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#getou suguru x y/n
nana-au · 17 hours
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Best Friends Forever!
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Suguru Geto ♡
MDNI
₊˚ପ⊹ Summary: You’re Suguru’s bff and roommate. You know him like the back of your hand – and he knows you the same, if not better! Some people may think you two are too close, but they just don’t understand. When you have a date planned and need help picking out your outfit, Suguru’s your guy! ...What’s this? He doesn’t want you to leave?
₊˚ପ⊹ Warnings: minor mention of blood, mention of pet death, possessiveness, jealousy, nipple play, thigh riding, fingering, making you beg, overstimulation, unprotected sex
₊˚ପ⊹ an: kicking and screaming and crying and throwing up and scratching my face I NEED HIM.
₊˚ପ⊹ wc: 2.8k
𓂃⊹ ִֶָ
BFF! Sugu who’s been by your side since before you can even remember! You grew up neighbors and when you both went off to college you got an apartment off campus together. It was only natural to be with Suguru. He was the only constant in your life – your anchor. 
BFF! Sugu who is so protective of you. How could he not? You two experienced life’s firsts together. You were there when Suguru took a nasty spill off his bike. His tears were hot down his face as you stayed by his side. You used the water bottle you kept on your own bike to flush the blood off his knee, giving it a quick peck. “My mom always says a kiss makes everything better. Do you feel better Sugu?” He nods his head, wiping the snot off of his face with his t-shirt. He was there when you lost your first pet and even though you were preteens and everyone made you feel dumb being sad over a goldfish - Geto made it a point to hold a funeral in his backyard. He dug a small grave for it - picking out the perfect rock for you to write its name on to place on top of its resting place. 
BFF! Sugu who makes sure you’re safe. He would never allow you to pump your own gas. He’s seen the type of guys who prowl around the gas station close to your home. He’ll make sure you get to sit pretty in the passenger seat while he fills up your car. Don’t worry about the price – he’ll take care of it. He always takes care of you. 
BFF! Sugu who knows everything about you. He knows all your favorites. Favorite color, favorite season, favorite food, favorite tv show… there was nothing that you liked that he was not aware of. He knows about things you wouldn’t be caught dead telling anyone else – trusting only your best friend. 
BFF! Sugu who is so so sooooo protective of you. Any guy he thought wasn’t the absolute best for you was quickly kicked to the curb. He’ll admit – sometimes the criteria was a little strict. The guy from your art class? His haircut was stupid. Shithead from your after school club? Believe him – he was a tool. Worst of all was the douche on your school’s baseball team. Suguru had quite the time getting you to see his point of view, but he didn’t dare say I told you so as you cried in his arms retelling the embarrassment of catching him cheating. 
BFF! Sugu who learns to relax in college. You were a woman now – you no longer needed his constant guidance. He would genuinely smile as you talked about all the friends you were making in your major. How funny your coworkers at the concession stand job you worked every football game were. The fact you had a date with a friend of a friend – your girl friend had vouched for him. He was a good guy. Geto was glad you had people looking out for you. He couldn’t wait to meet him. 
BFF! Sugu who helps you pick out the cute little outfits for your dates. You were so beautiful, that guy was truly lucky. But even his luck couldn’t match Suguru’s as you put on a little show for him – trying on every tantalizing option. 
BFF! Sugu who loved watching you dress up so much he bought you more. You didn’t even need a date to have a fashion show! He just loved seeing that color on you. Oh! – And don’t even get him started on the skimpy little dresses with the ruffles. They were made for you. He couldn’t decide whether your plump butt or your squishy boobs looked better hugged by the fabric. He had to use his large hand to hide the bite he gave to his bottom lip when your cute little panties peaked through the bottom of a particularly short one. “Maybe that one is good for around the house,” he proposed. 
BFF! Sugu who had to swallow his need when you begged him to rate your lingerie. “I didn’t realize you two were at that point in your relationship,” he would try to laugh off his distaste. 
“I’ve told him no to sex for so long, I’ve been thinking maybe it's time…” you trailed off. You played with the hem of your dress as you stood in front of Suguru on the couch. He was sunk comfortably into the loveseat, legs spread wide and one of his muscled arms stretching across the back of the couch. The other on the arm rest. “Ok princess. Let’s see the options,” he spoke.
BFF! Sugu who couldn’t make it through the first set. The white lace left little to the imagination, a black bow adorned above your cute mound. “You trying to make me sweat?” A dark chuckle broke through his lips. “Sorry?” you asked him, not hearing him correctly. How silly you were to think that just because he was a friend that made him any less of a man. A hot blooded man at that – with eyes that glued to your nipples visible through the thin fabric. “The dresses were one thing, princess, but this? Don’t play dumb,” his dark eyes were now impossibly black. You were staring into the voids that indiscreetly roamed your body. It was entirely silly of you to now try and hide yourself from his hungry gaze. 
BFF! Sugu who doesn’t let you leave. You were no match against his strong grip as he pulled you onto his lap. “You’re leavin’ me no choice,” he assured you, pushing you down hard against his thigh. You tried to push away but his hands on your waist locked you in. “No choice,” he reminded you. You swallowed thickly, realizing you were completely helpless as he began guiding your hips up and down his thigh. The rough material of your panties rubbing deliciously against your clit. “Sugu s-stop,” you begged him, all breathy and hot against his ear. “You want me to stop?” Of course! He was your best friend. You didn’t want him making you feel better than you ever thought possible by just rubbing your pussy against his leg. “But you look so cute like this,” he pouted at you, “Humping my thigh like a puppy. I’ll let go – but you better stop moving your hips,” he tutted at you. You didn’t have it in you to keep your eyes open to watch yourself continuously rut against him even after he removed his hands. It wasn’t your fault his muscled thigh felt more pleasurable than any toy you could ever buy. 
Geto had plenty of girls at your school talking about their experiences with him. You spent your entire teen years hearing about his ‘magical tongue’ and ‘horse dick’. For the majority of your life you had little interest in getting to experience that part of your best friend – that was until the bastard from the baseball team. The absolute snore fest he put on for your first time was jarring. Maybe you were so used to hearing how life-changing Suguru’s hips were that you had high expectations... 
No – you were not purposefully trying to get Geto to want you. He genuinely gave good advice when it came to what looked good on you. Ok so maybe you were pushing your luck with the lingerie – but Suguru was always so level-headed. It was scary how quickly he caved.
It was even more frightening listening to his taunts hot in your ear, “Why aren’t you stopping?” You couldn’t stop now – but you would. Just a little longer. You’d find the strength to stop soon. “Tell me you want me, or I’m stopping this,” he threatened and your form shook. “Please don’t,” you begged him. “Don’t what?” he lifted your chin, making you look at him “Don’t s-stop t-this,” you squeaked out.  
BFF! Sugu whose rumors were true. His tongue was magical. His hands flew down to your hips, helping you roll deliciously against the fabric of his sweats while his wet muscle was hot against your nipples. He used his teeth to pull down the fabric so he could taste your bare bud against his tongue. He suckled and licked your sensitive nipple causing your arousal to seep past the lace of your panties. You began to soak his sweatpants but he wasn’t gonna have you stopping anytime soon. He pulled your hips into tight circles against him, overwhelming your nub. His teeth nibbled at your nipple and you jerked up at the sudden shock. His grip was bruising and you wanted – no needed more. “Sugu.. more.. need more” you sounded so pathetic. 
BFF! Sugu who was left with little choice! His princess wanted more and more she was going to get. His head kissed your entrance, barely pushing in past the tip. You mewled, nails digging into his shoulders as he teased himself into you. “You think you can take me?” he asked you and you nodded fervently. He was thick and long – even his tip felt like he was tearing you in two. You wanted to be absolutely broken. “M-more Sugu,” you begged, trying to move your hips to sink down further. He kept you still – only allowing you to move if it was him dragging you down against him. Your slick was dripping down the rest of his cock, you were completely overwhelmed by the little attention he was giving you. One of his hands moved from your hips down to your clit, rubbing slow circles – barely ghosting above it. You were clenching on his fat tip and whining embarrassingly loud. He wanted to have you crying for his cock. He clicked his tongue at you, “I’m not convinced enough you want my cock.” He looked so unaffected as you shook, “I do! I need it, Sugu,” tears fell down your cheeks as you desperately tried to convince him.   
BFF! Sugu whose hips slapped against yours at a brutal pace. He had you pinned into the loveseat, head down and ass up. A creamy ring formed at the base of his unrelenting cock. Drool was seeping from your mouth and onto the couch, the only thing you could think about was the way he was pounding into that gummy spot that made you dizzy. “No one could make you feel this way,” he promised you, “this pussy was made for me.” His pace was bruising, his balls slapping against your clit. He pulled your hips up farther, making you arch your back. Everything was so noisy – the sound of you meeting his hips, the squelch of his cock pulling in and out, and his grunts each time he felt his tip kiss your cervix. Geto looooved watching you take him so well. Each time his cock disappeared inside of you, only to reappear as he roughly dragged out of you. He didn’t know if you were purposefully squeezing him each time his hips pulled back. Were you trying to keep him buried deep? “Your date won't mind if I leave my cum in you, right?” he teased you – knowing full well you wouldn’t be going anywhere after he was done with you. “Dripping out of your pussy at dinner,” you couldn’t fathom him being able to laugh right now. “What would you even tell him?” he was imagining the scene playing out in his mind, “My roommate thought I was looking a little empty. Needed to stuff me full,” His smile lazy thinking about how he was claiming you tonight. He was fucking your tight little hole deliciously, making sure you could never be satisfied by anything other than his cock. You pushed your hips into his, making sure he reached as deep as possible. “You want to cum, princess?” he picked up his pace – which you didn’t even think was possible – your tits bouncing at each thrust of his hips. You nodded, pleading for him to make you cum. “God – cum on my cock. Want t’feel you squeezin me,” the rough pad of his finger met your clit, helping your pleasure meet its peak. “I’m cumming, Sugu,” you cried out to your best friend. 
BFF! Sugu who wasn’t done with you once you came. You tried to claw at his hands on your hips, begging him to slow down. The tension in your tummy snapped, cumming undone loudly around him. He paid no mind to your pleas, “You can take more. You’re a good girl, I know you can.” He didn’t ever want to leave your snug pussy. He would fuck you all day if that’s what it took for him to feel satisfied. “Give me another, baby. Cum on my cock one more time. I know you can,” he was so filthy. You never had a guy dirty talk to you the way Geto was. He was demanding and unrelenting. It was alarming how much you enjoyed the filth leaving his lips. “How could you tell me to stop when she’s gripping me so tight – pussy doesn’t want to let go of me.” he threw his head back, “”S your fault I’m pounding you like this. I couldn't let you get away with showing me that little number.” The lingerie he was referring to was on the floor below you two, ripped into pieces from when he tore it off your body. He completely pulled out of you – leaving your pussy uncomfortably empty before flipping you over and folding you in half. He placed the back of your knees on his shoulder, wasting no time pushing himself back into you. The new angle took your breath away. His heavy frame held you down as his cock was unrelenting. When you looked down you could see his length slide in and out of you, your cute little pussy lips swallowing him whole. Your arousal coated his cock – all thick and creamy. You felt like you could pass out from the sight – not thinking it was possible to be so wet. His thumb reached down to your clit, rubbing harsh circles on it. “C’mon baby. I’m addicted to the way you squeeze my cock. Let me feel you cum again. Need it, princess,” he begged. He was slowly losing all control. You were so perfect underneath him, taking him like the good girl he always knew you were. You were wrecking him. Your sounds were so cute – choking back sobs as he fucked you to another peak. You were begging for him to cum inside you. You wanted to feel him coat your walls in his sticky juice. “Gonna pump you full,” he promised you. “Gonna feel so good stuffed full with my cum.”
BFF! Sugu who can’t stand watching his semen leak out of you. You were completely fucked out – chest heaving as you laid on the couch. Geto was still holding your legs up, trying fruitlessly to push his juices back inside of you. 
BFF! Sugu who needs to make sure you keep all of it. He didn’t even wait for you to regain your energy before his thick fingers are deep inside of you. “Can’t let a single drop go to waste,” he tells you. He curls his thick digits, pushing against the squishy spot that makes you see stars. “No more,” you breathlessly say. “Just one more. Need to make sure it all keeps,” you are completely overstimulated. The feelings of his fingers are heightened by your two orgasms – which only makes you come undone even faster. His fingers are lightening fast and your pussy sounds like it's made of water. It’s so loud and wet and you just can’t help yourself from cumming again. You’re thrashing against his unrelenting fingers, crying loud enough that your neighbors definitely hear. “That’s it. S’good for me,” he’s emotional watching you come undone so many times by his doing. You were his. His, his, his. 
BFF! Sugu who doesn’t even have to tell you to cancel your date. You couldn’t pick your head up after he was done with you. You were staying home with him – where you belonged. 
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grartsss · 2 days
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He wants to hold your hand
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nanamis-baker · 14 hours
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Unexpected Blooms
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Chapter 1 | Whisper of the Petals
Pairing: philosophy student Geto x art student f!reader (College AU)
Summary: A mystery blooms on your doorstep. A breathtaking bouquet of white flowers, a silent whisper of apology… but it's not for you. Delivered under the name of a man so handsome he takes your breath away, the mix-up sets your heart racing.
Fate seems determined to keep throwing you together, and soon you're caught in a whirlwind of chance encounters and undeniable chemistry. It was almost as if it was trying to bring you together.
Content: Fluff, slow burn, Reader falling for Geto (Kinda), Geto being a gentleman but also an idiot.
Status: Ongoing
Word Count: 10.6k
a/n: Big big thanks to my love @whereflowerswenttodie for putting up with me and beta-reading this. Seriously can't thank her enough!🌷
Series mlist | Next Chapter →
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A frown creased your brow as you spotted a bouquet of white roses outside your apartment door. The fresh blooms whispered apologies, but the sentiment felt misplaced. There was no reason anyone would apologise to you, right?
Unlocking the door, you carried the bouquet inside, its beauty undeniable. White, velvety roses, their centres a pale blush in the fading light, stood proudly in the centre. Delicate baby's breath, like a cloud of tiny white stars, surrounded them. A few sprigs of eucalyptus peeked out from the arrangement, their fresh, invigorating scent filling the air with a clean aroma.
The flowers were surrounded with brown paper arranged in a vase, and tied at the base of the clear glass vase was a simple white ribbon, its frayed edges hinting at a vintage charm. The entire bouquet held a quiet elegance that felt at odds with the confusing message of the flowers themselves.
Whoever sent it clearly had an eye for aesthetics. You placed it on the coffee table and searched for a card. Surely, there'd be an explanation nestled among the petals, right? You looked through the delicate flowers, and finally found it! A small white card that was tucked discreetly among the flowers.
Pulling it out, you read it as your frown deepened. The message written across it felt like a riddle:
"I apologise for not being there for you enough. Forgive me, please? -Suguru Geto"
Suguru Geto? The name brushed against the edges of your memory, yet you couldn't quite grasp where you'd heard it. This stranger's apology left you bewildered.
It seemed like there was a mix-up; these flowers weren’t meant for you. So you decided to call the flower company responsible for the delivery- their contact details were printed behind the card- hoping for some clarity.
You dialled the flower company, the phone balanced between your ear and shoulder, as your fingers traced the elegant script of the note. The words were written in cursive, each letter precise and controlled. As you pondered the identity of this apologetic stranger, the line connected.
The call confirmed your suspicions. The flowers were originally meant for Suguru Geto's girlfriend, not you, but because of some mistake, they were delivered to your address. You asked them how to return the flowers, but unfortunately, the company policy prevented them from retrieving the delivered flowers, leaving them in your possession.
The expensive blooms sat accusingly on the table- You had to return then, right? You politely requested Geto's contact information to return them, but their policy prohibited sharing customer details.
Their policy - or lack thereof - felt absurd. First, they deliver the flowers to the wrong address, then leave you holding the beautiful (and expensive) bouquet?
You were about to hang up, feeling disappointed when the person on the other end inquired about your university. You raised an eyebrow at the question. Apparently, this company provides exclusive student discounts to the students of your university, and Suguru Geto also used it for these flowers.
So he was a student at your university.
Disconnecting the call, you decided to take matters into your own hands. You opened Instagram and typed the name into the search bar. A quick search yielded several profiles, and the third one seemed to hold the key as your college name was in the bio. Though the profile was private, a sliver of hope remained. You crafted a message and sent it off:
"Hey! I received some flowers with your name as the sender - I think they were meant for someone else. Please let me know if we can meet so I can return them!"
Without waiting for a reply, you kept your phone aside, your eyes lingering on the growing pile of dishes in the sink. With a sigh, you decided to tackle the growing problem.
The sound of water running and the rhythmic clinking of dishes filled the air as you cleaned them.
Minutes ticked by, measured by the steady rhythm of your cleaning and the nervous flutter in your stomach. Just as you were about to rinse the last plate, your phone vibrated on the counter, a welcome interruption.
A message. It was from Geto. Relief washed over you, quickly followed by a jolt of anticipation. After drying your hands hastily on a dish towel, you grabbed your phone. The message itself was short and to the point:
"Hi. Yes, those flowers were meant for my girlfriend. We can meet here if it’s okay with you."
A small map icon accompanied the text, and you recognised the cafe he was referring to instantly. It was a cosy little place a few blocks from your apartment, with mismatched furniture and a perpetually overflowing basket of croissants and muffins - a familiar and safe space.
A smile tugged at the corner of your lips. Yeah, you were okay with the place. You typed a quick reply, sending it off with a silent hope.
Moments later, your phone buzzed again. This time, it was a confirmation. You were meeting Suguru Geto.
And here you were, seated across from Suguru Geto at a small, round table bathed in the warm glow of a nearby lamp.
He was, undeniably, handsome. But it wasn't a flashy, in-your-face kind of handsomeness. It was subtle, a carefully curated blend of features that somehow managed to be both sharp and approachable. His hair, raven black, was pulled back in a messy bun, a few strands escaping to curl around his forehead.
A pair of wire-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, framing eyes the colour of polished obsidian. They were intelligent eyes, you noted, with a hint of something deeper lurking beneath the surface. He wore a simple outfit – a crisp white button-down shirt peeked out from under a light grey sweater, the sleeves pushed up slightly, revealing strong forearms, marked by a network of bluish-purple veins that ran up like delicate maps.
"I would like to apologise for the flowers," Geto began after the two of you had exchanged some pleasantries. His voice was kind. "I hope they didn't cause you any trouble." A hint of nervousness flickered in his dark eyes.
"Flowers can't cause trouble," you said, a playful lilt in your voice, "but it seems as if apologies are becoming a habit for you." He had apologised on the note accompanying the flowers, he had apologised when you saw him at the cafe first- for causing you the trouble of coming all the way here - and now he was apologising again.
Geto's cheeks flushed a delicate pink, spreading upwards to touch the tips of his ears. His hand flew up to rub the back of his neck, a gesture that seemed endearingly awkward.
"Ah, right. My girlfriend... Well, she was upset that I haven't been around much lately. The flowers were supposed to be an apology, but..." He trailed off, his gaze dropping to the table for a moment. "Things didn't work out. We broke up this morning, actually." He gestured towards the bouquet with a wry smile. "So, these are a bit… redundant now."
A pang of sympathy stabbed at you, but you masked it with a playful shrug. The scent of freshly brewed coffee filled the air as a bustling group entered the cafe, momentarily distracting you.
"Actually," Geto started, bringing your attention back, then hesitated. He leaned forward slightly, the proximity sending shivers down your spine. His voice dropped to a low murmur as he said, "You should keep them. Consider them an apology for the trouble?" His dark eyes held yours for a moment, a flicker of something unreadable passing through them before he quickly looked away.
There you sat, as a stranger offered you flowers that were meant for his girlfriend, while simultaneously detailing his recent heartbreak. It was undeniably weird, but a strange curiosity gnawed at you. What kind of dynamic existed between him and his ex?
As if sensing your unspoken question, Geto spoke up, his voice tinged with a hint of defensiveness. "We weren't together for long, just a couple of months," he explained. "My best friend... well, he's been struggling with health issues lately. I had to be there for him, you see. But my girlfriend took it the wrong way – felt like I was avoiding her. I tried to explain, but..." his voice trailed off, a flicker of frustration crossing his features, as his brows furrowed slightly.
He seemed to catch himself, a touch of self-consciousness creeping into his tone as he looked at you. "I apologise for unloading all this. You probably don't want to hear a stranger rant about his breakup."
"No, no, it's alright," you interjected quickly, wanting to ease the tension that had settled between you. Just then, the waiter approached your table, balancing two steaming cups of coffee- your cappuccino and his espresso- the arrival provided a welcome interruption.
A comfortable silence settled between you as you both reached for your drinks. You stole a glance at Geto as you lifted your coffee mug to your lips.
There was an aura of composure about him, a quiet confidence that drew you in. He sat with his back straight, his gaze fixed on his cup. Perhaps it was the way he held himself, or the faint hint of a smile playing on his lips, but he seemed completely at ease, radiating a sense of being ‘collected’.
Curiosity tugged at you, battling with the comfortable rhythm of the moment. You decided to break the silence, leaning forward slightly.
"So, what are you studying?" you asked, eager to learn more about the man sitting across from you.
Geto met your gaze, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. "I'm majoring in philosophy," he replied. "It's always fascinated me – the questions, the search for meaning..." he trailed off.
"Philosophy, huh?" you said, raising an eyebrow in question. "Interesting choice. What drew you to it?"
Geto offered a grateful smile. The conversation flowed easily from there, bouncing between his major and yours – philosophy and art, a surprising but intriguing combination. Time seemed to melt away as you delved deeper into each other's worlds, the awkward initial encounter fading into a pleasant exchange.
As he spoke, you found yourself captivated not just by his words, but by the way his eyes seemed to flicker with an unspoken curiosity, a constant need to look beyond the surface, to delve deeper.
You noted the intensity in his gaze, a spark that hinted at a mind housing complex ideas and theories. He spoke with a quiet passion, dissecting concepts and questioning assumptions in a way that both challenged and enthralled you. The more he spoke, the more you realised the philosophy major wasn't just an academic pursuit for him; it was a reflection of his very being. It was the key that unlocked his perspective on the world, a perspective that strangely resonated with your own artistic desire to peel back the layers and expose the hidden truths beneath.
You found yourself listening intently to Geto's passionate words. So, when the insistent chirping of your phone sliced through the comfortable bubble of conversation, you were startled. Glancing at the screen, you groaned. "Shoot," you muttered, scrambling to gather your things and finish your coffee- the liquid, once steaming, was almost cold now. With a sigh, you set down the cup and looked up at Geto.
Geto looked back with concern in his eyes, his dark brow furrowing slightly. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, just… remembered I have a meeting I absolutely can't miss," you explained apologetically. "This completely slipped my mind…" It was your club meeting, and today you were supposed to propose the club budget for the upcoming semester.
Geto nodded in understanding, although there was something akin to disappointment in his eyes. He was quick to hide it before you could completely decipher it and signalled for the waiter for the check. Just as you reached for your wallet, he held up a hand. "Uh, this is on me. Consider it another apology." He flashed you a smile, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he handed the waiter his metallic card.
You blinked at him, torn between amusement and a touch of bewilderment. Flowers (though originally meant for someone else), coffee, and now even the bill? "Geto, you're apologising a lot," you pointed out, though a teasing smile playing on your lips.
He chuckled, "There just seems to be a lot to apologise for today," he replied, a faint blush creeping up his neck again.
His bashfulness was oddly endearing, and you couldn't help but return his smile. "Maybe save it for the next time, huh?"
Geto held your gaze for a beat longer than necessary, a flicker of something unreadable crossing his features before he chuckled softly. "Next time, huh?" he echoed, mirroring your smile.
Maybe it was wishful thinking, but you couldn't help but interpret his lingering gaze and repeated ‘next time’ as a hint of… interest, maybe? As you exchanged contact information, a warmth bloomed in your chest. Geto was undeniably intriguing, with his quiet intensity and flashes of awkwardness. Perhaps there will be a next time - a chance to get to know him better. You waved goodbye, a silent hope for a future encounter hanging in the air as you both exited the cafe and stepped into the golden glow of the late afternoon sun.
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The rest of the week was a whirlwind. Assignments piled up, deadlines loomed ominously, and sleep became a luxury you barely afforded. The weekend was something you needed badly.
Finally done with your last class for the week, a sigh escaped your lips as you exited the building with Yuta. You waited for Maki to join you as you adjusted the strap of your backpack, feeling the familiar weight of your textbooks pressing down.
Yuta, his backpack slung casually over one shoulder, spotted Maki approaching in the distance. His smile faded as quickly as it appeared, and he nudged you with his elbow. "Uh-oh, looks like someone's not happy.”
You followed his gaze and couldn't help but chuckle. Maki was indeed sporting a scowl that could curdle milk.
As she approached, you noticed a glint of something akin to fury in her eyes. "What are you laughing about?" she demanded, her voice clipped.
"Nothing, nothing," you reassured her, shaking your head. "How were your classes?" you asked, hoping to distract her from the anger, but it turns out the classes were the reason for her displeasure.
Maki crossed her arms, her scowl deepening. "Don't even ask," she muttered. "That idiot professor should be thanking his lucky stars murder is illegal. The man doesn't teach – he rambles! And then expects us to decipher enough from his incoherent ramblings to do well on the assignments."
This piqued your curiosity. Maki wasn't one to get flustered easily. In fact, you'd always admired her calm demeanour, even under pressure. But this professor, whoever it was, had pushed her buttons. You opened your mouth to ask more about it, but Maki abruptly turned to Yuta, her anger seemingly forgotten.
"We're still on for today, right?" she asked, a hint of hope peeking through the remnants of her scowl.
"Absolutely," Yuta confirmed, a small smile playing on his lips.
Maki's scowl vanished completely, replaced by a playful grin. "Can't wait to crush you at bowling again, Yuta."
Honestly? You wouldn't be surprised. Maki was undoubtedly skilled, but you had a sneaking suspicion that Yuta might be throwing off his game a little – just to see that smile light up Maki's face whenever she scored. It was sweet- an unspoken dynamic that warmed your heart.
The afternoon melted away in a flurry of strikes and the sound of the bowling ball hitting the pins. Your shoulders strained with each successful strike, and the dim lighting pulsed a little brighter with each frame completed. You watched with a grin as Maki demolished her final set, securing first place with triumph. Yuta, the gracious competitor, conceded second place with a playful jab at her skills.
By the time Inumaki joined your group mid-game, the sun was dipping below the horizon, painting fiery streaks of orange and purple across the sky. Laughter and friendly banter filled the air as you exited the bowling alley, the aroma of french fries and soda pops clinging to your clothes. The four of you stood by the intersection, ready to leave for home.
"Aren't you going home?" Maki called out, noticing you lingering at the intersection.
You shook your head, "No, I was thinking of going to the library. Got an assignment due soon."
"Want some company?" Yuta offered, Inumaki nodded his agreement behind him. Appreciation warmed your chest, but you knew you needed to focus.
"Thanks, but I think I'll be alright. Shouldn't take long anyway."
Finally waving goodbye to your friends, you made your way towards the library, your backpack slung over your shoulder. The semester was about to end, and the weight of the assignments and upcoming exams pressed down on you, but you were determined to conquer those deadlines and do well in your exams.
As you crossed a familiar cafe, a fleeting thought of Geto flickered across your mind. Despite exchanging numbers, there had been no message, no follow-up. A small pang of... what was it exactly? Disappointment? Sadness…?
You shook your head as you entered the elevator, focusing on making it to the library. There was no room for distractions, not right now.
So, you pushed the thought away with a mental shove, a futile attempt to silence the unexpected flutter in your chest. The joy of spending time with your friends had evaporated, replaced by a low hum of disappointment that gnawed at your usual optimism.
Stepping out of the elevator and into the library, you were met with the comforting hush of turning pages, the smell of books and the rhythmic tick-tock of the grandfather clock. You scanned the room, heading straight for your usual table, a worn wooden sanctuary nestled in a quiet corner.
But your sanctuary was no longer yours. Sprawled across the surface were textbooks, and occupying your usual chair was a familiar face. Surprise shot through you- you were thinking about him just moments ago, and here he was, in all his glory.
Geto sat there, his hair styled in a slightly messy half-up, half-down that sent a smile tugging at your lips. His glasses perched low on his nose, and a part of you wanted to reach out and push them back up a little for him. The familiar glint in his dark eyes, a glint that held a hint of something you couldn't quite decipher, sent a wave of unexpected comfort through you. He seemed completely engrossed in his book, oblivious to your presence.
For a moment, you hesitated. You didn't want to disturb him - he seemed so peaceful, lost in the world of his book. But perhaps you were staring for a little too long because Geto looked up as if sensing your presence. Recognition flashed on his face as he raised an eyebrow, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.
You smiled at him as a way of greeting. "You seem to be very comfortable in my seat," you said, a hint of amusement dancing in your voice.
His eyes met yours, a mischievous glint mirroring your own. "Your seat? I thought this was a public library," he replied, his long, slender…pretty fingers pushing his glasses up his nose with a smile as he took you in. Did you just find his hands attractive? Internally, you scolded yourself for getting flustered.
“Uh-huh, but I usually sit there,” you said, trying to sound firm, but your smile betrayed you. Seeing Geto here, unexpected as it was, eased a tension you hadn't realised you were carrying.
"Well, too bad I'm here today," he chuckled, gesturing to the seat next to him while efficiently removing some of his belongings. "But you're welcome to take this one." You shook your head in defeat, but a small smile played on your lips. Taking the offered seat, a sigh left your lips at the familiar comfort the wooden chain provided.
"What's so special about this seat, anyway?" he asked, tilting his head slightly.
"It's like my little corner," you explained, gesturing towards the window. "The view is amazing – a perfect distraction when my studies get overwhelming. Plus, with my back to the rest of the library, it's easier to ignore the world and just… focus."
The city lights shined below, a tapestry of twinkling points gradually emerging against the fading hues of orange and purple that lingered from the recently set sun. The distant hum of traffic and the occasional wail of sirens created a low hum that was strangely comforting. A sense of peace settled over you, the world outside softening into a gentle blur compared to the focused intensity in Geto's eyes as he looked out the window.
"All the reasons why I love this spot," he said with a knowing smile. Something flickered in his dark eyes as he turned to you, but it was gone before you could even name it. His voice softened as he leaned back in his chair. "Assignment due soon?" he asked.
You nodded as you reached into your bag, pulling out a stack of blank sheets and a handful of pencils. "It's for my elective," you explained. "Graphic Designing. I was just hoping to brainstorm a basic structure before diving into the project."
"And you prefer paper for it...?" Geto asked, a hint of curiosity lacing his voice as his brows furrowed, a small ‘v’ forming between his eyebrows. You couldn't blame him, most people preferred using their tablet for such things.
"I prefer planning on sheets of paper," you explained, tapping one pencil against the table in a thoughtful rhythm. "Somehow, it feels less restricting and allows the ideas to flow more freely. There's something about the immediacy of sketching, the scratch of lead on paper, that feels more personal. It's like the idea goes straight from my mind to my hand.”
Geto nodded in understanding. His expression turned thoughtful as he said, "Maybe that's why I prefer physical books over e-readers. There's a different kind of connection you form with the material, wouldn't you agree?” There was a sincerity in his voice that resonated with you, and you nodded in reply, beaming at him.
Maybe you were imagining things, but it felt as if Geto shifted a little towards you, leaning in slightly.
You took in the books in front of him- most of the titles were related to philosophy and ethics, but one particular book caught your eye. You raised an eyebrow, as you looked towards the man beside you. "Business, huh? Unexpected choice, Geto.” You teased him lightly.
Something changed in Geto's expression the moment you mentioned the business book. It became guarded - distant - a mask falling into place. "Yeah, I am expected to join my family's business- a pharmaceutical company, so I was just doing a little reading," he said, his voice clipped.
You wanted to ask more, but something in his tone told you not to do so - that he would tell you when the time was right. So, you didn't push further, instead focusing on creating a structure for your assignment
You grabbed your pencil, and in the corner of your eye, you saw Geto push his AirPods case towards you. You lifted an eyebrow, a silent question. He gave a small smile, a hint of his previous ease returning. "It's just some music," he explained, popping one of the earbuds in his ear. "Might help you concentrate."
"Thanks, Geto," you said, a genuine smile spreading across your face. You took the other earbud, a warm feeling blossoming in your chest at the unexpected gesture.
Every now and then, as you reached for a different pencil or adjusted your sheets, your elbow would brush against Geto's. The contact was brief, just a feather-light graze, yet it sent a little spark through you that you quickly dismissed as waves of concentration.
The soft touches, fleeting as they were, felt strangely intimate in the quiet library. They were a subtle reminder of the presence beside you, a grounding force that anchored you in the moment.
Soon, you found yourself completely absorbed in your design. Ideas flowed from your mind onto the paper, fueled by the calming music and the quiet hum of the library. You lost track of time, the world shrinking to just you, the paper, and the pencil in your hand. Before you knew it, you had created a framework, something that satisfied you with its potential.
You stole a glance at Geto, his brow furrowed in concentration as he took down some notes from his book. Feeling your gaze, he lifted his head, a gentle smile gracing his lips. The soft melody playing through the AirPods had faded out without you noticing, leaving a hush that descended upon the library. You could now hear the faint tick of the clock with each passing second and the distant hum of fluorescent lights.
"You done?" He asked softly, his voice barely a murmur. you nodded, afraid to break the comfortable quietness of the library.
"Can I see?" His question held a genuine curiosity that tugged at a corner of your heart. A wave of self-consciousness washed over you, your cheeks burning as you looked down at your creation. The jumbled mess of lines and shapes sprawled across the page – a chaotic storm of ideas only you could decipher... yet.
"Honestly," you blurted out, your voice barely audible, "it's a bit of a mess right now. Just a tangle of ideas only I can understand. But I promise, once it's finished, I'd love to show it to you."
The flicker of disappointment that crossed Geto's features at your refusal was quickly replaced by a spark of anticipation. His brows lifted slightly, and a small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.
"Sure, I would love that too," Geto said, his eyes lingering on you for a beat longer than necessary. It felt like he was searching for something – solving a puzzle you didn't understand.
Soon enough, he looked away, the playful glint in his eyes replaced by a familiar guardedness as he started packing his things. "Are you ready to leave? It's getting late," he began, but then he added, "We could stay if you have something else to do."
You shook your head, a wave of accomplishment washing over you. You could feel a satisfied smile tugging at your lips - the day had gone well. You stretched a little, "No, no, I'm done - we can leave now," you said, gathering your things. When you were done, you met Geto's gaze, facing him completely as you stood up.
A flicker of concern marred his expression as he leaned in slightly. "You got something..." His eyes narrowed, fixated on the side of your cheek. Before you could react, his fingers reached up with unexpected tenderness, brushing away something invisible. His touch was light as a feather, his thumb strangely comforting as it grazed your cheek, sending a spark dancing across your skin – a feeling entirely separate from the cool night air that drifted in through the library window.
You froze, surprised by the sudden intimacy of the gesture. It wasn't just the touch – the silence in the library, broken only by the faint ticks of the clock, and the cool night air whispering secrets through the window, all conspired to amplify the feel of his fingers on your face. A stand of his hair fluttered slightly, as his gaze was fixed on the side of your face. He seemed utterly focused, almost like he was performing a delicate operation requiring his full attention.
A warmth bloomed on your cheek, spreading like wildfire as Geto smirked, a hint of amusement dancing in his eyes. His thumb lingered for a beat longer than necessary, almost as if he was afraid to let go – scared this moment wouldn't come back again.
Finally, with a slow reluctance, he pulled away, glancing down at the dark smudge on his thumb. "Graphite," he said, his voice a low rumble that vibrated through you. You nodded, still a little dazed by the touch.
"Come on, it's getting late. I'll walk you home," Geto said, his voice soothing.
A mixture of surprise and a secret thrill fluttered through you. "You don't have to do that, Geto," you mumbled, as you grabbed your backpack. You were about to sling it over your shoulder, but Geto gently took it from your hand, carrying it for you.
"But I want to," he said firmly, "Unless you don't want me to – then that's a different story." He added with a playful glint in his eyes.
A small smile tugged at your lips. "I mean," you said, trying to sound casual, "I wouldn't mind having a bodyguard for a while." Your gaze, perhaps a little bolder than intended, flickered down his form. The way his loose shirt stretched hinted at the lean muscle beneath. You could tell he had a strong body, despite the baggy clothes he wore.
A throat cleared, snapping your attention back to his face. Heat rose to your cheeks as you realised you'd been caught staring. "Shall we leave now?" He asked, a hint of amusement in his voice.
You nodded, unable to meet his gaze for a moment longer. The walk home promised to be interesting, filled with unspoken words and a newfound awareness simmering between you.
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You let out a sigh of relief as you pulled on a pair of comfy jeans and your favourite oversized sweater. The mountain of assignments was conquered, the exams aced (well, mostly aced), and ten glorious days of freedom stretched before you. Sure, you might have unintentionally sacrificed three of those days to blissful hibernation in bed, recovering from the mental marathon, but that was neither here nor there. Today, fueled by a renewed sense of purpose, you were determined to visit one of your favourite places – the little library tucked away about fifteen minutes from your house.
The bus ride was filled with the rhythmic rumble of the engine and the quiet murmur of fellow passengers. As you disembarked at the nearest stop, a wave of cool autumn air washed over you, washing away the warmth of the bus. The crispness hinted at the changing season, with the shadows of clouds lengthening across the sky and a gentle rumble promising a possible afternoon shower. The five-minute walk to the library was a familiar one, your feet almost on autopilot as they navigated the well-worn path.
A smile crept onto your face as the quaint building came into view. You'd stumbled upon it quite by accident one rainy afternoon, seeking refuge from the downpour. Back then, the sight of the small, unassuming structure – shrouded in the twilight and slick with rain – had caused a flicker of hesitation. Who in their right mind would just enter such a place? But then, an inexplicable pull had drawn you closer, urging you to push open the weathered wooden door.
Stepping inside that day had been one of the best decisions of your life. The library, if you could even call it that, was an explosion for the senses. The warm aroma of aged paper and leather books mingled with the earthy scent of potted plants that lined the shelves and window sills. The entire place was a symphony of wood – the floorboards creaked softly under your weight, the bookshelves stretched high towards the ceiling, and carved wooden beams crisscrossed overhead. But the most captivating feature was the large, floor-to-ceiling window that overlooked the bustling street outside.
Here's the twist: the window wasn't quite what it seemed. From the outside, it appeared opaque, a carefully crafted illusion that shielded the library's interior from prying eyes. It offered a sense of sanctuary, a hidden haven for true lovers of literature. But step inside, and the window transformed into a crystal-clear portal, offering a glimpse of the outside world while preserving the library's atmosphere.
But there was something else entirely about the place. It felt as if the library itself possessed a subtle sentience. It exuded a quiet, welcoming aura for those it deemed worthy – a gentle tug on the heartstrings, a barely-there whisper that beckoned you closer. Yet, for those who weren't meant to enter, the library remained stubbornly opaque. To them, it was just another unremarkable building on the bustling street, easily overlooked and forgotten. The library held its secrets close, revealing them only to those who held a genuine love for literature.
The real secret of the library, however, wasn't its charming ambience or clever window. Nestled amongst the shelves were rare copies of forgotten texts, first editions of literary masterpieces, and obscure volumes on a variety of topics. Here, within these walls, resided stories waiting to be rediscovered, knowledge waiting to be unearthed.
The library, you mused, operated on an unspoken trust system. Another twist about this hidden place? Everyone returned the books they borrowed, or so the whispers went. No matter how rare and valuable the books were, people always returned them.
You flashed a smile to the small, old man sitting behind the desk by the door. His hair was the colour of moonlight. Age had etched a map of wrinkles across his face, each line seeming to hold a story waiting to be told. You assumed he was the owner – a collector with a love for written words twinkling in his old, experienced eyes. Perhaps he was a custodian of knowledge, eager to share it with those who held a similar reverence.
You made your way through the different sections. Your fingers trailed across the spines of the books, each title a whispered promise of adventure, knowledge, or escape. You paused at a shelf labelled "Forgotten Tales," drawn in by the faded lettering and the air of mystery it exuded. All the titles sparked your imagination- whispering promises of something great - an escape.
One particular book with a faded green leather cover and gold filigree snagged your attention. The title and the description hinted at a fantastical world you yearned to explore. With a satisfied smile, you flipped it open, the scent of aged paper and forgotten stories filled your senses.
As you neared the end of the book, you felt a brush against your fingers. A library card, tucked snugly in the back pocket, threatened to fall out. Curiosity bubbled up, and you carefully retrieved the card, smoothing out the worn edges. Your gaze scanned down the list of previous borrowers.
Then, there it was, nestled at the bottom, the latest entry – the name of the man who occupied a significant space in your thoughts, the name that had been a part of almost all your thoughts lately.
Suguru Geto.
When you first found the bouquet with the apology card, you thought the name sounded familiar. Now, as you held the library card, you realised why. Geto's name had been a recurring presence, etched onto the library card of almost every book you'd borrowed from this place.
Intrigued and a touch bewildered, you clutched the book tighter. Surely, it couldn't be your Suguru. But the name wasn't common, and given the conversations you'd shared and the connection you felt with him, you wouldn't be surprised if this Suguru and your Suguru were the same.
You tried to imagine him reading the book, and the image flowed into your mind with startling clarity. You saw Suguru, brows furrowed in a familiar crease of concentration, his glasses perched low on his nose as he leaned into the text. Completely absorbed, his long, slender fingers would trace the words on the page, lingering on a line that particularly intrigued him before carefully turning the page. A picture of meticulousness, he might even reach for a pen, but you knew it wouldn't be to mar the book itself. Instead, he'd jot down notes on a separate sheet, preserving the book for its future readers.
Yeah, you wouldn't be surprised if this Suguru and your Suguru were the same.
You approached the desk, the book clutched in your hand. The old man looked up from his ledger. His gaze was kind, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling further as a smile tugged at the corners of his lips.
You placed the book on the counter, the worn leather cover whispering its secrets. He asked for your name, picked up a well-inked pen and with practised ease, began inscribing your name on the library card of the book. As he finished, you couldn't help but steal a glance at the list of previous borrowers. Suguru Geto's name still held its prominent place.
The old man met your gaze, and for a fleeting moment, a knowing glint flickered in his pale eyes. It was gone as quickly as it appeared, so you almost dismissed it, attributing it to the play of light filtering through the window. Yet, a shiver danced down your spine, leaving goosebumps prickling your skin.
"Thank you," you said, your voice barely a whisper. The old man simply smiled, a hint of something deeper lurking in his expression. He handed you the book, his fingers accidentally brushing against yours- the touch cold, but not strange.
Leaving the library felt different this time. The autumn air held a sharper tang, the world outside more vibrant. A shy smile played on your lips, a secret bloom hidden amongst the vibrant tapestry of the world. This wasn't just about the book, the library, or even Suguru himself. It was about a feeling, a nascent awareness that had blossomed within you, painting the world in shades you never knew existed. The book in your arms felt like a bridge, another connection to Suguru Geto.
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The post-semester break was gone, and a new semester had begun, but the usual thrill of diving into his course was muted. That didn’t mean Geto wasn’t looking forward to it- He had never been this excited about college.
Geto found himself fidgeting in his seat in the class, his mind wandering to the corner table of the cafe where he'd met you just weeks ago. The thirty minutes of conversation with you felt like a lifetime compared to the two, frustrating months he had spent with his ex-girlfriend. There was electricity in your presence, a spark, and Geto felt like a moth, drawn to it. And here he was- checking his phone every few minutes, hoping for a message.
His professor’s words faded into the background as he found himself thinking about your spot in the library, where he last met you. He had a book propped open in front of him then, but the words blurred before his eyes. How could he concentrate anyways, when you were right next to him, offering the best distraction?
There you were, sitting on the chair, brow furrowed in concentration as you drew. The rhythmic scratching of your pencil against the paper accompanied the music flowing in his ear. Your hair cascaded down one side of your face, momentarily obscuring your features.
You were completely absorbed in your work, and Geto was completely mesmerised by you- a captivating scene he couldn't tear his gaze from. He felt as if you were a world away from him, but at the same time, he felt an inexplicable closeness, as if he were witnessing something intimate- a glimpse into your soul.
He dared a few stolen glances at your drawing. The network of lines and shapes didn't quite make sense to him. But a strange sense of contentment washed over him. It was alright- he was willing to wait - wait till he understood you enough to understand those drawings - to unravel the mysteries you presented, one conversation, one shared moment at a time.
The semester break brought a flurry of messages, a stream of random thoughts and experiences. It began with you sending your finished assignment, the same one where you'd been sketching in the library. The framework that had initially puzzled him now held a glimmer of meaning.
Your designs were bold and innovative, and a surge of pride, unexpected and unfamiliar, filled him. You thanked him for his "help," but the sentiment felt misplaced. He hadn't truly helped. However, the thought of being there for you, in whatever way he could, fueled a new kind of excitement, a yearning to be a part of your world, a world that seemed to hold a secret melody waiting to be played.
The shrill bell jerked Geto from his thoughts, marking the end of the period. He shoved his books into his bag with a sigh, enduring the usual barrage of small talk from his classmates, smiling at them and trying to be polite, before making his escape. A familiar mop of white hair came into view just outside the classroom, a grin stretched wide across Satoru's face.
"Seriously, how are you already here?" Geto asked, trying to muster irritation, though he was happy at the sight of his best friend.
The blue-eyed man just shrugged. "Shoko has some extra work, so she won’t be there for lunch today," he said.
Satoru leaned in conspiratorially, his elbow finding Geto's shoulder, resting on them. "Now, tell me, Suguru. Anything exciting happened during your break besides missing your charming best friend?"
Geto couldn't help but chuckle as they made their way towards the cafeteria, the sound of chatter and occasional bursts of laughter filling their ears. The sweet aroma of the campus bakery greeted them, and Geto had to restrain Satoru before he could make his way towards the bakery. He pulled on Satoru's collar, steering him away from the bakery.
The dark-haired man pinched the bridge of his nose, a concerned sigh escaping his lips. "Hold on there, Satoru," Geto said, his voice firm. "You are not buying sweets right now- not before having a proper meal or something."
Satoru hasn’t been well for the past couple of months, which was far different from his usual boundless energy. Geto knew the culprit: Satoru's diet, which, well, consisted of desserts and sweets rather than a balanced meal plan. His best friend treated sugary treats like they were sustenance, and the lack of proper nutrients was taking its toll.
Satoru's eyes widened in mock protest, and he pouted, but a playful glint hinted at his underlying acceptance of Geto's nagging.
After making sure his best friend wouldn’t buy sweets, Geto left Satoru to get them some food, as the blue-eyed man looked for an empty table. He balanced the lunch tray in his hands as he navigated through the bustling cafeteria, spotting Satoru sitting on a corner table. Setting down his and Satoru's lunch on the table, Geto collapsed into the faded plastic seat. As he passed the sandwich to his friend, his head lifted on autopilot, his gaze drawn magnetically towards the cafeteria doors.
There you were, a burst of sunshine amidst the sea of faces. You were laughing, the sound of a melody that washed over him, light and infectious. He couldn't quite catch the joke - something the guy with the black hair or the girl with the green hair said. But it didn’t matter to him. All that mattered was you, head tilted back, the carefree joy radiating from every inch of you.
Suguru couldn't help but smile as he watched you. A lightness, a feeling he hadn't experienced in a while, bubbled up within him. Just then, a voice cut through his thoughts.
"That's her, huh?" Satoru asked, a knowing glint in his eyes.
Geto's head snapped back so fast it almost gave him whiplash. He hadn't confided in Satoru about you yet, the whirlwind of emotions still swirling within him. Satoru must have seen the shocked expression plastered on his face because he leaned back with a smirk.
"Come on, Suguru," he chuckled. "We've been friends since diapers. I don't need a crystal ball to know what's going on."
Geto flushed, realising he was indeed an open book to his best friend. "Great," he muttered, more to himself than Satoru. He was going to be teased endlessly now.
Satoru's grin widened, his dimples deepening. "Oh, and Shoko knows too, I am twenty bucks richer thanks to you. We made a little bet, you know." Satoru winked.
Geto groaned, burying his face in his hands for a dramatic beat. He wasn't hiding anything, not intentionally. He just needed some time to untangle the jumble of emotions you ignited within him. His friends, however, seemed to be a few steps ahead. Stealing a peek through his fingers, he saw you settling down at a table nearby. Relief washed over him – at least he could still admire you from a safe distance.
Across from you sat a girl with vibrant green hair, and next to you was a guy with hair the colour of faded snow, similar to Satoru's. The black-haired guy occupied the seat next to the girl. Geto watched you interact with your friends, a warmth spreading through him as you effortlessly weaved between jokes and stories. Then, you reached into your bag, pulling out something.
It was a book.
A very familiar book.
He could practically feel the worn green leather cover beneath his fingers, and smell the faint scent of aged paper, even though you were the one holding it. This specific edition, with its unique gold filigree and slightly chipped spine, was only available from one library – a place he'd stumbled upon quite by accident.
His gaze darted to Satoru, gauging his friend's reaction. Sure enough, Satoru sported a smug grin, the traitor muttering something that sounded suspiciously like "Whipped already." Geto rolled his eyes. College student, whipped? Please.
He turned his gaze back to you, but a jolt of surprise shot through him. Dark pairs of eyes stared back at him - they weren’t your eyes, though.
The girl with the green hair peeled her eyes away from Geto and turned them back to you to say something, her eyebrows raised in amusement. A frown marred your face at your friend’s words before you turned your head enough to face Geto. The frown melted into a surprised smile as your eyes met his. And then, you waved. A small wave, but a wave nonetheless.
Suguru felt his cheeks heat up, a warmth spreading from his neck to his hairline as he waved back. He might be in college, for crying out loud, but at that moment, he felt like a middle schooler again, his stomach churning with a mix of nervousness and exhilaration.
You held his gaze for a moment – or maybe it was a lifetime – before the guy with the greyish-white hair gently nudged your arm, and the four of you got up to leave.
He looked back at Satoru, whose smug grin stretched from ear to ear. "Not now, Satoru," Geto groaned, holding up a hand. "Let me process this first." He knew he wouldn't hear the end of it, but a tiny spark of hope flickered within him.
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It hasn’t even been a week into the new semester, and you were already burdened with a new assignment. So, for this perplexing task, one person sprang to mind: the guy with the ebony hair and charcoal eyes. You'd texted him earlier about the assignment, and now, with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, you approached your usual corner of the library.
There he was, perched in your chair, a relaxed vibe emanating from him. A white t-shirt peeked out from under a black zip-up hoodie, paired with comfortable-looking baggy jeans. The absence of his glasses softened his features, likely replaced with a pair of contacts. He was, unsurprisingly, nose-deep in a book, completely absorbed in its world, just like you'd pictured him reading the book tucked away in your bag.
A hesitant smile tugged at your lips as you approached the table. This time, unlike your first encounter, he seemed to sense your arrival, glancing up with a smile that lit up his face and instantly ignited a warmth in your chest.
Your heart did a little skip-a-beat before your mind intervened with a voice of reason. Maybe that smile was a default setting, a friendly courtesy he extended to everyone. Yes, you two had shared conversations before, and there was a connection you had felt building. But was it enough to break through the barrier of a polite smile?
Before you could drown in such thoughts, Geto's voice cut through them. "Hey," he greeted, a smile playing on his lips. His eyes twinkled with amusement as he added, "Planning to do your assignment standing up?"
You felt a blush creep up your cheeks. "It's a little hard to sit when someone else is occupying my chair," you teased playfully, nudging him gently as you attempted to squeeze into the space beside him.
Geto chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. "I thought we talked about this whole 'your chair' thing?" he said, the smile still lingering on his face. You shook your head playfully.
Reaching into your bag, you retrieved your laptop and pencil case, the familiar weight grounding you slightly.
Geto followed your movements with his gaze. "So," he asked, leaning back slightly, "what's this assignment all about?" He seemed genuinely interested, and your heart again did that little thing.
"The assignment is to analyse two artworks through an ethical lens," you explained, laying out the details for Suguru. "We pick any two and dissect them based on moral implications, the artist's intent, and how they might affect the viewer."
It was an important assignment, worth 30 percent marks for the subject - it consisted of a report submission and a presentation. You were willing to work hard for it and complete it.
Geto nodded along, his brows furrowed in concentration. "Sounds intriguing," he murmured. Internally, a spark of excitement ignited. Maybe you could get a glimpse into Geto’s mind - see how it works.
"Actually, I had a couple of ideas in mind," you said, a hopeful note creeping into your voice. "What about 'Guernica' by Picasso and '12 Angry Men' by Sidney Lumet?" You stole a glance at Suguru, gauging his reaction. "But of course, we can discuss other options if you have any preferences." There was no sense of going with these topics if Suguru wasn’t aware of them.
Suguru surprised you. "Oh, no need," he said, a hint of amusement in his voice, "I'm familiar with both." Without further ado, the two of you dove into ‘Guernica’.
You took the lead, dissecting the painting's raw portrayal of suffering. You pointed out the distorted figures, the bleak colour palette, and how it all coalesced to evoke a sense of overwhelming despair. Geto readily agreed, analysing the artwork through a utilitarian lens. "Picasso," he observed, "forces us to confront the immense human cost of war."
"But it's not just the humans, is it?" you countered, your gaze lingering on the image of a horse in the centre, its body contorted in agony. "The way Picasso depicts the animals – the terrified horse, the dead dove – broadens the impact of war's devastation. It forces us to consider the suffering inflicted on innocent creatures caught in the crossfire."
Suguru's brows furrowed in thought. "Excellent point," he conceded, a hint of awe colouring his voice. "The horse can be interpreted in several ways – it can be viewed as a symbol of Spain itself, ravaged by war. The dove, traditionally a symbol of peace, lies lifeless, highlighting the destruction of hope brought about by conflict."
The discussion flowed easily, weaving between the artistic elements of the painting and the deeper philosophical questions it raised. The two of you explored the symbolism, the historical context, and how each element contributed to the overall message of the artwork. The more you delved into "Guernica," the more you realised it wasn't just a depiction of war; it was a powerful indictment of its inhumanity, a plea for peace, and a testament to the resilience of the human spirit.
Next, you shifted gears, tackling Sidney Lumet's "12 Angry Men." You highlighted the film's claustrophobic setting of the jury room, emphasising how it served to intensify the ethical debate and forced character development within the confined space. Suguru built upon your point, drawing a parallel between the jury room and a microcosm of societal justice. He explained how the film, through its close-ups and shifting camera angles, explored the characters' internal struggles with prejudice, reasonable doubt, and the crucial importance of open-mindedness during the deliberation process.
"Lumet's masterful use of camerawork is particularly noteworthy," You elaborated, remembering the lessons from your class. "Notice how he employs wide shots at the beginning, establishing the initial hostility and division within the jury. But as the discussion progresses, the camera zooms in on individual faces, capturing the emotional shifts and the gradual erosion of preconceived notions."
As the discussion flowed, a surprising synergy emerged between you and Suguru. Your artistic background provided a vivid understanding of the emotional core of the works, painting a picture with words that resonated deeply with Suguru's philosophical analysis. He, in turn, added depth to your interpretations, weaving a tapestry of ethical considerations that transcended the canvas and resonated with the complexities of the real world.
The afternoon melted away, fueling discussions about the artworks. Your hands brushed against Geto a few times, as you tried to point at something on the screen or as he reached for a pencil to help with your notes. Warmth crept through you every time, but you ignored the feeling, choosing to focus on your assignment.
Suguru's insights provided a fresh perspective, a new lens through which to view the artworks, and a thrill of discovery shot through you. Gazing at your notes, filled with your combined observations, a contented smile played on your lips. The satisfaction wasn't just from a job well done- you were mesmerised to see how Suguru’s mind worked, and the depth of his knowledge.
The sun dipped below the library windows, casting long shadows across the tables, filling the space in shades of peaches and amethyst. Gathering your notes and laptop, you realised how much time had flown by. "Wow," you remarked, surprised by the lateness of the hour. "This was... a lot of fun."
Suguru mirrored your smile, a hint of amusement sparkling in his dark eyes. "Why, you expected something else?" he countered, a playful lilt to his voice, but beneath it, you detected a flicker of concern. Was he worried you hadn't enjoyed yourselves?
"Of course not," you teased, returning his smile. "It’s hard to be disappointed when it comes to you" A light blush crept up his cheeks at your honesty.
He began stacking his books, a thoughtful pause settling between you. "So," he continued, casually slinging his bag over his shoulder, "how about we grab some coffee before heading back?" His voice held a hint of nervousness.
"Sure, I'd love that," you replied, a genuine smile warming your face. Suguru's smile widened in response, and then, in a move that surprised you both, he extended a hand towards you.
Your gaze flickered up to meet his, the surprise you felt mirroring in his dark eyes. It was as if his hand had acted on its own accord. But the surprise quickly melted away, replaced by a flicker of confidence – and perhaps even a spark of hope.
You accepted his gesture, your hand slipping into his. The touch sent a wave of comfort through you. His skin was warm, a stark contrast to the coolness of the library air. There was a comforting solidity to it, a silent invitation that extended beyond the confines of the assignment. For a blissful moment, you wished you could hold onto that feeling forever.
Together, you exited the library, the setting sun painting the sky in hues of orange and purple. By unspoken agreement, you found yourselves heading towards the familiar cafe where you'd first met. Suguru pulled out the chair for you and helped you settle into the chair before making his way towards his chair. After you placed the order, Suguru surprised you by bringing up the presentation format.
"You still have to work on that, right?" he inquired casually.
"Yeah," you confirmed, "but I think it'll be pretty straightforward after all our work."
"Absolutely," Suguru agreed, offering a reassuring smile. "Still, if you need help finalising it, don't hesitate to let me know." His words were laced with a genuine concern that warmed your heart. It wasn’t like he hadn’t done enough- as if he didn’t just spend his entire afternoon with you to help with your assignment.
"But Geto," you protested, "you've already done so much. The analysis itself was practically a seminar, thanks to you."
Suguru chuckled- a soft sound that sent shivers down your spine. "No worries about that," he reassured you, his dark eyes holding a sincerity that left you speechless. "Honestly, I had a great time too."
The waiter arrived with your order, setting it before the two of you, the smell of coffee and choco-chip muffin filling your nostrils. You grabbed your cup, sipping the warm liquid, when Suguru started, his cup in his hand, “I am curious,” he began, “Why didn’t you choose that book for the assignment?”
He didn’t need to elaborate further - You knew which book he was talking about. “Oh, it didn’t make sense to select that book, though I wanted to.” You took another sip of your coffee as you continued, “Honestly, I don’t think people would be familiar with the work, my professor included, and I didn’t want to risk losing marks,” you explained.
Suguru nodded in reply. Curiosity gnawed at you. “How did you find that library, Geto?”
Suguru met your gaze, and a genuine smile softened his features. "By mistake, of course," he chuckled. "I was supposed to be at a different place near the building, but I ended up wandering into the library instead; I had read the address wrong." He paused, a nostalgic glint in his eyes. "Spent hours there before I even realised it. When I finally came out, it was dark."
The memory seemed to bring him amusement, and he let out a light laugh. "What about you?" he asked, curiosity flickering in his eyes.
You recounted your own experience of that rainy evening. Suguru listened intently as you painted a picture with your words.
Soon, the coffee was gone and the muffins had disappeared, victims of your lively conversation. Suguru reached into his pocket to settle the bill, but this time you were quicker. With a playful smile, you beat him to it, placing some bills on the table before he could protest.
He chuckled, his features softening. "Looks like the roles are reversed today," he conceded, raising his hands in mock surrender, causing you to laugh.
Finally, as the two of you made your way out of the cafe, Suguru surprised you again. "I'd like to walk you home," he offered, his voice sincere. The offer was tempting - it was a chance to prolong the time spent by his side, even if it was just for a moment.
But a part of you hesitated. He'd already done so much, dedicating a significant portion of his afternoon to helping you out.
As if sensing your internal conflict, Suguru spoke again, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "I want to," he reiterated, his gaze holding a warmth that sent a shiver down your spine. "Besides, I live nearby."
A slow smile spread across your face as you gave in, not that you opposed it, to begin with. "Alright," you agreed, "Let's go."
The walk home was filled with unspoken emotions, the comfortable silence punctuated only by the rhythmic tap of your shoes against the pavement. With each step, the streetlights seemed to blur, the world shrinking to the space you shared with Suguru. Every brush of your hands, accidental or not, sent warmth coursing through you, a delicious tingle that left you breathless. His touch, when it happened, was a revelation.
Soon, too soon, you were facing the entrance of your apartment, Suguru standing beside you. You wanted to extend this moment, to make time slow down somehow. You turned to face him, to look into his eyes, hoping to see a glimmer of what you felt in his eyes too.
Before you could meet his eyes, a sudden gust of wind whipped around you, a playful villain stealing your breath and tossing your hair into a frenzy. Instinctively, you reached up to tame the strands, but Suguru's hand appeared beside yours before your fingers could graze a single lock.
Time seemed to slow as his fingers brushed your cheekbone, moving the hair and tucking it behind your ear, the warmth of his touch sending a shiver down your spine that had nothing to do with the cool night air.
But that wasn't all. His touch lingered a feather-light caress that sent goosebumps cascading across your skin. Slowly, oh so slowly, his hand travelled down the length of your hair, his fingers gently combing through the stray strand. The sensation was electric, a current that arced from the point of contact, igniting every nerve ending in its path.
His touch lingered at the ends of your hair, a whisper of a promise against your skin. Your heart hammered a frantic rhythm against your ribs, a drumbeat echoing the turmoil within you. You wanted to pull away, to retreat from the dangerous territory his touch had ignited. But a stronger force, a current far more powerful than reason, held you rooted to the spot.
You met his gaze, your breath catching in your throat. His dark eyes were pools of molten dark chocolate, swirling with unspoken emotions that mirrored your own. A hunger flickered in their depths, a hunger that both terrified and exhilarated you.
The unforgiving wind blew again, causing Suguru to blink, and the moment was gone. The hunger you saw in his eyes was no longer there, and you were questioning yourself- maybe you were imagining it. But then you saw the way his chest rose and fell, the slight flush on top of his cheeks and the way his hands were touching you. 
No, it wasn’t your imagination.
Suguru carefully retracted his hand, “Here we are,” he said, his voice hoarse. He was affected as much as you were.
“Here we are,” you echoed, too lost to think of anything else.
Finally, Suguru cleared his throat, the sound breaking the spell. "Well," he began, his voice hesitant, "I guess I should…"
He trailed off, leaving the sentence unfinished. His gaze flickered to your lips for a fleeting moment, a spark of desire igniting within its depths before it was quickly extinguished.
"Yeah," you whispered, the word catching in your throat. Neither of you wanted the night to end, yet neither of you dared to suggest otherwise.
Suguru offered a ghost of a smile, a bittersweet farewell that mirrored the emotions swirling within you. "See you in college, then?" he asked, his voice barely a whisper.
See you in college? That’s it? Come on Suguru, say something more than that. Offer something more than that. But you didn’t say what you wanted to say, just repeated his words.
"Yeah," you replied, your voice barely audible. "See you in college."
“Please let me know whenever you start on the presentation format. I would love to help you with that - whenever that is” he said, voice still low, but it was dripping with sincerity - honesty - as if he wanted it more than you did.
You could only nod, but that was enough for him, it seemed.
With a final, lingering look, Suguru turned and walked away, his retreating figure swallowed by the darkness. As you watched him go, an ache settled in your chest.
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a/n: Okay so it's here! The first chapter for my first series! Honestly this idea has been brewing in my head for over a month now and I am so glad to finally share it.
I hope you liked it, please let me know what you thought about it, feedbacks are always welcome! xo
@shiin-ye @whereflowerswenttodie @nakariabnrb
Dividers: @/benkeibear @/cafekitsune @/saradika-graphics
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2neaky · 4 hours
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𝙶𝚒𝚟𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚈𝚘𝚞 𝚃𝚑𝚎 𝚂𝚘𝚏𝚝 𝙻𝚒𝚏𝚎🫧🌸
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𝑺𝒖𝒈𝒖𝒓𝒖 𝑮𝒆𝒕𝒐 °.*ꕤ ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴɴᴏɴ/ᴅʀᴀʙʙʟᴇ
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-> 𝑁𝑆𝐹𝑊 | 𝑀𝐼𝑁𝑂𝑅𝑆 𝐷𝑁𝐼 — ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴs ᴏꜰ ʜᴇᴀᴅ/ʜ*ɴᴅ ᴊᴏʙ, sʟɪɢʜᴛ sᴘᴏɪʟɪɴɢ, ᴍ*ssɪᴏɴᴀʀʏ, ᴄ*ʀᴠɪx ᴋɪssɪɴɢ, ʀ*ᴅɪɴɢ + ᴍɪɴᴏʀ ꜰᴏᴏᴛ ᴘʟᴀʏ
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-> Suguru Getō, your boyfriend who loves pampering you. like sending you on shopping sprees and paying for you to get your hair done. but, specifically, paying for you to get your nails and toes done every time. sometimes, you'll even let him pick the color or choose the design. Suguru loves it when your nails are done, especially when they're wrapped around his dick, jerking him off where your mouth can't reach. you still try sometimes.
or when you're cupping his balls before giving them a good squeeze. that always gets him. most importantly, he loves it when your toes are done. during missionary, while he's buried deep within you—your legs pushed back while he stares deep into your soul with those hazy eyes—he adores watching those pretty toes, ladden in charms and acrylic, curling up as his dick presses into your cervix. your eyes roll back.
when you're riding him, his hands will fall from the fat of your cheeks. as you bounce on your knees, he'll caress your feet, massaging the soles of them. he knows which points to apply the perfect amount of pressure on while whispering in your ears—"just like that, baby ... riding me so good..." it makes you clench around him, setting off a chain reaction of his dick pulsing against your tight walls. it has the both of you moaning as you messily swivel your hips, deliciously stuffed.
you've got absolutely no problem with letting Suguru pay for your nails, so long as this continues...
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riri-toast · 8 hours
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Can We Become We?
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Chapter 1: No Choice in the Matter
Summary: Satoru, Suguru, and you are forced into a marriage by your families for economic reasons. Satoru who doesn’t know what it’s like to love or be loved. Suguru who believes he is undeserving of anyone’s love. And you who didn’t want to love in the first place.
The three of you agree to stay out of each other’s business, and save the relationship acts only for the elders who imposed this on you. But what happens when feelings for each other start to develop?
She/her pronouns for reader | use of y/n | no smut in in this chapter
You can also read it on ao3 here
“I’m NOT getting married!” Satoru’s voice came out loud and forceful. It felt like his heart had turned into a ticking bomb, ready to explode at any second.
He didn’t even take a look at the two photos his father had thrust into his hands, before he ripped them up. Whatever remained of them lay shredded on the floor. His soon-to-be partners.
This was bound to happen. Satoru knew. Families like his needed to ensure their legacies don’t cease to exist. But he didn’t want to be told what to do by them, or the corrupt system they lived by. Stupid rules made by those stupid elders.
“You don’t have a choice!” His father shouts back, his words echoing against the walls. “It’s your duty as a part of this family-”
“What fucking family?!” Satoru screams, cutting him off. “This is no family! This is a fucking prison!”
His father's hand whipped out with lightning speed, striking his cheek with a hard slap. Satoru stands there, a stunned expression on his face. He reached a hand up touch the side of his face. The skin was hot underneath his fingers.
His father was glaring at him with so much contempt, that it almost burned holes into Satoru’s eyes. Blue clashed with blue.
“You’re nothing but a spoiled brat who doesn’t appreciate anything we’ve given you.” His father spits out, his voice low and menacing. “You have no idea what real life is like.”
Satoru let his arm drop to his side, the look in his eyes growing distant, as if he didn’t care about anything anymore.
“Our family line will not end with you, so you need a wife. And we’ve been given a great opportunity to own land with the richest soil in Tokyo.” His father hissed through gritted teeth. “You’re going to marry both of them. Do you understand?”
It wasn’t a question for Satoru to answer. The answer was whatever his sorry excuse of a father decided.
With an expression set in stone, his father turned on his heel and made his way out of the room. Satoru waited until the sounds of footsteps faded away completely before scoffing out an empty chuckle. “That’s right. Leave.” He sneered in disgust. “Leave like you always do.”
His eyes flick down to the photos on against the marble floor. Two faces staring up at him from the torn scraps of paper, taunting him with the fate that had been forced upon him.
His lip curls, eyebrows furrowing as if he had a bitter pill resting on the back of his tongue. He didn’t want to be tied down to anyone. But since when did his opinion matter?
He moved to sit back down at the large dining table in his family’s sprawling mansion. The ornate chandelier above him cast a warm glow over the furnishings and polished floor. He fiddled absently with an empty wine glass, glaring coldly at the expensive spread of food in front of him.
He was supposed to eat dinner alone. Again. The same way he did every single day of his life ever since he learnt how to feed himself. He was used to it by now.
His mother was busy making small talk with a couple of guests in the main hall, her laughter filling the space as she sipped on a glass of wine.
His father’s words repeated in his head, echoing through his mind like the relentless pulse of a headache. “You don’t have a choice!”
Satoru clenched his jaw, setting down the glass with a loud clatter. He aggressively pushed himself up as the chair rakes against the the floor beneath him, the sound drowning out his mother’s laughter.
“I hate you.” He grits under his breath as he makes his way out of the dining room. He stormed down the hallway with his hands curled into fists so tight, that if his nails weren’t recently cropped, they could’ve drawn blood.
Despite all the material possessions he had, he couldn't remember the last time his parents had spent any real quality time with him. Never a word of praise or sign of affection. There was always some important meeting or pressing matter that they had to attend to, some excuse to leave him to his own devices.
That's why, when he finally made it to his bedroom, he slammed the door behind him with a loud bang and let out a shout of frustration, collapsing onto the edge of his bed. He shoves his face into one of the pillows to hide his face.
He was sick and tired of it - of this life, of this family, of his parents treating him like he was just an obstacle. It’s not fair. But he knew they wouldn't listen. They never listened. Satoru knew he was nothing but a trophy to them - a symbol of their success, not a son to be cherished.
And now they were marrying him off just for the benefit of this stupid family. Not because they cared about him. He spent years of neglect, the memories of his parents' absence, and his own emptiness in this house that had never been a home.
The hair tie was dangling from Suguru’s teeth as his hands worked on gathering up his dark hair into a bun. He had just finished getting into a button up and slacks, the uniform he wore during his part-time job as a waiter.
There’s a light knock on his bedroom door, making him turn around. Only his mother would knock so gently that one might miss it. He sighs through his nose and drops his hands. His hair undoes itself, flowing loosely just below his shoulders as he takes the hair tie out of his mouth.
He opens the door, only to be greeted by the sight of both his parents standing there. His eyebrows twitch upwards, just by a whisper, before they settle into their usual position.
There’s a pleading look to their faces, ones that remind him of a homeless person looking at someone while holding out a cup for money. He resists the urge to roll his eyes. He knows that they’re going to ask him to do something he probably doesn’t want to do but will do anyway.
“I assume you have something to tell me?” The question came out more like a statement, and Suguru turned around, letting them come into his room.
“Son, you already know about the circumstances of our family-” His father starts, but Suguru cuts him off short. He’s heard this story a thousand and one times already. Maybe even more.
“Father, don’t drag this on.” Suguru starts doing his hair again, collecting it into a prim bun near the back of his head. “Just tell me what you want.”
There’s a brief pause, and he could almost sense the way his parents shared a glance from behind his back.
“We’ve arranged a marriage for you.”
Suguru freezes. For a second, he questions if he heard right, but the way the room went eerily silent just proves that he heard just fine.
His jaw clenched, and with his back still turned from his parents, his hands start moving again. He reaches out to take his hair tie and sets his hair into its usual shape. Prim and precise.
Then, he turns to face his parents.
“No.” He smiles, tight lipped, eyes closed into upside down crescents. “I’m going to the restaurant now. Do you want anything else?”
He doesn’t wait for an answer, already making his way past them and out of his room.
“Son.” His mother calls out, and he stops in his tracks. “We need this.”
Suguru feels the side of his temple throb, hands curling tightly around the strap of his laptop bag as he adjusted it onto his shoulder.
“No, we don’t.” His heart pounds in his chest like a drumbeat as he stands there, unwilling to face them. “We have enough to live.”
“It’s barely enough.” His father tries to explain. “The Gojo family wants to buy our farm land-”
That was the straw that broke the camel’s back.
“You sold our land?!” He turned on his heel, his eyes wide and wild. He can’t believe it.
His father's face softened slightly at the sight of his son's emotion. “They offered over 100 million yen.” He said, as if that somehow made everything okay. “Do you know how much that is?”
“And what about me?” Suguru spits right back at his father, voice laced with a bitterness he couldn’t even recognise. “This is my future, my inheritance. And you traded it away for some money?!”
This time, mother spoke up, cutting through the tension like a knife. “We said we wouldn’t accept unless they married you to their son and they agreed.”
The realisation dawns onto Suguru’s face like a shadow casting over the sun.
“You… you sold me too?” His shoulders drop ever so slightly.
“The Gojo family offered more money than we ever would’ve seen in our lifetimes added together.”
Suguru couldn't believe what he was hearing. He had always known that things were difficult for his family, but he had never thought they would go this far. He could feel the anger filling up inside him, threatening to overflow like a boiling pot.
"You could have asked me!" His voice raised with every word. "This is my life we’re talking about, not some shitty cash grab!”
His parents exchange a look of worry, regret etched onto their features, but he doesn't want to hear it. It was too late now, anyway.
“Son…” His mother starts off, her tone gentle.
“Stop.” He turned away, his eyes closing slowly. “Just stop.” What’s done is done.
He heard his own footsteps against the wood as he walked away, his body moving stiffly, his mind a blur. His father's voice sounded distant and abstract, before leaving the house and slamming the door shut behind him.
You close the door behind you, throwing your bag onto the ground with a heavy thump. You take a deep breath, feeling the familiar smell of your home surrounding you like a warm blanket.
Finally. After a long day of work at the cafe, all you wanted to do right now was kick back and relax.
“I’m home!” You called out, slipping your shoes off, before bending over and placing them up on the shoe rack.
“Y/n, come here.” Your father’s voice calls you from the living room.
You pause.
Was something wrong? The tone he used sounded serious, almost grave. Giving your head a slight shake, you take a deep breath in an attempt to steady yourself. Maybe it's not that bad, maybe it's something simple.
You make your way towards the living room, to see both your parents sitting on the couch, almost as if they were waiting for you. You try to ignore the heavy thumping in your chest. Your mind was running through a million questions. Was someone hurt? Was there bad news?
“Is something wrong?” You kept your voice steady, despite the fact that something felt very off.
“Nothings wrong.” Your father states simply, his expression unreadable. “But your marriage is in two days.”
For a moment, you don't believe it. A light laugh a little bit escapes your lips, thinking it's some kind of joke. But then your neither of your parents crack a smile.
The rock in your stomach drops to your feet. “What?”
“Your wedding.” Your father repeats slowly, as if you were too stupid to understand. “Is in two days.”
“No, I heard that part.” You spit out, voice rising in anger. “I meant what the fuck do you mean?!”
“Y/n.” Came the warning tone of your mother. You turn to her, your eyes widening as you search for an answer. But her expression is just as grim as your father's.
There’s a familiar sting of anger spiking up in your blood.
“No. Don’t Y/n me. Explain.” You snapped, heart violently thundering against your rib cage. “What do you mean, my marriage is in two days? I’m not engaged! Hell, I’m not even dating anyone!”
“The Gojo family is looking for a wife for their son.” Your father replies matter-of-factly, not a single trace of guilt on his face.
Your jaw might’ve dropped to the floor if it wasn’t screwed onto your face.
“Why me!? There are plenty of other women!” You yell, the rage burning up inside you growing hotter. “I don’t want to get married to some random guy I don’t know! I’m trying to finish college!”
“My close co worker, Yaga, knows them personally, and he told me about it. So, I offered you. They trust him a lot so they agreed on you.” You father says it like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “You don’t understand what this could do for us, for me. The Gojo family is huge. Huge.”
“And what about me?!” You shouted, eyes beginning to sting from the frustration all building up at once. “Am I supposed to just go through with this? Like it's nothing? Like none of my decisions matter?" You can feel your heart racing and your mind spinning as you try to make sense of what's happening.
“You'll do what I tell you to do.” Your father’s voice is firm and unforgiving.
“No, I won't.” You shake your head, a fire in your eyes that could burn holes. “I won't let you ruin my life like this!”
Your father’s expression hardens as he looks at you with a steely gaze and a clenched jaw.
“If you don’t agree, we won’t pay a single yen for your studies.” His tone is low and measured. “You’re going to have to find your own money.”
There was a stab of betrayal as your father issues his warning. You wanted to yell at the top of your lungs, because what the fuck?! If you could pay for your own education you would’ve already done it!
“This isn’t fair!” Your teeth were grinding together, and you were this close to ripping out your hair.
“You’ll survive.” You father scoffs. He scoffs. And you feel your eye twitch. “I’m sure your future husbands won’t have an issue if you continue your studies after marriage.”
You have to double take, the cogs in your mind halting for a second.
“Husbands? With an s?”
“Yes, Gojo’s kid is marrying some other guy for land property.” Your father shrugs, pushing himself up from the couch. “You’re going to have to marry him too.”
Your mother follows after him as they walk toward the living room threshold.
The weight of his words hangs in the air like a dark cloud, threatening to overshadow your entire being, and for the umpteenth time during the course of ten minutes, your heart sinks.
“Are you hearing yourselves?” You scream, tears blurring your vision. Your voice wavers as you look from your father to your mother, then back to your father again. In that moment, it feels as if the walls are closing in around you, and you wanted more than anything for this to be nothing but a nightmare. “This is ridiculous!”
Your protest echoes through the room, and the silence that follows feels deafening. Until your father looks over his shoulder, his tone firm and decisive.
“You have two days to prepare yourself.” There was no room for negotiations.
And with that, your parents leave you alone with your despair.
You walk backwards until you reach the couch, slumping down and throwing your head in your hands. The dam breaks, hot tears coming in pairs as they roll down your cheeks.
Just hours ago, you had been just fine, casually working with your friends at Nanami’s cafe, not a single worry in the world. You had no idea that you were going to come home to this, your entire life being turned upside down.
As you lift your head up from your hands and pull out your phone, you tap through your contacts until you find ‘Smoke-o’. You take a deep breath before calling her. After the third ring, her voice comes through the speaker, sounding chill and relaxed as always.
“Hey, Y/n. What’s up?”
“Hey Shoko.” You sniff, pushing yourself up from the couch. Your voice is strained, and your friend immediately picks up on it.
“Woah, are you crying?” She asks, her tone suddenly turning serious. “What happened?”
“Shit happened. A lot of shit.” You start to make your way to your room, before closing the door behind you.
“There’s no shit I can’t handle.” Her tone is firm and confident. “Tell me who did this and Utahime and I will beat them up right now.” You can't help but feel comforted by her words. But you knew there was no point.
“My parents set me up in an arranged marriage.” There's a brief silence on the other end of the phone. “With two guys.” You add, feeling your stomach tighten at the thought.
“Oh fuck.” She curses. You can tell she's not sure what to say.
“I know.” You try to stop your voice from shaking but the tears are making it harder.
“Am I invited the wedding?” Shoko tries to break the tension with a joke, but you find it really hard to smile. “I should be the bridesmaid, but don’t tell Uta. She’ll get jealous.”
“Shoko…” You choked out weakly. You weren’t in the mood for jokes.
She replies with a contrite “Shit, sorry.”
As you throw yourself onto your bed, you wipe your tears onto the pillow and let out a muffled sob. The tears are flowing freely now, and you can't seem to stop them. She listens quietly while you tell her the whole story, before she finally speaks.
“Wow… your dad is such an asshole.” She comments, to which you silently agree. “This is so fucked up.”
“I don’t even know who they are! What if they’re old men?!” Your voice cracks, the words tumbling out of your mouth. “What if they’re total pervs?! What if they treat me like shit?!”
There's a slight pause on the other end of the line, and then Shoko's voice fills your ears. “I’ll literally assassinate them if they do ANYHTING.” She says, and you can hear the venom in her tone. “I don’t care, we’ll crash the wedding and pick you up, then drive away like the runaway bride.” A small smile tugs at the corners of your lips. “Just say the word.”
“I know.” Then the smile quickly fades as the gravity of the situation hits you once again. “I’m scared, Shoko.” You whispered into the phone.
“Me and Uta will be here for you always.” Shoko assures you, and you can hear the genuine care in her voice. “You're not alone in this, and we'll do whatever it takes to make sure you’re OK.”
“I know.” You let out a shuddery breath. “Thank you, Shoko.”
“Hey, it’s nothing. That’s what friends are for.”
There was a slight comfort in her words, but despite her assurances, you can't shake off the fear and frustration of it all. You still feel a sense of dread, not knowing what the future holds.
chapter1, chapter2(coming soon)
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gardentool · 15 hours
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Y/N: Satoru’s late.
Nanami: How did this happen? I had Haibara call him at 8 o'clock this morning and pretend it was 11.
Shoko: I printed up that fake schedule for him saying we were starting at 9 instead of noon.
Geto: I set all his watches and clocks to say PM when it's really AM.
Y/N: Oh no. We may have overdone it.
[meanwhile]
Gojo: WHAT THE HELL TIME IS IT?!
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slvttyplum · 2 months
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suguru had a big dick; that was no surprise; it would literally slang in his sweats, and he
would act like he didn’t know what you were talking about when you mentioned it.
“that’s why i wear briefs; i don’t want it to hang.”
when you put your hand in his lap, you could literally feel it, then it would twitch under your touch. lowering your hand down on his length further and further, it felt like it would go on forever.
and it’s not like he just had this long of a dick and just slanged it around all willy nilly, no, he put it to use; he knew how to use it.
at first, you were scared to have it inside of you because of the complications of dealing with something that big, but he knew how to throw it down.
he didn’t just shove it inside of you. he got you nice and wet, to the point of dripping, and then slowly slid his member inside of you, and that would feel you right up.
suguru didn’t need his dick all the way inside of you for the both of you to finish, he could have it halfway, and it would make you both feel great.
the key to working on something as big as his is to make sure you know what you’re doing, which he did.
the key to making you cum was to roll his hips so that the tip of his dick could touch your sweet spot, then apply pressure to it, then slide back out and repeat the rhythm.
every and anything regarding having his dick inside of you was easy because the both of you worked together to make sure it was comfortable, but giving him head was something different.
having to bob up and down on something so big with a lot of girth was exhausting and made your jaw hurt, but suguru made sure to make it as easy as possible.
grabbing both sides of your head, thrusting his hips against your mouth, and shoving his dick into the back of your throat.
he would cum in three minutes, max.
we love a big-dick man.
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kenm4vhs · 5 months
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but suguru in a wolfcut is just genuinely the prettiest man to ever walk on earth 🥹
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credits: calovity on tiktok and @Hourly_geto on twitter 🫶🏻
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gojoscloset · 4 months
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NSFW but the boys cumming prematurely simply by kissing has been on my mind heavy lately like—
I know I need to stop but I can’t stop thinking about getting hot and heavy with them and apparently it gets too hot too fast and they’re so embarrassed but you’re chill about it you actually find it hot endearing.
Satoru whose body stiffened as he pulled his lips away from yours. You could feel his body slightly shake and twitch beneath you, and he's looking at you with a sheepish expression, widened eyes and his lips slowly curled into an embarrassed grin. He makes jokes of the situation to ease his embarrassment and he explains how it wouldn’t affect his performance, confidence wavering in the slightest but you simply laugh at his jokes and assure him that it was okay and you actually found it cute.
Ooof or how Suguru is probably the one who is most embarrassed, pushing his body off of yours interrupting the steamy make out session. You wondered if you did something wrong but you knew that wasn’t the case when you looked at his expression. Head hung low and you both watched as the bulge in his sweats twitched, staining the gray with milky white drops that pushed past the fabrics. He facepalmed to cover his reddening face and apologized profusely. You didn’t mean to laugh but you did, giggles escaping your lips and you cupped his face that was hot to the touch, to let him know it was nothing to be embarrassed about.
Or Nanami who groaned into your lips, roughly grabbing your hips to stop from grinding on his. He looked down and you followed suit, eyeing how his legs flexed while his dick twitched some, a growing wet spot now visible on his slacks. He looked up at you, panting and speechless, confused expression on his face because this has never happened to him and he didn’t even know it was possible. He opened his mouth to say something but didn’t know what to say. You gave him a smile and guided your hips back on his, you didn’t need an explanation, you just needed him.
Gosh I’m a slut for tropes like these. Like yes love me love me love me love me.
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luvonmes-blog · 5 months
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i have an idea… y’all wanna see ice skater!reader x hockey player!geto..?
it’s here!
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chosocutegf · 1 month
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roommate!Suguru x f!reader
cw: voyeurism, smut
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I’m always thinking about roommate!Suguru, and the fact that he would be so obsessed with you.
At first, when you just moved in, he wouldn’t spare you of even a glance and he only spent time with his friends, Shoko and Satoru. However, as time went on, Suguru started to warm to you and you two got to hang out more together. That’s how he became interested in you.
And for suguru being interested meant he was obsessed with you.
Not that you would realise of course, he made sure of never raise your suspicions, but he stopped bringing people at home and only wanted to be with you. he would want to know what you always did, who you hung out with, and where you went.
You noticed something was different with Suguru, when he started to get more touchy. Every moment was an occasion for him to touch you.
You were passing in front of him? Smack on your ass.
You were trying to reach something on a higher shelf? He pressed his body against yours from behind and took it for you, a grin on his face.
You were going out and needed to put a necklace on? He was ready to do that, and he made sure to caress the nape of your neck and hair when he was done.
You didn’t really understand what he wanted from you, until a special event happened.
Suguru caught you touching yourself while talking to another person. It was not his fault he caught you, okay??? You left the door slightly ajar, as if you were inviting him to watch you.
And so he did. He observed you from the little crack of the door, while you panted sitting on top of your sheets, unaware of his presence. Your legs were spread open and he could clearly see your little fingers rubbing your pretty pussy.
He cussed under his breath and reached down to rub his cock over of his pants. But it wasn’t enough. He wanted to taste your pussy himself. He listened patiently to your conversation at the phone, while you bit your lower lip, trying to reach that orgasm that the other person was trying to guide you to.
However, it never happened. And Suguru noticed how you faked your orgasm in order to make the call end.
So, the moment you put down the phone, your roommate stepped into your room. Your eyes widened and you close your legs to hide your wet pussy and swollen clit when you saw him, your face burning. “Suguru! Get out!,” you screamed flustered but it only made Suguru chuckle as he approached your bed.
“Who were you talking to?,” He asked teasingly as he sat at the end of the bed. You were still blushing and looked at him with a little pout. “No one,” you murmured, looking away and missing how his cock throbbed in his pants at your indifference and pretty pout.
“They sure were no one if they didn’t make you come… Now let me take care of you, mh?,” He insisted as he slid closer to you on the bed, still not touching you. When you looked back at him, you sighed… why not? You felt restless and disappointed from the person you were talking to, and the man you had in front of you was far much better than them.
Skip forward, that’s how you found yourself laying under your roommate in mating press, your ankles almost reaching your face, and him pounding inside you so hard that you could feel his fat cock inside your stomach. You pleaded him, after so many orgasm, but Suguru wasn’t buying any of that. He wanted your pussy to form around his cock, so that you would never forget that you belonged to him.
He looked down at you with that annoying sexy smirk, sweat dripping down his forehead, and his hair all around him. “Who owns this pussy, baby?,” He asked breathless, observing how your teary eyes were looking up at him, and a fucked out expression on your face.
“S-Sugu… my p-pussy is yours, please… I can’t,” you cried out, sinking your nails in his shoulders. He hissed at the delicious pain, pistoning his cock inside of you faster, almost reaching your cervix. “Fuck, yeah… all mine, princess,” he panted against your face, laughing.
And that’s how he got you full with his cum, your belly swelled from how much he came inside you. He couldn’t stop looking at his cum coming out of your abused hole, and your spent up body over your sheets. “You’re fucking mine, doll… I will stuff you full with my cum to remind you every day~” he smirked, leaning down to bite your inner thigh before getting up to get a cloth to clean you.
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(m.list)
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cherrymoon4 · 2 months
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Suguru hates the taste of curses. He hates the aftertaste that persists in his mouth, that doesn’t leave no matter how hard he brushes his teeth or how much sickening sweet candy Satoru gives him.
Even when hours pass, no matter how many boiling hot showers he takes, nothing takes away the disgusting feeling that swallowing down curse after curse brings.
He has tried everything, every single thing that comes to mind to not have the aftertaste of a vomit soaked rag stuck to him for hours.
But nothing works, he is sure of that, he reminds himself as he leans over the bathroom sink, trying not to throw up after another “successful” mission and another curse swallowed.
As he takes deep breaths, trying to come up with something, anything, that could help him, he hears a knock on the door, followed by your gentle voice asking if he’s okay.
He’s always seen you as one of his closest friends, the one that is there for when he feels like no one can help him; when he knows Shoko is too busy with her own shit, and Satoru could only try to come up with a joke and probably wouldn’t take him seriously, he knows that the one he can always turn to is you.
Soft, sweet little you. Too kind for your own good, with a heart too big for your petite form. So selfless, always worrying over ‘Sugu’ even when he doesn’t deserve it, even when he pushes you away, not wanting to stain your pure self.
Just like right now, as he contemplates whether to let you in or tell you to leave. He pictures your pretty face in his mind, how it probably is adorned with worry and concern, your doe eyes big and glassy.
His heart clenches at the thought of you walking away all sad after he told you to leave. He can’t bring himself to push you away.
So he tells you come in, he just wanted to reassure you after all. But when he sees you coming in and rushing to check him over for any injuries, clad in your fluffy pajamas and fuzzy socks, his mind fills with images of him doing everything but reassuring you.
And that’s how he discovers that there is, in fact, something that can help him out.
He knows that this is all he needs, your pretty cunt in his face is where he belongs.
Your plushy thighs around his head and your sweet juices smeared on his cheeks are just what he needs to forget everything about curses and the awful feeling that they leave him with.
He reprimands you for keeping your heavenly pussy from him all this time; how could you be so selfish :(
He laps at your folds like a starved man, moaning in your cunt like he’s the one getting eaten out. And he’s so messy too! After all, how could he not be when he finally found the perfect treat to solve his problem?
“Fuck sweetheart, you’re such a messy girl mh?” he grunts, like he’s not the one turning his head side to side to smear your juices all over his face.
“This pretty pussy loves me so much, doesn’t she? Gushin’ around my tongue like that, bet it wants me to fill her up too..” he says as he toys with your puffy pussy and swollen clit, looking up to see you all dumb and stupid, babbling something about how it’s “t-too much!”.
But you clearly don’t know what you need, not when your hole keeps getting wetter and wetter.
“It’s not too much, silly girl. You can take it, I know you can. You want your Sugu’ to be happy, don’t you baby? You wanna be my good girl, yeah?”
And how can you deny him? You do want to be his good girl, his best girl!
So you spread your legs wider for him and let him lap at your messy hole, and you don’t even complain when you feel his thick cock prodding at your entrance, stretching your pussy nice and full :3
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hello ^^ ( thank you sososo much for the love on the other posts! send me requests if you want :P )
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cursed-peach · 2 months
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Ah Yes. Me. My girlfriend. And her ¥75,000 plushie of myself.
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koishiro · 21 days
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Dating Geto Suguru <3
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gardentool · 13 days
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[At a coffee place]
Y/N: *returns from the bathroom to the line*
Y/N: *walks up to Gojo and grabs his hand*
Y/N: This is crazy.
Gojo: *looks at Y/N*
Gojo: Um... 
Y/N: *looks at Gojo*
Y/N: You're not my boyfriend.
Geto, from behind Y/N and Gojo: You're holding the wrong hand, Y/N.
Y/N: You sure?
Gojo: Yeah, we're sure.
Y/N: I feel compelled to finish this coffee experience with you.
Gojo: I'm not paying.
Y/N: Never mind, I'm going back to my boyfriend.
Geto: I'm not paying either.
Shoko, at the front of the line: Come hold my hand. I'll buy you anything you want.
Y/N: *goes to hold Shoko’s hand*
Y/N: At least somebody cares about me. 
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slvttyplum · 14 days
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you ever have dick so good that you’re literally running from it. tears in your eyes, lumps on lumps of sobs crowding in your throat and suguru holding your hands behind your back still slamming into you. 
“take it like you're supposed to, baby. do it for me.” slapping your ass and slamming into you again, a sob crawling up your throat and your body shaking uncontrollably with this overwhelming pleasure. 
he knew where your weak spots were, where you broke down easily, and where you itched to have more of. that's why he was going to give it to you—give it to you until you were physically numb. suguru wasn’t going to stop until he saw your body lying still on the mattress. 
suguru wanted to twist you around and put you in different positions so he could see his pretty baby cum on his dick but you weren’t take it well, your back arching and your muffled sobs into the mattress. 
he had to keep your wrists in his hands or you weren’t going to finish soon, his hand squeezing your wrist and his other one trailing over your back up to your chin, pulling you back into your chest. 
"come on, baby. what’s going on today? i thought you wanted to be my good girl.” his hips pushing into your ass harder and harder, his soft breath tickling your ear, and the tip of his dick pressing deeper inside of you. 
another sob coming up and tears running down your face—he couldn’t say he didn’t admire the sight. he loved when you cried from overstimulation, but all he was thinking about at that moment was making sure you took in what he was giving you. 
he could feel you squeeze around; the feeling of your soft insides clamming onto him made him feel good. he almost wanted to crawl inside of you, but you didn’t deserve it. 
you didn’t deserve his cum being leaked inside of you, so if he had to hold himself back for a couple more minutes or just not cum, then that’s what he would do. 
“suguru i can’t take it.” your sobs more vocal, your back is arching even more, and your eyes are squeezing shut with more warm tears rolling down your face
it felt like a fiery pit in the bottom of your stomach every time he made you take him. Even though you couldn’t, it’s not like you could run away or fake your way out of it. 
suguru knew you inside out, literally. he knew how good you were feeling, your nipples peeking up as your ass was pushing against him; it’s like your body was telling him to just do whatever he wanted to make you take it. 
“remember what i taught you.” whispering in your ear and slamming into you again, sweat dripping off his forehead and onto your back, he could feel you clamp around him, a moan sliding past your lips and little whines after. 
cooing in your ear then pulling your arms back some more while slamming into you again and again, feeling his cum leak into you little by little. 
that’s how he liked to cum, when you were squeezing the cum out of him. 
if you were running and crying, scratching the sheets, trying to get away, suguru was going to pull you, restrain you and make you take it; he didn’t play. 
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