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vinvantae · 1 year

Text

Unmasked

Part 6/16

<<< previous part

Word count - 2.5k

Warnings - alcohol usage

******

Yourusername added to their story

As the end of the year rolled around, Charles had to practically pry you out of Pascale’s arms to get you out of the Leclerc home. You couldn’t help but still feel guilty about the fact you’d been lying to her that you and Charles weren’t really anything - even though the definition of your relationship was becoming unclearer by the day. But Pascale had made you feel more at home than your own Father had in years, so saying goodbye was much harder than you anticipated.

But in the back of your mind, you knew you needed to talk to the team about you and Charles. But you weren’t sure how they’d react to the fact the fake relationship they’d made had started to shift into something real.

They had booked you both a flight - the day after New Years, you were heading out to Bali for the final stage of the winter break itinerary. You and Charles would be posting simultaneous stories and posts of you both on holiday but still in the ‘soft launch’ format. They had seemingly forgotten that January was the wettest month of the year but that would have to be something you figured out when you got there.

Because first it was your last outing in 2021. Pierre was throwing an all out New Year’s Eve bash and as Charles’ girlfriend, the invitation had been extended your way. You were a little cautious at first, knowing that this gathering would be larger than the last and would have more people from the F1 world, but your teammate assured you there was nothing to worry about.

You’d treated yourself to a new dress for the occasion, again - something you wouldn’t look too overdressed in besides Charles, but something that would make you feel and look good. Some part of you thought it would be risky wearing red, thinking people might think it was a clue, but with your ‘boyfriend’ being a Ferrari driver, surely it would be fine. Just a simple nod to your relationship.

But you couldn’t help but feel cautious - every time you stepped outside at Charles' side, your outfits were picked apart and critiqued by those who continued to hate you - despite being successful in your own right, in their eyes, you had used Charles to further your career. Which was bizarre considering your position hadn’t changed since you became ‘admin’. In fact, it surprised you that more people weren’t suspicious by your lack of career progress in general.

“Do I look overdressed?” You asked, as you slid your foot into one of your shoes.

Your teammate's eyes flickered up from his phone and he felt his breath catch in his throat. The dress flattered you in the perfect way, highlighting all of your best features. “You… you look beautiful.”

He relished the way your cheeks flushed, he crossed the room and knelt in front of you to do up the straps of your shoes. “But is it too much, Charles?”

“No, no. All the girls will be dressed up too. Pierre’s bashes are an excuse to go all out.” The Monaco driver stood up, holding his hands out for you to take. You smiled softly and laced your fingers with his, giggling a little as he pulled you close. “Besides, it means I get to kiss the prettiest girl at the party when the clock strikes midnight.”

“Mhmm, I’ll keep an eye out for her.” You teased, pulling him closer so you could press your lips to his in a chaste kiss before he could protest your self-critique. “Now, let’s go. We don’t want to be the last people to show up.”

Charles eagerly followed you like a lost puppy down to the car - wanting nothing more right now than to skip the party and just stay in with you. But Pierre would kill him for skipping, he had been planning this party for what felt like the entire year at this point. And he was convinced that the Frenchman wanted to spend more time around you, despite your ‘relationship’ with his childhood friend. And he knew Lewis was going to be around, another man whose eyes always seemed to linger a little too long for his liking.

“Wow, Pierre really knows how to throw a bash.” You whistled lowly as the driver pulled up outside the venue. The music was already thumping inside and there was a steady stream of invited party-goers being let inside whilst others were being turned away. “Ready?”

Charles nodded and climbed out of the car, offering his hand to you so you could climb out easier in your heeled shoes. His hand stayed wrapped around yours as you crossed the pavement - security letting you in without a moment of hesitation, a glass of champagne put in your free hand as soon as you crossed the threshold.

“We should find Pierre and say hi.” Your teammate leant in close to yell into your ear.

“Lead the way.” You smiled, your heart fluttering as he pulled you closer so as not to lose you in the crowds.

The two of you somehow weaved through everyone without Charles getting caught up in conversation - swiftly making your way over to the large table that Pierre had taken up with trays and trays of alcohol. The French driver’s smile grew bigger when he saw you and Charles approach, stepping over to pull you both into a hug. You could smell the alcohol on him as his embrace lasted a little too long, pressing a kiss to each of your cheeks.

“Alright, mate, that’s enough.” Charles laughed, extracting you from his childhood friend’s arms. “This one is taken.”

Pierre waved him off, daring to take one more glance at you - the blue of his eyes barely visible from his drunken pupils. “Shots?”

Your eyes scanned the room for a moment whilst Charles tried to deny his friend’s request to see who else was there. Lewis tipped his glass towards you as you locked eyes and you gave him a shy wave in return. It looked like a lot of the grid had actually made the effort to come out but you couldn’t help but feel Max’s eyes burning into you from where he stood with Daniel. “Does Max not like me anymore?”

The Monegasque frowned and looked over his shoulder at the Redbull driver, who simply raised his drink in silent cheers to his rival. “Why would you think that?”

“…just don’t get good vibes from him these days. I don’t think he trusts me.” You admitted, letting Charles pull you closer to you. “Surely he can’t know, right?”

“But it’s not fake-“

You raised a brow, and he pressed his mouth into a line. It wasn’t the relationship, it was who you were - and you were worried Max has become suspicious of you. There’s no way. He thought. How would he even make that connection? Charles simply shook his head a little and pressed a gentle kiss to your temple.

Max just knew something was up. Ever since the articles came out about a woman under 30 being Thirty, you shot to the top of his list and the timing of your relationship with Charles was just so suspicious. They probably thought no one would suspect a driver’s girlfriend would be Thirty but since you ‘lost your seat’ in F2, the general public for the most part barely remembered your previous racing career.

“You’re staring.” Daniel spoke up from beside the Dutchman, nudging him gently - drawing Max’s gaze away from you. “What is your deal with her?”

“…you’ll think I’m crazy.” Max grimaced, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly.

This only intrigued Daniel more. “Hit me with it.”

Max looked around to make sure no one else was about to hear his admission, as positive as he was about it - it did sound bonkers to anyone who hadn’t even considered it. “I think y/n is Thirty.”

The Australian blinked at his friend a few times as he processed what he said before bursting into laughter. “No, seriously, you fancy her or something? The childhood sweetheart who got away?”

The younger driver groaned and shook his head. He knew Daniel wouldn’t believe him, he didn’t know you like Max had. Instead of trying to convince his former teammate of his theory, he simply changed the conversation. You hadn’t missed the way both drivers had looked over at you but you pretended to ignore it - making sure as many photos were taken of you and Charles together as possible.

As the evening drew on, you found yourself sandwiched between your ‘boyfriend’ and Max - not sure how or why by Pierre had insisted on pulling you all to the same booth for a drink and no one had moved since. Charles arm draped lazily over your shoulder, fingers tapping against your skin to the music.

“So.” Max chirped, you winced a little before lifting your eyes from your glass to meet his gaze. “How do you like working for Ferrari?”

He watched as you visibly relaxed at his question, clearly expecting something else. “Yeah. It’s good. I still get to travel the world with the sport I love - it’s not what I wanted but y’know is what it is… I’ve been part of the team a long time now, so I’m content.”

“Yeah, disappointing they’ve not given you any kind of promotion considering your loyalty.” He hummed, swirling his beer. “What’s it been, 8 years this year?”

You nodded. “Is what it is, as I said. I’m content.”

The two of you held eye contact for a little too long - almost as if he was challenging you to give your identity away but instead you turned your attention to Charles, your teammate pulling you closer to his side. Max let out a quiet huff and threw back some of his beer. You’d known each other since you were kids, he knew you’d have an NDA but part of him wished you still trusted him enough to tell him.

But when you left F2, the friendship sizzled out - your forced proximity when you raced together made you friends and the distance after split you apart. You just weren’t the same girl he grew up with anymore. He wasn’t sure if it was Thirty that did it to you but you were a shell of the boisterous, courageous person he remembered growing up. That’s why he wanted you to be Thirty; so he could convince you to take off the mask and maybe the old you could come back.

“Excuse me.” Max left the table, his beer only half drunk - seemingly abandoned in disappointment.

Your jaw clenched a little as you fought back the urge to chase after him, convincing him that you weren’t Thirty, you just couldn't be. But at this point you were sure there was no way back.

Max had figured you out.

****

***

You woke up the next morning with an absolute cracker of a headache, thanking the heavens above that your flight wasn’t until tomorrow. Last night very quickly became a blur after your interaction with Max - opting to drink away the fear instead of trying to change his mind. You knew that was a lost cause, so instead you’d focus your intentions on Charles, on whatever the two of you were. Not wanting to let yourself drown in the possibility of Max outing you as Thirty.

The sun creeped through the gap in the curtain, crawling across the sheets that had long been discarded to the lower part of the bed in the heat of the night. Whilst you and Charles had stayed fairly PG with your relationship until that point - you’d found yourself tumbling into bed with him after the party, clothes thrown haphazardly across the room but it seemed you both fell asleep before anything really happened.

That didn’t stop you from studying Charles’ sleeping body beside you, the sheets pushed down to his hips, a toned leg sticking out the side. He was truly beautiful, especially when he was peaceful like this - not a care in the world carving a frown into his features. You cautiously reached out and cupped his jaw in your hand, brushing your thumb across his soft skin. He lent into your touch, his eyelashes fluttering for a moment before you were met by his soft green gaze.

Your heart skipped a beat as his lips curved into a pretty smile, one just for you. “Morning… some night, last night, huh?”

“You could say that.” You hummed. “When you said you were going to kiss me at midnight? I wasn’t expecting you to put on such a show.”

The one part of the night you could remember cleared than any other, was as everyone counted down as the clock struck and the way your teammate had dipped you in the last few moments, before pressing a deep kiss to your lips as everyone screamed out Happy New Year. You couldn’t help but smile into his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck.

“Wanted to show off the fact that the most beautiful girl in the place was with me.” He chuckled, sitting up - pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. “Got the best sight to wake up to as well, I see.”

Your cheeks flushed dark as his eyes flickered across your bare chest for a moment before meeting your eyes. “I remember getting naked and then both of us just passed out.”

He laughed. “Me too, I’d like to remember being intimate with you… so I’m glad we didn’t yet.”

Intimate. Yet. It probably didn’t seem like much but the choice of words couldn’t help make you think that he was thinking of a future with you. He hadn’t been crude about it, and he wanted to remember it. You watched as he slipped out of bed, allowing yourself the simple joy of studying his full figure as he moved around the room to collect his outfit for the day, folding your dress up and putting it on the chair before handing you one of his t-shirts.

“I’ll make us some breakfast, come join when you’re ready.” Your teammate smiled sweetly, pressing another kiss to your lips. “No rush.”

It was so domestic and so easy. That scared you. You were scared that it was a repeat of your childhood friendships and the only reason he was into you was the forced proximity. That if given the chance he’d realise that you weren’t what he wanted and he could get any girl.

And it didn’t help that a lot of the internet seemed to feel the same way. At least what you saw.

You could only hope that despite the relationship getting off to a false start - that the two of you would stay on track and maybe after your talk with the team, you could really focus on you and Charles and not the ever darkening cloud of your exposure, threatening to break any day now.

*****************************************

Next part >>>

Sorry for the delay and the shorter nature of this chapter! I had a plan in my head for each chapter but then I realised I wanted to add other things so scrapped what I had and started again 😬 hope it was worth the wait!

Thank you all for the support ❤️

Want to be updated when I post? Join our discord and then head to #reaction-roles and add yourself to my tags ❤️

#unmasked fic #f1 fic #f1 x reader #f1 x you #f1 #formula one #x reader #charles leclerc x reader #Charles leclerc x you #leclerc x reader

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fishbowlmysterioo · 1 year

Text

Bali, Baby! Pt. 1 - Satoru/Suguru/Reader

credit for this incredible image here!

pairings: past!satoru x reader, suguru x reader, past!satoru x suguru

warning: overstimulation, edging, cheating (?), vaginal fingering, it's not really a warning but everyone is queer bc I'm queer and that's how it is

summary: your ridiculous ex has decided to drag you to vacation plans the two of you made in the past. what could possibly go wrong? well actually, just about everything now that you’ve hooked up with both your and Satoru's best friend Suguru the night before you leave for vacation. so what ELSE could possibly go wrong?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48025003

“Two weeks?”

“Two weeks, Sugu, two fucking weeks!”

“And your flight leaves tomorrow?”

“And my flight leaves TOMORROW!”

Suguru’s in the middle of retying his hair when you suddenly shout, startling both him and the other guests here. The framed scribbles and crookedly hung paintings covering the walls make the small coffee shop you’re currently in seem that much smaller. It also kindly reminds you that they’re doing little to contain your outburst.

You hear the slightest chuckle from Suguru as you look around the shop and take in the sight of forgettable and slightly annoyed faces glancing at you. As you raise your hand and nod awkwardly in some sort of apology at the frowning face, Suguru’s chuckles turn into full on laughter. Of course when your annoyed eyes meet his humored honeyed ones, he manages to seal his lips almost immediately into an amused yet quiet smile.

With the amount of stress you’ve been under lately, it’s no surprise that it’s dribbling out of you at the seams. The strenuous months, the neverending weeks, the exhausting days, came to a point meeting with one of your pickier clients. It was a meeting — an official integration signing — that you’d been working on for the better part of a year now and somehow, someway, you woke up late.

As you were running late, clamoring onto the subway and fighting with a very orny elderly man, some random interns — now former interns — had deleted entire files that were in the middle of being backed up by IT. Files that pertained the client’s history, previous sales, all important information that impacted their place in the business. On top of running late, on top of fighting with the elderly, on top of important information disappearing into the ether, you also spilled coffee all over your favorite blouse. A large stain that definitely wouldn’t be coming out any time soon.

In short, today was a nightmare.

And yet all of those events, all of those little disasters, couldn’t even begin to equate to what made today a day for the books. When you’d finally arrived at your office with your assistant not too far behind, Gojo Satoru was in the middle of your room with a mischievous grin you knew all too well. He was sitting on the edge of your desk, arms folded and legs spread wide. He’d ignored the coffee stain on your blouse, ignored the exhaustion in your eyes, and ignored your demanding of why he was here as he exclaimed, ”We’re going to Bora Bora, baby!”

It turns out the location is actually Bali, not Bora Bora, but the blinding light of Satoru’s excitement could not be dimmed by your correction and obvious annoyance.

By now, the end of your workday, the series of small and big disasters have filled your mind. It feels weighted there as if your brain is wriggling under the weight of your responsibilities. But the longer you stay here, the longer you listen to Suguru laugh at your expense, the weight begins slowly and steadily lifting. With all of the stress from the previous months, weeks, days, you need to rant and rave more than ever. You need to rant and rave specifically to someone that knows Gojo Satoru inside and out.

The annoying white-haired man had a way of getting under your skin that no one else could even come close to accomplishing. It’s not that you’re patient or impatient. You think you have an...average amount of patience that a person should have. There’s just something about Satoru that annoyed you more than the average person. His nonchalant way of talking, his uncaring attitude, something that made the flippant comments he made that much more irritating.

While people who didn’t know Satoru personally and only ever heard second-hand accounts insisted on you just ignoring him or cutting him off, you knew deep down that the idiot has good intentions. Afterall, you’ve known him better than anyone. He used to be a lot worse in high school.

So the desire to complain about Satoru led you to someone who knows the two of you very well. Someone like Suguru who is just as kind and patient as Satoru is childish and impatient.

The sigh you finally let out is a long steady gust of air that never seems to end. When it finally does, Suguru speaks up softly. “Hey, maybe it’s a good thing. When was the last time you actually took a vacation?”

Large fingers coax and eventually pry at your small ones to loosen their vicious grip around your mug. As you release the thin ceramic and allow those fingers to stroke along the lengths of your hand, you think about the question.

It has been a while.

With adult life eating away at your sanity, you barely had any time for yourself now. Never mind time for your best friends and other close relationships. With how packed your schedule usually is, by the time you did have a break you couldn’t manage much more than keeping to yourself for the day. You were always too tired to hang out with co-workers or long-time friends; always too tired to entertain or be entertained by dates; always... too tired.

The small blips of time you found between meetings and fancy events was spent rotting away in your bed while watching increasingly bizarre youtube videos in a neverending rabbit hole. This cycle was only broken if Satoru and Suguru managed to call as many times as was necessary to get you to answer the phone. Then the two of them would come over and crawl into bed with you, forcing you to get dressed and go outside or offering to rot away with you depending on just how bad their day was.

Regardless of how busy they were in their own lives, Satoru and Suguru always seemed to have enough time for you when you were free. Even if Satoru had to break away to make important phone calls while the three of you were shopping or Suguru had to hold his phone over your head in bed and quickly answer emails between movie popcorn breaks. Of course, you tried to put in the same amount of effort, but they always insisted that you take your time.

Suguru especially would tell you to come to them when you had the time and energy to be there, without any sort of stress or worry.

The problem is you’re always stressed or worried.

Finally, you offer a thoughtful,”Yeah, I guess it’s been a while.”

As you stare into the steaming beige liquid in your mug, you realize that Satoru’s random offer couldn’t have come at a better time. All of the stress weighing you down could wash away in an instant under the warm Bali sun and in the cerulean waters lapping at white sand. Everything you could ever need to reset your perspective and purpose in life could be there.

I t’s the perfect time, the perfect place, and the perfect getaway.

“But it’s so last minute,” you try anyway, even though your mind is somewhat decided,”there are so many things I have to handle at work. I can’t just leave for two weeks.”

Suguru’s thumb glides to the smooth skin of you palm, soothing the creases that have begun to unknowingly form on your forehead. Some of that tension that always seems to linger in your body, in unseen crevices that you can’t reach or see, releases into the air.

Suguru counters your doubt, your pessimism, immediately as he says firmly,”You have an incredibly capable assistant in Nobara. She can easily rearrange any meetings you have coming up. Your team is very skilled too and fully capable of handling your accounts for two weeks. Have a little more faith in them.”

You’ve shaped your team so carefully and diligently over the years that even if you spontaneously blew up they’d be able to at least survive without you. Maybe Nobara, Inumaki, Panda (a strange nickname that stuck within the department), and others would have to ride your coatails and study old notes stashed away in your office, but they’d make it for at least a year before the higher ups noticed.

As much as you hate it, Suguru’s words along with the loud and firm voice in the back of your head are starting to make a lot of sense. The idea of a vacation, of stiff colorful drinks and sun-heated skin, become more and more appealing with each stroke of Suguru’s thumb.

This form of encouragement is a lot more meaningful and maybe even slightly more dangerous than Satoru’s loud and irritating, ”Just take off! Who cares?”

With a roll of your eyes, you groan,”Fine, you got me there.” The slight admission has Suguru’s smile widening. Away from work, away from stupid meetings, away from the city for a couple of weeks. It’s nearly perfect.

But then it hits you. The reason for the added irritation today, the reason for the additional stress that’s been piled onto your shoulders, hits you like a freight train.

Gojo Satoru.

Two years ago, you and Satoru had gotten absolutely wasted. You don’t really remember how exactly the vacation was booked but after being chided by Satoru in your office some of the details had been filled in.

“So, we were both drunk.”

“Okay.”

“And you kept complaining about how you wanted to get away from everyone except me and be entirely alone.”

“I mean...sure okay. That sounds like me.”

“And you were sitting in your favorite chair so you were especially relaxed. Remember?”

Your mind flashes to a warm lighting in the impossibly large bedroom within Satoru’s loft. Your mind also reminds you of the fullness you felt between the hazy waves of too much wine and dizzying horiness. A large pale hand on your stomach, cupping the slight bulge in your tummy, and the feeling of Satoru’s broad chest against your back as you stared at the small phone screen.

“Maybe you were too busy cumming to reme—”

“Satoru!”

Nobara had shifted awkwardly at the comment, clearing her throat to remind Satoru that she was indeed still in the room.

“Anyway,” he grinned mischeviously,”I told you to pick anywhere in the world and I’d make Nanami book it. You picked Bali and we found the Ryomen Resort.”

“Because I wanted that special suite with the pretty tub.”

“Right and we made it for two years out because...?”

“That was the only time it was available.”

After the two of you broke up, your dream trip had been forgotten about entirely until now. At least for you anyway.

While Satoru claims he forgot to tell Nanami to cancel the reservations after the “disagreement” happened, he also claimed that he couldn’t cancel them now because they were paid in full; also something about being unable to change the name on the suite. It isn’t hard to believe that you don’t believe him in the slightest.

It’s not that he has a tendency to lie or deceive, but the resistance behind not wanting to cancel didn’t make sense. Despite the ever-present silver spoon in his mouth, Satoru grew up with and developed impeccable organizational and management skills that were required to run his family’s conglomerate.

There’s no way that he would forget to cancel it and even if he somehow did, there was absolutely no way Nanami would forget. He was Satoru’s personal assistant for a reason.

And even if they somehow both forgot, Gojo Satoru is disgustingly rich. He wouldn’t care about having to pay some stupid cancellation fee or just kissing the whole trip goodbye altogether. In fact, you have the ridiculous Ballon Bleu de Cartier “I’m sorry for killing your Monstera, Charlie, while you were away” watch and the “I totally didn’t mean to stand you up and then ask what are your plans for tonight I didn’t see your calls!” day trip to Paris to prove it.

So why would Satoru suddenly care about spending money now?

The whole thing reeks of ulterior motives and classic Gojo Satoru schemes.

“But it’s Bali,” you insist, trying and failing to keep the whiny-twinge away,”with Satoru. I’m worried he’ll get the wrong idea.”

Suguru’s thumb stops its journey across your palm and sits heavily on your hand. When you look up at him, you swear you can see a flash of...something. It’s a sort of glint in his eye that disappears as soon as your gaze focuses completely on his.

“How long has it been again,” he asks, feigning ignorance,”a year?”

For a moment you genuinely think that Suguru doesn’t remember the year the two of his best friends barely spoke or saw each other without causing a scene. It was a disastrous year for you, but it was you . Suguru had his own life and friends outside of the drama between you and Satoru. But the way his honeyed brown eyes avoid yours, gives you answers you need.

Suguru does remember.

He remembers every moment of that year.

Your breakup was immature and stupid.

It resulted in public fights that had the two of you storming off in different directions whenever you tried to talk it out. It resulted in angry phone calls and blocking and unblocking phone numbers. It resulted in obnoxious social media posts with blurred girls and boys in exotic places that were everything you weren’t.

Satoru is immature. He’s always been and probably always will be. Although you know he’s immature and that everything he says should be taken with a grain of salt, Satoru also knows how to get under your skin. He knows how to drag you down in the muck to his level and make you just as angry, just as spiteful, as him.

You, on the otherhand, are mature enough to admit that you were also immature.

It was as if seeing you go through life through retellings of coffee dates with Suguru, through prominent articles that his colleagues spoke of with your name written in neat letters at the bottom, and through social media posts from friendly gatherings and rooftop parties that Satoru was pointedly not inviting to; all of these things had somehow convinced him that you weren’t mourning the death of your relationship alongside him.

The years of knowing each other inside and out made every fight, spat, and pointed post that much more painful. By the middle of it, even Suguru didn’t want to deal with either of you. He would avoid hanging out with either of you so he didn’t hear complaints. Although you can’t really confirm it, you’re also pretty sure that he left the country to go on tour and meet with clients; right after he said he needed space.

The whole thing was messy, messier than you’d like to admit.

But recently the two of you have started working on healing your relationship and trying to make everything better a little bit at a time. No, it would never go back to the way it is, but maybe it could be close.

Finally Suguru releases your hand altogether to take a sip from his own mug. The steam is gone now, leaving behind a rapidly cooling drink. He breathes his next question in the mug as if to hide it,”You think he’s been carrying a torch this entire time?”

All you can do is shrug and try to ignore the way your stomach flips and whirls at the stupid impossible not-true idea,”I dunno. It’s Satoru. You can never tell what he’s thinking.”

Your best friend hums and allows his gaze to drift towards the large window beside the two of you. He watches a city in motion, noting cars honking at each other in packed lanes and people huddled together on the sidewalk while others speed off to their destinations. His eyes flit up to the large skyscrapers watching over the flow of life in a city at dusk.

Sugaru takes another long sip before saying,”I’m pretty sure he has a girlfriend now. If that makes you feel a little less awkward about the whole thing.”

The whirling and swirling of your stomach sinks just as rapidly as it began.

“You know how he is,” he continues, setting the mug down and tilting his head slightly.

Satoru isn’t a player by any means, but he also isn’t that fond of relationships. He’s too work-focused to cultivate a serious relationship with anyone that isn’t just “let’s meet up at this time and get our rocks off”. As kind as he can be when he wants to be, Satoru always ends up jumping from one gorgeous person to the next with only desire and the urge to forget about work fueling his every move.

The second it gets difficult, the second those midnight calls start turning into mid-afternoon calls, Satoru cuts it off.

“All too well,” you hum, taking a bite of the lonely croissant planted on the table in front of you. But even though he tries to keep things casual, Suguru did just use the word “girlfriend”. The idea wasn’t foreign. Satoru has had partners before, but once they demanded more of his time things tended to fall apart. But again...the word “girlfriend” was just used by his best friend.

“Well,” Suguru starts, mischief and exciting lighting up his brown eyes,”Do you wanna see her?”

“Oh,” you grin as you begin rubbing your hands together,”You know I do.” The laugh Suguru lets out this time is melodic and calming, a cool salve on your frying nerves. He whips out his phone quickly and taps away at his phone with a light smile on his face.

As you wait for the evidence, you take the time to take another bite. Wiping off any stray crumbs on your face, you look about the small coffee shop in awe. It’s a hole in the wall that’s been a constant throughout all of your upbringings. The furniture has changed slightly throughout the years, along with pastry options and professional framed scribblings on the walls, but it’s remained mostly the same.

After school, the three of you would come here to grab coffee and loiter in a specific corner with a large blue-cushioned booth. You’re still not sure how it always remained open and available every day after school for all those years, but now you’re sure Yaga had something to do with it.

The three of you would pretend to do homework and listen to Satoru make ridiculous jokes and bribe you into doing his assignments. If it weren’t for Yaga owning the place, you all definitely would’ve been banned by now with the incredible way that Satoru’s voice carried throughout the small space. It’s a comfort being here and, now that you’re older, a privilege.

“Think I got it,” Suguru mutters before flipping the phone to face you.

When you take in the image on the small cracked screen in front of you, you’re actually a little shocked. Satoru doesn’t really post his partners and playthings. Sometimes there are snapshots of them in the background of his pictures, quick clips of their faces that you can’t really see. The clips could be one of his numerous friends or someone passing by in the background, nothing distinct to show that he was with them.

The vague nature of these posts is what Satoru prefers. At least that's what you initially thought.

The potential partner is a lot lovelier than the others. In this picture their eyes are wide and their smile bright as they pose with Satoru’s arm firmly around them. Their bright blue hair is striking against the pale nature of their features, asymmetrical bangs pinned back with multi-colored clips. It looks like they’d just finished up a game of bowling.

A slight tap of your finger reveals a grey tab hanging on the blue-haired wonder’s clip that reads “Miwaaah”.

The last time he’d posted clear pictures like this was when the two of you were together. You remember the hearts within captions and the very noticeable different in likes between Satoru’s selfies and pictures with you. You also remember the day he deleted all of those photos.

Suguru lies the phone on the table then so the two of you can continue tapping through pictures and profiles. A few more pictures of Satoru and Miwa in different places appear on his page. Oddly enough, the two of them seem very happy together.

Well it shouldn’t be odd, should it?

The prospect of Satoru being happy and restored from all of the drama should make you happy, but it leaves you feeling weird instead. Rather than focus on the weird, the odd thoughts that begin to circle overhead before feasting on your brain, you focus on the confusion.

If Satoru had someone, why didn’t he just take Miwa to Bali? He’d probably gladly pay whatever fee came with changing the reservations so why didn’t he just change it and take them?

“If Satoru is dating her then clearly—”

“Them.”

“What?”

“If Satoru is dating them. Their pronouns are in their bio.”

“Oh. If Satoru is dating them then he’ll probably leave you alone. Maybe he’ll annoy the fuck out of you,” Suguru pauses briefly to relish in your small laugh,”but he knows when to quit. Clearly he’s preoccupied now anyway.”

As much as you want to believe that, you also know for a fact that Satoru has never learned when to quit. He never knew when to stop what he was doing or saying and simply listen to what someone else was trying to tell him. His habit led to many fights and situations where, if he had just listened, it would’ve ended okay. Even if Satoru didn’t try anything romantically, that wouldn’t stop him from bringing up old fights or bothering you on purpose.

A part of you knows this and even still, the idea of vacation is incredibly tempting. And hey, maybe you’re thinking of the old Satoru. The old Satoru wouldn’t have insisted on trying to get the coffee stain out of your blouse this morning instead of insisting on buying you another one. The old Satoru wouldn’t have even bothered coming to your office to invite you on this vacation to begin with. You find yourself nodding, more to yourself than Suguru, and leave it at that. Clearly there wouldn’t be any mixed signals or awkward moments because your ex has moved onto someone else.

______________

Suguru can safely say it’s almost like old times.

Almost.

The two of you talk about anything and everything, weaving between stupid co-workers, opinions on the latest trends, and drama with your other friends. He forgot how easy it is with you. Years of honesty, trust, and patience have led to smooth waters with the slightest of ripples.

In that simplicity, Suguru doesn’t have to think when he speaks. His words flow freely through him along with phrases and secrets that only make sense to the two of you. Well, the three of you.

The comfort that comes with being around you has been something Suguru has unknowingly been craving as of late. He’s so relaxed, so enchanted by your presence, that he almost forgets why you demanded to see him in the first place. As you spoke animatedly about a series you were watching, he feels the telltale signs of ominous churning in his stomach at the thought of why he’d been summoned today specifically.

Your relationship with Satoru would always be a small pebble rolling around a securely tied sneaker. While there were times where it didn’t bother him so much, there were also times where the discomfort couldn’t be ignored. It was an occasional annoyance that prodded at one’s flesh when they least expected it before rolling around the crevices of the encased fabric. Somehow that occasional annoyance that grew and shrunk went unexplained.

When you and Satoru were together, Suguru managed to spend some time with the both of you. He was still included in group hang outs, still received numerous texts in your shared group chat, but the energy was different. Satoru was yours and you were his. There was no hiding behind potentially exaggerated gestures or intent behind words.

Your relationship was there, clear as day, in every kiss and touch that the two of you shared. Suguru was obviously, and sometimes painful, on the outside looking in. In all of your years of friendship, this relationship between the two of you was something that couldn’t be shared. During that period in time, the cuddles between the three of you weren’t the same. The energy had shifted in a way that left Suguru on the outside, alone in a way he’s never felt since knowing the two of you. The loneliness, the absence he felt, was too much.

So he distanced himself in the only way he knew how.

Suguru focused on his career as a tattoo artist to ignore the hollow feeling of loneliness he felt. He’d already had a bit of a cult following of loyal fans and other artists who admired his work, but it was then that he decided to get serious. He used this excuse of wanting to expand to you and Satoru, to his other friends that questioned why he’d been so down lately, and to himself, that he had seeds to plant in order to go further in his career. To make a longstanding name for himself. Suguru is brave enough to admit now that he needed the distraction, but he’s not exactly sure why he needed the distraction.

He still had plenty of friends other than you two. He knew logically that you both loved him as much as best friends could love each other.

So why had he been so upset?

And why do those feelings linger even now?

Time slips through his fingers faster than he’d like. By the time the two of you finish up at the coffee shop, waving Yaga goodbye and turning out onto the street to head home separately, Suguru realizes that he doesn’t want this to end. He doesn’t understand why he has this random desire to suddenly stay with you as much as he can. He wants to make you laugh more, see you smile more, and see you relax more.

After only a couple of hours of being together, Suguru can already see the way you’ve relaxed while talking to him. He can already hear the tension seeping out of your voice as you talk more.

It’s been so long since the two of you broke up that Suguru got to spend time with the old you. The old you before dating and breaking up with Satoru. Before all the fighting and the drama, before Suguru cowardly ran away from whatever he’d been feeling; is still feeling.

He almost feels selfish for asking, but when you turn to part with him on the corner of Parker street, he finds himself pushing out a hurried,”Have you packed yet?”

It’s a dumb question.

You’d just been telling him about how exhausting work and this entire day was, but Suguru wants to hold onto this moment with you. This strange moment where he has this need, this want, to see you right now more than ever.

“I haven’t,” you say thoughtful, and he’s thankful there isn’t a hint of annoyance,”fuck, I need to run to the store and grab so much stuff.”

“I can come with you,” he offers, shoving his hands into the pockets of his sweats,”need something to do anyway.”

Despite the laid-back appearance he’s trying to project over the desperation, Suguru’s heart aches a little when you look up at him with a soft smile,”Really?”

He’s pretty sure he has flash art to set up on his socials for an upcoming charity event. He knows he has clients that he needs to follow up with to confirm overseas sessions. Suguru has plenty of other things to do for his brand that are currently being put on hold, but somehow he’d rather watch you pick out clothes than do any of those things.

Suguru nods with a smile and lets you wrap your arm around his to turn in the direction of...whatever store you want to go to. The two of you begin your leisurely walk, your voice takes on a knowing tone as you say,”You actually have plenty to do.”

He lets the statement sit in the air. He won’t liet to you and deny that he doesn’t have a lot to do. It’s the truth and both of you know it. “Actually what is your flash for this month?” you ask again, nudging him. Maybe you think that the innocent pondering will help him get the most out of his time. Although he appreciates the gesture, Suguru doesn’t want to be bogged down with talks of work right now. So he shushes you before you can ask anymore questions. “If I’m coming with you,” he says calmly, peering down at you with pointed amused eyes,”we can’t talk about work.”

“Fiiiiine!”

__________________

An average Wednesday evening has left your favorite department store mostly empty. Despite the occasional droves of people wandering the aisles, the immense size of the store is nearly overwhelming. The endless variety of items in different shapes and sizes makes it almost impossible to actually find what you need. Maybe that’s why you like it so much, it allows you to pick up random things that you had no intention of buying.

Just like old times, Suguru slowly strolls through aisles with a cart between two calloused fingers and watches your dart between sections to grab accessories, clothes, and shoes. On the way over here, you’d insisted that you only needed necessities. In reality, your cart quickly fills with items that weren’t even on the small list you insisted on going over with him just outside of the store.

Somehow everything currently in the cart is a “necessity”.

Black platform shoes that you didn’t even really explain the reason for. Not that you need to. Dresses with unique colors and interesting designs that you looked skeptical of. Brightly lit Hawaiian shirts with eerie patterns of cowboy raccoons in various duels. You even managed to toss in several snacks that you might need on the trip to hold you over.

Even though Suguru knows that those platform shoes will be tossed aside after three whiskey sours. Even though he knows that the linen pants you’ve picked out will look fantastic, but you’ll definitely be annoyed by the feeling of the fabric rubbing together. Even though he doesn’t mention that those snacks are won’t last you through the first few days or your vacation. Suguru enjoys this moment and everything that comes with it; including listening to you provide the pros and cons of buying a new tiny backpack that you definitely don’t need.

Just like old times you grabbed more clothes and held them up to your frame before asking,”Do you like this on me?”

And, as always, before he could really respond or even form an opinion, you would toss it into the cart. “We’ll just see later. I’m almost done.” A statement you’d always mumble before rushing off to the next aisle.

Eventually, once the cart was nearly overflowing, the two of you made your way to the fitting rooms tucked into the very corner of the store. Suguru now sits on one of the hard plastic benches just outside of the row of stalls as he waits. The cart full of your potential things sits right next to your stall, surrounded by rejected clothing waiting patiently to be returned to their respective homes. With how slow the store currently is, the fitting room is empty. The only sounds hovering around the fitting room are the occasional rustling of clothes you’re take on and off and an old pop song from several years ago bumping through faded and even older speakers.

As his fingers tap away at his touch keyboard, Suguru thinks over the client’s request he’s currently reading. As his fingers tap away at his touch keyboard, Suguru thinks over the client’s request he’s currently reading. A hyperrealistic version of La Danse by Carpeaux spread across the entirety of their back with no detail spared. It would be possible but with its immense size and the amount of shading it would need, it’d be well over a few days. Although it would take an obnoxious amount of time, the overall pay with tip included would be fantastic; nevermind the clout of completing such a piece of art.

But Suguru would have to be in the studio all day, potentially sleeping in the small room in the back just to save time on commuting; he would also have to squish this appointment between his regulars and the occasional walk-in. It’d be a hassle, but the work alone would be worth it.

As Suguru mulls over the details and starts to tap through his calendar to find availability, he hears the curtain rustle with a finality. When he looks up, you’re there and posing in a small romper. The fit of the romper pushes your chest slightly and cups your ass in a way anyone would be stupid and just wrong to deny is attractive. It’s divine and takes everything in him not to bark at the sight of it.

“Wow,” is all he offers as he waits for you to say something. Regardless of how good it looks on you, you’re probably gonna say that you hate it— “I hate it.”

“Why?” he asks, leaning back against the wall behind him and slipping his phone into his lap,”It looks great on you.”

You’ve always had a great body. Your curvy frame has been admired by many people, himself included, openly and in secret whe you thought they weren’t looking. For some reason though, you’re always so picky with your clothes. Even though everything looked great and continues to look great on you, you still have trouble with shopping overall.

Suguru isn’t entirely sure where it comes from, but he tries to acknowledge the existence of your insecurities and emphasizes what he and the entire world sees. Beauty. You turn around for him and vaguely gesture behind yourself in exasperation. “Look at the back,” you insist,” it’s too tight.”

The pale green open legs of the romper fold just underneath the curve of your ass, accenting its plumpness. There isn’t any added padding or any false advertising to assist your rear. The thin romper only gloriously emphasizes what you naturally have on display.

...Oh and the back was slightly open or something, Suguru isn’t entirely sure.

But can anyone really blame him? He’s currently too lost in trying to form words in his empty head.

Suguru is one of your best friends. He cares about you and wants you to feel as comfortable and happy as possible in whatever you’re wearing, but the sight alone of your twirling and posing in different directions slowly weakens his resolve. You arch and twist as you probably eye the mirror in your stall and it takes everything in him not to keep babbling about how hot you are.

“I can’t tell,” you suddenly say with a huff,”do you like it?”

God, he loves it actually.

“Yeah, I think it looks great, but do you like it?”

“Ugh, fine. I’ll get it but only for you okay?”

Suguru quickly and efficiently stomps down the flutter in his stomach that drifts lower the longer he looks at your ass. Really , he wonders, all for me?

“What did you say?”

You turn to him with a pout before forcing a smile on your face and he prays that you miss the way his eyes meet yours a little too slowly. “I said,” he grins, forcing confidence and calm into his voice,”Lucky me. Seriously though, if you don’t feel great in it then don’t get it.”

A huff of air passes between your lips before you walk back into the fitting rom and pull the curtain behind you closed. It continues on like this, you occasionally coming out with a new article of clothing for Suguru to give his genuine opinion on. There are a couple of “nos” which you completely agreed with, but also several “yeses” that made their way back into the cart. Between each wardrobe change and each inquiry for an honest opinion, Suguru continues to type away at emails and answer curious DMs about pricing and custom pieces. He can proudly say that he has most of his work done by the time you’re finishing up.

After divying up accessories, shoes, and most of your new clothes, all that remains is a short lilac “dress”. It’s a different style than you’re used to, but Suguru had insisted that there wasn’t any harm in trying it. Maybe it the scraps of fabric could be something that you really enjoyed. It’s only now, when you ask for his help, that Geto Suguru realizes just how big of a mistake he’s made.

“Help,” you pout, doing your best to cover the swell of your chest. Ignoring the pesky loud insistent and horny devil that insists he should try to get any eyeful he can, Suguru’s hands hover over your form as he asks,”Uh...how?”

The “dress” is a mess of strings and short fabric that don’t really make sense. With the way its currently wrapped precariously around your frame, Suguru supposes that it’s not supposed to cover much. Soon the two of you begin working together on figuring out whatever this...mess is. You hold onto the two long string sat the top of the “dress” as Suguru fixes the pieces in the middle so they wrap around your waist appropriately now.

By the time you’re both done, you’re wearing the sluttiest dress he’s ever seen. A short skirt that shows a peek of your ass, a halter top that clings to your chest, strings in the middle that cross your frame, and a carefully tied bow around your neck that holds the “top” together.

“It’s...” he begins to say, trying to find any words to describe the fabric other than lewd, slutty, or begging to be taken off.

“Ridiculous,” you finish for him with a laugh,”I can barely move in this thing.”

Suguru wonders if that’s the point of this thing, to hold or restrain whoever wore it into submission. To be easy access for whoever was in the room.

“Maybe that’s the point.”

Instead of staring at him in disgust, you laugh and cup your chest through the fabric of your dress. By the twist in your face and the exaggerated pout on your lips, Suguru already recognizes the inside joke before his brain does.

You whine, an ugly loud sort of moan falling from your open mouth and ask,”Isn’t that the point, daddy ?”

It’s a joke that all of you have done — and still do — for as long as Suguru can remember. The only difference between this time and the other thousand times you’ve done it is that you’ve never done it half naked before. As comical as the moan is and the way you cry again in a high-pitched voice,”Daddy” is, Suguru’s monkey brain decides that he loves this noise on you.

He loves how ridiculous this all is, but his brain wants to hear what you actually sound like when you’re about to cum. Maybe without the “Daddy” title, or maybe with,” he’s not entirely sure yet.

“Cut it out,” he huffs, trying to stare at you with minimal interest and lust,”we should get out of here. They have to be closing soon.”

“Shit, you’re right. Should I put this back or just buy it?”

Suguru is too caught up in the moment to think about what he’s truly saying. With this lighting, with the inherent intimacy of a smaller room, he can see your nipples press against the fabric of your dress, practically begging to sit pretty in his mouth. He can see the way the lilac of the dress compliments the richness of your skin in a way that somehow elevated how beautiful it already looked day to day. It can’t just be the skimpy dress because he’s seen you in plenty; high school and college parties with ridiculous forever 21 dresses he’s never seen after the first couple of wears.

It can’t be the nearly unbearable joy at getting to spend time with you again after being away for a few weeks, business keeping him away from his friends. You’re too gorgeous right now and Suguru is too stupid to really think about what he’s saying before it’s out there for all of the world to hear.

“I like it,” Suguru says plainly,”but you can’t wear it out.”

For a moment, the raven-haired man wants to fall into the floor and let the concrete swallow him whole. Then, after that, Suguru wants the earth underneath the concrete to swallow him further until he’s in the center of everything, burning into nothing at the earth’s massive core.

Or — alternatively — maybe he could curse an angry and vengeful god who would smite him with the hottest stroke of lightning it could manage. Whatever’s easier. He’ll take anything over trying to explain his way out of this.

At least your voice has more than a hint of amusement when you ask,”Why?”

Why, indeed. You are definitely entitled to an answer, but Suguru is currently too afraid of scaring you with the truth. The truth is that he wants to be the only one to see you in this dress. The truth is that he wouldn’t even let you leave the hotel with this dress on, nevermind the fitting room of the store. The thought of eyes or hands that aren’t his own ogling and touching your frame makes searing annoyance burn away at him. Wracking his brain for some sort of logical answer that isn’t cave-man logic, Suguru spits out the first thing he can think.

“What if you get cold or something?”

Idiot.

You stare at him for a moment, amusement bringing a laugh out of you and confusion making your eyebrow quirk up as you say,”Uh, Sugu? It’s Bali.” Your smile widens at the very slight widening of realization in Suguru’s eyes and you continue with a knowing,”the weather is going to be gorgeous.”

There’s a brief moment where Suguru shrugs and flounders for any sort of answer he can think of. Anything that will keep this moment from getting too weird and too out of control. But then, it is getting weird and out of control isn’t it? He shrugs again when nothing comes to mind and your smile is now a rueful and curious grin.

Folding your arms across your chest, you take another step closer to him and ask,”Wanna try another excuse?”

“Fine,” Suguru sighs, snorting at the way your eyes light up,”I just don’t like it okay?”

“But why,” you draw out with a grin,”why don’t you like it? It’s because it looks bad right? Admit it.”

An offended shock travels through him as he listens to your declaration. Is that what you thought he was getting at? “Wait what?” he asks, just to be sure. You lean back against the wall behind you with a cool shrug.

“You say you love everything on me,” you continue,”to the point where it’s just unrealistic.”

“Unrealistic?”

“Yeah, you can’t love everything on me!”

“What if I do,” Suguru insists, mouth dipping into a frown,”what if I just like how everything looks on you?”

“Okay,” you smirk,”then what don’t you like about this dress?”

Suguru really hates how knowing and smug you look right now. He tries to laugh it off, tries to lighten everything and move on, but it comes out as a weak huff and a roll of his eyes. The more he thinks about what he could say to defuse the situation, the more honesty shines like a beacon. He can muddle the truth slightly. Maybe the slight nugget of truth will deter you from trying to seek a more concrete answer.

“As your bestfriend,” Suguru starts, wading through the waters carefully,”the dress is a little...much. What if someone tries to get a little handsy?” Just as you open your mouth to counter him, to insist that people will get handsy regardless of what anyone would be wearing because that’s just how some people were, Suguru comes into your space. You lean against the cold wall behind you as if to get a little space away from him, shuddering at the feeling of its coolness on your skin.

Now he’s effectively caging you here, using his size to show you the feeling of being sort of subdued by an unwanted body. But Suguru is anything but unwanted. He smells the soft floral allure of your fading perfume from this angle. He can see the way your breath hitches at his closeness, the rising and falling of your chest stopping only for a second as you look up at him.

“So right now,” he continues, pulling one of the tight bands of string around your middle and letting it snap back against your skin,”if I was some asshole, any asshole, I’d be able to grab you anywhere.” A slight wince comes across your features at the feeling, but Suguru can also see the glitter of something in your eyes. A sort of glitter that sits heavily in your eyes, so heavily that your dark orbs do nothing to hide it. A glitter that Suguru has only seen directed at other people’s way.

Your hand comes up to rest on his chest, not so subtly feeling the warm skin just beneath the black shirt,”Maybe that’s why I like it.” The laugh you allow to slip through is full of strain and tension, but Suguru doesn’t say anything about it. He doesn’t laugh along or try to add to your joke at all. Something is happening here, something that he definitely doesn’t want to end.

Even though you try to laugh it off and force this moment to be lighthearted, the two of you know there’s nothing lighthearted about it. There’s no reason for Suguru’s concern about what you’re wearing and when you should be wearing it. There’s no reason for Suguru to act this ridiculous thought in his head out and physically show you what he means. There’s definitely no reason for you to be pulling Suguru closer, so he’s flush against you. As close as he can be while still looking you in the eyes. There’s something here in this small room bringing the two of you together in a way that you’ve never really been before. Sure Suguru has considered it greatly over the years, but he’s never acted on it.

No matter how many times he wanted to pin you down and fuck you out of the slutty Forever 21 dresses you wore in college. No matter how many cuddle sessions over the years with the two of you alone got questionable to say the least. No matter how many people asked Suguru if you were available and all he wanted to do was say that you belonged to him...and Satoru. He never did anything to try and take this relationship further. Before it would’ve ruined things and left a strange taste in the back of your throats but now? Now it would permanently destroy the fragile thing the three of you currently have.

“You like it because you want everyone to touch you?” he asks, hearing the slight annoyance in his voice,”I thought I knew all your kinks.” His fingers travel a little further up your torso, fingers grazing just underneath the swell of your chest. Suguru definitely doesn’t miss the way you lean up into the touch. “No,” you answer with a soothing sigh,”not everyone.”

Although whatever you have now is fragile, although he literally just insisted to himself that this is stupid, the way you’re looking up at him now has every logical thought in his head swirling down the drain. Suguru leans in a little too close to be friendly, too close to insist later on — when he reflects on all of this and hates himself for it — that he hadn’t really crossed a line. You don’t move away at his closeness or at the way his hips press flush against your navel. In fact, Suguru notices the excitement in your eyes, the need for soem sort of change to happen.

If he reaches any further in your top, he could cup the flesh of your chest with two fingers. If he reaches far enough, discards the top altogether and unveils your flesh for the world to see, he could give a polite wet thorough hello to the pebbled skin of your nipple.

The thought alone is enough to encourage the beginnings of swelling to his cock. For a moment, he wonders if you can feel just how hard you’re beginning to make him by doing the absolute bare minimum. Can you feel how long he’s been wanting to do this? How long he’s been staring a little longer and harsher than necessary at those skimpy Forever 21 dresses you used to wear or the slight movement in your breasts when you slip your bra off through your shirt?

“Not everyone huh?” he asks, quickly realizing he’s been staring at you like a weirdo. From this close though, maybe it doesn’t matter. You shake your head, your lips fitting into a smile that’s less amused, less knowing, and more wanting. “Only certain people?” he continues, pressing you to say something that’ll give him some sort of hint,” It’s plain to see that with the right words now, with the right touch, with the right tone, the two of you could change any and everything in the blink of an eye. Years of desire building up to this very moment in some random store.

Despite his earlier hesitation, Suguru feels bravery course through him as you look into his eyes. He feels so brave, so impossible confident, that his thumb comes up to join the other two and brushes against the pebbled skin of your nipple. A soft shudder leaves your lips as you follow this thumb’s journey. Your mouth parts to say something, anything that will encourage him to keep moving.

“Uh...is anyone in here?”

The fear that settles deep into your bellies is cold and sudden. Suguru nearly jumps out of his skin before moving away from your form. He moves too far, too fast, and ends up cooly hitting his head on the set of hangers on the other side of the fitting room. Ignoring his hisses as he rubs the back of his head, you take a peek from around the curtain and grimace at the exhausted sales associate staring right back at you.

“H-hi,” is all you can manage. It must be just as lame as it sounds because you can see the undeniable strength it takes for her to not roll her eyes at you. There’s no way to hide Suguru’s giant body in the stall now, not with him being several inches taller than you and quietly muttering about the hangers.

“Hi,” she answers in slight annoyance,”we’re closing in 5 minutes.”

“Shit,” you mutter,”I’m so sorry. We’ll...I’ll head out to pay now.

“Sure,” she replies knowingly, taking the time to look over your shoulder at Suguru and then back at you,”have a good night.”

There’s a moment where neither of you say anything. You both stand in silence and look at everywhere but each other which is nearly impossible in the small space. The heat from earlier hasn’t dissipated with the interruption. It somehow burns brighter than before, lighting up the room with its intensity. You grab your discarded clothes slowly, looking around for your belongings in the mess of clothes. “We should get going,” Suguru suggests lamely, painfully aware that he’s stating the obvious,,”do you know what you’re getting?”

You reach behind your neck and begin to untie the thin strings around your neck before responding,”Kinda. I’ll look through them super quick after I change back.” Suddenly your eyes meet his for the first time since all of...that. Letting the strings fall around your shoulders, your arm goes to hold up your top limply in a poor attempt of modesty.

From where he towers over you, Suguru can see the push of your chest against the fabric. One wrong move, one quick impulsive decision, and he could see your flesh for himself. He could claim it as his own. “Can I ask you something?” you ask, eyes dipping from his eyes to his waist and back. He knows he’s chubbed up in his pants, but he can’t find it in himself to care. He loves how you own this, whatever this is, and confirm thoughts and feelings that he initially thought only he had.

“What’s up?”

“Wanna help me pack tonight? I have to get sooo much done.”

Suguru doesn’t want to admit that he’ll drink up any time with you that he can. Right now he can’t figure out if this is some sort of need finally being met or the culmination of years of odd feelings he didn’t want to look too closely at. So he chooses the easy-going route instead, something that he’s seen Satoru do time and time again when things got too serious. The raven-haired man tries to avoid thinking about the way his pants feel slightly tighter at the soft rising and falling of your chest as you await his answer.

Suguru shakes his head with a grin and tilts his head to the side as slight offense climbs its way into his voice,”Wow, now it seems like you’re just trying to take advantage of my kindness.” You roll your eyes and lightly shove him away with one hand, a smile making its way onto your feature. Initially his large frame barely moves at the motion, but then suddenly Suguru gasps and holds his arm with a pained groan. It makes you laugh — his goal after all — and pull at his arm to push him out of the stall altogether.

“I’m gonna get dressed,” you laugh softly,”keep guard.”

“Will do,” he says with a smile and promptly walks over to your cart.

As he hears the rustle of clothing, he hears you speak up in an awkward sort of tone,”So...do you want to?”

Could he...?

“Help me pack,” you finish, voice slowly growing tight at the sudden silence in the room,”I’d appreciate the help. Also, I just...I dunno, I haven’t seen you in a while.” Suguru says nothing as he leans against the hand-rail of your cart, trying his hardest to read the sudden change in emotion. He can’t really tell if you’re trying to make everything “normal” or attempting to seem casual after the tension. He manages a hum to show he’s listening, but waits for you to give him a little more.

“Remember all those sleepovers we used to have?” you ask, neatly leaving out the part where your sleepovers consisted of one more person besides the two of you,”I just miss them I guess.”

Suguru smiles softly at the memories as he says,”Yeah. I can help you pack. I’m supposed to be driving your tomorrow morning so...I can sleepover tonight.”

You pop out of the fitting room with a bundle of clothes under one arm. His heart flutters at the happiness in your eyes. “Thanks, Sugu,” you smile, the warmth there livening up his skin,”that means a lot.” As Suguru goes to respond, to say that maybe he has something he wants to talk about, he feels your hand shoving him yet again. He snorts at the reaction and notes the flustered look on your face as you mumble something about “too mushy” and grab your cart.

Even though everything seems fine on your way out of the store, Suguru notices that you go out of your way to gander at marketing posters in the store, to glance sympathetically at the tired employees more than usual, or to judge lingering customers in the store; even if you are one. You don’t seem bothered by your earlier actions, but the silence is still weird. You buy your items with ease, still quiet and maybe reflective, and wish the sales associate who walked in on the two of you a good night.

________

By the time you both arrive home, any possible awkwardness has faded away. The packing session turns into a modeling session where you make ridiculous poses that make Suguru laugh so hard his abs ache. Then the session turns frantic as you pack and repack to make sure you have everything you need. Even though the two of you drift in and out of the conversation as you fold and refold, you both avoid what happened earlier in a complex dance. Even though you playfully smacked his arm and Suguru grabbed your wrist with a laugh, the two of you pulled away without a beat and moved on smoothly.

Even though you modeled bathing suits just to make sure they “looked good”, Suguru said you looked great as his eyes openly caressed your body. Even though Suguru dutifully followed your request at sleeping in bed with you like the old days, you tried your hardest not to grind against him as you physically brought his arm around you.

________

Suguru looks as peaceful and easy-going as always in the hazy orange-blue light that early morning brings. Your body begins twisting and reaching before you even realize it, a ghost of a smile hitting the corner of your lips when his arm only loosens around your form a fraction. You pull black tendrils of hair out of their loosened prison, instinctively allowing the hairband to wrap around your wrist with a thwap. At the feeling of your fingers slipping through his hair, Suguru lets out a sort of groan that resembles a lazy lion. He pushes his head into the feeling, humming even louder when you begin occasionally scratching his scalp.

Despite his soft noises, the overall calming silence of early morning slows the bodies down significantly. The two of you stretch around each other, pushing away only briefly to try to not-so-subtly rub the sleep from both of your eyes and make sure you’re both somewhat presentable. When you lie on your back this time, Suguru doesn’t fully relinquish his arm.

Instead, he rests his head on your shoulder and keeps his arm firmly around your middle. His warm breath spreads against your collarbone, warming the cool skin there. This is all very different than what you’re used to, but not entirely foreign.

You remember sleepovers throughout high school in a cramped basement with three bodies trying their hardest to fit onto Suguru’s beat-up couch. You remember sleepovers throughout high school where if you weren’t in that basement, you were lying in Satoru’s king-sized bed and promising that the three of you would be together always.

You remember sleepovers in college in either of your dorms each week, squished together in the twin-sized bed dorms provide like a pack of sardines. You distinctly remember that no matter the location or where you decided to lay your head for the night, waking up every morning with Satoru sprawled partially on top of you and snoring into your ear while Suguru’s hair covering your face.

You would always allow, demand, and welcome any amount of closeness the boys were willing to give as possible. So while Suguru’s presence in your bed isn’t entirely foreign, the tension in it is definitely new.

With the weight of him pressing into you, you can feel his knee caging your thigh and the tip of his nose pressing against the soft skin of your neck. Although he’ll always be your Suguru, your best friend, you can’t help the way your mind wanders to last night.

You’ve never thought about whether or not you found Suguru attractive until last night. Of course, you could admit that he was attractive but it never really went anywhere from there. But now things are different.

Now cracks of curiosity are slowly forming through the “I will not look at Geto Suguru this way” wall you’ve built up over the years. This bubbling tension is far from a joke gone horribly wrong or a weird “we should try it at least once” impulsive decision.

If Suguru found you attractive to the point of action, wouldn’t he say something to you? With everything that’s happened, would he not distance himself in that way? Dating Satoru blurred social lines for all of your relationships and impacted the way you all interacted. The three of you were already very close, closer than people could really understand, but once you and Satoru started dating, Suguru seemed to distance himself.

As you lie there in bed, unsure of the time, your mind flashes to the feeling of his fingers on your skin in a way you’ve never felt before. As you stare at the pale expanse of Suguru’s leg, longing to trace the intricate tattoos covering the skin, you regret your idiotic decision to date Satoru. It ruined everything the three of you had. For a time, after the two of you broke up, it seemed like it had.

Suguru was split between hanging out wtiht the two of you as you mourned something that was doomed to fail. It must’ve been annoying, you think as you brush the stray strands of hair out of your face and wrap a few fingers around the tresses, and exhausting. Despite how tiring it must’ve been, Suguru was there for the two of you and insisted that you could all make this work again. That it didn’t have to be this way. You could all be friends just like before.

It would’ve been possible.

Maybe now with Gojo distracted and Suguru here, everything could go back to normal. You wonder if you’ve ruined those chances yet again though as your mind wanders once again to the feeling of his skin on yours.

As you reflect on the night before, Suguru’s very warm and very heavy body moves. He shifts once against you and then twice, seemingly burrowing further into the blankets surrounding the both of you. On the third time, you can feel a firm presence somewhere against your thigh. The presence is only there for a moment before Suguru adjusts again. It’s too late though. You’ve felt it. The telltale sign of morning arousal for certain people.

“What’s that line again,” you ask, eyes never leaving the white ceiling glaring back at you,”is that your phone in your pocket or are you just happy to see me?”

Despite the feeling of his once relaxed body tensing and his hand moving away from its home on your stomach, Suguru apologizes with a tired laugh. A very slight adjustment follows the laugh, the feeling of him on your thigh now ghost-like in nature as you try to remember the shape and feel.

The silence that follows shortly after grows heavy and charging as it heats up the air with its intensity. Suguru lies still next to you now, every ounce of sleep and calm previously in his body leaving in a steady stream. Neither of you want to move away entirely and deal with the awkwardness that often came from these situations.

At the same time though, neither of you want to pull away entirely or create space that so desperately needs to be there.

Silently, delicately, you move his hand that pools in a small space between the two of you over your stomach, resting the large palm against the sliver of skin your slightly disheveled tank top leaves. The two of you watch his gentle fingers caress your skin and the goosebumps that rise with each stroke. The calm that comes naturally with Suguru has always been addicting.

It encourages a state of relaxation that’s almost akin to mindlessness. Physical affection that made you sink into his arms, boneless and open. Laughter that always seemed to flow out of your body naturally and easily. There’s something about Suguru’s presence that brings a comfort that always makes you stop thinking completely.

As you remember his fingers on your body last night and feel the way his fingers carefully dance along your body, you can feel your brain begin to shut off. The “what if”s and “what about”s fade into the background as his large warm fingers slowly, but surely crawl their way underneath your tanktop and explore.

As those fingertips dance along your torso, pulling your tank top up as it makes its unknown journey, Suguru’s brown eyes look up into yours. By the time your shirt is lying above your chest, goosebumps marking your skin, Suguru’s fingers turn into a full palm that holds your breast and gently squeezes the delicate flesh in its hold.

Something about the way you don’t really feel exposed to him necessarily like this, something about the ghost of a smirk on his face at the sight of you shivering slightly at being exposed to the cold, solidifies that this is Geto Suguru. Your Getou Suguru who knows all of the kinks you’ve joked about all of the years, all of the pleasure spots around your body, and who currently looks very happy. Like he’s thanking the stars for aligning in the exact position that they did in order to bring the universe to make this happen right now.

But Suguru doesn’t move from his hand or anything really. He just hovers there as his dark eyes watch every twitch of your muscles and hazy-eyed blink of your eyes. Suguru doesn’t move when you arch slightly, moving his hand away slightly so contact is never made. Suguru doesn’t move when you pout, your eyebrows beginning to furrow at the lack of anything. He even doesn’t move when you wrap a hand around his wrist and pull the limb toward you.

Suguru’s stronger than you and easily maneuvers out of your hold.

Frustration begins to boil away at your stomach as your gaze hardens into a not-very-convincing glare. Suguru smiles at the sight but continues to remain still. Your best friend knows how impatient you are. From long road trips to emotional-support DMV trips to sitting around at Satoru’s martial arts tournaments in high school, you can barely tolerate waiting for your food to fully cool before shoving it into your mouth. It appears that sex is no different.

“Sugu,” you huff out, sucking your teeth as he dodges your breast yet again,”if you don’t do something I’m going to scream.”

“Tell me you want it.”

Briefly removing the lustful lens you’ve had on since you woke up this morning, you take a second to really consider Suguru. He presses his lips against your forehead as he begins to move. Suguru leaves his place on your shoulder and leans on his elbow to hover over you a bit. His hand comes to rest just underneath the pebbled skin. Then he waits. The eagerness in his eyes matches what you can only assume is bursting out of yours.

But why isn’t Suguru doing anything?

Does he want you to take control?

As if you’re not waiting on bated breath, Suguru sits up a little higher and uses that halted hand to pull the thick black band from around your wrist. Your eyes follow the movements of his fingers, fluid and unconscious as they gather his long hair and pull it into some sort of messy bun. Out of his face and unable to tickle whatever parts of your body it landed on. “I just want to be sure,” he insists, some of that lust dialing back in his eyes,”I just want us to be sure.”

Then you notice his slightly stiff hands and the way his fingers accidentally pull his bun to far before he has to start the process of retying his hair all over again. The way his eyes flicker about your face nervously as his mouth just begins to pull into a frown. Seeing his nervousness minds your lust-fried brain that this is new to you both.

As sexy as all of this is, there’s a choice in this. A choice to keep everything as close to the past as you could or to venture off in some unknown path. But as his arms begin flexing with apparent the effort it takes to retie his hair, you notice his body. You remember that you want to feel good and make him feel good in return and only then does your mind settle matters for you by shutting itself off. You nod. It’s a hurried nod that reveals every bit of desperation you’re holding in your bones.

The sight has Suguru tsking and shaking his head in disapproval. With his messy bun somewhat settled on his head, he leans down again on his elbow to get closer to your body. Annoyance fills your chest as you watch Suguru, with this newfound consent, do absolutely nothing.

“Geto,” you find yourself pouting, grabbing lazily at his wrists as he laughs,”I want it. I want it. Just do something please. Oh my fucking Go—”

Sharp and long pain bleeds into hot pleasure as your body is viciously brought on edge. Your annoyed pout turns into a pathetic whimper as your eyebrows furrow in pleasure. Body moving simultaneously towards and away from the offending hand, you squeeze your thighs together at the raw ache of your pussy. Need, unbridled need, fills you in a way that’s nearly overwhelming with the sheer power of it. Suguru’s initial pinch soon turns into a twist as he watches you at the mercy of his whims.

The command in your hold on him loses its potency as your lips part to let out moans growing in intensity and length. Suguru’s dark eyes never leave your face as he starts rolling the nipple between his fingers.

“More, Sugu. C’mon,” you gasp, grabbing his wrist and trying lamely to bring it closer.

Surprisingly Suguru actually listens.

He leans down quickly, too far gone to care about the awkward angle, and licks along your breast. It takes the slightest tilt, the slightest nudge of his nose, for your nipple to finally make its way into the warm cavern of your mouth. His mouth, warm and wet, unleashes a predatory tongue that eagerly greets your sensitive flesh. Your fingers find his hair as the tip of that muscle flicks against the swollen nub and ruin the bun he so carefully put together. Your mind fades as his tongue increases and decreases in speed, each new action unpredictable and random.

The thick tendrils of hair in your fist slip and bend along with your movements, your arches, your whimpers, and a sudden harsh suck has them pulling painfully from Suguru’s scalp. He moans into your chest, pushing his head into your hand with an encouraging nod. As Suguru begins to switch to your neglected breast, a renewed pleasure courses through your bones, and you feel more and more of those thrusts.

The power in them, the feel of his cock faintly rubbing against you, has you thinking very hard about his cock.

Whether the thick length of him curves up slightly or whether it’s just as huge as all those people in high school and college exclaimed, or whether his favorite spot sits in wait on the underside of his tip or right on the slit. You heard stories throughout high school and college of “Impossibly big” and “long and perfectly curved” but you’ve never experienced it for yourself.

You had classmates and friends of friends occasionally ask you for explicit details about Suguru and Satoru because of your friendship. There were very few times when Satoru was drunk and would flash you or accidentally walk in on Suguru while he was getting changed, but you always looked away.

You’d close your eyes and rush out of the room immediately. When people asked all you could say was “Ew, of course not” or “Are you kidding me? Look at them”. Now you’re eating those words when you should really be eating his cock. Now you’re curious and you need to know everything, every single detail you can about his cock. You need to know the shape of it in his briefs, the natural smell of him, the girth of inside you, the impossible heat it’d bring.

Somewhere in between his sucks, he must’ve noticed you getting a little too spacey for his liking. By the time you gather the courage, the small bit of sense you had left, to tell him to take his cock out, it’s too late. His teeth descend upon your nipple and squeeze the swollen aching flesh viciously. Maybe Suguru really was paying attention all of the times you’ve talked about your kinks and emphasized how anything to do with your chest was the key to your pants.

Those teeth, that delicious squeeze, soon expand into a slight stretch as he pulls his head back slightly. The orgasm takes the two of you by surprise. Your back arches into the firmness of his body, the weight of him bearing down on you to hold you in place. His other hand holds onto your hips firmly, pinning them to the bed effortlessly. Your sleep shorts bunch up a bit in his hand as he holds you still and waits for you to come down.

Closing your eyes tight and holding on, your body hums with the suddenness of it, the unpredictable nature of it, as if neither of you was prepared for this.

By the time you finish cumming, chest panting slightly as you finally open your eyes, you feel the press of large fingers against your clothed folds. “Holy shit,” Suguru snorts, pushing further into the slightly tacky cotton,”soaked through your shorts.”

It’s not like you’ve never came from just your nipples before. You had to be really into the moment for it to happen, the need to be relaxed or mindless driving the action. But it doesn’t really happen with hookups or relationships. Well, that’s not true.

It happened pretty often with Satoru.

“Needy, baby.”

Suguru presses a chaste kiss on your temple and easily maneuvers the cotton of your shorts until he’s home in the confining wet heat of your underwear. The odd angle doesn’t work for either of you. Quicker than you’d like to admit, you peel off your shorts and underwear, tossing them into the far corner of the room. With easier access, Suguru’s fingers crush past the trimmed hair of your mound and travel down to your swollen clit.

A tentative brush of a dry fingertip on sensitive flesh brings out a desperate and annoyed whine from your very chest,”Sugu, stop teasing.”

All Suguru can do is smile at your patience — your neediness — as he spreads your slick around your heated folds with experienced fingers. You look up at him with a huff and immediately try to hold back the smile Suguru kisses your forehead gently.

“Been wanting to do this for a while,” he admits in the short-lived quiet,”let me enjoy it okay?”

You’re too dizzy with want and need and ache and burning to pay attention to it, keening when his finger begins to tighten its lazy circles. Although somewhere deep inside, the precious kisses Suguru keeps giving you make your heart ache.

Somewhere that ache flows down and lands firmly on your clit.“Enjoy it faster,” you groan with a slight pant,”wanna suck you off.” He grinds against your thigh in response, barely biting down the gasp that leaves his mouth at the pressure on his tip.

His fingers move down to the rest of your cunt, gently and roughly rubbing on sensitive spots until they glide with ease in your folds. It’s only when you’re on the verge of biting the meat of his cheek, twisting to press against his flushed cheek with your mouth open, that a long finger slips in without any resistance.

There’s no comment or protest this time. No annoyed huffs either. As if to punish your previously childish behavior even more, another long finger joins its sibling and sits in your heat. There’s the slightest bit of resistance now as your body adjusts to the feeling of sudden and thorough fullness.You wiggle your hips to relieve the pressure slightly and nod against Suguru’s lips on your temple as he asks if you’re okay. Then the fingers move slowly, purposefully, out of your drooling hole.

The adjustment doesn’t take too long to get used to. You buck your hips, impatience building once again, and whimper,”Sugu.”

There’s no hiding the genuine annoyance starting to bubble beneath your skin. Even if he’s bigger than you thought he’d be, you could take him now. You can take the discomfort, the painful stretch in your pelvis as your insides greet him. He’s only just begun and, with the lack of sex recently, you’ll probably ache tomorrow.

But a part of you right now needs the pain. Needs to feel the burn that’ll deliciously light up your cunt into an overstimmed used and ruined thing. It’s been ages since you’ve last been touched and you want to feel every single part of it now. You also want to be good for Suguru and in return have him be good for you.

You want to feel the weight of his cock in your mouth, on your tongue, and in your throat. “Yeah,” you whimper, encouragement and praise bleeding into your voice,”More, c’mon. I want it—” His fingers are long enough, thick enough, that it should be enough, but you want more. Your cries go unheard as his eyes focus solely on the wet slosh your pussy makes as he pumps at your hole.

The speed of those fingers finally picks up and travels right past where you’d begged for them to be. Instead, you meet a brutal pace that has your legs shaking slightly and hips meeting the meat of his palm. With each slight smack of his palm, each buck of your hips, your clit can only take each shock of a slap. Your orgasm builds just as viciously as the last. It claws its way from deep in your belly, making itself known with each slight “pap” on your clit. This is all too much. He’s only fingering you and your orgasms are unforgiving and seemingly constant. As Suguru continues to break the thin threads holding you together and rip them in half, the pads of his fingers rub meanly against that swollen bump inside of you.

“Sugu, Sugu, Sugu,” you chant, body writhing,”I want—”

“I don’t think you know what you want,” Suguru cuts in, hips moving a little more insistently against your thigh. You’re vaguely aware of the cotton wetting your skin when he speaks up again,”You’ll probably take anything I give you at this point.” He ignores your desperate and indignant pleas as he pulls his glazed digits from your clingy cunt,”My fingers, my tongue, my cock, my cum...in your slutty wet pussy or maybe somewhere else.”

You can feel the way your holes instinctively clench at the suggestion and can see the way Suguru grins at the feeling of those muscles tightening. As you moan at his mischievous grin, moan at the way he touches you so roughly yet so gently, those fingers find their way between his slightly parted lips. Suguru sucks off the lingering dribbles of white and hums softly at the musky taste of you dancing around his tongue. draw two individual paths along either side of your folds to wrap around their prize.

The beauty of Geto Suguru isn’t lost on you in this moment.

The wildness of his hair as it fans all over your shoulders and tickles your arms, hair tie long-forgotten in the festivities. The darkness of his eyes only shows warm lust and unfiltered and unyielding want. The various tattoos dance along his arms and cover his chest in such a way that the bright silver of his nipple piercings draws your eye. You’re probably staring for too long because Suguru begins to shift under your gaze. It isn’t discomfort or shyness, but it doesn’t feel confident or happy.

“Do I look pretty?” he asks suddenly, pursing his lips into the most obnoxious duck face.

“You’re the prettiest, babe,” you answer with a laugh,”Need you though.”

The brief humor between the two of you dissipates and all that’s left is the heady scent of arousal.

“You have me,” Suguru smiles a little wider,”Now you’re just getting greedy.” Your pout deepens at his comment and the thought of biting his nose dances across your mind. As Suguru slides his fingers back into your aching heat, you know he can feel how wet you are. There’s no way he can’t see how much you want this. He’s even heard you beg for it, so why is he holding back?

Because Suguru hates you probably, you think, hates you so much he doesn’t want you to feel good. But you don’t want to think anymore. You want to go stupid on his cock, to become a drooling wet mess, destroyed and then slowly put back together again.

“You keep whining and complaining,”Suguru sighs, steadily picking up his previous pace,”what do you want anyway?”

You whimper immediately, arching your back as those fingers relentlessly curl upwards and press. “Suck you off,” you answer dutifully, eyes following the pale blur of Suguru’s hand between your legs.

Yeah, baby,” he coos, pressing another kiss to your forehead,”you wanna suck me off that badly huh?”

“Yeah please please plea—”

Loud. Incessant. Irritating. High pitched.

The gratingly loud song of the ringtone is enough to slow the pace of Suguru’s fingers inside of you.

“What the fuck is that?”

Suguru sits up a little further, slipping the pruny fingers into his mouth to suck your juices off as his other hand scrolls through the offending device. The bright light of his phone draws a groan out of him. “Shit. Six missed calls,” he mutters, “and he’ll just keep calling”. All you can process is Suguru and another orgasm.

All you care about is Suguru and another orgasm. Instead of sliding down the ledge, you’re slowly backing away and heading back home. In order to think again, in order to be a person who contributes to this world, you take matters into your own hands.

You clamor your way up from your lying position to sit up and straddle the thick muscles that make up Suguru’s thigh. Although his eyebrows have begun to furrow, his other large hand — the not-pruny one — guides you by your waist to sit fully on your new chair.

Now, with firm pressure on your clit, you’re too far gone to care about who’s calling and why.

The mild annoyance on Suguru’s face isn’t enough to deter you. Not after all of the teasing he’s been doing. If it can’t be the man itself, at least a part of him promises salvation. As you steady yourself on his shoulders, whimpering at and promptly ignoring the tightening grip on your waist, you begin to move your hips. The insistent pressure on your clit isn’t enough to make your mind completely shatter but it’s enough to get you over that ledge in front of you.

“Hey,” Suguru grunts softly, trying not to think of the sweet kiss from your bare pussy leaving a damp patch on his thigh,”you might wanna hold off.” The ringtone fades and leaves the filthy sound of sex behind.

A part of your mind whispers that you should ask just who’s calling Suguru at this hour but as his hand guides you more, starts lifting his thigh slightly to meet your hips, you forget everything else. Cramps burn their way into your hips and thighs as you maintain pace. While he moves you as well as he can, you don’t really trust him.

How can you be so sure that he won’t tease you? That he won’t drag you kicking and screaming from the mountaintop again all because he wants to take his time?

“Sugu,” you pant, leaning closer to the sturdy man,”please. No more okay? Help me.”

“Shit.”

There it is again. Shrill and irritating.

“Just answer. I’ll be quiet promise.”

When you look at him, you can see a slight panic in Suguru’s eyes. Attributing it up to the possibility of being caught, the shock of a fantasy being served on a silver platter, you keep humping. You watch as those eyes travel down the length of your body, taking in your bouncing tits and jiggling tummy, and focus solely on your skin meeting his. “Fuck,” he hisses, hand slowing down the speed of your hips,”you’re getting my thigh so wet baby—”

As hot as the feeling of wetting his skin is, the incessant ringtone is bringing you out of your horny reverie and into annoyance. “Sugu,” you grunt, trying to regain speed despite his hold on you,”focus, answer the phone okay?”

Suguru rolls his eyes and huffs, blindly tapping away at his phone with his other hand as he stares at your sex,“What happened to ‘Sugu, please’? All that sweet stuff from earlier?”

Despite the distractions, the annoyance, the resistance in your movement brings just the right kind of force against your clit. You’re nearly toppling over now, staring down at the rocky waters below and feeling ocean spray on your cheeks. You’re close. So close that you can practically taste it. The banter is usually welcoming, but not now. It’s now or never.

“Stop,” you moan, clinging to his shoulders,”shut up, fuck. C’mon, c’mon, c’mon —”

You barely notice Suguru’s palm leaving the heated skin of your hip. Your eyes water with the intensity of the build-up, the rise right before the fall. All that matters is the next few seconds before you can finally fall off that ledge, before you can drop down into the abyss. But then it’s there, hitting you so violently that you swear you can both hear and feel the rush of water. Suguru hisses at the feeling of warm and wet dribbling on his thigh. He has half a mind to toss you on the bed and pound you into it. ”Face down, ass up, now—”

“Suuguuruuuuu~”

The familiar voice has the two of you stopping immediately in your tracks, fear electrifying both of you. The haze leaves both of your eyes as you stare at each other in horror.

“Suguru, where are you?” you hear again, heart and stomach sinking as you finally recognize it. It takes longer than you’d like to admit for the two of you to locate the source of the voice.

Although you know that voice better than anyone, you still feel terror run through your bones as Suguru holds up his phone and flashes “Satoru” on the screen.

#suguru x reader #getou x you #getou smut #satoru x suguru #jujutsu kaisen #jjk smut #jjk x you #geto x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x geto #suguru geto #gojo satoru #black reader #gojo x black!reader #geto x black!reader #technically anyone can read though

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