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poohbea · 2 years

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𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆.

geto suguru | smut, fluff | college boyfriend!au

𝙒𝙊𝙍𝘿𝘾𝙊𝙐𝙉𝙏 : 2.5k

— 𝙎𝙔𝙉𝙊𝙋𝙎𝙄𝙎 : remote learning was never your forte, especially when it came to a subject as complex as anatomy. you were what they call a hands-on learner and lucky for you so is geto.

𝘾𝙊𝙉𝙏𝙀𝙉𝙏𝙎 : college boyfriend!geto, fem!reader, soft!geto, domish!reader, cowgirl, missionary, teasing, unprotected sex (use protection kids), creampie (this is literally so mushy and romantic please who gave me permission???)

𝙉𝙊𝙏𝙀 𝙁𝙍𝙊𝙈 𝙋𝙊𝙊𝙃 : so this idea has been in the vault for a really long time and this post from @bleubrri reignited the spark i once had for this idea and i mean i couldn't not do the scientist gf x english lit bf au. thank you to my lovely grammar gatekeeper @the-australian-editor for fixing this up for me, love you lots. also i used as an excuse to help me study for my upcoming anatomy test, hahaha so it was perfect timing to be a liiitttle self indulgent.

WARNING: this is smut, so please ensure you have your age visible on your account before interacting. Minors (below 18+), ageless and blank blogs will be BLOCKED

Hope you enjoy ♡ reblogs are greatly appreciated

“Ugh!” Your severe exasperation pulls Geto away from his book. He peers over his literature to see you slouched and defeated in your cushioned office chair, swivelling the seat to and fro with your heel as you stared frustratedly at your computer screen.

“What happened?” He questions, attempting to continue the sentence he was reading.

“I just can’t get this!” Your frustration bounces off the walls of your shared bedroom, the volume threatening to wake the neighbours adjacent.

“What can’t you get?” Despite appearing indifferent with his head still stuck in his novel, you had his full attention.

“This whole lecture!”

Your dramatics make his eyes roll, setting his book down on the side table before shifting to the edge of the bed where you sighed for the uptenth time. “Let me see.” You roll your chair to the side so he’s able to view your laptop screen clearly, his brows immediately furrowing when he catches a glimpse of terminology way outside the boundaries of his degree. “I have no idea what any of this means.”

“See!” With your exclamation accompanied the honeyed sound of your laugh, a contagious one at that as Geto also found himself smiling. “Ugh, this is impossible. These diagrams don’t even help.”

That statement confused him. Why would they give you an example of something that wasn’t of any use to you as a student? “Why not?”

“Because we use cadavers during assessments and they’re very different compared to a diagram.” He recalls your many recounts of the anatomy lab, corpses soaked in formaldehyde, skinned, split in two, muscles and organs splayed and pinned in a macabre exhibit all in the name of science. Barbaric is what he called it, but it fascinated you nonetheless.

“So why not use yourself as practice.” The look you give him is parturient with a rhetorical question he could already hear falling from your lips.

“Really, because I’m muscular enough to use as a model?” He chuckles at your sarcasm, loose hair falling over his shoulder with a light shake of his head.

“So then use me.” From the way your face brightens he knew it was a good idea, a mindless one that he admittedly blurted out jokingly, but he’d never tell you that.

“You’d really let me use you as a live model?”

“If it’ll help you get out of this rut, then yes.” Excitement floods your veins at his confirmation, so much so, that you’re already off your seat, notes in hand and bouncing on the bed beside him before he could utter another word. “Eager, aren’t you?”

“Well, it’s an excuse to get you shirtless, so yes, very.” And just like that your exuberant and childish personality was back. Who knew that all it took was a glimpse of his physique? He made a mental note of it for future reference, adding it to the list of remedies to use against your rambunctious temperament.

“If you wanted me naked baby, all you had to do was ask.” He teases whilst pulling his shirt over his head, dark locks cascading down the expanse of a beautifully defined posterior.

“Shush, you’re supposed to be helping me study, not initiating foreplay.” You crawl your way behind him, legs crossing as you settle into the mattress.

He shoots you a mischievous smirk over his shoulder. “Why not both?”

“Turn around, you dork.” His shoulders shudder with a muffled laugh, one that makes you roll your eyes as you shift his hair out of the way. Then you begin to orient yourself, fingers grazing his skin tenderly, exploring each trough and peak of the muscles spanning his back. “Alright let’s see here. Flex for me?”

Silently he places his arms behind his head, pulling the corresponding muscles taut enough to protrude from his svelte figure. “Okay, upward rotation of the scapula… upper trapezius,” you eye your notes whilst tracing the nape of his neck, following the fibres down to the next muscle. “And serratus anterior.” Geto inhales sharply when your palms glide along the jagged digitations at his sides, fingers splaying as you round his ribcage. “You doin’ okay, mister model?”

“Just fine, sweetheart.” His deep voice diffuses from skin to fingertips, the vibrations inciting goosebumps across your forearms.

“Alright, next was… glenohumeral abduction, so stay like that.” You use his bicep for balance to change positions and sit back on your heels, weight shifting the bed beneath you. “Deltoids.” Tapping on each of the three bellies, you identify them outloud, familiarising yourself with the shape of the muscle at the apex of his shoulders. “Anterior, middle and posterior.” Then your first roadblock appeared. “I can’t find the other one.”

“Why not?”

“It’s too deep, so I can’t see it on the surface.”

“How about finding the general area instead?” Again you look down at your notes, hands ghosting over the approximate location of the elusive muscle.

“I think it’s here.” You conclude, pressing into the superior aspect of his shoulder blade. “Because if I’m tracing it right, then your acromion process would be here and just above that would be the supraspinatus.” In all honesty you were talking more to yourself than to your boyfriend. To him you were speaking a whole other language, so all he could really do was nod as if he actually understood what the hell an acromion process was.

“Sweetheart, not to be a bad sport or anything, but my arms are really starting to hurt.” His playful complaint draws a giggle from you.

“Sorry, you can put your arms down. We’re gonna move onto the front now anyway.”

“The front—?!” He was on his back before his thought had even fully manifested, hair haloing around his head in that pretty array of waves you loved combing your fingers through. “Now you’re just abusing me.” He huffs, watching you throw your leg over his hip, smiling as you settle into your new seat.

“You wanted to help.” The statement partnered the sly arch of your brow, eyes devious whilst staring down at him.

“What happened to ‘I’m supposed to be studying, Suguru’?”

“I am.” His breath practically vacates his lungs when your fingertips path their way up his sides, following the margin of his rib cage before trailing along his sternum. “Look, I found your pectoralis major.”

“For someone who was struggling with this a few minutes ago, you’re doing surprisingly well. Too well, in fact.” His suspicions are only confirmed by the growing smile on your face.

“Maybe, I’m just a hands-on learner.”

“Oh, I’m sure.” He says in a frivolous tone. “So what’s the muscle below that?” His hands guide yours just under the curve of his pectorals on either side, the rise and fall of his thorax prominent.

“Your external obliques.” You answer effortlessly.

“And here?” Now your hands lay over his abdominal muscles, each curve perfectly chiselled into marble-like skin.

You hold his gaze through lowered lashes, biting your lip to withhold the smile threatening to form. “Rectus abdominis.”

Something flashes in those dark irises of his at your answer, hands trailing your own lower to the waistband of his sweatpants. Sweatpants that you only now noticed were hanging dangerously low on his hips. “What about here?”

You offer him a challenging look, knowing exactly where this was going but deciding to play along anyway. “That would be your pyramidalis, my love.”

“And what does that do?” He responds with the same expression of defiance painted on those handsome features.

“Well, it tenses the linea alba, which is the connective tissue,” you watch his abdomen quiver as you trace the centre line between the rectus abdominis muscles. “Here, that separates your abs into two halves.”

“Mhm, and what’s directly below that?” Your breath hitches he guides you beneath his sweats, pulse quickening when you discover he’s not wearing anything under them.

“Suguru…” As much of a warning as his name sounded falling from your lips he knew you couldn’t resist the temptation, no, not when it was already nestled so nicely between your thighs.

“I’m waiting for an answer~”

“You know what’s directly below that.” You squint lightheartedly, hand stalling upon the heated tip.

“If I did I wouldn’t be asking you, now would I? So,” he purposefully shifts his hips into yours, your clit just grazing the notable protuberance of his shaft. “Enlighten me.”

“That’s your cock, Suguru.” Laughter follows your blunt response, the man beneath you attempting to cover his mouth upon seeing your partially serious expression.

“That wasn’t very scientific, now was it?”

“Didn’t think you’d be very interested in the technical terms.” You hook the elastic of his waistband, inching it down at a tantalisingly slow pace.

“Oh, but now you’ve got me intrigued. Please, go on.” He aids your little game with the slight raise of his hips, a facile feat even with you on top of him.

There’s silence when his cock is freed from its confines, your lustful gaze already making it twitch in anticipation. Fuck. “Shall we start from the top?” He swallows audibly when you move to kneel between his legs, ass high as your lips closed in on his tip. “First, we have the glans.”

Your soft lips envelop the area in question, hot tongue lapping delicately at his slit, the saltiness of his precum reacquainting itself with your tastebuds. He can’t help but hiss under your touch, body so familiar yet so responsive even after countless encounters with your mouth. “Then the frenulum.” The apex of your tongue slowly compasses the underside of his tip, that sweet spot, right where the head met the— “Corpus spongiosum.” He relents a breathy moan when your thumb runs over the length of hidden tissue.

“Fuck, baby.” Admittedly, your anatomy terms were going through one ear and out the other at this point. Each word morphing into its own form of gibberish as he anxiously awaited your next move.

“More?” It was a simple question and yet Geto wasn’t even sure how to answer it. Were you referring to the listing of parts as you continued your torturous teachings? Or were you simply just asking if he needed more stimulation?

Either way the answer was— “Yes.”

It’s criminal the way you pin him with that salacious look of yours, it was even more so when the flat of your tongue paths from the base of his cock, purposeful in its journey over the same place you’d mentioned beforehand, the one that made his hips jerk involuntarily.

“Now who’s eager?” His chest heaves with each leisurely stroke of your hand now enclosed around his length, a proud smirk plastered on your lips.

He manages to huff a choked laugh, only for it to get stuck in his throat when the tip of your tongue laps at the arousal beading at his slit. “Why must you torment me so?”

“Because,” you whisper, climbing utop his lap once more. “Love begets love.” His heart skips a beat as you draw closer, lips withheld only a breath away. “And this torment,” he watches your hips rise, fingers slipping your pyjama shorts and panties to the side. “Is my joy.”

Would it be wrong of him to admit that in that moment, he’d fallen in love with you all over again? It could’ve been the warmth of your pussy, the way it moulded around him so perfectly. It could’ve been how even the sweetest of poetry was recast as a sensual sonnet, each syllable flooding his veins like a drug from the syringe that was your lips against his skin. Or maybe it was a combination of the two. Heated flesh adjoined, formless breaths birthing a passionate ballad only you and Geto were able to decipher.

“Sugu…” Oh, how your moans drove him wild.

“That’s it, sweetheart.” He exhales, fingers digging into the suppleness of your hips. “Fuck, yes just like that.”

The bounce of your breasts beneath your oversized shirt – his shirt – was mesmerising. The angelic vision of his love riding him so effortlessly inciting the euphoric flutter of his lids, a wildfire of sensations ravaging his very being.

Harmony after harmony was sung with the rhythmic clap of your ass, teeth capturing your pillowy bottom lip in an attempt to prevent the promising rousal of the neighbours, a task that grew all the more tempting as time passed. He wanted it. He needed it. He craved it.

You gasp when he proceeds to switch positions, your body now enveloped by the residual heat of his skin imprinted in the duvet beneath you. He chuckles at your stunned expression, nose brushing yours tenderly as he speaks. “There is no place I end and you begin.” He recites, cock sliding along your velvety walls. “When my body is in your body, we are one, once again.”

There’s no resistance when you pull him into a kiss. It’s delicate, deep, eternal. It relayed all unspoken emotion, emotion he eagerly explored with his tongue as it parted your lips.

“I love you.” You mumble between kisses.

“I love you too.” He echoes back, thrusts never slowing.

Your fingers soon find themselves in his hair, a tell tale sign of your incoming orgasm. You liked to use him to ground yourself, knowing all too well just how easy it was to get swept up in the indifferent tides of ecstasy. But he had a different idea in mind.

Coxing your hands from its inky-tressed residence, he pins them above your head, fingers entwining before he nestles against you. “Let me hear those pretty moans, baby.”

His cock drives deep, balls lewd in the way they slap against your backside. He mutters all forms of profanity against the curve of your neck, teeth unable to resist marking such a beautiful canvas as they sink into your skin. You openly do the same, whining and moaning as if on command, grasp tightening in his when that familiar feeling begins to build in your stomach.

“Sugu, fuck… I’m gonna cum.”

“Go ahead, pretty. Cum all over this dick.” And with a final snap of his hips you let go, thighs once spread now wrapping around his waist, forcing him still. “Yes, baby, shit.” The pulse of your walls drags him into his own metaphorical heaven, lips finding yours as his seed paints your insides.

Staggered breaths fill the room, each exhale exchanged in the comfort of the other's shoulder, a brief interlude before the onset of laughter, soft and vulnerable.

“When’d you learn poetry?” Geto begins, moving to lay on his side.

“I peek at your books sometimes when you’re not looking.” You reply shyly, unable to contain that mischievous grin of yours in his presence. “It’s the best way to absorb your literary knowledge.”

He pulls you close with a soft chuckle, thumb caressing your cheek. “Or… I could just read them to you instead.”

“Yeah, but I don’t wanna disturb you, Sugu.”

“Nonsense. However, what does disturb me is your constant grumbling.” You whine when he pinches your cheek as punishment. “But it seems like that was all a facade to get me under you.”

“Okay, but you went along with it!”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you lied.” He retorts.

“I didn’t lie… I meant it when I said the diagrams didn’t help?”

His brows furrow skeptically. “And why’s that?”

You lean in to kiss his nose, a hand laying gently on his chest. “Because nothing beats the real thing.”

tags: @gardenof-venus, @sintiva, @sailewhoremoon, @okhotel, @xharia, @sakinotfound, @protectpancakes, @hoohoohope, @eiflawriting, @yooniluvbot444 , @/erentoes (i can’t seem to find your @ when i search it up idk why 😕)

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