kiranᝰ

there he stands, tired eyes trailing over your facial features, before falling down to the floor. something about it makes you want to coo — almost like he’s a little flustered. fidgeting with his hands, wringing his long fingers together, so patiently waiting for your attention to fall on him. 

you swear you see the ghost of a pout slip into the curve of his lips. wearing a comfortable sweater, oversized and fluffy, framed by the obsidian of his hair; cascading down his shoulders like a black river. let loose, free to fall as it please, a signature sign that he’s tired.

and as soon as your eyes meet his, a certain something blossoms within the scope of his iris. peeling at the corners, slipping into the amber and cedar, an emotion you can’t quite place. would it be too tacky to call it love?

a giggle slips from your lips, dancing on the tip of your tongue. it’s soft, a little teasing, but who could blame you when he looks so cute? suguru, with his tall stature and broad shoulders, sharp eyes and intimidating presence, staring meekly in your direction. as if too embarrassed to ask for something, curling into himself.

”hey there,” you exhale, something amused laced into the vowels. ”everything okay?”

he averts his gaze. enamored with the smile on your face, the crinkle of your eyes, the melodic lilt of your sweet laughter. like peach blossoms and duvet covers, too soft for him to handle. far too sweet, the mere sight of you, all cozied up on the couch; legs crossed and laptop balanced on your thigh. 

(suguru wishes he could take its place.)

a tilt of your head beckons him to speak, and he can’t help but notice the remnants of something teasing in the gesture. he feels a little out of his element, almost shy, and it’s discomforting — but he’s just so tired. much too plagued by the need to be close to you.

he can live with a little teasing, if it’s you, only if it’s you. 

”what’re you working on?” he asks, delicate, soft voice flowing from his lips like melted honey. there’s a raspy tilt to it, a little scratchy. you smile, gaze drawn towards the screen in front of you.

”nothing much, just some essay. i’m almost finished.” a low sigh, as you lazily scroll through the text. suguru hums. when you look over at him, the smile on your face grows just a tad softer. ”did you need something?”

suguru stills. blinking drowsily, slow and awfully endearing, a flutter of his black lashes. absentmindedly fidgeting with the hem of his puffy sleeve. the silence lingers, a contemplation etched onto his features, until he clears his throat — still unable to look at you properly. 

(there’s only one thing he wants. needs. asking for it is just a little bit tough, though.)

patiently waiting, you begin to study his expression. second nature, to tuck his features in between your ribs, smoothe along the contours you’ve come to love so dearly. memorizing every dip and birthmark.

there’s a barely noticeable flush to his cheeks, a crimson smear that starts at his ears and only ever nips along his cheekbones, but it’s enough to let you know that he’s embarrassed. more than enough, seeing as his gaze won’t even land on you, seeing the fatigue beneath his eyes, the crease between his brows. something that sticks to his skin and drags him down. 

he has been a little stressed, lately. more so than usual. and you’ve noticed, of course you have — worriedly waiting for him to approach you, to let you help. winters are never very kind to him. 

he’s gorgeous, though, even like this. especially like this. sleepy, just a little unkempt, in his natural state. bare, somehow. like he just woke up, like the morning sun is kissing up his collarbone and he just made a cute little sleepy noise that you’re going to tease him for over breakfast. like he’s unguarded, at peace, safe in your arms.

it makes your heart soften considerably. crumbling at the corners, a pang of lovesick ache tugging at your fragile heartstrings.

and finally, you speak up. urging him to continue, gently, not wanting to rush him. ”well?” 

suguru gnaws at the flesh of his bottom lip, just a little chapped. his tongue flits out to lick along the dry skin, and he does a little cough under his breath. you’re patient, waiting for him to speak, but it’s tough when all you want is to tug him close.

(you have an idea of what he’s going to ask you, what it is he wants. because you know him — and you want it too.)

”… can,” he starts, tentative. slow, as if he’s trying to swallow the embarrassment, gulp down the nervous flutter of his heartbeat. then he continues. ”i get a hug?”

finally, he looks at you; and your heart ricochets in your chest. amber eyes boring into yours, deep and warm, soft around the edges. kind of shy. 

a sharp intake of breath. you can’t help the grin that crawls up to your lips, and you can’t help the words that spill from them. ”gosh, you’re so cute.”

suguru turns away, with what you’re almost sure is a low grumble — buzzing in his throat, like a dragonfly itching to break out. he really does look meek, a little needy, so cute you’re afraid your lungs might collapse. when a chuckle pushes past your lips, the red tint on his neck and ears only seems to exacerbate. 

with swift movements, you close your laptop, plopping it down on the table in front of you. not wanting to waste any time, a little afraid that he’ll change his mind. ”of course you can,” you assure him, a soft lull of your tongue.

leaning back, you rest your head against a pile of cushiony pillows, melting into the couch beneath you. extending your arms; beckoning him close, into your embrace. the smile you grace him with is a little teasing, but mostly soft, inviting.

and suguru can’t resist it.

he still seems a little flustered, as he crawls along the couch, to take his rightful place in your arms. flopping down on top of you with a huff, like a big dog, cheek squished against your chest — eager to listen to the echo of your heartbeat. steady and soothing, a lullaby to his muddled mind.

a long, satisfied sigh escapes him, muffled into the fabric of your shirt. he wraps his arms around you, nuzzling a little further into your touch. slowly melting.

ah, he’s just too much. try as you might, you don’t fully manage to stifle the coo that laces the tip of your tongue. just admiring him, in the dim lighting of the room, all sleepy and content. that palpable fatigue, slowly dissipating. a soft groan slips from his lips when your hand goes to card through his hair, softly, nails raking over his scalp.

”my big baby,” you murmur, planting a kiss on the top of his head. suguru wants to grumble, protest a bit, but all he can do is soak in the words, the skip of his heartbeat that follows. ”everything okay?”

he nods. groggy, cheek against your soft chest. no longer able to hide his neediness, to muster the strenght, thoroughly soothed by the warmth that seeps from your body. from your veins to his. and he sighs, barely above a whisper. ”jus’ missed you.”

he must notice it, you think — the rapid rhythm of your heartbeat, something erratic in the decisive thumps of blood. a little louder than they should be. 

but if he does, he doesn’t mention it. only shifting a little in your arms, nuzzling further into your chest, relishing in the sensation of your hand in between his messy locks. so cozy. 

”i missed you too,” you echo, unable to fight off the sappy grin on your lips. so much affection in every caress, every soft glance. eager to be let out. ”’m sorry if i’ve been neglecting you.” 

suguru shakes his head — brushing off your guilt. always so willing to put your peace of mind before his. it only weakens you further, thoughts fuzzy with the image of him, the love that clouds your vision. how to properly convey it in words. 

”i’m always so proud of you,” you exhale, a little shaky. so earnest that you falter. a loud mantra of your heartbeat filling your ears, so much fondness stuffed inside your chest. ”working so hard. love you so, so much, honey.”

this time, it’s suguru’s heart that stutters and flails. reduced to a desperate instinct, something intimate and bare. the term of endearment slips off your tongue like it was always meant to be there, like that’s where it belongs, coupled with the soft sensation of your fingers ghosting over his skin. brushing away his bangs to smear a kiss against his forehead.

”i’m never gonna let you go,” you promise, unable to control the affection smeared into your voice. like you’d explode if you didn’t speak it out loud. ”my angel.”

”okay — that’s,” suguru croaks, before you can continue. exasperated, deeply embarrassed. at this point, he’s sure his face must be red, and he’s sure you can see it. despite his attempts to hide away in the crook of your neck. ”that’s enough.”

laughter bubbles up in your throat, sweet like osmanthus and whipped cream. giddy and teasing, in equal measure, sending a jolt of fondness running through his veins. ”are you embarrassed?”

”no,” he scoffs, too quickly. you both know he’s lying. it’s a rare treat, seeing him this flustered — how could you resist the urge to tease him a bit? 

”then why d’you want me to stop?” you grin, searching for his gaze. but suguru refuses to look at you.

”it’s just…” he mumbles, a string of tiny words. gnawing at his bottom lip. ”a little much, don’t you think?”

”i mean it, though.”

suguru groans, and a bout of giggles pushes past your lips. the smile on your face is starting to make your cheeks hurt, an achy kind of joy. yeah — suguru is just far too cute. he’s cute, and pretty, and beautiful, and gorgeous. how could you keep yourself away?

reaching for a strand of his hair, you let it fall between your fingers. smooth and silky, brushing against your skin, soft and familiar. memories bloom from your fingertips, seeping into your subconscious; the first time he let you touch his hair, that content purr in his throat, the time you braided it as the world fell asleep around you. he takes good care of it, always has. attentive and delicate, almost as lovingly as he handles you.

a great surge of affection sprouts in between your ribs, spreading throughout every cell of your body, wholly engulfing you. it’s too much to bear.

a blissful sigh. you tilt your head, softly, a bleeding tenderness to every word you speak. and you do, with a sincerity to your voice that he’s never been able to handle. “is it really so strange if i want to give the love of my life some affection?” 

— and suguru’s resolve crumbles into dust. 

”… you’re,” he tries, a shiver of his weak voice. under normal circumstances, he could think of a suave reply, something to get the upper hand; but today, suguru happens to be very tired, and you seem awfully set on making him melt through the couch. ”— awful. you know that?”

his heart aches, when the bitter words make you giggle. a little sleepy. it makes him want to tuck you into his chest, hide you away inside his ribcage. kiss you breathless.

”so mean,” you pout, entirely fabricated. a heavy amusement lays thick on your tongue. “i’m professing my undying love for you here, y’know?”

”that’s exactly what i mean,” he sighs, unable to repress the slight smile on his lips. a little tug, that says more than his words ever could.

the laughter in your throat lingers, for a bit, until the intimacy of the moment softens you up. something tender and genuine in the depths of your eyes. ”i mean it, though. i’m not just teasing you.” 

your hand goes to cup his face, thumb smoothing over his cheekbone. and then you’re leaning in, to press your lips against his forehead — pulling away with a drawn out mwah, a soft grin, a little boyish. terribly cute. 

”i really do love you,” you profess, a whisper. he believes you. “i love everything about you.”

a moment passes. the soft ticking of the clock fills the space between your words, and the scent of leftover curry and brewed coffee simmers in the faraway kitchen. wafting out into the living room. 

suguru places his hand over yours. a rough palm, always so gentle with you, slipping down to your wrist so he can hoist himself up. 

you blink. 

before you know it, he’s pressed his lips to yours, slow and methodical. tender, tender, tender. always. he sighs into the kiss, content, and your heartbeat quickens — he tastes like honey and rain.

when he pulls away, he’s smiling. a little lovesick.

”i love you too,” he hums, a soft purr that trails down your spine. he delights in the way you finally blush, cheeks warm beneath his heavy hands. ”so, so much.”

all you can do is stare, entirely transfixed. 

then you’re averting your gaze, and he’s stifling a soft bout of laughter, and something warm and wonderful blooms in the nearly non-existent space between you. his cheek finds itself pressed against your chest, again, allowing the soft and rapid thumping of your heartbeat to carry him away.

an anchor for him to hold on to, his lighthouse at the end of a murky ocean. it’s always, always there — that soft mantra of thump, thump, thump.

(he can’t tell you how many times it’s saved him.)

”… you can’t do stuff like that when my guard is down,” you murmur, after a moment. sheepish. ”what if my heart explodes?” 

suguru only chuckles, sleepy and raspy, the same as ever. he turns his head to press a kiss against the fabric of your shirt, right above your heart, a kind of cheeky, soft apology that you know he doesn’t actually mean. 

(he could never feel sorry for telling you how much he loves you; no matter how flustered you get.)

and, at last, suguru thinks the fatigue clinging to his soul may have slipped off entirely. substantially. soothed by your presence, your very being. 

it’s embarrassing, being so very doted on, being so painfully unaccustomed to it. but suguru could never hate it. he could never hate a single thing you do to him, grant him with, from your soft touches and cheeky kisses to the burnt pancakes you worked so hard on. 

he’d rather die than deny you. 

so he has no choice but to bask in it; the feeling of your hands in his hair, nails on his scalp, breath against his skin. the change you’ve brought into his life. bringing with you the fading scent of peach blossoms and chewing gum, sweetness and softness. happy dreams.

yeah, that’s right. he has no choice but to melt into your touch, nuzzle into your chest, fall asleep to the sound of your heartbeat. 

satoru is something that feels much deeper than that, something more intimate and raw and maybe even destined if you start to get cliche. your past appreciation for his best friend’s beauty doesn’t have to interfere with what you feel for him now. that’s why the three of you can be here, comfortably seated in your living room as you play a round of truth and dare for the sake of entertaining yourselves.

“truth or dare?” suguru asks, turning to you once it hits your turn, making you contemplate for a moment. there’s a half-drunken beer bottle in his hand, one he slides over to satoru across the coffee table for a sip as you tap your lip in thought. 

“truth,” you say finally, making him grin at you amusedly. there’s a feeling in your gut that this isn’t going to go how you’d like, but you push it down. 

“don’t think picking truth will make me go easier on you,” he snorts. and then he looks at satoru with a look that tells you he’s planning something at your boyfriend's expense, and you’re not sure if you like it. “who was your crush before satoru?”

that makes satoru choke on his sip of beer. you wince, watching how his eyebrows furrow as soon as the question’s asked. satoru is always more than a little jealous—but it’s cute in its own way; he’s pouty and whiny and (more) clingy every time he starts to feel possessive. if anything, it’s endearing when he’s like that more than it is annoying. it’s makes you feel wanted. maybe even a sick and twisted part of you feels a little satisfied that he cares that much, although you hate to admit it. 

but this might not be light jealousy. or even the cute kind. hearing this answer might just crush him—you can’t do that to him. not over some silly surface-level attraction you had for suguru because he smiled sweetly and had nice bangs. 

“i don’t know what you’re talking about,” you glare, making suguru snicker in amusement. 

satoru looks confused, the poor thing. looking back and forth between you two like he’s lost from some inside joke that he’s desperately trying to decipher. 

“oh yeah?” suguru snorts, “don’t think i didn’t notice the way you looked at me.”

that’s all he needs to say for satoru’s mouth to fall open—it’s a devastated look. his head whips to turn to you in a second’s time as he looks at you for confirmation. 

“what? he’s lying, right baby? you never had a thing for him, right?”

you hesitate. you just can’t bring yourself to lie to satoru, and it doesn’t help that suguru is right there too, right there where he has the truth so easily dangling from his fingertips to drop into the palm of your boyfriend’s hands. you’d rather he just hears it from you. 

the hesitation doesn’t seem to go unnoticed by satoru because he looks at you crestfallen. 

“it was silly,” you try to reassure, “it didn’t actually mean anything! i just thought he was kind of cute, that’s all.”

“you didn’t think i was cute?” he asks, hurt. 

“of course i did!” you insist quickly. 

suguru doesn’t seem to be satisfied with the pure mess he’s started just yet, because he adds a sly, “i guess i was just cuter.”

satoru looks at you with what you can only describe as a purely crestfallen expression. you glare at suguru before you cup your boyfriend’s cheeks and squeeze them together in hopes of cheering him up. 

“i got over it really fast,” you try to reason, “suguru isn’t nearly as funny or endearing.”

that seems to cheer him up a little, mainly because satoru has just about the biggest affinity for praise you’ve ever had the pleasure of seeing, but you haven’t quite eased his worries completely. you can tell as he wraps a possessive arm around you and pulls you into his side, glaring at suguru as he narrows his eyes. 

“my girlfriend doesn’t like you or your emo piercings. get your own girlfriend.”

“i didn’t say i want your girlfriend,” suguru rolls his eyes, “i just pointed out that she wanted me.”

“i didn’t want you like that,” you interrupt, crossing your arms, “i thought you were attractive for maybe a few weeks before satoru grew on me.”

“yeah! i grew on her,” he nods from the side, “because i don’t have emo piercings and balloon pants.”

“and i don’t have geriatric hair. what’s your point?”

it’s all back to normal within a few moments, you realize. perhaps suguru and satoru are just like that. they push buttons you can’t imagine why, but they end up right back into that fond back-and-forth bickering as always. you can’t help but chuckle and shake your head as you tune them out. 

suguru has always had a thing for causing trouble—most people tend to lump that habit in with satoru, but that’s because he’s always just been a bit more loud about it. suguru likes to start the sparks slowly instead of lighting the match. it’s a slow process, but it ends in flames all the same. but you think it’s turned out fine in the end. you don’t seem to have a sulking and glum boyfriend to coddle back to normal, and that’s really all that matters. 

suddenly, you’re pulled out of your thoughts to a now very different conversation—you’re not really sure how it escalated to that in just a few moments 

“—um, no. i definitely eat pussy better than you,” satoru snorts, “unlike you, i actually have someone to practice on.”

“i’ve definitely been doing it longer,” suguru looks at satoru in disbelief, “you always had no bitches.”

“i don’t have bitches because i have a girlfriend,” satoru huffs, “and she’s very happy with my skills, right baby?”

you look at him when he stares at you expectantly, simply mortified, as you slap his arm. “what’s wrong with you two?” you ask with heated cheeks. 

they’re shameless, the both of them. 

“ow,” he hisses, looking at you incredulously, “it’s true! i’m good at eating you ou—”

“please, toru,” you groan in disbelief, hands clasping over your face in embarrassment. “please just shut up.”

“why don’t you test it then?” satoru ignores you, pretending like he doesn’t see the pure shame on your face at the nature of his offer, “see which of us is better?”

“are you out of your mind?” you feel lightheaded. satoru and suguru have always gotten you into some rather compromising situations—they cause a lot more trouble than what is considered normal, and the consequences tend to become your problem too. but this? this seems a step too bold even for them. 

 and where is that usual jealousy that seems to be a part of satoru’s dna gone? how is he just okay all of a sudden with (literally) letting his best friend have a taste of his girlfriend? 

“no, no,” suguru shakes his head, unwilling to back down as you try to dismiss the conversation, “let’s test it, shall we? who eats pussy best. right here, right now.”

“oh you want to make it a competition? yeah, okay, you’re on,” satoru nods, face serious. he’s determined. he’s dangerously dedicated, it seems, to prove it’s a factual claim that he can please you better, and you’re not sure how the deal breaker for ending this argument has somehow worked its way to this method of all things. 

but you’re not sure you have a good feeling. especially because…well, there’s only one pussy in this room, and it’s certainly not one of theirs. you’re beginning to think you’ll be the subject of a very pointless test. 

“guys, i think you’re getting too worked up over a really stupid—”

“okay. i’m game too,” suguru shrugs, staring at satoru with a heated gaze—he’s just as invested in this competition, it seems. and that’s dangerous because, as troublesome as he can be, suguru is the usual voice of reason between the two of them. 

“you’ll see,” satoru mutters from beside you, “she’ll cum harder from me.”

“i think she’ll be the judge of that,” suguru says dryly. 

you stare at the two of them back and forth in shock, lost in all words. 

“guys, seriously. we can’t just—”

“baby,” satoru looks at you pleadingly, “you have’ta be the judge. and be honest, okay? don’t be shy to let him know he sucks.”

“oh i don’t think she’ll be saying that,” suguru chuckles, eyeing you smugly as you shiver at the look. 

logic and dignity partner up to tell you that, no, this is not a good idea. not by a longshot. satoru is your boyfriend, and even if this is his idea and not yours, once he’s finally come to his senses, he probably won’t appreciate his best friend having an intimate moment with you. especially not after he just found out his best friend happened to be your former (brief) crush. and not only that, but you and satoru are seriously committed. four months have almost felt like four years with him, and you don’t want to disrespect how serious this relationship is starting to become. 

but logic and dignity are outspoken by lust and curiosity. their voices are much louder in your head, and perhaps if you were a better person, then maybe they wouldn’t be winning in your head. maybe if you were someone with stronger discipline and self-control, or even had just a small semblance of tact, you wouldn’t be tempted to entertain this competition the two men in your presence have conjured up. it’s not that you have feelings for suguru—it’s not that you ever had feelings for suguru. attraction can be entirely physical and nothing else, and the little throb in your pussy at the thought of tugging at suguru’s hair when he’s between your thighs is just a human reaction. not indicative of your wishes, just your needs. 

you look between the two, biting your lip. they look at you with a certain hunger—maybe it’s a desire for you, maybe it’s a desire for being right, or maybe it’s a desire for both. it’s a desire all the same, and satoru and suguru are not the only ones guilty of it. 

“okay, fine,” you sigh, fiddling with your fingers, “this isn’t a regular kind of thing.”

“of course,” suguru says in a tone that comes off as serious, but you don’t think he’s very serious at all. in fact, if you didn’t know better, you’d say it comes across as slightly amused. like he knows something you don’t. “it doesn’t mean anything. we’re just having some friendly competition. that’s all.”

“friendly competition, my ass,” satoru spits, “it’s not even a competition if you don’t stand a chance.”

with that, satoru gently pushes you back on the couch, swiftly pulling your pajama bottoms off with one tug that has you gasping in shock. you didn’t think he’d get right into it—and yes, obviously, suguru would have to be eye to eye with your cunt in order to actually…well, eat your pussy, but the concept versus the actual moment feels a lot more scandalous than you thought. his eyes don’t leave the spot between your legs for even a second, darkening as satoru forces your thighs apart and bites at your thigh. 

“there she is,” satoru grins, kissing his way up until his lips find your clit, murmuring a soft, “missed this beautiful pussy. looks like she missed me too.”

you’re wet. you’re acutely aware that satoru and suguru can see that clear as day—despite your protests and scolding for their lack of shame, you so shamelessly have a dripping cunt from nothing more than mere words. it’s embarrassing, but you can’t be bothered to focus on that when satoru’s lips are so close to where you need them. 

he sighs happily, like he’s returned home after a long day, like being between your thighs is the oasis he’s been searching for in the scorching heat of the desert. one sip would be all he needs to quench that thirst. except it’s not one sip—his tongue licks a stripe up your pussy before it slides between your folds, messy and desperate as he licks and sucks and devours every inch of you his tongue can reach. 

you gasp, eyes instantly shutting closed as you whine. it’s a familiar feeling, and it’s definitely something satoru has practiced one too many times. he knows exactly what you like—the way you get goosebumps when his hand rubs your lower belly, the way tossing a leg over his shoulder makes you whimper, the way flicking his tongue over your clit before sucking makes your back arch. 

you whine, completely forgetting suguru is right there watching, getting an eyeful of your puffy clit every time satoru teases it. all you can pay attention to is the way there’s a dull ache forming between your legs, forming its way up to your belly and tightening, tightening, tightening. it’ll snap soon—you can feel it. the way satoru’s lips make out your cunt has you gasping for air, choking on attempts to cry his name. 

there’s a low chuckle from him, vibrating against your pussy, making you twitch. “baby,” satoru says lowly, “i gotta record you someday. you should just hear those pretty little sounds you make—they’re like music.”

“t-tor—ngh.”

satoru chuckles again against your sensitive clit, wrapping his lips around the sensitive bundle of nerves before he sucks, pulling away slowly for a moment as he admires the way your walls flutter around nothing. 

“aw, look at you,” he coos, his voice dripping with so much sweetness you could get a toothache from just a taste, “you’re falling right apart. putting on a good show for suguru, is that it? what a good girl.”

then he’s back, lips kissing against your slick-coated heat, sloppy as he groans against you and works his tongue as deep into you as he can. you mewl at the sensation, the familiar feeling creeping up on you as satoru eagerly laps away at you. he’s everywhere at once—one second, you feel him biting at your thighs, then he’s flattening his tongue against your clit, and then he’s flicking it deep between your walls. 

you cry a stuttered, “m’c-close, toru—oh.”

“you’re close? don’t you think that’s a little fast, sweetness?” he teases, making you whimper as you feel the hum of his words against your core, “suguru will think i neglect you. we can’t have that, can we?”

despite his teasing, you cum on his tongue instantly, your body stiffening as your orgasm hits full force. you can’t help it, the way every part of you lights on fire as the coil snaps. your toes curl, heels digging into his shoulder, back lifting off the cushion, and expression simply shattering as you feel your pussy clench around nothing. you can feel your walls spasm, the devastating waves of pleasure practically palpable from the way your hand grabs his as he lets you reach for it. 

he doesn’t let go even as you crush his bones, nor does his tongue ease its abuse on your clit as he flicks across it and works you through your high. distantly, through the blurred vision and shaky breaths, you can make out the click of suguru’s teeth, but he’s the least of your concerns as you slump and try to catch your breath. 

satoru has always been good at finding your weak spots, and he never goes easy on you. he hits you full force, expertly riling you up and having you fall right apart in one too many ways that leave you breathless. it’s why it’s so easy with him, you think—he just knows you so well. 

you’re not quite sure how suguru can beat that.

but he doesn’t seem the slightest bit phased as he stands there, arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you in amusement (and something suspiciously close to excited, too) as he steps closer. your eyes don’t miss the bulge in his pants, making him grin at you smugly as he catches you glance down. 

“that was quite the performance,” he drawls, so kind and soft like the first time he ever spoke to you. 

you’re starting to remember why you were so quick to find an attraction to him—suguru is certainly not a creation god rushed himself over. every curve and slant of his features looks like careful, diligent, meticulous hands created him. he’s pretty, so pretty. painfully easy on the eyes and such a good personality to match it that you don’t understand how he’s single. not that you want him—but someone must, right? 

“she wasn’t performing,” you hear satoru say through a bitter scoff, “if you didn’t notice, she was very much reacting in real time.”

“oh i bet,” suguru snorts. he sinks down before you and spreads your legs open in a slow, achingly teasing manner that makes you want to close them right back up. but you can’t, not with the way his hands are so strong, so gentle yet firm in the way they touch you. “the prettiest pussies are always the most sensitive—but you actually have to know how to play with them.”

suguru leans closer, breath fanning over your already sensitive heat before he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your entrance, nose brushing against your clit. you whimper, bucking into him, but he keeps your hips pinned down, daring you with just one glance to move again.

something tells you that you won’t like it so much if you do that again—so you try not to. 

“see, the thing is,” suguru says slowly, words barely a whispered breath as he teases his tongue over your clit just barely, leaving a ghost of a touch where you need him most, “giving what she wants is easy. making her actually want it is the real game.”

satoru lets out a dissatisfied grunt at that. you wish you could look over at him and bring yourself to care about his unhappiness, but you can’t. in fact, you couldn’t care less at the moment—all you care about is coming apart on suguru’s tongue, and you haven’t even properly felt it yet. 

suguru is less enthusiastic when his mouth latches onto your cunt, but more precise. his tongue is careful and slow, painfully deliberate and calculated as it explores you. it’s just enough that you feel your vision blur, but not nearly enough to break you just yet. you helplessly let out a whine of protest, and he gently sways at your clit in warning. 

that makes you moan. you can feel him smirk against you, and a small part of you feels bad, but an even larger part of you feels so good. he’s so slow at drawing your pleasure out, circling his tongue over your clit before sinking into you, tasting every corner and savoring you like he has enough time to really appreciate you for all that you are. 

you think you know the difference now—satoru eats you out because he loves you. he gets high off making you feel good, like giving to you is what he was made for. suguru eats you out like tasting you is his own pleasure, like every drop of you on his tongue is for him to take, and taking from you is his god given right. 

it’s two sides of one coin. heads or tails, it’s all worth the same. 

“f-fuck,” you pant, reaching for those dark locks of his, the same ones you once wondered about. how they felt, how they tangled in your fingers, how they made him feel when you tug. the strands are as soft as you imagined, maybe even more so, and one tug makes suguru groan against your dripping core. 

you gasp at that, quivering as the low vibrations meet your sensitive cunt. 

“do that again, princess,” he says softly, humming before he goes back to flicking his tongue between your walls and rolling along the sensitive nub of your clit. “you should hold on. i’m taking my sweet time with you.”

he says it, and he means it. every time you think suguru is done teasing, your miserably mistaken. he pulls away, stares deeply at your pussy for a moment or two that you almost feel shy, walls twitching at nothing and waiting for some kind of touch. anything, really. and just when you whine a soft, “please, suguru—can’t wait anymore,” he chuckles and moves right back in. 

it makes for a painful type of pleasure, one that’s mind breaking, one that makes your body feel ten times heavier than it really is, limbs glued to the couch as you can do nothing else but take it. you’re close, so painfully close when he breathes, “do you wanna cum for me? you want to right?”

“yes, yes, yes,” you babble, head spinning and so dizzy you don’t even comprehend that he’s laughing at the way you’ve answered his question one too many times. 

“i heard you,” he teases, “don’t worry. i’ll give you what you want. how could i not?”

just like that, suguru flattens his tongue against your clit and flicks it faster than he’s granted you so far. it makes you buck your hips again—he lets you this time, too. lets you grind against his face and practically cut off his air as you desperately take what you want. finally. 

it feels like taking the first breath of fresh air after breaking the surface of water, air filling your lungs after you’ve held your breath for so long. your second orgasm has been lurking in the corners for so long, when it finally lunges at you, you’re not prepared. you squeal broken cries of, “s-suguru—fuck, i can’t suguru.”

but you can. he knows you can because you let him when he takes and takes, pulling every small whimper and roll of your hips from you as he makes you cum for him on his tongue. he’s greedy, the way his mouth latches onto you, tastes you carefully like he’s making sure to savor your essence and never forget. 

you suppose he shouldn’t ever have this opportunity again if you’ve got any sort of practicality. 

“see?” suguru pulls away when you’re finally done, body spent as you heave labored breaths on the couch, limp and tired. well taken care of, of course, but so deeply exhausted. “doesn’t it feel so much better when you’ve been wanting it for so long?”

satoru crosses his arms, scowling at his best friend as he argues, “if you know what she likes, she always wants it. you don’t have to do all that.”

“and if you make her want it, she’ll like whatever you give. you’re just not as good.” suguru is too smug for satoru, enough that you watch your boyfriend kicks the man’s shin with a roll of his eyes. you’d scold him if you could use your voice—you still find you can’t. 

“baby, tell suguru i was better,” satoru whines. 

“c’mon, don’t lie to him. how’ll he get any better if you do?” suguru grins at you. 

you look between the both of them, unsure which side of the coin you fall on. 

“heads or tails?” you ask. 

they blink, looking at you confused. “what?” you hear them say, in sync. 

“i say we just flip a coin,” you shrug tiredly, “winner gets to prove themselves one more time.”

reblogs appreciated!

Suguru Geto

Sweet Suguru would be a wake and baker and a night-time puffer.

As soon as his eyes are open in the morning, he's reaching for his grinder and bong.

His bong is his prized possession of his smoking materials.

It's dark blue with black accents wiping all around the triangular base and long neck.

It has a wide hole as he prefers to stick his lips in the opening instead of over the lip.

He defiantly loves to put on some lo-fi in the background as he smokes.

He will absolutely smoke on his own if he can't find anyone to share his stash with, but he prefers a group setting.

He loves the bond between sharing bud and telling/listening to some vulnerable stories.

He's generous with his stash as well (except for Satoru).

One of his friends, or worse, you, doesn't have anymore stash left?

He's bagging up some from his own stash for you to take with you, but only after he smokes you out, that is.

At night, he's smoking bowl after bowl to get ready for sleep.

He's an insomniac with his work, so smoking before always helps him sleep.

Imagine his shirtless frame waking you up from the bubbling sound of his first pull of the morning, smiling at you as he releases the smoke from his lungs. "Want some, baby? It's gooooood." he asks as he waves the bong lightly in front of you. "It's 7am, Suguru, of course I want some." you playfully bite out as you sit up in the bed, taking the bong from him and slowly taking a hit. His lungs are far more used to being abused so early in the morning than yours so you take your time. His eyes droop lowly as the affects of the drug start to take over, making his heart calm and mind slow. You cuddle up into his side and block his arm in the process. "How am I supposed to hit this when you're laying on my arm baby girl?" he asks with a slight aggravated smirk. "Just light the bowl and I'll pull it for you." You're pretty sure you saw hearts in his eyes at your words and he instantly sparks up the lighter, setting to the bowl. You carefully watch the chamber as to not let it get too opaque, pulpit for him as he takes in the hit. He hums softly as he releases the smoke and kisses your head. "I think I just fell in love with you all over again..." He smiles and goes in for an actual kiss, you can taste the left over residue on his tongue. "Why?" you ask, genuinely confused." "Only stoners will know why you touched my heart just now. You'll get there in no time." He chuckles and hands you the bong.

Satoru Gojo

Satoru would be the smoker who will whip out a joint just about anytime he can, especially after any inconvenience.

As you might've guessed, Gojo's medium is joints.

He loves the classic Raw 1.5s but he also loves splurging on flavoured papers, as well as flower wraps.

He has a light blue Bic lighter that he keeps in the inside pocket of his sorcerer jacket.

He used to carry his joints in an altoids container to try and hide the smell before you, his loving girlfriend decided to gift him joint tubes.

Now its smell proof, and he doesn't have to walk around smelling like spicy baby powder anymore.

He can easily finish a joint by himself in 10 minutes or less.

While he enjoys a group sesh, he'd much rather smoke alone or with his partner.

Will only share his stash with you and Suguru, unless they can pay for their share.

Loves shotgunning with you, no surprise here, he loves teasing you, after all.

What better way to do that than to get your lips impossibly close and get the remnants of smoke he allows you to have.

Satoru had just finished up work for the day and he's making his way down the street, smoking a joint. He was meeting you for dinner at a little shoppe at the corner of this road. it hadn't been long since you had made your way to the dining space either, bumping into him on the way. "Funny seeing you here." He says with a smirk, joint lit and realising a thin line of smoke in its wake. "Were meeting for dinner, literally, right now." You chuckle because you knew he was teasing. "Hmm. I remember now... this shit is pretty good, want some?" His head tilts down towards you to gauge your reaction as he takes a slow drag. When you nodded, he pulled the perfectly burned joint from his lips and placed it against your own, his fingers touching your cupids bow in the process, sending shivers down your neck. He chuckled lightly as he pulled away and a light couch left your lips from the potency of the hit. "Let's eat and then I'll teach you how to hit this properly, maybe ill even teach you to shotgun." he finished off the joint as you both made your way to the restaurant, hand in hand.

Kento Nanami

This man, is in no way, shape or form, a stoner.

HOWEVER, he does enjoy a good edible when work gets rough, and a celebratory bowl from his pipe he has just for the occasion.

Now, normally when I say bowl or pipe, you're probably thinking of a glass blown bowl or a titanium two-hitter, but no.

His father passed his tobacco pipe down to him when he passed and since Nanami liked the taste of tobacco even more than Mary Jane, he uses it exclusively for his celebratory bowls.

What celebrations he might break it out for is an engagement announcement, baby announcement, death of someone, and/or birthdays (under certain circumstances)

His favourite type of edible is gummies. They're easier to eat without leaving a residue in his mouth, and its not overly sweet.

He'll definitely take his edible in whatever way you want to make them, but he doesn't have a big sweet tooth, but he'll eat anything you make for him.

"Hey baby! Welcome home!" You smiled wide as your boyfriend walked into the kitchen. "How was work?" He smiles at you, immediately brightening his day. "Not so bad now, Angel." He pulls you into his chest for a quick hug before he realises what he smells. Marajuana and sugar flood his nose after he realises its there. "What ya making, sweetheart?" you can see his nostrils flare slightly as he takes in the smells. "Just some chocolate chip cookies for you. wanted to try a new recipe and since we have that trip coming up soon, I thought that now would be the best time to try it. They should be ready any min-" you were cut off by the timer on the oven, you pull the cookies out and let them set. Two hours and two cookies, for each of you, later and you are relaxing in each others arms on the couch with a random movie on in the background. Both of your eyes start drooping as you slowly drift off in each others arms. Maybe you only need one cookie next time. This recipe is really good.

Toji Fushiguro

This man right here, is the king of stoners.

Bitch is broke because he spends all his money on upping his stash.

He ONLY smokes blunts and wraps. Mofo will pack that shit tight.

And know that he will be using the stash he dropped on his couch two days ago to fill in the gaps.

He can't afford to let any of it go to waste.

He has a four compartment grinder and he waits until he's done with his oz to open the kief collector and smoke a kief only blunt.

He smokes in the morning, during the day, at night before he sleeps, he'll even wake up in the middle of the night and roll another blunt.

Expects you to have your own stash if you wanna smoke with him, no charity cases with him. Even for you, pookie.

Will smoke in a group setting, but he not sharing, and he's the only one allowed to roll.

Rolls fat dubies that take forever to smoke because he packs those shits hella tight.

Makes sure his shit burns slow to make it last.

Toji grumbles under his breath as you make your way down the street, towards a shoppe you wanted to stop by for some time now. "You don't have to come in, babe. Just stay out here, ill be just a second." You smiled sweetly at the tall, fit figure looming over some poor kid that was sitting at the bench closest to the store. The kid instantly booked it when he realised Toji was going to sit and wait for you. He waits deadass two minutes before he gets impatient and pulls out his smoking case, pulling a pre wrapped blunt from the sleeve, holding it in his mouth like a cigarette as he flicks his lighter, carefully lighting the dark brown blunt. He's half way done with it by the time you return back to him, bags in your hands. "See you couldn't wait for me?" You look at him with a fake pout. He stands, taking your hand in his and walking towards your shared apartment. "This is the blunt with just my stash. We can crack our shared one open at home. Then maybe I can crack something else after with those clothes in your bag." He snickers as he pulls one side of your bag open to see a set of lingerie. "Who said I bought this for you?" you snicker evilly as his eyes darkened and stayed silent the rest of the way home. You knew what you were doing, and he knew it too.

©RhaenZokla

Part 2? Let me know!

Thank you for reading!

The day been long and rough, your eyes drooped lowly as you made your way down the hall, towards your room.

You had just gotten out of the shower, so your hair was wrapped in a towel with your sleep clothes loosely hanging over your stature.

Geto was sat on the couch in the lounging area along side Gojo, Shoko, and Utahime. His eyes caught on your frame right as you were turning the corner, almost to your room. He excused himself and trailed behind you.

All you wanted was to sleep. You were so tired, you didn't even sense him tailing you until you turned to close your door and you were met with his broad chest.

You couldn't help but to sink into the feeling of his warmth and he wrapped his arms around you.

"Rough day, sweetheart?" His voice was low as to not scare you. He Moved you away from the door to close it and slowly lead you to your bed as you nod your head and hum lowly.

He laid on his back with his arms wide open for you, you slid into his side and curled against his side, head on his chest.

"Training with Nanami and Haibara really took a toll on me today. I haven't been this tired since I started here at Jujustu Tech. Feels like all the muscles in my body wanna snap. I just wanna lay in bed for the next week." you lightly chuckle at the last sentence, knowing that it was just a wishful dream with your work.

He hums in response so you know he was listening. "You can't lay here all week, but I can lay with you tonight and give your sore muscles some much needed TLC, what do you say?" he smiles softly, waiting for your answer as his fingers trail under your shirt to rub at your back soothingly.

You hum delightedly and nod your head yes. "I love your massages!"

He chuckled lightly as he sat up, letting you adjust so you're laying on your stomach, sleep shirt off. He sat at your side until you were comfortable, then straddling the back of your legs so he's right over your back.

He starts running his hands up and down your back, leaving feather light scratches that make goosebumps boil under your skin. Then he starts pressing his thumbs into the pad of your shoulders, circling the tension he can feel instantly.

"No wonder you're in pain, you have so many knots in your back from straining too hard. You have to take things easy during practice, hun." His slender fingers dig into another spot in your back and you hum in delight. "I know, I just need to keep up with Nanami. He's the strongest of us first years and if I can keep up with him, then ill be the best sorcerer I can."

His ministrations on your back stop for a moment as her leans down to whisper in your ear. "You are the best sorcerer because you're you. You have learned so much about your technique in such a little time. I'd actually say you're better than Nanami, he's has longer to hone and develop his skills than you have. No need to hurt yourself to become something you already are." He pulls back and keeps rubbing and scratching at your back, in all the right places.