Geto And Reader Sneaking Out From Jujutsu High School

geto and reader sneaking out from jujutsu high school

have good day/night ! :)

a/n: apparently geto doesn’t have a least fav food bc he consumes curses so often that he’s content to eat anything. sigh. / 1.7k ☆ / @crysugu @lvlybee @na-t0

“nah, you’re lying.” it wasn’t peculiar for geto to hang out in your room after classes (if you could even call them that with gojo usually interrupting them or him getting called out of class to complete a mission). it’d be left with the two of you, and while shoko is not opposed to participating in the (vastly different) insanity you two would usually bring, she prefers to watch from the sidelines with a burning, shortening cigarette and an amused smile.

“like i— for one, love pineapples on pizza and, cherry tomatoes, but i just hate it when they don’t choose the right ones, you know?” geto leaves you to ramble until you realise your voice is simply countered by low hums and nods, “you don’t have any food you hate, do you?” you sit up on your bed after a long time of quelling the loud beats of your heart, looking incredulously at him still lying down, long legs going past the footboard, long hair and all. it grows faster in the summer, you realise — jet black hair that flows like a blackened river right down to his nape — and you find you’ve noted it down in your head a bit too often.

the repetitive memory is paired with reminders to give him the silly star clip you found at a corner side store and plain black hair ties (you steal them sometimes, he doesn’t ask for you to return it). it all but muddles your focus, these thoughts, all because you find it terribly difficult to look away from geto suguru’s unprecedented beauty. the graceful slant of his eyebrows to his hair, right down to the stubborn strands of feelers on the left side of his face that won’t stay in his bun—

“i’m not lying; i really don’t,” the dark-haired sorcerer laughs breathlessly, and he doesn’t notice your daze or the way you jerk at his chortle. his eyes come to rest on you, looking soft and gentle, a gaze even he doesn’t give gojo, and you think he looks the prettiest when his spread out locks converge as he sits up to rest on his elbows.

but besides the warmth of these domestic scenes through rose-coloured glasses, you can make out the underlying sorrow that pools beneath the light-hearted laugh. sometimes you can feel its heaviness, weighing suguru down more than it could ever do to you, and though he’s never lets you in, you had an inkling on what exactly tears at his mind.

it’s how every curse geto exorcises ends up in him, tainting his system with the harrowing taste similar to a rag that’s used to wipe up vomit and feces. it’s how he stifles gags each time a mission is completed, swallowing the curse with scrunched up eyes and a permanent frown. it’s how he’s ingested curses so much that he would be content with any type of food.

“then… let’s go out and find what food you hate then. process of elimination,” you offer softly with a giggle, pushing his legs off your bed before getting up yourself and stretching your limbs. it was late afternoon after all, causing the room to bathe in a general laziness and orange hues to prepare for sunset. you pull on his pants, leaning over him that teases the line between love and friendship.

geto mumbles, “like… right now? don’t we have a meeting with yaga-sensei soon?” and you’re prepared to get rejected with that reason (“oh shit, i forgot—”) until he takes your hand in his and surprising you with the idea that he’d disobey authority for a stupid idea of yours. he thumbs the back of your palm like he’s done it a million times before — c’mon, he says, and then the walk out is silent, hand loosely clasped in his as he skillfully manoeuvres through the traditional architecture of jujutsu high so well you’re convinced he skips classes.

it’s like you undo the tiring climb up the foothills of mount mushiro when you’ve finished an early morning mission, feeling the tug of geto’s hand on yours. it feels like it goes on forever too, but you bask in his occasional turns to look at you to check if you were still there: as if your hand in his isn’t enough, as if you were a reverie in his eyes, as if he didn’t have the sun in palm of his hand, in all her glory in this late, blinding glow. there’s a familiar manifestation of a stingray about three quarters through, the little creature floating beneath suguru’s hand.

“won’t you get caught by the school?” you laugh, but you climb onto it anyway — there’s a small humming sound that emerges from the curse and your stroking, ghosting hand only draws more pleased exclamations from the stingray.

it’s here where he sees how his akaei reacts to your touch and voice that geto thinks maybe collecting curses isn’t so bad. it’s on days like this where he think it might be worth it if little moments like this could clear the tainted, blurry cataract that mixes up who he should be protecting in this fucked up world.

the akaei jerks you forward and you let out a little yelp, face resting just inches from suguru as you clutch onto a fin of the creature — geto swears he hears a cackle from the curse and simply clears his throat, ignoring the pounding of his heart and the way he could smell cherry lip gloss on you. he wouldn’t put it past you to get cherry tomato flavoured lip gloss, but he imagines no matter how much you liked the vegetable (fruit?), you probably wouldn’t be putting that on your lips.

“shall we go?” 

beyond the school, he realises he’s not sure where you want to take him and he dispels the curse, already thinking of the lecture he’d get but instead he’s allowing you to drag him out of the heavy foliage and into the humble shops lining the bustling town. with this, geto is able to see your person without feeling like his heart is going to burst out of his chest, pushing down words that he wasn’t sure you’d reciprocate whenever you turned around to point out the stores you would frequent.

and geto certainly is able to get that little piece of heaven and normalcy that he craves, letting someone he cherishes pull him through throngs of people to find his least favourite item, just because. he lets you sift through convenience stores and family businesses, eating with the unforgivable rays of the setting sun dancing through your features and his bowl of wanton noodles at the chinese shophouse that it convinces him any type of food could be his favourite as long as you’re stuffing your face with waffles or initiating a brain freeze with a 7-eleven slurpee.

and years later, geto somehow still has a bit of trouble categorising foods into ‘favourites’ and ‘non-favourites’, a sorting system that’s black and white, years later. he much rather place (almost) all of them in the grey simply because experiencing dessert and starters and main courses now with your mere presence was enough to make everything delicious against his repulsive palate.

“still thinking?” geto’s thoughts are interrupted by you as you call from across the table, a hand reaching out to hold his. 

he only nods with a languid smile, reminiscent of the mornings when that’s all he has energy for — and except maybe your teasing and lovesick voice. he’d have all the energy for that. “i’ll have what you’re having.”

you giggle, “again? okay… don’t blame me if you spit out the escargots like you did on our last date.”

geto stifles a laugh and only sends the confused waiter off with both of your menus and soon he’s pulling lightly on your hand and he makes you burst out laughing like he usually does, “what did you order again?”

the food turned out… mediocre to say the least. for such a renowned restaurant, you’d expect phenomenal tastes and combinations, except they were overrated too much by critics with only the plating to praise — but still, the night doesn’t end when the bill is hastily paid and geto buries you in his embrace.

“coat’s warm,” you smile. it’s the winter, he’s got you engulfed in his large coat as your nose crinkles at the snow brushing upon your cheek — unbeknownst to you, you wouldn’t have this reality in another universe where christmas was so near — but you would die before you let geto slip from your grasp again. you hoped it would be like this for every other time someone such a yourself crosses path with a certain dark-haired, lovely and kind person like geto suguru: in love, holding his heart in your hands, like sending out a message (“i’ve got him — have you?”) to all the you’s in every other realm.

“what do you say we finish the leftover pizza in the fridge?” his grin is blinding, something you never thought you’d see past high-school, but slowly, you’ve picked up the pieces and cleaned off its rough edges. you’ve polished them and melded them back together bit by bit. in the 55 by 63 refrigerator at your small shared dorm in your alma mater, all of geto’s pineapples were littered messily over your side of the dough, ingraining that dramaticized display of how, to geto, pineapple on pizza tasted worse than swallowing curses.

though, it was one of the favourite foods he’s developed a taste for after eating it with you a few times. sure, he at first hated the sweetness that contrasted with the saltiness of the dough, although seeing the fullness of your cheeks and how well you ate; it was simply that, that made him love it — but he’d never tell you that, not while you also loved it, because if anything meant more than his rediscovered love for food, it was your love for the same exact things that would make him order all the hawaiians in the world.

as geto’s lips meet with yours (smelling like cherry tomato lip gloss, he stands corrected!), he thinks that lecture and temporary suspension from his old teacher was worth all the days spent with you — pineapples and (right) cherry tomatoes and all.

geto reaction to you wearing only his shirt

OVERSIZED NEVER LOOKED THIS GOOD

a/n: lore. a lot of lore. i always cannot help but write backstories. ure gonna have to bear w/ me SORRY !!!! based off of this drawing that i wanted to write sum about but then i thought why not combine it w/ this prompt. i went a little insane on this mb / tagging @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @hyomagiri @slttygeto, who else r geto fuckers

wc: 2.9k

warnings: roommate!geto, soft dom!geto, mutual pining, reader steals one of geto’s shirts, geto is also a little bit of a pervert, mentions of panty sniffing but geto doesn’t do it, m! and f! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, slight nipple play, spitting (on ur pussy), finger sucking, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

geto was a sweet roommate.

he’s always topping up on supplies when you needed things, pushing away your hand whenever you wanted to pay. where he got all his money, you weren’t even sure. geto cleaned the house, he cooked dinner, hell, it was like you two were married at this point. even gojo had asked if he would get together with someone who wasn’t you (and of course, in classic gojo way, he was skilled in asking it in a roundabout way), geto’s firm and abrupt “no” was enough to make gojo grin from ear to ear.

even he wasn’t sure when it all started — you were always friends with the three of them, gojo and shoko and himself, participating in their antics and getting in trouble in high school. there was hardly any dull times between the four, looking at you through the lens of a friend. but when those lens started to turn blurry and black, seeing you in a new light of tighter outfits and a sweet smile that looked like it contained something hidden, suguru genuinely hoped it would all go away.

it’s not like he thought he was unattractive, but you wouldn’t go for a guy like him, someone hidden behind gojo’s bright personality or shoko’s satirical, cool demeanour. he was oh so oblivious, however, turning an unintentional blind eye when you’re hanging with gojo for the day but only because you wanted to know what birthday present would be best for him, or having a movie night with shoko only to disregard cher horowitz on the television just to ask if geto would like your new nails and hair.

the two of you were so dense when either of you were hanging with them, going on for so long even after taking a gap year for shoko’s overseas med school attachment. they assumed the two of you would’ve done something then, but it was stagnant, dry, that gojo almost wants to take matters into his own hands; so when you’re begging geto if you could room with him, since he lived near the university you were all attending together,

“suguru, pleasee— i wouldn’t wanna travel for hours on end just for like a two hour lecture.”

shoko smiles, gojo laughs, slinging an arm around you, “help your poor friend out, suguru.”

gojo torments him to no end. he doesn’t regret it one bit when your arms are thrown around his neck in a bear hug in thanks, feeling himself get hard just from the way your breasts press against his chest.

“yeah,” it’s said breathily, softly, “it’s no problem.”

suguru thanked god you hadn’t wanted to move in that very same day, cause all that could be heard throughout the small apartment was him pumping his cock to a polaroid picture of you, calling out your name softly as he came all over the photo of your bright smile. he didn’t need the fan that night, the guilt was enough to burn him alive. and after, he acted like nothing happened, except the many, many times he’d think of taking you on every surface of the house, suffering silently for an entire year as the two of you fell into routine day by day.

today might change, however, when geto hangs the last piece of clothing, something that was hardly a difficult task, but it proved to be the hardest thing to date when he’d spot the bras and underwear lying at the bottom of the basket each time he prepared to do laundry. geto wills himself to wash, hang it, and get out but he cannot tear his eyes away from the unmistakable dark spot at the centre of your panties before it’s thrown in, taunting him to just pick it up to breathe in your scent, to do something to defile it, to let his desires take over. but he wasn’t gojo, no, he’d wait all the time in the world for the right time, even if it was at the expense of a throbbing cock and flushed cheeks.

“(y/n), ’m going to the store, you want…” his voice trails off when the drawer before him shows only one clean shirt left, sighing when his favourite shirt has gone missing, again. he knows it simply by the missing tag on the top, cut off terribly by your hands on a drunk movie night. he was thankful you missed his skin by an inch, but he cherishes that shirt and night dearly. geto simply brushes off the mishap, grabbing a sweatshirt instead.

there’s a rap on your door that quells all movement from your side, fabric clutched tightly between your fingers that it hurt just a little.

“(y/n)? love? you okay?”

“y— yeah, i’m fine sugu. what did you say earlier?”

“i’m going to the store. it’s grocery day so i’ll be there for a while — need to stock the fridge up for the week. you want anything?”

geto wishes so desperately to see your face now, asking if you could go and holding a reusable bag by your side, but strangely you don’t even make a move to open the door.

“no it’s fine, and okay! i’m— uh, busy with something,” you look towards the door and back to the article of clothing in your hand, “so i’m sorry i can’t help today.”

geto’s disappointment is brief, but he recovers as soon as he hears your apology, in that sweet, honeyed voice you love to use on him, as oblivious as you were of its effect.

“’s fine, see you later!” there’s a weird and panicky bout of feeling geto gets, but he’s satisfied with the hum you sound through the door. and once the door clicks behind him, you’re unlocking your own door softly, ensuring your surroundings are safe.

geto wasn’t the only one. between your fingers were his favourite shirt, straight from the dirty laundry of last week’s load; it’s been a reoccuring thing these few weeks after realising you maybe want geto to fuck you silly. you’re sneaking around undetected with it, holding it to your nose, breathing in his natural musk. it was the one shirt you liked on him — always put on when with you — it’s like your secret little joke from that night. and it was so sinful, the way your breath hitches from just his scent, the way your panties pool with arousal.

what would it be like to actually wear it?

the thought crosses your mind and leaves just as fast, heart pounding in your chest when you realise you’ve never tried that before.

peeling off your top, you slip it on carefully, swallowing from how much larger he is than you. the sleeves extend past your elbows by a little, so much cloth on you that you’re a little lightheaded by the possibility of being geto’s, belonging to geto.

“oh god…” you sigh, feeling your pussy throb at the thought, and your hands are shy when they creep in between your thighs. they rub at your clit gently, imagining geto was doing the work instead. he’d be so gentle with his hands, cupping your thighs, spreading your legs.

you’re whining when your fingers find your way into your cunt, nose filled with the scent of geto and head filling with the repeated runnings of his tongue on you, his cock in you, his whole person devoted to you. it’s cute how you don’t know that’s already the case. your fingers are lacklustre as you pump them in and out while your other hand is busy with your clit and you look like a goddess: spread out on your bed in nothing but your roommate’s shirt, a soft, slow melody playing from your phone.

you’re so entranced by the sensations you don’t hear the front door opening and the rustle of the plastic bags (he forgot the reusable bags) containing your groceries, distracted by the phone call he’s having with gojo who teases him through the line. his best friend says stupid crap like she’s definitely into you, too. what her panties smell like? have you guys fucked yet?

the last two was enough for geto to whisper a soft satoru!, clearly displeased with the way he was asking about you, about you both that he only rolls his eyes, muttering an annoyed “i’m hanging up, you pervert. i’ll talk to you later—”

setting down the bags, he frowns again upon seeing the closed door, although not as closed you thought you left it.

“suguru— f-fuck, right there—” geto chokes on his saliva at the moans coming from behind the door, careful not to step on the wrong floorboard below him as he lines up with your room door — a terrifying feat rewarded by your needy whines begging for him. he can hear the wetness of his roommate’s cunt, and he wants to take a peak so bad; so he does just that and stiflies a groan at the sight.

your hair is splayed out all around you, pussy facing the entrance of the door just perfectly and his shirt draped over your body. it sends him into a frenzy, head reeling at seeing his shirt so oversized and so perfect over your body that he swears he cums a little at the display. your cute face scrunched up in pure pleasure, your toes curling around the bedsheets he changed for you.

oh, shit.

and geto panics when your head shoots up, eyes meeting his and your hands halting.

fuck, did i say that out loud?

you’re speechless although your reflexes cause you to close your legs immediately, scooting up the bed like you’ve just got cornered by a predator. it was similar — geto with his big, brooding self, moving slowly into the room with both hands up and a dazed look behind his eyes, you, exposed in the eyes of a hungry man who’s craved you for so many months. you like it.

“you’re— you’re wearing my shirt,” geto gulps, causing you to let out a nervous laugh.

“yea— yeah…”

geto thinks that maybe this is it. this was the moment he’s been holding back on for so long, and so he crosses that boundary into your space, stopping right at the footboard of the bed. you follow suit, going onto your hands and knees and crawling to him that he tilts his head back. everything you do drives him crazy.

suguru’s words is heavy, “you think you’re cute, hm? stealing my shirt and then moaning out my name and fingering your pussy like that…”

your breath shakes, ascending to your knees so you’d reach his height, but not quite. he tugs you closer to him.

“yeah.” it’s so quiet he almost doesn’t hear it, “been wanting you for a long time.”

your roommate hums, lips hovering over yours just by an inch. you’d probably pass out if not for your racing heart and pulsating core.

“yeah?”

you’re finished with words, resorting only to a shy nod before geto crashes his lips onto yours, wrapping the other arm around you as yours go around his neck. it’s messy, filled with drool, devouring you on the spot for teasing him for so long, mouths moving in sync with each other. there’s a soft moan that escapes your mouth when you feel him manhandle you with ease, picking you off the bed to set you down on your back gently.

“c’mon, let’s see the mess you made,” you mewl at the words but your legs are stubborn, still in disbelief at the way suguru treats you, but you let him pry your legs apart after some gentle praises. you stifle a smile when you see how geto exhales at how beautiful your pussy is, leaking from your hole while your puffy clit is begging to be touched.

“oh, she’s so fuckin’ pretty…” your roommate mumbles, intoxicated on your scent as he bends down, giving your cunt one last loving look before he looks to you with a small grin. it’s clear he cannot wait, but he pauses for the words he wants to hear.

“wan’ you to eat me out, sugu,” you’re mumbling and suguru thinks it’s so cute, only responding by giving you a peck on your inner thigh, a soft yeah? before he goes down on you.

geto’s tongue on you is slow and cautious, drawing languid circles around your clit as he plays with your thighs, moaning softly into your core.

“s’damn sweet,” you can feel the stretch of a smile before he resumes, drawing you in slowly with each lick, each suck. geto doesn’t let your arousal go to waste, using a finger to scoop up your juices before he rubs the area around your hole and then the first push into your pussy makes you let out a loud, wanton moan.

“oh— your fingers, sugu, they’re—” they’re so much thicker and longer, everything that you couldn’t feel before now feels too much and yet your cunt gives him his answer by clenching around his longer finger.

“better than yours?” he asks with a lopsided smile.

you huff in indignance — not your fault you had shorter fingers, “yeah.”

“i’ll make full use of ’em, baby,” geto gasps softly when he pushes his finger right to the hilt, obsessed with the way your hand closes around his wrist. “too much?”

you shake your head, “n-no, just— feels too good.”

your roommate laughs softly, “princess is just too sensitive.”

he’s tempted to chuckle again when he sees how the pet names affect you, but soon he’s adding a second finger and pushes in, moving at a slow speed. and then when he adds his mouth into the mix, you’re begging for him to hurry; his eyes flutter close, getting lost in everything that you dish out.

geto’s pace is routine like his life, but it’s not any less pleasurable as he curls his fingers upwards, stretching you out and hitting your spot repeatedly. he continually flicks his tongue and sucks and slurps, tasting your essence once and needing a second, third, fourth, umpteenth taste, bringing out the most delicious moans to fall from your lips. it’s like hearing aphrodite sing, and yet you cross her by miles both in beauty and voice. surely, he shouldn’t mention that out loud, but eros can’t possibly help the arrow puncturing his heart, and looking at his psyche now, he thinks you look absolutely flawless.

“f-feel so good, mmh— so deep, suguru—!” his eyes snap open to look at you with hooded lids, sending you a cheeky wink before he starts to suck on your bundle of nerves, keeping his mouth latched around it as his fingers speed up. the noises of your cunt sucking him in paired with your whines just sound so good, and the scent of his shirt is dizzying, pulling it higher and higher till it pools around your chest. you watch as geto pulls away for a second, gathering saliva in his throat before he spits on your pussy, and the action is so lewd your jaw drops and your hips start to hump against him. 

“ya like that? filthy girl,” geto smiles, rubbing his thumb into your clit and there’s that distinctive build-up in your stomach, coiling and burning until lays his tongue flat onto your cunt, pressing it deep along with the fingers that curl up in your pussy.

“su—” you don’t even have time to tell him, cumming all over his fingers and soaking the sheets, flustered at the in-awe look geto has on his face at how the shirt had ridden up, at how your hands cup your tits and play with your nipples, at how your cunt gushes so sweetly for him. he continues to pump his fingers to let you ride out your orgasm, relishing in the whine you let out when he removes his fingers.

“patience, sweetheart,” geto moves up to reach you, fingers waiting inches away from your lips. you’re taking his fingers into your mouth, keeping eye contact as you wrap your tongue around them and sucking your cum off of him, swearing lowly when you grab his wrist and shove them deeper. “but then again, we’ve been dancing around each other for too long, now.”

you smile at his allusion to the many times that the what-ifs could’ve come true, and yet now you’re tangled up like this in his shirt.

once geto’s underwear comes off, you’re gaping at the cock that he pumps, clearly looking intimidating enough that geto has a hand to your knee and kisses it gently. “we’ll make it fit, alright?”

you nod a little timidly, taking his hand off and twining your fingers, “yeah, i trust you to take care of me.” you make a quick move to remove his shirt but he stops you, saying something embarrassing about wanting to see how cute and small you look in his shirt. you’re scoffing and pushing at him later, you’re just too tall.

he takes care of you perfectly fine — when geto fully sheathes himself in you, he can only focus on your gummy walls that wrap around him fully, his eyes are rolling to the back of his head and you’re grasping at his hands that grab your hips so hard. your roommate fucks you so well, your body limp and your pussy begging to milk him dry that it spills out so much — geto groans into your neck with reddened cheeks at that later.

you’re receiving a noise warning the very next day, alongside a QR code that takes you to a link for soundproof foam, and all you can do is laugh at each other. like routine, geto is already gathering the ingredients for an apology cake, beside him right in that little kitchen in another shirt of his that starts to smell more and more like you—

as his roommate and maybe now, something more.

♡

hello lovely!! ^^ just wanted to say thank you so much for your kind words on reservations, it makes me so so happy to hear you enjoyed reading it and that it even managed to tug at your emotions! geto is a character i adore so it means an awful lot to me that youve liked how i write and imagine him! i hope you have a good day <33 - kisskawa

i hope you have/had an amazing day too !

thank you for taking the time to send me an answer, i truly enjoyed your piece so so much ><

i also hope to keep finding your beautiful works ! i'll be always willing to read and support with much love ^^

“Didn’t expect to see you out here.”

Your head pops up as the unexpected voice makes itself known, twisting your face towards the sound only to see a figure standing at the end of the alley. He’s silhouetted where he stands—a shape more than a person. You can tell he’s tall, broad, and has a knot of hair tied up loosely at his crown. 

Geto Suguru steps into the light where you can see him better, though it makes his sudden appearance no less surprising. 

“Did you drink too much?” he asks, treading a few steps closer as he eyes you worriedly. You pull yourself up from where you’d been crouching on the ground.

“No, no. Just getting some air,” you reply with a stiff smile, dipping in a bow and quickly adjusting your pencil skirt once you’re back upright.

He has his tie loosened over his shirt with the top button undone, and his suit jacket is nowhere to be seen. He considers you for a moment, and his attention makes you want to fidget but you fight the urge.

You watch as he pulls packet of cigarettes from the breast pocket of his shirt and offers it out to you. “Do you smoke?”

“No, thank you,” you say with a quick shake of your head, smoothing your hands along the front of your skirt and then moving to step past him back towards the entrance of the restaurant. “I should go.”

He angles his body in your way before you can.

“No need to leave on my account,” he says, peering down at you. His face is partially in shadow because of how he’s standing, angled between you and the mouth of the alleyway that leads back to the busy street, caught in a small dark patch between the streetlights and the light affixed to the grungy brick wall. He tips his face up and the light touches his features once more, catching in his brown eyes as he waits in anticipation of your response.

“I should get back inside.” It’s strangely difficult to meet his gaze, so instead you look past him towards the street as an unwelcome heat surges up your throat to flood your face. A car passes quickly by the alley, and you watch as the headlights come and go in a flash.

“Why?” the man before you asks, placing the cigarette he’d fished out of the pack to his lips. He uses his teeth to keep it there while he fumbles through his pockets for a lighter. “You’re clearly having a terrible time in there.”

Your eyes snap up to meet his in shock.

“No I’m not,” your reply is notably indignant, even though his accusation is valid.

How would he know anyway?

“The smiley, nice-girl bit’s gotta be getting old, isn’t it? Pouring everyones drinks. Cleaning up everyones messes.” He laughs, though it’s only to himself, before clicking his lighter to life and holding it to the tip of his cigarette until it catches. The cherry burns red and bright on an inhale, and smoke slips from his lips as he adds, “You don’t have to lie to me, I’m not your boss.”

“I’m not lying,” you insist, but your performance isn’t particularly convincing. 

Truthfully, the very last thing you wanted to do after a ten-hour work day—capping off a fifty-hour work week—was come out drinking with your colleagues. You’ve never really liked these kinds of gatherings, even if the company is the one footing the bill. They always get a bit too rowdy for your liking. Always drag on a bit too long. And you know that you’ll inevitably be the one stuck forcing your plastered boss into a taxi in the wee hours of the morning, while the rest of your equally-sloshed coworkers find their own ways home.

But the department chair, the very same one you’re sure will be singing karaoke with his tie around his forehead in only a few short hours, had been adamant that everyone in marketing attend the gathering since the sales section was joining in too. 

Hence the sales employee standing toe-to-toe with you, blocking your path.

You know Geto Suguru, but only indirectly. The sales and marketing departments are separated by a single floor in your company’s office building, and often work on projects together. Geto is a section lead in sales, with a long, illustrious history behind him before he worked his way up to that role. He’s made a lot of money for the company, and a lot of friends along the way—what with his easy charm, silver tongue, and undeniable good looks. His reputation precedes him—in both good ways and bad.

The fact that he’s here talking to you—a fresh-faced, relatively new-to-role nobody in comparison to his lengthy history with the business—is what you have a hard time wrapping your head around.

“Sure, sure.” Geto waves his hand dismissively, ash fluttering off in tiny specks from the end of his lit cigarette. “I’m sure you just love making all those copies, remembering coffee orders, and running that section lead of yours’s errands too. Oh, and don’t forget when he takes credit for your ideas.”

Your stomach drops. 

He keeps going.

“This upcoming brand collaboration is exciting,”—he takes a puff of his cigarette, his eyes sparkling as he looks at you—“too bad no one knows it was you who came up with it, huh?” 

Your fists clench tightly at your sides, your lips pressing together in a thin line.

Geto blows the last of the smoke in his lungs from the corner of his pursed lips, away from you.

“That’s the first honest expression I’ve seen on your face all night,” he says with a sly smile tugging at his lips.

Your hands are shaking.

“Why are you doing this?” you ask him weakly.

He tilts his head to the side, like your question confounds him.

“I’m not doing anything,” he says, and he sounds like he genuinely means it. “Have I said anything that isn’t true?”

You bite your lip, staring down at your pretty, professional pumps as you stand on the craggy pavement of the alley.

“You’re allowed to be angry, but don’t direct it at me for pointing out the people who keep screwing you over,” Geto says, and the way his voice sounds a bit nearer and the smell of his cigarette gets stronger tells you that he’s dipped down closer to you even though you don’t watch him do it. “No one’s gonna hand anything to you if you don’t fight for it.”

You glance up at him, your expression and your tone equally flat. “And what if I’m not a fighter?”

“Oh, I don’t believe that,” he says, chuckling a bit as he backs away from you.

You watch him as he watches you—contemplates you, like he’s sizing you up. He drops cigarette suddenly to the ground, still only half-burned, and crushes it with the toe of his shoe. You hold your breath as he takes another step towards you.

He leans forward.

“Hit me.”

“Pardon me?” The bewildered question rushes out of you all in one gasping breath, and you take a loping step back in shock.

“Come on, just one,” the man goads you further, rapping against his jaw with the knuckle of his index finger as a smile twists his lips up at the corners.

“You’re drunk,” you spit out incredulously, shaking your head and quickly moving to step past him.

“I’m not.” He sidles smoothly into your path once more before you get the chance to flee, like he’s half-a-step ahead of you at all times. 

It’s infuriating.

“Alright, then you’re just insane,” you offer instead.

You knew the sales department had a reputation for being a bit wild, but this is beyond all your expectations. This is nothing like the charming, easy going Geto that you’ve heard all your female colleague gossiping about in the break room.

His smile falls, and he crosses his arms over his chest. You try not to pay too much attention to the way his forearms look with his shirtsleeves rolled up to his elbows.

“I’m still your senior, y’know,” he says, and his voice is a little bit colder now. More admonishing.

You’re very acutely aware of that fact without him saying it.

You huff out a frustrated little breath through your nose, crossing your own arms over your chest in a mirror of his stance.

“I’m not hitting you.”

Geto’s brow quirks curiously.

“Why not?”

You can’t believe you’re having this conversation.

“Because that’s assault,” you counter his question shortly.

“It’s only assault if I press charges—which I won’t.” You know he’s telling the truth but it doesn’t make it any more convincing. He tilts his head to the side again, and a silky strand of his dark hair slips into his eyes. “Haven’t you ever hit anyone before? It’s cathartic.”

Your lips part in an expression of astonishment. “Of course I haven’t.”

The man in front of you looks mildly surprised at your answer.

“Do I look like someone who goes around fighting people?” you ask him incredulously.

“You look like you’ve got some repressed rage in you,” he says with a smirk, and the expression only worsens when he sees the way you react to it.

He taps his cheek again before tucking both his hands behind his back and leaning in close to you, like a man offering himself up to the executioner’s block. He shuts his eyes.

“C’mon, just a little one.”

“I won’t.”

“You should.”

“I won’t.”

“How come?”

You take his face in your hands suddenly, tilting it up to meet your gaze.

“Geto-san,” you say quietly, your tone bordering on desperate. “I’m not going to hit you, so please stop asking.”

He opens his eyes slowly, his dark lashes fluttering as he blinks up at you. After a moment he smiles, and his eyes curve into narrow crescents as he leans subtly into your touch.

It’s quiet in the alley, but your heartbeat is quick underneath your skin.

“Can you blame a guy for trying?” he asks you coyly.

You’re still cupping his cheeks in your hands. 

They’re warm.

“You really are crazy,” you reply softly to his question, though it’s not much of a reply at all.

He hums, turning his face so his nose drags across your wrist. His lips brush against your palm as he speaks once more. “I’ve been called worse.”

You don’t doubt he’s telling the truth.

Slowly, the dark haired man picks himself up to his usual height. He’s closer to you now than he’s ever been—and thanks to the little cat and mouse game that the two of you have been playing, you’re very nearly pressed against the alley wall. You can’t even see the street anymore beyond the expanse of his wide shoulders.

Everywhere you look, you only see him.

The realization sits hot and heavy in the pit of your stomach.

“I know you’re a good girl, but what are we gonna do about all that stuff you’ve got pent up in there?” Geto lifts his hand and presses a featherlight touch to your sternum over your diaphragm, his fingertips trailing delicately against the smooth plane where the arch of your ribs ends. Your breath hitches painfully as you stare up at him, a sticky knot at the back of your throat preventing you from forming any response—not that you can think of anything to say. 

Geto smiles down at you, his expression soft.

You see the faintest flash of sharp teeth behind his pink lips.

“Don’t you want me to help you let it out?”

i need geto to grab my chin, stroke my cheek with his thumb, then spit in my mouth. maintaining eye contact the whole time? ugh. he’d de say “good girl”

ST☆RGIRL

a/n: yuuuum anon u guys r giving me the best ideas. also combining this with the geto in the brother’s bsf universe bc a lot of u have been asking for pt. 2, altho asking for a part two is pretty annoying. but i wanted to do a second one anyway lol. i made our brother gay btw + read the first part here / tagging @omgeto @papersirens @crysugu @getousex @slttygeto @kazushawty @peachsayshi

wc: 3.7k

warnings: secret relationship(?), soft dom!geto, reader is not a virgin but it’s her first time with geto, you almost get caught but it’s mild, dry humping / grinding, nipple play, spitting (in your mouth), praise, clit stimulation, oral / cunnilingus, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, n*sfw under the cut

sneaking around your brother wasn’t exactly easy, given how they were almost always together by the day — if you didn’t know better, you’d think they were dating instead. the only time you had geto to yourself was in the middle of the week when your brother had gone back to pack more things and to visit his boyfriend, a sure time that you’d show up beaming and excited in front of their double dorm room while geto only gives you a lazy smile, tugging you into the room immediately. sometimes it was the other way when your roommate went home for the weekend, geto knocking on your door in a wife beater and sweats, a small grin and reddened cheeks from running over; the prospect of hanging out with you always gets him speeding over.

his room was for wednesdays, yours for the weekend. a sweet little arrangement for the both of you.

now, geto suguru was the best boyfriend. he made sure you were always okay with his touches, his kisses. he had a silent way of caring, covering the top of your head when you reached down to pick up something under the table, refilling the trusty mug of water you brought around in the small dorm of yours, tidying up your table for the immense studying you’d be doing. it was the little things that you never noticed before you got addicted to him, but now it’s all you can think about when you gush about him to your friends.

and well, maybe, how good he was at teasing you.

no doubt suguru has had experience with other people before from how he always has you wanting more after a simple kiss, lips separating from yours to shoot you a quick smile and a gesture of manoeuvring you onto his lap. his touches are never-ending, rough, large hands spanning the beauty of your body as he names off feature after feature he’s noticed mature since you’ve both grown into adults. he makes the idea of wearing clothes abolutely offensive, grinding up into your centre and watching you fall apart, only to stop when he feels your hands tighten around his shirt.

geto knows you’re not ready, not when you’re doing some pulling away of your own as his hands creep towards your chest, fingers closing around his wrist before he can reach the buttons of your pants. all you can give him is a flustered smile, stuttering out an excuse with frantic hands. he just lets you — swallowing your apologies and tugs you into his embrace and talks about the newest tattoo he got instead — “we can just kiss and grind, baby. you tell me when you want to stop, okay?”

although you never do, makeout sessions always end with your hair in all places, your panties soaked and your lips swollen, not a single line crossed on geto’s side every time. it was an endearing trait of his; he never rushed you, never pressured you into “helping” him out, rather excusing himself to the bathroom quietly.

a smile spreads across your face when your phone lights up, the little profile picture of a sleeping suguru taking centre stage of your phone.

[11:43am, suguru (the bsf and now my BOYF???)]: hey baby, he just left. u wanna come over?

geto doesn’t even need to ask, because you’re already picking up your pre-packed bag and bid goodbye to your roommate who’s deep in her assignment, not noticing you’re gone until she’s shooting you a text after, asking you if you wanted anything for dinner. eating at the boyfriend’s place, no worries! thanks for asking :)

you’ve reached the other block in record time, amongst other many impressive timings, but while you’ve pressed the lift button and trying to catch your breath, the wind is knocked out of you again when the lift doors part and out comes your brother. you’ve never been so quick to come over before, avoiding situations just like this, but your sibling isn’t phased, simply shooting you a greeting.

“hanging with suguru?”

your breath is shaky when you exhale and you hope he doesn’t notice. “yea— yeah!”

his smile is unassuming, a hand outstretched and you barely make his high-five before he bids you goodbye with too loud of a goodbye, keeping up the clueless act until you’re stopping right in front of their door. your boyfriend doesn’t give you time to breathe, either, door swinging open to your dishevelled state and his chuckle would’ve almost buckled your knees if not for the adrenaline running through you.

“i just saw my brother in the elevator — are you insane?”

geto feigns a pout, “not even a kiss for the boyfriend?”

you roll your eyes with a smile and grab the neckline of his t-shirt, but what he says (“well, you’re the one who came running over, sweetheart.”) prompts you to grunt, shoving him away before you collapse face first into the sheets. they smell like you, you notice, but they’re mostly filled with the geto’s natural scent, a calming combination of cinnamon and bergamot. there’s goosebumps on the back of your thighs — suguru runs his hand over it and up to your waist, flipping you onto your side and he coos at your annoyed face, settling into the bed with you.

“okay, no more teasing, hm?” he asks softly and you ignore the jump into your heart. you ignore how his tattoo covered arms are so gentle next to you, how his rougher finger tips brush your hair away like bees on a flower; almost ghost-like, so light, so soft, but you can’t. against your will, you huff, taking his hand silently and holding it, a small frown still present on your face and geto feels bad, now. he leans forward, taking your lips gently and you hate the way how pliantly you obey, sighing as you feel geto move against you.

your hand clutches at the pendant geto bought, a habit you’ve developed every time you feel overwhelmed. it was ironic, too, how the many times you’ve thumbed it was because of geto, and not so much of stressful exams or a weird guy at a party, but that thought’s out the window when geto pulls you onto him, moaning into your mouth when your thighs close in around him.

“you’re okay today, princess?” geto asks against your lips, and there’s no doubt lust swirling in the honey eyes od his — they’re the brightest always in the morning.

“i wanna—” you swallow, “try,” you sit up more comfortably, ignoring the tug in your core, “i don’t want to keep you waiting.”

geto’s brows furrow, “what? no— baby, you’re not making me ‘wait’, if anything i should be the one waiting for you.”

your hands are tense on his chest, he notices, bringing one to his lips before he places a kiss on your palm.

“you shouldn’t be compromising on your comfort to please me, my love,” geto mumbles into your hand, starting to kiss each finger individually until you’re closing your hand around his cheek.

“you’re so pretty,” you mutter softly and you’re jumping in celebrating in your heart when you can feel his skin heat up because your words affect him as much as it did you. you’re leaping for joy because how did you land such a caring lover that would put all your needs first? who’d tell you that you come first in everything—

geto suguru makes this so difficult always, but you’re already firm in your resolution, giving him a solid yes before a small smile spreads across his face, making the act of pulling you down by that same hand. you’re inches away, mind spiralling with how many positions he could put you in but—

there’s a jiggle of the knob on the door and you’re suddenly recoiling.

“are you expecting anyone?”

your boyfriend quickly shakes his head, but he brings you off his lap gently, setting you a safe distance from him. he arranges your hair in place and patting down the wrinkles on your shirt as the other person struggles to open the door and as always, he’s worrying about you, first — until that familiar, booming voice of your brother cuts through the tension and your disappointment is unmatched.

“hey guys!”

geto wanted to roll his eyes, as with you, but your oblivious brother doesn’t take much note of why your chests were heaving and your skin is sweaty, rather setting down his bags full of dirty laundry and the cute anniversary present he was ranting to you about — it felt like your work was undone, reversed, and you’re back to feeling intimidated, no doubt the presence of your brother making you feel like you were doing something sinful.

“so! wait, why do you look so—”

“oh, it’s nothin’, she’s just nervous for her upcoming exam,” geto answers almost immediately, removing the attention from you; it wasn’t entirely false, you realise, giving him a secret smile. “you were saying?”

“oh! yes, so, turns out…”

it’s nearing to the fifteen minute mark where your brother still continues to talk, rambling on about how his boyfriend’s moving date had been moved forward insread, so it was halfway throughout his journey that he got a text saying how it might be too chaotic for them to hang out — boxers, movers, the family dog barking at every stranger.

that heart-twisting, anticipating feeling had subsided by then, and while it was never a dull moment with the two of them, you left that dorm room feeling a little dissatisfied.

“i’m sorry, baby,” geto whispers to you later as your brother takes the chance to pee. he’d volunteer to send you back but the both of you didn’t want to risk anything more.

“next week?” geto asks, a hand to your cheek, “but of course, if you don’t feel it next week either that’s f—”

you give him a small grin, fingers covering his own shaking ones in comfort, “next week.” his lips barely leave your forehead in a peck before the toilet flushes and the door opens; geto teases your brother about not washing his hands and the two bicker just like years ago: hands flying everywhere and your giggles cutting through every insult they hurl at each other.

you can hear geto’s chuckle when you show up the next week, looking like you just ran a marathon again. this time you have no trouble avoiding your brother by hiding behind the wall beside the lift, though you hardly have any time for your boyfriend’s teasing laughter.

closing the door with your feet, you’re walking geto back into the room and his eyebrows raise at your determined face.

“are you sure you’re okay—”

without warning you’re clashing your lips into his, hands on his pecs and mewling softly when his arms naturally wrap around your middle.

“more than—” there’s a dramatic sigh when you feel hands caress your back, “okay.”

you’re just too enamoured with geto to carry on with your once self-assured actions, because you’re always like putty whenever you’re in his embrace. it happens without fail every time.

“you make me feel so,” swallowing, your eyes break contact and your head collides with his broad chest, “insane. you drive me crazy.”

you don’t miss how he winces a little, but soon he’s bringing your head off of him, biting his lip at your cute pouting face, possibly not knowing how even more obsessed he was with you.

a simple text from you has got his palms sweaty, and he goes through at least three drafted messages first before sending something, afraid he’d push over your boundaries or do something you won’t like. geto loves your smile, seeing your cheeks reach your eyes until there’s no more from a joke he made because you were talking about the cute little tattoo his little sister made him get. there wasn’t an end to suguru’s love for you; to see you, to feel you be so flustered and sheepish because of him drives him crazy — did you see the effect you had on him?

you simultaneously ruined and changed the definition of love for him; he’d never have anyone else.

you’re taken aback when geto tugs off his shirt and sitting right in the centre of his sternum is a woodcut tattoo of a halved sun, looking entirely contrasting with the traditional dragon that runs over his body and other ink-heavy pieces littered across his body. this was like a collection of ever-flowing lines that seem to bleed despite the bold lines that signify the end of the sun, it was you. your fingers trace over the tattoo under the protective film, your gasp prominent when there’s a small “to my sun” below it, paired with your initials — ambiguous enough if you were to break up, but geto hoped that would never be the case.

“got this for you last week,” suguru takes your wandering hand into his, words and actions gentle while he kisses the back of your hand, he laughs into your skin, “hurt like crap, i’m not gonna lie.”

“sugu—” your eyebrows are downturned just like your smile, “this is so pretty.” you’re in awe that he’d get something permanent for you, no doubt with such a cheesy line under the beautiful drawing.

“you’re so pretty.” geto smiles when you smile with a roll of your eyes, and you let him bring you into another kiss, softer this time as you let him lead, pulling you to his lap easily.

anyone who looked at the two of you could see the instant difference: geto with his inked arms and room oozing with posters and the gruff nature of him, and you with your bashfulness and sweet smiles and while geto is bound to be noticed first, he would rather sit in the shadows as your moon as he lets you charm everyone you come across. you’re just like that.

geto treats your body like glass, removing your top off of you gently as his hands span your torso and he sighs when he sees you aren’t wearing a bra. “look at you…” and you’re giggling, drawing a smile from the other. slowly he looks to you for reassurance and you nod, prompting him to wrap a careful mouth around your nipple. your boyfriend moans when he feels you jerk at the contact, tongue swirling around your mound as he plays with the other and that’s all it takes for your fingers to tense around his shoulder.

“f— fuck, sweetheart,” you hear him groan into your chest, moving to other nipple and suckling on it, eyes closed in bliss while your head falls back, “you’re so perfect, my love.”

“am i, now?” you mumble breathlessly, “you should look at who’s talking.”

geto nods, coming off of your tits with a pop! and the grin he gives you is shit-eating, “yeah, so goddamn perfect.”

you’re impatient now, especially when you’re in full perception, body on display just for your lover to see, and your hips move slowly whilst your skin feels like liquid fire.

“need you, suguru,” it’s a soft whine that comes out of you, and geto moans at your neediness and the rock of your pelvis because he can practically feel your cunt clench around nothing and your clit throbbing, and while you’re both no stranger to this, the idea of going further than whatever you’re used to makes geto dizzy.

“yeah— i know, baby,” you’re on your back after, gulping when you’re finally left with nothing on your body, shorts and panties taken off and the glory of your body is like oxygen to him, “i need you too.”

gently, suguru pries your legs apart and he’s hooked on your wetness, the beauty of your labia and hole, leaking so much slick his breath is shaky when he exhales. the first contact with your clit is feather-like, and it’s all he does before he leaps in and eats like a starved man. the sensations are too much that your thighs are pulled taut, feeling the flat of his tongue draw a line up your pussy.

geto slurps at your arousal, putting pressure in his mouth and sucks like his life depended on it and your sounds are music to his ears. he groans when he feels your hands pull at his hair, tugging away or towards your pussy even he didn’t know but he relishes in how he’s able to make you feel like this.

“su— suguru, s-shit! your mouth’s—” you can basically hear the smile in between the messy eating of your boyfriend, emerging from your plush thighs for a moment to show you just how soaked the bottom of his face was.

“it’s what?”

you tsk at his teasing and you shove him back, ignoring the way his chuckles send chills up your body through your core, but geto is merciful, humming and moving his face against your cunt. his tongue is relentless as well, making you so pliant with just one muscle as he flicks it against your puffy clit. it’s when your entrance starts to clench around air is when he thinks you’re going to cum.

and he stops — your whines are so cute to him.

“what’s your deal, suguru?” your frown’s adorable too, but he makes it up to you with a sweet kiss and lets you taste yourself.

“want you to cum around my cock, baby. you can do that, can’t you?”

yes, geto felt like he wanted to combust. yes, geto felt like he needed a thousand and one photos to capture how angelic you looked right, but with how he’s talking right now, you only can look up at him with excitement despite not knowing the torture you were putting him through.

and so when he first nudges his tip past your hole, that facade drops entirely, eyes fluttering close at the tightness of your cunt and the spread of your pussy lips upon his dick. you were by no means a virgin, although you disclosed that it was a shitty first time when you first lost it, but the way you feel around his cock, closing in around him you both have had to take breaths together.

“so tight…” geto’s close to bottoming out, memorising how he made you fall apart so easily: your hands clutching tightly on his wrists, making your tits pop out more, the flutter of your pussy, your cute lil mouth stretching into a delicious ‘o’. “and so pretty, just like that.”

you hum at the praise and once he’s buried, your little pants become more frequent, leaving puffs of air on his cheek.

“move?”

“are you seriously asking me that right n— oh shit…”

geto unsheathes and slams into you, and he can feel the drag of your walls along his length. a small laugh leaves him, “just takin’ care of m’pretty girl.”

he’s only had your dripping pussy once and yet he already can’t get enough of it, starting to move his hips as he impales you on his cock. it’s the only thing your mind can focus on, feeling so full and filled with him that it hazes your brain and hypnotises you almost.

“su— ohmy g-god!”

geto’s hands tighten around your thighs at that and the thrusts get sloppy so fast, rutting into you with no end goal in mind other than to feel your tight hole around his length. your lover’s eyes fall to the way his cock slips into you and you take it so well — there’s no other pussy he’d want to feel around him, truly — you take the ram of his hips so good and the gushing of your cunt is answer enough for him.

your hands grab for him, fingers fumbling with his forearms to bring him to your lips. the kiss is filled with drool, tongues slamming into each other as his hips stutter and jolt at the clamp of your pussy, and when he pulls away there’s a string of saliva connecting your lips to his.

you’ve talked about it before and it’s like he reads your mind before anything even begins; his hand grabs at your chin, so lovingly and different from how disgustingly rough he was slamming into you. his thumb goes over your supple skin, and he doesn’t need much to pry your mouth open but—

“open.” and your tongue comes out like second nature and you try not to show your excitement when geto gathers saliva, spitting the ball of liquid straight into your mouth. it hits your tongue hot. his honey eyes are darker now as he watches how obediently you swallow — he swears he can see hearts in your eyes.

“good girl.” geto smiles again, propping your legs up against your chest now in a mating press and you whine in surprise. the position gives him access to the deepest parts of you, and one hand sneakily rubs at your clit in time with his faltering thrusts and you’re cumming with a cry of his name.

“suguru— yes, yes! f-fuck— right there, baby,” you’re sobbing, seeing splotches of white in your vision as your high seem to overtake your senses. it hits you in all the right spots, giving geto his little gift of cumming around him and multiplying it tenfold by how your cum seeps into the sheets. it’s so much that all he can hear is the lewd squelch of your cunt and one more moan is enough for geto to groan into your neck.

“going to give you my cum, darling,” your “yes’” resonate in his ear and it spurs him on to finally cum, shooting his load deep into your womb and filling you with so much hotness. it’s too much but you love it and geto hisses at how your juices and his semen seem to seep out, “that’s a good fuckin’ girl.”

there’s a sly little grin when he lets down your legs gently and you’ve grasped at your pendant so hard it’s detached, and he quells all your doubts with a single kiss and the sun on his chest.

“i’ll just get you a new one, baby. you deserve that much.”

why did i write sm....

I AM NOT OKAY

HE PLAYS BASS !

a/n: modern au bc i cant handle any angst rn. i ramble a lot in this to set the scene teehee. not beta read, gn btw / tagging @crysugu @slttygeto @getousex :3

wc: 3k ish

warnings: bass guitarist!geto, soft dom!geto, he is respectful of your boundaries, both geto and reader smoke weed, shotgun kiss, sexual acts under the influence, fingering, clit stimulation, implied second round, implied cunnilingus, dry humping, praise, n*sfw under the cut

bass guitarist!geto who has had an interest in music and its instruments since being a little boy, practically begging his parents to enrol him in some guitar classes. with fingers strumming the nylon strings alongside complicated chords on the frets felt so right that since then he and his guitar have been inseparable since.

bass guitarist!geto who gets to know the guitar so well that he masters guitar solo after guitar solo, playing songs by ear in his free time and thought lead guitar was all there was to music until the age of fifteen where he stumbles across a song with a bass line that sounded absolutely heavenly — through the 240p quality of the youtube video, he watched the bassist dish out the heavy beats, always in the background yet detrimental to making the band sound complete.

bass guitarist!geto who leaped at the opportunity to buy a bass guitar with whatever money he had to purchase a Squier bass — it was a little shitty in sound but it was cheap, something affordable for a middle schooler. suguru didn’t care. he perfected the use of his bass guitar, already having the basics down from playing guitar; his room is filled with posters, picks, pieces of displaced lyrics.

bass guitarist!geto only has the chance two years later to ask his new friends if they wanted to jam out together and down the line, if they wanted to form a band. it was a clueless band of boys (with shoko of course) in some room of gojo satoru’s luxury house where his parents don’t care to ask him to keep the noise down like suguru’s parents do.

bass guitarist!geto fights to get a spot to audition for one of tokyo’s biggest music festivals a few months later. if they won they would get more recognition, more support, even if they haven’t figured out the specifics of how to operate a band. with gojo as the singer, shoko on the lead and nanami on drums, they would find out what they had.

bass guitarist!geto who breaks that stereotype of the bassist being ignored throughout a performance. he thinks it could be because of his longer hair and his newly bought gauges, and he thought he didn’t look too shabby himself — although he isn’t surprised to see most of the girls fawn over gojo as he sang lyrics of an original song, courtesy of the joint effort between geto and shoko.

bass guitarist!geto who gives judges the finger after they said they couldn’t perform originals at an audition, blacklisting them for future performances — but gojo sees it as a win when he has a hoard of new fans waiting outside to get a photo with him with autographs that differed from each paper his pen made contact with. later, he bursts out laughing when gojo says he hadn’t even thought of a proper signature yet and just ‘did whatever on their paper’.

bass guitarist!geto whose band gained popularity fast because of everyone’s good looks, singing at that same place they auditioned at, but now with repertoire under their belt. it’s then that they’re already all in university, and yet everyone’s still incredibly passionate.

bass guitarist!geto who spots you in the crowd together with your friends, jamming out to their set, but while your friends’ eyes are locked on gojo who’s loving the attention, nanami who can’t give a shit and shoko who’s too focused on her solo, you manage to draw geto’s eyes to you. he spends the rest of the set locking eyes with you, amidst other things like sending you winks and licking his lips until you’re under his spell. all throughout he doesn’t lose the rhythm, but he does slip-up from time to time and there’s a panicked look that nanami sends to geto for messing up his rhythm.

bass guitarist!geto who sees you at his next show alone, smiling up at him right at the front row while he’s trying not to mess up after the last time. this time he has a chance to show you what he’s got in a bass solo, losing himself in the music until even you fades off and you’re truly seeing the bassist for who he is. he’s easing back into the main melody of the song but not before leaning over the speakers with a knee on the floor, hovering right over you before shoko takes over and he’s back to his heavy beats.

bass guitarist!geto who brushes off the teasing after the set ends, only to be bombarded with more of it when he sees you on campus — no way you’re in the same school as him, walking around with your cute outfits and laughing along to your friend’s joke with no care in the world.

bass guitarist!geto who doesn’t have much trouble charming you into hanging out with him, already recognising him from far away when he’s got his long flowy hair and gauges and tight black shirt and tall stature — you aren’t realising he’s asking you if it’ll be okay for you to head over to his dorm room. you’re getting pushed by your friends behind you to say yes with giggles and gossip, and of course you weren’t going to reject the hot guy you missed class and ditched friends for.

bass guitarist!geto who shows you his room and tells you to let him know if he’s made you uncomfortable in any way. in the background, there’s a faded, soft song that continues to play that really completes the dorm, immediately hitting it off until he starts to roll a joint a while later, offering it to you with a raise of his eyebrow.

“oh— n-no it’s fine, geto-san, i don’t really smoke…” you sheepishly turn down the weed, settling instead to watch him and his beautiful side profile, letting him explain to you about bands and guitar and chords.

“thank you for having me, geto-san,” bowing, you’re nothing like the person in the bar that day, geto thinks it’s the lack of alcohol but he doesn’t mind, simply leaning on the doorframe as he nods down at you. his smile is intoxicating and so goddamn attractive you would’ve buckled to your knees if not for the deep breaths you were taking.

“next time, pretty?” geto smiles, a little high from smoking. his eyes are lidded (they usually are anyway) and smile lopsided. his hair’s almost out of the bun.

“yeah, next time,” it sounded so breathy, you bit your lip. “i guess you’d have to find me on campus, though.”

bass guitarist!geto who mutters how you’re a little tease to himself later when he closes the door. he swears to himself he’d get your number next time, but it’s not difficult to find you the next time, hanging around the same place at the same time. it’s like you wanted him to find you — he’s not opposed to it. it’s a few weeks down the road now, and the second time is watching him curiously as he smokes, too. you take a hit and embarrass yourself completely in front of him though, and while you’re fighting for your life, you’re not opposed to the buzz it gives you.

bass guitarist!geto who’s opening the door to you the next time, surprised to see your dishevelled state and a pillow between your arms, walking almost a block like this to the next building where his dorm was. he offers to make you some tea and you shake your head, feeling a pounding headache already coming on just from explaining that your roommate was an asshole.

“you can sleep here if you want to, okay?” you sigh, thanking him immensely because even after knowing him for such a short period of time, you’re comforted by his presence.

“at least satoru’s not here,” you laugh at that, nodding tiredly before you’re settling on gojo’s bed after insistence from the other. he wouldn’t care, he’s always going back home anyway, don’t know why he wanted to share a room with me. but before you can get settled in, you hear the familiar crinkling of the paper and the click of the lighter and the smell of weed fills the room again.

again, his hand is outstretched, holding an ashtray below him as the tip of joint glows a red, calling out to you yet reminding you of the way you coughed the other night.

you crawl off his roommate’s bed, snatching the cig out of his hand in a way to prove something to yourself before taking a big puff. this time you’re better, letting the drug flow through your system, but tolerance is another thing, because it only takes another hit for you to be smiling drowsily at the other while geto is a little high, too, eyes rolling to the back of his head when your hand traces over his arms and you giggle.

“you w’nna kiss?” geto asks quietly, a little soberly, having talked late into the night while you hang off his arm and slur your words. but now you know you’re feeling a little more sensible when you can feel your heart pound and your eyes widen despite their need to close.

“i meant it, doll. you’re fuckin’ stunning,” suguru mumbles, the coldness of his rings sending a chill down your body, but also a spark to your core, “you look exactly like the day i discovered bass.” and it’s like cupid fully shoots his arrow through your heart — because have you heard the man play? you’re speechless at his point, only mustering a nod before you’re leaning in.

he hums drunkenly as a way to ask you to wait a min, manoeuvring you onto his lap before he’s taking the almost vanishing joint into his hands. two more puffs are perfect for the cigarette to be discarded and so with a gentle hand, he holds onto your nape while he tries not to get hard from having you on his lap. slowly, your lips wrap around the other end of the joint, taking in another influx of the drug before he does too.

bass guitarist!geto who pulls you towards his lips a little roughly but he doesn’t give you what you want (what he has in mind is much, much better), rather leaving his lips ajar as he exhales the smoke from his mouth into yours, your own smoke already dissipating. weirdly, this burn is more prominent, probably because all you can focus on are suguru’s dazed eyes and the way they burn through your skull. you inhale the smoke before you feel his soft lips on yours.

geto hums into your lips, coming off of them periodically to allow the smoke to disperse, but the moment is so intimate and hot that you blow away the smoke and lunge forward to wrap your arms around his neck.

“no more pullin’ away, geto-san…” you’re trailing off, words messily whispered against his lips and you burn at the chuckle he sounds out, muttering back a question of consent. you’re nodding, reeling at the speed at which he places his hands on your thighs, dragging you further up his front until you rested on his pelvis.

“kissing me like you can’t breathe and you’re still calling me by my last name? i’m wounded.” geto pulls away and defies your rule — you think he’s the only one who can do that. pouting, suguru pushes away the hair enclosing your face. “c’mon, drink, sober up a little.”

“...i like it like this,” you murmur, ashamed as to how readily you leaned into his touch. his stare is piercing though, not budging until you’re gulping down half the cup.

“throats turn dry when we smoke, princess. we can do it more when you’re more used to it, alright?” geto explains, patting your thigh and ignoring the tensing of them around his own. he’s trying so hard to act nonchalant, but he can’t get the image of you parting your lips for the smoke out of his head. the way your eyes flutter close, how you wanted more of him.

“alright… suguru,” you sigh out the name and geto wishes he could hear it somewhere else, “but can we—” the high is getting to you, making your hormones go into a frenzy and you’re grinding on his lap. geto hisses at the feeling, of your cunt brushing against his bulge. your hips are inexperienced, but you’re going by feel, drawing little circles and moving back and forth; whatever that brings you pleasure.

“baby— f-fuck…” geto swears when you pair it with the lips tha kiss down his cheek and jaw and neck, hands on your hips guiding you as you try to chase your high. but a whine from you draws geto out of his daze and he almost cums hearing your needy voice, begging him for something, anything.

“’m tired, suguru,”

he knows, grinding is a tiring thing, so rather he opts for you to lie on him with your back to his chest. by now, the room’s filled with the smell of weed and arousal, asking once again if he could take off your pyjama shorts. geto smiles at the lack of underwear but he says nothing, eyes latched onto the strings of juices that connect your pussy to the shorts.

“my baby ready to be touched?” he feels you nod, loving the way your stomach contracts and expands at the hand that travels over your clothed tits. there, he squeezes them, rubbing fingers over the hardened nub but soon creeps towards your centre. his hand and fingers are so much larger than yours, covering your whole core easily when he cups it and the contact is enough to make you mewl.

“hurry,” your hips hump the air.

“patience, darling,” geto’s gravelly voice cuts through to your ear before he finally draws languid circles upon your clit, rubbing and pressing on your bundle of nerves. his whole body burns from seeing you react so cutely, all cause your eyes couldn’t leave his on that stage. now your eyes were rolling up and over, little moans leaving your lips just from his hands.

bass guitarist!geto who seems to know all your pleasure points in one night, kissing the spot under your ear, to talking you through your orgasm. you were enamoured by the guitarist that you’d let him do anything to you, obsessed with the way he never missed questions of “is this okay?” and “tell me to stop”. geto is just as besotted by you, the arch of your back, the call of his name. god, he was going to write so many songs about you.

“think you can handle a finger, baby?” suguru whispers, caressing your twitching thighs from your first orgasm. with a shaky “yes”, geto plays with your hole, smearing your juices around your sex and getting it all on your thighs. the bashful suguruuu! has him laughing, taking your lips into another kiss as an apology.

“sorry, sweetheart. love teasin’ ya,” muffled words are said, “goin’ in.”

your jaw drops even more when geto first inserts a finger, so much wider and longer that a long moan escapes you. the stretch is so good, everything you’ve ever imagined after watching his fingers travel over the bass strings, and you’re already asking for a second finger. when he does oblige, your hands fly to grab at his wrist.

“feel good?” he chuckles at your lack of an answer, rather responding by clenching around his fingers and leaning back more into his hold. geto sets a pace, thrusting his fingers in and out of you. he thinks it’s enough of staring at you and almost gets whiplash when his head turns to his hand — from the way he disappears into your dripping cunt, he thinks he’ll cum untouched, although your desperate hips also would play a part.

“feel s’good, suguru— shit…” geto groans lowly into your ear when he feels your hand replicating the circles he’s made on your clit, juices starting to collect in his palm from how wet you were.

“you keep clenchin’ around me, baby, you w’nna cum?”

your body is more vocal than your voice, twisting and thrashing from how his fingers already feel so good. the haze and the smell of geto suguru and the weed in your system is all overloading on you at the moment, but in between you’re able to nod, fingers rubbing at your clit while geto’s speed picks up a little.

your legs naturally spread, each slap of his palm against your pussy paired with the lewd noises only making the whole thing better. it’s not long before you feel that familiar feeling, using your right hand to direct him to you once more and it’s here you see the man you saw on stage before: focused, flushed, small smirk on his face. “gonna cum.”

“yeah? are you?” geto asks against your lips, still tasting the faint aroma of the joint. your eyes are so heavy and your limbs feel like lead; it’s a wonder how both your hands are moving on your soaking wet pussy.

“yeah, sugu, s’sensitive—!” geto coos softly at your whimpers before capturing your lips, swiping his tongue over your bottom lip and your orgasm comes crashing down on you. suguru effectively swallows your moans, groaning on his own end when he can feel your cum running down his hand. slowly, he lets you ride through your orgasm, pressing pecks on your skin and shoulders.

“attagirl. so much cum, hm?” your chest is heaving, whining when he removes his fingers and there’s a cute little squelch from the juices, gasping softly as geto separates his fingers and there’s strings connecting his middle to ring finger. “dirty girl.”

you scoff softly with a smile, eyes following how his fingers make his way into his mouth. the other only hums before carrying you bridal style to the shower with a sweet smile on his face. geto suguru was certain he’d worship you.

“gotta taste that cute little pussy next time.”