LOVESICK GOJO IS JUST 🥹🤌🏻 Love Him So Much 😭😩

true love waits

four | gojo's ghost hunting guide

seeing spectres? got a ghost problem? it seems Satoru Gojo has one of his own - one he doesn't want to get rid of

synopsis: full-time nerd turned part-time amateur ghost hunter, you've become Gojo's favorite occupation! living with a roommate is hard enough - let alone falling in love with your (un?)dead one!

pairing: nerdjo x ghost!Reader

content: mdni, angst and fluff and smut, oral sex (f! receiving), ghost GETTING head this time, roommates-to-lovers but one of them is dead lol, paranormal aspects ofc, fem reader, discussions of death, some darker themes but plenty of goofy gojo to go around, idiots falling in love, Geto being a skeptic, gojo is jealous and down atrociously bad

art by @chu-cho + divider by @petalpxl

Some things were sacred.

The faint taste of cherry chapstick that still cling to your lips. How delicately you'd interlace your fingers with his. The few seconds when he first wakes up in the morning, the fleeting moments where he could almost believe you were actually alive in his arms, hair tickling his face and your skin touching his skin.

So Gojo knew what he was holding was something holy.

To you, at least.

He hadn't meant to find it, a rare occasion where he wasn't even trying to be sneaky. Just struggling to clean out his closet while you were distracted by a new book he'd brought home in the living room, leaving you lounging on the couch, pages flipping on their own and the sound of your favorite song drifting down the hall. He was innocent for once, tossing clothes in the laundry basket and reorganizing shoes when he noticed the crooked floorboard, his fingers reaching out to see if it was properly secured just to discover how easily it could be pulled up.

And now?

He was trying his hardest not to open what very much appeared to be your diary, a familiar little heart drawn in the bottom corner of the cover.

You might actually kill him and send him straight to the afterlife if you discovered him with it.

Or even worse?

You might not even want to spend it with him anymore if you suspected he was snooping.

The stereo flipped off in the living room, and in a moment of panic, he was scrambling to fix the floorboard and stand up, shoving the small book into the bookbag hanging up in his closet. Dusting off his jeans and sliding into his desk chair right as the door creaked open.

"Hey," He nervously greeted, fiddling with his fingers as he felt your weight slide into his lap, wrists thrown around his neck before you leaned in to press a soft kiss to his cheek, lips tracing over the pale scars there.

Gojo tried to kiss your lips, just to miss and press a soft peck to the tip of your nose instead, earning a tiny giggle that made his cheeks flush pink.

If you were striving off his attention, he was getting addicted to yours.

Every kiss, every touch, every little sound and flash of color he could make out made him long for more, his heart hollowed out like he could try to trap you inside it, let you live there instead.

The dreams we're getting stronger too, and if he was convinced before, he was certain now that it was you there with him, you occupying his sleep the same way you occupied his space.

He actually got to see you there, got to laugh and linger in the weird limbo, even if he rarely remembered more than bits of pieces the next day. The shape of your lips. The crinkle by your eyes.

Sometimes a story you'd tell him.

Never the beginning or the end, but the bits in between.

Gojo attempted to draw you from the scraps he could recall, but uh, he wasn't exactly an artist. The little frowny face you'd scribbled next to a bunch of question marks on the page beneath it proved that.

"Satoru," A voice softly spoke, and he jolted.

Eyes going wide, everything else forgotten as he squeezed your sides tight, trying to wrap his brain around it.

You said his name. And he heard it.

Little laughs and faint moans were one thing. But a full word? Your pretty voice calling out to him?

His pulse pounded in his eardrums, threatening to drown you out, his fingers slipped under the thin fabric of the shirt he couldn't see just to feel your skin underneath, to feel as close to you as possible.

"I heard that," He breathed, disbelief still shining in his eyes. "I heard you."

"R-really?" A quiet stammer, just as nervous and flustered as he was. Gojo rubbed his eyes, blinking a few times before slowly nodding.

"Yeah," He answered, and then he was standing up, picking you up with him and laughing like he heard the funniest joke in the world.

You were heavier than he expected - for a ghost, he meant. Not weightless, but as if he was actually lifting your body.

Gojo could be clueless, but thankfully, he at least knew better than to voice that and accidentally annoy you.

"Say something else," He requested, anxious excitement of his own bleeding through when he set you back down, shaky hands clumsily trying to caress your cheeks, dying to hear you speak again. "Anything."

"Satoru," You repeated, giddy and trying not to giggle this time, your hands reaching up to cup his face, accidentally bumping into his glasses. "I like you. A lot."

"I like you more."

And seriously, even a skeptic like Suguru would have to admit you existed when you could actually talk to him.

"Satoru," Geto sighed, cutting him a look that was more concerned than surprised. "It was kinda funny at first, but I think you should see a doctor."

"C'mon," Gojo groaned, half-dragging him down the hall to the front door of his apartment.

It was a spur of a moment thing, meeting up after his shift ended a couple days later to show Geto the diary and once again, ask for advice regarding his love life. Or, uh, could he still call it that if you weren't living?

Either way, Geto took the book from him and flicked through it, probably expecting Gojo's handwriting, or some other hoax. But whatever he saw just made Geto scowl, asking what the fuck was wrong with him before he threw the diary in his own bag before Gojo could ask for it back.

And somehow, in his instance that he wasn't making any of it up, he accidentally ended up inviting him over after dinner.

Geto's lips were pressed in a thin line, disappointed or in disbelief, but choosing not to comment as Gojo turned the key in the lock and pushed the door open.

The apartment was eerily silent.

Nothing on, no noises, curtains mostly drawn and long shadows cast across the the dim living room.

"Well," Suguru slowly said, letting out a second long sigh. "It's certainly creepy."

"Honey, can you come out? I want you to meet someone," Gojo called out, flipping on a lamp just for it to immediately turn back off. He laughed, like it wasn't, in fact, creepy, readjusting his glasses and wiping the sweat on his palms off on his shirt.

Were you upset? Or was this your idea of a joke?

Okay, he hadn't mentioned bringing Geto over, but he never considered you might mind.

"Please," He pouted, turning the lamp on again and glancing around the empty room. You tidied up while he was gone, all the books put up and a blanket nearly folded over the back of the couch. The lilies he'd bought for you died after a few days, but he was quick to replace them with fresh pink peonies instead (and actually buy a vase this time).

"Do you want the number for my therapist?" Geto deadpanned.

"She's real," Gojo insisted, and as if to prove his point, a book suddenly fell from the shelf, clattering loudly to the floor.

He could see the way Geto's brows were quick to cinch together, how his eyes squinted to slits as he searched for some clear string or mechanism to make it happen. But then the tv turned on, the remote floating as you started flicking through the channels, before tossing it back on the coffee table.

"Ha-ha," Geto dryly said. "Very funny. So how are you doing that?"

Then his jaw went tight, a flicker of surprise registering in his dark eyes, and Gojo guessed you were probably touching him, maybe grabbing his hand or poking him.

"He's not," You giggled, and Gojo noticed the fabric wrinkling on Geto's sleeve as if you were tugging on it. "I am."

He quickly realized bringing Geto over may have been a mistake.

And yeah, it was silly, and absolutely stupid, but you were his ghost, you were supposed to haunt him.

Not sit between the two of them on the couch and play a weird fucked-up version of twenty questions with Geto where you took turns answering questions about being dead - or alive.

He felt like a fucking idiot for not thinking of something like that sooner.

It didn't matter much though - you still passed on anything and everything personal.

How you died, if you had any family, only hesitantly offering your first name and age. The one you'd still be stuck at even when birthdays came and passed.

He did get confirmation you couldn't leave the apartment though. That you'd found yourself stuck here two years ago. How much you hated the tenant before him. That somehow the stuff that used to sap all your energy, like turning on the stereo or opening cabinets, was easy to do now.

In exchange, they tried to fill you in on modern events. Random bits of gossip or latest news stories. Gojo wondered if you wanted to ask about people you used to know, if there was someone out there who loved you that would kill for a chance to talk to you just one more time like this.

And all he discovered was just the thought of someone else having you, all of you, made his heart lurch, his stomach churn, every piece of him feel sick.

Even listening to Geto chuckle, to see his lips curl up in the same smirk that always made girls wilt and throw themselves at him, hearing your sweet voice speaking to someone else, that was already shitty enough.

But realizing he might never have even had a chance if you weren't confined here with him?

It fucking sucked.

His nervous chatter faded, folding his hands in his lap to keep from pushing up his glasses every second and feeling more like a ghost than you were.

But you noticed, your body brushing closer against his while you pried his hands apart to hold one. He had to look away, hoping you wouldn't notice how sweaty it was, that you wouldn't start wishing you lived with Geto instead of him.

What if you started thinking his rants were boring? What if you thought Digimon was immature compared to Geto's more tasteful interests?

Almost like you could sense his anxiety, you leaned in closer, and he felt your breath on his neck. Slow kisses trailing upward, canines scraping against his tendons until your mouth settled on his jaw. Reminding him where your affections still laid.

"Hey, Suguru," Gojo managed, squeezing your hand as he cleared his throat. "I'm pretty tired. Mind heading out? I'll call you tomorrow."

Technically-speaking, he was tired. Therefore, it wasn't a lie.

To be totally honest though?

He wanted your lips somewhere else. Wanted your nails raking down his shoulder blades and your warmth wrapped around him.

"Sure," Geto replied, meaning to push off the couch only to accident push off your leg instead, and you let out a cute little yelp while he chuckled. "Sorry, sweetheart."

Yeah, no, Gojo was never inviting Geto back.

There was no way in hell he was sharing you.

And you didn't mind, did you?

He could take care of you - great care of you even!

His palms spreading your thighs and pinning them down to the mattress, the small shorts and your underwear he couldn't see shoved aside so he could get a taste of you.

Dragging his tongue over your slit, wrapping his lips around your clit and sucking softly while phantom fingers tugged and pulled at his hair. Getting tangled as you moaned his name, hips arching up off his bed.

"Taste so good, baby," He groaned, eagerly licking and lapping at you while his glasses fogged up.

Were you more sensitive like this?

It sure fucking seemed like it - every exploratory drag of his tongue made you whine and whimper.

Your thighs were tense, muscles twitching as you strained to close them together, squirming to get more friction when he dove in deeper. He'd been at it for half an hour, but he just couldn't seem to get enough.

His lips were glossy, slick with spit and you, but he was pretty sure he could live off of this, sustain himself on your kisses and your cunt.

"Satoru," You whined, and he released one of your thighs to shove two fingers inside instead, scissoring and stretching you out just to hear the strangled gasp escape your throat. Pretty little broken breathing, picturing what you might look like with your head thrown back against his pillow while he fingered you until you were begging to cum. "Please, ple-"

"Be my girlfriend," He huffed, like he wasn't knuckle deep and you weren't dead.

"Y-you know I-I," You were stuttering, but he didn't want the reminder of what you were probably going to say.

That he should probably find a living girl when all he wanted was you.

"Just say yes," He quietly murmured, returning to sucking on your clit while his fingers drove back in deeper, your walls squeezing at the soft plea of his voice.

"Alright," You weakly murmured, your voice strained. He was rutting against the bed, his cock already painfully close to cumming in his boxers as your thighs trembled under his touch. "I'm yours."

He didn't know who finished first.

Just that he'd do anything to finally fuck you.

Settling for snuggles underneath the sheets post-shower, damp hair sticking to his forehead while you fixed his glasses, your naked body resting on top of his.

Softly sighing, his arms wrapped around you, your fingers running over his scars like they were something you found beautiful.

Like he was something you found beautiful.

For the first night in months, he dozed off to a dreamless sleep. Eyes fluttering closed, just to crack them open to bright sunlight streaming into his room a handful of hours later.

Blinking a few times, brushing your hair back with a yawn, murmuring something half-incoherent that hadn't fully left his lips when he glanced down and saw you.

Actually saw you.

You hadn't noticed yet, your cheeks still squished against his chest, eyes closed. He wasn't sure if you could actually sleep, or if maybe it was still a matter of habit, like breathing or blinking.

Tentatively, he reached out, his fingers finding flesh, soft and sweet and his, although your form still flickered, almost translucent as he traced over your cheekbones.

"Good morning, pretty girl."

taglist: @fati27ma @soraairo @s-guru @shokosbunny @ssetsuka @deathofacupid @kayskow @pillkits @inoluvrr @baepsays @imm0rtalbutterfly @heartcam @littlenutmaestro @mia-can-yap-too @bbatzvil @sugarcoatedsoul @designerpvssy @gravity-valley @stellasloth @dostoevskyzz @aldebrana @lashaemorow @monstersholygrail @mai-505 @itsinherited @gojosprettyprincess @mimiluvzu2 @poopooindamouf @emochosoluvr @nina-from-317 @beautiful--macabre @gris3o @petalshxwer @oneirataxiaa @onixsky @flowerpot113 @ryuvies @anyx404 @herefor-tojis-tits @takethechai @miizuzu @entr4p3 @nonamebbsblog

this is sooo good 🥹

❝ 𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐂𝐈𝐓 𝐀𝐅𝐅𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐒 ❞

❝ BEING PROF. GETO'S T.A. IS SO HARD BECAUSE HE'S SO HOT!! ❞

✧ pairing: professor!geto x f!reader (part two of the prof geto series)

✧ summary: you're now professor geto's t.a. for the semester, forced to spend time with the man that you so desperately want, either of you barely able to hold back when you're around the other, so what happens when you're forced to go to a conference with him...and there's only one bed.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, a lot of smut (mostly fantasy), depictions of student/teacher relationship (only ok in fiction not irl!!!), reader is a grad student in my mind, but age is vague, so much mutual pining, bed sharing, cuddling, masturbation (f + m), oral (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), semi public sex (sorta), office sex (kinda), amateur's take on moral philosophy and ethics, art by @/nino84391425

✧ wc: 16,821 (apparently i am writing a novel lol)

“On time for once?” Professor Suguru Geto remarks without looking up from his notes on the podium, even as your footsteps echo in the empty lecture hall, “color me surprised,” 

“Couldn’t be late on my first day as a teacher’s assistant, now could I?” and his lips curl in that damnable smile, as he finally glances up from his notes to see you looking far too gorgeous in his button up — one you had oh so generously relieved him of last night, pilfered away in your bag seemingly. 

“But you could be late on your first day as a student?” and you lick your lips, as you draw closer to him, “seems like you’re quite the hypocrite, not very ethical,” 

“Don’t think what we did last night was very ethical either,” you murmur, enjoying the way his dark eyes glaze over for a moment with the thoughts what you both did — the places touched, the moans heard, and the pleasure had — “plus, I definitely have an incentive to be on time now,” your fingers graze his, and why does his touch always feel like coming home. 

“And what’s that, sweetheart?” he murmurs, running the back of his hand against your cheek. 

“Your gorgeous face,” you smile, leaning close as your lips brush, “and some stolen kisses before class,” 

“And what makes you think you’ve earned them, my favorite student?” He teases, as his fingers slide to the back of your neck, and his other hand snakes around your waist, tugging you close. 

“Oh, I have a few ways to earn them, Professor,” your fingers drag down his chest, “but I don’t know if we have the time before class to—“ 

And his lips find yours — needy and bruising, as your fingers clutch at his shirt, the pressed fabric now definitely creased under your touch, “we’ll make time,” he murmurs, as he leans back to drag his thumb down your plush lips, “I still have many things to teach you, and what time is there like the present?” 

He’s leaning down to press a kiss to your lips— 

RING. RING. RING. 

Your eyes snap open, a groan crawls its way out of your throat, as you fumble for your phone to silence the dreaded ringing. You lie back on your bed, a distinct ache between your legs that makes you squirm, and only want to bury yourself back into your bed and possibly the reality that existed within only your dreams. 

But this was sadly reality, and you had about two hours before your first class as a teacher’s assistant for Professor Suguru Geto’s ethics and moral philosophy class. And two hours before you would see Professor Geto for the first time since you had made out. 

You turn over, pressing your face into your pillow. You wondered if you tried hard enough, if you could suffocate yourself before then. 

Probably not. That would be far too lucky. 

~~~

Professor Suguru Geto couldn’t sleep — instead he spent his time staring at his ceiling, the blades of his fans spinning above him, just like his mind was — in circles. It was as if he almost didn’t want to risk his dreams taunting him, it was the same reason he had buried himself in research over the semester break, the same reason he had put off emailing you the materials for the semester, and the same reason he hadn’t seen you since that day you had kissed. 

It was too much of a risk. 

You were risk personified, even for a risk averse theologian he liked to think himself as. But you were the thing of myths, the dangled food for Tantalus, the far too warm sun for Icarus, and the promise of gold for King Midas. But you were not a myth — you were real, his student made of flesh and bone, the same flesh he had pressed into his desk just a few short weeks ago, his legs parting your thighs, his fingers itching to rip your pantyhose off your legs— 

He sighed, this wasn’t helping — his bedside clock blinked back at him mockingly — he only had a few hours before his first class. He should try to sleep even a little. So he did, shutting his eyes, and hoped he wouldn’t dream of you. 

But he couldn’t possibly be that lucky. 

How many times have you stood in front of this office door? Your Professor, to which this office belongs, would joke that it was far too many to count — and you’d be better speculating how many times that Sisyphus rolled the boulder up the same hill. But the last time you had been in it was the thing that made you hesitate now. 

But that was your entire relationship wasn’t it? A game of chicken, wondering who would hesitate first — and neither of you were the type to hold back. Except when it came to this — except when it came to your feelings for the other. 

You shake your head, trying to shake your anxious thoughts free of their eternal bounce around your skull, and grit your teeth before finally knocking. 

“I’m actually right here,” a voice behind you says, making you jump, as you whip around, nearly pressed against his office door. And now you stood face to face with the man who owned it.

And how was it that every time you saw him, he was achingly more perfect than the time before? His ebony hair was half down, black locks brushing against his shoulders, the rest tied up in a neat bun. A crisp white button up underneath a neutral toned knit sweater vest, the shirt very much like the one you had stolen in your dream. 

Perfect. 

“Professor Geto,” you offer a small smile, trying your best to keep your eyes on his, instead of drifting over his form, “it’s good to see you,” 

“It’s good to see you as well, and so prompt,” he says, brushing past you to unlock his office, “made a habit of being on time these days?” 

“Well, when your professor reprimands you in front of the entire class, you try to make a habit of being on time,” why did it feel like your dream was repeating yet again? It’s not as if your relationship with him wasn’t cyclical enough — life imitating dreams was almost far too much. He opens the door for you, letting you enter first, before he follows you in, “and aren’t you the late one this time?” 

His lips quirk, as he rounds his desk, and takes a seat, “You really can’t make it a conversation with me without giving me shit, huh?” 

“Language,” you chide, as you sit across from him, “not very appropriate for an academic setting,” and you have to bite back the want to say that you’ve done plenty of inappropriate things in this office the last time you both were here. 

“Well, our track record isn’t known for being very appropriate, now is it?” Or maybe you didn’t need to say it, because the way he was looking at you told you everything you needed to know. But that didn’t mean either of you would act on it. He licked his lips, mouth parted to say something, his gaze heavy. 

And the moment is broken when his email goes off — you squeeze your bag a little tighter, as you busy yourself with digging through your bag for the materials to go over. That sound was nearly traumatizing in this office, not only did it usually signal the start of some assignment you had to trudge your way through — it also was the sound that had ended your relationship before it even really began. 

“Class starts in an hour, so I thought we could have this meeting just to review the syllabus and see if you have any questions — as well as just overall any questions you had about being a T.A.,” he explains, pressing his pen to his lips, “I understand this is your first time being a T.A.?” 

“It is, I hadn’t really considered it until the department head approached me about that,” and he nods, a flash of emotion that surfaces for only a moment before dissipating, “what will my responsibilities be?” 

“Good question,” a smile pulls the corners of his lips, “obviously, as a T.A., you will have office hours that you can decide with your own discretion—” 

“So it’s okay if I have them once a month at 3:00 AM?” and he rolls his eyes as you bite your lip at the sight — why was everything he did so effortlessly attractive? 

Fucking unfair. 

“Witching hour, how apt,” he murmurs, as he tilts his head, “but they should be weekly, as I’m sure you know, and held not in the middle of the night, when nights should be used for other things,” and you have to bite back your reply, like what? 

And then he continues to explain, “You can also help with some grading — mostly entering grades online for me since you know I love to handgrade,” 

“Oh yes, truly enjoyed having my self-esteem cut to shreds after receiving a paper back,” you scribbled notes down in your notebook, “glad I won’t be on the receiving end this time,” 

“If you’re good, that is,” and you knew it slipped from his lips — from the way his lips parted, the way his body froze for half a second as if he had shocked himself — and he had, because the spark between you two remained, a weed stubbornly cracking through concrete, “sorry—’ 

“You don’t have apologize,” you shake your head, waving him off, “it’s really fine,” 

“It’s not,” he said softly, placing the syllabus down on the desk, “I know we agreed to keep our relationship professional,” 

“We did,” Yes, you both did — sort of. 

“And I want us to do that—” 

And you ask the question you weren’t brave enough to ask the last time you two had seen each other, “Why is that again?” 

When the email had come, it was as if a spell had broken — the rosy colored lenses had come off, only to leave the hard glare of reality behind. Your limbs still entangled while you both reread the email off of his screen — as if it would say something different the millionth time over. 

It didn’t. 

And then the awkward clamor of disengaging, slow limbs pulling apart, as the warmth of his embrace left as quickly as it had come. Silence as the two of you let the news settle in, like a noose tightening around your necks, and you slowly slid off his desk. 

“If I’m your T.A.,” you had said slowly, adjusting the skirt of your dress, “we can’t do this, can we?” and he had only nodded, his gaze unable meet yours, fixed to the rug on the floor of his office, and he could only muster two words as you brushed past him and gathered your things—

“I’m sorry.” 

But even so, you couldn’t remember why it was a bad idea? Why was it so wrong for the two of you to do this? What difference did it make that you were his T.A.? It was still against the rules either way — it was still unethical either way — so why, why did it matter? 

But he knew why, from the way his brow creased with lines and his lips pursed and the way his eyes yet again couldn’t quite reach yours — as if you’d spot something in them that he didn’t want to see. 

“Because we’re going to working together all semester long, with students in class who will see us each week,” he licked his lips, leaning back in his chair, “because it was already problematic if we saw each other without any classes or connection, but now — if you’re my T.A. and my girlfriend, how would I even properly supervise you?” and he swallows, adam’s apple bobbing as he blows air through his teeth, before his voice grows softer, “how would I focus on guiding you and our students if I’m too busy gazing into your eyes or staring at your lips or wanting to—” he cuts himself off, “you know it’s not a good idea,  most of our students probably wouldn’t notice, but rumors spread and it takes one good rumor to ruin your career,” and he adds, “with how things work, you don’t need me to tell you why it would be worse for you than me, even if I tried to take responsibility,” 

And you did know, knew very well that rumors got out that the two of you were together that nothing would happen to his reputation — perhaps he would be scrutinized a bit more, some judgment and side-eye from other professors and higher ups, but he wouldn’t get vilified like you would. Called a slut or a whore — and those would be some of the kinder names you’d be called, and you can’t imagine what it would do for your career, especially if you stay in academia. And then the rumors would fester and grow, more wondering where your grades came from — whether you had obtained them through honeyed words whispered over pillows and rumpled sheets instead through late nights spent at your desk and weekends practically living at the library. 

“I do know,” you said quietly. But it didn’t mean you wanted to do it anymore than you had that day. A part of you wished he had stopped you when you had turned to leave his office, grabbed your wrist, and pulled you into his arms—but this was hardly a romance novel, “and you’re right,” 

He still has his gaze fixed anywhere but your face, settling his syllabus on his desk now, the silence familiarly filling the room yet again, muscles tense if your body didn’t know whether to flee or to draw closer. 

So you did neither, and instead broke the silence. 

“So would T.A.-ing provide an opportunity for me to teach the class?” and he blinks, eyes snapping up now, as a glimpse of sadness slips away behind his now thoughtful expression. 

“Would you want to do that? I don’t know if I could allow you to lead an entire class, only because some students may take some issue with another grad student teaching them—” 

“I don’t blame them with the tuition costs,” you mutter, and he nods, “don’t nod, it’s your salary I’m paying for,” 

He laughs, a noise you wished you could bottle because you knew it’d be the same as bottling happiness, “Well worth your money after how much your writing and understanding of moral philosophy and ethics has improved,” and you roll your eyes. 

“I see your ego is the same as ever,” and his lips curl, as he crosses his legs, and you fight the cruel temptation of your gaze flickering a little downward. 

“Well, Kant did say an ego is necessary to understand the world meaningfully and therefore act in a moral way,”  you tilt your head, being defensive with philosophy? That was a new one. 

But you weren’t one to let things go — as he very well knew. 

“And he also said that an ego can lead you astray from living a moral life if we become too self absorbed,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Are you calling me self absorbed?” 

You bite back a laugh, “Well, you are certainly self interested,” and you gesture around his office, “look at this office,” 

“What about my office?” he gapes at you, and you snort, you’ve seemingly struck a nerve by how wide his jaw dropped. 

“It’s a little…pretentious,” and dare you say it, your professor had a touch of pink painted across his cheekbones and the tips of his ears, 

God he’s even pretty when he blushes. 

“I’m just teasing Professor,” and then you add, “it’s one of my more tedious qualities,” 

And he blinks, before his lips curl in the smile you never tired of seeing, “not tedious, more irritating,” 

You chuckle, before trying to get back on topic, “So you think you could work out me teaching a part of the class?” 

And he nods, “Let me discuss it with the department head — it should be fine,”

“Do I have any other responsibilities?” 

“If it doesn’t conflict with your schedule, you can also attend some classes, students can stay after and ask you questions as well,” and you nod, looking over his class times in the syllabus. 

“I can make the Tuesday one,” and he makes a note, as you rise, “we should go. Don’t want to be late for the first class now do we?” 

And he smiles the same damnable smile, “That would be a terrible first impression,” and his shoulder brushes yours as he opens his office door for you, “after you,” 

God, you thought as you stepped past him, the warmth from the brush of his body still there, this was going to be a long semester. 

If there was one thing you had learned from being a teacher’s assistant for Professor Geto’s class, it was that the students were even more desperate for your professor’s attention than you had thought. You thought your introduction had went relatively well — besides the pointed glares of several….enthusiastic students. 

After his detailed overview of the class, he reaches the resources section of the course syllabus, “Now, I am available at my listed office hours, in which you can make an appointment online. There’s also tutoring services through the university listed as well. And lastly, we have a T.A. for this class, for the very first time,” and he smiles, “Class, please meet your T.A. for this semester,” Professor Geto says your name and gestures to you, sat up in the corner of the lecture hall, and you stand, waving, “your T.A. took this very class last semester and showed great grit and dedication in the class assignments,” you have to stop yourself from shooting him a look, but you can see a hint of a smile on his lips, “She is also a philosophy student, so please, feel free to reach out to her,” 

“Thank you Professor Geto for that…generous introduction,” your pause was slight enough that he caught it, a smile tucked behind an all too fake cough, “I really look forward to working with you all — this class truly had a great impact on my perspective about the world,” and you catch a flicker of an emotion ripple across his face out of the corner of your eye, “my office hours will be posted soon, and I hope we can get to know each other well over the course of this semester.” 

You sit as the students cast their gaze forward again, and the class continues on as usual. You make use of your time by reading for some of your other classes, until class was over. 

And that’s when you really learned something. As requested, you joined Professor Geto at the bottom of the lecture hall to help field questions from the students. 

Except, the students were far more interested in Professor Geto than they were in the course material. 

But maybe it was simply because it was the beginning of the semester right? It couldn’t happen again right? 

It was a good thing you weren’t getting graded because you would earned yourself a zero. As again, the next week, students were only interested in Professor Geto — whether it was because it was for his intellect or — you glanced at the students mooning over him — something else. 

Something you knew very well. 

You were forced to watch a female student flutter her eyelashes, then another brush against him, as she showed him what passage was confusing her, and then another student couldn’t stop staring at his lips. And then you wonder, if it had been another student who kept pestering him week after week, would it have been them instead of you? Would they have shared those moments together? Maybe even they would actually gotten to be in a relationship, instead of watching other people flirt with him—

“Excuse me,” your eyes snap up from your reverie and you see two students, seemingly waiting to speak to you. 

Those students had seemingly taken pity on you and spoke to you about the class, tips, and asked about your office hours. But soon enough, the students filed out one by one until it was just you and Professor Geto. And he’s collecting his things, as he glances at you, lingering still as you check your email on your phone, “Don’t you have class after this?” 

You blink, “how’d you know that?” 

And he’s straightening his notes to place back in his bag, before he turns to look at you over his shoulder, “well you’d always rush off after class so it was either you had class or you didn’t want to be alone with me,” he looks back to his bag and you hear the click of the zipper, “I was hoping it would be the former,” he adds. 

“Well, I never lingered after class when I was taking it either,” you adjust your bag, toying with the strap — why was it anytime you were with him it felt like stepping into quicksand, the more you struggled, the more you sunk — and even if you didn’t move at all, you were still stuck all the same, “didn’t want to get in the way your students stroking your ego,” 

And he raises an eyebrow, “Are we back to my ego again?” 

“I don’t see you shying away from smiles and praise from your students,” and his brow knits together, as he places his bag down on the podium, “no wonder your ego is so large,” 

“What students?” 

“Oh please, the ones swarming your desk after clsss. Didn’t you ever wonder why so many students from different disciplines take your class?” he opens his mouth and then you add, “and don’t say philosophy and ethics apply to every aspect of life,” 

And then he seems to consider the thought, as before his lips curl, as he leans against the podium. 

“Am I detecting some jealousy?” he smirks, and you pause before you scoff — far too quickly. 

“No,” and he only smiles wider. 

He chuckles, “That was convincing. I’m glad your ability to teach is much better than your ability to lie,” 

“I’m not—“ 

“Jealous or not,” and you have to bite back your retort, his gaze freezing you in place, a softness you hated to see — because you didnt know whether it made you want to push him away or pull him close, “there’s only ever been one student who caught my eyes,” 

Ah, there is was — you were sinking again. 

“Really?” you mumble, crossing your arms, “not even one other? You have a habit of unethical behavior for an ethics professor,” 

He’s grabbing his bag, before he’s taking a step forward to whisper, “Only when it comes to you,” and you have to force yourself not shiver at his words warming your skin, “I’ll see you next week,” 

And he’s gone — as you stand in the empty lecture hall next to the podium, the very one from your first dream— and you’re right back where you started. 

Professor Suguru Geto wasn’t the type to make mistakes. He was always meticulous and methodical — he used the very principles to help guide his life — because it gave him a moral framework, a way to interpret the world and his own actions. That’s what had drawn him to ethics in the first place. But then he met you. 

And it seems like he’s made nothing but mistakes since. 

He sat in his office after he practically fled the classroom, forcing his pace to be normal, hoping you didn’t see the flush on his face. Fuck, he tossed the pen he had picked up to start grading away, what was he doing? 

He had told himself it was for the best — again and again when he watches you leave at the end of the last semester. He held his muscles taut as he watched you gather your things, stepping over the crushed pieces of both of your hearts. The two words he had barely choked were the only ones he could manage before he watched his office door shut behind you. 

It was for the best. It was for the best. It was for the best. 

That sentence was on repeat in his mind as he tried to work on his paper over the break — “try” being the operative word. It felt as if even his work hadn't been untouched by you — your impact widespread and all consuming — just as your actual touch was. 

Fuck, he rakes his fingers through his hair, how was he going to survive this week much less this semester? 

He couldn’t afford to be selfish — for your sake and his own. But it didn’t mean he didn’t want to be. He runs a hand over his face — he all but blatantly admitted that he had feelings for you after class. After promising to keep things professional — he was the worst. 

He only wished he was worse enough to do what you both wanted when you asked him in his office why you both couldn’t be together. He wanted to tell you the reasons why you should be — because he couldn’t stop thinking about you despite never seeing you over the break, his heart nearly stopped when he saw you standing in front of his office, and because he couldn’t help but smile when he could see you hesitating in front of the door — but he couldn’t help but smile when it came to you. But he didn’t. 

He couldn’t. 

But he also couldn’t help but toe that damn line in the sand, the one that he had drawn, but the one so desperately wanted to cross. 

And then there was a knock at his door, he sighs, “Come in,” 

The department head enters his office, as Suguru blinks before he gets to his feet to offer his hand, as they exchange greetings, before gesturing for him to sit, “To what do I owe the pleasure?” 

“I saw your email about having your T.A. teach part of your class, and I wanted to get a little more detail about it,” Suguru nods, his face composed, but his body tense — paranoia scratching at the back of his mind, no one happened to see them kiss had they? No one was on campus really at that point. And the door was closed — he probably just wanted more information.  

“What questions did you have?” and the department head runs down his list — what topic would you cover? How much class time would it take? Would he be asking the class first? Would he review your materials beforehand? 

“Well, you both seemed to have thought a lot about this,” he leans back, crossing his leg over the other, “I think having her teach a part of a class is fine, but I would like you both to do it sooner rather than later,” and Suguru opens his mouth, but then he adds, “and I’d like to attend that class,” 

Suguru tilts his head, “You would like to attend my class?” He considers his words carefully, “I was under the impression, based on the rules, the only thing needed to allow a T.A. to teach was the approval of the department head,” his anxiety begins to pick away at his nerves, “it’s not unusual for a T.A. to teach here correct?” 

It was his first time having a teacher’s assistant at this university so perhaps this was a quality check? To ensure both you and him were meeting the standards of the university — and his anxiety added, and to make sure no rules were being broken by either of you. 

“Yes, it’s not unusual, and I have my reasons which I’ll discuss with you after the class,” he checks the time and rises from his seat now, “I have another meeting soon — do you think she can present in two weeks?” 

Suguru hesitates, “I’ll have to ask her but most likely that should be fine,” 

“Okay please send an email cc’ing her and confirm the details,” he says his goodbyes, and he’s gone, as Suguru sits and considers this — what could he be planning? 

Or, his nerves add, what could he be looking for? 

Either way, he pulled up your email — it was going to be an interesting two weeks. 

“Deontology determines whether an action is right or wrong based on a set of rules and principles instead of the consequences of the actions,” you speak to an empty lecture hall, your voice echoing in the silence, “therefore an act that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” 

You had come into the lecture hall to practice yet again this week. You were cursing your past self for inflicting this optional task on yourself — it had taken far more time than you had expected (what’s new?), taken far more preparation than you thought (again, of course), and now had the fun added pressure of the department head attending. And why was he attending? A wonderful and complete mystery. 

The last two weeks have been amazing for your mental health, truly. 

You were lucky the lecture hall and the building at large was deserted at 8:00 PM — all of the staff and students had all but fled, and you were left with the perfect place to practice. It had been many nights of honing your presentation to the allotted time, leaving time to pose a thought exercise, time to discuss, and for questions. 

You don’t see the door behind you open, nor do you hear it close, as you use the clicker to go through your PowerPoint, switching to the next slide. 

“For example, killing an intruder, based on the consequence would be wrong, as I hope we all know killing is wrong — otherwise, I worry about what will happen when you get your grades back,” you give a brief chuckle — and hope some of the students would pity you with some laughs, and that’s when you hear a small laugh behind you. 

Your head snaps around, flushing when you see Professor Geto standing by the door. He’s wearing a deep royal purple button up and gray slacks, the sleeves rolled up exposing his forearms. 

God, this wasn’t a dream was it? 

“Don’t let me stop you,” he says, his footsteps against the floor grew closer, and your body tenses, until they stop, “go on,” and he leans against the wall behind you. 

“But when you do kill an intruder to protect your family, that’s viewed as right under deontology,” and you can’t focus with his gaze running over you, an all familiar feeling settled over you. Would life imitate dreams again? Would he come over and ask you to continue your presentation as his lips pressed gentle kisses to your neck and shoulder? Would he— 

“Are you okay?” he asks, and you can’t meet his gaze, but you hear his footsteps, “should I go?” 

“No, no, it’s just,” you shake your head, “a little deja vu,” 

He raises an eyebrow, “deja vu?” 

Your blood runs cold. Fuck. 

“I don’t recall you ever presenting like this in my clsss before,” you can't decide if his voice is more thick with confusion or curiosity. 

“Yeah, no, sorry it’s nothing,” you brush him off, your eyes fixed on your notes on the podium, and you know he’s still staring, “what?” 

“I see you’re still not a very good liar,” and you scoff, “what is it that’s gotten you so bothered?” 

“Nothing,” you insist. 

“The more you say that, the less I’m convinced,” and now he’s walking closer, closer still — but you’re fixed in place, “what is it?”

“You never let anything go, do you?” And you turn, your breath catching when you saw how close he was — inches from you, his pretty eyes wide at the sudden movement, his breath warming your lips. Black strands fall in his face, and you have to stop yourself from tucking them behind his ear. Stop yourself from wanting to touch him, stop yourself from wanting him to lean forward, stop yourself from wanting him. 

Nothing good ever came from your want. 

“Only when it’s you,” but this man makes it impossible not to want him. Not when his voice is soft, not when the back of his finger, a knuckle brushes against your cheek. And no words are needed — you can hear it in the silence between you both, you feel it in the gentleness of his touch, and in the softness of his gaze. 

And you know you’re in love with him. You are.

But you can’t be. 

“I’m not telling you,” you murmur, looking away — and it seems to break the spell, as he steps back, nodding, a flicker of sadness that slips away under his facade,  “but maybe I will sometime, over a drink,” you add. 

A smile tugs at his lips, “Well we know how well that went, or didn’t go rather, and you know, we can’t anytime soon,” 

“Well sometimes an action that isn’t morally good can lead to a good outcome,” and he raises an eyebrow. 

“Using deontology to convince me?” He tilts his head, “not a bad strategy — maybe I’ll have you write a paper,” 

“And willingly subject myself to your red pen? No thanks,” and he snorts, before the smile fades into a frown, brow wrinkled in thought, “what is it?” 

“Nothing, I’m just…” he crossss his arms, “I’m wondering why the department head wants to observe your presentation,” 

“He didn’t give any indication why?” and he shakes his head, “maybe he just wants to evaluate how good a job you’re doing,” you add, “you are relatively green,” 

“Not that green,” and you see his lips pressed together — and is he? — he was — he was pouting. You bite your lip how fucking adorable — but you know you’d be met with a scowl if you said that out loud, “don’t you worry that the dean may suspect something between us?” 

The thought had crossed your mind, but class had been nothing but professional so far, and you’d be too busy sweating bullets (and perhaps dodging them from the students if the presentation went poorly) to even consider your feelings for him. 

You sigh, “Look, nothing to do but get through it, right? It should be fine, we’ll deal with whatever comes after. As long as I don’t choke, and you don’t stare at me too adoringly, we should be fine,” 

And you expect a retort, a cheeky reply, or even a quite sarcastic one, but he only gives a small smile, “Right,”

You feel your cheeks burn and you can’t meet his gaze again without feeling your heart flutter. 

Fuck — maybe there was something to worry about. 

Despite the concerns, the presentation goes off without a hitch. You spot the dean sitting in the corner of the lecture hall, pen and notepad in hand, which did nothing to soothe your poor heart (nor did the far too many cups of coffee and the total lack of sleep). 

It happened quick — a blur of speaking, forcing yourself to slow your words down, a necessity when presenting — as you knew you always spoke faster than you believed you did when presenting. You think you even made the students laugh a few times, led an interesting thought experiment with a rousing debate that ended with no clear answer (as always), and then you answered questions. 

All the while, Professor Geto stood in the back, and you’d catch a glimpse of him by the corner of your eye, his lips curled in that smile that haunted all your nights and days. 

By the time it was done, you had barely realized time had gone so quickly, as you passed the metaphorical baton back to Geto. And you took a seat off to the side, opting to watch him lecture, rather than busy yourself with other work. 

It felt like old times, you thought, as you watched him speak. You couldn’t blame the people that took his class just to watch him speak — he was unfairly beautiful when he spoke, gesticulating as he read a Kant quote. And you kept your face as neutral as possible, but he catches your eye for a moment, corner of his lip twitching upwards. And a flush settles over your cheeks, as you discreetly press your thighs together, trying to look suddenly engrossed with your notebook. 

Your heart ached as much as your body did. You wanted to walk over and just kiss him, swallow his smart words along with his gasp, and feel those hands run along your body. You wanted to know every thought in his head, every part of his day, and fall asleep beside him. 

You glance up to see him still speaking — a black strand falling in his face. You bite your lip, before looking back down. 

This man would be the death of you — and it was even worse being alone with him. You’re thankful that your T.A. check-ins with him were every other week, because you couldn’t imagine having to spend more than an hour with him every other week. 

“You want us to do what?” You blink at the Dean, his lips curled in a smile, his hands tucked into his pockets. 

“Apologies for all the secrecy, I did not receive confirmation about this until earlier today,” he explains, “but I want you two to attend this conference on ethics and philosophy  — it’s over the weekend, two weekends from now. It would be a wonderful opportunity for the both of you to make connections and attend presentations, as well as mingle with prospective students. It would also afford us an opportunity for both of you to help put our university on the map,” 

You glance at Professor Geto, his lips parted in surprise, “Sir, is it appropriate for a male professor and a—“ 

“Don’t worry, the accommodations will be separate and it’s a public event, as long as everything remains professional, there’s no problem, right? As long as you two are okay with it and there’s no problem,” he glances between the two of you, “is there a problem?” 

And Professor Geto’s eyebrows knit together. It was a lose-lose situation — saying no meant raising some suspicions that there was an issue between the two of you, but saying yes meant going on a trip with the same professor you had kissed at the end of the last semester. And if anything happened on this trip...it could be very bad — ethically and otherwise. 

So you make the decision for both of you. 

“That’s fine. I’m happy to attend if Professor Geto is,” and you know you have no choice — you had to spend the weekend with him, alone. At a conference. In a hotel.

“Do you have everything?” Professor Geto asks, as you hand him your suitcase, your fingers brushing as you do.  He lifts your suitcase into the trunk of his car, his black t-shirt riding up as he does, a quick flash of the expanse of his muscles—

Fuck, you bite your lip, stop, stop. Professor. He’s a professor. 

It didn’t matter that you had felt him part your thighs, as his lips slid against yours, nor that every time you saw each other, you felt this undeniable ache to touch him, comfort him, hug him, nor that you knew he felt the same and wanted to give in as badly as you did—

No, it didn’t matter. 

You consider his question, scrunching up your face in thought, “I think so, wait,” you snap your fingers as he glances at you, “forgot the rest of my apartment upstairs — you think that’ll fit in there too?” 

He smirks, rolling his eyes as shuts the trunk, “Ha, ha, ever consider becoming a comedian instead of a philosophy major?”

“Every day, but then I think what would my favorite professor do without me?” 

He raises an eyebrow, “I’m your favorite?” 

“Who said it was you?” you grin at him, as he shakes his head and you open the passenger door seat and slide in, as he slips into the driver’s seat. He adjusts his mirrors, buckling his seatbelt, as a sudden wave of guilt bombards you. You had dragged him down this rabbit hole with you — and now the two of you had to spend the entire weekend together, alone. 

You lick your far too dry lips, “Sorry if I roped you into this,” you fidget with your phone, tapping on the screen absentmindedly. 

He starts the car, engine roaring underneath your feet, before he glances at you, brow furrowed in seeming confusion, “What? It’s not you that roped us into this,” 

You purse your lips, “But if I didn’t agree to it—“ 

He sighs, “We were in a position where we didn’t have much of a choice,” his fingers drum against the steering wheel, as his eyes flicker to make sure your seatbelt was on, “it’s not your fault — and it’s not a bad thing — we’ll spend time at the conference, we’ll mingle, and then return to our hotel rooms,” he adds, “don’t worry. Nothing will happen.” 

And his reassurance is almost a punch to the gut instead — and your brain chides you for being so childish — you knew it was for the best, you knew it was the right thing to do, and you knew he was trying what was best for you, and for him. 

But why did it hurt so goddamn much? 

You steal a glance at him as he pulls into the street and begins to drive, dark gaze forward, his hair tied into its usual neat bun, and a chain poked out from underneath the rounded opening around his neck. And then your eyes flicker back out the window.  

Was it really not a big deal to him? 

Because the last two weeks were consumed with nothing, but thoughts of being alone with him. Days spent in conferences, sitting beside each other, whispering thoughts and inside jokes; evenings spent socializing together, waiting for the other to give the signal to leave; and nights walking back to your rooms, fingers brushing as you walked beside each other. You were sure it would take a slight bend of the rules, a gaze that lingers a little too long, to break the paper thin resistance either of you had to the other. The two of you could barely be alone for more than a few minutes without temptation rearing its ugly head — even now your eyes can’t help but trace the curve of his jaw, the way the sunlight catches his eyes, the way your fingers want nothing more than intertwine with his hand that rests on the console between you two. 

But you don’t. You give a weak smile, glancing out the window as the streets of Tokyo pass you by — “Yeah it should be fine.” 

Just fine. 

“There was a problem with your reservation,” 

And after half an hour of waiting off to the side, with your luggage stacked up and irritation creeping its way to a new high as you watched others easily being checked in to the hotel, you assumed there was a problem. If there wasn’t a problem, you would wonder if this was a new take on Waiting for Godot that would end with the both of youu sleeping in the lobby. You rubbed at your temples, as Geto dealt with the hotel staff, his arms crossed, lips a tight line, “the hotel double booked one of your rooms, so we only have one room available for you.”  

You barely heard the rest of the argument your professor had with the hotel staff, the same phrase ringing in your ears — one room, one room, one room. With nothing more to argue about, they finally escorted you both to your room in awkward silence. And as they opened the door, you spotted it — there was only one single queen sized bed. 

One. Bed. 

You felt your cheeks flush, as you couldn’t even meet Geto’s eyes, as he began to speak heatedly with the manager again. And the excuses began, as the manager wrung his hands, about how no other rooms being available due to the conference and another event happening in town. 

“There is a couch though,” he offers,  pointing to a far too small couch, and the sharp glare that Geto gave him would put even his red pen to shame, “we will see about comping half—“ Geto crosses his arms, “all of your stay here,” and with that, he’s gone. 

“So,” you sigh, glancing at Geto, with a strained smile, “I have dibs on the bed?” 

Was this a cosmic joke? You wondered as you turned off the water of the shower, squeezing your eyes shut. Was this a version of ethical karma for what you had done last semester? An ultimate ethical test that you would surely fail? A fucking prank show? 

You didn’t know. You dried off and got dressed, pulling on a t-shirt and shorts, your hair still damp, as you took a breath and stepped out, towel slung over your shoulders. 

Geto was still on the phone, pacing back and forth — he was trying to call other hotels to see if there was anywhere else with two rooms or at least a room with two beds.

“Yes I understand it’s very last minute—“ he sighs for what must have been the billionth time today, “yes, there was a mistake at the hotel I’m staying at—yes, ok, well, thank you,” he hangs up, setting his phone down. 

“No luck?” You sit on the edge of the bed, wiping your hair, and he shakes his head. 

“The one thing they were right about is that every hotel room is booked solid — not only is our conference in town, but there’s a physical science consortium happening as well,” he rakes his fingers through his hair, a few strands coming loose, “I’ll have to give the Dean a call to update him on the situation,” 

You nod, “So what should we do about sleeping?” And he can’t quite meet your gaze, “are there no trundle or rollaway beds?” 

“No, apparently those have all been spoken for,” he grumbles, and he prepares to call the dean, “I’ll take the couch, you can have the bed—“ 

“Professor, we can—“ and his gaze snaps to you, “we can share—“ 

“No, we can’t,” he says softly, “you know we can’t do that,” 

“We’re both adults—“ 

“And we’re still a professor and a student,” he draws the line between you two again, the gash even deeper than before, the gap that’s meant to keep you safe — the chase meant to protect you — so why did it feel more like a punishment? “I’ll take the couch,” and he calls the Dean to update him on the situation. 

You busy yourself with drying your hair in the bathroom, before coming back out to see him hanging up the phone. 

“Well, are we in an ethical bind or should I go sleep in the lobby just to show there’s no funny business?” And he shoots you a look, “there have been stranger bedfellows,” and he opens his mouth, “and a single word comes out of your mouth, and I’ll join you on that couch,” 

And a very pretty flush adorns the tips of his ears and cheeks, “He said it was fine, it was out of our control, but to just document everything, including the hotel’s incompetence for legality reasons,” 

“You’re also a lawyer as well as a professor?” 

“You have to hedge your bets,” he shrugs with a smile pulling at his lips, before he checks the time, “I’m going to take a shower,” he sighs, pulling his hair from the messy bun, letting his black locks down. And you watch him run his fingers through his hair again, sighing, as he heads into the shower. 

You lay on the bed, biting your lip — as you turn over to use your phone, as the shower turns on. And you glance at the closed door — the thought of him in there, pulling his shirt over his head, shedding his pants and boxers. Your cheeks burn, burying your face in your pillow as if that would help (it did not). 

You curl up on the bed, turning away from the bathroom door, using your phone. And a few minutes pass, as you kind of drift off into sleep, and you hear a creak of the bathroom door open that rouses you from sleep. You don’t move at first but you hear shuffling, the sounds of a zipper. You finally turn on your other side, eyes fluttering open, and you’re met with the sight of bare skin. 

You blink, eyes flickering up to see your Professor’s flushed face, before your eyes slowly following a bead of water slip down his bare chest, black hair dotting along the middle of his chest and abs, down to a happy trail that was hidden by a towel wrapped around his waist. His clothes in his hand, and your eyes find his own, your lips parted and mouth impossibly dry. 

Oh. My. God. 

“Uh—“ and his cheeks flare red, as you try your best not to let your eyes flicker downward, “I forgot my clothes—“ and you turn away, as he darts back into the bathroom, “I’m sorry,” he says, muffled through the door. 

“It’s okay!” You reply, your heart thumping against your ribcage, squeezing your eyes shut to only be met the memory of his bare torso, “fuck,” you mumble under your breath, as you turn onto your back, and stare at the spinning ceiling fan above you. A distinct ache below at the thought of him. 

Your eyes flickered to the shut bathroom door. You hear the sound of water running again — maybe he needed to wash up again. Either way, you slid under the comforter, hand slipping into your shorts, you had some time. You wish you could have grabbed his hand before he fled into the bathroom, sat up on your knees, fingers sliding to his cheek. 

“Kiss me,” you’d murmur, and he would, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips sweetly, as your fingers glide up his bare chest. You’d swallow his gasp with delight, as your other hand finds his wet locks, fingers tangling in his black locks, “please,” you would guide his fingers to the hem of your shirt and he would oblige, lifting up and over your head. And your fingers would tug his towel away, letting it fall to the ground. 

Your fingers press against the wet patch on your underwear, teeth digging into your bottom lip as you gasp, imagining it was instead his eager fingers that tugged your shorts down. You sunk one finger in and then another, pumping slowly, and you knew he would get you ready for him. He would fuck you with his thick fingers, as his mouth latched to your clit, sucking gently as he fucked you open. You moaned his name softly, as you imagine his fingers stretching you open. 

“Do you want me, my pretty girl?” He would murmur between your thighs, lips glossy with your release, “s’good for me, taste as good as you look,” and he would press your back gently into the mattress as he would meet your lips again before, rubbing the tip of his cock against your puffy lips, “tell me what you want, Princess,” 

“Please,” you whispered, as you moved your fingers faster, adding a third finger, but you know his cock would feel so much thicker, and reach so much deeper, “fuck me,” 

And he would, sinking into you, his pretty cock parting your folds, his quiet grunts and moans whispering in your ear, as he works himself inside to the hilt. His lips would find yours as he would rock his hips into you — your cunt would flutter around his length. He would press your thighs apart further, long fingers digging into your soft flesh, the wet squelch of your cunt and the sounds of his skin slapping against yours would ring in your ears.

“S’close, Sugu—fuck,” you would keen against him, instead of your fingers, “please,” and his thumb would find your clit, just as yours did, and you would cum all over his cock, squeezing around his length, as he sinks even deeper, until his tip is brushing against your cunt. The moan of his name slips out, as you press your forearm against your mouth to barely stifle it. 

Fuck, you come down from your high, panting. And you glance at the bathroom door, thinking you’ll clean up once he gets out. You roll over in bed, as you pulled the pillow over your face. 

This was going to be a long weekend. 

Suguru lingers in the bathroom for far too long after that, the embarrassment of the moment still far too fresh in his mind, his cheeks still a dusty pink at the thought. Not only was it bad enough that he was trapped in this hotel room with you for an entire weekend, but now he had paraded out practically half naked for you to see. 

Fuck his life. 

He had hurried into the shower if only to get a break from being in the same room as you. It had been hard enough to endure the last few weeks as a T.A., but now he had to spend an entire weekend sharing a hotel room — and deal with situations like that one all weekend. Seeing you emerge from the bathroom, only in a t-shirt and shorts, still damp from your shower — wet hair in messy tangles that he wanted to run his fingers through— and that’s why he excused himself to the bathroom. A reprieve if only for a moment. If he had only remembered to bring his clothes into the shower — he wouldn’t have had to finish his shower, with only his discarded clothes to wear that had slipped off the clothes rack and onto the damp floor. 

He had stepped out, towel around his waist, as he peeled out, only to see your back to him, the sounds of soft breathing told him you were asleep. And he crept out, silently cursing as the door creaked and rifled through his suitcase for clothes. He had found them, and gone to retreat back when you roused and turned all at once. 

God, he sighed, it was such a mess. 

But the way you looked at him…lips parted, gaze flicking across his body, the way your eyes lingered a little too long on his torso — and now he had an entirely different problem. 

His cock tented against the towel, as his eyes slid to the bathroom door. What if he just hopped into the shower for a second again? The towel dropped to the floor, as he steps back into the shower, turning on the water. 

He groans, his fingers slide over his mortifyingly hard erection, teasing his slit as he would imagine you would, as you would open the bathroom door, murmuring his name, “Professor? Are you okay?” And you wouldn’t wait for his answer as you stepped into the shower with him, eyes raking down his body, a teasing grin on your lips, “not very ethical is that?” And your fingers would curl their way around the base of his cock, making him shudder with pleasure, “I can take care of that,” and you would kiss down his chest and stomach, even despite his protests, until you reached where he wanted your touch most. 

And god, you would look so pretty on your knees for him, as your fingers pumped him far too slowly, teasing him with a chaste kiss to his tip, tongue dragging against his slit, better than how his thumb did, “s’good for me, Professor,” you’d say, when you heard the hiss he just let out, “I wonder what other sounds you could make for me,” and your lips would close around his tip, sucking lightly, as he gasped, his other hand clasped over his mouth, muffling his sounds. 

He would look down with half lidded eyes, and see your head bobbing as you took him so well, your fingers toying with his balls, spotting your eyes flicking up to meet his — glazed over and desperate, just he imagined his were. Your mouth would feel so much better than his hand, the wet squelch of his pumping would not compare to you swallowing around him, sucking and licking around his length, his pre-cum and your drool slipping down the corner of your mouth. 

You’d swallow around him, as his fingers would slide into your hair. And maybe you would let him fuck your mouth, hips rolling slowly as you adjust, before he slowly would thrust faster. He would repay the favor tenfold once you were done, burying himself in your sweet cunt, until you were begging him to stop. His fingers moved faster around his cock, his low groans and wet squelch bouncing off the bathroom walls, hopefully drowned out by the running water.  Fuck, he wished he would feel how it would to have his tip brush against the back of your throat. 

He was close, the twitch of his dick in his hand told him so, and he imagined what it would be like to cum in your mouth, watching you swallow his release, if you’d want to, or cumming all over your face or chest, letting his cock drag over your tongue as he pulled out. 

Fuck, he shudders, moaning your name against his fingers, he cums all over his hand and the wall of the shower, his release running down mixing with the water. He rinsed his hand off, leaning his head under the water again, hoping it would wash away any traces of you. 

It didn’t. 

And as he emerged from the shower, making sure any trace of his act had slipped down the drain, but the towel around his neck, wondering if you’d see what he did on his face. But you wouldn’t — because you were fast asleep. 

His lips curled as he watched you sleep for a moment, your lips parted, curled up facing away from the bathroom — your feet sticking out of your blanket. He adjusts the blanket for you, and you shift a little in your sleep, mumbling something under your breath, before settling back in. 

And he bites his lip before turning away — he would never be clean, would he? 

Not when it was you. 

“How much longer do you think we’ll be stuck here?” you murmur, the smile plastered on your lips nearly starting to chip and crack. 

Professor Geto sipped at his drink hiding his frown, long fingers cradling the wine glass far too perfectly, “at least another hour,” he sighs, “when in academia, one must get used to mindless conversing if only it will lead to another needless connection,”

And this day had been nothing but an exercise of that — lectures, panels, presentations — any other word that meant someone or several someones sitting in front of you, talking at you — with only maybe 30% of the people actually listening (if you were lucky or interesting). And now you were one hour deep into a mixer that had you engaging in dry chit-chat that had your mind going numb by the first ten minutes. Your only reprieve being by Geto’s side. 

You hated how he could make the dullest of things enjoyable for you, or rather—

You hated how much you loved it 

“How pithy — Plato?” And he snorts, as you finish off your own drink, “I’m going to get a refill, do you want anything?” He shakes his head, and you head off to the bar. 

You were so restless after sitting for so long. Not to mention the slight rash you got from not washing up soon enough. You woke an hour and half later and cleaned yourself up — luckily Geto had passed out by then. You saw him sleeping half scrunched up, half sprawled out on the couch — one of his legs were hanging off the couch — and even his blanket had slipped off. You stifled a small laugh, taking a quick picture of him — so stubborn that he wouldn’t sleep on the bed with you. Your gaze had softened, as you picked up the discarded blanket and placed it over him softly, your fingers gently tucking some of his hair from his face. You fell asleep again after heading back to bed, and woke up refreshed — while Geto had woken up with a very sore back and neck. 

“Can I get…” you look at the menu, ordering your favorite drink, standing by the bar as you adjust your dress, you had opted for a black dress with sheer tights — one you had worn a suit jacket over it. You tap against the bar top, checking your phone as you do. 

“Can I get what she’s getting?” A dark haired man sidles up beside you, his mouth curled in a smirk drawing attention to a scar in the corner of his mouth, and his voice drops to a whisper, “though I think I’d enjoy you more than the drink,” 

You raise your eyebrows, “and I think you’ve certainly had enough tonight,” you say under your breath, giving an awkward chuckle, but he doesn’t seem to notice as the bartender comes back with your drink. Your eyes flicker over the crowd as you search for Geto but you can’t find him. 

“What’s your name, pretty?” And your skin crawls as his dark gaze slides over your body, “mine’s Toji,” and you bite back a sigh, introducing yourself, “it’s very nice to meet you — I’ve met a lot of people tonight but you definitely have been the most interesting,” and the bartender comes back with his drink. 

“Then you must have not met a lot of interesting people so far,” you say, eager to look for any out to escape this conversation, “my friend is waiting—“ 

“No, I’d say that you’re just that interesting,” he sips his drink, “can I get you another drink?” 

And right when you’re about to respond, “No, I don’t think she’s interested,” And you tense a moment before you register the familiar voice, Geto smiles at Toji, if you could call that a smile — it reminded you of one a predator gave its new prey, “especially because she’s a student, and you’re most assuredly not,” 

Toji raises an eyebrow, “But she is an adult, she can speak for herself, so why don’t you let her, Professor?” 

“Because—“ his fingers twitch as if he wants to reach for you but he can’t. 

You swallow the lump in your throat. And you know why he can’t. 

Geto’s smile wavers, and you intercede, “I can, and I think I’ve had enough for tonight,” you pay your tab, “let’s go back to the hotel, Professor,” 

And Toji pulls his card out, handing it to you, “If you change your mind,” he raises his glass, leaning against the bar, before he leans closer to you, whispering, “if you ever get sick of him, call me,” 

You give a polite smile, tugging Geto away until you reached the outside of the building, silence filled the space between you two, until you found your way outside. 

“What did he say?” He asks as he calls a car back to take you both to the hotel, and you don’t know how to answer that — not without making it worse, “actually, never mind. I shouldn’t have asked,” 

“Professor—“ 

“You’re an adult, he’s right — you should be allowed to make your own choices,” he licks his lips, his eyes still fixed on his phone screen, “I’m sorry if I—“ 

“Can you let me speak?” you sigh, as you wave your hand in front of his phone so he would look at you, and his eyes meet yours, “you’re fine — I was trying to get out of there — I just felt very trapped.” 

He huffs out a chuckle. “When you took that long, I wondered if the group of solipsists had taken you hostage,” 

You grimace, “I guess when you believe everyone else is an illusion, you also think manners are an illusion too,” he laughs in earnest now, “now there’s a real smile,” He tilts his head, “the smile you had inside, real scary kind of smile,” you tease, as his eyes can’t quite meet yours.

“Oh yeah?” he suddenly seems very interested in his phone, “our rideshare is almost here,” 

“Almost like you were jealous,” and he scoffs. 

“Of him?” 

“Uh huh, he is pretty attractive, maybe I will give him a call—“ and you notice him grip his phone tighter, and your lips curl, “but I probably won’t, not really my type,” 

“Not your type?” he asks. 

“More into the intellectuals, that man was far from it — I like an academic, sweater vests, glasses, a pretentious little office—“ and the glare is back, as you laugh, the rideshare sparing him from you continuing this conversation, but you also didn’t get to see the slight smile on his lips as you slipped into the back of the car. 

“Just sleep on the bed,” you say for probably the thousandth time, but he only shakes his head, as he sits on the couch, combing out his black locks. Even freshly showered, he looks unfairly hot — a loose gray t-shirt with sweatpants, contacts switched to glasses, and now his hair brushed against his shoulders. 

“I’ll sleep on the couch — it was fine last night—“ 

“Your spinal cord would beg to differ,” and he looks unamused, as he struggles with his comb, “what are you doing?” 

“I can’t get this knot out of my hair, and I can’t get you out of my hair either,” he adds, as you roll your eyes, slipping off the bed and walking over. You ease the comb from his fingers, biting your lip at the brush of his fingers, “what are you—“ 

“It’s easier if someone else does it,” and he sighs, giving in, as your fingers undo the knot in his hair gently, “your hair is really smooth and fine, probably why it tangled so fast,” and he only hums in response, his body relaxing under your touch, as you comb through the rest of his hair. You bite back a smile, he’s almost like a cat, keening under your touch, “feels good?” You murmur. 

“Yeah, it does,” and you don’t want the moment to end, you want this excuse to touch him to remain, the first time you’ve been able to breach this wall between you two — and it’d be over in an instant, “I think that’s good,” he mutters. 

He lays his head back on the top of the couch to look up at you — pretty obsidian orbs stared back at you — and your heart squeezes. He was so close, within reach, and all you had to do was lean down, press your lips against his, and maybe you wouldn’t have to tiptoe anymore, maybe you wouldn’t have to hide from him, maybe you could be— 

“We should go to bed,” he sighs, the moment breaks, as he sits upright, adjusting his pillow on the couch beside him, “we have an early start,” 

“Don’t remind me,” you turn back to him, “but you’re right - we should go to bed—“ you grab his pillow, “on the bed,” 

“No—“ 

“Like you said, we’re both adults,” you tilt your head, as he purses his lips, “I think I can handle sleeping in bed beside you, just sleeping, we can even put a pillow between us,” and you add, “if I try anything in my sleep, you challenge me to a pillow fight, and push me off the bed,” 

He scoffs, rubbing the back of his neck, “I really can sleep on—“ and then you raise your eyebrows, eyes flicking to the hand on his neck. He sighs, “fine, but I really will push you off the bed, I’m a restless sleeper,” 

“Then it’s equal opportunity,” you grin, as you slip into your side of the bed, stretching. Suguru is slower to get in, taking his time and adjusting his pillow and blanket before he finally gets into bed, “good night,” 

“Good night,” he turns to face away from you as he sleeps and you do the same. 

But it wasn’t a good night. Not when you couldn’t fucking sleep. 

For someone so smart, you really were very stupid. The bed that seemed expansive and open yesterday now felt Tom Thumb tiny, every shift of your body felt like a ripple effect, as you’d feel the slight shift of Geto right beside you. He was so close — you swore you could nearly feel the heat radiate off of him, the weight of his body beside you felt far too close and way too far — a chasm you could never cross.

And it was close to driving you insane enough to follow your wants all the way down it. 

But you couldn’t — but you could look, stare into the void, without becoming part of it. 

You shift again to face him this time — how could the back of someone’s head be so beautiful? Jet black locks that you had combed yourself fanned out on his pillow. But you could spot the nape of his neck through the tresses, a lovely spot that you only wished you could lean over and bury your face in. Your eyes began to droop. 

Hypnos finally took pity. You could only sleep this way. Your eyes finally flutter shut — you should have known — you were always the most comfortable with him in your sight. 

Suguru knew that you had fallen asleep — because your soft breaths fell into a rhythm, the crinkle of your sheets had grown silent, and the loud thoughts that filled up your head had gone quiet. He was glad one of you could sleep. 

He surely wouldn’t get a wink tonight. 

This was certainly more comfortable than the couch, but at least he had slept on the couch. He would be lucky to get thirty minutes at this rate. This weekend had already been too much — and he felt his will to stay away from you slowly snapping, a few strands away from breaking away completely. 

When he had seen you with Toji — he didn’t think, he just acted. He could see you were uncomfortable, the way your body leaned away from him, the way your eyes flickered around the room, and the way you toyed with your glass. It was a simple choice, but what happens when the next person that flirts with you is someone you’re interested in? Would he have to stand by and simply let it happen? Watch as you’re able to date this person but not him simply because of his title? 

He was jealous. Not of Toji — but of the idea of you being with someone else — of your attention drifting from him, of you drifting from him. He turned to lay on his back, he really was fucked wasn’t he? 

He turns his head to look at you. It never helped that you were effortlessly adorable, even now as you slept. Lips parted, body curled up, your hair falling in your face yet again. His fingers tuck a strand behind your ear gently, and you shift, a quiet hum leaving your lips as you settle back into the arms of the sandman. 

How were you so close but so far? You were mere inches away but you might as well be across the country. Because he couldn’t touch you, he couldn’t hold you, he couldn’t kiss you. The kiss he shared with you haunted his dreams — a daydream wrapped up in the nightmare of reality. He couldn’t ask you to wait — wait for your degree to be completed so the two of you could date. It wouldn’t be fair to you, but what about this was fair? 

And he turns on his side to face you, his fingers brushing your cheek gently — maybe if he couldn’t be with you in reality, he could allow himself to dream, his eyes flutter shut. 

Just for a moment. 

And his unconscious allows it — allows him to dream of you. 

Dream of your face buried in the crook of his neck, your soft breaths warming his skin, his nose buried in your hair. Your fingers grasped at his shirt, your other hand thrown over his middle. Why was your scent so intoxicating? He sighs, pulling you impossibly closer, and you shift, your leg sliding around his waist, as you pressed closer, pulling a groan from his lips as your core grazes right against his morning…visitor. 

And you move again, nose brushing against his collarbone, his name on your lips, quietly whispered like a secret against his skin. It was perfect — you were perfect. 

But what if this wasn’t a dream? The back of his mind prods — but that’s not possible, he was home in bed, right? This wasn’t real. It was the same dream he always had, of waking up in your arms, a lazy morning spent together in bed, the sun barely peeking over the horizon, the sheets becoming dappled in sunshine. 

No, there was no way this was real, he sighs into your hair, pressing a kiss to the top of your head, but even if it was, he thought as he drifted, he didn’t want to wake — not yet. 

A distinct buzz stirs you from your sleep. But you don't want to wake — you were far too comfortable. But the buzzing persists, so you reach blindly for your phone and to turn off the alarm. And settle back into bed, eyes still shut, as you find your way back onto your pillow — or what you thought was your pillow. 

Except pillows didn’t move, or have an arm they could wrap around you. 

Your eyes open, to find yourself entangled with someone else — your brow furrowing in confusion that melts away to silent horror. Professor Geto. 

So much for sticking to your sides. 

Fuck.  

You tried to extricate yourself to no avail, his arm wrapped around you, pulling you flush to his body, your legs entangled, aside from your leg thrown over his waist, you realize, a small squeak escaping your lips, as you try and fail to move away. Instead you brush up against something very…hard. 

You flush, cheeks burning so hot that it’s truly a miracle he didn’t wake from the heat of your skin against his alone. His morning wood was pressed right against you, nearly between your thighs — just like the last time it was  against you — why the fuck would you think about that now? You resisted the urge to press your legs together — lest you have another new problem, and a mess to deal with. 

You manage to only pull your head away, urging yourself up so that your faces are an inch or two apart now. His soft breaths warmed your lips, his brow relaxed, locks of black hair fell in front of his eyes. Your fingers reach and tuck the locks behind his ear, tips skimming his skin. And the arm around you almost seems to tighten, and you bite your lip, the comforting presence of his arms far too tempting to drag you into wanting — as if you ever left. Wanting was dangerous, because wanting can only ever lead to need, needing him was as foolish as it was to share a bed with the man you were in love with. 

But how foolish was it that you couldn’t bring yourself to pull away? It was okay right? Okay as long your lips didn’t touch, as long you didn’t follow this slope all the way down — it was treacherous to press forward, but why did you want to anyway?

Your eyes flutter shut again for a moment — and your eyes glanced at the morning sky — the sun had just breached the horizon. You could allow yourself a few minutes — even if you had to give up a lifetime with him. 

The blaring of your phone only seems to grow increasingly loud, as you give a small groan, rolling over to your phone again, slapping the screen to snooze it again. And your eyes flutter open a moment, lazily flickering over the screen — 8:45 AM. 

Your eyes close — before your mind fully wakes — 8:45 AM? 

“Fuck,” you shoot up to get up, a tangle of limbs,  jolting Geto awake, his eyes popping open, his arm instinctively grabbing you by the waist, and you land with an oomfph back onto the bed—wait, not the bed. 

Your hand pressed against his chest, your body against his, noses brushing, your eyes unable to tear away from the other — his eyes were even prettier this close — a dark brown, nearly black, with flecks of another color — purple? You can’t tell if that’s your heartbeat or his that’s racing with how close you are, chest to chest. And even as you try to shift, you make it worse by slipping, your hips rubbing against each other’s. 

Fuck. 

You both freeze for a moment, his eyes flickering to your lips and back, as yours does the same, before you both scramble apart. 

“We’re late. We’re really late,” you spring out of bed, grabbing random clothes from your suitcase, “I’m going to get ready, really fast,” you don’t even bother to look at his expression, and you almost wished your heart had shattered your ribcage, with how fucking hard it’s beating, if only that you wouldn’t have to spend another day in the conference with him. 

You sighed, as you brushed your teeth hurriedly while doing your hair — well maybe a lecture or presentation would take your mind off this morning. 

So that wasn’t a dream, Suguru was only glad you didn’t even glance at his face when you ran off, or you would have seen the lovely tomato red that graced his cheeks. He could still feel the warmth from your body, slowly receding, and he swore he could still feel you against him, your soft skin, your pretty lips against his neck, and your leg around his waist. 

Fuck. 

God, he had another fucking problem to deal with — as he shifted awkwardly, his morning wood up and erect with a tent that could put most large circus tents to shame. Fuck, he didn’t have time to take care of this — especially with you in the bathroom right now. 

But still, he pressed his inner palm to his lips, how was he going to make it through the rest of the conference with the feeling of your body still lingering in his mind. If the situation was different, the two of you would have woken up with smiles on your lips, spent the morning cuddling without a care, and probably a little more than that—

But the situation was the same, and his eyes slid to the bathroom door, so why was it that he still thinking about you? He wasn’t the type to dwell, he accepted things for what they were — he had his principles and his beliefs, and he stuck to them, unless proven otherwise. He was a man of guidelines, of rules—

So why were you the only person that ever made him want to throw every rule away? 

“We are going to be discussing ethical dilemmas faced in universities and how to approach them,” the lecturer begins, “can anyone tell us an example of one such dilemma?” 

You both had barely made it into a lecture — barely even speaking as you ran-walked into the conference — choosing a lecture at random, as the two of you ran a good fifteen minutes late. You both arrived, hiding your pants, as you both grabbed water bottles from the back, and sat down. 

And of course to make matters worse, your phone goes off, making the entire room turn to look at the two of you. You silence your phone, murmuring a quick sorry as the two of you take your seats. 

Could this possibly get worse? 

Your eyes glanced at him — it was already bad enough to begin with. Geto had barely spoken a word this morning, even as the two of arrived at the conference, the only words he spoke were to the attendant that parked his car. 

You tugged at the collar of your shirt, adjusting your clothes. And if that wasn’t enough, you were going to spend the day sweaty and disheveled. Meanwhile, you stole another glance at your professor — his skin flushed from running, button up not buttoned up all the way, glasses instead of contacts, and his hair in its usual bun, but a few strands were nearly coming loose — he still looked fucking delectable. But he wouldn’t meet your gaze, his body positioned to lean away from yours, his eyes fixed ahead. 

You held back your sigh as you focused on the presentation — you just needed to get through today — as the lecturer picked someone who raised their hand. 

“A student-teacher relationship is one such ethical problem faced in universities today,” and Geto nearly chokes on his water, coughing slightly, as you feel your cheeks burn at the thought of this morning, “it presents several ethical problems — including the role the professor plays in the student’s education and future, their ability to provide praise or reprimand, and even grant recommendations gives them great power over their student. It leaves the student without much freedom in the relationship.”

Oh, what the fuck. 

The rest of the conference is spent in relative silence with a thick film of awkwardness perfectly overlayed. When you both finally return to the hotel room, your only consolation is that you’ll be leaving tomorrow. You toss your things onto the couch, “I’m going to wash up,” you tell him, and he only nods in reply, as you enter the bathroom and shut the door, back pressed against it and sliding down. 

Oh this is such a mess. You sigh, maybe a shower will help. 

It didn’t. You were still just as much of a mess as you were before. You sighed, as you stood in front of the sink, wiping your hair with a towel. This could be so simple if you both could be together — so easy. There would be no tension, no hurt feelings, no awkwardness — you could just be. But that’s not an option. So the only other option is to let him go. 

But you didn’t know how to begin to. 

Either way, hiding in the bathroom wouldn’t solve a thing — and you finally opened the door, “I’m done if you want to wash up,” he nods, sitting on the couch, reading a book. His glasses rested on the tip of his nose, lips pursed, and legs crossed. 

You walk over, grabbing your things from the couch and put some of your things away in your suitcase. But after all of that is done, you realize one thing is missing — your cellphone. 

“Shit,” you murmur under your breath, searching through your suit coat pockets, your pants pocket, anywhere that your phone might be. 

“What’s wrong?” Geto says, book in his lap, as he tilts his head. 

“Can’t find my phone,” you mumble, cheeks burning — god, it was already awkward enough, and now this? 

“Is it on ring?” You nod — your phone was usually on ring, sometimes to your detriment — you cringe at the memory in the lecture this morning, “I’ll call it,” 

He calls you — and you glance at his phone screen, your contact is just your name, no picture, nothing. You bite your lip, what were you expecting? A heart next to your name? And the sound of your phone ringing catches both of your attention. 

“It’s over here, somewhere,” he says, lifting up some of cushions of the couch, and reaching underneath into the creases, as you walk over — “I found—“ 

And you were so concerned about your contact information in his phone that you forgot about his contact information in your phone. 

The screen flashed with the image of him sleeping all lopsided on the couch from that first night, as you covered your mouth in both horror, but also to stifle your laugh. 

His eyes flicker to you, “When did you—“ and you reach for your phone, but he moves it away, “not until you answer my questions,” 

“This isn’t class, Professor, I want my phone—“ you reach for it again, and he’s holding it above your head, “oh real mature—“ 

“Like the picture you have of me as my contact picture?” He raises an eyebrow, a real smile pulling at the corners of his lips, “thought I should resort to my student’s level,”  

“Your T.A.,” you correct, as you reach for your phone again, but he’s using his height to his advantage, and he’s beginning to walk backwards, “come on, give it back—“ 

“Not until I change and delete that photo,” and he’s trying to hold your phone up to your face to unlock it, and you gasp. 

“Oh my god, give it back!” And you grab his hand, and he’s grabbing at the other, giggles leaving your lips, as he laughs too, as the two of you struggle for the phone, your fingers closing over it, and over his own fingers as well. 

And you realize how close you are to him. 

The two of you freeze a moment, laughter on your lips fading away to soft smiles, and his fingers squeeze yours lightly, as he passes you your phone back. But he doesn’t move away — and you don’t either. 

“Why did you let go?” and it seems like it’s a force out of your control that draws you together, no matter how much either of you try to let go. 

“Because I can’t help giving you what you want,” he murmurs, and the heat of his gaze melts your heart, as you drop your phone onto the couch, and reach for his hand again. 

And you lean closer, your other hand gently brushing against his cheek, tracing the line of his jaw, “So if I ask for a kiss, will you give it to me?” You won’t close the gap anymore than you have — he needs to reach for you too, let himself give into gravity. 

He does, as his hand brushes against your cheek, thumb rubbing back and forth across your cheekbone, “will we stop at just a kiss?” He murmurs, leaning so close that your eyes want to flutter shut. 

“Only one way to find out,” and his lips brush yours. And it’s not chaste like your first kiss was, no, his lips slide against yours, as his other hand slides to the back of your neck. He swallows your gasp eagerly, if the smirk you feel against your lips is anything to go off of. Your teeth graze against this bottom lip teasingly, drawing a small groan from the back of his throat. 

Neither of you couldn’t stop at one kiss, and you both knew that, even as your lips parted for a small breath of air, they found each other again — just as you both always did. Because you could never let him go — no matter how hard you tried. 

RING. RING. RING. 

And this time it isn’t an alarm. But rather his phone, flashing with a name that brings you crashing back to reality. 

The department head. 

“Fuck,” he murmurs under his breath, as he parts from you, his warmth leaving all at once, as he grabs his phone, and turns away, “Hello? Yes, the conference is over. Everything went well. No, no, nothing out of the ordinary.” 

You stared at his back, this would always be the case wouldn’t it? Even as you crashed together, something would pull you apart, and neither of you could break the cycle. You take your phone from the couch, and crawl into bed, but you could start. 

You close your eyes, your fingers brushing against your lips for a moment. You needed to start — otherwise, you would just end up broken. 

And you don’t hear him hang up — or see him stare at your figure under the covers — and he would break along with you. 

Suguru didn’t know what to say the next morning — especially when it seemed couldn’t even bear to look at him, much less speak to him. You had busied yourself with packing, even before he had awoken. His back ached from the night he spent on the couch, he couldn’t fall asleep for far too long, and by the time he did, he kept sleeping — through his many alarms it seemed. 

And it wasn’t the couch that kept him awake. 

You both had the most lovely timing, didn’t you? He thought, as he combed his hair in the bathroom, the memory of your fingers running through his hair as you gently undid the knots in his locks still ever present — it seemed like any time you two wanted to act on your feelings, the universe was doing what it could to keep you apart. 

Was this fate versus free will? 

You both kept choosing each other — but fate kept pulling you apart. Did he have any control over his actions or did he have no control over his actions at all? Was it all predetermined by some force he couldn’t perceive? Some force intent on pulling you apart. 

He sighed, as his phone lights up with an email from the department head — department head position opened up in Jujutsu University: Kyoto — 

And so maybe he should let it. 

The next few weeks pass by far too quick. As your semester picks up, you stop attending Professor Geto’s classes, opting to send an email to let him know, and he replies back with a simple response — Ok. Please let me know when and if you are available to input the grades for the midterm paper. 

The rest of your T.A. work is done online and over email — and you do your best to keep busy, keep yourself occupied, and keep your thoughts from straying to him.

And you maybe succeed 10% of the time. It doesn’t help that your unconscious does not wish to cooperate since it seems that once you stopped seeing your professor during waking hours, he’s infiltrated your sleep — sneaking in and out by the time your eyes open. 

And then you’re left with the fragments of his touch, his voice, his kisses, and soft, loving words. 

Just as you always were it seemed. 

And before you know it, the end of the semester comes, and you find yourself in front of that same office door yet again. It felt like an eternal reoccurrence — stuck to repeat the same events again and again in an infinite loop. Was there any exit from this loop? 

You didn’t know — you knocked on his office door — but you could try. 

“Come in,” you do, entering his office to find him sitting at his desk, hair half up for once. And his eyes flicker up to meet yours, his head tilting at your stare, “see something interesting?” 

“Your hair—“ and your cheeks burn — so much for trying — “it’s different,” 

“Thought I’d try something different — my hair is growing out,” and you have to repress the want to curl a lock or his hair around your finger, “do you not like it?” 

You shake your head, “It looks nice, just different,”

And he hands you the papers he’s graded, “you can input those, I’m just finishing up a couple more, so if you wouldn’t mind waiting a bit?” 

“Not at all,” a silence falls over between the two of you, the quiet scratch of his pen as he grades, the occasional ding of his e-mail breaking up the silence. You sneak a glance at him — ebony tresses brushing against his broad shoulders, his brow furrowed that you wished to run your fingers along to smooth his worries from his mind, pretty lips parted as he reads a sentence silently to himself. 

Fuck — no, no, you can’t do this. 

You busy yourself thumbing your way through the papers, spotting the familiar red scrawls littering these pages, as they once did yours. You were so pissed when you got your first paper back — indignant even — a whole Karen ready to speak to his supervisor. But when his honest criticism and blunt words rang true, you found yourself not only wanting to prove him wrong, but a want to be better. To earn his respect. And of course, later, you wanted to earn a little more than that. 

You bite back a chuckle, and here you still were — by his side. Except next semester you wouldn’t be his T.A. 

But you would still be a student. And he would still be a professor. 

But one other thing that hasn’t changed is how brutal the feedback is — you couldn’t help but feel bad for “Itadori Yuuji” — whoever that was. 

“What are you smiling about?” Your eyes snap up to meet his, his head leaning against his palm, elbow resting on the desk. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, but he looks unconvinced, “just thinking about our first time in this office,” and then your cheeks burn at the double meaning, “I mean our first office hours appointment—“ 

He waves you off, “I know what you meant,” a small chuckle in his cadence, as he continues to grade, “you certainly weren’t happy with me,” 

“No I wasn’t,” a small smile on your lips, “but it worked out in the end,” you add, “you got an amazing T.A. after all,” 

His eyes meet yours, “More than just that,” 

Why can’t you help but get pulled in time and time again? And why can’t you help but ask questions that will only hurt you in the end? 

He continues to grade when you finally speak, “What do you think would have happened if I didn’t end up being your T.A.?” 

And his pen stops, lips pursed, “We shouldn’t—“ 

“Why shouldn’t we?” you felt like a child demanding an answer from their parent. 

“We agreed—”

“I don’t remember an agreement-” 

“It was unspoken—” 

You scoff, crossing your arms, “You really are only a professor because an attorney would know that binding agreements can’t be unspoken,” he falls silent, his voice soft. 

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” his words are wrought with conflict, pain seeping into every syllable, “I don’t want to keep going down this road only to for you to get hurt in the end — I don’t want to jeopardize your future for something that might not last—” 

“But what if it does?” and he swallows thickly, “what if we can make it work? We’re both adults, we can be discreet—” 

“So discreet that we end up making out in my office?” he takes off his glasses only to run a hand down his face, a slight pink tinge on his cheeks, and you huff out a chuckle. 

“A little more discreet than that, we’ll lock the door next time,” it’s his turn to scoff, and you rise from your seat, lips curled, “close the lights, or maybe even kiss in a place that’s not on campus,” but he does the same, meeting you on the side of his desk, his fingers brushing your cheek so gently as if you’d shatter under his touch. 

“I don’t want to stand in the way of your career,” he says, his fingers finding your hand regardless, fingers interlacing, “I don’t want you to—” 

“It’s my choice, Suguru,” you murmur, as you lean against his warm palm, your fingers sliding against his palm and into his inky tresses, “don’t you owe me a choice, and a drink?” you add, and his lips curl in a knowing smile. 

“I do, if you’ll still have me,” and he’s leaning close, sucking the air from the room, and the logic from your minds, as his lips barely graze yours, “shouldn’t we lock the door?” 

“Fuck it,” and you pull him into a deep kiss that pulls a groan from his lips that makes your cunt ache, as he’s already pushing you into the lip of his desk, his hand sliding down to your waist. 

“Now who’s being unethical?” he murmurs, pressing eager kisses along your jaw, that makes you melt against him, your legs nearly jelly at this point, “what kind of example are you setting as a T.A.?” 

You bite back your moan as his lips find the soft spot of your neck, teeth grazing it far too fucking teasingly, “Well students learn by example,” and his hands are slipping under thighs to lift you so you’re sitting on his desk — you spread your legs for him in the dress that you’re in, pantyhose underneath, his heavy lidded gaze raking over your body, “and look at my professor staring at his T.A. so lustfully, even with a clear power dynamic—” 

And his fingers find your thighs again, squeezing, before his fingers dig into the sheer hose, tearing holes in it, drawing a gasp from your lips, “How’s that for a power dynamic, princess?” far too pleased, “don’t worry, I’ll buy you new ones,” he murmurs, “now just be a good girl and spread your legs for me,” he says, as he pulls away the ruined pantyhose, and he’s undoing the buttons on his shirt with one hand — one, two, three — before your fingers take over, leaning to press kisses at each inch of exposed skin, until the shirt falls open. 

Then his lips find yours again, his silver tongue asking for you to part your lips and you do — as he extracts every want you have with his burning touch — his lips against yours, his large hands parting your thighs, his knee pressed against your twitching cunt — and only leaves your want for him behind, until it becomes a need. 

“Wonder what our students would think of you,” his fingers tease your inner thighs, drawing a whine from your lips, “wanting your professor to fuck you in his office instead of inputting their grades,” he whispers in your ear, as his fingers finally skim the wet patch of your underwear, “so wet f’me, already? Look I think you even soaked my slacks,” he tsks, as his thumb and forefinger find your chin and tilt it up, “what are you going to do about that?” 

“Suguru—please,” and he smiles as his finger starts to tease your puffy clit through your drenched panties, “don’t tease—” 

“How can I not when you’ve nothing but tease me with your existence?” he pulls the crotch of your underwear aside, “I’ll oblige my favorite student this time—but I won’t be so nice next time,” he adds, biting your bottom lip. 

RING. RING. RING. 

It was his fucking office phone. You groan, but his finger continues to sink into you, “Suguru—” 

“Let it ring,” his lips find yours in a bruising kiss as his finger deliciously sinks into you, “I have all I need right here,” he whispers, and you pull him back into a kiss by the collar of his unbuttoned shirt, your hand sliding up and down his chest, while he worked a finger into your cunt, “so fucking wet f’me, so perfect,” 

And your hand flies back to support yourself as a second finger begins to sink into you — but your hand grazes his office phone, and the messages begin to play back.

“Fuck, sorry,” you mumble, as you reach blindly for the phone, only to knock it back, as he chuckles and reaches behind you, trying but failing to help — your noses brushing, and he smiles before kissing you again. 

Mr. Geto, sorry we missed each other, I was calling, hoping that you would still be in office for the day, but I must have just missed you. I wanted to call to offer you the job as department head at Jujutsu Tech University: Kyoto—

You freeze, your lips parting from his as you look up at him, his eyes wide as he stops the message from playing back any further — and the words settle over the mood like a sheet pulled over a dead body. 

And you’re the first to speak, always asking the questions that will hurt you in the end, “You’re moving to Kyoto?” 

✧ a/n: so i'm sorry for that ending hahah, i promise there will be a happy ending later on for these two. thank you to @gaylatteart and @laneysmusings for betaing and just being the best. also if i tagged you please comment / reblog because tagging on tumblr sucks, it takes very long.

✧ taglist: @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @difficultdomains, @diogodxlot, @that-goth-bisexual, @bash1018, @dazailover1900, @aliyalala, @ashhlsstuff, @blue041803, @mwtsxri, @bblgumfairy, @sukunasleftkneecap, @xo-evangeline, @fiannee, @teatreeoilll, @chalametet, @ryukaver, @d1gitalbathh, @saga3ious, @seventhcinema, @satosugucide, @your-l0nely-star, @sokkasmoon, @deegausserr, @hyookka, @oggsyy, @littlebitb, @higuchislut, @ti-mame, @itoshisins, @cerene-dipity, @onionsoop, @sinlillith, @izzythenaive, @akvrae, @lalacute03, @rxndou, @c-themoon, @xxrag-d0llxx, @hqtoge, @sugarxlumps, @hopeluna, @actualdeemon,

read this 10 minutes before my doctors appointment, this is so hot 🥹🥵

NURSE GETO? NURSE GETO? GETO NURSE? NURSE GETO? BARKEKKAKAJEVRLKA BARKBARKBARK pls. n u r s e g e t o

𝐎𝐧𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐩𝐫𝐢𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐱𝐚𝐦

ft. Fem!Nurse!Geto x Reader x Doctor!Gojo

contains: fem reader, bisexual reader, pwp, sexual tension, threesome, oral (all three of them), unprotected sex, pullout method, cum eating, face sitting, rough sex, making out, soooo much dirty talk, teasing, masturbation, age gap (reader is 20, satosugu are 30ish), finger sucking, squirting, tag teaming

wc: 14.9k… this took 3 days to write

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ

You had recently moved states, meaning you had to break up with your doctor of however many years. It was a sad goodbye, and now you were left with the burden of finding a new doctor. You had recently turned twenty, just having moved out of your parent's house a couple months ago, and you had no idea where to start in looking for a new doctor.

You decided you were going to use your newfound freedom to stay out late and sleep with whoever you wanted! Typical first-time adult free from their parent's reins behavior; but you werent stupid, you knew if you were going to do this, you would need to get on some form of contraceptives.

This led you to look up some highly-rated doctors in your area that was currently talking new patients. You scrolled past dozens upon dozens of old wrinkled faces, before you landed on the perfect candidate; Gojo Satoru. His hair was frosted white, his face looked like it had been chiseled by the gods, and his eyes? You felt like they had come to life on the screen in front of you and were looking through your soul.

Yeah, you had chosen your primary care physician based on his looks, so what? You dug into his portfolio and watched the countless interviews he had done on various websites of course! Definitely not because his outrageous looks and deep voice made your stomach turn over, and absolutely to learn more about your soon-to-be doctor.

After one unnecessarily long phone call to the hospital and speaking to some woman who sounded too senile to still be working; you had the appointment set.

One week later, on the day awaited day, you sat in the waiting room and twirled your thumbs in your lap, you couldn't help but notice that every other patient around you was four times your age. You had dressed yourself up in some sexy, but formal enough-looking clothes, you didn't want to make it too obvious that you had dressed up for this—but your styled hair and extra makeup you added might have given that away.

Your eyes never left the clock as you watched the arms tick by, signaling the time as it got closer and closer to your appointment. You constantly had to remind yourself to take deep breaths as you wiped your sweaty palms off on your knees. You didn't feel this nervous when you were ogling him on the internet, but now that you were here, all the nerves came crashing down. Each time the door to the appointment rooms creaked open, and some different nurse walked into the waiting area, you held your breath before they ultimately called a name that wasn't yours.

After about fifteen minutes past your scheduled time, your nerves had gone down significantly from all of the waiting. You were just about to pull out your phone for the first time that day and play some mobile game to pass the time when the awaited door opened once more, and a tall nurse with long black hair and dark eyes stepped into the room.

She was wearing a tightly fitted mid-thigh length white dress, the sleeves reached to her wrists, but she had rolled them up to her elbows. Her long black hair was pulled half up in a bun, and her side bangs were pulled out from the bun to fall around her face. The rest of her dark strands ran down her back, some cascaded off of her shoulders and rested deliciously against her chest. The low neck of the dress allowed you to get an eyeful of her cleavage that seemed to glow under the yellow lights; you gazed at her collarbones and her slender neck as her dark hair contrasted beautifully against her pale skin.

You could stare at her forever, your gaze dropped down to legs, her thighs were lined in dark tights that made her skin look like silk, your eyes continued in their path down her body until you reached her feet, which stood in delicate-looking black heels—not too too tall— and they made her ankles look so delicious. Her gaze was down on the clipboard she held it against her arm, reading the patient's name mentally before she looked up from under her lashes and scanned around the room and called out your name.

You swore you were the universe's favorite child. First, you had found the hottest man you've ever seen in your life to be your doctor, and his nurse just happened to be the most beautiful woman you had ever laid your eyes on. She called your name again, snapping you out of your stupor and making you slap yourself mentally as you rose to your feet, throwing your bag over your shoulder as you started towards her.

Up close you could see her slanted eyes more clearly, they looked so seductive as she gave you a quick one-over, before she held the door open for you, "Hi sweetheart, we're gonna go to the left." She instructed, to which you just nodded and blushed. She let the door fall shut behind the both of you when you entered, walking past countless diagnosis rooms as she led you to get your measurements. "I haven't seen you here before, is this your first time seeing Dr. Satoru?" She asked, holding her hand out to you to take your bag as she set up the scale for you.

"Oh, y-yeah," You stuttered, trying and failing to meet her sultry eyes as you took off your shoes and placed them to the side of the scale, "I moved here pretty recently so I had to get a new physician." Explained. "I see~" She cooed, mumbling for you to stand straight against the wall so she could get the proper measurements of you before she continued, "Well I'm positive you will love the doctor, He is a very thorough and knowledgeable man." You tensed when you felt her hands graze the top of your head as she brought the leveler down against you to get your height.

"Go ahead and step up here for me." She said, to which you complied, stepping on the scale. "Have you been working for him long?" You asked, making her giggle; the sound was music to your ears. "Ah, funny you ask." She said, jotting down the numbers on the screen in front of her before you stepped down and started pulling your shoes back on. "We have actually been friends since high school." She smiled, tilting her head at you and making her hair drape across her pale face.

You didn't know who you were more jealous of—Dr. Gojo, for being around this woman for god knows how many years of his life, or This woman in front of you, for being around Gojo for all the years of her life. You knew Gojo was about 10 years your senior, so you guessed it must've been the same for her. Not like you would've been able to tell, her skin was almost completely void of any wrinkles or blemishes, she looked like she could be your age if not for her more mature demeanor.

"Wow! That's so cool that you ended up working together! It must be fun." You exclaimed, taking your bag from her as you started for the more private room she would take you to meet the doctor. "It can be." She said, shaking her head with a smile, "He is.. a character for sure." Her subtle insult of him made you laugh. "Go ahead and make yourself comfortable wherever, i'm just going to ask you a couple questions and perform some basic tests on you before I go get him." She explained, "Oh, you can call me Geto by the way, seeing your fresh new face caught me off guard earlier, forgive me." She said, smiling sweetly at you.

That made you gulp, hard. You had caught her off guard? Your head was spinning. She had no idea what she just did to your ego. Geto.. you repeated her name in your head a couple times, loving the way it rolled off your mental tongue. She giggled, "That's my name~" Your jaw dropped. You swore you had said it in your head, but obviously not as she glanced at you briefly with a smile before going back to pull up your records. You pulled your lip between your teeth in embarrassment before you spoke. "S-sorry, it's- you have a pretty name." You stuttered.

She gazed up from her screen and looked over your form as you looked around the room, she couldn't help but think of how cute you looked when you were embarrassed. "Well thank you," she said, finally succeeding in pulling up your records. "You know, it's so nice to have a patient that isn't geriatric, not that I don't love all the old geezers out there." She giggled, "It's just refreshing, I'm glad you chose Satoru." She said honestly, making you blush as you connected your eyes with hers. "Glad I could help," you responded, the both of you keeping your eyes on the other while you spoke.

After a couple beats of silence, she broke eye contact and manipulated the large computer so it was in front of her, "Alright~ It seems you're pretty healthy by looking at your records, just gonna ask you to confirm your date of birth for me before we continue." She asked, looking at you once more and smiling in approval when you answered quickly, "Good girl." Her smooth voice echoed her words in your head, making you clench your thighs together on the too-hard chair you sat on.

After she asked you a couple more standard questions she started gathering the blood pressure and heartrate tools to finish up your standard check-in details. She stood up from her chair and waltzed over to where you sat, her hips swaying as she walked, stopping right in front of you. "Is it alright if I roll up your sleeve?" She asked, waiting for your consent before she wrapped the hard plastic around your arm. "Thank you, sweetheart, relax your legs for me as well, and stick out your finger, please." She asked as she clamped the heartrate monitor on your finger.

She took a step back and put her hand on her hips, watching the numbers appear on the little screens of the tools. A smile appeared on her face before she removed the clamp from your finger, "Do I make you nervous?" She asked, catching you off guard and making your eyes shoot up to meet hers. "Uh," you laughed nervously, "I'm only kidding~" She said, removing the plastic from your arm, the back of her hand grazing against your breast as she did so, leaving your skin feeling like it was buzzing where she touched you. "Your heart rate is just a little high~" Geto explained.

"Oh, I guess I am a little nervous." You admitted shyly, rubbing your sweaty hands against your knees once more. "Aww~ Don't be nervous sweet thing, me and the doctor have your best interests at heart trust me~" She cooed, succeeding in easing your nerves slightly. "So, last question for the doctor, what brings you in today? Standart check-up stuff, or something else?" She asked, tipping her head at you as she waited for you to respond.

At this point, you were semi-regretting your choice to pick a hot doctor with a coincidental hot nurse at the embarrassment you felt from just thinking about telling them you wanted to go on birth control. Maybe you should've chosen one of those old-looking doctors. What if you had hemorrhoids one day? Or had a nasty rash you needed to get looked at? You didn't want these beautiful people to know about that!

You took a deep breath before you spoke, "I uh, was wanting to go on birth control." You said. "Ohh~ smart girl." She perked up, "Did you want to get STI or STD tested while you were here? It's super quick." She offered. "Oh! nono, I uh, I'm not currently.. sexually active." You responded. You were too busy looking at the floor mortified to notice how her eyes lit up upon the revelation that you currently had no sexual partner.

"Oh I see, we can skip the test then~" She said, jotting down the final notes into your chart before she stood, smoothing her dress down her thighs as she rose to her feet. "Alright sweetheart, Ill be right back with the doctor." She winked, making your mouth run dry as you nodded shortly at her. You couldnt stop your eyes from dropping to her ass, watching her hips move as she walked out of the room and gently shut the door behind her.

The second you were alone, you dropped your head into your hands and sighed, your face turning an impossibly darker shade of crimson. You should not be as aroused as you were but she was definitely flirting, right? You had a horrible radar for this kind of thing. Her flirty personality might be just that, her personality, but it seemed more than that. You heaved out a louder sigh, repeating your interactions with her over and over in your head a thousand times as you waited for the doctor.

"Satoruuu, patient time." Geto knocked on his office, making the white-haired man groan and drop his legs onto the floor from where they were splayed out on his desk. "I love my job, but I don't know how many more old geezers with cholesterol problems I can take." He sighed, throwing on his white coat to give him an air of professionalism before he started for the door. The man was halted in his tracks when Geto gave him a squinted look, "Just a second, Satoru." She said, pushing his chest back into his office and shutting the door behind him.

"Oh, Suguru look, I'm flattered~ Truly~" Gojo started, placing the back of his hand over his forehead dramatically. "Ew, no, it's about the patient," Geto said, rolling her eyes at her obnoxious best friend's antics. He dropped his hand to his hips, tilting his head at her as he waited for her to speak, "I think you're really going to like this one, shes new," Geto said, raising her eyebrows. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you, but I'm not into women who are 50-plus years older than me." He sighed, his face tuning into a scowel as he dismissed Geto.

"You're impossible," She sighed, rubbing her temples. Gojo never listened to a thing anyone says, trying to talk to him was like communicating with a brick wall. "She's young, Gojo; twenty; and she wants your help to get her on birth control." She said, watching the color come back to Gojo's face as she spoke. "If you're lying Ill tell the superiors you forged a drug test." He said, all too seriously, making Suguru laugh. "She's a cute one too, just come see for yourself." She giggled, fixing her hair in the mirror on Gojo's door before she opened it and walked into the hallway, Satoru right on her tail, bouncing with excitement.

You lifted your head from your knees and wiped the stray hairs from your face when you heard a knock on your door. Your heart immediately started pounding out of your chest. Good thing you were at a hospital right now because you seriously thought you were going to have a heart attack at any second.

When the door cracked open, the first thing you saw was his white hair peeking through the door, his cruelian eyes next, as they made searing contact with yours. He was so much taller than you imagined, he must've been well over 6 ft tall as he had to duck his head to enter the room. His shirt looked all too small for his chest, the buttons that adorned it were threatening to burst if he moved too suddenly. You could see his bulging muscles through his slacks and his white doctor's jacket alike, making you swallow the saliva that pooled in your mouth, threatening to spill over your lips.

When he was full inside, Geto's familiar face was revealed to you as she slipped in behind him. You couldn't tell if her presence set you more on edge, or comforted you with how fast your heart was racing. "Well hello there." The handsome man said your name and the word has never sounded better when it rolled off his tongue, "Nurse Geto told me this is your first time seeing me," He smiled fondly at you, showing off his impossibly white teeth, "Although I could come to that conclusion myself, I would remember someone like you." He said, making your mouth run dry.

"My name is Dr. Gojo Satoru, its a pleasure to meet you." He said, squinting his eyes as he smiled at you and stuck his large hand out for you to shake. His hand almost entirely covered yours when he shook it, the heat radiating from his hand alone seemed to warm your entire body from the couple of seconds of contact.

"I-its nice to meet you too." You said through a shaky voice, trying your best to keep eye contact with his intimidating gaze. "Nurse Geto will just be here to take notes, is that alright?" He asked, sitting on the chair Geto sat at before, placed in front of the big computer. You shook your head, signaling your approval before you gazed away from him and made eye contact with her comforting face.

"Alright let's get down to business ~" He clapped his hands together before dragging two big fingers over the mousepad and looking briefly over your chart. "You're here to talk about birth control right?" He checked, raising his eyebrow at you as he looked over your body quickly before you looked back at him. "Yes, I've never used any form of contraceptives before, so.. I'm not really sure what all the methods are." This confession made Gojo's eyebrows shoot up.

"Ohhh ballsy~" He said before continuing, "You really should at least use a condom during sex, they protect against many forms of STD's and largely prevent unwanted pregnancies." He explained, interlacing his fingers together in his lap. "Has Nurse Geto already offered the STD screeding today?" He asked. "Oh, no I think you misunderstand, Ive never.." You paused, and he smiled and nodded at your words, encouraging you to continue, "I've never needed contraceptives because I haven't had sex before, but I've recently been attending college for the first time so I thought It might be smart to start now, you never know what might happen." You explained, looking away from his glowing eyes.

"Ah, good girl, that's a very responsible decision." He praised. What was with these people and their flirty personalities? You felt like your face was going to explode with how hot it was. Geto hummed in agreement in the background, making you look between the two of them. "Well, lucky for you my dear, we have manyy~ options available for you." He dragged in his chipper voice. "I'll make sure you leave with some condoms today, Geto will provide those for you at the end of your appointment, so you'll be covered there." He said, making you smile and nod in appreciation.

"But for the big guns, we have the pill, which is most common but typically has the most intense side effects." Your face scrunched up at the sound of side effects, yuck. He explained a couple more options, Nexplanon; an implant that would go in your arm, which made you cringe, A shot you would get once every three months; which sounded annoying, and an IUD, which would essentially get shoved into your cervix via some overworked and mean woman who doesnt care about your general well being and just wants to go home to sleep.

He laughed at your face when you stared at your feet with an expression of disgust. "You don't seem very thrilled with any of the options." He said, rolling his chair over to yours as he caressed his big hand over your back. This was a lot more to take in than you thought. "Am I supposed to be?" You asked, looking up at your lashes at his face that was far too close for comfort, yet you wouldn't dare tell him to move. Geto laughed at your response, "Absolutely not, being a woman is hell, and they aren't going to make it any easier by giving us some nice, painless out of getting pregnant." She said, making your sigh.

As intimidating as these two were, you felt strangely comfortable talking to them about this, especially with how real they were being. Geto was clearly not afraid to give you the cold hard truth and not sugar coat anything. "Are you on birth control?" You aked Geto, quickly putting your arms out in front of you as your face heated up, "I am so sorry! You don't have to answer that!" You panicked, making the both of them giggle.

"It's alright sweetie, Id be more than happy to tell you. Talking to another woman about their own experience with certain forms of birth control can help you make your own informed decision." She smiled. You don't think you've ever wanted to fuck a woman so bad in your life. You mentally slapped yourself from getting aroused at her explaining birth control to you, but the way she was being so supportive made your stomach do flips.

"And you definitely don't need to make a decision today," Gojo added, removing his hand from your back as he sat back into his chair, spreading his legs out wide. "Doctor Gojo is right," Geto added, before she rose to her feet and walked over to where you sat before sitting down next to you herself and placing her hand on your knee.

"As for your question, I used to be on the pill, but taking it every day at the same time got tedious, so I got an IUD and it was the best decision I ever made." She said, rubbing her hand over your knee in a way that you assume was supposed to be comforting but it just heightened your arousal if anything. She leaned in till her mouth was right against your ear and whispered, "The best part is your partner can come inside and you don't even have to think about it." She giggled, pulling back her hand from your leg as she stood up and got back into her place behind Gojo's seat.

So that was flirting, right? She was 100% flirting right there, there was no doubt in your mind. "No secrets," Gojo whined, pouting at Geto while she stuck her tongue out at him. You couldn't even pay attention to the banter between them as your ear was still tingling from where she whispered into it.

"I-I think the IUD sounds good." You said, making Geto giggle. "Did what I tell you help you come to that conclusion?" She asked, Once again making Gojo beg for her to tell him what she said. "Geeez." She said, shooing Gojo off of her with her hand, "I just let her know that she doesn't have to worry if her partner comes inside her." She said, making a grin plaster itself over Gojo's handsome features.

"Ohh" He cooed, "Yeah that is a nice perk." The white-haired man said, rolling his chair away from Geto's personal space. "Does that sound like something you're interested in?" The handsome doctor asked, making you choke on your saliva. "H-huh, I uh, I don't know, It sounds like it could be nice.." You said under your breath. "A IUD sounds like it could be nice?" He repeated, making you freeze as you realized you misunderstood his question. Of course he wasn't asking you if you wanted to get cream pied, for fuck's sake. You wished the floor would open up and swallow you whole right now.

Geto snickered under her breath, a light blush coating her face at your confession. "Well, it is nice, She's not wrong." The dark-haired woman added, making your embarrassment worse as you hid your face in your hands. "Ughhhh.. sorry." Your muffled voice came through your hands, making Gojo laugh softly. "It's okay, no one is judging here." He said, taking the opportunity to once again study your body under his intense gaze as your eyes were obstructed.

You took a deep breath before dropping your hands into your lap, intertwining your fingers as you twiddled with your thumbs. "I'll make a follow-up appointment for a week from now to give you some time to think about it." He said, changing the subject so as to not embarrass you any further. Geto typed some notes down into her laptop from behind him while Gojo scrolled through your chart. He made sure you had no other questions regarding the topic before he continued.

"Alright, so It says here in your chart that your last physical exam was over three years ago, is that right?" He asked you, "Yes, that's right." you replied, noticing how he tsked at your answer. "You really should be making regualr visits to the doctor~" He cooed, wiggling his long finger out in front of him. "When was the last time you had a breast exam? Im not seeing any notes about that in your chart either." He said, scrolling on the computer.

You bit your lip before answering, "I uh, I've never gotten a.. a breast exam." You said, making both Geto and Gojo turn their heads to look at you. "Oh honey, those are so important you know, you should be checking yourself yearly after you turn 18." Geto explained. You knew she was right but it sounded so embarrassing. You remember trying it yourself once, following the guide of som video years ago, but you had no idea what you were feeling for, and the thought of some doctor doing it for you made you even more nervous, so you just abandoned the thought.

"I tried myself after we learned about it in high school but.. I didn't know how to do it, and it seemed so humiliating to ask my doctor to help me." You said, making brief eye contact with the two before you looked around the room, avoiding their eyes. Geto and Gojo simultaneously bit their lip, their faces heating up at your innocent confession before the white-haired man spoke up. "Honey, that's what we're here for, you should never feel embarrassed for keeping yourself healthy." He cooed, standing from his seat as his long legs took him over to the cupboards, where he pulled out a white gown.

"Go ahead and put this on, we'll leave the room to give you some privacy." He explained, putting the white cloth in your hands. "We can do your breast exam today, along with your other physical exam testing." He said, smiling at you warmly before he tipped his head at Geto and signaled for the two of them to leave. You waited until the door clicked shut before you stood. You looked around the room before you started undressing.

You pulled off all of your clothes, save for your panties, which you couldn't help but notice that you had completely soaked through. You hoped they wouldn't somehow notice during the exam, you would be absolutely mortified. You folded your clothes and placed them on the empty chair next to your bag, while you waited with a racing heart for them to re-enter the room.

Gojo and Geto had moved just a couple feet down the hall, leaning against opposite sides of the wall next to the window while they waited. "Good call on bringing up the breast exam," Geto spoke through the silence, which made him sigh in relief as Gojo's body relaxed, dropping his arms by his side. "Oh I'm so glad you said something, I thought it was pretty smart." He giggled mischievously.

"So what do you think of her?" Geto asked, twirling a dark strand of her hair around her manicured fingers. "She's fucking adorable, I just wanna bend her over the exam table and fuck the life outta her." Gojo wined, tipping his head back against the wall. Geto laughed in response, wholeheartedly agreeing with her perverted best friend.

"I'm so glad this ridiculously long coat covers my crotch, I've been so unbelievably hard from the second I laid eyes on her." Gojo sighed, running a hand through his hair before he stared down at his crotch. "Wouldn't wanna scare her away now." Geto laughed, following his gaze down to his covered crotch and nodding in approval when she couldn't see the massive tent he was sporting through the cover of it.

The two of them would feel bad about talking about a clueless patient like this, but you were so fun to tease, and you were just too fucking cute that it overwhelmed any rational thinking from them. The two friends truly did share a brain cell when they were around you. "Yeah, I hear you, I wonder if she's into women, I would love to see her doe eyes looking up at me while I sit on her face." She day dreams, huffing out a sigh of her own.

"Oh, are you kidding?" Gojo laughed, "Did you see the way she clenched her thighs when you put your hand on her knee? She definitely swings both ways." The two of them gossiped for a couple minutes like their high school days, before Geto got a glimpse of the time on Gojo's watch. "She's probably done now don't you think?" Geto said, tapping her heel against the floor. "Yeah, it's time." Gojo smiled, giving Geto a sneaky fist bump before they made their way back to your room.

You held the fabric closer to your body when you heard them knock on the door. Once you verbalized that they could come inside, the door squeaked open, and they stepped into your space once more. "Oh my god thank you for folding your clothes so neatly." Geto sighed, holding her hand over her chest while she spoke. "I swear these old babies just leave their clothes all over the floor like children, then ask me to clean it up after." She sighed, referring to the old patients they saw all too often.

Her relief made you laugh, easing your nerves a bit as you waved your hand in front of you, telling her it was no problem. "Alright, go ahead and sit up here for me." Doctor Gojo spoke, patting his hand on the parchment lined exam bed in the middle of the room. You raised to your feet, holding the back of the gown shut behind your ass as you climbed onto the bed and sat down.

Gojo stood inches from his pelvis touching your knees as he gripped the rubber reflex hammer in his massive hand, making it look dwarfed. Geto walked around him and sat in one of the chairs that gave her the best view, bringing her laptop with her to disguise her perverted antics as work. "Is it alright if I touch you?" Gojo asked, looking into your eyes as he waited for his answer.

To your own surprise, you were able to keep contact with them as you nodded shyly, and dropped your gaze to his hand as it started for your knee. You twitched instinctively when his warm hand cradled the underside of your knee before smoothing it around to the front and gently pushing the fabric of the gown up so he could have a better view of what he was doing.

He pressed his palm flat against your thigh, right above your knee, and hit the rubber against your knee, making it kick up reflexively as you kicked against his shin lightly. "Oh- sorry doctor." You apologized. "Don't be, sweetheart." He laughed, "It's not like you can control it." He said. He then instructed you to scoot against the edge of the bed so he could press his stethoscope against various parts of your torso.

"This might be a little cold." He warned before his big hand came to stabilize your lower back as he pressed the cold metal agaisnt the skin on your back, making you tense up at the touch. He apologized and continued pressing the stethescope over specific points on your back as he had you inhale deeply for him. "Thats right, just like that." He praised when you listende obediantly to his instruction, making your face flush, something Geto did not miss as she sat in front of you with a perfect veiw of your entire body.

His warm hand made your skin feel like it was on fire, you pulled your lip between your teeth when his hand moved lower on your back, as did his stethoscope. His body was so close to yours, your knees practically pressed against his waist.

“Your heart is racing~” he teased, pulling away entirely as he spoke some numbers to Geto, making her type them down on her laptop. “It’s been a while..” you laughed awkwardly. “Since someone touched you?” he said, making every hair on your body stand on edge. “S-since I’ve been to the doctor, I mean..” you clarified, cleaning your throat as you avoided his eyes which were staring straight through yours. The white-haired man smiled at your response before he leaned back, removing his touch from your body.

"Right," He said before he hung his stethescope back around his neck. "Are you ready for the breast exam?" He asked, which mad you clench your thighs together at what was to come. "I uh.. I think so, but I have a question." You said, staring up at his face that seemed to be beaming with excitement. "Is there any way that Nurse Geto could um.. do the exam?" You asked, embarrassment laced in your tone. "I don't mean to offend you, its just, she's.." You stuttered.

If you had been paying attention you would've seen the way the light drained from Gojo's face, as he tried his best to maintain his smile. "Absolutely!" Geto perked, standing from her chair as she placed her hand on Gojo's shoulder, pushing him out of the way. "I would be more than happy to take over." She said kindly, giving Gojo a smug look over her shoulder before walking past him.

"Thats. Perfectly. Fine!" Gojo grit through his faux smile, his eye twitching at the fact that Geto got to touch you before him. If it were any other nurse he would've been fine with it. Sure, he still would've been bummed out; but it would've been fine. Only now, because he knew Geto had the same motives as him, it irritated him to no end.

"Do you want me to leave the room too?" He asked, trying to not let the 'sore loser' seep into his tone. He heaved an internal sigh of relief when you shook your head, allowing him to stay in the room. "Alright, I'm going to draw this curtain for some privacy, then we can get to it." She said, making you bite your lip and nod at her, as you held eye contact with her dark eyes. You watched with bated breath as she drew the curtain between the two of you, and the doctor.

Unbeknownst to you, she had sent the man on the other side one last smug look before she closed the curtain. Once she secured it to the hook on the wall, she turned to face you, holding her hands together in front of her. "Alright sweetie, whenever you're ready, you can remove your gown." Her smooth voice echoed into the room. Gojo had made himself comfortable leaning against the wall, his head tipped back against it as he bit his lip and tried to quiet his own pounding heart enough to listen to what was happening just a couple feet from him.

You held the fabric over your chest, getting a hold of your nerves before you slid it down your arms. Geto kept her eyes on your face, not wanting to make you uncomfortable. She did however get a peek of them through her prerephrial vision, which would suffice for now. "Do you prefer to sit or stand for this?" She asks, already looking into your eyes when you look back to her. "I- I think I'll sit, if that's okay." You replied. You seriously didn't know if your legs would hold up if you were to stand right now, they were already trembling and she hadnt even done anythng yet.

She stepped into your space, slotting herself between your knees and up against the hospital bed as she released her fingers from one another, coming to rest on the side of the bed. "I'm going to start now, okay?" She said, smiling when you nodded at her.

You knew you weren't going crazy, something was here, it had to be. The air felt so thick, it felt so hard to breathe with her so close. On top of that, you didn't think you'd ever been so turned on in your life. The throbbing between your legs and the heat that was pooling in your belly was almost unbearable. Your bare chest was out for her eyes; and soon her hands; to feast upon. Your nipples had pebbled from being so exposed, and you could feel the goosebumps that spread along your arms while you held your breath, and watched her reach her hands out to touch you.

When her warm hands made contact with your skin you gasped, quickly pressing your lips together as a crimson blush spread itself darker along your face. "You okay?" She asked, beginning to massage your breasts in her hands. "M-mhm" You answered, looking away from her intimidating gaze and opting to look at the floor while she squished and squeezed your breasts in her hands.

When she made sure she wouldn't be caught looking, she dropped her gaze to your breasts. She felt her cunt pulse around nothing when the view of your completely unobstructed tits registered in her brain. She quickly licked her lips, trying to snap herself out of the trance she was in and focus on the task at hand.

On the other side of the curtain, Gojo had his palm pressed over his mouth, his head still tipped back against the wall as his other was rubbing himself slowly over his slacks. His head was spinning listening to the little gasps and whines you made, he wished so badly that he was the one making you make all those sounds; what he wouldn't give to see your face right now.

His legs threatened to buckle underneath him the longer he stroked himself, he knew he shouldn't be doing this but the only other person who would ever know about this was Geto, and he knew she would take it to the grave.

A loud moan emanating from the other side of the curtain made him freeze. "Sorry honey, did that hurt?" Geto asked in her sultry voice, quickly looking back up to your eyes to avoid being caught ogling your tits. "N-no, didn't.. didn't hurt." You said, looking up at her from underneath your eyelashes. "Mmm.. just sensitive, huh?" She asked, pouting her bottom lip at you as she continued massaging your breasts in her hands.

She resisted the urge to squeeze her thighs together, taking a deep breath to calm herself when you nodded. "Mine are the same too, I get it." She admitted, making you rub your thighs together. "They feel quite healthy tho, no lumps or anything feeling concerning." She said, bringing the more professional side of things back into play before she lost her cool and kissed you. Gojo was so close to ripping back the curtain to see what was happening, but now more than ever was a time that he needed to exercise patience.

"A-are you sure?" You said, you really didn't want her to stop touching you, it made your cunt pulse whenever she squished your breasts in her hands. "Well.. I'm not as experienced as the doctor.." She drawled, making Gojo remove his hand from his cock as he perked up. "If you're okay with it, we could get a second opinion." She offered, to which you nodded eagerly. She laughed at your enthusiasm before she replied, "Okay, Ill go ahead and let Doctor Gojo in." She smiled, before turning around to untie the curtain from the wall.

You weren't thinking rationally at this point, your brain was feeling foggy and your body was plagued with the need for release. You were no longer as embarrassed as you were before as you sat patiently on the bed and waited for the doctor.

Gojo straightened his coat in front of himself once more when Geto cracked open the curtain for him. She shook her head when she noticed how flushed and out of it he looked, making a vague gesture to his hair, telling him to fix it before he presented himself to you.

After the man ran his hands through his soft hair a couple of times— and after receiving a nod of approval from Geto— he made peeked his head inside, and let Geto shut the cloth behind him, tying it to the wall once more to block them off from the rest of the room.

Gojo smiled at you, internally screaming as your eyes made contact with his, meaning he couldn’t peek a look at your bare chest that sat right in front of him, practically begging for him to touch it. “Well hello again, I hope you’ve been well~” he said, easing the palpable tension in the space before he made his way in front of you.

“Heard you wanted a second opinion, hm?” He asked, tilting his head while he smiled at you. “Y-yeah, just in case.. yknow,” you said under your breath. The both of them saw through your lie. They were all picking up on the same tension you felt, and Gojo was well aware that Geto was more than familiar with giving breast exams adequately, she had never asked Gojo for a second opinion before.

“Alright, let’s see.” Gojo whispered before he pushed himself in the same position Geto was before him, right between your legs, as she watched him ‘work’ from the side. As much as Geto loved touching your herself, it made it hard to look at your breasts while she did, so now that Gojo was ‘double checking’ her work, she had the perfect excuse to watch.

You bit your lip between your teeth and looked down at his hands when you felt his larger palms make contact with your breasts. You were unable to stop yourself from rubbing your thighs together as subtly as possible, although not quite subtle enough. Geto’s watchful eyes picked up on your shifting, she watched you cross your ankles together and your spine stiffen while Gojo worked his hands on you.

"Mph-" Your muffled moans vibrated agains your lips as you tried your best to hold back. "Hmm~" Gojo hummed, furrowing his eyebrows together. "Something wrong?" Geto asked, uncrossing her arms from where she stood. "Maybe.. feel this spot right here for me." Gojo asked, moving his hand off of your right breast and letting Geto step into your space. Your body jolted when her cold fingers wrapped around your breast and squeezed roughly while Gojo's hand was still at work on your other.

"Mmm feels a little tender," She said, pouting her bottom lip out. "I-is that bad?" You asked, looking up at her while she watched your breast move under the manipulation of her hand. "How often do you venture up here?" She asked, keeping her eyes on yours while she spoke. "N-not often." You asked, making Gojo and Geto shake their heads in unison. "Thats no good~ Its good to keep the blood moving up here every once in a while." Gojo chastised, giving your tit a particularly hard squeeze.

"It's sooo easy too." Geto continued, leaning into your ear, "You can do it when you're all alone.. getting ready for bed.." Her whispers made your breath pick up, your choked breaths were freely flowing into the air as the two of them massaged your chest. This was no longer about a breast exam, and the three of you knew it. "Touching your nipples is soo good for the blood flow too~" She continued her teasing, pinching your hard bud between her index finger and thumb.

"Anyways~" She said suddenly, removing her hand completely and backing up from you after rolling your nipple between her fingers for a few seconds. Gojo copied her, pulling his hand away from your skin and placing it on his hip as he faced his body towards the dark-haired nurse, "I didn't feel anything abnormal, so I think we've checked all our bases." She said, winking at Gojo, signaling for him to go along with it.

"Oh yeah, I think you're right, they felt veeerry healthy to me," Gojo responded, dragging out his words. You started panicking internally, it couldn't be over already, could it? Had this all really just been professional? Including the stuff Geto just said? Your body was on fire, you were feeling drunk already and they had barely touched you, there was no way it stopped here. "W-wait, that was s-so fast, are you sure you checked thoroughly enough?" You asked, trying and failing to keep the need out of your voice.

"I mean, both of us are pretty experienced with this kind of thing.. and we didn't feel anything wrong, you worried we missed something?" Gojo asked, smirking when you nodded a little too quickly. "Are you sure?" He asked, making you tilt your head in confusion, "Sure about what?" You asked, pulling up the cloth to cover your breasts as you waited for him to speak. "Are you sure you're worried we missed something?" He asked, making Geto cover her mouth with a snicker, before she slapped his shoulder.

"I-yes, w-why else.." You bait, swallowing hard as you try to breathe in the heavy air in the room. "Well~" The white-haired doctor started as he slowly turned his body to face you once more, looking you up and down before he started making his way over to you. The two of you kept eye contact with one another up until he was between your legs again, his big hand came up to push your hand that was holding the gown over your chest down into your lap.

"I know getting your chest played with can feel erotic." He said, curling his lips in on themselves before he reached his hand out for your chest once more, and engulfed your tit in his hand. "Could that be why you don't want us to stop?" He said, tilting his head down at you as he tried to make you look at his eyes again. Your jaw dropped open as soft moans slipped from your tongue and out into the small room around you.

Geto came up from behind him and wrapped her arms around his torso, leaning her head against her shoulder as she looked at you, "Dont lie~" She added, giving you a sinister smile disguised as a sweet one. You took a deep breath, looking between the two of them before you nodded. "Fucking knew it~" Geto cooed, her smile becoming toothy as she released her hold around Gojo and slid between the two of you, sliding her hands under the thin gown against your upper thighs.

Gojo could be heard pouting out a "hey.." from behind the two of you. She leaned in close to your face, her sweet perfume clouding your senses. She licked her lips and gripped your thighs in her hands. "You like me?" She asked, pressing her shiny lips together in a smile. You breathed out a needy 'yes' against her lips, looking up between her eyes and her mouth. "Is this okay?" You asked.

You knew this wasn't exactly standard practice in.. well.. anywhere. And they were absolutely breaking every code in the book right now, but between the three of you, not one of you cared. "Is it okay?" She asked, scrunching her eyebrows at you. "Were all adults here." Gojo smiled, sitting against the arm of the chair as he watched the two of you.

When you nodded, Geto's lips were on yours. "Mmm! Mph-" You moaned against her lips when she wasted no time in making her tongue home in your mouth, she slid her hands to your waist and pulled you against her so you were pelvis to pelvis. "Gotta be quiet for me, okay?" She whispered in between kisses.

You nodded, vocalizing an 'uh-huh" aginst her lips before she climbed on top of you, pressing her knee against your cunt while she kissed you hungrily. You squeezed your thighs around hers, your knee simultaneously bumping against her mound, your leg pushing her dress up her thighs as exposing her panties to your hungry eyes.

"Fuck, this is so fucking hot." Gojo groaned, you cracked your eyes open and looked at him out of the corner of your eye, Geto took the opportunity to grip the bottom half of your face in her hand and tilted it to the side, facing Gojo, as she brought her lips down to your neck and started kissing and sucking the skin there. "Keep your eyes on him, sure hes jerking off right about now." She giggled against your neck, her other hand touching freely over your body.

Her intuition was spot on, the white-haired man was groping himself over his pants, and his white doctor's jacket had been discarded on the chair he was leaning against as he watched the show in front of him.

“D-Doctor Gojo,” you whined, squeezing your thighs harder around Geto’s leg as your arousal spiked watching him jerk off. “You like watchin me baby?” he asked, a drunken smile plastering itself on his face. “Y-yes” you replied, making him put his full weight on his feet as he walked towards you.

“Bet you’ll like touchin me even more.” The white haired man came up on the side of you and held your head in his hand as he pressed his thighs against the bed the two of you were on. Gojo reached for your hand and made you palm him over his pants while Geto turned your head back to her and kissed you once more.

The man’s big hand groped over yours and aided you in touching his cock through his slacks while Geto moaned into your mouth. He felt absolutely massive under your hand, you doubted even Gojo himself could wrap his hand completely around his cock. “Oh good fucking girl.” He praised, biting his lip while he watched the two of you go at it like animals.

Geto dropped her hand from your face and used it to massage your tit once more, paying more attention to your nipple now that she could stop disguising her shameless groping as a breast exam. "You're so sensitive here I don't know how you held out for so long." She teased, pulling her mouth back with a wet sound as she watched your face contort under her hands ministrations against your chest.

Your other hand came up to press her hand against hers, silently telling her not to stop. "Oh yeah? You like that?" She moaned, smiling at your silent plea. "Don't worry baby, Ill make you feel even better." She promised, using the tip of her middle finger to rub around the areola of your nipple, making your hips push up against her knee.

"We" Gojo corrected the dark-haired woman. "We will make you feel even better." The woman laughed, moving her eyes to focus on Gojo's while she leaned down against your chest and sucked the little bud into her mouth. She chose not to respond and instead oped to close her eyes as she hummed around your warm nipple, rolling and sucking it into her mouth, making sure to spend extra attention to the tip of your nipple with her tongue.

Gojo watched your body jerk and squirm against the bed while she alternated between your sensitive nipples; she used her other hand to grope the tit her mouth wasn't on, making sure it didn't feel lonely. Your hand went slack against his crotch, giving Gojo the time to pull away before he was unzipping his pants and pulling his cock through the hole in his boxers.

You moaned sharply when you felt him press your hand around something warm and hard. You instinctively wrapped your hand around it, making him coo at you as you looked over to watch what you were doing. "Yesss, stroke my dick, pretty girl." He smiled, using his big hand to run his fingers through your hair while you slowly and unsurely gave the handsome doctor a handjob.

Geto popped off of your tits after a while, staring down at her work as she admired the light purple hickeys that decorated your breasts along with your swollen nipples from all her sucking. "So fucking pretty," She praised, making Gojo hum in agreement. "I would looove to suck your tits all day, but your cunt has been pulsing against my knee for so fucking long I cant take it anymore." She said, crawling off from on top of you and sliding your panties down your thighs with her.

"Fuck yess." Gojo moaned, biting his lip. He really had no romantic interest in Geto, but you were both undeniably hot, and the thought of watching her eating you out and her making you cum on her tongue in front of him made his dick throb in your grip. "Pervert." Geto smiled smugly, rolling her eyes. "I'm only a man." He said, making her giggle as she pulled your body once more, to the edge of the bed. "W-what are you gonna do." You asked, looking down at the woman between your legs before looking over to the white-haired man on your side.

"Im gonna eat your pussy while you suck Doctor Gojo off, that sound okay to you guys?" She asked, smiling sweetly between the two of you. Both you and Gojo nodded quickly at her proposition, "I can't think of a better idea myself." He responded, dropping his other hand down to caress the head of his best friend. She rolled her eyes at his dramatics before she slung your thighs around her head, kneeling on the steps below the bed.

"You ever squirted before?" She asked you, making you sit up slightly to look at her, "N-no." You answered, making her smile mischievously before she bit your thigh hard, pulling the skin back before releasing it, "You will." She responded confidently. You had no doubt in your mind that she wouldn't. You turned your head back to the doctor, watching your hand stroke his cock while Geto had her way with your thighs.

"You ever sucked a cock before?" He asked, caressing your head comfortingly. His brain short-circled when he watched you look up at him from under your lashes, your doe eyes looking glassy, "Not one as big as yours." You said, dropping your eyes back down to his length. You thought dicks like his only existed in porn. You swallowed hard thinking about how you were going to fit him in your mouth. "Don't worry, I'll go easy on you." He assured, his abs clenchedwhen you rubbed your thumb over his tip, spreading the wetness down the length of his cock.

He brought himself as close as he could, cradling your head while you stroked his dick right in front of your face, just inches from your mouth. Geto was having the time of her life between your thighs, she was suckinng and biting every last bit of your skin to make sure that every time you looked in the mirror for weeks afterward, you would be reminded of what happened that day.

She brought her mouth closer and closer to where you needed her the most; her teasing making you squeeze your hand around Gojo's cock harder. "Fuck, such a pretty pussy." She mumbled to no one in particular. "If its so pretty, maybe you should eat it already~" Gojo teased, dying to see you squirm on her tongue and feel you moan around his cock while she ate you out.

Geto was constantly bragging to Gojo about her skilled tongue in bed, having seemingly endless stories about how she made guys and girls alike squirt like a fountain in record-breaking times, he was excited to finally see it in person. "Don't tell me what to do Satoru." She chastized--but listened to him anyways.

She leaned her head down between your legs and gave a precise kitten lick to your little clit, making you jolt. You wished you could watch her, but you had work to do yourself, the feeling of her hands wrapping around your thighs while she ate you out would have to do. You brought your own head closer to Gojo's cock and mimicked her actions on you, against him, kitten licking the tip of his dick.

"Yesss," Gojo groaned with a smile, not knowing where he wanted to look more as his eyes darted between your lips that were slowly but surely wrapping themselves around his cock, or in between your legs, where his best friend shook her head back and forth against your wetness, making your body jerk at the intense pleasure. "Holy shit, you're so fucking sweet." She whined against your cunt, sucking the little neglected bud into her mouth.

Your eyes rolled in the back of your head at her ministrations, the vibrations from her voice around your clit sent pleasant chills down your spine. Gojo watched with a slack jaw as you bobbed your head further down his dick, using your small hand to smear the spit you were creating down the length of his cock and jerk off what couldn't fit in your mouth from this angle.

You were grateful to have something plugging you up, because Geto's expert tongue was doing wonders for you, and you weren't sure how quiet you could've been without having Gojo's cock in your throat. This all felt like a fuzzy dream to you, because there was absolutely no way you were getting tag-teamed by your new physician and his hot nurse on top of this this hard hospital bed on a Thursday.

Geto's tongue quickly brought you back down to reality when she started drawing quick circles against your clit with her thumb, as she buried her face as deep as possible against you, tongue fucking your cunt and moaning against you shamelessly. "I don't think you're the one we have to worry about staying quiet." Gojo giggled down at you.

She pulled her mouth back from you, heaving air into her lungs as she spoke, "You're saying that without having tasted her." She said, before dropping her tongue back on you. Gojo wasn't sure how long she had been doing it, but at some point, her hand come down to play with her own needy cunt between your legs while she ate you out. He couldn't see exactly what she was doing because of his blocked vision by the table, but he could see her arm was moving rapidly underneath you.

"Must taste r-real good if she has you fingering yourself." Gojo teased, his words coming out in stutters when you tried to take his cock deeper in your throat, resulting in a gag that made your throat constrict around him. She just moaned in response, keeping up the delicious circles on your clit while she drank up every drop of your arousal that you gave her.

You brought your head away from Gojo's cock, popping your lips back with a lewd wet sound. "Y-you're so big D-doctor." You pouted, staring up at the man. He knew it was so wrong, so absolutely twisted, but when he heard you call him 'doctor' in this situation, it made a heavy drop of pre drip onto your hand. "Oh, you're fucking naughty." He giggled, starting to hump his cock in your hand, making obscene 'schlick' sounds emanate around the room.

You let yourself moan freely for a couple of seconds before your mouth was back on him. You made quick circles around the tip of his cock, rotating your tongue against him while making sure to pay special attention to the vein that ran on the underside of his cock. "What a fucking mouth~" He said, letting his jaw fall open as his head tipped back in a moan, trying his hardest not to release his load over your pretty face so soon.

His brain short-circuited when your other hand joined the mix, massaging his balls in the palm of your hand. "Oh fuck- just like that, don't fucking stopp." He moaned, gripping his nails harder against your scalp while you bobbed your head around his cock and played with his heavy balls in your hands with a delicious rhythm.

The truth was, Geto was rapidly bringing you towards what you knew would be a mindblowing orgasm, and you wanted to make Gojo cum before that, so you put all of your brainpower onto pleasuring him while the dark-haired woman between your thighs alternated between sucking your cit and finger fucking you, curling her fingers against your sweet spot; and tongue fucking you while she spelled her name on your clit with her fingers.

"Think she's gonna cum." Geto mumbled against your pussy, making Gojo groan in acknowledgment. "Fuck, I am too." He responded. "So fucking t-tight." She whimpered into your pussy, quickening the speed of the thrusts inside herself as she used the palm of her hand to grind her clit against it. "You gonna let me cum all over your pretty face? Huh?" Gojo asked, scratching his nails over your head.

You looked up at him through your lashes, your watery eyes trying their best not to roll back in your head as you nodded around him, giving your consent. "You're so fucking." thrust "Perfect." He grinned, giggling when you gagged particularly hard against his mean hips.

The coil in your stomach was getting tighter and tighter, you so desperately needed to see Geto’s face before you came; you knew it would push you over the edge. “Oh- S-shit-“ Gojo groaned, “C-can I fuck your throat? I’m so close, promise I’ll be fast.” The thought of him losing control and humping hi cock into your warm mouth sounded like just what you needed right now.

You shook your head to the best of your ability, dropping both hands from his cock as he grabbed your cheek with his other hand, getting a better leverage on you before he started fucking hi cock down your throat. You brought your hands down to the woman’s hair between your legs and dug your nails into her scalp, making her whine into your clit. “Mhm-mhm-“ she hummed against you while you used her head to hump your own hips against her face.

You fought back gag after gag as gojo used your mouth like his own personal flesh light, biting his lip and gritting his teeth while he focused his gaze intently on your lips that were swallowing up his cock. The tears that had welled up in your eyes began to fall down your cheeks at his rough treatment on your throat.

“Good girl, good fucking girl- almost- fuck-“ Gojo groaned, his eyes rolling back into his head as his pace grew sloppy on your throat. The lack of oxygen was bringing you closer to your orgasm, but you so desperately wanted to watch him cum before Geto made you cum first.

Gojo fucked the entirety of his cock down your throat, pressing jus balls against your chin while he grit his teeth, feeling himself twitch in your warm mouth. “Fuuuuuck-“ The white haired man groaned, pulling his hips quickly back from your mouth and letting you cough freely as you swallowed air into your lungs.

Your hips pace against Geto’s mouth was sloppy, your body stuttering as you moved while her lips suction cupped around your clit and teased it with her wet tongue. You turned your head to look down at her, making contact with her glassy eyes and her furrowed brows as she nodded at you, moaning against your wetness.

The sight sent you over the edge, you gripped her hair tightly between your fingers, your nails digging into her scalp in unison as you squirted all over her face. She pulled her mouth and hand she was working on herself back as she fucked her fingers directly into your sweet spot while rubbing quickly back and forth over your sensitive clit, making your juices spray on her.

Gojo stroked his cock next to your face furiously, looking down at your pussy as you squirted all over his best friends face. “Fuckk,” he groaned, grabbing your face in his hand he turned your head to look up at him.

Your eyes were foggy and all out of focus from how hard you came, your body still shaking and twitching from the orgasm as Geto’s fingers fucked you through the aftershocks. “Tongue out.” Gojo grit through his teeth, biting his lip when you quickly obeyed.

“S-shit-“ The doctor tipped his head back as his jaw fell slack. He tapped his cockhead on your tongue, laying it flat on it before he stilled his hand. His hot ropes of cum spurted into your mouth as he groaned freely, fucking his hips into his hand as some streaks of his cum landed on your cheeks and hair. “How pretty.” Geto whined from under you; referring to the painting gojo was creating on your face.

Gojo’s body jerked and jolted as he came all over your face, his head tipping forward towards the end of his orgasm as he squeezed his cock up to the tip, making sure he gave you every last drop of his cum. “Shiiiit” the man giggled, watching you lean your head up and suck his tip clean before you pulled back, letting your head fall against the hard bed as you licked his cum off your lips. “Could she be any more perfect?” he said to Geto.

You were too fucked out to notice that Gojo was still hard, even though he just came. Geto stood up from between your legs, sliding her tights and panties off in the process as she kicked them to some corner of the room. “Well let’s find out.” She answered, giving Gojo a quick smirk before she straddled your limp body.

Without so much as saying a word, she grabbed your cum covered face in her hands and licked Gojo’s cum off your cheeks, making you blush. “Cum hungry slut.” Gojo laughed at his best friend's shameless display of lust. “It’s not for me, freak.” She said, rolling her eyes. “Want this cutie to taste herself, and you when I kiss her.” She said, giving you no room to talk as she pressed her lips against yours.

“fuck yeahh~” Gojo laughed, a drunken smile spreading itself over his face while he watched Geto suck your tongue, making you taste yourself mixed with Gojo’s cum. She pulled back after a while, a string of saliva connecting the two of you as you stared at her with a fucked out expression, “How does that taste?” she asked, keeping her strong grip on your chin as she awaited your answer.

“‘S fucking good, t-thank you.” you slurred, your own aroused smile spreading across your face. She smiled at you, pressing her lips to yours once more in a sweeter kiss before she pulled back, humming when your hands came to rest on top of her thighs. "I know thats fucking right~" Gojo added, beginning to stroke himself again, shamelessly walking over to the bottom half of your body so he could stare at your soaked pussy and the wetness that was smeared all over your thighs.

"It's missing something though.." You continued, watching your hands stroke along her soft pale thighs. She tilted her head at you, waiting for you to continue. "I didn't taste you." You said. Your sudden bold words made her feel like a dozen butterflies had just been hatched and were bouncing inside her stomach. "Yeah? You wanna taste me?" She said, sitting up straight as she rubbed her fingers over your wet lips.

You opened her mouth for her and she slipped her fingers inside the warmth as you did so, her jaw dropping and a crimson blush spreading across her face at how eagerly you sucked down her fingers. "That's a good idea!" Gojo exclaimed, spreading your thighs apart as he pushed them over his shoulders, making himself home between your legs.

You couldn't see him very well because of Geto straddling you, but you felt his plush lips leave soft kisses and bites against your calf and ankle before you felt something else. His dripping cock head was tapping against your folds as he used one hand to slowly rub his cock back and forth across your wetness. "Wanna eat the pretty nurse out while I fuck your cunt? Huh?" Gojo said, making you hum in approval around Geto's fingers.

You would be lying if you said you weren't a little nervous. You had barely been able to take Gojo's cock in your mouth, how on earth would you fit him inside your pussy? "Pretty nurse?" Geto laughed, twisting her body to give Gojo a look of incredulousness. He reached out and squished her soft cheeks in between his hands, shaking her head back and forth a little as he did so, making her face go deadpan. "Yes~ You're such a pretty nurse~" He said, scrunching his nose at her childishly while he did so.

She used her free hand to smack his wrist away before her hand came to rub her own jaw and soothe it from his harsh grip. "I can't stand you," Geto said, rolling her eyes before she flipped her hair in his face, turning her body back to you to watch you suck on her fingers some more. Their banter eased some of the anxiety you were feeling, you were glad they weren't so serious. "And yet you're about to fuck this pretty girl with me~" Gojo cooed, gripping his large hand on the back of her neck as he rubbed his thumb against the skin there.

"I'm separating myself from you at this moment." She said, biting her lip in irritation as she let Gojo massage her neck, unwilling to tell him to stop as the sensation actually felt pleasant. She brought her full attention back down to you, popping her fingers out of her mouth before she crossed her arms over her body and pulled the long sleeve white dress off of her body, discarding it on the floor.

Her breasts bounced animatedly when she removed the fabric, her tits practically spilling out of her bra when she shimmied further up your body, now hovering over your collarbones in nothing but the white bra. You bit your lip as Gojo had begun pressing his cock against your clit and rubbed it in circles, sending pleasure to the both of you.

"Geto please." You wined, your mouth practically drooling with the sight of her cunt being so close to your mouth. "What do you need?" She asked, bringing her fingers wet with your saliva down to rub her clit above you. Gojo shook his head at the scene, stroking himself harder as he continued pressing his cockhead against your little bud. You clenched around nothing at the need to feel him inside you combined with the need to have Geto sit on your face already.

"Wanna eat you out, please." You moaned, wrapping your arms under her thighs as you tried to pull her down on your face. She smiled down at you, feeling herself grow wetter at your words. Gojo wasn't helping in the slightest, he used his thumb to spread your pussy apart and had started to press his tip against your hole, almost letting it slip in before he pulled back. "She sounds so good when she begs," Gojo said, keeping his eyes glued to where the two of you were about to be connected.

"I think so too~" Geto agreed, sliding her fingers down her pussy as she pressed her fingers against her opening, letting them slide inside herself as she tipped her head back. You watched with a slack jaw as she fingered herself on top of you, your mouth watered every time she pulled her fingers out and saw how they were coated with her wetness. "Gojo- Geto- please," You begged, needing to feel some sort of stimulation from someone.

"Gojo p-please fuck me- c-cant take it." you continued, looking between Geto's eyes and her dripping cunt as soft moans fell from her lips and flooded your ears. "Watching her get off is makin' you all horny huh?" He teased, watching your lower body squirm as you tried to press yourself against Gojo and slip his cock inside of you. "Y-yes" You felt the tears start to well up in your eyes with how bad you needed them, the sight made Geto furrow he brows and coo above you.

"Aww, Gojo, she's crying." She said, giggling. The man behind you let out a loud groan as he gripped his cock harder in his hold. "Fuck, really?" He said, his arousal very evident in his tone. "Maybe we should stop teasing her then." He said, pressing his tip harder against your entrance and making you think he was really going to give it to you that time. "Yesyesyes" You slurred, rolling your hips against Gojo as he finally let his tip slide inside you.

You accidentally let out a too-loud moan at the stimulation, making Geto 'tsk' down at you. "Shut her up Suguru, she's gonna get even louder in a minute." Gojo grit through his teeth, holding the base of his cock tightly to prevent him from cumming prematurely as he slid his cock deeper into your walls. Your chest rose and fell quickly the deeper he gave it to you, the ache in your pelvis slowly subsiding.

"Yeah yeah." She said, rolling her eyes before she removed her fingers from herself and licked them clean, moving her body up to straddle your mouth while she pressed her hands next to your head to steady herself. "Just so you know, if it were up to me, I would be teasing you for hours." She said smugly, before finally, finally dropping her weight and pressing her cunt against your mouth.

She did so a the perfect timing too, right when Gojo bottomed out. Meaning you moaned long and loudly against her cunt, making her shiver at the intensity of the vibrations. "Oh fuc-kk, so fucking tight." Gojo moaned, tipping his head back and shutting his eyes as he let the both of you adjust to the feeling and girth of him stretching out your walls.

You tried to squeeze your thighs together but to no avail, as Gojo held them apart, gripping your thighs that hung over his shoulders. Geto wasted no time in rocking her hips against your mouth, moving one of her hands to grip itself in your hair as your lips came to suck on her neglected clit. Her taste was just what you were missing, you wanted to keep your eyes on hers but the attention from the both of them was too much, making you roll your eyes back in your head.

"Oh s-shit." She wined, biting her lip as you ate her out with vigor. "Gonna move now," Gojo warned before he started up a brutal pace on your cunt. Loud squelches and slaps echoed through the small room with the intensity of his thrusts, making Geto chastise him, "G-gojo too f-fucking loud."

"I don't give a fuck," He groaned, dropping his chin as he stared down at your cunt, watching a ring of your cum form around the base of his thick cock. "I dare someone to say shit to me." The doctor added, dropping one of his hands down to where the two of you were connected as he started rubbing his thumb in delicious circles against your clit, making you wine and moan into Geto's pussy.

She was leaking so much into your mouth, so much so that you had no more doubts in your mind or anxieties about not being able to make her feel good. She was gasping and moaning on top of you, all of her snarky comments flooding from her brain at the way your tongue was fucking her stupid. She rocked her clit against the tip of her nose, making her stomach clench and her body jerk over you every time her hips humped forward.

"Fucking hypocrite." Gojo huffed out a short laugh, reaching his other hand around Geto's mouth as he covered it, quieting her moans as they became muffled against his palm. "Some noisy fucking ladies you are~" He cooed. The squelching between your legs increased as he fucked into you with more vigor. "You like bein' used like this? Huh?" Gojo asked, rubbing your clit with pinpoint precision and making your eyes roll back in your head. "Squeezin' me so tight down here feels like you're tryna milk me." The doctor laughed, his jaw-dropping in a small o when your cunt squeezed around him particularly hard.

"Too bad you're not on birth control now or id fill this pretty cunt up." He said, shaking his head in disbelief at how good you felt around him. Geto's moans increased when your tongue fucked into her deeper, Gojo's words heightening your arousal. "Bet you'd like that huh?" His filthy mouth continued. "Your doctor cumming inside your perfect little cunt while Nurse Geto fucks your face." His own eyes rolled back at his words, he felt his cock twitch with how badly he wished he could fill you up.

Geto's other hand that was stabilizing herself by your head came up to grip Gojo's wrists, the volume of her moans getting louder against the palm of his hand; simultaneously her hips started losing their rhythm on your face. "Shit" Gojo laughed, "Think you're gonna make her cum." He said, which made you increase your antic on her cunt, opting to suck her clit back into your mouth so she didn't have to strain her thighs by humping against your face.

That was the right call, her body stopped being able to grind against you the closer she got to her orgasm, her hips jolted and jerked against your mouth as she gripped harder onto Gojo's wrist. "Yeah yeah give it to her, cum in her fucking mouth." Gojo groaned, talking her through it while you encouraged her from below, moaning "mhm-mhm." Into her wetness.

Gojo pressed his balls as hard as he could against your ass as he fucked his cock to the hilt inside of you and stilled there, waiting for Geto's orgasm to finish. The woman could be heard moaning profanities mixed with your name into Gojo's palm as you sucked the orgasm out of her, her body curled in on itself as her high rippled through her. Every time she jerked forward, a bit of her cum spurted itself into your mouth. You slowed your tongue against her as her body's jerking got less and less frequent, until her shaking stopped altogether.

Gojo removed his hand from her mouth as she collapsed down on the side of you, breathing heavily. "Holy fuck, no one ever made me cum that hard." She confessed, clenching her thighs together in the aftershocks as you smiled at her drunkenly. "You're so pretty." She said, sliding her body down so she was laying the side of you, one knee thrown over your body as she caressed your cheek in her hand and combined your lips together in a kiss.

"Aww, so sweet." Gojo cooed, biting his lip and smiling before he resumed his pace on your cunt, making you pull back from the kiss as you moaned loudly. "Asshole, we were having a moment." Geto chastized, rolling her eyes at his childish behavior. "I was feeling left out." He whined, rolling his hips against yours and creating delicious friction against your sweet spot inside you. "That feel good?" He asked, finally being able to see your pretty, fucked out face.

"Y-yes, so good Doctor G-gojo." Once again, the inappropriate use of his title made his cock throb unreasonably hard; he wouldn't look too hard into it. "Fuck, you really are so pretty." He said, shaking his head at how gorgeous you looked with your pace covered in Geto's cum, your eyes all out of focus, and your hair going in every direction from the face fucking. "Geto," Gojo started, making the dark-haired woman lay her face against the crook of your neck while she looked down at him.

"Keep her quiet." He instructed once more. She did not need to be told twice. Lifting her head, she once again pressed your lips together and slotted your lips together slowly, tasting herself on your tongue. "S-so sweet." You whined, making her giggle against your lips. "Thank you, baby." She replied, swallowing up your moans as Gojo fucked you with more vigor.

"Shiiit, wish I was fucking recording this right now." Gojo wined, pulling his lip between his teeth, "You guys making out is so fucking hot." He said, rubbing his thumb on your clit harder and faster as he brought the both of you to your impending orgasms. The way your cunt pulsed rhythmically was the first clue that you were about to make a mess on his cock.

"S-shit, gonna squirt again? Huh? Gonna squirt all over my cock this time?" Gojo questioned, his teasing tone making the coil in your tummy tighten. You pulled back from Geto's lips, making eye contact with him. "Y-yes sir." You wined. The new name caught him off guard, but he was in no universe complaining. "Yeah? Good fucking girl let me see it then, wanna feel you cum all over my cock." He moaned, his hips stuttering as his pace lost its rhythm.

Geto cupper her hand over your mouth and stared her dark eyes into yours, "You can do it baby, cum all over him, just like you did on my mouth." You blushed at their words, the coil in your stomach tightening and tightening before Geto was dropping her head down to your nipple, and sucking, and thats all it took.

"Fuck yeahhh~" Gojo moaned, rubbing his fingers back and forth over your clit as you came around his cock, your squirt wetting his abdomen and slacks alike with the intensity of your orgasm. Geto moaned around your nipple, her other hand coming to pinch the other between her fingers as the two of them worked you through it.

About halfway through your orgasm, Gojo pulled out. The doctor kept up his fingers against your clit, his movements getting sloppy as he jerked himself off over your tummy, "fuck- fuck cumming, cumming-" He warned before he released his hot seed on your tummy. His body jerked forward and his abs clenched as he spurted long ropes of his cum onto your skin, his eyes rolling back in his head as he pictured behind his eyelids that he was filling you up with his cum and not wasting it like this.

Despite that fact, he just had one of the most intense and satisfying orgasms he has ever had. "Holy fuck." The man groaned, his eyes rolling back into place from the back of his head as he came down from his high. He let your legs drop from his shoulders and onto the bed as his hands chased them, squeezing the fat of your thighs to stabilize himself.

The both of you breathed heavily into the small room, and the three of you stayed silent as you let your souls find their way back into your body, Geto popped off of your nipples after a couple seconds and rested her head against your collarbones while she waited for the two of you to calm down.

"Wow." Your voice could be heard throughout the room, breaking the silence, and making the two of them laugh. "Couldn't have said it better myself." Gojo snorted. "Oh shit, what about the other patients." You said panicked, sitting up on your forearms as the woman lying on your chest was pushed up with you. "Shhh, it's okay," Gojo cooed, rubbing your thighs as he ran his hand through his sweaty hair. "You were my last patient." He said, making you sigh in relief. "I think." He finished, making both you and Geto drop your jaws simultaneously.

"Youre so irrisponsibale." Geto said, shaking her head as she caressed your tummy. "Say that when you're not lying on the hospital bed naked and covered in cum with a patient." He said, tilting his head to the side as he let his eyes fall shut and smiled. She just narrowed her eyes at him as he tucked his softening cock back into his pants before he started to make himself look presentable again.

Once he was finished he gathered Geto's and your clothes from the floor and leaned over you, placing his hand on your thigh as he leaned his face just inches from yours, "You did so fucking well." He said before he leaned in and gave you a soft kiss before pulling away and staring into your eyes intimately, "Just in case you were having any doubts." He added before leaning away completely and turning to untie the curtain that blocked the three of you off from the rest of the room.

Geto made herself comfortable behind you as she watched Gojo tidy up the room, laying her head on your shoulder as she wrapped her arms around your naked body. "Are you guys gonna stay there forever or?" He asked once he had made the room look like three people didn't just fuck in it. Geto looked up at the ceiling, contemplating her answer before she answered, "Mmm, I think so, yeah." She finally said, kissing your shoulder and making you giggle before she slid out from behind you and started dressing herself again; making you follow her lead.

After you had gotten dressed again; and fixed Geto's hair per her request; Gojo cleared his throat before speaking, "I'll put in a good request for a transfer so you can follow up with a good friend of mine about that IUD." He said too formally, making you panic slightly. Of course, he didn't want you to be his patient anymore, it would be inappropriate, but damn did it hurt. "Did.. did I do something wrong?" You asked insecurely, making the two of them tilt their heads at you.

"Well, I don't know about Geto.." He started, making you hold your breath at the impending rejection, "But I like where this relationship is headed, so I don't think it appropriate for us to stay Doctor/Nurse and patient if want to see where this goes," He said, making Geto smile and nod in agreement, "If, that's something you want." He finished.

"You could've led with that." You said, heaving out a sigh that made the both of them laugh. "Yeah, that's my fault~" Gojo laughed, rubbing his large hand on the back of his neck. "I'm sorry if it seems like I'm rushing I just.." He scrunches up his face before speaking, "I guess I've been getting paged for the last half hour about another patient I allegedly had after you." He said, a nervous smile plastering itself over his face, making Geto facepalm.

"Scram, I'll take over from here and meet you in a second," Geto said, to which Gojo placed his hand on her shoulder and thanked her dramatically. The tall man walked up to you, grabbing your hips in his large hands before he pressed a sweet kiss to your lips, using his thumb to pull down your bottom lip when he pulled away. "Text me when you get that IUD and ill show you how good gettin' your pussy filled with cum can feel~" He said confidently, leaving a peck on your lips before he spoke one last thanks to Geto, and was out the door.

"I'll take good care of you, let's get our digits in that phone of yours and we can start on the transfer resuest~" Geto cooed, holding her hand out for you to place your phone in.

You might have left the building with one less doctor than you had when you came in, but you left with two potential partners, and that was more than fine with you.

I miss him sm I keep looking at his tags for more content 💔

if this isn’t the tru-est thing ive seen today then idk what is 🤧

Gege using his schlong whenever he draws sukuna

this is too cute for my angst-ridden heart ♥️😩 BUT SERIOUSLY THIS IS SO WHOLESOME 🥹

Sometimes, it’s just fun to mess with Sukuna.

He likes to think he’s got you figured out, like how he knows how to navigate each one of your antics like the back of his hand.

But right now, over ice cream, you decide to pull a fast one on him, keep him back on his toes and let him fester in the playfulness that sometimes slips from the relationship.

“Here kuna baby, try this,” you hum, passing him a spoonful of ice cream. He shrugs and leans over, taking the bite and chewing it thoughtfully.

“Pretty good.”

“Right?” You giggle, before wiping your spoon clean. “I didn’t think I’d like the bits of cookie but-“

“What the fuck was that?”

You quirk your brow as his raise in annoyance, looking at you angrily. “What was what, babe?”

“I know you didn’t just wipe your spoon clean,” he snaps. “Be so fucking for real.”

You giggle, “well… yeah… why wouldn’t I? I don’t want to eat your spit.”

“Eat my- WE MAKE OUT?!”

“That’s different,” you scoff. “That’s consensual. This was my spoon.”

His eyes are blown with annoyance as they look around your face for any indication that you’re full of shit and messing with him, but when you give him a simple shrug, he throws his spoon down and immediately grips your cheeks in his hands, pulling you into a messy, noisy kiss, which you squeal into. You taste the rocky road in his lips, and as much as you want to melt into the intense affection, to rile him up more, you bring yours hands to his chest to push him away.

“Kuna!” You gasp against his lips. “What’re you-“

“Look,” he snarls, pulling away angrily. “We’ve been together too long for us to think anything is gross. I refuse to let you think any part of me is gross. Dickhead. I’m perfect.”

“I was kidding!” You laugh, bringing your hands up to cup his cheeks. “There’s nothing in the world I find more attractive than you and your spit.”

Now, he lets out a gag and pulls a face at your words, “alright. Moods gone. You ruined it.” He shakes his head from your grip and pouts.

“Babyyyy,” you titter, grabbing and smushing his cheeks together while you nudge his nose. “There’s always a mood with you.”

“Yeah. And you constantly ruin it.”

She's happy because she's at boob height

THIS IS SO GOOD that I literally took reading breaks from how fast my heart was racing 🥹 💞

Unhoneymooners!? - G.S.

Synopsis. The universe was surely playing a joke on you. Here you were, trapped on a luxury getaway with your - dangerously handsome, extremely obnoxious - ex. Either you were going to kill each other or end up pinned beneath him, split apart on his cóck. You just didn’t know what would come first.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, exes to lovers, unprotected, argument as foreplay, slight enemies to lovers, more like annoyances actually, cunnilingus, oral (male + female), spitting, creampié, one bed trope, rough, Satoru is still EXTREMELY down bad for you, and unfairly hot, forced proximity, cúmplay, pet names (sweetheart), swearing.

Word count. 8.5k

A/N. It’s impossible to not write Satoru without bullying him at least a little bit.

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 2 weeks, and 16 hours ago - not that you were keeping count, of course.

So why was he outside of your resort room blasting “Kill Bill” by SZA like he’s auditioning for the world’s most dramatic comeback tour? On what should’ve marked your fourth anniversary, no less.

Well, given you were the one to lock him out, but still - the stubborn bastard could at least have some decorum. 

With an exasperated sigh, you throw yourself onto the king-sized bed of your honeymoon suite, trying to will away that annoying, grating voice - not SZA, no, more so Satoru singing along at the top of his lungs to the chorus. 

How did you even get here? And with Satoru of all people - your Satoru. Or at least he was this time a little over a year ago. 

You first met Satoru when you were in university, back when he wore those pretentious circled sunglasses and waltzed around those halls like he owned the place. And after a single literature assignment together, he wasn’t just your (self-proclaimed) best friend; he was the reluctantly favorite thorn in your side. 

Like the rest of him, Satoru’s introduction into your love-life was anything but subtle. It wasn’t like he strolled in, gave a polite nod, and blended into the background. Oh no, he bulldozed his way in and dragged you to dance with him on the tables of some dingy frat party in what you could only assume was some joke from the universe at your expense.

And damn him, you think bitterly, you couldn't resist him that night. Spinning you into a dramatic dip, silver chain brushing your face as his half-lidded eyes bored into yours. You couldn’t not kiss him after the way his hands were just searing into your skin. 

God, you’ve never been able to listen to “Gasolina” the same way ever since.  

Satoru was in love as he was in the rest of life - a force of nature, and it was too easy to find yourself caught up in him.

That night at the frat party was just the beginning. From then on was a rollercoaster of everything from heated debates over the best flavor of ramen to impromptu road trips where you’d end up under a carpet of stars. Wrapped in each other’s arms and sharing whispered secrets for an unpromised future - oftentimes where Satoru would crack a joke or two about running away to Tokyo with him. To which you’d laugh it off with a “Yeah yeah, I’d leave everything I’ve known behind in a heartbeat for your dumbass, Toru.”

You just didn’t think that it would be the downfall to your relationship. All the empty promises. 

Because as those heavenly days turned into weeks and the weeks into months, eventually two years had gone by. The whirlwind romance settled into a comfortable rhythm, but with it came the looming promise of graduation and Satoru moving to work under his family company in Tokyo.

Under pressure, it wasn’t long before the cracks began to show, the arguments more frequent, and the silences more deafening. And as your relationship slowly turned into nothing more than a husk of what it used to be - so did the both of you.

Long story short, graduation was a bittersweet goodbye - and you think both of you knew long before it was actually over. Neither of you attended the afterparty - with Satoru on a flight straight to Tokyo and you at home to stuff your face with chocolate. Hey, at least you could blame your tears on finally leaving university, right? 

You had meticulously erased his name from your phone, your social media, and even your dreams - well, almost, the bastard still came around to bother you occasionally. It was messy, painful, and final.

But “final” really didn’t explain your current predicament. Because if there’s one thing you’ve learned about Satoru is that he’s always there - whether you liked it or not. He was there when you needed a partner for that literature assignment, and he was there to turn your world upside down at that dingy frat party.

Hell, he was even there to help you stubbornly chug mountains of ice cream and win that raffle for this five day-long getaway trip to the Maldives. Though, you think he might’ve chugged the ice cream without the promise of a vacation anyway.

But, when ultimately those shiny tickets came in the mail - Satoru wasn’t there. Oh well, it might’ve been a couple’s trip - but you could have a hot girl summer, right? Maybe you could even snag a hottie by the end. You’d almost forgotten that he’d be getting his copy of the tickets as well.

Yet, unfortunately - as the beginning notes of P!nk’s “So What” bursts through the heavy wooden door - you were inevitably reminded of the fact that he was here. Right now. Goading you into coming outside.

You find yourself groaning inwardly (and outwardly) because of course, why wouldn’t he come back even more obnoxious than before? You haven’t seen him in ages, yet here he is, crashing back into your life with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Or - you furrow your brows at his purposefully off-key singing carrying over the sounds of the waves outside - with the subtlety of a manchild with a JBL and a premium account on Spotify.  

Rubbing your temples in frustration, you contemplate how much longer of this it would take before you’re both kicked out of this resort. And after you ate so many ice creams to win this getaway trip? No chance.

With a resigned sigh, you rise from the bed, smoothing out the bathing suit you’d just put on before the devil incarnate showed up knocking at your door. Something hot and prickly pools in your stomach as you approach it, and you can’t help but roll your eyes at the sheer absurdity of the situation. So like Satoru.

Taking a deep breath to steel yourself, you shakily reach for the handle. It’s fine. It’s not a big deal actually.

…

What’s the worst that can happen?

Slam! 

The door swings open, and there in all his smug glory stands a very shirtless Satoru. Gojo pain-in-your-ass Satoru, the same asshole you’ve blocked on even Gmail. 

Except, you’re momentarily struck by how high you have to raise your eyes to meet his. Are growth spurts even a thing anymore? You didn’t have a chance to take a good look last time before slamming the door shut at the first flash of white hair and a smug grin.

But right now, traitorously, your gaze catches on just how broad his shoulders look and…since when was he so chiseled? Damn you, Tokyo - you were doing him too good.

His hair is slightly longer too, curtaining those slightly more mature features, stopping just above that ever-immature grin. One which moves as he hums, “Well, happy fourth anniversary to me, If I knew this came with the suite then I’d have swam here myself.”

You scoff, suddenly feeling strangely self-conscious as he wiggles his brows, striking blue eyes sweeping your figure from head to toe. “I’d prefer if you swam back. What are you doing?” 

“Why, just showing up to our room on our lil’ honeymoon, sweetheart.” Satoru sing-songs, leaning against the doorframe to fully prevent you from slamming the door in his (admittedly) pretty face again. “And before you try to break my nose with that door again, I won that ticket here fair and square, y’know. I ate just as much ice cream as you did for it.”

“You ate most of those before you knew about the getaway raffle.” you sigh over his nonchalant shrug, pinching your nose, “And stop calling it our honeymoon, I dumped you five months ago.”

“Well aren’t you just the gift that keeps on giving. Keeping count?”

“No. Don’t be a pest.”

“Always thought you had a thing for pests. After all, you did date me.” As Satoru grins impossibly wider, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. He winks, “And if I’m a pest then you’re an itch that just won’t go away.”

“At least I’m not the itch that shows up uninvited to someone’s honeymoon suite.” you hiss. And with that you start shutting the door ever-so-slowly, delighting in the panic that overtakes Satoru’s features as he reaches out frantically.

“Hey!” he sputters, “I didn’t know you’d be here! And besides this ‘pest’ forgot his slippers all the way in Tokyo and can’t stand on flaming-hot boardwalks for too long so let me in.”

And sure enough, you glance down to see that Satoru isn’t wearing any slippers on the scorching boardwalk. The realization almost brings a smirk to your lips. This idiot. 

“Wow.”

“‘Wow’ at my feet or-”

“I should leave you here to rot just for your pure idiocy.” you deadpan, eyes locked on the way he’s burning his soles off yet still has the audacity to flash you a cocky smile.

“But you won’t.” he hums.

A beat passes. One. Two. And Satoru’s grin almost falters, before you finally relent - opening the door just a crack, cursing his entire bloodline under your breath. “You’re incorrigible” you mutter as he saunters inside victoriously, dragging his hefty luggage behind.

“Why change perfection, sweetheart~” he calls out, heading straight for the bedroom, only to let out a delighted “OooOOo” at the sight of the king-sized bed in the middle. The only bed. “How scandalous, maybe you’ll even fall in lov-” 

“Don’t. I’d rather gouge my eyes out with a seashell.” you warn, holding up both keycards threateningly, “I get the bed, you take the couch.”

“But-”

“And I’ve got the keys, so slippers or not you’ll be back out on that boardwalk.” 

A slight smile tugging at the corners of your lips at the way Satoru looked so dramatically crestfallen, you continue - just to be petty, “And no more ‘Kill Bill’ that’s on my angry ex playlist.”

With a heavy sigh he sulkily makes his way to the bathroom, calling out as he does, “Fine. But I’m showering first.”

As he disappears from sight you throw yourself onto your bed, basking in what little peace and quiet you’ll have because of your unwanted guest. This was going to be a-

“And I’m using all of your body lotions.”

“...”

“I will use one of your body lotions.”

Groaning, you sink into the plush mattress, just wishing it would swallow you whole and spare you from this torment. And this was only Day 1? This was going to be a very long five days. 

---

The first night with Satoru, honestly, wasn’t too bad. 

You don’t know what you expected exactly - maybe for him to pour hair dye in your shampoo or something. But he actually stuck to his word, slept on the couch after only a bit of taunting, and used only one of your body lotions. Your best-smelling, most expensive one, but one nonetheless.

Feeling slightly more optimistic, you spent most of the second day at the beach, meanwhile he stuck to lounging by the pool. Add in a bit of pretending you didn’t know him by the salad bar at dinner and that made for an almost-perfect hot girl summer. 

Well, considering that you were rooming with your insufferable longtime ex - in a honeymoon suite of all places. 

The only catch came that night, fully content at the burning soreness from being pushed around by the waves outside. You got ready to splay out on your bed, humming along to the tunes of your playlist and…Satoru’s lamenting?

“I swear my back feels like it’s been run over by a truck. Five of them, and a zoo.” he complains from behind you, dramatically draping himself over the couch - his impromptu bed. 

“Good.”

“What if that was my last straw?”

“Even better.”

His exaggerated, disappointed whine is both embarrassing and almost-endearing as you roll your eyes, resisting the urge to suffocate him with a pillow. “Maybe call your chiropractor guy.”

Satoru shot you a pointed look, his expression a mixture of faux innocence and irritation, which you knew too well. “I wish but he’s trekking through the Himalayas. C’mon~ Don’t you think that lovely king-sized bed is too big for just one?”

“No, but the boardwalk sure is. Maybe you should try it out.” you monotone, getting ready to end this conversation once and for all. 

But when has Satoru ever let you off easy? He sits up abruptly, a devious smile curling his lips. “Ohh, I get it.” he taunts, batting his long lashes mockingly, “You’re scared to sleep in the same bed with me.”

Huh?

“Out of all the idiotic-” you cut yourself off by whirling around to face his smug grin, “Why would I be scared to sleep in a bed with you. I’ve done that far too many times already.”

“Exactly,” he chuckles. “And all those times you could barely last an hour before without keeping your hands off of me. Scared you’ll end up pinned underneath me and stuffed full like old times, sweetheart?”

You narrow your eyes at him despite the heat burning your face. “The only thing I’m scared of is your icicle feet on my side.”

He laughs, a sound that’s equal parts irritating and endearing, and stands up from where he was slumped on the couch. Making his way slowly, but surely towards you, “Oh, c’mon. For old times’ sake, admit it, you miss me.”

"Yeah, missed the peace and quiet I don’t have because of your big mouth,” you scoff. Finding it hard to meet his twinkling gaze as he comes close enough that you’re toe to toe with him. Your cheeks burn at the proximity - hot enough to match the heat radiating off his body. 

Satoru shakes his head, undeterred by your threats. And suddenly you get the overwhelming urge to throw him out the window and straight into the ocean. “You can deny it all you want, but you still have feelings for me.”

Your jaw clenches at his audacity. “You wish. I’d never.”

“Then prove it.”

Damn, he was good.

Which is probably how you found yourself lying in the same bed as Satoru, with a wall of all the pillows in the room erected between you two - and a few extra from room service just in case. 

“Sweetheart, this is a king-sized bed. Is the fortress really necessary?”

You wrap your blankets tighter around yourself, trying to ignore the figure radiating warm right next to you. Muttering out a muffled little, “Yeah, so you can keep your mitts off of me.”

Satoru groans dramatically, bed creaking as he shuffles what you can only assume to be closer to you. “You keep your mitts off of me, you lecher.” he quips, voice dripping with sarcasm as he inches closer.

You stiffen at his proximity, feeling his warmth seep through the layers of blankets and pillows as he chuckles softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine, “Oh, come on, don’t be like that. We used to share a bed all the time.”

“That was before,” you interject. God, you didn’t like where this conversation was going. 

“Before what?” Satoru presses, his voice low and insistent. 

Now, you might’ve let yourself be goaded into sharing a bed but these were old wounds better off left alone. You hiss, tone firm, “Before. Now sleep” 

Before when you didn’t have to make a wall of pillows. Before when he would hold you tight and whisper sweet secrets into your ear. That he’d buy you the biggest ring he saw and promise you the world. Before- 

“I missed you, y’know.” Satoru breaks the silence barely audible over the sound of your own thoughts. The word pangs through your mind and claws at your chest. And at your silence he continues, tone a little lighter, “And stop hogging all the blankets, I’m gonna freeze to-”

“Boardwalk.”

“My apologies, ma’am. Goodnight, ma’am.”

And he sinks back into his pillow with a huff, you let out a sigh of relief. Something hot coiling in your stomach as you close try to catch as much sleep as you possibly could with the bane of your existence laying right beside you. The suddenly taller, dangerously handsome, still as-obnoxious-as-ever bane of your existence. 

You just wonder if he remembered “before”.

Oh, how Satoru remembered “before”. So much so that he had sixteen different playlists dedicated to you even after the breakup.

It’s divine punishment - it has to be. Satoru thinks there’s no reasonable explanation for the series of unfortunate events happening to him other than punishment from his ancestors above for being such a pussy and losing the love of his life.

First he forgets his slippers, then he ends up locked out of his own honeymoon suite by said love of his life. Granted, all thoughts of his poor burnt soles went out the window the moment he caught a glimpse of you in that positively sinful bikini. God, were you glowing. A goddess upon Earth - he could really give the Gojo Satoru of five months ago a good, hard kick.

And now he’s stuck in a - very comfortable - prison with you just inches away, tossing and turning in that way he knows means that you can’t sleep either. 

Honestly, very funny universe, the great Gojo Satoru demands a refund. Way to punk’d him into confronting the feelings he’s desperately been trying to bury these past few months - ever since he got on that plane to Tokyo and contemplated faking a heart attack just to get off. 

Realizing just then that he lost the love of his life - and the only woman who’d tolerate his karaoke nights. But with that realization came another, more jarring one: he was too late. 

Every touch, every laugh, and even every time you rolled your eyes was etched into his very soul, and it felt like a montage from a sappy breakup movie directed by a sadistic screenwriter who had it out for him. 

And it really didn’t help that this was the exact suite he was planning once upon a time to propose in. God, how you’d feed him to the crabs if he said anything about that - nevermind the fact that he was actually one that booked this-

But still, some traitorous, annoying part of his heart interrupts, she still hasn’t made you sleep on the boardwalk yet.

Maybe - just maybe - he’ll wake up to a second chance?

…

Ha. As if.

“I can’t sleep.” Satoru groans out loud, more so to drown out his own thoughts than anything.

“Well, I can. Goodnight.”

Ah, his girl was such a lil’ liar. Undeterred, the mattress creaks as he shuffles his weight to excitedly face you, taking a moment to admire how pretty you looked under the dim moonlight. He plows on, “Hey, if you promise not to make me crab food, wanna walk along the beach and watch the stars?”

A beat of silence. One. Two. so deafening and tense that Satoru was half a second away from obnoxiously laughing it off as a joke and pulling out his Emo Times™ playlist. 

“Or I can go back to the couch and-”

“Shut up. Let’s watch the stars, Satoru.”

But what do you know - maybe the universe hasn’t given up on him just yet. 

And, well, if he woke up the next morning breaching your fortress - your warm breath tickling his neck and his arms wrapped tightly around your waist, like the lifeline he never knew he needed - then, neither of you mentioned it.

---

“Hey, Satoru. You think we’ll always be like this?” you hum into your boyfriend’s chest, barely a whisper as the looming fears of, well, everything ring in your mind. 

He pulls you close, flashing a mischievous grin before planting a dramatic kiss on the top of your head. “Duh, I’ll always be around to drive you dangerously close to a stroke, sweetheart.” 

You roll your eyes, yet bury yourself closer to his warmth anyway.

“Besides, it doesn’t matter if I have to drag you by the leg to Tokyo. Wherever you are is where I belong. ”

---

You’ve come to learn that a resort island is only so big when you’re actively trying to avoid your 6’3 manchild of an ex.

Now that you were rooming with Satoru, sleeping with Satoru (in a literal sense only, of course), and just-so-happening to bump into him at the beach - somehow, talking with him is a little easier, his presence just a bit more exciting than you’d care to admit. 

If the you of four days ago could see what had become of you, then she’d probably slap some sense into you faster than you could say “Kill Bill”. Sleeping in the same bed (still only literally), having dinner, watching the stars - with Gojo Satoru? You’ve gone completely off your rocker. 

But could you really be blamed? These last few days have you feeling like maybe you’ve been dropped into an alternate universe, where you and Satoru never broke up. 

Yet, reality is a persistent little bastard. And with the end of your trip looming dangerously closer, the past you would be cackling mockingly in your face, flashing a large sign in big, red letters reading “I TOLD you so.” 

Whatever. Maybe by this time tomorrow both of you could laugh this all off as a silly little adventure and call yourself somewhat begrudging friends. Maybe you’d even end up unblocking him by the end - on Gmail, at least.

At the very least, dinnertime was a solace - both from your thoughts and the smug bastard talking your ear off about how he could “make that spaghetti better than a thousand Italian grandmothers.”

Until the fourth - and final - night, that is. When the resort, deciding that your current torture wasn’t already enough, arranged a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

Great. Wonderful. Perfect, in fact. Going out with a bang. Was this really part of the all-inclusive package? It was like the universe was playing some twisted joke on you - or some awful version of wingmanning. 

You grit your teeth silently as you’re ushered to the beachside table, thoughts barely audible over the waves crashing against the shore and the soft, romantic music drifting from the band nearby. 

The complete opposite of Satoru, who was already seated at the table and enjoying himself far too much for your liking. He lounged back in his chair, a self-satisfied smirk playing on his lips as he watched you sit opposite him uncomfortably.

You hated to admit it - but God was he dangerously beautiful in that crisp white button-up, one that you knew was from his overpriced collection for special occasions. You found yourself fighting to avoid the amber hues twinkling in his eyes as the sun dipped below the horizon, casting warm shadows that bring out his pretty features.

Pretty? So frighteningly pretty - until he speaks, that is.

“And here I thought our honeymoon couldn’t get any worse. You’re sweating bullets, sweetheart. This your first date with me or something?”

“We’re not on a honeymoon, Satoru. And no, it just brings back memories.” you scoff. Relishing in the way he inches his chair closer to listen, clearly not expecting this sudden sentimentality. “Memories of why I blocked you on every social media.”

All but slamming his head down on the table, Satoru whines out, “Ouch, straight for the jugular. That mouth is still as bitchy as ever, huh? Though I do prefer it choking on my-”

“I’m going to throw you into the ocean.”

“Ooo, kinky~” he hums, swirling his wine glass, “But you know what this reminds me of? That one time we had dinner under the stars.”

You froze, the memories suddenly flashing back to you despite your best efforts to suppress them. “Oh yeah,” you muse. A chuckle leaving your mouth despite yourself, “Wasn’t that where you spilled ketchup all over your shirt and then insisted it was a fashion statement?”

He leans in closer, a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Hey! It worked, didn’t it? I got compliments from everyone including you.”

“I was just trying to stop you from bursting into tears.” you roll your eyes, shaking your head at the memory. 

“Exactly, sweetheart. Like moths to a flame.”

“More like to a bug-zapper.”

Satoru throws his head back and laughs, loud and unabashed. A sound that echoes across the beach and makes something warm and sticky strum at your heartstrings. And at that moment, that stupid, little part of you didn’t even mind that you were at a special candlelit dinner. A romantic one. By the beach. With Satoru of all people. 

And he didn’t even have to goad you into it with SZA this time.

As the orange glow of the setting sun melded into the cool blue of the night, it almost felt like slipping back into an old routine. The food had long since been finished. Jabs and shared memories flowing through the air like the gentle waves lapping at the shore.

The cool air was now thick with contentment and something so unknown yet so familiar that it made your heart race. 

 “I swear.” you groan over Satoru’s loud cackles, “He tried to charm his way out of the bill by flirting with the waitress. In front of me.”

Satoru doubles over, clutching his stomach as he laughs uproariously. “Classic move! If he’s going to be a cheapskate then he should’ve at least been successful with it.”

Damn, was he eternally grateful for these dim candles. Otherwise you’d surely have caught the rosy flushing tinting his cheeks. How dare you sit there so gorgeous and perfect in front of him. Perfect for him - you haven’t changed one bit.

“Right? She looked ready to fling us both out.” You chuckle, eyes catching on the little dimple just at the corner of his mouth as Satoru shoots you a sly grin. “Mhm, I know if it were me I would’ve charmed us out of the bill successfully.”

You raise a brow, retorting, “Oh please. I’ve had the pleasure of being on the receiving end of that ‘charm’. You’d probably end up charming us into washing dishes in the kitchen.” 

Ah, right now, he doesn’t think he wants to be anywhere but here - bickering with you. 

“Ouch, you wound me, woman!” Satoru feigns offense, placing a hand over his heart dramatically before leaning down to whisper, low and conspiratorial, “Besides, I doubt you even remember what pleasure feels like since being with me.”

A thrill goes down your spine as you realize the insinuation of his words, steady and searing - matching that of  Satoru’s fingers on yours - which had snuck their way across the table, lazily tracing patterns along your skin. 

When did they even get there? Sly bastard.

Your mouth drops into a soft oh! at the dangerous glint in his eyes. But you refuse to back down, “Don’t flatter yourself, Satoru. I’ve had other guys make me cum much harder than you have.”

Touch burning. Mapping every curve and dip he’d known so well, and this time - you graze them back. A challenge. God, you missed that warm little flutter in your chest. 

That seems to catch him by surprise, as those darkened blue eyes widen. But there’s a dangerous edge to his grin as he purrs, voice low. “Is that so?” 

And with that, Satoru’s chair is scraping softly against the sand as he stands up, “C’mon, you’re gonna regret that, sweetheart.”

Oh. 

Satoru knows that it’s been 5 months, 4 weeks, and 8 hours since you two lasted an entire dinner civilly - not that he was counting, duh.

So when he begged the resort staff into setting the two of you up on this special candlelit dinner, he was expecting you to drown him in the lobster tank halfway through or at least end the night with a slap. 

What he certainly did not expect was to end dinner with you shoved against the closed door of your suite, legs wrapped impossibly tight around his waist, and lips trailing hot, openmouthed kisses down your neck. He angles your neck, body pressing so impossibly close to yours.

Inwardly, you curse his button-up for being so goddamn thin that you could feel his abs rub against you with every little movement. Toned chest rumbling as he groans at your hands tugging at those soft locks - just a tiny revenge, for your body lotion. 

“S-Satoru,” you whisper, and he breathes it in with an almost-pained sigh - not wanting to part for even a second. Because fuck it took so long to get you back and he wasn’t going to waste a single moment. 

Pulling just a hair’s breadth away, “Tell me what you want. Always knew we’d end up-”

“Just shut up and kiss me, you smug bastard.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And, well, who was he to deny you? So he does. 

His lips are searing on yours, hasty and greedy. With a tinge of something so painfully familiar. Your hands make their way onto his chest, feeling the thundering heartbeat against your fingertips - matching that of yours. 

Sweet. You tasted so sweet. Just like honey, and all the dreams where he didn’t leave you behind. Where he didn’t get on that damned plane but instead ran to you all the way from the airport like those sappy romcoms you love. 

He licks at the seam of your lips, drinking in your gasps as he intertwines his tongue with yours. Kissing you like he’ll never be able to again. Because, God, knowing his luck - he probably won’t. 

One hand cups your cheek so gently - a tenderness that doesn’t translate to his lips as he kisses you deeper. Meanwhile the other wanders the expanse of your body, leaving a burning trail of fire in their wake.

Satoru parts with a playful nip to your bottom lip - and before you realize what’s happening, the zipper hits the ground. He’s ripping your pretty dress off - mumbling something about “buying a new one” before large hands surge forward, groping and kneading your tits.

His mouth waters at the sight of your bra. Light blue - to match his eyes. “You evil, evil woman.” he mutters into the soft valley of your breasts as you giggle delightedly. Oh, how he couldn’t get enough of you.

And if there was ever a moment that Satoru thinks he could cream his pants right there, then this would be at the very top, followed very closely by the sight of that withering glare you shot after opening that suite door to him just a few days ago.

He unhooks your bra with one hand, throwing it blindly across the room as if it killed him to see you clothed. 

Immediately, Satoru drops to his knees with the desperation of a madman, coming face-to face with the heavenly sight of your clothed cunt, soaking through your thin panties. 

“Didn’t specify where I had to kiss, sweetheart.”

Your gaze pierces through him, as it always did. “What are you-” Your words get choked up in your throat as his tongue darts out. Licking a long, languid stripe over your clothed cunt. 

“Shit. So sweet f’me, jus’ like I remember. Just one taste and I feel like m’gonna cum in my pants.” Satoru groans, urgently sliding your wet panties down your quivering legs. 

“F-flattery won’t work.” you stammer out as his hot breath fans your quivering entrance as he waits just a second - one, two.

Drinking in the view of your pretty pussy with dazed, half-lidded eyes. Wet - so wet, he almost wants to tease you - just a bit, to see if you’ll get even wetter. Ah, he doesn’t have enough time to take in this view - probably never will. Would it ruin the mood if he took a picture?

“Oh, I’d say it worked pretty well.”

Cock twitching carnally, Satoru needed to taste you now. He immediately surges forward. Breathing you in so sinfully, pooling your juices on his tongue. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he tips his head back back back to let it slide down his throat. 

Shit, if you were the forbidden fruit then he would gladly be cast out of the garden of Eden. 

Half-delirious thoughts running through his mind, Satoru flattens his tongue across your swollen folds. Leisurely sliding between them, catching on your throbbing clit up and down up and down up and-

“Oh- hngh, Satoru faster-”

“So bossy.” he hums prettily around your swollen clit, the vibrations stimulating it just right. But of course, what his girl wants, she will get. 

Lewd squelches and your mewls of his name ring in the heady room as he speeds up his ministrations. Rolling his tongue harshly along your clit, sucking so sensually. Licking at your sweet cunt, dipping just into your sloppy hole. 

You almost miss the long fingers that deftly slide their way up your thigh, spreading your folds with his thumbs. A low groan sounds at the back of his throat as your walls flutter so sinfully around nothing - aching for more friction. 

Urgently, Satoru bullies his fingers past your folds, sinking deep into your plushy walls as his tongue continues its abuse. So warm and wet around him. Curling his fingers just right.

“Ah- fuck, Satoru- Feels s’good.” you gasp as he starts thrusting his fingers back and forth. A ruthless pace that has tears stinging your eyes, hitting that spot over and over and-

“Oh yeah? Thought you didn’t like my ‘big mouth’?” he purrs, muffled around your clit, “Look at you, sweetheart, now falling apart cos’ of it.”

You scoff, fingers tangling in his silky hair, pushing him deeper into your dripping pussy - mostly because you needed it, but somewhat because you really needed him to shut up. “Yeah, I like it better when you shut the fuck up.”

And with a dark chuckle, his mouth is back on your cunt. Your slick glossy and dripping down the corner of his mouth as he alternates between sucking unforgivingly on your ravaged clit and fucking into you at the same time as his fingers. 

And in the delicious stretch of your cunt, you barely register the metallic clinking of a belt before Satoru presses his clothed erection into you.

Shit. You clench so obscenely around his tongue at the feeling of his clothed, painfully hard and throbbing against your leg. Fuck - as big as you remember. You weren’t gonna be able to walk for a while.

“You like this, huh?” he murmurs, speeding up the rhythm of his fingers. Vibrations sending white-hot jolts of pleasure down your spine.

Cracking an eye open you risk a glance downward. Greedily eyeing the hand wrapped tightly around the base, moving up up up. Pumping in small, jerky movements at the same pace of his fingers fucking into you. “Like the way m’getting off to tonguefucking my girl?”

“Like thinking about how this is what I thought about all those lonely fucking night without you?” You arch into his touch, fingers searing on his scalp and angling Satoru just right to make your knees weak. 

He’s so close that you can feel the precum smearing onto your leg. Mouth fucking you in a way you knew he wanted to with his cock right now. Rough and unrelenting. 

“Like thinking about how you’re all I can fucking think about.”

“Hngh- Yes, Satoru! Yes-” 

You see stars as you cum - or maybe those were the tears in your eyes. Pulling Satoru impossibly closer to your quivering pussy so that you could ride out your high on his pretty face. And he readily accepts it - letting himself be handled roughly with the conviction of a man that wouldn’t mind dying if it was suffocating in-between your pretty thighs. 

Your vision is hazy, blood still roaring in your ears as Satoru stands up. Not even bothering to wipe away the wet trail of your slick prettily glossing his lips before capturing yours in a searing kiss. 

“Y’know, sweetheart,” he gasps in between heated kisses. “We got a king-sized bed so we better make use of it, hm?”

Your back hits the mattress before you can even react. Reeling from shock and the audacity as you bounce at the sheer force of his throw. 

“Next time you do that you’re-” 

Whatever insult at the tip of your tongue melts away immediately at the purely pornographic sight of Satoru stalking his way towards you from the foot of the bed. Eyes hooded, cock rock-hard, kiss-bitten lips parted slightly in a way that was so fucked-out.

Unhurriedly approaching you with such a predatory glint in his darkened eyes as he fucks his fist slowly - so agonizingly slowly. Eyes locked on you.

Despite cumming not even minutes before, your pussy jumps in anticipation. Immediately reaching over as soon as he’s close enough - as if in a trance - to replace his hand with yours. 

He was big - so mouthwateringly big. Flushed your favorite shade of pink at his leaking tip, pulsing veins glistening in the dim light - every part of Satoru was so unfairly pretty.

So hot and heavy in your hand as you pump him at a steady, methodical pace. Precum smearing on your palm, trailing down your wrist as you pump. Tighter on the base, thumbing teasingly under his slit the way you knew he used to like. 

“Oh fuck, sweetheart. Still remember, huh?” he hisses lowly. Ah, the way he still likes. 

“Mhm.” you hum absentmindedly, thighs clenching together at the way his hips grind in shallow, mindless little motions into your soft hand. Meeting your strokes as if trying to fuck something so delicious out of him.

And, well, you just couldn’t resist a taste. Bending down in one, fluid motion to delicately lick at his angry, hard head. Slightly salty taste on your tongue as you swipe at the droplets of precum pooling on his tip. Tracing lightly - ever-so-lightly - down his prominent veins. 

Satoru groans, low and hoarse with desire, “Shit, hah- you don’ ngh- have to-”

“Shut up, Satoru.” 

And with that, you’re shoving down as much as you can of his throbbing erection down your throat. Cunt clenching at the way he hardens impossibly as you choke and gag around him.

“Shit, oh- Oh fuck, m’girl. Yes yes yes-.” Satoru lets out a guttural moan. Fingers threading through your hair as he uses it as leverage to fuck himself slowly, deeper and deeper into your heavenly mouth. Hips stuttering and jerky with pleasure. Yeah, he definitely missed this. 

Half-delirious and cock-drunk, you take him all the way till your nose was buried in the tufts of white at his toned pelvis, already so wet with saliva and precum. 

Still got it, some smug, utterly debauched part of yourself titters. 

It was dizzying, the way he was pulsing in your throat, his heady scent filling your senses. Beginning to move up and down up and down in hasty, desperate bobs of your head. Pulling such lewd gasps and moans from his lips. 

You moan around Satoru’s thick cock, clawing at his toned hips for some semblance of stability. Some truly animalistic part of yourself relishing in the neat, red lines down his milky skin. The sight hazy through the tears that spring to your eyes at the way his fat tip hits your abused throat. A relentless, sinful tempo you were steadily losing your mind to.

Messy.  It was so fucking messy.

You just wondered if his orgasm would be the same…

But, alas, one can’t always get what they want. Because Satoru pulls you off of his achingly hard cock with a lewd pop! that rings in his ears and makes your cunt twitch. 

“Shit, sweetheart. Any longer and I’ll have to start thinking about ol’ Prof. Gakuganji to not cum.” he pants through ragged breaths, flashing you a deceptively innocent grin. “Now, lay back and spread ‘em f’me and let me see if your pretty pussy can still handle me.”

And that you don’t argue with. 

It’s almost embarrassing - the way you scramble desperately to sink back into the mattress. Letting Satoru manhandle your legs open so shamefully for him, throwing them over his muscled shoulders. But that’s a problem for the future, not lust-drunk you. 

Right now you couldn’t give less of a fuck as his hungry gaze locks on your glistening pussy. Pausing for just a split-second before spitting once. Twice. Thrice onto your waiting cunt. Making you feel more and more like an object as the warm saliva mixes obscenely with your slick, trickling down to form such a sinful pool on the sheets below. 

And you liked it.

Almost as much as you loved the way Satoru drags his tip along your swollen folds, catching so maddeningly on your clit. Teasingly pooling your slick on his leaking head. It was so sloppy. And too slow. 

“Satoru, I’ve waited five months too long for this. If you’re going to fuck me then fuck me like you mean it.” you grit out, frustration and pure need boiling over within you. 

“Oh? So it’s like that, huh?” 

And maybe you were a mastermind, maybe you were an idiot - probably both. Because Satoru immediately pushes in one, long thrust into your dripping cunt. Your words catch pathetically in your throat as he loses grip on whatever semblance of restraint he had - or his sanity - whichever one would break you first. 

Fuck, it feels so heavenly. Oh, how you missed him.

Bowing his body down down down till his damp forehead met yours. Folding you completely underneath him in the way you’ve found that only the smug bastard, Gojo Satoru can. 

You could almost sob at the stretch as he presses in - deliciously painful, borderline insane, and exactly what you’d been trying to deny that you’d been craving all these past five months. Being split apart on his throbbing cock, feeling like you were about to be absolutely devoured underneath him. 

It seems Satoru was just as needy for you, hot and throbbing agonizingly inside you, each little bump bump bump against your walls matching that of your heart thundering against your chest. 

Or was that Satoru’s? At this point you couldn’t even tell. 

“Oh, god yes-, jus’ like that ah shit shit shit-”

“This what you wanted, yeah?” A low growl leaves his throat at how sinfully your walls were milking him as he pulls back. All the way till his leaking tip was just innocently kissing your sloppy hole - only to ram his cock all the way back into your snug cunt. “To be split apart on my cock?” 

Shit, he could just about pass out right now with the way your cunt was sucking him in so greedily like she never wanted to part. 

Guess she missed him too, he thinks deliriously. Not even having to think about it as he starts fucking into you in shallow, mindless little thrusts. Pushing himself deeper and deeper into your plushy cunt. 

“Äh- fuck, yeah. S’all I’ve wanted.” you mewl, feeling so vulnerable and exposed under the hungry eyes boring into yours. A dark gleam in them as he grins, “Then take it back.”

Disoriented, you gasp out a strangled, “What?” before Satoru’s hips become rougher, chasing his high as much as yours. 

“What you said at dinner.” your lips fall into a soft oh! as you realize just what he’s talking about, “Admit that no man makes you cum as hard as I do.”

God, you don’t think you could answer even if you wanted to, choking on the harsh, purposeful movements of his hips just to fuck your soul out. 

Heavy balls stinging your skin, the lewd sounds of skin-on-skin fills the heady air. Driving you to insanity. An absolutely unforgiving cadence that has the bed creaking in protest. Ah, whatever, he could buy them a new one anyway if this one just so happens to break.

“Take it back yet?” He had to break you first though.

Slick gushes out of your heated cunt, dripping down his length and pooling at his heavy balls, stinging your ass at each merciless thrust. “No.” 

A large hand hastily makes its way down to draw rough, frenzied little circles on your throbbing clit. Voice strangled, sweat beading on his forehead, thrusts becoming increasingly sloppier. “How about now?”

“Ah- hngh- oh fuck. Satoru!” You could only moan softly in response, broken whimpers leaving you each time his tip kissed your cervix. Angling his hips just right to expertly brush against that one spot he knew so well would have you keening and bucking up into his cock. Your face almost burns at the sheer familiarity of it all. This bastard knew you too well. 

And something about that made such an uncomfortable, prickly feeling pool in your stomach. 

Something which you knew would only be sated if you looped your arms around his neck. Nails digging into his sculpted back as you pulled him impossibly closer.

Kissing his flushed cheeks as he murmurs, “Take it back, sweetheart.”

Despite the thick cock splitting you in half till you probably couldn’t walk tomorrow morning, you find it in yourself to huff out a soft laugh at the way Satoru’s tone teetered on just that endearing side of sulky. “Fine. You win, Toru.” you whisper into his lips,

And then you’re cumming. White-hot pleasure flashing behind your eyes and Satoru’s lips gently slotting against yours as he fucked you through your high. Acting as if the fucked-out whimper of his nickname is one he’ll never forget. 

As if he couldn’t cum simply from hearing it leave your pretty lips. And he does, shooting thick, hot ropes of cum painting your plushy walls white with a raw groan of your name. It oozes out of your cunt and onto the mess of sheets below as he fucks his seed into you as a lover would. As he would. 

It was intoxicating - everything from the way you milked his cock so sinfully, to the arms tight around his shoulders. Pulling him close, running soothingly along his skin as Satoru collapses onto you with a final, fucked-out thrust. 

And despite being a lightweight, Satoru’s never been so easily drunk off of something than he was off of you. God how he missed this - how he missed you. 

So much so that he can’t put it into words - and probably won’t ever be able to. But it’s alright, because your sticky body snug against his, and Satoru arms tenderly around your waist - but you didn’t mind. Both of you understood.

Satoru traces his fingers lazily along your side, neither of you bothering to tackle the mammoth task of cleaning up for now. Each movement slow and gentle, as if any sudden movement might shatter the delicate balance between you. 

All is quiet in your little haven, and you could almost fall asleep. The most contented one you’ve had in a while - 5 months, 3 weeks, and 7 hours ago to be exact.

But, of course, Satoru can’t keep his mouth shut for nothing. You jolt out of your reverie as he hastily tries to stifle the startled laugh that huffs out of him. Your dazed eyes meet his in the dim lighting, raising a brow in question.

“It’s just…” he starts, voice soft, “You still call me Toru. Feels like home.”

Ah.

You find yourself chuckling softly with him. Heat rushing to your cheeks, burying yourself deeper into his warm chest, to hide the embarrassingly flustered smile breaking out across your face if anything. 

Chuckling, Satoru shifts closer, touch now feather-light against your cheek, tracing the line of your jaw with his fingertips. Faltering ever-so-slightly as you mutter out, “Happy anniversary, by the way. I didn’t say it earlier because someone was being a public menace.”

“Hey! It’s not my fault that someone locked me out of my own honeymoon suite.” he laughs, drinking in your pretty lil’ smile. 

Ah, you were perfect. As you always were. Satoru can’t help but utter out a little, “Hey, if I tell you something absolutely stupid, would you promise not to make me fish food?”

“Absolutely not.”

He knew you’d say that. So he flashes you an easy grin, a hint of nervousness in it that he’s sure you see through - you always do. 

“So…” he begins, “First thing’s first, I’m thinking of expanding my father’s company further overseas and it might just so happen that I’m leading the branch development and get to pick where exactly.”

God, you made him feel like such a teenager. At your stunned silence, Satoru could barely raise his eyes to meet yours as he plows on, stumbling so uncharacteristically over his words, “You, I picked where you are.”

You’re breathless, words barely audible as his sinks in. “What? Toru that’s-”

“And don’t be mad but you kinda sorta didn’t-win-the-raffle-so-instead-I-planned-this-getaway-when-we-were-together.”

Any and every trace of breathless euphoria leaves your tone as you narrow your eyes at the very guilty Satoru beside you. Fidgeting under your intense scrutiny. Finally - after what seems like an eternity - you find your senses after his whiplash-inducing information dump. 

A hand immediately shoots out to squeeze his side, right where you knew he was dangerously ticklish.

“You sneaky little-” you scold over his laughed out yells of, “Mercy! No murder on our honeymoon!” squirming helplessly beneath you.

“I can’t believe you let me chug all that ice cream.”

“Exactly- hah- help! You w-would’ve been so sad that you ah- didn’t win.” he manages to choke out under your attack.

Finally relenting, only once you’re sure he’ll be feeling the burn of laughter until your flight tomorrow, you release him from your grasp. A satisfied smirk playing on your lips as you lean in close. “You’re lucky I still love you, you smug bastard” you deadpan.

“Aww, you beat me to it.” Satoru whines. Yet he reaches out to cup your cheek, “And I love you,” words hanging in the air like a promise. “With every fiber of my being.”

You let yourself be begrudgingly pulled into his embrace again, hands caressing along your skin like the highest form of worship. Satoru sighs out a contented, “Best honeymoon ever.” 

But of course, you couldn’t help but bully your idiotic boyfriend. “This is not a honeymoon, Toru.” you mutter into his heated skin.

He only presses you closer to him. Yeah maybe not, fingers deftly dancing along your left hand. But maybe next time. 

“Wanna watch the stars and tell me all about that branch development?”

“Of course, sweetheart, but first can you at least unblock me on Gmail now?”

“...”

You broke up with Gojo Satoru exactly 5 months, 3 weeks, and 12 hours ago. And as for how long it’s been since he won you back - well, you think it might just be one of the few things you didn’t keep count of.

A/N. Based on my vacay at Lily Beach except I didn’t meet my future husband there :0

Plagiarism not authorized.

The art I KNEW i NEEDED ❤️‍🔥

This suits them so much—I stand by my belief that sukuna drives like max 🥺🤧

Gojo is so Ferrari-coded 🥹

ok wheres my f1 sukugo fic