chu♡chu♡chu

☆ content ノ after being the biggest fan of VANTA for three years, you finally got the chance to see them live—not only that, you got backstage tickets. that meant after years of admiring your crush suguru geto and speaking with him for the first time ever ⟢ 1.3k

c.w. minors interact with caution ◞ modern AU ◞ smut

♡⸝⸝ ok so this was supposed to be a gojo fic(i gave up) & i didn’t wanna waste the theme:c this is based on this req here ! art credit ﹕ @asan_bum_bum on twt. this is also fem reader

you’ve been a fan of VANTA for three years. today was the first day you’ve finally gotten to see the band live, not only that? you’ve gotten backstage tickets.

the residual roar of the crowd still rang in your ears as the security guard checked your pass and allowed you through the heavy black curtain. backstage was way different than you expected—it was dimmer, hotter, thick with stage smoke and expensive cologne. your heart hammered against your ribs so hard you were half-convinced it was audible.

you weren’t paying attention and almost walked past him.

suguru geto leaned against a metal equipment case just outside the dressing room, his long black hair still slightly damp from the performance, the. sleeveless shirt he’d worn on stage clinging to the lines of his torso. he was scrolling through his phone with one hand, the other loosely holding a half empty bottle of water. your heart skipped a beat. up close he looked way taller..and bigger.

you froze in place, your fingers tightened around the laminated pass hanging from your neck. suguru looked up, sensing your gaze on him. his eyes landed on yours, a slow, almost lazy smile found his face. “you look a little lost,” he said, voice low and rough from all that singing he did. “first time?”

you nodded too quickly, heat rushing to your face. “y-yeah..i’ve been a big fan for three years. of VANTA, i mean..and you. tonight was my first show. it’s all so crazy i never thought this would happen—“

you began rambling. your voice came out smaller than you wanted, breathy and uneven. suguru’s smile widened, like he found your nervousness entertaining. “three years huh?” he repeated, pushing off the case. he took a step closer to you, eyes filling with curiosity as he watched you.

“that’s dedication. what’s your favorite song?”

“uhm…garden of ashes,” you whispered. suguru’s eyes widened. garden of ashes? that was the only song from the band he sang.

he hummed, clearly pleased. “interesting.”

without realizing, the space between you shrank until you had to tilt your head back to keep looking at him. your back brushed against the cool concrete wall, causing you to gasp. suguru didn’t stop however. he planed one hand on the wall beside your head. his gaze dropping to your mouth for half a second before returning to your eyes.

“you’re trembling,” he murmured. “is that adrenaline or..?”

you swallowed, not trusting yourself to speak. your pulse was a frantic drum against your throat. your celebrity crush of three years had you pressed against the wall, how on earth were you supposed to stay calm?

“y’know..i’ve seen tons of fans,” suguru said softly, snapping you from your thoughts. “most of them are confident..but you? there’s something about you. you can’t even keep eye contact sweetheart, you keep looking at my lips.”

your face burned. “i-i..i wasn’t.”

“liar.” he whispers. his free hand came up, two fingers lightly tilting your chin so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. “do you like me?”

‘do you like me?’ his question played in your head on repeat, face getting flustered. you swallowed hard. his body was a warm, immovable presence in front of you. teasing didn’t even begin to cover the way he was watching you—like he had already decided how this would play out.

“well? answer me.” his thumb brushed the corner of your mouth.

a tiny, helpless sound escaped you. there’s no way you could speak. not with him touching you—being so close to you. you looked up at him, eyes wide. suguru grinned, loving the effect he had on you. “can’t answer me hm? that’s okay sweetheart, i know you do.”

he dipped his head until his lips hovered just above yours, close enough you swore he’d kiss you. “you wanted my autograph right?” his voice dropped into something low and wicked. “how about i give you my autograph in a different way, hm?”

₍^. .^₎⟆

“a-ah! suguru..!” you whimpered, eyes rolling back as suguru fucked you. how you ended up here was a complete blur—one moment you were at the concert, the next in his car, and now trapped in his arms, taking his cock.

your knees were folded nearly to your chest, ankles hooked over his broad shoulders while his heavy body pinned you into the mattress of whatever hotel suite he dragged you to. the position left you completely open, completely helpless.

every deep, rolling thrust punched the air from your lungs. his thick cock stretched your puffy walls wide, dragging against every sensitive inch as he buried himself to the hilt again and again.

“mm..look at you,” suguru groans above you, dark hair spilling around his face like a curtain. sweat beaded along his collarbones and slid down the hard planes of his chest. his eyes were half lidded, hungry and fixed on the way your mouth fell open, realizing the prettiest little sounds with every wet slap of skin. “you’re taking me so well. sweetheart.”

you could only moan in response. your hands scrambling for purchase against his shoulders, nails biting into warm skin. the stretch burned in the best way—his cock was long and thick, the flared head kissing your cervix on every downward grind. your puffy walls fluttered and clung, slick and swollen from how thoroughly he’d already worked you open with his fingers and tongue.

“s-suguru..please,” you are ur voice cracked on a particularly deep thrust that made stars burst behind your eyelids. your clit throbbed where it rubbed against the base of his cock every time he bottomed out.

suguru laughed, looking at you with dark eyes. “hm? are you close again? greedy girl.” one of his hands slid down to where you were joined, thumb circling your swollen clit in a deliberate strokes that matched his pace inside you. “c’mon then. let me feel those pretty walls milk me.”

the dual stimulation made you cry out. your second orgasm crashed over you. your back arching as much as the position allows you, a broken whimper spilling from your lips as you clenched and fluttered around his cock. slick coated his cock in creamy white, spilling around him.

suguru groaned, fucking you through your orgasm—grinding deep in a way that continuously dragged against your sweet spot. “you’re beautiful.”

you twitched, bordering the edge of overstimulation as he shifted, leaning down to capture your mouth in a messy open kiss. his tongue slid against yours while his cock kept fucking you. the slight angle change made you cry out, his mouth on yours muffling whatever found you made. “give me one more sweetheart.” he murmured against your lips.

you shook your head weakly, overwhelmed but your body betrayed you regardless. his thumb returned to your clit, rubbing in firm circles as he fucked you harder. the wet, filthy sound of his cock plunging into your soaked, puffy walls filled the room. another orgasm crept up slower this time—a building, liquid heat that spread from your core outward until your toes curled and your thighs shook against his shoulders.

“w-wait..? sugu..ah!”

your eyes rolled back, a cry leaving you as your walls pulsed and squeezed around him. another orgasm crashing over you. your vision blurred, mind going hazy with pleasure. suguru’s eyes darkened, watching you. his thrusts few slower, grinding deep as he chased his orgasm.

you whimpered, eyes half lidded, body limp and pliant beneath him. suguru grunts, feeling his own orgasm approaching as his cock twitched inside you. “hey, how about this,” he whispered, snapping you from your daze. “i cum in you…all the way up there as an autograph, hm?”

“h-huh?” you mumbled, somewhat confused. suguru grins. “don’t worry sweetheart, i’ll show you.”

taglist : @yorikae @kamislop @6x-x9 @popeheywardssecretgf @prettylittleladybug6 @bbunsflix

○ Synopsis. is the only way to stop your husband from killing you to outsmart him?

○ Cw: Geto is quite mean, blowjob, fingering, p in v, virginity loss, profanity, toxic mindset, higher ups meddling,

○ An: my first time writing for jjk. hope ppl enjoy wc: 13.2k

“You are hereby sentenced to two years of imprisonment in the cursed dungeons. Should you survive, your fate shall be discussed.” A man uttered.

They were lucky they sat behind a screen, that they had the privilege of keeping their identity a secret, for Geto Suguru was a vengeful man. And even if he gave up on his ambitions to create out a world without sorcerers, he was still just as hostile and horrible. A sardonic laugh erupts out of him. “What an honour. Only two years?” he knew that for his crimes, death was the only befitting consequence, yet he finds himself carrying out the tamest of sentences in comparison. 

The ice around his heart thaws ever slightly as he turns his head towards his lifelong best friend. He realises apologies and gratitude are in order, but the look on Satoru’s face is enough to keep him silent. Guilt ebbs at his soul in a funny way; he thought the emotion was long discarded. But rationality always lost to the pain of betrayal. Its why Satoru negotiated, practically threatened to kill them, if they hadn’t agreed to this. He refused to lose any more people in his life, and certainly not the same person twice. Not when he just got Suguru back. 

“I’m sorry.” Suguru whispered as he was hauled away. He didn’t fight back, not when he didn’t have anything to fight for. He remembers why he gave up his ideal world. What’s a world worth living in if it didn’t with the people you love most. His mind flashes back to his daughters, Mimiko and Nanako, as they kneeled before him, begging him to not go through with everything. He always knew he couldn’t deny them anything. This time wasn’t any different. 

Satoru didn’t need to reply to him for Suguru to understand what he wanted. Try. 

On the other side of Tokyo, somewhere far away from the higher-ups, you sat in a dingy room, waiting patiently for your fate. You knew you weren’t destined for great things. The Zenin clan had no need for a ‘monkey’ like you who didn’t have any cursed energy. You weren’t like Toji-san or Maki-chan, who had a profound ability in wielding weapons. You were bang on average, with nothing but your intelligence to show for you. But what did intelligence matter when you couldn’t find a husband. 

Now, with your clan in such a perilous predicament, you feel even more useless than before. Blaming Maki was out of the question. Not when you applauded her with all your might on the inside. She needed to reclaim the parts they took from her. it’s what this godforsaken place did – you knew it first-hand. They took and took and took until you had nothing left to give. 

And  the only solution to improve their standing and reinstate themselves as one of the great clans was to marry you- the lowly expendable off.  You thought to yourself, why me, but the answer became apparent long before you found out who your husband was. They needed a sacrifice. That was the only logical solution to you. There was no way they would entrust you with this unless they believed you wouldn’t make it out alive. Desperation attracts mindless alliances, and there were only a few families in such a position like yours was. Those who would even be willing to fraternise with the Zenin clan. 

It was only after you found out who your husband was that you really saw it. You were going to die in that marriage. 

Suguru made peace with Satoru’s words. For his sake. He didn’t need to love non-sorcerers to understand Satoru’s point of view. It was a given, why he thought like that. He just couldn’t smile in the face of all the suffering he’s endured at the hands of people who would celebrate at his death. 

And so, for the entirety of his confinement, he sparred with his own mind, cultivating arguments and carefully dismantling them in an attempt to rationalise his world view. Did the suffering he endured really constitute a mass genocide? Did the burden of protecting non-sorcerers befall him all because he was endowed with cursed energy?

Ieri was a common visitor. There was no denying how much she missed her friend. And for all the stories she’s heard of how the man before her changed, he seemed pretty much the same to her. He still smiled, still threw out the same jokes. 

Satoru was a less common visitor, but one Suguru couldn’t help but wait for. He missed his friend. It was never his intention to blindly hurt him, and he knew Satoru would be able to see that. Through all his flaws, Gojo always had a knack for dissecting his thought process perfectly. 

They would talk for hours, and eventually Suguru began to understand. Killing so many people wasn’t feasible. They couldn’t control how he felt on the inside however, and the inferno that burned in his chest at the thought of ‘monkeys’ almost ate him from the inside out. 

The only thing that kept him grounded were the constant visit from his daughters. They never relented, always showing him love even if he felt like he never deserved it. he wasn’t proud of himself. What kind of example was the setting for them.

“Geto-Sama,” Mimiko whined. “Give us attention. You’re always in your head.” And again, he tried. 

It seemed like trying got him to where he needed to be, and as Geto Suguru stood outside of the chambers he was confined to for the past two years, he promised to never take freedom for granted ever again. 

Satoru stood before him, eyeing him like a spectacle. The years aided their friendship. It’s not what it used to be, and it never will be, but it was nice, and that was enough. Suguru’s unsure of whether he reached in first, but suddenly, the bone crushing hug he was held in became less of a cage and more of a shield. 

He needed to learn to cherish the better things in life, to have a more … positive outlook. Well, if you discount his hatred for non-sorcerers. 

And now, standing in front of the higher ups once again, the dreadful feeling never gets old, he doesn’t know what to expect. 

“You’ve completed your sentence partially.” The words make his ears twitch up. Anger flares in his veins.  Satoru stiffens next to him, and immediately Suguru feels like he’s in a trap. Sheepishly, Gojo takes his hands out of his pocket, holding a pair of black manacles in his hands. 

“I’ve imbued these with cursed energy. They prevent you from using your cursed energy beyond the level of a grade four sorcerer.” Satoru attempts to rationally explain everything, annoyed that the higher ups are interfering. 

“Be thankful to the boy next to you, traitor. If it was up to us, you would have no cursed energy at all. He insisted that should you need to defend yourself; you should be allowed to.” Suguru can feel his jaw clench with each word. 

“How long” he supposes he should have seen this coming. Why would they let him use his power freely, not knowing what he could do. He wouldn’t, but the darker parts of him yield to how dangerous they consider him.

“For the foreseeable future. When you’re no longer deemed a threat, you can remove them. You should also know, anytime you activate your technique, I’ll feel it.” 

“And lastly, you’ve left your clan in absolute disarray. They’re ever so eager to return to their standing, taking radical approaches.” One of the men goads. 

Suguru’s confused. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the fate of the Zenin clan” at the mention of it, he remembers the monkey girl Maki. He smiles to himself, cavalier and condescending, surprised that she was ever capable of doing something like that. 

“Well, they’ve agreed to marry you off to one of their own.” Marriage? He whips his head around to Satoru who looks at him with one of helplessness. There’s nothing he could do here, not when he’s already stuck his neck so far out for him. 

“To whom?” Suguru’s patience is wearing very thin. He won’t take another condition, the pressure of everything else already making him suffocate. And it’s like the final nail in the coffin when they utter your name. He’s heard of you faintly, lumped in with the likes of Toji and Maki, but somehow, you’re even worse. 

While they’ve obtained a semblance of physical prowess, you’re determined to lie in the shit you were born into, and Suguru’s unsure what disgusts him more. The fact that you have no cursed energy, or no intelligence. 

The reality sets in like one hundred weights and he can almost feel himself becoming violently ill at the mere thought of being in the same room as you. he’s developed some sort of Pavlovian reaction to non-sorcerers. The thought of them making him viscerally sick. 

Satoru can’t help but laugh at him in the car. it almost feels like the old days – he just really hopes Suguru doesn’t kill you. 

… 

The first time you meet your husband-to-be is on your wedding day. You’d heard enough monstrous stories to know you weren’t safe. But you couldn’t run. If death was your fate, then you’ll walk towards it with your head held high. 

You didn’t believe the stories of his reformation for even one second. Nobody rids themselves of that much enmity in two years. You were everything he couldn’t stand for, and you were going to be his wife.  

You stood in your kimono in front of him, and he couldn’t even muster the courage to glance at you. You looked beautiful in your white dress, it’s a shame he wouldn’t spare a glance. But you were free to look at him. the infamous Geto Suguru was a gorgeous man. Inky black hair, half of it tucked into a bun with the other rests down his back. 

He was massive, you had to crane your head just to get a good look at him. he could feel your eyes on him, and he kept his gaze ahead. He was in an impossible situation. You brushed past him, and he wanted to spray himself with disinfectant. Rationally, he knew it wasn’t your fault, but he simply couldn’t help himself. 

His entire life went to shit because of your kind. 

“Is this how it’s always going to be” you asked him. his gaze remained forward- as did yours. You couldn’t bear to look at him. not when you were certain he was going to ruin your life. 

“I won’t be good to you.”

“Will you be bad to me”

“I don’t want to be anything to you. I want you as far away from me as possible.” And good God, the joy in your heart was immeasurable. He didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to not be near you. happiness bloomed inside you. Moments ago, you made peace with the fact that you’d probably be laying on the cold slab of your new home with your throat slit open. 

You would gladly resign yourself to a life of solitude if it meant you could still live. 

“You’ll have your wish. Let us try and put on an act for now.” You stifled your emotions, both of your trying your best to not show mutual horror when they mentioned an heir. 

… 

Geto Suguru was the worst husband on the planet, and he could not give less of a fuck. He refused to dedicate even a millisecond of his time towards someone like you. it’s like the small understanding you built withered away right in front of both of your eyes. 

Three months later, he’s at your throat and you’re blissfully unaware. You wish you could say what soured your relationship, or what little of it you both had, but that’s a losing game. 

Geto was livid. When he saw the life you lived, how much of a simpleton you were, he couldn’t believe it. other people, his friends, were dying all to sustain this lifestyle. You needed to die, and it was a damn shame the cuffs bound to his wrists stopped him. 

Control yourself. He willed his mind. he’s come too far for his silly wife to get him right back to where he started. He didn’t really want to kill you, he just needed out of your vicinity. 

But you were everywhere, your hair, your tools, your fucking perfume. It rotted Geto from the inside out to the point where simple tasks became verbal sparrings. 

“Would you want anything for dinner, Suguru?” you were on a first name basis now. You didn’t even consult him. He nitpicked at each and every thing you did. He was your husband. Of course you were going to call him by his name. 

“I can’t eat anything you touch. You know this.” you should really stop trying. But you resolved to do everything that’s required of a wife, and if that’s making dinner every night, then so be it. if it were up to you, he would fucking starve. But there was no point in making a slippery slope steeper now was there.

“Asshole” still, you couldn’t stop yourself from muttering the words, it’s like you were on autopilot. And it must have been your unlucky day, because your husband heard you. whipping his head around, he stared you, astounded by your audacity. 

You dare insult him? You’re lucky he’s not tearing apart every single inch of you right now. But Suguru’s never claimed to be a nice man, and if you needed a reminder, he was more than willing to give it to you. Standing up, he inched his way towards you. This was one of the first times he’s looked your directly in the eyes, violet hues boring holes into your own. 

You’ve never been one for close contact, naturally, you turn your head away from him, but your husband doesn’t like it when people don’t listen to him. grabbing a hold of the paper he was reading, he tucks in under your chin, lifting your gaze back up to his. 

You wore a defiant look and if it were up to him, he would wipe it off you in a heartbeat. “Repeat that.” it wasn’t a request. Suguru doesn’t request for things. It was a demand, one that went straight to your core. His authoritative nature spoke to you in a way you couldn’t understand. 

But you were never one to back down. “I said you’re an ass-“ you felt the familiar pressure of cursed energy before you saw his eyes begin to glint. It was barely a flicker, if anything a testament to how well controlled his cursed energy was, but for someone like you, it felt like the weight of a thousand tonnes. 

He had your back to wall, and it was this moment when Suguru really saw you. You were so gorgeous, it only pissed him off more. How dare you look like that and be one of those. Your eyes looked up at him with such a helpless glance , he almost lost control of himself. 

“Apologise.” If you thought he was ever going to let you go without stripping you of your dignity, you were sorely mistaken. But you knew when to accept defeat. You weren’t going to provoke him. 

“I’m sorry, Suguru.” He regards you once, up and down in such disgust. If only you knew its self-hatred for how much he liked hearing the apology slip from your lips. 

“Your kind never knows how to behave. Go wash your hands – twice, and wear gloves.” Every single bone in your body was telling you to slap him across the face, but you had your wits about you. You can’t lose control with someone so volatile. 

So, you made him a meal, washed your hands thrice for good measure and presented it to him an hour later. The man before you was an enigma, and as you were preparing his meal, you realised. No book you buried your nose in could be half as interesting as Geto Suguru. 

You offered him the plate, watched him reluctantly take a bite, almost like you poisoned it. That’s when you decided to drop your first invitation. “Being able to practice jujutsu doesn’t mean your life has an intrinsic value over mine, Suguru.” He watched you peculiarly, wondering why you were saying this. 

Were you looking for another argument? “Have a good night. I hope you’re sleeping better than I am here.” with that, you turned on your heels and walked up the stairs towards your bedroom. 

Of course you had separate bedrooms. Of course he hasn’t touched you with a ten-foot pole. Your fingers have had to do the trick for all these years of your life, and you presume it’s going to stay that way. You assumed you were quite younger than him. He was around twenty-nine. Surely he wasn’t a virgin like you were. 

It didn’t matter anyways. He wouldn’t fuck you if he was getting paid to. In the back of your mind, you were hoping he would come after you and offer a profound rebuttal. You really weren’t goading him – you wanted to understand your husband. Maybe you were more depraved than you like to admit. The thought that he massacred a village in his youth doesn’t scare you in the slightest. On the contrary, the macabre nature of it all intrigued you. 

You were certain you could dismantle and deconstruct each of his arguments. This wasn’t a noble act from you. You didn’t care for making your husband ‘see the light’. You just wanted to win this argument you started in your head. Mind you, Suguru hadn’t even consented to joining in. 

Geto is, as much as he hates to admit it,  interested in you. He pegged you as the brainless type, but your far from it. Even if your ideology is completely wrong, at least you were open to logical arguments. He didn’t sleep any better than you that night, tossing and turning to try and figure out his wife. 

Eventually he came to the simplest conclusion he could. If he could make you see that you were indeed a brainless monkey, maybe you would behave yourself and not step out of line. The thought had him so relaxed, he drifted right off to bed. 

It was decided then, your ever so benevolent husband was going to help you understand, since you clearly didn’t get it yourself. 

The first repartee emerged just as you tended to a wound after you cut yourself. He watched you in awe, how could you be rendered useless from such a small cut. In your defence, it was quite large, but to Suguru, it may as well have been a papercut. 

“This is the life you think has as much value as mine?” His voice, serpentine, creeps up from behind you and coils around your spine. Excitement almost has you spinning around in a frenzy, but you calm yourself. You’ve been biding your time for a while now. 

Turning around slowly, you level him with a pensive look, stunned at the sight of him lazily leaning on the countertop. The kitchen island separates the two of you, and the tension between you two could pierce your skin. Your husband is a gorgeous man, glasses perched low on the strong bridge of his nose. He wears a simple shirt, starkly different from his usual attire. 

“Good afternoon to you too.” you utter as you take a seat opposite him, holding a tissue to your wound. Holding up the wound, you both watch as a glob of blood trickles down your thumb. The action is strangely hedonistic to Suguru, he thinks as he forces himself to look away. 

“You bleed the same colour as me Suguru. At the end of the day, we’re both just humans.” 

“You don’t get it.” he scoffs “You could never survive the things I could.” You heed his words, nodding along. 

“You’re absolutely right. But is that a sin worth death?” your words are earnest, intending to make him understand, but all he does is shake his head. It’s sad, you can see something deeper here, some type of pain he holds close to his chest.

“I’m fucking tired of the burden.” He says your name, conveying the frustrations he’s kept inside for so long. The conversation takes him back to ten years ago, in throes of his depression. It felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders then, and it doesn’t feel any different now. 

You watch his back as he walks away from you, up the stairs until he’s out of your line of sight, and all you can focus on is the ache in your heart. How could you kid yourself into thinking you’d come out of this unscathed. Saving your husband might take every inch of your soul as penance. 

A cloud surrounds Suguru for the coming days, times where he struggles to even get out of bed, and it feels like your fault. Every time he emerges from his room, your eyes, wallowing in pity, trails him all the way until he returns to it. 

Suguru’s mind is war. How dare you make sense to him? And why are you looking at them with those eyes. Full of pity. Its fucking disgusting. You, a filthy monkey who can’t even use jujutsu, feels sorry for him? The manacles around his wrist burn against his cursed energy, and he feels like he’s going insane. 

There’s no way around it. The years in the institution did little to dispel his hatred, and the time spent in your presence has somehow reinforced it tenfold. He doesn’t understand. He could pick up a knife off the shelf this second, ram it into your neck and let the life drain out of your eyes. 

But he doesn’t want to. 

And he can’t understand why. He feels like a slave. To whom or what, he can’t discern, but if there’s one thing he can’t stand, it’s the feeling of being controlled. Not when the taste of liberation sat so sweetly on his tongue. It has him irate, unnerved. Its why in the dead of night he’s flinging open his door, grabbing hold of a knife and storming into your room without abandon. 

He could use his cursed energy, crush you between the wall, but Satoru would know, and that wasn’t something he was willing to do.

Shock has you rooted to your spot. In an instant, he has you pressed against the wall, blade to your throat while one hand comes up to grip your hair to give him better access. The angle has your head bent awkwardly, the position so precarious embarrassment coats your features. You’re wearing nothing but a long-sleeved shirt and panties, while he’s shirtless. His body presses against yours and the heat emanating off him has you sick. 

This is the first time he’s touched you and he’s set you alight. Suguru’s heaving, barely able to control himself. But something ebbs at him from the confines of his mind. It tells him to give you a chance. Your breaths mix as one, the air around you becoming more charged with each exhale. 

“Give me a reason to let you live.” He speaks softly, lowly. His cursed energy is active, you can feel it. its barely anything, the manacles probably wouldn’t detect it, but to you, it knocks the air out of your lungs. You’ve always been pragmatic, problem solving in the face of something difficult. 

The man before you was no different. If he was going to keep you alive, you were going to have to keep him interested. 

“Non-sorcerers don’t actively choose to create cursed spirits. I-it’s a by-product of a feeling you’ve experienced many times.” You wheeze out, and his eyes gloss over with something akin to desire. It’s like the air between you shifts. Suguru hates that you understood exactly what he wanted from you. 

“I don’t hate your kind for the pain they face. I hate that my blood is spilt to enable this cycle of endless suffering.” It’s a struggle to keep your thoughts coherent amidst his violence. It’s so loud, all the anger and hurt, it speaks to you, coils around your spine turning you cold. You want to fix him. You want to see him.

“You talk of endless suffering like your cause was a noble one. How many children would be suffering endlessly through the pain of death because you chose to kill them.” your heart is racing with all the hypotheticals. Your hand, tentative and experimental, comes over his one closed over the handle. He jolts at the contact of your skin, the blade nicking at your skin. 

Anger shrouds his features at your words, and he finds himself lowering the blade yet tugging on your hair to see the singular droplet of blood drip down your neck. He mulls over your words, and all it seems like is that he was angrier than before. Were you making sense or not?

“My wife believes my suffering is acceptable so long as its invisible.” His words are pure venom, and he spits it out like his tongue is on fire. “Where was the care when it was me?” you can help but laugh haughtily at his response. You look Suguru in the eyes, truly trying to dissect him. 

“They never should have let a genocidal man like you out.” you whisper in awe, staring up at him like he plucked the moon for you, like a case study. It was revolting. 

“And you never should have married me, wife.” His words are a promise of retribution, perhaps something far more sinister, and the air leaves your lungs in one fell swoop when he dips his head down and flattens his tongue against your neck to collect your blood. The metallic taste awakens something primal he never knew he had. 

The action goes straight to your core as your legs close together to keep you grounded. He doesn’t speak, reaching back up and holding his open mouth over your face. The first droplet hits the bridge of your nose, creating a pathway down to your chin. His next words are enunciated by his iron grip on your hair. 

“You taste as disgusting as you look.” Suguru wipes his mouth with his hand as he walks out of the door, and you don’t snap out of your trance until the slam of his door brings you back to reality. 

Blindsided is the only word that could describe how you’ve been feeling these next few weeks. Maybe it was silly of you, but it never even occurred to you that Suguru had that much vitriol in his heart. You’d heard distant stories, but you guess you’d compartmentalised them, discarded them after seeing the   tame-ish man in front of you. 

That was a mistake. One that you won’t make again. Reducing him to genocidal man with radical ideologies wasn’t enough. Not when he embodied them, lived by them and internalised it. Your husband was a man blinded by hatred. 

The atmosphere between you weighs differently. Its heavier. With what- you can’t understand, but you’re sure he feels it too. Suguru would be lying if he said you had no effect on him. To be truthful, ever since he tasted your blood, he’s different. He’s never had an uncontrollable libido, surprisingly enough. Recently, in your presence, he feels insatiable. 

Watching you walk by him, provoking him even if you don’t mean to festers nothing but anger inside his jagged heart. Because he can’t get himself to look away from you. The thought that you’ve managed to entice him is something entirely foreign, and completely unwelcomed. 

One day has him irate, needing to do something. Even when he’s out, taking a walk to clear his head, you’re at the forefront of his mind. Its suffocating. He bursts through the door with a scowl, ready to spew some type of filth that would put him in a position like last time when he finds you sitting on the couch, smiling. 

Not at anyone. At Satoru. 

You look like he hung the fucking moon up for you with the stars in your eyes. And he was right. You seriously were enjoying yourself. For all the stories you’d heard about Gojo being the strongest, you thought you’d be bowing your head in subservience. His cursed energy was off the charts, you felt him before he even knocked. But he was nice. A smiling kind face amidst all the negativity you’ve been surrounded by. 

Satoru’s intrigued. He understood this was never going to be a love match, but he was still surprised that Suguru hasn’t killed you yet. Maybe you were more interesting than you let on. And the second you opened your mouth; you proved him right. you were beyond wise, kind and beautiful. How on earth have you not lulled him to your bed. 

He almost bursts out laughing at the messages Suguru would send, begging him for a way out. They’ve subsided for now, but from the angry look on his friend’s face, Satoru’s expecting one tonight. 

“Welcome home.” the tension in the room is broken by you, even though you wondered why you even tried. The two men are in some sort of showdown it appears, and you’re not slightly interested. 

“Suguru, how come you’ve never invited me over before? Your wife’s cooking is amazing.” And Suguru feels like he’s been stabbed. Why should he care that you’re feeding another man. He tries to explain it to himself immediately. He’s angry the same way he would be if someone went into his room and meddled things about. It’s his property. 

“She doesn’t cook much.” You catch on immediately. You can understand the game Gojo’s playing, and it’s not going to hurt you to play along. 

“We just had dinner together, I left your portion in the fridge.” In the time you’ve known your husband you’ve come to understand at least one thing ; he hates feeling discarded. You’d be stupid to not capitalise off that. You watch the way his clenches in anger, and something akin to arousal flares in your veins. 

“Thank you” the enigma, always keeping you on your toes. When has he ever thanked you for cooking for him? And now, he decides is the perfect time to throw you. Suguru walks towards the kitchen, promising to make you pay for allowing someone other than him to invade your space. 

Satoru’s not far behind him, walking in after excusing himself from you. You decide to retire to your room, content with the temporary chaos you’ve caused. 

“Don’t tell me you’re jealous” his best friend goads, and Suguru grits his teeth. Why the fuck would he be jealous?

“I’m not. I don’t want her. I’m annoyed that you have no fucking respect.” Satoru makes a nonsensical snort, leaning on the island and crossing his arms. 

“Seems like she’s managed to speak some sense into you then, huh? You never had a care in the world for non-sorcerers. Not when she’s your wife though.” 

“it’s because she’s my wife that I’m not ripping her head clean off. Don’t push me.” 

“Well, you’ll hate hearing what I have to say then.” The manacles glint at his words and Suguru barely even realises it. Satoru’s voice is serious, too serious. It makes the hairs on his friends back stand up. 

“They want an heir from you.” and Suguru’s truly confused. This whole plan, it’s preposterous, downright delusional. It was all meant to be a show, and in the back of his head he figured he’d be able to find a way out this sham of a marriage. But he can’t decipher where the feeling of desire emanates from as he imagines pumping you full of his seed and seeing you bare his children. 

They would likely inherit his cursed technique, and your wits weren’t… unacceptable. That was if he was being forced. 

In a sense, he’s almost grateful the excuse came from the higher-ups. He doesn’t think he could stomach touching you otherwise. But the true thought of having you so pliant, underneath him, writhing for everything he has to give you has him delirious. 

Is he really changing? Your words make logical sense, but so do his. He doesn’t like you, in fact he fucking hates you, but he’s starting to want you just the same. The realisation knocks the breath out of his lungs. He’s attracted to a non-sorcerer. 

“What’s going to happen if I refuse.” 

“I’ll do it.” Satoru’s eyes widen of their own accord, and it doesn’t take him long to burst out laughing. Suguru thinks he’s doing a good job of playing off what he wants, but desire is tangible. Palpable. It soaks the air until it sinks into your skin, clawing its ways into your veins. 

He could feel it in the other room. Suguru wants you just as much as you want him. it’s just a matter of how he was going to go about it. The epiphany comes to him long after Satoru’s left. He sits quietly, eating while you’re locked away in your room. You have no idea about this. He could make you a desperate bitch in heat all because you want him. This was about necessity for him, he convinced himself. But it was wanton need for you, and he’ll make sure you felt every inch as humiliated as you made him feel today before he ever lets you have his dick. 

The first time he touches you, you’re unsuspecting. Tension and desire had intertwined so thoroughly as the days dredged on it was hard to tell who wanted who more. You were certain it was you, Suguru still so caught up in his hatred. You figured he’d never desire you the way you did him, but he was still just a man. It all felt very surface level to you, at least from his side. 

You couldn’t understand what attracted you more, his mind or his body. If you’d met under more organic circumstances, you were sure you’d end up beneath him within the night. Its thoughts like these, wondering what he’d do to you when you’re confined in a room and the pretences are dropped that has you writhing. Clamping a hand over your mouth while you furiously rub at your clit in the shower. 

You’re grateful the water runs loud, the moans threatening to slip past would most definitely be heard by him. Obscene ideas flood your mind, how he’d spread you, what kind of face he’d make when he sunk himself into you for the first time. You were sure he was massive; you could see his print when he’d walk around the house in joggers. it’s like he knew what he was doing, knew that he had an effect on you. 

The hand around your naked waist drags you out of your mind with gasp. Instantly, it’s like your body’s alight, and you whip around. Or try to. Your husband’s firm grip pulling your back towards his chest has you rooted to your spot. 

“Keep your eyes and hands on the wall.” It’s a quiet order, reeking of dominance. He’s not asking. You can feel every single ridge of his hard spine as his cock settles in the curve of your back. You can feel how big and hard he is already. It has you buzzing in excitement, you do as your told. 

It’s like your submission calls directly to Suguru’s sadistic nature. He wants to bruise each inch of your flawless skin. One of his hands move to wrap to around your throat as his other dips lower. 

“Who were you thinking of when you’re touching yourself?” a balloon of embarrassment inflates in your chest as you hold your breath, refusing to answer. This is so unlike you. You’re usually so quick witted, always pushing out a snarky remark. But he has you speechless, and the only thing that can seem to leave your lips is the truth. 

“You.” he chuckles, and it reverberates against your back. The hand on your waist dips down to cup your dripping pussy, eliciting a moan out of you. Its almost like it makes him angrier, more aggressive. Suguru can’t bear to look at your face. He doesn’t want to see the way your face contorts in pleasure – it would make him break. Give in to every sick and twisted thought in his mind. 

That wasn’t a liberty he could afford right now. 

But still, he can’t stop the two fingers spreading your lips open as the hold on your throat makes you delirious. A low whine escapes as you realise you’re losing yourself in the pleasure, when he hasn’t done anything. He rubs lazy circles against your clit as he speaks. 

“You’re a dirty girl” His tone is so much lighter than the weight of his words. “Dripping all over my hand when you’re supposed to hate me.” It’s like he’s appalled that you don’t hate him as much as you should. Its humiliating. Giving yourself up to someone who knows he doesn’t deserve it, but you can’t stop the honest truth spilling out. 

“i’ve never hated you. You hated me, yet you can’t stop yourself from barging into my shower and fingering my pussy.” He doesn’t even realise it, subconsciously his hands dipped to your entrance, pushing in two fingers slowly. 

“I’ll always hate you.” he doesn’t give you a second to breathe before pumping his fingers to the hilt, curling them against that familiar bundle of nerves. The sensation has you lifting onto your tiptoes in a frenzy, moaning out loud. “Fuck!” Nobody has ever had you like this, ever been this deep in you before.

The hand around your neck moves to press against your back, pushing you into an arch. He doesn’t let you breathe before slapping the flesh of your ass. For someone who hates you, Suguru can’t keep his hands off of your body. Not when you’re so receptive, so sensitive to his touch. he doesn’t relent, lazily dipping his fingers in and out of you tantalisingly slow. It has you keeling, arching your ass out to beg him for more. 

Dignity be damned, you wanted him to feel you, in every way. “Suguru, please” you whine for him. But he can’t help himself. He would never be satisfied unless you calmed the sizzling feeling of betrayal in his heart. The feeling that convinces him that touching you like this is wrong. A small part of him acknowledges the irrationality of it, but he needs to hear it from your lips. 

He wants to keep touching you, “Tell me what I want to hear” it leaves his lips almost pleadingly. The words make your heart drop. You can barely think clearly in the heat of it all. You wish he would have asked when you weren’t so drunk on his fingers, the pleasure fogging your mind so deliciously. You wrack your brain regardless, eager to keep him where he is.

“I-I fuck! I can’t” his slow movements draw to a stop despite your begging. Suguru needs this. Needs you to prove you’re better than the rest of your kind. That you can understand him, but still formulate your own arguments. He’s knuckle deep, unmoving as he waits for you. 

“Y-you’ve let yourself be directed by grief all these years, but the existence of Gojo places you in a contradiction” he digests your words as you catch your breath, and again you’ve pulled him into your orbit too easily. Your words have him pondering, mindlessly working you again, but not missing how the tension in your spine dissipates. Your pleasure speaks to his soul, and he wants to control it, to deconstruct it and mould it so that it only belongs to him, but he chooses to mull your words over instead. 

“Keep speaking.” He orders over your moans, and you struggle to keep your words coherent. 

“Having someone-ahh! Having someone stronger than you reject your plans shatters your philosophy.” You’re a mess, opening your mouth to finish your sentence when he does it for you. 

“Because power grants moral authority” he whispers, astounded by how cleanly you’ve opposed where he’s coming from. Satoru’s the strongest, yet he uses his power to help people which ultimately deconstructs his own world view. The air leaves his chest in one fell swoop. His thoughts run rampant, struggling to form a cohesive rebuttal, but it no longer makes sense to him. Even worse, you’re making sense. 

Has he really been harbouring such a narrow-minded view? Equal parts desire and anger flurries through him at how easy it was for you. But even if you can dismantle his logic, you’ll never be able to dispel the hatred in his heart. 

He’ll cling to it, make it so that it’s all he has left. Because what have all these years been for otherwise. It had to have meant something.

 The way your cunt squeezes around his fingers pulls him back into your and he speeds up his pace, wishing he could see the way your face contorts at the feel of him. 

You moan without abandon, relishing in the fact that he must have understood you. You didn’t care about how loud you were, and each sound went straight to Suguru’s head. A carnal urge of possession runs through him. It has him asking questions he never would, questions he never cared about when he fucked other women. 

“Who’s had you like this?” You must be making him go mad. It’s a primitive side of him he lets out, allowing the most egregious of words to filter through. He wants to be the only one to hear you moan, feel you come on his fingers. 

“Too many to count” you scoff at just how ridiculous it all is. Why would he care about this?. He doesn’t get to ask you that. Not when you’ve been invisible for the past five months. But the coil in your stomach is about to snap, and you’d do just about anything to not have him edge you again.

“I’m not asking again.” you try to keep your mouth shut, the truth honestly feeling a bit embarrassing, but nothing ever stays buried with the man in front of you, especially when he yanks your orgasm away from you. Right when you’re on the brink of it for the second time, your lips move of their own accord. 

“Just you.” hunger, raw and unabashed courses through his veins at your words and he loathes every second of it. It shouldn’t make his chest bloom, his ego intensify. But it does. So he gives into wanting you wholly. 

“How have you had yourself?” he asks. Your breaths come out fast, the hot water of the shower head soaking the both of you. You want to touch him, but the last thing you want is your orgasm taken away from your again, so you keep your hands plastered against the wall. 

“My fingers don’t reach as deep as yours.” Its like you’re trying to make him cum in his pants with your filthy mouth. He can’t say he doesn’t love it either. A condescending laugh envelops you, cold and prideful. You might have given enough ammo to talk down to you for the rest of your life.

You’re so wet, dripping down his wrist and your thighs when he decides to keep going. His fingers are fast, deftly brushing against your g-spot with each of his thrusts. “Fuck, Suguru!” 

“Don’t ever try lie to me, not when you’re coming on my fingers like this” it’s so patronising, so supercilious it has your limbs locking, the high rushing over you in a frenzy. You’re practically clawing at the walls as he laughs at you. it doesn’t go unnoticed by him. You love it just as much as he does. Twitching, you attempt to come down from your high as he watches your every move. 

He removes his fingers, taken over with the urge to taste you, and despite the better part of him, he tentatively places his fingers in his mouth, wrapping his tongue around you. The fire in his veins is takes over him, and he feels insatiable. He’s just had you like this, and it’s not enough for him. 

You’re heaving as you turn around, the heat of the water making you look freshly fucked out. “I want to return the favour.” You whisper to him, certain he’s heard you, and he looks like his last thread of control is about to snap. 

“I don’t want you to touch me.” you scoff at his words, rolling your eyes. 

“But you can touch me? Taste me?” you thought he’d be embarrassed with your words, if anything it has the opposite effect. Taking initiative, you move to step towards him, wondering to see how far you can push him. 

Your touch starts featherlight, skimming against his navel with your fingernails, dipping lower. You watch each treacherous expression on his face, how he’s leaking arousal and desire, despite how much he tells himself he doesn’t want it. 

Your hand wrapped around the base of his dick has him feral, a groan erupting out of him as he slams his forearms on the tiles you’re braced against, effectively caging you in. the distance between you and him shortens with each exhale, until you’re sharing air. 

You stroke him base to tip, thumbing his slit as he stares at you in hunger. No words are exchanged, the simple shlick! shlick! of his cock resonating in the room. Wanton need coils in your spine as his breath fans in your face. 

“Tell me to stop touching you.” You goad him, heart soaring to new heights when you’re met with silence. He can’t tell you to stop when all he wishes is for you to keep going. His cock twitches at the way you eye it with need, your thighs squeezing together. 

“You want me in you.” he speaks against your mouth as you pick up your pace, stroking him faster. You nod at his words, the weight of him suddenly a thousand times heavier in your hand. 

“Use your words.” He watches you, ever so eager to please him and he feels every sick and twisted desire that you feel. 

“I want your cock inside me, Suguru.” The candour of your admission has him releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Keep stroking me.” his mouth moves in time with yours, so close you can almost taste him. You could tell he was close, the groans leaving him growing throatier with each passing second. 

“Cum on me.” you must have lost your sense, or the hot steams made you delusional. But right now, you want nothing more than for him to cum on your skin. Your words have him releasing spurts of hot cum across your stomach, some reaching your breasts. 

The water washes away most of it, and you curse yourself internally. You don’t miss the way he uses his thumb to collect a rivulet dripping down your chest. He brings it up to your mouth, but he doesn’t need to ask you for you to understand. Your lips wrap around his digit without reserve, tasting him thoroughly. A heinous moan erupts from your throat as you savour the taste of him, and he watches you devour him whole. 

The clarity hits the both of you at the same time, the shower water turning off as he takes a step back. He steps out without a second thought and all you can do is feel. The weight of his presence leaves an impression that lingers, one that the heat of the shower won’t rid you of. It wasn’t like you to get so lost in something, to submit entirely to desire, and you didn’t want to let it happen again. 

Well, you did want him in your bed, but you didn’t want to be senselessly babbling at his whim, but the feeling of his fingers rubbing against your most sensitive spot has you reeling, aching for more. 

You reach an impasse over the coming days, the tension between the two of you so noticeable, it has Satoru almost cackling when you invite him over. They converse as you prepare the food, and he’d be stupid to not notice how frustrated, how not taken care of you look. 

Suguru’s doing no better, his balls feel so heavy against his pants yet you both avoid each other like the plague. “How’s heir-making coming along?” Gojo asks, watching you stiffen. Suguru rolls his eyes as Gojo bursts out laughing in his face. he doesn’t get it at all. You both want each other, so what’s wrong in indulging in the pleasure of it all. 

“Well, I guess nothing’s coming then” he fills in the blanks himself, giggling at every word. “I mean, I can always take care of her for you, she’s beautiful.” At that, Suguru whips his head around to his best friend. Rage settles in his chest, some of it seeping to the surface. 

“You wanna fuck my wife?” 

“I mean if you ain’t-“ He knows Gojo’s fucking around, but it doesn’t feel like that. he curses lowly, looking away into the distance. 

“I just hate her kind, and it’s not something that’s going to go away. But I want her anyways, and I can’t navigate that.” Satoru laughs, again and Suguru’s over it. he’s asking for genuine advice, and he gets left in the dark in return. 

“I’m sorry, I don’t wanna piss you off, but it’s just so weird.” He tilts his head, studying Geto like he’s a circus act. 

“Do you think you need to make sweet love to her? Kiss her softly and dry her tears? That’s the last thing she wants from someone like you. The fact that she even wants you is astonishing. You know her, you know she’s not stupid. She knows what kind of man you are. She wants your anger.” 

“She’d fucking break if she felt all my anger. It feels like a harsh wind would even kill her.” Satoru leans back, smirking to himself and it pisses Suguru off. It’s like he knows something Suguru doesn’t. Satoru doesn’t say much the rest of the evening, quietly eating his food and seeing himself out. 

He turns to Suguru in the doorway, taking in his best friend. He wore a simple black shirt and sweatpants, but he remembers a time where he wouldn’t change out of his robes. You’ve made him more comfortable. 

“I bet she’ll have you in her bed by the end of the week.” is all Suguru is left with. The idea of being in your bed, sinking into you for the first, being the only person to have you calls to him. 

But he doesn’t know how to give in. so he doesn’t. the silent treatment between the two of you continues, the both of you moving on with your daily lives. You weren’t necessarily taking jabs at each other any longer, but you didn’t seek him out and neither him, you. 

It didn’t do anything to change the way you wanted him though, if anything, watching him from afar allowed you to appreciate all the small things about him. How clean he was, how he forced himself to go out of his way to be inconsiderate towards you, even when it was clearly embedded in his nature.

It was cute really, how far he was going to sell to himself that he hated you. But it wasn’t working, not when he was searching for you every time you left his line of sight, and not when he traced the outline of your figure in your pyjamas. 

But he was going to have to settle without your presence for tonight as you made your way out the door. You needed some time to unwind. Go out, have some fun because it was getting suffocating. The air was tantalisingly thick a gust of wind could make you cum.

Usually, he never gave a shit about where you ended up, but tonight was different. Tonight, he wanted you to stay. But you couldn’t see into his mind to know this, and you were going to waste your time deciphering the looks he gave you, so you walked out the door. 

Suguru couldn’t stop glaring at you. Why were you wearing that and why hasn’t he seen it on you before this. the dress you wore fitted you perfectly, accentuating all the right features and all he could think about was all the other people who’d be able to admire it all. 

Its times like these where the frustration coils into his veins. The logical part of him acknowledges it’s his fault for not making a move, but the louder, more unhinged side harbours anger at the fact that you’re holding out on him so well. 

You’re supposed to want him like he wants you, so why can’t he feel like that. The hours fly by as he sits on the couch and thinks about all the decisions that lead here. It’s clear to him now, just how much he needs whatever you do to him. You need to be punished for your audacity. And he needs to give in. 

And so, he will. 

The resolution is liberating, easing the burden on his shoulders. He can finally let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was going to have you. In every way he wanted. 

Your night was fun enough, but nothing is going to lift your spirits the way you know he could. It’s annoying, the way you’ve gone your whole life without it, but the second he showed you how sweet it could taste you’re unable to think about anyone other than him. 

The way his fingers felt inside of you, how they moulded to you perfectly, it’s almost like he was made for you. But you were more than willing to wait. You knew the best things took time. you were going to let him come to you. 

You walk through the door resolved, ready to not let him break you down again, to reduce you to your needs when the vision of him sitting on the couch has you stilling. He’s never up this late usually, and you can’t help but feel the hairs on your body stand up. Something’s … different. 

“Why are you still awake?” you curse yourself internally as your breath comes out choppy. He doesn’t give you the opportunity to dwell on it with his response. 

“I want to ruin you.” the admission almost has you buckling at the knees. Its everything you’ve been waiting for. But you can’t lose control right now, taking a deep breath and ignoring the way you throb at his words. 

“How do you want me, Suguru” you exhale, watching him.

“On my lap.” Your eyes instinctively move to his bulge, and you see he’s already half-hard. You don’t waste time, calmy walking over towards him. You try to paint the illusion that you’re in control here when you both know that’s further from the truth. 

Hands come up to Suguru’s shoulders as you straddle his thick thighs, settling yourself down on his clothed cock. You don’t move, and he wouldn’t let you. His hands come up to the junction of your ass and thighs, feeling you, not moving quite yet. 

His eyes roam every inch of your body, and he pulls you impossibly closer to him, grinding you. Your hands find expanse in his hair as you exchange breaths. 

“You want this?” you ask through a moment of doubt. 

“You feel me?” you nod against him. “My pain?” he asks. “I want to make you hurt.” it’s an honest confession, one that he uses to give you the option out right now, because there’s no going back after this. 

Maybe you’re sick; all it does is awaken a hunger in you that you didn’t know existed. “I want your wrath on my skin.”Heat blossoms in his chest at your words as he regards you. You really want what he can give. And he’ll make sure to give to you.

“On your knees.” His order goes straight to your core, and you move to obey him. it wasn’t in your nature to listen without objection, but tonight, you want him to have it. You need him to feel your skin on his and enjoy it for what it really is.

You sit between his legs, level with his cock as you look up at him. this is how he likes you most. He thinks to himself. sitting there, waiting for him. His hand comes up to caress your cheek, watching the way you lean into it like a calico cat. 

“Smell me” its depraved and he doesn’t know where it comes from, but when your lidded eyes hold his gaze as you lean in and inhale deeply, Suguru thinks he might cum right there. He needs your mouth now. 

He moves the waistband of his pants down, unveiling himself to you again. His dick flings against his stomach, and the sight of it was enough to make your mouth water. The closer inspection almost has you moaning out loud, the sheer hunger overtaking you. 

 Thick with veins weaved around his length. His balls lie heavy against the seat, full of his seed. His tip, crimson and angry was leaking precum. You watch the precum gather at his mushroom tip, a thin milky glob travelling down him. The hand that stroked your cheek moved to weave its way into your hair, his other one stroking himself. 

“Open” he doesn’t tell you twice, and you don’t need him to, listening to his words entirely. He moves slowly, letting you eat inch by inch but not stopping when you gag around him. He said he wanted you to feel him, so he keeps going. “Breathe through your nose.” He lets out as he slowly eases in. your eyes water as you struggle to keep him in your vision.  

Listening to his words, you breathe through your nose, watching him continue until your nose was flush against his pubic bone. “This is what you wanted, right?” your hands come up his thighs, holding onto him as he speaks to you. His honey voice is sickeningly sweet as he speaks down to you, watching you humiliate yourself as you try to not gag.  

He watched you through hooded eyes, promising to train your throat another time as he slowly let your head move back, watching the drool drip all over your mouth. the idea that he’s the only person who’ll ever have you choking on him, he’s the first and the last man you’ll ever feel like this has him so hard. He needs to have his cum down your throat. He wants to watch you swallow all of him and beg for more.

Raising yourself again, you take a hold of his cock, putting the head into your mouth, licking his tip while stroking him. You took him deeper and deeper, eager to please him. He watched as you worked him, a light blush dusting his cheeks. A moan slipped through his lips, going straight to your pussy. 

His sounds were doing something to you, casting a spell and lulling you into his trap. You couldn’t hold yourself anymore, and your hand slipped between your legs to rub your clit through your panties. You try to work him, but he doesn’t let you, pulling out and slapping his cock on your face lightly. “You feel good when I say so.” 

“Sugu, please” you drag out the words, and the nickname rolling off your lips has him feral. He wants to be the one to give you everything you need. It wasn’t your pleasure anymore and he wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself. 

“Suck” your pleas quieted, focusing on him instead as you took him in, tears slipping freely as he hit the back of your throat. Just like he did, you worked past the resistance, not stopping until you could your nose was against his pubic bone. “You ready for me?” you knew what he was asking as you nodded, letting his grip on your hair tighten. 

He held on to you like an anchor, pistoning his hips upwards into your throat as you gagged around him. You let him use you, took everything he gave you with delight. You watched in pleasure as his brows creased in concentration as he worked himself. Knowing you’re the one to make him feel like this – the woman who he refused to touch – has you reeling. 

Suguru’s close, and he doesn’t need to tell you to swallow him for you to understand what he wants from you. you stick your tongue out, allowing him to shoot ribbons of his cum along it, painting you his. You worked dutifully waiting to swallow everything he could give you. 

Your chest heaves as you attempt to catch your breath, but Suguru doesn’t plan on leaving you like this. pulling up his pants, he doesn’t ask for permission, lifting your over his shoulder to make way to your room. Anticipation has your heart racing. You’ve been waiting for this day for so long. 

He throws you on your bed, using a stool from your vanity to sit down and rake you in. Your husband’s legs are spread, giving him space to stretch out as his elbows rest on his thighs. 

Craning your head towards him, you watch as he assesses you taking in every pretty feature.

“Strip.” The one word that comes out of his lips has you cold. He’s gonna rip you apart, you think. But aren’t you worse off for wanting it all and more? The thought of it sets you alight, and you welcome your destiny with open arms. 

Suguru juts his chin towards the spot in front of him, watching you intently, waiting for you to put on a show. He watches you give yourself to him, reaching up to slip your dress off, letting it hit the floor softly. You stand before him, dressed simply in your bra and panties, letting him admire you. 

You want the attention; you want the reaction. And he knows that, its why he doesn’t let you meet the heavy silence enshrouding the room. “All mine, yeah?” he says, eyes honed in on your boobs and the way they move as you catch your breath. 

“Make it all yours.” You don’t know what comes over you, speaking like that. But you want to feel like you’re his through the actions, not just the words. Unclasping your bra, you watch him as it hits the floor, your nipples rising to stiffened peaks under the cold air. 

He’s a true pervert, tutting when you move to grab the waistband of your panties.“ Make it good for me” taking the initiative, you slowly turn around, bending over and slipping the fabric off you letting your ass come into view. 

Geto adjusts himself, spreading his legs as he follows your ass like a man entranced, absentmindedly holding his hand out for your panties. Humiliation coats your features when you hand them over, watching the way your husband thumbs the damp spot before he shoves it into his pocket. He wants to keep this version of you even in the future. The way you smell, the way you feel. The you that wants him so loudly, the you who welcomes his pain. 

It’s like he can’t hold himself anymore, abruptly standing from his seat and stalking towards you. You stand your ground, unwilling to waver until your feet hit the bed frame but still you refuse to fall over. His chest moulds with yours as featherlight touches grace your hips. 

You shudder, leaning into him. you don’t know what to do with yourself, so you let him touch you however he wants. The hands on your hips move towards your ass, light squeezing the subtle flesh as you gasp out in his arms. he doesn’t say a word, simply assessing each expression on your face.

The rings on his fingers are cold, in dichotomy with his warm touch that burns from within, and you feel him everywhere when his hand comes to wrap around your throat perfectly. You’ve never felt more alive than in his hands.

He uses his grip to tilt your head upward, so you can stare into his violet hues. He peers intensely, the sweet timbre of his voice making you weak. ”Open your mouth” you listen immediately, sticking your tongue out in anticipation as he leans over you and spits onto your wet muscle. 

You watch as it trails down his lips, noticing how his eyes gloss over as you swallow what he gives you. Suguru can’t handle himself, his dick is rock hard, and you’re making it worse. Your complete submission, your desire. He can smell you from here. 

He spins you around, the soft flesh of your ass digging into his clothed cock and his hand comes to move between your legs. His middle finger dips slightly through your slip, feeling your wetness and the touch has you arching your back against him . 

Your arm comes to wrap around his neck, dragging you closer to him until you feel his breath hot on your neck. His lips ghost your ear, tongue teasingly slipping past to lick you. “Suguru” you whine, needing him now more than ever, but he doesn’t bite. He doesn’t give in. 

He takes his time with you, moving his massive hands to cup your pussy, squeezing slightly. You moan, head falling against him as he lets you feel the weight of him. He wants you to know its him who has you like this, that is him who owns you. 

“Whose pussy is this?” he lets out against your ear, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, but he’s obsessed. He wants every single inch of you to devour. 

“Yours” it’s like your accustomed to it. Like you came to terms with a long time ago the way you say it. He loves it. 

“You gonna let me use you, huh?” You don’t wait to nod against him, and he can’t stop the condescending smile on his lips. “My smart, silly wife. So eager to give herself to me.” his ramblings have you hot and embarrassed, but you don’t want his grip to leave you. 

You were made for it, the way you fit into him. but you have the same effect on him. reaching behind you, you cup him through his panths, feeling the weight of him again. “I want this in me” you whisper, breathlessly stepping into the lion’s den “please”. 

You’re met with silence, and its wholly unnerving. You’re about to spin around to see the expression on your husband’s face when he puts you on your knees on the bed. He stands at the edge of the bed, your ass grinding into him, and he can’t help himself with the way he ruts into you. 

“My wife wants her dick, huh? You need me in you?” he’s an asshole mocking you, but you don’t care, too far gone to do anything other than nod and scoot back into him. 

A sharp slap lands on your ass as he pulls at your flesh, spreading you to look at your holes. Its filthy, he thinks. How wet you are for him. and he loves every second of it. You hear him rid himself of his clothes as your heart hammers in your chest.

“I’m not going to be gentle” he tells you. he’s being selfish, he knows. But it’s all he can afford to give you right now. He can’t open his heart up to the true intimacy you should have. He doesn’t deserve you, but it doesn’t mean he won’t have you, nonetheless. 

“I want your pain” you admit to him. its true. Usually, first times are meant to be a loving gentle experience. But you yearned for all the jagged prickly things in life. You weren’t young and in love, and this wasn’t a sacrifice for him either. You knew it was going to hurt. But you didn’t want the soft life; you wanted the anger. “Make it hurt.”

If Geto was a better man, he would stop right here and leave. But he wasn’t. He wanted this. He needed this more than you did. You want him to make it hurt for you. It makes it all the more real. You want everything he has to offer, and he wants to convey all his uninhibited rage. You were perfect.

“Arch for me” you feel the mattress dip with his presence as he comes up behind you as you arch your back for him. You rest on your forearms, allowing him to him to grip onto your hip tightly. His cock moves through your folds slowly, gathering all your wetness, and he pushes into you. 

“Fuck!” you squeal, ending out on a moan at the slight burn of the intrusion. His tip nudges against the ridges of your inside as you feel him push past and change you from the inside out. The sharp pain subsides as he moves deeper and deeper, holding himself there and Suguru is man changed.

You’re impossibly tight, and he tries to focus, burying his head in your neck to steady himself to not cum already. Your wet hole spasms to the sheer size of him as you try to adjust. He bottoms out treacherously slow, suffocating you with his body weight before he starts thrusting.

Pulling back, he sets a harsh pace delivering harsh thrusts and grinding himself into you. “Sugu- ugh! Y-you feel so good!” you’re a hot mess, high off cock as your eyes roll when he bumps through your sweetest spots. His hand comes to grip on your hair as he lifts himself off you to watch the way you fuck yourself back onto him. 

Pain and pleasure intertwine to make you see stars when he pulls you flush against him to shove his index and middle finger into your mouth. instinctively, you suck his digits, drool escaping the sides of your lips. Your husband’s losing his mind in you. You hug him so tight, so warm he wants to bury himself in your forever. His thrusts turn wanton, unable to control himself while his fingers push deeper into your throat making you gag on him. Good. It’s what he wants. He wants to overwhelm you so thoroughly your fucked out brain can’t think of anything but him. 

The sounds coming your pussy were pornographic, loud squelches filling the room as he looked down to see his cock covered in your blood and a thin ring of your arousal. You were so sloppy; your cunt gushing at the feel of him. 

“Fuck, listen to my pussy talk,” he groans, downright feral “you hear how she’s begging me to fuck her?” But he doesn’t really want an answer from you, and it’s not like you could give one with your mindless moans around his fingers. 

It was all too much, and you weren’t going to last like this, the coil in your stomach begins to tighten as the sensations overwhelm you. “M cl-mph” you try, really try to get him to slow down so he doesn’t send you flying off the cliff but your husband’s too far gone. He won’t give that to you. He wants you to take it. 

Leaning down, he bites at your neck, alternating between licks and sucks to mark you as his. He feels you clamping down on him, trying to hold you to him. His breath is hot on your ear, his saliva all over neck as he orders you. 

“Break for me” he doesn’t leave room for discussion, and you couldn’t refuse even if you wanted to. You do exactly as he wants from you, you soar to new heights, limbs locking as you arch your back in a soundless cry. Your orgasm rips you from your tether, your legs shaking as you spasm around Suguru.

The asshole doesn’t relent, not for a second, jackhammering into you and forcibly dragging you back down to his reach. His thrusts never falter, his pace never wavers as he gives himself to you. Bite marks are littered all across the expanse of your neck, your hips bruised from his iron grip and your ass red from the stings of his palms. 

And he’s still not done with you. 

“That fucked out already?” he asks as he flips you over by your shaking legs. You struggle to orient yourself, the loss of him making your hole squeeze around the empty air. He’s above you now, even though you can barely focus on him, and you let him toss you around like a ragdoll. 

Suguru spreads your legs, pushing them back until you’re in the meanest mating press. The new position exposes you to him entirely. Every sexy inch of you. It’s like he’s on autopilot when he puts himself inside of you again, like that’s where he belongs. 

Your eyes fly open when  he reaches deeper than before, you can almost feel him in your stomach. It knocks the air out of you, whines and moans of protest leaving of their own volition. “Sugu, p-please. Too much!” 

His grip on your ankles is so tight as he instinctively drives his hips into you. “I want you to feel me” he’s honest, choosing to tell you exactly what’s on his mind. He changes this temp this time, delivering slow, deep thrusts that make your toes curl and your stomach flip. 

Its passionate, wholly foreign and entirely too much. You feel him everywhere beneath your skin, mixing himself with you. It’s so overstimulating all you can do is dig your nails into his back and let him ravage you. 

“You’re too deep,” you whine into his mouth, stealing his air from him. 

“Take it. you’ve handled worse.” Leaning down, he places kisses down your chest, picking at the freshly forming love bites he left and giving you new ones. Again, your vision escapes as you succumb to the growing pressure in your stomach.

“Fuuuuuck!” you lean into it, letting him dig into you until you’re nothing but a blabbering mess for him. Suguru only has one mission. To pump you full and leave you dripping with him. And he won’t stop until he gets it. 

“Eyes on me” he wants to see every twisted, depraved thought in your mind. You can’t run from him. Not when you invited yourself into his arms. He’ll make you watch him use and ruin you, and you’re going to thank him for it. 

A low whine escapes you as your eyes open and he watches your face change to the way he fucks you. Heavy intense thrusts as his balls slap against your skin. Your plight to keep your eyes open calls to him, speaks to his sick side when he knows you’re going against your nature to obey his wishes. 

“Keep them open, that’s it, good girl” You wouldn’t be able to control your moan even if you tried. His words have you writhing, spasming around him, so eager to please , and your reaction isn’t lost on him. He picks it at the seams until you unravel. 

“You want my praise?” Sick, hedonistic desire coils around his spine at how pathetic you are for him. its everything he needs from you. he leans into you, impossibly closer and rests your forehead on yours. “Earn it.”

It’s like a flip switches in you, your once experimental hands turn tactical, expertly weaving your way into his locks and pulling slightly. A low groan leaves as he ruts into you, but you don’t give him a second to think about it when you moan into his mouth. 

“You fuck me soooo good, Sugu. I love this dick.” You watch the way his spine locks at the praise, but you continue pulling out more surprises, not letting him stop to think before crushing your lips against his. 

Suguru’s eyes widen a fraction, the dusty pink hue returning to his cheek at the feeling of your tongue against the seam of his lips. He groans into your mouth, grinding his cock into your spongy insides. You take what he gives with pleasure, kissing him like you’ll never have him again. 

Your husband returns your fire, wanting you as bad as you want him. his tongue meets yours in a frenzy as you taste each other for the first time. he’s punishing, searingly hot as he burns you from within, biting and sucking at your lips. 

“I’m close, wanna cum on your cock again.” you squeal as his tip knocks against the bundle of nerves that has your limbs locking as your orgasm overtakes you again. Your hips buck as he picks up his speed, seemingly close too and all you want is for him to paint your walls his. 

Using a hold on your neck, Suguru pulls you up, forcing your head into an awkward position where all you can see if how your blood and arousal mix to stain his dick as he pumps into you. The loud shlick! noises are so lewd it has you writhing. “See your blood on my cock, wife?” the way he says it, like its derogatory “nobody is ever gonna have you this way again.”

He’s never been overly possessive, but something about you… its different. He needs to claim you, own you, your pleasure and your pain entirely. Electricity zaps down his spine as he feels his balls tighten as he works faster, gaping your hole to the shape of him. 

“Fuck, keep your legs spread” he’s animalistic, so unhinged as your squirm at the overstimulation as your orgasms overtake you both together. He swallows unearthly scream, groaning into your mouth as he forces you to spread open and releases his cum deep inside of you. 

Shamelessly, your husband grinds and humps into you, using your screams of pleasure as fuel, and making stay still until his balls twitch with the last of his seed. You take it all, clawing at his back as you scramble to adjust and take in everything he’s giving you. You feel impossibly full, but he doesn’t pull out, instead keeping you plugged and full of him. 

You’re spent, utterly exhausted as you try to move him off you, your legs uncontrollably shaking, but your husband's like a rock, refusing to pull out of you. The hand around your waist pulls you flush against his chest as you feel his breathing even out. 

“They asked us to make an heir” is the last thing you hear before you both drift off, but who said he had to cuddle you to sleep for you to get pregnant?

“i promise i'll treat you so well, boss please—."

"this is highly unprofessional, satoru."

"i like it when you say my name."

you sighed, your head in your hands while the preppy, white haired, blue eyed freak of a man stood before you, practically beaming and waiting for your praise while he stood by your door, his metaphorical tail practically wagging while you skimmed through his files.

"good job. these will do."

"come onnn boss, you can give me more than that."

"out, boy." he was scurrying out in no time, his stupid dress pants tenting just the slightest while he made his way out, biting his lip before running into a washroom like his life depended on it.

he made quick work of his pants, spitting in the palm of his hand, his pretty cock flushed and leaking, while he moaned like a pornstar into the echoing washroom. he was running his hands up and down—until he heard a door click.

"oh, this is what you do after hours, toru?"

"t—this is the men's washroom—!"

"oh? so you're okay with ogling me in my office, but when i catch you with your dick out, you're shy?"

you waltzed up to him, taking two of your fingers out in front of his face—

"suck."

"y—yes ma'am."

he wrapped his pretty lips around your fingers, sucking them like the good boy he was.

"now spit in the palm of my hands for me."

he spat, saliva dripping down your palm, right before you wrapped your hand around his flushed cock, leaking pre while he whimpered into your shoulders while you slooowly moved your hand up and down on his dick.

"i'm too old for you 'toru."

"n—no you're juuuust right." he whimpered.

"alright goldilocks."

he was tearing up, his blue eyes glossed over while you swiftly moved your hand up and down.

"hnnng—i didn't know it felt like thiss—."

"hm. pathetic." you spat, watching his eyes roll to the back of his head while he came in spurts, coating your hands while you watched his knees buckle.

"why won't you give me a chance y/n, i promise i'll be so good—." is all he said before dropping to his knees, hugging your legs while you pet his head.

"oh, darling." you whispered, making him lick your hands clean while he looked up at you with doe eyes, tears pooling in his eyes while he moaned.

"i'm 25! that's old enough yknow."

"and i'm a decade older, baby, you're pushing your luck."

"someday. someday i'll get there."

"it's cute watching you try." you walked out, right after washing your hands, your suit hugging your curves just right while you strutted out. and gojo was a goner. and someday, he'd bag his stupidly hot boss who drove him fucking crazy. 

the same woman a whole decade older, the same woman who starred in every single one of his filthy fantasies, and the same woman he came to every single night like a routine. he'd get you to be his. 

heeehe. ok bai.

an — geto is dada and dada is geto (ꈍᴗꈍ)♡

a goblin.

a goblin is what you felt like as you rummaged through the pantry and fridge of your and geto’s shared home.

you never usually do this, as geto always made sure that his beloved wife was always fed to her heart’s content. he’d even let you film your meals and post it, one caption reading “MUKBANG WITH MY DELICIOUS BAE 😍🍱🍆” (He got embarrassed over it but you convinced him it was just the truth so he had nothing to be ashamed of.)

but that evening, geto found (gojo told him about it) a new fine dining restaurant in town that he wanted to try. being a foodie, he was super excited to pitch the idea to you. the food was indeed fine-dining grade, but the portions barely filled you halfway. geto seemed so thrilled as he engulfed every bite, and so to not ruin his mood and experience, you didn’t make a comment on it anymore. his smiles were too precious to wipe off his face.

so there you found yourself, mixing whatever you could find after climbing out of bed. your tits nearly spill out of your tiny tank as youre munching, crumbs falling into the cave between. in your right hand, a cookie. in the left, a spoonful of a yogurt mix you intended to share with geto. (it’s all yours now i guess!)

“thought i heard something..” a voice mutters into the cold air. your head turns mid-bite to see geto, pitch-black hair cascading down to his shoulders. you flash him a weak smile, to which he giggles.

“didn’t enjoy our dinner?” he asks with a soft grin. his eyes shift between the food in your hands and your body, sexily leaned against the counter. “enjoyed..” the white lie barely escapes your mouth as the crumbs of your snacks fall onto the floor.

he sluggishly moves toward you as he chuckles, and you only continue feasting on whatever you had in hand.

geto’s cold hands slide around your waist, crotch flushed directly on the curve and crack of your ass. his head dips into your shoulder as he inhales the sweet aroma of your skin. “then why you up eating, baby? you haven’t done this in a while.” he comments, eyes now closed and hands rubbing your belly. his hair tickles your neck, making you slightly squirm as you remain silent for a moment.

did you want to tell him the truth? what if it makes him upset!? but as you were about to reply, something already beat you to it.

your stomach grumbles angrily, asking for more food like a true goblin indeed. geto lets out a loud cackle as his head swings back. “i think i got my answer!”

you timidly explain to him what you felt about the dinner. the portions, the taste, maybe even the service. he just hums from time to time, his mouth busy kissing and lapping at your neck. geto’s warm breath caresses your skin as he whispers, “don’t worry baby, me too.”

“then why not eat with me, suguru?” you turn your head slightly to flash a glimpse of his still-drowsy face. you had more than enough to go around— so why not share a sweet moment with your husband?

“think ill have my midnight snack in bed..” he mischievously whispers in your ear, his sultry voice sending shivers down to your undies that he was now hooking off to the side.

wonder whos the delicious bae now?!

🔮–Suguru Geto

Bassist!Suguru x Geek!Reader

🫐: You're in college, life isnt that eventful but it's okay, you're good friends with your roommate Shoko and you're not doing half bad with your studies! Sure maybe never going out of your dorm just to play videogames while speaking to your online friends on discord and watch your favourite shows/movies isnt the healthiest thing ever..! but you're happy and thats all it matter in the end.

But what happens when one of the most popular guys in college, who's in a BAND!! (so cool right) suddenly notices you and finds himself intrigued by everything you do?

───────꒰১ ໒꒱───────

clickclickclick

"Come come come they're in B"

"Move..move! dude i swear if you don't revive me now.."

DEFEATED

Big frown on your face and harsh fingers move on the keyboard until you die and the game is lost, despite huffing and mumbling curses you queue for another game until you feel a tap on your shoulder and you look up knowing who it was already.

"Yes?"

You say to your roommate aka your closest friend, Shoko, who crosses her arms and looks at you unimpressed.

"Did you forget? We agreed on having lunch together"

Shit, you totally did forget, stopping the queue you type 'sryy gtg' on the discord server before giving her an awkward smile while scratching the back of your head.

"I..i'm sorry Shoko, i'll get ready quickly i promise..!"

She sighs softly and rolls her eyes before turning back to walk away, saying something about waiting and smoking outside of the dorm.

You stand up and rush to get something to wear, a pair of baggy black jeans and a sweater paired up with your favourite shoes, then to the bathroom! There wasn't much time left so you did your usual makeup a bit messily but it's okay, you were just going out with your friend, its not like you're gonna meet the love of your life or something...

Right.

So after fixing your hair you almost trip while getting out of the dorm room to an unimpressed Shoko, who shakes her head and starts walking expecting you to catch up, you do.

"So we're going to the new place? Saw it got popular on X"

You speak as the two of you walk through the campus, it was a nice weather, the sun wasnt hitting too much and there was a soft breeze.

"Yeah we are, its already full of students, they chose a good spot to place themselves since its right next to the campus"

Nodding at Shoko's words you find yourselves already in front of its glass door, after getting inside you spot an empty table where the two of you sit and browse through the menu, which was quite nice just like the place itself, it was modern but it didn't lost its colors, of course it was bustling with students from your campus but it wasn't too noisy. Shoko decides to get a chicken burger while you get fries and a toast.

"This is so good?? I might go out more just to eat here damn.."

You exclaim with your cheeks stuffed with food, to which Shoko grimace and grabs a paper towel to wipe the corners of your mouth.

"Girl we're not animals, have some manners"

It had an undertone of affection like everything she says so you just roll your eyes and behave yourself better, but truly it was sososo good! you were happy to have gotten out of your room, just this once tho.

The door opens and suddenly a bunch of girls from your campus look over and gasp a little, some squeak and one stands up, why? Well because THE Roses Sepulchral are the ones who just enter the room!

Who? Well the band from your college, which just happened to have one of the hottest man ever! Thought nobody could bother remembering their names expect for his, Suguru Geto, the girl who stood up decided to bravely walk up to the band to ask for a selfie which they agree nonchalantly before going to sit at a table, but Suguru stops once he notices Shoko and a big smug smile appears on his face as he walks up to your table.

"Hey Shoko, you good?"

His voice was low but sweet, it was insane how he wasn't the main vocalist, you stayed quiet but couldn't help but stare at him for a moment, he totally seemed to have not noticed you at all, which wasnt something new to you, you weren't exactly popular, or even wanted to be so you just kept eating.

"Hey Suguru, you still owe me cigarettes don't think i forgot"

Shoko says with her almost bored tone as she nods to the rest of the band in acknowledgment while Suguru just chuckles warmly and sit down on the table besides yours.

"Yeah yeah i know don't worry, say, you come tonight at The Lake to hear us play and i'll get you your cigarettes, good? free pass too"

The black haired guy says while raising his hands innocently, then he slowly moved his eyes towards the weirdo sitting with Shoko, you.

"You can bring her too"

You weren't even listening at this point, why would you anyway? it's not like he would talk to you so- nevermind he was talking about you and you looked like a total goofball with your mouth full of crumbs again to which you quickly realize and wipe before looking back and forth between the guy and your friend in hopes that Shoko would say no for the both of you.

"Alright..we're coming, but you better get those cigarettes back to me and don't let Satoru near them"

Her halfhearted threat makes Suguru laugh a little before shaking his head and reach out to grab a fry from your plate.

"H-Hey..thats-"

You mumble but your words die in your throat, feeling embarrassed as soon as you make eye contact with the guy.

"Well then, i'm starving so we're gonna eat, see you tonight Shoko"

He says before standing up and briefly putting his hand on Shoko's shoulder to then go sit across the room. Once he was far enough you look at your friend with wide eyes and a questioning look.

"Oh don't look at me like that y/n, you're coming with me tonight and don't make up excuses, you need to get out more"

You pout a little and look down at your plate, fully immersed in your thoughts while two pair of purple eyes are staring at you.

───────꒰১ ໒꒱───────

it’s my personal belief that suguru is more obnoxious than we give him credit for.

definitely the type to feel a small tickle in the back of his throat and instead of just clearing his throat, he’ll turn to you and force out the most disgusting and over exaggerated coughs. and then the years of smoking catch up to him and turns it into a genuine coughing fit.

Teaser: Childhood best friend!Suguru who has always looked like an emo, closed off loser in your eyes ever since you were awkward middle schoolers suddenly grows to be a womaniser you can’t seem to move on from.

Tags: [MDNI/18+] Porn with a whole lotta plot, smut, fluff and angst w comfort, pining, yearning and pathetic geto, blowjob, riding, f recieving, messy sex, hotel sex, doggy style… When will I actually write pure smut without feelings?

Satoru and Suguru are the two most inseparable but different boys you have had the misfortune to meet.

Suguru is the kind of man straight out of your kinkiest most freaky dreams that would have you floored if they were to ever escape the confines of your mind.

He’s all black clothes, ear gauges that suit him criminally well, long and shiny locks that took years of growing to achieve, subtle yet dangerous piercings that make you spiral whenever you catch glimpses of them.

Suguru is hot.

You know it.

Your body knows it.

But your mind refuses to resonate with that perfectly obvious fact.

Because you’ve known Suguru before the tattoos and the cigarettes he carries in his pockets.

You know the boy with less than shoulder-length jet black hair that was dry before he learnt to take care of it junior year of highschool to try and impress some preppy bitch that used to get on your nerves too quickly.

You know the version of him who threw his guts out in your bathroom toilet after his first party, and the one who collapsed with his then-boney figure on your bed and called it a night—only to wake up 16 hours later.

Groggy as shit, voice deeper than a broken speaker, eyes swollen as if he were crying but it was really just from the first time he smoked mary and had a bad reaction to it.

That is the Suguru you know.

The one who isn’t the muscular and seductive man he has turned into. You love him in the present either way, but your mind can’t process that little virgin Geto is now the same man that has thousands of girls wrapped around his pretty pale, long fingers without doing anything about it.

Maybe it’s a secret defence mechanism of sorts that your body set up for you after you noticed how popular he got first year of college.

Or it could be that deep down you hate not being the only girl around him anymore. The only one he could find comfort in after getting rejected by yet another girl because of Satoru.

Which brings us back.

Satoru is a complete 360 from Suguru. He’s bubbly, bright, dramatic, overly friendly and extroverted for his own good.

With no sense of personal space or privacy, Satoru jumps around life surprisingly with no repercussions—flunking all of his classes in high school due to his fucking around with girls but somehow ending up at the same prestigious school you, Suguru and Shoko got into by working hard.

Though none of you dare to say it out loud, you’re all aware it’s because of his connections. The Gojos are quite well off.

Which makes the three of you resent the little albino shit at times.

But you wouldn’t change him for anything.

Within your group of 4 though, Suguru and Satoru have always stuck out like sore thumbs. Being glued by the hip since babies, of course they share a bond deeper than you and Shoko do with them.

The difference is, you entered the picture a bit after Shoko did in middle school to kind of “replace” Satoru during that time as he discovered the world of girls and parties after only living in the comfort of video games and his best friend for the previous 15 years.

So while Gojo ran around flaunting his awkward charm and pick-up lines—living off the thrill of being able to get any girl he wanted because of his looks—you and Suguru naturally got closer as your short-haired friend was always buried in her books.

Weekends at Satoru’s turned into weekends at yours with cookies in the oven and chess pieces fighting eachother.

Somewhere along the lines, you stopped seing Suguru as someone else in the background and more like your own best friend.

He seemed to see it the same way. Soon confiding in you more and more—sharing plans about his future and how he wanted to pursue philosophy while his parents pushed him into a business-oriented career.

Back then, you supported him, convinced him that he didn’t have to listen to his parents nagging because he was his own person, forcefully drilled confidence into that innocent teenager until he finally grasped it.

Everything was going smoothly.

Satoru was in his own world.

Shoko was doing great in school and after-hours clubs, anything for extra credit so she could get better grades for uni.

You and Suguru shared dreams over tea.

Everything was fine until that party.

Suguru’s first.

Satoru had invited him, saying that his frat friends—the ones he had recently met and somehow managed to befriend despite being younger by a few years—promised fun and a good time.

You didn’t expect hard-headed Suguru to cave and go. But he did.

Shoko stayed with you that night while the boys were out until her mom picked her up at 11 P.M. as she had piano practice in the morning.

Fridays were usually the quietest days for you. Your parents took weekend trips to your grandparents house religiously and you usually skipped on visiting to study.

Which was what you were doing when at 1 in the morning, the front door was being unlocked and the sound sent a bone-chilling shiver down your spine.

An old baseball bat in hand and with hesitant steps, you slowly moved down the stairs to catch sight of messy black hair over a tall body slouching against the entry.

Your heart recognised him before your eyes caught up in the dark. And you managed to drop the bat, cross the distance and reach him before he fell over.

Later, you found out as he threw his guts out in the toilet bowl, that he was batshit drunk.

You remember holding his hair back, the dry locks in between your fingers as he retched on and on.

And then.

The hickeys.

The small purple and faint red marked along his side that peaked out from under his loosely fitted black shirt all across his collarbones.

Your breath had hitched without you even noticing it. But your world shattered.

Because you’d grown feelings for the man that you knew would cause you more harm than good. But who were you at the hands of love? Only 16 and already feeling betrayed when there was nothing promised between the both of you.

You never acted like you liked him, never spoke about love, never showed interest. So who were you trying to blame?

Who were you going to blame for being such a pussy when Suguru got on the same train Satoru was and started changing again.

Learned how to do his hair, got piercings, gauges and his first tattoos in no time. Suddenly turning into a woman magnet that had your heart clenching painfully in your chest.

Yet, throughout the years. No girl ever stuck. No woman made it past the texting stage, not a single one of them slept in his bed the way you did at times when you’d crash at his place.

And you never stuck to any man either. A relationship here and there to get Suguru off your mind with some asshole that only messed with your head even further before you’d ditch him and swim in regret over never having confessed to your best friend before the words carved themselves into your bones.

So Suguru, at 24, has been your crush for seven round years by now.

And you’re one sorry excuse of a supportive best friend when he mentions dates and girls. You want so badly to rip your ears out, stuff his mouth with cotton till he chokes on the skinny blondes and Coke addicted bitches he ends up with at random bars.

Your raspy, beer-ghosted voice cuts him off as he tries to scramble together where he met his latest situationship.

“I’m tired, Suguru. We should continue this tomorrow.”

It’s not often you cut him off so brutally but the few times you do, Suguru sees the sirens going off in his head.

Head lolling to the side, left hand holding his drink in between his fingertips, he subtly lifts an eyebrow as his eyes rake over every inch of your beautiful skin.

Covered in a sheet coat of shine, probably from a body oil that he will remember tonight as he pumps his cock in his hands like he does almost everytime he sees you because you always come so pretty for him.

Well, he hopes it’s for him.

But 7 years of acting like he’s fine with being your best friend with his feelings wrapped under bandages and buried under cement, and he’s fearing that soon he won’t be able to hold it in anymore.

You’ve never shown interest in him. He’s never caught a sliver of love swimming in your eyes when his onyx ones prayed to find it in them.

What was he supposed to do? Risk your friendship? No.

Instead, he put himself out there. For every other person to see, hoping that you realise someday he is actually selling himself open for you to snatch off the market.

Yet, time passes and time passed. Nothing.

You stay quiet.

When in the present, your jaw is working and you’re mumbling something along the lines of “I’m really worn out, not really in the mood for talking right now.”

Suguru softly sighs, eyes crinkling at the corners as his they soften under the dim yellow-light lit bar you’re both at after work.

“I’ll take you home.”

He can’t remember the amount of times he’s done it for you. Taken you home tipsy, carried you up your apartments stairs because the hellhole you live in has an elevator that works once a month, tucked you into bed after tugging most of your clothes on because he’s done it ever since you were young from times when you were too tired to change but refused to sleep in dirty clothes, kissed your forehead goodnight and let his chest tighten.

Because he wishes he could say “let’s go home.”.

And he wishes he would stay over, wake up with you in his arms in the morning where he’d kiss the soft corner of your shoulder before the pecks would turn warmer.

But he buries those thoughts deep down and walks out the front door, steps heavy and shoulders weighing a ton.

You wake up feeling like a truck slammed into you sometime in the night—muscles aching, head banging, eyes burning. Though last night you swore you didn’t drink too much, your morning dizziness is really screaming for a rain check on how many beers you actually had.

Were you turning into Shoko?

Catching sight of your phone plugged to charge on the nightstand, you open it to find a mess of texts from your coworkers in the group chat talking about some event they’re trying to set up.

A plethora of messages from Shoko stressed out because of her latest karen patient. A checking in text from Suguru you’ll reply to in a bit. And a thousand texts from Satoru..?

You click on his icon and swipe past the hundred of messages where he’s literally just screaming your name in order for you to reply and get straight to the point.

The favor he’s asking you seems almost ridiculous as it stares back at you.

You, me, Shoko and Suguru. Friday at my company, need u all there for a major event. But I don’t have a date, I need you to act like my girlfriend. 🙏🏻😭

Please help, can’t take Shoko ‘cause she’s already been here and everyone knows her.

I’ll literally buy you anything you want, you know I got the means, boo.

And unfortunately, that last text is what sells it for you.

Friday you waltz hand in hand into one of six eyes’ hotel branches with Satoru who paid for your custom Chanel outfit—elegant silk dress with the tiniest most intricate details around the hemming, a nice cream shade that brings out all the right places—and you wear your new Manolo Blahniks that he got you like the deal promised.

Feeling good, you barely notice how the hall holds you it’s breath when you come in. People’s spines straighten up, how certain women that aren’t really comfortable with being outshined with simplicity and elegance, narrow their eyes.

But the tiny gasps go straight to your blood vessels and straight into your heart. You feel good and nothing can stop you tonight.

Satoru whispers in your ear—hair gelled back, crisp cream suit to match your dress with subtle brown outlining, black slacks.

“Careful, Suguru is about to jump at anyone who stares at you for longer than three seconds.”

Your breath hitches, head swinging back to him. You’re supposed to feign innocence over your little huge crush on your best friend, but all along, Satoru has known.

“How do you know?”

He smirks, that cocky and know-it-all one that makes you want to slap him square sometimes. “You’re not so slick, Y/N. I am also your best friend after all.”

Well shit..?

Before you even have time to debunk his claim—which was already confirmed by your subconscious look of surprise, caught red handed in the worst possible moment—a figure you hadn’t noticed creeping up cleared their throat.

Your heartbeat jumps to the hundreds at the sight of Suguru. Clad in everything dark—black blazer with no lining or details, just the dark void of the color complimenting him dangerously well—silver piercings shining under the bright hall light, helix in place, gauges sitting in their right spots, three small studs on his lobes.

And that tongue piercing you know he has is tucked away behind his teeth.

Shoko monotonously stands by his side, expression dull, looking every bit unhappy to be here. Though you know she’s about to hop onto the bar and flip that look right around.

You exhale for the first time in what feels like the five excruciatingly tense minutes beneath Suguru’s piercing quiet gaze.

“Oh, hey, Suguru.”

Suguru.

You’ve been calling him a lot that recently and he’s not liking the sound of it. Where is the nickname you usually use on him?— Sugu?

It’s his name. He knows. But god does he hate to hear it coming from your pretty lips.

The words “What the fuck are you doing wrapped around Satoru?” and “You look gorgeous.” drop straight into his stomach acid as he swallows them and says instead a brief, oddly cold “Hey.” back.

Truth is, you look divine. But the sight of you clinging onto his best friend kicks him in the wrong way even though he knows you’re both just friends and this is just an act.

He’s been let on the plan.

Yet he can’t stand to watch it unfold.

Satoru sweeps you away to network with you on his arm because it gives him a good look. A nice lady on his side and smooth words could get him deals after deals tonight.

You pretend that you’re enjoying yourself when all you can think about is how you felt and feel Suguru eating you up with his eyes.

It feels illegal. The way his eyes are so hungry for you, shooting bullets through your skin from where he is with Shoko at the bar.

From your side, Satoru mutters something you barely catch from having your mind somewhere else, and your arm drops from his forearm suddenly.

You find yourself alone at a small circular table in the gathering, swirling your drink in your cup and patiently waiting for him to come back till a cold, possessive hand settles on the small of your back.

Chills immediately overtake your body.

The air in your lungs gets kicked out once the figure circles you and reveals Toji Zenin. You know him from the bullshit smeared over his name everywhere.

The business industry’s biggest rival. Every season he’s out for some company’s neck again. The Zenin’s have their claws deep in everyone’s business.

He’s weirdly tall, looming over you with his wispy bangs covering the half-lidded eyes he has. Dark like someone else’s, still different.

But the hair on your skin stands up despite the fire in your eyes. His touch feels like poison to you.

“Toji Zenin.” You recognise. He smirks, sending a small nod your way.

“Y/N L/N.”

Huh? How does he know your name?

“I’ve had my eye on you all night.” He casually points out, putting your questions to rest for the moment.

His touch is long gone from your back but it lingers there in an uncomfortable way that still has the hairs on your arms prickling.

He’s every bit intimidating, from his looks to his gaze. The tattoos on his skin that don’t offer a single ounce of comfort to you like Suguru’s does.

Shit, why can’t you ever get him out of your head no matter how many times you throw yourself in-front of other men?

“Yeah? Am I that intriguing?” You ask, a sly smirk mirroring his on your face. Deciding to play into his game, you rest your drink on the table and relax your previously tense stature.

Briefly, he takes a good look at you again before replying confidently. “Very.”

You fake a giggle to keep the chat going.

“Let me buy you a drink?”

The freshly ordered cosmopolitan you were sipping on suddenly seems good enough to abandon, so you nod.

In the blink of an eye, before the man can even open his mouth, you’re yanked away. A strong grip on your wrist and your body getting dragged through the multitude of people in the room by someone you don’t catch sight of until you reach outside of the hall.

"Suguru." He finally stops dead in his tracks at the sound of your sweet and confused voice ringing in his ear.

Body on fire, soul frusturated, he holds it in to not lash out over seeing Toji even think you're on his level.

“Suguru.” You try again to rip him out of his head.

Only when your hands find his bicep does he physically jerk out of his thoughts.

Deep onyx eyes stare back at yours under the dimly lit sidewalk where the only thing wrapping around the both of you is the faint noise coming from behind the closed wooden hall doors and the night’s coldness.

“What’s wrong?” You ask, worry lacing your tone.

“Nothing.” He spits out, too quick to be thought through.

You push back, knowing him. “There is something wrong. Come on, you’ve always been clear with me.”

One of his hands run down his face to try and lessen the growing turmoil inside of him.

Defeated, resolve chipping little by little by your warm concern, he sighs. “No, I haven’t.”

“What?” A shaky breathe escapes you, maybe from the cold or because of the tension.

Unlike himself, he dodges your question. “I didn’t like seeing you with Satoru.”

“Or with Toji.”

Confusion replaces your initial worry. Eyebrows knitting together, your hands twitch by your side.

“What? Toji?”

Suguru doesn’t dare to look into your eyes, glueing his sight to the empty street behind him.

Nevertheless, you continue. “Why did you pull me away from him? I was getting to know him.” Bothered by how he stepped in when he had no right to.

“You could’ve just asked me to come with you like a normal person does. There was no need to cause a scene.”

You catch the way his fists ball into fists by his side, the way his shoulders square up under your words.

“Suguru. Say something.”

“Stop calling me that.” He cuts you through.

Something splits in your chest. “What? Why? It’s your name.”

Without missing a beat, he continues while dodging your face. “You never call me by my name.”

“I do.”

“You didn’t.”

Silence takes the wheel.

And you realise where you both have gotten.

When did it ever turn so cold between the two of you? Was it when it started to hurt too much to keep your feelings in check while he fucked around?

Maybe.

“I don’t get what’s your problem.” You breathe out, shoulders slumping.

He finally turns to you. “You are my problem.”

Another beat passes.

A knife is jabbed between your heartbeats.

“Then leave.”

His eyes thin out, unaffected by you. “I won’t.”

Voice shaky, you pry again. “Then what do you want from me, Suguru?”

What does he want?

What does he not want is the question.

“I want you to see me for once.”

Your heart turns to stone immediately. Every vein in you freezing.

“I want you to look at me and not those other men. Fuck.” He pivots on his heels, slacks clicking against the cement as he turns around and runs his hand through his pulled back hair again. Frustration bleeding from him.

“I’ve been in love with you for seven fucking years, Y/N. What don’t you understand?”

What?

Your eyes burn with tears you’re not sure are supposed to be brimming.

Seven years?

Since the chess matches? The afternoon study sessions? The nights you’d both spend stargazing?

“In middle school you told me to start taking care of myself if I wanted girls to like me so I did. And you thought I did it for them when it was all for you.”

“In high-school I got my first piercing because I overheard you tell Shoko that men who had them were hotter.”

“Then the tattoos too. I’m a pathetic loser who has done everything to try and get you to look at me. Yet you don’t.”

“I went around to try and find you in someone else but I couldn’t. And i’m at my wits end, Y/N. I don’t know what else to do.”

The air is too thick for you to swallow, but its even harder to process his words as they pierce painful holes in your chest.

He did all of that for you?

Every single detail carved into his body is for you?

“God, you’re such an idiot.” You whisper, feeling a warm tear slip past your waterline and fall down your cheek.

“I’ve always loved you, asshole. You never looked at me.”

He swings back to you, to see the streaks falling down your angelical features. And something fractures inside of him too.

Fuck, you’re both such idiots.

His arms wrap around your trembling figure before you can calculate your next sentence. Warmth and his signature smell of faint vanilla and musk cradling you to calmness.

Your head softly hits his chest, listening to his heartbeat for a second before pulling it upwards and searching for his eyes.

He tilts his head down and loses himself in your doe-eyed look. Feeling his rough corners go smooth.

Neither of you need to communicate anything as your souls search for each other, bringing your lips in a deep kiss.

One that took too long to play out.

The kiss lasts an eternity longer than it actually did, but you’re experiencing such euphoria that you don’t pay mind to the way your lungs pray for air.

Eventually, you do break the kiss.

The fragile moment feels like it’s a fragment of your imagination.

It shatters when the front door of the hall opens, a plethora of people spilling out in a hurry.

You freeze in Suguru’s hold. His head is already running though. Once more, this time gently, he gets a hold of your wrist and takes you with him back inside.

You’re confused as you cross the swarm of people inside still working. From the corner of your eye, you see Satoru, and you see Toji following you from the other side of the room too—hand in hand with Suguru—and him with a drink pressed to his lips.

Subconsciously, you swallow the awkwardness before you enter a different room.

Standing before a corridor full of elevators, you turn with the intention to question Suguru—but before you can, a lift’s door opens and he pulls you inside where you land against the mirror.

He locks you there beneath him, palms pressing into the mirror that sees you both. And he catches your gaze so much you don’t even dare to think about looking anywhere else.

Feeling butterflies explode in your stomach, crawling up your throat and spreading through your chest, you can only look up at him with the galaxy in your eyes.

Suguru is breathing heavily, eyes clouded with possession and love while he looms. Chest lifting and falling in the quietness.

The elevator doors close with a ding! and your lips meet once more. Hungrier this time. You feel his desperation clinging onto every surface of you as his hands drop from the mirror and circle your waist.

A small moan escapes you when he parts from the kiss and pecks a sensitive spot beneath your ear. Something needy has overtaken him and you won’t complain at all.

His long fingers press into your ribs, keeping you in place and not enough to harm, but enough to make your panties wetter by the second.

You didn’t even hear the lift stop or the doors opening, fortunately, he did and slowly he guided you out the elevator. Mouth still on your neck, one hand on the small of your back while his other shuffles around for something in his pocket.

You’re pressed against a foreign door that unlocks when he presses a keycard to the lock while still kissing you madly.

Cold, cold kisses your bare shoulders the second you’re gently pushed inside into the darkness of the empty room.

Before you can catch a glimpse of the place, you’re meeting the closing front door again, Suguru’s hands roaming more freely than before.

The cold tips of his fingers meet the exposed skin of your back as his lips press soft kisses to your collarbones. Ghosting around your neck every now and then.

Every coherent thought is fleeing your mind—Is this how it feels like to be touched by your best friend? What have you been missing out almost for a whole decade?

“Y/N.” Barely hearing his muffled call, you try to hum a yes but accidentally let a small whimper escape when he briefly bites your carotid gently.

He kisses the red spot once his teeth detach and you feel his lips in a smirk as they meet your throat.

“Do you really want to do this?” He asks, nipping on your sensitive skin—searching for where you’re most delicate and where you fall apart the easiest.

Teeth grazing a particularly sensitive spot, you shudder and he fights back the urge to chuckle at his effect on you.

“Yes.” You breathe out after getting a grip on your mind again.

He hums against you, the vibration travelling all the way down to your soaked panties begging to be pulled off.

“Really?” He muses, a slender hand tracing the curve of your waist unhurriedly, landing on your hip before giving it a firm squeeze and continuing it’s way down.

Hand on your ass, he starts to knead the plush skin of it over your silky dress once your lips combine again in a sloppy, half-minded kiss.

Fed up and so needy, your hands fist his silk shirt—black like most of his closet which you’ve learned over the years—and bring his lips close enough till they brush yours again.

“I’ve waited enough.”

And he crashes against you, lips colliding, hips closing in on you and making you feel the hard outline of his boner pressing against your stomach.

Moving on your own while your mind is absent, your sly fingers find the hem of his pants and slip past to palm him over the thin material of his boxers.

You almost groan at the feeling of his cock—at the shape of his prominent vein under your touch, and the tiny bit of liquid spilling from his tip.

Not even noticing it, you’re so beyond dripping that when Suguru hooks a leg between yours and presses up into your cunt, you leave a wet patch on the cotton of his pants.

He continues to explore your mouth as you subconsciously grind your hips on his muscular leg, steadily supported with the help of his hands on your waist to the wall.

Under your hand, you feel his length twitching—every time his cock jerks weakly in your hand, struggling to move much by the restriction of being in his boxers and because of its weight—you wonder why he feels so big.

And if he will even… fit.

The thought consumes you quicker than you have the time to stop it. Suguru feels you stopping your dry humping and your hands settle on his chest before pushing him back.

Curiously bites at him but disintegrates when he sees you drop to your knees, pupils blown wide open and your hair falling perfectly on the sides of your face. Framing those perfect features of yours.

Without ever admitting it, Suguru feels himself being able to already cum at the mere sight of you like this—but he holds it in the best he can as he feels your hands crawl up.

Hook around his belt, slowly pull the leather out of the secure, pull it off and throw it somewhere on the side, bundle the fabric at his upper thigh and pull down till the only thing in your sight is his aching cock pulsing against his underwear.

You bring your hands excruciatingly slow like everything else you’ve done in the last few moments to his dick. Seeing the thick ridges of him throw the light gray and practically salivating at the mouth.

The material smoothly glides off his skin once you pull it by the edges and…

Suguru might look like he always messes up somewhere along the way with girls, never able to get an actual girlfriend and settle down—resulting in him looking like he gets no bitches.

But boy, that dick is eleven inches.

Those girls have no idea what they are missing on.

And you’re the lucky winner.

It slaps loudly against his firm abs once it’s set free, tempting you already with its looks.

Pale, dusty pink tipped, veiny all around, girthy and criminally long. For a second, your eyes flicker to Suguru.

And he’s smirking. Looking down at you like you wished for this upon yourself and now there’s nowhere to run to.

Swallowing, you bring saliva onto the floor of your mouth and prepare to take him in. Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you part the connection between his chest and his dick before licking the tiny pearl of pre-cum that was on the top.

Suguru quietly hisses, and that’s all you need to immediately take him in your mouth.

Starting by the tip, you feel your mind already exploding at the salty and tangy feeling of his juices, smearing the sensitive end on your textured tongue while peering up at him.

Desperate to catch every reaction.

His fists ball into tight fists once you wrap your pretty lipstick-smudged lips around him.

Immediately wrapping him in the warmth your mouth it.

Then your tongue comes into action and Suguru starts counting his blessings, praying he has room for one more so he doesn’t immediately lose it already.

Skillfully swirling your tongue around him, you map every surface of his dick and memorise every dip of his veins—every length of them, the ones that go all the way to the base and the ones who only pop up at the very top.

Only being able to take him halfway before choking, you try to stroke the rest with your hand until you feel him place a hand on your head and start to choke you on his dick.

Your eyes shut closed as his tip hits the back of your throat, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth as he breaches your oesophagus—hauling himself somewhere tighter.

Flattened tongue resting on the bottom of his heavy cock, you fight the urge to gag as he fucks himself harder.

Only when you feel yourself about to collapse from the lack of oxygen do you tap out and he immediately pulls out.

Your throat burns with that delicious ache you’ve just discovered.

Voice hoarse and raspy, you let out a curse under your bed before he’s moving again.

Back meeting the soft mattress of the hotel bed, you let out a breath before seeing that Suguru is already sitting between your legs, spreading them so far that your dress rides up and displays your wet panties clearly for him.

The low chuckle he gives reaches your ear in a soft melody. Long fingers hook around the flimsy material and you’re already jerking at the feeling of his knuckle brushing your clit.

There’s not an ounce of shame in your body when you let out a throaty moan as his fingers dip inside of your hole, mouth latching onto your twitching clit instantly after.

He takes two licks with a flattened tongue and your touch-deprived self already starts to collect tears on your waterline.

The cold metal of his tongue piercing adding more to the blissful sensation.

Mewls start to subconsciously spill out of you.

“Sugu~ Ah!”

You feel him smirk against you as your sensitive bud makes out with his mouth. Quickly, your vision starts to go blotchy when he curves his long fingers inside, finding that spot that makes you gummy in his hands.

You’re so close to the edge, so ready for the orgasm to crash over you when he pulls away in the blink of an eye.

You whimper at the loss of contact, near damn crying at the escape of your climax.

And he smirks, he fucking smirks.

Pulling his shirt over his head and climbing back, saying.

“That’s for leading on Zenin, and for even accepting being Satoru’s for the night.”

Eyebrows knitting and your eye catching the possessive side of him, you circle back to the first name.

“Leading on Zenin?” There’s curiosity in your scratchy voice.

But he doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t let you ponder any further while his hands hook around your waist and flip you on your stomach.

“You’re mine.”

And his cock breaches the first muscle of resistance, making you scream out both in pain and pleasure as the first few inches mercilessly dip inside of you.

Feeling like you’re being split in half, your hands start fishing the sheets, anything to lessen the pain.

Suguru presses slow, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder and back, soothing you through the ache that soon turns delicious.

Once the pain subdues, you feel him move again—only being able to fit half of him inside of you, but he takes it nonetheless.

Pulling your hips upwards and arching your back—Suguru finally starts hitting mean thrusts to your poor overwhelmed pussy.

Not caring at all how the whole building can hear you scream out, moan his name like it’s the only thing you know how to do.

The headrest groans in an uneven rhythm as Suguru plunges deep into your velvety walls, creating a frothy ring at the base where your bodies meet.

“Come on, Y/N, relax so I can fit.”

“N-No—You won’t-haah.” You can barely get your words out, panting and shaking while tears run down your face. “Fit.”

But Suguru is a level of stubborn and hard-headed you’ve known since middle school.

“I’ll make it fit, dear.”

And you’re flipped on your back again, wincing at the loss of him nuzzling his tip into your womb, but getting hauled up before being able to catch your breath.

His back meets the leather of the headrest as his hands guide your shaky legs to each side, your knees digging into the soft cotton sheets, and you pussy hovering right over who she wants inside.

“Take me.”

And you do.

You succumb to his order like a body with no mind. Legs collapsing on you from the lack of strength and lowering your cunt to meet his glistening tip again.

He hungrily watches himself disappear up until where you physically cannot take him anymore—halfway through.

Seeing how your hands tremble on his shoulder, how your breathing is shaky and your body unsteady, he hooks an arm around your back and places a warm hand on your hip.

And pushes down.

Down.

And down.

Till he’s buried to the hilt and you’re groaning so much that they are bouncing off the walls and settling in his bones.

You can’t believe Suguru has been hiding this monster for god knows how long. It almost makes you wish you never had sex with anyone else just to experience this as your one and only.

But some things can’t he changed.

Just like you know that he has been with other girls because you didn’t notice he was in love with you the whole time.

Like you have been.

What a mess.

What a mess it is between your bodies too—sweat clinging to Suguru’s forehead and moistening the front pieces of his silky jet-black hair that cling to his forehead.

The straps of your dress have long fallen and revealed your chest once you sat down on him, giving Suguru the perfect angle to nip and suck on your breasts as you focus on riding him.

He takes control once more when he rams up at you, feeling your walls fluttering around him and spasming closer to the edge you were previously stripped of.

You feel your jaw going slack, the air in the room impossibly hot and the coil in your tummy at its end.

And it takes him a few more thrusts, angry and desperate till you come down crashing on him.

Body violently shaking, high-pitched mewls coming out of you and your weight going dead on him.

At the very last second, he pulls you up, almost cumming inside of you—but his dick slips between your bodies—shooting his seed over your dress and chest.

Ruining your attire, shamelessly so.

And the room goes dead silent save for your heavy breathing and his.

Fingers twitching against your sex-slicked skin, Suguru finally relaxes against the bed. Draping your body over his—the aftermath of him finishing sticky between your bodies but neither of you care.

It’s quiet for a second while the memories and the weight of the moment settle between the both of you.

“We are so stupid.” You whisper after another beat, cuddling your head further into his chest, searching for the steady beat of his heart beneath the muscles and bones.

“Yeah. So stupid.”

Stupid in love.

Not proofread yet, maybe my longest work as of now (def in the smut category.) this is my 1k special as a thank you to all of you for being so kind with me and genuinely making writing so fun <3

Main masterlist, JJK masterlist. Taglist.

⊹₊˚. what aftercare looks like with gojo satoru, geto suguru, nanami kento, fushiguro toji, & kamo choso.

warnings: 18+ content — mdni, fem! reader, intimacy, cleanup, fluff, no graphic smut, pillowtalk, showering, brief discussions of pregnancy and kids. i needed to write this okay

GOJO SATORU.

silky pink ribbons slide off of satoru’s wrists, curling into themselves once they hit the bedsheets. he can’t help but watch you, more wide-eyed and teary than he should be, as you take each wrist between your fingers and rub gently. his skin is flushed where he’d been securely tied to the headboard, and it doesn’t hurt in the least, especially when compared to fights he’s been at the center of.

you hum, thumb kindly sweeping over his pulse point. “you okay, ‘toru? i know that went on a little longer than usual.”

you watch as he blinks, diamond eyes glassy with traces of euphoria. he’s still coming down, he realizes, when your words bounce around his brain after you speak them, echoing endlessly in the space.

“i’m okay, sweetheart,” satoru replies, feeling something in his chest begin to melt when you settle beside him on the bed. the air still smells faintly of sex, though the scent rides away on the breeze filtering in through an open window. it is almost completely dark in the bedroom, to make the strain on his eyes a little easier after a long day—he closes them, automatically wrapping a strong arm around you.

includes : non jujutsu au, you and suguru are teachers, nana and mimi attend the same school & fem reader :3

━✧˖° ʚ🌠ɞ ✧･ﾟ : *✧ ･ﾟ: *. ・ ･ﾟ: ೃ࿔ *:･ *·˚ ᝰ̟۟

you’ve always been the first one to wake up on weekdays.

weekends belong to your daughters, nanako and mimiko.

the house is still silent. the girls’ alarms haven’t gone off yet and the only noise coming from the kitchen is the sound of the coffee maker.

you’re still in your pajamas, your husband’s old shirt from high school and sweatpants.

you rub your eye as you take the mug out from under the machine and replace it with his mug.

that first sip always seems to revive you.

“morning.” you feel large arms snake around your waist and suguru rests his chin on top of your head.

“good morning.” you take his hand and squeeze. with his free hand he grabs his mug and smooches your cheek, ignoring your whines about morning breath.

── .✦ SUGURU GETO

ONE SHOTS

⸝⸝ out-freak the neighbours! | bsf! suguru × f! reader - 3.2k

⸝⸝ cold blood & venom | snake hybrid! suguru × zookeeper! reader - 2.7k

⸝⸝ after hours training | gym rat! suguru × gf! reader - 1k

⸝⸝ move on | mean roommate! fem! suguru × f! reader - 6k

⸝⸝ losing the lead | brat tamer! suguru × f! reader - 3.6k

⸝⸝ purrrfect surprise | sub! suguru × soft dom! f! reader - 5.3k

⸝⸝ ghost of you | post deflection! suguru × childhood lover! reader - 4.4k

⸝⸝ domain expansion: infinite creampies | husband! cult leader! suguru × f! reader - 1.3k

DRABBLESㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ

⸝⸝ suguru using your mouth exactly how he wants to

⸝⸝ join me in death | curse!geto x sorcerer!reader

⸝⸝ fucking you into the mattress

⸝⸝ satoru listening to you and suguru fuck

↪ part two where satoru joins

⸝⸝ cult leader!suguru finally fucks his devoted

⸝⸝ goodbye, suguru geto. we hardly knew you.

── .✦ SATORU GOJO

ONE SHOTS

⸝⸝ nervous about getting your first tattoo? | fwb! satoru × f! reader × tattoo artist! suguru - 2.2k

⸝⸝ pegging bf!satoru - 1.2k

⸝⸝ kiss his scars | post shinjuku! satoru × f! reader - 2.2k

DRABBLES

⸝⸝ walking in on satoru doing the 'plank until failure' trend

── .✦ TOJI FUSHIGURO

ONE SHOTS

⸝⸝ take the reins | outlaw! toji × shius daughter! reader - 5.1k

DRABBLES

⸝⸝ toji shows you just how much he missed your pussy

⸝⸝ perv! toji who loves stealing your panties

── .✦ KENJAKU

ONE SHOTS

⸝⸝ haunted | incubus! kenjaku × f! reader - 4.4k

── .✦ RYOMEN SUKUNA

ONE SHOTS

⸝⸝ crimson cravings | trueform! sukuna × f! reader - 1k

⸝⸝ tag team! | bf! jin itadori × f! reader × bf's brother! sukuna - 1.2k

── .✦ KENTO NANAMI

ONE SHOTS

⸝⸝ talk you through | chauffeur! nanami × f! reader - 1.4k

DRABBLES

⸝⸝ fingering you under the dinner table (crack fic)

── .✦ CHOSO KAMO

DRABBLES

⸝⸝ blood ties

suguru geto is supposed to be your fuckbuddy, but he’s so boyfriend-coded that everyone just assumes you’re dating.

"just friends," except the 'friend' shows up with flowers and your favourite snacks—then thirty minutes later he's got you gagging on his cock til your throat aches. and of course, sweet suguru makes amends by making you a cup of herbal tea.

"not your boyfriend," yet he still feeds you bites off his plate, and carefully wipes soy sauce from the corner of your mouth with his thumb. everyone (but you) can see the way he looks at you.

and maybe it’s easier to let your friends gossip than admit that the same man who kneels to tie your shoelace is the one fucking you into his sheets hours later. the cognitive dissonance should feel absurd, but it doesn’t. it feels perilously natural.

you remind suguru he’s not your boyfriend. over and over like a mantra. you remind yourself too, in the post-coital afterglow when he’s holding you in his arms, lips pressed to your temple, after he’s fucked you like he hates you.

truth is, suguru does boyfriend shit better than most boyfriends. and when you accuse him of acting like one, suguru only smirks, presses his cock deeper into you. "if the shoe fits, princess."

those eleven months were, arguably, the happiest you’d been for a while—a fever dream stitched together from mind-melting sex and domestic bliss. maybe that’s why the ending didn’t hurt the way it should have. it was clean. amicable, even. you joked “look at us, healthy communication!” and suguru had only offered you that tired little smile of his, the one that reminded you he never really lost his hold on you.

“if i kiss her right now, will my angel come back down to earth?”

warm lips settle on the nape of your neck, dragging you out of memory lane. you whirl around and there he is: your husband, smiling as he goes in for your mouth. suguru laces his fingers through yours, a soft clink when your rose-gold wedding band bumps against his platinum.

my love, my profound love, my angel-minded sweetheart

˗ˋˏ ❤︎ ˎˊ˗ in which you fall in-love with your childhood bestfriend, suguru geto, a beautifully curated timeline!

the rain is pouring so heavily against the windowpane that it completely drowns out the sound of the television, but neither of you is paying attention to it anyway.

suguru is sitting on the floor of your living room, his back resting against the base of the couch, carefully threading a thin piece of red string through a collection of small silver beads. his long hair is tied up in a loose, messy bun, a few dark strands framing his face as he concentrates with an intensity that seems entirely too serious for a simple friendship bracelet.

you watch him from your spot on the sofa, a soft, helpless smile pulling at your lips. you’ve known the exact shape of his hands, the specific rumble of his laugh, and the quiet kindness of his heart for as long as you can remember.

❤︎ CHILDHOOD: THE BOY NEXT DOOR!

it was a sweltering afternoon in july, where the air feels thick and heavy right before a summer storm drops out of nowhere. suguru’s family had just moved into the traditional house at the end of the cul-de-sac the weekend before. you had only caught glimpses of him—a quiet, lanky boy helping his mother carry light cardboard boxes on the porch, his dark hair already long enough to tuck behind his ears.

you were sitting on the concrete edge of the neighborhood park's sandbox, entirely engrossed in organizing a brand-new, sixty-four-pack of crayons into perfect color gradients. it was your most prized possession.

then, the sky turned a bruised, heavy shade of purple, and a massive crack of thunder echoed across the playground.

startled, you jumped, your elbow catching the side of the plastic box. in a split second, dozens of bright wax sticks went tumbling into the dirt, rolling into the grass and scattering across the gravel path. before a single tear could even well up in your eyes, the clouds opened up, heavy, fat raindrops smacking against the concrete.

you scrambled on your hands and knees, desperately trying to scoop up the wax before the water ruined the paper labels. shadow suddenly fell over your small frame, shielding you from the downpour.

you looked up, blinking through the gray rain.

it was the new boy from down the street. suguru was holding a bright, ridiculously oversized yellow umbrella. he didn't say a single word. instead, he carefully tilted the umbrella completely over your head, leaving his own right shoulder and arm entirely exposed to the pouring rain as he dropped to his knees beside you in the mud.

with deliberate, quiet patience, his small hands began gathering your scattered crayons. he picked up the cerulean, the burnt sienna, the carnation pink, wiping the wet dirt off each one with the hem of his own t-shirt before placing them gently back into your box.

once the last crayon was safely returned, he looked at you through his damp bangs, his dark, narrow eyes curving into a tiny, incredibly gentle smile. he reached into his pocket and pulled out a slightly crinkled, foil-wrapped package of strawberry biscuits, snapping it perfectly in half and offering the larger piece to you.

"i'm geto," he said, his voice small but remarkably steady against the sound of the rain. "do you want to walk home together?"

from that afternoon on, you were entirely inseparable.

childhood became a beautiful, sun-drenched blur of scraped knees, climbing the giant oak tree that connected your backyards, and riding bicycles until the streetlights flickered on. suguru was always the steady anchor in your universe. if you climbed too high up the branches, he was always waiting at the bottom with open arms and a reassuring look. if you had a nightmare, he would walk over to your house in his pajamas, sitting on your porch steps to talk about nothing at all until the sky turned pale blue and you felt safe enough to go back to sleep. you knew him in his purest, quietest form, long before the rest of the world realized how incredible he was.

❤︎ HIGHSCHOOL: DON'T CATCH A COLD!

high school brought changes—different classes, new circles of friends, and the inevitable growth that comes with turning sixteen. but suguru never moved an inch from your side. he grew taller, his shoulders broadening out, and his quiet demeanor sharpened into a confidence that drew people in. yet, no matter how crowded the school hallways were, his eyes always found yours the second you walked into a room.

you realized you were completely, irrevocably in love with him on a cold tuesday in november during your junior year.

you had stayed late in the library to study for a history exam, entirely losing track of time. when the building closed, you walked out into the freezing night air, shivering in your thin sweater because you had forgotten your jacket in your locker.

you didn't even have to look up to know he was waiting by the school gates. suguru stepped out from under the streetlamp, already unzipping his heavy winter coat. without a word, he draped it over your shoulders, wrapping you in his familiar, comforting warmth. as he reached down to gently tuck a stray piece of hair behind your ear, his thumb brushed against your freezing cheek.

"you're going to catch a cold," he murmured, his voice incredibly soft, his dark eyes looking down at you with an intensity that made your breath catch in your throat.

in that split second, looking at the gentle curve of his smile under the amber streetlight, you knew. he wasn't just your best friend anymore. he was everything.

❤︎ SWEETHEARTS: YOU'RE MY CONSTANT

dating suguru felt less like stepping into a new relationship and more like finally coming home.

there were no grand, loud declarations. instead, it happened on his bedroom floor during senior year, surrounded by graduation pamphlets and old college applications. you had been venting about the overwhelming fear of the future, of things changing too fast, when suguru reached out and caught your hand.

his grip was warm, and entirely steady.

"things can change all they want," he had said softly, his thumb tracing the back of your knuckles. "but i'm not going anywhere. i want to be wherever you are. always."

when he leaned in to kiss you for the first time, it was hesitant, as if he was giving you the space to back away if you wanted to. it tasted like sweet tea and felt like the culmination of ten years of shared secrets, late-night phone calls, and just . . love. when you melted into it, a soft, relieved sigh left his lips, his hand moving to gently cradle the back of your neck.

❤︎ THE FUTURE: IF I WERE TO LIVE A THOUSAND LIVES, I'D MAKE YOU MINE IN EACH ONE

back in the present, suguru finally snips the end of the red string with a pair of scissors. he turns around on the floor, resting his forearms on your knees as he looks up at you, a soft, incredibly tender smile playing on his lips.

"finished," he murmurs, taking your left wrist and gently tying the bracelet around it. the silver beads catch the warm light of the living room lamp. "a reminder for your desk at college next semester."

you look down at the bracelet, then up into his dark eyes. the future used to terrify you, but looking at him now—with his hair falling loosely around his shoulders and his heart completely open to you—the years ahead feel like a beautiful, unwritten adventure.

"i love it," you whisper, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his forehead, then down to his nose, before finally resting your lips against his.

college!geto suguru x reader

late night problems consist of you having a hard time getting yourself off and suguru hearing your desperation from the other room.

a/n: this is a repost. i just realized i couldve made the 3 parts into one so im posting it as one whole part :)

you sigh together with the soft hum of whatever show you picked to play on your beaten up laptop. it’s already 2 in the morning and you still can’t sleep from the growing frustration that has got you all hot and bothered.

a week from now marks the date that your period will start and at times like this is when your hormones are all jacked up to the highest altitude. your libido spiking through the roof and your mood wavering every now and then. to make matters worse, it’s been a while since you had any sexual encounters with anybody because of the busy schedule you have with your classes.

you’re in bed with your boyfriend, your face buried in his bare chest. his strong arms were wrapped tight around you, his frame curled around yours.

he just loves how small and warm you are, and the feeling of your breath falling in little wisps against his skin.

“baby. c’mere.” he whispered sleepily, pulling you impossibly closer against his chest.

“m’literally as close to you as possible, sugu.” you mutter in response, squirming a little in his grasp, attempting to get comfortable while your furnace of a boyfriend is wrapped around you.

not to mention, it’s already swelteringly hot in your apartment, and your big muscly boyfriend’s vice grip around you is not helping.

he lets out a quiet chuckle against your hair as you attempt to escape.

“suguruuu,” you whine, opting to try to pry his arms from around you instead. “you’re actually burning me.”

“oh, so you don’t like cuddling with me now?”

“it’s not that, baby. i just enjoy my mobility.”

he loosens his hold by a fraction. “that better for you, sweetheart?” he asks, voice low and sleepy and entirely serious.

you just sigh, giving into the fact that you’ll never be able to win against him, but you know that you’re right where you want to be.

||a/n: come here suguru…

ᯓ★ cw › mild ish? pregnancy discussion ⸝⸝ Sugu with baby fever ⸝⸝ married life ⸝⸝ domestic fluff ⸝⸝ mentions of Nanako stealing ⸝⸝ Gojo being annoying as always ꒰ wc — 0.5k ꒱

Suguru insisted on taking you out on a casual date every week, whether it was to a cafe or to go shopping, and he made sure that the two of you had some time alone.

Satoru was originally going to look after the girls, but after some consideration, the two of you had decided to ask Shoko to tag along with them. “Why am I being babysat, too?” Satoru whined, falling dramatically against Shoko. She deadpanned, “Because you’re a bad influence.”

Not even twenty minutes into town, Suguru had already begun phase two of his “plan.”

It wasn't noticeable at first; everything went as it usually does. Wandering through the town's streets, rummaging through sales racks, trying new pastries, and picking up some mochi for the twins — and Satoru.

Until…

“How about we check out that shop?” Suguru hummed, squeezing your hand lightly to grab your attention. You turned away from the flowers you were admiring through the florist's window. “Hm?”

Following your husband's gaze, you see a baby's supply store, “Sugu, really? Why on earth would we need to buy baby supplies?” He shrugged, already tugging you along with him towards the shop, “Just feeling a little nostalgic.”

Just as you were about to reach the door, a small toddler waddled in front of you two, chasing after a pigeon. Suguru froze, eyes softening as he watched the small child try — and fail — to grab the pigeon as it flew above his head.

⊹ ࣪ ˖ ノノ thoughts on idol!Geto Suguru x idol!Fem Reader smau but they're both secretly super huge fans of each other and they both own well known twitter fanpages for each other ??

( cough slowburn cough.. cough might do this after I finish nerdjo series and get my reqs done cough )

no? ok.

— ty to my kpop tumblr fyp for giving me these delicious ideas ꉂꉂ(ᵔᗜᵔ◍) if I DO(not confirmed) end up doing this little smau, it's probably gonna be leaning more towards kpop based than jpop, so I hope everyone's okay w that ˃͈◡˂͈