Just This Once

“WILL MY EXQUISITE MORTAL LET ME BE HER FIRST BITE?”

“I can’t give you an Edward Cullen but I can be the vampire of your fantasies. So will you accept me, my love?”

pairing: vampire! suguru geto x f!reader | kinkoctober m.list

summary: it is at tokyo university, during a foggy month of october, with a soft, chilling rain falling drearily, that autumn gloomily settles over all the students. you are a biology student — a true passion for you. but aside from the precious time you spend with your eye glued to a microscope, observing cells, your nightly dreams of a noble vampire whisking you away from this life to spiral with you in a bewitching dance — much like edward cullen would — seem to be coming true. especially when your new lab partner, suguru geto, appears to be anything but one of the common folk…

warnings: +18 MDNI, smut, nsfw, suguru and reader are students in biology, some scenes are inspired from the volume 1 of the twilight saga, dark academia vibes (kinda), fall mood, slight angst, gojo and choso makes an appearance, gojo is also a vampire, friends to lovers, suguru is a gentleman, human/vampire relationship, nightmare, mention of alcohol (it’s beer), blood sucking, handjob (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), cowgirl, overstimulation, sex (p in v), oral (f + m), blood kink (well, i think so...), voice kink.

wc: 10,759 (i’ve missed writing long fics haha)

A mortal life can be so dull, can’t it?

While vampires, they get to live eternally, without worrying about time or dying. Not only are they blessed with breathtaking beauty, but they’re also quick, with vision sharper than an eagle’s, and they remember forever what they read.

That would come in handy for many, wouldn’t it, dear reader?

Or maybe, having a vampire boyfriend, like in books and series? Is it always asking for too much…

“You’re reading Twilight?”

The question, almost whispered near your temple, makes you jump on the bench in the lecture hall where you’re sitting, and you nearly drop Volume 1 of your favorite vampire saga. His breath is icy, enough to send a chill of goosebumps over the entirety of your skin. At least, October’s biting wind has a rival…

You quickly look up at a student around your age, who sits in the seat next to you, a smirk stretching across his perfectly thin lips. The beauty of this stranger becomes blinding.

Is such supernatural beauty even allowed?

With long strands of black hair brushing his shoulders, alabaster skin, deep obsidian eyes, and a physique perfectly balanced between lean and muscular, your mouth falls open in indiscreet amazement. And he has probably noticed, as the corner of his mouth stretches even further.

He knows he’s beautiful. Is he using it to his advantage? You half hope he is.

“Yes,” you answer simply, your eyes still fixed on him as he pulls out his things. “You recognized it?”

He raises an amused eyebrow. “A classic of vampire literature, isn’t it? How could I not?”

His remark warms your heart in a strange way. “Oh, I don’t know. I rarely meet guys who’ve read the same books as me.” Your gaze drifts over the lower rows of the lecture hall. “I expected you to bring up the movies.”

“I did watch the movies, but I read the books first. You know what they say about that.” His velvety tone draws your attention, and surprisingly, his gaze remains fixed on you.

There’s this light that animates his irises — like a smile.

“Is that why you took biology classes?” he continues, breaking your silence. You furrow your brows. “I mean, it’s the place where Bella and Edward first meet, right?” He chuckles at your still-confused expression. “In a biology class,” he clarifies.

And he laughs when the lightbulb in your mind finally goes on.

His laugh is so soft, almost musical and enchanting. A lullaby that pleasantly tickles your ears, drawing you in.

“So, you like vampire stories? Perfect for October,” he adds.

You study the flawless features of his face and almost forget to answer him. “Uh, yes. It’s one of the first romances I read when I was young. I reread it every year, like a tradition.”

“Oh, then I’m dealing with a real fan! Maybe you’re waiting for your vampire?” His teasing tone stings, making your cheeks blush adorably.

“What? No, I never said that!” you protest.

Once again, he bursts out laughing, this time so openly that you can see all his perfectly aligned white teeth — one detail you can’t ignore.

His canines are slightly sharper than average. They have their charm, certainly, but that doesn’t stop the strange feeling that there’s nothing ordinary about him.

No, you’re not delusional enough to think he could actually be a vampire (that only happens in books, come on!), but still, why not imagine it? His beauty, however, remains anything but normal.

In the end, as you join in his contagious laughter, you can’t help but think that maybe this new October will be a little more special than the previous ones and a little less lonely.

~~~~

By the end of the day, you at least managed to get a name — Suguru Geto.

Does a man who monopolizes your attention also have to be blessed with such a lovely name?

“Nice day, isn’t it?”

The familiar tone tickles your ears the next day, but you don’t look up right away, preferring to wait for him to set down his things and prepare himself, just as you are, for the practical biology class (the one that usually takes place in the lab).

You lift your nose from yesterday’s book and glance at the window, where a thin stream of sunlight slips through the glass to warm the surface of the floor. “It’s rare for October,” you comment nonchalantly.

“Don’t sound too excited,” he replies sarcastically, quickly slipping on his white lab coat. His long strands of black hair brush against the pristine white fabric with elegance. “You don’t like the sun?” A mischievous smile tugs at the corner of his mouth as it twitches slightly.

“And you like it?” you retort, knotting your brows as your eyes rise to meet his.

“I hate it.”

You blink. “Didn’t you say it was a nice day?”

“I asked you if it was.” He chuckles softly. “If you’d breathe in something other than moldy paper…” He gestures at the yellowed pages of your book.

“Show some respect for my book.” You close it sharply and give Suguru’s shoulder a playful shove that barely registers, as if his muscles were made of stone.

“Good morning, class.” The voice of your professor cuts through just as you’re about to make a comment about it, and you quickly store your book in your bag.

For this biology class, a rather simple and classic experiment needs to be carried out in pairs using a microscope — a blood type test (ABO/Rh). Something fairly standard and easy to do. It reminds you of a scene from the first volume of the Twilight saga, and to say that you’re holding back from a mini-celebration would be an understatement, as everything seems perfect.

During the procedural steps of the experiment, you notice Suguru watching you, sitting on his wooden stool as you bring the needle close to the tip of your finger. “Aren’t you going to prick yourself?” you can’t help but ask.

Suguru shakes his head, swallowing. “I have a hard time with… blood.” He inhales and exhales lightly, as though something constricts him in his attempts.

“Oh, really?” You raise your eyebrows in surprise. “Are you hemophobic?”

“Let’s… go with that,” he replies, his tone almost so dry and flat that you wonder where his cheerfulness from earlier has gone.

“So, you’re not really phobic?” you press, which elicits a small sigh from him that you notice despite its subtlety.

“It’s complicated to explain,” he says, his gaze lowering to the lab table legs. “I’ll just do the experiment with you.”

“But it’s graded,” you murmur. “Wouldn’t you rather we—”

“I know. The professor is aware, don’t worry,” he assures you through clenched teeth, scooting his chair back slightly from you and clearing his throat to stifle the metallic sound of the chair legs scraping the floor.

Of course, this doesn’t escape your notice. You even have half a mind to ask if he’s okay, but he cuts you off right before you can, making you almost want to shake him. “I’ll help you analyze your blood type; just let me know when to add the anti-A drops and—”

But before he finishes, you’ve already pricked your finger, and a large drop of blood is forming. The reddish liquid rolls down your fingertip like a tear, and you quickly place drops on the microscope slides.

Suguru stands up abruptly, and for a second, you think he’s going to rush over to draw some drops for the test, but he grabs his things instead and bolts out of the lab without a word.

In the room, no one — neither students nor the professor — seems to pay any attention to him.

You’re the only one left frozen, with drops of blood still trickling down your hand.

Wait, what just happened?

~~~~

During the rest of the week that follows, Suguru doesn’t show up to any classes. Not even the biology ones.

Confusion continues to hang around you, almost preventing you from enjoying a good night's sleep. He who seemed so charming and welcoming at first now seems to have pulled away all of a sudden.

Did you upset him by biting him without warning? He probably didn’t like that, but wasn’t it him who was behaving so strangely? It’s almost like he has bipolar behavior.

Sitting at the base of a solitary tree in your university courtyard, you’ve settled in to enjoy the grayish weather and the beauty of the autumn leaves swirling down onto the green grass by the pathways.

What perfect weather to study.

Fine raindrops fall here and there, but nothing to damage your belongings, or perhaps just enough to help you forget your sad heart. Of course, you barely know Suguru. He’s a student as ordinary as a gemstone in a river of pebbles. As normal as the beauty of a model and that of the one who foolishly stole your heart in less than 2000 words (you’re about there, dear reader). You’re just a fool. He doesn’t represent much aside from being beautiful.

And potentially liking what you read.

And maybe you’re also disappointed at the thought of having believed in a friend (a rare one, because yes, you certainly don’t have any).

And the possibility of spending the best season in the company of someone who might appreciate the same autumnal atmosphere as you.

The cold wind blows, sweeping your hair from your face over your shoulder, doing the same with a few pages of the textbook lying on the grass. You hold your copy of the Twilight saga close, the only thing that still connects you to Suguru, who has been missing for almost a week.

Too bad…

~~~~

The following week, to your surprise, as you take your usual seat in the biology lecture hall in the early morning, Suguru Geto quickly descends the steps and sits on the opposite side of the room.

The moment he walked through the doors, your eyes locked onto him and didn’t waver, but of course, he didn’t glance at you even once. So maybe you can give him the benefit of the doubt — maybe he didn’t see you.

But that doesn’t seem to be enough.

Not when, at the end of the lecture, he walks right past you to leave the room, making it all too obvious that he’s purposely ignoring you. He practically escapes from the lecture hall, walking so quickly that he leaves the crowd of students behind him.

He must be mad at you.

Well, so be it.

That’s what you tell yourself.

What you keep telling yourself.

And you keep repeating it, even as he sits with other students, one girl in particular giggling with him during class. A pang tugs at your heart. The same smile, the same eyes, but now directed at another girl. And even other guys. But it’s even more unbearable when it’s another girl.

Too bad...

So you wait through the following days, secretly hoping he’ll come over to you, but nothing. Then one Friday, just as all hope seems to have evaporated, your biology professor makes an announcement that makes you sincerely want to marry her.

“My dear students, it’s finally time for me to evaluate you on what counts most for me before midterms, and that’s your ability to work on a project, which you’ll hand in after some time,” she announces, her tone lightly enthusiastic, as if giving extra work could raise her salary. “I’ve already paired you up, with each group working on a different topic. The pairs and topics are already posted on the list I’ve sent to your emails via the course Canvas page.”

Within seconds, everyone in the lecture hall has their eyes glued to their phones, checking who their partner is. Cheers echo around you, with some students celebrating their familiar partners, while others are less pleased.

In your case, it’s your jaw that does the work, practically hitting the floor.

Your name right there, alongside his — Suguru Geto.

He’s the first person you look for, and you can’t deny a slight thrill of satisfaction.

Lower down in the hall, Suguru sits frozen, holding his phone, his shoulders tensed, likely processing the news about his partner. He shifts slightly after a few moments, and you can predict his movements with surprising clarity. The instant he begins to turn in what seems like your direction, you quickly avert your gaze, avoiding any — direct or indirect — confrontation with him.

The bell finally rings, and the students start packing up, barely listening to your biology professor’s reminders about the project’s due date.

You don’t linger either, hastily grabbing your bag, stuffing in your laptop and other things, eager to escape the room and avoid crossing paths with Suguru.

Just as you reach the middle of the courtyard, where rain pours down in relentless sheets, your name is called out despite the strong wind biting at your cheeks and bending nearby trees. The rain falls harder by the second, driving most students to seek refuge indoors, away from the dark gray sky and the downpour increasing in force and volume.

Despite the fierce wind and unending rain, your name is called out a second time as panic seizes you. A conflict arises within you. It’s Suguru’s voice ringing out miraculously above the “storm,” yet you still need to find shelter.

You keep walking, determined not to turn back. Your clothes are soaked, your skin chilled to the bone, and your hair plastered to your face. But no, you won’t turn back.

This time, your name is called so loudly and from so close that you startle, your previously squinting eyes now wide open. “Are you crazy? It’s pouring like a storm!” Suguru exclaims, wrapping his hand around your wrist to pull you toward the empty gazebo to shelter you both. You protest, pulling your wrist back in vain, but you have to admit it: Suguru’s grip is as solid as stone.

Both of you, soaked to the bone, stand under the gazebo as Suguru wrings out his jet-black hair, then immediately turns to face your shivering form. "Are you okay?" he murmurs softly, just as thunder rumbles in the distance. But it’s easy to read his lips.

You nod, averting your gaze. “What do you want?”

Suguru furrows his brows. “Originally, to talk about the project. But at this point, to keep you from throwing yourself at the storm!”

His words are so sarcastic that the two of you end up staring stupidly into each other’s wide, rain-dampened eyes, as droplets patter against the gazebo roof.

Then you both burst out laughing.

It doesn’t take long before you’re doubled over, tears welling up as laughter fills the air. The deep breaths and cold, ragged gasps that freeze your lungs mean nothing compared to this absurdly amusing moment.

When the laughter finally subsides and you’ve caught your breath, Suguru clears his throat. “Anyway, can I ask why you decided to challenge this storm when I was calling out to you?”

“Ask yourself,” you retort, the laughter vanishing from your face. “Weren’t you the one who left me mid-experiment and has been ignoring me ever since?” You pause, trying to keep your growing feelings hidden, as warmth rises to your cheeks. To cover it, you add, “And besides, I don’t owe you anything. You told me you’d arranged things with the professor.”

Suguru blinks twice in quick succession. “Did… that hurt you?”

You frown. “What? No, we barely know each other. That’s not what—”

He murmurs your name as a gentle warning, sending a shiver down your spine, then takes a step closer, closing the distance between you. “Answer me. Did it hurt you?”

You purse your lips, feeling embarrassed, but remain in stubborn silence.

Suguru sighs, then lowers his head toward you until his forehead rests gently on your shoulder. “Forgive me.”

“...What?”

“Forgive me,” he repeats. “I understand my mistake. I knew that leaving without an explanation would hurt you. But I didn’t think it would be even worse if I didn’t come to talk to you afterward. I thought… maybe you didn’t want to talk to me anymore.” He lifts his head, his eyes meeting yours, and you’re left speechless at his words. “You have every right to be upset with me. It’s not fair.”

Suddenly, a clap of thunder booms, and you flinch in fright. Suguru instinctively places his hands around your elbows.

“Are you okay?”

You swallow, heart pounding. “Yes, I’m fine.” Suguru looks puzzled, his brow furrowing in response. “I mean,” you turn your face away, your cheeks aflame, “let’s just forget it happened. I’m not mad at you. Maybe I should have warned you I was about to prick my finger and—”

“Oh, no, no, no,” Suguru cuts you off softly, a worried crease forming between his brows. “It’s my fault. I wasn’t in the right mindset, and I panicked when I saw the blood. You have nothing to apologize for, please.” He uses the quiet moment to tuck a stray lock of hair that had fallen near your eyes behind your ear. “So… do you forgive me?”

Your eyes meet his again, and the warmth in them nearly overwhelms you. “...Yes.”

“Perfect. Thank you,” he whispers, grateful. Another silence lingers as he slowly releases his hold on your elbows. “So… are you up for the project?”

“As long as it doesn’t involve any more real blood,” you reply with a shy, half-smile.

“Promise, no more blood,” Suguru assures you, chuckling softly.

~~~~

“It’s actually pretty convenient.”

“Yeah, well, maybe not for our hands,” Suguru grumbles, grabbing a paper towel to wipe his fingers now stained red from the strawberry juice that’s seeped out.

“I actually like it,” you mumble, chewing on a strawberry used for your DNA extraction analysis — the topic of your shared project.

All of it comes from a strawberry, considering Suguru wasn’t keen on using mouth swabs, which was understandable.

“You’ve got juice all around your mouth,” he chuckles, amused by your bewildered and almost endearing expression. “Need some help?” He reaches out and gently wipes a red stain from the corner of your lips with his thumb.

You murmur a quick thank you, feeling your cheeks heat up slightly as he wipes his thumb with a tissue, then casually tucks it away in his pocket. With a quick glance at the clock on your living room wall, he comments, “You haven’t eaten dinner.”

“You mean we haven’t,” you correct him.

“No, I mean you haven’t,” he insists with that familiar little smirk. “And I’m suggesting we go out to eat.” He gets up from his chair in a fluid motion, heading toward the exit without waiting for a reply.

As he had intended, you soon find yourself seated at a cozy, discreet restaurant with soft, dim lighting. Suguru sits across from you, arms crossed over his chest, his torso leaning forward slightly.

“So? Did you decide?” he murmurs softly, a stray lock of his raven-black hair brushing his cheek, its tip just grazing his lips.

“Yes, I’ll go with this,” you show him, just as the server arrives to take your order with a polite smile. “What about you?”

“You didn’t choose a drink.”

“Oh, um, a Coke,” you reply, a bit caught off guard.

“Make that two Cokes, please,” he tells the server, who nods and leaves quietly. Suguru turns back to you. “I already paid the bill,” he adds as you open your mouth to speak.

“But you didn’t even know the price of what I’d order,” you protest, frowning.

“I left a tip just in case.” He grins.

Moments later, despite your ongoing complaints about his overly chivalrous gesture, the server places a steaming hot dish in front of you.

“Suguru…” you sigh.

“Eat,” he responds with his ever-present smirk, nudging the plate closer.

Seeing no other choice, you stab a piece of vegetable with your fork, chewing it with an exasperated pout.

Suguru’s grin widens until it reveals perfectly straight, white teeth, with canines just a bit sharper than average. If you let your imagination go, who wouldn’t think of a vampire? But you keep that thought to yourself and blink at Suguru, whose grin soon turns to laughter.

“What?” you ask, mouth still full.

“You look like an angry little chipmunk,” he laughs, covering his face with his hands to muffle his uncontrollable laughter as you swallow. His laugh is so warm, harmonious, and comforting that you can’t help but giggle along, wiping the corner of your mouth with a napkin.

“Stop,” you try to grumble, but the attempt only sharpens Suguru’s laugh, and soon both of you are swept up in uncontrollable laughter.

An hour later, you’ve finished your meal and your Coke — and even Suguru’s, who insisted he wasn’t hungry. It seemed odd, but his sincere smile reassured you. So you didn’t question it and asked him to wait outside while you made a quick stop in the restroom.

As you step out of the ladies’ room, two unfamiliar men block your way, stopping you from making a quick exit. You sigh discreetly, hesitant to say you’re in a hurry.

“Well, hey there, cutie,” growls one, a short, stocky guy.

“We saw you heading to the restroom all alone, thought you looked pretty cute,” adds his taller, leaner friend. “So if you’re interested, wanna spend the evening with us?”

Is this really Wario and Waluigi standing in front of you?

You swallow nervously. “Oh, sorry, I’m waiting for someone, so that won’t be possible,” you say politely, forcing a smile.

“Oh yeah? Who’s that?”

“My…” You search for the right words, even though the answer is obvious. “Friend.”

“Your friend?” the shorter man presses. “Maybe we could help you find him, huh? We’ve even got a nice car to take you in.” His smile reveals teeth stained dark by tobacco, sending a shiver of dread down your spine.

“I can find my own way, but thanks for the offer,” you say, taking a few steps to slip between the two men. “Have a good even—”

“Hold on there, not so fast!” the lean man cuts you off, any hint of friendliness gone in an instant. “Who said you could leave?”

The shorter man clicks his tongue in agreement, narrowing his eyes dangerously as your heartbeat races faster with panic. “Yeah! We need some company tonight, so you’re either coming with us, or else—”

“Or else what?”

Suguru’s hands rest firmly on your shoulders, giving them a gentle squeeze. “Suguru, you—” Just turning halfway and looking up, you recognize his unforgettable form, and your heart nearly stops.

“You okay, princess?” Suguru murmurs, his neck bent so close to your shoulder that he could practically nibble your neck or playfully bite your ear. One small nod from you is all he needs before he carefully releases you and positions his body as a shield between you and the two men.

Even from behind him, you can feel his chilling smile.

“Gentlemen, shall we continue this conversation outside?”

“Phew!” Suguru exhales, brushing off his hands as you both leave the restaurant ten minutes later.

“W-What happened to those two guys?” you can’t help but ask, trying not to shiver in the biting cold that hits you the second you step outside.

“Nothing special,” he answers vaguely, smoothly slipping off his sleek black leather jacket and draping it over your shoulders. It’s cold to the touch. “Put it on—I don’t want you catching a chill.” His minty breath brushes against your cheek.

“No need, really. It’s already very kind of you to—”

“Don’t thank me, alright?” Suguru opens the passenger side door of your car, gesturing for you to get in. And before you can protest, he hushes you. “Nope, I’m driving tonight.”

“Aren’t you overdoing the chivalry thing?” you grumble, crossing your arms over your chest as you settle into the passenger seat while Suguru rests his hands on the wheel.

“Better too much than too little, right? You complaining, or am I imagining things?” he chuckles, and you sigh, rubbing your arms against the cold that his jacket doesn’t quite keep out. “You’re cold?”

You nod slightly, and he reaches for the heat controls at the same time you do, and for an instant, your hands brush against each other.

And a strange, unpleasant feeling washes over you.

Suguru pulls his hand back, looking tense and stiff, his gaze fixed intently on the road. You turn the heat up by yourself and sink into your seat.

“Your… hand’s freezing,” you murmur, daring only to glance at him with your eyes, not turning your head fully. “Are you sure you don’t want to take your jacket back?” He doesn’t answer.

The rest of the drive passes in silence, and you can’t shake the question of how a simple brush of hands turned the atmosphere so awkward. It feels as if the air has thickened, like molasses, making each breath slightly difficult.

Once you arrive in front of your house, you both step out of the car, and Suguru hands you your keys as you do.

“I’ll walk you to your door,” he murmurs, matching his pace to yours.

You don’t respond, pulling your house keys out, but you don’t pay attention to the porch steps and stumble. In the next second, you blink.

You didn’t fall.

Two strong arms, heavy and solid as iron, hold you firmly in place.

“You alright?” Suguru’s eyes are fixed on yours, his face far too close, so close that all it would take is for you to lean forward to kiss him.

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” you stammer, taken by surprise.

He steadies you back on your feet, his hand lingering around your waist to make sure you don’t stumble again.

Made of stone.

Suguru steps back, creating a respectable distance, while you fumble with your keys, your hands trembling slightly as you slip one into the lock.

“See you Monday?” you whisper, as though the night amplifies your voice.

“Monday, yes,” Suguru replies with a nod that seems almost… robotic.

~~~~

Two weeks later, neither of you had brought up any details about what happened — whether it was about the two men at the restaurant, Suguru’s icy hands, or his iron-like grip (and at this point, calling it iron was putting it mildly).

Now that you’re friends, it didn’t take long before you both started spending most of your free time together during the week — at the library, in the university courtyard, and sometimes even at cafés.

Your weekends often revolved around working on the DNA extraction project with strawberries, even though using cheek cells seemed more and more tempting. Why? Well, it fit perfectly into the human biology lessons in your course — even if the strawberries did the trick.

Naturally, you started learning more about each other — hobbies, music tastes — and, of course, books.

If there was anything that held you back from finding Suguru’s behavior odd at times, it was that day he sat beside you after a Sunday you’d spent chatting the whole afternoon away about your favorite books without making any progress on your biology project.

From Anne of Green Gables to Twilight, Dracula, Wuthering Heights, or Kafka’s works (Letters to Milena in particular), Suguru had brought every single copy he’d bought that Sunday evening and read them all overnight — something you’d thought impossible to read in such a short time, but Suguru assured you he reads very quickly.

So you believed him.

How could you not, when he found the best way to make your heart race by reading what you loved and showing up ready to discuss it all with you?

If that was his intent, then Suguru was indeed every bit the gentleman he thought himself to be.

“By the way, there’s a frat party happening soon. Are you going to come?” Suguru asks, his head bent over a DNA Ethics Guide textbook.

You’re both in the university library, as silent as a vampire’s heart. Ah, now you’re a poet?

You stop rummaging through your pencil case and glance up at him. “I don’t really know anyone, so—”

“Well, I do, so are you coming?”

You laugh nervously. “No, I don’t want to just crash the party; it’ll be awkward and—”

“I’ll be there, so it won’t be crashing,” Suguru insists, a slight smile playing on his lips as he looks up at you.

The sight takes your breath away.

“Will you let me finish my sentences, for goodness’ sake?” you retort, your cheeks flushing. You lower your eyes to your pencil case to avoid responding.

But his hand finds yours, intertwining his fingers with yours to stop your movements. Your heart, already racing, skips a beat. “Come on, please? It’s not like I’m asking for a lot of favors.”

This time, it’s your whole body temperature that spikes — so much so that your hand, tangled with Suguru’s, becomes a little sweaty, and you gently pull it back toward you.

“I… I’ll think about it, okay?” you mumble, quickly rummaging to find your white-out for no reason and then using it on… absolutely nothing, really.

Because now you’ve forgotten what you were even looking for in your pencil case.

~~~~

“What about seven minutes in heaven?” Satoru Gojo proposes, a student with albino hair and cerulean blue eyes half-hidden behind useless round sunglasses, sporting a mischievous smirk.

“You suggest this every time!” Choso Kamo protests, the emo boy dressed in punk-style clothing, with messy black pigtails. He scrunches his nose in disapproval.

“But it’s the best,” Satoru counters.

The music blasts in every corner of the house where the frat party is taking place. Pink, blue, and fuchsia neon lights color the atmosphere, transforming every hue.

In one corner of the house, a circle has formed with Suguru’s friends. You all sit cross-legged, a few drinks nearby for refreshment, and you can’t help but think it’s one of the best ideas proposed since the beginning.

You’ve stuck close to Suguru since your arrival, which he couldn’t help but tease you about, provoking a blush that no one could see thanks to the neon lights. Plus, he kindly introduced you to his friends, all lovely and inclusive, never leaving you out. But if there was one goat — an animal very representative of him, by the way — among this flock of sheep, it was Satoru.

Outgoing by nature and quick to embrace any event that sparks even the slightest interest, he was the first to take you under his wing — all while Suguru watched cautiously — and show you everything you’d never dared to do at a party.

“What do you think of it, sweetheart?” Satoru whispers as the others debate the topic on their side (some for, others against).

You jump slightly, still not used to him addressing you with such open flirtation. “Um…” You clear your throat, squirming a little in your position. “I’ve heard of it, but what is it exactly?”

“You don’t know? Awww.” He leans in closer so that his lips reach your ear. “The goal of this game is to be locked in a room for seven minutes — a bedroom, a closet, whatever — and you can do whatever you want with the person who’s in there with you.” His breath is as cool as Suguru’s, and when Satoru pulls back, his face remains close to yours. His pale complexion reflects like an entity never seen before. “Clearer now, sweetheart?”

You swallow hard, nodding slowly. “And when you say they can do whatever they want… what does that include? Generally speaking, I mean,” you inquire, sensing a weighty gaze upon you but not knowing where it’s coming from.

Satoru closes the distance between you and wraps an arm around your shoulders. “Well, let’s just say most people kiss, sometimes make out,” Satoru confesses with a sly smile. His scent is as intoxicating as Suguru’s — just like his stone-like embrace. Satoru’s skin — especially his exposed forearms — feels like it’s at the same temperature as the ocean, yet it’s as if a warmth radiates from him regardless. “But…” he brings his lips close to your temple, making you shiver as your eyes scan around, briefly locking with Suguru’s intense gaze on you, “some people find time to go further, if you catch my drift.”

You choke on your own saliva at that moment, and Satoru bursts out laughing.

A few minutes later, a duo emerges from a broom closet, giggling like tipsy people, returning to the circle amid cheers from the others.

Satoru replaces the empty glass beer bottle to spin it in the center, pointing at his next victim — if you could say it like that, since you don’t seem very excited about the game.

And despite that, the wicked bottle stops, pointing its neck at you.

Goddamn it.

A knowing smile spreads across Satoru’s face — he glances mischievously in your direction before spinning the bottle again and quickly sitting back down.

With every turn, the speed used to spin it feels like this simple bottle holds a sentence. Your fate for the next seven minutes.

When it finally slows down and stops, to your greatest…

Relief?

… it points at Suguru.

Satoru pouts a little in disappointment and stands up along with both of you to escort you to the closet, amid cheers of encouragement from the group.

Suguru catches up with a few quick strides, just to whisper to you, “We don’t have to do anything if you’re not comfortable, okay? Just let me know because—”

Satoru cuts him off by shoving you tightly into the narrow broom closet and locking you inside. “And… the countdown begins!” he announces from the other side, his indistinct footsteps fading away.

The air is almost suffocating, the darkness plunging you into an atmosphere anything but reassuring, and especially the impossible closeness between you and Suguru becomes just unbearable.

Your breaths mingle, and when you try to shift positions, your chest brushes against Suguru’s, causing him to clench his jaw. “Sorry.”

“No, it’s… Let’s just say I’m not quite sure what to do here,” you admit, lifting your eyes to him, and God, he could devour you at that moment, the faint light at your feet bringing a tiny spark to your lost doe-like eyes.

“The others will get annoying if we don’t do anything,” Suguru huffs, rolling his eyes before shaking his head. “I guess Satoru explained it to you? We don’t have to do anything if you don’t want to, okay?” he insists, his tone soft and patient. He closes his eyes for a moment and inhales slightly.

“It’s not that I don’t want to, but I’m a little embarrassed,” you murmur. Then, those previous words start to tease you. “Would it bother you to do something?” you ask nonetheless.

“No, not really,” Suguru chuckles, his perfect teeth glimmering slightly in the darkness. “But we can pretend if you prefer.”

“Pretend?”

“Yeah, just…” Suddenly, he gently takes your wrists and presses them against the wooden wall of the closet, leaning toward your neck, “...pretend.”

You bite your lip to suppress any sound, but you desperately want to make one right now.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers just below your ear, near your pulse.

Your breathing has quickened, matching the beats of your heart, your chest rising and falling rapidly. “No.”

His lips descend to your neck, brushing against your skin, his breath caressing you to the point that you’re on the verge of breaking.

“S-Suguru…”

“Hmm?” He hums, slightly opening his mouth to let his teeth graze just above your trapezius. “Do you want me to stop?”

You shake your head, unable to speak, as if two hands were preventing you by squeezing you in the sweetest way.

That’s when he starts placing butterfly kisses on your neck and shoulders, as light as they are burning despite the icy temperature of his lips against your volcanic skin. “You have such soft, tender skin, princess,” Suguru murmurs in a breathy whisper, continuing his feather-light kisses that unintentionally make you emit a small hum revealing your inner turmoil. He chuckles softly, the sound so pleasant that it sends a pulse through your core. “If I were a vampire, I would have devoured you by now,” he teases ironically.

You freeze. “Suguru?” you whisper, your brows slightly furrowed.

“Princess?” he replies in the same tone, his lips moving down to your collarbone, dotting it with sweet, intoxicating kisses.

Unable to resist the temptation, Suguru discreetly slips out his tongue and licks a strip of your bare skin, which begins to unravel you — your mouth unable to hold back an adorable moan that drives Suguru wild.

His canines painfully extend from their gums, their tips so close to your soft, warm flesh, filled with blood he has never craved so much, but he knows he cannot. Yet it’s almost impossible for him to resist, not when your little rapid breaths tickle his shoulder, when you seem so small and vulnerable in his arms, and when your pulse races to the point that his ultra-developed hearing cannot ignore it as it usually does. So what is he to do? He inches closer and closer, his canines just millimeters away from sinking into your neck—

“Seven minutes are up!” Satoru announces as he inserts the key into the lock — just enough time for you both to pull away from each other and for Suguru’s painful canines to retreat back into his gums.

Your face has never been so warm in your life.

~~~~

That evening, after returning home without any issues, you collapsed onto your bed, alone, faced with the only thoughts occupying your mind — Suguru Geto.

Oh Lord.

If he hadn’t been real, this man would have been your fantasy day and night.

But after what happened in that infamous broom closet, you can no longer see Suguru the same way.

Not after he somehow showed you how he could desire you.

How he could protect you.

Your thoughts become tangled, and you can no longer distinguish what your brain imagines and what it remembers.

Between the two strange men in the restaurant who suddenly assaulted you and the feeling that everything spins like a black spiral, blinding you, or the man who faces you in the dark corridor of what seems to be a gothic mansion.

He extends his hand, and you step forward to take it. It’s pale, cold, and as hard as stone. It pulls you toward him, drawing you against him, his smooth white mask waiting to be removed.

So that’s what you do, your hands gently pulling at the mask to reveal what lies behind, but the face that emerges makes you want to scream.

Suguru’s head faces you, his canines protruding and stained with blood, along with the contours of his mouth.

You try to scream, to flee, to do anything, but your body seems no longer willing to respond to your brain, as if paralyzed — and Suguru only leans closer to sink his fangs into the soft, warm flesh of your neck before—

You wake up with a start, sitting halfway up in your bed, your body slick with cold sweat and your panicked eyes searching for Suguru as if it were a vital need.

It may sound crazy, but you need him.

You have to check.

~~~~

“Do you prefer scrambled, fried, or omelet eggs?”

In Suguru’s kitchen — decorated in a rather modern style with black and white furniture, but with a touch of vintage or gothic (anyway, you weren’t good at decorating, so whatever) — the smell of heating oil fills the air, eliciting a growl from your stomach.

“Scrambled, but well-cooked,” you reply as he hums and grabs three eggs to crack over the heated pan.

While his back is turned, you rise as casually as possible, trying not to look too suspicious as you pretend to peek at what he’s cooking. Suguru glances sideways at you but smiles slightly, tucking a rebellious strand of your hair behind your ear.

Since then, you haven’t talked about the frat party at all, as if nothing had happened, in fact. At least from Suguru’s side.

From your side, you can’t forget how he planted kisses on your neck, how he licked your collarbone until you moaned, and you realize that if he had continued without interruption, you would have surely agreed to go further, just as Satoru had mentioned.

You stop drifting into your thoughts and wrap your hand around the fridge handle, and Suguru turns his head towards you, knitting his brows.

“I want to drink water,” you say, opening the fridge to take a look, expecting to find jars or bottles of blood but…

…nothing.

Now that’s a bit disappointing.

There’s just nothing in Suguru’s fridge, aside from the door leading into its depths.

You turn to him, confused. “Why is your fridge empty?” you ask.

Suguru pauses for a moment before responding, his hands busy finishing your scrambled eggs. “I prefer to order food when I can.” His tone is neutral, neither cold nor dry, just lacking any openness to guess anything, which begins to irritate you.

“Not even water?”

“You ask so many questions,” Suguru sighs, a slight smile on his lips but with no malice.

“I’m just worried that my friend isn’t eating well or that he has an eating disorder,” you lie, your heart racing even more because how is it possible that, aside from the small box of eggs on the counter, he doesn’t even have water? “Do you drink tap water? It’s not very good for your health, you know—”

Suguru adds a pinch of salt to the well-cooked eggs in the pan using a small salt shaker and throws you another sideways glance, but without a smile this time. “Why are you panicking?” he suddenly asks, his voice rough and low.

“What? No, I’m not panicking, I—”

“Then why are your cheeks red? I can even hear your heartbeat racing,” he retorts, and you freeze slightly — because he’s speaking the truth, a truth that only you should be able to utter.

“It’s because of the heat in the kitchen and also because you’re avoiding my questions, Suguru,” you persist. “And what do you mean by ‘hearing’ my heartbeat, huh?”

Now it’s Suguru who looks taken aback. “Stop saying nonsense, you just sound silly. It’s an expression,” he justifies, the expression on his face twisted in a frustration you seem to understand.

He places your eggs on a plate and turns his head away from you. So you muster your courage, and to hell with it if you wet yourself.

“Suguru, I don’t know how to react now,” you admit, your voice low and uncertain. “You act so strangely sometimes that I have questions, but it seems so stupid that I feel like I’m going crazy…” A knot tightens in your throat.

Suguru turns to you, and his slightly harder gaze from a few seconds ago softens. “What are you thinking?” he murmurs, so softly and kindly that you feel he won’t judge you.

“I just… I sometimes feel like…” You look away, stepping back a little. “You don’t act like everyone else and…”

“And…?” Suguru presses, pulling a glass of water from the cupboard.

You feel your face turning as red as it did at the frat party and admit, raising your voice slightly due to uncontrollable embarrassment, “You look like a vampire, seriously!”

A silence follows.

Then Suguru turns to you. “Are you afraid of vampires?” He chuckles, teasing you.

“No, but you’re acting strangely and—”

“And so you think I’m a vampire?” he cuts you off, losing all trace of joy.

And now, he catches you off guard, making you stutter like never before. “No— well, yes, but— not really…”

“Well,” he mumbles, returning to your plate and glass to set them on the kitchen table, “who knows?”

Your complexion turns pale.

“Tell me, princess, if I were really a vampire — not a bad one, but a vampire nonetheless — would you accept me?” Suguru now approaches you quickly, cornering you against the wall behind you as you stupidly step back.

Only your frightened eyes meet his, and his obsidian gaze scrutinizes you. “It all depends on whether you want to kill me or harm me,” you breathe.

“And what if that weren’t my intention as a vampire, that I cherished you like Edward Cullen did with his Bella, hmm?” He takes your wrist to bring it to his lips and smells — but what scent? “That I love you and protect you?”

“You would drink blood… right?”

“Would you let me taste yours?” Suguru’s teeth hold your trembling wrist firmly as they hover just above your tendon, his gaze locked onto yours. “Just a sip, perhaps? It’s harmless.”

“I don’t know, Suguru… Are you a bad vampire?”

“No, darling, I would be the good vampire you would want me to be.” Suguru grins, releasing your wrist to cage you in his arms, his mouth too close to your neck, and his cool breath sending shivers all over your body. “May I?”

Your disoriented arms wrap around him, and you resign yourself to closing your eyes before nodding gently without knowing why.

“Are you sure, princess?” Suguru purrs in your ear. “It won’t hurt, I promise.”

“Go ahead,” you murmur, the blood pounding in your ears and your heart racing.

Suguru deliberately takes his time, planting a multitude of butterfly kisses on your skin, licking the area he undoubtedly wants to bite just to hear you pant softly in his ears.

He finally parts his lips, brushing his painful, protruding canines, ready to drink your blood.

Slowly, gently, and with the utmost delicacy, his fangs sink into the flesh of your neck.

You expected to feel pain, to scream, shout, and even struggle, but the only sensation is pleasure.

With every passing second, you feel a flow of blood circulating where Suguru bites you. It almost tickles, if you weren’t softly gasping and stifling whimpers.

It’s as if with each pull, a pulse of pleasure shoots directly to your core.

Until it becomes unbearable, your body writhing gently in any attempt at friction. Suguru feels it, of course, because after pulling his teeth from your flesh, he slightly straightens to admire you, your lips parted but in a pleading pout.

As for him, his lips hold the gulp of blood he just took from you, but he keeps his mouth tightly closed — because he knows the sight might disgust you. Then, a few long moments later, Suguru smiles at you, his long canines pristine once again.

You glance at your neck reflexively, and it’s as if he bit you without slicing your flesh. Your skin is smooth, with only two purplish holes visible. It looks like the wounds are in the process of healing.

Wonder fills you, and you wrap your arms around Suguru, who quickly does the same before you surprise him by kissing him directly.

His lips — despite their hard coldness — are soft against yours, moving slowly against your eager mouth, as desirous as you are.

Between kisses, you whisper, “How long have you desired my blood?”

“Since the first experience,” Suguru replies softly, his mouth devouring yours as you try to insert your tongue. “Not too far, my love, they’re sharp.” And you guess he’s talking about his teeth.

You pout. “I want you.”

Suguru presses his lips together, breaking the kiss. “Sure? I thought you were scared but I think I can control myself, and… don’t you want to ask me questions? It would be strange if you didn’t have any, after all.”

“We can do that later; I just want you right now,” you mumble, burying your face in his neck. “I’m I’m not afraid anymore.”

Suguru’s large hands slowly slide down your back and stop at your waist, gently gripping you. “So, you’re accepting me?”

You slightly turn your head toward him, your lips brushing against his jaw. “I’ve always dreamed of vampires — but they were still just dreams.”

Suguru exhales. “I can’t give you an Edward Cullen, but I can be the vampire of your fantasies. So will you accept me, my love?”

“Yes,” you whisper.

~~~~

“Ah— you’re teasing, Sugu—”

Muffled words reach your ears, but they are incomprehensible, as the vampire making you wet literally has his head buried between your legs, devouring your pussy like a starved man.

He lifts his head to look at you, and a smile lights up his features, his chin dripping with your wetness. “You can’t handle a little teasing, baby?” he coos, the tip of his tongue circling around your puffy clit in a torturous motion that makes you whine.

You pout, gasping when he pinches the little bud between his lips. “But I want you, now,” you insist.

“But I need to get you ready for me,” he responds, his hands placing themselves on your inner thighs to pin you against the mattress, laying you bare before him. He continues to wickedly tease you with the tip of his tongue against your clit and between your soaked folds.

“S’not fair,” you protest, your legs trembling softly on either side of his head like a little animal.

“Your beauty isn’t fair, that’s the point, yeah.” Suguru climbs over your body, one hand sneaking around your neck and the other sliding between your thighs to tease your dripping intimacy. He presses his mouth against your ear. “Do you know how badly I’ve struggled to not devour you?”

His whisper so close makes you gasp, as the sensation is far too pleasant and uncomfortable in the best way — breath as cold as it is warm, as he inserts a finger inside you.

“Hmm, baby?” You try to respond, but only a pathetic whimper escapes. He pushes his finger gently but surely deeper until he reaches your g-spot, and your back arches.

“Sugu,” you whine.

“You didn’t answer, princess,” he purrs, licking the shell of your ear. And he starts to pump his finger inside you, your walls clenching around his digit, warming his cold finger as he finger-fucks you in earnest. “Haven’t you seen how badly I was burning for you?”

“I— Not at the s-start,” you pant, bucking your hips toward his finger, and the more he whispers his dirty talk in your ear, the closer you feel yourself reaching your climax.

“Not at the start? And when we were in that broom closet? Weren’t you at my mercy like the little mortal that you are, almost whining because you have this dirty voice kink?” He adds another finger into your abused cunt, sinking his thick fingers to the hilt.

You squirm under him and try to respond. “M’sorry, Suguru, I just need you to—”

“To what, darling?” He pumps his fingers as teasingly as his voice, knuckle-deep and fast. “Tell me how badly you want to cum, can you do that for me?” Your sweet pussy squeezes his fingers, almost spasming because you need more, but he doesn’t allow you until you’re stretched enough to take him after that.

“I w-want to cum on— Hngh, please—” You throw your head back on the mattress, mouth agape from the unstoppable moans leaving your sweet lips. “C-Cum on your fingers, please.”

“That’s good, baby, you’re doing good,” he praises, kissing your ear, temple, cheek, and then lips. He drives his fingers deep into your depths and curls them just as you tighten around them, releasing the knot in your belly to let your juices flow.

His cold thumb joins your clit to rub gently until you ride your orgasm.

“Good job, baby, you did perfect.” Suguru straightens up, pulling his fingers from you to taste your fresh juices around his fingers while you watch with drooping eyelids and half-closed eyes. Suguru then leans in to kiss you, gently at first, knowing you’re still a little weak, then he inserts a bit of his tongue without ever crossing your teeth, fearing to hurt you.

You softly break the kiss and kiss his jaw, which makes him sigh softly. “Sugu? I have a question.”

He chuckles softly. “What did I tell you about questions?” He strokes your hair soothingly, laying down beside you. “But ask away.”

“Your entire body is cold, so it means that blood doesn’t flow through your veins, right?” you start.

“Right.”

“So, how can you be hard?” You slip a hand down his pants to palm his erection through the fabric. Your cute face almost makes his dead heart throb. “It’s funny, though,” you giggle.

“It’s hard to explain but, do you know how Edward made love to Bella?” Suguru asks, kissing your cheek as you unzip his pants.

“It wasn’t really described, but,” you pause, “was he hard?”

“Sure he was, like I am right now for you,” he mutters. Your palm wraps around his now free, throbbing erection, and your warmth electrifies a rush of pleasure through his cold flesh. You climb between his legs and lower your head so you can lap at his tip — dripping with his pre.

“Princess, be careful with—” He interrupts himself, letting out a groan to stifle a moan, which makes you laugh softly. “Tease,” he groans.

“Uh-huh.” You envelop his pale tip and suck gently, reducing Suguru to a panting and needy thing. Your fingers play with his balls, and he clenches his hands into fists, hissing between his teeth.

“Baby, be careful, you don’t know how badly I can hurt you if I don’t control at least how my body reacts to your touch, so don’t take me in your— Dear Lord,” he groans again. You see and feel the way he forces his hips to stay still against the matress to not pierce your palate with his length, much harder than usual. So you suck him slowly, carefully, not to surprise his body and give him the head you want him to feel — he even deserves it.

You withdraw his twitching dick from your mouth and grin, warming it up with your hands as he feels free to buck his hips and fuck your fist earnestly this time. “You’re so beautiful like this, aren’t you?” you praise, playing with his balls as he whines.

His long black hair sprawls across the immaculate sheets, his eyelids squinted and pleading, and his perfect lips slightly parted to let out the most divine sounds. Suguru is truly the vampire you’ve always fantasized about since your first reading on vampires.

“I’m close, sweetheart,” Suguru tells you, reaching out his arm to cup your chin and make you lift your eyes to his. “I want to cum inside you, if you would let me.” And God, how can you say no to that perfect immortal angel?

And so it is that you end up lying on the mattress, your belly exposed, your naked and heated body pressed against Suguru’s icy one, which you can’t wait to warm up.

He settles between your thighs, wrapping them around his waist before leaning down to pull you into his arms, shielding you with his stone muscles as your breasts gently crush against his cold chest, hardening your nipples, and he feels it — dragging one of his hands to it and pinching softly, just enough to make you whimper his name.

He presses his mouth against your ear again and whispers dirty words, “Ready to take my cock, princess? I won’t break you, promise. At least not yet.” And he brings his tip against your wet slit, pressing flesh against flesh to tease you until the end.

“You bast—” and he cuts you off with a kiss, pushing his tip to the very entrance of your delicious walls, ready to take him with every inch. You kiss him back, licking his lips eagerly.

“You’ll take it inch by inch, okay? It’s cold, so I need you to be comfortable with a suitable temperature,” Suguru warns you between heated kisses. “Ready?” He pulls his lips from yours to place them against your sensitive ear — on the way, he leaves a gentle hickey, enough to leave a reddish mark.

Tenderly, he sinks into you, the first inch greeted by your parted folds, greedy to take more of him.

“One inch,” Suguru says, waiting for you to adjust. “Is it alright down here?”

“Y-Yeah, I just need more, I want you whole.” You place your hands on his shoulders to steady yourself, trying to ignore how you tighten around his dick when he whispers in your ear.

“Two inches,” he exhales then curses under his breath. “Fuck, you’re so wet, and how can you be this tight?” As he gently inserts the third and fourth inches, Suguru feels like he could crack at any moment, overwhelmed by the desire to bury himself deep inside your sweet, gorgeous pussy.

The fifth, sixth, and seventh inches are taken easily by your tightness, filling the room with your two uncontrollable gasps and the heat radiating from your body, which warms so much that when Suguru starts to fuck you gently at first, you think you might melt at any moment and see stars.

He rails into you so deep and fast that he curses under his breath. “Fuck, you’ve taken the eighth inch.” He groans at the same time as you, as you take him so well that he reaches the bottom, his tip kissing your g-spot even better than his fingers did earlier.

“Oh, fuck! S’too much, Sugu, and too deep,” you moan, and it only makes his dick throb harder than it was when you stroked him.

Because with every thrust or stroke, the two of you feel overwhelmed and overstimulated at the same time. He withdraws almost entirely to slam back into you, not too hard but enough for your toes to curl and you to cry out.

“I’m already close, Suguru, please, I wanna cum.” And Suguru chuckles softly, thrusting into you harder and faster than he was already doing. Now, his tip hits your sweet spot with every stroke, coaxing sounds from you that he dreams of hearing.

“Cum on this cock, baby, you can do it,” he coos in your ear, making you clench around him, intertwining your fingers with his. He takes one of your legs to lift it over his shoulder and buries himself deeper inside you, and you press a hand over your mouth to keep from screaming.

“I’m close, I’m gonna—” But you cry out again against your palm, cumming hard and loud on his dick, your velvety walls twitching and spasming as Suguru fucks you through your orgasm — your eyes shutting as you see stars.

As you come down from your high, Suguru slows his pace and stays inside you, lying down next to you. “You alright?”

And you nod feebly, throwing a leg over his waist to sit on him and take him deeper. You gently lower your head, admiring your juices flowing from your cunt. “Your turn now.”

And you ride him carefully, taking his hands in yours to place them on your hips, letting him lead the pace with you. “You’re beautiful,” Suguru murmurs, his obsidian eyes shining with devotion. He flutters them closed, humming, groaning, and sometimes whining when you bounce on him too well, and he’s about to cum.

You gently lay down on him as he lifts his hips in sync, gripping your waist to take over and help him cum — which he succeeds in doing, and the sensation is so surprising and pleasant that you moan softly along with him, your adorable faces scrunching up in pleasure.

His load is warm, neither cold nor hot. It’s as if you’ve warmed his dick so that it’s no longer cold.

Your cheek rests against the coolness of his muscular chest, and you sigh in relief. “You’re going to be very useful to me in the summer,” you giggle, placing gentle kisses along his neck.

“Whenever you want, my love.”

~~~~

“I often come here to hunt,” Suguru explains, parting branches in the forest to make it easier for you to pass.

You skillfully slip through and take his hand in yours to warm it up, smiling as you take in the view he’s sharing: a vast plain overlooked by tall, sturdy trees, sinuous riverbanks, and a large waterfall a bit further on, peeking out where your eyes meet the river paths.

“It’s beautiful, Suguru,” you whisper, fluttering your eyes closed as he squeezes your hand.

“Doesn’t it?” He wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you affectionately against him. “There’s never anyone here, just beasts. That way, I won’t have any humans to kill,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss on your temple.

“Is it like in Twilight?” you ask, giggling. “But you don’t have brown eyes.”

“No, it’s not the same,” he corrects you. “As long as I have blood, I have no problem. Human or not, it’s really just a matter of taste. It’s sweeter, you know.”

“Do you have a little sweet tooth?” you tease, getting on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek as he steps away from you to bend down so you can climb onto his back.

“Not really, that’s more Satoru,” he laughs, gripping your thighs as you hop onto his back.

“Aha! I knew he was like you; you’re both just as weird as each other,” you snicker, proud to have solved another mystery.

Suguru bursts into laughter, as if your laughter is that of a little child who is also proud of themselves. “Yeah, and he studies physics, you know. He’s not very sharp in school, but physics is really his thing.” He takes a breath — an unnecessary one, since he doesn’t need to breathe; he just does it out of habit to avoid alarming humans — and glances at you discreetly. “Ready?”

You nod, and without further ado, Suguru begins his run.

He runs fast, of course; he’s a vampire.

But so fast, in fact, that you barely feel him taking steps. It’s as if he’s flying across the ground, the wind whipping against your faces. Every now and then, you lower your head, fearing that branches might slice your head off, but Suguru usually warns you when you can admire the scenery whizzing by faster than a car would allow.

When he finally stops, it’s to drop you off on a hill that takes your breath away.

The same one from your favorite book.

The hill is lush with small green grasses, dotted with tiny purple flowers like in a paradisiacal autumn meadow.

“It’s… It’s…” you stammer, amazed by the surprise he just gave you as he carefully sets you down on the ground, making sure you don’t stumble from the peculiar journey.

“For you,” Suguru adds, settling down on the grass as he waits for you to join him.

“Suguru, how did you…?” you trail off, sitting on the grass with an otherworldly appearance.

“I practically live here, to be honest,” he replies, planting little kisses on your neck and collarbone. “I hunt and feed here. And when I’m not feeling well…” He caresses your skin with the tip of his nose, tracing a path to your chest to bury his face there and sigh, his eyelids shut. “...I used to come here. But I don’t need to anymore.”

A smile curls your lips up. Your fingers gently stroke his jet-black hair. “You should turn me one day, you know? That way, I could come hunt with you and—”

“Not a chance,” he mumbles, pressing his ear against your heart. “I don’t want to lose this little heart. It’s mine.”

You huff. “You sound like Edward, seriously…”

“I would never abandon you, that’s for sure, but as for your transformation, it’s far from today.” Suguru places yet another kiss on your chest and then moves down to your belly, trying to find a sensitive spot to tickle you with his perfect touch.

“So I’ll go see Satoru,” you threaten, a smirk tugging at the corner of your lips.

“Him? He’ll devour you whole without a second thought. I was the one holding him back during the frat party,” Suguru informs you with a little laugh.

“E-Excuse me?”

And it’s under Suguru’s amused laughter that you promise never to approach the albino — as much from afar as up close.

a/n: okay, i litteraly have missed the kinkoctober because of this fic :/ i hope at least you guys will enjoy it <3 (i’m so tiiiiired, tho). but tbh, it was fun to write since it was really during this month that the fic is so it’s like i’m living it :))

next → curse hunter! toji !!

tags: @zara-zara11 @bearwithmoo @elliesndg @lymsfm @mutsu422 @whathappenedtobeenhappy-blog @drippymcdrippison @koshhin @cybersomn1a @sanemistar

@ssetsuka @monokaix

husband!katsuki who has his sweet moments, not very often, but he has them.

‘do you know how pretty you are?’ Katsuki sighs as you’re laying on his chest one night, almost asleep

‘you tell me.. sometimes’ you say, his fingers intertwine in your hair ‘maybe I should tell you more’

‘you’re being nice, what going on’ you tease as he scoffs ‘you’re my wife, dumbass. I have to be nice to you’

‘there’s the man i married’

What is your favorite genre in music?

men whimpering and moaning in my ears

♪ 𝑝𝑙𝑎𝑦𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡 ♪

༺ Work Night ༻

Oneshot ~ Tokyo Revengers x Female Reader

Summary ~ On the deadliest night of the year, you’re trapped in a flower shop, hunted by five obsessive killers. Survive the night—or become their prey.

Featuring ~ Baji Keisuke, Hanemiya Kazutora, Sanzu Haruchiyo, and the Haitani Brothers

Extra Notes ~ Jujutsu Kaisen’s Version - Blue Lock’s Version

*Reader is implied to be a foreigner at one point. No language barrier.

This story should only be posted under eempyreall on my tumblr, ao3, wattpad, and patreon. Report if you see it posted under anyone else but me.

l apologize if I get any Japanese etiquette or culture wrong, I literally have to research the culture for some of my fandom stories so if anything is wrong, please excuse my ignorance.

|| Warning ||

You and the characters are 21+. Although I picture the reader as a black cis-gendered female, physical appearance will not be described at all.

Content within this story may not be realistic or factual.

I do not condone any of the behavior displayed within the story.

There may be dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit content, sexual content, non consensual and/or dubious consensual content, etc.

That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

You understood that your employer baited a few naive employees to mandate the merchandise on one of the most dangerous nights of the year—you having been one of the victims of the sly persuasion. You recognized the inducement dripping from the tone of the flower shop’s owner.

“It shouldn’t be that hard to make sure the store is in good condition by the morning. This is a small business, anyway,” she chuckled, hands placed on her hips as she faced the four of you. “I mean, for god’s sake, who’d want to steal flowers?”

Now, you might’ve made a hasty decision in accepting the offer placed on your shoulders, but you were no idiot. You knew the consequences of remaining in a public environment while the duration of the chaotic night played out. Despite the risks that could take place, the price to gain was too enticing to ignore.

Most individuals would simply run around, breaking into banks and wealthier people’s homes to steal cash instead of taking an overnight shift for a boss who’s dubiously obsessed with the product—enough to schedule four of her employees, who had no certifications, as security guards. You weren’t one of those people.

You had no intention of getting slashed across the throat or shot through the head because you were a threat to someone else’s gain. You weren’t one to fight over things of that nature. You didn’t find it worth your life.

You agreed with the owner—nobody would aim for a flower shop. Especially one that attracts minimal business. The boss had already removed the cash from the registers, so the only win would be a variety of flower pots and packaged soil.

Your only job is to clean and mandate the shop.

You are currently leaning over the cashier’s counter, thumb swiping through your social media feed as one of your coworkers, Aimi, sweeps the remnants of fallen petals from the hanging plants, lowly humming a tune as she moved her arms. Chieko had just finished pinning the fabric that conceals the glass windows of the shop, taking a few steps back to admire the work as she rubbed her palms against her jeans.

“This should be good enough, right?” she questioned, turning back to face the assistant manager, who sat on a chair with a leg crossed over, phone in hand.

Jona’s gaze shifted to the covering before he dismissively waved her off, nodding. “Yeah, it’s as good as it’s gonna get.”

You exhaled sharply, setting your phone in your pocket as you stood upright. You turn to face the other employees as you swallow. “Hey, are you sure that nobody has ever tried to break in?” you question, your main focus placed on Jona.

Aimi’s irises flicked over to you before she cracked a warm smile. “Yeah! I’ve taken this shift each year, and nobody has ever tried anything,” she shrugged, setting the broom against the wall.

Chieko walked towards you before placing a hand on your shoulder. “There’s nothing to worry about. I’ve taken this shift for about five years, and I’m still here,” she said, her tone filled with a confident ease that should’ve relaxed your anxiety.

But you couldn’t rid yourself of the heavy pit you felt spreading throughout your stomach.

Jona rolled his eyes before leaning back in his seat, stretching with his arms held in the air. “Relax. Time flies by faster than you think.”

Your eyes shift to the cat-shaped clock that’s set on the wall at the back of the store. It reads nine o’clock, two hours into the dangerous and yet celebrated tradition. Your bottom lip is caught between your teeth as you reach for your phone—

Tap, tap, tap.

Time freezes as you and your coworkers’ attention quickly flies to the entrance of the store. The wooden door’s silver knob rattles, the glass window’s fabric concealing the culprit.

The store is quiet, everyone paused in their positions as they study the area, concern evident in their expressions. Your head turns to Jona as he stands up, shoving his phone in his pocket as he stiffens in his spot.

“Hello? Is anyone there?” You hear the muffled sound of a male’s voice, pleading. The tone is slightly shaky but carries an edge of relative calmness as he knocks against the surface. “Please, I need help!”

You turn to face all of the employees as sweat forms on your skin. “Has this happened before?” you mutter, voice almost a whisper as you try to stay quiet.

Chieko turns towards you, swallowing before she shakes her head in denial. Aimi mimics the gesture as she stares at the door. You can see the unease settle in their presence—fingers twitching, bodies stiffening, and fear radiating off of the women.

Your eyes flick over to Jona, observing the slightly perturbed look on his expression, though contorted with annoyance.

“J—Jona! What are you doing?” Aimi hissed quietly. Her voice is dripping with an apprehensive tone that matches her mien. She attempts to reach out for him, but he moves too fast, standing in front of the door as he lifts the fabric slightly—just enough to peek out of the window.

What the fuck is he doing?!

From the angle where you stand, you fail to see his expression as he stands there for a moment. Eventually, Jona releases the fabric and walks back to the center of the room, facing all of you.

“Listen, that guy out there—he’s bloody as fuck. Nobody is allowed to unlock that door,” he says, his tone flat but edged with caution. His fingers entangle with his short hair as he frowns.

“Bloody? Did he have any weapons?” Aimi questions, eagerness in her tone. She walks closer to Jona, though still at a distance.

He shakes his head. “I didn’t see any, but I’m not taking any chances,” he says as he yanks a small knife out of his pocket. “If he somehow passes through, I at least have this to fight against him.”

You give him a pointed look. “And if he has a gun? What if he just breaks through the windows?” you question, your voice laced with irritation and worry.

Chieko clears her throat. “It’s very rare for a citizen to have a gun here in Japan,” she replies, her tone steady but with an underlying edge of concern.

“Rare, but not impossible,” Jona says before his eyes shift to you. “Look, Y/n. There’s no promise of complete safety. You knew this when you signed up. We work with what we’ve got, so it’s better to just stop asking questions and breathe, got it?”

BANG, BANG, BANG!

“Please! Help me! I—I know someone’s in there! They’re gonna kill me!” the stranger screeches.

All of you wince at the sound of the man’s shouting, his fist against the door growing louder as it vibrates the surface. You can only stand in place as shock becomes evident on the rest of your coworkers’ faces. The tension in your chest grows as the hairs on your skin stand tall. Your heart erratically beats against your chest as your pulse throbs.

“T—they’re?” Aimi repeats, whispering to herself as her hands tremble. “There’s more people?”

Chieko exhales sharply. “They could’ve meant one person, Aimi. We need to relax and come up with an escape pla—!”

The sound was sickening—a roaring rev of a chainsaw, followed by the wet, meaty rip of flesh being pierced through interrupted her statement. It was grotesque, the impact causing muffled gurgles and ragged gasps to escape from the man outside as the relentless grind of metal cleaved through bone.

Suddenly, an eerie stillness settles over the store, a silence heavy with unspoken terror as you all stand, frozen in place.

“J—Jona,” Aimi stammered, fingers gliding against her cheeks as she reached for her hair. “I—I…”

As she trailed off, you swallowed hard, eyes flicking over to Chieko, who was quiet, aside from the shallow, ragged breaths escaping her lips.

Your breathing stopped as you heard a light tapping against the window.

“Oh, Y/n… We know you’re in there! Come out and play!” the male sang, the sound of metal clanking with the glass.

Your body freezes at the sound of your name.

What?

You felt a sudden pit in your stomach as all your coworkers’ gazes locked on you.

“You know them?” Jona questioned, his brows furrowing at your form.

You gasped, shaking your head. “N—no! No, I don’t know anyone aside from you guys!”

It’s the truth. You had only recently moved to Japan after studying the language. You hadn’t had any time to make friends, so it was impossible for anyone to have known you aside from your coworkers.

Before you could defend yourself any further, a crash echoed as the force slammed into the front glass wall, shattering it. You all instinctively ducked in response.

A loud thud landed on the floor, rolling a couple of times before the headless corpse limped on the ground, a ruddy puddle oozing from the gaping neck. You sucked in a sharp breath as you jolted back in quick panic. After hearing Aimi’s scream, your head shifted to her, breaths ragged as you eyed the pieces of glass embedded in her face. Her hands shook as her lips parted in horror.

“My face! My face!” she cried, hysterical as the tears fused with the crimson running down her face. Her fingers barely grazed the sharp pieces as you and Jona stared at her in disbelief.

Your head turned to see Chieko frozen, her form stiff as she trembled, her eyes wide open as she observed the open space of the entrance.

Jona cursed when both of you matched the direction of Chieko’s gaze.

A masked individual stepped over the pointed edge that stuck out from the foundation of the gaping space, the glass cracking underneath their boot. The white plastic concealed his identity, though his blonde-and-black strands draped over his shoulders. Your eyes shift to the metal bat they drag across the floor, your heart rate spiking once the bloody edge comes into view.

Its face was contorted into a somber expression, eyes squinted and nose sculpted to scrunch, while the mouth was drawn into a deep frown. Blood stained the fabric of his clothes, as well as the white of his mask. He stood in place as the rest of the group followed, stepping into the store as the sound of glass crackled.

Your eyes flicked to the man who held the crimson-stained chainsaw, his mask’s expression sculpted into an angry gaze. The mouth mimicked the first person’s shape, but the brows were furrowed. His wavy strands were a solid black, styled similarly to the individual standing next to him. A dry, ruddy substance streaked across his mask, fresh blood covering the majority of his clothes.

Another masked person appeared, slightly diagonal to the first male who entered. His mask was shaped into a theatrical, mischievous grin. His pink hair was pulled into a neatly combed ponytail, one strand flowing over the bloody plastic shield. His glove-covered fingers stretched around the handle of the stained katana.

The other masked individual chuckled. “Seriously? This is what you were guarding?” he questioned, his tone dripping with mockery as he slung the stained machete over his shoulder. His mask was that of a grimace, his purple hair styled in a mullet. He shoved one hand in his pocket as he looked around, blood splotching both his mask and clothing.

The taller man next to him stepped forward, a baton held in the same position as the former’s machete, though his thumb slightly tapped against the handle. His mask was sculpted into a wide smile, one of humor, as he tilted his head. His short, purple hair was slightly disheveled, his clothes streaked with crimson.

He clicked his tongue. “That’s what you thought would keep you safe?” the male drawled, a smirk evident in his tone. The edge of his baton pointed in the direction of Jona, who stood with caution, holding out his pocket knife. “How pathetic.”

“Enough talk,” the man with the chainsaw said, his tone slightly cocky but firm. “Let’s wreck this place already.”

A chuckle spread throughout the quiet room. “Let’s see how fast they can run,” the blonde-streaked male said.

Instantaneously, everything moved at a quick pace.

You immediately ducked your head as the brisk swing of the baton barely missed your head, the male having taken long strides toward you before you could escape your frozen state.

He chuckled. “Pesky little thing. I’ve been curious about you for a while, Y/n.”

You made eye contact through the mask, purple irises piercing your form before he swung again. You jumped out of the way, just in time for the end of his baton to crack the register, the device flipping over and falling against the counter with a noisy thud.

How does he know my name?

A scream caught your attention, your head shifting to the right where you saw Aimi attempt to make a run for the exit, only for the gloved hand to snatch her by the back of the collar, shoving her to the floor against the corpse. Just as the pink-haired man stepped over her, you rolled out of the direction the edge of the baton smacked, bouncing against the floor.

“I’m curious if you’re worth my time. I’ll see if you make it through the night,” he said, his tone dripping with sick amusement.

You stumbled as you lifted yourself up, just as your gaze switched to Jona, his hand holding up the knife as the purple-haired man walked toward him. “This is too funny,” he chuckled.

CLANK!

The loud sound that echoed throughout the room caught your attention as your gaze shifted to the left. You sucked in a sharp breath as you saw the finishing impact of Chieko’s head being forced to the side, blood splattering in the air as she landed on the ground. She groaned as the male lifted his bat, slamming the end of the metal against her skull over and over. The sickening crunch of the broken bone caused bile to burn your throat, a burning lump caught as you felt the tears prick your eyes.

This is really happening. We’re all gonna die.

“Chieko!” Jona screeched, though the distraction only caused his eventual demise.

I should’ve been more prepared. I should’ve known.

The ear-splitting rev of the chainsaw started up just as the masked male snuck behind the man holding the pocket knife, the metal piercing through his waist at an agonizingly slow pace. Jona’s lips released choked gasps as he stood in place, his head slowly turning toward you with his eyes wide open. You watched as crimson gushed down his chin, the sound of the drops from his cut torso splatting on the ground as his body split open.

Your fingers twitched as you moved, the edge of the baton grazing your shoulder as you jumped out of the path just in time, landing painfully on the messy ground. The palms of your hands slid against the liquid pooling around the area. Your head lifted in time to see the male with the katana place his foot on Aimi’s chest.

Her hands shook as she braced herself. “Please! Please, don’t kill me! I’m not ready to die!”

The man crouched over her, katana across his lap as he leaned against his knees. He brought his free hand to his mouth, index finger pressed against his lips as he shushed her.

“I’m doing you a favor, you know? With that ugly face of yours and all. You should be thanking me,” he mused, a grin evident behind the mask before he stood upright. His arms raised with both hands wrapped around the katana before he lifted the blade over his head.

You stumbled over the slick blood, picking yourself up just in time for the blade to slice through the head of your former coworker, the grotesque sound of flesh splitting meeting your ears. The man with the baton stared down at you while you ran for the gaping hole in the wall.

Before you could escape, your arm was yanked back, a tight curl of the male’s fingers holding you in a painful grip. “Where are you going? The fun’s just begun,” the male with the bat taunted.

He tossed you on the ground, your body landing with a thud before you scooted back, crimson spreading across your skin as you surpassed the corpses, eyeing the men whose attention was now placed on your trembling form.

Just as you attempt to pick yourself up, the male with the chainsaw in one hand crouched in front of you. Before you can stop your reflexes, you ball your hand into a fist before back-handing the man with an upward curvature, his mask flying off as the strap slides off his head.

Your breathing is ragged as you hear the whistles and snickering in the background, the black-haired male slowly facing you with piercing brown irises. His gaze is locked on you, expression contorted in an irritated and yet amused look. His free hand reached for the cheek you hit.

Your eyes goggled in recognition. “You—!”

The customer.

One of your regulars.

The only difference is that his hair is down and his glasses are vacant.

“B—Baji?”

He smirked. “Yeah, it’s me,” he said before his free hand shot to your throat, fingers curling tightly around the surface as you reached for his hand.

You attempt to peel his fingers off your throat, but he only tugged you upward to match his height as he stood upright. Your nails pierced his skin as you struggled to breathe.

This is it.

“You have any idea how long we’ve been waiting for this moment?” he said, his voice dripping with impatience and a wicked grin planted on his face.

He held you in place for a moment as his eyes flicked over your expression, the sharp gazes of all the men grazing into your skin as they studied you like predators observing their prey.

“Hey, Baji, how about we have a little fun?” The pink-haired man drawled, closing in on your space as he walked forward.

The black-haired man chuckled. “What do ya have in mind?” His grin widened as he stared at you.

You continued to struggle, your heart beating against your chest as your feet dangled in the air.

“A little chase, huh?” he purred, head tilting. “Sounds fun to me.”

“Oh shit, that sounds like a great idea!” the male with the bat said with enthusiasm. “Let’s give her a head start.”

The man with the grimace on his mask hummed. “Sounds fun enough,” he shrugged.

The man with the baton chuckled. “Let’s see how far this bunny can jump.”

Suddenly, your knees met with the hard surface of the floor as Baji leaned over you.

“You get a ten-second head start. If one of us catches you…” he paused as he leaned closer. “You’re mine.”

—𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚜𝚝𝚘𝚛𝚢 𝚎𝚗𝚍𝚜 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎, 𝚋𝚞𝚝 𝚒𝚏 𝚢𝚘𝚞’𝚍 𝚕𝚒𝚔𝚎 𝚝𝚘 𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍 𝚖𝚘𝚛𝚎, 𝚝𝚑𝚎 𝚌𝚘𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚗𝚞𝚊𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗 𝚒𝚜 𝚊𝚟𝚊𝚒𝚕𝚊𝚋𝚕𝚎 𝚑𝚎𝚛𝚎.

wc: 1355

Your breathing is ragged as the platform of your shoes slams against the pavement. The night is surprisingly quiet aside from your heavy steps as you rush down the street.

“Please, please, please,” you plead to nothing as the breeze kisses your skin, the chill of the night causing goosebumps to rise from your hair follicles.

The adrenaline in your veins pumps as the heavy beating of your heart erratically thumps against your chest. There’s a tight constriction in the pit of your stomach and an ache that’s spreading throughout your calves.

—

geto 🐈‍⬛

ac: arekushisu_11 on insta

◟♡ ˒ ʾʾ you’re both breathing too hard already—and megumi hasn’t even taken off your panties yet.

the dorm is small. quiet. too quiet. just the hum of the ceiling fan overhead, the faint chirp of crickets outside, and somewhere across the wall, the unmistakable muffled laugh of yuji watching something dumb on his laptop. one thin wall away.

and still—megumi’s fingers are trembling as they trail up your thigh. his breath is shaky, warm against your neck. his voice barely a whisper.

“…you sure?”

you nod. you’ve nodded five times already, but it doesn’t stop the way his eyes flick up, searching your face like you might shatter under him. his hair falls across his forehead in soft, messy strands. his cheeks are pink. he’s trying to keep calm—cool, collected—but his cock has been twitching in his briefs since you kissed him like you meant it.

you hook your arms around his neck, your voice barely audible. “yes, ‘gumi. i want you. please.”

his name from your mouth makes his whole body twitch. like something snaps inside him.

he kisses you again—harder this time. tongue deep, needy. hands sliding up your bare thighs, dragging your sleep shirt up over your hips. he groans into your mouth when he sees what’s underneath: just the sheer lace of panties that barely cover anything.

“fuck,” he hisses. “you came here like this?”

you smirk, flushed and breathless. “i thought maybe you’d get the hint.”

he growls low, a sound you feel in your belly.

and then he’s pulling them down, his knuckles brushing your soaked folds. you flinch at the cold air, thighs clenching, and megumi pulls back just enough to stare—really stare.

“jesus,” he mutters, dark lashes low, eyes fixed on your cunt. “you’re dripping…”

“megumi—”

“you have to be quiet,” he warns, voice low and rough as his fingers slide through the slick between your thighs, stroking your folds slow. testing. teasing. “i mean it. yuji’s right there.”

you bite your lip. “then don’t make me moan.”

he huffs a laugh, smug, and presses a finger into you—slow. you arch, a tiny gasp slipping out before you can stop it. it’s tight. he groans when he feels the way you squeeze around him.

“so fuckin’ tight,” he whispers, kissing your jaw as he pumps gently. “gonna feel like heaven when i’m inside…”

your hips rock forward—needy, desperate—and he pulls his fingers free, watching your slick coat them, shiny in the low dorm light. he licks them clean. you watch. eyes wide.

then—finally—he pulls his cock out.

you gasp.

he’s big. thick. hard, flushed a deep red, the tip already leaking. you feel your stomach flip, a twist of nervous heat and excitement and ache.

“gonna go slow,” he promises, leaning over you, pressing the head to your entrance. “tell me if it’s too much.”

you nod. and then—

push.

he slides in slow, inch by inch. the stretch is real—burning, deep, your body resisting at first. you grip his shoulders, face buried in his neck as he groans—long and guttural—feeling your walls suck him in.

“shit,” he hisses. “you’re—fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—so good.”

you’re panting against his throat, biting down a moan when he bottoms out. he doesn’t move yet—just kisses your temple, strokes your waist, lets you adjust while your whole body tries to memorize this feeling.

then—slow thrust.

you whimper, louder than you mean to.

megumi freezes. covers your mouth with his hand immediately, whispering hot against your ear.

“shhh. you have to stay quiet, baby. you don’t want yuji coming over, do you?”

you shake your head, eyes wide, tears pricking from the pressure. from how full you feel.

he starts moving—slow and deep, hips rocking into you gently, his hand still over your mouth to catch every ragged breath. his cock drags against your walls, thick and pulsing, and you can’t help the way your legs wrap around him tighter.

“you feel s-so good,” you whisper against his palm. “so big, megumi—”

he growls. “you’re killing me.”

he fucks you slow, quiet, deliberate. each thrust deeper, more confident. the sound of your bodies joining is filthy—wet, soft slaps as his cock sinks in over and over.

you start to tremble—your orgasm creeping up fast, tight in your belly.

“i—i’m gonna—”

“i know,” he whispers, lifting your leg, angling deeper. “cum for me. but be quiet.”

you bite your fist. your thighs shake. and then you’re cumming—hard, spasming around him, whole body tensed as you fight the scream burning your throat.

he groans—loud—and buries his face in your shoulder as he spills inside you, cock throbbing, cum spilling deep, hot and thick.

he stays there. breathing heavy. still buried deep.

and from across the wall—

“…the fuck was that noise?”

yuji.

you both freeze.

then megumi grins against your skin, cock still twitching inside you.

“…worth it.”

my HC is that Naruto, being used to living alone eversince, has had a long time believing he's finally coming home to someone like Hinata, especially in the early stages of their married life (**and dating 😌🤌)

...allow the man to fully appreciate the significance of these sweet moments

happy birthday Naruto!

I've set up my ko-fi page (tho needs a few more polishing) sooo I will be open for commissions soon if anyone likes what I draw (my style)...I want to save up for a new art equipment 🙏

“The hands that cradled your face and tilted it upward to kiss your forehead are soaked in unimaginable amounts of blood.”

“But they cradled me, yes?”

Sylus, Caleb, Xavier, Eren, Geto, Gojo?, Levi, Armin, Hawks, Dabi

When tumblr refreshes itself and the fic I was reading fucking disappears forever 💔

I’ve been searching for a smau I was reading for three days 😔

Just Friends!?

-Art in the banner from nek0zuu_ on X-

Pairings- Former Nerd! Gojo and popular F! reader

Summary - Satoru Gojo was the biggest nerd EVER in high school with you, next door neighbors, study buddies, you were the best friends in the world. Never having the courage to ask you -the 'popular girl' out- you never knew he felt for you. He ended up leaving town, moving to the big city of LA- getting famous with a modeling career, and lost touch with everyone from his old life. While you're working the family pub to help out your parents, years later, he finally comes back to visit, just to have you making his drink. Everything about him is different, aside from those pretty blue eyes and the sweet grin. You feel he's so accomplished now, and you're just a small town girl, but little do you know, you've never left his mind.

Warnings - Will be explicit and smutty (it's me!?) Nerdjo turned famous and cocky, but he's still just a Nerdjo deep down hehe- his chap, mentions of sex/getting turned on, Gojo being an ass tbh, welcome back Jock Sukuna and say hi to bitchy model Samantha lol, some angst and mutual pining, lots of feelings

Based HEAVILY on the 2005 Rom com Just Friends - part of my amazinggg moot @indiewritesxoxo's Friday night flicks! 🌙

<<<Part One - Masterlist

Part Two

Your POV

It was odd, being back in your hometown after years of living on your own, but when your family needed help with their bar, and with student loans piling up -  teaching did not pay very well - you couldn’t help but come back home for a bit. The shifts at the hometown bar helped, and staying with your parents for just a few months was definitely a life saver.

It’s not exactly where you saw yourself, teaching lay offs all over, now you have a preschool class here and you love it, but it’s definitely not enough to cover everything. You feel so… just upset, that you’re back here at your first job, grabbing beers for familiar faces, people who never left their hometown, and some that have, but came back like you did.

Despite it being Spring, it was freezing where you lived, some cold spurt that brought on snow in March, so many of the town were curling up by the roaring fire, bundled up laughing and drinking to stay warm. The bar had quite a cozy atmosphere, it reminded you of home, truly, you grew up here, from bussing tables and cleaning to serving drinks.

“Hey love, you look amazing.” You see Suguru and Shoko then, Shoko has a cigarette between her fingers, a familiar smile that makes you beam, as you come out from behind the bar, hugging them both.

“I missed you two oh goodness!” You receive a kiss on each cheek from them, as you hug them together.

“We heard you were back in town, how have you been?” Suguru asks softly, you sigh a bit, peering up at the tall man.

“I can’t believe I’m back here. Layoffs.” They frown then. “I heard you all run a whole dentist office!?”

“Sugu is a hot dentist.” Shoko teases, and he smirks a bit.

“Shoko runs the clinic attached to it. She outranks me.”

“Always.” You laugh with the two of them, hands on their shoulders now.

“I’m so proud of you two, what? Doctors, I can't believe that.”

“Hey now, teaching is important.” Shoko brushes your hair back softly, earning your flushed cheeks at her praise.

“They definitely don’t make enough.” Suguru says, earning your sigh.

“You’re telling me. Let me get you all drinks!” You eagerly bounce back, mixing them up drinks, Shoko loves a lemon drop from what you remember, and Suguru always enjoyed a rum and coke.

“You remember!” Shoko winks as you hand her the pretty drink, garnishing it with a little lemon swirl and grinning. The noise of the bar fills your ears, as you lean across the polished bar table, glinting under the soft lights overhead.

“Of course I remember. Gosh, it’s been four years since I’ve seen you all I think.” You all start catching up, but of course it starts to get busier, and you begin to take care of all the customers as Suguru and Shoko start tossing darts at the black and red circled board.

You smile at them, they’d always been the perfect couple, making that longing fill you too much. You fully expected to be married with kids by now, sure it was quite a homey little dream, that white picket fence, maybe two kids and some cute golden retriever, but that’s what you always dreamed of. Unfortunately, your bad taste and men did not end in high school.

“Speak of the devil…” You murmur nervously, when you see him, Ryomen Sukuna looking just as good if not better than high school, he still wears his damn letterman’s jacket from college, where he’d become an all star player, you hear now he’s even going pro.

What’s he doing back home?

He grins over now, red eyes sharp as ever, and you fully anticipate him bothering you, saying something pervy, as he walks across the crowded bar, stopping to talk to almost everyone, he was quite a name here. The only person more famous from your little town - there is a population of fourteen thousand and perhaps four stop lights- was Satoru Gojo.

You’d seen him on the damn cat walk, recently he was on the cover of Vogue, him and some other really famous model, this little smirk on his face that just doesn’t fit the boy you knew. If you thought he was cut before, his body was damn near godly, so perfect it was intimidating, and he’d only gotten prettier, not that Satoru wasn’t always so pretty.

He just didn’t know it then.

You think of him sometimes, hurt initially back when summer break hit after high school, and he refused all your calls, he refused to see or talk to anyone when you all lived so fucking close. You tried everything you could, feeling awful because it was your party and you didn’t know, could you have done more? Could you have shoved everyone out?

You were fully planning to if he’d just given you a moment. Your yearbook to this day is something you cherish, and reading his sweet words over and over, he’d taken over an entire page, with words of love you’ve never felt before. But to say it was all ‘a joke’ and leaving, never accepting a friend request, shit he didn’t even talk to Suguru or Shoko, his other best friends.

Satoru never spoke of his hometown in interviews, and when you saw his mom recently, you learned he’s never come home. You know things were hard on him, brutal even, but you wish he knew just how much you loved him, cared for him, sure it was more of a beautiful friendship, but you also were attracted to him, though you were scared to ruin that friendship.

If he just gave you a damn moment.

A friendship you built your entire life demolished, and you miss him even now, you miss the quiet mornings you two would study at the library, you miss the cup of coffee he’d have for you every morning. You missed the little sleepovers, playing pokemon games together, battling it out on the Wii, the amount of things the two of you shared, gone in a moment.

Sukuna leans across the bar, shaking you out of your reverie, his familiar, arrogant smirk just a little softer as his ruby eyes drape down your body, you’re just in some jeans and a polo, nothing too sexy for the family bar here. But he seems to take pleasure in every slow inch, murmuring your name.

“Look at you, even hotter than high school, shit.” You heat up a bit under his gaze, tilting your head and running your hand across your neck.

“Thank you, Sukuna. You look good too.” You earn his wide grin, as he swipes a hand through his pink hair, snowflakes melting just a bit as he leans his hip against the bar now.

“I’ve wondered how you were doing, aren’t you a teacher?”

“I am, but… layoffs.” Sukuna frowns a bit. “I’m teaching preschool here for now, but it’s…”

“They don’t pay shit.” On this, everyone agrees,

“Mmhmm, but it’s my passion. So here I am, working the student loans off.” You wink at him, and he softens then, resting his elbow on the bar, a hand in his chin.

“So pretty you shouldn’t be working.”

“Oh… no. Not at all.” You clear your throat, something is so different about him, he’s not the asshole you remember, or so it seems. “But just temporary, I’m finishing up a couple classes to teach higher education.”

“You always were smart, you’ll do well.”

“Oh… thank you, Sukuna.”

“Used to call me Kuna you know.” You giggle now, easing a bit, even under his gaze, which keeps darting down your body. “God you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Say that to the freshman fifteen that never left.” Sukuna chuckles then, when you turn and bend over, grabbing a beer.

“Went to your nice ass-”

“Sukuna!” You glare behind yourself, and he’s chuckling. “Here I was thinking you were all sweet.”

“I am sweet, thank you. Shit I’d love to catch up sometime?” You hand him his beer, sighing then.

“I don’t know…”

“Lunch or something?”

Satoru’s POV

Satoru’s stepping into the bustling bar with the most annoying model ever, cock hungry too, who’s clinging to his arm, looking at the little bar in disgust, while he eyes the familiar surroundings. He scoffs as he sees Sukuna’s letterman jacket, so pretentious really, and eyes everyone around, surely… your parents still run this place, he wonders, do you ever come visit?

“It’s so… quaint.” Comes Samantha’s voice next to him, running her fingers along the dusty bar, grimacing, she’s as tall as Satoru in her heels, perhaps one of the few women who he doesn’t tower over. All models were pretty tall, but typically he still had a couple inches, but Samantha was the best in her field, and maybe longer legs than Satoru Gojo himself.

“Yeah, I guess compared to LA.” He murmurs, the surroundings oddly comforting, despite how much he thought he’d hate it here. Something about shivering in the cold and then coming to this warm, bustling bar was…

Homey.

It gnaws at him, as people recognize him, and they begin to all come up, many who used to pick on him. He clings to that pretty model of his tighter, putting on a bright grin and lowering his black Gucci shades, the two of them are decked out in Saint Laurent and looking like a million bucks. Even in public, you had to make sure you were dressed to kill.

“Holy shit…” Satoru sees Suguru and Shoko then, their mouths drop as they come up to him. He's spoken to them a little here and there, but overwhelmingly has not said much since college was over. “Look at you two!”

“Look at you, all preening like a peacock.” Shoko rolls her dark eyes, sipping on a drink as she assesses him and his ‘girl’ who is clinging to him, laughing far too fake to ever be taken for as genuine, grating on his nerves.

“How cute, townies!” Samantha says, tossing blonde hair back, and Satoru scowls over at her.

“Who’s the snob?” Suguru asks boldly, making her gasp as Satoru’s muffling his laughter.

“Be nice.” Satoru warns, hands in the pockets of his red dress pants, a ruby so bright and bold it’s ridiculous for a place where people wear jeans and flannels.

“They’re not nice, Gojo. I don’t like it here!” She’s stomping her feet, and Satoru sighs, shaking his head.

“Go get a drink, hmm?” He turns her and smacks her ass, she cringes then.

“Myself!?”

“Become immersed in the small town, it’ll be good publicity, sweets.” He winks as she pouts and saunters off, ignoring the men and at one point hissing at one.

“She’s on drugs or…” Suguru trails off, and Satoru snorts.

“She’s definitely on a good Adderall / Xani combo. Shit… I missed you guys.” He ruffles Shoko’s hair, and shoves at Suguru good naturedly, Suguru smiles a bit, dark hair even longer than Satoru remembers.

“Sure you did. Come back to visit?”

“Uh… no.” He peers at his phone, sighing now. “Our suite for whatever reason isn’t available, I was stopping here and going to call Mom, since I have no reception whatsoever.”

“Why would you bring her to your mom’s, doesn’t she suffer enough with you as her kid?” Shoko earns Satoru sticking his tongue out, picking up the phone and dialing.

“Toru, sweetie!” Satoru sighs, he loves his mom, but to this day she really treats him like a child, even now.

“Hey mom, cool if I stay a few nights? I have a modeling-”

“You’re coming home!?” Satoru winces, pulling back the phone as Suguru and Shoko laugh.

“Yeah, if it’s-”

“I’ll make your favorite, baby, triple stack pancakes with sundae-”

“No, no, too many carbs.” He hears his mom’s sigh of disappointment, and clenches his jaw just a bit, looking over to see Samantha taking pictures of herself on her fancy phone, throwing up a pose now. “I guess yeah, I’ll eat pancakes.”

“My baby, oh I can’t wait, let me get started now!” His mom hangs up, and he can’t help but feel that fondness, the emptiness he’s had for so long just the tiniest bit filled by her voice.

“She’s excited.” He muses, sighing then. “I need a drink.”

Suguru and Shoko eye each other, and Satoru’s blue eyes narrow, studying their odd expressions. “Yes, you should, bartender she’s amazing.” Shoko’s smiling, and Satoru’s lips purse a bit.

“Hmm, guess I’ll see. I’ll be back.” He pats their shoulders again, heading over and passing more and more familiar faces, gosh none of them left, huh?

He leans against the bar, poking around on his phone as he hears Sukuna, asking then - 

“Lunch sometime?”

He snorts, eyeing the tall, big man who used to torment him, now eye to eye with him, and damn near his size. Sukuna blinks in surprise a bit when Satoru eyes him with humor.

“Lunch is friendzone territory, ouch.” Sukuna glares now, fists clenching on the bar, and that’s when…

You see him.

Satoru Gojo.

“Maybe I like lunch.” Your voice shocks him then, he eyes you, wide blue eyes going to the face of the girl he loved.

Your face.

You’re so pretty it makes his heart thud out of his fucking chest, you’re just like you were, maybe a bit more mature looking now, but god it was like a blast from his past, the ultimate memory of you couldn’t compare. You’re so beautiful, this fucking glow around you still, that comfort he has been craving hitting him in one instant, as he just stands there.

Satoru Gojo, who got whatever girl he wanted, was just standing there, staring at you, with his lips parted, you are heating up under his scrutiny, unsure of just what he was thinking, biting that lower lip a bit and shifting. He notices now, that you’re not fawning over him, drooling, like women did, if anything you’re glaring just a bit, your jaw set.

“I… you… here…” He can’t compute a fucking word - stupid, stupid - why did you reduce him to pathetic again, after all these years!?

“Yes, I work here again. I know, it’s not what I imagined either.” Your soft, devastated words attack him, making him feel like you punched him right in the gut, as Sukuna raises a brow at Satoru.

“Friend zone, did you just say that?” Satoru’s sputtering now, before clearing his throat, shutting his eyes and taking a breath.

He’s not some ‘nerd’ anymore.

He’s Satoru Fucking Gojo.

He smirks and leans against the bar, eyeing you slowly, pulling off pretentious shades that make you miss his tortoiseshell glasses. But when those piercing, swirling blue eyes hit you, trailing like Sukuna’s had, you feel so shy suddenly, so nervous around him, after so long. Surely he was looking down at you, surely he was so high and mighty that your life seemed sad to him.

You stand a little straighter now, while the two men, who have changed so much, both eye you, a blast from fucking high school if you ever saw one. “Look at you…” He murmurs your name softly, like a caress- shit his voice is deeper, it’s so sure, so cocky and conceited, not the sweet boy you miss. “You look great.”

“Thanks, so do you.” You manage softly, he’s in some suit worth as much as your year of work you’re sure, open with a vest showing of chest muscles, fuck he has red silk gloves, it’s so ridiculous you almost laugh.

He’s gorgeous but…

Who is he really?

“Working here again, huh?” He means it to be casual, but the way it comes off makes you straighten your shoulders, as Sukuna winces.

“All that money, all those women and you never learned.” Satoru scowls at Sukuna now, while you turn away, giving him a view of a body he’s dreamed of, fuck you’re even sexier now, those jeans sitting just right, is none of you not perfect, not beautiful?

“What can I get you, Gojo?” You ask after grabbing another beer for Sukuna, who takes it with a smile, and he tenses at that.

Gojo.

When did you ever call him anything but ‘Toru’?

But, you all are literally strangers now.

“Martini.” He says, earning Sukuna’s snort, Satoru’s scowl heads his direction once again as you start to get the ingredients together, shaking it up in the gold shaker like a pro.

“Little bitch drink.”

“Beer is disgusting, fuck that.”

Sukuna glares as he sips the drink, and you pour Satoru his martini, garnishing it and giving a small smile that doesn’t reach your eyes. “One martini.”

“Thanks, sweetheart.” You falter, at his soft voice, at the way he says everything as if it were some caress.

“You’re welcome.” He hands you far too much money then, making you blink. “It’s only ten bucks.”

“Keep the rest, love.” He winks now, and you feel your face heating up, did he think you needed it so badly? Does he pity you?

Does he care?

“Thanks… um, sure on lunch, Sukuna.” Satoru’s teeth clench, like watching history repeat itself. “Even if it’s ‘friend zone’ I’m fine with meeting up.”

“Perfect, here’s my number…” He writes it right on one of the pretty white napkins, and you take it carefully. “I’ll be in town all week.”

“Alright, sounds good.” Sukuna tips you, not the exorbitant fifty dollars Satoru just handed you, but a twenty, with a little nod of his head, as he passes Satoru now, and Samantha comes right up to him.

“Oh look at you, all star for the-” She’s flirting but Sukuna ignores her, winking at you and making you want to giggle, but you barely hold it in. “So rude! Gojo, can we please leave this shitty little bar?”

You scowl right up at the tall, beautiful model who pouts over at Satoru, clinging to his arm, he stiffens, but you see it, clearly they’re… together. “The ‘shitty little bar’ is owned by my family. And you are more than welcome to leave.”

“Oooh, you’re feisty.” She’s giggling psychotically, using her hand to make a clawing motion. “Rawr!”

“The fuck…” You shake your head, sighing as you set back to work, Samantha’s hands running down Satoru’s chest, irritating him to no end.

All he can see is you, and you’re just turning away, the girl he…

He left.

He left you.

No word, no goodbye, and he thought maybe it wouldn’t feel like this, maybe after eight years and endless women in his bed, he could stop feeling like this, stop the love he had. He tried to chalk it up to puppy love, you were the nicest person to him, of course he developed feelings, right?

Wrong.

He watches as you head out from behind the bar as Samantha’s going on and on about some Instagram post, downing the rest of his martini. “We’ll leave in a minute, go wait in the car.”

“I can’t believe we don’t even have a driver, ugh!” Satoru blinks at her, turning her now, watching as you stop and talk to Suguru and Shoko, smiling so sweet, lighting up the whole fucking room.

“I’ll be out in a minute.”

“Oh fine but…” She drags him down by his tie, whispering in his ear then- “I can suck you while you drive.”

What would once excite him doesn’t compute, he just nods and pushes the crazy woman to the entrance of the bar. “Sure whatever.”

“No pictures, please.” She throws on her sunglasses, as curious people wonder just what this woman is talking about, and Satoru feels your eyes on him then, his catch yours across the room. He watches you tense, as he steps closer, and Shoko and Suguru depart, giving you both one moment.

“Hi.” He manages to say, and for once, the pretentious rich model reminds you of him, the boy you grew up with, the one you miss so badly it feels like he’s a dream.

“Hi.” Your soft voice ends him, you’re shifting side to side, Satoru towers over you, making you feel so small then, as he presses a hand against the wall over your head, tilting your chin up with his other hand. Your eyes go wide then, breath catching, heart hammering.

“I’d love to catch up, I am here for a few days, I’ll be at mom’s.” You blink a bit then, looking down, gently taking his hand off your chin by his wrist, the contact making you both pause. For a moment he pictures it, kissing you, making every move he failed at in high school, taking your lips over.

He pictures so much, up to and including you under him, shit maybe now he’d have a chance with a girl like you, maybe he could taste your sweetness, could inhale that vanilla body spray you somehow wear eight years later. Could show you pleasure he bets you never got before, cock aching just being in your presence, he has to will it to go down.

“Your mom, I just saw her.” You ease his hand down, back resting against the wall just a bit, hair falling across your shoulders, you gasp when he brushes it back, another move he had tried and failed at back then.

That night should have been his first kiss.

You should have been his first everything, fuck.

“Could we do dinner or drinks?” His tone reminds you of what he said earlier, so you smile, a little mean glint in your eye.

“Maybe lunch.”

“Lunch!?” He’s glaring, thin white brows lowered, and you giggle.

“Coffee?”

Shit.

“Or is that too ‘friend zone’ for you, Gojo.” Satoru blinks a bit, hand falling, barely brushing your shoulder when it falls, you try to ignore how good it feels, he tries to act nonchalant, not like the fucking world is faded, aside from you. That the entire bar is just an echo, it’s just you.

And you’re furious, he can feel it. “No, no I mean it’s fine. If you want… coffee we can do coffee.” He can’t believe he’s saying this, he brushes his white locks back, winking down then. “We can do whatever you want.”

“Uh huh. Well, coffee then, if you want to catch up I’m surprised, considering it all though.” Satoru’s jaw clenches just a bit.

“I’d like to catch up.” You soften at his first vulnerable statement, the first thing that feels real. “How about in the morning, are you staying nearby?”

“I’m living with my parents for a couple months.” He frowns at that, you suddenly feel so insecure, a rich model right in front of you, just as he said that day- that he’d make it, and you all…

Would just burn out.

Maybe you did.

“Oh, you are, is something wrong?”

“Helping them a bit, big teacher layoffs nationwide.”

“You teach?” His smile is finally genuine, as you nod, so shyly, his shoulders relax, as his hands slip in his pockets once more. “You always wanted to.” Your eyes shoot up to his now, swirling beautiful blue, a hint of the sweet boy you adored.

“You remember?”

“How couldn’t I…”

“I figured you forgot us all.” Satoru gulps down the guilt, as you manage to pull yourself together, sighing. “Come by my parents in the morning, if you remember where they are.”

“How can I forget, it’s across the street.”

“All right then… I look forward to it.” He awkwardly leans down, as you wrap a friendly arm around his waist, inhaling his cologne, much different than the boy who wore axe body spray and always sucked on lifesavers. His hard body against your much softer one feels a little too good, when he rests his chin on your head.

Nothing has ever felt better than holding you in his arms.

Memories swirl for the both of you, but it’s different, Satoru seems like some bold and pretentious stranger, but for a moment you remember. You remember crying in his arms, over this breakup or that, you remember his sweet hugs during study sessions, you remember laughing and watching the dumbest movies. You exhale just a bit, as a big hand presses the small of your back.

Satoru missed you.

He doesn’t say it, he can’t say anything, pulling back and looking at you then, hand coming to cup your face, opening his mouth to speak when Samantha starts shouting “I’m bored Gojo! I’m so bored!”

The entire bar turns her direction, you fall back a bit, as Gojo internally curses, seeing the brat that is his partner crossing her arms in that fur coat. “I’m coming okay, shit!”

“Your girlfriend is bored.” You’re giggling then, you can’t help it, covering your face as Samantha glares.

“Not my girlfriend, jesus. Um… okay, the morning.” You nod, walking off now, past Samantha, who hisses at you like the psychotic bitch she is, making Satoru grimace with Suguru and Shoko walk up to Satoru.

“You fucked that intro up.” Suguru says, snorting as he puts his arm around Shoko’s waist, and she’s laughing.

“Fucked it up bad.”

“Oh like you’re any help.” They just shake their head, eyeing Satoru’s screaming model bestie.

“See you in eight more years.” Suguru’s words sting, as Satoru feels it then, the guilt eating away at him, but Samantha won’t shut up long enough for him to process, he drags her out into the cold, chilled air, seeing you climbing up into what appears to be your SUV, your eyes flicker to him for just a moment, before you shut the door.

“You like townies hmm? Can’t stop eye fucking girl next door.” Satoru’s eyes make even Samantha falter then.

“Who I like is none of your fucking concern. In.” He plops down in the rental, an audi of course, god forbid Satoru Gojo or Samantha would be seen in anything less, on that they are the same.

“You’re so cranky, she’s hot, just… gives those girl next door vibes.”

“Yeah well, she was the girl next door for me. Almost.” He feels her hand now, trailing over his thigh, she leans over and laughs in his ear, making him cringe. “How’d I get stuck with-”

“Let me make you feel so good, should I suck little Gojo?”

“Little Gojo!? It’s not little, Samantha.” He shoves her off, and she pouts again, crossing her arms.

“How’d I get stuck with you is the question, no fun. Now we have to go stay in poorville.”

“It’s the fucking suberbs.”

“Poor. Poor. Poor. Boring, boring.” Satoru almost pushes her out of the goddamn car, no blow job would be worth it, even if it would shut her up for a moment, even if his cock twitches thinking of you.

He pulls up to his home, his mother already has it opened when he walks up, hugging him tightly, kissing his face all over and making him wince. “Mom…”

“My baby, I never thought you’d come home.” She’s got tears in her pretty blue eyes, she visits LA once a year or more, but now the way tears fall from eyes that match his wracks him with guilt.

He could have come back at least once, right?

No, no he couldn’t.

“And this is…”

“Samantha.” She shakes his mom’s hand, tossing back long blonde locks and smiling. “You have such a quaint little home.”

Satoru’s mom blinks rapidly, brows together, this wasn’t a small home, it was four stories and lovely, left to them from Satoru’s dad, but he supposes to a rich, spoiled brat like Samantha, it’s ‘quaint’. “Um, thank you, and you’re staying too?”

“Unfortunately.” Satoru’s mom raises her brows, as Samantha clings to Satoru once again, grinning.

“I get to meet the mom, huh? I’m so special-”

“Let’s eat.”

Satoru finally leaves a snoring, annoying model brat Samantha alone in the guest room, when he walks inside his childhood room, frozen. Time has been frozen, his mother hasn’t changed a single fucking thing, up to and including pictures of you and him all over the walls. He gulps down his emotions, shutting the door behind him with a quiet click, undressing carefully.

He sees his old nerdy ass sweater, one you’d gotten him, still folded on his desk, like he never left. His fingers brush the fabric, as he stares at his reflection, feeling like he’s a ghost in his own room. The connections start to build, the mirror he kissed that night, the endless photos and mementos he kept. He eyes that box now, opening a letter carefully, crumbled and faded ink.

My Toru, I hope you have the best day, I can’t wait for the movies!

Toru, can you believe how the year has flown by!?

Do you want to go bowling Y or N

Your new glasses are so cute I love them!

Bad day today, sorry I’m quiet.

Tears fall down his cheeks, he only notices when the blotches form on the ink, all the times you’d write to him every day, passing little notes in class with hearts all over them, brightening his day. He’d kept every single fucking one, and there were so, so many in this tin box, stuffed inside like all of his fucking feelings.

He wipes his eyes quickly, shaking it off, pulling out his luggage with his own clothes and getting dressed in sweats for the night, curiously pushing on the cd left in the player, sighing then. Your favorite song, it’s that mixed CD he was making you, the one he never gave you. Satoru quickly turns it off, the button a resounding click, walking to the corkboard littered with you.

Knock knock knock.

“Come in, mom.” She does just that, peeking her pretty face, still so young looking, so sweet as she smiles at him. “You didn’t change any of it.”

“No, I always hoped you’d come back, at least for a day.” She walks up to Satoru now, seeing the photos he’s staring at now, Satoru and you sipping a milkshake together with two straws, in the middle of a diner. “You two were so sweet, she’s back in town you know.”

“I know… I’m seeing her in the morning.” His mom’s eyes light up, and he laughs a bit. “Don’t get excited, my life isn’t here mom.”

“Part of it will always be.” She cups his face, smiling up at him. “I hope you have fun with her, she has kept in touch all these years you know.”

“She has?”

“Yes, she… misses you. She asks about you when she visits town.” Satoru blinks back emotion, turning away now, clearing his throat.

You asked about him after all this? After he'd gone out of your life for good? What if he just heard you out, what if he…

“I’m tired, mom.” Mrs. Gojo nods, a hand on his back for a moment.

“Good night, Toru.”

“Night.” He lays in his bed, phone blowing up, his agent with details, a coordinator for the show, friends from LA teasing him on having to come back home, but he quickly turns it off, holding a photo of you, the only one he brought.

He gently touches it, sighing, wondering…

Will you like him now, could he be good enough?

While you lay in bed, tossing, turning, fuming damn near at Satoru Gojo’s audacity, sitting up finally, putting on Satoru’s favorite song, on that mixed CD you had been making him, before he disappeared. Your childhood room is the same as it always was, littered with photos of you and Satoru, your best friend that just disappeared, and came back a different person.

You touch a photo, one where he’s grinning so big with his cute little braces, holding up a science award, and you’re so overcome with emotion you have to hold back your tears, touching the polaroid gently. Was that boy in there somewhere, the boy you knew, the one who deserved the world - he seemingly got it of course.

Would he find you so boring? He hung out with celebrities, he walked runways, he’s clearly got a beautiful - batshit insane but- girl on his arm. Was it some pity, did he feel bad you were in a little bar? Your mind can’t handle it all, as you plop down in your childhood bed, mind racing.

Who was Satoru Gojo now?

Ah why'd I tear up when Satoru goes home? Next part we see just how coffee goes lol

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