Nightwing finds a way for you thank him properly after he saves your life.
Tw: filthy smut, dubious consent, no penetration, violence, Dick Grayson is very mean, mocking, male masturbation, etc.
Wc: 2.266.
You start to walk faster as you wrap your arms around yourself tightly, trying to shield your body from the cold air of Blüdhaven. The cheap sweater you managed to buy was not enough to stop you from trembling with the coldness of the unforgiving weather. And also, the ability to buy a car is a distant reality, so you are forced to walk home alone from work, trying to be as fast as possible to avoid any undesirable encounters.
You knew you couldn't be so lucky.
Your time has finally come. That´s what comes to your head when two male figures appear out of nowhere, getting out of a dark corner you were just about to pass through to reach your house, looking you up and down and smiling with their rotting teeth. “Fuck.” You mutter, before you stop walking. You swallow heavily, look at both of them with frowned eyebrows and try to walk around them “Excuse me…”.
“Oh, no no no…” The smaller one says, the taller one blocking your way. “Stay here for a second…Let's talk!” He failed to speak with a friendly voice.
“Get the fuck away from me.” You try to shove him, before being thrown to the ground by the tallest one. You fall down with a pained cry, staring with horror and failing to get up when the one you pushed grabs a knife. “Fucking bitch!” He yells.
He would be able to beat your ass up if it wasn't for the voice that stopped him.
“Wow, wow, wow! What´s goin´ on here?” A male voice appears. The unhurried, relaxed, conversational tone makes the three of you freeze on the spot.
The short man grabs your hair and tugs it hard, taking another loud cry from your mouth. “Hey, man! This one is ours! Now get the fuck out of here befo-”. He gets interrupted by a hard knock on the back of his head. He falls down on the ground and you are able to see the wreck made out of his skull. You stay trembling on the ground, eyes wide and shaking
The other criminal tries to run, but there´s no comparison between him and that stranger that just saved your life. He didn't stand a chance.
Both bodies are left in front of you, like a gift, and you feel like you could vomit your stomach out.
You are crying and shaking and sitting on the ground by the time the previously mysterious man decides to show himself to you. You know who he is. Nightwing. Heard of him countless times, but never imagined he would look like… that. He might scare you even more than those two men.
He looks at you and crouches down.
“You okay sweetheart?” He speaks. The softest voice he could use at that moment. His eyes move through all of you, searching for some kind of damage he was happy not to find.
“Y-yes… Thank you so, s-so much.” You say, voice trembling. “I- I- I don’t even know how to make it up to you.” His masked eyes stare down at your pathetic form, even from his crouched position. The corner of his mouth twitched, as if trying to contain a smile from hearing your excessive stuttering.
“It’s okay, baby. We'll figure something out.” He suddenly grabs you and holds you bridal style before you even are able to process what is happening. His strong, warm body finally protecting you from the cold. He asks where your house is, and you tell him, thinking you are going to be able to cry in your hard bed until tomorrow morning, when you are going to be forced to go to work again.
He enters inside your tiny room, looks around briefly before putting you on top of your bed. He doesn't leave immediately after that, and you get reminded of the reason.
“You said you wanted to properly thank me. Didn't you?” He says after staring at your cute, confused face. “Yes, but-”.
“But? You want me to get you back on the street so other guys can finish what the other two were doing?” He asks you, managing to keep his soft, threatening voice.
“No! Nonono-” You say desperately, still traumatized from the previous experience. You crawl to the end of the bed so you can get closer to him and beg properly. Nightwing just stands still in front of the bed, looking down at you.
“It’s alright, baby. Shhh… Calm yourself.” He uses one gloved hand to caress your lips gently, the other puts your hair behind your ear slowly.
“Lay down. Come on.” He uses his supportive voice, pushing your chest gently and you obey him. You push yourself up the bed, your back resting against the bed frame. As away from him as possible.
You close your eyes, trying to do what he said and calm yourself, thinking he finally is going to let you sleep.
You couldn´t be so lucky.
He makes your room feel way smaller than it is.
You watch as he slowly beckons you over with his pointer finger and then points at the end of the bed. A small smile on his face, his eyes guarded by his mask. You wait a long second before shifting your way back to him carefully.
“Get your skirt up.” He orders, tone low, relaxed, savoring your small, still trembling frame doing the best you can to obey him.
He doesn’t get on the bed and doesn’t take his clothes off. He doesn’t touch you, simply tells you to take off your panties next.
You hesitate, but you look at him and his smile is gone, his head tilted a little. You take them off immediately. He sticks his hand out to you, and you are smart enough to silently hand the panties to him.
“Open your legs.” He orders in a way you couldn’t even imagine disobeying. You close your eyes, grimace and look to the side, face heating up.
“Open your legs slowly. More.” You open them just a little bit more. He grabs your knees and open your legs all the way up to his satisfaction.
“Ahn!” You gasp and hold your upper body with the help of your elbows. Legs open the maximum you can handle. Your bare pussy exposed to him.
He openly stares at it and you almost wish those guys have killed you considering the way you feel your soul trying to leave your body out of shame. You try to close them slightly. He simply glares at you and that is all he needs to do to make you open them again.
“Open up your cunt.” He commands next, still ever so relaxed and comfortable as he orchestrates your degradation.
“What?!” Mortification is noticeable in your voice.
He doesn’t repeat himself. He knows you heard him. Instead, he goes to show you how it’s done.
You flinch and get away from him, closer to the frame. He just gives you a look, snaps his fingers and points at the end of the bed.
No way out of this, you think is what his eyes communicate.
Going back slowly, your legs open again.
“Like this, baby.” He speaks like he thinks you´re stupid, but you are too scared to protest. Your tremble gets worse as the distance between his fingers and your pussy gets shorter. Putting each thumb on each pussy lip, he spreads your cunt open. The abruptness of it makes you whimper, frown your eyebrows and try to close your legs in surprise, but he is merciful enough to forgive you for that when you open yourself for him again.
“There we go, sweetheart. Like this. See how open you are for me? You feel that?” You feel the cold air. Completely exposed from waist down. Tears of embarrassment run down your face and he is able to see it clenching around nothing.
“Hold it like this.” He instructs before going to retrieve something from the bed. He ends up being kind enough to give you two pillows to rest your head and be able to see what he is going to do to you.
Nightwing stands in front of you again, getting even more intimidating now that you can look at him so close to you.
The man starts to get his cock out of his pants before pausing briefly when he notices you twitching to close your legs. To get away from him.
“Quiet.” He warns you. “Don’t want me to get mean, do you?”
“No! No.” You shake your head in fast, short moves.
He acknowledges your answer with a nod, takes his cock out and you open your mouth in surprise. Oh, fuck no… It’s so big and it’s so hard it scares you. The tip is purple and leaking already. His huge, swollen balls promise to give you so much of what's inside of them. He is so big and thick you are sure you would tear if if he decided to put it inside of you.
“Yeah, baby? You want it?” You’re sure he’s making fun of you with his smile. His hands go up and down slowly. He grabs a little pre cum with the fingers of his right hand, using the left one to continue the strokes.
He brings his fingers to your face. “Open up.” You close your eyes and your mouth hard. Slap! “Open. It.” You open your mouth a little and he shoves his fingers down your throat. “Thaaat’s right.” The action doesn't last long. He takes his fingers out and they are soaked in your saliva, leaving your tongue with the taste of him.
He goes back to masturbating with his right hand and you watch the motion with jealousy, your pussy hurting so, so much. The fingers you use to keep it open start rubbing. Your hips move in small circles, but he stops you too fast for it to start being enjoyable.
“Oh, you naughty little slut. Stop that.“ He orders and you whine. More tears rolling out and he laughs at you.
He starts rubbing faster, and groaning louder. “F-fuck, you little fucking slut.” You moan helplessly in response, unable to satisfy yourself. “Yeah? You wanna cum? Y-you want my big cock inside of you?” You whine as an answer, and he is not having it.
“Answer me, you pathetic little slut.” His hands make squelching noises as he rubs his wet cock harder.
“N-no, no no.” You shake your head and cry. Your desperately moving hips contradicting your words. You struggle to keep your pussy open with your slipping fingers.
He moans louder and laughs again, his hand getting faster. “Fucking lying whore.” He groans loudly before exploding his cum all over your pussy.
It’s so thick and so white and so, so much of it. Your pussy is completely covered in white and you can feel it right on top of your clenching hole, trying to suck some of it inside against your will.
You moan helplessly and close your eyes tightly, head turned to the side. His grands grab your face. “Hey, open your eyes.” He taps your cheek before grabbing your hair and forcing your head down.
“See that?” He says so softly, but you can still hear his cruel smile.
You can’t nod your head. You can't do anything other than feel like a pathetic mess, so you just “y-yes” with a sniffle.
“Tell me, then.” He´s not satisfied.
“It’s- it´s your-“ you whimper. Your head hurts from the pulling of your hair. “It’s your…c-cum.”
“Aww… You’re so smart, baby.” He laughs softly. “And where is it?” More tears fall off your eyes.
“It’s all over m-my p-pussy.” Sob.
“Your p-p-p-pussy?” He mocks. Your face reddens more and you whine. “Yes.” You reply anyway.
He doesn’t touch your aching cunt even once and you feel like you are going to explode.
The brunette is still grabbing your hair when he continues to ruin you. “Put it in.”
“W-what??” You panic.
“Are you stupid?” He pulls harder. “Put my fucking cum inside you. Now.”
“B-but, I’m not on birth control!” You try to reason with him.
“Oh, yeah? You want me to shove it in your fuckin asshole instead, huh? I’m not gonna use my fingers, though.” He threatened you with his stupid smiling voice.
“Okay! Okay…” You swallow hard. Your right fingers tremble when you stop holding your right lip. You flinch when they touch your aching pussy. Your tormentor groans at the sight, already feeling his dick harden again.
You scoop some of his cum and shoves inside you with a hiss. “Fuck…” He moans again. “Keep going, baby. You’re such a good girl.” The hand previously grabbing your hair starts to caress it instead.
He’s only satisfied when most of it is inside your neglected pussy.
Taking his hands off of you, he puts his dick back inside his suit. He’s all tidy up now, and you look like a complete mess. The asshole sighs and laughs. “Poor girl…” He touches your pussy slightly and you shake all over, moaning loudly. “You want to cum so badly…” He barely caresses it. “And I’m not gonna give it to you…” He mocks you again, shaking his head slowly. You only look at him, tears falling, you refuse to beg.
He touches your cheek with his thumb, catching your tears of frustration and licking them right after. “Hmm…” He grabs some money out of his pocket and tosses it at you. You let it fall and don’t look at it.
“See ya.” The door is closed softly as he leaves you laying there. Your panties gone. His come leaking out of your pussy.
You don’t even bother trying to masturbate the pain away.
You tell Dick Grayson exactly how you want him to dominate you in bed
Tw: Mean dom Dick Grayson, bulge worship, humiliation/degradation kink, blowjobs, shoe kissing/licking, cnc, other filthy stuff.
English is not my first language
Dick Grayson never perceived himself as the daddy authority dominating type while having sex. He would fuck his partners rough, sure. He would “get on all fours.” them, ok. But that was as far as he would go when it came to “dominating” his past lovers. His latest hook up had tried to get his inner dom out of him (her words), after he informed having experienced other people asking him to dom them before, and not really knowing how to. However, it didn’t work all that well.
“Ok, now grab my wrists like this- no, no, tighter. Yes, like this. Ok, now tell me what are you going to do to me.” she said with a naughty giggle while laying her head on the pillow.
“I’ll.. uh… destro- no…” he grimaces. “I will fuck you really, really hard…” Dick spoke unsurely. “Oh my god…” Murmured the woman as she got out of the bed and started putting her clothes on, her eyes almost reaching the back of her skull, and not in the way she desired.
“What do you want me to say? Show me a video or something.” Dick tried to reason with her, already aiming to ease his annoyance by rubbing in between his eyes. Couldn’t someone just tell him exactly what to do?
“No, honestly, I’m not in the mood of teaching anything to anyone right now. Good bye.” The door closed softly, while Dick was left confused, staring after it. Sighing and laying down, he finally picked up his phone. He knew how to fuck god dammit! He just didn’t want to do anything overly weird without knowing if he should.
Ok… uh… Rough sex. The results appeared on his phone. The videos showed him what he was already doing. So what was the problem here? Did she want something more? Something more extreme? Sh-she wanted him to step on her head like that? What the fuck…
Oh my god. So complicated for no reason…
————————-///———————///———————-
All of his doubts, problems and frustrations were clarified when he met you. You were the sweetest girl that he ever put his eyes on, whose voice enveloped his brain like a spell, always looking slightly up at him with the shyest yet mischievous smile, as if you knew some sort of secret he didn’t.
You met at a house party. Dick saw you drinking alone while leaning against the wall just beside the kitchen door, admiring people talking and playing games with a little smile on your face, ever so prettily below the low, colorful lights. He didn’t even say anything at first, just leaned his back beside you, also looking at the party rolling.
You noticed the man you were secretly staring at walking in your direction and held your breath, presenting your best pocker face.
Fuckfuck shitshitshitshi- jesusfuckingchrist there’s no fucking wa-. “Hey.” He smiled faintly at you. You couldn’t help yourself, you really just couldn’t. God… that tight fucking shirt just hugging his muscles… Huge ass arms (huge ass too), oh my god, fucking tall as fuck he is so fucking pretty, his eyes, his smile, jesus fucking christ.
Dick knew he was fucked when you looked at him with the prettiest eyes, just done eye fucking him in a way no one has ever done so shamelessly before. “Hi…” Your words came out slowly, not being able to stop yourself from seducing him, your mouth opening just a bit with the cutest smile. “Hey…” He repeated, mesmerized, his eyes completely gone in yours.
————————-///———————///———————-
When Dick first started pursuing you romantically, you noticed he got very nervous every time there was skin contact more than holding hands, even after multiple dates and the beginning of your relationship. The bulge that formed on his pants every time you touched his chest or arms was making you completely insane. There was no way that man was a virgin, so you asked him, feeling a little embarrassed. Was he afraid of you or something?
Already under the covers of your bed, you started typing your message, the phone being your savior from the absolute nervousness that consumed your body every time you stared at his beautiful eyes.
The speed at which Dick picked up the phone was admirable. The ping being a possible message from the girl he couldn’t stop thinking about since he first spoke to her.
‘hey Dick, I feel like we should talk about smth hehe’
FUCK, she’s going to break up with me. No-nonono, I won’t let that happen, no way.
‘Yes love, what’s the provlem?’
‘Problem**’
Your response was fast.
‘there’s no problem’
‘it’s just’
‘you kinda don’t really touch me other than holding my hands??? Sometimes you hug me lol’
‘but like, you know I’m not a virgin or whatever’
‘and I don’t know if you noticed but your dick is big and I can see it when you get hard’
‘and I know you are not a virgin there’s no way hahahah’
…
‘that was a compliment’
…
‘if you are there’s no problem’
Dick threw his phone to his side and sighed hard, hands rubbing his eyes while a chuckle escaped his mouth out of relief. Fuck… if she broke up with me i would go insane. Dick had a fond smile on his face as he reached for his phone and typed his answer.
‘I never wanted anyone or anything more than I want you.’
‘You make me fuckibg insane.’
‘I just need you to tell me what you want, love.’
FUCK. Yes. Okay. Fine. Heart racing more than anything, you shut your eyes tightly and yelled silently while biting your fist, legs hitting the air. Things are getting real now. Ok. Calm yourself girl, Jesus Christ. You got some air out of your chest and responded, turning off your phone immediately and trying to sleep, too excited for waking up.
‘we have to talk personally’
‘tomorrow’
‘good night ;b’
Dick groaned and squeezed his eyes. He was so so fucked.
————————-///———————///———————-
The cold air of winter that woke you up in the morning was lessened by the warm coffee you held tightly between your hands, Dick’s eyes following your every move, eyes wide as if anxious at what you were about to say. Other people’s conversations around you making your silence a little bit easier.
“Ok so…” You take a sip of your coffee. “D-Do you wanna talk about our… kinks?” The last word came out in a whisper. Dick’s smile after that not only made you more nervous, but also melted you immensely.
“Well… I think so, yes.” He leaned himself more towards you, his hands elbows on the table.
Dick looked at you with his smiling eyes. “Before we discuss anything, I know we’ve been dating for five months now and i understand that normal couples have sex but-“
“Dick, it’s okay. Look if you are not ready to fuck me we can-“
“NO-no no.” He grabs your hands. “Fucking hell. You have no idea what I want to do with you I just- I just don’t know how? I just need you to tell me what to do and I promise I’ll do it, baby. Just- let’s just clarify everything, ok?”
Your eyes scan his entire face. You hands feel the strength of his and you glance at them. Finally, you look back into his eyes, and you smile. Fuck, you fucking smile. “Ok.”
“Let’s go to your house and I’ll explain.”
————————-///———————///———————-
The leather sofa of Dick’s penthouse was definitely something you were going to miss sitting on when you got him acting the way you wanted. “Ok, well… At first, this is going to sound really bad, I know. But I also want you to know that I really enjoy all the stuff that I’m going to tell you to do, and if I don’t enjoy it, I’ll tell you, ok? You don’t have to worry.” Your attempt at reassurance preoccupies him a bit. Caressing your thighs that sitted across his lap, Dick paid careful attention to you.
“Basically, I just want you to dominate the fuck out of me.” You blurted out and looked at him.
“Ok… How?”
“Well, just… Order me around, tell me what to do. You don’t need to be gentle about it, I like when you are more crass and rough and… mean. It really turns me on, gosh you have no idea.” You laughed a little when you saw the puzzled look on his face. “I want to please you, Dickie… I just want to make you feel so good and I want you to tell me how exactly to do it. And I want to be afraid of disobeying you.” The last part, said in a shameful whisper, made concern flow through Dick’s body. “No no, wait. Don’t be scared, it’s not really fear fear. I just want you to, like, punish me if I don’t please you… Are you going to say anything?”
You watch as your boyfriend tries to formulate his thoughts. “That includes me… slapping your face, calling you uh- bad names?”
“Among other things, yes.”
“Among other things- ok. What things.”
You shrug and look at the floor. “Well, I like to feel really submissive. So… honestly I’m okay if you want to just- I don’t know- put me in humiliation positions or whatever”. Dick notices your embarrassment and smiles at your cuteness. The sweetest girl ever just barely begging him to do horrible shit to her. So cute.
“Ok, then. Just leave it to me, alright, love?” Finally someone just told him what the fuck to do.
————————-///———————///———————-
Sometimes you wonder if you chose to bite more than you knew you were able to chew.
Your scalp was already hurting from how hard he was using your hair as a rope, forcing your eyes to stay on the ground and wait for what he was about to do. “Come on.” He started dragging you by your hair to his sofa, your soft whimper and slightly frowned eyebrows putting a small smile on his face. You have been living in his penthouse ever since the relationship evolved to something more… demanding.
He let go of you and sat on the sofa, snapping his fingers and pointing at the ground.
Nothing goes through your head other than obeying him immediately. His silent domination of you is already bringing painful warmth to your pussy. You slowly kneeled in between his thick thighs, observing the tent forming on his pants with a mouthful of water. “Hey.” Your head is moved to the side with the force of his slap. “Look at me. I don’t want your eyes leaving my face, hear me?” You nod. Slap!
You can’t stop a smile forming on your face, already flushed by way more than the slaps. “You not’ gonna answer me? Huh?” Your cheeks get squeezed by his unforgiving hands. Dick shakes your head, also not being able to contain his smile. “Yeah? You’re a dumb little slut?” He shoves his free middle and pointer fingers inside your mouth, making you drool all over his lap. “Nuh thir…” Muffled words come out your full mouth. He laughs. “Yes, you are.. Wanna’ know what disobedient little mutts like you get?” You just gargle, unable to answer as his fingers hit deeper inside your mouth.
“Head down.” Dick grabs your hair and makes you look at the ground. He stands up, and you don’t dare to try and lift your head to see what he went to look for.
Completely naked, back straight, hands clasped behind your back and eyes glued to the ground, you hear Dick’s footsteps coming closer to you. He sits down in front of you again and snaps his fingers. His beautiful eyes stare down at you again, a cruel smirk making you flush all over, as he shows you the most beautiful collar you have ever seen. The dark brown leather contrasted just perfectly with the white gold accent hardware, Dick Grayson’s property engraved in golden words, right above the ring that was going to carry the leash.
“I think it's about time you knew how things are going to go from now on, huh?” He stated with a low voice, clipping the collar around your neck in a way it’s impossible to ignore it’s there, but not enough to make you uncomfortable. You almost don’t catch his words considering the pull that Dick has on you at that moment, feeling drunk in arousal.
“Go to our bedroom. I’ll be there in a moment.” Dick orders you and you start to get up from your kneeling position.
“No no- who told you to stand up? Crawl.”
————————-///———————///———————-
The door closes softly as Dick enters the room, and you look up at him with adoring eyes. Ever so tall, he stares down at you and smiles softly, just before snapping his fingers and pointing down with a stern look. You know what to do (doesn’t make it any less mortifying). You hesitate, still not completely used to what Dick demands of you. He narrows his eyes just a bit before you have any more time to fuck it up, finally lowering your head to the ground, face more red than ever.
Your lips connect with the expensive and shiny leather of his shoes and you hear his low chuckle just a little after, worsening your embarrassment. “Thaaat’s right, love. You know where your place is right?”
You try to raise your head so you can respond to him, but he snaps at you. “Head down. No no- stay there. Keep your fucking lips on the shoe and answer me properly.”
Your voice comes out matching the state of your body, trembling like a leaf. “U-uh- fuck- god, ma-my place is at your feet s-sir. Hmmf!” He pulls on the leash, startling a choked whimper from you, and you yet again is forced to face his beautiful eyes. “Yeah? What the fuck are you then?” He smushes your face with his other hand, holding it tightly against his bulge. Your lips rubbing hard on his dick print when you answer. “I’m- I’m y-your sla-“ Your whimper with shame. “P-please, Dickie, don’t make me say it.” You try to beg with your imploring eyes, losing hope quickly by watching the wide smile that took your boyfriend’s face at your pathetic attempt at denying what you obviously are.
“P-please, please.” He mocks with a whiny voice. “Oooh, it’s okay, baby. By the time I’m done with you, you will be fucking screaming the answer.” He wipes your tears before roughly pulling on the leash and leading you to his table. The chair he sat on stayed at the opposite side of the giant windows that decorated his room, offering him a beautiful vision of the city.
“Under the table you go, little bitch.” He chuckles once more before watching you crawl your way to kneel in front of his chair, offering you the beautiful vision of his printed cock.
He grabs the leash, rests his back against the soft cushion behind him and starts working on his computer. You feel the tap of his expensive leather shoe on your thigh one single time. “You know what to do.”
Worship. That’s what he wants. “You better fucking worship this cock properly, you hear me? Or else you’re not gonna like what’s gonna happen to you.” Is what you hear before he starts doing whatever the fuck he is doing on that stupid computer, sitting comfortably on his luxurious chair. “Yes, sir.” is all you are able to say before rubbing your face on his swelling, still clothed dick.
You press slow, hard kisses all over it. Rubs your wet tongue on his sweatpants, and Dick can’t barely hold himself from grabbing you by the hair and shoving his entire length down your throat, the way you’re supposed to take him anytime he demands it of you.
The month's break from his work being the time he was using to properly train you to be his pretty little sex slave, the way you begged him to do (maybe not with the same words), was proving to be the best vacation he ever had. Maybe he should make this break longer… The phone ringing interrupted his thoughts. What the fuck did Bruce wanted so desperately that he kept trying to interrupt his vacation?
“What?” Dick snapped at the phone. That made you stop paying attention to the tent on his pants as it startled you. And Dick, noticing the absence of your mouth on the place it belonged, gave you a sharp slap on the face as a reminder. You immediately got back to your duty, listening to a muffled voice though Dick’s phone.
“Tonight? No, I'm busy. I don’t care.” The phone hit the table as the conversation abruptly ended. “Jesus Christ…” He muttered.
He snaps his fingers.
Finally
You take off the first layer of clothing that surrounds your boyfriend’s cock. One more to go. Fuck. Despite everything, it was always difficult anticipating the inevitable future where you would have to take everything Dick decided he wanted to give to you.
His tight white boxers greeted you as you lowered his pants to slightly below his knees. His thick cock already visible by the pre that leaked from the tip, as well as your saliva. The notion of the time that you spent under that table is already lost in your brain. Your ignored cunt begging for some kind of attention that Dick definitely wasn’t planning on giving anytime soon, pushing you deeper into subspace.
You start pressing hard and long kisses all over the huge protuberance. “Lick.” He orders. “Slower.” You obey, closing your eyes and making the fabric of his boxers even more wet, and you hear the sound of satisfaction that Dick gives to you, making you even more desperate as you moan softly and start licking and kissing with more urgency than before. “Slower. Are you stupid?” Slap! “You better fucking savor it. Do it properly.” You try to nod, his right hand tight in your hair.
Your tongue and lips are hurting by the time he tells you to take his cock out. Now the hard part begins. The way Dick rolls the chair away from the table and snaps his fingers at you is enough proof.
You slowly crawl your way to stay between his thighs once again. You notice he had taken his shirt off while you were worshipping him under the table, tongue heavy inside your mouth begging to lick the hard muscles of his abdomen. “Take my clothes off.” He orders, leaning his back on the chair, arms relaxed on both armrests.
You start with his shoes, then his socks, putting them beside the desk. His pants and boxers came after, and you fold them neatly. You grab the shirt he had thrown to the ground and fold them too. You deposit the folded set inside the clothing basked at the corner near his bathroom. He’s now completely naked just as you are, still not any less intimidating, considering the way that man could easily pick you up, pin you down and do whatever the fuck he wanted to do with you.
Dick stays silent as he watches you crawl back to him. You sit down on your knees, trembling hands flat on your sweaty thighs. He stares at you and tilts his head a little. His cruel, amused smile and slightly narrowed eyes being a result from watching your worried face, finally taking a look at his hard dick. So thick, so big, and so so hard, touching the space just above his bellybutton. Poor baby.
“You seeing this, baby?” He shakes his thick cock at you, smile widening. Your wide eyes meeting his own, your head nodding as you answer so softly, so obedient. God, he could fucking die right now. He’s sure you’re trying to murder him. He turns the palm of his left hand, still hanging from the armrest, and produces a soft snap, pointing to the collar around your neck a half a second later. You grab the leash and offer it to him with both hands, the trembling now being impossible to hide.
Your boyfriend uses his tight hold on the leash to pull your face closer to the absolute weapon between his legs, making you yelp as you try to balance yourself by holding his thighs. “Kiss the tip. Slowly.”
You close your eyes and give his tip the wettest, softest kiss possible, before distributing those kisses to the entire area of his cock. You kiss it all over passionately, using one of your hands to caress and keep it in the position that you need, while your other hand takes care of his large, swollen testicles. You lower your lips to them, kissing and worshiping the way you’re supposed to.
Dick’s hunger for your complete destruction grew bigger and bigger as you treated him like a god. He guided your tongue to trace each vein, each inch of skin, slapping your face and admonishing you when you failed to do so.
“Stop. Look at me. Now, you are going to wrap your lips around the tip, and you are going to swallow it all. I-“ You try to protest with a whine. “But sir-“.
SLAP!
“Quiet.” Dick says with a calm voice. “This isn’t a fucking conversation, you little bitch. This is me talking and you listening. Nod your head- there we go.”
“I want to feel this cute little nose pressed down on my skin, hear me? I don’t give a fuck if you can’t take it.” He grabs your cheeks and makes you pout, bringing his face closer to yours and staring down at you. “You are going to take my whole fucking dick down your throat, and you better fucking thank me when I’m finished with you. Understand?” Dick shoves your face away and gets comfortable on his chair.
“G-god- y-es, sir” The words come out with difficulty and you can’t help but leak your pussy juice all over his floor, whimpering softly as you wrap your mouth around him.
Since the night you told Dick about your desires, he tried to train you to take his cock down your throat without choking and gagging like a stupid little whore, which proved to be very difficult. You simply couldn’t take more than half his dick without panicking. Too bad you didn’t have much of a choice now.
“There we go- f-fuck.” He closes his eyes and leans his head back. “No no no- Keep it down.” You feel the pain in your scalp as Dick grabs your head to stop you from spitting out his Dick. He keeps half of it down your throat as you start panicking. “Swallow it. Swallow. That’s it, baby. You’re not getting out of this, uh uh.” He laughs at your whines and takes his hands out of your head. You don’t dare to lift it up. “Hmmpf!”
“Swallow.” He warns you. “I better be see you makin’ an effort, girl. Get your fucking head down. I don’t care if you choke, if you take it out of your mouth, we’re gonna have a problem.” You try to take more of his dick, but ends up choking and coughing. His dick almost gets off, but you’re smart enough to hold the head inside your head despite the difficulty, luckily dragging out some of his pity for you.
“Oh, baby. It’s okay.” Your head is caressed and it still feels like a mockery. “Calm down, now.” He stands up and grabs your hair. “Ah!” You exclaimed in surprise and crawled clumsily as he started dragging you to the king sized bed. You found yourself with your head laying on its surface and your boyfriend looking down at you with one hand grabbing your entire hair at the back of your skull, and the other pointing his big cock to the entrance of your mouth. Fuck.
“Hmmgh..-“ You protest weakly as his big dick begins filling your throat, putting your hands on his thighs. “Nuh uh, baby.” Dick stares at you and shakes his head. “This is happening, sweetheart.” Deeper. “You’re gonna throat my entire cock...” Deeper. “This fucking mouth belongs to me…” Deeper. “And there’s nothing you can do about it.” Deeper. You whimper softly, shiny eyes looking up at him. “Accept it.” Your nose touches his skin. “Oh fuck, there we fucking go baby, oh my god.”
He keeps it there until he notices your eyes fluttering shut. His cock comes out of your mouth with a wet noise and you breathe deeply. The glint in Dick’s eyes promises you a very sore throat by the time he’s done. “Open. Open.” You try to dislodge your face from his grip, a contrast to your thighs desperately rubbing on each other as you try to get some fucking friction on hurting pussy. He gets his dick inside you again and makes you swallow every single inch. “Cry more, baby. Maybe I’ll cum sooner if you do.” Is the last thing you hear and he begins fucking your face with slow, hard, controlled strokes.
“Look at me.” He reminds you, and you stare into his eyes, feeling so small as you take in his hard muscles and the way he looks down at you, your knees on the ground and his dick filling every inch of your throat. You don’t recall a time where you felt more subdued, more like a thing. His thing. His… slave. The thought makes you lead a desperate hand to your pussy so you can at least try to alleviate the pain, but the look on his face when he notices your intentions is enough to stop you.
Dick bottoms out in your throat with a loud groan, and you squeeze your eyes shut. He takes most of it out , leaving just the tip in. “Jerk it off”. He commands you while breathing hard. “Don’t take it out of your mouth.”
Eyes shining and brain empty, you start rubbing his dick desperately, your swirling tongue on the tip making him moan and grab your hair. “I don’t want to see a single drop out of your mouth.” Is the only warning you receive before your mouth is flooded with Dick’s thick cum. It’s so much and- “Don’t swallow.” You try to accommodate all of it without spitting out, but a few drops fall on your naked breasts and then the floor. Your eyes trying to communicate to him that didn’t mean to. He just smiles at you.
“Open your mouth. Show it to me.” You obey him. The sight of you cum coated tongue widening his smile. He looks into your eyes as he leans a little bit closer towards you… and spits. You close your eyes and flinch, not having time to think before his hand squeezing your mouth shut. You look at him with wide eyes, making him smile once again. So cute. “Now you can swallow.”
You take everything he gives you and your back hits the bed, your chest goes up and down and you feel like you just ran a marathon. Legs opening against your will, you whine desperately when you attempt to rub it till it burns, but Dick’s voice stops you. “What the fuck did I tell you, huh?” He pulls your hair and makes you look at the drops of his cum that you let out of your mouth.
“I’m sorr- Ah!” He shoves your head closer to the ground. “Lick it up. Hurry. I don’t have all fucking day.”
Crouching and holding your head to the ground, your boyfriend feels his cock hardening again at the sight of your complete submission. He pulls your hair and makes you look at him while he stands up again.
“What are you?”
“I-I’m uh-“
SLAP!
“Don’t fucking stutter.”
You swallow. “I’m your slave.”
“My what?” He asks loudly and tilts his head at you.
“YOUR SLAVE.” You almost scream and he smiles, caressing your face, making you close your eyes. He doesn’t say anything as he lowers down and grabs you, holding you to his chest, just before laying you down on the soft bed.
He kneels between your thighs and you moan loudly when you feel his dick barely touching your aching pussy. You try to grab it, but he holds your wrists to the bed and kisses your mouth deeply, both of you closing your eyes in pure bliss.
summary: you have no choice but to go to your math professor for help in the class. unfortunately, he can't help you. but he knows a certain blonde that can, top of his class, perfect scores on everything, just the tutor for you.
tags: college!au, math/stats terminology, ooc leon, leon is an asshole, leon & reader have attitudes, dom!leon, slightly jealous leon, degrading kink, praise kink, leon talks you through it, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (use safety guys!), oral sex, cunnilingus, clit stimulation, teasing, etc.
word count: 9.8k 🧍♀️ (this shit long sorry)
math is horrible. you’ve never been bright in math, plus it isn’t fun. it’s only fun when you understand what you’re doing. especially statistics, which is a whole other level for math. there are symbols, very important definitions and strategies, formulas and techniques, very precise calculations and data.
you never understood what the teacher was writing up on the board when you’d step into lecture. he moved fast and spoke even faster, you’re hands would cramp trying to keep up with him and you’re notes were a jumbled mess.
even if you tried so hard, you just couldn’t understand. your mind was constantly running, like a hamster on a wheel though it was nonstop. it was the same schedule pretty much every day. you wake up, rush out of your dorm, race to class, get to class huffing and puffing, and you do this three more times for your other classes.
then after a long day of learning, you’re off to work at the cafe down the street. it’s a very famous cafe, especially with it being so close to campus. convenient for students who needed work and wanted a nice coffee.
after work, you’d go back to your dorm on the brink of passing out, but of course, you had to study.
it was a constant look, a constant cycle that seemingly never broke until summer break. your days were starting to blend together and you were slowly driving yourself insane. at one point, you put stats at the back of your mind since you were so focused on an essay for your english class.
little did you know that you’d pay for that in the future. you missed one class, one lecture - and it seemed like you missed a whole semester.
you went to class the next day, after turning in that very important essay, and you were completely lost. you tried talking to your classmate about what the professor was talking about but she was just as lost as you.
if you thought stats was hard before, it’s even harder now. you looked over your notes from before, trying to correlate those to the ones now. though, nothing made sense.
that led you to where you are now. a week later, still very much lost, and you’re grade dropping with every single assignment.
you toyed with the drawstring of your sweats, blinking your dry eyes and nibbling at the dry skin of your lip. you were trying so hard to stay awake as your professor scrolled through your grades. his eyes were squinted and his knuckles pressed to his lips.
he had a pensive look on his face, looking from your scores and back to you.
you could practically read his mind. it was embarrassing and shameful. he took off his glasses with a sigh and turned his chair to face you.
“you were doing really good in the beginning but after chapter three i mean,” he paused gesturing his head over to the computer where the D’s and F’s lined up like a pattern.
“what happened? chapter three was so long ago why didn’t you reach out?”
you never understood why some professors didn’t take students' lives into consideration. some professors think that students have no life while others are very considerate. this professor wasn’t one of those professors.
he didn’t understand why his students couldn’t understand his material or why people asked stupid questions. even though, at the beginning of the semester he mentioned:
‘even stupid questions are good questions’
then when that stupid question is asked. he sits there with a disappointed look on his face and quite literally embarrasses that student in front of everyone. which is why, you don’t ask questions at all. you don’t want to be embarrassed, especially not in front of 30 other people.
“i’m sorry, my life has just been really hectic lately and-“ you rambled, running your hands over your face with a heavy sigh. until, of course, you were interrupted.
“no worries, i understand but,” he paused again, judging you with his eyes and completely ignoring the fact that you were on the brink of a mental breakdown. “you gotta reach out for help if you need it.”
even if you tried, it probably wouldn’t help. his teaching methods are like tough love. harsh but it’s supposed to teach you a lesson. spoiler alert, it never does.
he reached over for a pen and a sticky note and you watched him scribble down a few numbers and a name.
“i can’t really help you since my life is also hectic,”
alright, asshole. you’re the fucking professor you should be helping me. you said to yourself, never in your life did you want to slap someone so bad,
“but i can refer you to one of my top students.” he pushed the sticky note toward you. you picked it up and read the name at the top, his dorm number, and his phone number.
great, just what you needed a tutor.
you weren’t sure how exactly this ’top student’ was passing this class with flying colors and it was to the point your professor was impressed. which he never is and never was.
either this top student is sucking your professor's dick behind the scenes or is actually insane.
you read the name at the top as your professor began to speak.
“his name is Leon, he’s gotten perfect scores on every quiz and test, very smart and a decent kid,”
yup, Leon is definitely sucking this man's dick.
Leon’s contact info and his dorm room were written underneath his name. it was odd that he didn’t tutor in the library like the rest of the tutors did. though, given the fact he’d rather tutor in his dorm, he probably isn’t a tutor at all.
“i contacted him before our meeting today, he’s expecting you.
“oh, okay.” you nodded slowly, pocketing the small slip of paper. you weren’t so sure if you were comfortable being alone in a random dorm with some guy you’ve never met, but for the sake of your grade you were willing to do so.
you finalized your meeting with your professor and left his office even more unsatisfied than when you came. you were hoping he’d give you a run down on what you missed but instead, he completely dismissed you to his top student.
you left the building phone and slip of paper in hand, you weren’t sure if you should text him or not. ultimately, you decided it could wait. you were exhausted and maybe a small nap would be helpful rather than going to this guy's dorm where you probably wouldn’t learn jack shit.
—
Leon waited for you. he was told to expect you around the afternoon, so he canceled his plans with his friends, he went home to his dorm, tidied up, and put on a more suitable outfit. he never wanted to be a tutor it was tiring trying to teach someone something over and over again.
plus, he had doubt in his skills as well. he would be to blame if someone were to get a bad score or if they failed their exam.
but when his stats professor made a deal with Leon, he decided to take it. if he were to tutor you and possibly future students, he’d put in a good word with any police academy he wanted to join.
Leon wasn’t so sure how his professor would get that to happen but it was better than nothing at all.
so he waited, half an hour went by and then an hour and another. at this point, he was tired both physically and mentally. he sat leaned onto his desk with an elbow, tapping his pen against his notebook. it didn’t take long for him to catch the hint that you weren’t coming.
and just as he was about to strip his clothes to take a nap, there was a knock at his dorm door. his hands dropped at his sides and a sigh left his mouth, though he tried to maintain a calm act even though he was close to bursting into flames.
he was irritated, you were two hours late, he was already drained from a long day of sprinting around campus for his classes and he just got dumped not too long ago. he does not have time to be in a good mood.
albeit, he still opened the door with a smile.
“hi, you must be-“
“yes, i’m so so sorry! i know i was supposed to be here hours ago,”
Leon let out a small laugh, mumbling under his breath, “yeah, you were…”
unfortunately, you heard that part, and your heart dropped. at first glance, this guy looks like a sweetheart. he had a nice face, his cheeks a little round but his jaw very defined and sharp. his eyebrows were relaxed and a thick brown, and his dirty blonde hair was split down the side and a little long — the ends just touching the height of his cheekbones.
his lips were plump and a nice pink, glasses were perched up on his head and you guessed he was probably wearing them earlier.
his chin had a small indent, a little butt chin almost. he had two beauty marks on his throat, right on his adams apple, and a few small ones on his face.
he wore a basic dark blue sweater, even with the baggy fabric you could still tell his shoulders were nice and broad and he paired his sweater with basic grey sweats.
he was very attractive, tall, and muscular but that baby face was throwing you off. it wasn’t a bad thing, rather it was intriguing. how are you supposed to focus when there’s a very attractive man tutoring you? maybe your professor is secretly setting you up.
“oh god, i’m so sorry. i probably should’ve gotten your number from our professor,”
“uh no worries, just come in.” he said in a hurry, opening the door further for you. you nodded to him a thank you and stepped inside.
his dorm smelt of fresh mint and lemon, there was a hint of spice in the air as well. it was pretty warm, which made you guess the heater was on.
he shut the door behind you, walking past you as you stayed in the doorway to slip off your shoes. you took around the room for a second. his bed was up against the left side of the room, away from the sight of the door. dark midnight blue sheet, with a matching duvet and pillowcases.
underneath his bed were a bunch of bins, probably clothes and extra storage. against the back wall was his desk, piles of papers and different books were all stacked neatly at the side. the large window above the desk allowed a natural hue of light to cast down into the room, giving the room a pale yellow glow.
against the other wall was a dresser and closet. his room was very generic, with some posters and photos taped to the walls and a whiteboard with messy scribbles depicting his schedule for the week.
“so uh, how much did the professor tell you?” he asked, sitting at his desk chair and swerving around towards you and he lowered his glasses down to his eyes. you took a few steps further into his dorm, adjusting the tote bag on your shoulder.
“um he just said to meet you here and that you could help,”
“well no shit,” he scoffed, catching you off guard and sending a tense feeling through your muscles. “did he say what you needed help with? which chapter? which concept?” he asked and each time you shook your head like a dumbass.
“i’ve kind of been struggling the whole semester i just-“
“why didn’t you get help earlier?” Leon asked curiously, tilting his head to the side. unlike your professor, who seemed actually concerned this time. but that concern was probably for himself instead of you.
“i was embarrassed, i guess,” you shrugged.
he sighed, dropping his head and nodding his it up an down.
“okay well, uh please sit anywhere really uhh,” he got up from his desk chair and walked over towards the other corner of his dorm. there was another small chair in the corner, albeit a bit old, and he brought it over to his desk.
“sorry, i’m not used to visitors.”
“no worries,”
you sat down on his old chair and placed your tote bag into your lap as he opened up his computer. you watched as he brought his glasses up in front of his eyes and opened up the course page. “so uh, what did you need help with?”
his tone was harsh, almost like your professors. you felt intimidated by him, he was smart and quite rude.
“um well, everything?” your answer sounded more like a question, causing him to raise an eyebrow up at you.
“i’m sorry, i can’t help you with everything,” he spat, turning his shoulders towards you with one elbow on his desk. “give me specifics, like which chapter?”
“every chapter, it just isn’t making sense to me and i-“
a sigh left his lips and his shoulders slumped, you could practically hear the thoughts running through his head. “alright well, i can help you with the first chapter,” he said with a shrug.
you nodded along, reaching into your bag for your notes.
“the first chapter is pretty basic. basic terminology and techniques we use throughout the class, ‘kay?” he began, speaking with his hands as he went. you nodded at him, placing your notebook at the edge of his desk and writing down what he just said.
anything counts, anything you could get would help. you needed to get a good grade in this class, if you had to retake it for the credit it would be a disaster.
“it’s mostly the types of data, the collections of data, the types of sampling — and those are the basics.” his eyes flickered from his computer down towards your hunched figure. you were writing down every single word he spoke. you’d repeat his words to yourself in silent whispers.
then, as you finished writing, you looked up at him and waited for him to continue but he was left speechless. you really were desperate.
“tell me, do you know any of the terminology in chapter 1?” he asked, turning his full figure towards you. doing so, his knees were now touching yours. he didn’t miss the way you scooched back further in your chair to avoid his touch. cute.
“uh,” you hummed to yourself as you flicked through your notes and back to chapter one.
“no, no,” he stopped you, placing his hand over yours and bringing it back down into your lap. “tell me from memory, not from your notes.”
he watched you blink at him as if you were processing his words slowly, “uh yeah, i can do that.” you leaned away from his desk and your notes and faced him, your knees touching his again.
“i know sample versus population,”
“give me an example of both.” he cut you off again, leaning back into his chair and adjusting his hips.
“um, a population will be all the college students of our university but a sample would be just the engineer students,”
“good, at least you know that.”
you gave him a nervous laugh, a little more proud than you should be but his praise made you feel … good.
he continued to make you list what you know, making sure you knew every term by giving him real-life scenarios and every time you got it correct it was like a golden sticker was placed on your forehead. you were beginning to understand and, as ridiculous as it sounds, you were starting to have fun.
relating the different terms to real-life situations made it easy on you, rather than the unrealistic scenarios your professor gave you.
he let out a loud yawn and you caught a whiff of his minty breath, he’d been chewing on mint gum for the past hour now. throwing an old one away and popping in a new stick. you could tell he was getting tired, he was less responsive and blinking slowly.
“i think you should get some rest,” you told him. he looked over at you with a small ‘hm?’ before shaking his head, blonde hair sweeping over the bone of his brow and lips curling down into a frown.
“i’m fine,” he practically shouted out after another yawn, “let’s just finish it, ‘kay?”
“no, Leon, it’s okay we can continue another time.”
he stayed silent, his lips pursed as he looked down at your notes. gradually, his head began to bob up and down into a nod and another yawn left his mouth. this time, he stretched back, letting his sweater glide up slightly to reveal a sharp v-line and brown happy trail.
you quickly looked away and began to pack up your things, shoving your notebook and pencil case into your bag — not even bothering to shut or zip anything up.
“man, look at the time,” he said, lifting up his sleeve to reveal a black watch. “next time be on time, that way we have more time.” he smiled at you as you stood up.
you weren’t sure whether to take that as a friendly reminder or a warning but either way you nodded.
you made your way towards the door, slipping on your shoes and looking back at him to say goodbye. you expected him to still be seated at his desk or even going to lay on his bed. though, to your surprise, he was standing directly behind you.
hands stuffed in the pockets of his sweater.
“jesus!,” you jumped, “sorry, you surprised me.”
“uh, who else do you expect to lock the door behind you?”
you blinked up at him, again caught off guard. he was a little bipolar with his attitude, one minute he’s proud of you for getting something the next he’s making fun of you with his eyes.
“well, goodnight,” you said to him as you stepped out the door, he didn’t say anything else. he kicked the door closed and locked it the moment you stepped out.
you could feel your eye twitch, only if you could march back in there and beat the blue out of his eyes but he was just a tutor. just a few weeks of this and then you’ll never have to speak to him again.
-
“are you serious? we just went over this,”
“i’m sorry i blanked out,”
“no, you didn’t i was watching you giggle on the phone with that little boyfriend of yours,”
“first of all, why are you watching me? and second of all, i wasn’t on the phone with any boyfriend.”
he sighed, leaning back into his chair and crossing his arms over his chest. “i wasn’t stalking you, dumbass. your bright ass screen caught my attention and when i looked over voila it’s you.”
he leaned forward, pointing a finger at your face and squinting his eyes behind his glasses, “and who else would have you giggling like that in the middle of a lesson huh?”
to be honest, he didn’t like that you weren’t paying attention, it was more work on him because you always came crying to him about not understanding a topic. he didn’t necessarily hate tutoring you. sure, you guys had some fun times but it was beginning to become a part of his everyday life.
canceling plans on his friends, not going to the gym, and missing out on his personal time. his goal was to teach you and go over a chapter every week, it was working … slowly but surely.
“i saw a funny video, ‘kay?”
“wow, so you’re just sitting in class watching silly videos. no wonder why your brain is rotten.”
“hey, asshole, the professor wasn’t even talking about anything important. it was more about his dumbass grandkids,” you rebutted, grumbling your words toward the end of your sentence.
“if it wasn’t anything important, how come you don’t know what he just fucking talked about?” he said with a scoff.
you groaned and began to pack your things, you probably should’ve done this a long time ago. sure, Leon helps, but he belittles you in every way and it’s beginning to actually hurt. his rude comments and attitude.
he was like a hawk or a vulture, hovering over you every second of the day and then picking at you when you were alone. slowly tearing at your skin and ripping off flesh until he got to bone. he was always watching you.
you couldn’t go on your phone in class to check a text or even walk out early because he will know and will say something about it later. maybe it was time for another tutor.
“whatever, Leon. you’re not helping anymore.” you scoffed his way as you stuffed your computer into your bag.
“that’s where your wrong, your grades have been getting better, haven’t they?”
“what are you? my dad? you’re checking my grades now?”
only if he wasn’t so stupidly handsome, you would probably smack him across the face or maybe choke him out. there was something about Leon that you liked, unfortunately. he was intriguing, he knew so much about you but you didn’t know anything about him.
he wasn’t in the frat, thank god. he was smart and had a large group of friends. you always caught them hanging out in the private study rooms in the library, the ones they always made sure to book. they all would stay there and hang out like obnoxious fools.
it was rare to see Leon smile and laugh, he looked like a completely different person. his eyes gleamed differently and he had a specific glow around him. maybe the reason you saw him so much in public or outside of his dorm was because you looked for him.
you looked for him and that glow.
“i’m not, the professor told me.” he watched as you continued to pack, were you really leaving? was he too harsh? sometimes he was only ‘mean’ to you to elicit a reaction from you. it was cute to watch your jaw drop and your fingers twitch as if you wanted to hit him.
sometimes, you played along, insulting him back. it was amusing to watch your spark glow into a flame. he hated tutoring but he didn’t hate you.
“of course, you practically suck that man's dick during office hours,” you said to yourself but loud enough to let him hear.
“that’s hilarious,” he said, rubbing at his nose bridge where his glasses sat.
“you didn’t deny it.” you huffed turning to leave until you were, very abruptly, yanked back. his hand had wrapped around your wrist, holding you back from leaving.
you turned back to him, his head was tilted to the side and he silently motioned with his eyes towards your seat.
“sit, we’re not done.”
his tone sent chills up your spine but you still refused, only if he didn’t look so damn good.
“yes, we are.”
you yanked your wrist away from him but much to your prevail, that only prompted him to stand up, grab you by your hips, and push your right back down into your seat.
“no. we are not.”
you sat still, bag in your lap, eyes wide and lips shut. did he just…man handle you back into your seat?
he sat back down in his seat after you, rolling his jaw with a sniff. “where were we?”
you remained silent and still, you knew if you got back up to leave he’d only pull you back down into your seat. though, you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it. the minute his large hands fell onto your hips there was a burn that ran through you, and it wasn’t rage.
“what is variance?” he asked turning towards you.
“standard deviation squared,” you replied, very straight and mellow-toned.
a smile grew onto his lips, the blues of his eyes gleaming and his pearly white teeth slowly revealing from underneath his pink plump lips. “good, you’re getting the hang of it.”
ever since then, Leon was very comfortable with touching you and kind of controlling you. tugging you by your wrists, guiding you with his hand on the small of your back, touching your legs, or shoving you to get your attention.
you were slowly losing it. you couldn’t even think straight, he was such a distraction. his voice, his hands, his scent, everything. the way he dressed was always so casual but he always looked so good, basic sweats with graphic tees or a sweater.
glasses, hair sometimes a little messy. you noticed when he was very focused his tongue would stick out from the corner of his mouth, it was cute, to say the least. he’d scrunch his nose to keep his glasses up on his eyes, he rolled his ankle instead of bouncing his leg, and when he laughed.
it was boisterous and full of light. you never thought that you could make him laugh, even if he wasn’t laughing with you rather he was laughing at you.
-
“are you serious? it’s like you don’t retain anything at all, how did you even get accepted?”
that one kind of hurt but you were too focused on the brightness in his cheeks and his perfectly straight teeth.
“well the acceptance rate is pretty high so…” you shrugged turning back towards your notebook.
you kept on denying the fact that you very much had a crush. is it wrong to find someone attractive? no, not at all. it’s a regular thing to find people attractive, doesn’t mean you have a crush on them. but this … is different.
a month and a half in you were beginning to realize you very much had a crush on Leon. you were beginning to get used to him and he was getting used to you.
you looked forward to tutor sessions now, practically dropping everything to go and see him. you began putting on extra perfume and wearing your hair down rather than keeping it up.
you kept your attire casual, you didn’t want him to think that you were dolling yourself up for him. so pajama pants or sweats were your usual go-to.
little did you know, Leon noticed everything. he was keen to snuff people out. he could smell you from a mile away, that heavy fragrance of yours was slowly seeping into his clothes and his brain. even after months, everything you touched was beginning to smell like you.
he noticed how your makeup slowly became heavier and your hair was all nicely done for him.
to be frank, he was flattered. he hoped you were getting all dolled up for him and not the guy who constantly blew up your phone. who is he? is he a boyfriend? a relative? a crush? a friend? who is he?
Leon wants to know, who do you see throughout the day? who are your friends? what do you like? do you like him? do you hate him? every time he sees your face he just wants to know, who are you?
Leon sat at his desk, waiting for you. his hands were folded up to his mouth and his leg was bouncing anxiously. you’ve never been late, well except for that first day but other than that you were always on time. always.
the pillow you occasionally sat in your lap during these sessions was now in his lap. it smelt just like you. at first, he wanted to snatch it away from you the moment you put the pillow into your lap, hugging it against you and spreading your germs onto it.
but then, it was nice. it was your signature pillow, you looked for it every time you came over and placed it directly in your lap. now, he finds himself carrying it around or having it next to him while he sleeps. is that weird?
well, it was his pillow in the first place. what’s so wrong about having it in his bed? it’s comforting.
his eyes quickly flicked over when his phone screen lit up, he looked over at it quickly reading the notification. you texted him.
was something wrong? are you sick? do you no longer need tutoring?
he quickly unlocked his phone and read the message, the pillow now bunched up underneath his nose as he slowly inhaled and exhaled your heavy scent.
‘hey, might be running a little late today :/. there’s a lot of traffic.’
traffic? where are you coming from?
‘k.’
he kept his reply short and nonchalant even though his curiosity was close to killing him. he knew the semester was close to ending, meaning he wasn’t going to see you afterward. it’s a big campus, so many buildings and so many students. he rarely sees you.
though, he catches a glimpse of you in the library, walking and talking with your friends. in the lunch hall, always getting the same drink from the vending machines and leaving in a hurry as you typed away at your phone.
you told him you had no boyfriend, but maybe you were lying to him. maybe it’s because he wasn’t a close friend of yours. that’s right, he’s just a tutor — not a friend or a love interest in your eyes.
he sat there longer than he anticipated, he didn’t realize how long he had been sitting until there was a knock on the door. he stood up, tossing the pillow in his lap aside onto his bed and rushing to the door. almost tripping over the clothes and mess that sat on his floor.
shit, he forgot to clean. he kicked the mess aside as he made his way to the door. kicking it under his bed mostly. he almost tripped on one of his shoes, letting out a small cuss before stumbling more towards the door.
the chaos behind the door caused you to furrow your brows.
“Leon? you good?”
“yeah! hold on!” he shouted out. you nodded slowly, itching at your ankle with the tip of your shoe.
Leon looked down at his attire, week-old sweats and a white sweatshirt with oil stains on it.
he turned away from the door quickly and silently ran back into his room, he needed clean clothes and he hadn’t done laundry all week. he didn’t have time, all because he was too busy thinking about you.
he quickly threw his sweatshirt off, taking the glasses off his head in the same swift movement. now he was just a mess, feeling around his bed for his glasses like Velma from Scooby Doo. all while his sweats were halfway on his legs.
“shit, shit,” he muttered to himself and he almost sighed with relief as he finally found his glasses and a clean, well decently clean, sweatshirt.
he rushed over to the door, sweat sticking to his hairline and very much out of breath. when he swung it open he was met by you looking down at your phone, texting someone once again. you looked up at him with a smile.
“what were you doing in there, huh? hiding a girl from me?” you taunted with a smile. he took notice of your outfit once you stuffed your phone away, a small wine-red top paired with some baggy jeans. you had a nice pendant necklace on, hanging right between the swell of your breasts, and cute little bracelets all up your wrists.
your makeup was done nicely, same with your hair. you were very very pretty today. you always were. but who did you look pretty for today?
“don’t be an idiot,” he scoffed, stepping sideways and letting you inside. you chuckled to yourself, finishing up your text to your friend before your phone was miraculously snatched from you.
“no phones tonight.” he snapped at you, taking a sneaky peek at your text convo. it wasn't a guy, it was a friend who was a girl. you two were speaking about a house party and tutoring. he lifted an eyebrow and looked down at you, he was completely ignoring your small grumbles of complaints.
“you were at a house party before this?”
“nosy much!” you snapped as he shut your phone off and stuffed it away into his pocket.
“answer the question,” he sighed like a disappointed parent.
“yes, i was and i ditched it to be here. with you.” you finalized.
he wasn’t gonna lie, the last part of your sentence sends electricity through his veins. you ditched fun to be here. not for tutoring. not for your grade. but to be here with him. he had no words, he was just frozen in place not sure of what to say or do.
“um, no phones today no distractions. midterm is coming up and i don’t want you to fail,” he said, clearing his throat. he shut the door softly and locked it. he turned to face you, taking off your shoes with a pout.
“aw, you care about my score?”
he rolled his eyes, shoving past you with another scoff. “yeah because your score reflects my tutoring.”
"and here i thought you hated tutoring,"
"i do, hurry up and get inside."
you smiled up at him, walking further into his room and instantly looking for your pillow. it wasn’t in its usual spot but you found it on top of his bed. his very tall bed. you jumped up, half of your body on the bed and your legs dangling off the floor.
you outstretched your arm for your his pillow. it was just at your fingertips but still out of reach. why did his bed have to be so big?
Leon watched you struggle for a bit, amused at how hard you were working just for a pillow. he also took this chance to admire how good you looked, almost perfect. bent over the edge of his bed, shirt riding up to reveal more of your back.
he couldn’t help but imagine you in this position but in different circumstances. his hands on your waist, bodies sticky and sweaty, hips rocking against one another.
he was quickly shaken out of his trance when you hit him in the face with the pillow.
“let’s get this over with, my friends are expecting me back in two hours.”
he cleared his throat and nodded with a small, “yeah.” his voice cracking in between.
it was hard to focus, he couldn’t stop looking your way. he couldn’t dismiss the burn that flew through him every time your knees touched his. he couldn’t form a sentence when your eyes would lock with his as you patiently waited for him to teach you something else.
almost like a dog waiting for a fucking treat.
the mascara on your lashes made your lashes pop more, shiny gloss on your lips, and the blush on your cheeks was nice and bright — but not too obnoxious. what was obnoxious though was your top, so dangerously low and that pendant hitting the fat of your breasts with every movement.
you were speaking to him but his eyes were focused on your pendant necklace. you took notice of it, stopping midsentence and looking down towards your necklace that he was so focused on.
“who’s the one distracted now?” you chuckled, taking out the pendant from your shirt and showing it to him.
“where’d you get it from? a boyfriend?” he asked out of nowhere. even his own words caught him off guard. he didn’t mean to ask that last part but it has been on his mind forever.
“Leon, how many times do i have to tell you?” you sighed out, leaning back into your chair and crossing your legs. “i don’t have a boyfriend.”
“then who is currently blowing up your phone?” he asked, motioning down to your phone constantly buzzing in his pocket.
“my friends,” you said with a shrug.
“i don’t believe it.”
“well, you should.”
“what could they possibly want to talk about?”
“you,” you said, looking from your phone lighting up in his pocket then back up at him.
you watched his eyebrow raise in confusion and he tilted his head to the side once again in disbelief. but you nodded slowly leaning towards him.
“they think you’re hot,”
“oh really?”
“yes, really.”
he scooted closer to you, both of his meaty thighs now trapping yours. his pupils dilated as he looked into your own. instantly, your palms began to sweat. you crossed your arms over your chest, subconsciously trying to shoo away the goosebumps rising onto your skin.
“what do you think then?” he asked, his voice low and his eyes flickering down to your lips and staring there.
“of?” you answered with another question.
“you think i’m hot?” he was inching closer closer, surely this was another way to tease and taunt you. even so, your heart was beating out of your chest and you were shrinking away from him.
“mmm not really, you’re kinda ugly.” you lied. that was the biggest lie you’ve ever said out loud. you haven’t even admitted your little crush to your friends. you were denying it to your core but right now with him so close like this, his breath fanning against yours and his hands placed on either side of your chair — you were ready to give up.
“liar.”
“not a li-“
before you could say anything else, his lips were on yours. soft plump and warm. wet from the amount of times he’s licked over them with a hint of mint from his gum. you kissed him back, leaning forward to press your lips against his even more.
your entire body lit up, you could feel your knees grow weak and the butterflies in your stomach felt more like a wildfire. with every smack of your lips, there was another spark and more of that fire spread.
his hands found your waist, tugging you up off your chair and towards him. you accepted his instruction quickly and obediently. he pulled you into his lap, hands moving from your waist and towards your hips.
his thumbs rubbed at your skin, calloused fingertips colliding with your soft skin. hot and gentle. you moaned onto his lips, tilting your head to the side and bringing your hands from his shoulders and towards the nape of his neck.
shivers ran through him at your touch, the cold sweat on your fingertips and your manicured nails scratching at his scalp.
he ran his hot tongue along your bottom lip and you welcomed him. tongues finding each other in a heated and passionate battle. you moaned at the minty taste on his tongue practically melting into him.
his hands found the small of your back, pressing you closer to him until you could practically feel his heart beating against yours.
he reached down into his pocket, bothered by your buzzing phone. he threw it to the side and onto his desk, he couldn't care less where it landed, he was more focused on you. your gloss stuck to his lips, it tasted fruity like cherries and he could taste the smallest twinge of rum on your tongue.
he pulled away, one hand grabbing the back of your neck to keep you in your place, “drinking and driving, huh?”
you rolled your eyes, rolling your hips down into his, “it was just one shot.”
you kissed him again, feverishly. you were hungry and desperate, you never wanted someone so bad. even if he made you feel like shit, pretty privilege at its finest. you didn’t care if he tugged and shoved you around like a damn rag doll, it was hot.
you didn’t care if he insulted you, part of you really fucking liked it.
he kept his lips on yours as he let his hand run down underneath the curve of your ass and the other guided your thigh around his waist. he stood up taking you with him, your legs wrapped around his waist and your arms wrapped around his neck.
you held him close, both of you kissing at a slow and deep pace. in all truth, you didn’t think Leon was interested in you in the slightest but judging from the way his hands traveled all over your body you were very very wrong.
his hands reached up beneath your top, feeling for your bra clasp but he was surprised to find none. you smirked against his lips.
“no bra, fuck that’s hot.” he sighed against your lips, copying your smirk.
he threw you down against his bed, watching your hair splay out around your head like a halo. your lip gloss was ruined, smeared all over your mouth and your lips were now plump and glossy with his spit.
you looked up at him, the fire behind your eyes and adrenaline running through every vein in your body. you propped yourself up onto your elbows, slowly scooching away from him as he crawled towards you.
his hands on either side of your frame, icy blue eyes staring right into yours. his lips were now swollen and pink, some of your lipgloss smeared all over his mouth.
“where you going?” he taunted, a certain tone in his voice. his hands reached for the hem of his sweatshirt, quickly pulling it over his head and throwing it to the side along with the rest of his clothes. you scanned your eyes up and down his built figure, who knew he was so muscular.
underneath all those sweatshirts and loose tees was a greek god. chiseled muscle and wide shoulders, his arms were thick and looked as if they could kill. no wonder he could throw you around like you weighed nothing. he was built like a fucking tank.
your eyes trailed down to the happy trail, you witnessed now and then. sharp v-line, light brown hair with a single vein running down.
his hand wrapped around your ankle, tugging you down the bed until his face hovered over yours. “my eyes are here,” he told you before placing his lips on yours. your hands ran up his arms and up to his shoulders, you sunk your nails into his skin creating little pink crescents.
one of his hands kept him up while the other worked with the button of his jeans. the minute he got the metal button off, he was tugging them down your thighs and you helped by lifting your hips for him.
he kissed the corner of your mouth, then your cheek, and then your jaw. his kisses were wet and slow, his fingers playing with the hem of your panties.
“god, you’re beautiful,” he whispered in your ear, kissing your lobe. your body shook with excitement every time he touched you, your body immediately responding to any of his calls. you were under his control and his command.
“i need you,” you whispered to him.
“shh shh, how about this?" he shushed, removing his glasses and then throwing them onto his desk.
he smirked at his own idea, loving the sound of what plan just popped up into his head.
" if you get these answers correct you’ll get what you want, ‘kay?”
you threw your head back against his pillow, whining his name. he swatted your ass as a warning as he traveled down your neck with opened-mouthed kisses, “i’ll stop.”
“no! okay, okay.” you exclaimed. he smiled against your collarbone, sinking his teeth into your skin as his hand traveled up the sheets to play with the hem of your top.
“give me five different ways to collect data,” his hand traveled underneath your shirt, his thumb finding your perky nipple and swiping over the bud slowly. you shivered at his warm touch, your brain melting and your mouth opening into a silent moaning.
“answer me, baby.”
“um surveys, experiments,” you began, trying to focus on his question rather than his touch. he pinched your nipple, rolling it between his fingers as his knee slotted between your legs and pressed against the gusset of your soaked panties.
he applied just the right amount of pressure and friction to your clothed cunt, earning him a small moan.
“an observational study,”
“good good,” he praised, lifting up your top and bunching it above your breasts. he watched them spill out and bounce, “so pretty, baby. give me two more.” he placed a soft kiss over your hard nipple and watched your body squirm for him.
“focus groups and- fuck and sampling,” you whined, arching your back towards him.
he grinned down at you, one hand cupping your left tit while the other stroked your cheek. “good job.”
he placed another hot kiss over your nipple, dragging his teeth ever so slowly over your hot skin.
this was killing him more than it was killing you. but he just loved teasing you, the excitement in your body, the hunger in your eyes, and the desperation in your voice. he loved having control over you.
“what’s the formula for a z-score?”
“Leon!”
he swatted your thigh as a warning, “say it.”
you pursed your lip, watching him place small kisses around your areola, purposefully avoiding your sensitive nipples.
“x minus x bar-“
“do it correctly,”
“sample size minus the mean, divided by the standard deviation!” you whined out.
he rewarded you by taking your nipple into his mouth, harshly sucking and dragging a long whine out of you.
you’ve never been so sensitive before but he was bringing everything out of you. your hips began to grind down against his knee, the smallest amount of pressure against your clit was all you needed. you were aching for him, clenching around absolutely nothing and dripping into the gusset of your panties.
his hand was splayed over your stomach, his thumb playing with the hem of your lace panties. his lips left your nipple with a pop and he looked up at you whilst biting down on his bottom lip.
“if the mean is more than the median,” he began kissing down the valley of your breasts. “how does the graph skew?”
you couldn’t focus, your brain was mush and you were very lightheaded. you couldn’t breathe and you were aching for him worse and worse every coming second. you tried to go over his question but every kiss he placed on your skin was a distraction.
“come on, baby you got it.” he said, now completely in between your legs. his hands were running up and down your thighs, keeping them at either side of his head. he placed a wet kiss on your inner thigh, sucking and then dragging his teeth over the small hickey.
your hips bucked up and your legs began to shake, “Leon, i don’t know.”
“i know you do, baby. come on,” he hummed against the skin of your thigh. the smell of your pussy was making him dizzy, it was right in front of him and god he needed it so bad. he could see how wet you were, just for him.
he wanted to rip these pretty lacy panties right off of you and devour your pussy whole, but he wanted to wait. he wanted to wait until you were at your limit, he wanted to watch your eyes roll back when you finally got what you both wanted.
“um, it skews right!”
he smiled against your inner thigh, placing a kiss on your abdomen and then moving your panties to the side. his cock jumped at the sight of your cunt right in front of his eyes, dripping wet and quivering just for him.
“answer this next question right and i’ll let you cum, ‘kay?” he said placing a kiss over your swollen clit.
“fuck!” you moaned out, hands reaching for his blonde strands.
“what is the empirical rule? and what does every single one of them mean?” he asked, prodding his tongue at your hole. his breath was hot against your clit, your whole body was shaking to the point you couldn’t take it.
“Leon, i-“ you stammered out with a tear running down your temple and into your hair.
“come on, we just went over this yesterday.”
“i can’t,”
he gathered a glob of spit onto his tongue before spatting it against your pussy, watching it drip from the hood of your clit and over your fluttering hole. “yes, you can.” he egged on.
“it’s mmm,” you pursed your lips and squinted your eyes close, you just needed to think and avert your attention away from him. “68% falls um one standard deviation of the mean,” your statement was more like a question.
he confirmed your answer by flattening his tongue over your slit and languidly licking upwards. he moaned at your taste, practically drunk on your pussy already. he shut his lids and let his eyes roll to the back of his head.
“95% is two and 99.7% is three!” your voice raised a few octaves as the languid strokes of his tongue became faster.
he was done testing you, for now. right now, he’s focused on making you cum all over his face. his arms wrapped around each of your thighs, holding you close to his mouth as he got to work. his thumb went to find your clit, rubbing small slow circles around your swollen nub.
“oh god,” you sighed out. his tongue prodded at your dripping cunt, messily lapping up at your juices mixed with his saliva. you arched your back, your fingers digging into his scalp both pushing him away and pulling him closer.
he applied more pressure to your clit, his tongue plunging in and out of your hole shamelessly. wet and sloppy sounds filled the room along with the sound of your messy moans and chants of his name.
“fuck, so good.” he moaned to himself, completely focused on your pleasure even if his hips were grinding into his sheets. he could cum just like this, to the sounds of your moans and the taste of your cunt.
he couldn’t wait to fuck you, to feel the warmth of your walls suck him in, and the sound of your moans directly in his ear. but he needed to be patient, he needed to reward you for doing so good in class.
he picked up his pace, taking turns fucking his tongue into you feverishly and sucking on your clit. your legs shook around him, thighs clamping around him and keeping him locked in place.
“yes, Leon! i’m close,” you moaned out, drool gathering at the corner of your lips and more tears spilling from your eyes. he kept his pace, not moving faster or slower but he just applied the smallest pressure against your clit that sent you over the edge.
you cried out, arching your back and curling his sheets into your fist. with your release, stars danced behind your vision and every muscle in your body contracted and then relaxed. he eased you down from your high, sucking at your clit lightly and drawing circles over the bone of your hip.
he looked up at you, lips swollen and slick with your release. he placed a kiss on your abdomen with a grin plastered across his cheeks.
his blonde hair stuck to his forehead sweaty and hair disheveled all because of you.
“you did so good,”
your whole body was worn out, your eyes shut ready to pass out but he wasn’t done. he tugged your panties down your legs, keeping them scrunched in his fist.
“i’m not done testing you baby,” he said placing a kiss on your cheek.
“Leon, please,”
he ignored your pleading working himself out of his sweats. you caught a peep of a dark grey splotch in his sweats, either from when he had his knee placed against your heat or his dripping tip.
“get this question right and i’ll fuck you, got it?”
you nodded excitedly, biting down on your bottom lip. you watched his cock spring out and god was he pretty. tip swollen and red, veins running up his girth, thick and long. god, of course, he was big.
“words, baby. i need words.”
“yes, yes, okay!” you snapped at him, very obviously sexually frustrated. he didn’t like your tone so he slapped your clit with the tip of his cock, sending a shock wave through you.
“watch your tone, i don’t have to fuck you, i don’t have to give you a second orgasm,” he grabbed your chin harshly and tugged your head up to face him, “understand?”
“yes,” you croaked out.
he placed a kiss on your lips, letting you get a taste of your juices still on his tongue.
he ran the tip of his cock through your folds, his shoulders tensing up and his hand twisting in his own sheets. it was taking everything in him to be patient.
“how do you find the three quartiles?” he asked, pressing his tip against your fluttering cunt. you opened your mouth to answer but nothing came out but a weak moan. he watched you closely, not breaking any eye contact.
his pupils were blown out, only leaving a halo of his blue irises.
“please,” you croaked out.
“come on baby, you got this.”
you gulped down a lump, getting rid of the dryness in your throat. “the first quartile is the 25th percentile,” you answered weakly.
he pressed his tip into your dripping cunt, hissing at how your pussy was practically ready to suck him in. your breath hitched at the stretch and a tear ran down your temple, he kissed it away, leaning his forehead against yours.
“keep going baby, you got this.”
“the second is the- the median. 50th percentile, the third quartile minus the first,” you rambled, looking up into his eyes as he nodded his head.
“good, good,” he moaned out, giving you just a few more inches of his cock.
“the third one is 75th percentile,”
with your final and last answer, he thrust his cock all the way in, until his tip was kissing your cervix. you sucked in a shaky breath, your thighs shaking as you adjusted to his size. he kept his tip pressed against your cervix, stroking your thigh with his large hand.
“s- so big, fuck,” you whined out, walls fluttering around his girth.
“shh shh, take it. take it.” he whispered close to your lips.
“lower fence versus upper fence, quickly.” he was struggling to stay still, he was torturing both you and himself. you choked back a sob. you could feel his cock pulsing inside of you and god you couldn’t even think.
“lo- lower fence is the first quartile, mmm,” you moaned out.
“come on,”
“first quartile minus one point five times the IQR,”
he sighed out against his lips, grinding his hips into yours earning him a whiny moan from your quivering lips. “one more baby,”
“upper fence is, shit, it’s the third quartile plus one point five times the IQR.”
he was done.
he pulled out and then thrusted straight back in, your whole body convulsed. every tense muscle in your body relaxing the moment he thrusted his cock back into you. he cupped your cheek, bringing your lips to his. he kissed you hungrily, invading your mouth with his tongue, moaning at the taste of you.
his hips continued to snap into yours, bullying his cock into you with no remorse. each thrust of his cock stroked at your g-spot and your body would jolt from the force.
“been waiting to do this forever,” he spoke into your mouth. “fuck, you’re so beautiful,”
you moaned out his name, wrapping your arms around his neck and bringing him closer to you. his hands reached back towards your top, tugging it over his head and throwing it off the side.
he was quick to cup your breast, slotting your nipple between your two fingers and then slamming his lips against yours. you scratched down his back helplessly, the fresh polish on your nails chipping and blood seeping through the cuts you were giving him.
you couldn’t focus on anything else but him, not only did you really like him but he was also fucking you so good. his pace was perfect, his touch was intoxicating and his lips were hot.
there was a ring of white forming around the base of his cock, lewd noises spilled from both of your lips as you both found yourselves inching closer and closer to your highs.
your kiss grew sloppy and his pace quickened, “this pussy ’s so good, fuck,” he groaned out, moving the hand from your breast towards your clit.
your whole body shook once his two fingers began to draw figure eights around your clit. the slow pace of his fingers contrasting with the fast pace of his thrusts.
“god, look at you,” he breathed out, “all fucked out on your tutor's cock, huh?”
you couldn’t reply, only croaking out a moan of his name.
“fucking whore, came here for math help now look at you,”
his words only added to the tension in your abdomen, the burn in your stomach getting hotter and hotter.
“i’m gonna cum,”
“go ‘head baby, cum all over my cock,” he said, placing a kiss on the corner of your lips.
you whined out, chasing his lips for another kiss but he denied you with a shake of his head.
“i wanna hear you,”
you looked into his eyes, seeing a reflection of yourself in his glossy eyes. mascara smudges, lipgloss gone, hair a mess. all because of him.
“fuck!” you moaned out, wrapping your legs around his waist and throwing your head back. he was quick to guide your head to face him, he kept his eyes locked on yours watching your pupils dilate as you came undone.
your walls fluttered around his cock, clenching down as your orgasm hit you like a heavy wave. he pulled out quickly, finishing himself off with heavy and breathy moans.
you watched as he came. thick, white ropes of cum decorating your stomach and abdomen. his abs tensed up with each spurt of cum and his hips still bucked up.
he let out a final breath into the crook of your neck. both of your bodies shook against each other, hot, sticky with sweat and cum.
he leaned up out of the crook of your neck looking into your eyes and you watched as they gleamed, such a rare light in his eyes but you were glad you were able to see it.
he pressed his lips to yours, this time it was slow and deep. there wasn’t any hunger or lust, just pure passion.
“i’m sure you won’t fail that test,”
(divider creds to @saradika ,, photos off of pinterest & photo of leon from @/laughingwallaby on twitter)
notes: if you wanna be on my tag list pls message me hehe! or fill out the form below (just to make it easier on me :D)
[id: It’s a drawing of Geto and Gojo as first years. Geto, who is depicted with brown skin and chin length hair that isn’t tied back, is leaning against the fence with his arms on top of it. Gojo, who is depicted with albinism and skin covered in freckles, is sitting on top of the fence with his legs hanging over the front side. He also has a lollipop in his mouth. both are wearing their school uniforms, sans the jackets, and Gojo also wears a white compression shirt under his button up to protect his skin from the sun. “Three [people] is just right” and “jujutsu kaisen” are typed in white text in the corner, in Japanese. /end id]
[id: It’s a picture of two guys at a fence against a blue sky. The first guy, who is wearing a Yankees shirt and jeans, is standing behind the fence with his arms over the top, while the second guy, who is wearing black/grey pants and a tie dye white and red shirt, is sitting on top of the fence with his legs over the front. /end id]
Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.
WC: 9.4k
𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓𖤓
You wanted to quit the second you read the name.
You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place.
It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now.
You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?
It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client.
"Is everything alright?"
You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke.
Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired."
The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited.
He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics.
Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention.
It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice.
You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps.
He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes.
"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."
His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face.
Nothing.
Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next.
"I look forward to working with all of you."
𖤓
If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial.
He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order.
But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way.
Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too.
"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.
Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you.
"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?"
"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks."
You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours.
𖤓
The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms.
You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching.
He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.
You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch.
It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.
Through your blinds, the sun happily shines.
𖤓
You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.
Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.
He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted.
You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class.
It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it.
"What?" Because you must have misheard him.
"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official."
You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours.
You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop.
"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine.
He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore.
Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes.
Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.
𖤓
It was something minuscule.
Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always.
"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey.
The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her.
"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out."
He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life."
When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger.
Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru.
Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help.
Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that.
Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break.
He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing.
You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator.
"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-
"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!"
Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle.
The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you.
When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.
𖤓
You don't have proof it was him.
It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that.
But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him.
In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back.
At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.
There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.
Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down.
You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.
Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.
Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it.
“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.
You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.
“That's good,” he says anyway.
You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares.
You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.
“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”
He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything.
“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”
Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.
You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend.
Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.
Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.
Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg.
You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open.
It's worse than anything you could think of.
Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you?
This wasn't bullying.
This was abuse.
Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.
You were so tired.
Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky.
"Why?"
Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group.
"Get lost."
They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone.
"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored.
"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-"
It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away.
"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?"
You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear.
"Anything, right?"
You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek.
"Get on your knees."
You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little.
"I-I-Gojo you-"
"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?"
He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru.
To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk.
You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him.
"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh.
"Gojo I-"
"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems."
You look down at the grass. Green, soft.
"Satoru."
His eyes flash in satisfaction.
"Open up, pretty girl."
The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.
You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you.
"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought.
"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?"
If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame.
"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you.
You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth.
"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me."
But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world.
"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?"
If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it.
He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help.
He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time.
Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.
So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath.
"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you."
His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum.
(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)
"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something."
You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him.
"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair.
"My laptop...it's broken."
You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it.
Satoru only scoffs.
“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you.
(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)
“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”
He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his.
The sunset is pretty today.
𖤓
It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied.
You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from.
"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?"
You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf.
"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait."
She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts.
"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her.
Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright.
"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting."
Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs.
Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way.
You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-
"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to.
The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go.
It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you.
𖤓
By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable.
You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework.
Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips.
He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever.
"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom.
"Thank-"
"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me."
He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself.
There are theories that the Moon once had color.
It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.
When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at.
Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.
Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too.
You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him.
Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons.
"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?"
You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment.
You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken.
"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."
On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours.
Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now.
"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action.
You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone.
He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can.
Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch.
"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you."
He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock-
Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's.
Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.
He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.
You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing.
Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you.
"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?"
He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again.
"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust.
You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper.
"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl."
He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.
You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar.
"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious.
"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him."
His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock.
"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch.
"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need.
You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt.
You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration.
"I love you."
You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.
"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh.
Fuck three weeks.
You needed to get out, now.
𖤓
The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there.
His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours.
Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out.
Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there.
And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room.
His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction.
"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?"
His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke.
The door shuts with a click.
"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward.
You take one back. He puts his hands up.
"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?"
He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood.
"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody.
He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too.
When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes.
"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules."
"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked.
"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent.
He seems to take an issue with that, regardless.
"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text."
His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake.
You go to move.
Satoru's faster.
Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment.
"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze.
It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness.
"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-"
"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt.
You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client.
Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him.
When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless.
You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears.
"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar."
He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words.
"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.
Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses.
"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now."
"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again.
"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic.
"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily.
"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?"
His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too.
He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall.
Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action.
"That's-"
"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar.
He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate.
"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate.
It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste.
"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits.
Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed.
Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out.
He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear.
"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?"
You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that.
"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you."
You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his.
Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure.
It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom.
"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught.
"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl."
"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-"
"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."
"No-I-I-can't-"
He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled.
"I'll make sure it takes this time too."
Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea.
He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb.
You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine.
He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness.
"I love you."
You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.
Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran.
"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me."
"Not ever again."
There are theories that the Moon once had color.
It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.
If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given.
How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation.
a/n: sorry i took so long to get to this anon i hope this finds its way back to you <3
warnings: poly!stsg, dom!geto, sorta sub!gojo, fem!reader, oral (f and m receiving), masturbation, suguru watches for a while, multiple rounds, use of ‘slut’, cum eating, cum shot, filthy and dirty as hell lol, n*sfw under the cut
it’s no secret that geto absolutely adored the both of you — whether it be looking at you bickering over whether maple syrup or honey is better for pancakes, or when he’s watching the two of you deep in slumber after getting out to get groceries at dawn to beat the morning crowd. it’s hardly different any other time, too much deep in adoration for his two babies that even fights are done with calculated voices and soft apologies.
and even now — watching how satoru whines for attention from the both of you, pulling gently at your nape to separate your lips from geto. you can feel the latter throb under you when gojo leaps forward to kiss you while you’re still in the other’s lap, feeling his hand leave your waist to trace the line down satoru’s back and right to his ass.
“sugu—” you hear against your lips, moaning something akin to your name after when your hands pull at satoru’s white hair shortly after, “n-need both of you . .”
“patience, satoru,” geto practically purrs, purposely humping his hips up into your cunt that you whine softly, too, grinning at how he’s always got the two of you at his beck and call. he runs the show indefinitely, and you’re both fine with it, heart fluttering when he asks for a favour.
“can you eat her out, baby?” he pleads with gojo, not before leaving you with a sweet kiss that leaves you wanting more and gently detaches himself from you, “let me watch my two pretty lovers, hm?”
you giggle a little at gojo’s eagerness when he nods and takes his place in front of you instead, rushing into a kiss that has you clashing teeth and groaning in pain, but with a small sorry from gojo and kisses down your neck, you’re forgiving him instantly when he finally peels off your soaked panties, groaning to himself at just how wet you were.
at the corner of your eye, you can see suguru stripping himself of his own underwear, stroking slowly at how gojo forces your sensitive legs open to lick a slow stripe up your cunt.
“’toru—” you shut your eyes tight, head tipped back as you put all your weight into your elbows, body naturally crawling away from the other’s skilled tongue from the intensity but satoru takes his time with you, easing you into the pleasure with how slowly he tugs you back to him.
“relax, princess . .” he mumbles, feeling himself get hard just from hearing geto’s hand along his cock, and now, at how he gets to eat your pretty pussy, “let me in, yeah?”
you moan softly just as he sucks on your clit, one hand reaching for his hair and the other for geto’s hand, him barely catching you just as you dig your nails into his forearm, dominant hand stuttering at little at the minor pain. gojo mutters praises into your cunt, slurping up your juices like it’s the very first time he’s eating you out.
“satoru— s’too much—” you writhe within the sheets, rendered warm from the morning sun that filters in and you can already feel your back start to line with sweat at the ecstasy, your boyfriend never stopping his relentless tongue flicking and sucking at your bud.
your other boyfriend watches in amusement and fondness at the two of you; the drop of your mouth and the twitches in your leg, to the subtle humping of satoru’s hips and his downturned eyebrows. satoru is just lost in your pre, making sure every bit of it isn’t lost to the silk sheets that he so impulsively bought for the both of you.
you gasp when your knees are pushed to your chest, left immobilised under gojo’s hand as he loses himself in your folds, tracing his tongue down your slit and right to your hole.
he makes sure to give you what you want when you only pull him more desperately into your core with moans that reach the moon. you’re grateful that at least suguru squeezes and twines his fingers with yours, watching with that damned smile on his face at your falling apart.
“’toru, sugu, i-it’s— i’m c—”
geto laughs, “so fast, doll?”
you burn at the small teasing remark, clenching around satoru’s tongue at the same time and he groans, nudging his nose deeper into your clit. with small jerks in your body and long whines that turn into short pants, they both know you’re close. the other speeds his hand up as well, following gojo’s noisy, sloppy licks along your pussy.
“pussy so sweet, suguru, hope ya can taste her later,” his muffled speech gets the other chuckling, even more so when they see their pretty baby all ruined over their sheets, their groans mixing in with your garbled speech, just whimpering and mumbling any word your foggy brain can think about at the moment.
“yeah? lookin’ forward to it, then.” geto struggles through gritted teeth at the feel of his hand — it would never compare to the both of you, but it’s all he can manage. he did say he wanted to watch and he’s enjoying gojo’s hips humping the sheets now as he focuses on your puffy, sensitive clit.
“she close, ’toru?” gojo’s affirmative moan sends vibrations up your body, sending you into overdrive when geto leans down to meet your lips, releasing your hand to your chin gently to steal your breath. it’s rough, drool dripping from the messiness of it and the other willingly swallows your sounds, tipping over the edge just as satoru lays his tongue flat along your cunt.
“mm fuckkk—, s-shit, satoru—!” you cry into suguru’s skin, wrapping fingers around his wrist for some anchor as you gush all over your other lover’s mouth, coating his face with cum. geto’s lips part as he watches the both of you, filling his ears with your high-pitched mewls against satoru’s deeper moans that he spills with your names on his lips, filling his hand with his cum.
but the dark-haired man isn’t done, oh, no, and you both sure as hell aren’t either with the way you don’t hesitate to bring his other hand to your lips to clean it, scooping all of his cum onto your tongue.
“dirty slut,” he whispers, relishing in how you start to suck on his fingers. and then he’s blessed with the both of you tugging on his arms so he’d be on the edge of the bed, seemingly an arrangement you two agreed on. it’s obvious that you two definitely had a little talk about this when he switches between both you and satoru kneeling on the ground, tongues out and waiting.
“oh . . darlings,” geto coos, stroking his cock lazily. you’re the first to wrap your lips around his tip, suckling as he shivers at your warm mouth. but it’s not long until you’re taking it out and bringing gojo’s head closer, slapping geto’s sensitive cock on the other’s tongue. the scene sends immediate thrills down to your core, pulsating and throbbing under you.
suguru groans at the sight, his two pretty lovers using him however which way; gojo bobs his head along his boyfriend’s cock, pressing his tongue against the base of his shaft while you aid him momentarily with a hand to his nape. your hands never forget his balls, squeezing and playing with them while satoru sucks him off — and then it switches again.
this little game continues on for a while, gurgling noises and wanton moans filling the room every time his cock enters one of your mouths.
it’s so different, too — you like to have saliva dripping everywhere, a sloppy blowjob with his tip touching the back of your throat and your nose buried in his pubes. satoru likes consistency, stroking the parts he can’t reach and bobbing his head obediently and making sure he looks up at him with those blue, blue eyes of his.
“oh, baby, baby, shiiit . .” suguru groans out, hands clutching the sheets so tightly it might cramp, until you’re both squishing your faces together, each getting a share of his tip that’s leaking the remnants of the previous round.
“t-that’s so hot, fuckin’ hell,” he swears when you two start to make out around his cock, equal part of lips on each other and his length that he gets twice the pleasure and the blessing of the two of you. geto slips both his hands into your hair, cradling your heads as you two slurp and suck and slobber over his throbbing dick, moaning into each other’s mouth.
there’s strings of cum that connect you both to geto, translucent white all over your lips and hands that only adds to the obscenity, your hand coming up to help stroke his cock.
satoru follows suit, larger hand engulfing yours and looking up at him through white eyelashes again, smiling to himself when he hears geto’s choked up words. he’s so hard it hurts, the mere grinding against the sheets doing nothing for him so he moves a hand between his legs, letting out soft pants.
“i’m gonna— c-cum . .” it’s even a wonder he’s held out this long, and you add fuel to the fire when you speed up your hand along his shaft, catching the glint in satoru’s eye with a giggle and sharing in the honour of being able to have geto suguru at your mercy.
your mind is muddled, the mixture of suguru’s previous load and satoru’s strawberry scented lip gloss sending you into a frenzy. under your lips, you can feel the dark-haired man twitch, you can feel gojo’s soft lips, it’s almost too much when the latter whines into your mouth. geto interrupts; “i’m g’nna give both of you my cum— haah . . ”
you’re both off him when you hear that, pleading with two sets of eyes and with outstretched tongues while your hands never stop their assault. gojo makes use of his pretty ceruleans while there’s multiple “please’s” falling from your throat, ears flooded with the wet shlick’s of your hands.
“oh my g—god . .” geto’s hands are so tight around your hair it borderline hurts, just hunching over the both of you with his eyes fighting to stay open, “fuck— i’m c-cumming—”
his pupils are blown wide when he sprays his cum over both your faces, spurting his seed all over your tongues and cheeks. the room fills with your moans at the feeling, with hand making sure you’re milking his cock for what it’s worth. suguru’s lips contain variations of your names alongside profanities, thighs shaking under him as whines escape him.
“aw, the both of you—” geto hums, fingers releasing your hair to hold your cheeks and he wished his hands weren’t so gross and sticky so he could at least make you two pose for his camera, but his jaw drops when you both turn to each other to have your lips meet again, mouth gaping as he watches his semen drip everywhere and your tongue against satoru’s — a scene of pure filthiness.
“j-just know how to treat me . .” suguru watches, dumbfounded as gojo licks his cum off your face and vice versa, before you both turn to him with grins that remind him why he likes to take the reins in the bedroom.
“and now, i’ll treat the both of you . . how’s that sound, darlings?”
SYNOPSIS...satoru has to inspect his princess’s cunt after teasing her in public all day
INFO...gojo x fem!reader, pussy inspection, slight fingering, public setting, groping, praise, degrading, name calling/pet names (slut, princess), not proofread
OTHER...likes and reblogs are appreciated
thanks for the request anon!
His hand was riding under your skirt, playing with the hem of your panties as you searched through clothes on the rack. Your eyes darted around the store, letting out a slight cough to rid of the awkward silences “Satoru, we’re in public!” You yelled in a whisper, snatching his hand away. He just laughed at you, pinching your cheek. You rolled your eyes, continuing to search for your size in the shirt that had caught your eye.
Not even a minute passed before your felt his large palm grip the plump flesh of your ass, squeezing it hard enough to make you mewl. “Toru!” You warned him, looking over the at cashier to make she didn’t notice your boyfriend was being an absolute perv in public. “Stop teasing, we’re in public!” You whisper, shrugging him off.
“Awe,” he leaned in towards your ear, “is it making you wet, princess? Am I getting you all flustered?” You could hear the smirk in his voice without even having to look at his smug face. “It’s okay, you can admit.” He gave another squeeze to your ass, placing himself right behind you. You gulped, pretending like he wasn’t rubbing his semi-hard cock against your ass right now.
“You’re being unfair,” you huff, pushing him off of you.
“Oh, so you are wet, hm?” He let out a chuckle. “Let me see,” he huskily whispered into your ear.
“We’re in the middle of a store, Satoru.” Your brows furrow, but of course your boyfriend was one step ahead of you. The store was pretty dead, only two workers in the small little clothing store. He grabbed your hand, dragging you towards the back where the dressing rooms were. His eyes scanned the store as he snatched a pair of random pants off of a shelf. “What are you doing?” You look at him. Though, he doesn’t respond.
“Hi, we just wanted to try these on.” He’s holding up the pants that were probably twice as big than his size and the shirt that you had picked out.
“Of course, go right ahead.” The worker smiled, allowing you Satoru into the back.
He’s dragging you through the small area filled with little rooms, looking back to make sure the worker wasn’t watching before he shoved both of you inside of an empty room. “See, wasn’t so hard.” He gave you that mischievous smile, holding onto your waist tightly as the pants he had grabbed were discarded on the floor—no use to him anymore. “Now, show me, princess.”
You sit back on the small bench, hiking your skirt up and spreading your legs for him as he kneeled down in front of you. His finger ran up and down your clothed slit, a small laugh erupting from his chest. “You’re soaked through your panties like a fucking slut.”
Your teeth sink into your bottom lip, Satoru grabbed the hem of your panties and slowly dragging them down your thighs and to your ankles. Goosebumps litter your skin as the cold air hits your dripping cunt. “We’re gonna get caught,” you whine quietly.
“Shhh, no we won’t.” He uses his fingers to spread your pussy, getting a good look at how your slick coats your folds, and your hole clenches around nothing. “Look at how swollen your clit is, baby. Pretty little pussy is begging for my attention.” He takes his thumb, gently rubbing your throbbing clit.
Your hand clasps over your mouth, trying to quiet the noise of your whimpers. Satoru lets out a satisfied hum before removing his thumb, taking his two middle fingers and gathering up your juices. “Please, stop teasing already!” You beg. He ignores you, slipping his two fingers into your sopping entrance, a smile forming at the corners of his mouth. He looks up at you, slowly moving his fingers.
“She’s so tight and wet for me, princess.” He moves his finger in and out of you one more time before removing them, leaving you frustrated and wanting more, hips writhing. He licks his fingers clean, eyes fluttering shut at the taste of you.
“Satoru, please! Just fuck me right now!” You look at him with desperation. He slips your panties right back over your aching cunt, planting a kiss on your clothed clit.
“What a nasty, nasty girl you are. We’re in public, remember?” He giggles, pulling your skirt back down in place. You were left there stunned as he grabs your shirt and the pants off of the floor. The two of you walk out the dressing room, Satoru smiling at the worker like nothing happened. “We won’t be taking these, sorry.” He hands the pants back to the worker, making his way to the register with your shirt, hand in your hand like he was so sweet and innocent.
— minors dni, dubcon, bully! satosugu x gn! reader, throat/facefucking, pet play (?), humiliation, nicknames (puppy, dog)
“Ya know Satoru’s always wanted a puppy?”
Humiliating. That’s the word branding itself into your mind right now. You’re lucky, as Geto claims, that it’s them getting to have you like this and not some sick perverts. Though you can’t tell the difference.
“Come on, open wide!,” Gojo commands. A wet squelching fills your ears, fingers sink into your cheeks as Geto holds your jaw open. “Tongue out just like that, good dog!”
Cum gushes from Satoru’s length, missing your mouth entirely and staining your face. The weaker spurts shoot onto your bare chest and leak down over your nipples, onto the floor below. Suguru, looming over where you’re kneeled between his legs, pulls your face so you look him in the eyes.
“Your aim sucks.,” he laughs. “It’s everywhere.”
Gojo grins, milking his still-heavy cock over your parted lips until there’s nothing.“That’s just how I like it, baby. Come on, again.”
Your cheeks are squished between Geto’s rough fingers for another round, forcing your mouth open as Gojo pumps his twitching length again. They love demeaning you, humiliating you to knock you off your so-called ‘high horse’, but this has to take the cake. On your knees wearing a collar, custom made Satoru made sure to tell you, and being used as his cumdump. Stuck on your knees while Geto restrains your hands behind your back, slaps your face when he’s tired of holding your jaw open. ‘Such a naughty puppy, why do I have to keep doing this for you?’ when you bite your lips and face away from Satoru’s cock. You can’t even recall how many times Gojo’s nutted on your face, chest, used his dick to smear it over your lips after he got bored of filling your throat. Flashed you shameful pictures of yourself—covered in cum, Geto’s dick on your lips, down your throat, himself balls deep in your mouth. ‘Oh we’re set on wallpapers for a while.’ Geto hums it out like it’s the most normal thing in the world. There’s a puddle of their cum beneath you, and one of your own fluids between your thighs, but they don’t bother dealing with that just yet. Judging from the look on Satoru’s face, and the fact that he’s still rock-hard, you’ve got plenty more rounds to sit through before they even think about indulging your needs.
