sweetly.

“don’t.”

“your sunscreen is blended sooo thoroughly.”

gojo’s girlfriend nods solemnly. “very even application.”

you close your book dramatically over your face. “i hate both of you.”

“he looked one touch away from cardiac arrest.”

“i’m serious,” you say, voice muffled from beneath the pages.

“and you looked like you were gonna melt into the towel,” your roommate adds wisely. you groan into the book.

out in the lake, geto’s standing waist-deep in freezing water, mind still scrambled, because shit, he can still feel the shape of your waist beneath his hands. he can still remember the tiny sound you made when he touched your side.

he thinks you might have noticed his situation downstairs. the water helps a little, at least, and beside him, gojo suddenly appears floating on his back. “you know,” he says conversationally, “you were sporting a fucking hard-on.”

geto nearly drowns him. “what the fuck is wrong with you.”

“you could see it from across the beach.”

“why were you looking, you piece of shit.”

“because you looked stupid.”

toji barks out a laugh nearby. “i’ve never seen you this bad over anybody.”

geto drags both hands through his wet hair with visible frustration. he knows they're right. this is bad. worse than bad. you're going to be upstairs sharing a bed every night walking around in tiny little outfits and looking at him with those shy nervous eyes whenever he gets too close.

from your spot in your chair on the beach you glance to the shoreline again over the edge of your book. you make the mistake of seeing geto standing waist-deep in the water with his wet hair pushed back.

by late afternoon, you're all making your way to the marina, everyone sun-kissed and buzzed off coolers. there's cute little boutiques with sun-faded signs, ice cream stands, tourists wandering around with shopping bags, boats bobbing against the docks while seagulls scream overhead.

it should be relaxing but instead, everyone’s acting weird. well, not everyone - gojo is still normal, unfortunately, which means he’s being loud as shit and trying on ugly sunglasses in every store while his girlfriend tells him he looks like a divorced dad. toji's carrying everyone's bags very bedgrudgingly and choso’s girlfriend keeps linking arms with him and dragging him into little souvenir stores.

meanwhile you and geto keep ending up next to each other by complete accident, which is to say, absolutely on purpose by everyone else. you’re walking along the docks eating gelato at one point when your roommate suddenly grabs your arm. “come into this store with me.” before you can respond, she’s already yanking you inside.

you blink, looking back where geto’s left standing outside with gojo and toji before you get tugged into a store.

gojo smirks immediately. “you gonna keep staring at the door like that?”

geto doesn’t even look at him. “shut up.”

“bro.”

“satoru.”

“you’ve had the expression of a war widow since sunscreen.”

by dinner, if possible, things have gotten even weirder. you all end up at this marina-side restaurant right on the water, string lights overhead and music drifting faintly from somewhere nearby.

the seating arrangement was personally made to ensure you don't survive the meal, obviously, what with gojo and his girlfriend together, choso and his girlfriend together, toji sitting like he’d rather die, and you and geto next to each other. close enough that your knees almost brush beneath the table.

drinks come, everyone's talking about the beach tomorrow and whether they should rent paddleboards. "we have the budget, but everyone has to pitch in," you say, which makes toji groan.

gojo says, "i saw that you can get a boat tour? we could go fishing or something."

you're all talking animatedly (save for geto, who's oddly quiet and keeps looking at you from the corner of his eye) then the waiter comes over. he's probably around your guys' age, eyes skimming over gojo's girlfriend tucked under gojo's arm, choso's girlfriend pressed against choso's shoulder, then you.

sitting alone, or rather alone-adjacent. “and what can i get for you?” the waiter asks you with a smile that lingers a little too long.

you look up awkwardly. “um…”

“good choice on the drink,” he says after glancing at your glass. “not everybody appreciates taste.”

your roommate nearly chokes on her water and you stare at the waiter awkwardly. “thanks?”

the waiter grins. “you guys visiting?”

you can physically feel everyone at the table stop listening to their own conversations. geto’s gone silent beside you, more silent then earlier. “yeah,” you say after a beat.

“nice,” the waiter says, leaning slightly against the table. “hope someone’s shown you the good spots around town.”

you laugh weakly because what the fuck do you even say to that. “uh…”

“hey, if you need someone to show you around, i get off at ten.”

“i think i'll get the chicken parm?” you say, laughing nervously. “please.”

“or maybe i could just give you my number,” the waiter says with a smile that makes your toes curl in disgust.

geto finally looks up, slowly, expression completely unreadable except for the fact that he looks deeply unimpressed. “she’s very clearly not interested.”

silence. complete silence. you even stop breathing, and the waiter blinks, looks between you and geto. “…sorry, man,” he says with an awkward little laugh, hands up. “can’t blame me for trying.”

geto doesn’t even smile. “yeah.” he pauses before saying, coldly, “just get the food and go.”

the waiter straightens. “alright.” he scribbles something on his pad quickly, then mutters, “didn’t know your boyfriend was so serious,” and walks away.

the silence is nuclear. nobody says anything, nobody moves, and your face is so hot you think you might actually die.

because boyfriend.

because geto didn’t correct him.

because nobody corrected him.

gojo is staring at his plate so hard his shoulders are shaking. your roommate won’t look at you. choso’s girlfriend is chewing on her straw like she’s witnessing live television and toji actually says nothing for once in his miserable life.

you risk one glance sideways to see geto staring straight ahead, jaw tight, ears slightly red.

you immediately look away.

dinner proceeds in the most painful silence known to man.

conversation starts back up eventually, but it’s all stilted and everyone keeps exchanging looks when they think you and geto aren't noticing.

you barely taste your food. geto says maybe twelve words the entire meal.

when the bill comes everyone’s kind of ready to leave purely to escape the tension. checks get split, gojo grabs his and his girlfriend’s without looking. choso pays for his girlfriend’s too.

toji stares at his own bill like it insulted his bloodline.

“why the fuck is grilled salmon thirty dollars.”

“because you ordered grilled salmon,” gojo says.

you reach for your wallet quickly.

“i got mine.”

“same,” geto says at the exact same time.

your fingers brush awkwardly near the bill tray, both of you jerking back like you touched fire. chairs scrape back and everyone starts filing out onto the marina walkway under the string lights and the tension between you and geto follows like a third person walking right between you.

saturday - 10 pm

on the drive back to the beach house, gojo’s girlfriend controls the aux while everybody talks intermittently about dinner and shopping bags and whether toji could survive prison after complaining about restaurant prices loud enough for the waiter to hear.

but underneath all of it sits that awful electric awareness between you and geto. every glance feels more loaded than before now, especially after the boyfriend comment. especially because a small part of you didn't want to correct it.

you stare out the window most of the drive pretending the cool night air coming through the cracked glass is enough to settle your heartbeat. (newsflash - it isn't).

when you finally pull into the driveway, the sky’s gone deep navy overhead, stars scattered bright across the water beyond the dunes. gojo stretches dramatically exiting the car. “i feel alive. this was a good day.”

“you screamed at a seagull today,” his girlfriend says.

“well, it was disrespectful. did you see how it took the hotdog out of my hand -”

everyone slowly filters toward the back deck unloading leftovers and drinks while the ocean crashes softly somewhere below. you’re halfway through carrying cups into the kitchen when gojo’s girlfriend suddenly says, “bonfire?”

you all immediately agree and you're honestly grateful for the distraction, because if you had to go straight upstairs right now and exist in a quiet bedroom with geto after today, you think your nervous system might actually collapse.

outside, the fire crackles warmly against the cool night air while everyone settles into chairs scattered around the pit.

you end up directly across from geto. the flames flicker gold across his face while he leans back slightly in his chair listening to gojo argue about horror movies beside him.

he’s not really listening, you can tell. every few seconds his eyes drift back to you again, and the look in them makes your stomach twist painfully.

yearning.

there’s genuinely no other word for it anymore. it’s there in every glance and every pause and every second too long his eyes stay on your face. you feel warm all over despite the ocean breeze.

around the fire, conversation drifts lazily between everyone else toji and gojo arguing and your roommate curled against choso’s side and music humming faintly from someone’s speaker. nobody comments on the way you and geto keep looking at each other. they just quietly notice, giving you both space.

across the fire, geto feels like he’s losing his mind a little.

you look beautiful tonight, your hair slightly windblown, oversized hoodie on, firelight dancing warm across your skin while you smile softly at something choso says.

he can’t stop looking at you and doesn’t really want to. his chest physically aches with it now, this awful wanting.

god, geto’s never been this gone over anybody before.

when yawns start appearing, everybody heads inside. gojo drags his girlfriend upstairs and your roommate shooting you one deeply knowing look before disappearing too.

it’s just you and geto left outside.

you crouch near the firepit gathering empty bottles quietly while embers glow soft orange against the dark.

geto watches you for a second.“…wanna walk to the beach?”

your heart stumbles immediately. “sure.”

the shoreline’s almost completely dark except for moonlight silvering the waves. sand cool beneath your feet, wind soft against your skin. you walk side by side in silence at first. comfortable silence this time. above you, the stars stretch endlessly bright across the sky untouched by city lights.

you stop eventually near the waterline where waves curl around your ankles gently before retreating again.

geto looks at you like he’s trying to memorize something. like his chest hurts with it. like every glance all semester somehow led here, to you, moonlight catching softly against your face when you tilt your head upward to the stars.

beautiful.

the thought, though not new, hits him so hard it almost steals his breath. “…you know what the worst part is?” he says quietly.

you glance over. “what?”

geto laughs softly once, self-aware and helpless. “i spent months trying not to want you this bad.”

your breath catches yet his eyes stay fixed on yours, steady and honest in a way that makes your pulse pound harder. “and now i don’t think i’ll ever stop.”

something in your chest melts completely. there's no teasing in his voice, just aching sincerity. geto looks at you like you're something precious and terrifying and like you're everything all at once, and suddenly you can’t stand the distance anymore.

so you kiss him.

his breath catches sharply against your mouth before he melts instantly, completely. one hand slides gently against your waist while the other cups your face like he can’t believe you’re real, kissing you back slow and deep beneath the stars. warm, careful for approximately two seconds before all that pent-up wanting finally cracks open.

you feel him exhale shakily against your lips. it feels a lot like relief.

you kiss him back just as deep, hands sliding up into his hair you've been aching to hold for months now, tangling your fingers there, and he groans into your mouth, pulling you more flush against him.

your toes curl from the sand when you feel his hardness poking against the top of your stomach.

from one kiss?

when he pulls back it's reluctant, his hands cupping your face and staring into your eyes like you're the only person he's ever seen.

"should we go back?" you ask softly, and he nods immediately. your lips are tingling, geto's hand laced tightly with yours like he physically can't let go now that he finally has you. every few steps he glances at you again with that same dazed expression that makes your stomach flip violently.

like he still can’t believe you kissed him first.

the house is dark when you slip inside, quiet, everyone asleep in their rooms already. you barely make it through the kitchen before geto pulls you gently against him again, kissing you hard enough to steal the breath from your lungs.

you laugh softly into it, hands catching against his chest while he kisses you like he’s trying to memorize the feeling.

months of tension finally snapping all at once.

you nearly stumble into the staircase together trying to stay quiet and by the time you reach the bedroom, both of you are flushed and breathless and grinning a little helplessly.

the door clicks shut behind you and suddenly geto’s hands are on your waist again and your back hits the wall softly beside the door while he kisses you deeper, warm and hungry. your fingers slide automatically into his hair again and he makes this low sound against your mouth that nearly destroys you.

“fuck,” he murmurs quietly against your lips. you can feel how nervous he is underneath it too though, how his hands careful despite how badly he wants you. you tug at the hem of his shirt first and geto pulls back just enough to drag it over his head quickly before immediately kissing you again.

shirtless in the dim moonlit bedroom, he looks unfair. your eyes stare at the tattoos winding along his arms and chest, dark hair loose around his face from the beach wind.

you stare for half a second too long because geto's cheeks flush slightly. (this, of course, makes him infinitely more attractive.)

“don’t look at me like that,” he mutters.

you laugh breathlessly while your hands slide down his chest, his muscles tensing beneath your touch instantly. his fingers hook gently into the hem of your hoodie, hesitation flickering briefly across his face. you nod softly, and that's all he needs.

geto pulls the hoodie over your head slowly and when it drops to the floor he just stares quietly. his eyes drag across your skin with open awe now, nothing hidden in his expression anymore.

this is how he wanted to see you. not startled or accidental. wanted.

heat blooms across your entire body under that look and geto steps closer again slowly, one hand settling against your waist while the other brushes lightly up your side like he’s still convincing himself you’re real. “…pretty girl,” he says softly.

you kiss him again immediately because otherwise you think you might combust, your fingers fumbling with the button of his pants while geto's lips start to press kisses down your jaw.

your back eventually hits the mattress gently as you both stumble toward the bed, and for one second he hovers over you breathing hard while moonlight spills silver across the sheets behind him. he's gazing at you with those lidded eyes, his boxers strained as his hands run up your stomach slowly, savouring, until he's cupping your tits in his hands, squeezing with gentle reverence.

“…i wanna take my time with you,” he says quietly. one hand moves to slide up your thigh while he properly settles over you, his other elbow braced beside your head. one of his legs slips naturally between yours and the pressure makes your breath catch immediately.

a faint smugness flickers briefly through his expression now, that quiet confident energy finally surfacing. “there she is,” he murmurs softly.

heat floods your face instantly and geto kisses you again before you can hide from it. your lips, deeply, tongue sliding against yours, brushing along your mouth. then your jaw, then your neck. his mouth lingers just beneath your ear, sucking gently, while his hand drifts carefully along your waist, thumb brushing slow circles into your skin.

“fuck,” he mutters quietly against your throat. his voice sounds wrecked already.

your fingers slide through his hair, tugging lightly without thinking, and geto exhales sharply against your neck before lifting his head to look at you. dark eyes and flushed cheeks and hair falling loose around his face.

he looks gone.

completely gone for you.

his hand smooths slowly along your waist again before drifting higher, fingertips tracing along your side with almost unbearable patience. your breathing stutters when he holds your tits again, kneading them once before rolling your stiffened nipples between his fingers.

“you okay?” he asks softly.

you nod quickly and he kisses you again while his thumbs slowly brush over sensitive skin, drawing another shaky breath from you. the sound goes straight through him - geto's spent months imagining this. wondering what you'd sound like, how you'd react to him touching you.

(the little, jealous part of his brain remembers aaron. he shoves the thought away immediately.)

reality is infinitely worse for his self control. you squirm slightly beneath him and his leg presses more firmly between yours automatically.

your breath catches harder this time and geto looks at you, something a little darker simmering beneath his eyes. “that feel good?” he murmurs quietly.

you hide your face briefly against his shoulder. “…maybe.”

his laugh comes soft against your hair. “maybe?”

heat floods your face when he tilts your chin back toward him gently. “use your words, pretty girl.”

your stomach twists and you nod once. “yeah.”

“yeah what?”

you stare at him in disbelief. “you’re annoying.”

he grins properly for the first time all night. “and you’re avoiding the question.” before you can answer, he kisses you again, swallowing the tiny embarrassed sound you make while his hand drifts lower along your thigh slowly.

your fingers curl against his shoulders when his mouth returns to your neck again, kissing lower this time while his hand squeezes gently at your thigh. when his hands defly dip into the waistband of your shorts, tugging them down, you moan quietly, head turning to the side.

he makes you so nervous and excited your heart feels like it's going to lurch out of your chest.

"can i touch you here, pretty girl?" he murmurs, fingers sliding along your inner thighs until they ghost over your cotton panties. if you'd known you'd end up like..this tonight, youd've chosen a more tasteful pair of underwear.

"please," you whisper, pulling him to your mouth as his fingers press against your clothed cunt, applying just enough pressure to make you mewl into his lips. you feel him smile, pushing your panties to the side before running a finger through your folds.

"you're wet," he chuckles before pushing his finger in, crooking it against your spongey insides. your head falls back against the pillow, hands digging into his back.

"oh my god, geto," you whimper, lips parting.

"suguru," he corrects, pushing another digit in, curling them deep enough to find the gooey spot that has your nails making crescent against his arms.

"suguru, please, 's so good," you babble, thrusting your hips to meet his hand.

he stills for a moment at the sound of his name on your lips. how you moan his name so prettily, begging for more. he leans down, kissing you hard, fingers moving faster and faster inside you, the sound lewd and so dirty and buzzing right to his crotch.

geto feels how you clench around his fingers, and he swallows thickly at the thought of how you'll take his cock. he groans, low and wrecked, capturing your nipple between his lips, teeth grazing along it slightly.

your head's dizzy, stars behind your eyes, gazing at geto and how he's sucking little bruises along your tits, up your neck, down your stomach. constellations of bite marks across your body.

"suguru, i—i'm close," you say, voice breaking. his eyes darken and he thumbs tiny circles over your clit, his two - no, three - fingers curling against all the right spots inside your core.

when you cum, body pulsing hard and hot in waves that make you tingle all over, geto groans, fingering you slowly until your breathing evens. the sight of you coming undone for him has him hardening impossibly more in his boxers, now damp at the front with precum.

you're panting below geto and your hand inches to his boxers, itching to tug them off. "you sure?" he asks quietly, restraint obvious in his voice.

"i'm sure, suguru," you say softly, kissing him again, palming over his boxers. he lets out a strained sound as you reach to pull them down and he quickly obliges, shrugging them off.

suguru geto, in all of his naked glory, is the most beautiful man you've ever seen.

you're rather partial to his pretty, leaking cock, too.

your eyes trace over the vein that runs along one side, the flushed, mushroomed dip, slick with precum, the thick shaft. how it twitches slightly under your gaze, hard and angled up towards his abs. you watch in a daze as he pumps himself slowly, his lips parted, watching you sprawled out so prettily for him, your hair like a halo around your head as you lay there.

you watch his gaze drift down your body, down past your tits, down past the splattering of marks he's left across practially every square inch of your skin. down to your pussy, still slick from your orgasm.

you squirm under geto's face and he tuts, leaning down and pressing his tip to your core. "don't have to be nervous, pretty girl," he says, kissing the side of your neck. his cock brushes against your folds and you both moan quietly.

geto's forehead drops to yours as one of his hands hooks through your thighs, pushing it up as he pushes in slowly. you wince at the pressure, eyes watering slightly - none of the men you've been with have been this...proportionate. he's quick to wipe the tears from your eyes, kissing your cheeks softly, jaw tight as he pushes in more, and more, passing each wall of muscle with a grunt.

"you're squeezing me, y/n, shit," he manages, pushing your thigh higher to deepen the angle. when he finally bottoms out his eyes roll back and you whine.

loud.

geto pushes his thumb into your mouth, his hand cupping your face, and you suck on it gently, face contorting with pleasure as he starts to thrust slowly, struggling to fit his cock back in when he pulls out.

"so tight," he groans raggedly, and all you can do is moan in response, his thumb still in your mouth, his other hand still warm against your thigh, sliding up to squeeze your waist. when geto manages to set a slow, steady pace, he's grunting every time he thrusts in fully, watching your hands grip the sheets desperately.

"right there, suguru," you moan, muffled against his thumb.

"here, pretty girl?" he rumbles, pistoning his cock deep and faster now, brushing your cervix with every thrust.

you nod, babbling incoherently, tugging his hair, holding his biceps, wrapping around his neck, touching everywhere you can and he lowers himself, chest pressed to yours. your tits soft against his skin, your tongue swirling around his thumb.

he holds you reverently, kneading the plush of your thighs as you clench around him, chasing another orgasm. you pull his thumb out of your mouth with a pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the digit. "suguru," you whimper, "suguru, suguru, suguru—"

"yeah, i know," he coos, thrusting so deep inside you you can see where he pokes at your stomach, the bulge bumping against your skin every time his cock presses deep in your cunt. "look at that, pretty girl. taking me sooo good, yeah? so good for me."

blood rushes hot through your body, liquid heat coursing through your veins, and your back arches off the bed, pulling geto impossibly closer to you as you moan softly into his ear, biting his neck as you feel your climax build and build and build.

"are you close? 'm gonna cum," he says, voice rough and eyes blown wide. "you feel me here?" he presses his hand to where his cock bulges against your stomach, the pressure stealing the air from your lungs.

"inside," you breathe, panting now. "cum in me, suguru."

and so he does, seconds later, because your voice saying those words along with his name fully break him. he holds you against him as he cums, pulsing thick and hot spurts of release, coating your walls. he rubs circles over your nipples as you climax, too, with a cracked moan of his name and your hands tangled in his hair.

after, you’re both a little breathless, tangled in rumpled sheets with the balcony doors cracked open enough for the ocean air to drift in. geto just stays close, one arm wrapped around your waist while his fingers lazily trace little patterns against your skin like he doesn’t quite know what to do with all this softness in his chest. you’re tucked against him, cheek pressed to his shoulder, listening to the steady thump of his heartbeat finally slowing down. “…you okay?” he asks after a while, voice low and sleep-rough now.

you tilt your head to look at him, how pretty he looks with his pink lips and flushed cheeks. you smile softly. “you’ve asked me that like eight times.”

“i know.”

“paranoid?”

he huffs a quiet laugh, looking at the ceiling. “a little.”

your heart squeezes and you lift yourself enough to kiss him softly. geto smiles into it, eyes closing briefly. "you like me," he murmurs, and you bury your face in his shoulder so he can't see you smiling.

he helps you clean up, gently rubbing a warm cloth along your inner thighs where his cum's dried, hands you your hoodie, tucks blankets around you when you both collapse into bed. when you instinctively curl toward the far side like you did the first night, geto just blinks at you. "...seriously?"

you look over. "what?" and he wordlessly lifts an arm. your stomach flips and you slide back over, letting him pull you into his chest. his chin rests lightly on top of your head, one hand smoothing once down your back.

sometime in the middle of the night, you both fall asleep smiling.

sunday - 8 am

the next morning feels surreal. when you wake, blinking sleepily, you realize two things immediately. one: you're basically half on top of geto. two: he's already awake, watching you. the second your eyes meet, he smiles, small and sleepy and completely soft. "...hi," you mumble.

"hi." his voice is still rough with sleep and you both just stare at each other for a second like idiots then start laughing quietly for no reason at all.

everything feels weirdly giddy, soft. you brush hair out of his face, he catches your wrist and kises your palm. as you both get dressed you exhange stupid little smiles the entire time.

however, when you both head downstairs together, something awful starts to creep into your brain. there's no way anyone heard, right...? gojo's girlfriend is a notoriously heavy sleeper, though you don't know much about how gojo sleeps...toji and choso and your roommate, being downstairs, couldn't have heard anything at all. and you weren't that loud.

the living room comes into view where choso's sitting drinking coffee (from a new, temporary machine you bought at the marina yesterday). when he sees you and geto walk down the stairs he goes tomato red and your soul leaves your body. beside you, geto's trying so hard to act normal.

"morning," he says in the most suspiciously casual voice ever.

choso makes a sound that is not a word. "...morning." he looks away so fast he nearly spills coffee on himself. you stare at him, horrified. there is no way. there is absolutely no way they heard anything. they couldn't have.

before you can spiral further, gojo strolls in from the kitchen, looking smug for no reason. "good morning!" he says brightly. you narrow your eyes immediately. never trust that tone. he starts making coffee, chatting casually about breakfast plans like a completely normal person. too normal.

geto relaxes as gojo stirs sugar into his cup. takes a sip, then says, "so."

you feel the danger immediately. gojo glances over with the smile of a man about to ruin lives. " 'cum in me , suguru'?" he says thoughtfully. "that's the best you got?"

you swear time stops. geto goes completely motionless, full red ears to collarbone. your body leaves this earthly plane. choso coughs so hard he nearly dies on the couch. from the back porch, where you now see your roommate, gojo's girlfriend, and toji watching with rapt attention, they all burst laughing.

which means. oh my god.

you stare blankly at the wall in front of you and geto slowly turns toward gojo. "i'm going to kill you."

gojo raises both hands, grinning. "hey, don't shoot the messenger. walls are thin, lover boy."

you make a strangled noise and bury your face into your hands. somehow, impossibly, gojo makes it worse. "also," he says, taking another casual sip, "the name thing was kinda hot. personal fave detail."

"SATORU."

"WHAT? i'm being supportive!"

you’re used to it by now. you’ve adjusted to this life of yours as one of sukuna’s concubines. his favourite at that—which automatically makes you a victim of verbal (and sometimes physical) harassment. the other women in the sorcerer’s harem can’t stand you.

your eyes are glued to the path you’re walking on. your lady-in-waiting doesn’t utter a single word as well, holding her head low as she follows behind you.

you know that the concubines will immediately pick on you if you make eye contact with one of them.

it’s moments like these where you actually miss sukuna. his intimidating presence and (in)direct threats would immediately make the others fall silent. you wouldn’t have to hear them call you nasty names.

though, unlucky you, sukuna’s out on business. uraume is left as a temporary supervisor of the entire estate. to make sure nothing goes wrong. despite all of that, you still find yourself in an unfortunate predicament.

“hey. we’re talking to you,” a female voice rings from behind you.

it isn’t your lady-in-waiting, but the brown-haired woman whom you recognise as one of sukuna’s concubines. her name. . . you can’t recall.

she forcefully pushes your shoulder with two fingers. you stumble backwards, nearly tripping over the material of your kimono. you look down at the hem and notice a subtle muddy stain on the cloth now that you’ve accidentally stepped on it.

you curse the woman out under your breath. the kimono is one of your favorites since sukuna had it made and tailored to suit your taste.

“my apologies,” you mumble politely. you do not wish to make a scene as much as you want to defend yourself. not in front of those poor servants who are simply minding their business and tending to the garden.

the lady scoffs. another one joins. soon, four of them surround you, leaving you no place to escape the situation. with every step you take back, they take one forward. it’s intimidating, though you try to make it seem like you’re not afraid of their words.

“tell me,” the blonde one speaks up and her hand trails up your arm. she twirls a strand of your hair around her index finger before harshly tugging at it. you wince, but she doesn’t budge, “tell me what sukuna sees in a worthless slut like you.”

it’s about sukuna every time. you’re getting sick of the way they treat you because of something you can’t control. you don’t know why he favors you out of all the other women at his service. the way you’re treated because of something that you cannot change is getting frustrating.

the brown-haired woman follows the other lady. she pushes you until the back of your shoe bumps against the edge of a fountain. the grande fountain in the yard that you always love to admire.

the tugs at your hair get stronger. your patience is wearing thin. you take some time to reply to the other concubines, hoping to silence them for now.

you look up at the group surrounding you—a grin tugging at your lips as you decide to taunt them. you scoff, “hah. you can’t blame me for satisfying my lord better than all of you could do together.”

audible gasps sound from the group of concubines. they can’t believe you had the audacity to talk back and be disrespectful about it. the comment you made clearly struck a nerve. or in this case multiple.

“oh, you slut!” the blonde one shrieks, clearly more than upset by your doubts about her services as a concubine.

in a flash of rage, she gives you a firm push, sending you backwards until you fall into the fountain with a loud splash.

your lady-in-waiting is the one gasping this time. she looks at you with great worry in her eyes, not knowing if she needs to go fetch uraume or not. she doesn’t have much say in the matter either way.

you’re humiliated by this. you can feel the water seep into the robes of your kimono, staining the beloved material. your hair is wet as well, the water droplets falling off the ends of your locks.

“pah, you look pathetic,” one of the lower ranking concubines chimes in—giggling at the unfortunate situation you got yourself in. the others follow with their own high pitched laughs, “serves you right.”

you don’t even know what you should do. your body feels heavy because of the water wetting your clothes. your nails drag along the fountain’s surface, trying to compose yourself before you do anything irrational.

you grit your teeth and take a deep breath. you’re shaking, both because of the cold settling over your body as well as the anger simmering inside of you. you open your mouth to say something, only to be interrupted.

by someone you didn’t expect to see any time soon.

“enough.”

the deep tone sends chills down your spine. the volume of the male voice nearly shakes the ground. it’s powerful, dominant and quite aggressive. as if the owner of the voice is pissed. no, more than that.

the group of concubines freeze, not even daring to turn around and face the unexpected visitor. you notice your lady-in-waiting immediately falling to her knees, bowing at the man whom you know very well.

“my lord,” you stammer out, being the first to speak up and address him.

you’re surprised to see sukuna back this early from his business trip. he normally stays away from the estate for days on end.

sukuna’s footsteps are heavy. his strides are menacingly slow. the aura surrounding him makes the others shake—one concubine being smart enough to bow to him. the king of curses is not one to be messed with, especially when he’s angry.

“tsk. have you lost all your respect while i was gone?” sukuna growls, seeing how the group of concubines are frozen in place with fearful expressions on their faces.

the fact that they’re not bowing before him worsens his temper, “kneel.”

he raises one hand and they all knew what was going to happen. you squeal and shut your eyes, hearing that familiar and dooming sound of slashes around you. it doesn’t sound like they’ve hit anything, so you peek through your eyelashes.

you see how the group of women have dropped to their knees the instant sukuna raised his hand in that specific manner. everyone knew just what that meant; death to anyone who’s got their head held high in his presence.

you’ve all seen enough people get decapitated by that same action to know that the sorcerer was not playing around.

sukuna scoffs. he walks up towards you, ignoring the pleas of the other concubines that are begging for his forgiveness. his bottom set of eyes look down at them with disdain before focusing on your figure again.

he silently stands still at the edge of the fountain. his large frame looms over you and you find yourself struggling to get up from the water to bow at him as well. you keep your eyes on your lap, “i’m sorry, my lord.”

sukuna hisses at your apology. a warning for you to shut your mouth. you’re apologising when it’s not your fault and that irritates him more than anything. two of his strong arms reach down to pick you up from your vulnerable position.

the king of curses hoists you over his shoulder like you weigh nothing. he’s not bothered by the fact that you’re dripping wet. in fact, both of his left arms wrap around your torso in attempt to warm you up.

“stay. you’ll all be dealt with accordingly when i return,” sukuna harshly orders your aggressors as he turns around and walks away from the group. he carries you in his arms, not sparing a single glance at his concubines.

he doesn’t even care that he stepped on one of the women’s hands as he passed by. the high pitched shriek only serves to annoy him, which you notice by the way he squeezes your waist in response.

it’s silent between you two for a bit. sukuna steps inside of the estate, his ominous aura making you hesistant to speak. you decide to stay quiet for the sake of keeping the peace. for now.

sukuna’s breathing is a little heavy. he’s trying not to lash out or say anything hurtful. he doesn’t like raising his voice at you—but sometimes he feels like he needs to. especially when you land in situations like those.

“how long has this been going on?” sukuna asks through a heavy sigh. his red eyes are focused on the end of the hallway, where his chambers lay. the veins in his neck look like they could pop out any second now, “and don’t you dare fuckin’ lie to me, y’hear?”

you gulp. you’ve never been so nervous to answer him, ever. you attempt to respond, “uhm, for quite a while, my lord.”

sukuna breathes in sharply at the revelation. the fact that you did not specify your answer only made him think that it’s worse than you’re making it out to be. he stops in his tracks, two hands on your waist as he forces you to face him.

your body dangles in the air as sukuna makes you look at him from up close, showing you that dangerous look in his eyes. you do not dare to avert your gaze from his as he speaks.

“you should’ve told me the moment they started disrespecting you like that,” sukuna grunts. another big hand grabs your jaw firmly, squeezing your cheeks together. you whine as it hurts a little.

he scoffs and releases your jaw with a light push, “pathetic.”

you feel your body get thrown into your original position once more. your head is upside down and your legs hang limply over his shoulder.

you try to defend yourself in a quiet tone, “i thought you were too busy. i didn’t want to bother you with such unimportant matters.”

it’s true. as much as you wanted to tell sukuna about the mistreatment you were receiving, you knew how busy he was attending to more urgent business. you didn’t want to annoy him with your own problems that you could easily solve.

if only you could stand up for yourself.

“nonsense,” sukuna raises his voice in a moment of weakness, though remembers that you’ve probably been through enough for the day. he doesn’t need to add to that by treating you like shit as well.

he simply sighs it off in annoyance, “unimportant, huh? ‘s that how you think i view you?”

you raise an eyebrow at sukuna’s last sentence. you’re at a loss for words. you know sukuna values you more than any of his other concubines—it’s the main reason you’re getting bullied for—yet you never heard him speak to you in such a surprisingly soft way.

almost like he’s disappointed that you don’t realise the extent of his favoritsm. he cares about you more than you actually think he does.

“i-i’m sorry, my lord,” you stutter. you really do not have a clue about what to say. all you can do is apologise as you’re left overthinking that one little sentence he said.

“brat,” sukuna quickly regains his usual stoic and stern composure.

he reaches his chambers and enters his personal bathroom before putting you down on your feet. he looks down at your short stature, feeling the warmth of your body leave his skin once you’re separated.

sukuna watches you shiver. he wants to get angry at you for not telling him about anything that’s been going on while he’s not present, though he simply cannot at the moment.

he’ll let you off the hook for now. but, he’s surely going to give you your own special scolding after he’s taken care of the other concubines. the man grabs a large towel from nearby and messily wraps it around your upper body.

sukuna turns around to walk out of his bathroom, looking over his shoulder once more, “get dressed into somethin’ else before you catch a cold.”

he calls for a couple servants to tend to you while he’s away to take care of those deviant concubines. sukuna watches the three maids rush to your service, preparing you a new set of clothes as well as trying to dry you off.

his gaze lingers on you for more than is necessary, his jaw clenching at the sight of you trembling from the low temperatures you’re experiencing. sukuna’s going to make sure those other women pay for what they’ve done to you.

he leaves the bathroom after that, though not without leaving you an order to follow;

“y’re staying in my chambers tonight.”