OBSESSED: GETO
A/N: Suguru is a patient, kind, wonderful, completely out-of-his-mind-insane man. I just had to capture it on paper. (The Yuuta installment is up next, this one was just crawling out of me lol)
C/W: Voyeurism (the real Shibuya incident 🤭) Mature, 18+
Suguru should stop.
He really should fucking stop.
You two are friends. Innocent. Platonic. The very best of friends.
And yet, here he is. Watching a live feed of you walking through your apartment door.
Keys to the left.
Heels kicked off to the right. You’ll come back to those later.
He drapes the bath towel around his neck. Catching the last few almond water droplets from his thick, near waist length hair. He’ll be at your place later; he wouldn’t forgive himself if he was the reason you caught a cold.
And capital punishment for anyone who rouses a single strand of hair on your head.
6:38 PM. A little late today. But it’s a Wednesday and there’s a farmers market in the town square. You always stop for chocolate croissants too late on Wednesdays. The vendor leaves before you’re out of work.
There are four of them on low heat in his oven right now.
Because Suguru now knows the vendor on a first name basis. He’s paid him well over asking price to have 4 chocolate croissants (made 2 batches later than what he sells during the day) be delivered to his place every Wednesday.
Because you’re his friend.
His best friend. And he can’t stand the thought of you going a second without anything you want in this lifetime.
Oh fucking hell.
Your (his) favorite blazer is off. As is the demure mint silk button up that it was covering. Both now wistfully draped over the corner of the kitchen island. He finds the way you throw your things around haphazardly so adorable.
But that doesn’t matter right now.
Like clockwork, Suguru’s left hand drags down his sweatpants, just enough to let his overgrown, painfully hard cock free. It bounces well past his belly button, like a fresh wire spring.
And with cinematic timing, you lean over your kitchen island. In nothing but your lacy bra and snug little pencil shirt. Mindlessly catching up on your social media.
The way your plush, pouty rose lips hang slightly open. And your fucking perfect tits spill over the top of your slightly undersized bra. The lazy S curve from your petite shoulders…tapered down to your waist…back out to the swell of your hips.
“Fuck,” a king cobra hiss escapes his lips.
You’re dizzying. Utterly fucking intoxicating.
Suguru’s chest rises and falls. The pace of his hand around his cock crescendos. Almost angrily.
How could you do this to him?
You’re his best friend for fucks sake.
Precum slicks from his thick, blunt tip. Squelching around his knuckles.
Your back arches into a mini crescent moon. And Suguru might as well have swallowed a blow torch.
“Nnnhhgh fuck, g-god…so…” Sharp drags of air mix with his poorly choked down moans.
His hand grips harder. Hips now rutting up off his desk chair. Hungry. Needy. Imprecise pumps into the slick ring of his fingers. Chasing another high he so desperately wishes you could personally give.
Because the way he feels right now?
The sheer malevolence in his mind. The depravity. You trust him completely and he can’t trust himself with you at all.
Beautiful, enchanting girl.
You reduce him to a perverted, bird brained slave to his desires.
You make him want to violate you. To fuck a cock-shaped hole through the back of your skirt to your cervix.
He wants to pick you up and bounce you along all 10 inches of his length and watch himself bludgeon through to your stomach.
He wants to pin you down and use your pretty little throat as his personal cocksleeve. And watch you garble and cry and drool around his invading length while you struggle for air. And listen to the melodic sounds of you gasping and muffled around his dick when he makes you apologize.
Apologize for being so goddamn irresistible. For bringing this depraved shell of a human being out of him.
Electricity runs the length of his manhood. His breaths are jagged, tendrils of wavey hair matted to his forehead.
The sound of your ringtone slices through the static in his brain. Tethering him back out of his criminal spiral.
“H-hey, pretty.” Suguru forces his baritone to level out. Hand still stroking his length.
Your wispy, girly giggle almost finishes him instantly.
“You’ve gotta stop with the pet names, Suguru! The trail of women in your wake hate me enough as it is.”
“Ha-I c-couldn’t care less.” Talking is harder than breathing for him.
You lean up from the counter and start twirling your hair in a way that makes him want to carve out another galaxy for you. Just for you. Anything for you.
“Movie night? I’ve been wanting to—“
“Yes.” Suguru is almost embarrassed at how quickly he cut you off. Like a fucking dog.
You laugh again and stroll to your refrigerator. He knows you’re lamenting the missed croissants. And he knows you know there’s a 99.99% chance he’s already gotten them for you. Because he is silly putty for you. He crumbles to stardust in your hands.
Because he’s your best friend.
“I got them.” Suguru rasps out. Hands moving so fast up his shaft, precum surging out his tip. He’s so close. So fucking—
“God I love you.”
And he snaps. Hot, thick ropes of his cum splay everywhere. Suguru draws metallic from his bottom lip, clenching down so hard not to give himself away.
You said it so innocently. So platonically. And it shifted his entire world on its axis.
His best fucking friend.
“Love you too, I’ll be there at 8.”
PART. II
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