Yara

Satoru Gojo

Series

Perfect Bride (On Progress): Since childhood, you were groomed to become Gojo Satoru's perfect bride - a destiny forced upon you through years of strict lessons, emotional suppression, and your mother's unrelenting expectations. For most of your life, you endured Satoru's cold indifference and casual cruelty in silence. Until Suguru Geto entered your world.

Suguru Geto

One-Shot

Nothing Serious (smut, angst): It was nothing serious with Suguru. That's what you kept telling yourself before you swiped right on his Tinder profile.

---

Honkai Star Rail

Multi Pairings Headcanons

How the HSR men woke up in the morning with you: Jing Yuan, Gepard, Sampo, Blade, Danheng x gn!reader

Netflix and Chill with HSR men: Jing Yuan, Gepard, Sampo, Blade, Danheng x gn!reader

Gepard Landau

Series

More Than Anything (finished): One day Serval brought you home and you have been a part of Gepard's life ever since. When he discovered he had feelings for you, it seemed it was too late | part 1 | part 2 | part 3

Sampo Koski

One-shot

But his smile slowly faded.

He wasn't rich. He was just a commoner.

Sure, he got money from all the missions he did. It even felt too much for a kid his age. But how many missions should he do to be worthy of you?

So all he could do was wait for you to finish your parade of absurd lessons, smoking in his room as he checked his phone now and then for the signs of you, wondering just how long he could keep enduring all of this.

He never expected the relationship with you could last this long.

He used to date for what, one or two months at most? Not that he had many exes anyway. Being a prodigy left little room for anything beyond missions and training. He could never be like Satoru, jumping from one girl to another in a matter of days. But he also never saw himself in a serious relationship before he was barely seventeen.

When his door suddenly slid to reveal you, Suguru immediately got up on his elbows.

Your face lit up the moment your eyes met his. Your pretty, kissable lips curved into a small smile.

Suguru knew he was fucked as his chest tightened with something both pleasant and terrifying.

He really hadn't expected to fall this seriously for you.

"Were you waiting long?" you asked as you threw yourself on his bed beside him. Suguru put out his cigarette on the ashtray by his bed before inviting you to lie on his chest.

"Not really," he said as he brushed away your hair from your face. "How's your day?"

"Just the usual." You shrugged, playing with the button of his uniform shirt before smiling. "I'd rather be learning some curse techniques with you."

Satoru had called you useless, a non-sorcerer with barely any cursed energy.

But Suguru knew you were more than meets the eye.

In his spare time, Suguru had been quietly researching your family, your lineage, your background. You.

Through your mother's side, your family was a powerful business conglomerate with deep ties to the government. However, when it came to the sorcerer side of your lineage, he could find almost nothing. Only a few vague mentions appeared in old sorcery logs, easily overshadowed by bigger names.

Still, something didn't add up.

There was no way the Gojo clan would be this insistent on the betrothal if you held no real value beyond your family's wealth.

It was frustrating. You knew almost nothing about your father. Your mother had deliberately kept you isolated from that side of your lineage, making it clear you had no real connection to the sorcery world—even though your father had been a sorcerer, and you were betrothed to one. The only things you had been taught were the bare basics, just enough to understand Satoru's life.

But Suguru could feel it. You had potential.

Especially when you were close to him, like now.

"I actually have something you could practice on."

Suguru gently pushed you back before shrugging off his uniform jacket. You gasped softly when you saw the nasty purplish bruise blooming across the left side of his chest.

"Fought a Grade S curse today," he said casually, as if it were nothing. "Got a bit reckless and it hit me."

In truth, for a split second during the fight, the image of Satoru's smug smirk had flashed in front of him, then came along the memory of that white-haired bastard teasing him about what happened between you two last week. He wasn't sure if it was jealousy. His plan to make Satoru hate you less succeeded, though, at what cost?

You reached out, your fingers brushing lightly over the bruise. Worry filled your eyes.

"It looks really bad..."

"Don't worry, it's nothing," he smirked, secretly pleased by your concern. "Besides, you can use it as practice. Show me what Shoko taught you the other day."

Ever since he discovered you had hidden potential, Suguru had been gently pushing you to learn at least the basics. From what little he could uncover about your family, they weren't known for combat or offensive techniques. He suspected you might be better suited for support roles, which was why he had asked Shoko to teach you the fundamentals of Reverse Cursed Technique.

You looked hesitant for a moment, nervous, then took a slow breath. Carefully, you placed your palm flat against his bruised chest. Your eyes closed in concentration as you tried to recall everything Shoko had shown you.

Suguru watched you quietly, his usual smirk fading into something softer. He could feel the gentle pull of your reverse-cursed technique working on him. It wasn't perfect, and it wasn't strong yet, but it was there.

After a few long moments, the deep purple bruise had noticeably lightened. The sharp ache in his chest dulled into a faint throb.

You opened your eyes and looked up at him.

"How... how does it feel?"

Suguru glanced down at his chest, then back at you. A small, genuine smile tugged at his lips.

"Much better," he murmured, brushing a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "It is a complicated technique, you know? And you did well."

A grin spread on your lips as your eyes flitted to his chest. Your gentle fingers were softly running over his skin, where the bruise was before.

"I did this," you said in awe, as if you just witnessed a masterpiece. "I healed you."

Little did you know, you did more than heal him. You mended him, you fixed him.

Being a sorcerer was not an easy feat. The constant pressure, the expectations he had to carry in silence. Having to deal with curses, which, in fact, is derived from negative energy. One can only endure, though he often wonders what reasons other sorcerers have to keep doing this shitty job. He's only in high school, even if it's sometimes fun to obliterate those damned curses, he wishes he could ditch everything all at once. If only he were born rich.

Now, here comes you. The remedy he never knew he needed.

Turned out, even if you are not the reason he stays, you are the cure.

AN: Sorry for the long break, I just moved to a new city and got busy job seeking :" (excuses excuses)

Writing a yearning Suguru is my favorite hobby UGH anyway, let me know if I forgot to tag you in the tag list, or don't hesitate to request to be included in it!

If anything, it was a relief. You weren't lurking in his shadow anymore, waiting with those wide, anxious eyes for a crumb of attention he never wanted to give. You were off his back, finally. He might even owe Suguru a quiet thank-you for that.

And now that you weren't hovering too close, trying too hard, he could actually see you. Really see you. Not as an obligation, not as a nuisance, but as... you.

"Satoru, it's your turn."

Shoko's nudge snapped him out of his brief trance. He blinked, realizing he'd been staring at your focused expression—lips pursed, brows furrowed over the fan of Uno cards in your hands.

He slapped a red five onto the pile and leaned back, only to find you already giggling at something Suguru had whispered. The sound was light, unguarded. Happy.

When he really thought about it, you were exactly Suguru's type. Soft. A little lost. The kind of person who needed saving, who needed someone steady to guide them through the mess of the world. Someone patient. Someone kind.

He glanced at his best friend, his head thrown back in easy laughter, eyes crinkling at whatever you'd just said.

Satoru furrowed his eyebrows. You can't be THAT funny, can you?

But something settled in his chest.

Maybe this was for the best. You were happy. Suguru was happy. And for once, Satoru didn't feel like he was suffocating under someone else's expectations.

He let a small, genuine smile slip out before quickly masking it with exaggerated annoyance.

"Hey, hey! I don't know if this is supposed to be a team competition over there," he grumbled, pointing between you and Suguru.

Then he turned to Shoko with a dramatic sigh. "You wanna form an alliance with me and destroy them, Shoko?"

She exhaled a thin stream of cigarette smoke, smirked, and calmly placed a +4 on the pile. "Sorry. I'm on a mission to destroy your ass."

Laughter erupted around the table as Satoru groaned, staring at the growing stack of cards in his hands.

"I still have more," Shoko teased, already reaching for the draw pile.

Suguru played his card next, smooth and unbothered. You laid down a reverse with a bright, genuine smile.

"Don't worry," you said softly, looking right at Satoru. "I got you."

His heart gave a small, unexpected sting at the kindness in your voice. He looked away, suddenly uncomfortable.

Deep down, he'd always known he'd been an asshole to you. The guilt had been there for years, buried under layers of arrogance and indifference. These days, though, when he was watching you laugh freely with his friends, seeing how much lighter you were, it hit harder. You didn't deserve the coldness he'd thrown at you for so long. And now you were still offering him kindness in a stupid game of Uno.

None of this was your fault. You were as much a victim of this arrangement as he was—maybe more. At least no one hounded him daily to "please" you. Who knew what kind of quiet abuse had stripped away the fire you'd shown that very first day, when you'd yanked his hair and cried over a ruined dress? He absently brushed a hand over the spot on his scalp, remembering.

He made a quiet promise to himself then: he'd at least treat you better. As a friend, if nothing else.

So when you showed up at the Gojo estate a few days later with puffy, red-rimmed eyes, he swallowed the snarky comment that rose automatically to his tongue.

"What are you doing here?" he asked instead, voice quieter than usual as he gestured for you to sit across from him.

You sank into the chair, shoulders hunched, the same meek posture he'd seen for years. Not the girl from the Uno game a week ago. Not the one who'd smiled so freely.

"My mom told me to apologize to you," you said softly.

Satoru frowned, slipping his arms into the sleeves of his yukata. "Why?"

"She... one of the workers saw me with Suguru."

He let out a long, irritated sigh. Unnecessary. Pointless. Why did people love to gossip? Why did your mother care this much? You were seventeen, the same as him. Old enough to figure things out. With the constant stress of missions and cursed energy and expectations, going on dates was one of the few normal, easy things anyone could do. He went out all the time, and no one batted an eye. His white hair and blindfold made him impossible to miss, so his chance of getting caught by one of your people would be higher than yours. 

He scratched the back of his head, frustration bubbling up.

"Look, you don't need to apologize. I don't care if you're going out with Suguru or whoever."

Your eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering through the haze of upset.

"You knew?" you asked, voice small.

Satoru rolled his eyes dramatically. "I'm not dumb. You two are terrible at hiding it."

You let out a soft "oh," and for a moment, the room was quiet.

Then you spoke again, barely above a whisper.

"She called me a whore. Because I went out with another guy who isn't you."

The words landed like ice water.

Satoru's blood ran hot. His jaw clenched.

"That's ridiculous," he said flatly. "Your mom's insane."

You said nothing in response to his words. Satoru sighed, pushing himself up from the chair.

"Come on. I'll send you home and clear the misunderstanding with your mom."

Your eyes widened, surprise flickering across your face. He let out an annoyed tsk, already heading for the door. "Do you want it or not?"

Like a sheepish puppy, you rose quietly and followed him out to his car.

The ride passed in near-total silence. Satoru glanced over once or twice—your posture perfect in the passenger seat, hands folded neatly in your lap, eyes fixed straight ahead on the road. He wondered how much you'd endured over the years if this small glimpse was already enough to make his stomach twist. How many times had you sat like this, braced for disapproval, swallowing every word?

Part of him felt... proud. For once, he hadn't pushed you away. He'd listened, actually listened. It felt like the tiniest dent in the guilt that had been piling up for years—the cold dismissals, the ruined bentos, the casual cruelty he'd never bothered to rein in. A smug little smile tugged at his lips.

Was this what growing up felt like?

"I'm sorry for bothering you all this time, Satoru."

His smile vanished. He frowned, grip tightening on the wheel.

"What do you mean?"

You sighed softly, fingers curling into the hem of your skirt—he noticed, absently, that you no longer wore those frilly dresses from childhood. Just simple, understated clothes now.

"I know you hate me because I kept bothering you almost every day."

He clicked his tongue sharply. "Stop apologizing."

The words came out louder than he meant. He winced internally.

So much for growing up.

Satoru scratched the back of his head in frustration, then gripped the steering wheel harder.

"Look. This whole bullshit isn't your fault. It's fine. Just... stop apologizing."

You murmured a quiet "okay," and the car fell silent again.

He should say sorry. He knew he should. The moment had been right there, hanging between you, but it slipped past. By the time he opened his mouth to try again, the familiar gates of your estate were already in view.

He told you he'd handle the talking. Charming people was effortless for him—almost an instinct that came with being born special. Winning over your mother would be child's play; she'd been desperate for his approval since day one.

"Ma'am," he began as soon as she opened the door, voice smooth and honeyed, "I'd like to clear up the misunderstanding. The guy your worker saw with her was one of my closest friends. I asked him to accompany her because I couldn't make it myself. I would have preferred to take her to get her favorite dessert, but I trust him completely. I'd rather she enjoy it with someone I know than not at all."

Your mother's expression softened immediately, pleased. To further sell it, Satoru slid an arm around your waist and pulled you gently against his side. You stiffened for half a second, confusion flashing across your face, but he met your eyes and flashed a perfectly practiced, loving smile.

It worked like a charm.

"Oh my," your mother said, clasping her hands together with a delighted smile. "Yes, of course. Thank you so much for taking care of my daughter, Satoru-kun."

Easy.

After a few more minutes of polite small talk and another round of the doting-fiancé act, he was finally free to leave. You walked him out to the porch, his arm still loosely around your waist. From the corner of his eye, he could see your mother trailing a few steps behind, watching.

An image of Suguru's pissed-off face flashed through his mind, and a mischievous spark lit up inside him. 

This would be fun.

Right before he stepped into the car, he turned to you, held your gaze for a split second, then leaned in and pressed a soft, deliberate kiss to your cheek. He pulled back slowly, smirking at your wide-eyed shock.

"I'll see you later."

As he pulled away, Satoru's grin stretched wide. Pure, giddy satisfaction bubbling up in his chest. The same rush he got after a clean mission, after saving someone who actually needed it. Helping felt good.

He gave your mother a casual wave as he slid into the driver's seat. She stood frozen, hand pressed to her mouth, as she'd just witnessed the climax of some grand romance.

What he'd done today wouldn't erase years of being an asshole. Not even close. But it was a start. A baby step. With any luck, your mother would back off for a while and stop hounding you over trivial nonsense.

Now he couldn't wait to get back and brag to Suguru about the whole thing—especially that parting kiss.

---

tag: @ugly4512 @nightmarenyxx

You'd never known falling for someone—and having those feelings returned—could feel this effortless, this good. After years of trying (and failing) to win even a flicker of Satoru's attention, you had convinced yourself love was something reserved for novels. You had little to none of examples to draw from anyway. Your parents' relationship was a mystery you never unraveled; your father died before you were old enough to understand it, and your mother rarely spoke of him.

For most of your life, love had felt like something that happened to other people.

Then came Suguru.

Suguru with his beautiful, quiet smile, warm brown eyes that actually saw you, soft laughter that felt like sunlight breaking through clouds, and that calm voice that always seemed to settle the restless ache inside your chest.

The man your mother wanted you to fall for was chaos wrapped in white hair—dazzling, frustratingly handsome, unpredictable, impossible. But Suguru...

You caught yourself smiling again just thinking of him.

You hurried through your morning routine with a lightness that made every step feel springy. If you finished your lessons quickly, you could see him this afternoon.

"Can I hang out in Satoru's dormitory again this afternoon?" you asked carefully over lunch, eyes on your plate, voice deliberately casual.

Your mother's face brightened at once.

"Of course! I'm so glad you're spending more time with him. See? When you give him your effort and attention, it brings you closer together. That's what couples should do."

She sounded genuinely pleased, completely unaware your visits weren't for the white-haired boy at all.

They were for his dark-haired best friend.

Suguru was like warmth after a long winter. Like spring arriving quietly, carrying a soft, welcoming breeze.

"Hmm... to what do I owe this pleasure?" Suguru asked when he saw you, lips curving into a small, knowing smile as he leaned against his bedroom doorframe.

"Is Satoru here?" you asked, letting a teasing lilt slip into your voice.

His brows furrowed in mock disappointment. "I'm sorry. I'm afraid he's out."

You grinned and slipped past him into the room.

"Good, then."

You heard the soft click of his door closing, and before you could turn, a pair of strong arms wrapped around your waist. You giggled as Suguru pulled you flush against him, lips brushing warm, playful kisses across your cheeks, your forehead, the sensitive curve of your neck.

"Suguru, stop," you whined, the word half-hearted at best. Your protest only made him kiss you harder, more insistently, like he was trying to steal every sound of laughter from your throat.

"No," he murmured against your skin, voice low and muffled as he buried his face in the crook of your neck. "I missed you."

You tried to wriggle free—just enough to tease—and ended up tumbling backward onto his bed with a soft bounce. You looked up at him, chest blooming with that familiar warm, fuzzy ache. Your jaw already hurt from smiling so wide.

Suguru joined you, stretching out beside you with his head propped on one hand. He gazed down at you, eyes soft and unguarded, the kind of look that made everything else in the world feel small and far away. Then he leaned in and pressed the gentlest kiss to your lips.

Ah, to be in love.

"Look what I have for you," he said suddenly, pulling back as though the thought had just sparked. He reached over to his nightstand and handed you a simple paper bag.

You sat up immediately, curiosity lighting your face as you opened it. Your breath caught.

"The Princess Atelier!" Your voice cracked with a mix of disbelief and joy as you lifted the shoujo manga volume into your hands. Your brows scrunched together, eyes stinging just a little. You'd told him about it once—casually, almost in passing—how badly you'd wanted this series when you were younger, how your mother had forbidden it because "those things are for children" and "won't benefit you at all."

Suguru rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, a faint flush creeping up his ears. "I just happened to pass by the bookstore and saw it. It made me think of you."

"Thank you," you whispered, trying to control the emotion that bubbled up inside your chest. You scooted closer and pressed a soft, grateful kiss to his cheek.

Suguru's gaze softened even more, warm brown eyes tracing your face like he was trying to capture every inches of your features.

"Anything for you, princess."

Princess. Suddenly you were seven again, dressed in frilly gowns with a tiny tiara perched on your head, dreaming about a charming prince who would one day come for you.

You wondered what it would have been like if Suguru had been the one you met as a child. The one you were betrothed to. Would he have treated you the way Satoru did? Would your life have been less miserable?

But then again, if none of that had happened—if your fate had never crossed with Satoru's—you probably would have never met this version of Suguru either. So maybe there was something to be grateful for after all.

Besides, Satoru had been better lately. Ever since you started spending more time around Suguru and Shoko, he didn't scoff at you nearly as often. His tone had lost some of its usual bite. He even ate the bentos you made for him now—though that also meant you had to prepare three of them, since you were feeding your (beloved) Suguru and Shoko too.

Satoru peered suspiciously from his bento to Suguru's, then back again, eyes narrowing.

"Why is mine different from his?" he asked, voice edged with accusation.

You raised your eyebrows, trying for wide-eyed innocence even as your fingers fidgeted under the table. When you'd packed them this afternoon, you'd sworn to yourself they'd be mostly equal. Satoru's was the usual—neat, balanced, familiar. Shoko's had a few more tamago rolls because she always asked for seconds. And Suguru's... you'd only meant to add a couple extra pieces here and there. A heart-shaped onigiri. One more piece of karaage. A few extra vegetable flowers. Nothing obvious.

Except now, staring at the open boxes side by side, the difference was glaring. Satoru's looked almost plain next to Suguru's carefully decorated one.

"Um... I don't see any differences," you said sweetly, blinking.

Shoko glanced between the two and nodded sagely. "They're identical," she deadpanned before digging into her own with obvious enjoyment.

"Yeah, you're imagining things, Satoru," Suguru added smoothly. He reached over, snatched his bento box out of Satoru's line of sight, and shot you a quick, conspiratorial wink.

You had to press your lips together to trap the giggle bubbling up. Across from you, Satoru let out a long, frustrated "humph." But he still opened his bento. And he still ate every bite.

So, that's a progress, right?

Even if you didn't feel the same way about Satoru as you did about Suguru (a feeling you had only recently discovered could exist within you), you still felt a small sense of accomplishment. Winning over Satoru had always felt like chasing an impossible A+ on one of your endless lessons. For years, all you'd earned was failure after failure. An F, solid. So these small shifts now felt monumental. On a good day, you could almost convince yourself you'd scraped your way up to a D. Maybe even a low C if you squinted.

It wasn't love. It was progress. And after so long, progress felt like breathing easier.

Whether Satoru knew about you and Suguru, though... you had no idea.

One afternoon he'd barged into Suguru's room without knocking (because of course he didn't knock) and caught the two of you together. The door hadn't even been locked. You'd frozen for half a second on Suguru's bed, manga volume open in your lap, while Suguru sprawled on the floor scribbling mission reports.

Satoru had only raised one white eyebrow, scanned the scene, then dropped himself onto Suguru's bed beside you like he owned the place. He launched into a rambling recap of his day. Some cursed spirit, some annoying higher-up, some new sweet he'd discovered, without missing a beat.

You and Suguru exchanged one quick, silent glance. Relief, amusement, a shared secret tucked safely behind neutral expressions.

It wasn't cheating, though. Is it?

You felt nothing romantic for Satoru. Nothing at all. And he'd made it painfully, repeatedly clear that he wanted nothing to do with you—except maybe as an obligation he tolerated on his better days. So what exactly were you afraid of?

"Do you think Satoru knows about us?" you whispered as you scooted closer to where Suguru was sprawled on the floor after Satoru had finally left.

Suguru shrugged, glancing up from his report before shifting slightly to give you more room beside him. He handed you one of his earphones, the one that wasn't in his ear since he actually wanted to talk to you. He had only put them on earlier while Satoru was rambling endlessly.

You slipped the earphone in and rested your head on the floor next to him, listening to the song playing softly.

"He's not stupid," Suguru said after a moment. "But I don't know either."

He dropped his pen and shifted again, draping one arm loosely over your stomach while propping his head up with the other hand as he looked down at you.

"Why are you worried?" he teased. "Afraid he'll attack me because I'm stealing you from him?"

"I doubt he will," you giggled at the thought. "But if he do, I know you're strong enough to fend him off."

"Hmm... that I am," he replied with quiet confidence before leaning down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

You sighed softly, savoring the moment.

The quiet of his small room. The sunset glow slipping through the window, painting everything in a soft orange light. The faint scent of his favorite cologne mixed with a trace of cigarette smoke. The gentle sound of him humming along to the music in his ear.

His room was much smaller than the one you had at home.

But somehow, it was the only place where you felt the most free.

"We haven't had an official ceremony or anything," Satoru had said that afternoon, sprawled back in his chair in the empty classroom, hands laced behind his head like he was discussing the weather. "But yeah, she's been betrothed to me since we were kids. Crazy, I think. Totally unnecessary."

Suguru had paused mid-bite of the convenience-store onigiri he'd been eating. "Betrothed?"

"Arranged since forever. Clan bullshit." Satoru shrugged, the motion lazy and dismissive. "She's supposed to be the daughter of one of the strongest sorcerers from the last generation. Big legacy, right? But she's a total wimp! I don't even think she qualifies as a sorcerer. They keep saying 'one day you'll understand why she's perfect for you,' but come on, it's obviously a scam."

Suguru just raised his eyebrows, the gesture slow and dismissive, lips pressing into a thin line. He couldn't relate to his best friend's story at all since he comes from a family that doesn't have any tie to the jujutsu world and no one would force him in any beneficial marriage arrangement. However, sorcerer or not, though, he didn't think that gave anyone the right to treat you like you don't matter.

So, when he saw his best friend mistreating you once again at the school gate, he couldn't help but interfere. Thankfully, without having to discuss anything, Shoko went along with his plan.

Alright, he gotta confess another thing: he found you cute.

Suguru can't believe Satoru had the heart to treat you like shit while you were this harmless little dove, just standing there nervously, fidgeting confusedly as he and Shoko save you from his self-centred best friend. Is he blind? If someone shoved you as his fiancée, he might treat you nicely–taking you to a little date once in a while, taking your picture with his digital camera, then printing it and putting it on his nightstand, maybe also making bentos together? Well, to be fair, you coming here and there to visit Satoru came a bit as a stalker behaviour, though, but he was not in the other guy's shoes to experience it, so he can still imagine he can be a better fiancé for you. Having a girl moulded to his liking? That sounds like a dream.

So he didn't pass up the opportunity to snatch you when the opportunity came.

"Please do. Keep her."

Whether Satoru was joking or not, he wouldn't care. Suguru immediately drag you out of the scene before Satoru could change his mind.

"Satoru is such a jackass," Suguru muttered under his breath as he guided you toward one of the empty seats on the train. He waited until you sat down before letting go of your arm, then reached up to grip the overhead handle, standing close enough to talk to you.

You were too busy taking everything in, eyes wide as you scanned the rattling interior, the advertisements plastered above the windows, the gentle rock of the floor beneath your feet, that you didn't notice his quiet amusement at first. When you finally looked up and met his gaze, a small, genuine smile broke across your face.

Apparently, you were so rich that you'd never ridden a train before. He'd had to walk you through the basics step by step: how to tap your card, which side to stand on the escalator, not to block the doors. He never imagined his first "date" with anyone would involve teaching someone how to use public transport.

"He was actually a lot better now," you said with a light shrug, settling back against the seat. "Especially when you and Shoko are there with him. Thank you for standing up for me the other day." Your smile softened, almost shy.

Suguru noticed the nervous edge that had clung to you earlier was gone. No more fidgeting hands, no more stolen glances toward an invisible authority figure. You weren't nearly as timid as he'd first assumed. Was it simply because Satoru wasn't around?

He let out a low chuckle and leaned in a little closer, ostensibly so you could hear him over the hum of the train and the chatter of other passengers. Or maybe, unconsciously, because he wanted a clearer view of that small, unguarded smile up close.

"Then I'll make sure we're around every time you have to meet him," he said, voice warm and steady.

You laughed softly and nodded, cheeks tinting the faintest pink.

Cute, he thought.

"I'm so sorry he's your fiancé," Suguru blurted out, the words slipping free with zero regret.

You let out a soft chuckle, the sound light but tinged with something bittersweet, like you found his empathy more amusing than comforting.

"I'm actually sorry for him too," you said quietly. "I feel like a burden a lot of times."

"Then don't be with him?" Suguru tested, frustration creeping into his voice. Hearing you pity the same guy who'd just waved you off with a snarky "have fun" like you were an unwanted package made something twist uncomfortably in his gut.

He watched you sigh, your gaze drifting somewhere distant until your eyes looked almost regretful.

"I wish it were that easy."

Suguru stared at you for a long moment. The quiet stretched between you, broken only by the steady clack of the tracks beneath the carriage. A tiny pang stabbed his chest at the sight of your unreadable expression.

Something he and his world couldn't relate.

What was he even doing here?

Was this just pity? Or was he slipping into that old habit of playing white knight for someone who looked like they needed saving? He'd done it before, more times than he cared to count.

But asshole or not, Satoru was still his best friend. And you were Satoru's fiancée. No matter how poorly the guy treated you, no matter how little interest he showed, the lines were clear. Suguru's little advances were already toeing dangerously close to out of bounds.

Even if Satoru didn't want you. Even if he treated you like shit.

He shook the conflicting thoughts loose, forcing himself to draw a clean line.

He could help you. That much was fine. Maybe flirt a little in front of Satoru, just enough to spark that competitive streak the idiot loved more than anything. Boys like him thrived on rivalry, making him feel like someone else might actually notice what he had, and maybe, just maybe, he'd stop acting like you were invisible.

But that was it. Nothing more (no matter how cute he found you are).

So that's what Suguru did every time you were around his little circle of friends: tossing out flirtatious comments about your outfit, doing small favors like taking your order at the café or twisting open a stubborn bottle cap before you even asked, winking at you while Satoru clearly watching.

Whether it worked or not, he had no real clue. Satoru never reacted much beyond the usual snarky comments and exaggerated eye-rolls. Once, though, he did look genuinely pissed when he spotted you waiting on the school field, already chatting easily with Suguru while the two of you laughed over something small. However, Satoru said nothing about it later. Suguru thought he was maybe imagining things.

And then, as if the universe wanted to test just how firm that line Suguru had drawn really was, the opportunity to cross it landed right in his lap.

"Sorry, I gotta go. I have a date."

Suguru raised an eyebrow at the white-haired idiot standing in front of him. They'd just finished a small mission and were supposed to head straight back to school to report to the principal. After that they will meet you for your weekly "meeting." These days the formal dates had quietly dissolved. Satoru called them a hassle anyway, especially since his two best friends always tagged along and turned everything into a casual hangout.

"Don't you have to meet your fiancée today?" Suguru asked, voice carefully even.

Satoru yawned, stretching his arms overhead like he hadn't a care in the world. "I told her I can't today. Said we'd do it another time. She'll accommodate my schedule anyway."

Suguru felt the irritation flare hot and sudden in his chest. "With whom?"

Satoru turned to him, that boyish, smug smile spreading wide across his face.

"Mariko-chan. You know, the girl from the arcade?"

Suguru's brows shot up. "Isn't she way older than us?"

"The older the better," Satoru replied, smug as ever. A fat drop of rain splattered onto his forehead, and he wiped it away with the back of his hand. "Oops, better go now. See you at home?"

Before Suguru could get another word out, that shock of white hair had already vanished into the crowd.

So his little tricks weren't working. Not even close.

The train ride home felt longer than usual. Suguru stared out the rain-streaked window, mind circling back to you. Would it hurt you to know Satoru was out on actual dates? Or had you already accepted it? Had known for years, really, since this engagement had been hanging over both your heads forever.

His heart dropped when he turn to the ally of the school building.

There you were, huddled under the small overhang in front of the school gate, head bowed, shoulders hunched against the cold. Shivering. A little wet from the rain splashing in at the edges. When you looked up and caught his eyes, your face lit up with a smile so bright it almost hurt to see.

Suguru's brows scrunched together; his chest tightened.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, already closing the distance, eyes scanning your soaked sleeves and the way your teeth chattered just slightly.

You blinked at him, confused, like the answer was obvious. "Meeting you guys?"

He frowned deeper. "Didn't Satoru tell you he—" Suguru caught himself, exhaled sharply through his nose, then finished more gently, "—he has something to do and can't make it?"

Your smile faltered. "Oh... my phone died..." You paused, thinking, then asked hesitantly, "Can I borrow your charger? So I can ask my driver to pick me up."

Suguru sighed at the way you hesitated, like you were already apologizing for the inconvenience. Which is unnecessary since he consider you one of his close friends already (or maybe more, he didn't really want to think about it though).

"Sure," he said. "You can wait here until the rain lets up anyway. And you need something dry to change into." He nodded toward your damp clothes.

He tilted his umbrella toward you a bit and told you to scoot closer as you walked toward the dorm building. From this distance he could smell your sweet perfume, soft, familiar now. He realized with a quiet jolt that he'd started missing it on days you weren't around.

Once inside his room, he handed you one of his t-shirts and a pair of shorts. "I have to report a few things to the principal first," he said, already turning toward the door. "Change and get warm. I'll be back soon."

Truth be told, he also needed a minute to steady his heartbeat. The idea of you standing in his room, about to wear his clothes, sent a ridiculous rush through him. Excitement so sharp it almost felt embarrassing.

Dear God, he was nothing but a teenager with raging hormones after all.

When he returned to his dormitory room, any effort to steady his racing heart vanished the moment he saw you sitting on the floor, admiring his collection of favorite band CDs. You were wearing his T-shirt and shorts, both clearly a little too big on you. When you noticed him, you offered a small, welcoming smile.

"You listen to Brit Rock?" you asked, your eyes gleaming with excitement.

He sat down beside you, glancing at the CDs you were examining.

"Yeah. Do you know these bands?"

You smiled. "One of my uncles lives abroad and brings me CDs every time he visits." You picked up one of his albums. "I haven't listened to this one yet, though."

He took the CD from your hands and stood to search for his Sony Walkman. "You should give it a try, then."

When he finally found it and slid the CD inside, he noticed your gaze lingering on the cigarette box and tray on his nightstand. You looked curious when you realized he was watching you.

"I didn't know you smoke," you said, your voice carrying nothing but mild amusement. You sounded as if you found it acceptable.

"Um... yeah. Just sometimes. I find it helps after swallowing a nasty curse spirit," he replied, untangling the cord of his headset.

He actually could use one now, since he just swallowed one earlier. But since you were here, he kind of forget the bitter taste on the back of his throat.

"It must feel awful, you know, swallowing spirits," you said softly, sympathy in your tone.

Suguru shrugged and sat back down beside you. "Feels like swallowing a dirty rag. But I've gotten used to it." He handed you the headphones. "Here. Give it a listen."

You slipped them on, leaving one ear slightly uncovered so you could still hear him. You paused, listening carefully to the beat, then began nodding along after a moment.

"This one has a fun drum," you said, meeting his eyes.

Hi"What's the title?" You leaned closer to the album cover to read the track name.

Suguru smiled, quietly satisfied by your reaction.

"Here, listen to this one. It's my favorite." He fiddled with the Walkman then adjusting the headphones so they sat better over your ears.

You went still for a second before your eyes lit up.

"This one's good."

He only nodded with a smile, knowing you couldn't hear him over the music. You kept nodding along, trying to follow the song, repeating the refrain once you'd heard it enough times.

This side of you—the free, unapologetic side. The one that wasn't constantly trying to please Gojo Satoru. The one that wasn't shaped around him. Just you.

Before he realised it, he had already leaned in. His thoughts lagged behind his body; one moment he was watching the way you smiled at the music, the next his hand had shifted slightly on the floor beside you and his face was inches from yours. There was a brief hesitation, just enough to feel his own breath tremble, before his lips met yours.

The kiss was soft at first, almost uncertain, like he was testing whether this was okay. Whether this was real. Then he pressed closer, properly capturing your lips with his. The warmth startled him, the gentleness of it even more so. It was sweeter than he had ever imagined.

When he opened his eyes, reality rushed back in. You were staring at him, wide-eyed, your face flushed a deep, unmistakablyred. Your lips were still slightly parted in shock. The sight struck him all at once and his chest tightened.

"Oh, fuck. I'm sorry, I—"

"Don't be." Your hand caught his arm tightly, your body leaning toward him, brows drawn together with quiet need. "Don't be... do it again."

It was hard not to surrender to temptation. To hell with whatever line he had drawn between the two of you.

In one swift motion, he pressed his lips to yours again, already missing the feeling after only a few seconds apart. He sighed softly against your mouth, guiding you slowly, unhurried. Languid. Sweet. Desperate. Something he had been longing for, longer than he wanted to admit.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to study your face. Your lips swollen from his kiss, your cheeks flushed beautifully. Then he leaned in once more.

Suguru had to confess one more thing: he might be in love with his best friend's fiancé.

---

Part VI

Satoru shot Shoko a venomous glare. "I was faking it. Obviously. And then I exorcised the damn thing. End of story."

You couldn't help the small, surprised smile that tugged at your lips as you watched the exchange. The easy bickering, the way Shoko rolled her eyes and Geto's quiet smirk. It felt lighter than anything you'd experienced around Satoru before.

"Why are you two even here?" Satoru grumbled, deliberately skipping the word "date." "This is supposed to be between me and her."

"Because she invited us," Shoko said while munching a forkful of strawberry shortcake, "and she said it's free. We're not passing up free food."

You hid another small smile behind your teacup. Truthfully, you'd felt so much easier with them around. Satoru was (miraculously) less grumpy, less cold when Geto and Shoko were there to buffer the silence. So when the chance came up, you'd quietly asked them to join. Your mother didn't need to know the "date" had turned into a group outing. As long as you were spending time with Satoru, that was progress in her eyes.

"Anyway," Geto said, taking a sip from his coffee. "The mission ended successfully, and now I have that cursed spirit, the one that can make anything fall in love with me. Pretty neat, huh?"

You nodded, a wistful little thought flickering through your mind: how easy it would be if you had a technique like that. Just one gentle push, and maybe Satoru wouldn't look at you like an obligation he couldn't shake.

"Do you think it'd work on a celebrity?" you asked lightly, half-joking.

Geto chuckled, low and warm. "Maybe you want to try it out?"

Heat flooded your cheeks instantly. You hadn't expected him to turn the tease back on you so smoothly.

Shoko grinned wickedly. "Careful, Gojo. He's about to steal your fiancée."

Satoru scoffed, loud and dismissive. "Please do. Keep her."

The words landed sharper than you'd braced for. A small, familiar ache bloomed in your chest—nothing new, but it still stung. You hoped your face stayed neutral, that the disappointment didn't leak through the careful mask you'd worn for years.

But when your eyes flicked up, Geto was watching you. Quiet. Steady. And the way his brows dipped just slightly told you he'd seen it anyway.

Without a word, he pushed back from the table and stood.

"Come on," he said gently, gesturing for you to follow.

You blinked. Satoru blinked too, caught off guard.

Geto didn't wait for permission. He reached across the table, picked up your bag with easy confidence, and tilted his head toward the door. "You heard what he said. Let's go."

You looked instinctively toward Satoru. Old habit, automatic, checking for approval, for any sign this was allowed.

Satoru met your gaze for half a second, expression flat and unreadable. Then he waved a lazy hand.

"Go ahead. Have fun."

You rose slowly, legs feeling oddly unsteady, and followed Geto out of the café. Behind you, Shoko called after you with a cheerful, "Don't let him corrupt you too much!" while Satoru muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

The bell above the door jingled as you stepped into the afternoon light. Geto walked beside you, hands in his pockets, pace unhurried.

"So," he said after a few quiet steps, glancing sideways at you. "Where do you want to go?"

You stared up at him, still a little dazed by how quickly everything had shifted.

"I... don't know," you admitted softly. "I've never really... chosen."

His smile was small, kind, and surprisingly patient.

"Then we'll figure it out together."

These days, your mother had you prepare Satoru's lunch whenever his schedule allowed, or rather, whenever she decided it did. With him now enrolled at Tokyo Jujutsu High, missions pulling him away at odd hours, she'd pulled you from regular school entirely. Homeschooled. Isolated. Convenient for packing bentos and practicing domestic perfection, less convenient for anything resembling a normal life. You untied your apron with slow, tired fingers and hung it on its hook. A soft sigh escaped as you wiped your hands on your skirt.

You hoped this one would be different. That maybe he'd open the lid, see the effort, and for once not toss it aside or mock it or ignore it completely. Maybe he'd even eat it.

The thought made your chest tighten. You weren't sure which was worse anymore: his indifference or yet another lecture from your mom if she caught you home from another fail attempt to please your fiancee.

You closed the bento's lid with a quiet click, fingers lingering on the cool surface.

Maybe today he'd like it.

"This is for kids," Satoru muttered, voice thick with annoyance as he stared down at the bento like it had personally offended him.

"Would you at least try?"

You blinked, startled by the sound of your own voice breaking through the silence you'd worn like armor for so long.

The words slipped out softer than you meant, but they hung there anyway. A flicker of amusement danced across Satoru's face, before his brows lifted in mock surprise. He snapped the lid shut with a decisive click, fingers curling around the box. At least he hasn't shoved the box back to you.

"What are you even doing here?" he grumbled, shifting his weight. "I already told you, we're not supposed to have another one of these stupid meetings until next month. I was about to head into town for lunch with my friends."

"Yeah, but my mom-"

"That's enough. Stop treating your fiancée like that." The voice came from behind the school gate. Low,!calm, but edged with warning. A tall boy with long dark hair stepped forward and delivered a solid, casual slap to the back of Satoru's head. He flashed you a charming, easy smile that made heat rush to your cheeks before you could stop it.

"We've had enough of watching you act like this, Gojo," came another voice. A girl appeared from behind Satoru's shoulder, dark hair tied back, eyes sharp and unimpressed. Without hesitation she snatched the bento right out of his grip.

"Hey—give it back, Shoko!" Satoru protested, reaching for it.

"I thought you didn't want it," she shot back coolly. She cracked the lid open, peered inside, then plucked a perfect slice of tamagoyaki and popped it into her mouth. Her eyes widened almost comically. "Mmm... this is freaking amazing. What a waste to give this to an ungrateful guy like you." She turned to the long-haired boy. "Here, Geto. Try this."

Geto leaned over her shoulder, inspecting the contents with quiet curiosity before picking up a piece. He took a bite, chewed slowly, then gave a small, approving nod.

"You really are an ungrateful prick, Satoru."

Satoru crossed his arms, scowling, but the usual bite in his expression looked almost... uncertain now.

Your chest grew warm, slowly at first, then spreading like sunlight after too many gray days. Two strangers stood there devouring the food you'd spent the morning shaping with careful, anxious hands, and they weren't mocking it.

"Happy now? Alright, now we're going. You should head back," Satoru dismissed you with a sharp wave of his hand. His tone made it clear: interruption over, conversation done.

"Why don't you join us?" Shoko asked between bites, still munching happily on another piece of tamagoyaki like it was the best thing she'd tasted all week. The long-haired guy—Geto—nodded in easy agreement beside her.

"Yeah, you're already here anyway."

Your heart gave a small, hopeful lurch. You stole a quick glance at Satoru, searching his face for any sign. Permission, irritation, anything. He just let out a long, dramatic sigh and shrugged one shoulder, the gesture lazy and resigned.

"Don't you have those lessons you always do?" he muttered, eyes flicking toward you without quite meeting them. "What is it today? Piano? Tea ceremony? Some other boring crap?"

"I stopped doing that a year ago," you said, voice quiet but steady, surprise threading through your own words. "I'm... free now."

The admission hung in the air for a second. Free. The word felt almost foreign on your tongue.

Spending time with these two strangers who'd just eaten your food like it mattered, who'd called Satoru out without hesitation, who'd smiled at you like you were a person and not just an obligation. And underneath that—practical, almost guilty—your mother would be thrilled. Actually thrilled. You'd spent time with Satoru outside the stiff, arranged dates. Progress. Proof you were trying.

Satoru stared at you for a beat longer, something unreadable flickering behind those endless blue eyes. Then he huffed again, shoving his hands deeper into his pockets.

"Fine. Whatever. Don't make it weird."

The girl grinned around her last bite, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand. "See? He's secretly a softie. Come on, we're heading to that ramen spot near the station. My treat if you're hungry."

Geto gave a small, amused smile and tilted his head toward the path leading away from the gate. "It's not far."

You hesitated only a second, then nodded, clutching the now-empty bento bag a little tighter. Your steps felt lighter as you fell in beside them, the school gate shrinking behind you.

Satoru walked ahead, shoulders tense, muttering something about "extra baggage," but he didn't tell you to leave again. Not once.

For the first time in years, the afternoon stretched open in front of you. Not scripted, not supervised, just... free.

He never quite understood why being special also meant being saddled with a fiancée since he could barely tie his own shoes. His parents explained it patiently: you came from a respected sorcerer clan. Your father had been one of the strongest before he died a few years back. Impressive lineage, on paper. Yet when he finally met you, all he saw was... nothing. Uninteresting. Useless. Weak. No match for him in any way that mattered.

That first day, your stupid frilly dress hadn't impressed him at all. All that babbling about looking like a princess—pathetic. So he did the easiest thing: shut you up. Tipped the chocolate, ruined the fabric, watched the tears streak down your face as you were hauled away. For a fleeting second, as your small figure disappeared through the door, you became a little interesting. Something that reacted. Something alive. But the more time passed, the more that spark faded.

You stopped wearing those ridiculous dresses he used to mock. He almost missed the absence of them. At least you were easier to mock when you were in those dresses. He pushed harder. Candies, taunts, little cruelties, trying to crack the shell, to pull out another outburst like that first yank of his hair. Instead, you went still. Like an empty vessel placed opposite him at the table. Eyes barely lifting to meet his. Voice reduced to whispers or nothing at all. You just sat there, glancing sideways every few moments, quick and furtive, as if checking for something—or someone.

It took him a while to piece it together. You were scared.

When he finally followed the direction of those stolen glances, he understood. Your mother. Always there in the corner of the room, poised and smiling, her presence a silent chain. Was it because of how he treated you? The ruined dress, the tears, the scoldings that followed every failed "play date"?

Weak, he thought. What he did was merely harmless pranks anyway, why did you take this whole thing this serious?

Countless times, Satoru argued against it.

The betrothal was pointless. You were useless anyway, or so he told anyone who would listen. It wasn't that you had zero cursed energy; it was just so faint, so pitifully weak, he could barely sense it even when he focused. Weren't you supposed to be the daughter of one of the strongest sorcerers of the last generation? The whole arrangement felt like a scam, some dusty political maneuver dressed up as destiny.

But his parents, and worse, the higher-ups of the Gojo clan, only ever gave the same infuriating answer: "One day, you'll understand why she's the perfect bride for you."

He rolled his eyes, huffed, threw tantrums that shook the estate's fragile peace. Nothing changed. The meetings continued. The lectures droned on. Eventually, the fight drained out of him. Not because he agreed, but because resisting was more exhausting than simply accepting it.

Fine. Whatever.

You were harmless, anyway. Aside from being an annoying, silent log who sat across from him like a statue, you didn't demand anything. No outbursts anymore. No tears. No yanking his hair. Just quiet endurance that somehow grated on him less than the endless scoldings he'd get if he refused to show up. So he endured the boring "dates." The stiff rooms with tatami mats and low tables. The polite tea poured by servants who pretended not to notice the tension. He'd slouch, flick candies or insults when the mood struck, but mostly he just watched you watch the floor. Well, at least as you grew older you can have some privacy and your mom didn't have to linger every now and then in the background anymore.

It was easier to let it be. You were background noise in his life of limitless potential. A minor inconvenience he could mostly ignore.

One day, he told himself, he'd figure out what everyone else seemed to see in you.

Or maybe he wouldn't.

To little-you, being a bride sounded magical. Wasn't it just like the princesses in your picture books? A breathtaking dress, a sparkling ceremony, and the handsome prince waiting at the end of the aisle.

That illusion held until the day you finally met your intended future husband—Gojo Satoru.

The instant your eyes landed on him, it felt like the stars themselves had stepped down to stand in front of you. To your seven-year-old heart, he wasn't merely a prince from a fairy tale.

He was better.

You dipped into a careful curtsy the way you'd practiced in front of your mirror, fingers delicately lifting the skirt of your favorite dress—the one you'd begged your mother to let you wear because today was the day you'd finally meet Satoru.

He barely spared you a glance.

"My mom had this dress made just for me," you announced brightly as you sat down across from him, "so I could look like a real princess."

You didn't notice the bored tilt of his head or the way his eyes slid past you like you were furniture. To seven-year-old you, he was still perfect.

Then, he opened his mouth.

"It's ugly."

The word landed like a slap. You frowned, heat rising in your cheeks as he shrugged one lazy shoulder and reached for a pastel macaron from the tiered tray the chef had set out for your "play date."

"It's not," you shot back, voice small but fierce.

For a heartbeat you thought you caught something flicker in those impossibly blue eyes. Something sharp and boyishly wicked. Then your hot chocolate simply tipped over. No one touched the cup. It just fell, steaming brown liquid blooming across the pristine white fabric of your skirt, soaking through in dark, spreading patches.

"It's ugly now."

The mischief finally broke across his face in a wide, delighted grin—the first real smile he'd given you all afternoon.

You shot to your feet, tears stinging hot behind your eyes. Before you could think, your small hand had already fisted a thick handful of his snow-white hair and yanked. After that everything blurred into chaos: shouts, overturned chairs, the sting of your own sobs. You only remember his grin stretching wider—gleeful, almost proud—as strong arms lifted you off the floor and carried you away.

Back home your mother's face was thunder. She hissed through clenched teeth that you were to behave next time, that you must never, ever disrespect Gojo Satoru. Then she marched you straight to your room and locked the door.

You stood there in the middle of the rug, still wearing the ruined dress—chocolate-stained, crumpled, no longer anything like a princess's gown—listening to the click of the lock and the echo of your own hiccuping breaths.

Ever since that day, the fairy-tale shimmer faded bit by bit, and you began to understand the grim shape of your future.

Being a bride wasn't the glittering adventure of princess stories. One wrong move, one flash of temper, and your mother's wrath descended like a storm. Endless lessons followed: posture, poise, polite conversation, the art of silent endurance, all designed to mold you into the perfect bride. Above all, you learned to swallow every petty cruelty Satoru tossed your way, because it was painfully clear: he didn't care for you. Not even a little. He wanted you gone, out of his sight, a nuisance to be prodded until you cracked.

"He's only a child," your mother would say, wiping your tears with the same hands that had just punished you for daring to cry in front of him. "By the time he grows up, he'll learn to treat you like the princess you are. You two are meant to be together. You still want to be his princess, don't you?"

Her words were meant to soothe, but they only stung deeper. You were a child too. Yet, you were expected to sit still while he did whatever he pleased, just because boredom had settled over him like a crown.

Your small hands curled into tight fists under the table as another candy pelted your shoulder, then your cheek. He flicked them lazily, watching for the flinch, the reddening eyes, the barely-held-back sob, fishing for any reaction to amuse himself. When the next one stung sharper than the last, something inside you snapped. You started to rise from your chair, chair legs scraping the floor—

A soft cough from across the room stopped you cold. Terror prickled up your spine. You froze, then slowly sank back down.

You stole a glance at your mother. She sat with perfect composure, lips curved in a gentle, approving smile.

Be the perfect bride, she mouthed silently, the words clear as any spoken command.

You comply, for all you know that's the only role you will ever be since you were born.

He’s cute– hot.

You immediately swiped right. He looked decent enough and seemed like a kind guy, even though you had a feeling he was the kind of guy who wasn’t looking for anything serious and was only down for a few dates before they disappeared.

It’s okay, you thought.

“I’m not looking for anything serious.”

So, you said it first.

“Are you okay with it?”

He looked at your eyes for a few seconds after he heard you say it on your first date. You straightened your back, trying to make yourself appear more intimidating so he would not mess with you. You know a guy like Suguru well. They only treated women like objects and playthings. You want to show him that if he wants to toy with your heart, that’s not going to happen because you know the game all too well.

“Alright.” Suguru’s lips tugged into a small smile. “Nothing serious, it is.”

However, why were you grinding on his hips like your life depended on him now?

Through your messy bangs, you saw Suguru bringing his cigarette to his mouth, taking a long drag followed by a hiss. You were unsure if he was hissing because of the smoke or because you had just fastened your pace. His other hand gripped your thigh, guiding you to slower, yet firm moves.

Suguru turned his head to the side as he exhaled.

“Eager today, aren’t you?”

You flashed him a glare. The smoke still surrounded him in a haze.

You hate people who smoke. You cannot stand the smell and you always thought people who smoke are dumbasses that tried to look cool. They never look cool.

But not Suguru. He looked hot doing so.

Other guys you had messed around before him were not allowed to smoke in your room. You won’t hesitate to kick their ass out if they break that rule.

With Suguru, you break that rule. Hell, you don’t even tell him there’s a rule.

He took another drag off his cigarette, eyes plastered to your lower abdomen where the both of you connected.

“You looked so hot riding my dick like that.”

His lips turned into a smirk. You desperately wanted to kiss the smirk out of his lips but you were too busy enjoying his cock.

Suguru took away his cigarette as he straightened his posture. Supporting his weight on his elbows, he put his face closer to your body as he latched onto one of your nipples. You moaned, feeling him suck your nipple in a languid move. He knew that was your weakness. His mouth sent tingles from all over your body down to your core. Your hand moved to grab the back of his head as you pulled him closer. Movement slowed down a bit as you tried to regain your composure.

“Mmh…,” Suguru pulled away to take another drag out of his cigarette. “You are so delicious.”

Your stomach fluttered hearing that. With an urge, you fastened your pace. You wanted to hear those words more. You wanted him raining you with sugar-coated nothingness, with sweet bullshits that always turned you into a mess.

Don’t believe the guys you met on the dating apps, your friends said.

All men lie anyway so why don’t you enjoy it from the hot ones like Suguru?

Feeling you were moving faster, Suguru put out his cigarette on your bedside table. You hate it, but if it Suguru‒ well, you become repetitive now.

When he put out his cigarette, that meant business. Your heart raced as he looked at you, his eyes seemingly darkening.

Suguru grabbed the back of your head, tilted your head to the side before he peppered kisses down from your neck to the back of your ear.

“God, I could never have enough of you,” he grunted into your ear before nibbling it. "You fit me so well, baby."

That’s a lie, you know. But, how delicious it is to hear it?

Your moans turned into desperate whines as he kept licking and kissing your lobe while his fingers busily playing with your nipple. Your movement started to stagger and Suguru, attentive as he was, took notice of it.

“Tired, princess?”

Ugh, that nickname. You don’t know how he could make such a cheesy name sound so hot.

You nodded with a whimper. “Yes… Suguru… Mmh….”

You felt Suguru hand draped around your back. Before you even registered what was happening, Suguru suddenly switched the positions you were both in. With a yelp, you suddenly cushioned into the mattress, Suguru hovering over you with a stupid grin.

“Sorry, Darling, it’s my turn.”

If his voice materialized, you know it would be as smooth as the velvet.

Suguru landed short kisses on your lips before urging you to open your mouth, capturing your tongue in a hungry dance. He pulled away, brushing his hair away from his face, gazing at you with a smile.

You gripped the sheets, bracing yourself for what would happen next. Bracing yourself as you feel your heart pounding faster when you gaze back at his dark brown eyes.

The meaning of his gaze was unclear. Was it lust? Was it adoration? Was it love? Everything became blurred each time you ended up naked under him.

Suguru grabbed your thighs, pushing them away from each other before he gave a hard thrust to your core. You moaned as he reached the spot you failed to reach in the previous position.

“There, is it? Good?” You just gave him a desperate nod, urging him to move.

He chuckled, seeing your reaction. "Patience, baby."

Suguru gave a few soft thrusts before moving harder, humming to himself as he looked down to see his dick disappearing into your cunt.

“So fucking hot,” he mumbled to himself while you were nothing but a vessel of desperate moans. You could not form a single coherent thought as you felt his dick railed you, hitting your favorite spot over and over.

Sometimes, when you are sober, you think this is a form of self-abuse. You don’t even know where this is going. You don’t know how long this will last. One day he will find another girl he really likes and he will ditch you. What will happen if that time comes?

But this is Suguru. It will take decades for guys like Suguru to stop fucking around and settle. Meanwhile, you will be enjoying every second of it.

You let out a whine as you felt his fingers prodding on your clit. “Suguru-!”

“Mh… I know, princess, I know.”

Suguru felt your body tensing as he harmonized the movement of his thrusts and his fingers. You were close. He knew your body even better than you do; he knew each button to press to drive you into your climax.

Your back arched as he kept thrusting your pleasure spot. It felt like all the butterflies you trapped deep beneath you suddenly burst away from their cage, brushing the inner of your stomach with their wings.

With a loud cry, you gave into the pleasure, your inner wall tightened around Suguru’s cock.

Suguru grunted as he felt you climaxed on him. He grabbed your waist, using your body to reach his own peak. You who had turned weak just let him do whatever he liked to you.

“I love it when you cum around my cock,” he grunted. “It turned you slippery and tight- oh fuck!”

His face tightened as he felt his own climax nearing. Suguru threw his head back, thrusting his hips in an uncoordinated movement. With a few thrust you felt his dick tensing before spurting its content inside you.

Suguru panted, his bare chest glistening with sweat.

You looked at him in adoration. You might be in love with him if only…

”That was great,” Suguru suddenly said after he took a deep breath. He pulled away from you, going off the bed then took his unfinished cigarette from your bedside drawer.

You pushed yourself up, supporting your weight on your elbow as you saw his naked figure walking around your bed.

The lack of aftercare disappointed you, but you were not in the position to beg for it.

Suguru reached out for his jeans, the cigarette hanging from between his lips. He lit it up as he found a blue lighter from one of his jeans pockets. He took a long drag from his cigarette before putting his jeans on.

”Are you going?” You asked, uneasiness suddenly settled in the pit of your stomach, replacing all the butterflies you got earlier.

”Hmm,” Suguru hummed as he put on his shirt.

“I thought you were staying tonight. There’s a new episode of House of Dragon this week.”

At this point, you felt like you were desperately saying anything just to make him stay.

“Can’t, I have a plan.” He walked away from your room after he finished buttoning his shirt. You quickly get off from your bed, hastily putting on your t-shirt before chasing him.

”With Satoru?” You tried, heart pounding uncomfortably every second. Please, let it be Satoru, his best friend.

”No, he isn’t in the city at the moment,” he replied, now he was sitting on the small chair near your doorway, putting his shoes on.

“With a girl, then?” You said in a joking manner. However, you felt like you were about to throw up saying it.

No answer. Shit.

“Ah, one of your dates,” you chuckled to appear nonchalant. “Nothing serious, is it?”

This time, you can see the corner of his lips turned upside. Your stomach dropped.

Instead of answering, Suguru pulled away his cigarette from his mouth before giving a soft kiss on top of your head.

“Bye,” he said shortly before exiting your apartment, leaving you in the doorway with a head full of thoughts.

Your apartment door closed with a soft thud.

He didn’t answer you.

He didn’t answer you like the first time you asked the same question regarding your relationship.

Gazing on your door, you drop your body to the floor. You wonder if you never asked that question in the first place.

Will things turn out differently?

——

It was Saturday afternoon and for the first time after months, Gepard finally had the house for himself. Usually, Serval and her band will be flocking around the house because they’ll have practice from noon until early evening. And of course, that means you and your boyfriend will be here too so it’s the best choice for him to avoid going home. Today, he was free from all of that.  

After he watched your performance for the last time a few months ago, Gepard knew he was too deep in love with you to stay friends. The thought of you drove him crazy. The idea of not having you made him feel insane. He doesn’t even know he had this side of him, a toxic trait like this. Indeed, love is a death of peace of mind. 

He thanked Serval though, for not making any fuss about him keep skipping her performances. The first time he declined her invitation to watch her gigs, Serval just nodded her head and pat his arm. 

“Alright, brother. Just talk to me if something is bothering you.” She knew. After all, Gepard cannot hide anything from his sister. He felt bad for her, but he promised this won’t take too long. 

He didn’t expect it will be this hard to deal with whatever he felt for you but he knew he was going there. He is a man of determination after all. He muted all of your social media, he steer clear of you. If he saw Blade’s black Jeep parked in front of his house, he would drive away to somewhere else. Usually, he goes to Dunn’s bar. He gets a free drink from that guy though. Or he will just do some boxing training in the gym. Which is a great way to channel all of his emotions. 

The sound of punches hitting the sandbag could be heard from his room, echoing in the hallway. Sweat drips on his face, on his body, but Gepard is too focused to care. He kept hitting the sandbag as hard as he could. He found this is a good way to stop thinking. Stop thinking about you, or stop thinking in general. Sometimes, Blade’s face flashed in front of him though, right on the sandbag. It made him hit the sandbag harder. And when he ran out of energy and realized how silly and childish his thoughts are, he couldn't help but laugh in embarrassment.  

Gepard stopped his punches as he heard the sound of his doorbell rang. He wasn’t expecting anyone today, and Serval has her own key. Who is it? Gepard was about to ignore it, assuming it was probably some salesman selling shady items. But when the doorbell ring rapidly over and over again, he got pissed off. He grabbed the nearest t-shirt on the bed and stormed off to his front door, ready to put this rude visitor in his place. 

However, all of his anger melted down as he saw you in front of his door, alone, looking up at him with a distressed look. 

“Oh…” he breathed out your name, a name that tasted so foreign on his tongue but now he realized how much he missed saying it. He gulped nervously, analyzing your figure, your face. It’s really been a while since he saw you, and you’re still as beautiful as the last time he saw you, even without that hypnotizing smile that always greets him every time he saw you. All efforts he did to forget you went down the drain. 

“Umm… Is there… Is there something you need?”

He could see you were on the verge of crying. He didn’t know what to do.  

"Is… is Serval home?" your trembling voice sounds foreign to Gepard's ears. His jaw stiffened with worries. You were trying hard to hold back your tears, that much he knew. What the hell’s happening with you?  

"No, she hasn't come back," he said, "Are you alright?"

You sigh before giving him a smile, a fake one he notices, "Yeah, I'm alr-" a sob cut your sentence as you broke down into tears in front of him. 

"I'm sorry, Gepard. I'm not… May I… May-"

Not knowing what to do, he grabs your shoulders and invites you in, "Hey, hey, it's okay. Just let it all out," and you did as you naturally wrapped in his arm, crying your eyes out into his t-shirt. And now he’s suddenly aware he’s sweating like hell from his training. He probably smelled bad too. He just hoped you were too busy crying to notice. He also hoped you won’t notice the sound of his heart rapidly beating inside his ribcage by having you in his embrace. 

Gepard guided you to the loveseat in the living room area, the same seat he saw you the first time in your boyfriend’s arms. Here you are right now, crying in his arms. Life’s kind of funny, he thought. 

Gepard didn’t say anything much and let you cry as much as you want. He didn’t know what to say, except bunches of: “It’s okay, I’m here,” or, “It’s fine, just cry all you want,” anyway. But he made sure you felt safe in his arms. He brushed your hair and your back and embrace you tighter when your sobs got harder. 

It went on for more than half an hour, he figured out as he checked Serval’s steampunk-themed clock on the wall. He can feel the front of his t-shirt dampened by your tears. His body also started to go numb under your weight. However, he didn’t mind all that. Your crying had ceased but you still clutched the side of his t-shirt tightly, as if you were scared he will disappear once you let go. 

“Are you okay now?” he said softly, still brushing your hair. You slowly lifted your head, resting your chin on his chest as you gaze up at him with red puffy eyes. Your makeup was a bit messy, but you’re still pretty in his eyes. Even prettier now, somehow. Gepard felt sick realizing that he found you prettier after you cried. 

“Yeah…” you whispered with a croaky voice. 

“Care to tell me what happened?” he said, feeling his chest tighten once he saw your frown deepen. “It’s okay if you don’t want to-”

"Blade cheats on me…" you said softly he almost didn’t catch it. But he did and it made his blood boil. That fucking guy. He already got you and had the audacity to do that to you? Who the hell did he think he is? 

"He's stupid,” Gepard meant it, not only because he wanted to make you feel better. He wanted to say worse things about the other guy, but he held himself since he’s your boyfriend. Or ex, now? It looked like you were about to cry once more but you hold back. 

"Am I not beautiful enough, Gepard?" 

That’s a stupid question. You’re beautiful, especially when you were busy doing your own things. When you were singing and dancing. When you were writing lyrics on his kitchen island. When you were performing on the stage. You were stunning. You were beautiful. But you’re the most beautiful when you were smiling at him. He wanted to see you smile at him once more, and he would do anything for that. 

"He's just an ungrateful asshole," he said, cursing and thanking himself at the same time for not saying all that thought he had for you. “You are beautiful…” That sentence came softer, and feel almost like a whisper. He was feeling bold, even though he kind of regretted saying it since now you look at him in the eyes with an unreadable expression. This is probably the closest distance you had ever been from him. He can see all of your facial features better. He can see the smallest shift of expressions on your face. He can see your plump lips open up slightly before you speak. 

"Kiss me then."

It seemed he was not the only one who felt bold. Gepard thought you were messing with him. He studied your face, expecting you to burst out laughing, and said you were only joking. However, he found nothing in your eyes but desperation. Desperation to get any validation, anything to pick up the pieces of your crumbling heart, perhaps.

Before you can retract back what you say, Gepard captured your lips swiftly in his. Without hesitation. Probably an action he had so much confidence in doing after a while. It was a slow kiss. He made sure he memorized every inch of your mouth as his tongue made its way to dance languidly with yours. A soft moan slipped from your lips as he moved away to admire your face. 

“You are really beautiful,” he repeated, gently brushing your hair and tucking it behind your ear. He emphasized the word to make sure you really listen to him, to make all of your doubts disappear. Your face turned a bit red. That’s enough to make him kiss you once more, a little harder this time. 

Gepard lifted your body from the sofa to his lap. Following his lead, you straddled him, deepening the kiss as you circle your arms around his neck. He can’t help but grunt as he felt you bite his lower lips, tugging it a bit hard before you swipe your tongue softly on it. In response, he grabbed your butt and reposition you better on his lap. You probably felt his hard-on as you sit on it. But he doesn’t care. Maybe he wanted you to feel it. He wanted you to know that’s how much he wanted you. 

“Gepard…” you whispered out his name. Like a spell, a grunt left his throat as he grabbed the back of your neck, tilting so he can trail kisses on your skin. He kissed, licked, and sucked your skin until splotches of red appeared on it. 

“I think we should move to my room,” he said once he reluctantly pulled out from you, already missing the way you taste on his tongue. As far as he’d love to screw you on the loveseat, he probably can’t live a day after Serval walked in on him doing her best friend. 

As you get up from his lap, before you can process anything, Gepard already captured your lips in another heated kiss. While he did that he grabbed your thighs and picked you up like your weight was nothing, thanks for all the workouts he did. You immediately encircled your legs on his waist as you kiss him back, needy. 

He broke the kiss once you arrived in his room, throwing your weight on his bed. Gepard looked down at your figure, the situation slowly dawned on him. Here you were laying on his bed with a ragged breath, eyes locked with his, hazy with lust. Your fingers slowly moved to unbutton your shirt, one by one, eyes locked with his. He gulped as he saw your lacy baby blue bra revealed below your shirt. 

“Go ahead,” you said, teasing him. Gepard dropped his knees between your legs, once again locking his lips with yours. 

“Beautiful,” he growled between the kisses. He had fantasized about this moment several times in his sleepless nights, admiring you from head to toe, tracing every curve and line on your body. He thought the time would slow down as he memorize every inch of you. However, he couldn’t even form a coherent thought as he rained kisses from your jaw down to your chest, hands struggling to unclasp your bra. His mind was hazy as your hand made its way to his painfully hardened length. He grunted as he felt you stroke him through his boxer, slow and sensual at first before the pace fastened. 

“Feel good?” you purred in his ear. 

Asking for another validation, it seems, and Gepard willingly gave it to you by thrusting his hips to your hand and groaning deeply, anything to make you keep stroking him.

“Yes,” he voiced helplessly. Smiling in satisfaction, you push him away for a bit, much to his disappointment. However, his jaw almost dropped as he saw you pull down his boxer by the waistband, his hardened length immediately sprung free from its cage. 

“W-wait-” he shrieked in panic, looking down at you whose lips were dangerously close to the tip of his cock, “I haven’t showered.”

You only rolled your eyes in response, immediately licking his tip before putting half of his length in your mouth. Gepard felt his face turn hotter as he saw you skillfully run your tongue down and up his cock. You, who he thought he would have to forget today, were going down on him, sucking him, moaning with nothing but a pair of skinny black jeans. Probably the same skinny jeans the last time he saw you performing in for the last time. Gepard gritted his teeth nervously, still worrying about the fact that he was probably sweaty down there. But when you try to take all of his lengths down to your throat, he can’t hold out the loud grunt that left his mouth as he threw his head back. 

“Oh, fuck-” he hissed, hand immediately going on top of your head. Gepard grabbed a handful of your hair as he fucked your throat in and out. Your mouth felt so warm around him, felt so fucking good. You were nothing like his imagination. You were better. 

This is it. This is his reward for being a saint, for being patient in enduring all the torture you gave him for the past few months. For enduring all the time he saw you embracing and kissing your fucking boyfriend. Now here you are, looking up at him with teary eyes with his cock deep in your mouth. 

Gepard pulled your head back as he felt the fuzzy feeling inside his stomach start to intensify. There's no way he's going to end this so soon. Not until he was buried deep inside your pussy. 

“Pants off,” He commanded as he started to strip himself out of his boxer and t-shirt. Suddenly feeling like taking charge. Probably from the amazing head you just gave him. Your lips looped into a teasing smile, but you obeyed him immediately, tugging and pulling both your panties and skinny jeans off at the same time.

Fully stripped, Gepard trapped your naked form beneath his body, taking you into another hasty make-out session. His hand worked toward your wet pussy, rubbing around to find your clit before flicking it gently. A sweet moan erupted from you, fueling Gepard to rub it even faster. 

"Gepard," you breathed into his mouth, fingers pressing hard on his arms, "I need you."

Something he had been dying to hear after all this time. He could only imagine it before, not even in this kind of situation. But this had to be the perfect situation to hear it. 

He bit your lips and tugged it passionately before he pulled away from the kiss to grab his cock and aligned it with your pussy. His cock twitched as he rubbed it on your wet labia. He couldn't wait to be buried deep in you, but Gepard was hesitant since he probably didn't prepare you long enough. And he didn't have a condom with him now.

"Hurry," you moaned, whined, looking at him in desperation. Spreading your legs wide to invite him.

That's all it took for him to push the head of his cock to your entrance. Fuck it, he'll just pull out later, he thought, feeling a sudden rush of thrill in his stomach. Slowly thrusting in, Gepard growled at the sensation of being in your pussy. Maybe it was from all the pent-up sexual desire he had for you, or maybe because your pussy is just really tight and slippery, it was nothing like he had imagined before. He almost thanked Blade for cheating on you and leading him to have experienced all of this with you. Almost, because you still didn't deserve it. But fuck, your pussy is warm and tender as it sucked and clenched on his cock. So thanks, Blade. 

"Fuck…" he breathed, hissing as he pulled in and out of you. Fast at first but then pistoning slow and hard to prolong the sensation of you clasping around him. Your eyebrows creased as you let out a loud moan when he thrust hard in, once, twice. He must be hitting your sweet spot.

Gepard took one of your nipples in his mouth, sucking and licking it gently. You mewled in pleasure as a response, hips moving following his motion. Seems like he's not the only one who wasn't patient to reach your high. Your hips started to buck with more urgency as he circled the bud of his fingers once again on your hardened clit to help you get off faster. 

"Kiss me," you begged and he leaned down to slip his tongue in your mouth, immediately caught by yours hungrily. Gepard himself started to feel like he was about to lose it. He was seeing stars on the back of his head as he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of your tongue on his, of your slippery wall around him. 

But his pride wouldn't allow him to finish before you. So when he felt your body tense and slowed down, he felt relieved and immediately pulled out of you, splattering cums on your chest and stomach. He pumped himself a few times to milk himself dry, eyes gazing at your body, beautifully covered in cum. Once the last drop fell on your lower belly, Gepard let out a loud sigh and threw his head back.

"That was amazing," he heard you saying. Opening his eyes, he saw you close your eyes with a peaceful smile on your face. Not a sight of evidence that you've been crying over your asshole ex-boyfriend. 

He hovered on top of you, bracing his weight on both his forearms to give your lips pecks. You smiled on his lips, kissing him back. 

"Thank you, Gepard," you breathed, looking at him with pure affection, shifting something in him. As much as his mind wanted to tell him to assess this situation more, Gepard can't think of one negative outcome of this situation. He just knew from that moment, he wanted to make you happy. He wanted to prove that he isn't someone like your ex-boyfriend. That for all this time, all you needed is him.

A/N: Forgive me if I made several mistakes because this is my first lengthy smut :"D Boxing Gepard is inspired by the way he punches destructible items. Something shifted in me when I saw him violently punch them...

Me, next, Gepard... Stealing this from Twitter because I don't have himmm aaaaarghhh Gepard pls come home ;_____;