WIDOW

you held out the tupperware container filled to the brim with recently baked chocolate chips—the sweet, warm scent wafting through the plastic. "i did, yes. though i wasn't sure if you had any allergies, so don't feel any pressure to eat them or anything. i just thought it'd be rude to come over without bringing anything."

oh great. less than five minutes into this conversation and you were already rambling.

suguru took the container of baked goods from your hands with a wary look, bringing it up to his nose. "you're not a serial killer by any chance, are you?"

you blinked. "if i was, wouldn't it defeat the purpose of telling you now?" not very reassuring.

regardless, he gestured for you to come inside. you stepped inside the apartment and slid your shoes off at the door, taking in the sight of his living room.

the space was bathed in a dark red light accompanied by sonder’s one night only playing in the background and a couple candles flickering from the coffee table—the warm richness of sandalwood permeating through the air.

“you.. uh.. you really planned this out, huh?” why couldn’t you just have said it looked nice and moved on?

now it was just plain awkward.

well, awkward-er.

sure, you knew the concept of sex and how it was supposed to work, but what every hookup guide always forgot to cover was the before. even if you'd talked before this, the two of you were just strangers. what were you supposed to talk about with him?

how were you supposed to skip this part and go to where you were riding him like a pony?

suguru shrugged, padding over to the kitchen to leave the container of cookies on the counter. “did i do too much?”

“it’s just your apartment and all, but the lights seem a little.. excessive.” that was putting it as nicely as possible.

he took the criticism in stride, grabbing a remote from the counter and turning them off before flicking a lamp on, painting the room in a dim orange light. the room was immediately much more warm and welcoming than what’d you first walked into.

you stood at the door, taking a look at the little bits of decoration that you could now see more clearly. a couple figurines, expensive, if you had to guess, a couple books strewn around his coffee table, and a cat tree perched up near the window.

you remembered the small bag in your pocket. digging it out of your pocket, you held it up in between your fingers. “i saw your cat on that one thirst trap,” he didn’t bother protesting—it was a thirst trap, “so i got some treats on the way here. i hope you don’t mind.”

either you were a psychic or you just naturally had a knack for this sort of thing. “they’re her favorite, thanks. take a seat, we don’t bite.”

the previous girls that came over to his apartment usually just gave the cat a little coo or downright ignored her, but you seemed like you wanted to get to know her more than you did him.

suguru wasn't sure if he was amused or if his ego was slightly bruised. (hint: both.)

you took a seat on the black leather couch like you owned the place, patting your lap. “what’s your cat’s name?” you questioned, the cat peering up from her paw at the noise before going back to grooming herself.

“that’s sage.”

you lightly shook the bag of treats, trying to beckon the very uninterested cat with the promise of food and an unconvincing baby voice. your efforts were working. somewhat.

sage lazily trotted her way down from the top of the cat tree before making her way over to you, sitting at your feet. her eyes were calculating, analyzing if you were worth her time. you didn't dare move a muscle when she leaned in to sniff at your socked feet and legs.

just when you were convinced that you'd gotten a big fat F on her evaluation, sage seemed to decide that you were harmless enough. she hopped up on your lap and settled down like the self proclaimed royalty she was, nudging her head against your hand in demand for head pats. you complied.

your fingers ran through the soft black fur while the cat purred like a lawn mower underneath your touch.

"she normally doesn't like strangers," suguru noted, plopping down on the couch cushion next to you.

"do you use that line on everybody that steps foot in here?" well.... yes!

and it usually worked like a charm, thank you very much.

"wait, what, really?" the last girl he'd brought over to his apartment remarked, the very same girl that signed him up for lifelong scientology visits and the army two weeks later after he failed to respond within five minutes, staring at him like he'd hung up the moon and the stars.

"yeah." the cat in question, looked at him with as much disdain as her little body could muster. suguru made a mental promise to reward the cat with catnip and treats for helping him spit out the first bullshit that came to his mind. the girl seemed too happily convinced, going as far as calling herself sage’s step mom.

needless to say, the cat hadn't been all too happy about getting squeezed and cradled around like a baby by a woman she'd never seen before and never saw again after. her displeasure was obvious if the broken flower vases and scratches on his leather furniture were anything to go by.

he'd stopped using that line. or so he thought.

"...no."

you raised a brow, gaze full of suspicion as you stared at him. barely applying any pressure. and just like a rubber band, he ended up snapping within seconds, “…yes, fine, i have. but it’s the first time i’ve meant it.”

you weren't sure if he was full of shit. but the cat seemed to like you decently enough, starting her own biscuit factory on the fabric of your jeans with each ear rub. “how’d you end up getting her?”

suguru looked over to see you and his cat getting along decently well, finding himself a little lost in the scene when your question finally registered and you were staring at him.

“i found her locked up in a cage close to home. her owners called her a devil and all kinds of names, their own negligence, really,” he rolled his eyes, reaching out to pet her chin, “anyways, they were all too happy having someone to hand off the cat to.”

the two of you sat in a comfortable silence after a few questions from one another, getting to know each other a bit better apart from late night conversations. only the sounds of sage’s purring and the outside world filled the apartment.

that was until, "c'mere." suguru lazily spread his legs on the sofa, patting his lap.

“you do realize i’m not your cat right?” as if proving your point, sage got up from her spot on your lap over to his.

“fine, can you please come here?” he gave the cat one last scratch before setting her down on the floor, asking a little nicer. you got up from your spot, standing in between his legs before you lowered yourself onto his lap.

"hi," he murmured once you settled onto his lap, his hands instinctively moving down to your hips.

"hi." you braced your hands on his shoulders to keep your balance, suddenly feeling the reality of the situation crashing down on you. the pretty man underneath you wanted to have sex with you. you were going to have sex tonight.

sex and your first kiss, apparently. (you refused to count the time you'd gotten kissed as a dare in middle school.)

and as if he could read your mind, suguru took a hold of your chin and gently tilted your head up to face him, "can i kiss you?" you didn't miss the way his gaze flickered from your eyes down to your lips every .5 seconds.

you met him halfway, pressing your lips against his own. trying to go with the flow as many people said (what flow? you weren't completely sure yourself).

"close your eyes, i can feel you staring at my soul.” he pulled away, whispering the words against your lips and leaving you chasing behind his.

you let your eyes flutter shut, leaning into the kiss slowly. even going as far as tilting your head a little so you wouldn’t— “ow!” — do exactly what you just did. bump your nose straight into his.

you opened them back up to see suguru was more amused than hurt, a stupid smile on his face as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. “try closing them when you’re already leaned in, hm?”

rolling your eyes, you shifted a bit on his lap before giving it one last go. one of your hands came up to cradle his soft cheek, leaning in and shutting your eyes at the last second. he tasted like mint and something else you couldn’t decipher.

his lips molded against your own in a languid kiss, each touch an experiment to know your body better. suguru’s hands moved down your body, each one resting on your ass like he wanted, no needed, you all that much closer. the exchange grew heavier, sloppier, messier.

everything was heightened—you could feel every single little thing. from the slight hitch of his breath when you captured his lip in between your teeth to your own traitorous heart thumping underneath your rib cage.

his lips moved from your own to the corner, down to your jaw, until he finally reached your neck. then that’s where he went ham. sucking, licking, kissing on whatever inch of skin was at his disposal all while taking note which spots had you shivering and squeezing your thighs together.

latching onto the sensitive skin of your collarbone, suguru placed a kiss out of reverence before he started to suck. he was practically in bliss all without taking his clothes off. if he were a weaker man, he would’ve shot his load the minute you’d settled onto his lap and got a whiff of your sweet, sweet perfume.

his hands moved up from your ass up your back, probably going to take your shirt off before his phone got the bright idea to interrupt the moment: want a break from the ads?

suguru had never regretted not investing into spotify premium as much as he did in this moment.

is your girlfriend unsatisfied in the bedroom? your stamina not being what it once was? if these symptoms sound familiar, you might suffering from erectile dysfunction. ask your doctor about levitra—

that was enough to get him up to his feet, crossing over to the kitchen counter in three strides. suguru quickly got his phone from the counter before the ad could continue, deciding that the ambiance was ruined and shutting the music off.

"do these symptoms sound familiar to you?" you teased, resting your cheek on your palm as you watched the scene with mild amusement.

"you could come to my room and find out." not nearly as smooth as he usually was, but good job suguru!

"are you really getting me into your bed with an erectile dysfunction ad?"

suguru tilted his head, "is it working?"

and you really wished it wasn't, but it was. you were quick to get up on your feet, padding over to where he stood and reaching your hand out. "let's go find out then."

his bedroom was much like the living room—a minimalistic design with a couple pictures hung up on the walls. his friends, if you had to guess. he led you over to the bed, sitting down on the edge.

not nearly enough bed-pouncing as you were expecting.

suguru spoke up, his hands resting on his lap, "you're allowed to change your mind, don't feel pressured to do anything you don't want to do. i’m here to please you.”

“i want this,” you responded, moving up the bed to rest against the headboard. he followed, keeping a reasonable distance between you two, “i want to have sex with you, suguru. let’s just take it slow.”

closing the distance, you straddled yourself over his lap, each of your legs next to his own. you lowered yourself down and placed your hands on his shoulders under the guise you knew what you were doing. and then, you started to rock and gyrate your hips against his clothed leg.

you rubbed and grinded your hips harder, faster against his leg in an attempt to feel something other than the friction of his sweats rubbing against your shorts—unsure of what to do other than rut yourself against him like a dog. maybe he was liking this?

should you start moaning?

“o-oh fuck.” a, what you hoped was realistic, moan left your lips, your fingers digging into his shoulders to really sell the point. suguru looked at you, wondering if he really looked that stupid.

you weren't sure what you were doing—that much was obvious. you were humping his leg, your rhythm too quick to be pleasurable for either one of you at this point.

"have you ever done this before?" were you really that obvious?

the question had your hips stilling their movement, your gaze falling down to his face. when you shook your head, suguru let out a small tut, holding your chin between his fingers, "that's okay, baby. we'll take it nice and slow, just follow me."

his hands splayed on your hips, slightly moving you up his lap before he started to guide your movements. and oh, now you felt it. his cock strained against the material of his sweats, each ridge rubbing against your warm heat.

well, at least now you knew the ad wasn't meant for him.

"oh yeah, that feels better huh?" he cooed in your ear, his cock twitching in his pants just by feeling how wet you were getting already.

you were dripping, slick stringing and sticking to your panties with each roll of your hips. he wasn’t much better—cock prodding against your entrance like it was begging to be released. “uh huh, better,” a breathy whisper left you, your back arching against his fingertips.

when he kissed you again, it wasn’t soft and gentle like he’d been at first. no, he’d tested the waters already.

now he was kissing you like he needed you, like he needed air to breathe. each breath grew labored like he couldn’t bare being apart. his tongue moved in a synchronized dance with yours, tasting and absorbing everything you had to give.

your lips moved with the same desperation, fingers gripping against the material of his shirt. trying to take it off before he seemed to catch onto your unspoken hint. he reluctantly pulled away before sliding his shirt off in one fluid motion, letting it fall onto the mattress beneath. and… wow. beautiful was an understatement when it came to him.

you let your fingers trail down his abdomen, the muscles tensing underneath your featherlight touch. tracing and poking whatever little beauty marks you found on your way down. he was just so.. pretty.

“you really think so?” his voice brought you out of your reverie, and oh shit, you’d said it out loud?

“like you don’t know it already,” you retorted, trying to downplay the situation.

suguru shrugged, watching your fingers intently as you traced and gently scratched down his pecs, “i like when you call me pretty.”

you rolled your eyes but gave in anyways, “you’re very pretty, suguru geto.” you felt his cock twitch underneath at the compliment. leading his fingers towards the hem of your own shirt, you guided him into taking off the flimsy article. he seemed all too eager to revere your body the same way you had his.

mumbled compliments of you’re so beautiful and so soft left his lips until he looked up at you, his hands gliding up and down your hips, "do you want me to keep going or do you wanna stop here?"

you grabbed his hands, bringing them up to your chest. “i want this, suguru. i want to go all the way with you, i promise.” his fingers tweaked and squeezed at your perked nipples, his lips ghosting above the left before he swirled his tongue around it. latching his mouth onto the sensitive flesh and sucking, working the other with his fingers.

strings of saliva connected his lips to your tits when he finally pulled away—deeming that he’d given them enough attention for now. suguru flipped the two of you over, hovering above you before slowly kissing his way down.

peck. your collarbone.

peck. your tits.

peck. your navel.

peck. the waistband of your shorts.

“you can take it off,” you assured him before he even had the chance to ask the question. suguru didn’t hesitate once he got the thumbs up, hooking his fingers onto your belt loops before sliding your shorts down your legs and shaking them off.

you could’ve sworn you caught a hint of drool once you were all exposed for him.

suguru kissed his way up your leg, each one leaving behind a slippery trail behind him. “so pretty,” he mumbled, sucking onto your calf before moving further up to your knee, “so perfect laid out for me.” each one sounded like a quiet admission to himself.

despite how desperate he seemed, suguru took his time when it came to finally undressing you. his teeth sunk into the lace of your underwear, your hips lifted when he moved down the offending material at the pace of molasses. trying to savor as much as he could.

he let them fall onto the pile of clothes next to you before admiring his meal. your cunt clenched around nothing when a slight breeze came in the room, your slick glistening against your folds, clit practically throbbing his name out in morse code.

but suguru prided himself on having some semblance of patience. thinly veiled patience, but patience nonetheless. he wedged himself in between your legs, his lips hovering dangerously close to your entrance before moving down to your inner thigh. repeating what he'd done earlier on your leg.

he pressed featherlight kiss after another onto the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, occasionally biting hard enough to leave behind a nice lil' memory for tomorrow. your legs instinctively spread, every sensation sending your body through a livewire and yet.. you were lost in thought.

you wondered how many people he'd had in this room, how long this would take, what'd you eat for breakfast tomorrow, and—"focus on me, pretty girl."

immediately broken out of your endless string of questions, you looked down to see suguru already peering up at you. "talk to me, what's going on in that head of yours?"

you shook your head, "just got lost in thought, i guess."

"then we'll just have to make it to where you can only focus on me, angel."

and then he dove in like he was a man starving.

his big hands gripped your legs and spread you apart like a feast, tongue flicking out to taste the slick dripping down your folds and thighs. "taste so good, thank you, thank you," he babbled, swiping his tongue up and down your folds before flicking it inside of your pussy.

your cunt gushed like an open sink against his mouth and chin, the man practically nose deep as he thrusted his tongue in and out of your sopping pussy. his jaw went slack, sucking and tracing your folds with the tip of his tongue before going back to eating you out.

soon, two of his fingers took place of his mouth. two long and thick fingers. your juices ran down to his knuckles while he spread you open, his fingers curling and hitting that one spot inside of you with ease. "fuck, it feels so good," you whined, bucking your hips up to meet his fingers.

"i knoww baby, just needed suguru to take care of you." he didn't let up, much too starved himself to even think about doing so. his lips latched onto your swollen, throbbing clit and sucked lightly onto the nerves. your grip on his hair tightened, a broken moan leaving from his lips.

"just like that," he hissed out, his hips rutting into the mattress underneath. you noticed a dark patch growing in the front of his sweats. "take what you want from me, y'know how to do it." your hips swiveled and thrusted against his eager mouth, spit and slick drenching his chin and dripping down to the mattress.

it was hard to think about anything other than him, you had to admit that much.

your legs shook with each thrust of his fingers, with each swipe of his tongue. just as you were about to press your legs together, suguru pried them apart once more with ease. "don't interrupt my meal, i'm not done eating." and how could he say that when he already sounded so drunk off you?

his tongue swirled against your clit, the tip drawing circles around the sensitive nub. "f-fuck, gonna cum, keep going," you whined out, nails digging into his scalp. the sound of your pussy gushing around his fingers was all you could hear, and yet, all you were focused on was chasing your own orgasm.

it was so close, you felt a knot building up in your lower tummy. "fu-fuck fuck fuck," broken babbles left your lips, your toes curling and legs shaking the more you felt that pressure increase. with one final thrust of his fingers, you came. the knot unraveled all at once, your release washing over you (and his fingers) like a tidal wave.

he'd never been such at bliss before.

each breath felt like it was splitting your lungs open, your chest heaving as suguru slowly pulled his dripping fingers out of you. he didn't mind staring you in the eye when he put his fingers in his mouth, sucking them off as if no drop could go to waste. "mm, wanna taste you forever." his eyes practically rolled back, his tongue swirling against the two digits.

once you finally regained your bearings, you sat up and asked, "do you want me to return the favor?"

suguru let out an indignant scoff like you'd just insulted his very existence. and in a way, you had. "i did that because i wanted to, because i needed to taste you," he retorted, shaking his head like he wasn't reevaluating his degree in munchology, "not because i was expecting anything out of you."

getting up from your spot on the bed, you padded over to where he was sitting and situated yourself right in between his legs. absentmindedly running your fingers up up up the thin material of his sweats, barely grazing your fingertips against the growing tent between his legs. before you pulled away altogether.

you looked up at him like you were sin incarnate, lashes fluttering against your cheek, "what if i really really want to suck you off?"

suguru swore his soul left his body for a minute. he'd gladly let you keep it if you wanted it at this rate.

“then by all means, go for it.”

that was all you needed to slide the flimsy material of his sweatpants onto the floor, his cock slapping up against his stomach once it was released. now it was your turn to nearly drool. you couldn't have imagined that a dick could be this pretty.

a nice tan color at the base with a hint of red at the tip, a curve settling to the right and precum dripping down his shaft just from having you in his mouth. it was fairly long and thick—as thick as your forearm, you could assume.

all the fanfiction you had saved in your bookmarks couldn't have prepared you for the sight of the twitching cock in front of you.

you stared at his dick like it was something out of an anatomy textbook, trying to figure out the best approach to go about this before ultimately deciding to throw it out the window and just try it out.

"a-ah fuck." suguru practically turned into putty the moment you took him in your mouth, one of his hands coming to rest on the back of your head. not pushing, never that; he'd never risk making you uncomfortable.

thick globs of spit dribbled down to your chin and down his shaft from the corners of your lips. "just like that, yeah, please." suguru wasn't afraid to be loud—letting you know what you were doing right. one of your hands wrapped around his cock, your fingers tightening around the base before you started to jerk your hand up and down.

you could hardly take him in fully—your cheeks hollowing out to make more space and it still wasn't nearly enough. "soo good, please don't stop," suguru’s voice drawled out when you tried taking more of his cock in your mouth.

you could feel tears pricking up at the edge of your waterline, blinking them back quickly. his cock was barely a couple inches in your mouth and the tip was already starting to hit your uvula, your saliva coating around the shaft to mix with the precum spurting out. once you were able to, you started bobbing your head up and down his length.

suguru’s fingers dug into the sheets beside him, his chest starting to feel like he’d run a marathon. your tongue, your mouth, just you, everything felt too stimulating, too good. the hand you’d been jerking him off with moved down to his heavy sack, your fingers rolling around his balls.

and just like that, suguru was a goner. he swore he saw the flickering of a white light above. you felt them tighten up underneath your fingertips, growing heavier and heavier with cum. you looked up to see him completely disheveled, mouth agape to let out shaky gasps and broken moans. and right before you swore you almost felt him cum, he pulled you off.

“did i do something wrong?” your question came out innocent, like you hadn’t nearly sucked the soul out of his body.

suguru let out a disbelieving laugh, pulling you up to your feet before feverishly leaning into kiss you. not seeming to care that he could taste himself on your tongue. “just need to cum inside you, can i do that, please? you still want this?”

he sounded completely and utterly ruined. but you nodded into the kiss, your fingers pressing into his shoulders. “i need you, sugu, need you so bad. please fuck me, please.”

he moved at the speed of light, setting you down onto the comfort of his mattress before he settled himself on top of you. his cock throbbed and twitched at the mere contact with your bare pussy, his fingers wrapping around the base as he swiped the tip through your folds. “you sure you want this?”

just one more time to confirm. you nodded.

“c’mon, use your words for me, pretty,” he whispered, rubbing the tip against your swollen lil’ clit. your throat bobbed as you swallowed back an embarrassing moan.

“i want this, suguru, i’m sure.”

"okay, take a deep breath in for me." you complied, filling your lungs with air before letting it out in a deep exhale. he slowly pushed his cock in, your walls tightening and clenching involuntarily against his shaft.

"there we go, that's it baby. takin' me so well." suguru's voice came out akin to a purr he didn't mention how he'd barely pushed an inch in. once he was certain it was okay, he pushed another and another in.

a choked gasp left your lips when he finally seemed to bottom out, feeling like your body had just been split in half. and maybe, just maybe it was, you wouldn’t necessarily doubt it.

suguru wiped away a couple tears that streamed down your cheeks, standing still while you got used to the intrusion. it was hard, he had to admit, when you felt so warm and wet around him. but anything for your comfort, he wouldn’t risk that.

“you can move, suguru,” you spoke up, one of your hands reaching out to take hold of his. his fingers grasped your own, placing your hand on top of your head before he slowly pulled out and thrusted back in one swift motion. your pussy drenched his shaft each time he pushed back in, each thrust smoother and faster.

suguru leaned down to kiss you, hair falling like a waterfall and covering his face completely before he ever got the chance to get close. you bit down on your lip, trying to keep yourself from laughing in his (hair covered) face before reaching out and moving his hair out the way.

so goes the super suave geto suguru.

a small giggle left your lips at the gesture, slowly starting to feel more and more comfortable being around him. (well how much more comfortable could you really get after having him inside you?) suguru let out a small huff, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance before handing over a hair tie.

you managed to make the world’s messiest ponytail in twenty seconds. go you!

“i’m glad my embarrassment’s amusing, but you okay?” he asked quietly, treating you as if you were a delicate piece of glass. long fingers trailed up your sides like he was admiring a piece of art, not at all like the strangers that you were supposed to be.

“i’m fine,” you assured, wiggling your hips and trying to thrust back into him, “you can go faster, though, please?”

suguru didn’t hesitate to follow that command, hips snapping into you almost immediately. your cunt sucked him in with each thrust, squelching with how much you’d drenched his shaft. his heavy balls smacked against your ass TWACK TWACK TWACK!

your legs wrapped around his waist like you were physically trying to intertwine your body as close as you could to him. “ah ah fuck, sugu, faster, faster!” your moans sounded like the best kind of melody to his ears, and well, who was he really to deny?

suguru hoisted a leg up on the bed for a better angle, hitting that spot inside of you with each quick thrust. your walls clenched around him like a vice, like you wanted to keep him trapped while you gushed and soaked around him.

“pussy’s so good, i’m never letting you go,” he babbled, his other hand gripping your hip to move you up and down his shaft as he pleased.

his middle finger rubbed desperate little circles against your clit, your eyes rolling back from just how good you felt. the hair tie was long since forgotten, hair falling onto his face as he leaned forward to capture your lips in what could only be described as a tangle of tongue and teeth.

everything about him screamed desperate and unhinged—and you weren’t any different.

“make me cum, make me cum, please,” you moaned out against his lips, your chest heaving and your breaths coming out in short pants. suguru nodded like it was his only mission in life, pushing his cock in and out sloppier and messier than he was at first. practically gliding with how wet you were.

your orgasm built up more intense this time, your nails digging into the sheets below as the coil in your tummy began tightening. “please please please,” for what were you begging for? you didn’t know. a scream that would probably wake up his neighbors left your lips as you came, dripping and soaking his shaft in your wake.

“so messy, my messy girl, that’s ittt.” he was a broken pussy-drunk babbling mess. suguru continued to rut into you, chasing his own orgasm while working you through your own. his hips moved desperately, balls twacking against you with each sloppy sloppy thrust until he finally choked out,

“w-where do you hic want it?”

you didn’t give it much thought, “my face, sugu. wanna taste you, come for me, need you.” that was all it took for the last bit to snap, barely managing to pull out in time before he was spurting out drops of cum onto your face and your open mouth.

you swallowed every last drop that landed on your tongue, your features contorting into a slight grimace once the taste settled on your taste buds. and just like you'd come out of a damn porno and his wet dreams, you stuck your tongue out.

"fuck, you're gonna kill me." a breathless laugh left his lips. he made sure to push his hair back this time around before he leaned into kiss you again, his tongue prodding into your mouth.

one time fucking awkward and slightly offputting girl pussy and he was ready to get your finger measurements to buy the most expensive ring he could find at the jewelers. maybe he'd start with just a date once he came back to his senses.

suguru plopped down on the mattress next to you, rubbing a drop off cum off your cheek with the pad of his thumb before bringing it up to his own lips. "was that okay? you need anything—water, a bath, your dignity?"

you let out an amused scoff, turning your head to face him. admiring his features in the post sex glow. you had to admit—to yourself mostly—he looked good worn out and panting. "my dignity's still intact, thank you. but some water and a rag would be nice."

he cracked open the water bottle and left it on the nightstand next to you before disappearing into the bathroom. you could briefly hear the sound of water running before he emerged once more, a wet rag in hand.

each swipe of the rag in between your legs was a gentle one, treating you with the utmost care in the world. “you don’t have to leave right away, if you don’t want to. i can make some mean scrambled eggs.”

“how inviting,” you teased, taking a sip of the water as you mulled it over. how bad would it be to stay the night if he’d already been inside of you? “but sure, i’ll stay. if only for the scrambled eggs.”

you weren’t sure how long the two of you spent up talking about nothing and everything in between, from what you did for school to how you got into baking. it was.. refreshing, in a sense.

you could picture yourself doing this kind of routine with him almost too easily. the last thing you remember before succumbing to sleep was his arms wrapped around your stomach.

holding you like he never quite wanted to let go.

loud knocking woke up suguru at ass o'clock in the morning, long before the sun even started to peek its head from the horizon. a groan left his lips as he forced himself to untangle his limbs from your own and get up.

you didn't seem to notice his absence, in fact, you almost seemed to enjoy it. a little too much, if you asked him. you laid in the middle of the bed, sprawling your arms and legs out like a starfish.

the knocking on the door grew more insistent—determined to get an answer one way or another.

"hi, good morning. i'm from the church of scientology." this time they'd sent a middle aged man to stand at his door and spit out the same spiel he'd heard for the past five months in a row, greeting him with a smile that suguru deemed unnatural this early in the morning.

a smile that quickly seemed to fade once the man took notice of the blossoming hickey on his neck, the scratches that ran down his abdomen.

the man grasped his copy of dianetics like he was clutching his pearls.

suguru would have to eat you out later just for this reaction.

the man cleared his throat, eyes averting down to the book in his hands, before he cracked it open to the first page he could find. suguru wondered how long it'd take the man to figure out the book was upside down.

"i'm here because you signed up to receive visits every weekend. for just the small price of ¥73,300, you could learn all about the church and how to reach enlightenment—" the more that the man rambled, the more that suguru was more inclined to start his own cult than join this one.

but regardless, he let the man finish his spiel before he tapped his chin in faux thought. “to join a cult or not to join a cult, decisions decisions…”

the man raised a finger to protest, pushing up the thick rim of his glasses up his nose, "well actually, we're not a cult, we're a religious group focu-"

the man was left rambling to the front door about the difference between a 'religious group' and a 'cult.'

but he relented, suguru had to give him that at least. the man remained at the doorstep, bringing his fist up to the door but never making contact. probably regretting coming over in the first place.

"who was at the door?" you were barely awake yourself, rubbing at your eyes as the bright morning light peered in through the windows.

suguru pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out a small groan, "would you believe me if i said scientology?"

"who'd you piss off?" you questioned, standing by the kitchen with your arms folded.

this time, another groan. though he sounded more whiny than anything, “why does everyone always assume i did something?”

"am i wrong though?" you countered.

no, not at all. and suguru knew he wasn’t getting out of this conversation that easily. "come on, i'll tell you over scrambled eggs and those cookies you baked yesterday."

your mother claimed you’d come out the womb with a white coat on and a stethoscope in hand while your father would show off your awards, your medals, your trophies to whoever would listen about how brilliant his little girl was. teachers would vie against each other in hopes it’d be their classroom you’d step in, in their classroom that you’d excel and shine in.

you’d only just turned seven when you knew what you wanted to do with the rest of your life.

it was a simple career fair of all things, a way to show what kind of jobs kids could pursue in the future. firefighters, office workers, vets, and more showed up to talk about their experiences and answer all kinds of absurd questions about their profession.

like how dalmatians weren’t a complimentary perk of fire fighting. huh.

that wasn’t even the most interesting part. what really caught your attention had been the doctor that showed up. her display wasn’t nearly as showy as the other people that stood at the front of the classroom prior—there had been no flashy powerpoints with a transition on every slide to keep kids with an attention span on .3 seconds interested, no promise of a lollipop or a gift for listening in.

just a realistic figure of a brain and a dream.

“hello, everyone.” her voice enveloped the room in a warm, gentle embrace with each word she spoke. she wasn’t talking down to you, though. not like every adult tended to do. you already had a strong liking towards her. “i’m here to talk about my job as a doctor. i specialized as a neurologist at tokyo tech hospital and i’ve just started as an attending.”

most of the kids next to you stopped pretending to pay attention long ago—doodling some stick figure on the margin of their notebook or refining their version of an eye, or simply putting their head down in hopes that your teacher wouldn’t ask any questions afterward.

you, though, you leaned forward as far as your plastic seat would allow, back straight as a pin as you watched intently. “this part of the brain’s the cerebellum.” she points to the back of the brain, underneath the big walnut-looking thing you’ve now learned is the cerebrum. “it acts sort of as a little brain and it’s responsible for controlling your movements. most of the cases that i receive are actually either from trauma or a tumor, my most complicated one was actually five years ago…”

since then, you’d been determined in what you’ve wanted to pursue. there wasn’t any sense of self doubt, of waking up one day and realizing you’ve been chasing after a dream you no longer want to do. it started off quite simple—cutting up your stuffed animals and pretending to do surgery on them, stitching them back to health (and stabbing your fingers 3000 times in the process). all from simple surface sutures to re-stuffing nail-biting procedures.

throughout middle school, you started as many preparatory ap courses you could take, piling up more and more work onto your load until you’re eventually buried in books. pre-ap algebra, pre-ap history, pre-ap english, you were doing it all.

that workload only intensified during high school. while many of your classmates were enjoying their last couple teenage years, having the occasional party when someone’s parents were out of town— you were buried in sat prep books and collegeboard textbooks that weighed your backpack down by twenty pounds. reading through paragraph after paragraph of information until you could recite the passage in your sleep.

when you weren’t at school, you were either at the library or going out to volunteer with cleaning up a beach or helping out at a soup kitchen. getting more than the necessary hours to fulfill your requirements, padding your resume into making you the ideal candidate. signing up for whatever club still had openings available, making sure to run every fundraiser like the navy. you built yourself into a candidate colleges just simply couldn’t refuse.

as if that wasn’t enough, you did sports you never would’ve entertained under normal circumstances, joining groups you had a semblance of interest for to have something to list on your college application. stretching yourself out to fit into every slot you’ve signed up—to make it to every team meeting, every volunteering session, every tutoring session. exhaustion weighed heavily in your bones, dark circles practically engraved underneath your eyes.

tokyo tech’s prestigious, hard to get into if you weren’t legacy or had enough money to pad the university’s board. their university was essentially a feeder school into some of the best medical schools in the country, though. but you managed to get in, with a 4.5 gpa, a list of extracurriculars trailing almost a mile long, and a hefty stack of recommendations (after begging for months).

there was nothing in your way to getting into medical school. if you were determined in high school, you were much more determined now. practically living in and out of your school’s café, fueled by caffeine and spite to go through whatever mcat prep book you could find and still get your assignments done at least three weeks prior to the due date. reading through teacher introductions and sucking up as much as you needed to, as much as was required to get you recognized in a sea of over 300+ students.

and yet, all of the work you’ve done seems to be naught when your intro to neuro professor’s keen on destroying that goal. you’re certain of it.

—

“good afternoon class.” the class falls silent upon dr. yaga’s arrival, a couple students managing to trickle in as inconspicuously as possible before he shut and locked the door. there was no room for tardiness, no room for any bullshit in his class. many had dropped out before he’d even finished going through the syllabus first day of class.

“have you ever wanted to meet hellen keller? because if so, take this class and meet her for yourself. you will not be heard, seen, nor will your professor communicate with you. he does not answer questions well, and when he does it's with sass and annoyance. tough grader and doesn't help at all with exams or finals, you are on your own,” said one student on rateonmyprofessor.

another one left a stellar one star review, “i never wore my seatbelt while driving to school because i wanted to die before making it to his class.”

his footsteps echoed through the auditorium, each one purposeful and determined. the promethium sparks to life, this week’s powerpoint up on the screen. “we will be working on a group project—” a chorus of groans erupts from the back, though a stern glare from dr. yaga has them quickly shutting up.

you’re not much of a fan either. people usually take too long to organize, to figure out what they want to do, just to end up doing a half assed attempt of what’s supposed to be their part of the project. or they usually make you feel like you’re intruding when you do go to ask to be a part the rare time you feel a surge of confidence.

needless to say, you’re already dreading it.

“i will be selecting your partners for this assignment and it involves studying injuries to the brain and how it affects each function. for example, concussions, contusions, strokes, inflammation, each one of your groups will be responsible for choosing one and what part you want to focus on.

“you have a month to work on this assignment before you have to present. i don’t care how you divide the work amongst yourselves, i need everyone to work equally on the project though.” hands shot up immediately after he was done speaking, an exasperated sigh leaving your professor’s lips.

most of the questions are repeats of what he’s already stated, his annoyance clear with each one he has to answer. “alright, if that’s all, i will now be assigning you to your groups. there will be no changes done to this, so don’t bother asking.” the last line’s towards you, a pointed look shot in your direction. you merely shrug.

he starts off listing off names, the people in question already starting to move to their designed partner. chairs scrape against the floor, conversations are whispered while everyone’s slowly starting to get their space set up. your ears perk up at the mention of your name, leaned over against your desk to hear him clearly. there’s not many options left, but you hope it’s a decent one at the very least.

anyone but naoya zen’in at this rate. you’re not certain you’ll get to get summa cum laude at graduation inside of a prison cell.

“suguru geto.”

the pencil in your grasp snaps between your fingers, pieces of splintered wood splattering across your once pristine workspace.

—

you don’t have a reason to hate suguru geto.

not really.

he hasn’t done anything to personally offend you or your bloodline, hasn’t done anything but meet your competitive streak with a simple, calm smile. with an easiness you could only wish to achieve in this lifetime.

it was infuriating, nonetheless.

the way suguru geto never had to bury his face into a book, never had to study, never had to show up to class with anything other than a mechanical pencil and a pink eraser to achieve the same things you did.

everything came naturally to him.

photography? the rule of thirds was practically encoded into his dna, lighting and background perfect around his subject each and every time. breaking the rule came just as easily, the man capable of creating perfect symmetry without focusing too deeply on the subject.

biology? suguru geto didn’t need to show up to class unless he needed to do a quiz, mastering the function of each organ without needing to open up a textbook. finishing up two hour quizzes in twenty minutes, labeling the humerus, femur, radius, and ulna without a bit of hesitation.

making friends? he didn’t even have to try to engage in conversation, people just naturally gravitated towards him like planets to the sun. wanting to talk with him, wanting to listen to him, they all just wanted a chance to be able to be around his proximity. it was almost a cult-like following.

everything you needed to work on, that you needed to pour energy and effort into, he excelled in.

“okay, now go on and meet up with your group partner. exchange contact info, talk to one another, figure out what you want to do, all that.” professor yaga retreats from the podium over to his desk, taking a seat in front of his computer. the projector shuts off, leaving everyone to whisper amongst themselves.

you don’t stand up, slowly putting your stuff away. opening your backpack up at a snail’s pace, putting your laptop inside. suguru stands up from his spot at the top, quickly descending to the front. “hey.” he approaches your desk, taking a seat next to you.

geto inches closer to you, placing his laptop and notebook in front of him. in a sea of overwhelming axe body spray and dior sauvage, he’s calming. a velvety, warm aroma of sandalwood and bergamot makes itself known as he leans in, the scent lingering long after he’s pulled away. you hate yourself for how much you like it.

you clear your throat, forcing yourself to focus. there’s no need for introductions, no need to act friendly, “so i was thinking we could do the effects of stroke on the motor cortex and how it affects muscle movements,” you don’t hesitate in speaking up, watching as suguru already starts to type it up in a word document. at least he’s efficient.

“sounds good, you wanna meet up today?” geto looks up from his laptop, amethyst eyes meeting your own, “i know you’re busy and all. don’t want to intrude on your schedule.”

you were busy. you had to finish up studying for a stats quiz and finish up another project for orgo before this afternoon. but you suppose you could spare a few hours, if only for your grade. “we’ll meet up at the library at four pm. don’t be late.” you don’t give him a chance to respond, leaving right after the clock hit 12:30. he’s left scrambling to pick up his stuff while everyone else follows suit.

—

you’re already at the library by the time suguru geto steps in through the doors. sitting at the second floor on a table near the window, not enough for the sun to scorch your body, but just close enough where the space feels warm, that it feels like a blanket’s engulfed around your body. there’s a textbook in your hands, a notebook decorated in pink and blue highlighter next to you.

you almost look approachable from this distance, completely at ease in your element. lazily flipping through the pages, skimming through each paragraph before you’re annotating a couple notes down. suguru doesn’t go up just yet, taking the time to admire you from afar. how the sun he knows that as soon as he steps up, you’ll have your guard back up again.

the smell of caffeine makes you raise your head, looking over to see suguru placed a cup in front of you. “didn’t know which one you preferred so i settled for vanilla with three sugars,” he explains, taking a seat right in front of you. he's quick to take out his stuff, setting down his cup of tea next to him.

“thank… you.” your lips twist awkwardly as you force the words to come out, feeling a physical pain in your chest, even if they’re nothing more than a whisper. suguru seems to hear them all the same, giving you a curt nod. it’s disgusting, it’s humiliating, and it’s really fucking good??

bringing the cup to your lips, your taste buds are engulfed by the sweet taste of vanilla and creamer. it’s better than the coffee you’re used to from the watered down excuse from the student lounge.

suguru pretends not to notice the little pleased smile on your face, choosing instead to bask in it for as long as you’d allow him to. it’s the only time you’ve looked like you tolerated being here.

“are you capable enough of explaining the motor cortex while i take care of the research or do i have to do everything?” and just like that, your attitude returns. like you’ve suddenly remembered you’re supposed to hate him.

his eyes narrow as he meets your sudden glare, “i’m capable of doing the bare minimum, yes.” pulling out his notebook, you’re instantly drawn to the very detailed illustrations on his journal, his handwriting neat and precise. suguru skims through his notes on the primary motor cortex, long, slim fingers trailing behind the page with each word he reads.

nothing about him is sloppy, you’ve come to notice. his hair’s carefully tucked away from his face, his clothes are without creases, even his converse are miraculously clean. you force yourself to look away before he notices your lingering gaze, staring at your computer.

silence clung onto your quiet space of the library, only the sound of your taps against your keyboard echoing around the space. you’ve been scanning through abstracts for what seems to be an eternity, trying to find articles worth using in your project. the words start to mesh into one big times new roman blob.

the sun’s set by the time you’ve finished your session for the day, students trickling out the doors one by one. a few still linger on the tables, the sharp fluorescent from their computer screen only highlighting each and every one of their exhausted features.

rubbing a hand over your eyes, you’re forcing yourself to stay focused. to keep reading the paragraph in front of you—hemiparesis, studies show recovery after stroke is most effective in the first three to six months, neuroplasticity… “you want something to eat?” the question breaks you out of your stupor, looking up to see geto starting to pack up already.

he expects a protest at first, a why the hell would i endure more than necessary with you? and you’d thought about it—the idea of having to spend more time than necessary almost just as appealing as going through studying free-radical reactions again. but then again, you’d be stupid not to bank in on a chance to get free food, especially when you can hear your stomach growling in the silent halls of the library.

so to his surprise, you merely shrugged, “sure. i get to pick the place, though.”

—

suguru wholeheartedly expects you to drain his pockets, expects you to pick an expensive restaurant where reservations are a three month wait, where the menus don’t have the prices next to them, and chandeliers glisten overhead in dizzying glamour.

but you settle for a small ramen shop not to far off campus, tucked away in a corner. it’d be hard to miss if you weren’t looking for it. a bell chimes overhead upon your arrival, the rich scent of broth and vegetables permeating through the air with each step you took inside.

one of the shop owners stepped out from the back, approaching you with a tight embrace. “we’ve missed you around here. you don’t show your face too much anymore,” she jests with a small, wistful sigh. you’ve been neglecting coming over, often finding yourself too tired to make the walk over, resigned to cooking yourself cheap ramen.

she doesn’t seem to linger on it for too long—turning to look over at geto, a bright smile immediately taking over her features. she doesn’t hesitate in embracing him in the same tight hug, “ooh, you finally got yourself a boyfriend. he’s real handsome.”

the idea nearly makes you recoil in your spot. “he’s not my bo-”

“thank you onēsan,” geto’s quick to interrupt your previous protest, a shit eating grin on his face when you turn to look at him. if looks could kill, he’s certain he’d be six feet under right now. but, alas, you’re not that powerful (yet), so you simply follow behind the two over to a small booth in the back.

the lights are dimmed down, the shadows playing over each crevice of his face. it’s too warm, too intimate. “what would you like to order?” you don’t need to flip through the menu brochure, “i’ll get your tsukumi soba, please.”

geto spends a few seconds scanning through the menu, reading over one side before flipping it around. “your beef yakisoba, please.” she takes away your menus, retreating into the back to get the noodles started up. ambient music plays in the background, your fingers tapping against the table. it’s still for a minute, quiet.

he breaks the silence first, gesturing to the space around you, “so can i ask why you picked this place?”

you purse your lips, pretending to be deep in thought before uttering, “no, you cannot.”

“alright then.” geto’s not sure why he expected another response to you, why he expected that one dinner would be enough to change your mind about him.

you merely raise a brow, unimpressed. “do you give up so easily on your endeavors?”

“no,” he’s quick to defend, “i just don’t want to risk making you uncomfortable.”

you can’t believe you’re letting suguru know you on a more intimate level, already regretting the words before you’re even speaking. “i chose this place because the owner’s been kind to me—” he perks up like a puppy at the information, so much for being nonchalant (he couldn’t be even if he tried), “—i came here when i didn’t have anything other than five bucks to my name. and even though the business isn’t doing so well, she covered the rest for me that day.

“i haven’t been here in a while. but i like to come whenever i have a little extra money and i have the time to.” you don’t add your father had been nearly laid off from his position at the time of the incident, leaving you scrambling to figure out how to pay rent on time, much less worry about an actual meal. the old woman had extended a hand of kindness where you weren’t expecting any.

geto clears his throat, “thank you for letting me know this little slice of you. it’s nice knowing you as something other than the valedictorian with a grudge.” you let out a noncommittal hum in response, watching as the old woman walked over with your food. you were welcomed by the earthy scent of the noodles, the aroma wafting throughout the table.

you could feel your mouth start to water before she even finished putting the plates down. “enjoy,” she tells you both, once again leaving you completely alone. there’s no rush when it comes to eating for either of you, no sense of urgency to get out. you blow on your noodles, twisting them around your chopsticks before taking a bite.

“so, are they up to your palate?” why you were making conversation with geto, you didn’t know. but nevertheless, you couldn’t exactly take the words back once they’d left your lips.

“they are. better than what i’m used to.” you savor each drop that lands on your tongue, each bite of the egg yolk that you take. it’s just the right amount of runny, the taste melding in perfectly with the broth. geto makes a few comments here in between about how good the beef is, how the noodles taste, and for once, you don’t find yourself wanting to smash a keyboard over his head.

you even make a few remarks yourself, about the different kinds of noodles that the shop offered. like you were already planning out to come here with him again. the thought should’ve been unsettling, should’ve been straight of your worst nightmares, but it wasn’t all too bad.

geto doesn’t hesitate in leaving a hefty tip behind when the check comes, earning a bright smile from the old lady. it seems she approves of him.

“do you want me to walk you back home?” he speaks up once you make it out of the shop, lingering on the street. it’s dark outside and you still had a long way to walk back home—but it’s just what you need. being in close proximity with geto has messed with your head enough, made him seem tolerable for one afternoon.

“i’d rather take my chances getting kidnapped,” you retort, already starting to walk away. he doesn’t linger for too long, walking away in the opposite direction. the walk back home is brisk, only a few cars passing by on the street, a nice chill in the air. it doesn’t take long for you to reach your building,

you’re certain you see a figure swinging away from the same direction geto had just headed in. you amount it to exhaustion, to your mind playing tricks on you. stepping inside your apartment, you’re welcomed to complete darkness—both of your parents already off to bed.

following suit, you drop your backpack off on the floor and get changed into your pair of pajamas as quietly as you can. you’ve barely managed to get into bed, to snuggle underneath your warm blanket, when your phone buzzes.

a message from geto.

geto: i hope you didn’t get kidnapped on your way home. 

you: i’m sure that you’d be delighted to hear that, less competition for valedictorian after all. 

geto: fair point. but then i’d have to do this project all by myself :( 

you: i’m sure you’d be able to figure out if you rubbed your last two brain cells together

geto: i’m sure. good night. 

—

you don’t see much of geto throughout the week—not that you’ve had much time to give it any thought (is what you keep trying to convince yourself of). in between trying to study for quizzes, getting assignments done, and searching for internships in the summer, you haven’t had much time to breathe much less pay attention to your group member.

“good afternoon class. today we’ll be going over neural coding and the perception of sound, we’re on page 456.” the sound of fingers tapping against keys rings throughout the classroom—yours included, as you start typing out your notes for dr. yaga’s lecture. he starts talking about neuron frequency and parameters, studying an orientation tuning curve—the sound of his voice fading into the background once you take a look around the classroom.

suguru didn’t show up for today’s lecture, his seat taken up by a guy who looked like he’d just rolled out of bed five minutes ago. you should be glad—you don’t have to talk to him in the odd case yaga ends the class early. instead…you find yourself wondering just what exactly prompted his absence. wondering if he’s okay. your fingers inch towards your phone across the table, about to take hold before you remember—

you hate this guy. he’s probably fine and you don’t need him anyways—you could complete the project on your own accord. right? right. instead of thinking about geto any further than you had to, you picked back up on writing the lecture notes yaga was giving on mt tuning curves, on visual motion in different directions and rose plots.

your day ends in a blur of different powerpoint presentations, note taking, and about twenty different assignments due on friday at 11:59 with no exceptions. there’s still some time before you have to head back home, so you decide to head to the library. it’s quiet upon entering, the few students inside burrowed deep within a book or a last minute paper they don’t even have articles for yet. padding against the carpet, you take your seat at your usual place. second floor, table near the window.

suguru shows up at the library five minutes later, a grey hoodie pulled over his head. he looks rough, a splotchy purple bruise marking his right eye—roughly a day or two old if you had to guess, along with a nasty cut running across his cheek. he looks like he hasn’t slept in days—hair tousled up into a half-assed attempt at a bun and rings circling underneath his eyes. you almost wince at the sight.

“you look like you’ve been hit by a train.” suguru didn’t want to admit that he had, in fact, had to hold a train back on a shattered track. he pulled a seat across the table, a pained expression on his face and a hand clasped around his (very broken) ribs upon taking a seat. his backpack dropped to the floor in one ungraceful sweep, pins clattering against each other upon impact.

still, he tried to pretend like he wasn’t actively in pain. pulling his laptop out from his backpack, tapping quickly to open up the shared presentation you’d set up. you didn’t mention anything, neither did he. it wasn’t your place to. a quiet settled upon the table, each of you getting to work on your designated slides.

it only lasts for about ten minutes when,“what’d he go over during the lecture today?” he questioned, looking up from his laptop to meet your gaze.

“i’ll send the doc over once we’re done here, maybe you’ll even do better on the test with my notes in hand.” on another occasion, maybe he would’ve met your retort with another one of his own, would’ve tried to tease you back. but all he could manage was a weak laugh, “yeah, maybe.”

the next two hours are relatively quiet, if only for a few questions about formatting, about including an article shared in between whispers. suguru doesn’t look much better than when he first stepped foot into the door—hand still clutched around his ribs as if it were the only thing keeping him upright. “i don’t know what happened to you,” you start off, his attention diverted from packing up for the night, “but come over next time you’re hurt. i don’t have much but i can at least stitch you up. don’t really wanna get stuck doing your portion of the work when you’re half dead.”

suguru pushes his laptop inside his backpack before speaking, “right. you’ll be my nurse for the sake of your grade?”

“absolutely for the sake of my grade.” you hand him over a ripped piece of notebook paper with your address scribbled onto it, watching as he carefully tucks it away in the back of his phone.

“i’ll take you up on that, then.”

“good.” a breath you didn’t realize you were holding leaves your lips upon exiting the library, a relief filling your body. you convince yourself it’s the assurance of your gpa staying intact—it’s not. you couldn’t stand to see geto sit around in pain, hear his meek attempts to keep up with your banter and each strained breath he let out when he stood still for too long.

you worried about him. for the first time, you admitted to yourself feeling something other than petty hate towards him.

you: i hope you feel better. doesn’t feel the same being mean to you.

suguru: i’ll try. get home safe.

—

as begrudging as it becomes to admit, you slowly start to get comfortable to having suguru around. to having your designed meet up at the library every monday and wednesday at four, being greeted with a warm cup of coffee and a kind of patience a saint would be jealous of.

it’s ridiculous. suguru doesn’t stoop as low as to meet your biting remarks with one of his own. he simply treats it with a calm smile, with a, “yeah, i’ll get that done.” when you bite out an order to do something.

“you’re more capable than i gave you credit for,” you remark, opening up the powerpoint to find that he’d settled on picking a nice theme. he’d picked up on where you left off last night with ease—sorting out your scrambled mess of notes into something feasible.

it was weird having someone you didn’t have to constantly be explaining yourself to. weird, but nice.

“well, you set a high bar. i, at least, have to make the effort to be worthy of working with you,” he retorts, reaching over. a quiet laugh escapes you, a sound he wants to bottle up just so he knows he’s not imaging it.

“your efforts are greatly appreciated.” you’re not sure when’s the last time you’ve been such at ease working on a group project. maybe never. you’re usually too stressed out trying to pick up where everyone else is lacking. plugging your earbuds on, you get back to reading through an article on motor functions.

“you should send me that playlist. for motivational purposes, of course,” suguru speaks up when you’re finished for the night. amongst corny science memes (from his part) and photos of cats he’s found on the street, you send him your playlist. showing him a glimpse of your soul—or at least what you like to listen to.

of course, it’s in alphabetical order. he finds himself playing each song, carefully listening to each of the lyrics. wondering what your thoughts were when listening, how you related to each one. your mind was a complex cavern, one that he intended to explore fully.

and across the city, you find yourself thinking about every interaction you’ve been having with him lately. about how he’s changed his brand of pencils to pentel 0.5mm in case you’d ever ask for one, the way his touch makes you feel like your body’s been electrocuted, how he’s memorized your coffee order by now.

you’re thinking too much about it, aren’t you? definitely. no way in hell you’re starting to develop feelings for suguru geto. you hate him. you hate him. you hate him.

and yet, why can’t you convince yourself of the fact?

“you’re acting weird. you okay?” suguru doesn’t hesitate to call you out, noticing you’ve been all too quiet during your session today. no biting remarks, no jokes, just silence. at first, it was comforting. now it just seems unsettling.

you nearly jump out of your seat, having been staring at the same word—and—for the past five minutes. you clear your throat, nodding. “i’m alright.” he’s not convinced but he lets it go. maybe you’re just having a bad day. you’re grateful he doesn’t try to ask any more questions, but… you miss the conversation.

fuck, you’re screwed.

—

suguru: can’t show up to our library session tonight, try not to miss me too much ;)

you’re not sure why you almost feel…disappointed at the news, wondering if he’s off getting beat up like he did two weeks ago. but it’s not like you wanted him to see that you’d put in more effort into dressing up today—that you’d ditched your (very comfortable) hoodie and sweats for a pair of jeans and a nice blouse you’d gotten on a discount rack. that you’d put on a dab of mascara and tinted gloss.

absolutely not. you didn’t care.

with nothing else to do around campus, you decide to head back home. flipping the tv on, you quickly come to find out each news channel’s covering the same segment—a giant lizard terrorizing the city while spider-man swings from building to building before jumping into action.

the hero picks up a decent looking buick, the expensive car practically weightless in his arms, tossing it over. it pierces through the air like a bullet, cameramen at the scene quickly panning their cameras to the zooming vehicle going at what seems to be a hundred miles per hour. it lands.

and spider-man misses. tossing it a mile past the point where the lizard’s crawling up a building, the car crashing into nothing but a mess of glass and debris. police sirens speed closer to the scene of the crime, thick clouds of grey smoke from the impact clouding up the atmosphere.

that’d be your last straw, you think. coming out of a late shift only to find your car completely totaled into smithereens. without so much as having some kind of insurance it’d be covered under.

luckily, it’s not you.

with that thought, you shut your tv off. choosing instead to work on some assignments, to work on converting radon mass into mols, to filling out equations that had more symbols than numbers on it. the hours pour over slowly, sun fading away into the shadows as night takes over.

there’s a knock on your window. you live on the third floor, that’s enough to unsettle you as it is. no one could get up here without using the fire escape, and that seemed like too much of a hassle just to rob you. right? another knock followed after the first, forcing you to get up from your spot.

shoving the curtains to the side, you’re met with the sight of spider-man outside your window. his suit’s ripped and tattered, exposing slivers of a blood streaked gash running down his chest. his chest heaves with each ragged and hoarse breath that leaves his lungs, a sharp pain digging through his ribs.

he leans against your windowsill, clutching a hand tightly against his stomach. his other hand reaches up, swiping at the constricting mask concealing his identity. black hair falls in long waves once its freed from its confines, a face you’re too familiar with meeting your gaze.

suguru. he leans his head back, a smear of blood marking his cheek. he’s never looked as hot as he did now—bleeding out and groaning at your windowsill. “hey, nice to see you again,” he lets out a breathy chuckle, “room looks cozy.”

there’s about a million questions bubbling in your head. how’d he manage to go to school and be the city’s hero? how’d he deal with the burden placed on his shoulders? still, there’s no time for you to be surprised. you have to act quick before he loses any more blood.

easing him into your bed, you get out your suturing kit with 140 pieces inside. pulling on a pair of gloves, you’re quick to get out what you need. a nylon needle, a silk piece of thread, some alcohol pads, and an advil just in case. “why’d you come to me?” you bring yourself to ask, pulling away at the sopping latex fabric.

it falls to your bedroom floor with an unceremonious plop, blood smearing onto your hardwood floors. you’d clean it up later. for now, you focus on evaluating the wound. the slash cut deep enough where stitches were necessary, but it seemed straight forward for the most part.

“you’re the only one in our program i trust not to drive a needle through a vein and stab me half to death,” he responds after a bit, his breathing labored as your hands squish the wound together. trying to make some sense of the ragged edges you’re trying to line up, of where you needed to poke the needle through.

“high praise,” you murmur, blood seeping and dripping from the rag you were delicately rubbing against his skin. cleaning him up as gently as possible, trying to avoid hurting the gash any more than necessary. any more than you needed to before the next step.

silence settles over your room as you draw the needle through his skin, piercing just deep enough to ensure it’d be sealed properly. forcing your trembling hands to steady, you get to work. sliding the needle through his skin, tightening the thread against each edge of the gash with each knot you do. it’s not perfect—you know that much, but it’s enough for right now.

“are you okay?” you’re the first one to break the silence tonight, gently wiping away at the streaks of crimson marring his scarred skin. blood dribbles and pours from the gash, quiet winces leaving his lips when you happen to press too hard.

a disgruntled, frustrated sigh leaves his lips, “no. the lizard escaped from me at last minute and i have no idea how to start looking for him.” taking your gloves off, you’re now faced with an incredibly hard decision. figuring out what suguru was going to wear.

you’re sure he’s bound to get questions if he walks out in a spider-man costume, digging through your cabinets to find something. an old pair of sweats that’s been too big and an oversized shirt. that’s good enough. “thanks.” suguru takes the clothes from you, quickly sliding them on.

“i’m sure you’ll find him. you’re nothing if not persistent,” you reassure, swiping away at a hair that covered his face. lightly, you dragged a clean rag through his cheeks, wiping away ruby colored streaks in three swipes. his gaze goes to your lips, your breath catches in your throat.

you’re too close. you should pull away, should tell him to leave and go back to studying. instead, you lean into the kiss. slowly and tentatively pressing your lips against his own, one of your hands coming to rest on his shoulder.

bruised hands settle on your waist, tugging you closer against his body. his lips brush against yours with all the patience in the world, the taste of him intoxicating up close. nothing else—not the city of new york, not the lizard—mattered. his lips locked against yours like a missing puzzle piece, slotting against yours perfectly.

“is this why you’ve been acting weird towards me?” suguru breathes out when he pulls away, forehead resting against your own. the proximity, of being mere inches apart, has heat rising up your neck, up to your face. everywhere you turned, he was there.

“yes,” your response comes out as a breathless whisper, his fingers drawing small lines against your arms. there’s no rush to the moment, no rush into pulling yourselves apart. a shiver runs down your spine as his touch ghosts even higher, leaving you wanting more.

hinges creak against themselves as soon as your bedroom door’s swung open, your father standing in the doorway. his eyes immediately narrowed at the sight of suguru plopped down on your bed, the two of you too close for comfort. you quickly scooted away, putting on a few inches of distance.

it wasn’t enough to erase his intrigue. with an exasperated huff, he rubbed a hand over his temples, “do you want to tell me why there’s a guy over this late? and with your door closed?” not particularly, but you figured it wasn’t as much as a question as an accusation.

“he…uh…” oh no, you hesitated. your father’s brows merely furrowed while you scrambled to find any reasonable excuse to have suguru geto in your bed at 10 pm. c’mon think think think. he’s getting suspicious.

suguru can practically see the wheels turning in your head, his teeth biting down on his lip to keep himself from snickering. your eyes dart from one corner of your room to the next, to your bed, to your nightstand before you take hold of the shut laptop next to you, blurting out, “he came to work on our project!”

“out!” your father exclaims just as soon as you’ve finished trying to find an excuse, “project my ass, we use the front door in this house for those.” he storms off into the living room, presumably to continue to continue watching his late night soccer game.

suguru let out a quiet laugh, leaning over to press a small kiss on your forehead. it doesn’t feel like enough after your admission, feels too small. but, it’s what you’ll have to make do for now. “for someone so smart, you sure are a bad liar, pretty girl.”

you’re left alone again.

you can’t focus on your project. the blank screen on your monitor burnt into your retinas, blinking cursor on the screen taunting you with each second that passes.

you can’t sleep either. you’ve tried. tossed and turned from one side to the next, throwing your leg over one of your prized plushies to no avail. you try counting sheep, you try listening to calming asmr in attempts it’d still your racing mind. nothing works. frustration boils deep in your gut, your thighs rubbing against one another.

you don’t think about suguru as just the guy you once hated and are now starting to develop a crush on, but you see him as spider-man too. see the responsibility that he takes on to protect the city, to ensure that people feel just a little bit safer walking down the streets while keeping up with school. while still managing to get you your coffee every day without so much as a protest.

the more that you get to know about him, the more that you realize that you’ve already fallen for him. tonight—that kiss—had just cemented the fact, your mind lingering on how soft he’d been. how gentle and reverent he’d treated you, being patient without treating you like you couldn’t handle it.

with a resigned sigh, you slowly began to trail your fingers down your navel. dragging your fingertips against the sensitive flesh, picturing geto’s long, digits as your eyes flutter shut. imagining his soft, plush lips making their way down your body the same you are, with an amount of reverence and tenderness.

you don’t dip your fingers inside your cunt just yet, rubbing yourself through the thin material of your panties, sliding your fingertips against your clothed slit, slowly starting to drip through the thin material. your fingers move up, rubbing at your neglected clit in small little circles.

deep in the back of his mind, suguru knows he’s not supposed to intrude on such a private moment. and yet, he can’t bring himself to leave.

he can hear footsteps up to five miles away, can hear every whispered conversation, and yet all he can focus on is the way your breath picks up, the sound of your cunt squelching around the fingers. on your rapid heartbeat thumping against your chest, on the whisper of his name that you thought left your lips into the dead of night.

wait, what?

“oh, fuck, suguru.” a breathless whisper leaves your lips, his ears perking up underneath the mask. he can practically taste you on his tongue with how intense the scent penetrates through your bedroom walls. his cock throbs in the latex, precum smearing onto the costume. that’s enough to get him sliding the costume down to his mid thighs, leaving him nearly exposed.

anybody could look up and see the city’s hero jerking himself off on the side of a building. that should’ve been enough to stop him, to make him wait until he was in his room. but no, instead, he wraps his hand around his shaft, thumb smearing precum alllll the way down to the base.

you are all that consumes his thoughts, his very being.

pushing your panties to the side, you dip two fingers inside your cunt with a wet little shlickk. all the while picturing suguru’s thick fingers instead of your own, picturing how’d he finger you. he’d start slow—just to tease you. so you decide to slowly start pumping your fingers in and out, slick dripping down to your knuckles.

suguru starts off at the same pace you’re going, timing his own orgasm to your own. soul ties and the such. his fingers wrap tightly around his cock, fist slowly dragging uppp and downn the shaft. he rubs at his swollen cockhead, smearing precum over his fist and his dick.

“o-oh fuck,” a hushed moan leaves your lips, your fingers curling about a inch in. you’re hitting your g-spot with each thrust of your fingertips, back bowed into an arch. would he let you cum? maybe if he was feeling kind enough. you rub at your clit, pushing yourself to reach your peak only to let it slip through your fingers right at the precipice. 

when you do let yourself cum to the thought of it being on suguru’s fingers, of imagining him bringing them up to his mouth, wrapping his lips around them and tasting you fully, you soak your fingers and sheets underneath with a shuddered little moan.

suguru isn’t faring well outside of your window either.

sweat dribbles down from his forehead, heavy load of cum covering his hand and stomach. he leans his head back, listening to your racing heartbeat slowly return back to normal. he wipes his hand off on the side of his costume, zipping it back up before reluctantly heading back home.

so much for hating him.

—

you avoid suguru geto completely after that.

it wasn’t that hard in the grand scheme of things. sure, you were both confined to the same building for most of the day, but you avoided taking any main hallways you were certain to find him in. avoided lingering in the lounge for too long, hiding away in the back stairwell and doing some assignments. it’s quite nice the few times you get lucky and there’s no one making out underneath.

and sure, you had a few classes together, but you avoid being in your usual spots. go up to sit in the back instead of the front, in one of the far right wings of the auditorium where even the professor’s surprised when they take attendance. you don’t linger too much after class either, immediately leaving upon dismissal with your head down.

but even then, you supposed you should’ve accounted for how to avoid him at your own home.

“do i have to keep showing up to your house all bruised and battered for you to spare your friendly neighborhood spider-man five minutes?” suguru pops his head in through your window, sliding his mask off once he was inside.

you raise a brow, leaning in closer to take a look at the ‘wound’ he’s whining and pouting about. it’s a simple cut across his cheek, already starting to heal from his enhanced abilities. “you came over for this?”

“yes. i’m dying, doc,” he deadpans much to your dismay. you gesture for him to take a seat on your bed, watching as he makes himself at home amongst your plushies. taking a hold of your kit, you stand in between his legs to clean up the cut.

that’s not good enough for suguru.

“what the—” his hands take hold of your waist, easing you down onto his lap. your thighs rest upon either side of his own, your ass pressed directly on top of his lap. moving forward slightly, you grind yourself against him, a quiet moan leaving your lips upon feeling the tip against your clit.

how very unprofessional of you.

you force yourself to stay focused, taking his face in your hand. purple eyes glimmer underneath the pale moonlight, meeting your gaze as your fingers brush against the ‘bruise.’ slowly, you dab on a little bit of antibiotic onto the cut before plastering on a hello kitty bandaid on his cheek. “perfect.”

neither one of you moves. suguru’s hands stay splayed against your waist, holding you tightly against his body. trying to keep you there as long as possible. you let him, your fingers ghosting across his face before you reluctantly pull your hand away.

this time, his hand cradles your cheek, “i haven’t been able to stop thinking about your lips since the last time i’ve seen you. thinking about kissing you again.” he didn’t kiss you like he had last time, gentle and patient, no, he kissed you like he was desperate (which he, admittedly, was).

your hips swivel as you grind yourself down on his hardening cock, feeling each ridge against your dripping cunt. heavy breaths leave your lips the faster you start moving against him, the more you feel his tip prodding into your clothed pussy. “this feel good?” he questions, his hands moving up your nightshirt. cupping your breasts in between his hands, rubbing his thumb around your nipples.

“y-yeah, feels good,” you nod, head thrown back and back arched. your nails dig into his shoulders, using that as leverage as you move yourself against him. his lips move down to your neck, leaving kiss after kiss as he trails his way down. he slides your shirt off, tossing it to one corner of your room.

“can i taste you, please?” you nod, expecting him to get down on his knees and get in between your legs. to start slowly kissing his way up your legs before making his way to your cunt. but no, you watch as he crawls up to your ceiling, sticking it it before hanging upside down.

a thin, white string’s clutched between his fingers, keeping him in position. suguru hangs off your roof with relative ease, onyx strands cascading onto your silk sheets. he leans forward, his free hand swiping at the slick dribbling from your puffy folds.

syrupy strings cling onto his gloved fingertips, tongue enveloping around the latex to taste every last drop. “need to taste all of you, spread out for me,” suguru uses his free hand to spread your legs apart, your ass up in the air as you settle into an arch, “there we go. just like that, princess.”

he delves in like a man starving, his tongue swiping across your slit, lapping up every drop of your essence. your fingers tightly wrap around your sheets, hips moving back to meet his eager mouth. he’s unabashed with each swipe, with each lick to your sopping pussy.

suguru takes one of your folds in his mouth, spit slobbering over the sensitive skin to mix with the syrupy slick dripping onto his tongue, starting to make out with your lower pair of lips. “fuck, you’re so good to me, wanna stay here,” he’s already pussydrunk, each babble leaving his lips like water.

while nothing about him is sloppy, the way that he’s making out with your pussy certainly is. he takes note of what makes your heart run faster, what makes you react to adjust what he does. no reaction you make goes unnoticed.

you gushed around his mouth and chin like a running faucet, your essence smeared all over his face. suguru slid his tongue in and outt of your cunt, his nose nudging against your sensitive clit with each push. “so, so good sugu,” you whined against him, eyes rolling back. each swipe of his tongue, the desperate way he ate you out, had you inching closer and closer to your orgasm.

“mm, i know, i know,” he coos, jaw falling slack as he buries his face in between your legs. he alternates between making out with your folds, tracing his tongue across each one, and thrusting his tongue in and out of your hole. suguru licks up a broad stripe up your cunt to your clit, the tip of his tongue drawing a small circle onto the nub.

blood rushes down to his head, almost making him feel high off the taste of your cunt. his lips latch onto your clit, sucking and swirling his tongue around the nub. “fuck, fuck, sugu, just like that!” your praise only serves to spur him on, your orgasm the only thing on his mind.

two of his fingers dip inside your cunt, filling you even better than you’d imagined just a few days ago. suguru curls his fingers perfectly, drawing out desperate moans from your lips with each prod against your g-spot. he continues sucking around your clit, pleasure building up deep in your gut.

his fingers spread you open, pearlescent slick dribbling down his gloved fingers. your hips move on their own accord, pushing them even deeper as you chase your orgasm. “gonna cum, gonna cum,” you babble, smearing yourself across his face and fingers. your own couldn’t compare to this, not by a long mile.

“that’s it, come for me, take what you want from me,” suguru’s words unraveled you like a birthday present, your orgasm hitting your body in waves. shudders rack through your body, your legs shaking as your release spurted out of you, coating his mouth, chin, and nose. he’s quick to lap up at the drops lingering on his lips, wrapping his mouth around his fingers. sucking them off completely, a moan leaving his lips at the taste.

suguru made quick work of sliding down the rest of his costume, letting it fall on your floor. his cock slapped against his stomach once released, tan at the base with a couple veins running up the thick shaft, tip a reddish pink and dripping drops of precum. a slight eight inches if you had to go off on estimate.

he moves to his spot behind you, wrapping a hand around his shaft. slowly starting to swipe it up and down your folds, tip nudging against your sensitive clit. “i thought it was fuck me, c’mon sweetheart, tell sugu how much you hate him

“fuck y—” his cock sinks in completely, lips parting into a moan while your walls clench around him, tightly wrapped around his shaft like a vice. suguru doesn’t move just yet, even as you push your hips back for some kind of friction, “come on, finish your sentence. don’t be rude.”

you’re too desperate to form a cohesive thought—blurting out the first thing on your mind, “oh fuck me, please!”

“with pleasure, sweetheart.” he pulls back in one swift motion, hips snapping against your own when he thrusts back in, curve of his cock dizzying as it hit every single spot that had your toes curl. "ah ah ah, fuck, don't stop!" suguru doesn’t start off fast, but he starts off deep—letting you feel every inch he was stuffing inside. your cunt dripped around his shaft, squelching as your slick mixed in with the drops of precum dribbling down.

“like this?” he has the audacity to ask, his hands gripping onto your waist as he fucks into you. your ass jiggles back against him with each shove of his cock, balls smacking against the back of your thighs. he starts to move faster, pounding into your cunt like he wanted to imprint the shape of him into your walls.

“j-just like that!” you respond, head buried into the sheets in front of you. the grip you had on your sheets tightens tenfold, body jerking back and forth. that just won’t do. he raises your head up from its hiding spot, turning your head to kiss you. it’s sloppy, it’s desperate, and it’s more teeth and tongue than anything.

it’s perfect.

“keep your head up, wanna hear every little moan,” he babbles behind you, reveling in every little ah! ah! ah! that left your lips, moans mixing in with the sound of skin slapping against skin. your eyes roll back, drool leaking from your lips with every inch he drags across your cunt.

suguru plants one of his feet up on the bed, the position allowing for him to thrust even deeper. his tip kissed your cervix with each punishing thrust of his hips, each vein and ridge rubbing against your walls deliciously. one of his hands moves down in between your legs, rubbing desperate little circles around your clit.

you clamp down around his shaft, your release quickly building up. suguru feels his own approaching, balls tightening up, but he’s determined. determined to make you gush around his cock before he spills his load. your legs tremble and quake, orgasm hitting you much more intense than last time.

your release dribbles and spurts around his shaft, a creamy ring at the base as he pulls back. his hips stutter while he tries to maintain his pace, abs clenching the longer he tries to prolong his orgasm. “come for me, suguru, fill me up.” that’s enough to drag a strangled moan from his lips, a thick load of cum painting your walls white.

suguru remains still for a second before gently pulling his softening cock out, watching as you all but collapse face down onto your bed. “where do you keep your rags?” he moves across your bedroom, heading over to the bathroom.

“second cabinet on the right.” he grabs a few, making sure to get one wet enough to clean up between your legs. he takes the opportunity that your parents aren’t home to leave your bedroom, going over to grab a water bottle.

“here, take a sip.” he holds it up against your mouth, your hands reaching out to take hold of it. a moment of stillness, calm settles over your bedroom as he lightly rubs the rag against your skin, wiping away the milky trails of cum dribbling down your cunt and thighs. you close off the bottle, setting it aside on your nightstand.

“my photography class is making me submit my portfolio for my final, wanted to know if you’d be my model for tomorrow,” he speaks up, settling next to you. he wipes the sweat away from your forehead with a clean rag, just as gently as he’d done before. your body feels sluggish and limp, melting into his embrace as he wraps a hand around your stomach.

“that sounds nice. i’ll show up around three,” you whisper before succumbing to sleep, one of your own arms wrapped around his chest. even if suguru wanted to move (which he didn’t), he couldn’t move with how tightly you were holding onto him. it was the nicest sleep you’ve had thus far, the most relaxed you’ve allowed yourself to be.

the walk over to his apartment was quiet, the city still with each step you took. the trees rustled with each light breeze that passed, birds chirped a melody in the distance. for once, there weren’t any police sirens or honking cars out on the street.

maybe that should’ve been your first sign something was wrong.

—

the quiet before the storm never seems to last for very long, does it?

you never made it to his apartment. never sent a text message saying you couldn’t make it, no kind of explanation. suguru had been waiting for hours now, unwilling to accept the fact he’d simply been ghosted out of the blue. sure, you’d done that before, but his gut told him otherwise.

turning his tv on, he was greeted by the sight of the lizard. he’d regenerated faster than expected, all the effort that suguru put into fighting him the first time diminished into nothing but cheap headlines. but that’s not all that he sees. when the camera pans in, focusing on the lizard’s scaly hand, his heart drops to his ass.

“come out, come out if you want to see your girlfriend again, spider.” each taunt only makes his blood boil, watching helplessly as the lizard dangled your limp body from side to side. dropping you, gasps erupting from the public watching, before his tail wrapped around your body. “you know where to find me.”

pulling the mask on to defend the city had always felt like an obligation, some kind of punishment for sneaking out during a field trip and getting himself bit by a radioactive spider. but this time, it felt more like necessity. adrenaline pumped through his veins, pushing him through each building he swung and pulled himself off of.

of course, the lizard couldn’t have made things easy enough for him. sneaking through the clock tower, he came across a machine set to go off in thirty minutes, containing a vial full of lizard dna. if the average person would so much as inhale even a speck of air when it went off, they’d immediately face the effects.

effects that their body wasn’t suited to take, effects that their body would reject until their untimely demise. the countdown ticked, 30… 29… 28… and right at the same time spider-man made his appearance, the lizard decided to give him a choice. the city of new york or you.

spider-man was a hero revered for his ability to think fast on his feet, for his ability to swing into action with the best possible solution.

but suguru was fucking scared.

he could hear his heart thumping in his ears, his breaths coming out in short little wisps. even one little second was too much to waste, a second that could’ve to save you. to save the city of new york. the machine doesn’t take long to deactivate, only needing the vial to be removed. green smoke evaporated into nothingness, the machine’s countdown coming to a halt.

he couldn’t afford to hesitate now. suguru tossed himself off the clocktower’s peak, diving straight towards where you were helplessly flailing around. your hands clawed at pure air, reaching out for a final salvation to no avail. his wrist flicked forward, a silken web extending out to your chest.

four strings extended from the original web, a hand reaching out towards your body. you flailed helplessly in mid air, hearing people gasp and scream right behind you. you couldn’t focus on them, couldn’t focus on anything but suguru. the air feels cold, too loud in your ears, your vision blurry. the ground seems so close, and yet so far away. like you’re falling in slow motion.

suguru was so close, he was nearly there. his fingertips grazed against your skin, reaching out to take hold of your hand. just as soon as he thought he’d assured a tight grip over your body, you slipped away from his fingers. the web connected to your body, a second too late.

the memories behind your eyelids weren’t ones about your academic achievements, about a party you skipped to get your pre-sat score higher. no, you got painful reminders of everything you didn’t get to do. that you didn’t get to go out on a date with suguru, that you didn’t get the chance to get to know him better, that you’d die and no one would know you as anything other than the girl with a tight stick up her ass. you’d never be able to do those things, either.

never get to feel the warmth of the sun against your face again, never get to feel the softness and tenderness from suguru’s touch. that one, you think, hurts the most.

CRACK.

he felt it before he heard it. felt the moment your heart went silent, the moment that spider-man failed you. still, he persisted. there must be something he could still do, anything at all.

he can’t afford to lose you, he just can’t.

his hands hooked underneath your legs when he got close enough, cradling you close to his chest. “hey,” his voice cracks, tears welling underneath his mask. “open your eyes, please. talk to me. say you hate me, say you love me, say anything.

just… come back to me. please.” guilt seeps in through the open wound with a vengeance, a reminder you wouldn’t have been in this predicament if he wasn’t so careless. if spider-man hadn’t allowed himself to feel a smidge of happiness, you’d still be alive.

you had many dreams in the world. and that’s all they would be, just dreams.

the world moves on without you, just the same as it had while you were in it. there’s quiet whispers in the halls, your seat in each class available almost out of respect? out of fear of a ghost? whatever the case may be—parties are still thrown, tests are still being held, and yet… suguru remains stagnant. haunted by the memory of you, your touch burning into his hand. he could’ve reached you, should’ve tried to catch you instead of throwing a web aimlessly.

you don’t leave his mind. every waking moment, he’s reminded of you in everything he does. how you’d be pissed off he’s letting his gpa fall to the gutter because he can’t bring himself to open up stupid canvas. how he’d never get to have anything with you that wasn’t banter or a night of sex. maybe it would’ve been better if he never approached you at all. if he didn’t ruin your life as spider-man.

internships he’d signed up for the sole purpose of getting on your last nerve are given to him on a silver platter, achievements that you’ve worked hard to earn given to him as if nothing happened in the first place. as if he could ever come close to being as deserving as you were. he hits decline on each and every single offer, not even bothering to give a polite email in response. the project’s only finished because it felt wrong to leave it as it was, and even then, suguru knows it’s not the best it could’ve been.

crime still runs rampant through the streets of new york—stolen bicycles, snatched purses, robberies gone awry, and yet, suguru doesn’t put on the suit. knows that he wouldn’t be able to hold his punches otherwise. and as much as he tries to keep moving forward, forcing himself to show up to classes he’d paid half a fortune for, you weren’t the only one who died that day.

—

WHERE IS SPIDER-MAN?!

article published by the daily bugle, 2026

spider-man. the man we seek out to solve most of our problems throughout the city whether it be the simplest of bank robberies or a giant lizard wrecking havoc amongst the city.

he has shown up time and time again in our time of need, in times where everything was once thought of as a lost cause. but one has to wonder, how good is this dependence?

the webbed vigilante has left us to our own devices, having gone missing for months now. we are completely helpless, doubting our finest officers that put their lives on the line to keep us safe. this sick hero’s been working on his own merit, on his own accord without any policing, to ‘protect’ the city.

the prized doll that everyone wanted to get their grubby little hands on, you included. while many had been made in an attempt to replicate the original line made doll, only twenty had been distributed to the public and retailed at ¥7,623.

many had stayed up throughout the night to await the drop, not daring to stray away from the tab. not daring to refresh the page and stray away from their point in line. the twenty dolls sold out in the span of seconds, leaving many in the dust and wanting.

leaving many willing to pay obscene prices, sometimes even twenty more times than what it's worth.

however, it was the only piece that you were missing from your memorabilia collection: owning the original hockey mask used in friday the 13th, krueger's claws, myers' machete.. you get the point.

if there was a piece to be collected, changes were you already had it.

most of your free time was spent browsing through craigslist, through mercari, trying to find the doll without having to give up an arm and a limb. which only seemed to get more and more impossible by the day, sellers asking for what you could set a down payment on a car for.

once again, you decided to try your luck out and scroll through facebook marketplace.

thickdickuna: offer ¥1,505,005

an offer made by a man who spent his time analyzing and inspecting stockx graphs. you let out a small scoff, thumb swiping past that offer as quickly as you could to go to the next page. yes, you were desperate, but you could also pay off your semester's tuition with that kind of money. hard pass.

dilfnearyou: offer ¥753,233.00

the doll showing up on your screen barely looked like it was sitting upright, stitching messy around the overalls, and instead of 'good guys' on the front of the jean pocket, it was bad guys instead. upon closer inspection, googly eyes were put in place of the pretty purple ones you'd grown used to seeing.

it was quite possibly the worst knockoff you'd seen on this app.

you didn't hesitate to scroll onto the next page, each offer somehow worse than the last.

user420: offer ¥3,014.00

your first thought was this was a lame attempt at pulling off a scam, refreshing your screen just to make sure you weren't imagining things. the numbers hadn't changed, almost seeming to mock you. it wasn't even retail value, it just didn't make sense.

but you'd be lying if you said you weren't just the teensiest, tiniest bit curious. so, you clicked on it. you were welcomed by the sight of suguru in the original box on the first picture, a picture of him sitting on a dining chair on the next one. so, the doll look real enough.

but just how reliable was your seller?

the more you continued to scroll through her profile, the more you started to doubt yourself. your seller, user420, had reviews from actual real people, each one giving her a five star for getting their package quickly and efficiently.

you didn't hesitate to send her an offer, hearing back within the next hour.

after all the details had been sorted out, you decided to go to her home and pick him up. you weren't sure you trusted the postal service to take care of him.

the home was a quaint one on the countryside, shelves of multitudes of books and collectibles outlining the living room walls. a fluffy, white fat dog padded around the floor before splaying out right smack in front of the kitchen door, loud snores rumbling from her chest. sleeping like a single mom who'd just worked three jobs.

"do you want anything to drink?" she called out from the kitchen, getting a glass from the cupboard.

"just a water's fine."

it was quiet, serene but it still felt lively—felt like a home. well it was quiet until you heard a loud scream reverberating through the halls from upstairs, "fuck you, bitch!"

"sorry about that. my wife's playing eviction notice and things tend to.. get pretty heated." you slowly nodded, taking a sip from your glass.

"anyways, she wants me to get rid of the doll," she stated plainly, "it would be easy to sell him for just as much as other people are but i wanted to give him to someone who'd be able to give him a good home. and i'm hoping that it's you."

your back immediately straightened, hands folded in front of you as if this was an important interview. in a way, it was. you needed to prove you were capable enough to take care of suguru.

"i've been a big fan for years and i've wanted suguru since i saw him on the website," you started off, "and i know that you have plenty of candidates willing to pay for him, but just trust me when i say i'd take good care of him."

user420 looked at you, really looked at you, like she was trying to see whether you were being genuine before she stood up. she came back with suguru in her arms, setting the doll right in front of you. and wow, the pictures really did not do him justice.

suguru was in pristine condition— not one speck of dust, scratch, or scruff visible, tags still intact, and every single strand of hair accounted for. almost as if he'd just been taken out of the box. "i've had him for a couple years, got lucky and got him when it first came out."

still, you were skeptical. "can i ask what led to your wife wanting to get rid of the doll?" if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say she was looking to give him away.

"he saw us rubbing coin purses and came in with a pair of scissors like he wanted to join. never seen anything like it," she responded after a couple seconds, giggles leaving her lips like water before she stopped herself, "i have the purchase certificate if you're interested in seeing it."

now that little snippet of information made you set your cup down, brows furrowing even further. moving doll? you'd heard some reports about it before, but you'd never expected to hear it so casually. maybe you'd really just gotten lucky on the first time.

your eyes darted over to suguru, almost expecting to move on cue. he stayed completely still. "yeah, i'd like to see it, please." as soon as she left the room, you slowly started to poke at suguru's cheek. waiting for at least a blink, a shove of your finger, anything.

before you could continue to bother him further (and before he lost his last straw), she came back with a cardboard in hand and a bottle in the other, topping off her glass before setting it right beside her. she passed the paper over, letting you read it as long as you needed.

suguru geto—doll made in 2004. he wants you to be his best friend! verification number: 9474639268472. if lost, please return as soon as possible :)

any last doubts you had died down. he was very much real, this was very much real. you were going to get your very own geto doll. the chair shook beneath you with each jitter of excitement that coursed your veins, the smile on your face barely concealed.

but she was almost reluctant to let go of the doll just yet, clinging onto him tightly before passing him over to you. like she'd change her mind if she didn't. "like i said, i just want him well taken care of."

"i promise." with that, you and suguru (him with two seatbelts keeping him secure) were in your car heading back to your small apartment in the city.

the first day, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

you cleaned up the glass display your mother left a porcelain doll behind—family heirloom passed from generation to generation for the past five decades or whatnot (who really cared when you had your prized doll?), making sure that not a single speck was visible before gently setting suguru inside.

the most exciting thing that happened that night was that your latest purchase—a book—was now out for delivery.

the second night was when you started to hear movement.

rushed pitter patter of footsteps echoed outside of your bedroom door at around midnight, the sound rustling you out of your sleep. already preparing your complaint to your apartment manager for a rat invasion, you decided to try to fall asleep.

the steps continued. each one sounding less and less than some kind of mouse who'd crawled out of a crack in the wall. you opened your bedroom door to spot suguru standing there, a menacing look on his face while he held one of your kitchen knives over his head. anticipating the perfect moment to strike.

but unlike every victim he'd had thus far, you didn't run away. didn't so much as flinch. you only rubbed a hand over your face, "suguru, i have work tomorrow. can you save the scare until i've slept some?"

he supposed even old tricks managed to get boring eventually.

the knife slipped right from between his fingers, scattering across the floor. "still doesn't get you?" he question, head tilting to the side like he was genuinely confused.

"after years living with you, no." you rolled your eyes, picking the knife up by the handle. poking it against your pointer, you noticed, "it's dull. you're losing your touch, geto." with that little tidbit of information, you walked downstairs and set it in its cabinet.

you padded upstairs and instead of letting you pick him up to take him back to his glass cage downstairs, suguru rushed past you and plopped smack down in the middle of your bed. acting like he paid rent around this place.

you didn't bother trying to argue.

"scoot." suguru remained still, even going as far as to stretch his limbs out like a starfish.

"scoot over," you ordered, tone more firm as you prodded at his side harder. suguru let out a small groan but conceded, moving just the slightest inch to give you more space. rolling your eyes for the umpteenth time that night, you settled right beside him.

you could've sworn you felt him squish one of your tits while he was 'asleep.'

suguru was as demanding as they probably got. stomping up to your door at two or three in the morning with a scowl on his face and a hair brush in hand. plastic back pin straight while you combed through his long hair, getting all the knots and specks of dried blood off.

just as you were about to get up from your spot, something smacked right dab in the middle of your forehead. "ow—what the?" you grumbled, searching around the floor to search for the culprit. a pink sparkly hair tie. you picked up, spotting suguru giving you a dirty look.

"we're not finished yet. put my hair in a braid." you raised a brow at the demand, a quiet, "please?" added shortly after.

"keep doing that and i'll cut all your hair off," you grumbled, picking the tie off the floor, "stay still."

taking the almost silk like strands of hair in your hands, you parted them into three equal parts. each movement was swift, smooth—intertwining the right onto the middle before doing the same with the left. you continued to do that until each strand was neatly in a braid, tying up the end with the forsaken rubber band.

then came the fourth day.

you opened the front door in nothing but a bathrobe, loosely tied up at the front with cleavage on full display. small bleeding heart tattoo resting above your right tit, obvious when you moved even the slightest bit. "hi, what can i help you with?"

the mailman at the door swallows drily, eyes averting to your breasts before flipping back up to meet your gaze. "h-hi," he managed to spit out, sweat dribbling on his hairline, "i have a package."

you leaned forward, reveling in how nervous you were making the man. well that, and the fact you knew suguru was hearing every bit of this conversation. "i bet you do," your voice came out akin to a purr, the man almost dropping the box, "where do i need to sign?"

he fumbled with his tablet, holding a pen out with trembling hands while he leaned over. "right there on the dotted.." his throat went dry, eyes darting back onto your breasts again, "…line."

your wrist flicked as you signed your name onto the dotted line, taking the package from his hands. the mailman didn't leave just yet, hands stuffed in his pockets and mouth agape like words couldn't come to the tip of his tongue fast enough.

suguru's head turned to look at you, beady purple eyes practically burning a hole in the back of your head. anger coursed through all 2'9 feet of plastic the more you kept shamelessly flirting with the mailman, moving your bathrobe just the slightest bit.

"wouldyouliketogooutonadate?" the words left his mouth in a quick tumble, the man slapping a hand over his mouth like that'd take back what he said.

still, you played along. you bent down, the expanse of your legs on display as you set the box down before giving the mailman a innocent enough stare. "can you say that again? i didn't get that."

"would you like to go out on a date?"

a hum left your lips, your finger tapping against your chin like you were considering it, the golden band obvious on your finger now.

that was when he realized he'd screwed up. "ah, well, you see, i'd really love to but my husband wouldn't take that very well, you see." understatement of the year.

your mailman was left staring at your front door in a state of temporary shock, figuring out if he was imagining things. he shook it off, muttering something about a crazy woman before driving off.

you didn't notice what time suguru had snuck out from his box, telling him 'good night' at around 10:30. you didn't notice what time the door creaked open as he walked out into the night either. you only noticed when he did come back.

at approximately 3:45 a.m., you heard a loud thump on your doorstep, a creak of metal hinges following shortly after. the quick footsteps that you'd quickly learned to associate with suguru, a plate cracking on the floor as he presumably tried to get back into the confines of his box.

a quiet sigh left your lips before you pushed your fluffy blanket off, sliding onto your bunny slippers. padding downstairs, you were met with the sight of bloody miniature footsteps trailing to your front door, a handprint marking the knob.

tentatively, you slowly creaked the door open to spot your mailman from earlier delivered on your step like a christmas gift. blood gushing out from the multiple stab wounds penetrating through his back, hair tousled like he'd been pulled back with it.

you dropped down to your knees, extending a figure out to poke his cheek. unmoving, still very much dead. a new body that you had to dispose of at the crack of dawn.

dragging the man inside by his arms, you set him down on the cold floor before any of your neighbors taking a nightly run noticed the strange lump at your door. now to think what to do. garbage? no, the smell would practically give it away. meat grinder? too much work.

almost as if suguru had been reading your thoughts, he decided to speak up, "cut him up into pieces and throw him in a ditch." your arms ached by the time you were done, pieces in a garbage bag until you had to go to work in a couple hours.

"were you jealous?" you teased, walking up to suguru's display and lightly tapping on the glass. he looked like a complete and utter mess—a leaf and twig tangled up in his hair, mud smeared across his face and shoes, and blood stains painting the front of his overalls red.

a hmph left his lips, arms folded across his chest while he petulantly turned his head to the side. refusing to even hold eye contact with you. "no."

a giggle left your lips, reaching over and taking suguru out of his box. "well, if you were," you whispered, pushing a few stray strands away from his forehead, "i'd say you have nothing to be jealous about. till death do us part, remember?"

you placed a small kiss on his forehead and if dolls could blush, suguru was certain his plastic head would look like a ripe tomato. still, he swatted your face away. "good. because i'm not jealous. killed him because i wanted to."

"mhm, sure you did." you took him in your arm, leading him upstairs into your bathroom. the blaring white lights overhead made any chance of going back to sleep nearly impossible, but well, you had to deal with this now.

setting him down on the bathroom counter, you carefully pulled away the twig from his hair, trying not to tangle it even further. you'd never hear the end of it if you did. with a featherlight touch, you lightly wiped off the mud smeared across his face and his shoes.

the promise you made to your seller was already coming back to bite you in the ass.

"but we've talked about this, suguru," you clicked your tongue, pulling the clean sweater over his head. some shit with teddy bears from the baby's clothing section. "no killing people in the middle of the night."

suguru grumbled underneath his breath, pulling the sweater to look at it before giving you a deadly glare. you shrugged, "shouldn't have dirtied your sweater. come on, promise me. no more murders in the middle of the night."

he took your pinkie, begrudgingly wrapping his around yours. a promise that went above mere mortals. "i promise i won't murder in the middle of the night," he deadpanned, tone dry.

it was worth it to see the smile and tiny clap you'd directed his way, though. he'd even cleaned up his own mess the splotches of blood in your living room before you woke up for work, leaving you with less to do.

the perfect imagine of a gentledoll.

and then came the night of the full moon.

your living room had been prepared just right for the occasion, a ritual to bring suguru back to his original form if it worked.

you'd painted a large white circle painted in chalk right where your coffee table had just been earlier. pulling out a tape measure, you dragged it from one end of the circle to the other just to make sure. exactly nine feet. perfect.

you didn't have any ceremonial candles, but what you did have were candles you'd gotten on sale from bath and body works just last week. that was good enough, right? yeah, you'd be fine. they were under the recommended section, not the necessary.

everything would be fine, you just had to keep repeating that until you believed it.

the warm, yellow hue of the candles flickered against your face, an overly sweet smell of synthetic apples and cinnamon filling the room. a loud grandfather clock chimed in the corner, each tick an alert that the moment was inching closer and closer.

in one hand you had a glass of wine, halfway empty and in the other you had your reading selection for the night—voodoo for dummies. you took a sip, rim stained a deep shade of red when you pulled it away while skimming through the pages of the book.

skipping through goat sacrificing, blood ties, and a variety of spells, you finally got to page 435. damballa's chant.

"ade due damballa. give me the power i beg of you," you chanted, voice booming in the quiet of the room while you read from the excerpt in the book. you repeated the chant twice more, waiting with bated breath to see if it worked.

at first, nothing.

then it came, quickly. the temperature in the room dropped by almost 10 degrees in the span of seconds, a shiver running down your spine and goosebumps prickling your arms.

lightning flashed through your window, the flames from the candles flickering on and off before the room was completely painted in darkness. a low hum reverberated through the air, the overwhelming sense of being watched settling deep in your bones.

the candles flickered back on, the room painted in that golden hue again. smeared chalk replaced the lines that you'd drawn so intricately before, doll completely gone where you'd set him at.

had the spell not worked? other than the candles, you were sure that you did everything right. then you heard it. just barely but you heard it. a slight shuffle on the ground, following by a heavy groan.

in place of where the 2'9 doll had been laying earlier, there was a 6' man stretched out in your living room. the last time you'd seen him was in your shared home, shot dead by some cops in the area after he'd gone out for a hectic murder spree. probably deserved if you asked any of the townspeople.

this was a chance for the two of you to start over fresh—peace and serenity without the nervous breakdown over hearing a police siren or any murders. well, excluding the one that happened a couple days ago. that one didn't count.

he looked the same as he used to, except without all the bullet holes in his chest. he blinked slowly, raising his arms in front of him like he was making sure they were the right size before turning to look at you. "miss me?"

"just a little bit."

suguru's chains clinked as he moved to stand up from the floor, the sound of his boots squeaking against the ground when he got up to his knees. he didn't get the chance to get up, "aht aht," you clicked your tongue, the man looking up at you with anticipation. "on your knees and… crawl."

amethyst eyes bore into you, his knees shuffling against the hard floor as he slowly made his way towards you. "there we go.. good boy," you cooed, watching him come up to your feet.

"is this good enough, princess?" he asked, an amused grin spreading across his lips. suguru was nothing if not reverent, leaning in and pressing kiss after kiss on your exposed legs.

you pressed the sole of your heel against his forehead before he could get far, pushing him back. suguru slowly blinked, horny yet intrigued.

"not even close, keep going," you commanded, walking even further into the house without needing to turn back. you knew he was following.

suguru trailed behind your steps like a desperate puppy trying to keep up with their owner, following until you finally made it to the confines of your bedroom. he didn't dare move from his spot, watching everything that you were doing. setting up a pair of cuffs on your bed stand table—the thought sending a rush down to his cock.

you came, staring down at him before slowly moving your heel down his shirt, pointy end digging into his chest. popping a couple buttons loose, his chest exposed to you under the pale moonlight.

you moved lower and lower, the bottom of your heel slowly starting to trace the outline of his hard cock tenting in his pants. his breath hitched, hips bucking into the sharp edge just for something more, more stimulation, more of your touch. anything.

"not yet," your refusal came in the way of a coo, pulling away your heel with a teasing grin on your face. "go get on the bed."

obedient to almost a painful fault, suguru crawled his way up to the side of the bed before getting in the middle. his arms folded behind his head, watching with lidded eyes everything you were doing. each cabinet that you rummaged through, every item you picked up and put back.

"you gave me a lot of problems as the doll," you mused, a faux pout painting your pretty lips as you approached the bed, "i think you'd agree as much as i would that it wouldn't be fair if i just didn't do anything about it. isn't that right?"

suguru found himself nodding along, "don't think i was that bad," at your dirty look, he knew better than to continue, "but whatever you think is best."

metal cuffs restrained his limbs to each corner of the bed, leaving suguru completely helpless against your will. his dick couldn't help but jump at the notion, practically prodding a hole through his boxers with how fucking hard he was.

he spreads his legs as far apart as the cuffs let him move—not that far—but it allowed for you to slot yourself in between. you crawled up the bed, clothed pussy rubbing against his leg while you settled on his lap.

each rub and sway of your hips against him was pure torture, having you close and yet so far. feeling how wet you were, dripping onto his pants, without doing anything about it. you moved, taking one of his blades from the table beside you. he didn't do much as flinch, even when you brought it close to his skin.

if anything, it just made his cock throb. you didn't stab him, just yet anyways, instead cutting up the material of shirt. letting all those pesky buttons fall to the floor before you set your blade to the side.

your lips felt like a scorching kiss from a flame, each nerve on his body ignited with your touch. you moved up from his chest, sucking on a sensitive spot near the crook of his neck. "a-ah fuck." bullseye.

his lips slotted against yours like the missing piece of a puzzle, his touch tentative at first before he realized just how much he'd missed on. it grew sloppier, messier, a clash of tongues in a desperation to taste each other, to have each other once again.

"need to taste all of you, please," suguru panted out, his eyes all but pleading as he looked up when you pulled away, "f-fuck, i know, i know i don't deserve it but i want to eat you out plea-”

"i said yes," you spoke up, waving him off before slowly gliding your pussy up his stomach. leaving behind a slime trail in your wake, watching him accomodate himself. like his face was nothing more than just a seat for you.

his lip latched onto the front of your clothed pussy, sucking on whatever bit of essence was leaking from the thin lace material. the chains clinked with each thrust of his hips upward, cock aching and throbbing against his pants.

your thighs squeezed around the sides of his head, nearly suffocating him with your dripping pussy directly in his face. if this was the way he was supposed to go, he'd gladly accept it after he'd had his fill. "missed you," he let out a muffled moan, "missed you and this pussy, fuck."

and he was even more relentless when you finally pushed your panties to the sides, tongue slotting and sliding in between your folds before he latched his lips onto your clit. the tip of his tongue swirled around the throbbing nub, tongue piercing rolling against it in the most delicious way possible.

spit dribbled from the sides of his mouth, jaw falling slack and tongue tracing the outside of your puffy folds one side at a time. he dipped the tip of his tongue in, pushing it in and out before drawing small circles. "o-oh fuck," a whine managed to escape your lips, your hips bucking into his face.

his head started going back and forth, slowly moving and grinding you against his mouth. your fingers dug into the silk pillow of hair breath you, using that as you started to move faster against him, clit brushing against the tip of his nose with each move forward. "w-wouldn't kill anyone if i lived here forever."

a shaky laugh left your lips, "you'd still fin- ah!" his tongue swirled around the hood, not touching your swollen lil' clit just yet. he inched closer and closer, pulling away at the last second. and just as you were about to pull his hair, his tongue finally flicked around your clit. rolling circles around the nub, tracing figure eights that had your toes curling.

"k-keep goin', fuck, sugu," you mewled, nails digging into his scalp. he moaned at the sting, fingers twitching in the cuffs in desperation. in need to touch you, to feel you again. his lips replaced his tongue, suctioning and sucking on your clit.

"wanna taste you so bad, please baby, fuck, fuck, fu-" a loud moan left suguru's mouth, the front of his pants now stained with a dark patch. cumming in his pants just from eating you out. each flick of his tongue drove you closer and closer to your orgasm, coaxing it out of you.

"cumming, cumming, g-gonna cum!" babbling, your release sprayed out of you onto his expecting tongue. he swiped his tongue in between your folds like a credit card, desperate to get every last drop. you pulled away, watching suguru lick your slick off his glistening lips.

you reached over, taking the small key and undoing the cuffs around his hand. "you came in your pants so i'm not undoing the other ones." suguru would take what he could get at this rate.

your dexterous fingers worked on undoing his pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them just down to his ankles. even after he just came, his cock was still hard and tenting against his boxers.

no part of your skin went untouched, his fingers grazing upon every inch that he came along. in reverence, in delight, you weren't quite sure. and then he reached over, taking the blade in his hand. "wouldn't be fair, now would it?" he questioned, a teasing smile as he repeated your earlier words.

his knive slices through the middle of your very expensive corset, buttons popping off and clattering around the floor. the complain bubbling in the back of your throat was quickly pushed to the side when suguru's lips latched onto your tit, swirling his tongue around your hardening nub.

one of his hands came up, cupping your breast before his thumb flicked against your areola. feeling it harden underneath his touch. "missed your tits too," suguru let out a moan, chest heaving. his lips moved up, kissing his way up like he wasn't sure where to even begin.

the metal ball on his tongue traced the outline of the red heart, dragging the pink muscle through the dagger in the middle. then, he slowly started tracing the black ink on top of the heart, his tongue rolling with each cursive letter to his ability.

s-u-g-u-r-u.

your hand moved down, wrapping around his cock, lining it up with your sopping wet cunt. you slowly dragged his shaft between your folds, slick covering it like a glossy coat. "need to feel you," suguru jerked up his hips, lips jutted out in almost a pout. you wanted to take a picture and hang it up on the wall.

you sunk down inch by inch, walls fluttering around his shaft as you tried to get used to the intrusion. all the air in his lungs left when you took him all in one go, your walls squeezing around his shaft like your personal mission was to squeeze every drop of cum out him.

"o-oh fuck, don't move so much, 'm sensitive," suguru groaned, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. half a decade without being buried inside your warm, wet cunt did that to a man.

"you were asking for it, sugu, i thought you could take it," you purred, nail dragging across his chest, "such a shame you killed that poor mailman. maybe he would've been better at taki- OH FUCK!"

your tease was cut off, his feet planted on the mattress flat as he thrusted into you. he was relentless, fucking you like he had something to prove, each ribbed edge grinding against your walls with each thrust. "s—oh fuck—still think that mailman could fuck you good?"

"n-no, just you, sugu," you mewled back in response, fucking back against him, ass rippling and smacking against his thighs. each swivel of your hips is downright hypnotizing, the scratch of your nails on his shoulders addicting.

one of your hands moved, wrapping around his neck, applying just enough pressure to barely restrict his airflow. the desperate mix of a moan and a whine that left his lips was almost sinful, "f-fuck, pretty. squeeze it tighter, 'm all yours to use."

you squeezed harder, bouncing yourself on his cock like he was just a toy there for your pleasure. your back arched, his hands coming up to your sides and your tits, twisting and rubbing your nipples. "s-so good, so good," you moaned, the tip of his cock hitting that spongy spot each. time.

"so wet, so fucking nasty, just like that, fuck me, fuck me." your cunt soaked his cock, each loud squelch echoing against the thin walls. you were practically gliding up and down his cock, slick pooling to his heavy balls and the sheets below.

one of his hands went to your lower tummy, an almost drunk laugh leaving his lips, "y'feel me all the way up here? yeah?" he bucked his hips, watching the slight nudge of the tip protrude against your skin. all you could do was nod, nails raking down his body.

"mhm, y-you're so deep, sugu!" you whined in response, hips stuttering as your orgasm started to build up. suguru's own breathing grew heavier, his thrusts starting to grow messier. "gonna cum, gonna cum, baby," he warned, your hand squeezing around his neck once.

"no, you're not."

a groan left his lips, his balls heavy with how much cum he was holding back. one of your hands went down your clit, rubbing at the nub in quick, little circles while your hips lazily grinded against his cock. just enough to feel him hit your g-spot. "fu-fuck, gonna cum, gonna cum," you whined, cunt squeezing around his cock all that much more.

the pressure in your lower belly built built built up, "almost there, shit," you all but slurred, fingers rubbing at that same rhythm until it snapped, your orgasm washing over you like a wave. a new wave of arousal coated suguru's cock, a slick mixture of both you and him creating a creamy ring around the base.

and then you remembered. when you saw him gripping the sheets, willing himself not to burst. "cum."

"a-ah fuck, finally," he let out a loud groan, spurt after spurt of cum covering your walls white. his eyes rolled back, thighs quivering as he continued to cum for what seemed to be minutes, the warm liquid dripping out of you onto your thighs. he leaned back once he finished, chest heaving and spent.

you didn't stand up, you didn't pull away. you swiped your pointer against the cum on your thighs, popping the digit in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. "we still have half a decade to make up for, c'mon." suguru was certain he'd be shooting blanks by the time you were done with him.

sukuna doesn't want to be a father, he doesn't bother talking to you when there's more than one person in your vicinity, and he'd essentially rid himself of all responsibility by handing the money over. that should be it, end of discussion. but you can't bring yourself to be 100% comfortable with the idea, even if you knew, you knew that it was the most reasonable option.

you're still a college student. a dorm building where trash cans are filled to the brim and then some and walls are thinner than parchment paper is no place to raise a baby, you know. and yet, the idea of completely getting rid of it doesn't sit right in the bottom of your gut.

shoko's sitting on the edge of the bed when you come in through the door, pretending to be engrossed in the black screen of her laptop. "how'd it go?" she finally looked up when you kicked off your shoes at the door, setting her laptop to the side.

you plopped down on your bed, a sigh leaving your lips. "surprise, the frat bro doesn't want a baby," you mutter, taking the money out of your pocket. shoko moves across the room, placing your head on her lap when she takes a seat.

she doesn't speak, not at first. she just offers her presence for the moment, her fingers rubbing at your shoulders in a way that make you slump back against her. letting the stress of the day pass you by. "and what do you want to do?" shoko finally decides to ask a couple minutes later, the question making your breath catch.

what do you want to do?

"i don't know what i should do," you mutter, eyes tightly wound shut as if you could simply blink away the situation if you tried hard enough. you couldn't—you'd already tried and failed. "i think the safest bet's to get an abortion. he doesn't want anything to do with me, much less a baby."

a quiet hum left her lips, her movements slowing before resuming back again. "maybe he doesn't want anything to do with you, but you have to think about you too. think about your body and about how you feel about it. you know that i'll support you with whatever you choose."

and she had. when you finally came to the decision that it was something you wanted to get done, shoko had stayed up with you reading through reviews, through services, and looking through the different clinics nearby to find one you were satisfied with.

you'd been distracted the week leading up to your appointment, hesitating on picking up the phone and cancelling it before ultimately deciding it was for the best. your lecture notes had been half done at best, short little summaries of what your head could configure before getting distracted again.

you weren’t sleeping well, flailing out on your bed for most of the night before your body simply.. gave out from exhaustion. getting out of bed seemed like an impossible task, forcing yourself to get up and go to the classes you were paying an absurd amount of money for. getting through the day was even more difficult—nausea racking through your body in waves just by walking through the cafeteria.

there’s no trace of the student you prided yourself on being—straight a and on the dean’s shiny list of stellar students. nothing but a hollowed out lost husk of what used to be—stuck in a cycle between feeling useless, feeling like a complete failure and feeling as if you couldn’t do anything about it.

you had big goals—internships to add to your lengthy resume, books to finish, papers to write, things to learn. what was all that hard work for if you’re nothing but the idiot who let a frat bro with commitment issues knock them up?

and then the day came. since both you and shoko get around using the public transport at your disposal, she managed to get her friend, gojo, to pick you up and take you to the appointment. "don't worry. he'll just be there as your uber driver. you don't have to talk to him or anything."

gojo pulls up to your shabby dorm building in a sleek silver mercedes at exactly 7:55 A.M., already holding the passenger door by the time you'd stepped outside. "i read somewhere you shouldn't have coffee so i brought you a lemonade instead."

"thank you." it's sweet, but not overly sweet. exactly what you would've ordered. you find yourself wondering if shoko asked him to or if he simply did it out of his own accord. sukuna taught you not to think much of other people—you settled with it being the former.

there's a few protesters lining up the side of the building, yelling out a spew of insults at the first person that walks in through the door and waving their signs directly in their face. that makes you hesitate, your fingers hovering above the door handle.

"do you want me to go in there with you?" satoru clears his throat, looking over at you through the rear view.

"no, i'll be fine. you can just wait here, please." swallowing back whatever reservations you still held, you move to open up the door. your foot's barely out the door when satoru taps at your shoulder.

"okay, well, take my hoodie and headphones. you don't have to look or listen to them if you don't want to."

with a bright blue agumon hoodie and rain sounds (satoru joked about it being fried chicken before you left) playing on his headphones, you finally made your way into the building. pushing the hood over your head, you manage to block out the sight of the people yelling by your sides. the only thing you really see is their feet scuffing closer and closer before you're finally at the door.

it feels like a breath of fresh air when you finally step inside, you take a step up to the front, signing your name at the desk before taking a seat. there's a few other people seated, around six others, some young, some old, some the same age. you don't know what they're here for, if they're simply here for birth control or something else, but it does help to make you feel less alone.

your foot bounces against the floor while you wait for your name to be called, watching everyone else who'd been here before get ushered into a room by one of the nurses. it's a twenty minute wait (you counted), before that same nurse calls your name and ushers you into a room.

there's a couple routine questions that you need to answer—how often were you having sex, how far along was your pregnancy, were you absolutely 100% without a doubt certain you wanted to go with this procedure? once she finally finishes with her questionnaire, she takes your bloodwork, blood pressure, all the standard stuff.

and then she pulls out an ultrasound monitor. "considering that you're still in your early stages, we need to go in with a transvaginal screening. it's just a little probe that goes inside, you shouldn't be able to feel any pain," your nurse explains, taking a clean wand and lathering up in lube.

you nod along, leaning back against the chair. it feels too clinical, too clean for what you’re about to do. "you don't have to, but i'm still required to ask. do you want to see the monitor?"

"no, but thank you." you blink back a couple tears threatening to spill, the nurse turning the screen to the other side. you're not sure you could handle seeing the little thing you and sukuna created—even if it wasn't that much larger than a blueberry at the moment.

the lube feels cold as the wand is slid inside your vagina, the process taking a few minutes before it's done. it feels like it's lasted for an eternity by now. her face gives nothing away as she types away at her keyboard, occasionally turning to look over at the monitor.

she clears her throat when she’s done, sliding her gloves off. it’s quiet for a second, the sound of water running down the sink while she washes her hand. your eyes flicker towards the monitor, fetus nothing more than a little blot pointed on the screen. "i know you just answered some questions but there's a counselor that you need to speak to before we go through with this procedure. it shouldn't take very long."

a short wait later until a counselor leads you to a office in the back, gesturing for you to take a seat on the grey couch pushed against the wall. and you do, the couch feels nice. it doesn't feel stiff like the ones you're used to around campus. the door's shut before she takes a seat next to you, a clipboard resting on her lap.

"good morning, my name's doctor hughes and i'll be asking you some questions before we get started with your procedure," she introduces herself with a small smile—just enough to be friendly, not enough to overbearing. you shake her hand and give her your name, her embrace warm but short.

"first one, how safe is your living environment?" she reads off the clipboard, tilting her head up to look at you.

"i live with my roommate, shoko. we live in a safe building and she doesn't have any violent tendencies," you respond, hands tightly clasped against your lap. dr. hughes takes note of that, scribbling something in her clipboard.

you're not sure how many minutes pass by of her running through the questions on her clipboard, each one focusing on how safe you were, if this was your decision, if you were coerced by any means to be here. dr. hughes marks one last thing on her paper before she sets the pen down, looking back over at you.

"im going to be explaining the procedure to you, if at any point you have any questions, feel free to stop me and ask." you nod, watching her pull out a series of different pamphlets.

you learn that there's two procedures:

mifepristone and misoprostol—the first one taken here at the clinic and the next taken a day or two later, some of the side effects including bleeding and abdominal pain.

and then the next is aspiration, where your cervix is opened and the cells are taken out. a short procedure, she claims, about ten minutes long, but one where you'd have to be under anesthesia.

you read through the pamphlets once, then twice, reading through all the different side effects, all the risks that are involved with each of the procedures available. "i think i'm leaning more towards the second option, please."

dr. hughes gives a curt nod, taking the pamphlets and jotting down something again on her clipboard. "since you're being put under anesthesia, do you have someone here waiting for you?"

"he's out in the parking lot." and as you speak, your mind refuses to let go of the fact that it should've been sukuna by your side instead. that it should've been him by your side at the appointment, should've been the one to reassure you and be with you throughout the process.

you're led to a different room across the hall now, a couple posters plastered onto the walls—ranging from vaginal health all the way to a diagram of a fetus in the back of the room. a blue gown sits on top of a hospital bed, the cold air hitting your body once you get undressed.

you're left alone for the first time in an hour, alone to be left thinking about this procedure. is it truly the right choice? you were so certain that it was, that it is, but you feel something clawing at the back of your head. trying to beg you to turn around and get out, that this was a decision you'd come to regret later on.

the door swings open.

"dr. hughes went over the procedures, so is there any that you're leaning towards?" your ob-gyn finally walks in through the door, the same kind of clipboard in hand. she looks at you expectantly, awaiting for your answer. there's nothing in her expression but calm, gentle understanding.

and you want to answer, you want to tell her something, you want to do anything other than just stare at her plainly. your tongue feels like quicksand, all the words that you're trying to get out sinking before you could articulate them. your hands clench by your sides, a tissue being passed your way before you even realize there's warm tears running down your cheeks.

"i-i'm sorry i can't do this, i gotta go," you mumble just loud enough for her to hear, heart thumping against your ears like a harsh drum. you make a quick stop to strip the gown off, getting dressed in your clothes, before making a beeline out the door.

the sound of your feet pounding against the linoleum floors echoes through your ears, the sound of the protesters, the flashing signs, everything, it all just builds into one mess that leaves you unable to even breathe. every breath you take feels like you're submerging underwater, desperately flailing your arms out to get to shore without any luck.

there's nothing you can focus on other than the shine of gojo's car, the only thing that can get you home. your fingers grip onto the door handle, slipping just as soon as you're about to get it open. frustration begins to seep into an ugly cocktail with the other emotions running rampant, your fingers forcefully pulling the knob open.

satoru's brows furrow with concern when you hastily step foot in the car, tear streaks running down your cheeks and breathing run ragged. your chest heaves like you can't get enough oxygen, your eyes focused on anything but him. his hand hovers in mid air, almost as if he's trying to discern if it's okay, before he rubs at your back.

you can practically see the wheels turning in his head, if he should say something or not. "is there something you want me to do?" his words come out in a quiet whisper, as if he's afraid of pissing you off even further. it would've made you laugh in different circumstances.

"can you just t-take me home? please?" your voice cracks with unshed tears, barely managing to get the words out. he nods, but he doesn't move immediately. his hand is steady against your back, rubbing it with all the care in the world as you slowly start to feel like your chest isn't caving in on itself anymore.

a deep exhale leaves your lungs. satoru pulls his hand away before speaking up again, "are you okay?"

(it's a ridiculous question. he realizes that the moment he opens his mouth, of course you're not doing okay. you can practically see him facepalm.)

but regardless, you find yourself nodding. "i'm okay."

the ride back home is spent in silence, which you can appreciate gojo for at least. there's no kind of music playing on the radio, no awkward attempts at conversation or any jokes. just the sound of the motor and the sight of the trees passing by. it takes little for the car ride to lull you to sleep, gojo's hoodie acting like a comfortable blanket as you curled up against the leather seat.

the car comes to a stop in front of a ice cream parlor, the parking lot completely and utterly deserted apart from one other car parked at the end. the person behind the counter, if you had to assume.

"i know you said you wanted to go home," gojo quickly speaks up before you can utter some kind of protest, "but you've had a hard day and i think some ice cream could do you good."

you can't bring yourself to protest the action, rubbing away the last remnants of sleep before getting out of his seatbelt. his movements are quick—akin to the flash, because in the next moment that you blink, he's already on the other side of the car and opening your door.

"why are you being so nice to me?" you break the silence, digging the spoon into your half eaten scoop of ice cream with more force than necessary.

"we were in the same group for astronomy. researching the average life of red giants. and you're the only one who actually tried on the project with me, you didn't expect me just to do the work for you," he responded, shrugging like it wasn't a memory you'd since forgotten about. "you're someone worth being nice to."

"you still remember that class?" you let out a quiet laugh, taking a spoonful of ice cream into your mouth, "that was like…four years ago."

"i still remember you." he takes an obscene bite out of his five scoops of unicorn flavored ice cream, "plus i'm pretty sure mmmph fuck this is good, shoko would have my ass if i wasn't nice to you."

"what ass?" that question has an exaggerated gasp leaving his lips and a napkin balled up and thrown in your direction.

the afternoon passes you in a blur of easy conversation and half melted ice cream, your fingers sticky by the time you're done. admittedly, you'd been planning to rot the whole day at home, avoiding any attempt at conversation with shoko or with anyone else. but it feels nice, it feels nice to talk to someone who isn't constantly looking over their shoulder.

satoru, you quickly come to learn, is surprisingly easy to talk to. the ride back home is full of digimon, of anecdotes about that astronomy class, about everything and anything that could fill the space. you'd thought of him as someone distant, difficult to talk to. someone who spent their time in front of a book. so did you. you supposed that's maybe why you got along so well.

the ride comes to an end in front of your building, gojo turning the engine over before leading you up the stairs to your dorm. you can't help but almost feel a surge of disappointment upon seeing him leave after having a good day with him, after getting to nerd out about guilmon and bread having a better friendship than kenta and kenzu.

"thank you for being here for me," you whisper once the two of you finally reach your door, giving him a small wave. you're fishing for your keys, digging through all the pockets in your purse. he can practically feel the seconds running out, the invisible clock ticking.

and before satoru steps away from your doorstep, he leans in and presses a small kiss on your forehead. an action that shouldn't have made your tummy flutter the way it did. if anything, you'd just blame it on fetus. yeah, that's what it had to be.

"if you need anything, whether that be a ride or something you're craving or something the baby needs, i'm here for you. not because of shoko or anything, but because i want to be," gojo whispered, leaving you one last reassurance before giving you his number in case. with that, he finally left for the night.

and as gojo's leaving, you could've sworn you heard the familiar roar of sukuna's car pulling off from the parking lot.

like how climate change was still able to be reversed and what effects it'd have on the quality of living if it's not or how the usage of generative ai was negatively impacting the workplace (you were staring at sharon from the diet and lifestyle column pasting directly from chatgpt when you thought about that).

but no, the most you had to pad your portfolio with was:

how to reignite the flame between you and your partner! despite the fact that about half of your readers would be better off separated or divorced.

how to reassure your friends/partner! despite the fact that nearly half of the examples sounded the same, just in completely different wording.

how to romance your partner! despite the fact that the only functional relationship you have right now is with your cat at home. and even then, it’s only when he’s not slashing around your couch with his tiny knives.

it wasn’t the most riveting stuff to write, and no one over the age of twelve picked these articles unless it was with the intention of poking fun at the contents or for the ‘nostalgia.’ whatever that meant.

but you suppose you can’t complain too much, though.

you had a nice apartment off 43 fifth avenue on the fifth floor (a building with a working elevator, wow!), spacious windows giving you a decent enough view of the city underneath when you manage to find the time to appreciate it. it was an improvement from having to work at a coffee shop in hopes of getting recognized by a big publisher.

plus. everything you could ever need was a short walk away: ran of milk? a bodega’s just across the street. an overpriced cup of coffee? the nearest shop’s five minutes away. a book to indulge in? the library’s just down the block.

it’s everything you should want. a simple and comfortable life with a secure, stable job that doesn’t require you to stress every moment of the day. and yet, you don’t feel a rush of pride, of accomplishment with each article you put your name down under.

—

the rich aroma of coffee machines brewing every minute fills the office building, assistants’ heels clacking against pristine white floors to get drinks delivered before their bosses get too unbearable to work with. fingers tap against keys, trying to get the last details right before the first draft issues are due tonight.

you narrowly miss being sloshed with steaming green tea by an intern who’s too busy running from one corner of the office to the next, plopping your purse onto your desk. you take a seat, logging into the system to start brainstorming ideas for your next column.

so far, zilch. just the mocking tick tick tick of the cursor on word. the day’s barely started—7:45 a.m according to the clock on the wall—and everyone’s already moving in a rush. pushing a flurry wardrobe carts around, testing out which heels are the most run-able from the desk and back, and yet you can’t get a single word on your screen other than ‘how.’

“morning.” shoko rolls over to your desk from her cubicle, espresso cup already in hand.

you look up from your word document, expecting to see another face next to her. “where’s utahime?”

shoko lets out an exasperated sigh that makes her sound twenty years older. with a lazy flick of her hand, she responds, “she just got broken up with by that guy she was seeing.”

your brows raise. utahime tended to love…hard in spite of her relationships not lasting very long, meaning she took each heartbreak like a stab to the chest. “today’s the staff meeting, boss’ll have her head if she doesn’t show up.” you get up from your desk, already starting to make a checklist of what you needed to get. a tub of ice cream…a pillow…maybe something borrowed from the office to wear.

the meeting started in thirty minutes. and by 15, you were already starting to panic. traffic had been unrelenting—the overwhelming amount of cars on the street moving at a snail’s pace, making what should’ve been a ten minute trip into twenty minutes. chest heaving and heels clacking, you rush your way up to her apartment.

clothes hung from the couches, from her tv stand, empty takeout boxes littered the coffee table upon stepping into the apartment. utahime hadn’t bothered cleaning up in a while, hadn’t bothered changing out of her pajamas for the day either. “you know, you only dated him for a week. i’m sure you’ll be able to get over him soon,” you try gently, coaxing the shirt onto her hands.

“it was the best week of my life!” her wails filled the apartment’s walls, sheer agony lining her voice. you would’ve guessed her husband just went to war with this reaction. padding further into the room, you shove the curtains apart—letting a bit of sunshine bathe the room in a golden glow.

it did nothing for utahime’s mood, however.

you take a seat next to her on the couch, easing one of her hands against your own. tightly clutching it against your fingers. “he just wasn’t ready to accept your kind of love and it’s better that he let you go now instead of trying to prolong it.”

it’s not the best…you have to admit that much. but you’re on a time crunch. “it’s not worth losing your job over a guy like this,” you whisper, rubbing your thumb across her knuckles. that seems to get her focus—shoving herself off the couch and kicking her pajamas off in record time.

“you’re right! how am i supposed to even think about getting him back if i’m unemployed?” right. definitely the main takeaway. nevertheless, it gets utahime out of her apartment in five minutes stat and flagging a cab down in seconds.

—

the staff room’s filled up by the time you and utahime step in through the doors, shoes off and in the midst of taking a deep, calming breath. hastily, you both slide your heels off and make your way over to where shoko was sitting. “meeting hasn’t started,” she whispered, much to your relief. everyone’s whispering amongst themselves, about meeting up for drinks after work, about ideas, about chanel’s new drop. before it all goes quiet.

“ahem,” your boss loudly clears her throat, announcing her presence in what you’d consider the most annoying way possible, “i’m glad everyone could make it to the staff meeting today.” you don’t miss the pointed look she gives you and utahime upon making her way up to the front.

the woman had eyes everywhere.

“do you want to tell me why the two of you made it to the meeting late?” she didn’t hesitate on singling you out, heads swiveling over to stare at you and utahime. you want the ground to swallow you full. “i’m sorry. i got broken up with and i was having a hard time getting out of bed this morning,” she quickly speaks up.

the gears in your boss’ head practically start whirring at the sound of her agony, a grin spreading across her lips. “broken up with you say?” she murmurs, tapping a finger against her chin. “do you think you can write an article? of what exactly you did to drive him away.”

the best writing usually came from experience, but even you had to admit that it seemed a little too far. utahime swallowed dryly, messing around with the rings on her fingers. “i-i don’t know that i can do that.”

quick to strike on the opportunity while the stove’s still hot, your boss turns to look at you. “then you will be writing the article.” your gaze goes to utahime. she looks like she’s on the verge of breaking out into a stream of tears any second now.

“i don’t know if i—” your boss halts you before you can continue your protest, putting up a perfectly manicured hand. “i know what you want. you want to write an article on your own volition. do this one and you’ll be able to write whatever you want.”

that quickly makes you shut up and think. write one of many other shitty articles that you’ve already spent months executing in exchange for some creative liberties? you’d be stupid enough not to take that chance. the look of realization on your face must’ve been crystal clear, being met with a curt nod from the woman in front of you.

“perfect, you’ll be doing a ‘how to lose a guy in ten days’,” she announces, money signs taking shape in her pupils. there’s been many how-tos on being desirable, on romancing your partner, but not quite on what errors come with dating. it’d be a best seller, for sure. “we go to press in eleven, i expect final drafts to be sent to my email throughout the following week.”

the room quickly disperses once the meeting’s over, everyone picking back up where they once left off. you turn to look at shoko and utahime, mirroring the same dread on your face. there’s a gala going on tonight—one you were planning on foregoing in exchange to drink margaritas at home with your friends.

instead, your night took a turn to reserve your spot and resign yourself to dressing up to have small talk and hors d'oeuvres instead of stuffing your face with a bag of chips in your pajamas.

—

“so, pretty much, all i have to do is just be completely annoying and undesirable,” you repeat it like a mantra, smoothing over your dress for what seems to be the thousandth time. shoko and utahime agreed to come, if only just to get a free drink.

“yeah, just be clingy and needy. my ex hated when i called him twenty times a day,” utahime nodded along, making you and shoko stop in your step. she continued, unaware, “i used to send like a hundred messages after he left my house too. stalking his location every minute of his way home too.”

she only stops when she realizes the two of you aren’t there anymore, raising a brow. “what?”

“you do realize that does come across as a little… needy,” shoko tries gently. utahime lets out a scoff, shaking her head, “you’re starting to sound like him. i swear, i was just concerned.”

“uh huh,” you deadpan, walking over to the end of the line. it’s not that many people yet and it seems to be moving with fair efficiency, every person shuffling a inch further every minute.

“i’m serious. there’s a lot of things that can happen on the way from my apartment to his home in five minutes,” she still argues, and you start making mental notes. act like utahime in this experiment—glue yourself so deep in your guinea pig’s side that even calling you isn’t an option afterwards.

“and what else did you do?” you question.

“oh, i used to make him lunches, told him i loved him right after our third date at burger king, gave him a toothbrush to keep at my place two days later….” she really did rush about six months of dating into one week. good to know.

finally, the three of you move over to the entrance. you give your names, doorman scanning through each document before finding your name on the fourth page, sliding the golden rope off its hook. “welcome in. bag check in’s at the back table.”

the party’s already at full swing by the time you finish checking in your bags, effortless chatter filling up the small reception space. all from the latest stock market trends, company representatives talking mergers over scotch, to others discussing their newest trip to the hamptons.

step one: find an unsuspecting guy that doesn’t make conversation feel excruciatingly painful and awkward.

that in itself felt like trying to find a needle in a haystack. your eyes darted around the room to find a man who didn’t have his arm wrapped around someone’s waist, and then, that actually seemed willing to have a conversation that wasn’t about the worth of bitcoin compared to tether.

grabbing a glass of wine from one of the waiters walking around, you make your way over to the bar. utahime and shoko already have a table for themselves, talking with a few people from your circle. reluctantly, you bring yourself to approach a blond haired guy with green frosted tips and a suit that looks like it costs a year worth of rent.

you tap on his shoulder. he immediately swats your hand away as if you were a pest, disgust painted across his face. “low value women like you should be busy working in a kitchen instead of trying to approach a high value man at a bar,” he spits out like vitriol.

definitely not. gulping down your glass of wine, you decide to try your chance with another guy. he was tall amongst the crowd he was in, pale with brown eyes that reminded you of a dog, pigtails on each side of his head. “hi,” you decide to introduce yourself, extending your hand out.

“choso.” he shakes your hand, his grasp firm against your own. so far, he’s responding better than your other attempt. that’s enough to fuel you to continue, “do you come to these kinds of events often?”

“not usually, my brothers are the ones dragging me places,” he responds wistfully, “they’re not here at the moment which is why i’ve been off to the corner for the most part.”

“your brothers? i’d love to meet them someday.” he takes that as an invitation to show off his gallery full of photos from his brothers, all eight of them for forty minutes straight. you’re not sure how many ‘they’re so adorable!’ you can manage any longer. you know more about his brothers than him by the time you leave your spot.

you move further down the bar, approaching a white haired guy in a valentino suit and sunglasses. satoru gojo, famous model. there wasn’t a day where one of his billboards didn’t show up in times square—specifically the shoot he did with calvin klein. “hi, it’s nice to meet you.” you give him your name, shaking his hand.

it feels softer than choso’s did, his nails manicured to perfection. “satoru, it’s nice to meet you too,” he remarks, reaching to take a sip from a vibrant pink cocktail. he has a charisma to him that none of the previous guys had so far, a charm that made him easy to talk to.

“are you here alone?” your voice drops down to a sultry whisper, twirling your drink straw in between your fingers.

gojo merely lets out a quiet laugh, holding up his left hand to show off his wedding band. “oh, no. i’m actually here with my husband, i can introduce him to you if you’d like. he’s big on reading articles, i’m sure he’d love to read your stuff.” you feel as though a bucket of ice, cold water’s been poured over your head, your hold on the straw loosening.

he turns around to look for his husband, laser focused until his gaze finally lands on the man. it’s nothing short of romantic, the way that gojo’s gaze softens upon looking at his husband. the other man’s blissfully unaware, long hair (with a routine longer and probably more expensive than you can manage if it feels as silky as it looks) cascading down his shoulders in a half-bun, head thrown back as he lets out a laugh.

it’s too mushy for you handle sober. what are the chances that the one decent guy you happen to talk to is gay?

—

ryomen sukuna is not a man that cares about public appearances, who cares about trying to make impressions on investors or immature nepo babies with too much risk attached to their name. and yet, he found himself at a gala, of all things, in an expensive tom ford suit with a flute of champagne in between his fingers.

as wasuke itadori’s son, it’s only proper procedure that he gets the company he’s leaving behind upon his retirement. especially after jin already stated he wanted nothing to do with that company, running as far away as possible with his wife, kaori to start their family.

sukuna had seen how his father struggled to build up his company in a sea where everyone was connected, how many strained smiles and unstable offers he’d had to accept to gain the standing and respect he has now. how in some rooms the man didn’t even fit in, how despite everything he’d sacrificed—he was still new money. however, none of that mattered to the group of money-hungry board of directors, though.

sukuna started working at the company since he’d turned eighteen, getting his degree in business management while in a leadership position at the company. the profit margins were a stark increase from what they once were under wasuke’s leadership, and potential business partners usually didn’t mess with someone who looked like he’d break their jaw if they so much as looked at him wrong.

but the only thing he was missing that the directors deemed was important was a family. or at least a partner. someone to show that he was at least somewhat stable in life and that he had other commitments outside of the company. why? who knows. the argument that jin ran away from the company anyways with a family sat on the tip of his tongue, yet he knew better.

couldn’t be seen as too problematic to work with. so he simply grumbled and sucked it up, deciding to come out to an overly expensive gala in hopes of finding a girlfriend before the board met again in two weeks. “just show that you’re capable of being serious. have her admit that she loves you,” wasuke had said, though even his father didn’t have that much hope in him.

“oh come on. i’d be good at managing the company and you know it.” yuki’s teasing grates on his already short temper, his fingers gripping the flute all that much harder.

sukuna doesn’t entertain that with an answer, gulping down the bubbly champagne. it does nothing, not even burn his throat a little as it goes down. “just pick who i’m supposed to date so i can get it over with,” he mutters, folding his arms. yuki shrugs, glancing around the bar like she’s picking out a meal.

a particularly difficult meal that would assure her position at the company, to be more specific. no one promising just yet, either married or too conversational for her liking.

then their eyes lock on you: slightly dejected, drunk, and maybe even a little bit desperate.

“her. make her fall in love with you,” yuki speaks up, gesturing over with her chin to avoid drawing any more attention.

sukuna looks up from his champagne glass to see where they’re so focused on, zeroing in on you. the overhead chandelier beams down on your features like a golden light, bathing you like a goddess. the dress you’ve chosen for the night fits around your curves like a glove, accentuating all the parts. and yet, you look just as unimpressed as he does.

he gulps down the rest of champagne as smooth as he would water, making his way over to the bar. “i think i’m just gonna go home, this night was a bust,” he overhears you telling your friends. sukuna needs to move now—quickly tapping your shoulder.

“saw you across the bar. wanna have a drink?” for someone who works in marketing, he truly wasn’t marketing himself in the best way. but.. he’d impress you in given time. he’d make sure of that.

you turn to look at your friends, the two women behind you giving a short nod. “sure,” you respond, making your way over to a pair of stools. a drink quickly turns into five, the two of you laughing and having what you’d say is the best conversation you’ve had at these events.

“so you’re the one making those corny magazines,” he comments upon talking about your job, “you think you can make one about me? ‘how to be as handsome and strong as ryomen sukuna?’”

step two: convince your test subject that the two of you needed to get out of here, that this was more than a one time thing.

your nails trail across the material of his blazer, inching up just the slightest bit. hoping that this was doing something, otherwise you’d just look like a fool. “i don’t know. i think i’d need a more thorough investigation before writing an article like that.”

sukuna pauses for a moment, crimson eyes darting down to where your fingers were grazing against his shoulder blade. “we can go back to my place,” he suggests, already standing up and pushing the stool forward.

you pretend to think about it for a moment, “okay, sounds good. let me go grab my bag and i’ll meet you outside.” you find him outside once you’re done, still waiting for you. still just as eager to take you back to his apartment.

rows after rows of expensive cars line up the sidewalks nearby— all-black tinted buicks, silver benz, audi’s, and the one or two bmws that haven’t blown up yet. sukuna’s fingers intertwine against your own, leading you through the maze of cars like a man on a mission.

you’re not sure what you expect. another audi at best—maybe a beat down honda civic at worst. but certainly not what’s staring at you in the face. a sleek red yamaha with black detailed paint that resembled the tattoos on his face parked in between two cars, danger on a pair of wheels.

you wait for him to say that this a joke—that his car’s actually further away. instead, all he does is pull out a flimsy pair of keys from his pocket, getting on the bike to rev it up. you shake your head,“absolutely not. there’s no way i’m getting on that.. death trap.”

“you could have a little more faith in me.”

“i met you twenty minutes ago.” you remark, meeting his smirk with a glare of your own.

remember the deal, sukuna. “come on, i’ll even give you my helmet.” he extends out a black helmet in your direction, waiting for you to take, “plus more people get in car accidents than motorcycle accidents.”

“because there’s more cars in the road,” you retort, “obviously the statistics won’t match up when it’s uneven. you should know about that, mr. marketing expert.”

“why don’t you tell me alll about it when we’re at my place, then?” you really do hate how easy he’s making this sound. remember the article, remember getting to write whatever it is you want to write.

it would be easy to leave the night here, to turn around and flag a cab down to take you back to your apartment. you hadn’t seen this man before tonight—you’re certain you wouldn’t have to face any awkwardness tomorrow or next week. but before you can fully convince yourself to go, you take the helmet from his outstretched hand.

taking the straps in your hand, you slowly push the helmet over your head to buckle it in and push the visor down. even though it does nothing to soothe your nerves or your racing heart, you make your way onto the motorcycle. pushing one leg over the seat before sliding in comfortably, your hands awkwardly resting by the sides of the bike.

the cool night breeze hits you sudden and fast as the bike smoothly zooms through gaps in traffic, cutting a 30 minute trip down to 15. your fingers move to sukuna’s abdomen, tightening against him as the bike starts to speed up. he feels warm underneath your touch, muscles rippling even through his suit blazer. well, if anything, if this failed, at least he’d been ripped and attractive.

—

you forget about motorcycle accidents and fatality rates by the time you pull up to his building.

the apartment’s nicer than you expect. a bachelor pad, of course, but it’s still organized. a nice leather couch against the wall, a mahogany coffee table settled across from it with a barely-alive succulent as decoration, and a tv situated on an actual table instead of the floor.

“go on and take a seat, i’ll get us something to drink.” sukuna slides your coat off your shoulders, taking it off your hands and sliding onto the coat rack near the door. he moves across the room to the kitchen, rummaging through his fridge.

you pad further into his home, stopping by the tv stand. he has a collection of cd’s in alphabetical order—all rock bands like led zeppelin, metallica, the dire straits. something you’d have to reorganize during your experiment. grabbing what you deem is the most romantic cd, you slide the disc onto the player. music quickly fills the quiet ambiance, the atmosphere immediately lighter.

for the next stop on your tour of his apartment, you move to his bathroom. are you intruding on the invitation he gave you? maybe. regardless, you open up the drawers—spotting a half-empty bottle of shaving cream, a bottle of lube, a pack of condoms, a box of marlboro reds. nothing that indicated another woman had been in the space in recent days.

good. that meant he was still a viable candidate for your article. you flush the toilet and let the sink run for about a minute before making your way out into the living room.

“don’t have anything other than beer,” sukuna speaks up, looking up from the two bottles over to where you’re leaning against his tv table. you’re comfortable in the space, like this is anything but a first encounter.

“just a beer’s good.” you take the bottle once he steps in close enough, taking a slow, deliberate sip from the glass. a dribble travels down your glossed lips, down your jaw, to the column on your throat. that’s enough for sukuna to lean in, setting his glass aside. he doesn’t ask for permission first—simply kisses you like he’d been thinking about it all night.

his hands move down to your hips, your legs wrapping around his waist. “taste better than i thought,” he muttered in between kisses, moving down to your neck. your skin prickled underneath his tongue, hips bucking into his hardening cock for some much needed friction. you could feel slick dripping onto the thin material of your panties, silk sticking in between your folds.

you didn’t think it’d feel this good. didn’t think you’d give in so quickly. “wait,” you murmur, pulling his hands away.

sukuna blinks once, taking a step back like he’d been rejected. well, he kind of had. “did i do something?”

“no, no, it’s not that,” you quickly try to reassure, propping yourself up from the table. dusting yourself off and smoothing over your dress. “it’s just.. i really want to take this serious with you and i don’t want to rush into anything, you know?”

you wanted to take things serious after this? if sukuna wasn’t so in need of his leadership position, maybe he’d laugh. instead, he nodded. “yeah. i get it, i want to be serious with you too.”

“i think i’m just gonna head home, have a good night.” you leave a small kiss on his cheek before stepping out of his apartment.

step three? give the idiot a reason to call you back the next day.

you made sure to leave your purse behind on his tv table before leaving his apartment, hoping that sight of it would be too tempting for him not to go through.

—

chaos isn’t all that uncommon in the office. from wardrobe malfunctions, the printer spitting out blue ink over someone’s all white dress, to coffee spills littering the floor a good 20% of the time, it’s something everyone’s grown accustomed to. you can’t help the sheer shock on your face though when nearly a dozen men walk with a bouquet of white roses in hand past the gaping interns halted in their tracks.

shoko reaches out to pluck the card on one of the bouquets, an amused smile spreading over her lips. “‘to my sweetest petal—” you gag a little in your mouth at the sappy nickname— “i had a good time last night. sukuna.’” she turns to look at you, which in turn makes the interns stare in your direction.

the call hits you when you least expect it—is what you would say if he wasn’t so predictable already. it rings once, you don’t answer. shoko and utahime cross over to your desk in seconds, each one hovering by your cubicle to wait intently. the phone rings again, and only then, at the second ring is that you pick up. “hello? what can i do for you today?”

sukuna clears his throat across the line, “did you get my present?”

“the garden that you sent to my workplace? yes, i did,” you respond, twirling your finger around the phone’s cord. reluctantly you add, “it was quite nice, thank you.”

an intern reaches out for one of the flowers, lowering their head to sniff before immediately breaking out into a sneezing fit. sukuna speaks up a second later, “you left your purse over at my place.”

“really?” you try to sound as disbelieving as possible, watching shoko and utahime barely manage to contain their laughter. sukuna lets out a hum. “looks like we might have to see each other again, then. can’t go without my purse.”

“can’t see how you’d do that with your lip gloss, cards, and tickets to tonight’s knicks game.” subject has taken the bait.

“so you went through my bag?” you question with thinly veiled amusement, “that’s not very gentlemanly of you, sukuna.”

“neither would be leaving your stuff on the floor after my good friend, toji, toppled it over, so here we are,” he responds easily, the sound of quiet shove against fabric a few seconds later. probably punched the poor guy to prompt him to talk.

someone else clears their throat. toji, you have to assume, decides to speak up, “yeah yeah, my bad, sorry for knocking your bag over. but y’know, now you get to see sukuna again.”

“the doors open at 8, i’ll see you in front of the stadium at 7:30,” you respond with an overly eager giggle, gaining a laugh from him in response.

“i’ll see you then.”

“see you.” with that, you hang up and already start counting down the moments for your victory.

but when the doors would close, and he would return to the warmth of your shared apartment, his eyes would still hesitate to find yours, and his battle-hardened skin would no longer feel worthy of your gentle touch.

the nights you once spent talking until you drifted into slumber had turned to casual chatter, silence even, drifting off to sleep in the reserved embrace of his fully clothed body.

the soft moonlight pierced through the gaps of the curtains as you were lying in bed next to satoru, one leg thrown over his, while your arm lay atop his chest. your gaze was fixed upon his face, taking in the appearance of how his delicate lashes rested above his scarred cheeks, how his nostrils slightly flared, and his chest heaved when he would breathe in.

you could tell he wasn't sleeping, and it hurt you to see him like this. the lack of closure in his touch, the distance in his demeanor. shattered walls built to the skies.

"satoru," your voice was akin to silk as you spoke his name, caressing his jaw with your thumb, "look at me."

his gaze befell upon you, breathtaking sapphire eyes looking into yours, half lidded. even in the darkness of the room, the faint quiver in his lip did not go unnoticed by you as he held onto your arm, giving it a light squeeze.

"tell me what's wrong," you felt his chest cave as you spoke, letting go of a breath he didn't know he was holding. his eyes closed before speaking, the slight knit in his brow softening.

"i–i don't feel the same anymore," satoru expressed, "did i really win, when i came out like... this?" his eyes trailed along his body at the countless scars painting his skin, hidden away from the rest of the world by long sleeves and fabric.

a constant reminder that he might not be as strong as everyone else believes he is.

he leaned into your touch as you cradled his face in your hands, a soft tilt in your head when you spoke again.

"it's okay to not be the strongest all the time," his eyes found yours again, hesitant, "but you were the strongest in that fight. and you still are the most handsome man I've ever laid my eyes on. then, now, and always," you reassured, tracing your fingers over the scars on his face.

"i will always love you, satoru," you promised, closing the gap between you, pressing your forehead to his.

"i love you," satoru sniffled, feeling fused together with you in your closeness.

satoru melted into your touch as soon as your lips touched his, your mouths merging in something more than just a kiss– but a moment of true intimacy, where time didn't feel like it existed, just the two of you.

his arms wrapped around your waist as you straddled him, pulling you close to his chest as your breaths combined together, your hearts beating in sync, one for the other.

you hand tangles in his snowy hair, brushing it back with your fingers. he leaned into you as you broke the kiss, eyes glassy and brows tented, like he needed it to last longer, forever even.

instead, you close the distance again, pressing a featherlight kiss to his scarred cheek, and then the other, as well as a tender peck to his nose, and another on the corner of his lips.

his breath hitched as you went over every scar on his face. the gentle touch on your lips soothed the stinging pain that cut through his skin before, and healing even deeper than that, the parts that not even his reverse cursed technique could fix.

your lips travelled lower down his body, velvet kisses that wandered down his jaw and neck, each one a reminder of all the times you told him "i love you", a promise that you'd die for before you'd break.

your hands slipped underneath the sweater he had on, exploring across his abdomen like you discovered him for the first time. you slowly lifted the fabric higher, giving yourself more space as you pressed your lips to each scar etched onto his body.

you watch him through hung lashes only to see the moisture starting to gather at his eyes, fingers digging into the sheets as he followed your every movement, in awe and disbelief almost. does he really deserve you?

your chest pressed to his lower half as you scattered kisses over his abs, the outline of his half-hard length made itself more known with each reassuring touch of your lips.

the pads of your fingers traced over his skin, sending waves of ardour that made satoru's heart beat faster.

his breath caught in his throat as your mouth ghosted over the waistband of his baggy sweatpants. the tent in his slacks growing more visible when you pressed your lips to him, right below his navel.

"please–" satoru whispered, his head buried into the pillow.

you teased the waistband with your fingers, slipping them underneath it as you palmed him through the fabric, making him twitch under your hand.

his cock slapped against his abs as you dragged down the fabric, pearly beads of arousal already gathering at his slit. your lips parted, leaving open-mouthed kisses to his flushed head as the warm taste of him melts on your tongue.

a quiet pant fell from satoru's lips as you licked up the prominent vein on the underside of his cock, fingers gripping harder onto the sheets when you pushed it deeper into your mouth.

you looked up at him as you hollowed your cheeks around him, only to see his bright sapphire eyes already fixed upon you. your tongue flattened against him, moving slowly on his length, twisting your head slightly as you pumped him into your mouth.

satoru's eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, his body lax as if you sucked away each worry troubling him. his legs occasionally twitching around the sides of your head as you took him deeper into your mouth.

"always so good to me, sweetheart, fuck–," he whimpered, feeling you relax your throat, allowing him to enter even deeper. you breathed to your nose, keeping him buried for a few seconds before you started to constrict around him, making him moan as he felt himself being squeezed into the depth of your mouth.

spit gathered at the base as you used one hand to pump the part that didn't fit, and using the other to cup his balls. you kept your pace, slowly sinking onto his length with your lips wrapped around him, the whimpers and praises falling from his lips only getting louder.

before satoru could reach his high, he pulled you back onto him, holding your flushed face in his hands and reuniting your lips with his.

"need you," satoru pleaded, his eyes sparkling in the dim light. you followed his pace, your lips moving with his more feverishly than before.

you're tugging your shorts down, quickly unmounting him to slip them off along with your top, and letting him do the same. your body feels hot, needing him just as much as he needs you.

"i'm here, toru, i'm yours," you breathed into his neck, straddling him again. but this time, skin to skin, no barriers between you. enveloped only by a love so raw, so real, that was able to tear through his infinity even.

you grabbed his cock and skimmed it over your glistening slit, your mixed slick making it slide easily between your folds.

"hah–don't tease, please," satoru mouthed.

heat pooled in your belly at his pleas, you needed him inside you just as bad, have him fill your senses.

"fuck, satoru–," you moaned against his mouth as you slowly sank down on his length. your arms were on either side of his head, fingers knotted into his hair as he pulled you closer to him, calloused hands wrapped around your waist.

the pads of his fingers traced along your skin, carefully, almost as if he was scared you'd break under his touch, like most things did.

a soft gasp broke through his lips by the time he bottomed out, a soft sheen of sweat coats his forehead as he soaks in your dazing warmth.

with a shaky breath, you begin riding him, clit pressing against his pelvis with each deliberate roll of your hips. buried so deep inside you, yet no amount of closeness would ever feel like it's enough.

satoru touched you like you were the last real thing left in his world, looked at you so closely as if to memorise your every feature, taking you in like he was scared there was no tomorrow.

"y–you're the only reason i was strong enough to come back from that fight," satoru confessed between shallow breaths, and your throat suddenly felt tight, heat blooming on your cheeks.

you wanted to say something, anything... but no words were coming out. instead, you cupped his face with one hand, and pressed your forehead to his. satoru was always able to ground you, and now you needed him more than ever, his touch, his presence; as did he.

your worlds oribited around one another, until eventually becoming one.

"i love you, so much–," satoru hiccuped, and you opened your burning eyes only to be met with the wet streaks left by the tears falling down his rosy cheeks.

your breath got caught in your throat at the sight, his pillowy lips quivered as he looked at you through snowy lashes, now clumped together with wetness.

without thinking thoroughly, you leaned forward again, but this time your lips pressed to his flushed cheek, letting the salty taste of his tears melt on your tongue.

"i love you, too, s'toru–" you expressed, a faint whine falling from your damp lips.

the pace of your hips quickened, rolling languidly into him, grinding your weeping cunt against him as your legs began to shake, overwhelmed by pleasure and soreness.

satoru's arms are caging you in, holding you tight against him as his hips begin slamming into you from below. your head nestles in the crook of his neck, the essence of him filling your senses, intoxicating you.

your tits are pressed flush against his chest, bodies so close you almost feel eachother's heartbeats pummeling beneath your ribcage.

"love you–so much, don't deserve you," the affection in satoru's voice is laced with desperation, each urgent thrust into your dripping heat was proof of that. burying himself in you as if being skin-to-skin wasn't enough.

"'m yours, satoru–i love you," you mumbled into his neck, lips brushing against his skin. you're aching for him, the air being knocked out of your lungs every time his cock nudges that sensitive spot inside you.

you force yourself to place all the little power you have left into your arms, hovering over him again. you get lost in his eyes once more, like so many times before. the tips of your noses touch, lips grazing one another as quiet praises and i love yous fall from your mouths.

he pushes you to the brink of your climax, muscles taut as your high comes crashing over you in waves of ecstasy, leaving your body writhing over his.

satoru's eyes never leave yours as he continues to drag out your orgasm until helpless moans are breaking off your lips and tears start to gather at your lash line.

"so beautiful–hah–fuck, 'm gonna cum–," satoru babbled, voice raw as he clung to you. strong arms are wrapped around your sides and back as the pace of his thrusts begins to falter, the way your walls squeeze and suck him in makes him follow right after.

"need to be inside you, sweetheart," satoru moaned as his hands fell to your hips, holding you down. you felt his cock pulse inside you, filling your womb with hot sprouts of cum. thrusts are lazy by now, only making an effort to push back the mixed arousal that was dripping out of your sopping hole.

"just, just a little longer, please," he whispered, your foreheads pressed together as the creamy cum leaked around his base.

"as long as you need, 'toru, i'm here," your voice was soft, like a feather caressing his wounded soul. a melody he has helplessly been entranced by, one he would pray he'd hear for the rest of his life.

when he kissed you again, it felt like home, filled by the warmth of your love he had longed for for so long. you were his missing piece, as he was yours; you completed eachother in a harmony only shown in hopes and dreams.

of the world shifting in and around his feet to accommodate to the sheer amount of space that he takes up. to being the center of attention in every room that he walked in—necks craning around to get so much as a glimpse, a call of his last name in hopes he’d so much as give a curt nod, a pat on the shoulder.

even in rooms he’s never stepped a foot in, he was the center of attention. name rolling around in waves from one mouth onto the next, rumors spreading like wildfire that he’s never cared to confirm nor deny.

he doesn’t remember the last time he’s so much as had to open his mouth to get a woman to talk to him, they usually flock to him like a pack of vultures going after decaying flesh. they’re eager to talk to him, to be seen with him, to have some proof that they existed around him. but they never actually want to see him. not that it matters—he forgets about their name by the time they’re under him.

it wasn’t a fulfilling life by any means, but it filled him with temporary pleasure. that’s all he needed—or at least, what he’d thought he needed.

meeting you wasn’t something extraordinary, something that set his life off kilter. it was purely transactional, you’d teach him how to get through calculus and he’d help you get (unnecessary, in his opinion) extra credit with your professor. then, he started noticing how seriously you’d taken to start tutoring him.

studying straight out the book wasn’t cutting it, you’d come to realize. neither was printing out practice problems from khan academy. he wasn’t this stupid, you knew that much. “i know you don’t want to be here but just tell me what i can do to make this bearable for the both of us,” you suggested one afternoon, tired of going around in circles and circles.

“explain it to me. not out the book, not from some website, but from your brain,” he’d responded like the answer had been obvious the whole time. so, you did. started wording things in a way that you normally would, made it easier to grasp epsilon-delta proofs even if it took you two weeks.

sukuna started noticing little things about you, too: from the way you color coded your journals: red for stats, blue for english, purple for the history and culture of edo japan, to the way you nibbled down on your pen when even you were having a hard time explaining infinite sequences. how you started keeping a little snack around in case he needed it after basketball practice (he always did).

you were everything he should’ve hated himself for liking, everything he did hate himself for liking, and yet here he was. standing in front of your dorm building, heart pounding in his eardrum.

sukuna’s been many things throughout his life.

basketball captain, frat vice president, an asshole, a chronic avoider and ghoster, he’s been a liar.

but what he hasn’t been is just plain old discarded.

replaced.

and by none other than president of nerd-central himself, satoru gojo.

satoru gojo who once had a head brace on in high school, crooked teeth forced shut by metal clasp after metal clasp that left him with a lisp. satoru gojo that once went over digimon evolutions for bio 101–writing a twenty page analysis and getting an a for it.

satoru gojo who has a prized membership at barnes and nobles, spending most of time wearing hideous sweater vests and burying his face in a book.

but here you are, getting walked up to your dorm building by that nerd with his fingers splayed across your back. his touch cautious, gently guiding you up the stairs to your building. you’re in one of his hoodies, hands fiddling with the sleeves as if you’re debating giving it back. you don’t.

the part that gets him the most about your interaction with gojo is that you seem happy being around him, happy in a way he’s never given you the opportunity to be around him. it’s stupid, but sukuna swears he could’ve wrung his scrawny ass neck just for giving you a forehead kiss.

sukuna doesn’t think twice before speeding back off to the frat house, breaking nearly every traffic law in existence. he doesn’t punch a wall like an overgrown man child (though the thought of putting satoru’s face on the door to throw darts lingers), instead, he just sits there. in pure silence and in the dark.

he thinks about calling yoruzu or any of the multiple unsaved numbers on his phone—any of them that would be showing up to his door before he even got the chance to ask them to come over with their panties half down their knees.

for once, the thought makes him want to throw up.

then, he thinks about trying to make things right with you, of showing up to your dorm with a cheap bouquet of roses from the grocery store and a half-assed apology. you’d probably push him away, and it’d be well deserved.

he hasn’t bothered to show up or even try to make an attempt to talk to you in months, leaving you to struggle through your pregnancy alone. sukuna had seen you throughout campus, had seen you attempt to hide your belly with oversized t-shirts, had seen how fatigued you looked after walking down a hall.

that thought makes him even more nauseous.

sukuna settles for calling toji over instead.

this used to be toji’s scene once upon a time (just two years ago), showing up to every frat rager with a different girl on his arm. losing his shirt halfway into the night, manicured nails trailing up the defined ridges of his stomach. phone blowing up the next day from those very same girls, demanding a text back that never came.

instead, now he walks into the house with a baby strapped onto his chest, megumi staring at his surroundings with mild curiosity and a thumb in between his lips. it’s a mess—beer bottles scattered throughout every surface, leaving behind condensation rings that’d be a pain in the ass to try to clean up later, a few clothes that the underclassmen left strewn around on lamp posts.

it’s weird seeing toji so put together, so grown up. though, it’s a sight that fits him, sukuna has to admit that much.

toji plops onto the couch with a thud, one hand on megumi’s back while he adjusts against the cushions. the baby lets out a yawn before burying his face deeper against toji’s shirt, one tiny hand clasped around the fabric.

“you want a beer, man?” sukuna calls out from the kitchen, perusing through the drinks selection in the fridge. a few cans of budweiser, a nearly finished bottle of absolut vodka, three cans of red bull and monster, and a half empty bottle of water. not like he had much to offer, regardless.

“nah, i’ll get a water.” sukuna grabs the pathetic excuse for a water (making a mental note to buy more, chances are he’ll forget by tomorrow) and a can of budweiser. he tossed over the bottle we’re toji was sitting, taking a seat at the other end of the couch. spreading wiiide open while he turns on the tv, getting a game queued up.

the two of them settled on 2k, the game starting off fairly competitive. insults were thrown, names were muttered, controllers were thrown, before any actual conversation started to take place. even then, it was about the frat, about torture methods initiation procedures for the new pledges, about whatever their minds could come up with.

sukuna decides now is as good of a time as any to bite the bullet. he gulps down the rest of his beer in one quick chug, crushing the can in his palm before glancing over at toji. “how’d you know you were ready to be a dad and shit?” he speaks up, vaguely gesturing to where megumi was still peacefully asleep against his father’s chest.

toji lets out a sigh that makes him sound double his age, his expression one of complete devotion upon looking down at megumi. of pure adoration to the bundle of joy that his wife brought into the world.

“i wasn’t ready. thought i wanted this—” toji merely looked around at the space around them, memories rushing back like a fright train before he continued, “—life forever. of hooking up and getting drunk every weekend. but the little guy’s mom needed me to be, so here i am. buying diapers and readin’ bed time stories.”

“mm. makes sense.”

“what’s with the question, man? you plannin’ on settling down soon?” toji questions, letting out a snort, “or did ya get a girl pregnant?” it’s spoken of as a joke, his laugh echoing across the quiet halls of the house.

sukuna doesn’t dignify that with a response. he picks at the tab on the crushed can, trying to look everywhere but the man sitting next to him. even looking up at the hideous painting choso hung on the wall and tried to excuse as ‘abstract.’ toji sees right through the act, his laughter quickly fading into a disbelieving scoff.

“no fucking way man,” toji manages to get out, eyes practically the size of saucers. “congrats.” the man reaches out to pat sukuna on the back, each one more awkward than the last.

he only manages to get out a grunt of acknowledgment, “thanks man,” sukuna mutters out, arms coming to lay behind his head after the game’s been discarded, “but i messed up. me and baby mama aren’t talking anymore.”

toji lets out a low whistle. he took a large swig of water, haphazardly throwing it off to the side where it only added even more to the mess surrounding the coffee table. “what’d you do to her?”

“gave her a couple hundred bucks for the abortion and a happy meal. said i didn’t wanna be a dad,” sukuna merely shrugged in response, barely managing to avoid the punch toji sent to his arm.

“no shit she doesn’t want anything to do with you,” once again, toji does nothing but state the obvious.

“i know that much. don’t know how to be back in her life when she’s avoiding me like the plague.”

“you gotta apologize. say you’re sorry for bein’ a dick. let her know you wanna be a part of the baby’s life,” toji answered like it was the simplest thing in the world, like they were just discussing what to eat. “don’t expect her to let you back in, but show her you’re tryin.’”

it sounds easier than it is, but he knows that’s his only option. the two of them continue playing a few more rounds before mrs, fushiguro ended up calling about dinner finally being ready. megumi had been calm throughout the evening, peacefully asleep and content with his binky and wolf-themed pacifier.

“look man, just think about i said,” toji speaks up once he’s about to step out of the room, pacing around in circles to keep megumi asleep, “pregnancy’s hard and shit—” understatement of the year, “—so think about ‘er and how she’s feeling instead of making it about you.”

gojo’s getting all the moments that he’s missing out on, the moments that he should be by your side. that’s the only thought that runs through his head while he’s speeding down the street, making his way over to your dorm.

sukuna doesn’t get out of the car upon arriving, though. lets the engine run on idle, fingertips tapping against the leather steering wheel to the song playing over the speakers. the song ends far too quickly for his taste, going to the next one up on his playlist. his fingers still against the wheel.

he came here to demand something he isn’t entitled to and he doesn’t even know what to say to you.

“yo, what the fuck are you doing with that nerd?” too aggressive, even he can begrudgingly admit that part.

“c’mon ma. i’ll do anything to be part of the baby’s life again, i swear on my ps5.” too pathetic by his standards.

his hands run through his hair, pink strands sticking up in nearly direction but up right. far too messy for his liking. he runs his hand through them again, a frustrated groan leaving his lips when they only get more messed up. after a few more times of doing so, he decides to let his hair be. he’s doing everything and anything to avoid getting out of the car just yet, even going as far to check his reflection in the car’s mirror.

a few people stop in their paths to look through the window, confused at the man talking to himself and gesturing to nothing in particular. sukuna looks insane, he’s aware. this is what you’ve led him to. with one quick glare, the people staring are soon enough getting back on their merry way, pretending as if it never happened in the first place.

he crosses the road in quick strides, entering your dorm building as someone else is leaving. the floor smells like stale laundry, food containers spilling out of trash bins outside, paint peeling off the walls in thick sheets. sukuna really needed to figure out a better living arrangement for you.

he approaches the half bored ra sitting at their desk, not even giving him a glance as they continue to scroll through their phone. sukuna clears his throat obnoxiously so, garnering the attention of even those just passing by. “can i help you?”

sukuna gives them your name and a brief description of your appearance, able to get your room number with just a quick search. the elevator’s broken which leaves him going up the stairs, taking two at a time and avoiding the students coming down with heap after heap of laundry in their basket.

he doesn’t knock on the door just yet, listening to the chatter going on inside through paper thin walls. he hears your voice call out to shoko, a small laugh leaving your lips afterwards. it makes his chest clench. he amounts it to heartburn.

he really should stop drinking so much red bull. (it’s not the red bull.)

the longer that he stands here, the more underprepared that he feels. every apology he’d practiced in the car before coming up here faded from his memory, leaving him scrambling to try to find the pieces. the overpriced $10 bouquet he picked up from the gas station (the flowers are dying, he was in a rush), suddenly feels like too little.

just as soon as he’s about to leave your door and resign himself to a life of mediocre hookups and a life of not knowing his kid, he brings his hand up. knock. knock. just two short knocks to disrupt the routine you had going on, to disrupt the noise that was going on inside.

“are you expecting someone?” he hears shoko speak behind the door.

“no, let me check who it is though.”

the door swings open about five seconds the later, the smile on your face quickly fades away at the sight of sukuna standing at your door. your arms cross across your chest defensively, blocking yourself off from him. “what do you want.”

you spoke to sukuna like he was nothing more than a pest, nothing more than just a nuisance. but damn, if you didn’t look beautiful even while you were glaring daggers at him. after seeing only glimpses of you around campus, either with shoko or alone, this was a sight that was more than welcome.

it’s still early on in your pregnancy. maybe three, four months max. but given that the giant in front of you’s nearly seven feet tall, you’re already starting to show. not much, but a little bump peeks out underneath the oversized tee you had on.

you have a soft glow to your face that makeup couldn’t replicate, an aura that he wants nothing more than to bask in for as long as you’d let him. which apparently doesn’t seem like it’ll be long just based on the glare you’re shooting him.

“well?” you prompt, foot tapping against the hardwood floor. right, you wanted to know what he was doing here. sukuna swallowed dryly, holding the door open with his foot before you shut it in front of face. c’mon idiot, speak.

his grip on the bouquet of flowers in hand tightens, knuckles a shade of ghostly white. the flowers pathetically droop to one side, almost as pathetic as he feels standing in front of you again. he extends them out to you, watching as you take them with a wary gaze.

you don’t thank him—sukuna expects that much already, but you don’t throw them away. you simply set them aside like you’re still considering what to do with them. sukuna hopes you’ll give him that same amount of consideration.

he clears his throat, “our last conversation didn’t go well.” that earns a sharp scoff from you, seconds ticking down on an imaginary clock. still, he manages to continue, “i know i said i didn’t wanna be a dad. but i want to be a part of the baby’s life now. go to appointments with you and all the shit you’re doing with gojo.”

“so you’re only doing this because you’re jealous of gojo.” it’s not a question, it’s a simple observation. grass is green. the sky isn’t blue but rather a reflection of the sun’s rays on the earth’s atmosphere. and ryomen sukuna is fucking jealous of satoru gojo.

“yes, i am jealous,” the words come out like they’re being forced out of him, each syllable strained as it leaves his tongue. sukuna’s brows furrow, shaking his head before begrudgingly continuing, “i’m jealous that he’s getting everything i’m not.”

it’s well deserved, a little voice in his head spoke. he immediately shut that one down.

“and who’s fault is that?” you don’t miss the chance to respond, about to say more when your phone buzzes in your pocket. gojo.

five minutes away :3 i brought kikifuku don’t tell shoko

a small, involuntary smile forms on your face at the sight.

it’s become routine at this point—having him take you to your appointments and go out to eat after. maybe study for an upcoming exam, play a round of digimon until you had to keel over the toilet. it hasn’t been easy, by any means, even if you were just starting your first trimester, but shoko and gojo had been a great help through it all.

this month, gojo’s research had informed him that the embryo would start to turn into a fetus. that it would start to move around, grow nails and hair, that it would start to resemble, well, a baby.

“just tell him to fuck off,” sukuna speaks up, glaring at your phone like it personally offended him, “spend the day with me, mama. i’ll take you out and buy some baby clothes or whatever you want.”

you would’ve swooned to hear him say that two months ago. instead, you just feel a throbbing headache pounding at the back of your skull. and a strong urge to just punch him in the mouth. it feels forced—a way to throw even more money in your face after he’d fucked up, that he’d confirmed your worst fear upon approaching him with the news.

and now you’re painfully aware that while the man in front of you has been absent and self centered, gojo had taken it upon himself to be someone that you could grow to depend on. offering a ride without so much as you needing to say a word, holding your hand throughout your appointments. to simply being by your side without complaint.

you couldn’t just bring yourself to tell him to turn around just because the big oaf feels threatened. feels entitled to come back into your life whenever he pleases, whenever he decides it’s not so much of a shame to be around you.

“i’m not going to say no to gojo just because you want to be a part of the baby’s life now,” you respond calmly, measured to a fault, “but if you’re really serious about trying to make this work, come to the baby shower in two weeks.”

not much, but an olive branch. a peace offering to help him prove himself.

sukuna could work with that.

not because of the brand itself, no, but rather the emblem on the necklace-the two intertwined g's coated in swarovski crystals. crystals that glistened with even just the slightest sliver of light.

and now crystals that were glistening underneath your phone's flash. the very same two g's bounced off your chest with every thrust of sator's hips against your own, pushing your mouth even deeper down suguru's cock-serving as a reminder of who exactly was making you cum now.

but it wasn't enough for the two of them that there was a slight possibility your ex would see you with the necklace, they had to show him just exactly what he was missing out on.

"come on baby, look up at the camera f'me. tell your ex how it feels," suguru cooed, using his thumb to wipe off some of the drool leaking down your parted lips. you moaned against his cock, looking up at the camera with tear streaked eyes. "so good, sug-fuck!" your words came out muffled, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat.

"yeah?" satoru didn't miss the opportunity to goad him on, one of his hands gripping your hip. the other moved to the small of your back, making you arch even further. "feels soo much better, huh? poor pussy's been neglected?"

you simply nodded, digging your nails into suguru's thighs. even though you hadn't responded, your cunt was more than happy to. loud squelches echoed throughout the room with every rhythmic plap! plap! of satoru's thrusts, pussy dripping over his cock like a running faucet.

satoru took the phone from suguru, focusing the lens on where your greedy cunt was practically swallowing his cock inch by inch. "did he even make you cum, sweetheart? or did he just make you cry?" he taunted even further, rubbing small circles onto your hip with his thumb.

"n-no," you turned your head back to look over at satoru, "said something was wrong with me." suguru clicked his tongue, taking your chin and bending down to your level. "nothin' wrong with you, angel. just everything wrong with your taste." his hair tickled the sides of your face as he leaned in, pressing his lips against your own.

you went back to slobbering over suguru's cock, hollowing your cheeks out in an attempt to take him further with each time sator fucked you into it. satoru took the hand on your back, rubbing at your engorged clit with two fingers. "come for me, we got you. gonna take care of you, yeah?"

your legs shook with your impending orgasm, your nails practically digging into suguru's thighs. “toru, fuck fuck, gonna cum, make me cum, please, plea-" incoherent babbles left your mouth before your orgasm washed over you like awave. the release had your toes curl and your tongue loll out from the corner of your mouth, cunt dripping over satoru's bedsheets.

"look at how pretty she looks when she cums," satoru clicked his tongue, scooping up your essence with his finger before sticking it in his mouth, "tastes so sweet, so good. and your shitty ex didn't wanna put in the effort."

"not like he'll ever see her like this again," suguru retorted, taking the phone to capture your fucked out expression, "you think she's gonna be satisfied after she had us?" he tossed the phone to the side, sliding his cock out of your mouth.

you weren't sure why you'd thought they'd be like your ex, when they'd proven to be nothing like him, but you still found yourself surprised to see that they were up for another round. nothing like the five minute quick and done that you'd grown.. regrettably accustomed to.

"come on, we got a year of orgasms to make up to you, pretty girl." suguru eased you onto your back, the two of them kneeling in between your legs. he dipped his tongue into your hole, lapping up the mixture of sator's cum and your own.

"lemme get a taste." satoru took suguru's chin, facing him before their lips crashed together into a sloppy kiss. the exchange between the two was more spit and tongue rather than passion, pure desperation and lust filling them. droplets of spit (who's? you weren't completely sure) landed against your skin, the scene in front of you enough to have you pressing your legs together.

satoru licked his lips when he pulled away, glancing back over at you with a cocky smile on his face, "keep 'em open, sweets. we didn't forget about you."

the air feels thick and stiffening upon stepping out, a thin trail of sweat already beading down agent fushiguro's back. sand sticks to every part of his body, from the soles of his black loafers to his lungs with each breath he intakes. it’s unbearable and the job hasn’t even started yet.

the city hasn't yet woken up.

it's bathed in a scorching glow of sunlight, dulling each building surrounding the infamous strip into professional business meetings and budget discussions. a couple row boats pass through the canal, the water a relaxing stream underneath the harsh, unwelcoming sunlight.

an occasional tourist swerves by, chasing down a speeding taxi with a couple bills tightly clutched in hand. a couple others are snapping photo after photo of the eiffel tower, of a hotel that was deemed luxurious enough. each one trying to capture their little bit of the city.

though vegas didn't come alive until the late hours of the night, the strip bathed in fluorescent lights, signs flashing from left to right with women standing on their respective corner of the street. slot machines ringing through each casino, more often than not indicating disappointment. just enough of a prize to keep its users swinging one more time, though.

but of course, the luxury of tourism wasn't what toji fushiguro and his team were here to investigate. a manila folder was briskly dropped onto his lap, a couple papers sticking out the side. "local police report that a major banking company’s security has been breached,” nanami’s voice fills the vehicle, stern and calm, the brief almost clinical, “they report over two million stolen.”

red, blue, and white lights flash from a mile away, about a dozen patrol units parked outside of the crime scene. reporters crowd from behind the yellow tape, sticking a microphone in whoever's face they could manage. the flock immediately runs over to the black van pulling up beside police cars, making exiting the vehicle nearly impossible.

questions flood one after the next, each voice trying to be louder than the last and overlapping in a nonsensical chatter. toji shoves his way through the crowd, making his way inside of the building. pristine white floors paved the way inside, the walls painted an underwhelming shade of grey.

a corporate building raking in more than they filed for taxes hijacked out of a million despite having one of the best security systems in the country. supposedly impenetrable. it ended up being dismantled in five minutes. probably would've been quicker if you weren't eating a delicious slice of pizza.

nonetheless, it wasn't the first of these companies to report this kind of fraud. about five of them had gone to the police with their complaints, yet not a trace was left behind after you were done. the ip address linking to the hijack led to the bumfuck of nowhere in the pacific ocean.

even the best hacker in the world, boy genius, and the sweetest lad in the land (that title's self proclaimed), satoru gojo was left in shock. and slightly jealous, claiming that the bau needed to invest in that kind of tech.

it was certainly more expensive the further up you went, cubicles replaced by corner offices taking up a whole damn hallway and floor to ceiling windows house owners could only dream of having. marble floors detailed with golden accents lead toji over to the ceo’s main office, a red velvet carpet leading to a huge mahogany desk.

the chief of police pulls toji over to the side, passing over a file with all the evidence collected from the case. a couple shots that a camera took nearby, none of them capturing your face clearly. "i know we called you over here but try to keep my officers involved. they already feel like you're taking the credit."

toji merely let out a scoff—it wasn’t any of his business what the officers thought—but he found himself nodding regardless. waving the other man away, “yeah, yeah, we’ll do that.”

he looked through the files he’d been handed, brows furrowing at the evidence recollected. you were methodical, you didn’t make mistakes. “ryomen,” he calls in, feeling a headache starting to root itself deep into his skull, “she left something to track. you want me to go after it?”

sukuna lets out a gruntled sigh from the other side of the line—equally as puzzled as the other man. “yeah, go ahead. report back on what you find, we’re meeting up at the precinct later to figure out what to tell the press.”

the address led him to the back of the paris las vegas hotel, a lock being handed to him by one of the employees upon entering. toji made his way over to the bridge out back, where couples were in bliss and hooking their lock into the fence under the illusion of ‘forever.’ his footsteps padded against the heavy wood, making his way across.

toji wasn’t sure what he was looking for—if it would be something amiss or just simply another distraction from you. though he supposes a playing card left behind is as best as it’s going to get, kneeling down to pick it up.

meet me at the venetian at 9 pm, agent fushiguro.

so you were watching him just as he was watching you.

he’d encountered lots of writing during his time as an investigator, from sloppy unintelligible scribbles to clean, almost psychotically methodical sentences from individuals who thought they were smarter than the bau.

yours fell into none of those categories. it was natural, small, letters separated just enough, and slanted like you’d been rushing. like your brain was working faster than your brain.

the team was busy interviewing various members from the company by the time he arrived, some of the uncooperative while some simply just didn’t know what to say. either way, nothing had come out of the interviews. “tell me ya got something, fushiguro,” sukuna lets out a quiet huff, rubbing a hand over his exhausted features.

he’s aged two decades over the span of this mission. toji drops the card on his desk, plopping down on the seat across.

sukuna takes the card, examines it closely before turning it around. "so the suspect knows who you are." a sentence that hung heavily in the room. the best move would be to go—strap microphones onto his chest and get as much information as possible. the best that they could hope for would be an admission, something that could be used for a conviction.

a foolish hope, but worth giving a chance.

sukuna's expression turns serious for a moment, arms tightly crossed against his broad chest. what he usually saves to intimidate the new recruits. "you sure you can take this mission? your daughter's sick and i don't know if you wanna be in the hospital with her tonight.

“you're my best man, fushiguro. but the higher ups keep getting on my ass that it's affecting your quality of work."

if it wasn’t for the mutual respect between them, toji would've been out the door long by now. "tsumiki's got nothing to do with the case. i can take it."

tsumiki had been in a coma for the last few months, leaving him with a hefty bill from the hospital to ensure she was comfortable and well taken care of. his presence was better here—out in the field doing something instead of feeling helpless in front of his children and his wife.

he spent more time at the office than he did at home. one more night wouldn’t make a difference.

after more failed interviews, sukuna finally relented. a short brief was given to the rest of the team, each member with something to do. nanami and geto would be with the press— trying to shift the narrative from how 'useless' the police was, gojo was in charge of trying to track any of your movements, and shoko would be conducting any extra interviews.

the wait until eight thirty was almost agonizingly slow. though it gave them some time to practice what kind of questions he should be asking, what would get you to make a confession. and then, just in case, sukuna had him practice a round of blackjack with nanami.

despite the fact that nanami had never once gone out with the team out for drinks or well, just out in general (toji would assume), he was still beating his ass in blackjack. even with a twelve, a twelve of all things, nanami still somehow managed to get the upper hand over him.

"maybe they're not that good at it." the only attempt at consolation nanami bothered giving, patting toji's shoulder before shaking his head.

toji was completely and utterly hopeless. a lost case, if you will.

the bau had picked out a suit for him, a classic black and white tux with cameras smuggled nearly everywhere. toji's certain that he even felt one near his ass crack. but if even one of them caught a single grain of your face, that would be enough for gojo to trace back onto any database. and then came the maze of microphones.

"don't know what kinda obsession this one has with you but get them to t-” sukuna clasped on what seemed to be thousandth microphone onto his bare chest, barking orders he'd heard a number of times already.

"yeah, yeah. get them to talk and then get outta there, i—ow," sukuna merely glared as he tightened the last microphone tighter than necessary, letting it slap against the other man's chest.

the las vegas strip had finally come to life in full swing by the time the mission started, the concoction of lights flashing from one side to the next almost dizzying. cars passed by in a flash through the narrow streets, only a blur of headlights left behind. more people walked through the streets than earlier, debating on a club or a casino.

toji walks with purpose in a place where people walked to the place with the flashiest decor.

the casino you'd managed to book for the night wasn't the most luxurious by any means, his loafers kept getting stuck on sticky floors with every step that he took. cheap dollar slot machines lined up the entrance, each one entrancing customers walking in with the promise of a bigger reward.

but it was still relatively nice. a bright chandelier hung off the ceiling of the lobby, the few people around the casino dressed in either black or white, a few selected by the bau to act incognito and a couple others that managed to stumble in.

champagne poured in bedazzled glass bottles, rushing through each empty cup much like the luxurious fountains outside the hotel, coins clinking and dropping against machines, each one dropped in with the anticipation that it’d be the winning drop.

you hadn’t walked in yet and he could already hear an incessant yapping in his earpiece. "tojiiii, hurrry up. there's a late night laser showing at the csn planetarium," gojo whines from his cushy office chair back at the bau.

he could hear the nerd's every movement, from the moment the freak crunched chips in his ear to the moment he ripped a loud fart and blamed it on the printer. toji didn’t hesitate in lowering the volume of his earpiece, leaving the other man talking to himself.

he's not really sure what—who?— to expect. toji's staring intently at every person that just happens to pass by his table, almost expecting one of them to take a seat. he feels like an anxious teenager all over again, waiting for a first date with the hope he wouldn't get ghosted.

the sound of heels clicking against marble floors breaks him out of his stupor, looking up to see you approaching the table. your back was pin straight, head held high. each step you took was with entirely too much confidence. for someone who had nine patrol cars awaiting them outside, anyway.

your eyes were covered by a masquerade mask, the golden lace matching the tight black dress you had on. simple black gloves on to avoid leaving fingerprints behind. nearly everything was accounted for. you had on bright red lipstick, attracting attention without having to do much.

"you showed." you almost sounded surprised, taking a seat across from him at the table.

toji shifts a little, angling his wrist to be facing you directly. "yeah, keep it just like that big boy," gojo murmured from his spot on the line, keys clacking as his fingers worked at 290 words typed per minute. he nearly rolled his eyes, but didn't bother moving. you simply smiled, like you could see right through him.

"there's no trace of her face anywhere," gojo finally muttered, his typing coming to a halt. he sounded utterly perplexed, editing down the photo to its barest pixels to see if he could find you anywhere. there wasn't anything on social media, any government documents, almost as if you didn't exist. "i can't find her."

a server passed by, dropping a deck of cards along with a selection of chips to be distributed between the two of you. "anything to drink?" they questioned, fishing out a drinks menu.

"reposado, please." toji could've spent a couple minutes analyzing your choice of drink and what that said about you as a person, that you prefer to be spontaneous and bold, but you're already looking at him. waiting for what his order would be.

"i'll take the same thing." he doesn't even like alcohol. before he has a chance to change his mind, the server's already walking away over to the mini bar. you're shuffling through the cards already, splitting halfway across the deck by riffling cards with your thumb.

after making two piles that are nearly the same size, you bend the cards and shuffle. all without looking away from toji. "do you like gambling, officer fushiguro?" the question had come out simple, as if you were asking for the weather. the second stack is squared onto the original deck, ensuring an even run for the two of you.

you passed over his cards before taking yours as the designated dealer of the table. there wasn't a single tell about you as you picked up your selection of cards, not one lip bite or eye twitch that would indicate something.

toji let out a quiet scoff, picking up his own cards, "not on blackjack." usually, his luck was tried on boat and horse races. he never had much luck with those either, usually ending up with the boat falling short.

half the time they wouldn’t even finish the lap.

he flips over the cards, almost wanting to groan at the sum he’s been faced with. 16.

it doesn’t give him a lot of room to work with—leaving him with a slim number to increase his chances and an even bigger risk of going overboard. he doesn’t know what he’s dealing with, what you could possibly have. so, he does the first thing he thinks of.

he pushes more chips onto the original stack, holding up one finger. he was choosing to double down. toji fushiguro was bluffing, it was obvious even by the way he was sitting. you plucked a card from the top of the deck, passing it over.

toji makes a big show of looking over his cards again before picking up the one off the table. he visibly tenses up upon the results, poker face gone to the wind. he almost wishes he wouldn't have flipped the card—all he has is a six.

you don't pluck any card from the deck, only leaving him even more suspicious. "fold." he places his cards on the table, a striking 23 meeting your gaze. you place the two cards you had on the table—an ace and a ten of jacks. a natural twenty one. you eagerly swipe your arm across, taking his chips with a shit-eating grin on your face.

"what's your idea of an ideal date, agent fushiguro?" you question, leaning forward a bit. toji only blinks slowly in response, hearing the incessant chatter in his ear again. from sukuna, from gojo, from anyone who could talk into the mic.

you could've asked about the fbi's top security codes (he wouldn't have given them regardless), about how much evidence they'd collected against you (once more, he wouldn't tell), and yet you chose to ask that.

"you serious?" he's waiting to be let in on the punch-line of your joke.

"deadly so, agent."

toji blinks slowly, thinking back to the best date he's had as of yet. it's been far too long since he's been at home for more than ten minutes at a time to get changed into a new suit, even longer since he's had the opportunity to be with his wife.

"wife likes this ramen spot. type where your feet stick to the ground, the bell doesn't chime anymore, but the food, fuck, the food makes up for it. so that," he speaks up after a while, the most sincere he's been this afternoon.

19.

toji places his cards down, leaving you to make the next move. you have a twelve, your only move is to pick up a card. your brow twitches upon picking it up, the only thing giving you away. still, your only option is to pluck a card off the table. a 6 of queens. you could pick up another one, test out your luck, but with chances this slim…

you fold, revealing your hand to him. a striking 18 to his nineteen. toji has to a double take, looking between his cards and yours. for the first time tonight, toji ends up winning a hand. and he's more than eager to collect, pawing at your chips and sliding them over.

"why'd you start taking money from these companies?" he decided to ask, taking your chips onto his side of the table. "could've gone for ones with less security."

you simply raise a brow, unsure if you should be amused or offended. "surely you don't think i'm stupid enough to answer that one."

he simply shrugs in response, leaning back against his chair. a waste of a question, one could say. "i don't know why the suspect's doing what they're doing, but i do know that taking away from companies that are polluting the environment we live in and donating said money to people who need it, well, it's retributive."

toji's mind briefly flickers to tsumiki—of spending a few thousand every month just to make sure she's even alive. of how much that amount of money would ensure better treatment, better quality, better everything. but just as quick as he let his thoughts stray, he focused back onto the conversation. "you saying you're a robin hood?"

you take a sip from your glass before giving another vague answer, "that's another question, wouldn't you say?"

you're not sure how much time has passed since you started playing, the few people that were once around had slowly started to trickle out as the night progressed. probably looking for a place with much more ambiance than the one tonight. chips flew from one corner of the table to the other, a hefty stack on your side.

lady luck had not gone with toji tonight.

toji reaches over to take a sip from the glass set on the table by a bartender passing by, the tequila tasting like pure rubbing alcohol upon going down. his features settle into a grimace, setting the glass down with more force than necessary. he only has one chip left to bargain. still, he slides it over the table.

you slide two chips onto the middle, dealing toji two cards. he's slow to flip them over, wanting to prolong this as much as possible. wanting to give gojo as much possible time to work with. he's met with a nineteen upon flipping the two, the highest he's gotten without going over.

but just because the universe wants to mess with even further, you turn your two cards to expose a twenty to him. it's over and the crew is left back where they started—with no clues, no suspect, and no way of actually bagging a conviction without conspiring against the court.

to add salt into the wound, you take your two chips along with his, sliding them onto your side of the table. "you gonna ask me the question?" he prods, waiting for and already annoyed at what could possibly leave your mouth now.

you don't answer immediately, taking a sip from your glass of tequila. it goes down with much more ease than it had with toji. you're getting off on this, on having the upper hand. on how fidgety he seems to be getting by the second. and then, just barely, when he least expects it, is that you move.

your heel catches onto his pant sleeve, slowly pushing your way up his ankle to his calf. an innocent enough smile curling on your lips around the glass before your head tilts to the side. "would you like to come up to my room?"

he should be reporting you to his team, cuffing you and shoving you to the back of a cruiser. it'd be real simple, too. just finish up the paperwork and he'd be out of this desert before the sun came up,

instead what came out of his mouth was, "yeah, let's go."

glass doors give way to the elevator in the back, floors leading up to the 53rd level. you tap against the button that goes up to the twentieth floor, leaning against the railing next to agent fushiguro. a silence settles between the two of you, a comfortable silence filled by the elevator music filling the air between you.

sliding off your hotel card from your purse, you feel cold metal digging onto the small of your back where his hand had once been. a gun. you didn’t need to turn around to know. “no funny business,” toji orders, pushing the barrel of the gun deeper into your skin. a shiver runs down your spine, all the while you’re leaning back against it.

his thumb's pressed against the trigger, ready for any sudden movement. you simply turn around, lightly pulling him in by his tie. "no funny business, i promise," you whisper, your voice low before you turn the doorknob. the hotel room is almost shining from how clean it is, the only trace you have is a suitcase in the corner of the room.

a suitcase he doubts has anything personal inside of it. toji stands in the middle of the room, gun still tightly clasped around his fingers while he analyses the room. there's nothing out of the ordinary, nothing to watch. nothing to look out for.

you take a seat onto the plush california king, gloved fingers undoing the straps of your heels. they fall onto the carpeted floor, a subtle clink that sounds all that much louder in the quiet room. "what's this for?" toji finally breaks the silence, gesturing to the room.

"come closer. i don't bite," your voice drips like melted honey, a saccharine sweet invitation that has his feet trudging forward, "well, not unless you ask." he's standing right in front of you, gun pressed against your temple. it should scare you, it really should.

but you lower the gun, wrapping your lips around the barrel. it's cold—probably hasn't been used in a while. your lipstick coats the top of the gun like some sick decoration, saliva dripping from the corners of your mouth. the cameras on his suit had long since been deactivated—leaving this moment for just the two of you.

"fuck me," a muffled groan leaves his lips at the sight, setting the gun back in its holster. you pull him down by his tie again, this time crashing your lips onto his. he kisses back like it's second instinct, like he's getting reacquainted with an old friend. it's nothing but messy, strings of saliva connecting your lips onto his, your nails digging onto whatever you could reach, while his tongue's invading your mouth.

there's a brief pause when you tug him onto the bed, the man landing on top of the silk 3000 thread count sheets with an ungrateful thud. that's all you get before his lips are on yours again, coaxing your mouth open. his hands move down, gripping your waist to keep you straddled against him.

slick drips onto to your thin lace panties, soaking through the material against his slacks. he hardens against you, your hips moving to rub yourself against him. "you want it that bad?" toji teases, a smirk spreading across his scarred lips like he wasn't about to bust his load.

"don't forget who's in control, fushiguro."

you unclasp the handcuffs hanging off his utility belt in one swift motion, dangling them in between manicured fingers. "you brought these just for me?” you coo, unclasping one of them, “i’m honored agent fushiguro.”

toji doesn’t bother moving, letting you snap it onto his wrist. one of your fingers twists the ratchet, leaving just a finger of space. escape is nearly impossible.

then you do the same with the other arm. taking a step back to admire your handiwork, you’re struck with the realization of just handsome toji looks. his cheeks are flushed, a thin layer of sweat beading on his forehead and a couple strands stuck.

his tie is halfway undone, the buttons of his shirt undone to expose every ab and every ridge of his torso. a couple scars littered across, evidence of hard years at work along with a few moles. and wires latched even onto his nipples, picking up every detail of this conversation.

you dig for a pair of scissors from your nightstand table, snipping through each one individually. it wouldn't be long until the fbi stormed into the building, calling this mission off. you give them twenty minutes to mobilize troops, another ten to make their way into the building. maybe ten to actually find the room.

still, you move like you have all the time in the world. "fushiguro, i'm calling this o-” sukuna's voice comes in through the static before the microphones shut off, leaving you to talk comfortably now. leaving you in complete secrecy.

your eyes trail to the happy trail dusting down his belly, leading down to just underneath his slacks. his cock twitches and strains against the material, a large tent you can’t help but rub the side of your face against. he smells musky, a mix of leather and cologne.

the man strains against the metal, hips bucking up to meet your cheek. your tongue swipes across your lips before you open your mouth, moving against the side of his clothed shaft. your thumb swipes across the twitching tip, wet even through the fabric. “you want it that bad?" you echo his past words to him, a scoff leaving him in response.

the scoff wouldn't hide the way he was aching for you to touch him though.

slowly, your fingers snake up his thighs—feel them tighten up underneath the most featherlight of touches—just past his zipper and move up to his belt. you unclasp it in one swift motion, moving the leather through the loops until it snakes onto the floor.

you slide his boxers down, long cock slinging back against his lower stomach upon release. drops of opalescent precum smear across the dusting of hair, tip reddened and twitching. it curves to one side, veins marking the sides of his shaft leading down to a heavy sac.

you almost drool at just the mere sight of it.

wrapping your lips around the tip, your tongue darts out to taste his pre. glob after glob of spit drips down your lips, coating his cock in a translucent sheen. you wrap your hand around the base, fingers tightening around it before twisting your wrist uppp and downnn. "better at sucking dick than getting away with crime," he tuts, his head thrown back.

your cheeks hollow out to take more of his cock in your mouth, your hand still jerking him off at the base. bubbles of drool pool up in your mouth before your lips part, smearing it down his shaft. "you wound me, agent," you pout, "i really tried y'know." your head bobs, taking him further inch by inch while your hand moves like you're trying to milk him dry.

a strangled groan leaves him once your tongue starts tracing each thick vein like you wanted to commit it to memory, taking him further and deeper down your throat. "just like that, baby." you meet his half-lidded gaze, cheeks hollowing out to take more of him in your mouth. the stretch makes your jaw ache, raven tuffs of hair tickling your nose when you take him in fully.

your thighs rub against one another, aching for whatever friction you could get. toji's finally shut up, reduced to half-sentences and groaned babbles. manicured fingers reach down to his balls, you're rolling them over in your palm before your tongue takes over your hand. you're jerking him off again, hand squeezing around the base. toji almost sees white.

"f-fuck, don't stop, right there, sweetheart," he moans, bucking his hips to meet your hand. your tongue moves up up up from the base of his scrotum to the sack, taking it in your mouth and swirling the pink muscle across the sensitive skin. his knuckles turn white from how hard he's gripping the bed sheets, streams of precum painting your wrist white as your thumb swipes across the sensitive tip.

toji's almost there, his toes are curled up into gang signs underneath his socks, head thrown back and chest heaving. his balls feel heavy in your mouth, tightening up with each second longer. "just like that, make me cum," his order comes out more as a breathless request. you flick your tongue around the sac in a figure eight, pulling away right before he had the chance to cum.

his chest is heaving when you take a step back, his cock still twitching from the aftershocks and dripping with saliva and pre. "…evil fuckin' woman," he lets out a breathless laugh, watching as you move you across the room intently.

your fingers carefully push up your dress, exposing the panties you'd chosen for the night. a pair of emerald green lace panties, ones that almost felt like looking in a mirror for toji. "do you like them agent?" you do a small show of taking them off, shimmying off the lace material before twirling them around your finger.

the lace flings off your finger, landing on his face. toji's unabashed—taking a sniff of the slick that's dripped onto it like a faucet before he's inching the crotch area to his mouth. he's sucking the material dry, his eyes closed as the taste of you fills his tastebuds. sluuuurppp! a better type of substance than the tequila downstairs, he'd say.

"fuckin' love it, ya taste so good," he mumbles, lips suctioned around your panties while drop after drop lands on his tongue. he opens his eyes to see you're already moving up the bed, inching closer and closer. you take off the mask once you're on his lap, fully exposing yourself to him for the evening. a sight that's more than familiar to him.

"atta girl, there ya go." your hand reaches beneath your legs, taking the base of his cock. smearing your slick onto his cock before you slowly start to lower yourself onto it. the thick, mushroom tip slips in between your folds, a stretch that has your walls clamping tightly around him.

your wetness envelops his cock as you slide further down, sinking inch by inch down his shaft until he fills you up completely. you don't move, not immediately, still getting adjusted to the stretch. you start off slow—a lazy roll of your hips half-way before you're moving down again.

his hips buck into you, a quiet way to try to claim control. you take toji fushiguro's prized gun from his discarded pants, the metal heavy in your palm. it's not loaded, you quickly realize. still, you press it against his temple just in the same way he'd done to you. and you swear you feel his cock twitch underneath.

"don't forget who's the one in control here." you start moving again, gyrating your hips and rubbing your clit against his pelvis. toji leans up against the gun, almost savoring the change in position as you fuck yourself into him. each drive of his cock into you has his tip hitting your g-spot, wetness enveloping his shaft like a slip n' slide.

his fingers twitch against the cuffs, wanting to reach out and take hold of your tits bouncing in his face. you lean in close enough, his mouth immediately latching onto one of them. his lips suction around your areola, swirling his tongue around the hardened nub. you twist and pinch at your other tit, rolling the nub between your thumb and forefinger.

his mouth's all too eager to latch on, pushing your fingers to the side. saliva drools off the corner of his lips, eyes fluttering closed like he's in bliss once again. you're sliding against his shaft, hips moving you against his thick cock. "taste so good, fuck, keep using me," toji let out a muffled groan, motorboating his face between your tits.

you keep fucking yourself back onto him, almost feeling it be enough. it's almost there, almost enough to have your toes curling, but you can't manage to fuck yourself fast enough.

your hands grip his chest, nails digging onto the skin while your hips grind in circles against his pelvis. thighs shaking and quivering, your pace starts to slow down to where you're barely moving against him. "look at'cha, could've been getting fucked properly by now," toji tsks from his spot, a mock glare shot his way.

"fuck me, please," the whine leaves your lips in a whisper, barely audible.

he bucks up into you once, just once before a shit-eating grin spreads on his face. "what was that?"

a huff leaves your lips, folding your arms across your chest. staring at toji with the nastiest glare you could muster. he's unmoving. barely blinking. "..are you deaf? fuck me, fushiguro."

toji slips out of the handcuffs with practiced ease, a quiet 'oof' leaving your lips upon being flipped over. his arm slides underneath your plush thighs, folding you in half and holding you like you weighed nothing.

“a-ah fuck!”

“you can take it, just like—” toji bottoms out in one push of his hips, your hands digging into his arm. you feel like you're being split in half, the pieces rearranging to fit around him. “thaaattt, sweetheart."

he presses against the bulge on your lower stomach, tip nudging near your cervix. "thought you were in control, what happened? big mean ol' toji took over?"

before you could muster a response, he's thrusting in and out of you—fucking you like nothing but a ragdoll. ah! ah! ah! broken little syllables leave your mouth, unable to come up with anything else. toji's satisfied—dragging his thick cock against your sensitive walls, hitting your g-spot with each push of his hips.

"only need to be thinkin' about how good i'm fucking you, right?" he teases, rugged voice right against your ear. a shiver runs down your spine, your head bobbing along in a nod. toji plants his feet on the bed, keeping his hand tightly gripped around your legs while he starts drilling into your cunt.

your cunt squelches back with each pummel of hips, each one knocking the breath of your lungs. "t-toji, fuck, just like that!" your moans fill the sex-ridden room, headboard smacking against the wall from the intensity of each one. one of his hands snakes down between your legs, rubbing his thumb against your throbbing clit.

"just like this?" he cooed behind you, though his teasing tone made it sound anything but. toji tilts your head towards him, met with the sight of your lipstick smeared and your eyes glazed over. a sight he couldn't get tired of. his lips slotted against yours almost instantly, a messy kiss with nothing but spit, teeth, and tongue.

"g'na cum, toji, almost there, almost there!" you moan into the kiss. he presses down on your lower belly, his other hand still rubbing at your swollen clit. "yeah baby, gonna cum? c'mon, you got it, all yours. come on, soak toji's cock." your eyes roll to the back of your head, orgasm washing over you like a wave. the rubber band inside of you tightens and tightens before SNAAPPP!

your essence dripped onto his thick shaft, a creamy base forming at the base of his cock. toji still rutted up against you, his own orgasm not far off behind. "ah! ah! ah! fuck toji, cum in me, please. need ya so bad, please please-” even if toji wanted to pull out, your pussy was tightly clamped around his cock. ropes of cum shoot deep inside of you, painting your walls white.

toji softened up inside of you, staying still. his head lolled forward, resting on the crook of your neck. "felt." he pressed a sloppy kiss onto whatever skin he could reach before trailing down. "so." another kiss. "fuckin' good."

“give me one more,” his lips suction around your glistening folds, sucking at the cum dripping out of you. his tongue dips inside of you, letting out a muffled groan upon each drop landing on his tongue. your hand moves down to the sweat slicked strands snaking in between your legs, gripping them tightly in between your fingers.

his tongue dips inside, determined on cleaning out the cum threatening to spill out of you. it dips inside of you, slurping up any drops before plunging two fingers deep inside. fucking it back into you. "toji, t-too much," you whine out through the shocks of overstim, each of your nerves like a livewire he keeps tapping against.

you're boneless by the time toji's done. he's moving across the hotel room, moving across the space like he'd been here before. toji comes back from the bathroom with a moist towel in hand, wiping you off with the gentlest of touches a brute like him could muster.

"don't gotta leave just yet." he wraps one arm around your tummy, keeping you tight against him. he's like a furnace to the touch, keeping you warm. "they won't be here til tomorrow." you want to protest, say that you should be on the run by now. but your eyes flicker shut, too exhausted to move. all you can manage is a meek nod before you doze off.

toji fushiguro wakes up to the sound of his phone ringing on the nightstand, about fifty missed calls from the team pinging up on his screen. you're not there next to him—you'd left in the early hours of the morning with only a playing card left behind as proof you'd ever been here in the first place.

see you in the next city, hubby. the bright red lipstick you'd worn the night prior left as a signature. he brought it up to his lips, almost imagining you were standing in front of him again.

sukuna would have his ass on a platter. if the man managed to find him.

piles and piles of books all focused around anatomy and female pleasure were stacked on his bookcase next to his neat lil’ collection of comics. he’d read them multiple times—to the point where he could probably recite each one back to front and front to back.

and still, he couldn’t manage to put what he’d read into action. every time he slid your panties down, salivating just at the sight of your glistening folds (after almost thirty minutes of foreplay), he froze.

his hands grew clammy, sweat beaded up on his forehead like he’d just ran a marathon, and his tongue started to feel like lead. everything he read left his mind and he ended up lapping at your cunt like a desperate dog until you pulled him off with a small, reassuring smile.

and now, you weren’t even entertaining the idea. “‘toru, it’s fine. i’ll just get my vibe to help me out or something,” you told him before he could even kneel down. satoru felt his heart drop to his ass.

satoru dropped back on his knees, staring at you like you’d offended him and his bloodline in one go. “you’re seriously gonna let a clanker-” he spat out the word with such disdain before continuing with his rant, “-into our bedroom? into our safe space and abode? i mean, seriously, think about the environment and the battery power required to power that thing. soon enough you’ll replace me with a robot and-”

you stopped him before he could continue with his rambling, “do you have a better idea then?”

“actually yeah, give me a second.” before you could respond, he darted off. locking himself in the bathroom and pulling his phone out like it was urgent.

it was.

his fingers flew across the screen, dialing the only number other than yours he had memorized by now.

he didn’t give the other man a chance to speak, immediately talking like he was recruiting geto for the military. “suguru i need your help. i feel like she’s about to dump my ass.”

a yawn left the other man’s lips, “okay woah, slow down,” the sound of sheets rustling sounded next like he’d just woken up, “why do you think she’s gonna break up with you?”

“because i don’t know how eat pussy!” satoru whined, louder than he intended to. “can you come over and teach me, pleaseee? i’ll pay you.”

“teach you how?”

that was surprisingly.. less resistance than gojo was expecting. “can you eat out my girlfriend?” he knew how ridiculous it sounded, but he was desperate. “i’ll learn by watching you.”

the line went silent, suguru seemingly considering the offer for a couple seconds. “and your girlfriend’s okay with all this?”

“…..yeah.”

“i’ll be right over in twenty then.”

twenty minutes later on the dot, suguru was settling in between your thighs, pulling your legs to dangle over his broad shoulders. the little ‘s’ anklet satoru had got you dangled almost mockingly. looking up at you before he asked, “this okay with you?”

you turned to look over at satoru, over in the cuck chair in the ‘corner of shame’ as he so called it, but suguru quickly brought your attention back to him, gently biting on your inner thigh. “i’m asking you. i’m not asking your idiot of a boyfriend. is this okay?”

“yeah, it’s okay,” you responded almost immediately, feeling a shiver run down your spine as suguru crawled up, tilting your chin up. his kiss wasn’t desperate like satoru’s were, but it was still hungry. his tongue traced the seam of your lower lip before he coaxed your mouth open, tasting you like you were a divine fruit.

one of suguru’s hands moved down, pushing your lace panties to the side with ease. “oh f-fuck,” you whined into his mouth, hips bucking up into his fingers as he started to rub your folds, spreading your slick like jelly on bread.

“there we-” suguru murmured, pushing two fingers inside of your dripping cunt, “-go. took it so well for me, just relax,” he all but cooed in your ear, fingers moving in a torturous pace as he thrust them in and out. in and out, slow and steady.

admittedly, it was a little hard to relax when your boyfriend’s big blue orbs were staring at what seemed to be your soul while he dutifully took notes. scribbling down what exactly had you making the most noise, what you seemed to enjoy that he didn’t do.

but you leaned back, allowing yourself to get lost in suguru.

suguru dropped back to where he was once before and where he belonged: face to face with your cunt. but he ignored your desperate attempts of bucking your pussy in his face, choosing to start off on your inner thigh. each brush of his lips, each kiss, felt like a mocking tease the more he avoided touching where you wanted.

“please,” you spoke up. suguru’s eyes darted over to yours, a shit-eating smile on his face as he leaned forward. breath hitting your cunt, your walls clenching at nothing.

“please, what?”

“please eat me out, i need it, need you, please,” you babbled despite the chuckle that escaped the man’s throat. satoru wrote that down enthusiastically—you’d never begged for him like this. if anything, you asked for him to stop.

suguru gives your thigh one last teasing bite before his tongue swiped across your folds, your slick overwhelming his taste buds. “you’re mmmf, missing out toru. she tastes like heaven.”

of course, satoru knew that. a pathetic whine left his lips as he watched suguru’s eyes practically roll back with each taste, eyes practically hyper focused on everything the man was doing. suguru spread your legs even wider, the tip of his tongue flicking against your entrance before he delved in.

“o-oh fuck, sugu!” a loud moan left your lips, fingers digging into his scalp as he started to eat you out like a man starving. saliva and slick dribbled down from his lips to his chin, the tip of his nose prodding against your throbbing clit.

satoru gojo didn’t bother even trying to keep up with his notes.

his notepad was left discarded, cock straining against the thin material of his digimon boxers. satoru didn’t free himself though, he didn’t deserve it. but he did palm himself through his sweatpants, giving himself just the slightest bit of pressure to feel some sort of relief.

“tastes so good, such a shame satoru can’t make you cum,” suguru let out a muffled groan against your cunt, each one sending a vibration shooting up your spine. his lips latched onto your swollen clit, sucking and swirling his tongue against the sensitive bud while his fingers thrusted in you once more.

“don’t stop, fuck- sugu, fuck, gonna cum, gonna cum.” you sounded so pretty when you weren’t faking your orgasm. your back arched off the bed, toes curling and desperate babbles left your mouth—all in desperation to cum.

“there we go, take what you deserve,” suguru cooed, your orgasm washing over you like a wave almost instantly. you soaked his lips and chin, and yet, you laid back against the bed with a satisfied sigh.

suguru got up from his spot, walking over to the cuck chair. he tilted satoru’s chin, immediately met with the sight of the flustered man before he leaned in. being so generous as to give him the divine taste, spit dripping down satoru’s skin the messier the exchange got. satoru let out a moan, fingers digging into the man’s shoulder to pull him impossibly closer.

and just as quickly as it’d started, the raven haired man pulled away. “alright, hope that helps,” suguru announced before leaving, the door slamming shut behind him. leaving you panting and clenching the bedsheets like it was nothing.

the prized doll that everyone wanted to get their grubby little hands on, you included. while many had been made in an attempt to replicate the original line made doll, only twenty had been distributed to the public and retailed at ¥7,623.

many had stayed up throughout the night to await the drop, not daring to stray away from the tab. not daring to refresh the page and stray away from their point in line. the twenty dolls sold out in the span of seconds, leaving many in the dust and wanting.

leaving many willing to pay obscene prices, sometimes even twenty more times than what it's worth.

however, it was the only piece that you were missing from your memorabilia collection: owning the original hockey mask used in friday the 13th, krueger's claws, myers' machete.. you get the point.

if there was a piece to be collected, changes were you already had it.

most of your free time was spent browsing through craigslist, through mercari, trying to find the doll without having to give up an arm and a limb. which only seemed to get more and more impossible by the day, sellers asking for what you could set a down payment on a car for.

once again, you decided to try your luck out and scroll through facebook marketplace.

thickdickuna: offer ¥1,505,005

an offer made by a man who spent his time analyzing and inspecting stockx graphs. you let out a small scoff, thumb swiping past that offer as quickly as you could to go to the next page. yes, you were desperate, but you could also pay off your semester's tuition with that kind of money. hard pass.

dilfnearyou: offer ¥753,233.00

the doll showing up on your screen barely looked like it was sitting upright, stitching messy around the overalls, and instead of 'good guys' on the front of the jean pocket, it was bad guys instead. upon closer inspection, googly eyes were put in place of the pretty purple ones you'd grown used to seeing.

it was quite possibly the worst knockoff you'd seen on this app.

you didn't hesitate to scroll onto the next page, each offer somehow worse than the last.

user420: offer ¥3,014.00

your first thought was this was a lame attempt at pulling off a scam, refreshing your screen just to make sure you weren't imagining things. the numbers hadn't changed, almost seeming to mock you. it wasn't even retail value, it just didn't make sense.

but you'd be lying if you said you weren't just the teensiest, tiniest bit curious. so, you clicked on it. you were welcomed by the sight of suguru in the original box on the first picture, a picture of him sitting on a dining chair on the next one. so, the doll look real enough.

but just how reliable was your seller?

the more you continued to scroll through her profile, the more you started to doubt yourself. your seller, user420, had reviews from actual real people, each one giving her a five star for getting their package quickly and efficiently.

you didn't hesitate to send her an offer, hearing back within the next hour.

after all the details had been sorted out, you decided to go to her home and pick him up. you weren't sure you trusted the postal service to take care of him.

the home was a quaint one on the countryside, shelves of multitudes of books and collectibles outlining the living room walls. a fluffy, white fat dog padded around the floor before splaying out right smack in front of the kitchen door, loud snores rumbling from her chest. sleeping like a single mom who'd just worked three jobs.

"do you want anything to drink?" she called out from the kitchen, getting a glass from the cupboard.

"just a water's fine."

it was quiet, serene but it still felt lively—felt like a home. well it was quiet until you heard a loud scream reverberating through the halls from upstairs, "fuck you, bitch!"

"sorry about that. my wife's playing eviction notice and things tend to.. get pretty heated." you slowly nodded, taking a sip from your glass.

"anyways, she wants me to get rid of the doll," she stated plainly, "it would be easy to sell him for just as much as other people are but i wanted to give him to someone who'd be able to give him a good home. and i'm hoping that it's you."

your back immediately straightened, hands folded in front of you as if this was an important interview. in a way, it was. you needed to prove you were capable enough to take care of suguru.

"i've been a big fan for years and i've wanted suguru since i saw him on the website," you started off, "and i know that you have plenty of candidates willing to pay for him, but just trust me when i say i'd take good care of him."

user420 looked at you, really looked at you, like she was trying to see whether you were being genuine before she stood up. she came back with suguru in her arms, setting the doll right in front of you. and wow, the pictures really did not do him justice.

suguru was in pristine condition— not one speck of dust, scratch, or scruff visible, tags still intact, and every single strand of hair accounted for. almost as if he'd just been taken out of the box. "i've had him for a couple years, got lucky and got him when it first came out."

still, you were skeptical. "can i ask what led to your wife wanting to get rid of the doll?" if you didn't know any better, you'd almost say she was looking to give him away.

"he saw us rubbing coin purses and came in with a pair of scissors like he wanted to join. never seen anything like it," she responded after a couple seconds, giggles leaving her lips like water before she stopped herself, "i have the purchase certificate if you're interested in seeing it."

now that little snippet of information made you set your cup down, brows furrowing even further. moving doll? you'd heard some reports about it before, but you'd never expected to hear it so casually. maybe you'd really just gotten lucky on the first time.

your eyes darted over to suguru, almost expecting to move on cue. he stayed completely still. "yeah, i'd like to see it, please." as soon as she left the room, you slowly started to poke at suguru's cheek. waiting for at least a blink, a shove of your finger, anything.

before you could continue to bother him further (and before he lost his last straw), she came back with a cardboard in hand and a bottle in the other, topping off her glass before setting it right beside her. she passed the paper over, letting you read it as long as you needed.

suguru geto—doll made in 2004. he wants you to be his best friend! verification number: 9474639268472. if lost, please return as soon as possible :)

any last doubts you had died down. he was very much real, this was very much real. you were going to get your very own geto doll. the chair shook beneath you with each jitter of excitement that coursed your veins, the smile on your face barely concealed.

but she was almost reluctant to let go of the doll just yet, clinging onto him tightly before passing him over to you. like she'd change her mind if she didn't. "like i said, i just want him well taken care of."

"i promise." with that, you and suguru (him with two seatbelts keeping him secure) were in your car heading back to your small apartment in the city.

the first day, nothing out of the ordinary happened.

you cleaned up the glass display your mother left a porcelain doll behind—family heirloom passed from generation to generation for the past five decades or whatnot (who really cared when you had your prized doll?), making sure that not a single speck was visible before gently setting suguru inside.

the most exciting thing that happened that night was that your latest purchase—a book—was now out for delivery.

the second night was when you started to hear movement.

rushed pitter patter of footsteps echoed outside of your bedroom door at around midnight, the sound rustling you out of your sleep. already preparing your complaint to your apartment manager for a rat invasion, you decided to try to fall asleep.

the steps continued. each one sounding less and less than some kind of mouse who'd crawled out of a crack in the wall. you opened your bedroom door to spot suguru standing there, a menacing look on his face while he held one of your kitchen knives over his head. anticipating the perfect moment to strike.

but unlike every victim he'd had thus far, you didn't run away. didn't so much as flinch. you only rubbed a hand over your face, "suguru, i have work tomorrow. can you save the scare until i've slept some?"

he supposed even old tricks managed to get boring eventually.

the knife slipped right from between his fingers, scattering across the floor. "still doesn't get you?" he question, head tilting to the side like he was genuinely confused.

"after years living with you, no." you rolled your eyes, picking the knife up by the handle. poking it against your pointer, you noticed, "it's dull. you're losing your touch, geto." with that little tidbit of information, you walked downstairs and set it in its cabinet.

you padded upstairs and instead of letting you pick him up to take him back to his glass cage downstairs, suguru rushed past you and plopped smack down in the middle of your bed. acting like he paid rent around this place.

you didn't bother trying to argue.

"scoot." suguru remained still, even going as far as to stretch his limbs out like a starfish.

"scoot over," you ordered, tone more firm as you prodded at his side harder. suguru let out a small groan but conceded, moving just the slightest inch to give you more space. rolling your eyes for the umpteenth time that night, you settled right beside him.

you could've sworn you felt him squish one of your tits while he was 'asleep.'

suguru was as demanding as they probably got. stomping up to your door at two or three in the morning with a scowl on his face and a hair brush in hand. plastic back pin straight while you combed through his long hair, getting all the knots and specks of dried blood off.

just as you were about to get up from your spot, something smacked right dab in the middle of your forehead. "ow—what the?" you grumbled, searching around the floor to search for the culprit. a pink sparkly hair tie. you picked up, spotting suguru giving you a dirty look.

"we're not finished yet. put my hair in a braid." you raised a brow at the demand, a quiet, "please?" added shortly after.

"keep doing that and i'll cut all your hair off," you grumbled, picking the tie off the floor, "stay still."

taking the almost silk like strands of hair in your hands, you parted them into three equal parts. each movement was swift, smooth—intertwining the right onto the middle before doing the same with the left. you continued to do that until each strand was neatly in a braid, tying up the end with the forsaken rubber band.

then came the fourth day.

you opened the front door in nothing but a bathrobe, loosely tied up at the front with cleavage on full display. small bleeding heart tattoo resting above your right tit, obvious when you moved even the slightest bit. "hi, what can i help you with?"

the mailman at the door swallows drily, eyes averting to your breasts before flipping back up to meet your gaze. "h-hi," he managed to spit out, sweat dribbling on his hairline, "i have a package."

you leaned forward, reveling in how nervous you were making the man. well that, and the fact you knew suguru was hearing every bit of this conversation. "i bet you do," your voice came out akin to a purr, the man almost dropping the box, "where do i need to sign?"

he fumbled with his tablet, holding a pen out with trembling hands while he leaned over. "right there on the dotted.." his throat went dry, eyes darting back onto your breasts again, "…line."

your wrist flicked as you signed your name onto the dotted line, taking the package from his hands. the mailman didn't leave just yet, hands stuffed in his pockets and mouth agape like words couldn't come to the tip of his tongue fast enough.

suguru's head turned to look at you, beady purple eyes practically burning a hole in the back of your head. anger coursed through all 2'9 feet of plastic the more you kept shamelessly flirting with the mailman, moving your bathrobe just the slightest bit.

"wouldyouliketogooutonadate?" the words left his mouth in a quick tumble, the man slapping a hand over his mouth like that'd take back what he said.

still, you played along. you bent down, the expanse of your legs on display as you set the box down before giving the mailman a innocent enough stare. "can you say that again? i didn't get that."

"would you like to go out on a date?"

a hum left your lips, your finger tapping against your chin like you were considering it, the golden band obvious on your finger now.

that was when he realized he'd screwed up. "ah, well, you see, i'd really love to but my husband wouldn't take that very well, you see." understatement of the year.

your mailman was left staring at your front door in a state of temporary shock, figuring out if he was imagining things. he shook it off, muttering something about a crazy woman before driving off.

you didn't notice what time suguru had snuck out from his box, telling him 'good night' at around 10:30. you didn't notice what time the door creaked open as he walked out into the night either. you only noticed when he did come back.

at approximately 3:45 a.m., you heard a loud thump on your doorstep, a creak of metal hinges following shortly after. the quick footsteps that you'd quickly learned to associate with suguru, a plate cracking on the floor as he presumably tried to get back into the confines of his box.

a quiet sigh left your lips before you pushed your fluffy blanket off, sliding onto your bunny slippers. padding downstairs, you were met with the sight of bloody miniature footsteps trailing to your front door, a handprint marking the knob.

tentatively, you slowly creaked the door open to spot your mailman from earlier delivered on your step like a christmas gift. blood gushing out from the multiple stab wounds penetrating through his back, hair tousled like he'd been pulled back with it.

you dropped down to your knees, extending a figure out to poke his cheek. unmoving, still very much dead. a new body that you had to dispose of at the crack of dawn.

dragging the man inside by his arms, you set him down on the cold floor before any of your neighbors taking a nightly run noticed the strange lump at your door. now to think what to do. garbage? no, the smell would practically give it away. meat grinder? too much work.

almost as if suguru had been reading your thoughts, he decided to speak up, "cut him up into pieces and throw him in a ditch." your arms ached by the time you were done, pieces in a garbage bag until you had to go to work in a couple hours.

"were you jealous?" you teased, walking up to suguru's display and lightly tapping on the glass. he looked like a complete and utter mess—a leaf and twig tangled up in his hair, mud smeared across his face and shoes, and blood stains painting the front of his overalls red.

a hmph left his lips, arms folded across his chest while he petulantly turned his head to the side. refusing to even hold eye contact with you. "no."

a giggle left your lips, reaching over and taking suguru out of his box. "well, if you were," you whispered, pushing a few stray strands away from his forehead, "i'd say you have nothing to be jealous about. till death do us part, remember?"

you placed a small kiss on his forehead and if dolls could blush, suguru was certain his plastic head would look like a ripe tomato. still, he swatted your face away. "good. because i'm not jealous. killed him because i wanted to."

"mhm, sure you did." you took him in your arm, leading him upstairs into your bathroom. the blaring white lights overhead made any chance of going back to sleep nearly impossible, but well, you had to deal with this now.

setting him down on the bathroom counter, you carefully pulled away the twig from his hair, trying not to tangle it even further. you'd never hear the end of it if you did. with a featherlight touch, you lightly wiped off the mud smeared across his face and his shoes.

the promise you made to your seller was already coming back to bite you in the ass.

"but we've talked about this, suguru," you clicked your tongue, pulling the clean sweater over his head. some shit with teddy bears from the baby's clothing section. "no killing people in the middle of the night."

suguru grumbled underneath his breath, pulling the sweater to look at it before giving you a deadly glare. you shrugged, "shouldn't have dirtied your sweater. come on, promise me. no more murders in the middle of the night."

he took your pinkie, begrudgingly wrapping his around yours. a promise that went above mere mortals. "i promise i won't murder in the middle of the night," he deadpanned, tone dry.

it was worth it to see the smile and tiny clap you'd directed his way, though. he'd even cleaned up his own mess the splotches of blood in your living room before you woke up for work, leaving you with less to do.

the perfect imagine of a gentledoll.

and then came the night of the full moon.

your living room had been prepared just right for the occasion, a ritual to bring suguru back to his original form if it worked.

you'd painted a large white circle painted in chalk right where your coffee table had just been earlier. pulling out a tape measure, you dragged it from one end of the circle to the other just to make sure. exactly nine feet. perfect.

you didn't have any ceremonial candles, but what you did have were candles you'd gotten on sale from bath and body works just last week. that was good enough, right? yeah, you'd be fine. they were under the recommended section, not the necessary.

everything would be fine, you just had to keep repeating that until you believed it.

the warm, yellow hue of the candles flickered against your face, an overly sweet smell of synthetic apples and cinnamon filling the room. a loud grandfather clock chimed in the corner, each tick an alert that the moment was inching closer and closer.

in one hand you had a glass of wine, halfway empty and in the other you had your reading selection for the night—voodoo for dummies. you took a sip, rim stained a deep shade of red when you pulled it away while skimming through the pages of the book.

skipping through goat sacrificing, blood ties, and a variety of spells, you finally got to page 435. damballa's chant.

"ade due damballa. give me the power i beg of you," you chanted, voice booming in the quiet of the room while you read from the excerpt in the book. you repeated the chant twice more, waiting with bated breath to see if it worked.

at first, nothing.

then it came, quickly. the temperature in the room dropped by almost 10 degrees in the span of seconds, a shiver running down your spine and goosebumps prickling your arms.

lightning flashed through your window, the flames from the candles flickering on and off before the room was completely painted in darkness. a low hum reverberated through the air, the overwhelming sense of being watched settling deep in your bones.

the candles flickered back on, the room painted in that golden hue again. smeared chalk replaced the lines that you'd drawn so intricately before, doll completely gone where you'd set him at.

had the spell not worked? other than the candles, you were sure that you did everything right. then you heard it. just barely but you heard it. a slight shuffle on the ground, following by a heavy groan.

in place of where the 2'9 doll had been laying earlier, there was a 6' man stretched out in your living room. the last time you'd seen him was in your shared home, shot dead by some cops in the area after he'd gone out for a hectic murder spree. probably deserved if you asked any of the townspeople.

this was a chance for the two of you to start over fresh—peace and serenity without the nervous breakdown over hearing a police siren or any murders. well, excluding the one that happened a couple days ago. that one didn't count.

he looked the same as he used to, except without all the bullet holes in his chest. he blinked slowly, raising his arms in front of him like he was making sure they were the right size before turning to look at you. "miss me?"

"just a little bit."

suguru's chains clinked as he moved to stand up from the floor, the sound of his boots squeaking against the ground when he got up to his knees. he didn't get the chance to get up, "aht aht," you clicked your tongue, the man looking up at you with anticipation. "on your knees and… crawl."

amethyst eyes bore into you, his knees shuffling against the hard floor as he slowly made his way towards you. "there we go.. good boy," you cooed, watching him come up to your feet.

"is this good enough, princess?" he asked, an amused grin spreading across his lips. suguru was nothing if not reverent, leaning in and pressing kiss after kiss on your exposed legs.

you pressed the sole of your heel against his forehead before he could get far, pushing him back. suguru slowly blinked, horny yet intrigued.

"not even close, keep going," you commanded, walking even further into the house without needing to turn back. you knew he was following.

suguru trailed behind your steps like a desperate puppy trying to keep up with their owner, following until you finally made it to the confines of your bedroom. he didn't dare move from his spot, watching everything that you were doing. setting up a pair of cuffs on your bed stand table—the thought sending a rush down to his cock.

you came, staring down at him before slowly moving your heel down his shirt, pointy end digging into his chest. popping a couple buttons loose, his chest exposed to you under the pale moonlight.

you moved lower and lower, the bottom of your heel slowly starting to trace the outline of his hard cock tenting in his pants. his breath hitched, hips bucking into the sharp edge just for something more, more stimulation, more of your touch. anything.

"not yet," your refusal came in the way of a coo, pulling away your heel with a teasing grin on your face. "go get on the bed."

obedient to almost a painful fault, suguru crawled his way up to the side of the bed before getting in the middle. his arms folded behind his head, watching with lidded eyes everything you were doing. each cabinet that you rummaged through, every item you picked up and put back.

"you gave me a lot of problems as the doll," you mused, a faux pout painting your pretty lips as you approached the bed, "i think you'd agree as much as i would that it wouldn't be fair if i just didn't do anything about it. isn't that right?"

suguru found himself nodding along, "don't think i was that bad," at your dirty look, he knew better than to continue, "but whatever you think is best."

metal cuffs restrained his limbs to each corner of the bed, leaving suguru completely helpless against your will. his dick couldn't help but jump at the notion, practically prodding a hole through his boxers with how fucking hard he was.

he spreads his legs as far apart as the cuffs let him move—not that far—but it allowed for you to slot yourself in between. you crawled up the bed, clothed pussy rubbing against his leg while you settled on his lap.

each rub and sway of your hips against him was pure torture, having you close and yet so far. feeling how wet you were, dripping onto his pants, without doing anything about it. you moved, taking one of his blades from the table beside you. he didn't do much as flinch, even when you brought it close to his skin.

if anything, it just made his cock throb. you didn't stab him, just yet anyways, instead cutting up the material of shirt. letting all those pesky buttons fall to the floor before you set your blade to the side.

your lips felt like a scorching kiss from a flame, each nerve on his body ignited with your touch. you moved up from his chest, sucking on a sensitive spot near the crook of his neck. "a-ah fuck." bullseye.

his lips slotted against yours like the missing piece of a puzzle, his touch tentative at first before he realized just how much he'd missed on. it grew sloppier, messier, a clash of tongues in a desperation to taste each other, to have each other once again.

"need to taste all of you, please," suguru panted out, his eyes all but pleading as he looked up when you pulled away, "f-fuck, i know, i know i don't deserve it but i want to eat you out plea-”

"i said yes," you spoke up, waving him off before slowly gliding your pussy up his stomach. leaving behind a slime trail in your wake, watching him accomodate himself. like his face was nothing more than just a seat for you.

his lip latched onto the front of your clothed pussy, sucking on whatever bit of essence was leaking from the thin lace material. the chains clinked with each thrust of his hips upward, cock aching and throbbing against his pants.

your thighs squeezed around the sides of his head, nearly suffocating him with your dripping pussy directly in his face. if this was the way he was supposed to go, he'd gladly accept it after he'd had his fill. "missed you," he let out a muffled moan, "missed you and this pussy, fuck."

and he was even more relentless when you finally pushed your panties to the sides, tongue slotting and sliding in between your folds before he latched his lips onto your clit. the tip of his tongue swirled around the throbbing nub, tongue piercing rolling against it in the most delicious way possible.

spit dribbled from the sides of his mouth, jaw falling slack and tongue tracing the outside of your puffy folds one side at a time. he dipped the tip of his tongue in, pushing it in and out before drawing small circles. "o-oh fuck," a whine managed to escape your lips, your hips bucking into his face.

his head started going back and forth, slowly moving and grinding you against his mouth. your fingers dug into the silk pillow of hair breath you, using that as you started to move faster against him, clit brushing against the tip of his nose with each move forward. "w-wouldn't kill anyone if i lived here forever."

a shaky laugh left your lips, "you'd still fin- ah!" his tongue swirled around the hood, not touching your swollen lil' clit just yet. he inched closer and closer, pulling away at the last second. and just as you were about to pull his hair, his tongue finally flicked around your clit. rolling circles around the nub, tracing figure eights that had your toes curling.

"k-keep goin', fuck, sugu," you mewled, nails digging into his scalp. he moaned at the sting, fingers twitching in the cuffs in desperation. in need to touch you, to feel you again. his lips replaced his tongue, suctioning and sucking on your clit.

"wanna taste you so bad, please baby, fuck, fuck, fu-" a loud moan left suguru's mouth, the front of his pants now stained with a dark patch. cumming in his pants just from eating you out. each flick of his tongue drove you closer and closer to your orgasm, coaxing it out of you.

"cumming, cumming, g-gonna cum!" babbling, your release sprayed out of you onto his expecting tongue. he swiped his tongue in between your folds like a credit card, desperate to get every last drop. you pulled away, watching suguru lick your slick off his glistening lips.

you reached over, taking the small key and undoing the cuffs around his hand. "you came in your pants so i'm not undoing the other ones." suguru would take what he could get at this rate.

your dexterous fingers worked on undoing his pants, unbuttoning them and sliding them just down to his ankles. even after he just came, his cock was still hard and tenting against his boxers.

no part of your skin went untouched, his fingers grazing upon every inch that he came along. in reverence, in delight, you weren't quite sure. and then he reached over, taking the blade in his hand. "wouldn't be fair, now would it?" he questioned, a teasing smile as he repeated your earlier words.

his knive slices through the middle of your very expensive corset, buttons popping off and clattering around the floor. the complain bubbling in the back of your throat was quickly pushed to the side when suguru's lips latched onto your tit, swirling his tongue around your hardening nub.

one of his hands came up, cupping your breast before his thumb flicked against your areola. feeling it harden underneath his touch. "missed your tits too," suguru let out a moan, chest heaving. his lips moved up, kissing his way up like he wasn't sure where to even begin.

the metal ball on his tongue traced the outline of the red heart, dragging the pink muscle through the dagger in the middle. then, he slowly started tracing the black ink on top of the heart, his tongue rolling with each cursive letter to his ability.

s-u-g-u-r-u.

your hand moved down, wrapping around his cock, lining it up with your sopping wet cunt. you slowly dragged his shaft between your folds, slick covering it like a glossy coat. "need to feel you," suguru jerked up his hips, lips jutted out in almost a pout. you wanted to take a picture and hang it up on the wall.

you sunk down inch by inch, walls fluttering around his shaft as you tried to get used to the intrusion. all the air in his lungs left when you took him all in one go, your walls squeezing around his shaft like your personal mission was to squeeze every drop of cum out him.

"o-oh fuck, don't move so much, 'm sensitive," suguru groaned, his hands coming up to rest on your hips. half a decade without being buried inside your warm, wet cunt did that to a man.

"you were asking for it, sugu, i thought you could take it," you purred, nail dragging across his chest, "such a shame you killed that poor mailman. maybe he would've been better at taki- OH FUCK!"

your tease was cut off, his feet planted on the mattress flat as he thrusted into you. he was relentless, fucking you like he had something to prove, each ribbed edge grinding against your walls with each thrust. "s—oh fuck—still think that mailman could fuck you good?"

"n-no, just you, sugu," you mewled back in response, fucking back against him, ass rippling and smacking against his thighs. each swivel of your hips is downright hypnotizing, the scratch of your nails on his shoulders addicting.

one of your hands moved, wrapping around his neck, applying just enough pressure to barely restrict his airflow. the desperate mix of a moan and a whine that left his lips was almost sinful, "f-fuck, pretty. squeeze it tighter, 'm all yours to use."

you squeezed harder, bouncing yourself on his cock like he was just a toy there for your pleasure. your back arched, his hands coming up to your sides and your tits, twisting and rubbing your nipples. "s-so good, so good," you moaned, the tip of his cock hitting that spongy spot each. time.

"so wet, so fucking nasty, just like that, fuck me, fuck me." your cunt soaked his cock, each loud squelch echoing against the thin walls. you were practically gliding up and down his cock, slick pooling to his heavy balls and the sheets below.

one of his hands went to your lower tummy, an almost drunk laugh leaving his lips, "y'feel me all the way up here? yeah?" he bucked his hips, watching the slight nudge of the tip protrude against your skin. all you could do was nod, nails raking down his body.

"mhm, y-you're so deep, sugu!" you whined in response, hips stuttering as your orgasm started to build up. suguru's own breathing grew heavier, his thrusts starting to grow messier. "gonna cum, gonna cum, baby," he warned, your hand squeezing around his neck once.

"no, you're not."

a groan left his lips, his balls heavy with how much cum he was holding back. one of your hands went down your clit, rubbing at the nub in quick, little circles while your hips lazily grinded against his cock. just enough to feel him hit your g-spot. "fu-fuck, gonna cum, gonna cum," you whined, cunt squeezing around his cock all that much more.

the pressure in your lower belly built built built up, "almost there, shit," you all but slurred, fingers rubbing at that same rhythm until it snapped, your orgasm washing over you like a wave. a new wave of arousal coated suguru's cock, a slick mixture of both you and him creating a creamy ring around the base.

and then you remembered. when you saw him gripping the sheets, willing himself not to burst. "cum."

"a-ah fuck, finally," he let out a loud groan, spurt after spurt of cum covering your walls white. his eyes rolled back, thighs quivering as he continued to cum for what seemed to be minutes, the warm liquid dripping out of you onto your thighs. he leaned back once he finished, chest heaving and spent.

you didn't stand up, you didn't pull away. you swiped your pointer against the cum on your thighs, popping the digit in your mouth and swirling your tongue around it. "we still have half a decade to make up for, c'mon." suguru was certain he'd be shooting blanks by the time you were done with him.