ACKKKK THIS IS SO GOOD 🥹😭✨🫶🏻
ACKKKK THIS IS SO GOOD 🥹😭✨🫶🏻
❝ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄 𝐀𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 ! ❞
❝ EVERYONE WANTS PROF GETO — IN A WORLD OF BOYS, HE’S A GENTLEMAN ! ❞
✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part three of the prof geto series)
✧ summary: you always had the wrong timing with professor geto -- first you were his student, then his T.A., and now it was the wrong place -- he’s moving to Kyoto. but you had a few weeks together before then -- so can you make them last?
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (for real), so much fluff (we've earned it), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student, but age is vague, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, shower sex, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, surprise appearance by someone :)
✧ wc: 12,010 (is anyone surprised?)
✧ other parts: part one | part two | v-day special
Time was the one thing that seemed to always escape you and Suguru — fuck, timing was never your strong suit to begin with—if your late arrival to Suguru’s first class was any indication.
You always ended up too early or too late to places, your entire day spent waiting for an appointment in the middle of the day, and your meeting days often mixed up in your head. And now—
Your relationship had an expiration date before it had even started.
The question you asked when the message from the department head came through hung in the air of his office like a death announcement. And it almost was — the second death of not even the start of what could have been a relationship.
Suguru’s eyes can’t meet yours, brow furrowed as if he had thought hard enough, he could solve the problem of distance with a simple application of an ethical theory — but unfortunately Socrates nor Plato had invented any solutions for instantaneous travel.
So the elephant remained.
“When did you—“
“No,” he’s swallowing, his eyes meeting yours again — desperate, but not the desperation you had both felt a moment ago — the desperation felt in the throes of passion — no, this desperation was the one felt when clinging to sand slipping between your fingers, “let’s not talk about this, not right now,”
“Suguru—“ and his lips find yours again, more insistent this time, his hands slipping around your waist, and each brush of his lips steals away another ounce of sense from you, “we have to talk about—“
“I know we do, I know,” he murmurs between kisses, his fingers cupping your cheek, thumb brushing back and forth against your cheekbone, “but I don’t want to think any more — I just want to be with you. I just want you,” and his voice breaks ever so slightly, and it cracks any reservations you have — just as this man always did, “but if you want to talk, we can talk right—“
And your lips cut off his sentence, only a moment’s pause before he’s melting into your touch again, your hands sliding against his bare chest, his heartbeat racing as fast as yours was — so much so that you wondered if the beating you heard was your own or his.
“Your place or mine?” and he blinks, as you kiss his jaw, a chuckle on your lips, “unless you’d like to fuck me in your office, I’ll have to admit it’s one of the things I’ve thought about,”
And god, all the blood in his body must have fled south in a half second with how much he aches for you, “Now who needs to watch their language?” His words are whispered against your neck, as he leans down to press a sweet kiss there, “what other things have you thought about?” His fingers find your chin, tilting your head until your gaze met his again — dark pools of lust stared back — and your thighs would have pressed together, if his knee wasn’t between them, teasingly rubbing against your far too damp panties.
“Patience, we have time for that,” and his eyes soften ever so slightly, an iota of relief rippling across his features.
“We do?” And it’s a question he needed to ask — had to ask, but that he wasn’t sure if he wanted to hear the answer to — because he knew it could break him.
“We do,” you pull him into a kiss, your lips sliding against his, “so the question remains, Professor,” you tease, and a shiver runs down his spine, “your place or mine?”
~~~
You end up at his place — the car ride there was relatively short, but far too long — wringing your hands in your lap, so you wouldn’t touch him. Because you know it would only take one touch — one touch for him to pull to the side of the road and pull you across the console and into his lap.
But you wanted to do this right — you needed to do this right. You had both waited long enough — you couldn’t hurry, not when you were both about to cross the finish line. But it didn’t mean you couldn’t toe it. And your fingers brush his outer thigh, and his eyes flicker over to you — a silent warning, and you knew you were playing with fire — the same fire that had burned you both time and time again, but this wasn’t his office. And you weren’t to let a goddamn phone stop you from having what you wanted.
And you wanted him — so bad — and from the way his gaze found yours, tongue flicking across his lips — he wanted you all the same. Your fingers just rested on his thigh, if only to ground yourself — as if touching him was the same as pinching yourself, to remind you that this wasn’t a dream. It was real — this was real.
It only became more real as he pulled into his apartment parking lot. He got out first, opening the door for you, as he offered you his hand, and helped you out, drawing close, too close for your brain to function — his lips brushing against your ear, “that’s for teasing me in the car,” you barely manage to gape at him, before he’s leading you inside, a palm resting on the small of your back, as you sneak a glance at him — cheeks still burning.
He was so beautiful — in every sense of that word. His dark hair fell in waves, strands slipping from his bun, assuredly from your tryst in his office; his lips were curled in a slight smile, as he pulled his keys from his pockets; and even his hands were gorgeous — they were so much bigger than yours, and his long fingers, lovely veins running across the back of his hands.
And you’re finally inside his apartment, as he holds the door open for you — the quiet click of the door makes your heart squeeze, his footsteps against the hardwood still when he’s behind you, his arms slowly curling around your waist. His lips ghost your neck, breath warming your skin, “should we talk first?”
You lean into his touch, your back pressed into his chest, his fingers lightly squeezing your hips, “we should,” and you should, you had to talk about what was going to happen, what this meant, what Kyoto means — but you want to just stay in this moment, you turn to look at him, and your noses brush, “but I don’t want talk right now,”
And his breath hitches, as your lips brush his, “But we will later?” his voice is barely above a whisper, as if even a word muttered above a whisper could break this moment.
“I promise we will,” you murmur, your lips curling, as you turn to face him fully, “but let’s not worry about later right now — there’s only one time that’s important, and that’s right now,”
“Paraphrasing Tolstoy?” He hums, his arms pull you flush to him, your fingers curling in the fabric of his shirt, already rumpled fabric wrinkling further under your touch, “And what do you plan to do to me right now, Princess?”
“Oh I have many ideas,” you lean up and brush your lips against the cut of his jaw, delighting in the shiver you draw from him, “so many ideas, Professor — should I write an outline up?”
“Fuck the outline,” and his lips find yours, his arms curled around you, pressing you flush against him, “I have all I need in my arms right now — I’m sure you’ll give a wonderful oral presentation, now won’t you?” He hums, as his lips part yours a moment, his thumb dragging down your puffy, kiss bitten lips — “I already know you’re an incredible orator,” this fucker knew exactly what to say to make your knees buckle.
“And I know how good you are with your hands,” you guide them to your hips, “able to tear papers and pantyhose apart,” you teased as a tinge of red appeared across his pretty cheekbones, “I’ll expect a new pair by tomorrow,”
“Consider it a promise,” and he’s kissing down your neck now, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse jumping under his touch, “but I can’t promise that I won’t do the same thing again,”
And he’s guiding you to his bedroom, walking backwards, as his teeth nibble at a soft spot of your neck, your fingers finding his jaw to guide him back for another kiss when you pause.
“What is it?” And you’re reaching into your pocket for something, and then reaching into his as well, as he flinches, fingers far too close to a very sensitive spot, and both of your hands emerge with your phones, turning them off before tossing them onto his couch. And he chuckles, “no risks?”
“There’s already far too much risk when it comes to us — call it preemptive measures,” and you’re leaning back into a kiss, his lips curled in a smile, “no landlines right?”
And he laughs, nodding, thumb and forefinger tilting your chin up, “Sure you aren’t a utilitarian at heart?”
“Well, you are certainly the best consequence, now aren’t you?” and he smiles the same smile that doomed you from the start—
“What a coincidence,” he murmurs, as he pulls you into his bedroom, helping you lie back on his bed, just as he imagined far too many times to be anywhere near ethical, — I was going to say the same about you.”
~~~
“Shouldn’t I be making you feel good first—“ Suguru sucks air through his teeth as your pretty lips press a kiss to his sensitive erection through his tenting boxers, a dark patch of his pre-cum visible on the fabric, “please, sweetheart—“
“This is for all the times your email and phone calls blueballed us—“ you smirk, teasing the head with your thumb through the fabric — “and I have to tease you — I mean Professor Geto begging me to suck to him off? Maybe I should make you work for it, write a paper on why you think I should let you cum in my mouth,” and he’s gritting his teeth, cock twitching in his boxers, your words far too effective, “tear it apart until you’re begging for it,” he’s swallowing thickly — and god, he’s so pretty like this, hair splayed out like a halo around his head, cheeks ruddy from his flush, and his chest rising and falling, teeth baring down on his lip, “but I’m much too kind for that,” you’re sliding down his boxers, his cock nearly slapping against his stomach, “and we’ve waited long enough,”
His cock was even gorgeous — truly what was he? Intelligent, kind, funny — and even his naked body was perfect — his cock was flushed red at the tip, black hair neatly trimmed dotted around it, a slight curve that you knew would feel far too good inside your cunt, and pretty veins you couldn’t wait to memorize—
You weren’t his favorite student for nothing after all.
You reach for his cock, smearing the thick beads of pre-cum along his length, kissing the tip, as your fingers slowly gripped the base. He grunts, a sigh leaving his lips, muscles tense as he tries not to rut into your hand and hang on to one iota of self control — and oh, you smirked, you’d do away with that soon enough.
“You think about me in this room, Suguru?” your fingers slowly start to pump him, his head falling back, “did you touch yourself to the thought of this?”
“Fuck, Princess—“ your lips curl.
“Is that a yes?” And you lean down, parting your lips for his length as your tongue traces a teasing trail down his vein, “or a no?” the tip of your tongue lapping at the pre-cum that leaked from his slit, “c’mon, Sugu, not so good to keep your student waiting — maybe I’ll drop the class,”
“I’ve thought about you — you know I have,” the words leave his lips, any hint of self control lost as his length presses against your cheek when you run a thick stripe with the flat of your tongue up his dick, “wanted to fuck you, taste you, make you scream my name—and,” his gaze softens ever so slightly as his only can in the midst of all this passion, “I wanted to wake up with you, make you breakfast, cuddle you—“
And he’s groaning, as you finally wrap your lips around his throbbing cock, tongue swirling around the tip, as his name left his lips in reverence, long fingers finding their way to weave in your hair. Your hand pumped what you couldn’t fit in your mouth. And you know he’s already close by the way his twitching now when his tip nearly brushes against your throat.
“Sweetheart, stop, I’ll—“ but you don’t oblige him, fingers brushing against his balls, before you’re bracing yourself against his thighs, as you suck and lick at his length, until he’s groaning, “where should I—“ and you suck at his tip in reply, and his head falls back, lips parted in a groan, as he cums hard, swallowing every drop as he paints your throat white with his release. He’s panting and twitching as he comes down from his high — deliciously flushed and messy, as his chest falls up and down as he pants, trying and failing to catch the breath you had stolen from him — sucked from his dick undoubtedly.
Eyes lidded as he watches you pull yourself from his cock, a string of spit and cum connecting your lips to his cock, before it drips down your chin, “I may get addicted, Sugu,” and you’re climbing back onto his lap, your lips grazing his still racing pulse, grunting as your clothed cunt rubs against his cock, “gonna have my professor’s cock every night at this rate — maybe I’ll suck you off under your desk next time,” your lips brush against his ear, as he gasps, cock twitching against your needy cunt, “how unethical your cock is compared to the rest of you,” and you’re undoing the buttons on his shirt, until it falls open for you, “wonder what other sounds I can draw from you tonight? Shall we learn together—“
And he flipped you onto your back on the bed, lips curled in a smile — but a smile laced with lust, eyes raking over your body as he began to strip your shirt off your body, “did you forget, Princess? I’m the professor,” and he leans down to kiss your erect tits through your bra, delighting at your gasp, before sucking lightly at your erect nipple through the fabric, “and I still have so much left to teach you,”
He is kissing agonizingly slow up your body, first the valley of your breasts, along your collarbone, and the curve of your neck — until his lips finally find yours again. His tongue traces the seam of your lips before being granted access, tasting your own with a moan you swallow all too eagerly. It’s truly not fair for a kiss to be this good — but again, everything about Suguru Geto was.
“What are you going to be teaching me? Kant? Rawls? Aquinas?” You ask between kisses as his fingers sliding behind you to undo your bra, slipping it from your body, his lips parting from yours, a string of spit connecting your lips to his.
He drags a thumb down your bitten red lips, “No, today's lesson is a bit unorthodox,” and now he’s kissing back down your body this time, tongue dragging over your stomach and belly button, before kissing right above the elastic of your panties. “I’m going to show what I owe you — what I’ve always wanted to owe you—“ a smile playing on his lips, as his legs force your thighs apart, eyes falling onto the wet patch on your underwear with a lust ridden gaze, “and how much I can make you moan my name from it,”
His fingers begin to ghost up your thighs, before he leans down to ghost all too chaste kisses up your inner thighs, pretty hands holding your flesh still even as it shakes under his attention.
“Seems like you enjoyed tasting me almost as much as I did,” he teases, dark eyes flickering up to meet yours, as his finger teased the drenched fabric, thumb rubbing against your clit, drawing a lovely gasp from your lips, “no smart remarks now? You always have so much to say,” and he’s pulling your panties down your thighs, seeing your pretty folds on display for him, glistening with your arousal — your need for him, “don’t tell me all it takes is my face between your thighs to get you to fall quiet,” and his lips curl as your lips pout, only making him chuckle, “don’t worry, sweetheart, I’ll make sure the only thing you know how to say is my name after this,”
He presses a sweet kiss to your dripping folds, nose brushing against your sweet clit, the tip of his tongue tracing your outer lips teasingly, “thought about this so long, dreamed about this sweet cunt, Princess — tastes and smells better than I ever imagined,” your fingers grasp at the strands of his hair, tugging the hair tie from his messy bun, toes curling into the sheets, “wanna spend all night buried in this pussy,”
And his tongue licks a stripe up your cunt, ghosting over your entrance, before he’s circling your clit again. Moans leave your lips, again and again, lips closing over your clit to suck. Your muscles tense, back arching and your nails digging into his scalp, “barely even started, baby, don’t go cumming just yet,”
“Sugu, please, more,” you whine, looking down at him, eyelashes nearly fluttering.
His lips curl, “How can I say no to my favorite student?” And his fingers spread your sweet folds, your cunt fluttering around nothing, as he gathers your slick on his thick digit, working his way into your tight walls.
You’re gasping at the way his finger sinks knuckle deep into your tight cunt, your insides wet and warm, “your pussy is as talkative as you are,” the lewd squelch of your walls fills the silence, “maybe even more,” as he begins to fuck you in earnest, “think you need more, don’t you, baby?” And he’s adding another finger, the delicious stretch making your mouth fall open at the intrusion of his fingers.
You’re bucking against his touch, thighs shaking as you do, his fingers curling against that spot that has you moaning his name, his dick half hard already just from feeling your walls around his fingers.
You’re so fucking close — the drag of his fingers against your walls, your hips meeting his thrusts, “good girl, you take me so well, can’t wait to sink into you, Princess,” and his lips find your clit again, teeth grazing it teasingly, “s’good for me, baby, you close?” And you’re nodding, walls fluttering around his fingers, and he grunts, “cum for me,”
And you do, your head falling back onto the pillow, as you cum hard, his name on your lips, as your walls squeeze around his fingers. He finger fucks you through your orgasm, tongue lapping up your release, his lips leaving your clit with a pop.
“Such a good girl,” he murmurs, pulling his fingers around your sweet cunt. Your eyes flutter open, watching him lick his lips clean, before he meets your gaze, pressing his fingers into his mouth and sucking them clean, “sweetest thing I ever tasted, baby,”
He’s kissing your thighs, as you come down from your high, teeth grazing the plush flesh of your inner thigh, sucking and pinching, before soothing it with his tongue, “s’good for me,” and he’s slinking back up your body, his hard cock catching on your clit, making both of you groan.
“Please, Suguru, I need you,” your fingers find the back of his neck, threading through his hair, and he smirks.
“Look at my T.A., so needy for her professor,” and your fingers tug at his hair to pull the smirk off his lips, “I’d say you hold all the power in this relationship, Princess,”
“Do I, now?” Your fingers curl around his length, teasing the leaking head with your thumb making him hiss.
And his gaze meets you so earnestly, it nearly makes you melt, a gasp leaving his lips as he cups your cheek, “You could ruin my life, and I would thank you for it, if it was you,”
“Suguru—“
“If you were going to use me, I’d tell you to use me. If you needed me, I’d want you to call me,” he leans down to kiss your forehead, “and If you didn’t love me, I’d love you anyway,” and he doesn’t let you respond, lips brushing against yours, as he gently moves your hand away, and lines himself up, the head of his cock rubbing against your sensitive clit, “are you ready?”
And you’re nodding, a huffed chuckle escaping your lips, “Been ready for far too long — there’s no other electronics around here right?”
He laughs, “No, just you and me,” molten lava stared back at you, a heat seeping into your skin as he guided himself into your fluttering cunt, inch by inch, as his name leaves your lips in a desperate moan that nearly has him cumming right then and there, not to mention how eagerly your pussy swallows his cock whole, “fuck, such a good fucking girl f’me, baby,”
He split you open as he sunk into you, pretty walls stretching around him — delicious pleasure with an undercurrent of pain, soft praises whispered in your ears as he did, setting an agonizingly slow pace, “that’s it, baby, look at you, taking me s’well,” he’s pressing sweet kisses to your neck, as you bite your lip, “are you okay?” and he finally bottoms out, stilling as your walls clamp around him, a groan leaving his lips, “so tight, so much better than I could have imagined,”
“Sugu, please, move,” and you didn’t need to say anything more — he starts slow, languid thrusts that drive him deeper into your cunt, his fingers lift your legs up, hooking them around his waist, and you wrap them even tighter, the tip of his cock hitting even fucking deeper, “fuck, Sugu, so deep, so good—”
“You were made for me, just like this cock was made for you,” he grunts, the lewd squelch of your insides, the slapping of your skin against his, “been thinking about this for so long, pretty girl, never wanna leave this cunt,” his vulgar words only made your walls flutter around him, “trying to keep my dick, Princess? Don’t worry, it’s only for you anyway,” he teases, “my pretty girl’s cunt been denied twice — gotta make sure you learn your lesson this time, right?”
And god you were — you were learning his shape, his length, the slight curve he had, every vein that lined his cock, every inch — and you’d be sure to memorize it. Because he may be reaching you this time — a moan leaving your lips as his cock kissed a particularly deep part of your cunt — but the next lesson, you would be sure to pass with flying colors.
“S’close, Sugu, fuck, ngh—“ and he’s nodding, his fingers reach and rub your clit in circles, cock hitting that part of your cunt that has you seeing stars as pleasure rips up your body, as you cum. Your toes curl, fingers grasping at him to pull him impossibly close, His eyes flicker open, watching your cunt squeeze around his cock, a white ring of cum around his base, he fucked you through your orgasm.
His hips begin to stutter, a groan pulled from his lips, “S’good baby, I’m close—where—“
“Inside,” and his dick twitch, “cum for me, Suguru,” and he does, notching himself deep inside you, as he spills his seed inside, thick spurts painting you walls, as he moans your name. His thrusts slow, his lips brushing against yours. And you smile up at him, still dazed, his softening cock still inside you, “well that was very unethical,” a giggle escaped your lips, and his lips curled, as he leaned up to kiss you again.
“And how much more unethical would it be to do it again?” and you hum, as you flip him over onto his back.
“It’s a sunk cost fallacy at this point, think we can get away with it now,” and your lips find his in a hot kiss, your teeth grazing his bottom lip, tugging at it as he pulls away.
“A philosopher and an economist?” he chuckles, his lips grazing your jaw now, murmuring, “I learn more about you every day,”
“I could cite Kant or Butler if you’d prefer—” and he’s grinding his hips under you, a gasp parting your lips, as his cock slides against your soaked cunt, “Sugu—”
His lips curl in that damn smile, and all words fall away, as he kisses you, “I think I would rather listen to my name leave you lips instead, princess.”
~~~
RING. RING. RING.
Fuck. You give a soft groan — a dream again?
A small sigh parts your lips, as reality washes over you. Eyes fluttering open and shut, as sleep pulls at your eyelids still. Your hands reach over to both sides, but find no one as expected, you sigh, rolling over and burying your face in your pillow. It was all soft sheets and shining sunlight — but no Suguru. You kicked your feet up and down, pouting. You thought you were over having those dreams.
But then….why did it smell like him?
“What are you doing?” And you snap up, turning quickly, the comforter sliding down slightly and find Suguru standing in the doorway of his bedroom, leaning against his door frame. He looks sinfully good — long hair still thoroughly rumpled from the night before, pretty lips a little kiss bitten red, only a black t-shirt and boxers thrown on, and his obsidian gaze fixed on you.
“What—what are you doing?” And he raises an eyebrow.
“Isn’t that obvious? Watching you,” he chuckles, as your cheeks burn, “can you blame me? I’m enjoying the view,” he teases, as you glance down and see that half the blanket had slid down, exposing your bare chest.
You pull the blanket back on, wrapping it around yourself, “So one night in bed and the ethics fall out the window, huh?”
“Well, you did a good job defenestrating them, didn’t you?” He chuckles, sipping his coffee, “have to take responsibility for your actions — it is your duty,”
“Oh, it’s my duty now?” And he’s climbing back into bed beside you, “and what does this duty entail?” And he hums, as your fingers find the fabric of the front of his shirt and tug him close, before sliding up to wrap around his neck.
“Well, Kant said, it’s not the consequences that matter, but the motives behind the actions,” he murmurs, his lips ghosting over your jaw, “so what are your motives?”
“My motives are…” you consider your words, as you suppress the moan from his teeth grazing his pulse, and you pout, “you’re distracting me,” and he laughs, the lovely vibration against your skin making you shiver, before he draws back, thumb drawing circles on your palm now, “I want to wake up with you, I want to fall asleep beside you, I want to hear about your days and your night — even ones I spend with you, and I’d say my main motivation is to be with you,” your fingers clasps his thumb, before slowly intertwining your fingers with his, “is that a sufficient answer, Professor Geto?” And he’s silent a moment, a sweep of anxiety rushes across your body, fingers grasping at the sheet hidden under the comforter, as you add, “but Kant would also argue that the behavior is not one done of good will since, even if the consequence is good, it’s not done out of respect for the moral law—“
And his lips find yours, cutting off your ramble mid sentence, letting each sentence, word, and thought burn under his touch, each brush of his lips and his hands — as one palm cupped your cheek, while the other found purchase on your thigh — erased more of your worries, until he finally parts—
“It’s always good, if it’s you that I have as my consequence,” and he erodes the last of your concerns with his words, as his lips find yours again, “I was going to make you breakfast,” he mutters against your lips, meeting and parting again and again, before he’s easing the blanket from your fingers, gaze darkening as he sees you fully. And he’s easing you onto your back, against the plush pillows and sheets, as he kisses a hot trail down your body, before he finds himself between your legs again, tongue darting out to lick his lips, “but I think I may have my meal first.”
~~~
Suguru would have thought it was a dream, if he hadn’t woken first. To wake again in your arms, sunlight filtering through in his bedroom, your arms curled on his front, and your legs entangled, the warmth of your breath heating his skin, and your face tucked into the crook of his neck.
He had to pinch himself to make sure, eyes drifting up to the ceiling to the same fan he had stared at on many sleepless nights with only thoughts of you plaguing his mind, before his gaze fell back to you — only to find you beside him now.
There was no more perfect dream than this, but it wasn’t one, as the back of his fingers caressed your cheek gently, and you stirred only for a moment, a whisper on your tongue, “Sugu,” you murmured, lips parted as your nestled further into his chest, and his body burned with want.
Fuck. He tried to shift his hips away from you — this wasn’t helping his early morning problem — now was it? He really didn’t want a repeat of the hotel bathroom again, but this time, he could take his time — because you both had it. The end of the semester had mostly come and gone — he could wait on grading the papers — if only it meant a few minutes more in bed with you.
You woke up soon enough after he had left bed, hoping to start on the beginnings of breakfast, but he found himself feasting on another meal instead.
“Sugu, please, s’close,” what was it about you that tasted so heavenly? He had spent his life pouring over ethical dilemmas and trying to tackle problems of moral truths, but as he brought you over the edge to your second orgasm, he couldn’t help but wonder if he should have spent his time buried in your cunt instead of books.
He lapped up your release eagerly, teasing your swollen clit with the tip of his tongue before running a thick stripe up the length of your cunt, drawing another gasp from you — thighs shaking from pleasure.
“Sugu, please, enough,” and he eases off, chin and lips still sticky with your cum, as his tongue darted out to clean some of it off, wiping the rest off with his arm, “I want you, please,”
And fuck, he could cum just hearing those words from your kiss ruined lips, eyes blown out in lust, and your bare chest rising and falling. He drags his cock over your folds again, “need me again, Princess? Last night not enough for you?” he grunts when he watches your walls clench around nothing, as if to tempt his dick to sink into you.
He bit his lip, it was working.
Eventually, the two of you lie entangled again, a little stickier than before, your faces half an inch apart, and your fingers tracing his jaw.
“I wish we could stay here in this bed forever,” you murmur, and he turns his head to brush his lips against your fingertips, soft kisses pressed to each one, his nose then rubbing against your palm, “no responsibilities, no reality, just us,”
“Sounds like heaven,” he murmurs, words whispered against your skin, “of course I think any place with you is,” except when he can’t touch you, when he can’t kiss you, when he can’t smile at you without his heart aching — but he doesn’t say that, “we should talk shouldn’t we?”
“We should,” your eyes meet his, an ache that only made the ache in him grow, “I don’t want to stop you from going to Kyoto,”
“I would if it was for us, for you,” and your lips curl sadly, teeth bearing down on your bottom lip, as if to stop yourself from saying yes, that you’d let him — let him say no, let him keep his old job, let him stay in Tokyo.
“But that’s exactly why I can’t do that, for you — you said you wouldn’t jeopardize my future, and I can’t do that to you too,” you say softly, pressing your forehead to his, “I can’t let you put your career on hold for us, I know you’ve wanted this. You must’ve since you applied,”
“I only applied because I thought we would never—“ he cuts off, lump sitting on his throat, “I don’t want this to end before it’s barely started,”
“Me either,” you say softly, and his lips brush yours — he didn’t want it to end, not now. Not ever.
And then he realizes — it doesn’t have to.
“Then we start there,” he says, as he parts from your lips, words said in the promise of the same breaths you both had just exhaled, “I’m not moving until next semester. We have two months of summer before I’ll be in Kyoto full time, and before you have classes again,” his fingers find yours, intertwining with his, hand engulfing yours, “We’ll live as philosophical presentists,” and you scoff, a smile pulling on your lips.
“You don’t miss an opportunity to give a lesson, do you?” He gives a wry smile.
“Take the professor out of the classroom—“ and you snort, “what I mean is let’s live in this moment — we could discuss the future and past all day long — but neither exist right now,” and he rests your palm against his cheek, fingers squeezing your own, “but we do, in this moment right now, so why don’t we savor it?”
Your lips can’t help but curl into a smile, “How about instead of a drink you make me breakfast?”
~~~~
Was it possible to get deja vu from an experience you hadn’t had yet?
You step into Suguru’s shower, a distinct sense of deja vu settling over you as you wash yourself, the marks of the night before (and this morning) still littering your body, as if to remind you that it wasn’t a dream.
It better not be, as you pinched yourself again, pressing your hands to your still hot cheeks, sticking your head under the water. God, this shower smelt like him, the scent of his shampoo and soap lingering in the bath, even after he had left. He had showered here this morning, after you had laid in for a bit longer, emerged from the master bath with only a towel around his waist, stray water droplets running down his chest, drenched black strands clinging to his skin. He had stood here, and washed himself — lathering his body, hands drawn up and down his muscles, from his shoulders to his chest to his stomach — lower and lower—
You bit your lip, as you pressed your thighs together.
No, no, if you did that and Suguru caught you, he would never let you live it down. You finish your shower, the squeak of the faucet as you shut the water off, before toweling off. You glanced at your clothes hanging on the towel rack outside the shower, rumpled from the night before, reluctant to pull it back on. Instead, you step out of the bathroom, towel wrapped around your body,
You had a better idea.
~~~
“You have good timing,” Suguru says, smile on his lips, as he folds the omelet, yours he had decided, as with pancakes, his first omelet has not come out as well as this one had, “not late for once,” as he carefully plates the other omelet with some rice as well as miso soup he had made the night before, “I—“
And he turns, words fleeing his mind, assuredly taking his several years of education and teaching with it, as all the blood from his brain floods downward.
You were wearing his button up from last night, the wrinkled fabric draped over your body, falling past your thighs, the buttons mostly done, with a few top buttons unbuttoned far too teasingly — just one more and he could kiss your chest, two and he could—
Fuck.
“What?” You blink, chewing on your lip, “sorry I didn’t want to get back on my clothes from last night, so I stole your shirt, and uh,” your gaze shying away, “your boxers,”
Self control. He had perfect self control — hell, this last year had been an exercise in self control — control from brushing his fingers over your cheek, control from saying anything that pushed the line any further than the two of you had blurred it, control himself from taking you in his office (though he had not controlled himself as more as he was interrupted — twice).
But it was as if the dam had broken, the small cracks formed in the concrete now had compromised the integrity of the barrier and had burst the night before, and now — he rounded the counter, his arms reaching for you — there was no putting the water back in the dam after a flood.
Then again, he was more than happy to get swept away — if it was you.
“Sugu—ummph,” his name was muffled by the namesake’s own lips, swallowing the rest of his syllables along with your breath. His hands rake down your sides, his large hands slipping under your shirt, finding bare skin underneath.
“Nothing but my boxers and shirt?” He kisses your jumping pulse, lips lingering on your neck, as his hands squeeze your hips, “it’s like you knew what I wanted for breakfast, Princess,” fingers toying with the hem of the boxers you stole, “stealing isn’t very ethical,”
“Neither is a professor sleeping with a student,” you said between gasps.
He chuckles, “Well, a fair point, but let me remind you,” his fingers tease the elastic of his boxers you wore, the pads of fingers burning against your skin, as his erection pressed between your ass, drawing a gasp from your lips, “you wanted it,”
“What’s gotten into you?” you murmur, as his hand dips into your boxers, your head pressed against his body, lips parted, as a ribbon of heat spreads like a fire in dry heat.
And he knows exactly what’s gotten into him, his clothes on you, the scent of his soap and shampoo on you, and the way your body just melts under his touch—as your eyes drift to meet his own, looking up with lust scrawled across your features.
“You just look like a dream,” and his body met yours with a practiced ease, as if he had loved you all his life, and not for the first time last night, “one that I’ve had for far too long,” he buried. His face in the crook of your neck, lips pressing careful kisses as if you’d disappear under his touch, “is this real?”
And he doesn’t know why his breath catches at the question, a question he knows the answer to, because he knows you’re real, your warm skin under his touch, the pulse he felt racing under his lips — but he still worried he’d wake up in any second and you wouldn’t be here.
You softly chuckle, pinching his arm, “you feel that?” And he nods, and you turn to face him, leaning up to kiss his lip chastely, “did you feel that?” And he’s nodding, eyes fluttering, before you kiss his neck, teeth grazing his soft skin there, a gasp parting his lips, as you lean back, a smirk pulling on your lips, “and you definitely felt that,” you press your body into his, “this is real, I’m not going anywhere,” and he smiles, arms wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against him, “should we have breakfast now?”
His lips curl, his fingers tilting your chin up, as he leans down to kiss you again, “in a minute.”
Because now you both had plenty of those.
~~~
“Where are we going?”
Suguru laughs, you were sure his laugh was in the top five noises that he made — right between him whispering your name in the mornings and the way he groaned when you teased him particularly badly.
His eyes still fixed on the road, flickered to you for a moment while he drove, “The more you ask, the less likely I am to tell you,” and you pout, hiding the smile that creeped on your lips as you crossed your arms.
After the day you two spent, the next day, Suguru had already made plans to take you on a date — only giving you a day or so to prepare. No instructions except to wear layers to keep a little warm.
“You weren’t likely to tell me anyway,” he chuckles, as you glance at him again — it still almost feels forbidden as you did — he had opted for contacts rather than glasses, his hair tied in a bun as usual, lips curled in your favorite smile — you didn’t have to steal glances anymore, these glances were yours to have.
It felt so different from that drive you had taken to the conference — it felt as if you were being suffocated by your feelings, sucking the air you breathed from your lungs as if to stop you from speaking because any word you spoke would only cross that line you couldn’t even toe without drowning. But now, that line wasn’t even blurred, it was gone, washed away by the decision the two of you made — and it couldn’t have been better.
Because now you could do this.
Your fingers rest on the gap of the console, before sliding over, and finding his thigh. His eyes slide over to you, “Need something sweetheart?”
You hum, drawing circles on his thigh, “Wondering if I could convince you to tell me where we’re going with some extra credit?”
“I don’t remember assigning any extra credit, plus you’re not being graded, but even if you were,” you smile, “you’d have at least a B+,”
You gasp, “Suguru!” He laughs, even harder when he spots the pout on your lips, “I think I deserve higher than that,”
He pulls up to a stoplight, fingers finding yours “well maybe you can change my mind tonight,”
“Will we ever get there? Or is it a ‘Waiting for Godot’ situation?” He snorts, as he intertwined his fingers with yours, lifting the back of your hand to his lips and holding it there.
“I promise I’ll never keep you waiting,” and your gaze softens, as he continues to hold your hand as he drives.
You smile, squeezing his hand, “Good, because I think we both have waited long enough.”
~~~
“Is the blindfold necessary?”
“Trust is essential to a relationship,” Suguru replied, his arm around your waist as the other hand held your own, a blindfold tied around your eyes, as he guided you somewhere — the blindfold had come a few minutes before you reached your destination, “don’t you trust me, princess?”
“Oh I don’t know, it depends on whether you’re planning on murdering me and disposing of my body in the ocean,” and he pauses — you can almost see the furrow of his brow, “you may have blindfolded me but I can still smell,” the scent of sea salt carried by the cool breeze tickled at your nose, even as you still walked on pavement approaching the beach, you could faintly hear the distant sounds of waves crashing against the shore.
“I suppose I should have gotten nose and ear plugs for my far too observant girlfriend,” and the title makes your heart squeeze, as his fingers squeeze your hand, before parting, only to brush against your hair as he undoes the blindfold, “well since it’s spoiled already,”
The blindfold falls away, sunlight peeking through a moment, as the world comes into view — a beautiful sandy beach with salty waves parting through the shore, so bright as the sun reflects off the sand, making your eyes squint, only for Suguru to place sunglasses carefully on your face, “You came prepared,” your lips curl, as he tucks the blindfold away, and lifts up a picnic basket, “in more than one way,”
“Well, I thought a picnic on the beach was a nice way to begin today,” and he pulls out a sunhat from his bag as well, placing on top of your head, “don’t worry, I have sunblock as well, in case we need it,”
“You thought of everything, didn’t you?” and you look up at him, the light glinting off his flint eyes like sparks, “and now what’s my job here?”
“Enjoy today, take in the view,” and your fingers brush his cheek, somehow warmer than before.
“Funny, I thought I already was.”
~~~~
“Are you cold?” Suguru murmurs, when he feels you lean on him, a slight shiver against his chest that runs up your spine, and before you can answer, he’s wrapping a blanket around the two of you.
“Mr. Philosopher always has all the answers don’t you?” Another breeze has you moving even closer, as his palm moves to lean towards you, arm brushing against your back.
“Not all the answers,” and he brushes a stray hair behind your ear, as his lips brush against it, “I still don’t know how you became so irresistible,”
“All the ethics, of course,” and he snorts, as he hums, his hand sliding against your cheek, as his lips press against the soft skin beside your ear, “Sugu—”
“Hm?” he leans back to listen so intently, noses brushing, and all the words you have slips off your tongue, every thought flies right out of your head, and all that’s left is the feeling of warmth that comes with being this close.
God, he was unfairly gorgeous — even now, his hair unkempt from the wind as dark locks trickled out of his bun, his skin painted with a pretty flush, and his warm body pressed against you made any thought of being cold evaporate.
“Sweetheart? You okay?” he murmurs, fingers drifting over your cheek, a tilt of his head, and pulls you back from your reverie like the waves pulling more sand back into the ocean.
“I’m okay,” you shake your head, as your fingers rest over his, leaning into his touch, “I just was thinking how perfect this moment was,”
“And what’s so perfect about it?”
“You and me, just,” you bite your lip, “I didn’t think it’d happen,”
“Me either,” he admits, “I don’t ever want to hold you back — I couldn’t stand to be the reason for your unhappiness,”
“I could never see you as that,” and his lips curl, “promise you’ll never leave me?”
“Princess—“
“Just promise,” you murmur, “even if it isn’t real—“
“Who says it isn’t?” His lips brush yours, a heat that swallows your cold, creeping anxieties and burns them to nothing, “I promise, I’ll never leave you,”
“You shouldn’t make promises you can’t keep,”
“Well, call me a Kantian,” he kisses you again, whispering these words against your lips, “because I intend to keep this promise.”
~~~
“Are you sure there’s nothing I can do to help?”
You chuckle, glancing over your shoulder at Suguru looking perfectly lost as he stood, watching you, hands crossed if only to stop him from taking over.
“For the millionth time, no,” you continue stirring the miso soup you were making, as you tenderized the chicken for the chicken katsu, “just keep me company,” you glance at him, biting your lip as your eyes raked over his outfit — a white shirt tucked under a navy pullover tucked into dark jogger pants, “and you’re already providing eye candy,” you teased.
“Oh, am I?” He raised an eyebrow, and you turned back to the task at hand, as you set the meat tenderizer down, to prepare the chicken to be breaded, and his arms curled around your waist, “and what if I want you to use a little more than your eyes?”
“Suguru, my dinner—“ but he continues, fingers brushing your hair aside, his warm breath turning your blood to molten molasses, “you’re making a habit of interrupting our meals like this.”
“The only thing I want to eat is in my arms,” he kisses your neck, feeling you shiver, “there’s another philosophy — ‘the customer’s always right?’”
You laugh, warmth blooming in his chest at the sound, “this isn’t a restaurant, unless I’m charging you at the end of this,”
“Maybe you should, I’d be more than happy to oblige,” and you hum as he trailed kisses down your neck to your shoulder — he never had a sweet tooth, but you were the only dessert he ever had craved.
“Knowing you, it would also come with a review written in red pen,” and it’s his turn to laugh now, as you lowered the stove temperature on the soup, before turning to face him.
He pulls you flush against him, “I’d hope you’d do better than a B+ this time,” and you glare at him, before your lips curl into a smirk, as you dare closer, your chest now pressed against his.
“This time I will because my annoying prick of a professor is very much able to be persuaded by other methods not available to me at the time,” your lips ghost over his ear, just as your voice used to haunt him in his dreams, “but now, I think he’ll be quite amenable to my work,”
“Don’t you want to earn your accolades?” and your smile is more wicked than the night itself, as you lean up to meet his own.
“Oh I will be earning them,” your lips are so close he could feel the words you spoke as you did — every part of your lips, every flick of your tongue — and then he’s met with your fingers dragging flour over his cheek, “after dinner.”
Suguru gaped at the flour smeared across his cheek, as you turned back around, the click of the burner as you turned it high again, “Was that necessary? You snorted, as you began to season the chicken, as he wiped the offending flour from his cheek.
“Well, was it necessary to give me a 99 on the final paper?”
~~~~
“Well, this is just unfair,” you sat in the middle of a cat cafe — arms crossed and biting back a small smile that threatened to bloom across your lips — the cutest one you had found in the heart of Tokyo that you had reluctantly dragged Suguru.
He wasn’t a fan of cats or dogs, for that matter.
But now, after paying the admission fee, and ordering your drinks, the two of you sat in an enclosure of cats you were far too eager to meet — and perhaps, they could sense it.
“Did you break Kantian principles and lie about hating cats or is the universe playing a prank?” you watch as yet another cat approaches your boyfriend, an entire litter already taking up residence on any available real estate on his body, while you had only a single cat in your lap the entire time, as if it was taking pity on you.
This was no better than when you were a T.A., swarms of students surrounding Suguru, while you were left with barely a soul. Apparently it applied to students and animals, and you felt a small twinge of jealousy — but you weren’t sure if you were more jealous of the cats or him.
“I don’t hate them, I just don’t particularly want one of my own,” he shrugs, as he scratches the newcomer behind the ear, “but maybe you’ve changed my mind,”
“I tend to have that influence,” and his lips curl.
“I have seem to have developed a soft spot for strays,” and you gape at him, as he snorts at your aghast expression, a cat swatting at his bobbing bangs as he shook with laughter, “but you’re my favorite one,”
“I better be,” you grumble, crossing your arms and pouting, before you watched him pet yet another cat that had made itself at home on your boyfriend’s lap. And you pull out your phone to sneak a few pictures.
“I wanted to ask you something actually,” he says as you glanced up from your phone, he bit his lip, a small hint of nerves apparent in his stiff shoulders and shy gaze, “I’m going to Kyoto next week to look for an apartment for when the semester starts,” and your heart sinks a little at the thought — the summer was half over already, and it was far too quick for your liking. The more you wanted time to linger, the more it seemed to escape you, “I wanted to ask if you’d like to come to see apartments with me,”
You blink, you ask softly, “You want me to come?”
He gets up, easing the cats gently out of his lap, as he makes his way to your side. He sits beside you, the cat in your lap, stretching its way between the two of you, as you rub his head.
“I know we said we would see how this would go before the start of the semester, but I know what I want — I think I did from the very start of this,” he says, as his ebony gaze finds yours, “I want to be with you — and I’d like you to come with me to pick out an apartment, because I want it to be somewhere you want to be too—“
And you cut him off with a kiss, arms thrown around his neck — he freezes a moment, before melting into your kiss, his fingers cupping your cheeks, “We’ll have to make sure it’s pet friendly,”
He chuckles, his forehead pressed against yours, “So we’re getting a cat?”
Your fingers find his own as another cat brushes against both of your legs, “That or a poodle.”
~~~
“What did you think of that place?” You ask as you both walk out of another viewing for an apartment, as he looks at the list he made on his phone, “it had good light, it’s close to the university, it’s pretty spacious,” But he’s sighing, as you tilt your head, “Suguru?”
“Sorry, it’s nothing,” he’s shaking his head, “i think we should look for another place,” the same thing he had said for the last three places — he had found something wrong with each of them, but this one seemed different.
“Why?” and he doesn’t answer, and you cling to his arm, a hand on his cheek to guide him to look at you, “Sugu?”
He bites his lip a little, as he rubs the back of his neck, “it’s just far from the station so when you come to visit, it might be a little difficult for you,” and your gaze softens, mouth opening to reply, “I didn’t want to tell you because I know you would tell me not to worry,” and you close your mouth, and he chuckles, “I was right huh?”
“Oh, a man is a smart ethics professor and he thinks he knows everything,” you kiss his lips, “you really don’t have to worry. We’ll make it work,”
“I know, but the round trip on the bullet train is four hours, I don’t want to make you wait longer or waste even a minute of your time together,” he murmurs, as you twirl a dark strand of his hair between your fingers.
“No moment spent getting to you or being with you is a waste,” you smile, fingers smoothing your boyfriend’s furrowed brow, “plus the train gives me time to catch up on my reading — and you’ll be coming to see me too,”
“I know, I just,” he sighs, leaning into your hand resting against his cheek, “I don’t want to ever be a burden,”
“Not to me, it’s not a burden when it’s you,” your fingers find his and bring his knuckles to your lips, “you’re worth every minute,”
“And you’re worth so much more than that,” and you smile against his skin.
“Always have to one up me, don’t you?” And his arm wraps it’s way around your waist, tugging you close.
His lips brush yours again, “Always, when it comes to caring for you.”
~~~
“You found such a perfect hotel room,” you sighed, collapsing onto the pristine (not so pristine now) bed, your feet very sore from all the walking you had done over the last three days, “I’m glad you finally found a place you liked,” and he sits at the edge of the bed, beside you, as he chuckles at the sight of you laid starfished on the bed, “the apartment’s beautiful, close to the university and a station, and it allows pets,”
His fingers find your foot, massaging the sore sole, bringing a low groan from your lips, eyes fluttering shut, “Good thing, otherwise, they’d never let me bring you in,” and your eyes snap open to playfully kick him and he laughs, as he stares at you, fingers ghosting over your ankle.
“What are you staring at?” You tease, and he can’t help the words that escape his lips.
“I love you,” and your breath catches, as your mind struggles to process the words that left his lips, and a chuckle leaves his lips, as he leans over on his elbow to hover over you, “I’ll say it again, as many times as you need to hear it,”
“You will?” your lips curl into a smile, “because I think I would like to hear it again,”
“I love you,” and his lips graze against yours, “I love you,” again, his lips linger a moment longer, “I love you,” again, “I love you—”
And you kiss him this time, your fingers cupping his cheek, sliding to the back of his neck, as your forehead press together, “I love you too,” and he grins down at you, his lips finding yours again and again, pressing you into the comforter, “I love you, Suguru,” you murmur, his fingers skimming your cheek.
“You know you don’t have to say it back—”
“I know,” you scoff, as you pinch his cheek lightly, “I said it because I meant it, I do love you, Suguru — I have for a long time,”
He smirks, “A long time?”
“Shut up,” you pout, and he’s laughing as he showers your face with soft kisses, “nooo, I changed my answer, I don’t know if I love y—” and he’s swallowing your words with another kiss — but this one is languid and deep, a heat that sinks in from his touch, as his body brushes against yours, until he finally parts to allow you both a breath, “not fair,”
“Sorry sweetheart, no changing your answer now,” he runs his fingers through your hair, and you’re pulling him into another soft kiss, before you bury your face in his chest, and he gives a soft sigh, as the two of you cuddle, a small chuckle on his lips.
“What is it?”
“Deja vu,” and you blink, he laughs again, “the last time we were in a hotel together, we weren’t together, but we had these feelings, and now—” his lips find the top of your head, fingers running through your dark locks, “things are so different — it almost feels like a lifetime ago,”
“It wasn’t that long ago, but I’m glad it feels that way,” your nose brushes against the hollow of his throat, “I want us to fill up our present with good memories, so that we don’t have any of those other ones linger,”
“I think we can manage that,” his lips glide against yours, his teeth grazing your bottom lip, “we should shower,”
“We?” you raise an eyebrow, a heat that sparks and settles over your skin that only stokes brighter and hotter, when his hand runs down your side and squeezes your hip, “Sugu—”
“Should we take a utilitarian approach? The benefits: it’s better for the environment to preserve water, we can stay close to each other as we clean our bodies, and reach the spots that are hard for us ourselves to reach. The costs would be,” his lips ghost your collarbone, “we would take longer thus using more water, we would get messier before we would get cleaner, and we might spend a lot more time in bed after,”
“How is that a cost?” you slip off the bed, tugging your shirt over your head and tossing it at him, before pulling down your shorts, as you open the bathroom door, leaning against the door frame, “Are you going to show me the benefits of being my boyfriend?”
~~~
“Suguru,” his name left your lips in broken syllables, as the head of his leaking cock teased your drenched entrance, your hands braced against the shower wall, the cold of the wet glass contrasting with the warmth of his body pressed against your back, “please,”
“Please what, princess?” his lips ghost over your shoulder, licking a water droplet from your neck, as he moves a few wet locks to kiss the skin behind your ear, “You’re going to have to be more specific — I can’t help you, if you don’t tell me what you need — isn’t that the first thing I taught you?”
“No, the first thing you taught me was to never be late,” you gasp as he allows his tip to sink into your needy cunt only a little, before he allows it to slip out, “fuck, Sugu, please, I want your cock,”
“There we go,” his chuckle rumbles against your skin, as he guides his length to your dripping pussy before beginning to sink in, “I told you we would be in here for a while,” his fingers find yours, as he thrusts into you in one smooth movement, his balls pressed flush to your ass, “even your fingertips have become like prunes,” he turns your head to see your lips parted and panting for him, cunt twitching as he drags a thumb down your lips, “but my favorite student doesn’t mind does she?” and you whimper as he pulls his hips back, only to pump back in even harder, a moan leaving your lips, as he holds an arm around you to hold you, as he presses his other palm against the wall, as he starts to fuck you in earnest.
The slaps of your wet skin echoes in the glass walls of the shower, steam from the hot water filling both of your visions, as his tip brushes against your cervix, “S’good, Sugu, so deep,” your walls flutter around his dick.
“Good girl, so perfect f’me, take me so well,” his balls slap against the soft flesh of your ass as he fucks you harder, “been thinking about this for so long, thought about taking you in that hotel room all those nights ago, and it’s better than I could have imagined,” one of his hands finds your breast, tweaking and pinching your nipple, as your walls only pull him in deeper and deeper each time he sinks back in, “perfect little princess cunt made f’me, only for me,”
He’s desperate, as he fucks you deeper and deeper, “Please, I’m close,” your soft cries and moans will be the death of him. He’s turning your head and leaning forward to pull you into a kiss, a sloppy kiss that’s all tongue and teeth. His hands squeeze your hips as he rocks against you again and again, the wet squelch of your cunt ringing in his ears, until he finally hits that spot that has you seeing stars, pulling you over the edge. You cum, the coil in your stomach snapping as you do, your walls clamping down on his dick, as he notches himself deep and cums — spurting his hot release deep inside, as the two of you moan, lips parting. The quiet water drumming against his back fills the silence along with your soft gasps and his pants. The two of you slump forward in the shower, his arm braced around your middle, as his softened cock slips from inside.
He presses soft kisses to your neck and cheek, whispering quiet praises, “Let’s finish washing up, baby, and I’ll help you into bed,” and you nod, boneless, as you lean against his chest, fingers brushing down his cheek, “are you okay?”
You nod, as you lean up to kiss his lips, “More than, when I’m with you,” and you add with a dreamy smile, “especially when I find out you’ve fantasized about me,” his already flushed cheeks even redder than before, “you’ll have to tell me more about these thoughts,”
“And if I refuse?” he murmurs, the blush kissing his ears now, the pink of his soft skin contrasting against the black of his gauges.
You hum, “I have my ways of making you talk,” and he snorts, as your expression softens, “I love you,”
He turns you gently, finding your lips in another kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck — and he can’t think of a place he’d rather be than with you, “I love you too.”
~~~
“It’ll fly by,” you murmur, as you rake your fingers through his hair — you had convinced him to get a trim a week ago, the dead ends long gone, and all that was left were his gorgeous locks. He still opted for the long hair look — sometimes it was tucked away in a bun, other times it was half up, and even at times, he kept it down, “it’s two weeks, and then I’ll come by to visit you,”
“It’s two weeks too long,” Suguru sighs, burying his face in the crook of your neck, “I’m sorry I had to do—”
You place a finger over his lips, “Don’t apologize for furthering your career with something you’ve always wanted to do,” you cut him off, pressing a kiss to the top of his head, “I only have one year left of the program, and then after that, we’ll see where we’re at—”
He glances away, “I don’t know where either of us will be — but I know I want us to be together,” he bites his lip, and it only makes you want to kiss him all the more, “if that’s what you want too,”
You pull back only to find his lips again, “You never mince your words do you, Professor?” You can’t help but smile at this man — the man you loved more than you could express in any combination of words.
“Well, I find my most bright students need a more direct approach,” and you laugh, as he’s pressing needy kisses along your jaw, nosing the sensitive skin, “I think you’ll find it’s a tried and true method,”
“Oh yeah, I’ve tried it — it’s very true,” as his lips kiss their way back to yours, “do you mean that? And what did you mean? Do you want us to live together or live in the same city—”
“I would like us to live together, if we are at that point then,” his gaze meets yours, a hint of concern dancing across his ever furrowed brow, “I don’t want to pressure you — so why don’t we discuss that when we get there?”
“Sounds reasonable,” your fingers smoothing his brow, “but for the record,” you kiss the tip of his nose, “I want to live with you too,” and you bite back a grin at the joy that evaporates the hints of worry on his features, “along with our non-negotiable dozen cats and adorable poodle,”
He laughs, an easy smile that pulled on his lips, as it always did with you, “I told you, I don’t take in strays aside from you,” you grab your pillow and hit him with it, as he laughs, “ow, ow, I’m joking! I’m sorry—” and you’re giggling as he rips the pillow from your grasp, only to roll you over onto your back, “it sounds nice — a home with you — waking up next to you, planning our days, spending our evenings,” he murmurs, “feels like a dream,”
You pull him into a kiss — you’ve had many dreams about this man before you — far too many sleepless nights hoping for this reality, only to have it ripped away. But you wouldn’t wake up from this dream, the back of your knuckles grazing his cheek, not ever.
“It won’t be — not for long.”
~~~~
“Still not awake? You’ll be late if you wake up any later,” a murmured whisper in your ear stirs you awake, words prying you from your unconscious, as you groan softly, limbs and eyes still so heavy with sleep. But you know you have to get up, part ways with your far too warm bed and the tempting grasp of your blanket.
“Don’t wanna wake up yet,” and a laugh rings in your ear, lips pressing soft kisses to your neck, “noooo, please, five more minutes,”
He relents as you stretch your limbs and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you — your thoughts similarly circling the drain — you had a lecture, a presentation, a student council meeting to tend to — not to mention a meeting with your advisor and the department head about your thesis.
You turn and cuddle into his chest, pressing soft kisses along the space where his collarbone and chest meet, you smirk against his skin as he shivers, as he murmurs your name.
“What? I’m trying to wake up,” as you lean up and meet him in a lazy kiss, fingers finding the back of his neck, “what better way than this?”
Today was going to be long, but you supposed it was worth it only to end up here at the end of the day, as you turn and run your fingers through his black locks, “What do you have to do today? First day of a new semester,”
“Two lectures and our meeting later today, and maybe lunch with you?” And your lips curl, as you pull your phone off its charger to check your emails.
“Really? Lunch? You don’t think that wouldn’t rally scandal across campus two members of the student council conferring outside their meetings on the first day of spring semester?” And he laughs, turning to face you, his short black hair fell in messy tangled in front of his forehead, “might be tempting political intrigue, Yuta,”
And your boyfriend only smiles, jet black short locks falling in front of his forehead as his fingers brush your cheek before he leans over to press a sweet kiss to your forehead, “I think we’ll be alright,” his fingers intertwined with yours, “we’ve been pretty lucky, don’t you think?”
It was so simple, it was so easy, and it was so right.
And your phone flashed with a reminder that caught your eye: Meeting with Suguru Geto — the first time you’d see him in several months, the first time since you had broken up, and the first time since he had broken your heart.
And Yuta called your name, his eyes curious, “You okay?” And you only smile, locking your phone and the glaring reminder away, to lean over and kiss your boyfriend.
“More than okay,” as you slowly sit up, “come on, we can’t be late, can we?”
✧ a/n: this has been a long time coming - so when i planned part three with hannah, it was supposed to have three arcs -- this is only one of them lmao - i suppose i was a bit too ambitious with what i thought i could contain in one part. anyway sorry about this ending lmao :) love you - don't worry they will all have a happy ending
✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon, @enchantedpendant, @serendididy, @soulstealercat, @neuviloved, @simply-a-s1mp, @satorusmochis, @maddietries,
More Posts from Ethereally-lyann and Others
my love 🫶🏻
Silent Love: Ch. 6 - "Forgiveness"
⊹ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ Chapter Four
Previous Chapter: "Good Guy."
Chapter One: New Roommate(s)
Master-List: Here!
.・゜゜・ ｡･ﾟﾟ･ ╰┈➤ Sukuna x Reader
⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Sypnosis:
When moving out of your dorm and leaving your eccentric roommate goes to shit, you're offered by one of her friends to move in with him... for free! That is, if you don't mind living with two completely opposite college boys.
However, life isn't that easy, and there's a hot asshole around the corner to piss you off. Especially when he's always up late at night when you're studying, purposely trying to get on your nerves in the most perverse way possible.
You hate him.
⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Genre:
College/Modern World AU. Multiple parts.
Shameless Smut, Thin Walls, Mildly Dubious Consent, Roommates Fluff and Crack, Slice of Life, Kinda Slow Burn, Oral Sex Vaginal Sex, Slight Age Difference, Degradation Fake/Pretend Relationship, Dirty Talk, Dirty Thoughts, Enemies to Lovers, Spit Kink, Angst, Hurt/Comfort.
⁎̩͙ ⁑̩͙̩͙ ⁂̩̩͙͙ Word Count: 27,169
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *･ November 14th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Wednesday
You keep your eyes closed, ankles crossed while sitting down on the toilet. Your fingers play with the end of your sweatshirt while Uraume kneels before you, their thumb pads softly working into the eyelid of your eyes. Softly rubbing left and right, and up and down.
“This always helps with swelling.” Their voice is monotone, holding no emotion or form of expression. “Cooling them down is good for a short amount of time, but it can strain the eyes and be uncomfortable. Rubbing them gently removes the fluids that have built up.”
Uraume is completely different from when you first met them. They’re more collected, calm, emotionless, and put together. They haven’t so much as smiled yet, nor do they even sound human. They’re also wearing something more formal, a white button up shirt, and some nice black pants. You feel like a child next to them, messy and disorganized.
You sheepishly nod, “I didn’t know that.”
“You most likely haven’t cried enough to know that.” Uraume tells you, pulling their hands away from your face in exchange for a cool damp cloth. “These are things you learn with experience, much rather time.”
You tilt your head, “Have you cried enough?”
Uraume pauses for a moment, before responding, “Not me, no.” The stand up, tossing the wet cloth in the sink and it hits the bowl with a gross splat. Then, they add, “But, someone I used to tend to, yes.”
You nod, fluttering your eyes open, you immediately notice how much lighter your eyes feel, along with your vision being a bit better. You push yourself off the toilet seat lid, moving to the mirror and looking at yourself.
Uraume’s standing next to you, looking at you through the mirror. “Looks good enough for the day, wouldn't you agree?” They grab their rolled up sleeves, and pull them down, making sure that the cuffs of their nice shirt rest perfectly at their wrist.
You nod, the tips of your fingers moving to the corners of your eyes. They’re still a bit irritated, but the swelling is practically gone, along with your eyes, no longer bloodshot, more tired or high looking. “Yeah, it looks good.” You smile slightly.
Uraume nods satisfied, “That’s good.” They sigh to themselves, closing their eyes with a bit of exhaustion, their hand pressing against their mouth, mumbling, “This is getting to become my normal again.” They open the restroom door and leave the small room.
You follow after, blinking a few times, “Is there…?” You watch as Uraume makes way to the kitchen, opening the plastic bag they brought with them. “Uhm… are you? Is there something you’re here for?”
Uruame nods, placing the things on the table. “Of course, I’m here for Sukuna.” They place the final item, and you quickly observe they’re the ingredients for cookies.
Cookies?
“Oh, well, I’m sorry but…” You move to the island, resting your weight on it, “Sukuna’s not here, and I have no idea when he’s coming back.” You pass them an unsure smile, “If you want, you can stay and wait, but I don’t know how long you’ll be waiting.”
“I’m aware.” Uraume tells you, discarding the plastic bag, “He’s currently at my place, he’s going to return later today.” They pull out their phone, typing something. You can’t deny you’re jealous, especially knowing that Sukuna spent the night there.
Wait, what?
Now, you’re a bit confused, why would Uraume come here for Sukuna while he’s at their house? “Oh, did he tell you that?” You lean back and forth, a bit anxious at the thought of Sukuna coming home. “He hasn’t told me, or Yuuji anything.”
“No.” Uraume tucks their phone in their pockets, “I just told him. He should be here in an hour or two.” They shrug, “However long it takes for him to get out of bed.”
You tense, “Oh, uhm. Okay.” You twist your feet to the hall, ready to leave. “I’ll be in my room if you need anything–”
“I do.” Uraume points at the items on the island counter, “I’m making something, it’d be nice to have an extra pair of hands.” Their finger taps expectantly on the counter, almost impatiently. They want you to stay, and you don’t want to stay. The idea of Sukuna coming home has you anxious, and avoidant, you really don’t want to see him right now.
“Oh, uhm…” You thickly swallow, shakily pointing at Yuuji’s room, “If you want… I can go grab Yuuji?” You pass them an unsure smile, letting your hand fall to your side again.
Uraume shakes their head, “No. Your help is good. Come on.” They point at the butter, it’s two sticks. “Put those in the fridge for me, I have a feeling they’re close to melting.” You pass them an unsure look, naturally turning to go to your room, only for Uraume to say, “I’m trying to help you feel better, you’re being a brat.”
You blink at their abruptness, before slowly nodding, “Okay.” You grab the two slabs of butter, and move them to the fridge. “Bossy.” You whisper, shutting the fridge behind you.
“No, not at all, just trying to help you.” Uraume says, reaching into their personal bag and pulling out a headband, “People tend to drown in their emotions if they don’t have anything to distract them.” Their hair is now out of their face, “Besides, everyone likes making cookies.” They blink at you.
You roll your eyes at that, you’re sure Sukuna doesn’t like cookies, he’s too brittle for that. You cross your arms over your chest, huffing a small bit.
“Even Sukuna.” Uraume quips mindlessly. “Although, he is picky about how they’re made. But, he’s like that with all food, it needs to be perfect, or it goes in the trash.” Despite the content matter, Uraume doesn’t sound like they’re complaining, it sounds more mindful if anything.
You laugh a bit, “Am I really that readable?”
“People tend to be when they’re mad.”
“Really?” You lean on the fridge, biting the inside of your cheek, trying to find a kind way to phrase your words. “Uhm, Uraume, I appreciate the attempt to make me… uh, feel better, but I’m not interested.” You place your hands behind your back, “I’m sure Sukuna would be more than happy to help–”
“He told me what happened.” Uraume says, reading your face, seeing the way your face burns. “He told me everything. Including what occurred at the party.” Which… they already had a faint idea of what occurred.
“Oh.” You don’t know what to say anymore and Uraume knows that. “I’m surprised, I didn’t take him as someone to talk about such things.” It’s a slight jab at Sukuna, but it’s the least he owes you, right?
“He doesn’t.” Uraume moves around the island, “Although, as of yesterday, he’s become much better at it.” Uraume tilts their head at you, narrowing their eyes. “Any idea to why?” You divert your eyes at that implication, shaking your head. “I’m sure you’re aware, but back when he moved out, he moved in with me, I was the friend who took him in.”
That makes you gasp, “You’re… So, you two lived together during–”
“Yes.” Uraume looks down, “Yesterday, I’ve never seen him so… vulnerable. It’s endearing, as his friend, but very odd to witness.” They hesitate to say, “It’s almost as if I’m reliving my youth. Dealing with Sukuna back when he was a teen and first moved in with me.”
You feel your chest flutter, “Wait, you mean…?” You play with the end of your shirt, your face slowly heating up. “He’s also hurt by what happened?... He cares about what happened?” Uraume can sense your flattery, it’s as easy to read as a children’s book.
Uraume turns away from you, chin resting on the palm of your hand. “I didn’t say that, but if that’s how you take it.” They reply emotionlessly, not bothering to look at you.
You’re trying to hide a smile, but are miserably failing. Which makes you turn away from them altogether, “Can you tell me… what he said?” Your fingers are toying with each other.
“No.” They push themselves away from the chair, moving towards the ingredients on the table. “Are you going to help me with these cookies?” They pass you an expecting look, a bit hurriedly too.
You move after them, softly saying “I can’t cook.” You’re a bit embarrassed by that confession, even though you’ve said it close to a million times now.
Uraume softly sighs, letting their head fall in a tilt, “I don’t think that matters, Su–” Uraume pauses for a moment, before awkwardly adding, “It’s cookies.” They grab some bowls from the cabinets, placing them on the table lightly. “You can’t mess up cookies.”
You rub your arm, “You’d be surprised.” You open the drawers and pull out some mixing supplies, along with falling to the floor cabinets to pull out the electric mixer. You didn’t think there was one, but checked just in case, which thank god you did.
Uraume doesn’t respond, just grabs the sticks of butter and uses a butter knife to cut them into chunks. You take this time to ask more questions, “Sukuna likes your cooking?” You tilt your head to the side, “But, needs things to be perfect?”
Uraume nods, “Yes.”
“How did he know your cooking was perfect?” You grab some paper towels and place them on the counter, allowing Uraume to place the blocks of butter on them.
“He didn’t, and it wasn’t.” Uraume almost smiles to themself, recalling back to those times. “And he wouldn’t eat anything I made for quite some time. Sometimes he would starve himself, which I forced him to eat before he died in my house.”
You laugh, and Uraume adds, “Could you imagine that? Cleaning a dead body?” They shiver, “The absolute time and mess it would be, the smell?...” They wrinkle their nose, before relaxing, “Is what I would say about anyone else, but it’s Sukuna.”
You lean on the counter, a bit of dread filling your stomach. “You… like Sukuna?”
“I love Sukuna, more than myself, actually.” That makes your stomach drop, twisting into something gross and unnerving. Uraume shakes their head, “Not like your type of love, mine is more… admiration, if anything.”
“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side, “You admire Sukuna.”
“Of course.” Uraume went through something similar to him, but was much more… crushed by the situation. Sukuna handled it far better than they did, which was admirable to Uraume. They hesitate, but add a small, “Sukuna admires you…”
“Really?...” You turn away, cheeks burning, and heart racing. However, you don’t dwindle on it for too long, you’re quick to change the discussion. “So, how did Sukuna grow to like your cooking?” You tap your finger against the table, the action creating a small noise of which Uraume absolutely despises.
“He had no money, nor anything to eat.” They toss some of the butter cubes into the bowel, passing you an empty one and silently ushering you to do the same. “Yet, that didn’t stop him. Like I said, he almost starved. But, I cared enough to force him to eat.”
You nod, mimicking their actions and placing the butter in your bowl. “So, you learned how to cook for him?” You push your bowl in their direction.
Uraume grabs some sugar, pouring some into their bowl, and pouring an equal amount into yours, “Yes. I learned exactly how to cook for Sukuna’s taste.” They sigh a bit, “It was difficult the first few tries, good food would go to waste, but I managed to get it “perfect” soon enough.”
“How did you make it, “perfect?” Sounds a bit impossible.”
Uraume adds brown sugar to both the bowls, eyeing the amount. “I don’t know.” Uraume passes you a whisk, mixing their batch which entitled you to do the same. “One day, after his constant comments on how to make the food, I served it to him, and he ate it.”
You struggle a bit to mix the ingredients, before finding a rhythm that is good for you. “Hm. Sounds like Sukuna.” You smile a bit, but immediately hide it, “He’s bi-polar as hell.”
Uraume quickly breathes out of their nose, “Sure.” They tap their whisk on the side of the bowl, their free hand spinning the container while expertly twisting their hand and mixing the batter, “Although, I have a suspicion it wasn’t the food that was…‘not perfect.’”
“What does that mean?” You glance at both your bowls, and notice yours doesn’t look as nice as Uraume’s. You start mixing with a bit more purpose. Uraume doesn’t respond, just taps their whisk on the edge, then takes yours to do the same.
“Does he feel bad?” You ask, watching them mix your bowl.
Uraume pauses, before finally removing the whisk, tapping the edge of the bowl and placing the whisk to the side. “You’ll see.” They add an egg along with vanilla extract in both bowls, handing you the items again.
You smile a bit, you know you should feel bad, Uraume is silently telling you that he is hurt over the situation, but that makes you a bit happy. Knowing that he’s in pain, just like you, maybe even crying, makes you happy. Because, it means one thing. Sukuna does care for you.
—-
You cringe, eyeing your burnt cookies, and Uraume’s perfect ones. You grab one of your cookies, tapping it on the pan, it’s solid. You drop the cookie, “I told you I was bad at cooking.” You pout slightly.
“Like I said before, I don’t believe it matters.” Uraume grabs one of your cookies, breaking off a piece, and popping it into their mouth. You can hear the loud crunching, before they pause, close their eyes, reach for a paper towel, and silently spit the cookie inside the towel.
“I’m sorry.” You say, but smile ever so slightly, you find the situation a bit amusing. “I swear, only I would be able to find a way to ruin cookies.” You pick up the remaining piece, popping it in your mouth, only to split it back out into your hand. Wow, those are horrible.
Uraume nods, tossing the paper towel out, “It’s just a matter of practice.” They sigh, looking at the two trays, “I suppose we can toss them out and say you made mine.” They put their hand to their chin in thought.
“No! Why would we do that!” You take one of Uraume’s cookies, “You’re being ridiculous. Here, let me just–” Your heart stops when your head the garage door opens, Sukuna’s engine revving. You feel an indescribable worry shot through your body, forcing yourself to freeze.
Uraume’s leaning on the island counter, chin resting on their palm while they’re looking at you. “Too late, it seems that Sukuna’s home already.” They’re watching you so intently, you’re a bit unnerved by it, are they…? Are they waiting to see what’s going to happen?
“Cookies?” Sukuna asks, closing the door behind him.
You jump, turning back to look at him. Sukuna’s eyes are already on you, and unlike normal, he’s looking directly at your eyes. His hands twitch as his sides, unsure of what to do. You’re looking at his eyes too, they look familiar. They look like yours.
Sukuna raises his hand, and weakly waves.
You mimic him, passing him a weak smile. “Hi.”
“She made cookies for you.” Uraume cocks their head to the side, gesturing at the two trays. “She left the first batch in for two long, and insists on making a second batch for you.” They pull the headband off their head, letting their hair fall in their face.
You blink at this, turning over your shoulder to say, “No, that’s a lie, Uraume made one batch, I made the other.” You can’t look at Sukuna, you only mumble with a flushed face, “I messed up my batch… for you.”
Sukuna finally tears his gaze away from you, looking at the trays. “You made them for me?” He takes a few steps forward, standing in front of the two trays. He makes a face at your burnt cookies.
You feel even more embarrassed now that he’s blatantly looking, “U-Uraume made some for you, too.” You stutter, playing with the ends of your sweatshirt. You feel Uraume standing next to you, their arm touching yours.
“It was all her idea.” They immediately press their hand to your mouth, not allowing you to add to their statement. Going so far to shoot you a nasty glare when you turn to look at them. That’s when you feel something click into place, Uraume’s helping you right now.
Uraume is here for Sukuna.
You can’t help but wonder, did Sukuna send Uraume to check up on you? See how you’re doing and if you’re okay? Is that why they texted him to finally come to the house? You feel so many questions flooding your mind, but your mind is stuck on the implications.
Sukuna sent Uraume to check up on you for him. Uraume is here for Sukuna. They're here in place for Sukuna.
“Which one’s did you make?” Sukuna asks you, finally glancing over his shoulder. By this time, Uraume already pulled their hand away from you, acting as if nothing had happened.
“Uh,” You point at the tray with the burnt cookies, “The ones that are rocks.” You move to grab them, “Here, let me just toss them out, I know no one is going to eat them.” You reach for the tray, but Sukuna grabs your wrist, shaking his head.
Sukuna grabs one of your cookies, and pops it into his mouth. You cringe when you can hear the harsh chewing, and you instinctively reach for a paper towel, but Sukuna doesn’t give any indication of the taste. He just closes his eyes.
He’s eating your cookie? He’s eating your burnt cookie that is sitting next to Uraume’s perfect ones. The picky Sukuna, is eating one of your fucked up cookies… and why? You softly pull away from his grasp, “You’re eating it…?” Sukuna swallows, and it makes your cringe. “You didn’t have to do–”
“You’re cooking is…” Sukuna places his hand over his mouth, turning away from you. “You really do need to work on it.” His voice sounds shaky, uneven, and a bit mocking. “Did you even try?” Is he laughing at you?
“I can’t believe you ate that.” You’re burning up, turning away from him. “And, of course I did, I just… messed up.” You cross your arms over your chest, “And, it’s–it’s the thought that counts…”
“Dumb girl.” Sukuna replies with a small amount of amusement.
You look at him for a second, mumbling, “Why–Why did you eat them? They’re obviously not… perfect.”
Sukuna raises one of his eyebrows, pinching your cheek. “You made them for me, it’d be rude not to.” He wrinkles his nose, shaking his head slightly, “Even if they’re shit.”
Uraume smiles slightly, grabbing their things. “It’s getting late, I suppose it’s time for me to leave.” They turn for the door.
Sukuna looks at Uraume, he places his hand on the back of his neck. “Thanks.” He waves, “I’ll see you around.”
They smile to themself, “Anything for ‘Master’ Sukuna.” Yet, right before they leave the house, they point at Sukuna, “I don’t want to see you acting weird anymore.” They point at you next, “You, learn to like better people.”
“What?! W-What does that… mean?” Uraume passes you a knowing look, which makes you flush. You place your hands on your hips, pretending to roll your eyes as you look to the side. “Bye, Uraume. See you later.”
Sukuna nods in agreement, “Of course, I’ll see you.” Uraume waves, finally leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. It’s silent, but not like the silence when the two of you argued, it seems more comfortable and somber.
You’re about to say something, when your phone rings, making both of you jump. You laugh slightly, “Sorry.” You pull it from your pocket, checking the called ID. You feel a small spike of dread when you see your mom’s name, did something happen? “Wait, let me get this.”
Sukuna just nods, instinctively grabbing for another one of your cookies, but quickly pulls his hand back. It makes you hide a giggle before answering. You place your phone on the counter, seeing her face fill your screen. You pass her a small wave.
She waves back, “Hi.” She pulls something on the screen, and you recognize it as your driving license. “You left something, I forgot to tell you yesterday.” She looks at the card, nodding her head, “You are so cute in this.”
You let out a sigh of relief, nodding your head, “Oh, I didn’t even know.” It wasn’t like you’re actively driving, so keeping it on you at all times wasn’t entirely necessary. It was just used as a form of identification. “I’m sure I can pick it up during the holidays.” Your mom nods, and in the corner of your eye you can see Sukuna looking over your shoulder.
Oh no.
“Who is that?” She’s trying to look over your shoulder, despite being on a call. “Oh my–is that your boyfriend? He’s so hot!” She’s signing a bit more frantically, she’s excited. “Why didn’t you tell me about it? You are so lucky, baby, I wish your father–”
“Mom!” You say, covering your face. “Can you not, he’s just my roommate.” You bring your hands down, and silently tell her, “For now, just wait.”
If your mom could, you know she would be smiling like an idiot. She’s always been one for listening to your stupid drama or about boys, you’re sure it’s no different even in your adulthood. “I knew it, I have a sense for these things.” She nods, “You have good taste, although, he looks like an–”
“Asshole.” You nod, “I’ll talk to you later mom. I’ll see you during break.” She nods and ends the call, prompting you to let out a relieved sigh.
Sukuna stand next to you, one of Uraume’s cookies in hand, “Mom?”
You nod, turning your head to look at him, “Yeah.” You snatch the cookie from his hand, taking a bite and handing it back to him.
Sukuna’s eye twitches at your actions, “Fuckin’ disgusting.” He scowls at the cookie.
You hide a giggle, “I accidentally left my drivers license.”
“You could’ve grabbed another fuckin’ cookie.”
“You’re still on the cookie?!” You give him an aspirated look.
“Just tell me what she said.” He waves you off, “I’m over the cookie now.”
You laugh abruptly, “Ar-Are you?” He rolls his eyes and nods in acknowledgement, you quickly add, “She thought you were my boyfriend.” You’re tempted to take another bite of his cookie to mess with him.
Sukuna looks at the bitten cookie, passes it a scowl, then pops the rest into his mouth, chewing while asking you, “What’d you say to that shit?”
You turn on your heel, walking towards your room, “You’re the worst person ever, and I’d rather date Yuuji than you.” You have a smug smile on your face, fluttering you lashes innocently at him. “What else would there be to say?”
Sukuna scowls at you, “You’re such a fuckin’ liar.” He wants to follow after you, but keeps in his spot. “You know you love–” He stops himself from finishing his sentence, he probably shouldn’t mess with you too much right now. Especially saying something of that nature.
You wave him off, opening your door. “You’re so full of yourself. I will never like you.”
Sukuna half smiles, something you can’t decipher hiding behind it, but it becomes more real once he sees you smiling back at him. “Promise?” He tilts his head to the side.
You stop at the door, leaning on the frame while looking at him, “Do you promise?” There’s a small smile on your lips, your eyes full of curiosity, but it’s tainted with a bit of pain. Like you’re looking for something in his answer.
Sukuna pushes his hair back, giving you a boyish look, “Do you… want me to?”
You bite the inside of your cheek, trying to stop your smile from building as you look to the side. You pass him a final smile, before silently entering your room and closing the door behind you. Sukuna cups his face, shaking his head into his hand.
He hates that he’s smiling right now.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *･ November 30th, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Thursday
Yuuji picks up his controller remote, which is coincidentally pink, and clicks the icon for YouTube. “I usually do this with Fusiguro or Nobara, but they’re out of commission today.” He leans on your legs, his head falling back on your knees, “Studying or something…”
You run your fingers through his hair, “I mean, finals are coming up, Yuuji.” You grab another butterfly hair clip, clipping it to his hair to hold his bangs back. “I’ve been starting to study, too.”
Yuuji groans, closing eyes and moaning, “I don’t want to study.” He lets his head fall to the side, which you quickly grab and pull it back on your knees, adding more hair clips. “I don’t even want to take a final, why can’t break just… come.”
“Don’t whine, Yuuji, you’re a smart boy.” You take one of your under eye patches, and place it in its designated space. “I promise you, it’ll go by so quick, you won’t even process it.” You nod, “There, that should feel refreshing for your skin.”
Yuuji nods, propping his head back up and searching for something on the search bar. “It feels good.” He clicks something, mindlessly telling you, “We should do this more often, I like doing girly things.”
You giggle, twisting your hair up and pulling it out of your place. “We can totally do that.” You place another pair of eye patches underneath your eyes, and tap them in place. “Although, I’m moving out after finals, so you may have to hurry.”
Yuuji gawks at this, twisting his head so fast, you think he’s going to break it. “What?! You’re still moving out?” He sighs, shaking his head, “Is it Sukuna?” He throws a dirty look in a general area.
You laugh, “No, it’s not Sukuna, Yuuji.” You pat his head, “Although the thought is thoroughly appreciated.” You watch as he plays the half time of a super bowl game, one featuring Shakira and Jlo. Of course.
“Oh, are you two still mad at each other?” Yuuji leans his head back, allowing you to put some star pimple patches on some designated areas. “Or, did you two make up?”
“Mad at each other? No.” You close the small container which you keep your pimples patches in, before looking to the side and thinking. “Me mad at him? Well.. I haven’t completely forgiven him. But, I’m not as mad anymore.” You smile a bit, thinking about Uraume, and what they did to calm a bit of tension between the two of you. “But, I feel like that doesn’t answer your question.”
Yuuji looks at you with determination, shaking his head. “Stay here. If it is Sukuna, I can kick him out.” He grabs your hands, giving you a curt nod. “Mhm!” You just laugh, hand pressing against his head to push him away from you.
“You’re being ridiculous, Yuuji.” You tap his forehead.
“I pay for the house, Yuuji. Please, throw me out, see what happens.” Sukuna snarkily adds from behind the two of you. “Maybe ask our old man for a job while you’re at it. Get you to stop leeching off me.” He grumbles.
Yuuji flops back into your legs, groaning out dramatically while you giggle. “But I don’t want to work…” The super bowl music starts, and Yuuji springs out of your lap, raising in his arms as he dances in his spot.
You laugh again, looking at Sukuna and passing him a quick shrug.
Yuuji is already up again, the system remote in hand and singing Shakira opening half. Moving his hips, and smiling like an idiot. Still, you got to give it to him, he’s actually really good at dancing. A part of you thinks Shakira should’ve had Yuuji as one of her backup dancers.
Yuuji looks at his brother, passing him an unsure smile, before saying your name. You snap your attention to him, “Hey, can you do all this to him, too?” He gestures to his face, “If you couldn’t tell, his skin is literally crying for help.”
Sukuna’s eye twitches, “If you didn’t know, I actually take care of my skin.” He moves to stand over Yuuji. He crosses his arms over his shoulder, smirking to himself while adding, “Probably better than you wash your ass.”
“Hey!” Yuuji yells, pointing an accusing finger at Sukuna, “I wash my face with a soap bar.” He narrows his eyes, “And my ass, too.” He turns back to the TV, wiggling his shoulders to the beat.
Sukuna rolls his eyes, “We can totally tell.”
Yuuji pauses his dancing for a moment, pointing at you. “Do a face mask on him so he has to shut up.” He turns back to the TV and dances like nothing happened, completely changing up his attitude the moment Jlo appears on the screen.
Sukuna drops down next to you, making you bounce ever so slight from the weight distribution. He closes his eyes, leaning his head back, “Alright, let's get this shit over with.” He taps your thigh.
You raise an eyebrow, “Wait, you actually want me to do this?” You push his hand away from you, “I thought this type of stuff would be too girly for you, or something?” Besides, you’re not too keen on touching him right now, you’re not completely healed from the argument between you two. Better than before, but not completely over it.
You wonder if Sukuna is over it, he did seem relatively upset over what you did. Even if you have no clue what you did. He seems over it, then again, you can never know with Sukuna. Yet, a part of you wishes you do.
“Just do the shit before I leave.” Sukuna tells you, eyes still closed and his body relaxed on the couch. If you know Sukuna well enough, you’re sure that means he wants to do this, just won’t admit it.
You can help, but subtly smile. “Then ask politely.” You point at Yuuji’s dancing body, “Your younger brother had no problem doing that.” Yuuji didn’t ask, you forced it on him, but Sukuna doesn’t need to know that. “Aren’t you supposed to be setting an example?”
Sukuna’s eyebrow twitches with frustration, but he remains silent. Which you think is much better then hurling more insults at you, so you take it as him asking politely. “Whatever.” You grab a pink headband, and place it on his forehead, sliding his hair behind it. You pick a few of his baby hairs and clip them with your hair clips. “You know, I saw you before all this, just mixed you up with Yuuji.”
“Really?” Sukuna asks, not bothering to open his eyes.
“Yeah.” You grab a moisturizer, placing it on the tips of your fingers before spreading it to the other hand and placing it on his skin. “I was with Maki when I first saw you.” You laugh to yourself, “She said you were spoiled.” In nice terms, “Then, I met Yuuji, and complimented his hair, since it was the only thing that stood out to me.” You pull your fingers away, “Looks like Yuuji stole the only compliment I would ever give you.”
“Oh, how absolutely kind of you.” Sukuna pauses for a moment, recalling the conversation you’re referencing. “Wait, that’s why you said I didn’t work to get here?” He huffs a small bit.
“I was hoping you forgot.” You whisper, gathering more eyepatches to place on Sukuna.
“I have a good memory.” Sukuna tells you, finally opening his eyes to look at you, “I’m sure you know that, at least.” You don’t respond, just peel open the product and place them under his eyes. “Just so you know, I pay for my and Yuuji’s education. I work for our grandpa.”
That surprises you a bit, “That’s kind of you.” You feel that's a common thing you tell Sukuna mindlessly. You place the final eyepatch, swiping your fingers over both to make sure they stick. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you leave for work.” You open a face mask, spreading it open to make it easier to fit over his face.
“Yeah, you’re just really forgetful.” You glare at him, which clearly assumes him. “It’s nothin’ I need to leave the house for, purely mental work.” He smiles to himself, flicking your forehead. “Stuff your little brain wouldn’t be able to wrap around.” He mocks you.
You feel your eye twitch, you slap the face mask over his face. You laugh when he flinches, his eyes shutting from the intrusion. “Uh-huh. Yeah, my stupid girl brain wouldn't be able to wrap around your big man, alpha job.”
Sukuna shakes his head, trying to hide his smile, “You’re so fuckin’ dumb.”
You spread the mask over his face, “Yeah, yeah.” You tap his cheek, removing the small air bubble caught between his skin and the mask. “Okay, there.” You grab the package and check the instructions, “Says to leave on the skin for fifteen minutes.”
Sukuna sits up, about to speak when you cut him off, “Ah, nope! It means no talking for fifteen minutes.” You tap his shoulder a few times, a cheeky smile building on your lips. “You don’t want to get wrinkles, right?” You push yourself off the couch, tapping Yuuji’s shoulder to show him your masterpiece.
When Yuuji turns to look at Sukuna, his jaw drops, “Holy shit, I didn’t think he’d actually let you do it.” He smiles at his brother, hand holding onto each other while singing, “He’s such a cutie, maybe he’ll let you do his makeup, too.”
“Both of you come any closer to me, and I will kill you.” Sukuna says with a scowl, pulling up his phone to scroll through it. “Especially, you, Yuuji.”
Yuuji wraps his arms around your shoulder, whispering, “Hear that, he’s got a soft spot for you.” He wiggles his shoulder, singing in your ear, “Maybe, he likes you.”
A pillow comes right between the two of you, but hits directly on Yuuji’s head, making him fall to the floor on his knees. Sukuna cockily laughing behind him, “That’s what you get for whisperin’ like little fuckin’ girlies.”
Yuuji just collapses into himself, “Why… Why does this always happen to me…?” He reaches a tantalizing hand for you, shaking while he mumbles, “An.. an angel. An angel has come for me…”
You giggle, naturally reaching back for him, but Sukuna places his body between you and Yuuji, smirking while he slaps his hand down. “Yeah, that’s one hell of a way to put it.” He picks up the pillow again, only to throw it back at Yuuji’s face.
Yuuji’s reaching for you, again, but your attention is preoccupied by picking a new video to watch. Which… Sukuna feels a small pride in. You’re not paying attention to Yuuji, then again, you’re not paying attention to him, but it’s better than you hanging off his brother in front of him.
Selfishly.
Sukuna swears when Yuuji’s hands dramatically falls to the floor, he can hear Yuuji whisper, “Traitor…” Of which falls on deaf ears, clear by the way you're humming to yourself and clicking onto a video.
“Here, I picked a Selena video.” You say with a smile, placing the remote down. “It’s the intro to her performance at the Astrodome.” You already smile when you see her waving to the crowd.
Yuuji gains an inhuman amount of strength to push the pillow and Sukuna off him, joining your side and chanting Selena’s name. You’re quick to grab your hair brush, using it as a mic to sing along with Selena’s singing while Yuuji messily follows her dancing on the screen.
Sukuna merely sits on his heels, looking at the both of you idiots with a dumbfounded look. You’re idiots, you two are actual idiots, maybe even mental. Still, Sukuna is… smiling. A fond look on his face watching the two of you enjoy yourselves.
More specifically you. You’re hair tied back with a similar fuzzy head band, although yours is decorated with small cat ears and the color white. Some matching colorful clips holding back your baby hairs, and your face adorned with star pimple patches and eye masks.
You’re so weird, he thinks to himself. It’s nice to look at.
Even when you turn to look at him, passing him a face that can only be read as, ‘Stop looking at me, weirdo.’ Sukuna still admires you, passing you an expression you’ve never seen before. It makes your chest flutter a bit.
“You look dumb.” Sukuna tells you with a smile, laughing when you push his shoulder making him fall off his heels.
“Oh please, have you looked in the mirror?” You say between lyrics, passing him a smug smile as you say, “I’m sure your blonde girlfriend would be on her knees if she saw you right now.” You laugh to yourself, spinning alongside Yuuji.
Sukuna rolls his eyes, grabbing your wrist and pulling you down with him, “Forget about her.” He tells you, enjoying the way you perfectly fall into his chest, an adorable glare staring at him, “I know I have.”
You naturally place your hands on the floor, pushing yourself off his chest. “I haven’t.” Your words are directed at something else, and Sukuna knows that. Still, you don’t stand up just yet, you keep your gaze concentrated on him.
Sukuna looks to the side for a moment, “I’m aware.”
“I have such a thing for asses.” Yuuji says from behind the two of you, making you turn your head over your shoulder to give him a questionable look. Only to see he’s giving you a mirroring look, “Woah, I literally had my back to you for five seconds, what is happening?” He covers his face, “I feel like I’m interrupting.”
“I’m trying to kill your brother.”
“Oh.” Yuuji slowly nods to himself, “Fair.”
You look at the pillow, then point at it, “Pass me that so I can suffocate him.” Yet, Yuuji’s quick by your side, placing the pillow over Sukuna’s face with a laugh. “Or, you can do that, too.” You place your weight on Sukuna, keeping him in place.
“We got him!” Yuuji yells, looking back and forth around the room. “Someone call animal control!” You giggle, only for both of you to be pushed back, practically sliding across the room as Sukuna sits back up. Yuuji fakes worry, “He’s loose!”
You and Yuuji start laughing again, finding humor in how dumb that line was, while sitting on the ground. Before both you take a moment to stare at Sukuna. You point at him, “Su-Sukuna, your face…” You cup your mouth, trying not to laugh, “..Where’d your face mask go?”
Yuuji makes a confused face, before lifting the pillow he’s still holding onto. Displaying Sukuan’s face mask perfectly intact and sticking to the cushion. You and Yuuji fall to the floor, laughing hysterically.
Sukuna turns away from the two of you, his hand placed on his lips. “I-Idiots.”
Yuuji then proceeds to pick himself up with the pillow, raising it in the air and recreating his best ghost impression while violently sprinting after you. “Boo!” You awkwardly get up, your feet sliding on the wooden floor as you run away from him with a fake cry.
Sukuna just… watches as this unfolds in front of him.
And at some point, he swears there is actual terror on your face while you’re running away from Yuuji. Practically, slipping on everything everytime you take a quick corner or round the dining room table. Yuji’s quick on your tail with another scary yell, which tears a real scared scream from you.
You pass Sukuna a quick look, hiding behind the dinner table. And despite your terror, you’re smiling, clearly enjoying yourself, as you scream, “Help me!” Then, quickly run behind him, hands pressing into his back, “I’m calling for backup, someone get the ghostbusters in here!”
Sukuna, does something that shocks you both, he laughs. His hand lifts to his eyes while he shakes his head, “You’re so stupid.” Yuuji takes this as an invitation to continue, this time giving his attention to his brother. Only for it to seriously fail and receive a bodyslam into the couch, the pillow long gone.
Your jaw drops, watching–almost in slow motion–as Yuuji drops, presumably, dead in his spot. His hand dramatically falling limp by his head, his head falling to the side with it. He mumbles, “Brother…?” He blinks, his other hand touching his face, “Is this heaven?”
“It’s hell.” You quickly perk in, sitting by his head, “I hope you had fun Yuuji, because it’s nothing but suffering and fire from here on out.” You laugh to yourself, pulling his head into your lap. “I swear, you’re always dying on me, Yuuji. It’s like you’re trying to escape from me.”
Yuuji covers his face with his forearm, “You’ve finally figured me out…”
You slap his arm, Sukuna sitting on his legs, which you have to think is painful, but Yuuji doesn’t flinch. “Rude.” You mumble, pulling his arm off his face, “What were you saying?” You silently scold Sukuna for sitting on his brother's legs, but he doesn’t move.
Yuuji’s eyebrows furrow, him looking to the side in thought. “What was I saying?” his eyes land on the screen, watching as Selena finishes her final song to the intro of her performance. “Oh!” He sits up, “Asses.” He says with full confidence.
You tilt your head to the side, passing Sukuna an unprepared look, before repeating his words with uncertainty, “Asses?” There’s a small laugh hidden behind your words.
“Asses.” Yuuji asserts, “I have a thing for asses.”
You nod your head, eyes wide, “Wow. That’s… amazing, Yuuji.” You give him a forced smile, as if he were a toddler passing you a horribly drawn drawing, “I didn’t need to know that.” You stand up, almost pushing Yuuji off the couch as you do so.
Yuuji throws finger guns at you, clicking his tongue, “Well, now you do.” He falls back down, taking your place on the couch. Yuuji passes you, what he thinks is a charming smile, but looks more scary if anything. “By the way, you have an amazing–”
Sukuna hits the back of Yuuji’s head, “Learn to shut your fuckin’ mouth, Yuu.”
Yuu? Is that a nickname Sukuna calls Yuuji? You’ve never heard it before. You put your hand out, “Wait, Sukuna, let the boy speak.” You shrug, turning your attention back to the screen, “He may say something that I want to hear.” You scroll through the related videos, and try to pick another song to listen to.
Yuuji passes Sukuna a smug smile, “Yeah, Sukuna.”
Sukuna just rolls his eyes. You give up on finding a video, and place the controller in Sukuna’s hands, silently telling him to pick something. Then, you sit on the ground next to the coffee table, since both boys are taking up the couch.
Yuuji pulls his legs from under his brother and stretches them, pulling out his phone in the meantime. Yuuji calls your name, “Are you free the whole next week?” You just give a halfhearted shrug. “Well, if you are, Nobara and Megumi are planning on meeting up in the library for the whole week, to study. They just texted me about it.”
You watch as Sukuna begins searching for a song to listen to. “Oh, that actually sounds really nice, I’d totally be–” You pause, thinking for a moment, “Wait, I can’t on Monday and Wednesdays, I have my club.” You groan at that thought.
Yuuji tilts his head to the side, “Wait, I thought you liked going to your club?”
You turn to look at him over your shoulder, “No, I do. Believe me, I do.” You sigh, “But, I have to go to every club meeting since no one wants to cover for me. It’s honestly so exhausting. Like, you don’t even have to do much, you just have to check roll-call, yet no one seems to want to take on the small work load. “And with finals coming up, I really need a break.”
Yuuji hums, pouting ever so slightly, “Sorry to hear that, if you want, I can take your spot.”
You laugh, shaking your head while turning back to the TV, only to see a video playing. “I feel it coming.” By, The Weekend. You hum to yourself, already nodding your head to the beat. You smile to yourself, “Tell me what you really like.”
Yuuji nods with you, skipping a few lines before adding, “Just take it step by step.” He pushes himself off the couch, crawling next to you, “You’ve been scared of love, and what it did to you.” He bumps into your shoulder, making you nod in sync with him.
“I feelin’ coming, babe.” You sing, this time snapping your fingers to the beat, your shoulder rolling together. The two of you enjoy the rest of the song while humming parts, eyes engrossed in the music video. Until you turn over your shoulder to look at Sukuna.
You feel a bit… shocked by what you see.
Sukuna’s nodding along, his eyes already on you while singing along, and now that you’re looking at him, it feels like you can hear him singing, “You’ve been scared of love, and what it did to you.” It sounds a bit odd, knowing how deep his voice is, but at the same time it’s domestic. A bit intimate to you, never in your life would you think that one day you would see Sukuna singing along to a weekend song.
You pass him a ridiculous smile at him, nodding your head a bit more dramatically, “You don’t have to run, I know what you’ve been through.” You place your hand over your heart, which gives Sukuna some form of encouragement.
He places his hand on his chest, “Just a simple touch, and it can set you free.”
“We don’t have to rush when you’re alone with me.” You mouth back, swaying your shoulders slightly.
Yuuji leans back, shooting his hands in the air while loudly singing, “I feel it coming,” Which inclines everyone to sing the final lines together with a laugh.
It may seem ridiculous, singing along to a weekend song with Sukuna, but… it feels real.
Sukuna feels real.
–
You stretch your arms over your head, letting out a long yawn. “I think I’m clocking in for the night.” You push yourself off the ground, accidentally making Yuuji fall to the floor. Shit, you didn’t know he was sleeping on you.
Yuuji shoots up, “I’m up! I’m up!” He blinks hard, looking around a bit confused, “Uh, save your tears for another day?...” He lets his head fall back onto the floor, almost as if he had passed out again. This time, without you to cushion his fall.
You laugh, rolling your eyes, “Goodnight, Yuuji.” You pat his head, which gains you a small smile from him.
Yuuji pats your hand back, “Night, night.” He curls into himself, much like a puppy.
A small huff leaves your lips, before you make your way to your room. Sukuna passes you a quick glance, which you return with a curt wave. “See you in the morning, Sukuna.”
Yet, when you go to open your door, a hand grabs yours. You don’t even need to look at him to know who it is, you turn over your shoulder, the name leaving your mouth like sticky honey, “Sukuna?” Yet, your eyes aren’t on his face, they're stuck on your hand.
He’s holding your hand.
Albeit, he is holding it a bit awkwardly, but he’s holding you. Last time you were in a similar situation he was holding your wrist, now he’s holding your hand. A small difference, but it holds more meaning than you can ever imagine. You’ve never noticed before, most likely because you’ve never taken the time to mentally note, but Sukuna’s had it much larger than yours. It holds your whole hand whole, it's warm and calloused. It’s comforting.
It’s far more intimate now.
“You're rude.” He tells you, but for once, there’s no malice in his voice. It’s more calm and playful, shockingly. “I see you clearly have a favorite brother, pretty girl.”
You raise your eyebrow at him, slowly pulling your hand away to cross it over your chest. “What? Is it that I didn’t wish you a good slumber?” You smile while he glares at you, you tilt your head to the side ever so slightly, “You’re oddly sassy today?”
Wait, did he just call you pretty girl? “Wait, what did you call me?” You blink dumbly.
“I didn’t say anything.” Sukuna says, before adding, “Besides, you’re always fuckin’ annoying, but you don’t see me bitching at you ‘bout it.” You raise an eyebrow, which is more than enough said. “Okay, fine, I’ll give you that.”
You nod satisfied, “That’s what I thought.” You shake your head, “Wait, no, you’re not changing the conversation, what did you call me?”
“Dookie stain?” Sukuna says with a satisfied smirk.
“Oh my god.” You place your hand over your face, “I don’t think I’m ever going to forgive you.” And with that sentence alone, the tone between the two of you snapped into something less light-hearted, and more… distant.
There’s a small silence between you two, and it isn’t very comfortable, nor is it uncomfortable. If anything, it’s more…. The two of you don’t know what to say. Should you say something about the argument? Or, should you leave the topic to simmer, then eventually die out? Maybe, find a completely different topic to talk about, despite how much you want to talk about the argument.
You look to the side, biting your bottom lip gently. Sukuna leans on the wall across from you, “You’re still mad?” Looks like Sukuna can also read your mind.
You’re hesitant to say, “Not as much as before, no.” You hug yourself, “I’m guessing you’re also no longer mad…?” You give Sukuna a hopeful look, but it isn’t returned.
Sukuna doesn’t say anything, just softly sighs. “Finals are coming up.” He tells you, and him ignoring your question, is answer enough. He’s still bothered over what happened. Still, a part of you wonders what you did that got under his skin. That makes you feel a bit worse, the fact that you don’t know. Yet, it couldn’t have been that bad, right?
That thought makes you feel even worse.
You merely nod, not adding to his words. You don’t have much strength to do that right now. Maybe, you don’t have the strength to have that conversation right now, much rather to your own desires.
Sukuna seems unsure, hesitant to say, “I study at home, if the brat isn’t bothering you, you should come by.” He cocks his head in the direction of his room. “I already know how annoyin’ he can be.”
You tilt your head to the side, raising an eyebrow. “Wait, right now?” You tap your door, “It’s past my bedtime, and I’m actually really tired.” You tease.
Sukuna scoffs at you, “No, dumbass. Later.” You laugh a bit, knowing that even though you're clearly joking, Sukuna seems to find offense to everything. “Besides, I’m going to… uh, talk to Yuuji right now.” He passed you a look that says a thousand words.
You feel your lips part a bit, knowing exactly what Sukuna and Yuuji’s conversation is going to entail. And, as much as you are a bit mad at him, you smile at him. Your eyes glowing in the small light of the hallway, while your eyes shine bright at him, “That sound… amazing.” You nod softly, “I’m glad.”
Sukuna diverts his gaze away from you, not able to hold your gaze. “Yeah, whatever.” He crosses his arms over his chest, mimicking your stance. “I swear, you always look at me with that stupid smile. It’s annoying as hell.”
You’re still smiling, tilting your head to try and look at his face. “What? You hate my smile?” You say, leaning closer to him, “Is that why you can’t look at me right now?”
“I can’t look at your hideous face.” Sukuna responds.
“Uh-huh, sure. I completely believe you.” You smile a bit, “I’m sure that’s why you called me a pretty girl right now. Just because of how hideous I am.” Sukuna doesn’t respond, but the twitch in his eyebrow is satisfying enough. “Okay, yeah, we can study later.” You turn on your heel, opening your door, “Since you asked so nicely, Sukuna.” You say animatedly.
“Didn’t ask for anything.” Sukuna tells you while rolling his eyes, pushing himself off the wall to stand a bit closer to you. “You might actually be going mental.” He pinches your nose, blocking your airway for a moment.
“Sure.” Your voice sounds ridiculous. Which makes Sukuna smile a small bit. You wave his hand off, turning to your room. Yet, right before you close your door behind you, you pause to look at him. Your head leaning on the door. Sukuna almost perks up at you, expecting something. It’s a bit puppy-like in a way. “Say it.” Your eyes are boring into him.
“Say what?” Sukuna mumbles back, passing you a disinterested sigh. You just give him an expecting look, similar to the one he was giving you not even a few seconds ago. He loudly—and obnoxiously—sighs, “Good fuckin’ night, loser.”
You burst into laughter at his insult, which doesn’t at all feel insulting, but more humorous. “Bye, Sukuna.” You watch as he makes his way back to the living room, but you call his name again, just to mess with him. “‘Kuna?”
Sukuna—visibly—sighs, his shoulder slowly raising, then lowering, before slowly turning his head over his shoulder to look at you. “What do you want now, idiot?” He’s glaring at you, but it’s still entirely humorous in your head.
“Good…” You watch as he eyes perk a bit, and you laugh a bit, you can’t help it, really. “Good luck removing those eye masks, they stain the skin.”
“Fuck you.” He flips you off.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *･ December 1st, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Friday
“It’s done!” You squeal, throwing your hand in the air with enthusiasm. Only for you to collapse onto your computer, “Oh my god, I’m done.” Your eyes close, rubbing your eyelids from the strain of looking at a screen without your glasses. “I hate Gojo, I pray for Gojo’s students next year. This project is literally so invasive.”
Yuuji merely nods, a bit caught up in his thoughts. You can’t help but notice Yuuji seems a bit different, more put at ease, and untroubled with himself. A blissful smile on his face, as his eyes blink with a similar tone, he looks happy. But, not in the sense of grinning ear to ear, but in self… contentment.
You can even see it in the way he holds his body, his shoulders seem lighter, his smile less forced. It’s almost as if you’re finally getting a glimpse at the real Yuuji, not the one he’s been trying to force into your eye. He’s still Yuuji, but more… real.
It makes you feel warm.
You can also see the slight puffiness in Yuuji’s eye. They’re a bit red, and the corners look a bit irritated, too. You assume their conversation entailed a few tears, but you’re not going to point them out, nor are you going to ask. You’re sure Nobara will do that for you.
If anything, you’ll bother Sukuna about it later. Noticing his eyes are also a bit irritated at the corners, too. Not in front of Yuuji, though, maybe when the two of you study on your own, you’ll tease him about it.
You bite the inside of your cheek, turning your computer to Yuuji, “Wait, can you check it for me? I feel like it’s too personal.” Knowing Gojo, he’d probably love that. “Should I tone it back some more? Or, should I say ‘fuck it,’ and leave it as is?”
Yuuji leans over, eyes skimming the google document. “I think it’s fine, your writing is way better than any papers I’ve done.”
Sukuna reaches over, taking your computer, only for you to snatch it away from him. “Ah, you can’t see it yet.” You’re mumbling a bit, your face growing hot, “I still have some comments I need to delete before I turn it in.” Again, you think it’s far too personal for a normal school paper, much less for Sukuna to read.
Sukuna doesn’t bother to ask, just lets you do whatever. “Weirdo.”
“We still enjoying our Friday out?” You ask Yuuji, pulling your head up to look at him. “It’s our last glimpse into freedom for a month.”
Yuuji perks at this, “Yeah, Nobara should be swinging by with Megumi anytime now.” He closes his computer, looking at Sukuna sitting across from him. “You sure you don’t want to come, Megumi is going to be there.”
“You’re acting like Megumi is going to suede his decision.” You rest your head on your hand, looking at Yuuji. “Wait, unless they’re secretly dating, and this is your way of coming out to me.” You turn your attention to Sukuna, passing him a smug smirk.
“I’ll kill you.” Sukuna says, not taking his eyes off his computer.
You merely giggle in response, leaning ever so slightly in his direction. “Mhm. Keep talking to me like that.”
Yuuji blinks innocently, “I don’t know, It might. I think Sukuna likes Megumi.” He narrows his eyes at you, “Wait, I’m changing my answer, she’s going to be there.” Yuuji points at you.
“You’re acting like that is going to change my answer.” Sukuna rubs his eyes.
You shrug, “It might.”
Yuuji sighs, looking away from you with a red face, “Well, I’m going…”
That makes both you and Sukuna turn to look at Yuuji, a smile building on your lips, while Sukuna bites the inside of his cheek. “I’ll…” He smiles a bit, “I always hated when you pulled that shit on me.” He leans back in his chair, letting out an exasperated breath. “I’ll take you out somewhere this weekend, you good with that?”
Yuuji tries to hide it, but he smiles into his hand.
You lean close to Yuuji, “He loves you, Yuuji, isn’t that so sweet?” Sukuna throws a pencil at your head, to which you almost tackle him for. You quickly compose yourself, “Good thing you love him, because everyday I fight the urge to take him out in his sleep.” You give Yuuji a small smile, “You’re keeping me sane, Yuuji.”
“Who knew we actually had that in common?”
“We love Yuuji, or we want to kill–”
“Nobara’s here.” Yuuji stands up, closing his computer and placing it in the middle of the table, which you allow your device to join next to. He laughs to himself, tucking his phone into his pocket, “She also said, Megumi bought drinks, but I think that’s a lie.”
“Let me grab my shoes.” You push yourself back from the table, grabbing your converse and twisting your feet into them. Tapping them on the ground once you stand back up, satisfied with how they look.
Yuuji’s already by your side, draping a blue jean jacket over his red hoodie. “We’ll be back around ten, I don’t think we’re going to do anything crazy.” He tells Sukuna, looking over his shoulder to see his brother standing behind him.
“I don’t care what you do.” Sukuna says dismissively, “Just don’t wake me up when you get home.” His hands are in the pockets of his sweats.
Yuuji nods at Sukuna, pulling your hand quickly to the car. “See you tomorrow.” Sukuna returns the gesture with a small wave, almost laughing when Yuuji pushes you into the car awkwardly. A small yelp resigns in his ears as he shuts the door again.
Sukuna softly nods to himself, making way back to the table, grabbing his computer from the center. He doesn’t know why he put his device in the pile when he was going to return not even a moment later, but what was done, was done.
“To finish that stupid assignment for Geto’s class–” Sukuna pauses after opening his laptop, immediately flooded with a pink background, and a splitscreen of a google document. It hits him like a rock through a moving vehicle, this isn’t his computer.
See, if this computer was Yuuji’s, he would’ve closed it and reached for his own. It’s truly as simple as that. But, it’s not Yuuji’s computer, it’s yours, and the google document open is the research project you did on him.
Besides, what you don’t know, won’t hurt you.
Sukuna hides the open webpage in favor of looking at your wallpaper, noticing what he thinks is your family under a cherry tree. But, he can’t spot you, which is a bit odd, you would assume that a picture like this would include everyone–Sukuna pasuses, his eyes landing on a small girl in the middle.
“Holy shit.” Sukuna mumbles to himself with a smile, trying not to laugh. That small girl is you. You look incredibly young, most likely a picture from middle school. Yet, what he’s a bit perplexed by, is your appearance, a stark contrast to how you look now. Glasses, braces, messy hair, and a fashion sense that screams early 2000’s.
Cute.
Sukuna wonders if you still need glasses, possibly changed them out for contact once you hit college? Now, he wants to see what you look like in glasses. Would you look childish, like the picture here, or would you look more grown and dignified. Some other thoughts pop into his head thinking about you wearing glasses, but he doesn’t dwindle on them for too long. Despite how inviting they may seem.
He opens the document again, immediately meeting with the simple words of, ‘Project, by me.’ He thinks it’s a bit improper, and adds your name for you. You can thank him later for being such a kind roommate, and–now–study partner.
Sukuna’s eyes naturally fall on the small circle chart at the beginning, explaining the nutrients, and food he intakes. Right next to it is a graph explaining his active life, how much he works out, and practices. Along with the calories he burns, along with what he gains from working out.
It’s far more extensive than he’s ever noted about himself. Yet, that’s not the part that seems interesting to him, more or less what he’s looking for. He’s looking for personal notes about him. Your… “evaluation,” of sorts. He wants to know what you wrote.
Sukuna actually spoke to Maki earlier in the day, asked her about the project.
“What?” Maki asked with a scowl, “Why the hell would I do that?” She places her hands on her hips.
Sukuna’s quick to say your name, “Asked for an example, just hasn’t had the time to find you yet. Decided I’d help her out.” He placed his hands into his pockets, tapping his foot on the ground impatiently.
Maki sighed, flicking her glasses to the bridge of her nose, before pulling out her computer, placing it on the picnic table where she was eating. “Fine, but tell her she owes me.” She said with a groan.
“Nah, I’ll take care of it.” Sukuna said, eyeing the screen Maki just showed him. She did it on her brother Megumi, writing about who he is, analyzing his character, and more specifically, who he is in her eyes. “Hm.” He nodded to himself, “Cool, I’ll buy you lunch, or something.”
Maki shook her head, “Sure, whatever.”
Now, Sukuna can’t deny how curious he is about what you wrote about him. Along with the small comments you added to yourself. He’s quick to click the first one. It’s attached to a sentence.
“Sukuna Itadori – a previous student of yours – holds himself with pride, strength, and dignity. Yet, contains a side to him which no one seems to view, a side that’s more caring then most would note.”
– ‘Pride is one hell of a way to put it. I already hate this.’
Sukuna laughs a bit, clicking onto the next personal comment.
“Sukuna is an individual that pushes everyone out, in fear of rejection. (Rejection – the dismissing or refusing of a proposal, idea, etc.) However, the rejection feared isn’t tainted in love, or measly relationships written in immature youth, nor is it littered from social cliques which people tend to flock to, but rejection as in the fear of yourself, of never meeting what you pray to become.”
– ‘That’s all the professor is going to get out of me, honestly, the man is so nosey. Fail me if you need to, I don’t care anymore.’
There's another comment attached to it.
– ‘Sukuna deserves so much better, then just being my stupid fucking project. I wish I could tell him that.’
That makes Sukuna reel back, his heart beating loudly in his chest. A plethora of emotions flooding his head, along with guilt seeping through his chest. It feels weird, something he feels very little of, but it’s real and drowning. You… You do know why he’s mad.
Now, ugh… he feels a bit stupid.
Now, he feels bad.
Sukuna shakes his head, he wants to continue, but doesn’t know if he should. There’s only a few more comments, which can’t be too revealing, it can’t make him react in such a way as the previous one, right? So, he’s fine to continue.
“I noted that being by the side of an athlete was going to be revealing of his character, however, I couldn’t help but notice the change of mine. I became more nervous, scared, excited, and riddled with anxiety. My personal agenda against Sukuna switching from the one I heard from acquaintances, to something I could piece together on my own. He’s brash, stoic, and pleasing to the eye.”
– ‘“Pleasing to the eye?” What is this, 1900? I swear, just call him sexy asf, I’m sure Gojo wouldn’t care… hell, he’ll probably understand if anything.’
That makes Sukuna laugh, “She’s going to hate me.” But, that doesn’t keep him away from looking, if anything, it has him clicking your second to last personal comment. However, right before he can get to them, Sukuna notices the massive paragraph break between a conclusion, and the two more comments.
The conclusion is simple and dignified. However, the paragraph under the break isn't so much.
“Sukuna Itadori. A man who has managed to flip my world upside down, a complex person of which I feel I will never understand. Yet, I've grown to terms with that. I’ve grown to terms that the only individual I will understand is myself, however, spending time with some else at close proximity, passes me a glimpse into someone else's life, along with their problems and aspirations. I understand so little, yet more than most.”
– ‘This is too personal, I need to write a better conclusion. Ugh. So close to being done.’
Sukuna agrees, mumbling to himself, “It’s like she’s in love with–” His finger clicks the last personal comment.
– ‘Just say you love him, it’s not like he’s going to see it. Maybe, Gojo will give me a good grade for the confession, too.’
Sukuna closes the computer, then cups his face.
He’s fine, there’s nothing happening right now, his mind isn’t racing, nor is his heart beating quickly at all. He’s completely calm, not freaking out at all. His…
Sukuna’s ears are tinted red.
You’re going to kill him.
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *･ December 2nd, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Monday
You already told yourself–close to a million times now–you put your name on the document. You just don’t remember putting your name, even though you distinctly remember, not putting your name on the document. You shouldn’t think about it anymore, anyway, you turned in the assignment and–
“Madame President, are you okay?”
“Stop calling me that, I actually hate it.” You mumble to yourself, before standing straight up. “Uh, what’s up?” You glance around, “Are there more papers I need to fill out, or something?” A boy shows you his drawing of him and you, a heart in the middle.
You smile, patting his head, taking the paper away from him, telling him a silent ‘thank you,’ before looking at your peer. “Uh, no, there’s someone… uh, someone’s waiting for you.” They push their glasses to the bridge of their nose. Pointing in–what you think–is a general area.
You feel everything around you go blank, the floor sinking beneath you. You want to swallow the lump in your throat, but you can’t. You force a nod, “Uh, yeah, I’ll go… talk to them.” Walking to the person makes your heart pound, your body littered with anxiety.
Mahito.
He’s smiling at you like a friend, waving widely and catching the attention of your fellow peers and children. He calls your name so kindly, you wonder if you hallucinated the whole night at the party. “Yoo-hoo! Come here!”
You feel your eye twitch, your feet sinking into the ground with each step. You pass him a half-hearted wave, “Uh, what do you want?” That sounded really mean, but he deserves it.
“Awh, don’t be tense with me, I’m not here to hurt you.” Mahito waves his hand reassuringly, before his eyes narrow in on you. “I just wanted to talk to you, little puppy. Without your owner to bother us, this time.”
That nickname makes you uncomfortable–no, Mahito makes you uncomfortable. “Uh…? My owner?” Is he talking about Sukuna? That makes you scowl, why in the world would Mahito think Sukuna owns you? Just because you spent some time around him–and like him–doesn’t mean anything. “I’m sorry, why are you here?”
Mahito pushes his hair over his shoulder, his smile widening. “I’m here to talk to you.” He taps your forehead, and his finger is cold, sending an uncomfortable shiver down your spine. “Also, Sukuna sent me for you.”
“Did he?” You glance over your shoulder, looking at the children and peers playing. It makes you feel a bit sick, you’re in such a tight situation. You can’t cuss him out, nor can you make a big scene. You’re trapped, and there’s nothing you can do.
Mahito nods, “Yup! He’s asking to bring you to the parking lot.” He places his hand on your head, ruffling your hair, which you hate immensely. “Just wants to make sure his little puppy doesn’t get lost on the way over there.” He smiles at you, “Isn’t that so kind? Wanting to keep you safe from the horrible people out there?”
You push his hand off your head, “Don’t touch–”
A hand presses on your shoulder, making you turn. “President, if you need to leave, that’s fine.” They lean in a small bit, cupping your ear as they whisper, “A few of the kids are scared of your friend.”
You shrug them off, “He’s not my friend.” But, that leaves you in a horrible place to make a decision. You don’t want to distress the children, but you also don’t want to leave anywhere with Mahito. Your head is screaming at you, that is a horrible idea, and you’re going to listen.
“What? But, I thought we were close?” Mahito takes a step forward, placing his arm over your shoulders, “Is this you telling me that you hate me? That you don’t want to be my friend?”
Yes. “Uh, I would personally…” You push him off you, glancing at your peer, then the children again. You look down at the drawing in your hands, before softly sighing in defeat. “Fine. Where does he want to meet?” Your head is screaming at you, don’t, you’re going to get hurt, but you can’t be around children with this creep.
Mahito jumps with joy, humming to himself briefly, “Yay!” He claps his hands excitedly, grabbing your wrist to pull you along with him, but something grabs your hand, pulling you away from him. Mahito instantly turns on his heel with a questionable look, before his face flushes pale.
You keep your back to them, their chest hitting the back of your head. Their voice is laced with venom, “You really want to die, huh?” Naturally, relief washes over your body, your hand squeezing his. A silent thank you, and gain of strength.
Mahito thickly swallows, shaking his head, “Let’s stop kidding around, Sukuna, you’re not going to kill me.” He waves off his sentence, “That’s… illegal.” He sounds unsure of himself, passing the two of you an unnerved smile.
Sukuna merely raises one of his eyebrows, “You want to talk about shit that’s illegal?” He sticks his free hand out, holding it open and gesturing for him to hand him something. “Give me your phone, let’s see what’s on it.”
Mahito seems to cower at that, shaking his head. “No, actually, do we have practice today? I think I need to be… there.” They don’t have practice today? He turns on his heel, shoving his hands into his pockets, “I’ll see you there, Sukuna.”
You twist on your heel, looking at him, “What are you doing here?”
“Saving your ass, apparently.”
“How did you even find me?” You cross your arms over your chest, tapping your foot impatiently.
Sukuna raises an eyebrow at you, lifting his sunglasses up to keep his hair out his face. “I didn’t find you, I just remembered.” He’s wearing something that fits along with his sunglasses, a black button up shirt, two buttons popped at the collar, and the sleeves raised above his elbows. He’s wearing some black pants, however, they’re matched with some red jordans.
“Remembered?” You say a bit confused, “What do you mean, remember? I’ve never brought you here.” You glance at the person with glasses, passing them a quick look of, ‘did I?’ They shake their head shamefully.
Sukuna rolls his eyes, lifting his hand to rest on the back of his neck. “When we first saw each other.” He turns away from you, and, maybe it’s the sun–it’s December, there’s no sun–that’s making his ears red.
You blink a few times, before your eyes widen with realization, “Wait, you noticed me?” You tilt your head to the side, trying to look at him, “Wait, are you saying you were looking at me when you passed by with your football friends. You noticed me?”
“Don’t sound so giddy, weirdo.” Sukuna finally looks at you again, but he pinches your cheek, hard. “Who wouldn’t notice your ugly face.”
He smirks to himself, but it quickly dies into a scowl. “Looks like Mahito noticed you first.” He sighs, leaning his head back slightly, “If I were you, I would file a restraining order.”
You shudder, recalling the blue-haired man, “Ugh, I don’t want to remember him, or that…” Your voice waivers a bit, before you finish your sentence, “Uh, that night…” You divert your eyes, pulling your hand in front of your body to look at the drawing again. You shake your head, “What on his phone, by the way?”
Sukuna looks to the side, licking his teeth. “Don’t worry about it.” He places his hand on your head, but instead of ruffling your hair like Mahito, he fixes the messy strands. “It’s nothing you’re ever going to have to worry about.”
“What does that–”
“You’re a horrible fuckin’ artist.” He takes the paper from you, looking at the drawing. “Good thing you’re becoming a physical therapist.”
“I didn’t draw that.” You flinch when you feel a small hand tug at the bottom of your shirt, drawing your attention to the artist of the drawing Sukuna is holding. You instantly lower yourself to his height, your hand touching his shoulder gently.
“Is he bullying you? Mean one.” The boy asks, pointing a finger at Sukuna when he stops signing at you. A small breath of relief passes your lips, you’re glad he’s around with Sukuna, and not with Mahito.
You laugh a small bit, a smile splitting your lips as you quickly glance at Sukuna. He’s looking at you curiously. You shake your head, “No. Not bullying me.” You pat his head, “A close friend. He’s nice, most of the time.”
“He looks very scary.” The boy tells you, “Is he the boyfriend?”
You loudly laugh at that, shaking your head. Sukuna hands the drawing back to you, “Did he ask you if I’m your boyfriend?”
That accurate guess startles you, “Uh, yeah? He did?... Wait, how’d you know that?” You blink a bit at him, taking the boy into your arms as he silently asks for a hug.
Sukuna shrugs, shoving his hands into his pockets. “A good guess.”
You narrow your eyes on him, suspicious. “A good guess?” Maybe, Sukuna and Uraume are part Jedi, or something? For some reason, that makes a lot of sense in your head.
The boy tugs your shirt again, “Is he take you away from me?”
You smile, “No, he will not take me away from you.” You look up, locking eyes with his mother, “But, your mom is here to pick you up.” He perks at that, quickly twisting around and searching for his mom with an excited smile. You stand up, pointing a finger at the person with glasses again, “You, go sign him out, I gotta’ deal with him.” You cock your head in Sukuna’s direction.
“Fine, walk your ass home then.” Sukuna turns on his heel, walking away from you.
You’re quick to grab the back of his shirt, “Wait, you’re taking me home?” You ask innocently, peaking your head past his shoulder, “But, that means that Yuuji’s going to have to take the bus alone, and I can’t do that to–”
“I’m taking you both home.” Sukuna pulls his shirt away from you, “Believe it or not, but not everything is just about you.”
You roll your eyes, before glancing behind you. You catch a glimpse of all the people and children, before turning back to Sukuna. “Let’s just go.” You whisper, looping your arm with his, “Maybe, no one will notice.”
Sukuna seems to smile at this, “You’re not going to get in trouble?”
“Who cares?” You shrug, walking alongside with him, “I do everything for that club, the least they can do is let me have a day off…” You look to the side, mumbling, “Maybe, even two.” You smile, picking up your pace when you think you hear someone call your name, you look at Sukuna over your shoulder. “Besides, don’t you need me to study today?”
Sukuna raises an eyebrow, before scoffing a bit, “Yeah, let’s go.”
You just laugh in return.
—
You pop another fry into your mouth, “I thought you said you were also taking Yuuji home?” You shut his door behind you, passing Sukuna a quizzical look. “Unless, he somehow has powers and is just invisible?” You use your hands to feel around the car’s area for anything.
“You’re so stupid.” Sukuna locks the car, turning it on to blast the heater for you. “I just lied to you. He’s out doing some weird ghouls and ghost shit. The weirdo.” He can see the glare you’re giving him, and quickly responds, “What? You were acting too cocky. Can’t have you think I’m goin’ soft on you.”
“Well, you are.” You lift the Mcdonalds bag, shaking it slightly. “Even if you don’t want to admit it.” You lower it into your lap, grabbing another fry and eating it.
“I was hungry.” Sukuna tells you.
“Uh-huh.” You pass him a knowing look, then point at the cup sitting in his cup-rest. “Can I have some of your Mcflurry? Looks good.”
Sukuna doesn’t even pass you a glance, “Help yourself.”
You giggle before grabbing the cup, helping yourself to the creamy treat. You know, and you’re sure Sukuna knows the ice cream is now yours, and he’s not getting it back. So much for being hungry. “You’re so sweet to me.”
“Nope.” Sukuna takes a bite of his burger, nodding his head in approval. Something you noticed all people–more specifically, men–do when eating. You wonder if that’s a psychological thing, or something…
“You didn’t get any fries?” You ask with a head tilt, grabbing a small french fry and lifting it from the brown bag. “Isn’t that the best part of Mcdonalds?” You take another bite of the Mcflurry, a shiver shooting down your spine uncomfortably.
“Sure.” Sukuna looks at you, taking a bite of his burger. “If you don’t mind dying from whatever shit they put into them.” He grabs his coke, taking a small drink of the dark liquid.
“Ugh.” You loudly groan, sinking into his leather seat. “Don’t tell me you’re an obnoxious gym-bro who’s gonna’ criticize me for everything I eat.” You twist your head away from him, “I don’t think I’m going to be friends with you after this.”
Sukuna laughs a little bit, saying your name to catch your attention, you merely lazily pull your head in his direction. “I’m joking, I’m literally eating Mcdonalds with you.” He lifts his burger, testing it back and forth. “You’re bad with sarcasm.”
You quickly sit back up, narrowing your eyes at him. “It’s not sarcasm if you sound the exact same, Sukuna.” You press the fry to his lips, keeping it there for him to eat, “That’s you being… you.”
“Hm.” Sukuna opens his mouth and allows you to feed him, “Maybe, you’re autistic.” He says in between chews. He says it so nonchalantly, you didn’t even find it humorous, again, you think it’s Sukuna being… Sukuna.
“That option is definitely on the table.” You say with full seriousness, before narrowing your eyes suspiciously, “Wait, is this a form of you shaming me?” You point dramatically at him with a fry, “Are you shaming me right now, Sukuna?
“Absolutely.” Sukuna turns on his car, “In fact, I’d call you a whole lot of things in my head, just filter myself since I know you’re sensitive.” He places his hand on your head while looking over his shoulder, pulling out of the parking spot. “You big baby.”
“Now, we’re just going back to our previous conversation, you do have a soft spot for me.” You pop another fry in your mouth, adding, “You may not be aware of it, but you subconsciously do, which I think speaks louder than any actions, or words you may yell at me.”
Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, “You seem very talkative today.”
You shrug, scooping up more ice cream into your mouth. “I’m just stating the truth.” You scoop another mouthful, but this time, you hold it to Sukuna’s lips, which he takes into his mouth without a second thought.
He mumbles, “And, what’s that?” Sukuna pulls his hand away from your head, putting the car into drive.
“I don’t know.” You lean your head on the window, a small spark of anxiety building in your stomach as you whisper, “You actually care for me, in a weird Sukuna way.” A part of you wants Sukuna to agree, you want to hear what he has to say. You want to hear it more than anything right now.
“Wait, I thought you have to eat healthy for Football, or something?” You tilt your head, “Isn’t Mcdonalds totally bad for you, or is this like your cheat day?” Not even that, but supposedly Sukuna only ate things that were perfect, did Mcdonalds also happen to fall under that specific spectrum?
Now, you have so many more questions. Wait, no, Mcdonalds fries are fair, you completely get it. But, he’s not even eating them?! You’re just making your brain hurt right now.
“Coach doesn’t care what I eat.” Sukuna shrugs, “I don’t care how I eat, as long as I work it off later.”
You thoughtfully hum, “Oh. Well, you should probably write down all of this in your app thingy.” You gesture to the Mcdonalds mess in his car. “I can do it for you.” You reach for his phone in his pocket, and he naturally lips his leg for you to retrieve it.
“My app thingy?” Sukuna questions, but it sounds more like he’s making fun of you if anything. “The hell are you talkin’ about?” Wait, no, he sounds genuinely confused.
Now, you’re confused. “Yeah?” You tilt your head to the side, “You literally let me look at it for my project, remember?”
Sukuna pauses for a moment, before his eyebrows raise ever so slightly, “Oh, yeah.” He nods, “I know what you’re talking about.”
You slowly move your hands back and forth, “So…?”
Sukuna groans, “I deleted that forever ago.” He shrugs, “I didn’t need the app.”
“Then why did you–”
“I got it for you.” Sukuna rolls his eyes, “I didn’t want to deal with your pestering questions about my diet. Thought it’d be helpful for the situation.”
You furrow your eyebrows, “Wait, does that mean you got the app for me?” You end up smiling, poking his arm playfully, “Oh my gosh, Sukuna, you got an app to make the project easier for me? Is that why you were really bad at filling out the–”
“Not everything is about you.” Sukuna shrugs off your arm, mumbling to himself. “I swear, you’re so conceited.”
You pout like a child, shoving your face with more fries before placing the empty bag on the floor of his car. “You can at least let me think you did something nice for me, ‘kuna.” You try to finish the Mcflurry, but find yourself a bit too full.
“Kuna?” Sukuna mimics back to you, “Where’d that come from?”
You furrow your eyebrows at him, “What? What are you talking about?”
“You just called me that.”
“No, I didn’t.” You’re not looking at him.
“Yes, you did.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“You’re such a child.” Sukuna rubs his eyes, “Whatever, be like that.”
You just shrug, scooping another mouthful of ice cream and feeding it to Sukuna. You keep silent, and you can’t help but notice the way Sukuna adjusts himself uncomfortably in his seating. “Keep talkin’ to me.”
You tilt your head to the side, narrowing your eyes at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I want to hear you talk.” Sukuna flicks your forehead, “Dumbass.”
“You want to hear me talk?” You smile to yourself, “Or, is this a silent way of you telling me you like hearing me talk?”
“I’m used to you babbly about nonesene, silence from you makes me uncomfortable.” Sukuna didn’t really answer your question, but he didn’t deny it. Which is better than nothing. Honestly, that’s a win in your book with Sukuna.
“Wow, thanks.” You put the empty cup in his cup holder, shoving the spoon inside. “What do you want me to talk about?” You naturally place your elbow on the center console, leaning your head on your hand.
“I don’t know.” He rests his hand on the center console, it’s close to touching your arm. “I like hearin’ you talk.”
“So, you admit it now.” You sound more matter of fact, rather than playful this time. Because, in all actuality, you already knew Sukuna felt that way. You huff a sharp breath of laughter, “I feel like you’re making fun of me.”
Sukuna smiles to himself, “Oh, I absolutely am.”
“You know what, just for that, you now have to take me home everyday.”
･ ｡ﾟ☆: *･ December 3nd, 2023 ☽ .* :☆ﾟ.
Tuesday
“Do you think Yuuji will be mad we got food without him?” You shut his door behind you, passing Sukuna a sympathetic look. “Again?…” You pout to yourself, “Hopefully, he’s going out to eat with his other friends?” You grab the trash from his car and stuff it into the paper bag.
“He’s good on his own.” Sukuna locks the car, making way to the entrance of the house. “He can manage one or two days without Mcdonalds.” He can see the glare you’re giving him, and quickly responds, “What? You want to buy him the food?”
“No.” You add from behind him, following him into the house. “You already know I’m too broke for that.” Sukuna doesn’t respond, but you’ve grown used to his silence, so it doesn’t bother you. If anything, the small huff of laughter is enough for you. “Do you want to set up in the kitchen?”
Sukuna opens his room, shaking his head. “Nah.” He walks inside, “We’re doing this in my room.”
You almost trip over your feet, your face growing a bit hot. “Your room?” You look to the side, then back at his open door. Shoving the paper bag into the trash can sloppily, a small napkin falling out. “We can’t study in the–”
“Get in here.” Sukuna yells from his room.
You’re quick to join him, dropping your converse loudly at his door while mumbling, “Maybe, if you would ask politely.” You shut the door, dropping your bag next to your shoes. Mumbling to yourself, “I swear, you’re also so bossy.” You naturally move to his bed, flopping onto the mattress.
“Yeah, just lay in my bed.” Sukuna says sarcastically, pulling out some textbooks, “It’s not like you haven’t washed your ass in days or anything” Sukuna literally saw you leave his restroom with wet hair in the morning, he knows you showed today.
You laugh, rolling your body in his blanket, trying to create some form of warmth. “Shut up.” You naturally grab one of his pillows, planting your face in it. Instantly, his scent floods your senses, making you a tad bit dizzy.
Sukuna feels one of his eyebrows twitch, his face a bit red from watching you shove your face into his pillow. “Stop being fuckin’ weird.” He grabs your ankles, tugging you off the bed and onto the floor, your back hitting the ground with a solid ‘thud.’ “Now, I need to clean my sheets.”
“Stop being so dramatic.” You let your head fall back onto the floor, a small smile on your lips. “I remember you telling me you like the way I smell, so consider it a–”
Sukuna slaps the pillow over your face, “Oh my god, you never shut up.” He sighs, sitting down on the ground, laying out his computer and textbooks. “Start doing your damn work.”
A muffled, “You asked for this.” Leaves your mouth, making you push the pillow off your head. “See, this is why I wanted to study in the dining room, we would actually be working on a table. Not the floor.”
“Stop complaining.” Sukuna’s already trained on his work, notebook and textbook open. “Do your damn work.” You sigh, crawling over to your bag. Sukuna’s eyes follow your body as you bring your stuff in front of him.
“Hey, do you think my skirt is cute?”
The question seems random to Sukuna, but he answers nonetheless, “What do you want me to say to that?”
“Yes.” You say with a playful grin, “Honestly, I would prefer it if you got on your knees and told me, ‘It’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen since you’re wearing it!’ but, I’ll take a simple yes in this situation and be happy.” You bat your eyes at him innocently.
“Even if it would save my and Yuuji’s life, I wouldn’t get on my knees for you.” Sukuna says annoyedly, “But, uh, your skirt is fine, I guess.”
A small spread on your face, “Awh! Thanks Sukuna, you’re always so sweet to me.” You wave your hand up and down, pretending to be flattered.
“You’re pushing me.” Sukuna says unbothered, looking at his work.
“That's the goal.”
Yet, as you’re laying out your things, a small light bulb lights up in your head. “Sukuna?” You place your notebook on the ground next to your computer. Sukuna doesn’t look up, but he does say your name in a similar tone to your question. Acknowledging and a bit indulging. “You’ve never told me what you’re studying?”
Sukuna lifts his eyes from his computer screen, “I’m studying engineering.” He writes something down in his notebook, answering or writing a question down.
“Is that what you always wanted to do?” You lean forward, trying to catch a glimpse of the type of work he’s doing. Although, you can’t really see it, to be honest, you can’t really see your work right now. You need your glasses, but you’re not keen on retrieving them from your bag right now.
Not in front of Sukuna, at least.
“No.” Sukuna places his pencil down, “I wanted to go into business, but gramps told me that was a stupid idea.”
“What?” You tilt your head to the side, “Why would that be stupid?” You think for a moment, “Well, I have no idea what business would do for you. What type of business would you be dealing with?” You laugh to yourself for a moment, “Perhaps… you’re in everyone’s business?”
Sukuna’s eye twitches, “I don’t know how you’re in college.” He shakes his head, whispering, “You’re so fuckin’ stupid.” Still, with his palm pressed over his lips, you’re sure he’s smiling right now.
“It’s a genuine question.”
“That’s what makes it so stupid. I think that makes it worse, too.” He leans back on the palm of his hands, “But, I wanted to get a degree in business to… I don’t know, do whatever people do in business.” He shrugs, “I knew I was going to inherit my old man’s company, so I guess I wanted to learn a few things before jumping into work.”
Things are starting to make a bit more sense now. Sukuna had a nice sports car at sixteen, and owns his own house. Then, there was that one time where you ate out with him and Wasuke at a really nice–expensive–restaurant. You’re slowly starting to piece together Sukuna comes from a bit of money. “Wait, but that sounds smart.” You lower yourself to the floor, laying on your side comfortably. Sukuna’s pillow supporting your elbow.
Sukuna shrugs, “Gramps said he was hiring me no matter what, as long as I worked, so I decided to do something else. I’m not going to pay for something I’m already experiencing at work.” He sighs, “So, I decided to major in engineering.” In simple terms.
“Hm.” You continue scrolling through your computer, it’s nowhere or anything important, but you’re sure an idea of what you’re supposed to do will come to you in a bit. “Are you excited? It seems like you’re going to be making a lot of money.” You rub your pointer finger and thumb together.
“You’re asking a lot of questions.” Sukuna says, closing his computer briefly. You don’t know if it’s a sign of annoyance, or a silent tell that he wants to continue the conversation. “Any reason behind your sudden pestering?”
You laugh, a small smile on your lips, “I want to get to know you more, Sukuna.”
Sukuna pauses for a brief second, your personal comment on your project flashing in his head. ‘Sukuna deserves so much better, then just being my stupid fucking project. I wish I could tell him that.’ And, it makes his throat tighten uncomfortably, a sensation he’s getting far more familiar with, then he would personally prefer.
Sukuna whispers, “Really?” Before he quickly covers it with a scoff, “Money, who cares.”
You can be going crazy, but you swear you saw his demeanor slip. “Uh.. I–I do.” You explain, slowly shaking off whatever you might’ve noticed. “I’d love to have money to burn.” You smile a bit, “Uh, but… doesn’t everyone?” You drum your fingers on your computer, “It’d be nice to have some money to spend on luxuries, you know?”
Sukuna passes you a half smile, “Yeah, I get it.”
“Don’t do that.” You wrinkle your nose.
“Do what?” Sukuna furrows his eyebrows at you.
“Smile.” You say, an unserious smile on your lips. “It’s scary, looks like you’re going to murder me.” You search up something on your computer.
“You’re so kind.”
“Yeah, this is what you look like.” You flip the screen to him, showing Jeff the killer in picture form. “Think someone posted your morning pictures, Sukuna. Should we go hunt them down?” You turn the screen back to you, giving it a quizzical look, as if you were trying to find the answer to your question on the spot.
“I’m going to kill you.”
You giggle, pointing at him loosely. “Only proving my point.” You hook your foot on your other sock, playing with the fabric. “So, how do you plan on doing it? Suffocation, maybe taking me out–”
“I actually have it written down here.” Sukuna pushes a sticky note to you, it’s pink. “Read it out loud.”
“Is this a fetish?” You raise an eyebrow, “Do you make all your victims read what you’re going to do to them, or am I just special?”
Sukuna furrows his eyebrows, almost glaring at you, before he breaks. Twisting his head to the side and bursting into laughter, the back of his hand covering his mouth as he tries to collect himself. He ends up covering his face, still laughing while muttering, “You’re so dumb.”
And, in this context, you agree. You’re absolutely dumbfounded. Sukuna is laughing, and it’s not a pretty small huff, or a brief chuckle, which you’re not even sure you’ve heard him do, but now, he’s genuinely laughing.
You press your lips together, a tight lipped smile slowly building on your lips. But, you still look at the sticky-note anyway, trying to make out the words, but you can’t. They’re too small, and a bit too messy. “Sukuna, I can’t read this.” You’re just trying to distract yourself, because if you look too long at Sukuna laughing, you know your face is going to break out in flames.
“Yeah.” Sukuna says, ignoring your words. “You’re special.” Your name follows, punctuating the sentence.
Your lips part ever so slightly in a silent gasp, before you look away. “I–I… still can’t read it.” You try to ignore what he just said. Still, Sukuna just called you special. You can literally hear your heart beating in your ears right now, your hands are shaky, too.
“I want to hear you read it.” Sukuna says, tilting his head to the side slightly.
“Can you…” You slid the sticky note back to him, turning your head away from him. “Read it for me, I genuinely can’t read it.” You can feel your ear burning, before a horrible realization comes over your mind.
Sukuna dramatically sighs at you, snatching the sticky note from you. “What? Are you blind or somethin’?” He laughs to himself, before looking at the sticky note whispering, “Oh, that’s right, you are.”
You blink once, then twice. “What.”
Sukuna presses his lips together, “Huh?”
“What did you say?”
“Didn’t say anything.”
You narrow your eyes at him, watching as his eyes are trained on the sticky note. “How do you know that?” You made sure no one knows that, even Nobara, so how would Sukuna know that? Were you squinting too much at your screen when you worked with Yuuji and Sukuna yesterday, or did he see the family picture on your–
Your stomach drops.
Sukuna can see your express fall with it. He closes his eyes and tries not to laugh, “Don’t tell me you saw it?” A horrible, twisted realization falls over your consciousness, “You read it?…” You can feel yourself flush pale, an uncomfortable and embarrassed feeling twisting in your stomach.
Sukuna deeply inhales, “Read what?” The expression you pass him, breaks him. It’s riddled in embarrassment, your lips quivering slightly, as your eyes are ever so slightly watering. Sukuna laughs until his hand, unable to control himself. Yet, he didn’t expect you to do what you did next.
You tackle him. His pillow in your hand as you place it over his face, sitting on his abdomen as you ignore his muffled laughter. “Shut up. Shut up. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you.” You chant, closing your eyes and trying to not reel in your embarrassment.
Sukuna taps your thigh, trying to tell you to stop, while his other hand tries grabbing your hand, or the pillow on his head. But, you don’t relent, you continue to try and kill Sukuna. Then, the resistance stops, Sukuna’s hands drop limply by his side, his laughter ceasing.
You sigh with relief, letting your hands fall slack, but Sukuna goes in for the attack. Swiping the pillow away from your and grabbing both your wrists into his grasp. “And you’re calling me the fuckin’ killer.” He scoffs, using his free hand to reach for your bag.
You struggle in his grasp, glaring at him. “I have every right to kill you now.” You watch as he grabs something from your bag, and immediately you resist even harder. “Absolutely not, don’t even try to—“
“I just want to see how you look with them, calm the fuck down.” Sukuna opens the small box, pulling out your glasses and placing the lenses over your eyes. “See, look at you.” He sits up, making you slide down into his lap, your wrist still held together by his one hand. “You’re…” He looks to the side for a moment, “It’s cute.”
You look to the side, face burning, “You’re so… ugh.” You groan, “Infuriating.” Still, you can’t deny how pleasant it is to have Sukuna admiring you like this. If admiring is the right word in this situation.
It’s quite for a bit, before you softly sigh, your legs sliding down and relaxing into him. His grip on your wrist looses up nicely, your breathing soft and content. “How… how much did you read?” You finally look at him again, but with the glasses decorating your face, you can really see him now.
Sukuna’s face markings are so much more detailed than you originally thought, and his eyes… they’re stunning. A deep crimson, looking at you with so much… admiration and awe. They divert away from you, a cocky smile on his lips. He scoffs, “All of it.”
You feel so exposed right now, “All of it?” You repeat, more so to yourself, then to Sukuna. “So, you know?…” You stop yourself, unable to force the words out. You’re too embarrassed. Sukuna nods, turning his gaze back to you. You instantly cover his eyes with your hand, you can't look at him. More so, you don’t want him to look at you.
Sukuna smiles, his sharp teeth flashing at you, the dimple in his cheek indenting perfectly into his skin. “I can’t look at you?” He cooed, it’s more mocking if anything.
“No.” You lean back slightly, which makes Sukuna grab your waist, keeping you in place. His smile falters for a moment, and you wonder why. You were just adjusting your sitting. “Besides, you think I’m hideous, or whatever.”
“It’s true, your face makes me laugh.” You annoyedly groan at him, but Sukuna trails one of his hands to yours, his finger hooking over your fingers. “Let me look at you.” He tugs a bit at your hand, it’s not forceful, it’s more asking if anything. “I want to see the girl who likes me, stupid.”
You don’t respond, you don’t even let his hand pull away from his eyes. You don’t know what you do, you don’t know what to do, nor how to respond to his question. You’re merely grounding yourself into the situation, in the way he’s holding you, and his soft breathing.
Sukuna says your name again, only for it to quickly die in his throat.
You kiss him.
Your other hand cupping his jaw as you deepen the kiss, your eyes fluttering shut as his lips work with you. His hands wrapping around torso, holding you tighter than he’s ever held anyone before. You can feel his lashes flutter behind your hand, his head twisting to the side so he can deepen the kiss.
You break it, pulling away with your hands at your side now. You chew on your bottom lip nervously. Sukuna leans in again, but you turn away, your hands resting on his chest to push him back. Despite your denial of his advances, he holds onto you just the same. His hands aren’t holding you like they did at the party, they’re gentle, they are soothing, and comforting, maybe even a bit longing.
It’s silent for a moment.
You softly sigh, your fingers playing with the collar of his shirt while you whisper, “Sukuna?” You see him nod, but keep your eyes on your fingers. Looping your index finger under his shirt and pulling his golden chair for your pleasurable viewing. “Can… we talk about it?”
Sukuna doesn’t even let a second pass before he responds, and his words make the world fall silent. Your heart is beating so loudly, and your body freezes, your fingers tangled in his chain as they finally process in your head.
“I’m sorry.”
Your lips part, before you quickly press them together, pulling your gaze to his face. Did he just say that? Did the stoic, unforgiving, asshole, Sukuna… just apologize to you? Your lashes flutter at his expression. Sukuna’s isn’t looking at you, his glare is trained to the dull wall to the right. “I’m so fuckin’ sorry.”
Your heart beats even faster at his expression, your face flushing hot.
Sukuna is blushing red.
His cheeks covered in a deep blush, eyebrows furrowed, glaring at you like normal Sukuna would. Except for one thing… his face is burning in a deep red blush, even the tips of his ears are red. He’s embarrassed, very embarrassed, but he still looks angry.
You move in quickly, wrapping your arms around his neck, whispering, “You… you’re sorry?” You shakily exhale, closing your eyes into his neck. “Did you just say that?”
Sukuna instantly wraps both his arms around you. His hands touching his own sides from holding you so tight. “I’m so sorry, I’m such a fuckin’ horrible…” He groans, leans his head on yours. “I’m terrible, I’m so terrible.”
You nod, laughing slightly as you add, “Yeah, you’re an asshole.” You softly sigh, “But… maybe, I am, too.” You hold him tighter, your heart longing. “What.. what did I do wrong? I–I feel horrible for asking, but… I really don’t know.”
Sukuna closes his eyes, “When I told you…” He thinks to himself, “What happened to me. That’s something I’ve never told anyone, but Uraume about.” He pauses for a moment, “And, I really… I value you more then… I don’t even know. That scares me. It’s terrifying.”
You nod.
“I was telling you the worst of me, and I didn’t want to know how you were going to react. I hate everything that happened, and how I reacted, but here I was relieving it for you.” Sukuna pauses again, before forcing out, “Only for you to remind me our friendship was only a week. Everything that we were experiencing was only going to be for a week.”
You instantly pull away from him, “Sukuna, that’s not what I meant–” You pause, looking at his expression, his eyes glossy and shiny. You feel something trail down your cheek, before hitting Sukuna’s shirt. You feel your bottom lip wiggle, before your sniff, your shoulders jumping up with a hiccup. You feel dumb, you’re not even as upset about what happened anymore, but the tears don’t stop. “At the party, I thought you were just going to use me and throw me away, but I didn’t want that–”
Sukuna feels his chest tighten, shaking his head, “I thought you were using me for your project.” He tells you, “I thought that's why you told me you were a burner phone.” Sukuna recalls the way his heart shattered when you told him that, doing everything in his power to keep his emotions together. “I thought you wanted everything to end the moment the week was over, and…” He diverts his eyes, “I… I never wanted that.”
You close your eyes, recalling the following day. “Then, we had an argument.” Your mind instantly floods with memories, recalling the pain and words you yelled at Sukuna, the lies and truths you told him in a fleeting agonizing moment.
“Yeah.” Sukuna looks regretful, “The stupid fuckin’ argument.” Both of you are silent for a moment, and you don’t think it’s going to be broken for a few moments, but to your surprise, Sukuna speaks up again. “Did you…?” He thickly swallows, “Did you mean those things?”
You feel a bit on the spot with that question, and you don’t know how to answer. Well, you do, but… what about Sukuna? Did he mean the things he said? You don’t want to say something only for him to not feel the same. But, it’s obvious how he feels, right? It should be now, but it doesn’t feel like that. His words bounce in your head clouding your mind with doubt. You’re scared, no, you’re terrified. “Did… you?”
You don’t want to hear that answer right now.
“When we “first” made up.” You abruptly ask, chewing the corner of your lips, “I asked you if you’d promise you wouldn’t like me. You asked me if I wanted you too.” You push your glasses to the bridge of your nose, “Why?”
Sukuna remains silent for a bit, before huffing, “This is so weird to me.” He mutters, softly groaning to himself. “I’ve never done this type of thing with someone.” He furrows his eyebrows, clearly uncomfortable with the situation.
Still, you look at him through your lashes, and hopefully ask, “Do you… like it?” Your voice is a hushed whisper.
Sukuna wrinkles his nose, scowling ever so slightly. He shakes his head, “No. This fuckin’ sucks.” This conversation is supposed to make everything, but it feels sad, every word that comes out of you, or him makes his throat tighten painfully. He watches as your gaze diverts from his face, and that makes his chest tighten. Shit, he didn’t say that right. “Well…” He starts again, pulling your face to look at him, “I hate it, but… I hate it less, since it’s with… uh, you.”
You sniffle again, his words holding you in a comforting blanket. The words spill out, sooner than you would like, “I didn’t mean it.” You push your glasses up, whipping your eyes with the back of your hand. “I was just scared, and you made it seem like you didn’t… I don’t know. Care for me, or something.”
Sukuna cups the bottom of his face, whispering, “I don’t know why I said that.”
“I don’t know why I said that, too.” You sniff, “I was just…”
“I didn’t want to promise anything, because I already know…” Sukuna pushes your hair from your face, leaning in a bit closer, “I’d be lying to you.” He flutters his lashes, “And, I don’t want to… lie to you anymore.”
You nod, eyes pearling with tears, “I don’t want to lie either.” You whisper, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” You grab his shirt.“I want to be… I want to be with you.” You hug him again, your tears wetting his shirt. “I’ve always wanted to be with you.” A soft whisper.
Sukuna chuckles, letting you cry into his shoulder. “Why did you say that sooner?”
“I thought you didn’t like me!” You cry, adding in a hushed whisper, “I thought you hated me. I thought you were just going to leave me the moment the week was over after using me.” You shake your head, gripping onto the back of his shirt, “I couldn’t stand that thought, so that’s why I pushed you away!”
Sukuna continues to rub your back, “You’re so stupid.” He mumbles, bringing you into him tighter. I could never hate you. I would never push you away. “It’s okay, now, don’t cry like a baby about it.” He adds a derogatory, yet playful, “Baby.”
“I’m so happy you don’t hate me.” You softly sigh into his neck, closing your eyes as your body completely relaxes into his. “So happy.”
Sukuna tries, he really does, but something hot and wet slides down his cheek, and you don’t see it, nor are you ever going to know about it, but it happens. It’s real, it’s grounding, and it’s pulling. “Yeah.” He holds you, “I know.” Arms wrapped around your, his head tucking close to yours, “I know.”
Your body is completely relaxed as you whisper, “I don’t want to argue anymore.” You shake your head, whipping off the final tears on your cheeks, “I don’t think I have the power to argue with you anymore. I want things to be…”
Sukuna presses his closed eyes onto your shoulder, “I don’t want to argue like we did on Tuesday.” A sharp breath comes out of his nose, “I like the arguments like the one in the car. It’s cute you have a bit of spunk. As much as it is annoying”
You pull back, a small smile on your lips, “Yeah, your grandpa is right, you do need someone to keep you in check.” You lower your hands to his chain again, “Thank god you have me, right? What would you do?”
Sukuna nods, “Yeah, I’d be stress free without you.” He raises his hands to your waist, “Who would want that? A carefree life, compared to an annoyin’ little shit like you?” He’s passing you a boyish smile. He’s smiling far more than you’re used to. You like it.
“Yeah.” You laugh, pulling on a piece of his hair, “Look, you even have a gray hair, now you have a small piece with me wherever you go.” You look at him again, this time a smile on your lips. “Aren’t you so happy? You’re stuck with me?”
Sukuna doesn’t say anything, he just looks at you. His pupils blown wide, as his hands gently hold onto you. You pass him a silly smile, “What?” You tilt your head to the side, “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Can I kiss you?”
Your lips part, your eyebrows raising in silent shock. “Huh?” A small suppressed laugh escapes your lips, “Wait, are you asking me to kiss me?” You tilt your head to the side, “The f-boy Sukuna, the one who had a girl over this very week, is asking to kiss me?”
“We didn’t do anything. It was just a stupid fukin’ project.” Sukuna leans in closer, grabbing the back of your head. “Just fuckin’ kiss me already.” Sukuna doesn’t even let the sentence process in your head, before trying to press his lips to yours.
Key word. Trying.
Unfortunately, right before the two of you can kiss again, a strand of your hair falls in between your faces. Blocking the kiss from ever happening. You naturally giggle, mumbling a small apology. But, Sukuna doesn't seem to be fazed. He just pushes the strand behind your ear, cups the back of your face and pulls you into a kiss.
It almost feels like he’s smiling against you.
You kiss him back, but his kiss is much more brief, ending then starting again. It feels unreal, Sukuna, the emotionally unavailable Sukuna, kissing you like a lover of years would.
You’re giggling, sniffling every now and then, only for Sukuna to kiss your cheeks, then kiss you on the lips again. You can taste the salty wet tears on his lips, but you don’t mind, it’s cute in a way. “You’re not acting like Sukuna.”
He places his forehead on yours and tells you, “I’ll slam your face into my bed, if you’d like?” Sukuna cockily smirks to himself, tilting his head to the side. “Or, do you want me murder you silently?”
“Silently? I feel like murdering me would not be a quiet activity.”
Sukuna nods in agreement, “You’re right. I can set the house on fire with you inside.” He kisses you again, whispering, “Doesn’t that sound romantic? You’d be my first murder. You’re special.”
You laugh, “Romantic is definitely one way to put it.” You look to the side, thinking, “But, that definitely sounds more like my Sukuna. I wonder if you were an arsonist in your past life. I feel like that’s very on brand for you.” You look at his eyes, and catch a slight red look to them. “Oh. My. God.” Sukuna flinches when you point at him, “You were crying? Oh my god, were you crying?” You huff, “And you’re calling me a baby… hypocrite.”
He makes a ludicrous face at you, placing his hand on your face and pushing you off him. Making you fall onto your elbows with a laugh, “I think you’re actually going mental now.” He throws the pillow at your body, “I fuckin’ don’t cry.”
“Not true.” You smile at him, grabbing the pillow and holding it over your lap. “You cried when you talked to Yuuji, and don’t deny it, I totally saw how red your eyes were.” You wiggle your shoulders, “Awh! The big strong Sukuna is actually a big cry baby like me–”
“I can make you cry.” He’s now leaning over you, the pillow thrown on his bed. “We’ll see who’s the real cry baby, then.” He’s smiling, but it doesn't look inviting or reassuring, sadistic would be the right word here. A small squeak leaves your mouth.
You blink a few times. “Huh?” Sukuna picks you up, tossing you over his shoulder. This must be a common practice with the brothers, it doesn’t happen often, but it happens enough for you to mentally note. Another noise leaves your throat when he drops you on his bed, parting your thighs and moving in between them.
Sukuna keeps his forearms near your head, his nose touching yours. “You want to know somethin’.”
You giggle, “No, not really.” You laugh when Sukuna drops his head with dejectment, his forehead hitting your nose gently. “Fine, tell me, what do you want to say, Sukuna.” You shiver when his nose brushes over your neck.
Sukuna’s hand moves under your knee, hooking it around his waist. “I’d give anything to make things up to you.”
You laugh, letting your arms comfortably cross over his shoulders, “You already said sorry, and that’s already enough for me.” You tug him closer, which almost throws him off balance, causing him to stumble into you. “Especially with your big boy ego.”
“You ever call me that again, and I will throw your ass to the streets.” He kisses your neck, enjoying the way you naturally open yourself to him. Still, there’s a bit of hesitance behind your movements, and that alone makes him stop. “Did I hurt you?”
“Mentally.” You throw out loosely, but immediately smile, “No, I’m just, uh…” You divert your eyes for a moment, “Uhm, nervous, I guess.” No, you’re not nervous, you’re scared. What if he just… leaves again.
“About?” Sukuna sounds different, more soft.
“Uh, this.” You naturally hug him tighter.
“Should I stop?”
You take a moment, “...No.” You softly sigh, “I just don’t want you to… uhm, leave again.”
Sukuna takes a moment, before kissing you again, it’s sweet. “I’m not, don’t even worry about that.” But, your unsure expression makes him hesitate. It’s a bit weird, he’s feeling so many new things today. He wants to make sure you’re comfortable, and he’s almost scared to touch you. You feel like glass to him.
Sukuna thinks he may be broken, maybe you broke him, but everything that is happening is so new to him. He doesn’t know how to respond, but he does know one thing, he doesn't want to hurt you anymore. He doesn’t want to scare you, or make you cry. He doesn’t want to hear you sob in his arms over something stupid thing he did. He can’t stand that.
He doesn’t know why, but seeing you like that, hurts him.
Maybe he is broken. But, every broken part of him wants to be around you all the time. And, he doesn’t know exactly how to comfort someone, or fix what he’s done. But, he’s trying, he’s trying harder than he’s ever tried with anyone before.
Sukuna may not be the best person in the world, but he’s trying to find a way to build your trust in his own way. It’s the one thing he has always been good at, and almost centralized his identity around. It’s a bit sad when he really thinks about it, but trauma has a unique way of messing with a person.
He nods, “Okay.” He kisses your temple, “I won’t do anything until you beg me to.” He pushes himself off you, standing between your thighs while you lay down on his bed, towering over you. “You like the sound of that?”
You feel your stomach twist and turn with butterflies, the feeling of being prey to a hungry wolf has you heating up with desire. “O-Okay.” You thickly swallow, pushing yourself up and sitting up straight, grabbing his chain and tugging him down to your lips. “I like… uhm, I like the sound of that.”
Sukuna chuckles, “You do?”
You bite the bottom of your lip, nodding your head slowly. “Mhm.” He cups your face, and his nose tickles your cheek, his kisses coming in fast and soft. Peppering down to your neck, his nose touching your neck like a fleeting feather. While his fingers trail down the inside of your thighs. Goosebumps follow his hands on your legs.
A pleasurable shiver shooting through your body when he finally slides his hand under your skirt. You whimper, grabbing your skirt and lifting it up, allowing yourself to watch the way Sukuna gropes you. A small moan leaves your mouth, “Keep… uhm, doing that.” You watch as his thumb works painfully slow circles into your covered clit.
Sukuna nods, eyes enraptured by your thighs shaking around his hand, your pink panties wrinkling and damp from your slick. “Such a slut.” He shakily exhales, “You like this, don’t you? You like when things are nasty.”
You don’t say anything, merely nod your head. “Yeah, I know, baby, I know.” He says against your neck, his deep voice rumbling against your skin. You feel something warm, and wet slowly move up to your ear. Before his mouth bites your ear playfully. “I know you love the way I touch you.”
He lowers himself to his knees, flipping your skirt completely up. Allowing himself to look at you for however long he wanted. You move your hand in between your legs, “Are you looking?” You can feel your face burning, your heart beating in your ears. “That’s so embarrassing, please don’t look.”
“It’s not embarrassing.” He responds, running his nose gently down your thigh. “It’s hot.” He grabs behind your knee, tugging so your legs are dangling off his bed. He smirks to himself, “You’re making me hard.”
“Oh my god, please don’t say that.” You use your other hand to cover your face, your face burning in embarrassment. But, a small whimper leaves your mouth when Sukuna places his hand over yours, applying pressure to your pussy. You pass him a half hearted glare, “Sukuna!”
“What? Don’t tell me you hate my words?” Sukuna teases, his eyes drinking up the way you jolt. “Or, maybe, it’s that you hate my voice?”
“I just hate you.” You mumble, leaning back in his bed, and allowing him to peel off your hand from between your thighs.
“Mhm, I know, babe.” He loves how much he affects you, his voice and words, causing your body to burn and shiver with desire. “Hopefully you can keep to your words when I make you squirt over my fingers.” Sukuna devours the way you shiver at that, your thighs twitching. And, all caused by a few kisses, a light touch, and some deprived words. .
So cute.
Sukuna grabs your hips, pulling you closer to his face. Lifting your skirt and looking at the thin pink panties that separated you from his mouth. He groans, resting his hand on your knees, pushing your thighs apart to look at your drenched panites. He swallows, blood flooding his cock, straining it against his pants.
“Okay..” He starts, putting all his weight on his knees. He can see the way your chest is slowly rising and falling, and the cute pink panties that stick to your wet hole. He wishes, more than anything, you weren’t wearing them, but he wanted to toy with you. Just a little. Besides, they would be off in a few minutes, so he isn’t entirely worried about it, he has the patients to wait. “Has anyone touched you here?”
If anything, Sukuna wants to hear you beg for him to take them off.
You blink at him innocently, before softly nodding your head. “You have.”
Sukuna chuckles a bit, “No, gorgeous, anyone other than me.” Both his hands follow the curve of your thigh. Getting closer, and pressing under your skirt. You thickly swallowed, glancing at his hands and face.
You hesitate to shake your head, but when you do, Sukuna freezes. “Wait, have you ever…?” Sukuna’s still touching you, but it’s more endearing, and less sex-driven. “Has anyone ever gone down on–have you ever had sex?”
You again shake your head.
Sukuna feels his cock twitch. “Shit, so you’re really a virgin.” He watches as your eyes divert, “That’s not bad, I just…” He leans his head on your knee, resting it there. “I’ve never been with a virgin.” Sukuna’s been with only a few people, less than he can count on one of his hands, but they’ll all have some form of experience. So, approaching them, and their sex-life is different, but with you, he doesn’t entirely know how to approach it. He wants you to feel comfortable with him, but he also wants you to feel good.
You push yourself up, leaning on the palms of your hands while looking at Sukuna. “I’ve never done anything, does that make you feel better?” You pass him a silly smile.
Sukuna huffs, “I mean, it’s kinda hot.” He smiles, his sharp teeth flashing as you, “I'll make your head spin, and your legs shake.” He lifts his hand, tapping your forehead. “Do you want that, you want me to make you feel good?” He watches as your throat bobs, “You want to shake and cry with pleasure while I tongue your clit?”
You shiver. “Just get on with it already. I feel like we’re talking too much right now.” You laugh a small bit, “I feel like we’re doing this wrong, or something. Are we doing this wrong?”
Sukuna just raises an eyebrow at you. “You’ve never done this before, how would you know what’s right or wrong?”
“I’ve seen porn.”
Sukuna drops his head back, deeply inhaling that exhaling. “Porn is made for horny twelve year olds.” Sukuna smirks to himself, “Wait, don’t tell me you get off to that fake and gross bullshit.” He sarcastically adds, “Dirty girl.”
You flop back down, a small giggle leaving your lips. “I feel like you’re messing with me now. Just do what you’re going to do.” You mumble, before softly adding, “I mean, I want to know why everyone cares about sex so much–” Your mouth parts in a moan, his tongue giving you a hard kitten lick. Eyes bouncing up, and trying to see what reaction you would give him.
He laughs, “I’ll make you an addict.” Sukuna places his thumb on your clit, rubbing it up and down. “Just promise me you’ll keep your legs wide open f’me. Don’t even think about fuckin’ close them.” He slaps your thigh, making you yelp. “Or, I’ll make you go so brain dead, you won’t even be able to.”
“Stop talking–” A moan tears through your throat, Sukuna wrapping his lips around your covered clit. Sucking hard on your small pearl, before laughing against your cunt.
“Did you say somethin’?” He slowly inhales, eyes rolling to the back of his head from your scent. Sex and pure lust, god you’re so fuckin’ sexy. He continues licking your clit, keeping his attention on the sensitive bud.
You can feel his tongue working against your fabric, wetting it with his saliva and your juices. It’s so nasty, but it makes your eyes cross everytime he flicks his tongue over your sensitive bud. This is amazing. You gasp, your hand clamping down over your mouth to try and keep quiet. A pathetic attempt, really. Sukuna slaps your thigh in response, shaking his head, his tongue swiping left and right as he does so. “Don’t even fuckin’ think about.” He seethes, pissed by you trying to keep quiet.
Sukuna doesn't want you to be quiet. He’s been robbed of all chances to hear you cry out in pleasure, or his name in ecstasy. Despite this not being his first sexual encounter with you. The first time, he knew you were listening to him jack off, but you didn’t so much as whimper for him. Which was saddening. And, you can only hear so much when the music from a party is playing in the background. Sukuna wants to hear how good you feel. He wants to hear how good he was making you feel.
“What–ah! What if Yuuji is home?” You arch your back, Sukuna sucking on your clit again. “What if he hears?” You whisper, grabbing onto his sheeps, the fabric seeping between the cracks of your fingers. “That’s going to be so–”
“Embarssin’?” Sukuna fishes for you, trying to finish you off. “I know, but he won’t know, if you stay quite.” Sukuna reaches for your hands, pulling it to his cheek, only to kiss your palm. “But, I don’t want that.” He continues kissing your palm, moving his lips towards your middle and ring finger. “I want to hear you, want to hear you whimper over my tongue and scream my name.” Sukuna smiles, slides his tongue between your two fingers, letting you look at the lewd gesture the two of you are making. “Okay?”
A shaky exhale leaves your lips, before you meekly nod. Sukuna chuckles, pushing your hands to your face, “Good girl.” He keeps your two fingers spread, pressing the open space to your lips. “Let me see your tongue.”
You feel your bottom lip tremble, before opening your mouth, your pink tongue sticking out and resting between your two fingers. You can feel how they’re wet, and you can taste Sukuna’s saliva. You moan, “This is…” You feel your sentence trail when you notice Sukuna’s gaze trained on your tongue, wiggling and moving between your fingers.
He closes his eyes, softly groaning to himself. Fuck, he’d give anything to feel that tongue on his throbbing cock. Watch it slide and swirl over the head of his cock, before your pretty little lips would stretch over his fat cock. Drowning in your glossy eyes as hot tears slide down your cheeks, your throat constricting around his girth.
“Stop thinking too hard about it.” He tells you, his tongue sliding from your knee to your inner thigh, pressing wet kisses into his skin. “It’s supposed to feel good, even if it is gross.” And if Sukuna is being completely honest with himself, knowing that something is filthy makes it hot. He moves to your covered cunt, kissing your lips. Avoiding the place where you want him most. “Just lay down and feel, I clearly make you think too much.”
You just pull your hand away from your lips, a string of saliva falling down on your shirt. “Okay.” You keep yourself propped up, watching as Sukuna practically makes out with your pussy. You can see how wet your underwear is now, along with how glossy Sukuna’s lips are.
You keep your hands bundled in his sheets, trying to keep yourself sane as Sukuna makes you feel good. It feels incredible, and looks porngraphic. The fat of his tongue pushing itself between your lips, making a small crater in your panties. The tip flicking your clit, moving up and down like a teasing feather.
You feel your eyes flutter shut, holy shit, it feels amazing. You don’t ever want it to stop, you want… more. You clamp your thighs together, but Sukuna’s hands are already on your thighs. Pushing them apart and smiling against your skin, “Keep them open.” He shakes his head to the side, his tongue following his movement on your clit.
You groan, and Sukuna moans with you. Grabbing you right knee and placing it on his shoulder, “Keep this here.” He whispers, continues to suck on your covered clit, watching as your body falls back on his bed. Your back is arching.
“Oh–oh my god.” You lean your head back, your body hot and sweaty. Holy shit, this feels amazing. Sukuna feels amazing, and it feels depraved. Licking and sucking at your clit, even though it's covered with the thin fabric of your panites. “Fuh–fuck, please.” You moan, tucking your calf behind Sukuna’s head, pulling him closer to your cunt.
His eyes seem to glow watching as your body jolts, and your pussy twitches. And with the way your panties are absolutely drenched, clinging onto your pussy lips like a second skin, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination. “Please what?” Sukuna mocks, “Please… stop?”
Sukuna isn’t going to stop, there’s no way in fucking hell he’s going to stop, but mocking you, seeing your eyes water, it makes him insane. Hearing you beg and whimper over his mouth, god… Seeing you like this makes him feel… incredible. Knowing that you haven’t done this with anyone else, yet want to do it with him, has him spinning. It makes him feel good. It’s something he’s never had before, but knows he now can’t live without. He has craved for something like this. A hole he’s always adorned in his chest, but never found a filling for it. But now, he feels full, it’s a feeling he would’ve never thought to find, despite how desperately he searched for it.
Sukuna feels amazing when he’s with you. Even when you’re dancing in his living room with face care adoring your face, a pout on your face while you playfully ignoring him, glaring at him with your reflective eyes, or the small back-and-forth the two of you share. It’s all so amazing.
But, seeing you like this. Embarrassed and eager for what he was going to do next. Open and vulnerable, trusting and wanting more, it’s… it feels like the best thing in the world. Sukuna feels like he’s becoming addicted to this. He holds the back of your thighs with his big hands, closing his eyes and flattening his tongue on your pussy, tearing another moan from your mouth.
“N-No! Please don’t stop.” You whine, tears brimming your waterline. Your lips part as you moan, gripping onto the sheets as your hips jolted forward, trying to push your pussy harder against his lips. Desperate to get more pleasure from his mouth, you just want to lose yourself in it. You don’t want to think about anything, not school or studying, just Sukuna between your legs.
Sukuna laughs against your cunt again, continuing his abuse on your pussy. Enjoying the way you try holding your legs apart, your thighs shaking around his head. He tightens his grip on you, not even giving you the opportunity to move them together if you wanted to. “I won’t stop.” He whispers, “Don’t you worry your pretty head off.”
You giggle, sounding a bit drunk, “You–ah! Called–you called me pretty, fuh-fuck, again.” You feel a coil in your lower stomach, something you’re all too familiar tightening inside of you. “You think–oh my god, holy shit, you think I’m–I’m pretty.”
“Fuck yeah.” He moans into you again, “I think you’re fuckin’ sexy, your tits and body, your lips and tongue, all of it.” He wants to add your eyes, but feels himself grow a bit… embarrassed to say that. Ironic, huh?
That makes your stomach twitch, butterflies swarming inside of you. The coil growing tighter, your thighs pushing agsint his hands in protest. It feels good, it feels too good. “Su-Sukuna, m’getting… I’m–” You back arches, your body resisting a bit more. “I’m gonna’ cum, I feel–shi-shit!”
“Yeah?” Sukuna lolls his tongue out, letting it slowly drag over your over-worked bud. “Fuckin’ cum on my tongue then.” Sukuna closes his eyes, feeling them roll to the back of his head with your soft moans filling his room. You taste so fuckin’ good.
You roll your eyes into the back of your head, your pussy clenching around nothing. But, you wonder to yourself, what it would feel like to have something inside of you. Something long and thick, stretching you open and fucking your insides until you’re mindless. “Sukuna–Sukuna!” His name leaves your mouth like a mantra, your voice raising in pitch as your legs shake. Your toes curl with pleasure, your hands grabbing onto Sukuna's hair.
Sukuna instantly moans, loving the way you tug at his hair. Unsure whether or not you want to push him away, or pull him closer to you. “Fuck, c’mon, cum on my tongue, just let it feel good.”
You finally feel the coil snap, your lips parting in a silent moan as your body tingles. Your thighs naturally pull into your body, opening wider for Sukuna’s tongue working fasting against your covered clit. It feels amazing, it feels unworldly, unlike any orgasm you’ve ever had before. Your fingers don’t even compete to this, it’s addicting.
The worst–best–part is, it feels so long, and Sukuna doesn’t stop his abuse on your sensitive bud. This time, placing his thumb over it and rubbing circles into it. Making your orgasm even more intense, your back arching in pure pleasure.
Your hand reaches down for his writes, your mind pulling together only for it to be thrown back into intense pleasure. Something you don’t entirely like, but you don’t dislike, it feels good, but it feels… too good. Like, unbearably, burning pleasure, type good.
Your body grows hotter to the thought of Sukuna touching you without any fabric in the way, the fire in your lower stomach lights a flame again. His tongue actually touching you, his fingers spreading you open allowing him to get easier access to your swollen cunt.
Sukuna slow stops, watching your legs twitch by his head as he pulls his finger away. “Awh, is it too much for the baby?” He mocks, tilting his head to the side and passing you a cocky smirk. “I thought you were a big girl.”
You naturally pout. Even if Sukuna didn’t say anything bad, you want to… make him proud. You nod your head, “I… don’t be mean.” You whisper back, “Feels too good.” You pull his hand to your mouth, kissing his palm like he did yours a few minutes ago. You slowly bring your lips to his middle and ring finger, silently admiring how big they are. You can’t help but think how they would feel inside of you, splitting and stretching you open. “I want to make you feel good, ‘Kuna, I want to do something for you.” You open your mouth, your tongue making way between his two fingers. Your tongue is peaking at him, while you flutter your long lashes at him.
Sukuna feels his brows twitch, his dick straining against the zipper of his jeans. His pupils are blown so wide, you can barely see a ring of red in his eyes. He’s absolutely enraptured by you, his mind swirling with nothing but the way you cry his name, and tremble beneath his touch.
It feels like Sukuna’s going insane. He just wants to push you further, he wants to see what noises you make when he laps at your clit for hours. Would you cry, or whimper? Would you scream in pleasure, or go numb from it being too overwhelming? Only for him to push his thick cock into your slit, watching your eyes grow wide as your pussy swallows him up whole.
Your breath grows more uneven with his concentrated gaze, sliding your tongue up the tip of his fingers, and pulling it into your mouth. You whimper, your body flowing with nice tingles again. “‘Kuna, can you please…” You divert your eyes for a moment, before softly finishing, “Can you please do that, without my panties in the way…?”
Sukuna breathes out, closing his eyes for a second before placing his hands on your shoulders and pushing you against his bed. “Careful.” He whispers, resting his dick between your thighs, grinding himself against your wet panites, “I would do anything, if you beg me to.”
You smile, grabbing his face and kissing him tenderly, tasting yourself in his lips. You tongue rolling around his, “Then…” You pull back, whispering, “Can you please stop teasing me, ‘Kuna, and really eat me out?” You furrow your eyebrows cutely, as you add even quieter, “I really want to feel your tongue on my pussy.”
That makes Sukuna snap.
Sukuna places his hands behind your knees and pushes them to your stomach, keeping them pinned there, “Grab your knees.” He tells you, and you instantly listen, your hands grabbing at your knees and keeping them pinned to your chest. He pulls your panties up, letting them dangle at your foot before looking at you.
Sukuna looks at you again, his eyes devouring your bare pussy. Wet and swollen, ready for his touch. He keeps himself snug on the bed, places his hands back on your thighs over your hands, and licks a long stripe up your pussy. Instantly you throw your head back, your teeth digging into your bottom lip with pleasure. His tongue sliding between your lips, dipping into your hole, before sliding up and dragging over your sensitive over stimulated clit.
You whine, your hips writhing against his mouth as your juices slides down your ass and onto his bed. Ruining his sheets, but Sukuna loves that, he loves knowing what the two of you are doing is so filthy, it makes a gross mess. That’s so hot to him, makes him so fuckin’ hard.
Sukuna moves his hand to his cock, his palm rubbing on the head and trying to adjust his painful hard-on. A feeble attempt to try and release some needed tension, his head spinning from how horny he is. His hips rut into his hand, desperate to feel something, anything on his aching cock.
Sukuna unbuttons his pants, pulling his boxers underneath his cock and sloppily wrapping his hand around his girth. Groaning against your pussy with an eye roll at the brief, yet pleasurable relief. But, that doesn’t stop him, no, that makes him work his tongue even harder against you. Getting off to every whimper, moan, and breath, that leaves your pretty little mouth.
You can’t help but notice how much more vocal Sukuna is, and as much as you want to push yourself up and see what he’s doing, but you can’t. Your legs twitch with overstimulation with every swipe, your chest bouncing up with every moan leaving your lips.
Sukuna pulls his remaining hand on your thigh to your pussy, creating a ‘v’ on your base, then spreading you open. Flicking your clit with the tip of his tongue, making you cry out in pleasure. You try to grip the sheets harder, but it doesn't help, the pleasure is just so intense. This coil of pleasure builds within your belly again, this time it’s faster and more intense then last time. It makes you babble something incoherent to try and warn Sukuna, but to be honest with yourself, you don’t know what you’re even trying to tell him. Your mind is swirling with thoughts of Sukuna, and his actions. How he makes everything around you disappear with something as simple as his tongue.
You feel tears slide down your cheeks into Sukuna’s sheets, your eyes crossing into your head with pleasure. You babble out, “Oh my god–oh my god.” You hands move back to your thighs pulling them open, and another moan tears from you, he has so much more access.
Sukuna pushes himself off the ground slightly, places his hands and weight on your thighs, keepings them securely pressed to your stomach as he continues to abuse your swollen clit. His tongues sliding between your lips before catching under your hood, applying pleasure to make you squeal.
The small act makes your words jumble and moans out of your mouth, your thighs fighting against the pressure and trying to push him off. You don’t want to, but it’s so overwhelming. You don’t know if you want him to stop or keep going. Yet, at the same time, you know you don’t have a say in that currently.
Which… for some reason, you absolutely love. You love that you don’t even understand what you’re trying to do or say. You love that you don’t even know what you’re laying on anymore, or which way you’re facing, again? But, Sukuna can make out the words, “Fuh–’Kuna, I think… oh my god, please, don–don’t stop! S’close!” Your eyes squeeze shut.
Sukuna laughs at that, not stopping and letting his eyes drink up the way your muscles tense. You’re close, he knows that you're so close. He sucks onto your clit, watching the way your twitch, before letting go. He pushes his weight off of you, watching as your scrunched expression relaxes, and immediately looks at him with an adorable confused expression.
Fuck, he loves teasing you.“Feelin’ good, babe?”
You tense, the feeling being ripped away from you. It feels good, but it also feels wrong. The intense feeling pulled away from you so quickly, it makes you tense. Your muscles are tightening in your lower stomach, you’re so close, but so far at the same time. Then, the intense feeling quickly vanishes making you completely relax into his sheets. Instantly you feel sweaty, your muscles tired and sore. You feel your bottom lips wiggle, “Stop d-doing that! I was…” You trail off, looking to the side as your eyes flutter. “Uhm, you know…”
Sukuna smiles at this, you got embarrassed. How cute. “Were you?” He mocks at you, caressing your cheek, “Awh, the poor baby wants to cum, you want me to contune tongue fucking you? You like the sound of that?” He rubs his nose on your inner thigh affectionately.
You pout, “I–I…” You pass him your gorgeous eyes again, glassy and wanting, “Can you please not stop again?”
Sukuna knew he was making you feel good, he could tell by your fucked out face, but anyone could. He merely wants to hear it from you, hear you writhe and beg for him to keep you on the edge. He gets off on that, watching a girl cry from how good something is, but at the same time, he doesn’t want to scare you. So, something more intense, would have to wait for a later time. “I won’t, don’t worry.” He places his thumb on your clit again, “I’m just teasing you.” His finger rub slow and pressured circles on your clit, and it drives you insane.Again, this curling string continues to spiral inside you, pleasure building upon itself.
Sukuna hums in acknowledgement, before going back to your pussy. Taking two fingers and spreading you apart. Tongues hitting all the places he couldn’t before. He gently bites your clit, letting his fingers trail down your slit. Your eyes widen, before a moan leaves your lips. His finger sliding into with ease, your slick and saliva allowing you pussy to swallow his finger whole. Sukuna groans at this, fisting his cock again.
Your reaction is perfect, the small gasp you let out when his knuckle hits your lips is liberating. He almost hears you choke on your breath, a bit shocked by the intrusion. But, Sukuna is already reassuring you, praises spilling his lips as he shushes you. “It feels good.” He slowly adds another finger, “Trust me, you’ll love this.”
You nod, turning your head to the side and resting it, trying to watch as he fingers your hole. It’s not something you’re too experienced with, since you stick to stimulating your clit. If anything, you thought you were broken, since every time you finger yourself, it didn’t feel like anything. Also, the stretch is a bit uncomfortable, but it’s complemented with Sukuna’s tongue, so it’s not all too bad.
You softly sigh, before closing your eyes. You hold as you feel this prickle of pleasure intense, far more pulling then Sukuna’s tongue. It feels… good.
Sukuna’s finger slides inside, then pulls out, only to slowly slide back into you, his knuckle resting on your lips again. Pushing his fingers up slightly with every slow thrust. You can hear your voice raise in pitch, growing louder with each thrust and swipe of his tongue. You want to place your palm over your mouth, but you can’t. You’re unable to function, more or less keep quiet. And after a few pumps of his thick finger, you're writhing in his bead with pleasure.
Your eyes roll into the back of your head, toes curling as an unexpected loud pitched moan leaves your lips. You feel like you’re unable to express how you’re feeling, you want to desperately pull away, but make it even more intense at the same time. It feels like you’re so close, the coil inside you was about to snap.
You feel something unfamiliar in your lower stomach. It feels good, it feels somewhat familiar, but at the same time, a bit different. His fingers are still working into your cunt, wet with the slick you’re producing.
It makes the feeling even more intense, and suddenly, it feels like you’re about to… You feel your bottom lips wiggle, “K-kuna!” You gasp, trying to form words, but are unable to find the right ones.
Yet, Sukuna ignores your plea, merely smiles to himself while sucking into your clit, and pressing his fingers inside of you. He nods to himself when he touches something spongy, he chuckles to himself, “Fuckin’ found it.” As he presses his fingers up, applying pressure onto your g-spot.
Your vision goes white. Your back arching as you quickly grip his hair, a high pitched moan leaving your throat as you feel yourself completely let go. The pressure in your stomach releases with a painful orgasm.
Sukuna’s mouth is already on your pussy, riding out your orgasm while he milks his cock. Focusing his attention on the head with a soft groan. His throat bobs as you finish, your thighs shaking around his head before they limply slide off onto his bed. But, he quickly grabs them and wraps them on his shoulders, giving you a final long stripe up your pussy, watching as your hips twitch in overstimulation. Sukuna cockily smiles, watching you pant and melt into his soft and sweaty bed. Clearly exhausted by the high you just received.
You look adorable. Your eyes were still watery and red, the bottom of your lip swollen from you biting on it, and your body abused from the pleasure you were receiving. God, it makes him even harder knowing that your first time was with him, too. “Mhm, that’s it. Just relax.”
A shakily exhale, before humming with a head nod.
He feels his cock twitch in his hand, but he pays it no mind. Just tucking it back into his boxers and zipping up his pants. It feels gross, but he’ll think about that later. He pushes himself on his feet, whipping his mouth with the back of his hand, a smirk on his lips. He sits down next to you, pinching your cheeks and making you look at him. “You with me, doll?”
You slowly blink, trying to gain your sight again. “What is… uhm, what’s supposed to be…” You drop your head back, his fingers slipping from your cheeks. “What was the question?” You still feel… you don’t even know.
“Yeah.” He lays back on the bed with you, “Just say you’re in love with me, I promise I won’t make fun of you.”
You gain your head, blinking a few times to pull your thoughts together. “I hate you, Sukuna.” You turn on your side, flipping your skirt down to cover yourself up. You lean forward, and kiss him. “I already told you that.”
Sukuna hums, nodding his head while closing his eyes. “Keep saying that, I’ll get hard again.”
“I hat–” Sukuna raises his eyebrows expectantly, passing you a cocky smirk. “I can’t with you.” You look away, but you’re smiling. Trying not to laugh at Sukuna’s stupid fucking joke. Suddenly, you’re hit with the feeling of your bare legs sticking to your sheets. “I feel gross now.”
Sukuna kisses you for a final time, “I’ll be right back.” He pushes himself off the bed, walking to the door and pulling it open. You assume he’s going to the restroom, and he isn’t gone for long. The next thing you know, he’s back between your legs with a damp towel. While he cleans you up, it feels a bit intimate, as well as embarrassing. You ignore the lewd comment Sukuna made about you wanting to pull your panties back up. Cockily saying, “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before.”
You merely respond with a slap to his shoulder, letting him press the towel to your legs and clean up the mess. And despite how embarrassingly bare you feel, it’s nice, really nice. “We can put a towel on your bed next time.” You say, pushing yourself off his bed and looking at the stain left. You giggle to yourself, “Guess you were right, I did dirty your sheets.”
Sukuna slaps the towel over your face.
You immediately pull it off your face, throwing it at his, “Oh my god, that’s so gross!” You place your hands over your face, “I totally need to watch my face, or I’m going to break out or something.” You work so hard to keep your face clear, now this jackass might ruin it!
“You’re actually a child.” Sukuna says, dropping the towel to the floor.
The two of you flinch at the sound of knocking at his door, both of you turning your head simultaneously. You smile to yourself, “One, two, three, not it!”
Sukuna throws the towel back at your face, which makes him laugh when he hears you cry out in anger. You’re quick to drop the towel back down on the ground with a satisfying, ‘plat.’ Turning your attention back to Sukuna to watch him open the door, you see his back tense. His shoulders pull together slightly.
You sit up in his bed while tilting your head at him. “You okay?”
“Is that…?” That voice makes your face drain. Yuuji tilts his head to the side, looking past Sukuna’s shoulder and right at you. He instantly lights up, your name leaving his mouth, “Oh my god, have you two made up already?” He loudly gasps, “Wait, does that mean we can have more movie nights?”
You part your lips, and look at Sukuna when he turns to face you. The two of you don’t say anything for a moment, before you burst out in laughter, cupping your mouth as you turn away from the two boys. Sukuna leans his head back, resting his forearm over his eyes as his face turns a bit red.
You let out a sigh of relief. You don’t think Yuuji heard. Sukuna straightens himself out, “Get out of the way, Yuuji.” Sukuna pushes him to the side, making his way to the kitchen. “I need somethin’ in my system.”
Yuuji lets Sukuna pass, “We’re out of drinks!” Yuuji calls back, which is responded with an obnoxious groan. You giggle, but Yuuji is quick to eyeball the floor, noticing how it’s scattered with books and computers. “I’m guessing the two of you have been spending quality time together?” He smiles, “You’re going to tell me all about it, right?”
You don’t know how to respond to that, “Uh… Sure, yeah.” Still, you feel a soft smile split your lips, crossing your legs over one another. Before you quickly pull your foot underneath your ass, realizing your panties are still strung on them. Shit, you really should’ve put them on despite Sukuna’s comments. “We’re… uhm, we’re just studying together. And, he was… making things up to me, I guess.”
Yuuji tilts his head to the side, “Things are good now?” He passes you a hopeful smile, “No more angsty tension between you two?”
You giggle, nodding your head in agreement. “Things are good, Yuu. No more angsty tension.” You feel your thighs sticking together, and you resist the urge to wrinkle your nose in distaste. “Yeah, definitely no more angsty tension.”
“Alright, get out.” Sukuna pulls the back of Yuuji’s shirt, pulling him out of his room. However, this time he emerges with a cup in his hand, you wonder if it’s water, or if he really did find some alcohol.
Yuuji waves at you, “Bye, I love you.” He passes you a sad look with his big puppy dog eyes.
You feel your heart tug, “Can we keep him here with us, Sukuna?” You plead, which is answered with a silent glare from Sukuna. You pout, begrudgingly waving back, “I love you, too, Yuu.” You blow him a kiss.
“Yeah, yeah. Cut the bullshit you two.” Sukuna shuts the door on Yuuji, shaking his head while making his way to you. “I swear, can’t believe you say that shit right after you just came on my fuckin’ tongue.” He leans on his nightstand, passing you a teasing look, “Whore.”
“Asshole.”
“Slut.”
“Dick.”
Sukuna smirks a bit, leaning his head to the side. “Gorgeous.”
You feel your brain malfunction for a second, “H-Huh?”
Sukuna grabs his phone, opening an app. The smirk goes wider as he responds, “Dookie-stain.” You’re about to respond with quick banter, when he pushes the screen in your face, “Give me your phone number.”
You furrow your eyebrows, taking the phone from his hands. “Wow, does that line work with all the ladies?” You put your phone number into his phone, placing your contact name as, ‘LOML.’ You nod to yourself, clearly content with the creative name you picked.
“You tell me.” Sukuna takes his phone from you, sending you a quick text. You can hear your phone ring in your bag from across the room. “Are you obsessed with me already?”
“I mean, you picked out the name for me.” You point at his phone, making Sukuna actually look at the name you saved yourself under. “I think you’re the one obsessed here.” Sukuna looks at the name, and clicks the contact, and you automatically assume it’s to change it. “Awh, I actually like that name.”
“Of course you do.” Sukuna saves the contact, then pushes himself off the desk. “Alright, get your ass back to studying.”
“I can’t believe you just ate me out, then are going to make me study.”
“Do you want me to buy you a cookie?”
“Actually–”
Sukuna grabs your ankles, pulling you off the bed again. “Study.”
—
You yawn, stretching your hands over your head. You can hear the washing machine rumbling in the background, Sukuna’s sheets in the wash for the night. You hear your phone ring again, and you’re quick to grab it, flipping onto your stomach while you kick your feet back and forth.
You don’t even have to look at the name to know who it is. It’s not like the two of you have been texting all day, despite sitting across from each other, or merely a wall apart.
Dick-una:
Come here
You smile to yourself.
You:
im not sleeping with u
gross
Dick-una:
Just come here
You left your glasses
You:
fine.
Dick-una:
Thats what I thought
You wrap your blanket around you, shivering when your bare feet hit the cold ground, but you’re quick to shake it off. Slowly cracking your door open, and tip-toeing to Sukuna’s room. Luckily the door is unlocked when you go to open it.
You giggle a little bit, “Give me back my glasses.” You can see the room is still a mess, your notebooks and textbooks littering the floor, since you were too tired to pick them up. However, your glasses aren’t on the floor where you left them, they’re now on Sukuna’s bedside counter. The small lamp ever so slightly illuminates his room.
“Go get them.” Sukuna responds, and you can see him on his phone, face illuminated by the blue screen. He’s wearing black sweats, and nothing else, his hair is messy and unruly.
You’re already smiling to yourself, closing his door behind you and making way to the drawer. Being careful to step over all the things on the ground, and finally reaching the drawer. “You’re so kind.” You inspect them, “You even clean them for m–”
You feel Sukuna drag you into his bed, quickly reaching an arm over your body, and turning off the light with a loud click. He taps your back, “Oh shit, did your dumbass fall?” He says, draping his blanket over the both of you. “Clumsy.”
“Ha, ha. So funny Sukuna.” You let go of your blanket, warming up to Sukuna’s body. “I’m leaving the moment you fall asleep.”
“Oh my god, shut the fuck up, and fall asleep.” He mumbles back, an arm resting underneath his pillow. “Can’t do anything without you annoyin’ me.”
You giggle, closing your eyes and whispering, “Goodnight, Sukuna.” You don’t expect to hear a response, even when you’re seconds away from falling asleep in his soft bed. But, you hear something anyway.
“Good night.”
Next Chapter: Ch. 7 - A Lovely Night
Tag(s)!: @openup-yourmind, @sherlock-holmes-jr, @maskedpacific, @gasp-a-homo, @diogodxlot, @beahappyhoeee, @tojimeow, @sukunamylovexoxo, @yoontaedotin, @sukunaloverrr, @lanadelreylover4l, @raininginthemoonlight, @blackjanexx, @ethereally-lyann, @fritzzbitzz, @lanadelreylover4l, @chayunwoo, @madamteller, @mazzd4, @haithamsbb, @c-l-ellis, @samysaha, @pi-crust, @shukiinnkm
👀
❝ 𝐖𝐀𝐈𝐓 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 ❞
❝ PROF GETO BROKE YOUR HEART & NOW YUTA IS HOT ?? ❞
✧ pairing: prof!suguru geto x f!reader (& grad student! yuta x f!reader)
✧ summary: after suguru leaves you broken hearted, yuta's there for you when you're putting your heart back together, and he's not sure when or if he even wants you to tell you how you feel. but what happens when you start to realize your feelings?
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut , fluff, angst, depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader and yuta are grad students, but age is vague, dealing with a breakup, fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), oral (f! + m! receiving), sex (p in v), creampie, amateur's take on moral philsophy and ethics, art by @ / polariae (who is incredible and everyone should go follow them now!!)
✧ wc: 12,464
Yuta felt as if he was always running late — for everything.
He had transferred into this university a year into his schooling, he was always running late to meetings, and he was too late when he fell for you.
But he seemed to have good timing in this moment — as he ran into you, as why was it he could always find you effortlessly without trying, but there was no smile on your lips when you met his gaze, but only tears — if only so he could comfort you.
He says your name, as he stops you gently, fingers brushing against your shoulders, as your gaze falls to the ground, “What happened? Are you—”
“Yuta, I’m sorry, I have to go—” but he stops you for a moment.
“If you don’t want to talk to me, that’s completely fine, but can I call someone?” he says gently, he could see the tears slipping off your cheeks, even as you attempted to wipe them away, “I don’t think you should be alone—”
And then you’re hugging him, “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I shouldn’t—but I—”
His arms go around you gently, “It’s okay, don’t apologize, I’m here for you,” and he doesn’t know what else to do but stand there with you, as curious gazes of passersby watched the two of you, “come on, let’s go somewhere more private.”
~~~
When had he fallen for you? It was hard to say, but apparently easy to see.
“So did you tell her you like her?” And Yuta nearly spits his drink out when Maki asks him that after one of the student government meetings. She sipped at the can of black coffee, nonchalantly, her eyebrows raised at his sputtering. He wipes his mouth, a slight glare in his gaze, “based on that reaction, I would say no,”
“What are you talking—“ and your name leaves Maki’s lips, and his cheeks flush, ears burning, as he presses his knuckles to his lips, unable to meet her gaze, “was it that obvious?”
“To a person with eyes,” and his gaze snaps to her, a question on his lips, “no, she doesn’t know,”
Yuta slumps back in the chair he was sitting in, as he sets his drink down on the round table, “how can I tell her? She has a boyfriend,”
“One that she doesn’t even see that often,” Maki leans back in her chair, “I’ll give you some unsolicited advice, Yuta — if you keep having these feelings and don’t do anything about it, you’ll regret it,”
But how could he do anything when he already knew you were struggling? It wasn’t enough that your boyfriend was far away, but he didn’t seem to make time to come see you — even on your birthday — but to push his feelings on you on top of that. It wasn’t fair.
So he had to settle on being your friend, just your friend.
“What happened?” He asks again when the two of you get to a secluded corner of campus, a bench far enough away, as you sniffled, wiping your tears and murmuring apologies, “you don’t have to talk about it—“
And you shake your head, “My boyfriend, he, uh, broke up with me,” and he stares at you — your voice wavering as you speak, “I just, didn’t expect that to, you know—“
Yuta tilts his head, speaking softly, “Why don’t I take you back to your apartment?”
So he does, taking the quick metro ride there, as your fingers brush his as the two of you walk beside each other. The silence hangs as comfortably as it can, your eyes straight ahead, as he sneaks glances at you. He wants nothing more than to take your hand, to tell you it would be okay, but he couldn’t — he didn’t want to overstep. It had already been hard enough to contain his feelings when you were with someone — and now that you weren’t — he wanted nothing more than to love you as you deserved to be loved.
But it wasn’t his love you wanted — and it wasn’t what you needed either.
You needed a friend, not a lover, more than ever.
“Thank you for bringing me home, Yuta,” you mumble, shaking your head, “I’m sorry, I’m such a mess — I’m not being—“
“You don’t have to be anything, you’re fine,” he says softly, as you fumble with your keys, “do you want company?”
You give a terse chuckle, as you unlock the door, “I’m not the best company right now, Yuta,”
And he could have told you that you were the company he always wanted, the company he never would say no to — good or bad — but he couldn’t. So he said something else.
“Then I guess I’ll have to make up for it by being very good company,” and you give a watery laugh, shaking your head, as you hesitate, glancing over your shoulder.
“Are you sure?” And he only steps past you into your apartment, as he smiles.
“Come on, I’ll order us dinner and you can put on an…interesting movie again,” and your lips quirk up as you step past him into the apartment.
He couldn’t be more than a friend — not now — but maybe at some point. But he would be happy to just be in your life.
That was enough.
~~~
He wasn’t enough, Suguru sat in the train, the sun long set on Tokyo as he watched the city fade into the distance — as he leaned his face against the glass of the window. He had taken a late train back to Kyoto — one of the last — he could have taken an earlier one, but he had lost track of time.
How long did he stand there?
It felt like hours — minutes had ticked by as such, but he knew it was long enough for him to miss several trains by the time he had left for the station. It was long enough that he saw you disappear in the distance, Yuta assumedly in tow.
It was right — it was what was necessary. That’s what he told himself as he watched the scenery move past him in seconds, but it felt as if time had stood still. He could hear the soft snores and quiet murmuring of the sparse passengers among the train, the footsteps of others as they walked up and down the aisle, and the steady shudder of the train as it ran along to its destination. But still, it felt as if he was still trapped behind glass in that moment, he watched himself drop your heart, watched it shatter beneath his feet, and he didn’t go after you.
Why didn’t go after you?
He asked himself again and again — but the only answer amongst the buzzing white noise that had only served to numb his mind to the pain was that it was necessary.
He had always known you had a bright future — you could anywhere, lecture overseas, do fellowships or a Phd program, or even become a professor elsewhere. But when he had spoke to Yaga, it had solidified in his mind even more so — he wasn’t giving you what you needed and he was holding you back while he was at it.
And the worse part was he knew you would never blame him — not for a minute. You would try to make it work. Long distance, giving opportunities up, or even choosing him over yourself. And he couldn’t abide letting you give up what you wanted for him — even if it wasn’t what you would have chosen. Because he knew you would always choose him.
So he had to be the one to choose you.
He needed to leave you behind, just as he had left Tokyo. He had made his choice, and now he had to live with it — and live without you.
It was necessary. It was right — he shut his eyes, leaning against the window beside his seat, tears burning at the corners, as a tear rolled past hidden behind his hand — so why did it feel so wrong to be without you?
~~~
You didn’t want to wake up.
You pulled the comforter over your head, finding refuge underneath the plush duvet, and wondering if it was possible to stay under here long enough for your problems to disappear. But you knew the pain would remain, but even so, you sought the sweet escape of sleep — if only for a few hours, you didn’t have to feel this heartache, you didn’t have to remember this.
You didn’t have to remember him.
And then there’s a knock on your door, a persistent knock that draws you from the arms of your only oasis under your sheets, and you drag yourself from bed, your eyes aching from your tears from last night.
Fuck, you rubbed at your eyes. You glanced at the couch, finding no one there — when did Yuta leave last night? You couldn’t remember — and you’re dead on your feet as you find your way to the door, opening it without a thought.
And your breath caught.
“Suguru?” you stared, as he stood in front of you, bouquet of flowers in hand. You stumbled over your words as gracefully as you had gotten out of bed, as his arms wrapped around you. You stood motionless for a moment before melting into his touch, tears burning at your eyes yet again, “what are you doing here? Why—“
“What do you mean?” he murmurs, running his fingers through his hair, “you know I can’t stand to spend more than a few hours away from you,” and you’re burying your face in his chest, biting back the urge to sob then and there.
You kept your tone as even as you can manage as you pull away, “Suguru, you said—“
“I know I’m early, but we can just spend some time together before we head out—“
And you’re shaking your head, “Head out where?”
He furrows his brow in confusion, a chuckle escaping his lips, “Did you forget? You’re the one who insisted that we should be early — you kept saying we couldn’t be late,”
“To what?”
“Our engagement party,” he takes your hand gently intertwining your fingers to show you the ring you wore — and you’re staring at it, as he presses sweet kisses to each of your knuckles, “now shouldn’t you get ready? Or are you the one who’ll make us late?”
“Suguru—“ and his lips find yours in a gentle kiss, warmth blooming from his touch alone, your fingers finding purchase on his shoulder. For a second, it’s real and it’s right — Suguru has found his way back to you.
Right?
And his lips part from yours, his fingers brushing your cheek, “I love you,” he murmurs, saying your name again and again and—
A hand brushes your shoulder and you jolt awake, your hand slapping whatever had touched you away, as your fingers grasped at your comforter. You blinked, as your breath slowed, and you had found yourself in bed—
Again.
And another mutter of your name snaps your gaze up to find Yuta standing a foot from your bedside now, his brow wrinkled, holding his hand in the other—
Fuck.
“Oh my god, Yuta, I’m sorry — I was having a—“ you cut off a moment, you didn’t know whether to call it a dream or a nightmare, “just, I’m sorry,” you cover your face with your hands, “I barely remember getting into bed last night,”
He waves you off, “It’s ok, I know you had a rough night,” he offers a small smile, “I had to help you into bed — you were a little out of it, so I just stayed on the couch,”
You groan, wishing you could burrow into the Earth and never emerge, “I’m sorry, it won’t happen again—I’m sorry I made you stay—“
“You don’t have to apologize,” he says softly, “I’m your friend — I’m here for you,” and you swallow, tears burning at your eyes again, “s-sorry, did I?”
And you shake your head before slipping out of bed and hugging him, “Thank you, Yuta, really,” and he wrapped his arms around you tentatively, “I think you’re my best friend,”
You were so lucky to have him — especially when you needed someone the most.
“Of course,” he murmured, and you didn’t not know his heart was aching ever so slightly, “you’re mine too.”
~~~
“Do you want to talk about what happened with…your boyfriend?” Yuta knew the only way you would be able to heal is by talking about it — and that’s the one thing you had avoided doing all weekend. Sure you talked — but about the movies you were watching, about classes, about anything — then what had happened.
You hadn’t brought it up since that morning, you had washed up and it was as if he had imagined what had happened. You made breakfast, you put on a movie, and you joked about his allegedly questionable restaurant choices. But not a word about your dream or about your breakup.
But he knew he had to ask.
You were just coming off laughing at something that had happened in the rom-com you had switched on, and your lips fell into a seamless frown, as if the facade of happiness melted off with his words.
Your gaze falls, arms tightening around the cushion in your lap, a bitter chuckle falling from your lips, “does anyone ever want to talk about their breakup?”
He furrows his brow, “Bottling it up won’t help you heal from it — the only way is to let it out, and I can’t tell you what to do but—“ he bites his bottom lip, your eyes never lifting to meet his, “I know you need to let it out, one way or another,”
You pause a moment, as you press your face against the cushion, “It hurts too much, Yu, I don’t know if I can,”
“It doesn’t have to be now, I just want you to—“
“We were long distance,” and he’s opening his mouth to cut you off, but you shake your head, “you’re right — if I don’t talk about it now, I never will,”
So you told him. Told him how you both had gotten together right before your boyfriend had received a job offer that required him to move, how the two of you decided to date regardless, and how you continued to be long distance even after he started.
“It just got harder to see each other, and he ran late on my birthday but I didn’t care—“ and Yuta tilts his head, “I mean, I did care — but I knew it was temporary. I was going to graduate and move to be with him—“ and your nails dig into the soft fabric of the cushion, “but it didn’t matter. He thought it was for the best — for my best interest — that we break up,”
He furrows his brow. This, the crying and heartache, was for your best interest? “Why—“
“Because he thought I was limiting my options, that he wasn’t a good enough boyfriend — one that I deserved,” you shake your head, tossing the cushion aside on the couch, “but he didn’t understand — I just wanted him—I knew it would be different when we were together—“ your voice breaks, “but he didn’t want to wait.”
Yuta lets you talk and lets you rant and cry — until you’re asleep after lunch, taking a nap on the couch beside him. And he wonders if this is helping, but at least you’re sleeping now — he spotted the bags under your eyes when he saw you wake in the morning — as if you had spent the entire night tossing and turning.
Was this okay for him? He wasn’t expecting anything — aside from your friendship. He didn’t think you were going to wake up and fall in love only because he did what a friend should do. But was it okay for him to be here?
Because he couldn’t quash the little bit of hope that inched its way into the crevice of his heart that maybe you’d heal from this — maybe you would be able to get over this and you’d see him, as more than a friend or a best friend. He wanted to think he would do this even if he didn’t have feelings for you — it would probably be easier if he didn’t.
But the facts stand that his motivation was corrupt — he chuckled, fuck, even the philosophy you had dosed him with, during your meals and student government meetings, was infecting his mind. Motivation mattered — because if you know or expect a reward from doing something, no matter how hard you try, your motivation will always be just that,
And his eyes slide to you — fast asleep as he grabs the throw blanket on your couch and gently places it over you — but he wouldn’t mind being corrupt, if it meant he could stay with you.
~~~
“She broke up with her boyfriend?” Maki raises an eyebrow, placing her drink down, “and you still haven’t told her?” Maki’s judgment pierced through Yuta, even as he couldn’t quite meet her gaze, biting his lip, “what are you waiting for? For her to get back together with him?”
“Maki, I can’t make a move so soon—she’s vulnerable—“
She sighs, leaning back, as she crosses her arms, “Well, you’re a good guy for that, but you need to do something, even if it’s not confessing. You should try spending more time with her, encourage her to open up more—“
“I don’t know — I don’t want to overstep—“
“Yuta,” Maki cuts him off, “you’re a good guy and you deserve to be happy — you spend a lot of time worrying about other people, and not enough time thinking about yourself. If she’s not ready right now that’s fine, but she might not realize she’s ready until someone helps her to,” she tilts her head, her fingers beginning to toy with the straw of her drink, “I just don’t want to see you regret hesitating,”
Yuta’s phone went off — your name flashing on the screen, hey, are you free to hang out and watch a movie tonight? Finally finished working on my thesis proposal for the night!
Maki glances at his phone, raising an eyebrow, “just don’t wait too long, “or you may end up alone, either way.”
~~~
“I told you we should have gotten dumplings tonight,” you grumble, as the two of you take your takeout back to your apartment, the sun beginning to dip below the horizon, “I can’t believe the sushi place was closed,” you pout.
And Yuta bites back a smile — his cheeks burn — god, you’re so cute. It wasn’t fair. He knew you were just mostly teasing — only so you could have the pick of the movie tonight — which you knew he’d give you anyway.
The two of you had settled into these weekly movie nights on Fridays, which had a 70% chance of devolving into a weekend of hangouts amidst work for your programs. It had been weeks since your breakup — and your sadness seemed to ebb with each passing day, normalcy seemingly returning.
“We could have gone there—“ and you give a long, over dramatic sigh, shaking your head.
“It’s fine, but if this food sucks, I will be holding this over your head,” you bump him with your shoulder, a smile on Yuta’s lips, and right then someone calls out Yuta’s name. The two of you glance back, and Yuta blinks as he spots his friends.
“Toge, Panda,” Yuta greets them, Toge’s hands raise as he begins to sign—
Hey, who’s your friend?
Yuta replies, before gesturing to you, introducing you by name, “we’re just headed back to watch a movie—“ and he points from the shorter one to the taller one, “this is Toge and Panda,” Panda flashes a knowing smile, adjusting his leather jacket, head tilting as he gives you a small once over. Toge’s lips are covered with his face mask, his dyed silver hair brushing against his forehead —
Panda grins between the two of you, “Ah it’s good to meet you — I heard about you from Yuta, and Maki," he adds, while Yuta shoots him a look that he hopes that you don’t notice, “how’s the work in student government? I hope Maki isn’t working you too hard,” but you seem oblivious to it, only smiling between the two of them.
“No it hasn’t been bad, and Yuta has made it really easy. He’s been a really big help—“ and Panda before leaning over to whisper in Yuta’s ear.
“You have a chance with her, don’t mess it up,” Panda’s elbowing him, before clapping him on the back, his arm slinking around his shoulders, while Yuta tries to will his blush to leave his cheeks, “well we should let them get going, right, Toge?” and Toge nods, and Yuta only knows Toge has a smile hidden under his mask as well, flashing a thumbs up out of your line of sight, while you glance between Yuta and Panda, “you two love birds have fun!”
And Yuta stammered, “We’re not together like that,” he’s shooting a glare at Panda’s back as the two of them walk off, waving. And his eyes snuck a glance at you, but you seemed unfazed, only tilting your head — and shit, his head was spinning, heart doing its best to exit via his chest by banging against his ribs. Did you know? Was it obvious? Was this it?
“I didn’t know you knew sign language,”
And apparently it wasn’t.
“Uh, yeah, yeah, I learned when I met Toge in high school,” he offers a forced smile — but relief isn’t the only thing that floods his system, disappointment comes in waves — because again, here he was, right back at the start.
The two of you continued to chat on the walk back to your apartment, his fingers curled tightly around the handles of the takeout bag as you pulled out your keys, wondering how many more times would he do this — how many more times would he think you realized his feelings only for it to remain unspoken? He was more than okay to stay your friend, but — he watched you open the door to your apartment — would he regret not taking a shot at being something more?
And as you glanced back at him, a smile on your lips, he knew he would.
~~~
You didn’t think it would — but it had gotten easier, easier to be without Suguru.
There were days you still had woken up crying, there were other days you had almost forgotten.
Almost.
But now in hindsight, adjusting to life without Suguru hadn’t been much different than being with him the last few months. Not when the two of you had barely seen each other. You had put away his things, tucked away the memories, and picked up the scattered parts of your life —even though you couldn’t find the piece he had taken with him.
But even so, you had finally felt as if you boarded up the love the two of you had built, one that he had set on fire and burnt the insides to nothing but ash and smoke — the same fire that had you coughing up the broken pieces of your heart — throat burning with his name on the tip of your tongue.
Even so — your fingers found the dragon pendant under your shirt, some things were harder to let go than others.
But it shouldn’t be hard, right? Love shouldn’t present so many obstacles — it should be simple, easy — not difficult and tenuous. And that’s all your relationship had been — only due to circumstance, but sometimes that was enough.
And in your case, it had been too much.
But you knew you couldn’t have made it through without Yuta. Your eyes slide to him, his face illuminated only by the glow of the TV — lights turned off for the best movie night experience. Or at least not as quickly as you did. He was leaning back against the couch, his head leaning towards your side.
You bite your lip. Your mind wanders to what Panda had said — love birds — it hadn’t been the first time someone had commented on the two of you together. How many of your friends had made some comments about Yuta, even the ones in student government (Maki in particular had been dropping not so subtle hints)? How many of them had you brushed off without a second thought?
But now — ever so conscious of his weight beside you on the couch, of every twitch of his fingers, shift of his limbs — you had second thoughts.
You had tried your best to play off Panda’s comment, and Yuta did the same, the two of you had grown used to dancing around this topic. And before you hadn’t thought of Yuta that way in the slightest— not with everything going on — not with your mind still full of Suguru.
But now…His eyes softly lit by the bouncing lights of the movie, until they found yours, and somehow growing even softer, as his lips curled.
“Need something?” When was it that Yuta could make your heart flutter with only a smile? He was a friend — right? Just a friend, but now—
He leans over, your heart squeezing as he does — your eyes nearly fluttering shut, his hand brushing your cheek, only for the barest of touches. And your cheeks burned in the dim light of the TV.
“You had something on your cheek,” he explains, and you nod, biting your lip — as you snap your gaze away, and a small chuckle on his lips, “What is it?”
What was it about him now? His smile was just a smile, his eyes were just eyes, and his presence was only comfort. And now — his smile made your stomach bloom with butterflies, his eyes were depths you wished to swim in, and his presence gave you comfort but in the loneliest of ways — the gap between you both a cliff you stared down, unable to jump.
So you shake your head instead, “It’s nothing,” you smile as you press your knuckles to your lips.
Maybe your head was full of someone else for once.
~~~
“Do you want to grab dinner tonight?” You ask Yuta — a routine for most other weeknights, as you grabbed your bag, as you wait for him outside the conference room as the student government meeting ended for another week, “I heard this new restaurant opened up near my apartment, and we could hang out at my place after—“
“I—“
“Yuta?” A cute girl comes up to Yuta, and he smiles as he greets her, she pulls Yuta aside, as he chats with her just out of earshot, her hand grazing his shoulder.
And your stomach turns, a twinge in your heart as you watch the two — you don’t remember Yuta mentioning her, but then again, Yuta rarely talked about himself, even when you asked. It was like pulling teeth — and now here he was. Now, he was smiling at a girl you knew nothing about.
What was this feeling? You shifted from foot to foot, restlessness settling over your body as you purse your lips as if to prevent unnecessary words from spilling from your lips. Why did you feel so...helpless? Your arms crossed over your chest as if that would hold you together — keep your heart from falling back into the pieces you had meticulously put back together.
Oh.
Oh.
You watched them talk, as the girl finally seemingly said her goodbye and flashed a small smile your way before disappearing down the hallway.
“Sorry,” Yuta walks back over, a smile on his lips, but you knew that smile wasn’t for you. Not like before, “yeah let’s grab dinner,”
And you weren’t the same either—
“You have nothing to apologize for,” you force your lips to curl, as you walk past him, “let’s go,”
—because you were jealous.
~~~
“Yuta, have you thought about dating?'' Your question comes seemingly out of nowhere one night, right after midterms, and Yuta has to stop himself from spitting out the sip of his tea he had taken, forcing himself to swallow. It doesn’t go unnoticed by you, your eyebrow raising, “you good?”
“Y-yeah sorry,” he clears his throat, hoping his cheeks weren’t flushed red from that, “why do you ask?”
“I was just curious because we’ve talked a lot about my dating life, but nothing about yours,” it was late, or rather early—nearly 3 AM on a Saturday night, the two of you were half asleep on the couch, stuck in a stubborn battle of not wanting to sleep quite yet, “you don’t talk a lot about yourself,”
“There’s not much to say,” he shrugs, and your raised brow tells him you’re not satisfied with his reply, he relents with a sigh, “there was a girl I liked when I was a kid — Rika, we met when I was in the hospital,” and your lips twist into a frown, “I was sick a lot when I was little, and that’s when I met Rika. She lived with her grandparents — her parents both had passed when she was even younger. We were inseparable—“ he gives a soft chuckle, “but then she…” his voice wavers.
“You don’t have to—“ and he’s shaking his head.
“We were playing and she went into the street to cross when a car sped by—“ and he shakes his head, “she didn’t make it,” your fingers knit together, before one of your hands finds his.
“You didn’t have to share that if you weren’t ready,” and he’s offering a weak smile, squeezing your hand.
“I wanted to,” he sighs, as he rubs at his eye, “there’s not much I wouldn’t tell you,” and you supposed that was the difference between him and Suguru — communication that wasn’t limited, a conversation that wasn’t one sided, and honesty — without a price.
“So there’s been no one else since Rika?” you tilt your head, and you swear you see a twinge of red across his cheeks, dusting his features even in the dim light.
“Why are you asking?” he says slowly, it feels as if he’s caught you, as your gaze snaps away, a pout on your lips, as you press your knuckles to your lips — and it’s as if he got a hold of your thoughts, “is it because of Kirara earlier?”
“Oh, that’s her name?” Yuta has to bite back a small smile at your narrowed eyes, unable to meet his gaze, “how do you—”
“She’s a friend from high school — and she’s dating another old friend from high school,” he adds, and your eyes snap to his, “I don’t like her like that anyway — she’s just a good friend, and likes to give me unsolicited advice on my fashion sense,”
Your lips curl, “Well you are a little basic in your—” and he cuts you off with a look, and you’re shifting your body to face him fully, “so if it’s not Kirara, you don’t have anyone in mind? Not even a crush?”
Your question feels like an answer in and of itself — along with the look you’re giving him — the same one he had always given you, when you weren’t looking — longing. But what if he was wrong? What if he was projecting? But he could spend his whole time wondering, and never knowing — or he could take the leap.
He chews on his bottom lip, and he steels himself, his gaze turning back to you, “and if I said there was?”
Were you ready for this? Would you ever be ready for this? Suguru still lingered in the back of your mind collecting cobwebs, on the tip of your tongue like a curse unspoken — and yet your forefront was filled with nothing but Yuta — his kindness, his honesty, his straightforward nature — all things you hadn’t gotten from Suguru when it mattered, when it counted. And it would be easy — there would be no complications — other than the complications that always came with relationships and emotions.
But that was far simpler than what you and Suguru had to deal with.
“Then I’d ask you,” your fingers reaching across a line that was meant to be crossed, but one that perhaps you shouldn’t anyway, “what are you waiting for?” and your hand finds his — his hand smaller than the one you’re used to, but warmer and softer.
“I don’t want to rush—” and you’re shaking your head, as your squeeze his hand, fingers laced together, as your thumb runs over his palm.
“We don’t have to,” you murmur, your gaze finding his, and he’s leaning closer to you, as if with a magnetic pull — and you find yourself attracted and not repelled to his pull, “we can take our time, can’t we?”
And his lips curl into a small smile, his dark eyes nearly consumed by the shadows underneath them, but somehow as soft as they always were — “Is this a dream?” he murmurs, whisper like, as if his words would ripple across the surface of reality until it disappeared within its depths, “I wanted to tell you for so long — but I didn’t know it if was too soon or if—”
“I know,” it had been three months, three months since you had your heart broken, but you were tired of wallowing, of trying to put your heart back together by yourself — you may have filled in the cracks, but maybe you needed someone to cement the parts back into one — and maybe Yuta was the one, “and maybe it is, but I want to try,” you admit, “is that wrong?”
And how could he say it was — when it was all he wanted?”
“No,” his fingertips brush against your cheek, “maybe it’s just right.”
~~~
He shifted in his sleep, a warm body pressed against him, his arms slinking around your own, your face buried in his neck in the best way he could imagine. Your fingers raked through his jet black locks, you pressed a sweet kiss to his neck, and a soft groan left his lips.
“Baby, finally awake?” your lips press a smile against his skin, your finger drawing a circle against his chest, “we have to get up soon, we’ll be late,” you murmur, “and I know how you feel about being late,” your nose brushes against his jumping pulse, “Sugu?”
Suguru groans softly, burying his face in your hair, “Five more minutes,” and you chuckle against him, his favorite sound that graces his ears, his eyes fluttering shut again, as he surrounds himself in your scent — the notes of lavender and rosemary from your shampoo, “just want to spend a few more minutes with you, sweetheart — I need you,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to the top of your head.
You hum, rubbing his head softly, fingers curling around one of the locks of his hair, “I don’t recall you gracing me with five minutes when I was late on that first day,”
He groans, shifting only to bury himself in your chest, pressing soft kisses to the valley between your breasts, nose pressed against the hollow of your throat, the cold metal of the dragon pendant against his cheek, “I wasn’t your boyfriend then,” he’s leaning back only to press a sweet kiss to your lips, again and again — it always felt so right being with you.
“But you’re not my boyfriend now,” and he pauses, before glancing up at you, your eyes glassy with tears, “remember?” your fingers ghosted over his cheek.
RING. RING. RING.
His eyes don’t bother to open as he reaches for his phone, turning off the ringer, before his hand reaches for you, only to find an empty space beside him. He flutters his eyes open, glancing over, and finds your absence beside him.
It had been months, but you still haunted him—and he would spend the rest of his life running from the ghost of what could have been—and pretending it doesn’t hurt.
He turns on his side to look away from your side of the bed — even though it still did.
~~~
You stared at the outfits laid out on the bed — practically your entire closet threw up your complete wardrobe, and even so, you couldn’t find a single thing you wanted to wear. Or rather—
You tossed another blouse onto the pile— you couldn’t find a single thing that didn’t remind you of Suguru. One of these he had said brought out your eyes, the other he had picked out for you, and the other he had taken you out on your one month anniversary for a surprise date.
There were too many memories — and too many that you didn’t care to relive. Especially today, as your phone goes off — I’ll be on my way over soon. Are you almost ready?
Fuck. Yuta was on his way almost and you hadn’t even finished picking an outfit.
By almost ready, do you mean not ready at all? You bite your lip, I know it’s silly but I can’t decide what to wear.
You dig two outfits out of the bottom of the pile — and stare at them — you didn’t like to wear new outfits on a first date, but maybe this would be a fresh start for you. One where you could leave behind some of the memories tied around your ankles like anchors, dragging you down the depths of waters you didn’t want to explore any longer.
Your phone goes off again — You’d look amazing in anything — I’ll be there soon.
Your lips curl at the sight of his text — you choose a dress, tugging your shirt over your head and your shorts down, before pulling the dress down. And you adjust your hair in the mirror, before looking closely at yourself — a glint catching your eyes.
Your fingers ghost over the dragon pendant — you hadn’t been able to bring yourself to take it off. But maybe it was time — and your hands reach around unclasping the chain before placing it in the palm of your hand.
Your fingertip traces over the rainbow colored gems — and he wondered if he even still thought of you like you thought of him. It was so easy for him to leave — so did he put you out of his mind while he was at it? You held the necklace over the trash bin next to your vanity — your fingers squeezing at the chain and pendant, as it dug into your skin — should you toss it away like he had with you?
No —you pulled your hand back — no, you couldn’t. You placed the necklace in the box it came in, tucking it away behind some things.
You heard your phone go off again, as you spared one last glance at the vanity, where the box was hidden away—
Because it still meant something to you. Even if it didn’t to him.
~~~
“You complain about my movies, but the one you chose was much worse,” you say as you unlock your apartment, “that plot line made little to no sense,”
“If you suspend your disbelief—“
You stop, your key hanging from your door, as you stare at him, “I can believe that supernatural powers exist in that universe, but why would the universe entrust these powers to the stupidest people alive?” He snorts, as you continue unlocking the door, as you spare a glance at Yuta who is still fidgeting near your doorway, “you gonna come in?”
“I-well, I thought since this our first date, maybe I shouldn’t since you wouldn’t do that one a first date,” and you blink, your lips curling, as you watch him trip over his words, cheeks tinged pink, “not that anything would happen if I did come in—but—“
You step closer, silencing his words, seemingly stuck in his throat, “You really thought a lot about this, haven’t you?” and your fingers brush his, slowly intertwining with his as you bridge the gap, “I really appreciate it,”
He bites his lip, eyes sliding sideways, as he does, before he’s tilting his head again, “I just don’t want you rush into anything, and I don’t want us to still feel like—”
“Just friends I know,” you smile, “well then why don’t we leave it here for tonight, but call me when you get home?” He slowly nods, but he still isn’t leaving, “Yuta?”
And he steps a little closer, your breath catches, stuck in your lungs, as your chest squeezes when his fingers find your cheek, “Can I kiss you?” And your answer comes before you know it as you nod wordlessly.
His lips curl into a smile, as he leans closer and your noses bump, a small chuckle escaping your lips before his lips find yours.
It’s chaste, at first, until his lips find yours in a firmer kiss. He tastes faintly of the salt and butter of the popcorn he just had, and you can feel him smile against your lips, before you both part.
Your lips curl, “Well that is definitely something I never do with a friend,”
“You sure?” He murmurs and you hum, as your foreheads press against the other’s, as your fingers intertwine and you tug him inside your apartment.
“Maybe just the ones I really like.”
~~~
“You look happy,” Maki notes, as Yuta shows up early to work on a project for student government — it had been a few days since their first date, and Yuta had just gotten a text from you asking if he was coming over tonight. His lips quirked upwards as he told you he’d be there after he finished his work, as his eyes flitted up to find Maki’s, “don’t tell me you actually got the balls to ask her—“ and his eyes won’t quite meet her own, a smile on his lips, “fuck, don’t tell me—”
“We had our third date last night—” and he earns himself a hard punch to his shoulder, as he jolts, staring at Maki, “ow! Why—”
“Three dates and you tell me now?” and Yuta’s rubbing his shoulder, as he frowns, “what’s with the face? My punch didn’t hurt that bad,” she takes a seat, and leans back in her chair, as she rifles through the paperwork,
He shakes his head, “I wasn’t sure if I should be going around telling people — it’s new—”
“Wouldn’t you be happy to talk about your relationship?” And he’s hesitating, and Maki’s chair legs clack against the floor as she leans forward again, “what are you so scared of still?”
What was it that he was scared of? That it wouldn’t work out? That he’d lose you before he had even truly had you? That he’d hurt you? And it was true, he was scared of all of those things, but it wasn’t those things holding him back—
“I saw the way she talked about her ex, the smile she had when she would come off talking about him,” he leans against his hand, elbow propped up on the table, “she always had this smile on her face — just this look that I don’t think I’ve ever seen her have with me—“
“A look doesn’t make or break a relationship, Okkotsu,” Maki says with a sigh, “and she was already in that relationship for who knows how long at that point?”
“I know, but—“
“I can’t tell you how to run your relationship but you have to decide whether you’re in this or not — because if you keep comparing yourself, you’ll never be happy,” and Yuta nods, before glancing at her, “what?”
“How do you know so much about this?” Maki crosses her arms, a slight blush on her cheeks.
“You’re not the only one with a social life—“ but she cuts him off before he can ask more questions, “but this is about you, not me,” she leans forward, “you need to focus on your relationship now, not her old one,”
And he nods — he needed to trust you, otherwise this would never work with his head stuck in the past or looking into the future. Otherwise, this insecurity would seep like poison into his present — and he would lose you anyway.
“You’re right, thanks Maki,” and his phone goes off again, another text from you — I miss you — come soon.
Maybe he just needed to trust you — and himself. But even so, as he typed his reply to you — I’ll pick up dinner on the way. I’ll be back soon. Promise — but why was it so difficult?
~~~
“Ah, Yu,” you murmured against his lips before swallowing your words completely, you were even prettier breathless than he had imagined. Well, more like than he had dreamt. He had resisted the urge to fantasize about you, thinking it would be disrespectful, crossing a line that wasn’t meant to be crossed. But that didn’t mean he could control his subconscious when he would slip into the embrace of sleep.
He’d see you beside him on the couch, and you’d lean over and simply find his lips as if you’d done it a million times before. And he’d melt into your touch with such practiced ease, his fingers skimming over your sides, and he was desperate for more, more, more. He would only slide his hands up your thighs, fingertips brushing against the fabric of your panties before he’d wake in sweat soaked sheets and his cock straining against his boxers.
This was so much better.
It had started on the couch just like his dream, the two of you lying together, cuddling on the couch as the two of you half watched a movie.
“Are you sleepy?” He asked softly, tucking a strand behind your ear, and you shake your head, as you shift closer to him, half of your body pressed against him. He did his best not to shift much, as you move even closer to him, nearly lying on top of him, “what—“
His breath catches as you lean closer, “can I—“ and he’s nodded without a second thought, as your lips found his, and his fingers found your hips. His tongue grazed the seam of your lips before slipping inside, and he eagerly steals your breath from your very lungs. And you’re moving, now lying squarely on top of him, your hips pressed against his, as his already hard cock throbs against your cunt.
He bites back a moan when he feels just how wet you already are, soaking through your shorts and drenching his sweatpants, “Fuck,” he murmurs, as your lips both part for a breath, as he cups your chin, only to press hot kisses to your burning skin, “baby, you taste so good,”
And that’s where he found himself now.
Your tiny gasps and murmurs of his name, as his lips explored what skin he could reach, while his hands slid up and down your body, now warm palms resting above your hips, toying with the hem of your shirt.
“Yuta, please,” the whine in your throat makes the heat grow thicker been you two, the movie fading into but white noise, as he cards his fingers through your hair, “don’t tease me,”
And he’s swallowing thickly, his dick twitching at the thought of taking this further — the two of you had done everything but this step, your hands had grazed under the other’s clothes, grinded against each other as you made out, but one of you would end up stopping it for one reason or another. It was a game of chicken, one or the other seemingly daring the other to take that step — but neither of you had.
But now — as his thumb dragged over your puffy, kiss ruined lips, “Do you want to?” he asks an unspoken question, his resistance weakening to your touches, your fingers ghosting up his chest before one of your hands finds his cheek.
“I do,” you answer, but bite your lip, “I’m just…a little nervous,” and his lips press a sweet kiss to your forehead.
“We can always wait — I never want to make you feel uncomfortable, baby,” he’s featherlight in his touches now, “it’s up to you,” and it was — he would wait for you, as long as you wanted him.
You smile at him, finding his lips in another kiss — he didn’t know it was possible for someone to be this soft, or feel this good — he could taste the sweetness of ice cream you had ate earlier on your lips, but you were so much better than any dessert.
Your fingers rake gently through his hair, “Let’s move to the bedroom?”
~~~
You wanted Yuta — you did. You had for the weeks the two of you had dated. It had been almost two months, and the two of you hadn’t had sex yet. There wasn’t a reason to rush, but there wasn’t a reason not to. The line had been edged to the brink of insanity — for the both of you. There was always seemingly a reason to stop — an early class, a late night, stomach upset — and it always felt like timing was just off. But it wasn’t always just the timing.
It was also you.
Every time you and Yuta got close, each time you felt even an ounce of pleasure, the guilt of Suguru would claw up your throat, again and again. And you were sure Yuta had noticed. But even if he had, you didn’t know a way to explain without making him think you were still in love with Suguru — which you weren’t.
You didn’t think you were. The guilt lingered, like blood dried from a still open wound, scabbed over but not healed, easily reopened with even a scratch or a step. And it felt like with each step you took away from Suguru, you bled more and more — but you didn’t know how to stop the bleeding. You couldn’t stem the bleeding at its source, not when the person you had cut it open didn’t even give you a chance to speak.
And you couldn’t talk to Yuta about it — not when you still hadn’t explained who Suguru is — and what exactly he does for work. Or much of anything else and you didn’t even know how to begin that conversation or why it would be necessary. Does he need to know all of that when you would be graduating soon enough and Suguru would be only a distant memory.
But you hoped Yuta wouldn’t be.
Your fingers laced with his as you led him to your bedroom — as you pull him inside, shutting the door behind you. You gently guide him onto your bed and have him sit while you stand, your fingers cupping his face, as his breath hitches at your proximity. His lips parted ever so slightly, as a pretty pink settled over his cheeks.
“Baby, are you sure?” His lips are half twisting in a frown, eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips and back again, “I don’t want—“
And your lips find his in a soft kiss, pressing yourself between his legs, as your hands find purchase on his shoulders, “I want you, Yuta,” you murmur, you were tired of letting the past dictate your present — you wanted to move forward, “don’t you want me too?” And your lips ghost over his jaw up to his ear, as you whisper in it, while leaving kisses that make his body shiver, wondering if you’ve turned his blood to ice or made it turn to steam with how his skin burned.
“You’re not playing fair” he mumbles, as he buries your face in the crook of your neck, and you laugh, your fingers skimming the back of his neck.
“I’m here to win, we never said anything about fair,” you twirl the black locks resting against his neck, your lips press another kiss to his cheekbone, “you still haven’t answered my question—“
“Of course I want you,” he looks up at you, his need like a spark catching fire on your body, “I always have,”
“Well I’m right here,” you murmur, you tilt his chin up, fingers threaded in his black locks, “what are you going to do about it?”
~~~
Yuta was going to lose his mind — but it’s just as well, you already had his heart.
At your words, he’s tugging you even closer as he moves back on the bed, gaze hot as he watches you move, sitting on his lap — knees on either side of his waist. Fuck, you felt so good against him, plush thighs pressing into his hands already sliding down your lower back and grazing your ass to press you impossibly closer.
“Good boy,” you murmur, and his blood flees his cheeks to his cock, twitching against your clothed cunt, and you smirk, a giggle escaping your lips, “you like that, huh?” you breath against his ear, “my good boy,”
And in an instant, you’re pinned under him, and you’re blinking up at him, smile exchanged for parted lips, as his hands slide up your sides, and he’s leaning down to kiss you. His mouth burns against yours, tongue teasing the seam of your lips, before they part for him.
“Now who’s being good for who?” he murmurs, as he pulls back with your teeth catching his bottom lip between your teeth. He groans, grinding against you, the length of his cock grinding against your clothed slit, “you won't let me have a moment, can you?” He murmurs, a red flush on his cheeks that makes you grin.
“Not as long as you’re with me, Yu,” and god, that nickname for him makes his head spin— it’s already so much — the picture of you spread so prettily for him, your thighs parted under him, shirt riding up, just asking for him to slide underneath, and your bodies pressed together in all of the right places, as if neither of you could get close enough.
And apparently you couldn’t, as you guide his hands to the hem of your shirt, and you’re helping him pull it over your head before tossing it onto the floor. And he sees nothing underneath, your nipples pebbled and hard under his gaze, so pretty for him.
When his fingers twitch, you chuckle, “touch me,” and your words melt away his reservations, as his hands find your breasts, warm palms squeezing and teasing the soft flesh. He leans down and presses a kiss to one of your pert nipples, his tongue flicking the pert bud, drawing a small gasp from your lips, a pretty noise he wants to make fall from your lips again and again. Your head falls back into your pillow, as he switches sides, teasing the one with his lips, while he rolls the other between his index and thumb.
“Fuck, Yuta,” he smiles against you, as his lips begin to kiss down your body, starting with the valley of your breasts before trailing wet kisses down your stomach, until he reaches the waistband of your shorts. And his eyes are flicking up to meet yours to ask silently, and your nod is all it takes for his fingers to dip in and tug the thin fabric down your legs, fingers dragging along the dips and curves of your legs as he does. He bends down to steal kisses to your swell of your hips and the crown of your knee.
“S’pretty,” he’s mumbling, as his eyes find the wet patch on your underwear, fabric messy and soaked through as it cling helplessly to your hard clit, “how are you this pretty, baby?”
“All for you, sweet boy,” you’re murmuring, as you hiss when he’s teasing your clit through your panties, “Yu, fuck—“ he could cum just listening to you — he doesn’t know what he’ll do once he’s inside you—
But one step at a time.
He’s leaning down to press a kiss to it, before he’s slipping two fingers into the elastic to tug it down, with a nod from you. He’s pressing kisses and nips to your inner thigh, relishing in the marks he leaves on you — ones that he and you would only see. And finally you’ve kicked your underwear off, fully bare for him.
“How do you smell so sweet?” he’s whispering, as his eyes drag over your exposed folds, and a whimper escapes your lips, he can’t wait to make you moan. And he’s bending down to drag his tongue over your dripping cunt, a thick stripe that has you gasping, fingers winding their way into his black locks, nails digging deliciously into his scalp.
And you taste even better than he imagined — so good that he's already lapping at your folds, tip of his tongue flicking over your clit — and he hears the wrinkle of the sheets as your toes curl into them. He’s rutting into your mattress, ready to cum in his boxers at how good your pussy feels — dick nearly bursting at the thought of having your cunt around him.
“Fuck, baby,” you’re swearing under your breath, as your body tenses under his tongue, he begins to slurp at your juices. His hands find their way under the soft flesh of your thighs to tug you flush to his lips, “Yu, so good,” and all he can hear are the lewd sounds of his tongue buried in your pussy, working your walls open, pretty walls fluttering around him, “feel so good, ngh, ah—” your eyes find his, and it’s enough for him to blow his load then and there — eyes blown out with lust as they meet his own, your lips parted in lovely pants and moans.
And he knows you’re close, can feel it in the way your walls shudder, and he’s burying himself in your cunt, fucking you open with his tongue while he rubs your clit in quick circles.
“Yu, I’m cum—“ and you cut yourself off with a moan, back arching as you cum hard, his name on your lips, and he’s eating you out through your orgasm, greedily drinking every bit of release you give him. And it’s only when it’s too much, your body slightly shaking, as you gently pull at his hair, that he eases off.
You watch him with half lidded eyes as he pulls away, still between your thighs — lips and chin glossy and drenched in your release. He licks his lips and chin clean, watching you come down from your high, fuck, the way your walls clench around nothing makes him want to bury his face back in your folds.
“So good, Yu, s’good for me,” you’re panting, sweat slicked against your skin, as you’re gently tugging at him, and he obliges, keening at the praise as he slips up your body until your lips find his. You moan, tasting yourself on his lips, a sloppy, messy kiss that leaves him breathless.
And you’re flipping you both over, his eyes dilating at the sight of you, eyes raking over his body, eager hands thumbing at the hem of his shirt.
Your lips in a smirk that leaves his dick throbbing, “my turn, Yu, let me make you feel good,”your hands make quick work of his shirt, tugging it up and over, tossing it in the growing pile of clothes in the corner of your bedroom.
Your lips press sweet kisses all over his chest, fingers teasing his chest, but you have bigger intentions in mind, as your fingers quickly find their way to the waistband of his sweatpants. And with a nod given, you’re deftly tugging it down with a raise of his hips to pull the fabric off and kicked away, leaving him only in his boxers.
You bite your lip when you see the large wet patch from his pre, your fingers teasing his slit through the fabric, drawing a hiss from his lips. He swallows, watching your pretty lips bend down to press a kiss to his cock through the fabric. And it’s enough for him to lose his mind completely, “please,” he whimpers, and you smile down at him, dragging your thumb down his lips.
“Please what?” you ask innocently, for someone whose fingers were grazing his erection the way they were, he swallows as he watches your finger trace up and down his clothes cock, “what do you want me to use? My hand? My mouth?”
And he’s shaking his head, “Anything, just please I need—“ and your fingers dip into the elastic of his boxers, snapping it against his skin, a yelp escaping his lips that makes you giggle, “that’s not nice—“ and he’s gasping when your lips press a hot kiss to his hip, your eyes lidded with desire.
“Who said I was nice?”
~~~
You were going to be the death of him, and with the way your fingers tug down his boxers — finally freeing his cock, slapping against his stomach as it does — it would be a sweet death.
“Didn’t know your cock was so pretty like the rest of you, Yu,” and it was, so long and thick, pearly precum dripping down his flushed length, veins that ran up and down the length that you were far too eager to trace, “can’t wait to taste you,” you’re murmuring, as your tongue flicks down against his slit.
“B-baby, please,” his hand is covering his face, but you reach up to pry it away, seeing the lovely red that settled over his cheeks, lips parted in need as he painted, “please—“
And your fingers wrap around his dick, thumbing the slit and working the precum up and down his length. And he’s moaning your name on his lips again and again, as you kiss his tip sliding your fingers down to his base and squeezing. And when your lips part for him, sliding his length in your mouth, his head falls back against the pillows, eyes squeezed shut as he can’t help but roll his hips into your mouth. And when his tip brushes the back of your throat, it’s enough for him to cum right then and there, but he doesn’t want to — not yet, not until he’s inside you.
He’s easing you off, watching strings of pre and your spit connect you to his aching cock, as you look up at him, and he’s pulling you into a messy kiss, tasting his own pre on your lips.
“I need you,” he’s murmuring, fingers finding your hips, “baby, please,”
You smile, parting from him, “how do you need me?” And he’s swallowing, cock twitching, and he knows he’s one stroke too fast from bursting — so he needs control.
“Lie on the bed, baby,” and you do, easing from between his legs, and onto your back, head against the plush pillows. He parts your legs for you, warm palms squeezing your flesh teasingly, drawing a whine from you, he presses your thighs up, letting them hook around his back, as his skin meets yours. And god, you’re perfect, “how did I get so lucky? You’re so perfect, so pretty,” and he’s slotting himself between your thighs, fingers lining up his cock with your dripping slit, his curiosity getting the better of him as he drags the head up your messy folds still slick with your release, and groans as he watches your walls flutter around nothing, “so good for me, are you ready, baby?”
You’re nodding, “please Yu, I need—” and his tip is sliding into you, his length stretching your walls far too well, and it’s enough for him to cum right there — as your cunt adjusts to his size, dragging against you as he pushes past your entrance. It’s enough for him to cum right there, but he wants it to be good for you both — wants you to hear you praise him again, wants to hear you say his name again and again until you fall apart on his cock.
And finally he’s bottoming out, a moan from both of your lips, your walls fluttered around his length, your head lolls back a moment, before your eyes flutter open and meet his, “S’good, Yu, please, move,” and he’s cupping your cheek, pressing a sweet kiss to your lips, before he begins to fuck you slowly.
The echoes of your skin meeting his rings in hie ears, needy walls pulling you back in even as he tried to pull out, sinking deeper and deeper each time he fucked you.
He’s burning, ready to melt at your very touch, putty in your hands to bend and shape at your will, even as you swallow him whole, he’s ready for you to consume every inch of him with your being.
“Feels s’good, Yuta,” you’re moaning, legs around his hips pulling him impossibly closer, “such a good boy,” and his cock twitches, your mixed releases forming a ring around the base of his length, “s’good, need more,”
And he’s groaning, as your wet squelches fill the silence between both of your moans and pants — and you’re close, as he gives a particularly deep thrust that finds the spot that has you seeing stars. Your head falls back, lips parted in his name, “Yu, I’m close — ngh, please—“ and he’s smiling, his cheeks surely flushed blood red, panting, as he reaches between your bodies to find your clit.
“Cum f’me, baby,” he’s murmuring, and you’re nodding, as you fall apart for him, toes curling as you cum hard around him, making him groan your name as he spills his warm seed inside you, pumping slowly as he does. His body slows as you both come down from your highs, and he slowly rolls off of you, running fingers through your hair and pressing sweet kisses, “are you okay?” he murmurs, eyes soft with affection, but laced with concern.
You smile, “I’m more than okay,” you press your face into his chest, and he’s shivering at your touch, pulling you even closer, “I’m with you,” and his fingers run up and down your cheek, before leaning down to meet your lips in a soft kiss.
That’s right, he smiles as he kisses your forehead — he was with you. And the past didn’t matter — when he was in your present.
“I’ll always be with you,” he mutters against your lips.
And hopefully in your future.
~~~
“What are you doing, I thought you were almost done,” Yuta mumbles against the soft skin of your neck, pressing sweet kisses that did nothing but sap the need for productivity from your very veins — leaving only behind thoughts of his touch behind, “baby,”
“Yu, I promise I’m almost done, I just have to send this email about my thesis and you’ll have my undivided attention,” you both had been stuck in the end of the semester rush, trying to find time for each other — leaving you stressed out and Yuta a little needy. That’s what this night was supposed to be for — a chance to reconnect, and yet here you were working. But you had to send this thesis out or you knew Yaga would have your head for delaying your work on your outline for so long — something you would be spending next semester fleshing out into a full thesis you’d be presenting.
He nods, but continues to pepper you with kisses, your skin nearly molten under his touch as his arms wrap around your waist to pull you further into his lap instead of beside him on the couch, “After all the work I did to snag Professor Yaga as my thesis advisor, I cannot let the department head down with my draft,”
He hums, vibrations making you nearly shiver, “I know, I’m really proud of you. I know you’re going to have something really special by the end of the year,” and you shake your head.
“I just hope I make it past the defense — it’s the most nerve wracking part,” you sigh, “a room of my peers and professors staring me down while I discuss the work I’ve done,” you proof read the email for the millionth time — scanning for any errors and make sure the attachment is the correct attachment — and finally click send, and sigh before relaxing into his arms.
“Can I come to your defense?” Yuta asks, perking up, and you smile, leaning back against him.
“Are you sure you’d want to come? It’s going to be just me rambling about my thesis and answering a bunch of questions,” you kiss his jaw softly, nosing the small hickey you left blooming on his pale skin last night, “might not be the most exciting thing,”
“I want to support you, as long as you want me there,” and you can’t help but wonder — would Suguru show up to your defense? The thought makes your stomach churn at the thought of them watching you present, eyes flitting from one to the other. You had doubts he would show himself there — but the only catch was if Yaga would twist his arm. And then what? You had nearly blown your relationship wide open once before when you had ran into Suguru in front of Yuta—
You couldn’t risk it again.
“Let me think about it, ok?” You nuzzle your nose against his cheek, as he frowns, “I just think if I have you there, I might get too nervous—“
He shakes his head, “Whatever makes you comfortable, either way, we’re going to celebrate right after,” and you tilt your head.
“What if I don’t pass?” And he shakes his head.
“If hell freezes over, I think we’ll have bigger problems,” and you snort, “but on the very off chance you don’t, you still accomplished something incredible—“ and your lips find his, and he melts into your kiss after a moment.
“Thank you,” you whisper, “I’m so lucky to have you,” and he curls his lips into a sweet smile.
“I’m the lucky one,” and his lips press against yours this time, meeting yours again and again, until you’re placing your laptop aside, and turning to sit in his lap, “baby,” heat rolls off his body in waves, as your fingers trace down his chest.
“I heard someone wanted my undivided attention tonight,” you smile, before taking your phone and placing it on ‘do not disturb,’ “well now what are you going to do with it?”
He smiles, “Don’t know if we’ll have enough time for everything, but,” he presses a kiss to your jaw, “we can try,” and the two of you are making your way to the bedroom soon enough, unaware that you had gotten an important email that night—
From: Suguru Geto
Subject Line: Regarding Your Thesis Advisor
~~~
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you’re adjusting your hair as you sprint your way to Professor Yaga’s office. This is what you get for staying up far too late with your far too tempting boyfriend. And now you woke up thirty minutes before the meeting, with barely enough time to make it on time, much less breath. Yuta gave you a kiss goodbye, but that’s all he had time for — before you were out the door.
But you finally reached Yaga’s door, catching your breath when you took a second to regain your composure before knocking. You blinked — weird, his door was usually open. And the door opens, but it isn’t Yaga—
It’s Suguru?
It’s Suguru.
You stare at him, wondering if this is another twisted nightmare you had ensnared yourself in, but no — it isn’t. Because even your subconscious couldn’t make a scenario this twisted. His lips parted to say something, but you beat him to it.
“If you’re meeting with Professor Yaga, I can come back at a different time, Professor,” the title slips from your lips without barely a thought, but it carries far too much weight. A flicker of emotion catches on the corner of his lips and in the glint of his eyes, but it’s gone as quickly as it came.
“You’re on time, but I still you did not have the time to check your email before this meeting,” he tilts his head, as you blink slowly, “please come in and have a seat,”
And you do, taking a seat across from him as he sits on the other side of the desk, you shift in your seat, as you take him in for the first time in months — his hair was still long, black tresses brushing against his shoulders, hair half up in a neat bun near the crown of his head; his eyes tucked behind his glasses for once, but you could see the burgeoning beginnings of dark bags under his eyes; and his clothes were meticulous as always — and you spot the tie pin he has — it’s the one you had gifted him near the beginning of your relationship — a joke that you had made about pinning him down in class turned into a gift.
And that makes your neck feel all the more bare.
“Is Professor Yaga ok?” and Suguru sighs, running his fingers through his hair.
“He’s fine, he is sick at the moment — and receiving treatment,” you sigh in slight relief, “so he’s decided to take the rest of this semester off, as well as next semester,” and you sigh, leaning back as you cover your lips with your hand.
“Is he going to be—”
“He has a good prognosis, and his son’s with him, looking after him, so it should be fine,” he says softly, and his lips curl in a small smile, as he flips through the papers on Yaga’s desk.
“What’s with the smile?” and he shakes his head, as he rifles through the stacks of paperwork, until he seemingly finds what he’s looking for.
“Nothing, just noticing that your habit of worrying about others before yourself hasn’t changed,” and you glare slightly at him, pursing your lips, as he slides a stapled stack of papers to you.
“And what’s this—”
“Your thesis proposal,” and you take it, flipping through and grimacing at the red pen, “and my thoughts on it,” you scoff, as you see the familiar picture of his scribbles and notes in the margins of your work.
“It looks like old habits die hard for the both of us,” as you finish flipping through, but your brow knits together as the pieces of news start to fit together like a puzzle — with a very mortifying picture, and your eyes meet his, slowly — the news going as well over as a lead balloon, and crashing down on your head like one, “so does this mean—”
His lips curl in a small smile, “I’ll be taking over as your thesis advisor — for the rest of the year.”
✧ a/n: it was supposed to be the last part and now! we have. one more part since i decided i wanted to flesh out the final arc a little more! one more part of this and it will be all done...:)
✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy , @difficultdomains , @diogodxlot , @that-goth-bisexual , @dazailover1900 0, @aliyalala , @ashhlsstuff , @blue041803 , @mwtsxri i , @bblgumfairy , @sukunasleftkneecap , @xo-evangeline , @fiannee , @teatreeoilll , @chalametet , @ryukaver , @d1gitalbathh , @saga3ious , @seventhcinema , @satosugucide , @your-l0nely-star , @sokkasmoon , @deegausserr , @hyookka , @oggsyy , @littlebitb , @higuchislut , @ti-mame , @itoshisins , @cerene-dipity , @onionsoop , @sinlillith , @izzythenaive , @lalacute03 , @rxndou , @c-themoon , @xxrag-d0llxx , @hqtoge , @sugarxlumps , @hopeluna , @actualdeemon , @enchantedpendant , @serendididy , @soulstealercat , @neuviloved , @simply-a-s1mp , @satorusmochis , @maddietries
Enemies/ACADEMIC Rivals to Lovers (yes, that trope specifically) always ALWAYS makes me so happy AAAAAAA especially as a nerd haha
worth the wait a nerdjo fic
pairing ⸺ nerd/academic rival/rich boy!gojo x reader
summary ⸺ you abhor your academic rival, satoru gojo. he's a cocky asshole that you fight with constantly for the spot at first place. but when you finally discover what's underneath all those lame sweaters of his with a once in a blue moon visit at the gym (spoiler alert: he's not a scrawny nerd), you'll be fighting your severe attraction to the man who makes your life a bit harder. and maybe fall in love with him, too, in the process.
warnings ⸺ smut, f recieving oral, praise, he makes you beg for it lol, p i v sex, making out, angst if you squint, a lot of fluff, college AU, nerd!gojo, reader gets insecure sometimes and is treated horribly by her discord mod TA/research advisor, typical misogyny/sexism in STEM fields, but gojo defends her!!!, sleeper build gojo with a happy trail because im a slut, the good old pining and yearning i like. art by @/deltapork
a/n thank u to all my beta readers for editing part of this for me :3 happy valentines day!!!
general masterlist
You blink at your paper.
98.
You suppose you should be happy—it’s a graduate level physics class, anyways. For a moment, you stare at the red markings of the TA that graded it, as if willing an error in the one problem you made a mistake on could make it go away.
2+2=5.
You exhaled sharply, almost fighting back tears. You’d think you could avoid simple arithmetic mistakes, but apparently doing tensor products comes easier than simple addition to you. Shoving your backpack on your chair, you stuff in your laptop and the test haphazardly, not caring that it’s going to get messed and crumpled up in your backpack after your folders and binders jostle around. Fuck that test.
You wouldn’t normally act as if the test had personally wronged you—trust, you were not going to get that heated were it any class. But because of this one class, one person, you knew it was coming. The inevitable.
"Better luck next time." The voice, drenched in smug satisfaction, slithered through the air behind you, his voice and demeanor like a slimy, slimy snake.
Your jaw tightened, but you forced yourself to remain calm as you turned around. And there he was—Gojo Satoru, the bane of your existence, a plague upon your academic record, a walking, talking statistical anomaly who somehow managed to be both infuriatingly brilliant and aggressively insufferable.
He leaned against the desk beside yours, glasses sliding down just enough to reveal the glint of those ridiculously blue eyes. He crosses his arms while they’re covered in that ridiculous, ugly sweater he’s wearing—he’s probably going for the old money aesthetic, but he doesn’t need to know he gives off more “finance bro that helps billionaires evade taxes,” or whatever finance bros do.
“I have no clue what you’re talking about,” you sniff, pretending to act nonchalant while you grab your backpack, swinging it roughly on your shoulder like it was the weight of your grievances against him.
"The test." Gojo unfolded a crisp sheet of paper with the kind of theatrical flourish reserved for revealing royal decrees. A perfect 100, circled in bold red ink.
Your stomach twisted. This is what those two points meant. Two stupid, meaningless, soul-crushing, rage-inducing points.
"Guess that makes it… what, five to three this semester?" He tapped his chin, pretending to count, as if the score wasn’t already seared into your brain like an irreversible branding. "My lead, obviously. But hey, if you ever need tutoring, I could always squeeze you in."
You bite the inside of your cheek in frustration. “I wouldn’t want to impose on the time for any of your hobbies. After all, when will you get the time to watch anime? My 5000 Year Old Girlfriend is Stuck in a Twelve Year Old’s Body, was it?”
He presses a hand to his chest in mock hurt, as if your words had truly pierced him through his chest. “Tut, tut. After all this time, I’d think you’d have my anime preferences memorized since you’re so obsessed with me. It’s Digimon, not whatever pedophilic shit you think I jerk off too.” He pauses, and then his voice drops into a conspiratorial whisper. “But you know Fred, the grad student TA that holds recitation every Wednesday? I just know he’s probably a Discord mod of a server that sends, like, daily tentacle porn. I wouldn’t be surprised if he’s on the Megan's law registry either.”
Now, you have to hold back your smile because Gojo has a point. Fred is not just any TA. Fred is the grad student that mentors you on a research project; the program’s super selective, so when you realized you got him, you couldn’t just back out and give up the opportunity. However, Fred isn’t just a weird–-he’s sooo handsy with his greasy ass hands, so you accept any and all Fred slander. Because he’s your research advisor, you can’t wait to finish the project any faster. He probably would be into underage girls, but you don’t need to express your approval to Gojo, or worst of all, let him think he’s funny. God knows that would get into his head. “Yea, yea. Whatever. Anyways, I hope you have fun with your Pokemon—”
“Digimon.”
“—or whatever. I’m leaving. Some of us have things to do. Later, Gojo.”
You turned on your heel, lest Gojo hook you in with another taunt.
Maybe you needed to blow off some steam, if you’re allowing yourself to lose to Gojo.
Worst of all, it’s become a streak, like two times in a row—one on this quiz, and the other on the midterm a few weeks back. Your mind goes back to the last women in STEM recruiting event you had went to, and, how, in the middle of taking a bite of the delicious margherita pizza they offered, you registered that the woman in the panel had insisted that what helped her power through her PhD and dickwad supervisors was by exercising. Her fervor over pilates could almost qualify as a cult pitch, but it made you pause at the moment. Before you continued to further engorge yourself on the food offered on the charcuterie board.
But maybe it was time to hone your focus in, and some sweaty endorphins might help you get just that.
You’re not really surprised the demographic at your university’s gym looks like the way it does. After all, not only was it renowned for its academics (from all the nepo babies like Gojo whose families donated buildings and had like four generations of alumnus), but it was also a Division I school. So not only was the gym packed but it was packed with men.
As you walked in the hallway towards the room that contained weight machines, gym bag slung over your shoulder, you eyed the glistening backs of the (D1, mind you) men’s swim team through the glass that separated your path and the swimming pool.
Wow, those Speedos really hugged their asses. You imagined Gojo in one, and almost snorted. Rich boy nerd Satoru definitely didn’t learn how to swim; his family’s mansion probably had a twenty year old personal lifeguard that Gojo lost his virginity to, or something. Regardless, he would squint in his silly swim goggles, the exact antithesis of sex appeal while his glow-in-the-dark eyes lit up the pool while he stroked, cheeks puffed like a pufferfish.
Regardless, the smell of testosterone that hits you when you enter the weight area is almost nauseating, and, if you’re honest, a little intimidating. You’re not exactly the fittest of people, so you quickly speed walk past the grunting and sweaty men at the squat machines and barbells, avoiding eye contact and praying furiously that none of them perceive you.
When you reach the dumbbell stands, you hunch over, taking random light weights. Then, you pretend you know what you’re doing while jumping every so slightly whenever anyone comes in six foot distance of you. It’s only when another girl comes in to grab a weight (and when she bends over, you definitely ogle her ass in a way that would get you slapped if you were a man) that your gaze removes itself from where it was focused on the 2.5 lb dumbbell you were previously bicep curling with. To see him.
The glint of ivory hair is unmistakable—you’ve basically gotten off to the fantasy of razoring it off in his sleep. His blue eyes are bored, pretty boy face framed in glasses. Now, he’s giving teenage boy turned to Andrew Tate after a breakup. Black sweatshirt and sweatpants that are too small, because they cling to his legs in a form-defining way. He’s walking over, hands in his pockets, to a barbell station. Slaps some guys on the shoulder as he goes through, gets a lot of daps.
Which is weird to you, because you only the Gojo inside your physics class, not outside. He’s a fucking nerd—a loser that spends his time beefing with you, so why is he so popular when he gives you the time of day?
There are three dimensions to gaining alpha status, or whatever they call male popularity. You have to be 1) rich, 2) really physically fit, or 3) just really charismatic. Considering that Gojo—in all his clothing—-looks like a twink moreso than ripped gym bro, it’s definitely not dimension two. So you conclude that it’s because he’s rich and probably throws yacht parties so these ripped guys don’t push him into a locker, or something.
When he finally reaches his destination, you smirk to yourself. With that scrawny build underneath all those loose sweaters, you know he’s only going to be able to lift the bar, no plates. After all, he was warming up. insulting Gojo in countless of ways by taking jabs at his physique mentally, so you barely register that he’s grabbing for the hem of his sweatshirt, peeling it up—
To reveal his bare torso.
Your first thought: Wow, he has huge bazonkas.
That has easily got to be one of the most built physiques you’ve seen at your college so far. His pectorals basically pop out out of his torso as he moves to grab plates. First, he grabs a really big plate—you’re not a gym expert, so you wouldn’t know the weight—and stacks it. And stacks another. And another. And another, until you’re sure it’s definitely more than your bodyweight.
As you’re staring at him in awe, your 2.5 lb dumbbells hang limply by your sides, abandoning all pretense of training to openly gawk at the clench of his biceps, the sweat rolling down his temple, and the set of his jaw as he stares holes into the bar. And by the way there’s heat creeping up your cheeks you realize one thing:
You’re screwed.
“You know what?”
You keep your eyes on your notes firmly, refusing to look at Gojo sitting right next to you. You don’t know why he always chooses to sit next to you on recitation, really—it’s not like you’re receptive to his company. After all, he could be doing other things—like metaphorically sucking a TA’s dick by talking about their research, where Gojo probably knows more about the TA’s research than they do themselves.
From your periphery, you notice Gojo pouting, then scooting his chair (dragging it, so it makes a god awful screeching noise against the floor tiles that has you cringing) until he’s so close that he slings an arm on the back of your chair and leans in closer and closer. You’re fighting to keep your eyes on your notes, face heating up traitorously until you feel his breath fan across your neck because he’s just so close.
“Rude, ignoring me. Look where that got you.” He then points to a problem on your paper, one you were currently working on. “You’re doing that wrong.”
You finally turn to glare at him, but he’s closer than you anticipated, his face just inches from yours. His grin is all sharp edges and knowing amusement, and it makes your stomach flip in a way you refuse to acknowledge.
“I’m not doing it wrong,” you argue, despite the creeping suspicion that, okay, maybe you did mess up somewhere.
“Oh, really?” Gojo drawls, tilting his head slightly. “Then why is your integral off by a factor of two?”
Your eyes snap back to your notes, scanning through the equations—and, dammit, he’s right.
You huff, begrudgingly erasing the mistake. “Whatever.”
“You know, you should really be thanking me,” Gojo muses, still leaning way too close for comfort. “If I weren’t here, who knows how many mistakes you’d make?”
“She’d have me,” comes a greasy voice, and you have to fight the tears in your eyes that arise when Fred (the aforementioned pedophilic TA and your research advisor) comes, his moldy cheese stench following him as he takes a seat from across you and Gojo. You grudgingly turn your face away from where it was so close to Gojo’s to look at him and sigh inwardly. At least Gojo’s face was prettier to look at.
“Hi, Fred,” you smile tightly, willing him to go away. “We’re good here, so you can help out other students—”
“How was your weekend?” He instead replies, and you wince. Stealing a quick glance at Gojo, it seems that his jaw and posture are uncharacteristically tense.
“Lot of work for the class and for, uh, our research,” you respond, nodding and averting your gaze to your paper and feigning working on a problem so that he would get the hint.
Fred, unfortunately, does not get the hint. Instead, he leans forward, elbows on the table, eyes too focused on you. “You really ought to take breaks, you know. You can give me the code late. Someone as cute as you shouldn’t stress so much. You’ll get wrinkles.”
Your fingers tighten around your pencil, your skin crawling at the way his tone veers into something too familiar, too patronizing. You open your mouth to give a clipped response, but Gojo beats you to it.
“Oh? Didn’t know you were an expert on skincare, Fred,” Gojo drawls, his voice deceptively light. His arm, which was still resting on the back of your chair, shifts just slightly—not quite pulling you in, but making his presence more noticeable. “Though, if we’re giving out advice, maybe you should take your own. I mean, stress must be rough on you too, right? All those late nights grading papers, staring at screens. Takes a toll.”
Fred bristles, but Gojo just smiles lazily, pushing up his glasses as he tilts his head. “Actually, you know what? Maybe we should all focus on our own business. Like, say, teaching, instead of weirdly hovering over students. Crazy thought, huh?”
You swear you see the muscle in Fred’s jaw twitch, but he forces out an awkward chuckle, shifting uncomfortably. “Right, right. Just looking out for her.”
“Don’t worry,” Gojo interrupts smoothly, now fully leaning into your space, his arm draping a little lower behind your chair, “I think she’s got plenty of people looking out for her already.” His voice is soft, but there’s an undeniable edge beneath the words.
Fred lingers for a second too long, but finally, he mutters something about helping another student and stands, walking off with an air of forced nonchalance.
You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, slumping slightly in your seat. Gojo hums beside you, his fingers tapping idly against the back of your chair.
“You’re welcome, by the way,” he teases, but there’s something in his tone that’s softer than usual. He then makes a show of stretching, raising his arms. His sweater rides up a bit, exposing his lower abs and peeks of white that has you averting your gaze, the heat creeping up at his proximity once again. Then, his arm back on your chair. Weirdly, you find that you don’t mind it.
You sigh, resigned. You’ll figure out these feelings later. “Yeah. Thanks, Gojo.”
But you don’t immediately go back to your work, because Gojo suddenly hunches down and whispers in your ear. “Yea, I definitely saw an underage anime girl sticker on his laptop.”
Your responding snort is so loud everyone turns to look at you and Gojo, who is now sporting a mischievous and satisfied smile.
It starts with a single drop, fat and cold where it splats against your wrist. You glance up from your phone just in time to see the sky split open.
“Shit,” you mutter, stuffing your phone into your bag. The library doors shut behind you with a heavy clang, sealing away the scent of old books and the quiet hum of studying students. Outside, the air is thick with the petrichor of freshly fallen rain, and within seconds, the pavement is slick, puddles forming in the uneven cracks of the sidewalk. The streetlights reflect off the wet ground, casting fragmented golden glows against the darkening sky. You’d been studying to grind for the upcoming assignments; after all, to rival Gojo is a no small feat. It’s just unfortunate it seems to take you thousand times more effort than it does for Gojo.
“Guess we’re stuck together, huh?”
You don’t have to turn to know who it is.
Satoru Gojo, standing beside you under the library’s narrow overhang, wearing that insufferable grin like he’s amused by the entire situation. Like the rain personally fell from the sky just to give him an opportunity to bother you.
“I’ll take my chances,” you say flatly, shifting your bag on your shoulder. But as you peer past the downpour, your stomach sinks. The rain is merciless, an unrelenting sheet of water stretching as far as you can see. There’s no way you’re making it back to your dorm without looking like you took a fully clothed shower.
Gojo hums, pulling something out of his bag. You blink when he flicks open a half-broken umbrella, the metal ribs slightly bent like it’s barely holding itself together. He gives it a little shake, sending droplets flying, before glancing at you with a smirk.
“Well?” He lifts a brow. “Wanna be smart about this?”
You do not want to be smart about this. You want to wait out the rain or make a break for it. But the storm shows no signs of letting up, and the thought of walking through it alone makes you hesitate.
Reluctantly, you sigh. “Fine. But I get most of the cover.”
“Hey, sharing is caring.” He tilts the umbrella slightly, just enough to make a point.
With great reluctance, you step closer. The moment you do, you regret it.
Gojo is warm. Even in the damp, chilled air, he radiates heat, standing so close that his sleeve brushes against yours. He smells good, too—like expensive laundry detergent with a faint undercurrent of something sweet, something distinctly him.
You swallow hard, forcing yourself to stare straight ahead as the two of you start walking. The rain pounds against the umbrella, droplets cascading off the edges, and with every step, you’re hyper-aware of the way Gojo moves beside you—loose-limbed, annoyingly graceful, a stark contrast to the crooked metal above your heads.
“Man, this thing’s on its last leg,” he muses, tilting the umbrella just slightly. Water dribbles off the side, landing directly onto your shoulder.
“Gojo!” you yelp, recoiling as the cold soaks through your shirt.
“Oops.” He does not sound remotely sorry.
You glare at him, but before you can snap back, he shrugs off his jacket and—without preamble—drapes it over you.
You freeze.
It’s warm, still carrying the heat of his body, and it smells so much like him—clean, sweet, dizzyingly familiar. Your brain short-circuits.
You force yourself to breathe, keeping your gaze firmly ahead. “You didn’t have to do that,” you say, voice tight.
“I wanted to.”
Something in his tone makes your stomach flip. You glance at him from the corner of your eye, and—
Damn him. Damn him.
Water drips from his bangs, clinging to the sharp edges of his jawline, sliding down the curve of his throat. His shirt sticks to his skin, fabric clinging in a way that reveals the toned lines of his arms, the broad plane of his chest. He’s watching the rain, the usual teasing glint in his eyes softened into something contemplative.
You swear your eggs just recently got released, for you cannot help but avoid your ever going attraction to Satoru Gojo except the age-old excuse: ovulation. Your mind wanders to how his arms would feel around your head, to lay on his chest, how he’d be able to manhandle you, force you to take it—
But you’re snapped out of your inappropriate thoughts by what he says next.
“You know,” he says, voice quieter now, “I like this. Just us, no grades, no competing.”
You pause.
He says it so simply, so easily, like it’s nothing at all. But the words settle deep, curling somewhere warm inside you, and you don’t know what to do with them.
So you do what you do best: you shove them away, bury them beneath years of rivalry, of late-night study sessions fueled by caffeine and stubbornness, of sharp words and sharper glances.
You roll your eyes, forcing a scoff. “Don’t get used to it.”
But even as you say it, your fingers curl into the fabric of his jacket, holding it a little tighter.
It’s been a week since you saw Gojo. He had dropped you at your dorm in a surprisingly gentlemanly way, and you had insisted on returning the jacket only after washing it, to be courteous. What you didn’t mention was how you kept repeatedly smelling it in your dorm whenever you got a reprieve from your roommate’s eyes because Gojo smelled like expensive cologne and he did one thing most nerds / physics majors don’t do: shower. This fact, unfortunately, made you more attracted to him because the bar is truly in hell.
You’ve concluded that these…feelings can’t hurt you and that it isn’t real, like a beefy and shirtless Gojo-looking demon that’ll jump and surprise you from under your bed. So you move on your life, caught in the ever perpetual slog of studying and researching.
Thus, you find yourself at the library once more.
The night hums low around you, quiet except for the occasional shuffle of paper and the distant hum of the library’s espresso machine (only librarians could use it, however. you fervently thought that was a form of elitism, but you digress). You’re at the corner table, the one by the window, where the dim light pools just enough to illuminate your notes but not enough to make you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope. You think you’re alone—until you aren’t.
You don’t have to look up to know it’s him.
Satoru Gojo is hard to miss, even when he’s not trying. He slides into the chair across from you with the kind of ease that makes it seem like he belongs there, like he was always going to end up sitting across from you tonight. His hair is tousled, white strands falling forward in a way that makes him look softer under the warm light. His glasses are perched low on his nose, a rare sight given that he usually has them pushed up like some kind of pretentious scholar.
The two of you don’t speak.
It’s surprising, really. Gojo never runs out of things to say, whether it’s an obnoxious quip or some unnecessarily insightful observation that makes you want to throw your textbook at his face. But tonight, he just pulls out his own notes, taps his pen against the edge of his lips, and starts reading.
You should focus on your own studying, but something about this—this silence, this late-night haze, this tiny moment carved out of time—makes your mind wander. You steal glances when you think he won’t notice. His brows furrow when he’s concentrating, his jaw tightens when he’s stuck on something, and when he exhales, it’s this slow, measured thing, like he’s trying not to get frustrated. He’s just—
He’s just really there.
You’ve spent years defining Gojo as your rival. Your competition. The person standing in your way at every academic milestone. And yet, somehow, somewhere, he’s slipped into something else, something harder to define. Because you’ve seen him like this before—when he’s so focused that he forgets the world around him, when he bites his lip in thought, when he gets so caught up in something that he mutters under his breath without realizing it. And for the first time, it dawns on you: you don’t actually hate it.
You don’t hate this comfortable silence. This moment of peace, a white flag waving lazily between you both.
The hours blur. The café starts to empty. Your notes turn into background noise. It’s late, and the warmth from inside lulls you into something dangerously close to comfort.
A soft sound breaks through the quiet.
You glance up and freeze.
Gojo’s head has tilted to the side, his glasses slipping slightly down the bridge of his nose. His hand is curled loosely around his pen, and his breathing has evened out. He’s asleep.
For a moment, you don’t move. You barely breathe.
Gojo, asleep, is not something you’ve seen before. He’s always in motion, always buzzing with energy, always running his mouth about something. But right now, he’s still. His long lashes cast faint shadows over his cheekbones, and the tension he always carries—the cocky bravado, the smirking sharpness—is nowhere to be found. He just looks… peaceful.
Cutie.
What?
The thought slips in so quickly, so effortlessly, that it nearly makes you jolt. But when you look at him again—head tilted just slightly, glasses slipping down his nose, breathing slow and even—you can’t deny that the word fits. He looks like a lazy cat napping in a sunbeam, limbs loose, utterly unguarded. It’s so unlike him that you find yourself staring, caught in the contrast.
Your fingers twitch. Before you can stop yourself, you reach forward, slow and hesitant, to push his glasses back up his nose. But you catch yourself just before you touch him, as if the warmth of his skin might burn. Your hand hovers in the air for a fraction of a second too long, and then—
You pull away.
Your heart is pounding. It’s fine. It’s nothing. You just need to get out of here.
You gather your things quietly, glancing back at him one last time before slipping out the door into the cool night air. The moment you step outside, you take a breath, deep and shaking. The world feels different now. You feel different now.
Because for the first time, it isn’t just that you find Gojo attractive.
It’s that you care.
And you don’t know what the hell to do about it.
The gym, once again, smells like sweat and overpriced protein powder.
You don’t know what’s possessed you to come here today. Maybe it’s because you keep telling yourself that you need to exercise more, or maybe it’s because you need to take a break from studying before your brain melts. But deep down, if you’re really being honest with yourself, you know the real reason.
Gojo is here.
You spotted him the first time by accident. You were on the treadmill, barely jogging at a pace that wouldn’t embarrass you, when you caught a flash of white hair across the gym floor. And there he was—dressed in a fitted black sleeveless top and joggers, casually loading plates onto a barbell.
And he wasn’t wearing his glasses.
It was a stupid, inconsequential detail, but it made all the difference. Without them, he didn’t look like the annoying academic rival who constantly got under your skin, flashing his smug grin as he beat you in exams by the smallest possible margins. He looked… sharp. Unfiltered. Effortlessly attractive in a way that made your stomach tighten in ways you didn’t like.
You’d seen him in his regular clothes before, of course. You knew he had broad shoulders and long legs, that his body wasn’t just a lanky frame hidden behind layers of sweaters. But here, in the gym, watching him roll his shoulders as he prepped for another set—it hit differently. He was lean but muscular, his arms flexing as he adjusted his grip on the bar, and for some godforsaken reason, you couldn’t look away.
You shouldn’t be watching him. You should be focusing on your own workout, pretending you don’t care. But the way his shirt clung to his back, the way his forearms tensed, the way he exhaled sharply as he lifted—
You’re so screwed.
You force yourself to look away, grabbing the smallest dumbbells available and curling them in what has to be the weakest excuse for a workout imaginable. You’re barely paying attention to what you’re doing, too busy sneaking glances at Gojo between sets. It’s pathetic, but at least no one else is watching you.
Or so you think.
Because then she appears.
A girl.
Tall, toned, and effortlessly gorgeous, with sleek hair pulled into a high ponytail. She strides over to Gojo with a confidence you could never dream of and smiles at him, saying something that makes him laugh. Her ass is definitely bigger than yours, and she’s in this coordinated, cute, pink set, looking like she walked straight out of a fitness TikTok. You can’t hear what they’re talking about over the sound of weights clanking and some obnoxious EDM song blasting through the speakers, but you can see it. The way she leans in, the way she tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear, the way Gojo—
—smiles at her. That easy, lazy grin he always wears when he’s teasing you, except this time, it isn’t for you.
Your grip tightens around the dumbbells, something ugly curling in your chest. It gets worse when she gestures toward the squat rack, and Gojo nods before moving behind her, hands hovering just slightly as she sets up for a squat. You watch as he spots her, one hand resting lightly on her lower back, close enough to correct her form but far enough to be polite. He’s focused, watching her movements carefully, murmuring something that makes her laugh before she drops into another rep.
Your stomach twists.
This is stupid. You have no reason to be feeling this way.
It’s then that it hits you—you can have your silly little academic rival moments with Gojo, but, in the end, you’re just a footnote in his story, a fleeting challenge in a life where everything already belongs to him. He quite literally has generational wealth; he’s not going to spend his life buried in grant applications or clawing for recognition in a field that demands twice the effort for half the reward. He’ll be the one funding the research, sitting at the head of the table, making decisions that shape the future. And you? You’ll be one of the many who struggle just to be in the same room.
He’s the guy who spends his vacations on yachts or private islands—not just surrounded by wealth, but by people who belong there. Girls who glide through life with the same effortless ease as him, girls who don’t second-guess if they deserve to be in the spaces they occupy. Girls who don’t have to fight for their place at the table because it was always set for them.
Girls that are his equal—equally attractive, equally smart, equally rich.
Not you.
You swallow hard, forcing yourself to look away, but the image is burned into your mind. The easy way he talks to her. The way she tilts her head when she listens. The way he doesn’t even know you’re here.
You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care. You shouldn’t care.
But you do.
You grip the dumbbells tighter, exhaling sharply. Then you put them back, pick up your water bottle, and walk out of the gym before you do something stupid.
The office is too small. Too suffocating. Too filled with the weight of unspoken words and the sharp-edged smile of Fred, the TA, as he leans back in his chair and laces his fingers together.
"You know," he begins, voice sickly sweet, "I really expected more from you."
You sit stiffly in the chair across from him, your hands curled into fists in your lap, nails digging crescents into your skin. Your heart pounds, but your face remains carefully neutral. You've been called into his office under the guise of "academic guidance," but you know better. You always know better.
"I don't know what you mean," you say, keeping your voice even.
Fred exhales dramatically, shaking his head. "Come on. You and I both know you're barely keeping up in this project of ours."
You grit your teeth. You're not barely keeping up. You're giving him your work at the highest level, at its best. But Fred—Fred has always had a way of twisting things, making you feel small, insignificant, like your achievements are nothing more than accidents.
“I think my progress speaks for itself,” you respond tightly. Mind you, while he was supposed to be your mentor, you’ve done 80% of the work.
But you think Gojo’s defense of you ran deep into Fred’s heart because by the way he’s sleazily smirking at you, you know he’s trying to get back at you.
He smirks. "Your progress? Sure, you’re smart. But you think that’s enough? You think anyone’s going to care about a girl like you when there are people out there who don’t have to struggle to be exceptional?" He leans forward, voice dropping into something conspiratorial. "You’re wasting your time. The best you can hope for is being someone’s assistant. Maybe a glorified research grunt if you’re lucky. Just like for me."
Your stomach twists. You shouldn’t care. You know you shouldn’t care. But the words burrow deep, hitting a place inside you that already doubts, that already wonders if you’re nothing more than a temporary obstacle in a world built for people like Gojo Satoru—people born brilliant, born wealthy, born effortless.
Fred’s eyes flick over you, assessing, smug. "You’re working yourself to the bone for what? You’ll never be at the top. Not really."
The bitterness of the situation really dawns on you—Gojo’s the one who took a jab at Fred last week, not you. But you’re the one who’s left to deal with its consequences. You’re not going to assign blame and lament that it’s not Gojo in this office dealing with him. It was in your defense, after all.
But Fred’s words remind you. You’ll never be at the top. At Gojo’s level, who’s at the top without even seeming to put in effort.
You’ll never be his equal.
You stand abruptly, shoving your chair back so hard it scrapes against the floor. "If that’s all, I have work to do."
Fred chuckles, leaning back, clearly pleased with himself. "Sure, sure. Don’t say I never tried to give you advice."
You don’t respond. You just walk out, gripping your bag so tightly your knuckles turn white, the echo of his words following you down the hall, settling in your bones like lead.
The hallway is too bright. Too loud. Too full of people who don’t know that you’re on the verge of crumpling in on yourself like a dying star.
Your breath feels too shallow, too quick, and there’s a weight pressing down on your chest that no amount of rationalizing can shake off. It’s not even your meeting with Fred—just a slow accumulation of stress and exhaustion and frustration that’s settled deep in your bones. A grade lower than expected, an upcoming deadline you’re nowhere near prepared for, a general sense of drowning no matter how hard you try to keep up. It’s all too much, and your hands are starting to shake from how tightly you’re gripping the strap of your bag.
You just need to get out of here. You need air, space, something.
But, of course, the universe has a cruel sense of humor, because when you round the corner, you slam straight into Satoru Gojo.
“Whoa—”
Your balance is already precarious from the way you were rushing, and the impact sends you stumbling. For a split second, you think you might actually fall—your ankle twists awkwardly, the world tilts—and then there’s a strong hand gripping your wrist, another bracing against your back, steadying you before you can hit the ground.
You don’t process what happens immediately. Your mind is still stuck on too much, too fast, can’t breathe, and it takes you a second to realize that Gojo is holding you upright, his hands firm but careful, his expression hovering somewhere between amusement and concern.
“Jeez, what’s the rush?” he teases, but his voice lacks its usual careless lilt. He’s searching your face now, eyes narrowing behind his glasses, and that’s when you realize: you must look as bad as you feel.
Shit.
You jerk away from him, a little too fast, a little too sharp. “I’m fine.”
Gojo doesn’t look convinced. “You sure? Because it kinda seemed like you were about to pass out on the spot.”
“I said I’m fine.” You adjust your bag over your shoulder, shifting your weight onto your other foot, ignoring the faint throb in your ankle. “Go bother someone else.”
Most of the time, that’s enough to send him off with an exaggerated sigh and a smirk. But not today.
Today, Gojo just stands there, watching you like he’s trying to piece something together—like you’re a problem he wants to solve. He doesn’t press, not yet, but the silence stretches, and it’s unbearable, because you can feel the weight of his gaze, and you don’t want to be seen like this. Not by him.
So you give him a tight nod in dismissal, and walk away.
There’s a knock at your door. You frown because you didn’t expect any visitors, and you’re in your sleepwear. Regardless, you pad your way lazily and open the door.
To see Gojo.
What the fuck.
He’s drenched in the glow of the hallway light, looking entirely too at home despite standing on your threshold. His hair is still slightly damp from the rain, white strands falling over his forehead in careless disarray. He’s not wearing his glasses.
"Why are you here?" you demand, gripping the doorframe, willing your voice to stay steady.
He quirks an eyebrow, tilting his head just slightly. “You’re holding my jacket hostage.”
Oh. Right.
You make your way to your wardrobe, where the now-cleaned jacket hangs neatly on a hanger. Grabbing it, you hand it over to Gojo, who’s standing at your threshold while eyeing the insides of your dorm, as if trying to take in what your living space looks like. You shove it into his chest, stepping back like the heat of it burns. "Here."
Gojo takes it, but instead of leaving like a normal person, he lingers, running his fingers over the material like he’s checking for something. Then,, he lifts a hand to the back of his neck, rubbing it in that way that only makes his biceps flex, his lean muscles shifting beneath his shirt. You hate that you notice.
A beat passes.
"You know," he muses, far too casually, "you seemed a little disheveled back there."
Your stomach twists. "It's not a big deal—"
"—Bullshit." His voice cuts through yours, sharp and immediate. He shifts, stepping just the tiniest bit closer, his tone losing its usual teasing lilt. “You’re lying. I saw what you looked like. What happened?”
“It's none of your business,” you say, stiffening. “Nor is it a big deal, really.”
Gojo exhales, something heavy in the sound. His eyes don’t leave yours, and for once, they aren’t filled with their usual mirth or mischief. Just something searching, something that makes your chest ache in a way you don’t have the strength to deal with right now.
"You always do that," he says, softer now, but no less intense. “Act like no one’s supposed to care. Like you’re carrying the world alone.”
Your fingers curl into your palms. Your lips press together. You don’t want to hear this. You don’t want to acknowledge the way his words settle too close to the truth.
And then, quietly, Gojo asks, “Do you not consider me your equal?”
You swallow.
Your silence must be enough of an answer because something shifts in his expression. It isn’t anger exactly, but it’s something close—something bitter and disappointed and aching all at once.
"You’re the one who shuts me out, you know." His voice is sharp now, edged with frustration. "You act like I'm the one keeping you at a distance, but every time I try to get close, you push me away."
Your throat tightens. “Why do you even care?”
Gojo lets out a breath, his head tilting just slightly, eyes scanning your face like you’re something he’s trying to figure out. Then he laughs, quiet and humorless.
“You really don’t know?”
“I—” Your voice wavers. “What do you mean—”
“For a girl so smart, you sure do act stupid.” He steps forward then, closing the space between you just enough to make you want to back away, but your feet don’t move. His voice drops lower. "Do you think I talk to you because I give a fuck about physics?"
Your brain short-circuits. “What—”
He groans, dragging a hand through his hair, frustrated. “I give zero fucks about the class or any class, trust me. I have better things to do than to try to aim for 100s on every test."
Your heart is pounding now, too loud, too fast. “Then why—”
"God," he exhales, tipping his head back, like he's debating whether or not he should even say it. Then, after a beat, he looks at you again, and whatever is in his eyes makes your stomach flip, makes your breath hitch.
Something in your chest lurches, but before you can even process it, he huffs a laugh—like he’s just remembered something ridiculous.
"You didn’t even look my way the first week," he says, eyes flicking over your face, searching. "I could tell you only cared about anyone that could challenge you. Like, it wasn’t even until I did better than you on the second midterm that you even talked to me."
You open your mouth, then close it, heat prickling at the back of your neck. Because—yeah. He’s not wrong. You had ignored him, dismissed him as just another overconfident rich kid who thought he was smarter than he was. It wasn’t until he proved himself, until he became a real obstacle in your path, that you bothered to acknowledge him.
Gojo smiles, but it’s not cocky this time—it’s small, almost rueful. "And then you looked at me like I was finally real. Like I existed."
Your breath hitches.
He shrugs, eyes dropping for a brief second before snapping back up to yours. "So, yeah. Maybe I started trying harder. Maybe I cared about all those stupid tests because it meant I got to see that fire in your eyes, that I got to be the one you were pushing against." He rubs the back of his neck, his biceps flexing in a way that would usually annoy you, but right now, you’re too busy trying to remember how to breathe.
Gojo stares at you for a long moment, gaze unwavering, like he’s daring you to say something—anything.
Your chest feels too tight, your pulse erratic, and you don’t know what to do with the way Gojo is looking at you—like you’re something precious, something worth holding onto.
But he’s wrong. He has to be wrong.
“You can’t like me,” you whisper.
Gojo frowns, expression shifting. “What?”
Your throat clenches, and before you can stop it, heat pricks at your eyes, blurring your vision. “You can’t like me,” you say again, voice cracking. “I can’t even match you.”
Gojo's face slackens, his teasing demeanor completely gone.
"You do everything so effortlessly," you force out, your fists clenching at your sides. "It’s so infuriating." A shaky breath escapes you, and you shake your head, looking down. “So why would you even want this? You make me feel this way, and I—I hate you for it.”
For a second, there’s only silence.
Then, Gojo exhales softly.
“Is that what you think?” His voice is so gentle it makes something inside you ache.
You don’t answer. You can’t.
Gojo shifts, stepping forward slowly, carefully, like you’re something fragile. And then—then he reaches out, his fingers ghosting along your wrist before curling around it, grounding you. “It’s not effortless,” he murmurs. “I try so hard. You just don’t see it because I don’t want you to.”
"You really don’t get it, do you?" His voice is quieter now, something dangerously close to vulnerable. His fingers twitch at his sides. "I care because it’s you."
You shake your head, still not understanding, still unable to believe it.
Gojo watches you for a moment, then exhales, running a hand through his hair. “You act like I just woke up one day and decided to like you.” He huffs a quiet laugh, but there’s no real amusement in it. “Do you know how long I’ve been stuck on you? How infuriating it was, realizing that no matter how much attention I got, the only person I wanted it from was too busy treating me like an obstacle?”
Your breath catches.
“I tried everything,” he continues, voice rougher now. “Teasing you, annoying you, beating you in tests, losing to you in tests. It didn’t matter what I did, because you—” He breaks off, shaking his head. “You only saw me when I gave you a reason to compete.”
Your fingers tremble slightly at your sides. You don’t know what to say, don’t even know what you can say.
And suddenly, everything—the teasing, the constant pestering, the way he always had to be around you—it all clicks into place.
Your heart hammers in your chest, and before you can second-guess it, before you can even think, you surge forward and kiss him.
It’s a mess of a kiss—too rushed, too desperate, all clashing teeth and uneven breaths—but Gojo groans softly against your lips, like he’s been waiting for this. His hands are on you immediately, one slipping around your waist, the other cradling the back of your head as he presses you flush against him.
You’re dizzy. Overwhelmed. But it’s good. It’s him, and you don’t want to stop.
When you finally pull away, breathless and unsteady, Gojo is grinning, his lips slightly swollen.
“Worth the wait,” he murmurs, eyes shining.
You avert your gaze, fully blushing now. “But I—” You take a look at him, then hide your face in your hands. “I’m a stalker.”
“Maybe I’m into that.”
“No,” you bemoan. “I’ve stalked you at the gym, and I—” Your voice drops into a shameful whisper. “You were good. Like, stupidly good. Like, making everyone stare at you good.”
His lips twitch. “You were staring too, huh?”
You glare at him, but he just grins, all teeth, clearly eating this up.
“I hated it,” you insist, heat prickling at the back of your neck. “I hated that you’re already smarter than me, that you already have all these advantages, and then—and then you also have that? Like, it’s just unfair. You’re unfair.”
Gojo is silent for a second, and you think you’ve screwed up, but then exhales a sharp laugh, shaking his head. “You are so cute.”
“Stop it!” you whine, but you don’t protest when he pulls you closer and locks your lips with his another time. You clutch the front of his shirt, drag your hands on his chest, his arms, everywhere. Then, you guide his to firmly clutch your ass, to which he freezes.
“We can stop here. We don’t have to do anymore than this, and—”
But you interrupt him, slamming your lips against his once more. Grabbing him by the shoulder you pull him into your room and slam the door behind you, pushing him against the door. “Fuck no.”
He laughs breathlessly, then continues to switch your position, now you against the door. “Thank god. Now, jump.”
You do, and you almost moan at how easily he grabs you in his arms, your legs straddling him. It’s like you weigh nothing to him as he carries you over to your bed and manhandles you into it, following not long after.
When he gets on top of you, he maintains eye contact as he pulls your shirt over your head, trailing kisses down to your neck, the valley of your breasts (but not before giving each of the girls their own tender kiss), and your stomach. With his eyes boring into you, he slowly, teasingly drags the pants you were wearing down your legs until you’re just in your panties.
You let out a noise, and he coos. “I know, I know, baby.” He gives you a gentle kiss on the top of your mound, and you clench, squirming from the contact. “Let me take my time, though.”
He gently, but firmly, lays a hand on your hip as he starts licking the crotch of your panties. It’s truly maddening—the sensation is there, but you oh so wish his skilled tongue was meeting your skin, bare and electric.
He’s taking his time laving, ravishing your taste, but you’ve had enough. “Gojo, please,” you sob, throwing your head back and grinding further into his tongue, which he welcomes. “Stop teasing.”
“Mmmm,” he pretends to think, all while focused and looking only at your crotch, now rubbing your clit in small, miniscule circles. “I can, but,” and now he’s just mocking you, with the way he adopts a babying tone, “I think you’re going to have to beg for it.”
You groan in frustration as a response, but he only clicks his tongue as his fingers reach and finally rid you of your panties. He spreads your folds with two fingers, his face oh so close to your bare pussy. But instead of finally giving you what you want, he clicks his tongue, pouting as if you’re the one forcing him to be a bastard. “Yea, I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to earn it.”
Before you can respond, he holds out his tongue and inches his face even closer to your bare folds until you can feel his warm breath over it. “You just have to say please.” Then, he ahhh-s, as if holding his tongue out to a doctor and says, “Look I’m so close—ahhh.”
You can only plead with him. “Please, Gojo.”
“No, it’s Satoru to you now, baby.”
“Satoru, please eat me out.”
He smiles. “Yeaa, that’s my girl.” And proceeds to eat you out in a way that has your toes curling.
He acts like a man eating his last meal on death row. It’s the masterful combination of laving over your folds, kissing your clit, and groaning and making noises that has you inching closer and closer to your orgasm. When you tell him, you’re close, he does exactly what he’s supposed to do—keep doing what he’s doing, same spot, same tempo, same pressure.
With a cry of his name, you come quickly, and he takes your writhing hips and their motion like a champ, easing you through it. When you feel the all-too-familiar feel of over sensitivity, you grab his hair and pull him towards your face, kissing him tenderly.
He maneuvers his huge frame to lay down next to you, and you fall easily into a gentle embrace. It’s a comfortable silence, as he burrows his face into your chest and you stroke his hair gently.
Gentler than how you’ve ever treated him.
It’s this thought exactly that you voice to him. “You know,” you muse softly. “I was such a bitch to you.” This gets his attention, because he moves from where he was comfortable (your boobs) to look at you in alarm. “Like, I was always mean, and like acting all high and mighty—”
“Whatever you think you did, it was hot,” he interrupts you, grinning boyishly. “Like damn when you insult me I get all fired up—”
“Satoru!” You laugh, shocked, looking down at him. “You’re crazy.”
“Yea,” he winks. “Crazy for you.”
You smile softly at that, biting your lip. “I mean, I get that.” You feel his curious gaze rove over you and heat creeps up your neck as you confess, “Like I was stalking you at the gym. I saw you one time, and um. You definitely have a sleeper build.”
He hums. “I get that a lot.”
“Yea,” you blurt. “you’re really hot. Like you have really big arms, which I definitely didn’t notice in all those sweaters you wear. You could definitely throw me around.”
Silence.
When you look down at him, he’s looking at you mischievously. He sits up, takes off his shirt, and says, “Want to test that theory?”
The both of you test the theory, indeed—it’s a nice nod to your guys’ academic, theoretical physics roots. But instead of some theory involving dark matter or quantum physics debated while in class, this theory takes all night to prove.
general masterlist
a/n special thank you to @purplegemadventures ily pookie <3 we were discussing how a lot of fics so far have made seem nerd gojo really cute and shy but we tried to envision a shit eating sassy diva just like hidden inventory arc <3 like what that one anon said i need my gojo to be a little annoying cocky (but cute) bastard (or, i quote, "your gojo makes me want to oil his scalp and give him an aggressive head massage and mess his hair up"). ANYWAYS props to that one anon that dropped the "nerd gojo with sleeper build" and my beloved @tiramisuandlove i love you forever
comment and reblog to let me know ur thots!
He’s so handsome—I love him so much 🥺🥺🥺
He’s kinda like Max Verstappen 🤧
f1 kuna
no text ver
forgive me daddy for I have sinned 🛐
father.
amazing angst 🔥👁️👄👁️
Enchantress
Reader x Aemond Targaryen
Summary: You would guard your throne from vultures no matter the cost and so the games begins. In which Aemond Targaryen regrets making an enemy of his wife.
Aemond is a cheating hoe. No one wanted this I just really wanted to write some angst. As always your features and ethnicity is not mentioned, background is not specified but you are a highborn. After the Serpentine series I wanted something spicy.
Word count: 8.1k
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By nature you were a patient person, taking great diligence in ensuring emotions doesn't overcome your judgment. But as the hour grows late your forbearance for your husband had begun to wear thin. It nears twelve and you had been waiting for Aemonds return for well over three hours now. With every passing minute you find yourself drowning in madness as you draw a blank on where or what he was up to. Succumbing to the ill thoughts on your mind as the flickering dance and crackle of the fire floods your senses. You're tired, you're anxious and your ears are ringing yet you still sat unmoving. Why?
There was no doubt that the man in question confused you to no end, nevertheless you still made sure to act accordingly and play the part of his wife. Although you're finding it increasingly hard to upkeep the role of his good little lover when the man is hardly in your presence. It was true that your marriage with Aemond was one out of political leverage, but you still did your best to care for him. Always making sure your relationship was fostered and tended to in the hopes of something blossoming.
You had faith that he would grow fonder of you as the years went on, but with every passing day that thought was challenged. It had been a long journey but without fail you acted kind and loving towards him no matter the expense. Valuing your relationship with Aemond a great deal, you were willing to do anything for him.
Even endure his callous behaviors towards you.
It was no secret that the prince was rather displeased with your union. For a man that preached the importance of preforming duty, he was awfully bad at it. You had been wedded for almost half a year now and have yet to consummate the marriage. Not that you weren't willing to, the problem lies with your husband. It was plain to see behind closed doors that he did not take you seriously.
In his eye this marriage was a joke, you were but strangers at best due to his lack of effort. Now you know not of the origins of his distant behavior but you've tried your best to minimize them. Dragging Aemond off to accompany you on walks around the castle, asking him to join you for lunch; everyday without faltering you tried.
But to no avail, your attempts does little to dull the wall between you two. He doesn't interact with you unless it was mandatory or for show, displayed little emotions past cordial. And god forbid laying a hand on you was the end of the fucking world. Was this who Aemond Targaryen was? Cold and cynical? Deprived of all that makes a person human. Every time you looked at him he was a ghost, fading into the background slipping from your grasp. He was untouchable, invisible. His self-righteous aura creating a vortex around him.
The distance between Aemond and you had started to become apparent to the ladies in court. Everyday without fail they would voice their concerns, asking you if you were being mistreated. Of course you lie, a task that comes easy to you, easier than you thought it would since you had little ties with your husband. Though it makes you wonder if Aemond also found it easy to lie to you....
The thought gets lost on you as an intrusive sound rings through your chambers. Brows furrowing at the disturbance, why would Aemond feel the need to knock on your shared room? The train was rather absurd so it leads you into thinking that it wasn't him paying you a visit. Much to your disappointment. With confusion in your voice, you call out to the visitor.
"Come in." Anxiously bringing your palms together on your lap. Your fingers locked themselves in a manner of worry, squeezing tightly as you prepare yourself. Soon the door opens and in follows Ser Larys Strong. His pronounced way of walking evident as the cane hits the ground harshly. The sound announcing and intrusive, almost counting down the seconds before he reaches you.
"I am sorry to intrude on your private time my Lady, especially when the hour is so late but I fear this matter cannot wait till dawn." He smiles sympathetically although you do not like implications behind it. You notion for him to sit across from you, watching the scene carefully. You don't utter a word as he moves to take his place. Ser Larys's visits are always prompted.... And by the look on his face it reads that he knows something you don't... That fact slightly unnerved you...
"I thought this news would be best heard if it were from me.... From a friend..." Bullshit. Larys always had an ulterior motive, he liked cultivating favors from the court only for them to owe him in return. No doubt that he was a sick man that enjoyed manipulating others, finding power in mind games in a way that he cannot with the sword. You were far from friends but played the game together. He only viewed you so highly because you were one of the only people the didn't fall for his lures and cryptic words.
"I take it this news is not pleasant." Lifting a brow at him in question, you kept your manner strong and imposing. He swallows and nods his head briefly, averting his gaze from you to look at the floor.
"Earlier today.... Prince Aemond was caught indulging a servant girl in Harrenhal." He says the words carefully though no amount of safe keeping can withhold your anger. Larys words were vague but you understood clearly what he meant. Shaking in your seat, you calm yourself. Or at least tried to....
You were going to fucking kill him.
"Ah.... I see... Who else knows?" Your words come out strained. Tone cut and tense, implying that you were holding back an outburst as tears of anger slowly clouds your gaze. What did you honestly expect? Your mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, vision tunneling as rage began crawling up your center. For a moment your breath stills, the abyss captivating you before you snap out of it and focusing on Ser Larys once more. He says nothing as he watches the fire burn, avoiding your venomous stare.
"Just you and me." He nods slowly, finally looking at you, only to drop his gaze soon after. He was uncomfortable beyond measure... His mouth opens to say something once more but stops to take in your shape. You clutched at the chair with a murderous grip, nails digging into the stained leather. Slowly he met your unmoving eyes, taken aback by the poison swimming amongst them. Gods be good... That look never meant well. The tension was heavy and for a moment Larys feared for his own life. You were not sad nor disheartened, instead you were seething in hatred. The room fogs with something unpleasant as the walls welcomed the illness like an old friend. Such atmosphere was suffocating as he watched you shake in retribution, no doubt planning your next calculating moves.
Vengeance. That was all you wanted. Many questions plagued your mind, had you not been good enough for him? You've done all that you could to please him and yet he disrespect your name with his adultery. You honestly didn't know what to say, it wasn't like this was much of a shock to you since a part of you always had suspicions. But you dismissed those thoughts as nothing but intrusive and toxicant. Yet to hear the words out loud coming from a reputable man such as Ser Larys Strong was much different than you telling yourself. Larys was many things but he was not a liar. His words always had claim and a backbone, despite how distasteful the intentions behind them may be. You could not care less about what he wants to get out of you, what you want to know is what else he's keeping locked away. And what will it take to get him talking.
"The servant that caught them and sent for a raven was found killed under.... suspicious circumstances... I only received both letters now, of the girls retelling and of her death.... A dagger through the mouth what an awful way to go..." Larys speaks when you don't, watching the way you thought in silence. He wondered what you were thinking, for he was one of the only people that knew your true nature. You were a murderous woman, manipulative, vigilant, and vengeful... Behind those stupid smiles and shy fronts was an enchantress, turning the tides in her favor. And now an outsider trespasses on your waters. Larys knows more than anything that you were willing to guard your throne from vultures at any cost.
You didn't like coming second to anybody, and for a moment he prays for the prince...
"I understand that this must be difficult for you, but if you are ever in need... I'll be sure to be of service in this trying time..." You scoff at that, the sound reverberating through the room. There it was. The bait he dangles so tempting in front of foolish fish.
"At what cost Ser Larys, I am no fool. I know everything from you must always come at a price." Holding your chin up high, you crossed your arms and leaned back into your seat. Having calmed down a little, you plan a rainstorm of hell fire.
"Not this time... You see, this girl that had somehow managed to enthrall the prince.... She is a nuisance on my side so you can insure my allegiance is with you. As Lord of Harrenhal I make it a point to know everything and anything going on in my own castle, even if I'm not present. I can ensure you that I have eyes everywhere." You ignore the way your stomach turns at the thought of someone else captivating Aemond as you thought on his proposal. It would be quite useful to have someone with such connections on your side. Shaking your head as you corrected yourself. There were no sides nor factions, you were not at war with Aemond. Yet.
"Can you tell me the name of this girl?"
"She goes by Alys Rivers, you may know of her...." It was almost comical enough to force a laugh.
A bastard Strong... How truly ironic and cliche. It would seem that the very vendetta he had against his own nephews would be the cause of his own demise. The pain that rushed through you didn't burn anymore, instead it courses through your veins in bittersweetness, fueling your vengeance and need for revenge. You didn't care all that much about closure, instead looking for all the ways you can induce the same pain onto Aemond. You were patient to a fault, all the unwanted emotions manifesting into pettiness and spite.
To hurt Aemond Targaryen you must be precise and conniving, you couldn't afford any spill ups. In truth the stature he built of himself was great; intimidating, undying, a menace. But beneath all that you knew he was still the same little boy that got bullied for not having a dragon. Scars like that cannot be grown out of, especially when they've left such permanent imprints on him. You were not going to evoke One Eye Aemond who rides the largest dragon, but rather the young little boy he held so dearly to his heart. That was the Aemond you wanted to hurt. Not the man that gave you blank stares and barely spoke any words to you. Not the man that dares call himself your husband when he has not deserved the name. The neglected outcast freak, that was who you were going to murder.
How dare he choose her over you. Suddenly it clouds your vision. All the violence, the fire, the insecurities. Your inability to think clear, the pride and pain of being his wife. Your lust and distaste for the man that caused you such pain. It ruptures your heart. You would trade love for greed just to induce the same feelings onto him. Oh how you wanted to ruin him. Ruin her for him. By the end of it you wanted him begging at your knees, crying apologies. Who does Alys Rivers think she was to steal your husband away from you. And who does Aemond think he was to assume you wouldn't retaliate. Or perhaps he knew and simply didn't care... That was a common theme in your husband, not caring about you. He was more of a fool than you thought of if he thinks you were just going to stand for this and take it.
No. You wanted an eye for an eye. Or more plainly, a heart for a heart.
"Her existence threatens you." Speaking lowly as you projected your thoughts onto Ser Larys. You aren't the only one to have a reason to hate the aforementioned wench. You may be hazed with hatred but you are not blind. There was a reason Ser Larys chose to come to you instead of Aemond with this information. Without him you wouldn't have known anything, and surely the favor of a prince would be worth more than you could ever give him. Yet he came knocking at your door.
"I am the sole heir to my fathers title, if that bastard had somehow managed to persuade the prince then my very seat is challenged. An outsider amongst the natives. I need to ensure my status, my lady. Can I trust you on this." His words were frantic almost, his long brown hair falling over his face as he leaned in close. Ser Larys was pleading, in his own way...
"You can. Now, my friend... what will you have me do?" The smile that spread across your face was sinister as you prompted his guidance. Though it was more rhetorical, you knew what had to be done.
"Seduce Aemond. Capture his attention enough so that he begins to question his love for her." Love? Was that burned between them? Taking a deep breath to compose yourself, you thought on it more. It wasn't a bad design, far better than you stabbing a knife through Alys in front of Aemond. Only one minor flaw.
"And how shall I manage to do that!? The man can barely look at me!"
"To the unseeing eye it appears that way. Though the amount of times I've caught his gaze lingering longer than it should is great. You are a smart woman y/n, I'm sure you can figure out a way to break through his barrier."
Could it be that all this time you just hadn't noticed him looking at you? Regardless that was irrelevant as you pondered your first move. You and Larys had the advantage, Aemond doesn't know that you knew of his infidelity. And as far as you're aware your image as his good little wife was still intact, so perhaps you would play into that role more. Aemond’s betrayal made you realize that you've grown stiff as a board. It dulls you as you realize that you've come to be the very woman you pray for. Desperately lost in their marriage. Endlessly dreaming, hoping one day Aemond would come around and play pretend with you. He was taking advantage of you without you knowing it. He sees your very being as something he can twist and turn in his palm like one of his daggers.
At a certain point he was bound to get cut.
To hurt Aemond Targaryen you must hurt that little boy. It had been weeks since your night with Ser Larys and silently you had been scheming. So far you remained indifferent, trying hard to make sure you aren't faltering by acting the same. It was a hard task that you've come to dread as you knew the cold truth behind his behaviors. At day he would be with you, by night he would be deep in her. You only began to notice the missing hours in your days and curse yourself for being so foolish. You thought long and hard about how you were going to approach the situation. Dissecting your husband under a magnifying glass whilst hiding behind timid smiles. And soon enough your praying and mute jealousy had manifested into the form of a golden haired beast bearing red and gold.
Ser Tyrin Lannister...
A handsome, charming young lord that has come to pay the crown a visit... Though you saw him for what he truly was, a prideful and egotistical man that's blinded by arrogance. The perfect pawn for your game. Truthfully, you only picked him out because he beared such acute resemblance to prince Aegon. The only difference in appearance was instead of the famed silver hair his was pure gold. You hoped that your choice of companion would strike a nerve with Aemond, seeing that he's spent so much of his youth being tormented by the image of the man.
And by the way he was glaring daggers at you and Tyrin, your expectations fall true. It was easy to manipulate the Lannister with sugar coated words and flirtatious giggles, the problem lied with Aemond taking the bait. Up until this point you were basically going off theory, but now you can trust that Aemond was a possessive man.
Your laugh rings through the room as you giggle at something Tyrin whispered in your ear. The man was indeed charismatic which made talking to him easy enough. If you hadn't diluted him to nothing but a playing piece you would have found yourself actually enjoying his company. You had been acquainted for quite some time now, ever since his first arrival, and everyday without fail you were with him. Slowly but surely you had began replacing Aemond with Tyrin in your life. It was him you went on walks with, it was him you dinned with. There was no doubt that Lannisters had vanity and he was aware of it, he was aware of how his gracious gifts won you over and softened you. Or so he thought. In weeks time you had managed to accumulate a collection of gold and ruby jewelries from the man himself.
Something Aemond has not taken kindly to, seeing the way his jaw would clench everytime you adorned the treasures. At this point you had purposely made a show of it, parading in a red and gold gown with massive ruby earrings dangling from your ears. All while you showcased a brilliant ruby and gold choker around your neck. You looked more like Tyrin's wife than Aemond's and perhaps that was your goal. Though honestly your endgame gets lost on you as you're having so much fun toying with him. No doubt Aemond had begun to pick up on your absence and it was hilarious to see. His worries and insecurities must've gotten the best of him because now you can't go anywhere without him trailing behind. He was always there, watching in silence, perhaps judging you but you did not care. The fact of the matter was, whatever you were doing was working.
"If you stare any longer I'm sure a fire will start to burn." Aegon says dryly from beside his brother, looking down at his empty chalice before placing it down all together. The elder rolled his eyes at the familiar 'hmmm' that escaped Aemond as he opens his mouth to say something but he turns mute. Instead he narrowed his eyes at the sight.
Contrary to popular belief, Aegon was not a complete fucking asshole. Well... sometimes he wasn't... He sensed his brothers discomfort greatly and although he didn't want to pry, he wanted to know what laid within the inner workings of Aemond's mind. Call it care or intrigue, but he loved gossip like an old widowed wife. Fact of the matter was, Aegon Targaryen was painful self aware and it didn't take much to figure out that Tyrin Lannister was him in lions clothing. Of course Tyrin was him if he actually tried and excelled at things. His drunken habits aside, he wanted to know why his sister in law was so taken by him with golden hair....
"He looks like me..." Aegon turns to his brother only to notice him swiftly walking away at his words. He turns to the man once more, brows pulling in contempt. Maybe he should have been born a Lannister....
To say that Aemond was irritated was an understatement. It was all so ridiculous. The fact that you were throwing yourself so carelessly for a man such as that imbecile. All Lannisters were dazzling armors with nothing truly potent inside. They were blinded by shine and glimmer just as much as everyone else was from their looks. He wouldn't admit it out loud but the resemblance Ser Tyrin had to his brother was uncanny. And he wouldn't dare admit that these unbecoming feelings were derived from that fact alone. Call Aemond what you will, a bitter husband, a possessive man, but he did not like what was playing out in front of him.
Over the passing weeks you had devoted your attention to that man and him alone. From the moment you awoke you were dressed in red and gold, throughout the day you were by his side. He no longer saw you and you no longer sought for his attention. He thought it'd be nice, to finally get you off his back but everyday he grows increasingly impatient. Were you not his wife? He knows he doesn't have a proper claim over you especially with how he's been acting but he still owned his emotions. And he was allowed to feel however he wanted to. Although he doesn't speculate any infidelity from your end, mainly because you weren't the type in his eye, it was plain that you were taken by a lion. Whether you knew it or not, you were dancing with a beast and Aemond would not take such defeat.
In all honesty, he's certain you aren't fucking Tyrin. Now perhaps that was just wishful thinking fueling his denial but you weren't exactly the type. All your marriage he's known you as nothing but dull... The perfect embodiment of who his parents wanted him to marry. Kind, respectable, a push over... In his opinion you were devoted to a fault. Seeing you as nothing but mindless doll who had no other choice but to fall in line and agree with whoever owned them. Hence why when seeking companionship he purposely chose some the exact opposite of you. Alys was older by a few years and had all the experience he craved. It was no question why that he sought for her instead of you. Word around the castle was that you were thought to be too pious to succumb to sins of temptation unless duty was in order.
He hadn't meant to grow so attached to Alys but she was exhilarating. Everytime they were apart he yearned for her body. She was captivating and alluring in all senses, intoxicating him. With long brown hair and a figure that could make the gods envious, she held him with a death grip. His Alys. Aemond knew that what he had with her wasn't love but more so addiction, but he didn't care what it was just as long as he got to have more of it. The differences between you and Alys were stark to see, you were at polars end. But what drawned him to her was the fact that she was so aware of her touch. He liked women that knew how to wield a weapon, and he quite honestly couldn't picture you doing the same. They called her many names for her beauty, searing her as a witch for her dominion over man.
If he wanted an enchantress you would give it to him. You would be better than Alys in every way imaginable. If he wanted someone who can satisfy him then you would drive him into the brink of madness with your touch. You wanted to suffocate and flush out Aemond Targaryen till he was no more than a shell. It started off slow. Switching your clothing in favor of another, something more hugging and accentuating. Your old gowns so colorful and modest were now replaced with darker tones that showed off your body well. It was an odd switch but you felt more comfortable this way strangly enough.
Then you traded innocent stares for something more bidden, your once doe eyes turning siren as you realize the effects of you had. Perhaps Aemond cheating on you was a blessing in disguise. You only now realize how good it felt to be wanted. All throughout court, men and women a like would fall in line for you. They would bow if you commanded so. You looked like someone to be taken seriously and not so much like a walking virtue. Everytime you entered a room eyes would be on you, the silent respect your new aura demanded was intoxicating. You knew who you were and what you were capable of, it was time for them now to know too.
It was empowering. You felt Immortal and unchallenged. To have them speak so nervously to you, the shy stares and permanent blushes. Your new change had prompted many curiosities but what captures people so was your attitude. Cunning, sly and quick witted, all the aspects of your being that you suppressed. You had never felt this in control all your life, like the tides were moved by your will.
All your life you've been taught to be one way despite your true wishes. You painted yourself as the image of what a lady was supposed to be without understanding why you were doing it. Or who you were doing it for. Perhaps this is why the change was so liberating, because you no longer chose to hide yourself. Maybe this was who you were all along and just needed a push to embrace it. You no longer felt like you were wearing a mask and truthfully you don't think you could ever put it on again. Not when they all doted around you. Not they all craved for you. Not when you had such power over desires.
They all fell into line... all but Aemond.... but you had something special for him. For now you let his judgment cloud him. You doubt that he's picked up on your facade faltering. It was quite strange to embrace the very values your teaching went against. Sensuality, unkept emotions, temptation. Having been guided to act one way only to realize that people yearned for the other more. To switch from being subdued to domineering. You no longer let people tell you what to do and how truly inebriating it was.
〄
"You are intoxicating...."
You know not how much time has passed, only consumed on Tyrin's lips as he grasped your body all over. Laughing when his teeth grazed your neck, you threw your head back in bliss. Maybe this was what the Septa was trying to keep you away from, the overwhelming sensations of sex. It rushes through you, sending your skin on fire in it's wake. God, he knew how to please you so. Giggling into your ear as his golden locks curtain the sinful things he whispered, Tyrin's fingers expertly yanks your skirt up. You let him pin you to the bed, a stupid smile spreading across your face. If such an act was so bad then why on earth did it feel so good?
How exhilarating it was to be desired, to be wanted and fondled with care. And to think, all this time you had spent rotting away in your bed chambers waiting for Aemond. If he would not satisfy you then you would satisfy yourself, fulfillment taking the form of a rogue lover. Perhaps it was messy to set your eyes on the men of the court but maybe that's what you wanted. You like the thrill of getting caught, liked the rumors that murmured through the halls. Although you hadn't slept with anyone but Tyrin, you couldn't contain yourself from teasing the occasional lord and lady. Naturally, word got around of your effects and of you and Tyrin's speculated affairs. And not so long after, word finally traveled to your dear stupid husband. Though it wasn't until he caught you in the middle of the act did he finally take it seriously. Up until this point they were but toothless claims, not believing his tight laced wife would ever be capable enough to find her own back bone.
"Faster.... faster..." You say through half lidded eyes, blurry vision locked onto the man in between your legs. Your fingers intertwined with his golden hair as you guide his head at your will. Body heaving and grinding up against his mouth. You pull at your skirts more to get a better view of his face.
All was falling into place and you would make your first strike as footsteps approached up the hall. You were nearing ecstasy as your eyes stay trained onto the door. You had perfectly timed everything and in a manner of seconds you would land such a blow so harsh that it would shatter Aemonds views of you. His boring and dull, obedient little wife coming undone by a man that was not him. You suppress a moan as Tyrin slips his middle finger in you, fucking you in and out as his lips wrap around your swollen clit. Almost there, almost there....
Oh it was all too much yet not enough at the same time. It floods you, sending you over the edge as you desperately grasp onto the bed covers. And at the sound of the door opening you let out a series of gasps turned moans as you lock eyes with the cause of your downfall. The look on his face was satisfaction enough, but you wanted more. Eyes closing in bliss as your head falls onto the bed, a laugh so sinister rings through the room. You pull your skirt over to hide your exposed skin as you smile up at Tyrin. Drawing him close to place a long loving kiss on his lips, you nod your head out the door, whispering empty promises of later. Aemond watches the whole exchange, mouth clenched and fists balled. As the man walked past him and out the door Aemond had to physically stop himself from mauling him and setting him on fire.
There was no doubt about it, he was angry. Shaking in place much like you had in your seat weeks ago. He didn't know what these emotions were blossoming in his chest but he didn't like it. It burned in a way so violent he fears that a hole may form in his chest. He does nothing for a few moments, simply standing in place eyeing you like a predator to it's prey. You do the same, putting all your body weight on your elbow as you laid on the bed unmoving. If he expected a stream of desperate apologies to fall from your mouth then he was not going to get it. You looked at eachother with much venom and alcohol. The gratification you got coursed through you as the image he had witnessed stayed forever burned in his brain.
Good. You wanted him to remember that forever. Much like you'll remember his actions towards you for eternity. Suddenly you were angry. Angry at him, angry at his fucking Alys, angry at Ser Larys. Snarling in hate as your gaze hardens you force yourself to speak.
"Get out." The words were cold, and for a moment Aemond flinches as it echoed through the walls. He does what you command, harshly shutting the door behind him and you fall onto the bed once more.
What had you done?
You were getting even. You wouldn't be here if he hadn't have provoked you first. Truthfully, you didn't know what scared you more, the fact that you could have potentially ruined your marriage or how absolutely addicting it was to inflict pain onto him. One things for certain though, you weren't done.
Aemond didn't know what to feel. He was a mess of emotions, lashing out at anything and everything in his way. A part of him knew that this was only fair yet why did it hurt him so bad? He thought he didn't care about you, thought you were a mere pawn in this game but it appeared that all this time you were playing him. All of it is a mystery to him as he begins to think on your relationship more. What parts of you were actually real, which was really you and which was his wife? Were your affections for him true and had he hurt you so? All this time he thought you were playing a role, or maybe you were. Because the girl laying on that bed laughing like the stranger was not his wife.
No, she was a demon. A succubus getting off on his pain. All of it is so confusing, the bruises you left dragging him down into the depths. Yet why did it excite him a little... Watching you like that.... Aemond feels as though he couldn't breathe, the remaining fragments of his heart shriveled at the thought of falling victim to weakness. He would not allow this, he wouldn't allow a man like Tyrin Lannister to best him and steal you away. The sorrow he felt was akin to an old friend, the bittersweetness that plagued his soul reminded him of his youth. This was a feeling he promised himself he would never endure again. The feeling of being less than and not enough. He had failed you. He had failed you so bad that you had to go seeking for another. Now he knew that he was being a hypocrite on that but he was vulnerable.
Being vulnerable was not something Aemond Targaryen was used to.
〄
"You aren't to see him again." Aemond yelled, trailing after the girl as you entered your shared chambers. The space thankfully empty as you ignored his impending attitude. Your breath quickens as you find yourself caught in a rather unpleasant situation. It had been merely an hour since that gurly sight with Ser Tyrin Lannister, and Aemond finds himself losing all remaining composure he had left with you.
"Huh?" There was something rather vexing about your tone that proved to be daggers in Aemond's ears. The way you expressed such profound boredom and taciturn, as if this conversation was an inconvenience to you. You displayed an tired exposure that puzzled him to no end because the confrontation has yet to begin. Your slack demeanor and annoyed undertone was both riddling and infuriating to Aemond.
"Ser Tyrin Lannister, you aren't allowed to see him again!" Deciding to forgo any avoidance, Aemonds tone was cut clean. He told you how it was, and he did not care about preserving feelings when you were showing such childish behavior. You would either accept never seeing that man, or any man for that matter again, or Aemond would turn to more extreme measures.
"Well... who knew it was possible to evoke such emotions from you. And here I thought you were incapable." Aemond's eye widen in shock as you put on an uncharacteristic display of theatrics. You scoffed and silently berated him with your inflection. This was a side of you he's never seen before. It was a tiny probe that was meant to provoke him by angling into his worries in a brash and unnecessary way. Aemond didn't know whether or not you were intentionally trying to anger him, but he couldn't find it in himself to care if it was deliberate or not.
"...I beg your pardon?" His words wry and barren with any emotions, genuinely taken aback.
"Well then kneel and start begging." You turn to him sharply, backing him against the door as he looked down at you in shock, yet you don't back down.
"You can't tell me what to do. But if you wish to keep believing that you have some sort of power over me, I will try my best to be more discreet with my partners." You wave your hand at him, as if done with this conversation but he was far from finished.
"I will not have you acting like a whore y/n! You are my wife and mine alone!" Aemond did not mean to call you that but as the words slip from his lips he soon finds himself regretting it. Watching the way you hesitated for a moment, a flash of hurt gleaming on your face before turning angry. He knew men have called their wives much worse but not him. His mother had always made sure he knew how to treat women. If only she knew how that back fired...
A whore....
He thought that you were a whore......
Normally you wouldn't let such meaningless words effect you so but that was exactly it, it wasn't meaningless. Not when it came from the mouth of the person you once thought the world of. Aemond used to be everything to you, and to hear that coming from him was disheartening to no end. Yes you knew that he was just angry because you pushed him so, but that fact became irrelevant as you begin to feel claustrophobic from your emotions. You felt frail, burning with a thick blanket of insecurities and rage constricting you, like a greedy serpent, ready to prey and corrupt you whole. You felt like Alice, falling into a dark rabbit hole of anxiety and panic, despair beginning to pull you down. It was all too much, and you suddenly began to feel so small. Your once defiance now subdued and replaced with the image of a shaking girl maddened. You felt afraid... not of Aemond but of your emotions...
Compose yourself, you were not going allow such disrespect and you were not going to fall into your old ways again.
"Don't play the fool, Aemond. You started this. Quite honestly what did you think was going to happen?" You yelled firmly in his face, trying so hard to push your emotions away. But thoughts of Alys tainted your mind. He would never speak to her this way. He would never act this way around her. You let the bitterness hug and empower you. The same need to hurt him reignited.
"I am simply playing the game that you started." You were reticent but in a prolix and unnecessary way. You would not reveal that he had hurt you so. Aemond opens his mouth to say something but doesn't for a few moments.
"What prompted this change..." He sounded desperate, his words breaking as he desperately searched for an answer.
"I don't know! Maybe now I don't feel the need to hide behind a mask anymore." You say to him honestly. This need for revenge and affinity for spite and pettiness, it had always been there. Aemond just didn't look at you long enough to notice it.
"I'm tired Aemond. I'm tired of doing my best to please you only for it to not be good enough!"
It wasn't just about you or Aemond being possessive anymore, it was the fact that you had reached your end. Was it so wrong to want a partner that actually loved and cared for you? Was it so wrong to want to be loved? The more you thought the more empty and hollow you felt. You can feel your soul decaying all together as anxiety crept up on you. He didn't want you.... The little voice in your head spoke. He thinks Alys is better than you..... stop... Why do you try so bad? because I must... You don't deserve to be with him... yes I do... No you don't... The voices in your head taunted, feeling feverish and flushed, you took a step back from Aemond. Suddenly afraid to be too close to him. But it did no help to calm the mean words the whirlwind through your brain. It picked at you, in a way that the thought of Alys couldn't but funny enough it was the personification of her plaguing your mind.
He doesn't think you're good enough...
I don't think you're good enough...
He doesn't think you're good enough...
We don't think you're good enough...
It's not just her anymore, the voice that invades your head is your parents speaking to you..... Then it's the King and Queen screaming... And after that it's Aegon and Helaena laughing at you...
It's Aemond talking down to you, —it's everything, it's everyone, all at once, all-consuming, suffocating and demanding. And suddenly the ability to hear is ripped from you; it's nothing. You're forced into a pliable mass being sullied, your body isn't yours anymore. It's a vessel of flooding anxiety and negative thoughts.
"I want somebody that loves me...." You say, looking at the man with such betrayal.
Be strong....
"I want a happy life with a husband that can actually stand to be in my presence. I want children of my own to fill the hole you left." You spoke after a short minute, your voice small and fragile, pleading... Aemond watches you shake and cry from where you stand. He had done this to you...
"I have spent so long loving you but that love has never served me..." Your words were soft, a timbre of spite concealed with broken confidence. You hated this... hated how you got in your own head and ruined your own self esteem... Pain feeding off your scorched heart and the embers of your love for Aemond. It was agonizing... agonizing to watch him look at you cry like this. But perhaps he needed to see you this way.
He had hurt you so badly and the moment he finally got a taste of his own medicine he ordered you to stop. It was the consuming fear of not being enough for him that killed you so, the thought of not being able to live up to the expectations. And for Aemond to stand there and call you a whore when all you ever did was try to love him.
"Forgive me my dear wife... I did not know that you have been suffering so badly all this time. Had I known...." He softens for a moment, trying to get you to understand whilst failing to consider that you didn't need to, he did.
"But you did! You knew and you still went off in search for something I cannot give you. Had you have known would it have changed anything?" You scream in broken anger and despair.
"No..."
You never learn, hearing it in your own head was a lot different than hearing it out loud. It will never be the same, it will always be ten times worse. Aemond had just confirmed your words. Of course you knew that he thought this way but it hurt a lot more. Just like that night with Ser Larys. Your shoulders slump in defeat, frowning as tears began to prick at your eyes. Aemond takes notice of this, swiftly cupping your cheeks with his large hands and forcing you to look him.
"No, because either way you would have been discontent. I cannot give you the life that you wanted." Yet you can give it to her?
"Why not!?" You yelled with such anger and rage, ripping his hands off you. Your voice echoing through the room as you cussed the boy out. You were frustrated beyond measure and above all else heartbroken. Was it truly too much to ask for? You would lying if you said it wasn’t nice having him treat you like this. Maybe weeks ago you would've swoon at the thought of his hands caressing you. But that was then and this was now.
"I am not made for love..." You fear that you can slay Vhagar with the great efforts it takes you now to remain calm. That was his excuse? A pitiful one at that. He had you standing there.... sad and broken... and all he can come up with was that love wasn't in his nature? Pain is the perfect word to describe this sensation oppressing your chest at those words. This doesn't stop you from peering up at him in question. You felt a calling to yell at him but you couldn't, no matter how badly you wanted to you. Staying baffled, every cry dying in the back of your throat. Your visage contorting in somber at Aemonds blasphemy.
"I don't believe you!" You yell at him, pushing at his chest when he tries to hug you. You break down in his arms, collapsing onto the floor as you weep into him. Aemond desperately held you close, oh what has he done to you.... He felt a myriad of emotions wash over him. Guilt, sadness, shame... He was ashamed he pushed you to this point. So he held the woman he barely knew well enough to call his wife.
"Tell me Aemond! Does your heart belong to another? Tell me now, please and I'll stop." You didn't know what you meant by stop. Stop trying? Stop loving? But if he said the words you would end it so. Aemond looks down at you, hugging onto the portrait that was once his wife.
"No! No one has captured my heart, those who came second to you, they mean nothing. They are nothing..." He says quickly, his words ringing truthful. He didn't know what prompted this new change but he panicked at the thought of losing you.
"Prove it to me." You whispered slowly. Uttering the words in a tone so cold and firm, your gaze locks onto Aemond's. Your wide eyes morphing into something else as a small smirk pulls at your lips. Distraught gone from your face as the water flow of tears halt.
"Bring me the head of Alys Rivers."
"How do you know..." He looks at you in shock for a moment, your expression ridden of distress and replaced with something sinister.... Watching his expression carefully, you place your hands on his shoulders and leaned into his ear.
"Do it and I will be yours again." It came out as a pur, a tempting whisper urging him, and Aemond found himself liking the way it sounded. That was Aemond's cord. He was as possessive as he was jealous. Much like you, he didn't like being second to anyone, but would that be enough. Turning your head to meet his gaze, it would be so easy to kiss you but he keeps a firm hold on your waist.
"If not then I will take it myself." Nodding your head briefly, you remove his arms from around you. Standing up, you walk over to your shared bed, wiping away the rogue tears before sitting down. Aemond's brows furrowed in confusion, you were much more composed now and hidden behind your eyes was a sense of coldness.
"It appears that I have much to learn about you my lovely wife. But If it will please you then as you wish." Aemond stands soon after you, nodding his head as he planned to make amends.
"You're willing to kill her just like that?" Turning your head to him slightly, you questioned where his loyalty lied.
"I told you she means nothing to me... Did you think otherwise?" His sly expression displayed a certain vainglory that caused you to turn away. So maybe you had thought otherwise but your insecurities had to come from somewhere.
"If you're lying to me Aemond I will have your other eye." Threatening may not be the answer but you liked the hesitancy it triggered from him.
"I suppose this is my fault.... you don't trust me." Nodding his head as he walked slow steps towards you, Aemond kneels down in front of the bed and takes your hands in his.
"You have given me every reason not to trust you." With a stiff lip, you turn from him.
"I know... But let me make it right." Guiding your chin with his fingers to make you look at him, you noticed a hint of regret and shame swimming in his eye.
"The road to forgiveness will not be easy." You tell him firm.
"I know... my love." You ignore the butterflies that awoke from that title and watch as he rose to grab his riding coat. And so it begins...
༺━━━━━━━━━༻༒༺━━━━━━━━━༻
Autho's Note:
Let me know if you guys want more! There's more to this story but I chopped it up into two parts because I wasn't done and I wanted to have something out for you guys. I swear to god I drop fics unannounce then dissappear for months lmao.
- Armoni
i log off then come back to this??? this is amazing
was astral projecting for a week but now I’m fine (for the meantime)
I was today years old when I found out how it’s faster to work with colors ♥️
might fix his arms, might forget abt this altogether
might have early stages of dementia 🫶🏻☺️
I just love this fic so much 😭 the angst is so ACKKKKJ and I’m so conflicted 🥹 gojo is quite pitiful in this fic
➶-͙˚ ༘✶ 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙁*𝘾𝙆 𝙇𝙄𝙎𝙏
✧.* CHAPTER 54 || The Real Date
[ { SYPNOSIS } ] ➤ A tale in which Gojo Satoru blackmails you into seducing a list of people to clear his debt. Sounds easy enough, right?
[ { CHAPTER CONTENT } ] ➤ language, fluff, sexual tension, & tiny weeny smidge of angst.
[ { A/N } ] ➤ This is NOT the last chapter, please do not ask me if it is, there is still more to go. Also, for anyone who didn't see, here's how I visualized Choso for this chapter; here.
[ { WORD COUNT } ] ➤ 6.3k
[ { PAIRINGS } ] ➤ jjk men x f!reader. gojo x f!reader. geto x f!reader. toji x f!reader. choso x f!reader. sukuna x f!reader. nanami x f!reader.
[ [ chapters mlist } ]
——OF COURSE, AFTER all you’ve been through, the very least you deserved was a perfect date with Choso Kamo. Or, at least an almost perfect date.
There was a little bump in the road but the date in itself could still be considered perfect nonetheless. Choso was such a gentleman too, not that you weren’t used to this already, but still, he opened every door for you, held your hand as he walked you to his car, made sure you were buckled in before driving off, and all of the above.
The ride to the designated restaurant was slow but, you didn’t mind. You were actually really excited and couldn’t even wipe the smile off your face for the majority of the ride. Choso’s fingers were intertwined with yours, the connection resting over the center console as he drove with his other hand.
It was all fine up until you noticed he kept squeezing your hand the closer you guys got to the restaurant. You sent him a glance or two but his expression seemed fine. That was, up until he was parked outside of the restaurant and was holding onto your hand a bit tighter than he probably realized.
Was he nervous? As you wondered, your head turned to his and you saw how he was looking out the window, slightly chewing on his lower lip anxiously.
“Choso?” You hum, earning a quick turn of his head. “Are you okay?”
He nods, his words falling behind his head movements as he so clearly isn’t fully okay, “Y-Yeah, m’fine baby.”
You smile and tilt your head, “You sound nervous.”
Choso exhales carefully, “Okay… maybe I am…”
It was cute how his facial expression showed you everything you needed to know. To ease his mind and heart, you pulled your embraced hands up to your face and shifted to kiss the back of his hand, unknowingly making his heart skip a few beats and his brain stutter.
“Don’t be nervous,” You comment softly, planting another kiss in between your gentle words, “It’s just me ‘nd you, remember?” You remind him, locking eyes and smiling against his hand.
Choso blinks and he loses a proper response to that. “I…”
He was so adorable all flustered like this so, you wanted to tease him a bit more, “C’mon, get it out…”
“Y-You’re not making this any easier for me y’know,” He tells you before pouting and turning away.
You let go of his hand and reached over to the man, lightly grabbing his jaw and pulling him so that he’s a bit closer and also facing you. Your eyes skim over his face tauntingly slow and you don’t miss the way Choso gulps.
Tipping your head to the side, your fingers caress his jawline and you feel his skin tense up under your touch. He breathes heavily through his nose and his eyes are all over your face, desperately trying to figure out why you’re looking at him the way you are.
“Baby…” He murmurs.
You grin, “Hm?”
“Why uh…” Choso swallows, “Why’re you lookin’ at me like that?”
“Cause’,” Your head tilts and your grin spreads into a cute smile, “You just… You look really handsome all put together.”
It’s slow but, you watch as a shade of crimson spreads across his face and his eyes widen in shock. Yes, he heard you refer to him as handsome earlier but this is so much more direct and he’s flustered by you complimenting him so suddenly.
“T-Thank you,” He manages.
You snicker and inch closer, quickly planting a brief kiss to his lips before responding. “Mhm, I feel like I should start complimenting you more often. You’re so cute when you blush.”
His face reddens even more and he looks off to the side, “I’m not blushing…”
“Cho…” You smirk, “Your face is bright red right now-“
“W-We’re gonna’ be late to the reservation.” Choso cuts off nervously.
“Uhuh, sure we are,” You laugh before letting go of his face and turning to open the car door.
“Do not open that door,” Choso instructs.
You look at him and raise a brow but he’s already moving to shut the car off and exit the vehicle. Then, you watch as he rushes around the front of the car and over to your side before opening your door for you.
There’s a giggle that slips past you as he holds his hand out for you. You take his hand and he carefully pulls you out of your seat, stepping behind you for a moment to shut the door before locking his car and sliding his arm around your waist.
His movements were so smooth all of a sudden and you were pretty sure his nervousness had faded. Your body was carefully urged closer to his and the two of you made your way into the restaurant.
The smell of fresh and delightful food filled your noses before you even got inside and once you both entered, sounds of laughter, clinking, and chatting hit both of your ears nicely. Something about the aura of a nice restaurant sounded, smelled, and felt so refreshing. You couldn’t help but smile yet again, the action something you’d find yourself doing multiple times throughout the night.
You and Choso are soon escorted to your designated seating and he’s quick to pull your chair out for you. After that, you both settle into your seats and the host informs the two of you that a waiter will be with you guys in just a moment.
Taking a moment to glance around, you find yourself satisfied by how nice this restaurant is, “This place is fancier than I thought it’d be,” You hum as you spot a pianist not too far away adding to the ambiance of the area with some sweet melody.
Choso chuckles, “Is that a good thing or a bad thing?”
Your eyes trail over to him and you grin, “It’s a great thing.”
“You weren’t expecting me to take you to McDonalds or something… right?” He questions wearly.
You start laughing, “No, of course not. I don’t know what exactly I was expecting but this place certainly exceeds what I imagined.”
It makes him beyond happy to hear that, the man feeling overly proud of himself for his choice of dining, “Well you deserve the best of the best so, I took my time trying to find the perfect place.”
“Aw, really? How long did it take you to find this place?” You ask curiously as you tilt your head.
Choso shrugs, “A few hours…. but, there were a lot of other great spots, I just took extra time going through all the reviews,” And visited each place he saw online, checking out their menus, and even how the food looked in person but, he doesn’t tell you he did all that.
“You went through all the reviews too?” You say with a laugh.
“Yeah,” Choso hums timidly, almost as if he were embarrassed by it, “I just uh… I really want this to be perfect.”
Your eyes widen slightly, “It would’ve been perfect no matter where you took me, I’m happy to be anywhere with you, Cho.”
Again, this shade of red flushes over his face, and his eyes wander off to the side and away from yours. Choso clears his throat and smiles a bit, “I know, and I’m happy to be anywhere with you too but, I dunno’ I just wanted our first real date to be memorable.”
“Mhm, I understand,” You reply with a nod, “And I appreciate you for that so,” Your hand reaches over the table and he looks down to it. Choso brings one of his hands to yours and you take a hold of it, “Thank you, Choso.”
He doesn’t know why but, the happy expression on your face, the light touch of your hand, and your thanks to him just made his heart race in his chest. Okay well, he does know why— it’s because he’s crazy in love with you, and everything you say and do makes his heart rush.
Swallowing, “Anything for you, princess,” Choso responds simply.
Just as the words leave his lips, a waiter approaches the table ready to take orders from you two. So caught up in each other, you both forgot to take a look at the menu so you started off with something to drink. After the waiter takes that and leaves to prepare beverages, Choso glances down at the menu and starts telling you what he thought looked good.
There’s something fuzzy building up inside you over listening to him talk about something so simple. This was real, you were really on a date with Choso. He points at something and then flicks his gaze up to you, asking you something about your thoughts and you answer but your mind is still occupied with the surrealness of this.
Instead of only going out with some kinda goal, you’re here with the intention of only having a good time. It was different. On the last date you went on, the goal was to sleep with the man by the end of the night but in this case— the goal is just to enjoy yourselves.
It was perfect.
You don’t think you’ve ever been happier than you are right now.
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ . . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
As the night progressed, so did conversations with Choso. You think you could talk to this man for hours and never get bored or find yourself at a loss for words, and even if there was a moment of silence, it was still just as comforting.
Eventually, the two of you not only made an order for food but also received your plates not too long after. As you both ate, you found yourself just admiring Choso.
Something about him was just far more appealing tonight than it had been before and you have no idea what it was. Maybe it was knowing this man was going to be your boyfriend by the end of the night? Or perhaps it was that staring at him reminded you of how you’d spend as long as you could with him?
At one point, Choso’s head was turned to the side and his eyes were on the pianist not too far away. He was talking about something but you couldn’t register his words with how caught up in your gaze you were. The man was mesmerizing you and he had absolutely no idea.
Choso leans back in his chair a bit, moving to bring a napkin to his face to wipe his mouth clean, and then licking his lips in the middle of his sentence. Your eyes traced the outlines of his lips, your body remembering how they felt against you, how soft and warm they were, and how much you loved that feeling.
Then you found yourself staring at the tattoo running across the bridge of his nose, the sight reminding you of his other tattoo and how hidden it is. A mark on his body only for your gaze, how beautiful is that? This man in front of you was so devoted to you that he imprinted your name on his body.
The suit he wore was sitting on his body just right, moderately tight in all the best places, especially his crotch when he sat down, or maybe that was just the size of his manhood beneath the clothing… Either way, his attire complimented him perfectly. You got a glimpse of the way the fabric of his pants hugged his thighs slightly and even his sleeves were stretching and smoothing over his muscles so nicely.
The suit wasn’t too tight but it was definitely doing him justice. And since he leaned back, his legs parted and you just got a glimpse of his lower half and how sexily he sat in a manspread. At this point, you didn’t know if you wanted to continue eating your food or get Choso home as soon as possible and-
The sound of your name being said snaps you out of your mind and your eyes shoot up to his face, catching sight of this little smirk on his face as he continues to look over at the pianist.
“Hm?” You hum innocently.
“Are you okay?” Choso asks, his eyes glancing to you for one moment as he starts playing with the end of his tie.
You nod, “Yeah, why?”
“You uh,” He chuckles, “You have that look on your face.”
Your eyes bat in a confused manner, “What look?”
Choso turns his head to face you and he tips his head to the side, “You know what look I’m talkin’ about, baby.”
“No I don’t…” You murmur with a little chuckle. After which, you reach your hand over to the glass of wine you previously ordered for yourself and have been sipping on this entire time.
Choso shakes his head at you, “Have you had too much to drink already?”
“No…” You hum, “This is only my second glass, and what does that have to do with the way I’m looking at you?”
“You only look at me like that when you’re horny,” He explains, shaking his head a bit, “And you always get horny after having too much to drink…”
You roll your eyes and let out a snicker, “Cho, it’s just wine. I’m not drunk or horny, I was just admiring you.”
He blushes again but it’s more tame this time, “Yeah?”
You smile, “Yes, Choso. Am I allowed to do that?”
“Sure,” He shrugs, “Just stop eye fuckin’ me.”
His words make you start laughing, “Eye fucking you?”
“Yeah, that’s what it feels like you’re doing,” He hums, chuckling.
You swallow down a swish of your wine, the liquid slipping down your throat so smoothly as you smile at the man sitting across from you.
Choso sighs after his laughter dies down and straightens himself up in his seat, leaning forward a bit to rest his elbows on the table, “I was serious about you drinking though,” He says, “Second glass or not, you and I both know how you get.”
Although he’s serious, you chuckle again, “I’m not that bad when I get drunk, am I?”
“Bad, no. Clingy, horny, freaky, messy, and distorted, yes.” Choso lists out flawlessly.
You blink, “Okay wait, clingy? I’m not clingy when I’m drunk…”
“Yes you are,” He argues, “I don’t mind it but there was that one time we drank together and uh, after we had sex you wouldn’t even let me go to the bathroom alone.”
“I-,” You snicker, “Really?”
“Yeah, you don’t remember?” Choso asks with furrowed brows, smiling a bit, “You literally had your arms around me and followed me to the bathroom. Then uh, then you asked if you could uhm…”
“If I could… what?” You question, eyes widening in worry, “I didn’t ask you anything crazy did I?”
“Uh,” Choso starts laughing, “You asked if you could hold my… y’know, while I pee,” He whispers to you.
Your jaw drops and you bring a hand over your mouth, “I did not ask you that.” You utter in disbelief of yourself.
“You did,” He purrs, smiling all too hard.
“Well…” You raise a brow and lean forward a bit, “Did you let me?” You whisper curiously.
“Damn, you really don’t remember anything from that night, do you?” Choso asks, “This is exactly why I said we’re never having drunk sex again-“
“Nono, I remember the sex, for the most part, just not… afterward,” You mumble.
He smirks, “Sooo, you don’t remember anything that went down in my bathroom?”
“No…” You reply.
“And here I thought that was such a special and significant moment in our relationship,” He sighs.
“You let me do it…” You point out as you realize, “…Didn’t you?”
“Of course I did,” He shrugs.
“I… I don’t know if I should be happy knowing that but I think I am,” You say with a smile creeping on your face.
“I mean,” Choso shrugs, “You almost made me miss the toilet a few times but, it was cute.”
You start laughing, wishing that you could remember this moment with Choso but the memory is not coming to you at all due to how out of it you were that night. “Okay we really shouldn’t be talking about this during dinner but you should totally let me do it again so I can remember,” You request.
He hums for a second before shrugging again, “Sure, why not? Though, I don’t understand why you wanted to do it in the first place…”
“It’s romantic, no?” You say with a cute little smile on your face.
“I-,” Choso laughs, “Yeah, I guess so. But, if we’re doing that while sober… Just uh, be gentler.”
You blink, “Was I not gentle the first time?”
“You were not, unfortunately. And uh, I think the only reason I didn’t get hard is because I was spent,” He explains.
“Oh.” You hum, “Ohhh…” You repeat as you gather what that means, “So, if we do that while sober you think you’ll get hard?”
“…Have you seen the way my body reacts to you? Yes, princess, yes I think I’ll get hard,” Choso sighs simply, “But that’s only if you’re not gentler and squeeze too tight-, actually y’know what, we should not be talking about this now anyway,” He rambles.
You’re sitting there just smiling at him, “You got excited thinkin’ about it, didn’t you?”
“No,” He hums, “Got’ excited thinkin’ about the way your hands look wrapped around my c-“
“Okay,” You breathe out, shutting your eyes, “You were right, we shouldn’t be talking about this. Where are our manners actually?” You say with a scoff.
Choso smirks, “Nono, I liked where this was goin’.”
“People could be listening,” You whisper.
“So? They should’ve stopped listening at the part where we started talking about you holding my dick while I pee,” He says bluntly.
Your face gets all hot for some reason and you smile, “Okay but still, this conversation is lacking class… We’re on a date…”
“…And that means we can’t talk about our intimate moments?” Choso asks.
“We can but…” You sigh and glance off to the side, “Not the explicit parts.”
He rolls his eyes sassily, “Fine fine, yes ma’am.”
“We need to behave ourselves, y’know?” You say.
Choso freezes and raises a brow at you, “You do know this whole convo started because you kept undressing me with your eyes, right? If anything, you need to behave yourself.”
You pout, “I am behaved.”
“You better be,” He warns.
Your brows quirk up, “I better be? What happens if I’m not?”
“Baby you’re playing a dangerous game right now,” Choso explains, “We’re still in public, remember that.”
“I-,” You blink, “Aw, Cho are you threatening me right now?”
“Threatening you? No, princess, I’m warning you,” He says sternly, “We both know where all your teasing gets you by the end of the night.”
You scoff and tilt your head, “And where is that again? Remind me.”
“Physically or verbally?” He asks.
“Verbally for now.” You respond.
Choso’s eyes are directly on yours and he doesn’t look away for even a moment, “Every time you spend a night teasing me, you end up underneath me moaning and whining about how you can’t take my cock anymore.”
You choke, “I-“
“Slow down Cho,” He starts mocking you, smiling a bit as your face flushes, “S’too big,” He whines.
“I do not sound like that…” You grumble.
He chuckles, “Yeah you do, ‘nd it’s sexy— it’s like music to my ears.”
You sigh, “Is it?”
“Yeah,” He hums, “I love the way you sound when you get all whiny, and don’t even get me started when you start whimpering and your eyes get teary-“
“Okay, you can stop now.”
“Fuck, I’m gettin’ turned on jus’ thinkin’ about it…” He points out, his voice lowering, “But, I didn’t wanna have sex tonight so, I’ll stop.”
You blink, “You… You didn’t wanna have sex tonight?”
“No?” He scoffs a little, “Today’s supposed to be about our relationship and our love for each other.”
You shrug sheepishly, “We could make love to each other…”
“That’s having sex, princess,” He says with a laugh, “I love you and sleeping with you but I wanted today to be about our feelings and somethin’ more than us pleasing one another.”
For some reason, that mindset of his is strangely attractive to you. Has your mind been consumed with sex that much that you forgot what a normal date night is supposed to be like? Sex is optional now, not mandatory.
“Oh, okay,” You agreed, nodding your head.
“But if you do get needy tonight, my tongue is always available for you to sit on,” He offers.
Your body heats up and you squeeze your thighs together at the mere thought of his tongue and that wonderful piece of metal that lies in the center, “Choso you can’t just say things like that and expect me not to get all worked up.”
“Yeah I can,” He claims with that stupidly attractive smirk on his face. Then, Choso moves to stand up and your eyes follow him, “Learn some self-control baby.”
You frown, “Whatever…” You mumble in response before tilting your head, “Where are you going?”
“Bathroom,” He answers, “S’that alright?”
“Yeah, I guess…” Your eyes wander off.
“I’ll be back in a few minutes, alright?” Choso tells you as he moves to start walking past you and toward the direction of the bathroom.
Just as he starts to pass you, your hand reaches out and grabs his sleeve, causing him to halt and look down at you with raised brows.
“You’re not going to jerk off or anything, are you?” You question skeptically.
The worry he had for a moment fades and he laughs, “No, princess. If I was, I’d bring you with me.”
Your eyes widen, “Oh-“
“Yeah,” He hurried out, “Now, can I go use the restroom now?”
“Mhm,” You hum while releasing his arm.
Choso flashes you one last smile before leaving. You watch him walk away until he’s out of your line of sight and then you turn away, looking at his empty seat in front of you.
Smiling to yourself, you realize how much you’ve enjoyed this date thus far. All this and Choso’s plan for the night wasn’t even to sleep with you. He really wanted to show you that he could impress you and make you happy without sex even being a factor.
Your heart thrums in your chest the more you think about it and you sit there smiling like a fool in love the more you think about it. The way he looks at you when he talks— how he doesn’t break eye contact and his pupils remain blown out during each passing second with you… fuck, you love that-, you love him.
How could this night get any better?
. . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆ . . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆
Well, it got a little worrisome for a moment…
For one, roughly seven minutes pass and you start to worry only a little but he did say he was going to the bathroom so maybe he’s having issues in there? With that thought, you go to grab your phone.
You were going to text him to make sure he didn’t fall in the toilet or something but you spot Choso’s phone sitting idly on the table so, he wouldn’t be able to respond to you.
Your head turns back to the direction he went and you sigh as you don’t spot him anywhere. How long does it take for him to-
A phone buzzes.
Your head turns to your table and your eyes search to see if it was your phone or Choso’s phone. Another buzz is heard and felt in your hand and your eyes drop down to your device. You blink as you realize you’re receiving a call and your throat runs dry a little.
What perfect timing for Gojo Satoru to be calling you, right?
You probably shouldn’t answer. You’re better off leaving a text and saying you’re busy. After all, you are on a date and the last person you should be talking to is-
“Hello?” You hum as you ignore all your thoughts and answer, bringing the phone up to your ear.
You could hear the way Gojo smiled over the phone, “Hey sweets, you busy right now?”
“Uh,” You turn around to see if Choso’s coming, seeing no sign of him, “Yes and no.”
“Yes and no?” Gojo chuckles, “What do you mean?”
You shrug, “Well, I’m on a date but-“
“Shit, you’re on a what?” He stammers.
You relax in your seat and face forward, sighing at the man over the phone, “I said I’m on a date, Satoru.”
“Fuck,” He curses, “I knew I should’ve texted you instead. We should get off the phone, I don’t wanna interrupt-“
“You’re not interrupting,” You cut off, “He’s in the bathroom.”
“I feel like that makes this even worse,” Gojo sighs, “We shouldn’t be on the phone at all while you’re out with Choso.”
“How’d you know I was with Choso?”
“Who else would you be with?” He voices out plainly.
“I-,” You laugh, “Fair point. But, I can spare a few minutes I think.”
“No, I wasn’t calling for anything important anyway,” He laughs nervously, “Jus’ wanted to ask a few things but uh, you kinda answered my questions already.”
“What were you gonna ask?” You question in a soft tone.
“It doesn’t matter, sweetheart-, actually, I should probably stop calling you that,” Gojo rambles, he sounds like a mess and like he’s all over the place.
You smile, “Satoru.”
“H-Huh? Yes?” He breathes.
“Are you okay?” You ask, your voice kind and careful with the man in ways that make his heart ache.
Gojo swallows hard and loudly over the phone, “Mhm, m’fine love-, fuck, I mean-“
“It’s okay,” You chuckle, “I mean, you’ll have to stop with the nicknames eventually but, me and Choso aren’t dating just yet so, it’s okay for now.”
He shakes his head, even though you can’t see him, “That just sounds wrong.”
“How?”
“I-I dunno, but… Y’know what, as I said, we shouldn’t be on the phone, I’ll uh, see you when I see you-“
“Satoru, what did you call me to ask?” You rush out.
“Nothing important-“
“Satoru.”
“S-Stop saying my first name.” He mumbles, almost weakly.
“I won’t until you tell me what you called for.” You say in a stern tone.
Gojo lets out a frustrated sigh, “I just wanted to see how you were doing after the whole cafe situation. Suguru told me what happened and I wanted to make sure you were okay.” He explains.
“See? Was that so hard?” You say tauntingly.
“Yes,” Gojo answers dramatically.
You laugh, “Whatever, Satoru. Anyway, I’m fine, as you can tell. Me and Choso talked everything out.”
“Really? Did you…” Gojo pauses for a moment before continuing, “Did you tell him about it?” He asks, referring to the list.
“I told him what he wanted to know about it,” You reply.
“So, you didn’t tell him about it?”
“I did, just not the details.”
Gojo nods, “I see… Well, I’m happy you guys worked things out.”
“Are you?” You question in a concerned manner.
“Yeah, of course.” He answers honestly, “You know the only thing I want is for you to be happy so, knowing that makes me happy.”
“Right…” You hum.
“Everything okay?”
“Everything’s fine.”
“You sure?” Gojo asks again.
You hesitate for some reason, “Y-Yeah.”
He goes quiet for a few minutes but after his moment, he sighs. “Alright well, I’m gonna hang up now…”
“Okay,” You breathe out softly. Why’s your heart panging?
“Uh,” Gojo stammers for a moment, “But, before I do…”
It was like you were waiting for him to say something specific with the way your ears perk up, “Yes? What is it, Satoru?”
“Well, this is probably the last time I’ll be able to say this since you’ll be in a relationship soon,” Gojo sighs, “So uh, I… I love you.”
You’re quiet for a while, his words running through your ears and swirling around your mind. “I know,” You whisper, “And, I’m sorry I can’t love you back anymore.”
“Don’t be sorry,” Gojo chuckles lightly, “I’m happy like this. This is perfect.”
“But-“
“No buts, sweetheart,” He cuts off, “I’m fine, okay?”
You roll your eyes, “You’re not.”
“I am-“
“Stop lying, I know you're not.” You utter a bit more passionately. You knew deep down Gojo was hurting but you don’t know why you cared so much.
“I really am. I’ve only ever wanted you to be happy.” He reminds you.
You scoff, “Then why-“
“I’m gonna hang up now, love.”
“Satoru-“
“I’ll see you when we burn the journal.” Gojo cuts off. He really wanted to end the call.
You bite your lower lip in thought, “…Okay,” You huff out, “Fine, whatever, don’t tell me anything. Keep me in the dark like you always do-“
“It’s for your own good,” Gojo claims, “Just let it go, it’s over now.”
“I can’t just-“
He says your name in a serious tone and you stop talking. “Let it go, please?”
“…Fine. I’ll… I’ll see you later Satoru,” You say.
“Mhm, call me when you’re ready,” Gojo says finally.
You nod, “Okay.”
“Alright.”
The two of you don’t move to get off the phone.
That was, until Gojo sighed heavily, “I’m hanging up now…”
“M’kay,” You murmur.
The call disconnects and your hand drops to your lap, your eyes wide and on your blank screen. Why couldn’t you hang up? Why are you still holding on to him and all he’s put you through? Why is your heart racing right now?
He’s an asshole. Always has been and yet here you are left with this feeling of longing in your chest. You don’t know what it is you want but you hate knowing he’s not really happy— he’s just telling himself he is.
What can you do about that anyway? Leave Choso and go to him? For what? More toxicity? More harm to your heart and mind? You found peace so why not keep it?
Your eyes shut and you release a shaky exhale. You hate how much you’re thinking about this-, thinking about him. It felt wrong.
One phone call and you can’t even focus anymore. Just let him go already-
Choso suddenly says your name and your eyes snap open, your head flying up in the direction of his voice. There he was, standing beside your chair with that concerned look in his eyes. Did he see you on the phone-
“Are you okay?” He asks, tipping his head to the side.
You nod slowly, “Y-Yeah, I’m fine.”
He raises a brow and you wonder why he’s not going back to his seat yet, “You sure?”
“Mhm,” You hum, smiling a bit.
When the man you’ve found peace in stands before you, what reason do you have to think about the man who’s brought you sorrow and confusion?
Choso smiles and he suddenly holds his hand out, “Good. Now, can you stand up f’me please?” He requests.
You glance down at his hand for a second and then place your palm in his, feeling him help you to your feet. Once standing you furrow your brows before looking to your left, the same direction he came from, and seeing someone stand there with this overly large bouquet of flowers.
“Oh my,” You breathe out as your eyes go wide and your heart flutters. They were purple roses assorted in this huge bouquet that covered the torso of the person holding it. “Are those…”
Choso moves to take them from the person and nods at them with a quiet thank you being uttered before he turns to you and holds them out, “Yes, yes they’re for you.” He says.
A big flustered smile spreads across your face and you can feel your heart melting as you take them from Choso and your eyes admire their vibrance, “Choso these are beautiful-,” You cut yourself off as you look up to find him gone.
The flowers in your hand were rather large so you had to move them to the side to spot Choso down on one knee all of a sudden. Anxiety shot through your body and you were worried he was about to ask for your hand in marriage for a second.
Choso reaches into his pocket and your breathing grows heavy until he pulls out nothing more than a small jewelry box that’s larger than one for a ring. You sigh a little, too shocked to say anything just yet as he opens the box and holds it up to you.
Revealed is this pretty, expensive-looking bracelet that makes your breath hitch. “C-Choso-“
“This might be a lot,” He starts off, “Maybe even too much but… I…” His face is burning red and it’s taking a lot for him to get through this without stuttering. Choso takes a deep breath, “Since I met you, you have made me so happy. I… I’m not good with words and I practiced this like eight times b-but… fuck, you mean everything to me, and I…”
You’re speechless as you gaze down at the man. Heads started to turn and most just knew he was about to ask you to marry him— people awwing and cooing at the two of you.
“I love you so much,” Choso breathes out, swallowing down his nerves, “So, will you do me the honor and allow me to be your boyfriend?”
There’s a gasp or two from some people watching nearby, some woman laughing somewhere behind you. “All this as a dating proposal?” She uttered, “I can’t even get my man to look at me.”
There’s another voice beside her, “That’s because he’s not your man…”
She scoffs, “Yes he is-“
Their words fade out from your hearing as you focus on Choso, your heart pounding and throbbing, your breathing unsteady, and your eyes all teary.
You frown and try to bite back sudden tears of pure joy that overwhelm you, “Y-Yeah,” You squeak out, nodding your head, “You can be my boyfriend, Choso,” Your voice was faint and soft but he heard every word, rushing to his feet and meet you with a hug.
His arms wrap around your waist and you have no idea where the bracelet he had out for you went but you were too wrapped up in him to care. Your arms flew up and around his neck, the bouquet held in one hand as you did so.
Choso squeezes you and the two of you hug so tenderly as those who were watching start applauding you guys. All of which faded into the background as Choso moved to press his lips to your ear.
“I once told you I couldn’t give you the world,” He whispers, “And I realized that’s only because you are my world-, my everything,” Choso claims, pulling his face from your ear and watching as you turn your head to meet his eyes.
You bat your eyelashes at him and a few tears slip out as you smile, “I love you Choso,” You claim.
He smiles and both of you tilt your heads in opposing directions before pressing your lips into one another’s, Choso mumbling his words into your mouth, “I love you too.”
Bliss engulfed his body and your own. Such a sweet and tender connection of bodies, hearts, and minds finally privileged enough to bask in a rightful moment. His lips were passionate and careful against yours and you could feel the bouquet in your hand slipping, smiling against his mouth as you’ve never been happier.
“Choso-,” You breathe out, “Flowers’ are slippin’,” You mumbled against his lips.
He nods, “Mhm, I’ll buy you more if they drop,” Choso tells you before pushing his tongue into your mouth.
You ease your arms down a bit and kiss him back sensually, trying your best not to release the flowers in your grasp.
It was perfect, he was perfect for you. You couldn’t have predicted a better night than this. How could you think of anyone else? Anything else when you had him?
He loved you and you loved him. It was so painfully obvious now how much the two of you longed for one another even when you had one another.
Thoughts of Gojo Satoru would come another day, another time but, not now, not today— not when you’ve got a man giving you all he has and loving you in an indescribably beautiful way.
He’s typically shy but still went out of his way to make a dating proposal public with all nearby eyes on the two of you. He put aside his anxiety and dislike of mass attention on him for you. Choso did so much for you and your well-being.
How could he get any better? How could this night get any better?
Bump in the road with Gojo or not, it was perfect. Everything was perfect and you wouldn’t have asked for it all to go any other way.
If you had to complete the list all over again just to end up in this very position, you’d do it a thousand times because somewhere deep down— you think it was worth it.
All that pain, suffering, and confusion was worth it so long as you ended up with Choso who heals every hurting part of you.
He truly was perfect for you.
GOJO SATORU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
GETO SUGURU ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
TOJI FUSHIGURO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢
KAMO CHOSO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙈𝙚𝙙𝙞𝙪𝙢 / 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
ZEN'IN NAOYA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙀𝙭𝙩𝙧𝙚𝙢𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮
ITADORI SUKUNA ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙎𝙚𝙢𝙞-𝙀𝙖𝙨𝙮???
NANAMI KENTO ✔︎ 𝘛𝘳𝘶𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘧𝘧𝘪𝘤𝘶𝘭𝘵𝘺: 𝙃𝙖𝙧𝙙
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tags;
@blognicole @suguruologist @luqueam @ivoryviness @sinaxalui @rxnnie18 @carlacujo @gods-landing @bitchysouljellyfish @miles4hour @sinaxalui @annananamin @heart-snow @kiyomizzx @hanuh @acehyacinth @mccookiemonster @tojis-ball-sack @cartwheel6869 @mariluvsusstuff @addie1010 @slammynics @actualz0mbie @hisbitchhh @kay-xle @cunttee3 @voids-universe @raininglovelyfire @itsbokutosjuicyass @peaceoutbritta @barbielani @gennaray @r3inae @kfmcykdy @camiihutt @tokina @curtin81937 @hopefullydecent @nameless-shade @ureuphoriasworld @forgetfulmachine @legbouk @lilliaannn @clementineee0-0 @divinelseraph @didibxx
them eyelashes 😍
(-｡-;
guess who can’t draw hair 😻
I spent my one n only braincell to draw this :P
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