ur favorite reader

He placed a bag of chips in the shopping cart and turned his head to steal glances at you, as he usually did, admiring you. But when his gaze fell on you, you had a grim expression, filled with dread, staring at a man in front of you. His eyebrows furrowed and he looked at the man, trying to understand what was going on. The man continued grocery shopping, oblivious to what his presence was causing, and left the aisle. When Suguru looked back at you, your hand was on your chest, moving up and down, having difficulty regulating your breathing. Your watery eyes and trembling lip, he recognized the signs of an anxiety attack instantly.

“Hey,” Suguru moved closer to put his arm around your shoulders, but it worsened your condition, making you tremble and hyperventilate. Suguru quickly understood that he needed to calm you down. He abandoned the shopping cart and held you by the shoulders. You struggled, crying, trembling, and it made his heart ache. He held you tightly so you wouldn't fall and took you out of the supermarket and looked for a quiet spot in the shade. He found a bench under a tree near the store.

“Follow my breathing, sweetheart. Take a deep breath. In and out,” Suguru commanded, his voice soft but firm, as he placed his hand on your chest to press when you inhaled, and released the pressure when you exhaled. The palpitations and tremors in your body were so violent that you were on alert, completely in your own world, reliving your assault. It was Suguru’s voice that brought you back to the real world; he remained patient, even though calming your anxiety attack took a good twenty minutes. You followed Suguru’s instructions, taking deep breaths, trying to focus on his voice to avoid flashbacks flooding your mind. When you were able to breathe calmly, you sobbed. Suguru took you in his arms, his warmth enveloping you and his cologne filling your nose as he rubbed his hand on your back, making circles to soothe you.

“It was my rapist.”

Your voice was so low, he could have almost missed your words but he heard them perfectly, his whole demeneor changing, his eyes darkening. He was sure that you must have been a victim of sexual or physical abuse from a man to be so afraid of men.

“You should have told me before, I would have beat the shit of him.”

His fists clenched into your back, and the desire to destroy this man's face ran through his entire body.

It must have cost you a lot to confess this vulnerable aspect of your life to him. He knew it was a gift of yourself you were giving him, and he was deeply grateful that you trusted him with that. He felt compelled to confess something to you too, so that you were equals, and so that you knew he respected and cherished the trust you placed in him.

“A secret for a secret?” He placed you on his lap, arms wrapped around you, pressing you against his chest. You nuzzled his chest, searching for his comforting scent, trying to ignore the alarm bells in your head telling you it was inappropriate for friends to cuddle like this. You were vulnerable and hurting, and Suguru was the perfect arm to sob into. He didn’t realize you were wetting his shirt.

“A secret for a secret.”

“One of my closest friends committed suicide when I was in high school. I can't get over it, even three years later. I still feel like I didn't do enough to help and save him.”

You wrapped your arms around him and hugged him.

“I knew you'd suffered through things like this. Is that why you think you're a bad person?”

“I guess so. I was his closest friend, and I didn't even see that he was suffering.”

“Tell me about him.”

Suguru had a pained expression, his eyes squeezed shut, but he nodded.

“Haibara was a very cheerful boy. He was a ray of sunshine. He was the most generous person I knew. He loved cooking for his friends. He made us bentos and brought us home to do cooking workshops. I knew he admired me and put me on a pedestal, but… I failed him.”

“It's common for loved ones to feel guilty and blame themselves after the suicide of their loved ones. It's part of your grief. I'm not going to throw out phrases like 'it's not your fault,' because I know that won't change your pain. I can simply tell you that it's part of the healing process. You need to rationalize your loss and find someone to blame. It's easier to think you didn't do enough than to accept that the person decided to leave and abandon those around them. It's not a selfish choice, but a choice that is utterly painful.”

“He didn't abandon us. He was in pain. I don't blame him for leaving. I'm just so… So fucking ashamed I didn't see anything.”

You lifted your head and cupped his face in your hands. His eyes fluttered open, his purple gaze stared at you intensely.

“Maybe he didn't want to be a burden to you, he didn't want to worry you, and it was an act of love to hide his pain. Maybe he was ashamed.”

“It’s more complicated than that.” His jaw tensed.

“I know, I don't know the story. You can take your time.”

“You'll see me differently if I explain the whole story to you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Don't be so sure.” He placed his hands on your waist. “I'm not morally exemplary.”

“You're human, you can't always be good. Especially after a trauma. It changes your beliefs.”

He stared at you, his face still tense. He remained silent. Lulled by the sound of the wind around you and the noise of children playing in the park next to the supermarket, you looked at each others.

“A secret for a secret?”

He nodded.

“I'm scared of penetration. I try to do relaxation exercises, but… It doesn't work. Most men aren't patient enough with me, so…”

Suguru's face softened, he pulled you closer to kiss your forehead. His gentle gesture made butterflies flutter in your stomach.

“Can having non-penetrative sex help change how you view sex? Like sex therapy? Slowly learning to enjoy yourself and see that sex can be gentle and not violent?”

Your mouth watered at his words, craving what he offered you.

"Maybe... But I've tried sometimes to have that kind of relationship with boys but it didn't work, so..." you sighed.

Suguru listened to you attentively and let you fall silent, seeing that you wanted to vent than receive an answer. He knew the rule, it was his turn to tell a secret.

“I don’t know if there is a name, but I also have problems with sexuality. It’s not like you, it’s not as traumatic, but I kind of struggle to feel something. It’s as if I’m not present. I only feel things at the end, during orgasm. But I don’t know why, I’m addicted. I feel like I’m addicted to all bodily activities that give sensations because I feel so empty.”

“It could be a mix of severe anhedonia and dissociation. I also dissociate during sex. If it's not traumatic in origin, it can be easily cured for you. You need to find tactics to help you be more grounded in the moment. You can use music, practice meditation, and especially practice mindfulness. Do you know what that is?”

“Nah. What is it?”

“It may sound like meditation, but it's more a practice of being present in the moment, paying attention to your thoughts and sensations without judgment. It's a practice that allows you to be more connected to your mind and body, which can help with dissociation. There are lots of different exercises I could send you on Instagram.”

His lips quirked up.

“You’re really a cute little thing, aren’t you?”

“A cute little thing? That’s so gross to say!”

“My bad.” A deep chuckle rumbled in his throat. “Thank you for the advices. You will be a perfect psychologist.”

“I need to heal before to be a good psychologist, but you’re right. I know I’m good at helping others,” you said. Suguru hugged you, he liked your confidence.

“Um, about the grocery shopping…”

Your voice was hesitant, a little fearful.

“I’ll ask someone else in the group to do it, don’t worry.”

He understood that you were afraid of running into your rapist again if you went into the supermarket.

“Let’s go back to campus, okay? You can rest before we start the party.” Suguru stood up from the bench, and you missed his warmth as you followed him. He wanted to take your hand in his, but maybe it was too much physical contact for the day.

───────────

READER’s POV

You were all sitting on the floor on Utahime's carpet, snacks and beers in your midst. SZA's album ‘Ctrl’ was playing in the background while you passed around blunts. Except for you, of course, as usual, who was keen to keep yourself in check.

Seeing your rapist again had brought back memories of your assault, and you were trying to distract yourself with your friends.

“Okay, let's play my favorite game.” Utahime's eyes lit up. She went to get a deck of cards from her drawer, and you shook your head, amused. It was a game she always brought to parties, a game that replaced truth or dare, but it was mostly a game that allowed you to talk about sex and drink alcohol.

“The rules are simple. You stand in a circle. You draw a card, choose one question out of three, and ask it to the person in front of you. The person being questioned can either answer or down a shot of alcohol.”

“It’s a game for alcoholics,” Nanami grumbled.

“I want to start!”

Satoru rushed to the pile of cards. He drew one, and a smirk flickered across his face. He looked at the person in front of him, Suguru, who was smoking a blunt.

“What’s your favorite sex position?”

“I don’t know the name.” 

“Don’t try to dodge it.” Shoko nudged him.

Suguru gave a lazy smile, his eyes half-lidded, before his gaze fell on you, who were sat next to Satoru. His red eyes and tired eyes sent a wave of heat through your body.

“When the man is above the girl with her legs on his shoulders.” Suguru’s eyes were fixed on you, and you began to imagine the position with him, imagining his grunts as he was pounding into you, his long black hair brushing your face as his face were above you. You cleared your throat and looked away. You tried to ignore the throbbing between your thighs.

“You're so sappy. Is it because you're a gentleman who likes to look at your partner? Don't make us think you're a romantic, Sugu,” Satoru rolled his eyes.

“It just feels better with the angle. You can hit the bottom better,” Suguru shrugged. “Not something your lame ass can understand.”

“I’m extremely good at bed.” Satoru raised his chin haughtily.

The game continued, with increasingly intimate questions, but you were both adults and sexually active, so there was no awkwardness, and you laughed easily at the answers. You were tense from your panic attack this afternoon, but Suguru's gentle gaze calmed you. He silently told you that everything was okay and that you were safe, and you were grateful that he was so attentive to your needs.

It was Shoko's turn to read a question for you.

“If you could sleep with anyone in this room, who would it be?”

You grimaced and leaned over to grab a snack, since you didn’t drink alcohol. Satoru grabbed your wrist.

“Hell no. Everyone answers, you must be telling us something interesting too.”

“I have the right not to answer,” you said defensively.

“She's right, Satoru.” Utahime came to your rescue.

Satoru pouted and let go of your wrist.

The game continued for an hour before Suguru left the room to smoke cigarettes in the dormitory courtyard. You followed him, wanting to escape Satoru, who was drunk and dangerously touchy with everyone.

Sitting on the bench next to him, you enjoyed the light breeze before Suguru broke the pleasant silence.

“I don’t know how sexual trauma works, but if you need help, I’m here. If you want to have sex with someone who understands your struggles and will be patient, I’m your man.”

You didn't know how a simple proposal for a sex-friend-to-be relationship could make you so emotional, but butterflies took flight in your belly.

“Thank you, but I don't see you that way. I don't want to sleep with you.”

It was an awful lie knowing you'd woken up soaking wet after an erotic dream about him, but he didn't need to know that.

He wasn't hurt by your refusal and nodded.

“Just know, me, I see you that way. Feel free to be distant if that make you uncomfortable.”

By hanging out with Suguru, you had noticed a lot of his qualities, and one was that he was respectful and considerate. You felt safe with a man like him.

“I’m not bothered by it. I will not be distant.” You gave him a shy smile and accepted his desire for you. He didn’t need to know that the feeling was mutual and that you regretted being so afraid, which prevented you from fully doing what you wanted with your body. You wished Suguru was the man you had wanted to lose yourself with at the beginning of the school year, and you mourned what your sexual experience could have been with a man as gentle as him.

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SUGURU’s POV

The panic attack at the supermarket marked a turning point in your relationship for the following days. The crisis had broken down all the barriers around your hearts, forcing you to confide in each other about your deepest wounds. 

You were so kind to him, sending him photos of sections of books you were reading that discussed solutions to depression or motivational quotes about grief. You did everything you could to support his healing.

But the height of your kindness came when you gave him a bracelet. Sitting side by side, you had finished your study session, and you had slipped a pink bracelet onto his wrist.

“What is that?” He looked curiously at the bracelet you had given him, admiring the rose quartz beads that decorated his wrist.

“I’m into lithotherapy. My mother is bipolar, and when she’s in a manic episode, she’s passionate about all kinds of spirituality. I retained that from her episode.”

His eyes flickered up to you when you mentioned that your mother was bipolar, his face softening.

“Rose quartz promotes self-love and inner peace. It dissolves fears and resentments, helping to soothe the mind. It's supposed to help with your self-esteem issues and guilt. You don't have to believe in this, but it can also help in a placebo way. I made the bracelet for you myself.”

“You made it yourself?”

“Yeah, I have a kit for that.”

Suguru’s heart warmed, grateful. You made that for him? You were so kind and cute.

“Purify it from time to time under water. I use white sage, but if you don't have any, do the method with water. You have to recharge the stone as you wish, in the sun or the moon. Only fifteen minutes for the sun.”

Suguru didn't really believe in lithotherapy, but he found you so cute explaining the recharging methods to him that he made a mental note to do it when he got back to his dorm. It was going to be his lucky charm.

That was the second gift you gave him, he also had to find things to offer you and ways to help you in your healing. But when he offered to sleep with you to help you get used to sex, you refused, so he had to find another way to help you.

“Do you think the abuse your mother inflicted on you stems from her mood disorder?” Suguru asked as you began to pack your things. You paused at his question.

“No. She hit me even when she was normal and in between her episodes. You know, bipolar disorder isn't just manic-depressive, they have normal moments where you see their true personalities outside of their episodes.”

Suguru nodded, unaware of bipolar disorder. You stood up to leave the library.

“I know my mother loved me, but…”

“How can you be sure she loved you if she hit you so much?”

Suguru saw how the question made your body tense, and he cursed himself for being so tactless. 

“My rapist was one of her boyfriends. When she found out what happened, she hit him. She cried into my arms, apologizing for not protecting me. I think that's when I realized my mother loved me, but that love wasn't enough for our relationship to be healthy. She always apologized, but never made an effort to protect me. I always grew up in an unsafe environment because of her, I think that's why I'm so scared today. It's hard to be calm when you've always known chaos.”

Suguru's heart filled with empathy as he listened to you.

“Is there really nothing that can help you stop your fight or flight response?”

“Yes, there are plenty of methods. One of the symptoms of complex post-traumatic stress is a dysregulated nervous system. There are quite a few methods to regulate it and regain control over your anxiety. I do diaphragmatic breathing exercises every morning, and I do fitness to let off steam. My days are very full, with my classes, my workout sessions, and all the psychology books I read. I wonder how I manage to have time to do so much with our friends.”

“You’re such a fighter.” Suguru’s eyes shone with admiration. He walked beside you across campus.

“You have your battles to face too.”

“I’m not as resilient as you. I just had a trauma in high school, but I always had a happy life before that.”

“None of that bullshit with me. Your struggles are valid. You're depressed, you suffer from anhedonia, and you're addicted to workout. Even though I have my share of trauma, I'm grateful to still feel pleasure or positive emotions. We both have our problems, and I don't agree with the idea of ranking them.”

Suguru remained silent and observed you. He appreciated your kindness in not ranking your suffering, but he still thought you had suffered more than he had, so he didn't comment further. He noticed your necklace for the first time, which was usually tucked into your t-shirt.

“What is this stone?”

“It’s malachite. It’s a semi-precious stone of protection and health. It reduces stress, absorbs negative energy, and promotes healing. It’s my favorite stone; it’s perfect for my condition.” You took your malachite necklace out of your t-shirt and showed it to Suguru. He gave you a teasing smile.

“You really believe in your stuff, huh.”

“The human brain is very powerful. Even if it doesn’t quite work like I told you, the placebo effect can still make something work.”

“I promise to put my bracelet on my window tonight.”

A quiet laugh rumbled in your chest.

“As you should!”

───────────

As the water trickled over his skin in the shower, Suguru was thoughtful, thinking of a way to help you heal, just like you were doing for him.

He had to find something of his own, not psychological methods that you probably already knew because of your knowledge and studies. Putting on a pair of gray sweatpants, he walked back into his dorm shirtless, his towel over his shoulder. He grabbed his phone and lay down in bed, opening the notes app.

He listed many things to do to help you open up and trust him, from simple activities like going for a walk, listening to albums in his bedroom to more demanding things like drinking alcohol, smoking a blunt, or doing body painting. He thought about activities that could help you let go, and created his own type of therapy for you.

He took a screenshot of his list and send it to you on Instagram, saying, ‘I'm your new psychologist.’ You replied three minutes later.

‘Body painting?!’

‘It's a great activity for connecting with your body and its sensations. It's kind of like the mindfulness you told me to do. You can just paint if it's too difficult.’

‘It's basically art therapy; it already exists. You didn't invent anything.’

‘Okay, okay. Someone else had the same idea as me. Is it my fault?’

‘Why do you want me to drink alcohol?’

‘Because I want you to have fun.’

‘I can have fun without alcohol.’

‘Please. You're always tense.’

‘Suguru, I don't want anyone taking advantage of me.’

‘I'll protect you and watch over you.’

‘What if it's you I need to be protected from?’

Suguru's lips quirked up.

‘I swear on the life of my dead friend that I will never do anything to you without your consent. You will have the right to kill him if I do anything.’

‘He’s already dead, you dumbass.’

He talked with you for about twenty minutes before going to bed, a smile on his face.

───────────

READER’s POV

There was this phenomenon in psychology where when we focus on something, our environment brings experiences we would never have suspected if we hadn't focused our minds on it. Like when we see a dress in a store and that evening we see an advertisement for that same dress.

Ever since your mind was focused on Suguru, you'd heard rumors about him and eavesdropped on conversations from girls who'd slept with him talking about him. And although you wanted Suguru to be an asshole to prevent your crush from developing, you only heard praise for him. About how good he was in bed, how he adapted to each of his partners, how girls shared his number. Even Satoru didn't get that treatment, and we all knew what a playboy he was. You wished Suguru was an irresponsible guy so you could find fault with him, but you remember when he bought condoms. A god in bed, responsible and adaptable to each of his partners. It was starting to become very difficult to keep your decision to not accept his offer to do 'therapy' with him. You were becoming increasingly curious about his abilities in bed, desperately wanting to be the tester. 

“What are you thinking?” Utahime asked, walking beside you. You were experiencing your first ‘game walk’, which consisted of the sea of students walking from campus to the arena where the college basketball games were played, near the university.

“A sexy captain.”

A playful gleam appeared in her eyes. You kept Utahime updated on the status of your little crush on Suguru, and she always encouraged you to conquer your fears.

“We agree that you want to have a sex life?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you like Suguru physically and do you feel comfortable with him?”

“Yeah…”

“So why are you denying yourself this? He’s probably the best guy to fuck! You don’t even need to be in a relationship with him; he offers you everything without commitment!”

“It’s more complicated than that.” You flinched.

“I know, sweatheart. I’m not judging you. I’m just saying you won’t get this chance twice. You never talk to men. It’s a rare opportunity that you’ve managed to create this relationship with him. I think it’s a shame that you’re denying yourself something that could be fun for you. Just because you were raped doesn’t mean you don’t have the right to have fun; you’re not destined to be condemned to a life without pleasure. You deserve that too.”

Your heart tightened at the word ‘raped’, but you nodded, knowing full well that your best friend was right.

“I mean, we all know that men who are good in bed are always those who are good at foreplay. So he'll be perfect for non-penetrative sex with you, while being mindful of your fear. I think it'll be a good idea to take advantage of his offer. Besides, you told me he was able to handle your anxiety attack; he seems perfect for that role.”

“You’re right,” you whispered, thoughtful.

You sat with her in the arena, the atmosphere intense with the loud music and the hubbub of people talking and sitting down. It was the first game of the university championship, it was a university from Yokohama playing against you. Since Satoru and Suguru were on the basketball team, the university had won the championship for two consecutive years, and everyone wanted the victory to continue to hover at Kaisen University.

The students screamed and stamped their feet as the teams came out of the locker rooms and the captains shook hands. Suguru looked so good with his jersey, and his hair pulled back, his shorts revealing muscular and powerful legs. Warmth flooded into your cheeks as you stared at him, he was so recognizable with his long black hair and his body tattooed all over. 

The tension was at its peak when the ball went up in the air for the tip-off, and Suguru caught it with ease, becoming the offensive team. Dribbling perfectly, he passed the ball without problem to Satoru who managed to shoot in the 3-point zone in less than 24 seconds after the tip-off, as in the rules of basketball. The Yokohama team had tense faces, Suguru and Satoru were known to be an intimidating duo for other players, they knew they were going to struggle throughout the game.

Yokohama's defense was weak compared to your university team's offensive tactics. Since you criticized Satoru and Suguru's play, they had improved drastically. Satoru was more careful not to come into contact with other players, and Suguru had learned to channel his speed to succeed with simple offensive tactics.

As the captain, Suguru encouraged his teammates by rubbing his hand on their backs and whispering instructions in their ears. The coach didn't even need to intervene, only when it was time to change players. Being the point guard in basketball made him like a second coach, and he was the one responsible for making the best passes.

Suguru's gaze was piercing, and he was always on the alert. He easily stole the ball and sent it to Satoru, who always shot without a problem. Their team worked perfectly and had real cohesion and personality. It was excellent on offense and formidable on defense.

You hadn't noticed, but your mouth was half-open as you looked at him. Fascinated by the way Suguru ran around the court, you watched how his alert mind always focused on the ball and his teammates. He was so in his element, excellent in his role.

Deep down, you wanted him. You craved his body on top of yours so much it made your pussy throb. And as the game ended in a victory for your university, you slowly accepted the idea of sleeping with him. Now all that remained was to find the courage to tell him.

───────────

Suguru walked into the art room with a cup of tea. You left the painting you were looking at to turn to him, your hands fidgeting and playing with each other. You had agreed to Suguru's "therapy" he had suggested a few days earlier, and he had wanted to start with painting. As promised, if you weren't comfortable with the bodypainting part, you could just paint with him.

“Vanilla tea, mint tea, or chamomile tea?”

“Chamomile. Do you know the university tea by heart?” he asked, placing his cup on one of the tables. He took out the room keys to lock the door.

“I've been collecting tea bags since I was little. Why do have the keys to the room?”

“When you're rich, you can have practically anything.”

A teasing gleam appeared in your eyes.

“You and Satoru were really born with a silver spoon in your mouth.”

“Don't compare me to Satoru, his parents cheated on taxes, my parents are just lucky.”

He studied your outfit: jeans and a simple, long loose-fitting T-shirt. As usual, you always hid your body under your clothes to avoid male attention. It made his heart ache to know the reason behind this habit.

“Let's start with the painting, and if you're comfortable, we'll do the body painting, okay?”

You nodded and cleared your throat. You also wanted to tell him that you'd thought about his offer to be sex friends and wanted to accept, but the words wouldn't come out. It was easy to say, but something about Suguru made you shy about discussing your sexual desires with him. It was as if you didn't allow yourself, or didn't think you deserved the right to have fun with a man. Utahime's words came back to you, telling you that just because you'd been raped didn't mean you didn't have the right to receive pleasure, and you tried to take a deep breath to give yourself courage. But the second your eyes met his purple gaze, your words evaporated on your tongue.

Suguru put down his bag and took out watercolor and oil paints. The paints looked of superior quality, a testament to his wealth. He handed you some brushes.

“Any ideas for something to paint?”

You looked at the brushes, deep in thoughts.

“A cup of tea?”

Suguru looked at his own cup of tea and moved the table to place it next to your canvas. “Okay, use my cup as a reference.”

He took out his phone and played R&B playlist. The room was filled with soft and sensual notes as you began to paint. Suguru was much more skilled than you; he painted with ease, while you made quite a few mistakes compared to him, but you still managed well thanks to his guidance. He showed you how to hold your brush and how to mix colors. The smell of paint was comforting, bringing you back to rare, happy childhood memories of kindergarten. 

As you painted your teacup, you noticed that Suguru was painting the face of a woman who looked familiar, but he hadn't finished painting the shadows yet so you could tell who it was. You continued painting, making a teacup in the middle, surrounded by abstract bags, using bright colors and a yellow background. Your mouth fell open when you realized who he was painting.

“It’s me?”

“Yeah. Like it?”

“Suguru, it’s beautiful.”

Suguru's painting style was somewhere between realism and abstraction, giving his painting a metaphorical feel, but the lines were still distinct enough to make your portrait recognizable. It was a crime that he was a philosophy major and not in art school.

“I've been drawing you for a while now. Your face obsesses me.”

“In a creepy way or a flattering way?”

The corners of his mouth twitched upwards. “Both.” 

Your gazes collided, and heat rushed down your spine straight to your belly. In a twisted way, it pleased you that Suguru was obsessed with your face, the same way you were obsessed with his, talking about it in your diary.

“Sometimes I wonder what the rest of you is like. I wish you were my model to draw.” His eyes traveled down your body, an electric feeling sparking across your skin.

“What if I would let you?” Your heart pounded in your chest.

“You shouldn’t honor the wishes of a man like me. God only knows what I’ll ask of you next.”

He put down his brushes and looked at the watercolors for body painting before looking at you, silently asking for your consent. Blood rushed through your ears, the fear of putting you naked in front of him big, but not big enough compared to the desire overwhelming you. You wanted to see in his eyes that he found you pretty. You inclined your head, silently accepting.

You took off your shoes with trembling hands. Suguru avoided looking at you as he prepared the paints. He took off his shirt, and as your jeans slid down your legs, you observed the muscular lines of his torso, the tattoos covering his skin, his defined abs, and the V-line sloping down into his jeans. Heat pooled in your stomach when you imagined what lay beneath. You stripped down to your underwear, shaking as you waited for Suguru to turn around.

To your surprise, when Suguru dipped a brush into one of the paint pots and turned to you, his gaze wasn't sexual. There was no desire in his eyes, simply an almost divine admiration, as if you were a work of art. His eyes mirrored a rising tide of admiration and affection, and you felt truly naked in front of him, his gaze a warm hug around your body.

The feel of the brush on your skin was indescribable. The thin bristles traced across your skin, starting at your neck and moving down to your breasts. His breath on your nipples made you shiver, goosebumps spread across your skin. The brush strokes made them harden, and even with his head in your breasts, there was no desire or hunger in his eyes, just a soft gaze filled with reverence.

The way the brush traveled over your body, your stomach, flicked across your navel, and the way his gaze hovered over you was as if he were making love to you in the metaphorical sense of the word.

When his head moved down your body to paint on your hips, you hoped he didn't smell the arousal emanating from your panties. You also hoped he would ignore the self-harm scars on your thighs like most men who had seen you naked, but your breath caught in your throat when you felt his lips on your skin. He slowly kissed the scars.

It wasn't supposed to be something so intimate and was just meant to be an activity to practice mindfulness, but your eyes watered. You dug your hands into his long hair as he drew butterflies on your thighs, on your scars.

“Do you know what butterflies symbolize?” his deep voice was rapsy, as if his concentration on your body took a lot of energy.

“No?”

“It symbolizes self-transformation, personal growth, resilience. It’s for fighters like you.”

Your mouth split into a shy smile.

“Is there a tattoo that symbolizes SA survivors?”

“Yeah, the Medusa tattoo. But any symbol of transformation and resilience can be a tattoo for SA survivors. There are butterflies, but also the lotus. The lotus symbolizes spirituality but also rebirth, blooming no matter where you come from and being reborn after a dark place. Tattoos are personal; you choose the meaning you want to convey.”

“I would like to get a tattoo when I have overcame my sexual trauma.”

“I wish you the fastest healing. You'll look amazing with a tattoo.”

Suguru finished painting on your body before lying back on his elbows so you could paint on his torso. You dipped your brush into the paint pot and kneeled down to draw on his body. You colored the untattooed parts of his skin, the colored lines looking beautiful against the ink on his flesh. Suguru stared at you with an intense gaze while you focused on his chest. You seemed to be having fun and that pleased him. He noticed your hands paused as you watched his thin happy trail get lost in his jeans, your mouth half-open, and he gave you a slight smirk.

When you finished coloring his torso, your phone alarm blared in the room, signaling that you had one hour before you had to work at 7-Eleven. You got up from the floor.

“I have to shower and study a little before work. Are we okay with this washing out?”

“Yeah, don’t worry. These are water-based paints made specifically for this purpose.” Suguru got up and put his rock band t-shirt back on.

You cleaned up the paint cans with Suguru and quickly got dressed. Your heart was still pounding from how he’d kissed your mutilation scars, and was respectful enough not to comment. Your wounds were fully healed, showing they were old, so he didn’t need to worry. You’d learned better coping mechanisms since when you were in pain growing up.

You gave him a small wave goodbye before leaving. Throughout your shift, your mind wasn't on the food you were beeping at the register, but on the feeling of Suguru's lips on your thighs.

───────────

SUGURU’s POV

“I think I'll confess my feelings to ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚.”

Suguru rolled his eyes. He was doing basketball practice drills, weaving between the small cones on the court while dribbling behind Satoru. It was two days after the bodypainting session.

“Do you know she collects tea bags? Her favorite song? What she looks like when she's flustered? You don't even know her.”

“And how would you know that more than me? We spend so much time with her!”

“Friendship isn't a matter of time, it's a matter of meeting people. She's shared a lot of things with me that I don't think you know about her. You're just friends, but I'm becoming a close friend.”

“I'm close to her; I talk to her about my constipation problems.”

“That's not being close, that's being indecent.”

Satoru's laughter echoed through the gymnasium. "Maybe. But she lets me tell her everything, so why would that be wrong?"

“Did you know that a relationship isn't one-sided? If you're always the one confessing things to her and she doesn't share anything with you, that means you don't have access to her heart. And if you don't have access to her heart, you can't confess your feelings to her because you'll get rejected.”

“Since when have you been so mature?” Satoru grumbled.

“Since always, ‘toru.”

“I rather get the impression that you're in love with her too and you're trying to get her before me.”

Suguru froze, pausing in his dribbling. He looked up at his best friend and met his suspicious and defiant gaze. He frowned.

“I'm not in love with her.”

“I looked through your phone in the locker room, and you're always talking on Instagram. You don't even say 'good morning' to your sex friends, but you send her music that reminds you of her?”

“Satoru!”

Suguru threw him a ball, and Satoru easily dodged it with a loud laugh.

“Admit it, you have a crush on her too! I don't understand why she's not popular, she's so pretty…”

The conversation was dangerous because, yes, Suguru had a crush on you, but he couldn't admit it to his best friend. He didn't want to damage his relationship with him, and he didn't want to be in competition. Things were going smoothly with you; he didn't want you to get upset because he was moving too fast with you to overtake Satoru.

“Yeah, she's pretty, but like any other girl at the university. She's not special,” he lied, taking another ball from the ball cage, his lie tasting ridiculous on his tongue since you were so special that he felt alive again by your side.

“I will try to deepen my relationship with her. I need to learn new flirting tactics because my natural charm isn't working on her.” Satoru's arrogance was at its peak today.

Suguru's heart gripped with jealousy at the thought of you getting closer to his best friend, but he ignored the uncomfortable feeling in his chest. You were free, you didn’t belong to him.

───────────

READER’s POV

You were trying to get some fresh air with your traditional Japanese fan, the heat was starting to increase during the month of June. You were waiting for Suguru for your research sessions. You just had Satoru before him, and you were tense. Satoru had been a little intrusive, trying to get to know you better, but it felt fake because Satoru and you were friends, but not friends like with Suguru. With Suguru you could talk about your rape, your abusive mother and your fear of sex while with Satoru, it was more you who listened to him talk about shojo, anime and music. He had finally taken an interest in you lately and you didn't like how he insisted on knowing personal information about you.

Suguru walked into Study Room 202 wearing his NBA Lakers jersey and navy blue baggy jeans. His hair was slightly wavy and still a little wet, indicating he had just come out of the shower.

“Sup,” he greeted you, sitting in front of you.

“Good afternoon, Sugu’.” It was the first time you’d used his nickname, and you nervously waited to see any displeasure on his face, but you found none. “Today, we’re going to try to dig deeper into your relationship with sports and your depression.”

He inclined his head in silent approval. You took out your laptop, opened the Word page you were using for Suguru, and went to the next line.

“So, can you explain to me what you feel when you exercise and why you're addicted to it?”

He stretched his arms before crossing them over his chest and pressing his back against his chair.

“It's more at the end of my workouts. I feel a sense of relaxation, and I no longer have the inner turmoil I have so much all the time that I forget it's not a normal state. It feels the same as when I went for walks before my depression.”

“Walks?”

“My parents live in the countryside, and there are quite a few temples near our house, as well as parks and forests. We can go for hour-long walks. I used to go on them with my dad, and then I'd go on my own when I was old enough. It helped clear my head. It's the same feeling I get when I finish a workout.”

“And why did you say it felt that way before the depression? It doesn't feel the same now?”

Suguru scratched the back of his head, an uncomfortable expression on his face.

“Let's just say that now, if I get too caught up in my thoughts, I spiral. That's why I have a little trouble with meditation. If I focus my thoughts too much, I feel overwhelmed by guilt about my deceased friend.”

“Meditation is a method, but not everyone is the same. It's not your fault if it doesn't work for you.”

“Let's just say I'd rather be able to meditate than be addicted to sex and exercise.”

“Actually, your condition isn't that different from that of people with ADHD. Their brains seek activities that release dopamine, and that can create quite a few problems. They are extremely bored, and not being stimulated can be painful for them. Since you no longer feel anything and are numb, you naturally gravitate toward activities that naturally release dopamine. But since you are incapable of feeling positive emotions, you quickly become addicted to these activities because they are the only ones that wake up your body.”

“Wow, you're smarter than my psychiatrist. She just asked me to list my symptoms and gave me antidepressants for my depression. I didn't know the mechanism behind it.”

“I'm not smarter than her.” You gave him a humble smile. “We just have different specialties. I'm studying to understand the human psyche and develop the best approaches to help those suffering through therapy, while she focuses on molecules that alleviate certain symptoms. If you saw a therapist, you'd see I'm not special.”

“Nah, you'll always be special to me.”

Wramth flooded into your cheeks at his heartfelt statement. You cleared your throat.

“Do you feel guilty when you can't do workouts?”

“I've never missed a workout, it's my whole life. Nothing will ever be more important than exercise. I'll always do my workout.”

“Do you know the manga Blue Lock?”

Suguru laughed quietly.

“Yeah, Satoru often talks to me about it. They're really teenagers going through puberty who have nothing better to do with their lives than play soccer.”

“You're not that different from them, you know. You're just a legal adult.”

“Yeah, I know.” His eyes sparkled with amusement.

“You have dark circles under your eyes. Are you tired because of your workouts, or are you having trouble sleeping? Do you want to do your workout even when you're tired?”

“When you're disciplined, there's nothing that can stop you from doing what you need to do. My muscles often hurt because of my aches and pains, but I always force myself to do my workouts. It's vital. I think it's a combination of both. I'm tired because of my workouts, but I also need neuroleptics to sleep.”

“Neuroleptics can be a heavy medication. You don't have any side effects?”

Suguru shook his head. You wrote down what he was telling you on your laptop.

“Did you know that overtraining can weaken the immune system and lead to chronic fatigue? You can develop heart complications from your excessive training.”

Suguru winced. “I know it's not healthy, but there's nothing that's helping me right now, and I don't want to go to therapy right now. I… I'm a little scared of what people will say about me if they hear the whole story about my deceased friend.”

“I'm not forcing you to do anything, Suguru, I'm just trying to inform you. You do what you can with what you have; I already think you're very brave by telling me what you’re feeling.”

His eyes shone with affection.

“You’re so cute.”

“You’re always saying that.”

“I’m just being honest.”

You continued the session, providing detailed research on Suguru's sports addiction. Your research will focus on the health consequences of sports, both good and bad when they lead to addiction. This will set you apart from others who are simply researching the link between sports and mental health. Before you left the room, Suguru grabbed your wrist before you opened the door. His gesture was gentle, but you jumped, alert. His face softened.

“Sorry.”

“No, no, it's okay.” You were sad to still be scared of him when you were close now. 

“I wanted to ask if you wanted to come to a frat party on Friday. You can try drinking alcohol, and I promise to stay close to you and make sure no one takes advantage of you. I promise I just want you to have fun. Make yourself look nice, and stop wearing baggy clothes like that. Make yourself look good for me if you don't want to look good for other men.”

“Why would I make myself look good for you?” you said, your voice tainted with defensiveness.

“Because I’ve been a good boy lately, haven’t I?”

He pressed against you, your wrist still in his hand, and pushed your back against the wall. Your heartbeat quickened and your breathing became labored.

“Suguru, I…”

“Relax, you know I would never hurt you.”

His voice was soft, almost sultry, and he played with your hand, intertwining his fingers with yours. He was so close to you that his breath brushed your face, and you felt the weight of his heavy gaze on you. Your heart pounded in your ribcage, your eyes fixed on his full lips that you were dying to feel on you.

He tilted his head, and thinking he was going to kiss you, you closed your eyes, but the kiss never came. When you opened your eyes, you were met with a playful Suguru, a sly smile on his face.

“What do you think I was going to do, baby?”

You shoved him away violently, storming out of the room, blood rushing to your cheeks. You heard his deep laugh behind you, but you knew he wasn't making fun of you, he was just amused by the situation. You always played the withdrawn girl who didn't want him, but now you were waiting for him to kiss you. He knew exactly what he was doing. The worst part was, you still hadn't figured out how to tell him you wanted to sleep with him. With determined steps, you mentally prepared to tell him at the party on Friday, and hoped he'd act on it that day because you were starting to get tired of feeling wet every time you spent time with him.

───────────

‘Make yourself look pretty, I'll wait for you in the university parking lot.’

You'd rushed into the shower upon receiving Suguru's message. You chose your favorite vanilla and caramel body washes and showered with a special confidence-boosting playlist, because you'd need it. Playing a Summer Walker song, you exfoliated your skin with an exfoliating glove. Coming out of the shared showers, you ran to your room in a towel. Utahime was spending the night with Shoko; you were alone for this ordeal. You applied scented creams, skin butters, and oils, and sprayed yourself with scented mist.

You searched your closet for a dress, but you only had baggy, unfitting ones. You looked for your black top with the plunging neckline that you never wore, a sexy lingerie set, and a denim miniskirt that you'd bought a few years ago but never dared to wear. The outfit hugged your curves perfectly. You put on your black heels and painted your toenails. You decorated yourself with jewelry and earrings.

Once ready, you applied glittery perfume all over your body. You looked at yourself in the mirror, a little stunned as you saw yourself. You had never made such an effort for a party, and you knew it was just for Suguru. It was an important day for you because you were finally going to confess your desire to a man you liked and maybe start your sex-friend relationship tonight.

Your heart was pounding with excitement as you walked down the stairs and across campus to the parking lot.

A long whistle attracted your attention. Suguru leaned against his black car, his arms crossed over his chest. He wore black jeans and a navy blue short-sleeved t-shirt, his silver chain visible on his collarbones. His gaze roamed along your figure, his eyes dark with desire as he whistled at you.

“That's kind of misogynistic, stop that,” you said as you walked towards him, but your tone was joking.

“If you knew what I had in mind, you would try to start a feminist revolution against me,” he opened the passenger door for you, and you stepped into his car, enjoying the smell of the interior, filled with his cologne.

You didn't know when you were so comfortable joking about his attraction to you, but you liked the vibe between you.

“Utahime is not with you?”

“She’s with Shoko. I think things are going well with them.”

“I know Shoko well, and she’s serious about Utahime. She’s just a bit scared of love since the death of Haibara.”

You mentally made the connection.

“Wait, Haibara was Shoko’s ex-boyfriend?”

“Yeah. They dated in high school. They were pretty close. Their couple was kinda funny. He was so obsessed with her but she was so nonchalant. She always chose her partners like that.”

“She must be happy with Utahime. She is very affectionate.”

Suguru gave a slight nod, his eyes on the road. You didn't speak further, the air thick with desire with his furtive glances at your thighs and your eyes on his biceps as he drove. You couldn't wait to tell him you were okay with sleeping with him, just to see his reaction. Just imagining his gaze filled with adoration and reverence on your naked body made you shiver.

Near the frat party, the music could be heard even in the neighborhood, and there were a multitude of luxury cars parked near the frat. Kaisen University was a prestigious and expensive university that you managed to get into thanks to your excellence and diligence in school and your student loans. It was worth the debt; the quality of the courses at Kaisen University was unparalleled. You were excited to go to Jujutsu University for your master's degree, which was even higher quality.

“Satoru isn’t here?”

“He’s with a girl at his dorm.”

“Of course.”

Suguru opened the passenger door for you and intertwined his fingers with yours. He led you into the frat, you following close behind him. As he entered the party, he shook hands with several people who greeted him, and you felt shy next to all his friends. But you knew these must be superficial friendships since Suguru didn't make friends easily.

“So, what do you want to drink? This is your first time drinking alcohol, it must be memorable.”

He rummaged through the kitchen cupboards for a cocktail shaker. He pulled out more alcohol from the fridge and placed various bottles and fruit juices on the counter, while other people filled the red cups and placed them on the counter. You looked at the multitude of alcohol with apprehension.

“What are you having?”

“Nothing. I have to keep an eye on you.”

Your lips quirked up.

“I’d like something fruity.”

“I have what you need,” he began to make you a cocktail. He mixed tequila with orange-pineapple juice and coconut cream, and stirred it all together, his gestures dynamic.

“Tequila colada.” He poured you a glass. You took the glass, your hands trembling as you stared at the alcoholic juice in your hands. A gentle look passed over his face.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to.”

“I want to. I don’t drink alcohol because I don’t want to, I don’t drink it because I’m afraid. I have to overcome this fear.” You squeezed the glass in your hands and brought it to your lips, the trembling in your hands making your grip on the object unsteady. Suguru came over and held your glass for you, bringing it to your lips. You maintained your gaze with him as you drank the cocktail, feeling the liquid pass down your esophagus and your taste buds awakening to the bitter taste of orange juice and alcohol.

“It’s delicious.”

A light danced in his eyes, his mouth offered a smile.

“My father wanted to be a bartender before becoming a farmer. He gave in to family pressure and continued the business, but he still enjoys making us cocktails at home.”

“Is that why he doesn’t force you to continue the family business?”

“Partly. It was the older generation who were strict, now they don’t care whether I take over the family business or not. I have plenty of cousins who don’t work in agriculture.”

You dipped your head in a gesture of understanding. Suguru leaned against the wooden counter, his hands behind his back, on the wood, next to you.

You continued to chat about this and that while Suguru mixed you various cocktails. Slowly, the alcohol relaxed you and made you talk more than usual. The gentle warmth of the drink flowed through you, warming your body. It was only when the men around you started to stare, wanting to take advantage of your tipsiness, that Suguru grabbed your hand and led you to an empty bedroom.

You sat on the bed. The alcohol inhibited you and let you speak your mind freely.

“You know, I thought about your offer.”

“My offer?” Suguru sat next to you.

“I wanna sleep with you.”

All the air in Suguru's lungs caught, his breath caught in his chest. The atmosphere instantly felt thick with tension.

“What?”

It was the first time you'd seen Suguru so shy, and it made you laugh. Your laughter was short-lived, a brief burst of mirth before your face fell into a serious expression.

“I wanna get laid. Have sex. Sleep with you.”

His brows furrowed, a deep crease formed between his eyes.

“No.”

“Why?” You looked at him in confusion, a similar frown on your face.

“Because I promised I wouldn't take advantage of you, and you've been drinking. You're not in your normal state, and I don't want to take advantage of you.”

Now your hesitation about telling him was back on you. You let out a heavy breath.

“I wanted to sleep with you before I got drunk,” you said, your voice soft.

“I have no evidence of that. What do I do if you wake up and regret it?”

You got up and sat on his lap. His body tensed but he let you. His arms wrapped around you. 

“You want me and I want you. Yes, alcohol makes me more confident than usual, but my desire was the same before I got drunk. I really want you to fuck me.”

His face hardened, your words creating a fire in his mind, his gaze intense. The ‘I really want you to fuck me’ rushed blood through his length, his jeans becoming tight.

“Do you want to?” You moved closer to him. Your breaths mingled.

His resolve weakened drastically as he felt your breasts press against his chest.

“Of course. I want you more than anything. But…”

“But ?”  you tilted your head, looking so good in front of him, he fought the urge to take you right here, on his lap.

“I’m a gentleman. I don’t have sex with drunk girls.”

“I’m not drunk just tipsy, what if I want you to be selfish and take advantage of me?”

A dangerous gleam appeared in his eyes.

“Don’t say stuff like that, I-”

You didn't care what he was going to say, you wanted something and you were going to get it. You captured his lips in a kiss, his words dying on his tongue. His squeezed his eyes shut, letting a soft sigh in contact with your lips.

“Fuck it,” he rasped and grabbed your throat, pressing you closer against him as he kissed you with force. He took the lead, his tongue traced your lower lip, slowly coaxing your lips apart. He ravished your mouth. The warm metal of his tongue piercing brushed yours, his way of kissing was feverish, his own breathing rapid as his tongue tangled with yours. When you detached your lips to take a breath, he yanked you against him. His grip on your throat was tight as he pressed his lips against yours again. He prevented you from breathing.

Suguru was a cold man emotionally, his anhedonia preventing him from fully connecting with people. Yet, when he kissed you, he felt a tingling sensation in his lower abdomen, like butterflies. You managed to move an impassive man just with your lips.

His way of kissing sent shivers down your spine. It was as if he was taking more than he was giving, as if you were something that had always belonged to him and he was finally the owner. His kisses were slow and languorous, his tongue sliding on yours with a slowness that made you feel warm all over.

“We’re doing this my way,” he whispered as his lips traced your jaw and moved down your neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses that quickened your pulse. “Only you get pleasure, we’ll deal with me another day.”

You wanted to protest, wanting to please him too, but the way he was nibbling at your neck and his hands seeking the warmth of your body under your top kept you from complaining. If he wanted to treat you like a princess tonight, you weren't going to stop him.

Suguru lowered the collar of your t-shirt to take your breast in his mouth but he paused when he saw the lingerie.

“You wore that for me, baby?” He looked up to you, a fire in his eyes. 

You gave him a shy nod, and your eyes widened as he pulled down the cup of your bra and shoved your breast into his mouth. The feeling of his warm wet mouth sucking your nipple made you arch your back, your hands diving into his long hair as you closed your eyes. He guzzled your nipple, his other hand fondling your other breast, kneading it, his large tattooed hand covering it. He pinched and rolled your nipple between fingers, your body heating up.

It was surreal that the boy who scared you in April, three months later, had your tits stuffed in his mouth. He looked so pretty like that, you took a twisted pleasure in opening your eyes from time to time and looking at his hungry eyes as if he was devouring the most delicious food.

He pushed you away in a abrupt gesture, his breathing labored.

“Undress yourself or I’ll rip your clothes off.”

A playful chuckle slipped out of your mouth. “Okay.”

You quickly took off your top and skirt, giggling to yourself as you saw Suguru shaking on the bed, his fists clenched, looking at you as if you were the biggest temptation. Your bra followed the rest of your clothes on the floor and when you pulled down your thong, Suguru grabbed you and threw you on the bed. You laughed as his muscular frame hovered above you.

“Are you being so slow on purpose or what?” he uttered in a rough tone, yanking away your thong, throwing it somewhere in the room where he didn’t care.

“No,” you whispered, your smirk conveyed, that, yes, you did that on purpose.

“You’re being awfully playful for a fearful girl, huh?” his hand found your core, his index and middle fingers tracing circles on your clit, making your laughter stop. “Awww, look at that. Why aren’t you laughing? You’re teasing me and I can’t?” 

The gentle Suguru you knew was nowhere to be seen, and you had a meaner, rougher version. His purple eyes were dark, his breathing labored as he stared at you intensely. His fingers added more pressure, keeping his pace slow, making you squirm on the bed. You raised your hand to cover your mouth to moan, and he pushed your hand away.

“None of that. I’m gonna hear my name loud and clear.”

His words were harsh, his voice almost menacing. You didn't know why you weren't afraid of him; a man different from him would have made you shudder in fear, but you were arching onto the bed, moaning softly. His dominant side was painfully attractive, and you savored every second of it.

“How do you masturbate?”

His voice was distant in the ocean of pleasure his fingers transporting you. You weren't even able to dissociate like you usually did during sex; Suguru's touch made you hypersensitive.

“W-What?”

“How do you masturbate? What position would be most comfortable for you?”

Your lips pressed together in a smile. The gentle Suguru was still here.

“I masturbate in all ways, but we can do it on my stomach.”

He turned you around without waiting, his body pressing against you as he ground his hips against your ass. His weight against you triggered your defense mechanisms and you flinched. He instantly sensed your tension.

“What is it? I’m sorry, baby. Please tell me.”

“It’s just your weight… It brings back bad memories.”

He rested his elbow next to your head and lifted his body.

“Like that?” 

He buried his head in your neck, his fingers finding your entrance again, toying with your clit. He continued to grind against your ass, sucking the skin of your neck. You struggled to answer him, his ministrations causing a kind of frenzy to take hold of your body. He smiled against his skin when he heard your soft moans muffled in the sheets.

“Satoru is in love with you.” His words made you froze. “But he won’t have you, right baby? I’m the one who makes you this wet, and I’ll have you weeks later, am I right?” he murmured, speeding up his fingers on you, making you clench the sheets in your hands. “I will learn how this body works and ruin you for others men, okay?”

His voice was so gentle but his words so sinful. It was a good representation of what kind of man Suguru was. 

His hips rocked against your ass, his erection rubbing against you. He could have finished right there, he wanted you so bad, but he was too focused on you to completely let go. His teeth caught a piece of your skin, and his tongue ran over it as his mouth sucked, his fingers bringing you closer and closer to your peak. When your body was shot through with spams and waves of pleasure, your eyes rolling to the back of your head in pure bliss, he got up from you and lay down next to you.

“Sit on me,” he breathed out, his hands gesturing to his face.

Those simple words made heat surge through your body and you sat up on the bed, looking at him shyly, intimidated by the fact that your chubby body might be too heavy for him.

“All of my weight?”

“All of your weight. Crush me and suffocate me if you want. This is the best way of dying.”

With a light chuckle, you moved closer to his face and lifted your pelvis to sit on his lower face, holding onto the headboard of the bed.

“You're not putting all your weight on,” he muttered, his hands coming to your love handles to grip them and yank you down on him, his nose rubbing into your clit as his tongue started to lap between your folds. A gasp escaped your mouth, the warmth of his mouth on you overwhelming. The feeling of his tongue piercing on your puffy walls made you shudder. 

Your thighs clenched, capturing his face and he didn’t mind. His mind was focused on your taste, his mouth eating you out voraciously. You lowered your head to look at him and his gaze filled with ardor and passion made your insides bubble up. You closed your eyes, moaning and grinding your hips on his face, and he kept his eyes half-lidded, staring at you. His lower face was drenched in your essence, and it was the best feeling in the world for him. Eating you out was making him feel things he didn’t even feel when he was thrusting into a girl. Your taste was the best drug he's ever put into his body.

His hands on you guided you to grind him better, his dick twitching every time your center rubbed against his nose, his senses filled by your scent. His tongue twisted around inside you, wiggling to find all the spots that made you gasp and clench inside. His tongue explored every inch of your folds, making your body twitching.

“Sugu’, stop, I’m gonna…”

You slowed down your grinding, trying to get away from his face, but he held you tightly against him.

“Make a mess, baby. Give it to me.”

He fucked you with his tongue, his mouth filled with your slick. He smiled against your core when you finally let go, your legs trembling around him as you were going limp. He didn’t stop there, even though his jaw was aching, continuing to stimulate your clit, wanting to make you come countless times. 

It was only when his greed had enough of you and your taste that he detached himself from your center, leaving you flopping onto the bed, chest rising and falling as you came down from your high. You turned your head to look at him, and blood rushed into your cheeks seeing how glistening his face was.

“You’re absolutely crazy,” you panted.

“I told you, you shouldn’t honor the wishes of a man like me.”

Your gaze was filled with affection as he laid down on the bed, giving you a hug. You sought the radiant heat from his body and nuzzled his chest. The powerful orgasms left your thighs aching from your repeated clenching, and fatigue coursed through your body. You drifted off to sleep, his lips against the top of your head.

───────────

When you woke up, two purple eyes stared at you, and when you burst out laughing, he shook his head, snapping out of his trance. He scratched the back of his head, embarrassed. You sat up on the bed and rubbed your eyes.

“Why does it look like you didn't sleep?” you asked, your voice still sleepy.

“Because I didn't.”

“Don't tell me you spent all night staring at me.”

“Okay, I won't say anything then.”

You looked at him strangely, your eyebrows furrowed.

“Why didn’t you sleep?”

“I was too excited. I wanted you so bad.”

Your expression relaxed, a gentle look passing across your face.

“Sugu’...”

“You’re still… I mean…” 

His voice were soft, a bit hesitant. He ran his hand through his hair.

“Yeah?” 

“You still want me? It wasn’t a dream or anything? You don’t regret it?”

Warmth filled your eyes. “No, it wasn’t a dream. I still want to be friends with benefits with you.”

“I swear you won't regret giving me this chance.”

Suguru spoke as if you'd just made a political deal and you giggled at that. You wrapped your arms around him to give him a hug, your heart filled with contentment.

───────────

“What are you reading?”

It was Wednesday, a few days after the wild night with Suguru. It was the day of your session with Suguru, and your heart raced when you heard his voice. You weren't shy, but seeing him again after he'd spent long minutes between your thighs intimidated you a little. You weren't sure how to behave. Were you closer friends now, or just sex friends?

“A love story between a man at war and his wife. It's an epistolary love story; they exchange letters. It's my favorite type of fiction.” You closed your book and put it in your bag. Suguru sat down next to you.

“You're such a feminist, and you romanticize soldiers? Do you know what soldiers do to civilian women during a war or in the military?”

“I only read books where men are forced to go to the front and don't agree with their governments' policies. I don't want to read stories by rapists,” you said in a firm voice.

“I'm not surprised,” Suguru played with his industrial piercing, showing he was nervous. Maybe he too didn't know how to behave around you now that you were sex friends.

You did your weekly session, Suguru stealing glances at your lips and breasts, desperately wanting to feel them in his mouth again. When you were done, you closed your laptop.

“Is it true that Satoru is in love with me?”

Suguru flinched, remembering what he'd told you. He'd been more dominant than he should have been since he knew you were someone with sexual trauma; he was surprised you were so wet and not scared.

“Um, yeah…”

“How is that possible? We haven't shared anything very intimate together.”

“Satoru falls for anyone easily. Don't try to understand. He confuses lust with love.”

“If that's the case, I'm going to stop the sessions with him right now. I've been planning to do that for a few weeks now since I chose to do my research exclusively on you, but now that I know this, I'd rather stop now.”

Suguru's face lit up; deep down, a selfish pleasure was taking hold of him. He will have all your attention.

“I'm going to have to mend his broken heart.”

“Show him a new girl to obsess over, he'll forget me quickly. Besides, we're friends, I'll see him often, so it shouldn't hurt him too much.”

You stood up, shouldering your bag, and Suguru followed you out of the private study room.

“So…”

“Yeah?”

Suguru decided not to beat around the bush and say frankly what was on his mind.

“When can we meet for sex?”

You paused. Hands a little shaky, you turned to him. This was the first time you'd had an arrangement like this with a man.

“Maybe every Sunday?”

He gave a nod of acknowledgment, a small smile on his face.

“I swear you won’t regret this. Thank you for trusting me.”

“Suguru, this is sex, not a commercial deal.”

His smile widened, turning into a smirk.

“What do you mean? You’re the real deal.”

You suppressed an eye roll, but it showed anyway.

“Shall we do this in my dorm or yours?”

“In yours, Satoru can come to my dorm at any time.”

“Why are you hiding our relationship from him? Satoru and I aren't a couple, you don't owe him anything.”

“I'm breaking the bro code. It'll hurt his feelings.”

“If you really didn't want to hurt him, you wouldn't agree to this relationship with me.”

You walk out of the library, side by side.

“Please. He says he's ‘in love’, but he doesn't even know you. I don't want to hurt his feelings, but I'm not going to deprive myself of you for some stupid crush that doesn't hold water.”

The ‘deprive myself of you’ made you feel hot. When he was eating you out, his eyes were filled with so much greed and hunger, that you thought he was really serious when he said he didn't want to be deprived of you.

You parted with a wave, and returned to your classes, your heart warming at the thought of what you were going to do on Sunday.

───────────

Sunday arrived quickly, and you rushed to the shower to get ready for your 'sexy time' with Suguru. Taking care of yourself put you in a good mood as you applied creams and oils to your body. You put on comfortable pajamas that consisted of a tank top and mini shorts that hid your lingerie underneath. You and Utahime would have to go shopping since you had only a few sexy underwear and flattering clothes. Having this relationship with Suguru made you want to be more beautiful and take care of yourself.

Utahime had gone to spend the day with Shoko, and you had the room to yourself. Suguru knocked on the door as you were taking your dried flowers out of the books. You gave him permission to open it, and he gave you a curious look as he watched what you were doing.

“Do you like flowers?”

“Yes, I love them,” you hung the bouquet down on the wall, placing it next to the others. Suguru had been to your dorm several times before, but he'd never noticed the number of flowers on the wall.

“You'd get along well with my mom; she's passionate about botany. She has a garden full of flowers and plants. Maybe one day I can show it to you,” he entered the room, placing snacks on your desk. Your heart warmed at his little gesture.

“What are your favorite flowers?”

“Roses, of course, and hydrangeas.”

“Hydrangeas? They're in season right now. I know some gardens and parks where they are there, I could show you.”

You get down from your chair and give him a smile.

“You want to show me lots of things.”

“You’re my friend, after all,” he emphasized the word ‘friend’, as if to imply that you were more than that, which was the case.

His eyes trailed down your face, lingering on your thighs. Your body temperature began to rise under his gaze, and you sat up in bed, your legs swinging, unsure of how to begin.

He sat down next to you and placed his hand on yours, as if to calm your nerves.

“Before we begin, I'd like you to explain a little about your triggers. I did some research on sexual trauma before coming, and you have triggers, right?” Suguru asked, scratching his head and avoiding looking at you. Your heart swelled.

“Yeah, I have some. No doggy style, that's how I was raped. No spanking either. No hair pulling. In fact, anything we do during doggy style, please avoid.”

Suguru listened attentively, nodding his head. His face had a gentle look as his affectionate gaze flickered across your face. 

“I didn’t want to do that position with you, I wanna see your face or do positions you’re comfortable with.”

Your stomach was all light and bubbly, his words like a warm hug around your fears. You tilted your head, your gaze meeting him, and you silently gave him the green light.

He leaned over, his hands cradling your face to kiss you. His familiar tongue piercing brushed against your lips to coax you to open your mouth. You made out, your tongues gliding against each other in a slow dance, as his hands began to roam your body under your tank top.

He was much gentler than the first time, not driven by hunger or greed but affection and respectful desire. You let him undress you from your top and shorts, lying on the bed while you caressed his abs under his t-shirt, tugging at the bottoms for him to remove them. He removed them with a swift movement, hands behind his back, and pulled off his jeans. His hard length in his boxers made your eyes widen, anticipating when you'd have him in your mouth because of his size.

Dry humping, something you were used to because it was one of the main things you could do with your trauma, was much sexier with Suguru than with any other man you'd ever done it with. The way he rubbed his length in his boxers over your clothed cunt, while kneading your breasts, made you wet and hot. His dark, lustful eyes were fixed on your breasts and your mouth, while his lips were parted from his rapid breathing.

When he ate you, it was like the first time, a powerful orgasm overwhelmed you thanks to his expert and precise tongue. You were afraid he'd be bored by the limited things you could do because of your fear, but his heated gaze on you told you everything you needed to know about his arousal.

He whispered praise as you tentatively took him in your mouth, his veiny cock intimidating because of its size and width, but you managed to close your lips around it, taking it deeper into your throat. Suguru gave you instructions on how to do it, helping you breathe. His soft voice as you sucked him soothed you, making you want to please him even more, thanking him for being so gentle with you.

When you were finished, Suguru gave you a kiss on the forehead and a hug, and you understood why he was so popular with the girls. He was gentle, respectful, and adapted to his partner's needs. Your pussy clenched as you imagined how he would be, fully dominant, when you were more comfortable with him. You ate snacks together while chatting, a light and cozy atmosphere between you.

“We should do our study sessions together on Sundays and then sleep together,” Suguru suggested, eating shrimp chips.

“That’s a good idea,” a smile flashed across your face as you looked at him, your heart filled with satisfaction. “Sugu’, how are you feeling?”

“What do you mean?”

“You told me that during sex you don't feel anything until you come.”

“For some reason, my depression doesn't apply to you. I feel like I'm on fire whenever you're around, you give me bursts of inspiration that I can't control, and I feel like I'm hypersensitive around you when I'm usually numb. I feel so much better since I met you, and since you gave me methods to help me with my depression. You're more effective than any antidepressant.”

A soft chuckle escaped your lips.

“I should contact a support group for depression to help them then.”

“Nah, you're mine now,” he hugged you tighter. “Nobody will have the privilege of your healing powers except me.”

Suguru took out his phone to show you some new R&B artists he’d discovered and thought you’d like, and you snuggled up to him, peaceful.

───────────

READER’s POV

June and july ended quickly. Between your Sundays with Suguru, your shifts at 7eleven, and your classes, you didn't notice the time passing. When July arrived, marking the end of the first semester and the start of exams, you put your weekly research sessions with Suguru on hold to focus on studying for your exams.

Suguru was also studying for his classes, and you only saw each other on Sundays when you slept together. A little sex allowed you to avoid getting lost in the stress of exams. You were making progress in your sex life thanks to Suguru; you were practicing mindfulness, focusing on the sensations in your body to be truly present during sex. Suguru had also stopped dissociating, and your little sex friend arrangement was doing you both good.

On sunday, Suguru came into your dorm room, leaving his bag near your desk. You used to study together and have sex afterward.

Studying together, Suguru's gaze lingered on your face, his eyes still flickering on your lips. Your lips were truly as tempting as the forbidden fruit. Their shape, texture, and taste called to Suguru and had such power over him that you made the grown man weak in the knees.

While you had your head bent over your books, he couldn't help but grab your throat and kiss you, leaning over you. His kisses were always demanding like that, his grip on your throat tight to prevent you from escaping. Drawing your lips toward his, his tongue forced its entry into your mouth while you made a noise of protest, wanting to focus on your studies for your exams.

“I hope you’re not looking for a boyfriend too soon, I’m not ready to share these lips with another man,” he whispered against your mouth, his lips molding against yours as he kissed you languidly.

“I’m not looking for a man.” You let out a sigh between your kisses.

“Too bad for the male gender. They don't know what they're missing,” Suguru pressed himself against you, laying you down on the bed, his weight on you making the bed creak. A few minutes later, you were lost in an ocean of pleasure, his expert hands on you as if you were an instrument he knew by heart.

An hour and a half later, after you'd came down from your high, you wrapped the blanket around your naked body while Suguru put his boxers and jeans back on, remaining shirtless. You watched him walk into your room, admiring the dragon tattoo on his back, the thick lines and detailed style.

“What are you doing during the holidays?” his voice brought you out of your thoughts focused on his tattoos.

“Taking care of my mother, as usual.”

“What if you went on a date with a certain captain?”

Your eyes grew wide. A date?

“Don’t give me that look. This is for therapy. You have to do things outside your comfort zone. Have you ever been on a date with someone?”

“No…”

“All the more reason to do it. I’ll treat you like a princess, you’ll see.”

You didn’t know what to think of this date idea. On the one hand, you were happy that he wanted to spend time with you during the holidays, but on the other hand, you noticed your heart racing a little faster imagining Suguru in a romantic context, as if it was something you wanted to experience. You quickly silenced that thought, not having time to develop feelings for Suguru. Or maybe it was too late?

───────────

You walked back into your childhood home, rolling your suitcase. As usual, the decor had changed, and the furniture was in different positions, indicating that your mother was either in a manic phase and wanted to change the decor, or in a depressive phase and didn't have the strength to pursue her new ideas.

“Mom?” your voice echoed through the house as you moved forward. You glanced toward the kitchen, noticing it was clean, your heart tightening as you realized she was either normal right now or in a manic phase. The times you hated the most, you preferred when she spent her time sleeping during her depression; you had more time for yourself.

You left the suitcase downstairs and began to climb the stairs. Music drifted from upstairs, coming from the bathroom. You opened the door and found your mother applying her usual eyeliner, this time straight, not distorted by alcohol.

“Hey,” you turned off the music from the speakers to hear her, but your mother's face twisted into a frown.

“You're already here and you already want to ruin my day? Turn the music back on,” she ordered, her speech fast, the clean state of the kitchen, her sobriety giving you all the clues that she was in a manic phase and that you were going to have a difficult holiday. She always had the idea of giving up alcohol at times like these, but she was paranoid and extremely irritable. It was as if she was in a fast-paced, colorful world, and couldn't stand it when people didn't behave like her, frustrated to be the only one who saw the colors of life.

You let out a sigh and turned the music back on, leaving her humming in front of the mirror. You weren't hurt by the harsh tone in which she spoke to you, used to this kind of exchange between the two of you. You were gathering your suitcase to put your clothes back in your room for the holidays. Your phone vibrated in your pocket. It was a message from Suguru.

‘Did you get home okay? I'm still on the train. My parents live far from Tokyo. I hope things are going well with your mother.’

You smiled at the text and started to write a reply when someone snatched your phone from your hand.

“Why are you smiling? Do you have a boyfriend? Do you want to abandon me and live with him after studies?” your mother asked, her hands shaking with anger as she stared at you with the dark eyes she always had when she got angry. You flinched, knowing that tone and knowing she could explode at any moment.

“No, Mom, he's just a friend. You know I'll never abandon you,” you repeated the same sentence you had to say every holiday because she thought you were plotting to ditch her after your master. You didn't even know when you would ever be free with a mother like that.

She shook her head, searching your phone for proof that you were lying. She looked through your messages, but there was only Utahime because you didn't have Suguru's number, and you were talking to him via Instagram. Having no justification for hitting you, she gave you your phone back with a suspicious look.

“I will have an outing with a friend during the holidays,” you tried, playing with the em on your t-shirt.

“No.”

Your face tensed.

“Mom, I-”

“We don't know what could happen outside, I don't want you to get kidnapped. You'll stay home for the entire holidays. I don't care about the reason for the outing, that's a no.”

You waited until her back was turned to bite your fist, already fed up. You were never allowed to do anything because of her paranoia. She thought the danger was outside when she was the one abusing you.

In the evening, you ate your meal in silence with Yaga, your mother's boyfriend, who came over from time to time. He was usually serious and stern, but with your mother, she brought out an outgoing and jovial side in him. You watched them talk while they ate, wondering what kind of parents you and Suguru would be if you had children. Maybe you'd be a bit like your mother, afraid of men outside, while Suguru would be more the type to teach your children how to fight. You were sure he'd make them play sports. You smiled at the thought, but froze when you realized what you were thinking.

Children with Suguru? You didn't even want children at all; it terrified you to be tied down to a man your whole life, let alone with Suguru. You weren't in love with him. You repeated this to yourself over and over again during the meal, not wanting to give in and think stupid things again.

At night, you were talking to Suguru via Instagram.

‘My mom doesn't want me to go out.’

‘Aren't you 21 years old?’

‘Yeah, I know. But my mother is like that. No matter how old I am, she'll always want to control me.’

‘Doesn't she ever go out?’

‘I could ask Yaga to take her out one afternoon so I can go out. I'll have to wait two weeks for her to forget about me going out.’

‘No problem. I'll wait for you all vacation if I have to. Nobody's stopping me from tasting your lips in August.’

You chuckled against your pillow.

‘It's a date, not a 'sexy time' Sunday.’

‘Same thing, I'd be honored to see my favorite psychology major. I have to kiss you, otherwise it's like playing basketball without a jersey. Doesn't feel natural.’

You rolled your eyes, but still sent a meme, he liked the message. You were excited to see him during the holidays, you already missed him.

───────────

Two weeks later, you took advantage of your mother's date with her boyfriend to get ready. You chose a body-hugging sundress and your usual heels. You threw on a vintage bag that matched your dress on your shoulders and went quickly out of your house. Time was running out before your mother came home. You took the bus to downtown Tokyo; Suguru wanted to meet you in front of a park.

Butterfly took flight in your stomach when you spotted him across from the park, a bouquet of roses in his hand.

“You weren't kidding when you said you wanted to treat me like a princess, I see.” You took the bouquet of roses and smelled the flowers. The bouquet was large and the flowers were of good quality, indicating he'd probably paid for them at an expensive florist.

“Anything for my favorite girl,” he took your free hand and led you into the park.

When Suguru said things like that to you, blurring the line between friendship and love, your stomach flipped. You should have seriously asked him to stop doing that, but you couldn't find the words to tell him, the effect his words had on you was too good.

It was a park that had a garden area, with multitudes of flowers and different shrubs. Your heart swelled at the thought that since Suguru had learned that you liked flowers, he had found a park for you.

“Did your mother… hit you?”

“I know how to behave to avoid making her angry. Growing up with someone unstable, you end up developing tactics. I think I can be okay until the end of the holidays. It's just annoying because everything I do irritates her; I can't have normal conversations with her.”

Suguru's face softened.

“I understand. If she hurts you and you need a place to stay, know that you're welcome at my place.”

“That's sweet of you, Suguru. I've got it covered, don't worry.”

You walked down the aisles filled with flowerbeds, explaining to Suguru how to care for certain varieties, which ones needed extra water, and when they bloomed. Suguru watched you intently, his gaze falling over your moving lips. He'd been deprived of you for two weeks, and his body was beginning to feel the withdrawal, like an addict going through withdrawal.

“Hm, that's really interesting,” he gave you a slight nod, “but I need something right now.”

You tilted your head, playfulness flickering in your eyes.

“What do you need, Captain?”

“You,” he cupped your face in his hands and leaned down to kiss you in front of everyone in the garden, as if you were a couple. You wrapped your arms around his neck, deepening the kiss as your tongues glided against each other, the warmth of his mouth mingling with yours.

You continued walking through the park, Suguru stopping every now and then to kiss you or put his hand on the small of your back as you walked. It really felt like a romantic date rather than 'therapy' between sex friends, and you thoroughly enjoyed the experience, seeing a loving side of Suguru you hadn't seen before.

As you left the park, there was a photo booth in front of you, and Suguru guided you inside, pulling the curtain after you. He brought you onto his lap and activated the photo booth. The first photo was of you kissing, his hand on your throat as usual. The second was of you leaning back from his mouth for a second kiss, a frown on his face. The third was of you both laughing, a soft look on your faces.

You looked at the photos that came out, fondness in your gaze, already knowing that you were going to stick them in your diary. Suguru took your hands and led you to a cafe for cake.

You enjoyed that afternoon with him more than you wanted to admit. A thought formed in your mind, and you were afraid to let it grow. What if maybe… What if maybe… What if maybe… What if maybe Suguru was a worthy boyfriend? The thought scared you, making your stomach knot. It was scary to think about giving so much trust to a man, but you realized that you already had practically a relationship with him, so there were no surprises once you were with him.

But what if he changed? What if, in the heat of the moment, he became like your mother or your rapist? He's a man after all, and every man in your life has disappointed you. Will you be able to trust him and give him your heart? Would you be willing to dive into the abyss of love?

Your thoughts were interrupted by an alarm on your phone, the one you'd set to remind you that your mother could come home.

“That was a really great date, Sugu’, but I have to go home. My mother will freak out if she knew I came in without her permission.”

Suguru gave an understanding nod and gave you a kiss on the cheek.

“Can I walk you home?”

“No, I'm too scared to run into her. It's better if we part here.”

“No problem. We'll have to do this again at university.”

Your mouth stretched into a grin. “Of course, whenever you want.”

He gave you one last kiss, this time on the forehead, and you watched him leave the cafe, your insides bubbling up. Maybe. Maybe you could trust him.

With your date's excited spirit, you took the bus home. You sighed with relief when the lights in the house were off, and went home with peace of mind. However, the second you entered the house, someone slammed your head against the wall. Your heart gripped with terror, recognizing the scent of your mother behind you.

“I told you no.”

Her words were harsh, like the slaps of the belt she placed on your ass, and you jumped with each blow, biting your lip to keep from crying out as your eyes watered.

“I'm making an effort to be closer to you, and you disobey me like this?” The belt continued to slap against your ass, the pain familiar and horribly piercing.

“Make an effort? You treat me like shit.” You clenched your fists against the wall, using the little energy you gained during your date to answer your mother.

“And you answer? I'll give you something to cry about.” Your mother yanked your hair and threw you to the ground. She continued to swing her belt at you, too blinded by her anger to notice she was hitting you in the face. You curled up in a ball as she kicked you in the stomach. She trampled on the flowers Suguru had given you.

The house was filled with your muffled cries as you lay crying on the floor. When she finished hitting you, she let out a little huff as if she were the one struggling to breathe, leaving you trembling in the hallway.

───────────

SUGURU’s POV

The holidays passed slowly for Suguru. He desperately wanted to see you. He wanted to hear you psychoanalyze him, hear you talk about lithotherapy or flowers; he was addicted to you. When the beginning of September arrived, and classes were back, he was relieved to know he'd see you again on Sunday and that he would finally taste you on his tongue.

But first, he had an important basketball game today.

Jujutsu University was Kaisen University's rival. Before Suguru and Satoru came to Kaisen University, Jujutsu University always won the college championship. The Jujutsu students were angry to lose their first place on the podium and were particularly violent after game nights.

The teams left the locker rooms, and the captains shook hands. Suguru smiled at the Jujutsu University captain, but the captain maintained a tense expression, which increased Suguru's pride, knowing they struggled against him and Satoru.

But Suguru's smile faded when he spotted ghosts from his past on the court. Hayami, with his brown hair at center, Osamu with his black hair at small forward, and Keiji with his blue hair at point guard. The three men responsible for Haibara's death.

Suguru turned to his teammates, making a circle with his fingers, indicating to go into the ‘ zone defense’ and that he would purposely leave the ball to them. Satoru and the other three teammates nodded. ‘Zone defense’ consisted of a simple defensive tactic where each player guarded a portion of the court and restricted any players entering their zones, preventing them from dribbling or shooting.

The tip-off began, and he deliberately let the opposing team have the ball, knowing they were usually very good on defense and lacking in offense, and he wanted to wear them down and score a quarter of points early on.

The Jujutsu University students screamed with excitement, unaware that this was all part of Suguru's tactics. They failed to score points in the 24 seconds after the tip-off, and Satoru had the ball and shot from the 3-point zone, jumping skillfully, and dunking the ball into the basket.

Suguru hardened when he faced one of those responsible for Haibara's death, an urge to stop playing and disfigure their faces seizing him when he saw their smirks.

“You'll smile less when my team crushes you,” Suguru muttered to Keiji, who was dribbling past him, but Suguru stopped him from going any further.

A gleam of mischief appeared in Keiji's eyes, his smirk widening.

“Suguru. It's been a long time, hasn't it? How's Haibara?”

Suguru gritted his teeth, his fists clenching. Without thinking, he elbowed him, pushing him away, the referee signaling a personal foul.

Keiji was the dumbest of the trio. While the other two maintained their reputations by not doing things that might tarnish their images, Keiji couldn't help but provoke people.

Suguru noticed that Satoru was struggling with Keiji as well, his face hardened and his eyes furious as he dribbled the ball, Keiji probably whispering things to him about Haibara.

At the end of the second quarter, Suguru was ejected from the court due to too many fouls against the three assholes, and was replaced by another point guard.

Suguru wasn't even listening to his coach who was yelling at him to stay seated on the bench and went straight to the locker room to run his head under cold water. He needed to calm down; his hands were shaking with the urge to strangle them.

After running his head under the cold water, calming the tremors in his body, but still feeling a restlessness within him, he picked up his phone and called you. You didn't answer the first call, but you did answer the second.

“Sorry, Sugu. I was in the shower. What's wrong?” your soft voice soothed his racing heart.

“I feel like killing someone. Help me before I ruin my future.”

“Okay, okay. Take a deep breath with me. We're going to do a relaxation exercise. Sit down somewhere.”

Suguru sat on the bench in the locker room, closing his eyes and following your instructions. He inhaled through his nose as you instructed, filling his lungs, making sure his chest and lower abdomen rose. He exhaled, relaxing the muscles in his jaw and shoulders. He gradually relaxed his body muscles at the sound of your voice. He focused on each muscle group before moving on to the next, tensing and relaxing them. After 15 minutes, he felt much calmer and his mind clearer.

“Thank you,” he let out a breath, running a hand over his face.

“No problem. What happened?”

Suguru thought for a few moments, then decided you were close enough that you knew the reason for Haibara's death.

“Haibara's bullies are at Kaisen University. We had a game against them.”

Your brain started working quickly to complete the puzzle.

“Haibara committed suicide because he was being bullied? And you feel guilty because you didn't do anything to help him, that's why you don't want to talk about it?”

“He hid everything from me and Satoru. All the bullying happened in secret because they had good reputations. Even if I had wanted to do something, I couldn't have. But I almost killed them on the court just before.”

“I'm proud of you for not doing anything wrong, then.”

“It's thanks to you. I don't know why, but your voice calms me instantly.”

You remained silent on the other end of the phone, probably flustered by what he had said, and he smiled as he imagined you biting your lip.

“Cat got your tongue?”

“You say things like that on purpose, admit it…”

“Maybe…”

He continued to tease you for a few minutes before his teammates returned to the locker room. Seeing their smiling faces, he knew they had won. This victory was for Haibara.

───────────

Sunday arrived, the day Suguru was most looking forward to. When he walked through the door, he crushed his lips to yours, his hands going under your knees to carry you and throw you onto the bed. He ignored your slight protests and undressed you like a child discovering a present the day after Christmas. But his heart sank when he saw all the bruises on your brown skin. 

“Did your mother do this to you?”

His voice was so soft, and his fingers traced the bulges of the belt slaps on your skin. Noticing that you were staring at the wall, your body tense, refusing to meet his eyes, he pressed soft kisses on your bruises, showing you that he didn't mind seeing them.

“Okay, no sex today. I'm taking care of you.”

He removed the rest of your clothes.

“Do you have any massage oil?”

You pointed to a drawer, and he stood up to get the oils. You laid him down on your stomach, your head on the pillow. He sat next to you and poured the warm oil on your back. His movements were delicate and gentle as he began to massage your tense muscles, starting with your shoulders. He kneaded carefully, making circles.

The tension in your muscles released with each press of his hands against your skin. You let out a sigh of relief, your body bruised and tense from the abuse your skin suffered during the rest of the holidays. The soft unfolding of your sore muscles made you relax under his thumbs as they rubbed against your flesh.

He massaged your entire body with care and gentleness before applying ointment to your bruises. You flinched when his fingers ran over your bruises but he had to apply something to make them heal faster.

“Do you want to go on a car ride? I'll put on R&B, you smoke some blunts, and we'll talk while I drive. I want to relax you as much as possible.”

A ghost of a smile flickered across your face.

“Yeah, I would like that.”

He helped you get dressed and took your hand as you got out of the dorm. You walked to the university parking lot and got into the car through the passenger door, which he opened for you. He sat behind the wheel and took some blunts out of the back of his car.

“Wow, are you a drug dealer or something?”

“Satoru's parents won't let him pay cash so he doesn't get high, so I'm always the one who has to refill his blunts during parties.”

You looked at the blunt you took in your hands cautiously, a little scared as usual when you did something that made you lose control.

“Don't worry, you don't need to take a lot to feel the effects.”

Suguru started his car and played an R&B playlist from his phone. As the car pulled out of campus, the sky rumbled and a downpour fell on you, making the atmosphere intimate and comfortable with the rain tapping against the windows. You rolled down the window, smelling the rain and the wet earth, and lit your blunt. You brought it to your lips and took a drag.

In a few minutes, an intense relaxation and a kind of lethargy took hold of you. Accompanied by the sound of the soft, sensual R&B music and the rain, you were in a kind of cocoon. You closed your eyes, enjoying the atmosphere. It made Suguru happy to see you like this. He wanted you to feel good after the horrors your mother had put you through. He appreciated the comfortable silence between you and him and didn't break it, letting you enjoy the experience.

Your eyes fluttered open, and you turned your head to watch Suguru drive. He was wearing sweatpants and a white wife-beater tank top that showed off his powerful, muscular shoulders and large, massive biceps. His thin, angular features were focused on the road, and you didn't know if it was the blunt doing it to you, but your pussy dripped with the desire to have his mouth on you right now. You wanted to wrap your thighs around his head, feel his shoulders under your knees, and feel his tongue piercing on you.

“I wanna have sex,” you said bluntly, without any sugar-coating.

Suguru turned to you with a slight smirk on his face.

"Why is it that as soon as you're high or drunk, you always want to have sex?"

“Don't know. Maybe if you didn't look so sexy, I wouldn't be in this state.”

“I'm the one who should be telling you this, you're driving me crazy. Sundays are starting to becoming not enough for me.”

“I'm a busy woman, take it or leave it.”

“So bossy…”

He parked in a deserted parking lot and turned his head toward you.

“Lady first.”

He gestured you to get in the backseat first, and you took your blunt with you. You sat on the backseat, spreading your legs, looking nonchalant and ready to be eaten out. Suguru's lips twitched upwards at the sight of you so calm and ready.

He undressed you again, tossing your top and panties somewhere in the car where he didn't care. He pushed the front seats back so he could kneel in front of you and begin kissing and nibbling the skin of your thighs, before climbing back up and starting to eat you out.

Like a queen, you stood with your legs spread, a blunt between your fingers and manicured nails, as you smoked your blunt. The marijuana in your body made you hypersensitive to every flick of his tongue on you.

His tongue explored every inch of you, parting your lips to be able to lap better, making you grind against his face. You dug one of your hand into his black locks of hair. One of his rough hands went to your breasts to pinch and roll your nipples with his fingers, and the other hand approached your core, his thumb tracing circles on your clit. The combo made you moan, releasing the smoke from your blunt into the car. You rocked your hips against his mouth. His tongue lapped at your tight walls, his touch gentle and slow, he was making humming sounds as if it were the best meal he'd ever eaten. His humming sounds made your core vibrate and accentuated the heat appearing in your body.

Your thighs clenched his cheeks every time you reached your peak, murmuring pleas as you moaned like a pathetic thing against his expert mouth. The blunt made the experience even more intense, the sensations heightened, and your orgasms even more powerful as the spasms in your thighs ran through the rest of your legs.

After 30 minutes, he stopped literally eating you, his jaw sore. You were a moaning mess, your legs shaking. He pulled your calves to lay you down on the backseat, and took off his wife-beater shirt, pulled down his sweatpants and boxers to pull out his erection.

He took his length in hand, spat on it, and began to stroke while looking at you, spread out on the backseat, his gaze dark and hungry. He positioned himself between your thighs and seeing his position, your legs began to tremble.

“Suguru, I…”

“I know you’re scared, baby. But there’s no danger. You know me, you know I would never hurt you, right?” he whispered, his eyes softening. His hands caressed the outside of your thick thighs, his rough palms contrasting with the softness of your skin. “A secret for a secret?”

You inclined your head. “A secret for a secret.” 

“I'm falling in love with you.”

And when you gazed into his eyes, the lake purple of his intense irises, you felt as if the loving glow in them was a light bathing you in the car, as if his love was real, palpable. You swallowed hard, unsure what to say in the face of the intimacy of the moment.

“I want to do things right with you.” He wrapped your legs around his waist and gripped your thick waist. “I want you to feel good with me. I don’t want to see fear on your face when I touch you anymore. I want us to be a couple that works, not just two broken people trying to piece themselves back together. Don’t you want to feel whole with me?”

You looked away, your heart pounding. Part of you craved this so much, but another, more hidden part, was petrified.

“I thought you were the emotionally unavailable type…”

“I was.” He tilted his head. “But I no longer want to run away from what I want. Being just sex friends isn’t enough for me. I want to know that I belong to you in your heart too.”

The feeling that had overwhelmed you during your date resurfaced, the butterflies in your stomach returned, and your heart no longer beat with anxiety but with excitement, with the thrill of ‘maybe.’

“I’m very damaged, Suguru. We’re bound to argue over trivial things because of my trauma. I’m going to ruin everything.”

“Ruin ​​me, then,” he murmured, leaning down to press his forehead against yours. “Give me your mess. Crush my heart if you want.”

Your thighs closed around his waist, clenching in fear of what you were about to do. Painful memories of your rape flooded back, paralyzing you to the spot. Your eyes stung, tears welling in the corners.

“Don’t go there.” He kissed the tears that were streaming down your cheeks. “He’s not here. It’s just you and a man very much in love in the car. You’re safe.”

You wrapped your trembling arms around his neck, holding onto something so you wouldn’t lose your mind.

“You promise you’ll stop if it hurts or if I don’t want to anymore?”

“I swear on my life, love.”

Your heart swelled at his pet name, feeling at ease with him. You lowered your head to look at the empty space between your two bodies. You took a deep breath.

“Make love to me then.”

His lips curved into a fond smile.

“You won’t have to tell me twice.”

Keith Sweat's "Right and a Wrong Way" is the music you hear and that will stay etched in your memory when his dick disappears in your tight heat. Knowing you were too tense, Suguru takes his time, letting your folds envelop his cockhead before moving forward to fully enter.

There are moments that defy explanation, moments where sensations simply speak for themselves. In a cloud of sensations, whispers, and touches, you let yourself be enveloped by Suguru's care.

Sometimes it's gentle. The back and forth is slow, slick, wet, and the sound of your lovemaking fills the car, and you tighten your arms around him a little more, shy that anyone might hear. The windows are fogged up, the heat you create with your intercourse radiates like the sun and its rays. Sometimes it's sad. You can't control your memories, and you sob in his arms, but it's okay, he's got you. He kisses every tear that falls, whispers every reassuring word you need to hear, caresses your cheeks. Sometimes it's intense. When your sobs stop, and he increases the pace of his thrusts. Your pants are music to his ears, and the hand that firmly holds your thighs is almost bruising.

But it is absolutely, ultimately, loving.

There is love in his thrusts, in his touch, in his gaze, and you bathe in it.

The fact that Satoru was in love with you, or that your mother was still abusive, didn't matter right now. You were going to find a solution together. So you held him tightly against you, keeping Suguru's heart close to yours, never wanting to let him go. 

────────

♡ it's normal if there are questions at the end, its a rewrite of a 80k words fic where i decided to delete a huge plot twist (satoru's death that led suguru to become addict to cocaine and treat reader horribly), even though there was a healing arc, i wanted a fluffy fanfic of our baby being gentle with us without any angst :)) maybe i will rewrite the angst part as an oneshot one day, let me cook :) ALSOOOOOO i hope you liked the smut at the end :((( i know the intercourse wasn't very detailed but i thought it was already well done for the struggle of reader, i don't think you want 838337 repetitions of her crying because she is scared, so i wrote it with modesty i would say!!!! hope you liked this 2 parts fic <333333 ♡

Y'all don't talk much since Sukuna's a full time student and you're busy working full time/being a mom. But eventually your schedules begin to line up more and you get to see more of his… lovely personality.

He acts like he hates you. And the kid. Like babies are the grossest, most annoying beings to ever disgrace the face of this planet. He speaks like you're stupider for having one. He straight up tells you that you're even stupider for doing it with some asshole that didn't stay.

…Ouch.

He's not wrong, technically, but it still kinda hurts to hear. But that's just how he is— rough around the edges. Stoic. All sharp features and bad attitude.

Yeah, sure, he's a dick, but you don't have to see him much more than a few hours a week. Plus, his criticisms aren't anything you've never heard before as a single mother.

Although for how much of a douche he is, how much he claims to detest you and your “sticky ass brat”, there's something redeemable under all those tattoos and mean glares. He always cooks dinner, full stop. He's an amazing chef (plus it's one less thing for you to cram into your hectic, exhausting schedule.)

On the nights you're both there, he begins to sit with you. And then, slowly, hang around afterwards. It's just sharing space at first. Him washing dishes while you wipe down the counter. Scooping leftovers into Tupperware while you scrub stubborn residue off pans on the sink.

Over time, he begins to hang around after dinner instead of shutting himself in his room and blasting music that makes it impossible to get your baby to sleep. He'll lean back on the counter, watching you rinse out your daughter's bottles. Ask a few genuine questions that turn into an honest conversation about your life. How you ended up here, what you do, and your bastard ex.

You expected to get berated by him again, but instead Sukuna channels his disgust towards your ex; calling him a bitch and a coward for not taking responsibility.

For the first time, you genuinely laugh at something that Sukuna has said. And dear god, is he a sucker for the way you smile over your shoulder.

He becomes more open to being around your daughter now, despite his insistence on being opposed to babies as a concept. His complaints lessen slightly. He even lets her stare at him without taking it as a declaration of violence. (Mostly, anyway.)

One night, Sukuna steps through the door only to witness you in shambles. Runny makeup, red eyes stinging with tears, the house is a mess, and your work clothes are still on.

If anyone on the planet doesn't know how to deal with emotions like this, it's Sukuna. He's not a comforting presence. Probably the human manifestation of its opposite, actually.

He's always been a man of practicality. He isn't one for words or grand gestures. It's the small things with him. Leftovers in the fridge. Laundry flipped without being asked. Knowing your takeout order.

That remains true in the moment as he walks over to you and crouches down to see your face.

“Oi,” he calls out, motioning for you to lift your head up. “The hell’s wrong with you?”

His face screws up in discomfort as you hardly manage to explain that you're running on fumes, haven't showered in three days, hate your boss, and are currently so hungry that it's a miracle you haven't passed out.

In fact, you end up spilling out all the fears, frustrations, and hardships of being a single mother. You're broke. You're so fucking lonely. You're afraid your daughter might never have a stable father figure. You can't remember the last time you got a good night's sleep.

All while your kid is screaming, by the way.

“Tch. Go take a goddamn shower,” he orders, standing back up slowly.

“She's still awake, how am I supposed to—”

“I'll watch her.”

Huh?

You blink, looking up at him as if trying to figure out if he really just said that. If this is a joke, it's not a very good one.

“What?”

“I said go take a goddamn shower.”

“Do even know how to—”

“It’s not fuckin' rocket science, woman.”

“Yeah, but what if—”

“She can't even crawl yet. The fuck is she gonna do? Stick a fork she can't hold in a toaster she can't reach?”

You chuckle, wiping a tear. Sukuna's face remains the same.

“Time's running out. Go.”

Knowing Sukuna, his kindness being on a timer probably isn't a joke, so you get your ass in the bathroom as he'd ordered. After one of the quickest (but also most refreshing) showers of your life, you return to the living room clad in hastily dawned PJs while you ring out your hair with an old T-shirt.

Sukuna's got your baby cradled to his chest, holding her in place with one massive hand as he uses the other to flip through channels on the TV. His legs extend far beyond the edge of your rather small sofa, one ankle resting atop the opposite knee.

The permanently angry knit to his brow lessens slightly as he glances down at the chubby infant. He mumbles something to himself before looking up to see you standing there in all your post-shower glory.

“She stopped crying?”

“Yeah. Wasn't hard.”

“Wh— how? She doesn't quiet down for hours sometimes.”

“I dunno,” he shrugs. “I just held her.”

You sigh, wishing maybe he'd been harboring some secret baby whispering technique that he'd been holding out on showing you.

Jesus, you really do need sleep.

“Thank you, seriously.”

"Hey, birthday girl," Connie smiled at you as he slipped a "birthday princess" sash onto you.

"Oh my god, you did 3D flowers on your nails again, it's so pretty," Sasha exclaimed, taking your hands to examine your freshly manicured XL nails more closely. 

“You can put all the artificial things you want on your body, it won’t change your impending death. Technically, we’re not living beings, we’re dying beings.” 

Your eyes, which had been lowered to observe Sasha’s enthusiasm, lifted to meet the emerald gaze of the most annoying and sexy man on the planet.

“Hey, Eren,” you greeted him, sitting down next to him.

“That’s what Cioran said in On The Heights of Despair. It was his first book, in 1934. You should read it.”

“I’m not reading your negative bullshit, Eren.”

“He suffered from severe insomnia that made him walk the streets all night,” Eren ignored you, crossed his arms over his chest, and sank back into his seat. His eyes shone, as they always did when he talked about philosophy. “He realized, deeply and not superficially like you and we do, that we were truly going to die at any moment, and that our whole life was a way to distract ourselves from our doomed end. To be born into a meaningless world, to die meaninglessly, to be forgotten meaninglessly.”

“What a ray of sunshine,” you rolled your eyes, casually looking at your nails. You hoped he wouldn't notice how your thighs tightened when he heard his deep voice up close. “I hope you didn't get me this for my birthday.”

“Hell nah,” he let out a low chuckle, “you're too pretty to be depressed. I bought this. You reposted something like this on TikTok many times.” 

All the joy in the world could be found in your eyes when Eren gave you a Blythe doll that looked exactly like you in your natural state. Same brown skin, same eyes, same hair, same usual sexy style of dress. A Blythe doll cost over $200 to be customized to someone's wishes. It was so thoughtful, and exactly what you wanted as someone who collected dolls.

You pulled Eren close despite his grumbling and covered his cheeks with lip gloss-covered kisses.

“Now, you need to eat me out. I don’t give a fuck about dolls anymore.”

His lips curved into a teasing smile. “Oh, really?”

“Yeah, it’s my birthday,” you insisted, kissing his cheek again.

You and Eren had been flirting for months but had never taken things further. This was it.

───────

“When you really think about it…” Eren said gruffly, “What differentiates us from humans isn’t language, as Socrates would say, but our consciousness. Not consciousness in the metaphorical or biological sense, but in the existential sense. It’s our doomed capacity to question the meaning of our existence that differentiates us from animals. Albert Camus said that it’s in front of the world’s silence, when we question ourselves, that the absurd is born, which he theorized in his three major works. And…”

“E-Eren!” you whined. “Focus on this damn pussy:” 

A mocking sneer escaped his lips. “My fingers are deep in it, baby.”

 Sitting in the back seat of his car, your legs were spread wide, supported by your hands under the inside of your knees. You had kept your crop top on, which accentuated your chest; he had removed your skirt and thong. Soft moans slipped from you every time Eren’s fingers touched that spongy spot inside you.

“What do you plan to do about the weight of the meaninglessness of our existence?” He plunged them in and out, his lips parted, looking at you with dilated pupils.

“I think you should eat this and you’ll find meaning in your life,” you mumbled and grabbed his hair to push his head into your tight heat.

His mouth watered, ready to get messy.

“Hell yeah,” he groaned, his breath hot and warm over your center. He dragged a languid swipe of his tongue over you, collecting your arousal. Your legs trembled, you closed your arms around his cheeks. He raised his feverish green eyes to you, a loving glint in them, as if silently saying, “that’s all I want.” When his tongue lapped through your folds, his hands gripped your hips to grind your cunt into his mouth.

You tugged on his brown hair, running your fingers through his soft locks.

As he watched you intently as he ate you out, you wanted to put on a show for him.

You pulled off your crop top, your breasts bouncing with the movement. Eren moaned against you, gripping your hips tighter. He drove his tongue deeper, exploring every inch of you, eager to please you, eager to hear your moans louder. You kneaded your breasts and pinched your pierced nipples in front of him, the fire between your legs growing, your breath quickening.

He swiped his tongue up and up your slick folds until he reached your clit, brushed it before wrapping his lips around it, sucking greedily, causing you to gasp. 

“Stop, Eren, I’m so sensitive from your fingers…”

“I almost forgot I could do this. Camus is messing with my skills, damn it.” He released your hips and shoved two fingers up your cunt while caressing your throbbing bud in circles. They didn’t have time to make a few back-and-forth movements before your whole body was wracked with spasms and shivers, his name the only sound in the car.

“Nihilists who think nothing has value have never tasted this, I swear.” Eren stood up to kiss you, then pushed his fingers into your mouth. His eyes softened at the sight of your cute expression as you sucked on them. His birthday princess.