Whatâs poppinâ? Just putting this together so any new followers donât have to dig too hard to find my work. Iâm still growing in this hellsite even after four years..but Iâm passionate about what I do, and I hope that shows. Appreciate yâall for being here! I love how we can all come together to just simp and vibe
I went on a small, big ass, hiatus for awhile (most of you probably follow me for the Eren content). I really hope you guys like how I improve and continue to grow with me. I mostly write of Satoru Gojo now but I plan to branch out and write for more characters... eventually.
^ŕžŕ˝˛ IN WHICH one compliment gets you into some trouble with the star QB.
^ŕžŕ˝˛ ÂĄWARNINGS! smut (smidge of plot/buildup). nail tech!reader, college athlete!cameron, angst, pet names, dirty talk, fingering, just mr. cade being nasty.
^ŕžŕ˝˛ A/N i def based this on the part of quenâs video when she asked if he gets manicures đ his reaction after she called him nasty told me EVERYTHING! anywaysss, just had to see if i still got it lol, something sweet while i finish the rest of my drafts. be on the look out for the next week and after..hehe. thank yall for reading (interact pls) and lmk what you think! <3
âdo you get manicures? your hands are prettyâ
it was a mindless compliment, just something that slipped out in the spur of the moment. occupational hazard. you worked with hands all day long so cuticles and nail beds are the first things you notice about anyone.
you didnât know him well, or at all really, but you knew enough. cameron cade is practically a campus celebrity. his face is plastered everywhere you look, whispers of whatever rumor of the week involving him leaks from distant conversations. thatâs about as far as it got for you
so when heâd claimed the seat next to yours in your contemporary literature class, always as quiet as a church mouse, after weeks of stolen glances his clean, perfect hands had weirdly became something that you took notice of. fixated on.
âyour hands are prettyâ
cameronâs pen stilled over his page instantly. he almost thought heâd hallucinated the words. todayâs lecture faded into nothing but background noise, your honeyed voice was the only thing he cared about,
finally. he thought
the opening heâd been waiting for.
he couldnât help the slow grin that pulled at his lips.
you caught his attention easily on the first day of class. bright eyed and bubbly, draped in baby pink from head to toe. a walking ray of sunshine with the kind of natural, warm confidence that just makes you so much more attractive. it also didnât help that youâre fucking stacked. your body looks like it was hand crafted by god herself.
the two of you never really spoke much outside of borrowing pencils or sharing notesâhe was afraid of ruining any chance he might haveâbut cameron knew one thing: he needed you before the semester ended.
his sea green eyes flicked up to yours before dragging down your frame, and his pupils blew wide as he drank you in. entranced doesnât even begin to explain what you do to him.
ââpreciate it. i been tryna stay consistentâ he said lowly, leaning back further into his seat, his tongue gliding slowly over his bottom lip
your pulse spiked when you caught the way his eyes dipped. he was so clearly checking you out, and he wasnât shy about it
you cleared your throat, huffing a quiet laugh and picking nervously at the hello kitty charms that dangled freely from your square french tips
âwell youâre doing a good job. they look better than most peopleâs,â your gaze dropped to those veiny, well kept hands again before snapping back to his modelesque face
âway better. especially for an athleteâ
that did it for him. youâd given him just enough to make ends meet..amongst other things.
but how were you supposed to know that a stupid observation on his hygiene would be the key to open pandoraâs box?
youâd learn very, very quickly.
âoh yeah?,â he tilted his head slightly, smirking âsound like you been paying real close attentionâ
his pen was long gone. forgotten. sidelined at the edge of his notebook while he sat with his toned arms folded over his chest, angled toward you
you stammered ân-no! i justâ a giggle slipped through you before you could stop it, âi know nice hands when i see âemâ
the sweet, melodic sound made his skin hum, and his grin only widened once he realized he could pounce.
âalright then, miss hand expertâ he chuckled âsince you know what you talking âbout, maybe you can do âem for me sometimeâ
conversation flowed easily after that. heâd say something mildly flirty, youâd playfully roll your eyes and pretend to be taking notes
and the moment he caught up to you after class, all six foot something of his muscled, sun tinted frame towering over you, that gleaming dimpled smile and those misty green irises coaxing you back to his on-campus apartment to âjust talk some moreâ,
you were his for the taking.
the pilot episode of jury duty is barely audible beneath your helpless whimpering. not that cameron actually planned on paying attention anyway,
it took no time for him to laugh you right out of your clothes.
which is how he ended up flat on his stomach between your smooth brown legs, one hand planted firm on your thigh to keep you exactly where he wants you. prying you wide open for him to bask in the stunning view of your creamy, soppy pussy clamped tight around his thick fingers, glossy beneath the warm glow of the picture lights hung over the sofa.
âpussy so pretty..so perfectâ he rasps shaking his head in disbelief, âwish you could see how fucking good you look right nowâ the euphoric sound of your juices circling the air as he keeps his pace
suddenly his fingers curl upward digging straight into the ridges of your pleasure point,
you cry a string of curse words as he drills into your button again, and again, coaxing so much slick from you that itâs trickling down his hand
âmmmhmâ he hums, zeroed in and focused on the mess youâre making âgive me all that shit, mama. fuckâ the bulge in his sweats swells. heâs more than satisfied when he feels your warmth tighten around him
a high pitched, elongated moan spills from you. so pathetic that itâs almost embarrassing, ânngghâ ohhh myâ c-cameron!ââ your breathing stutters as you arch your back off the cushions,
âwhatâs wrong princess?â he coos softly, a devious smirk on his lips âyou love my hands, donât you?â
âtouching you like this? making you feel good? hmm?â
heâs delving deeper, harder, in a slow torturous rhythm that sends a burst of pleasure springing and coiling through your core. too much for you to handle all at once, and still not nearly enough. it just about takes you over the edge
your eyes widen, glassy with tears threatening to fall, âyes! fuck! waitââ you yelp âwait waitââ youâre gasping and palming his broad shoulders attempting to push away, but the grip he has on your leg only tightens.
âmm mm, stop movingâ he pauses his wrist mid stroke. the pressure thatâs building in the pit of your stomach depletes slowly, and those hypnotic blue green orbs snap up to yours, his voice dipping into something dangerous. âbe a good girl for me. you almost there, i can feel itâ he holds your gaze while he plants a warm, wet open mouthed kiss on your inner thigh and latches gently to the soft skin
a shaky breath courses through you as you attempt to steady yourself, part of you aching for more of him, part of you so close to the brink that you canât take it
but you do anyway.
âcamâŚpleaseâ you whimper, your lips pouty and trembling, breathing as torn up as you are. your brows softened into a frown
âi know, baby.â he coos âi got youâ
now his fingers are moving again. quicker, more precise. another broken moan rips from your throat, loud enough to break the sound barrier, probably earning nasty looks from his neighborsâ your classmatesâbut he couldnât care less.
heâs not letting you go anywhere anytime soon.
he rests his cheek on your inner thigh and takes his bottom lip into his mouth, slowly breaking his gaze away from your gorgeous, tear stained face before letting his eyes dip again, and his breath catches in his throat. shit, he almost combusts at the sight
arousal pooling in thick sticky heaps at the base of his fingers every time he curls into you. your pearl swollen and throbbing, your folds glistening with threads of slick. like something out of a painting
he breathes out,
âoh my god, look at youâ
you moan an attempt at a response as your head falls lazily to the cushion beneath you, the tremor of your thighs earning a hum of approval
and then a low, desperate moan tears through him, âdamn, this pussy dripping all over me,â his jaw falls slack. âcanât tell me you ainât mine nowâ heâs moving his fingers up in tighter circles, twisting and curling as far as he can reach, stimulating pressure in all of the right places,
carrying you right into an otherworldly orgasm.
âcameronâ you yelp âshit, shit, shit, youâre gonna make meâ
your words snag in your throat, overcome by the pitiful, whiny cry that ejects from you. everything fades for a split second, your brain turns to complete mush,
and heâs loving every second. heâs starry eyed, in awe watching you come apart for him. it feels like he has the whole world in his hands
your academic rival is, unfortunately, your roommate. satoru hated you more than his useless psychology 8am and yetâ he can't stop jerking off with your panties. he kept telling himself that it didn't mean anything, but soon, his obsession leads him to the truth: the girl he hates is also his favourite camgirl.
â wc :: 7.6k
⥠âË⧠cws. college au :: academic rivals :: camgirl :: yandere :: smut :: dubcon :: obsession :: possessiveness :: panty stealing :: m.masturbating :: blackmail :: mirror sex :: fingering :: pussy spanking :: degradation :: dumbification :: slut-shaming :: riding :: p in v :: multiple orgasms :: choking :: creampie
⥠âË⧠sweetheart. preview of this one shot below. find the full fic on my patreon.
If there was one thing Satoru hated more than his useless psychology 8am, it was you.
Pretty where he was orderly. Cherry perfume where he was two, plain sprits of simple cologne. The one unknown variable to this theory of life he had been committed to.
The pulse in his veins. The hitch in his breath. The very essence of irritation that gnawed at the corner of his brain when he should be focused on his carefully curated study notes in preparation for his nightmare of an exam.
A fixation. A frustration. Something so fickle that fluttered in his mind like an insistent moth. And the worst part?
You'd hadn't the slightest idea of what you did to him.
Oblivious to his stares that lingered even long after your newest debate had simmered. Oblivious to when the heart he was convinced he didn't have beat just a tad faster when you were around. Oblivious to your missing pens that he plucked from your drawer whenever you weren't in your room.
Oblivious to the streak of sapphire that watched you from the creak of your door when you were fast asleep.
Oblivious to what that skirt of yours was doing to him now. How he was jealous of the pleats that caressed the tease of your soft thighs.
"You're going out in that?"
His scoff cut through the dim dorm, lit by cheap lighting and the glow of his laptop plopped on his thighs. The blue screen reflects in his glasses. Obscuring the stare he fixed to your rather. . . indulgent outfit.
You fixed your hair in the mirror you insisted on popping beside the door. Before you reached down to adjust your knee-high boots. Angling your chest just right for him to catch a nasty peek of your cleavage from the reflection.
Satoru chewed on his inner cheek. He wondered if you knew.
If you knew that your academic rival and the bane of your existence who was unfortunately also your roommateâ sought more than just bickers and berates.
Wondered if you knew that what he really wanted was your sweet body.
Wondered if you knew how much he hated himself for it.
"And what does my outfit have to do with you, Gojo?" You cut him a glare through the reflection and huffed, before you stood straight. "You have something to say? Don't be shy."
"Just wondering if slutting up for Ryomen Sukuna's party is gonna keep your grades afloat," he replied smoothly as he slumped back into the couch. Watching you over the rim of his glasses with a lazy edge. A smirk quirked to the corner of his lips still sweet with the strawberry pocky he'd chewed on earlier.
"Would hate to lose my rival just cause she'd rather open her legs than a textbook."
Crude. No one would have expected it from someone like Satoru. The closed-off nerd in his cage of academics. Hunched over his notes and dead-eyed at equations.
You'd learnt in the few months of sharing a dorm with him that he was more than just the calm and aloof, sometimes even awkward man he made himself to be.
You shot your glare over your shoulder instead. Ah, there it was. That daggered look that frustratingly fluttered his heart.
"Unlike you," you started, voice silk. Smooth. An undertone of sensual, maybe? As you approached him. Stood right before him.
He cleared his throat. Braced his hands on his laptop. Tried to hold your glare as you leaned over him. Belittled him.
The only person who could ever make him feel small. Even if he'd rather die than admit that.
"I don't need to bury my nose in a book for weeks just to remember my material. I'm efficient. More efficient than a cagey nerd like you will ever be, Gojo."
You flicked his head. Right between his brows and he hated himself for the shiver it sent down his spine. He grunted, pressing his palm to forehead and shrugging his laptop off to the couch. Standing to his feet to establish his height over you.
"And what's that supposed to mean?" His lips pressed in a thin line.
But you, oh. You. Vexating, irritating, irresistible you. Just smiled at him. Cooed.
Patted his cheek in that condescending charm you matched with his and turned on heel. Strutting to the door and plucking your purse.
"Just means I'm better than you." You mused, stringing the strap over your shoulder and grabbing the door handle.
He calculated your steps. Your distance. Your speed. How long it'd take for him to just barge on over and trap you against that door. Prove to you who was better.
"Good luck fisting it to your textbooks, Gojo." You sang. The lilt haunting the air as you left with a door rattled shut and your heels hyptonising him even from down the hallway.
Blunt nails dug into his palms. Chapstick dried up on his lips that pressed together so hard he could feel the indent of his teeth. He took a breath. One breath. Two. Three just for good measure. So that he settled that burn in his gut that trickled into a throb between his legs.
You were as beautiful as you were intelligent. Vexating as you were studious. The difference between you and him was that you prioritised a life outside of studies and still managed to rival him in every class you sat beside him.
It's why he hated you.
It's why. Why that pesky lump of muscle in his chest thumped whenever you actually bit back at him.
For a solid minute, he stood there. Reimagining the outline of your body. The outfit that others were gonna see. That skirt. Fuck. That skirt.
His gaze fell to the floor. Zeroed in. On something between the cracks of wood. Faint, but there. But yours.
He lowered himself to a crouch. Slowly reaching out and carefully plucking the thin thread from the floor. Examining it above his spectacles and the dim light.
A strand of your hair.
It tickled his lips. His nose. As he took a deep breath. Slow. Savouring. Shuddering.
Clenching the strand in his palm, he eyed the door to his right. Your bedroom. And within seconds, he was already through it. Entering your privacy without a hint of hesitance.
Why would he? He'd been here before. Rummaged through your wardrobe. Sprayed some of the cherry perfume on his sweater. Buried his face into your pillow and whined. Nearly humped your fucking blanket while he was at it.
This room was simply second nature. An encyclopedia of his crippling, damning obsession. From your desk laid neatly with highlights aligned beside your strawberry notebooks. To your wardrobe that hung your favourite silk gown. The rows of shoes that lined the foot of your bed. He knew everything. Every inch. Every belonging. Even that cute collection of toys you kept in your bedside.
Satoru liked to delude himself with the idea that you thought of him when you played with yourself.
He pushed your bathroom door open. Shuddered as his hand brushed over your towel that you hung over it. He couldn't help but nudge the corner of his face against the softness. Nuzzling into the slightly damp, peachy fabric. Ghosting his lips over it as he sucked in a deep, shaky breath.
But he wasn't here for that.
The hamper glowed in the corner. Drawing him in. Inviting him. With the strand of your hair still clenched tight in his palm, his other hand rummaged through your laundry.
Shirts, shorts, skirts, that little dress that drove him wild on Friday. The scent of your musk and that irresistible, irritating perfume fanned his face and consumed his senses. Hazing his already spinning mind as he searched for gold.
Found it.
Snatching the lace around his fingers and yanking it from the pile, Satoru dangled the thin fabric before his eyes. Pretty, pink, panties.
His favourite pair.
His breath staggered out of him as he resisted the urge to bury his nose deep in the gusset and suffocate on your sweet scent. The thick throbbing between his legs told him he wouldn't leave the cold bathroom tiles if he gave in now.
Instead, he pushed himself up. Stumbled out of your room, slammed the door shut and rattled the dorm as he fumbled back to his bedroom.
Flopped back onto his bed. Fluffy white hair sprawled over his pillow and his glasses wobbled on his face. As he shoved the panties to his nose. Inhaling your scent in deep, desperate breaths. Panting. Huffing.
His other hand shot to his pants. Popped the button open and yanked down his boxers to spring out his already hard cock. It slapped back on his tummy and stained him in a filthy smear of precum.
"Fuck you," his groan muffled as he mouthed on the fabric. Tongue teasing the gusset. Trying to taste the remnants of you as he squeezed the base of his throbbing cock. Jutting his thumb against the underside vein and pumping himself dry.
What was that you said about him 'fisting it to a textbook'? If only you could see him now. Face blotched. Glasses fogged. Fucking his hand and suffocating on the sweet musk of your pussy.
Satoru was a greedy man. He shoved the fabric to his face and bit into the lace so that he could fumble his phone out of his pocket. Swipe to his hidden folder. Type in the password to the little subscription he tucked away in the depths of his device.
His favourite camgirl should get him there. He paid for her highest tier, after all.
Spotting the newest video, he groaned in shameful delight into your panties as he jabbed his thumb on the screen and propped it just right. For him to see everything. A pretty pussy on display just for him as she swallowed up a pink, silicone cock.
Your panties strung around his cock now. Smearing in his precum as he fisted with his recklessly pumping hand. Moans spurring into the thick air. Hot, heavy, whined and whimpered as he rolled his hips up.
His fogged glasses fixed to the video. Of another cunt squeezing so pretty around the base of the toy as his favourite camgirl put on a show.
She whispered something to the camera. Soft, and smooth. It thrummed something deep within him and quickened his already desperate pace.
Then, oh. She was trying to wreck him. She sat up. Positioninged herself over a pillow. Shifted the angle so that she could bounce on her favourite dildo and whine about how it was so much better when she rode his cock.
"Shit," he croaked, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes as his breath stuttered. Pathetic. Not the pinnacle of the science department when he was fucking his fist and imagining you riding his dick. In those knee-high boots. That short skirt. With these panties pulled to the side and soaked in all the cum he wanted so desperately to pump into you endlessly.
Fluttering eyes focused back on the screen. Eager to make himself cum at least once before the pretty girl on his screen did.
Fasterâ and fasterâ and desperate, and feral. Untilâ
He caught something in the corner of the video.
Something fluffy. Peachy. Strung on the door of the camgirl's room.
For the first time since you left and he plucked that strand of your hair from the floorâ Satoru's world stilled. Tilted.
Ignoring the insistent pulse in his palm, his thumb smacked on the screen. Paused the video as he sat up in a blur. Stared at the scene.
That peachy thing that hung on the door in the video. That.
He blinked. Looked down at your ruined panties bunched around his leaking dick. Thought about how he got them. How he came into your room. Went to your bathroom door. Nuzzled that.
That. Peachy towel. Oh.
Oh.
⥠âË⧠want more? find the full fic on my patreon <3
Š đđđđđđđđđđđđđđđ. no plagiarism or ai training authorised. divider: @/angeliicide & @/pixopix . art cred: @/9enesiass
I want to lick the crevices between your brain to just get a crumb of the thought process for these ideas you come up with. PLEASE ADD ME TO THE TAGLIST
wc: ~22k (iâm sorry omg) | cw: 1k special!! fratjo! heavy smut, lots of filth, hints of fluff, possessive/obsessive tendencies, toxic relationship dynamics, lil corruption kink, jealousy, unprotected sex, oral sex (m + f), too many creampies, huge breeding kink, degradation/praise, accidental? pregnancy, contraceptive failure, use of alcohol, frat culture, gojoâs lowk evil, explicit language, use of pet names (baby, princess), dark romance vibes, readerâs dad is basically tom brady lmao
summary: the hottest frat boy at usc, satoru gojo, becomes obsessed with you and develops a kink he was never supposed to have.
ËË°â˘*ââˇ
LIFE AS THE daughter of one of the greatest quarterbacks to ever step foot on a football field shouldâve been considered a dream come true, and in most aspects, it was.
You grew up in the nicest suburbs of Boston, got whatever it was you wanted, traveled on first-class flights before you were old enough to spell, had a father who treated you like gold in human form.
But, that last one? Yeah, that was the problem.
Being adored feels a lot like being controlled when youâre the only daughter of a man the entire country worships. Because in hindsight, you were. Not purposely, of course. You were daddyâs little princess from day one, which meant he needed to protect you at all costs.
From the moment you entered your elite preppy high school at age fourteen, that was when his watchful eye sharpened into one that never stopped watching. As a hall of fame athlete, a New England Patriots legend, heâs seen too much of this world to know that he needs to keep his precious girl safe from it all.
And when he retired? It got so much worse. He was always there. Which basically meant you couldnât do anything without him knowing or without his permission.
Your best friend, Blair, who lived two houses down, lived the life you wished you could. Another rich, preppy privileged girl, yes, but one with parents who didnât give a single fuck what she did. And sheâs been partying since, wellâŚforever.
She lost her virginity in the bathroom of a Red Sox game, threw a rager so big when her parents left for Saint Barts she got suspended for two weeks, snuck out of the house so often she practically wore a path through your backyard.
She begged you to join her. To come out and have fun, be a normal teenager, but you never could. Sometimes you wondered if your father even realized heâd built a cage around youâa gilded, loving, suffocating one. And you were tired of not being able to live life to the fullest.
Which is why when the time finally came to decide on college? You knew you had to choose the furthest plausible option. You also knew that wherever you went, would have to be with Blair.
So the two of you sat down and planned it. She listed all sorts of schools, Miami, Alabama, Ohio State, Wisconsin, all known for their party scene, but they werenât far enough in your eyes.
Then, the idea hit you. California. All the way across the country, nice ass weather with no brutal winters, huge nightlife. It ticks every single box.
âHow about USC?â You suggested.
Blairâs eyes widened like sheâd won the lottery, âThatâs it! Thatâs the fucking school. Weâre applyingâtoday.â
You indeed did apply that same day, keeping all of it, every whispered dream of palm trees and frat parties, a secret from your father. He didnât need to find out that you were plotting your escape. Only if you got accepted, would you tell him.
After applying, came the long, excruciating wait. Every notification made your heart jump, every morning felt loaded with possibility and impending doom, but then on a random Tuesday afternoon after school, Blair got an email. You were sprawled across her bed when her phone dinged and when she checked it she froze, slowly looking at you, âNo fucking way.â
Your heart stopped, âWhat?â
She glanced back at her screen as if it might disappear, âBitchâŚI got in!â
You barely had time to process it before she launched herself at you, both of you collapsing onto the bed in a fit of hysterical laughter, âCheck yours,â She demanded, already grabbing your laptop.
Your hands shook as you logged into the portal and when the screen flashed in red and gold, Congratulations! We are pleased to offer you admission to the University of Southern CaliforniaâŚ
Your vision blurred, you were going to finally leave Boston and remove the shackles. Blair grabbed your shoulder, âYouâre free, babe.â
The word hit differentlyâfree. But not yet, because you still had to tell him.
You waited until dinner, when the house was calm and your father set down his fork and asked warmly, âHow was your day, princess?â
You pushed the printed copy of your acceptance letter across the table, watching as he unfolded it slowly. His sharp eyes scanned the words once, twice, then a third time, as if they might rearrange themselves into something less horrifying.
ââŚSouthern California?â He said at last, voice tight, âThatâs three thousand miles away.â
âI know.â
âAndâŚyou want to go there?â
âI do. Really bad.â
There was a heartbeat, a breath, a visible internal meltdown occurring within him, until he asked, âIs Blair going?â
âYes. She got in too.â
He exhaled through his nose like that single fact alone saved his life, though it probably shouldnât have. Sheâs the last person on Earth he should want going with you, but thankfully, heâs blissfully unaware of who she really is, âWell. I guess thatâs different.â
Your mother kicked him under the table, âJust say youâre proud of her, honey.â
He looked at you again, long, conflicted, and terrified, yet still soft, âI am proud of you,â He murmured, âYou know that. I justâŚyouâre my little girl. And California is far.â
âIâll be okay.â
He didnât believe that, not at all, but he nodded anyway, âThen I guessâŚUSC it is.â
Just like that, you were free. You could almost taste it. And now, months later, youâre hereâMove-in day.
The California sun hits hotter and brighter, like even the light feels less restrained than anything you ever knew in Boston. Your father sits restlessly in the rented SUV thatâs packed full with your belongings, your mother is in the passenger seat, Blair is following behind with her mom.
It shouldâve been a sweet, sentimental moment. College send-offs usually are, but this one? Yeah, it wasnât. Because in order to get to your dorms, you had to pass Greek Row, and your father sees everything he fears most.
A group of shirtless guys on a lawn, covered in sweat playing dye on an old, warped table. Two frat brothers throwing a football back and forth across the street like they own it, a cluster of girls in micro shorts walking toward one of the houses, someoneâs shotgunning a beer while blasting John Summit so loud it shakes the sidewalk. Your fatherâs hands tighten on the steering wheel so hard the leather creaks.
âOh,â Your mother murmurs gently, âLook at thatâŚschool spirit.â
He does not share the same sentiment. He stares, shell-shocked, shoulders squared like heâs preparing for war. One of the frat boys looks straight at the car, lifts his chin at you through the window, and smirks. Your dad nearly swerves into the closest telephone pole, âOh hell no,â He curses under his breath, âAbsolutely not. Over my dead bodyââ
âDad,â You warn softly, cheeks burning.
He tears his eyes away from the horror, but keeps muttering, âThis is a bad idea. This is a terrible idea. They let freshmen live near this? They let you live near this? Those boys areâTheyâreââ
âCollege students?â Your mom offers.
âDegenerates.â
You hide your smile behind your hand. Because the truth is, everything he saw that scared him? Is everything you wanted.
The noise, the craziness, the alcohol, the energy, theâŚboys. A world you were never allowed to touch is now directly outside your window.
Your father grips the wheel harder like heâs debating whether or not to spin the car around and drive your happy ass back to Boston himself, but he doesnât. He continues onward; straight to the dorms, your new life, and the one thing he could never fully controlâyour freedom.
But freedom, apparently, also comes with an audience. The moment your father pulls into the freshmen unloading zone, heads turn. A few students stop mid-conversation, some whisper, some donât even bother whispering. Phones lift in that sneaky, sideways way people use when they swear you wonât notice.
âIs thatâ?â
âThatâs him, right? Thatâs him?â
âDude, her dad is literally the goat.â
âWait, does that mean sheâsâ?â
You feel the heat crawl up your neck, but your father doesnât react. Heâs practiced at this, years of fan interactions, interviews, cameras shoved in his face at even the most inconvenient moments. Nothing really shakes himâwell, except the frat boys. Those do.
He steps out of the car and grabs your suitcase with one hand, posture straightening like heâs going on National TV. A couple of guys across the quad nudge each other when they recognize him, jaws dropping as if a God descended onto USCâs campus.
âSir!â One of them calls out, already pulling out his phone, âBig fan! LikeâŚhuge fan!â
âThank you,â Your father says with a polite nod, slipping seamlessly into his media smile and then, because the universe enjoys humor at your expense, another voice bursts from a group near the dorm steps.
âHoly shit, thatâs his daughter?â
You want to sink into the pavement, but your mom slips her arm through yours, âDonât mind them, sweetheart. Theyâre just excited.â
Blair, climbing out of her momâs BMW behind you, practically cackles, âOh my God,â She whispers gleefully, âYouâre famous already. Do you understand the power youâre about to wield?â
You glare at her, but sheâs too busy vibrating with excitement. Meanwhile, your father spots the second wave of frat brothers whoâve stopped tossing a football to stare openly at the scene unfolding, and stiffens.
His tone drops into one that is low and protective, âStay away from boys who look like that.â
âI will,â Oh, you most certainly wonât.
Once youâre all inside the dorm lobby, even more chaos ensues.
Athletes, business majors, engineering kids with lanyards all mingling, moving, dragging various pieces of furniture; and then thereâs the group of girls next to the elevators, eyes flicking between you and your father with thinly-veiled recognition.
One whispers, not nearly quiet enough, âYou think Gojoâs seen her yet?â
The other girl beside her giggles, âPlease. Someoneâs probably already told him.â
You freeze, Blairâs head snaps toward you like a bloodhound catching a scent, âNo way! Youâre being talked about by him?â
âWho is him?â
Blair lowers her voice, âOkay, soâremember how I stalked USC on TikTok for, like, two months straight?â
ââŚYeah?â
âWell,â She says, pushing her Prada sunglasses up her nose, âThereâs this international student from Japan, Satoru Gojo. Apparently the frat guy on campus. Junior, filthy rich, shameless, hot as fuck, total slut, owns a white Porsche, finance bro who probably fails all his classses, and ends up on every âhottest men at USCâ list.â
You stare at her, âAnd you know all of that from TikTok?â
âYep,â She says proudly, âI do my research.â
You open your mouth, then close it, âOkay, but what does any of that have to do withââ
Blair gestures vaguely at your face, âSexy freshman girl with famous NFL seven time Super Bowl Champion quarterback dad? Youâre deadass his exact type ofâŚproject.â
You almost choke, âProject?â
She nods sympathetically, âProject as inâŚheâd want to be the guy to ruin you for every other man on campus.â
Your father hears the word ruin and nearly breaks his own neck whipping around. Blair immediately straightens, innocent smile plastered onto her face.
âDonât worry,â She says softly out of the corner of her mouth, âYou probably wonât even meet him,â Then quieter, when she knows your father isnât eavesdropping, adds, âYouâre totally going to meet him.â
Your dorm room on the fourth floor is already propped open when you reach it. Small, bright with two twin beds and bare walls. Itâs nothing like the Boston mansion you grew up in, yet somehow itâs more exciting than any bedroom youâve ever had.
Blair lets out a delighted gasp, âWe live here? Oh my God, we actually live here!â
She races inside to claim her side of the room, throwing herself onto the bed next to the window. Your father stands in the doorway, scanning like heâs doing a threat assessment, âItâsâŚsmaller than I expected.â
âItâs a dorm, honey. Not the Ritz,â Your mother reminds him.
He hums, but does not relax in the slightest. And just like that, the four of you are unpacking boxes, hanging clothes, folding towels, arranging the mini-fridge that your father inspects with the seriousness of a homicide detective. He tests the door three times, plugs it into a power strip, unplugs it, inspects the outlet, then plugs it back in.
âDad,â You sigh, âItâs a fridge, not a life-support machine.â
âYou say that now,â He warns and you just chuckle.
Itâs chaos, but the warm kind. The kind youâll remember and cherish forever, yet also feels like the end of something and the beginning of quite literally everything else. At one point, Blair steps behind you to hang a string of fairy lights and whispers, âOkay, but seriouslyâimagine Gojo in this room.â
You elbow her so hard she drops a clip, your father spins around, âWhat was that?â
âNothing!â You and Blair answer in unison.
Your mother laughs softly. Your father absolutely does not.
Eventually, after your bedding is on, your father stands there at the foot of your bed with his hands on his hips. A silence settles, one that says that this is real, this is happening, and this is goodbye. For now.
He checks his watch, again. Heâs been doing it all morning. He has a flight to Oregon to catchâthe new job he picked up right after you announced you were moving across the country. He needed the distraction, otherwise heâd be stuck in Boston all day, thinking about what youâre doing out hereâŚand what you probably shouldnât be doing.
Heâs a commentator for College GameDay. Covering the biggest football games of the year, traveling to each host school every week, however, he shouldâve left ten minutes ago. But he just canât.
âPrincess,â He says quietly, âYou sure you want this?â
You nod, heart pounding with the thrill of independence, but your face softens into the kind of innocent expression that always makes him melt, and youâve absolutely learned how to weaponize it.
âI do,â You say softly, then perfectly timed and aimed, you hit him with the, âButâŚdo you really have to leave so soon?â
His entire chest caves in, âOh, sweeheartâŚâ His voice thickens immediately, âI donât want to. I wish I could stay with you the whole day.â
Inside, youâre buzzing, thinking, please leave already. Oh my God, leave and let me live.
But outside? You look up at him with big, sad, puppy dog eyes, âIâll miss you.â
He pulls you into a crushing hug, âIâll miss you more,â He murmurs, âSo much more. I hate the timing of this stupid College GameDay thingâI should be here helping you settle in, not rushing to the airport.â
You cling just enough to sell it, but not make him change his mind and stay, âItâs okay, daddy,â You say, ultra sweet, âYou have to work.â
He sniffles, âIâll FaceTime you from Oregon,â He promises, âEvery night.â
You nod against his chest, all gentle affection while your internal monologue screams, yes, yes, yes. Commentate on football and go.
Your mom steps in next, hugging you warmly, âCall whenever you need anything. And maybeâŚdonât tell your father everything youâre doing.â
Your father shoots her a look of the utmost betrayal, she ignores it. Blair hugs them both dramatically, âYou guys are like my second parents. Iâll miss you too.â
Then he steps away, still unwilling, still staring at you like youâre five years old heading into kindergarten instead of nearly nineteen. He wipes his palms on his jeans and breathes out shakily, âOkay. Okay, I can do this. Youâll be fine. Youâll be safe. Blair, keep her away fromââ
âBoys?â She fills in the blank.
âExactly.â
You almost laugh as he heads for the door, pauses, and looks back one last time, âYou sure youâll be okay without me?â
You nod sweetly, oh so, so sweetly, âIâll manage.â
Resigned, he gives you one last look and disappears down the hallway with your mother. The moment theyâre gone, Blair turns to you, deadpan, âOh, you are one evil bitch.â
But youâre not pretending anymore. A slow, wicked grin spreads across your face, one youâve been holding back for years, âBlair,â You breathe, âI am finally free.â
And somewhere down Greek Row, in a house with bass shaking the floorboards, a brother with white hair and blazing blue eyes checks his phone, seeing the group chatâs new messages.
sig chi or die
ryan: yo gojo you see the qbâs daughter?
ryan: she just moved in and sheâs BADDDD
And he smiles, one full malicious intent. He hasnât seen you yet, but he already plans to.
Blair gives you exactly ten seconds of peace after your parents leave before she turns to you, eyes manic with purpose, âAlright. Put on something slutty. Weâre celebrating.â
âWe literally just unpacked.â
âExactly!â She says, already digging through her suitcase, âSigma Chi is open for business and so are we.â
You laugh, half nerves, half adrenaline as she tosses the tiniest black skirt youâve ever seen your way and a cropped baby tee. You catch it, then go still, because across the chest in red rhinestones it says, Let Them Eat Cunt.
âBlair.â
She beams like itâs the funniest joke on Earth, âI got it custom-made. For today. For your whore arc!â
âMy dad would literally die if he saw this.â
âI know,â She says proudly, âNow put it on.â
You hesitate for only one second, then slide both the shirt and skirt on. The moment you do, Blair makes a strangled noise, âOh my God, bitch. The guys are going to lose their fucking minds.â
You look at yourself in the mirror; skirt so short it could be considered a napkin, rhinestoned filth across your boobs, lips perfectly glossed and instead of nerves, a spark catches in your bloodstream. This is what youâve been waiting for.
âYes,â You murmur, adjusting the hem, âThey will.â
Blair freezes, âOh? Oh?â
âBlair,â You say, meeting her eyes in the mirror, âI didnât move across the country to behave.â
She shrieks into her palms, âYou are out for blood tonight.â
âDick, actually,â You correct calmly, âIâm out for dick.â
Her soul leaves her body, âOh my Godâyes! Say it again!â
âI want to get drunk,â You explain, âI want a hot guy. And I want to erase the last eighteen years of being babysat.â
Blair is feigning tears, âThis is everything Iâve ever prayed for. I feel like a mother watching her child blossom into a slutty flower.â
âLetâs bloom, then,â You grab your phone, keys, and head for the door without a semblance of doubt.
Blair scrambles after you, âWait, slow downâ!â
âI have places to be,â You coo, already striding down the hallway.
âWe havenât even pregamed!â
âSig Chi has alcohol,â She laughs manically at that and follows you outside into the California heat.
The walk over is brutally short, every step feels like peeling off another layer of innocence, the music from Greek Row growing louder, deeper, and dirtier. Blair bumps your shoulder, grinning slyly, âYou knowâŚheâs probably there. This is his frat.â
You already know who sheâs referring toâŚGojo. Again with this guy?
You roll your eyes fondly, âBlair, you havenât even seen him.â
âOh, but on TikTok I have,â She says, âAnd trust meâforeign rich boys? Theyâre always the ones who fuck like theyâve got something to prove.â
That piques your interest. Maybe, just maybe youâd have to find that one out for yourself.
You round the corner and Sig Chi rises ahead of you. Three stories in all its glory, music blaring, people spilling across the lawn, lights pulsing behind the windows.
Blair squeezes your hand, wicked grin glued to her face, âOkay. Deep breath, babe. Act natural.â
âI am natural.â
âNot with you wearing that shirt.â
You scoff as you step inside and the frat swallows you whole. Itâs loud and cramped, bodies swaying under LED lights, the smell of beer and flavored vape clouds hanging in the air. A table of jungle juice sits in the corner, multiple couples are making out aggressively against walls, and then, you see him.
You donât even realize itâs him at first, you just registerâabsurdly tall, insanely built, ocean eyes, broad shoulders, cut-off muscle tee showing biceps carved by God himself, LA Dodgers snapback backwards on his white hair, laughing lazily with two girls hanging off him like decorations.
So, this is the infamous Satoru Gojo. No wonder why he runs USC. Heâs hot as fuck and knows it. Heâs leaning against the kitchen island like itâs his throne, until one of the brothers near him nudges his shoulder.
âYo, QBâs daughter just walked in.â
Gojo doesnât react immediately, he never does. Instead, he finishes whatever joke he was saying, grinning, dimples deep, girls giggling into his ribs.
Then, slowly, he looks up. The moment his eyes find you? Everything stops. The flirting, the talking, the lazy smileâgone.
His mouth parts just a little, eyes raking down your body, the skirt, your legs, and then eventually stopping right on your shirt. For a split second, he genuinely looks stunned, but then?
Oh, he smirks. A slow, sinful curl of his lips like all of his dreams have finally come true.
You donât answer, because he isnât just staring. Heâs studying, recognizing, and realizing. Because he knows who you are, everyone does. Youâre the football dynasty princess, Boston royalty, a girl whose father could call the dean of USC directly and have a frat shut down in ten minutes flat.
And yet, here you are. In that shirt, in his house, looking like trouble he suddenly, desperately wants.
A girl he wants to ruin before anyone else has the chance to.
He straightens up from the counter and sheds the girls clinging to him without a second glance. They look confused and annoyed, but he doesnât give a shit. He was never one to care about girlsâ feelings anyway.
His eyes stay locked on you. Blair inhales sharply, âOh my Godâhe clocked you. He fully clocked you, bitch.â
You swallow as he continues to stare, smirk, and look at your shirt like he wants to frame it above his bed. Then, he murmurs something to the guys beside him, still not breaking eye contact, and you feel itâthe shift, the moment the king of Sig Chi decides heâs going to make you his next conquest.
Blair elbows you, âI swear to God if you donât at least talk to himââ
âBlairââ
âNo, shut the fuck up. Iâm your wingwoman. Iâm morally obligated to get you laid.â
You exhale, pulse electric, heat flickering under your skin as Gojo starts to move. Not toward you yet, but closer. Circling, watching, like a wolf that noticed the rabbit wasnât scared of him.
You catch his eyes again, sharp blue under the brim of his backwards hat, and this time, he tilts his head. Acknowledgment, interest, amusement, and mouths something. Blair grips your arm, âWhat did he say?â
You gulp because you know exactly what he said. Two simple words, as clear as day, âNice shirt.â
Her grip on your arm grows so taut your circulation stops, âOkay, holy shit. We need to get drinks right now or Iâm going to pass out.â
You let her drag you toward the jungle juice table, but you feel his eyes following you. Every step you take, every sway of your skirt, his gaze is glued to it like heâs trying to memorize your movements.
Blair shoves a cup into your hand and whispers, âHeâs coming over. I repeat, he is coming over!â
âDonât look,â You whisper back.
âIâm not,â She lies, staring directly at him.
You take a sip of the juice; sweet, disgusting, perfect, and then, Gojo appears. He leans one shoulder against the wall beside the drinks table, arms crossing slowly, biceps flexing under his cut-off tee, snapback still backwards, silver-white hair falling into his eyes. Heâs taller up close, annoyingly so, towering even with the casual slouch.
He looks at your face first, then your shirt again, and smirks, âBold choice,â He drawls, voice low and painfully self-assured, âYou always introduce yourself with your chest, or is tonight special?â
Blair chokes on her drink, you swallow, âItâs a shirt, not a dissertation.â
He grins, cocky and fucking lethal, âCouldâve fooled me,â He murmurs, eyes dipping to your bare stomach, your hips, your legs, âThat thingâs doing a lot of talking.â
Your heart flips, but you refuse to fold so soon, âThen stop staring at it.â
He laughs, quiet, dangerously pleased, and drags his eyes upward until they lock directly with yours, âOh, princess,â He says softly, like he already knows the nickname from his mouth will ruin you, âIâm not staring at the shirt.â
Your breath hitches as Gojoâs tongue slides across the inside of his cheek before he tilts his head, diverting conversation, âYouâre new.â
âFreshman.â
âNo shit,â His smile widens, âI meant new as inâŚno one hereâs touched you yet.â
Blair coughs so violently she has to turn away, your cheeks heat, âWhy would you assume that?â
He shrugs, bending slightly to dip his cup in the jungle juice bowl, filling it lazily, eyes never leaving you, âBecause Iâve never seen guys on my lawn look so fucking scared.â
âScared?â
His smirk grows, possessive and knowing, âThey were staring at you like youâre a grenade with the pin half-pulled. Pretty skirt, filthy shirt, famous daddy?â He takes a slow sip of his drink, âYeah. Theyâre terrified.â
You open your mouth, but he steps closer, close enough that you can smell his cologneâclean, expensive, a bit woodsy. His voice drops to something only you can hear, âBut Iâm not.â
Your pulse stutters and he notices, of course he does. Heâs got girlsâ body language down to a fucking tee. He leans in, lips grazing the shell of your ear, âYou walk into my house wearing that,â He whispers, âAnd you really think Iâm letting anyone else talk to you first?â
Your soul leaves your body. He pulls back just a bit, eyes locking onto yours again, darkened now and unblinking; his smirk softens as he nods to the crowd, âGuys are already looking,â He says, almost dismissive, âThinking about walking over.â
He lifts your chin with one knuckle, light as a tease, heavy as a claim, âBut theyâre not going to.â
Your lips part, âWhy not?â
Gojo smiles, wicked, "Because youâre talking to me.â
Something hot shivers down your spine. Blair, silently screams in triumph. Gojo watches your reaction like he wants to eat it almost as much as he wants to eat you.
Then he lowers his voice even further, âAnd if any other guy touches you tonight?â He taps the rim of his cup against your, a subtle clink, âTheyâre dead.â
Your heart slams against your ribs, he smirks again, âYou donât even get what that shirtâs doing to people,â He says, leaning back just slightly to give you a moment to breathe, but not space to escape, âBut itâs okay. Iâll show you.â
Your mouth goes dry. He straightens up, flicks his eyes over your legs one more time, and adds softly, âStay where I can see you.â
Then he walks off, not far, but far enough to make you watch and to tell every brother and guy in the house that youâre his.
Not yet. Not fully. But donât even fucking try.
Blair is still gripping your arm like a talon when Gojo strolls off, leaving you breathless, dazed, and partially frenzied.
âHoly shit,â Blair hisses, âOkay. Okay. We need more alc immediately. You need to ride the confidence wave.â
âIâmâŚpretty sure confidence isnât my problem right now.â
âNo,â She agrees, dragging you toward the bar counter, âYour problem is wanting to climb that man like a tree, but thatâs what vodka is for. Loosen up, be the slut you were born to be.â
You snort so hard you almost trip. The kitchen island is cluttered with liquor bottles, chasers, cups, and three guys already pouring shots.
Blair slaps her palms on the counter, announcing way too proudly, âThis is my best friend! She is having her slut awakening tonight, if you care!â
âBlairâ!â
They shout like theyâve just been told USC won the national championship. One of them, a blond with aviators on indoors, grins at you, âYou taking shots or you just gonna stand there and look hot?â
Blair gasps, offended on your behalf. You roll your eyes and reach for the Titoâs bottle. Blond aviators whistles, âOh, sheâs going straight for the hard stuff.â
Blair squeals, âOh, sweetheart, you have no idea.â
You raise the bottle, âWaitââ Blair warns.
Too late, youâre already taking a deep, burning, reckless swig. The kitchen collectively screams and you cough once, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, âFuck.â
Blair smacks the counter, beaming, âYes! Thatâs my best friend!â
Someone shoves a red cup into your hand, another chanting, âChug! Chug! Chug!â
So you do, because why the hell not? This moment has been eighteen years in the making and the drink is warm, disgusting, and makes your head pleasantly light.
Blair hops onto the counter, already dancing, âI am so proud of you!â
Guys around you start cheering harder, forming a half-circle as if youâre performing, and you laughâdizzy and loud.
For the first time in your life, youâre not a quarterbackâs daughter with curfews and rules and expectations. Youâre just a girl in a filthy shirt getting worshipped by a kitchen full of frat brothers.
One leans in, too close, grinning, âSo, uhâyou rushing? Because we were thinkingââ
Another cuts him off, slinging an arm around his shoulders, ââthinking we should make you Sig Chiâs sweetheart.â
Blair snaps her gaze to you, giggles erupting, âOh my God, (Y/N), theyâre already trying to crown you.â
The first guy leans closer, bold with liquid courage, âYouâd run this place.â
âYeah?â You tease, voice looser than normal, âWhat would I get out of it?â
He smirks, âPriority at every party. Your own room. Free booze. Andââ
Before you can even smile, a low voice cuts through the kitchen like a knife, âWho the fuck told you idiots you could talk to her?â
Gojo stands in the doorway, cup in hand, expression blank and walks in with the crowd parting for him like the Red Sea, âYou boys drunk or just dumb as fuck?â
âGojo, we wereââ
âDonât speak,â He snaps, stepping closer, âYou think you can âcrownâ girls now? Offer them rooms? Priority access?" He laughs once, âYou canât even organize a mixer without me holding your hands.â
One brother stiffens, âGojo, come onââ
Gojo turns his head slowly, âYou interrupting me?â The guy goes pale, Gojoâs voice drops, âAs active brothers youâre supposed to know the rules,â He nods over toward you, âAnd rule number oneâyou donât approach girls Iâm watching.â
A ripple flows through the kitchen, âG-Gojoââ
âProbation,â He replies simply, âAll three of you,â Their faces drop, âNo parties. No tailgates. No socials. Youâre on cleanup duty for two weeks with the Pledges.â
The room detonates with whispers, âAnd if you ever look at her again? Iâll pull your letters myself,â They stare at him horrified, âNow, get the fuck out of my kitchen.â
The brothers scatter like roaches and Gojo turns to you, âHaving fun?â He asks, voice warm again, teasing the way only danger could.
âM-Maybe.â
He steps closer; his knee brushes your thigh, the scent of his cologne wraps around your spine, and the buzz of the vodka evaporates from how stupid hot this is, âI thought I told you to stay where I could see you.â
Your heart jumps, heat rushing straight into your stomach, âI didnât go anywhere.â
His eyes flick down your body, slow and deliberate, âOh, you went everywhere,â He says, âGuys over here. Guys over there. Taking shots on my counter like youâre trying to get a reaction.â
Blair is wheezing into her cup somewhere behind you. You lift your chin, âWhatâdid it bother you?â
His jaw ticks, just once, but you feel it like a pulse under your skin. He steps closer, body angling into yours, hand coming down beside your hip on the counter. Heâs caging you in without even touching.
âIt bothered me,â He says quietly, âHow much fun you were having without me,â Your stomach churns, his voice drops further, âDidnât like seeing other guys look at you like that.â
âYou told them off,â You remind him.
âI shouldnât have had to.â
Your mouth opens, he watches you reactâyour pulse, your breathing, and soaks it up like it feeds him, âYouâre drunk,â He says, eyes glinting, âBut youâre not stupid.â
âMeaningâŚ?â
He leans in, lips brushing your jaw, âMeaning you know exactly what youâre doing.â
Your thighs press together on instinct and he catches it, something daring flickers across his expression; hunger, annoyance, restraint, then he nods toward the staircase, âCome with me.â
âWhere?â
He smirks in the way he always does before hooking up with girls, âUpstairs.â
Your breath falters, âWhy?â
He takes your wrist gently, shockingly gentle for someone with such big hands, and pulls you away from the counter. His thumb slides across your pulse point, âYou want me to say it?â
You shouldnât. You really, really shouldnât. But you nod.
His eyes drag down to your shirt again, bold letters across your chest, daring the world. He lifts his gaze back to yours, âBecause, princessâŚâ He murmurs, voice an unholy whisper, ââŚI wanna do what your shirt says.â
Your knees nearly give and Gojoâs hand tightens on your wrist, âCome upstairs,â He says again, firmer this time, âBefore I do something stupid right here.â
You donât think or even breathe, you just let him lead you through the kitchen, past the music, up the stairs; his hand warm and unyielding around yours, every step feeling like the point of no return, and everyone watches.
Because the king of Sig Chi just bagged the coveted QBâs daughter.
Gojo hears all their whispered words, but they donât affect him. He just smirks over his shoulder, hand still wrapped around your wrist, doing what heâs done almost a hundred times before, and keeps walking.
Up the stairs, down the hall, past guys who stop talking just to watch you go. You can feel the attention, the shock, the rumors already spreading like wildfire and the second the door to his room shuts, heâs on you.
His mouth crashes onto yours before your back even hits the door, one hand sliding into your hair, the other gripping your waist and dragging you closer until thereâs no space between you. Your hands fist in the hem of his shirt; he groans into your mouth, the sound dark, low, sinful.
And then Gojo doesnât walk you to the bed, no. He throws you onto it. One push to your hips and you fall back onto his mattress, bouncing once; he stands at the edge for a second, just looking at you, chest rising, jaw tight, like heâs trying not to pounce too fast.
Then he laughs under his breath. A quiet, disbelieving sound. Heâs had all types of girls on this bedâsorority girls, party girls, girls who begged for his attention, but none of them ever looked like this.
His shirt rides up as he pulls his hat off to run a hand through his hair, eyes raking over every inch of you. The skirt pushed high, the lewd baby tee, your glossy lips parted from panting.
Youâre not like the othersâŚyouâre worse. Youâre a good girl, not his usual type, not ran through; temptation he was never supposed to touch, the quarterbackâs daughter with the perfect reputation, and the perfect face, and the perfect body heâs dying to destroy.
His laughter fades, replaced by something darker and hungrier as he steps closer, eyes dragging over you like heâs choosing which part of you to ruin first.
âYeah,â He murmurs, tone dropping, âI knew youâd look good on my bed.â
Then his hands, big and unforgiving, close around your thighs. He drags you down the mattress in one smooth, brutal pull, your skirt sliding up high on your hips, your breath punching out of your lungs.
Your ass hits the edge of the bed, legs falling open for him on instinct. Gojo inhales sharply like the sight of you hurts him, âFuck,â He breathes, half a laugh, half a groan, âYouâre gonna kill me.â
He doesnât climb onto the bed, doesnât join you, he just stands there, looming, tall and broad, with his thumbs pressed into the soft inner curve of your thighs; pushing them wider until the stretch borders on obscene.
You can feel your pulse now, between your legs, desperate and unable to ignore. He looks down at you like heâs about to pray to whatever god put you in front of him or ruin you for sport. You canât distinguish the two.
His fingers hook into the sides of your panties, âLift.â
You obey in an instant; he slides them down your legs slowly, savoring the reveal, until they hit the floor with a soft thud.
The second he sees you, bare and already wet for him, his jaw flexes, âJesus Christ,â He mutters, running a hand through white strands to control himself, âYouâre soaked.â
Heat floods your face at the sight, at the words, and he smirks because he can tell, âShy now?â He teases, âYou wore that shirt and came to my frat but thisââ His thumb barely grazes the inside of your thigh, nearly touching where you want him, ââthis is what makes you flush?â
You try to speak, but he doesnât let you. Instead, he bends deliberately slow, bringing his mouth closer until his breath hits your skin. Your thighs tense, it only makes him grip them harder, âRelax,â He coos, eyes lifting to yours from between your legs, âIâm gonna take care of you.â
You donât get a chance to register anything, he leans in and licks one long, slow stripe up your pussyâso slow you swear heâs doing it just to see how flustered youâll get from the first touch alone.
Your head falls back against the sheets and he laughs, a soft, smug sound that vibrates right into your core, âTaste so good,â He mutters, already going back in for more, âKnew you would.â
And then he loses himself. His hands slide under your thighs, lifting your hips off the edge of the bed, dragging you closer until your knees are hooked over his shoulders and his mouth is pressed fully against your sopping cunt.
He eats you like a man starved, depraved, one thatâs been waiting for this ever so patiently, and one whose life mission is to ruin you for every man who could ever come after him. His tongue flicks and circles and presses, âSatoruââ
He groans, the sound reverberating so deep your body shudders, âSay it again,â He says between licks, âFuck, say my name again.â
You do, over and over, because you simply canât not.
He tightens his grip on you, holding you still as he sucks your clit with a filthy reverence, and your back arches so hard your vision spots. Your legs try to close on instinct, but he doesnât allow it. Gojo pushes your thighs wider with his shoulders, pinning you open without even trying.
âYeahâŚâ He murmurs into your skin, breath so hot it makes you twitch, âKeep âem open for me.â
He dips his head again, sucking your clit into his mouth with a force that knocks a cry out of you and you try to wiggle away from the intensity, but he stops you.
He growls, a low warning, fingertips digging into your thighs, âOh no, youâre not running from this,â His voice drops, rough, entertained, and mean, âDaddyâs princess doesnât get to run.â
Your body jolts like he slapped you and he feels it; pausing for a second, his lips still brush your folds as he lifts those piercing blues to watch your reaction. A smirk cuts across his face.
âOh my fucking God,â He breathes, âYou liked that shit.â
You try to lie, âIâno.â
But you did like it. Some depraved, twisted part of you liked it.
He laughs, delighted, âYeah? You denying it?â He gives your cunt another slow lick, âCause your pretty pussyâs kinda telling me everything I need to know.â
Your face burns with shame, unable to stop the shrill sound that falls out of you. He groans, guttural and hungry, âHoly shitâdaddyâs good little girl getting off on being talked to like a slut?â
He moves closer to whisper directly on your skin, your lashes flutter from the warmth, âGuess daddyâs girl isnât so good anymore.â
You canât stop yourself from reacting to that, your hands yank his hair hard and he moans straight into your cunt at the pull, âOhh fuck yeah,â He hisses, âGive me that again, princess.â
You tug him once more, pushing him deeper into your core; your voice comes out small and shaky, âDonâtâŚwanna be goodâŚâ Gojo tenses, your next words fracture on a whisper that will haunt him forever, ââŚjust wanna be good for you.â
That line sends him into a frenzy, his mouth crashes back onto you sloppilyâtongue working like he wants to drag that confession out of you again, sucking your clit with a messy, perfect pressure that shatters your thoughts.
He holds you open as he devours you; thereâs no rhythm to it at all, just a man fully out of his fucking mind.
âSatoruâToruââ Your voice cracks as your orgasm slams through you with a force you didnât think possible.
And he groans like your pleasure pleases him, licking you through the entire climax, refusing to let go of you until you collapse onto the mattress, trembling.
When you do, he pulls back slowly; face glazed, breathing erratic, eyes wild, âFuck,â He whispers, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, âNeed to be inside you.â
He doesnât waste a minute, lifting you by the hips again both effortlessly and possessively, he drags you up the bed until your head hits his pillows.
âGoddamn, look at you,â He sneers, hovering, âAlready fucked dumb and I havenât even put my cock in you yet.â
You whimper helplessly as heâs already lining himself up; thick, flushed, heavy in his fist, and pushes in, sinking inch by inch into a pussy so tight his eyes flutter shut.
âAhhâfuck, princess,â His voice wavers, âYouâre gripping meâfucking gripping my shit alreadyââ
He tries to breathe properly, but fails miserably, âGod, youâre so fuckinâ tight. Feels insane.â
He pulls out, pushes back in deeper this time, and your cry is instant. Itâs music to his ears, âYeahâŚthatâs it. Take it. All of it.â
His pace builds, slow at first, then faster, angling to hit the spot that makes your nails drag down his back. When you clamp around him, his breath stutters, âOh my Godâdonât do that shit,â His hips jerk without his permission, âFuck, Iâm trying to pull outâIâm trying.â
But heâs not. Heâs lying.
You feel it in the way he grips your thighs harder, his hips snapping deeper, the shudder that runs down his spine like heâs fighting himself.
âToruââ
He cuts you off with a broken groan, âIâm trying to pull out, I swear. But your pussyâshit, wonât let me.â
Your walls clench around him again and he grunts, forehead pressing to your cheek, âPrincessâstop squeezing, fuck.â
He tries to pull back this time. He really does, but he canât. Youâre too warm, too tight, and way too fucking wet from how good he ate you out.
âOhâno, no, no,â He chokes out, âFuckâI canât, I canât.â
His thrusts turn frantic and the filth spills right out of him, âShit, I-Iâm gonna cumâinside,â His hips slam into yours, desperate, âCanât pull out. Fuck, I canâtâpussy wonât let me.â
Your nails claw into him now, so hard itâs certain to leave marks, and thatâs what ends him, âFuck,â He drags the word out, burying himself all the way to the hilt, and cums right inside you.
Spilling into you in long, uncontrollable pulses, hot and thick. He groans into your neck, âGodâfuck, fuck, princessâcumminâ in youâso deep, shit.â
Each spurt drags another sound out of him, almost pained with a hint of reverence; his hips keep spasming and he stuffs himself deeper, like he canât help it.
When you finally finish milking him dry, he lifts his head, looks down between your bodies, and sees it.
Where heâs still inside you, how full you are, a ring of white already gathering around the base of his cock and something shifts in him, ââŚHoly fuck.â
You blink, dazed, âWhat?â
He doesnât hear you at all, eyes glued to the sight of you stretched around him, dick nestled in you like it belongs there. His tone drops into something low and stunned, âIâI really came in you.â
You nod weakly, out of breath, âMhm.â
He swallows hard, but doesnât pull out. Instead, he presses in even deeper, like he needs to feel it one more time. You gasp and he throws his head back, âOh my GodâŚâ He mutters, almost to himself, ââŚitâs so warm.â
He runs his hand down your stomach, stopping right above where heâs still buried. Then he pushes gently, just enough to feel his load shift deeper, and you whimper.
âShitâŚâ His voice is nothing but pure, filthy awe, âIâve neverâŚfuck, Iâve never done that before. I donât even fuck raw.â
You expect panic, but what hits him is the opposite. A wave of feral, possessive pleasure that lights up every neuron in his brain. He exhales shakily, eyes flicking up to yours with an emotion that looks close to worship.
âPrincessâŚâ Heâs smiling, a crooked one, âThat felt fucking incredible.â
Your stomach flips, because heâs right. It really fucking did.
He lifts your thigh higher on his hip like he wants to see everything and have this visual burned into his mind forever, âFuckâŚâ He whispers, chest rising faster, âYou took all of it.â
His fingers gently spread you open around him, his cum spills out just a little, and he moans, âOhh, fuckâlook at thatâŚâ A soft laugh falls from his lips. Youâve never seen a man look so corrupted by his own desire.
But then, reality slaps him across the face, âOh shit. Shit, shit, waitâno, no, noââ He drags a trembling hand through his mussed hair, expression fracturing between pleasure and dread, ââI cannot believe I just fucking did that.â
âSatoruââ
He cuts you off, still staring at the wetness leaking around him, âI meanâŚThat was fuckinâ crazyâlike way too good. Scary good. I get it now.â
Your pulse trips, âBut alsoââ He finally pulls out and when more of his cum spills onto the sheets he moans again, âFuck, okayâwe need to go. Now. Like now-now.â
You raise a brow, âYouâre freaking out?â
His eyes snap up to you, âDo I look like Iâm freaking out?â He gestures at your pussy, âI just creampied the girl whose dad could literally shut down our chapter. Of fucking course Iâm freaking out.â
But then he pauses, glancing down at you, your thighs, the mess between them, and something hot flickers back onto his face, âNot gonna lie thoughâŚit looked really fucking good.â
Heat floods your cheeks and he smirks, clapping his hands once decisively, âOkay. Get up. We need a Plan B before I start thinking with my dick again.â
Youâre still trembling, the last of his load spilling out onto the sheets, and he stares at itâat you, for a second too long, chest rising like heâs physically restraining himself from going back inside.
But then he steps away, fast, a black hoodie already in his grip when he barks out, âUp. Now.â
Youâre in a haze, legs barely working, but his urgency snaps you out of it. You sit up, shaking, pulling your skirt and panties back into place.
Gojoâs already dressed, hoodie thrown over his head, white tendrils sticking out, jaw clenched so hard you can see the muscle twitch, âSatoruâŚâ
His sharp eyes cut to you, wide from leftover adrenaline, âNot now,â He says quietly, âWe canât talk right now.â
Because heâll lose it and heâs hardening again, even with his cum leaking out of you, âLetâs go.â
You barely get your shoes on before heâs grabbing your hand and leading you out the room, down the stairs, and through the pulsing music, ignoring every brother who tries to high-five him and every girl who wants to touch him.
Heâs too wound up and aware of the possibility sitting warm between your legs.
Outside, the cool west coast air hits, but it does nothing to help him. His grip stays taut on your hand, guiding you quickly down the sidewalk, away from Sig Chi and anyone who might see him like this.
He doesnât speak to you, not once, but you can hear his uneven breathing and every few steps he mumbles something nearly inaudible.
âFucking dumbassâŚâ
âShouldâve pulledâŚâ
âEvil ass pussyâŚâ
However, thank God for college towns and their love for twenty-four hour pharmacies; a CVS sign glows bright up ahead and Gojo moves quicker, beelining it with you in tow.
Once inside, he pauses at the automatic doors, lifting his hood higher to shield his face, then walks straight to the family planning aisle. He doesnât hesitate, thereâs no need to browse or think, he just grabs the Plan B box so fast the air moves with it and heads for self-checkout.
No cashiers, no chance for eye contact, no witnesses. Heâd rather be shot dead than caught lacking like this. If anyone found out that Satoru Gojo had a weak ass pull-out game, heâd lose all sense of power on campus.
He scans the box with tottering hands, grabs a bottle of water from the mini cooler next to the register, pays in cash, and throws the receipt away as soon as it prints. Only then, does he finally look at you, âCome on.â
The two of you make it maybe ten steps outside before heâs gnawing the Plan B box open with his teeth. He places the tiny pill in your hand and shoves the water at you, âTake it.â
He watches every centimeter of movement; the pill hitting your tongue, the rim of the bottle on your lips, and the bob of your throat when itâs all swallowed.
When itâs done, his shoulders fall, showing you how fucking scared he actually was, âOkayâŚâ He murmurs, nodding, âOkay. Crisis averted.â
But then you shift your weight and his gaze drops to your legs, the memory of how you squeezed around him hits, ââŚFuck.â
âWhat?â
His voice is quieter now, âYou look way too good right now for someone I almost got pregnant.â
You laugh softly, but he doesnât. Thereâs not even a flicker of amusement behind those bright eyes. He steps closer though, hand lifting to your face, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth, âCome here.â
Gojo tilts your chin up, scanning all of your features with that same predatory focus he had right before he got on his knees for you. Then, he speaks like heâs laying down scripture. A speech heâs given to hundreds of girls before, youâre sure.
âAlright, princess. We need to set some ground rules.â
âRules?â
His thumb grazes your lip, âNumber one,â He says, tone steady, âThis is just sex. Nothing more.â
You gulp as he continues, âNumber two. I will never be your boyfriend.â
That one stings for reasons unknown. You nod anyway, âNumber three. You donât ask who Iâm seeing.â
So he still plans on seeing other girls. Okay.
âNumber fourâŚâ He steps closer, so close you think he might kiss you, ââŚwhen I want you, I get you.â
The way he says it makes your stomach flip violently, âAnd number five,â He adds, âYou donât let any other guy touch you like I did tonight.â
He can fuck other girls, but you canât fuck other guys? The fuck?
âWhy not?â
His eyes burn into yours, âBecause you told me you wanted to be good for meâŚand Iâm holding you to it.â
Then just like that, he steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets, hood still up, fully composed frat boy again, âGot it? Okay, cool,â He rushes, âIâll text you.â
âThatâs it?â
âYup,â He pops the p, starts walking backward, eyes dragging over your entire body one last time, âNight, princess.â
And turns away, leaving you standing under the glow of the CVS sign like some whore he used, legs shaking, heart pounding, and the worst part about it all? You still want him and still want more.
Freedom like this is too much fun.
But you tell yourself you wonât text him back. This was a one-time thing, you needed to get it out of your system as a repressed daddyâs girl. That youâre not the type who gets addicted to a frat boy she met at a party, no matter how hot he looks or how good he fucks.
YeahâŚthat lie lasts about less than twenty-four hours. Because the next night, at 12:47 A.M., your phone buzzes.
satoru: open your dorm window
You blink at the message, confused, until headlights sweep across the courtyard, bright, white-blue, and unmistakableâhis Porsche.
Blair is already asleep beside you, your heartâs sprinting. You slide the window open to peek out and there he is, leaned against the hood, hoodie up, hands in his pockets, looking at your window like he knew youâd listen.
He lifts his chin, âCome down.â
He doesnât say please or explain further and you go, of course you go.
The next time you see him, itâs in your dorm room. And it starts with kissingâalways kissing.
Heâs got you pinned against the inside of your locked door, hands under your ass, lifting you like you weigh nothing, grinding you against the thick outline in his sweats with a low, starved sound in his throat.
âMissed this,â He mutters, lips on your neck, âMissed you.â
You donât have time to decipher the meaning before your phone rings. Your dadâs contact photo lights up the screen.
You freeze, but Gojo doesnât. He looks at it, then at you, and smirks evilly, âAnswer it.â
âToruââ But heâs already dropping to his knees.
Your phone quivers in your hand as you swipe to accept the call, âHi, princess,â Your dadâs voice comes through, âHow was your first few nights in the dorms?â
Gojo pushes your skirt up, your pulse skyrockets as you force a steady tone, âG-Good. Umm. Really good.â
He drags your panties down with agonizing slowness, eyes locked onto yours the entire time, enjoying every ounce of panic flickering across your sweet face.
âThatâs good to hear,â Your father continues, âYou settling in okay? Eating enough? Staying safe?â
Gojoâs mouth touches you and you nearly drop the phone. His tongue slides through your folds, deliberate and slow, savoring you like heâs got all the time in the world.
You bite your lip so hard you taste blood, âMhm,â You manage, âIâmâDad, IâmâIâm very safe.â
Gojo laughs softly against your pussy, âGood girl,â he murmurs, too quietly for anyone but you to hear and sucks your clit into your mouth.
Your voice breaks into the speaker, âWhat was that?â Your dad asks suddenly.
âN-Nothing!â You choke out, breathless, âJustâJust movingâŚsomething.â
Gojo looks up at you, eyes blazing, pupils dilated, and pride dripping from his smirk as he ruins your composure with the lightest touch of his tongue. You end up cumming so hard you have to mute yourself.
When you hang up, Gojo wipes his mouth with his thumb and stands, kissing you deeply, giving you a taste. Then he whispers on your lips, âNext time you say youâre safeâŚyouâre gonna tell him that Iâm the one keeping you that way.â
You donât know whether thatâs true or the biggest lie youâve ever heard.
And the next time after that happens three nights later. Youâre wearing tiny shorts and a tank top when he texts.
satoru: out front
satoru: now
You slide into the passenger seat of his 911 and the smell of him, clean and sharp, wraps around you immediately.
He doesnât even say hi. His hand is in your hair before you finish closing the door; heâs pulling you over the console, kissing you with the same urgency as the first night.
Then he leans back in his driverâs seat, spreads his legs, and nods down at his lap, âNeed your mouth,â He breathes, strained like he hasnât gotten off in months instead of last night with some other girl, âNow, princess.â
And you give him it, because youâre somehow already gone for him and want to see what you can do. He grips your hair while you throat him deeper and deeper, until heâs cursing under his breath in Japanese and dragging a shaky hand over his mouth.
God, you fucking love it when he does that.
âFuckâbaby, baby, waitââ He pulls you off his throbbing cock, kisses you hard, and pushes your panties to the side, âGet on top.â
You straddle him and he drags you onto his dick in one long, devastating push. The car rocks as his hands grab everywhereâyour hips, ass, waist, guiding you, using you, groaning into your neck.
âMmm, thatâs itâride me,â He whispers, âShow me how bad you want it.â
You ride him until the windows fog and the V6 engine ticks with residual heat. He cums on your stomach with his face buried into your chest; a low, wrecked moan muffled against your skin.
That same weekend, thereâs a night where he pulls you into a dark hallway at Sig Chi during a party. He pushes you against the wall without warning and slides into you from behind, hand clamped over your mouth.
The bass of house music is pounding, the hallway is thankfully empty, your skirt is bunched around your waist, and he fucks you slow and deepâlike heâs trying to memorize the exact way your cunt clenches around him.
âYouâre so fuckinâ addictive,â He breathes into your ear, âGonna end up wearing you out every night.â
You donât doubt it.
A week later, youâre in your communal dorm bathroom when you see itâblood. Thank the fucking Lord. The Plan B had worked.
You text him two words.
period came
Four minutes later he responds.
satoru: iâm here
You barely have time to lie down before heâs on top of you, mouth everywhere, voice rough with relief, âGood girlâŚâ He murmurs against your stomach, âFucking good girl.â
Then he pushes two fingers into you and you arch your back, whining. He smiles into your neck like itâs the best thing heâs heard, âCelebration sex,â He decides, âCâmere.â
Period? He does not care whatsoever. He fucks you like youâre his reward, and you let him.
But one morning, you catch him staring. Not at your tits or ass or mouthâat you and your face, something beneath your skin heâs trying and failing to deny.
He looks away fast, jaw tight, hoodie pulled up like heâs hiding from a fact inside himself and you pretend not to see it.
Because you know if you acknowledge it and name the thing growing between you, what you and him have will stop being fun and become dangerous.
Though the truth lingers in the air the next time he texts you at 1:03 A.M.
satoru: want you
And your fingers answer before your brain does.
come get me
He comes quickly.
Ten minutes after your text, his Porsche glides to a stop outside your dorm like it was summoned, and sends a text.
satoru: here
Youâre already moving. As soon as you open the door, he grabs your jaw and kisses you before you can even sit down, pulling you into his lap like heâs starved. Itâs harsher tonight.
âAlways taste so fuckinâ good,â He mutters against your mouth, âJust for me, right?â
You donât answer because you know he doesnât need you to, itâs obvious. However, the next time heâs throwing you onto his bed, when you land on the sheetsâsomething shifts.
Thereâs a scent in the air. Faint and sweet, a floral perfume you donât wear. You donât do floral, only gourmand fragrances. It hits you before you even spot the evidence.
Thereâs a hair tie on the nightstand thatâs not yours, tube of lip gloss half-tucked under his pillow like it was hidden there in a hurry, a sweatshirt on the floor that definitely isnât his.
And the worst part? He doesnât even notice you noticing, because heâs too busy touching you.
His hands are already on your thighs, spreading them, his mouth dragging down your neck, voice thick with desire that doesnât sound recycled or casual, âYou been thinking about me all day?â He murmurs, âThinking about how good I fuck you?â
You force yourself to swallow it down. The perfume, the hair tie, the gloss, the clothing, the ache blooming beneath your ribs.
But because you donât answer, he grabs your jaw gently, making your eyes look into his, âDonât get quiet on me now,â He smirks, âYouâre not allowed.â
He kisses you again, filthily, and the sadness knots inside you in a way you refuse to acknowledge. Not now, not when heâs touching you and you want him this badly.
So you pretend.
You let him wreck you again, let him fuck you into the mattress with the haste of a man who canât get enough. Although something tiny fractures within you when he flips you onto your stomach and you see the lip gloss again.
You shut your eyes, a yelp breaking from you as you try to imagine that it was never there.
Then four days later, youâre the one who texts first. You hate yourself for it, but you canât help it.
you busy?
Delivered with no response.
Ten minutes pass, then twenty, then an hour.
You throw your phone aside, furious for caring in the first place. You knew what you were getting into from the moment you let a guy like Satoru Gojo fuck you.
Blair, whoâs sitting in her bed beside you, glances at your expression and raises a brow, âHim again?â
You lie, âNo.â
Two more hours pass and nothing. Your stomach twists with something awful and sharp because you know exactly what heâs doing. More so, who, heâs doing.
At 1:36 A.M., your phone lights up.
satoru: nah
satoru: come thru
You look at the texts, pissed off by his lack of consideration, but even more pissed by your lack of control. Because you go to him like he says.
You hear the music from the street when you arrive at Sig Chi. The house is loud and buzzing, full of energy he clearly enjoyed without you present.
He meets you at his bedroom door and the second you see him, all the oxygen leaves your lungs.
His hair is tousled under his blue snapback; his shirt is twisted, collar stretched like it was yanked. Thereâs a pink flush across his face, his lips look too red, like heâs been kissing for hours.
His breathing is slightly off as if his heart rate still hasnât calmed down yet, but the room? Oh thatâs the killer blow.
The sheets are tangled and half on the floor, thereâs mascara smudged on his pillows, and God the trashcan ruins you. You can see multiple golden foils from where you areâcondom wrappers.
And Gojo just stands there, letting you take it all in like he doesnât even care. He watches you, blue eyes cool, leaning against the doorframe like youâre the one who kept him waiting, âYou coming in?â
Your throat burns. Say no. Say no. Say fucking no.
But you step inside anyway and the door clicks shut behind you, sealing you with the smell of a perfume that isnât yours.
âCome here,â Gojo says.
And because youâre weak and something about him has rewired your brain, you walk closer instead of slapping him.
He hooks a finger under your chin, tilts your face up, and kisses you like he wasnât just inside another girl before this. Itâs greedy and possessive in a way he has no right to be; you let him take and take, until something within you snaps.
You push him back a step, breathing labored, âSatoru.â
He lifts a brow, already annoyed at being interrupted, âWhat?â
âI wantâŚâ Fuck, you hate yourself for how small it sounds, ââŚI want to be the only one.â
Thereâs dead silence in the room, but thenâthen he has the fucking audacity to laugh, âOh, princess,â He coos, amusement curving his mouth as he pulls your waist against his, âThatâs not how this works.â
Your stomach is in knots, the smirk is still there, âYou canât be the only one,â He says unapologetically, âButââ
His hand slides down your ass, gripping hard enough to make you gasp, âYou can be my number one.â
Number one. Like youâre just barely good enough to earn the top spot on a teamâs roster.
ââŚYour number one,â You echo.
âYeah,â His lips brush your throat, âThe one I fuck the most. The one I come back to. The one I call when I actually want it.â
You feel sick, âAnd what about me? Do I get anyone?â
He pulls back to look at you with eyes as sharp as knives, âNo.â
The word lands like a slap, âNo?â
âNo,â He confirms, âYou donât let any other guy touch you. That was the deal.â
âThat wasnât a deal,â You seethe, âThat was something you said after youâafter you almost got me pregnant.â
He shrugs, âSo? Still stands.â
Heat floods your entire faceâanger, humiliation, desire, all tangled, âYouâre allowed to fuck other girls,â You vocalize, âBut Iâm not allowed toââ
He cuts you off with a kiss so deep you forget how to breathe and when he breaks it, his voice is dangerously soft, âI donât share.â
You swallow, pissed at yourself for the way your body always reacts to him, âAnd what if I donât want to be your number one?â
Gojo smiles, âThen you wouldnât be in my room right now.â
Your pulse trips because heâs right and you hate it. You shove him weakly, but he catches your wrists, pinning them above your head as he walks you backward toward the bed, âDonât start pretending you donât want this. Not after the way you moan for me.â
âSatoruââ
âYou asked for the only one treatment?â He asks against your mouth, âFine. Iâll fuck you like youâre the only girl in the world.â
He pushes you onto the mattress, âAnd thenâŚIâll remind you that youâre not.â
His tone is cruel, youâre never heard him sound like this, and despite that fact, your body still betrays you. He drags your shorts down, mouth already on your inner thigh, kissing higher and higher, biting hard enough to leave a mark.
âSatoruâstop,â You whisper, but you donât mean it and he knows you donât.
His tongue licks up your folds and your back arches like youâve been shocked. The reaction makes him laugh, âSee? This pussy knows who it belongs to.â
You want to hit him, kiss him, run, and stay all at once. Your voice is barely a sound when you say, âI hate you.â
The words make him grin, âNo, you donât.â
He flips you onto your stomach before you can respond, pulling your hips up, positioning himself behind youâno condom, like always, âIâm your number one, too,â He murmurs, tip prodding your entrance, âYou just donât want to admit it.â
âSatoruââ He pushes into you in one long, ruthless stroke.
Your gasp shatters in the quiet room, âFuck,â He groans, hands gripping your hips so tight you think theyâll bruise, âEvery timeâevery time, youâre tighter.â
Then he fucks you like heâs proving a point, âSay it again,â He growls, âSay you want to be the only one.â
âIâI wantââ You choke out, tears blurring your vision, âI want to be the only oneâpleaseââ
He moans, he actually fucking moans at that, as if your pain gives him pleasure, like heâs some sick sadist.
âOh, princess,â He says, kissing your shoulder, âYou break so pretty.â
And then he leans down just enough to whisper the nail in your coffin, âBut you never will be.â
You cum around him anyway. Because you foolishly still want him, and maybe youâre some sick masochist too.
And when he finishes, pulling out of you with a quiet hiss, you think maybe heâll softenâmaybe heâll say something real. But all he does is toss you a towel to clean yourself and grab his hat to shove it back on his head, muttering, âClose the door behind you.â
And like the dumbest bitch alive, you do.
You walk home at 3:12 A.M. with aching thighs and your heart bloodied. When you slip into your dorm, Blair is still awake with her laptop open. She looks up once, clocking everything in a single glance, âYou good?â
âIâm fine,â You lie, kicking your shoes off.
She just stares and you stare back, knowing that she doesnât believe you in the slightest, but doesnât press.
You shower and scrub your body as if it can erase Gojo from your skin but you still feel him everywhere. Then you crawl into bed, praying you wake up a new person, but of course. You donât.
The next morning, right as you wake, you open Instagram on autopilot, and Blair, sitting cross-legged in her bed eating dry cereal from the box looks over at you as your face goes blank.
Because on your feed is his story.
@.gojosatoru
Posted 32 minutes ago.
Heâs at In-N-Out, with a blonde girl in his passenger seat, and her hand on his thigh. No caption.
Blair freezes mid-chew, ââŚIs thatâ?â
âUh-huh.â
She leans closer, âOh, fuck no.â
Your fingers go numb as you remember last night. He told you you were his number one, held you down, and fucked you like you belonged to him.
Now heâs posting publicly with other bitches? So as number one you can get the sex but youâre not worthy of anything else? Sure.
Blair sets her cereal aside, âBabeâŚare you okay?â
You fucking hate that she has to ask that. You swallow hard, âYeah. Totally.â
She scoots closer, voice lower, â(Y/N)âŚheâs an asshole.â
You know, youâve always known. But last night, in his bed, with his hands on you and his cock so deepâyou forgot.
Blair studies you, then says gently, âYouâre not this girl.â
Something inside you snaps back into place.
Sheâs right. Youâre not. Youâre not the girl who gets hidden, youâre not the girl he gets to fuck at 2 A.M. and replace by breakfast, and you sure as hell are not someoneâs afterthought.
You inhale slowly, exhale sharply, and stand. Blair blinks, âWhat are you doing?â
You look her dead in the eye, âRemembering who the fuck I am.â
âAnd who is that?â
You donât answer her with words. Instead, you walk over to your dresser and pull out the skimpiest bikini you own. Blair lets out a low whistle, âDamn. Youâre gonna make someone crash their car.â
Putting it on, tightening the strings so it sits just right, you look at your reflection in the mirror.
The girl staring back at you isnât the one crying over a frat boy. Sheâs someone else entirely; someone Satoru Gojo should have never underestimated.
You grab your phone, open your camera, and take the mirror selfie. Blair leans over your shoulder, âCaption?â
âDonât need one,â You say with a smile, all you do is post the location of where youâll beâSanta Monica Beach.
Oh, but you do decide to throw in a blue heart emoji, just to twist the knife. Then you hit post.
The likes come in immediately and your DMs explode. Blairâs jaw literally drops, âOh my God, babeâTKE is already swiping up. Like, three different guys, holy shit.â
Yeah, thatâs right. This is who you are.
Blair laughs with pure joy, âAnd guess who else viewed it?â
You donât even ask, already knowing. Because a second later, your phone buzzes excessively.
@.gojosatoru: wtf is this pic
@.gojosatoru: delete ts
@.gojosatoru: answer your fucking phone
@.gojosatoru: (y/n)
Blair snorts, âOh, he is so pressed.â
You slide your phone into your tote bag choosing to ignore it. He can scream into the void for all you care.
âComing?â You ask Blair casually.
She grins, grabbing her sunglasses and keys, âFuck, yeah I am. I ainât missing this shit.â
You sling your towel over your shoulder and for the first time since you came to USC, you feel like yourself again, âLetâs go.â
âWhere?â
You smile, âTo remind him why he shouldâve never posted that blonde bitch in the first place.â
You and Blair barely make it into the hallway before your phone vibrates again, but itâs not Gojo this time. Itâs the TKE boys again.
tyler: u heading to santa monica?
zach: come slide weâre pregaming in the lot
kyle: we got room in the jeep if you need a ride
Blair leans over your shoulder, âOh, weâre definitely taking the ride.â
You shouldnât, but then you think of Gojo and how youâre done letting him dictate your life as if heâs the only one with power.
So you type back.
still at the lot?
The response is instant.
zach: still here. u look insane btw
kyle: pls come im begging
Blair cackles, âTheyâre literally foaming at the mouth, Jesus.â
You head downstairs and step outside into the morning California sun, the second the TKE boys see you, the whole group goes silent.
âDamn,â Tyler says, walking forward with a grin way too confident for someone who failed Econ twice, âYou lookâŚwow.â
You lift your sunglasses with one finger, giving him a lazy once-over, âThanks. You driving?â
âYeah,â Zach blurts before Tyler can speak, âYou two riding over with us?â
You exchange a glance with Blair, âSure.â
The boys practically beam; Tyler opens the passenger door for you and Blair slides into the middle seat, Zach sits beside her trying to play it cool.
The TKE boys are laughing, hyping each other up as music blasts through the speakers, and they glance at you like they canât believe youâre actually coming with them.
You feel Blair tap your shoulder from behind, âYou good?â
âNever better.â
But your phone keeps vibrating in your bag and you know exactly who it is.
satoru (16 missed calls)
satoru (24 messages)
You peep the last three.
satoru: where tf are u
satoru: stop ignoring me omg
satoru: seriously pick up
Blair sees the name and giggles, âHeâs unraveling.â
Tyler leans over the center console, spotting the contact too, âOh shitâGojoâs blowing you up?â
âYeah. Doesnât matter.â
Zach scoffs, âIsnât he likeâŚobsessed with you?â
You smile sweetly, âNah. Heâs not.â
They seemed pleased with that answer and in less than twenty minutes, the Jeep rolls into the Santa Monica lot. Warm wind tangles through your hair as the ocean comes into view.
Everyone hops out quick, grabbing something to bring, but you? You step out slowly, letting the sun hit your bare shoulders and letting the boys stare unabashedly because they canât help themselves. And God, does it feel good.
You eventually spread your towel on the sand, lay back, and get right to tanning. Everything is warm and golden, the boys crack open beers, Blair sets up the speaker playing Bad Bunny on full volume.
Tyler hands you a High Noon and you take a sip, laughing at something stupid Kyle says. And for one moment, you feel free again. But your goddamn phone wonât stop buzzing in your bag.
Blair nudges you, âYou gonna check that?â
âNope.â
She grins, âGood.â
â(Y/N)!â Tyler calls, tossing a football, âYou play?â
You catch it one-handed despite being off guard, âDo you forget who my dad is?â
They laugh and so do you, but your phone still keeps popping off like a warning for whatâs about to come next. Because not even ten minutes later, you hear it.
That sound, the unmistakable growl of a high-performance engine being pushed too hard. A Porsche 911 tears into the parking lotâhis Porsche. Your heart plummets as Blair whispers, âNo fucking way.â
The boys turn, heads all over swivel, and then he appears. Satoru Gojo steps out of the Porsche like he didnât run five red lights on the drive here. His white tee is wrinkled to shit, blue shorts slung low on his hips, sunglasses pushed into his mussed white strands, jaw clenched so hard you see the muscle jump.
In his hand is his phone, the one he used to blow up yours, and he doesnât walk over to you, no, he stalks. Across the sand, straight toward you with a purposeful, terrifying calm, the kind that makes groups of guys instinctively step back.
But youâre not scared in the slightest. You lift your sunglasses and meet his eyes; cold blue, laser-focused. He stops in front of your towel, shadow sprawled over your body, chest heaving like heâs on the verge of losing it.
â(Y/N),â He hardly ever uses your name, âGet up.â
You make him wait three whole seconds before you do; you stand, unbothered, brushing sand off your thighs, refusing to break eye contact. He takes a step closer, nostrils flaring, âWhat the fuck do you think youâre doing?â
âPretty sure Iâm sitting on a beach.â
The TKE boys shift behind you, Gojoâs eyes flick to themâTyler holding a drink, Kyle shirtless and smiling, Zach close enough that his knee had brushed yours.
He laughs once, âWith these loser cucks?â
Kyle bristles instantly, âBroâwatch your fucking mouth.â
But Gojo doesnât spare him a glance, he keeps his eyes on you, âDeadass?â He murmurs, âThis the shit youâre on now?â
You shrug, âLooks that way.â
âYou ignored sixteen calls. Sixteen.â
âYeah,â You reply, lifting your drink again, âCause I didnât wanna answer.â
Kyle folds his arms, âYo, sheâs busy. Maybe back up.â
Gojo turns his head just enough to look at him, âI wasnât fucking talking to you,â Then his eyes snap back to yours, âSo youâre really out here with TKE?â
âWhy not?â You ask.
He scoffs, sucking his teeth, âThey know that you were on my dick last night?â
Your cheeks grow hot with rage, but he wants that reaction. He gets off on the power it gives him, so you decide to give him nothing, âThanks for the reminder. I almost forgot.â
âYou forgot?â He repeats, voice tight, âAfter the way you were screaming my name?â
Kyle steps forward, fists clenching, âAlright, back the fuck offââ
You lift a hand, stopping him without looking away from Gojo, âNo. Let him talk.â
âYouâre really gonna stand here and pretend last night didnât happen?â
âYou mean the part where you said Iâll never be the only one?â You ask, titling your head, âOr the part where you posted the blonde on your story less than twelve hours later?â
His jaw ticks, âThatâs what this is about?â He snaps, âA fucking story?â
âNo. Itâs about you thinking Iâm stupid.â
âYouâre jealous.â
You genuinely laugh, âNo, Satoru. Youâre delusional.â
His hands twitch at his sides, like heâs debating grabbing you or strangling someone. He glances at the boys again and something cold creeps into his countenance, âAnswer me something.â
You raise a brow as he gestures at the guys behind you, âYou fucking one of them now?â
Tyler coughs, Kyle looks away, Zach smirks like he hopes so, âWhy? You care?â
Gojo steps closer, the warmth of his chest brushing the top of yours, âThatâs cute. Acting like I don't."
âGo home, Satoru.â
âNo.â
âIt wasnât a question.â
His gaze drags over your bikini again, âGet in the car.â
Itâs sadâthat some part of you almost gives in like always. Because you know that if you left now, the argument would end. Itâd end with him giving you the craziest dick of your life and you back at square one; you refuse to do that again.
So, you stand taller, âNo.â
A muscle in his cheek pops, ââŚNo?â
âYou heard me.â
And because Gojo canât win with logic and canât bear the thought of being denied for once in his life, he reaches for cruelty, âFineâŚYouâre cut.â
Cut. From his roster. But your voice is steady when you say, âGood.â
âGood?â
âYeah,â You say, âGood. You did me a favor.â
Gojoâs expression flattens, âCool. Iâll replace you in an hour.â
You take one step forward and smile, âIâll replace you in fifteen minutes. Wonât be hard.â
The collective gasp from the boys is audible. Gojo doesn't even blink, but the vein in his neck jumps and for the first time since youâve known him, he looks hurt. Real hurt.
He steps back, then once more, âEnjoy your day,â Adding coldly, âPrincess.â
He turns and walks away, sand kicking up beneath his feet, and you donât look after him. Not even when the Porsche engine snarls and he peels out of the lot so fast seagulls scatter.
Blair exhales, âHoly shitâŚIâm glad I came.â
Tyler whistles low, âYoâŚyouâre gonna break that dude.â
âGood,â You say, laying back down on your towel, âItâs his turn.â
But the beach doesnât go back to normal after that. You tan, you swim once, you drink enough to feel warm, the boys continue to orbit you like planets caught in your gravitational pull, yet it's not the same.
Blair leans in at one point, whispering, âYou know you donât have to actually hook up with any of them, right?â
Right. That was the whole reason why you did this in the first place. To get revenge.
You hum, âI know.â
Though when the sun begins to set, casting amber over the waves, Kyle asks if you want to come back to the TKE house and you hear yourself say, âSure.â
Not because youâre dying to fuck him, but because of everything Satoru Gojo did. The house is louder and dirtier than Sig Chiâbass rattles the wall, bodies are everywhere. Kyle leads you upstairs, respectful, a little nervous, but beyond eager.
Your stomach twists with anticipation, youâre finally getting your lick back. Kyle closes the bedroom door behind you, âWant a drink?â
âNo.â
You step closer and his breath catches, âYou sure?â
âPositive.â
He leans in and kisses youâŚItâs fine, you guess. Soft, warm, nothing like the way Gojo does. Youâre unsure if thatâs a good or bad thing. Kyleâs hands are on your waist and his mouth moves down your neck. Heâs sweet, careful, and you should like this moreâyou donât.
But you need it. You need something to hold onto that isnât him. Kyle whispers, âYouâre so fucking pretty,â And you let him guide you toward the bed.
Your phone buzzes in your bag, you ignore it. Then it buzzes again, long and insistent. Kyle notices, âYou can get that if you wantââ
âNo,â You breathe, âKeep going.â
He nods and kisses you again, and you try, God you try to lose yourself in it. But the second his hand slips under your top, your phone lights up in the dark room. Bright enough in your bag that you both see it.
satoru: answer
satoru: stop playing
satoru: (y/n)
You go still, Kyle pulls back, âHeyâŚyou okay?â
âYeah,â You lie, âJustâjust keep going.â
He leans in, but your eyes stay fixed on the glowing screen. Another message comes through and itâs not angry this time. Itâs worse.
satoru: please
Your breath stutters as Kyle kisses your shoulder, your phone vibrates again.
satoru: princess please
Your entire body locks, because this isnât how he talks. This isnât a man who begs and it definitely doesnât sound like one who moved on in an hour. Kyleâs hands slide down your waist, his lips brush your collarbone, and then you reazlieâyou canât do this.
You sit up abruptly, âWait.â
Kyle freezes, âOh. Uh, did I do something wrong?â
âNo,â You say quickly, âNo, youâre great. I justâI canât.â
He bows his head, disappointed, âItâs cool. Really.â
You grab your phone and open the messages, staring at the last one until your chest aches.
satoru: please just pick up
Blair texts you at the same time.
blair: WHAT DID YOU DO? HE LOOKS LIKE HEâS HAVING A BREAKDOWN
You inhale sharply as the truth slams through you. Youâre not over him, not even remotely. Your fingers tremble as you text Blair back.
where is he
blair: SIG CHI bro he showed up like a psycho
blair: he asked EVERYONE if theyâve seen you
Your pulse spikes so hard it hurts. Kyle is still on the end of the bed, giving you space and pretending he doesnât see your face falling apart, âYou sure youâre okay?â
You nod even though you arenât, and stand too quickly, grabbing your bag, âIâI have to go.â
âBecause of him?â
ââŚYeah.â
He nods slowly, expecting it, like every guy on campus knows that whatever the hell is happening between you and Satoru Gojo is bigger than anything they could touch, âDouchebag doesnât even deserve you.â
Yeah, heâs probably right about that but you bolt out of the room anyway, run down the stairs, and through the crowd spilling beer everywhere. Someone calls your name, but you donât care. Your phone is in your hand, Gojoâs name filling the screen over and over like heâs clawing to get to you.
Pushing out into the street, cool evening air slams into your chest and you call him without thinking. It rings only once, â(Y/N).â
âSatoruââ
âYouâre at TKE?â He blurts out. Thereâs noise behind himâmusic, voices, and footsteps as if heâs pacing through Sig Chi.
âYesâŚâ
âDid you go back with Kyle?â Your mouth opens, but youâre unable to speak, so he does it for you, âYou did.â
âSatoruââ
âJust tell me,â He cuts you off, voice shaking with fury heâs trying to swallow, âDid he touch you?â
Your pulse slams against your ribs, Gojo keeps going, âHe kissed you, right? You let him? You went into his room? You let him fuckingââ He stops suddenly, breath hitching like finishing the rest of his sentence would choke him.
âNothing happened.â
ââŚYouâre lying.â
You squeeze your eyes shut, frustrated tears burning, âI left, Satoru. I left him. Iâm literally calling youââ
âWhy the fuck were you even there?â
âBecause of you!â
A voice in the background of Gojoâs line says, âBro, chillââ And you hear him snarl, âShut the fuck up,â Followed by a door slamming so loudly you flinch. Now heâs alone and the truth crawls out of him, âI thought you were goneâŚI thought you actually went andâand fucked him.â
âI didnât.â
âYou almost did.â
AlmostâŚand you wouldâve too if he hadnât kept texting, âYou donât understand,â He says hoarsely, âIâve been looking for you for hours. I tore through the whole fucking house. I asked everyone. Iââ
âSatoruâŚâ
âWhere are you now?â
âHeading toward Sig Chi.â
You hear movement and the sound of his breath catching, his shoes hitting the floor, something crashing behind him as he pushes through the thumping house.
âStay on the phone,â He orders, âYouâre not walking alone.â
âIâm fine.â
âStay on the fucking phone.â
You listen then. Breath syncing with his footsteps as he barrels through the hallway and out the back door, onto the street. Heâs running now, you can tell, âSatoruâslow downââ
âNo,â He pants, keys jangling, car door slamming, Porsche engine purring to life, âYou think Iâm letting you walk alone after someone else had their hands on you?â
Your grip tightens on the phone, âSo what? Youâre coming to get me?â
âIâm already halfway there,â He breathes, rounding a corner so sharp the tires skid, âDonât hang up.â
âWasnât planning on it.â
A long exhale leaves him, desperation blended with rage, âTell me again. Tell me nothing happened.â
ââŚNothing happened.â
He lets out a broken laugh of disbelief, âGoodâŚBecause Iâm two minutes away, and if he had fucked youââ
You feel it in your bones, the relief so violent it comes out as anger, âSatoru,â You whisper softly, âJustâŚget here.â
âIâm coming, princess,â And then he hangs up.
The Porscheâs roar echoes down the street long before his headlights appear and once they do, he swings by the curb so fast you stumble back a step. He rolls the window down only to say, âGet in the car.â
You open the door, slide into the passenger seat and the second youâre in, he peels off so hard your shoulder hits the door, âFuckârelax.â
âCanât,â His knuckles are white on the wheel, every muscle in his forearm flexes with barely contained aggravation, and he doesnât look at you once during the drive. He whips into the Sig Chi driveway, parks crooked as shit, and kills the engine.
Finally, he turns his head, eyes blazing, âInside.â
You donât argue; you follow him through the front door with your pulse in your throat, up the creaking stairs, through the hall, until he shoves his bedroom door open and pulls you inside, slamming it with so much force the walls shake.
âWhat the fuck was all of that?â
âOh, donât do that,â Your tone is full of bitterness, âDonât think I forgot about the blonde you posted today. Donât act like you didnât show me exactly where I stand.â
âThat was different.â
âWas it?â You step closer, chest heaving, âWas it different when I walked into your room last night and saw a trashcan full of condoms? When your sheets were a fucking mess? When your lips were swollen and you looked like youâd justââ You donât finish that thought. He flinches at your words, but you donât stop there, âWhen you fucked me and laughed in my face, telling me Iâd never be the only one?â
His throat works, âSay something,â You snap, âGo on. Justify it. Tell me Iâm crazy.â
âI didnât fuck her,â He runs a trembling hand through his hair, âI didnât fuck anyone,â He says louder, âNot the blonde. Not last night. Not today. Nobody.â
You stare at him, âSatoru. Your roomâyour trash.â
âI couldnât even get it up,â He spits out the truth like it hurts, âHappy?â Your stomach drops, âI keptââ He gestures violently, ââtrying. With someone else. But it didnât matter. My dick wouldnât stay fucking hard.â
Your mouth falls agape, he keeps going, voice cracking down the middle, âI kept putting the condom on. And Iâd go soft. Again and again and again,â He laughs once, âThatâs why there were wrappers. Not because I fucked anyone, but âcause I literally couldnât.â
He steps closer, âYou wanna know why?â You donât say anything, but he gives you the answer anyway, âYou.â
âI canât stop thinking about you,â He says, voice dropping dangerously soft, âCanât stop seeing your face, canât stop remembering how you sound when you cum, canât stop thinking about how it felt to be inside you.â
Your thighs press together involuntarily, âAnd do you know how fucking pathetic that makes me feel?â His voice breaks again, âThat I canât fuck anyone else because the only pussy I get hard for is yours?â
Now youâre trembling, âBut sure,â He sneers, âGo ahead. Tell me again you were just being petty. Tell me again that you thought going home with that TKE fuck was gonna hurt me.â
âI didnâtââ
âYes, you did,â He rasps, âYou wanted to make me jealous,â He takes a step closer, âYou wanted me to come find you,â Then another, âYou wanted me to lose my fucking mind over you.â
Your back hits the wall, he cages you in with his arms, âAnd congratulationsâŚIt fucking worked.â
âSatoruâŚâ
His forehead presses to yours, breaths mingling, anger turning molten, âYouâre not replacing me, and Iâm sure as hell not letting anyone else touch youâŚbecause youâre mine.â
Something hot flickers in your chest, âAnd youâre mine.â
He freezes, blue eyes turning a shade darker, âSay that again.â
You lift your chin, âYouâre mine.â
As soon as the words leave your tongue he surges forward, mouth crashing onto yours with a force that feels like the room exploded. His hands are already on your hips, lifting you, dragging you toward the bed.
Your back hits the mattress, bouncing once before heâs on you, over you, everywhere; kissing you like itâs oxygen. His teeth catch your bottom lip, his tongue forcing its way in, and his fingers tear your shorts down so fast the friction burns.
âSpread,â He growls against your mouth. Without hesitation, you spread your legs wide open. He drags you down the bed by your thighs like youâre something he gets to rearrange however he wants, and when he drops to his kneesâitâs over.
His mouth is on your cunt instantly, tongue flattening against your clit, sucking and licking like heâs trying to claim you with his mouth first.
You arch intensely, a choked cry crooning from your throat, âFuckâSatoru,â Your thighs clamp around his head, but he forces them wider. You try to lift your hips and he pins them down.
âStay still,â He mutters, âOr Iâll take my time,â Itâs a threat, a wonderful filthy one. He eats you until your vision blurs and youâre pulling at his white tendrils; when you cum, you break with your head thrown back, mouth fully open, moaning his name in a way that would destroy him if he werenât already in shambles.
âYouâre so fucking perfect like this,â He pants, climbing over you, dragging his mouth up your stomach, ribs, throat, âRuined and wet and waiting for meâfuck.â
He lines his cock up without looking, he doesnât have to at this point. He knows your body by heart, and when he pushes in itâs one languid stroke that make your nails claw into his back and his breath punch out of him, âShitâbaby, so tightââ
He locks one hand behind your knee, shoving it higher, deeper, opening you more than youâve ever been before, âYou feel that?â He grits, hips snapping hard enough the headboard slams the wall, âFeel how easy this pussy takes me after I eat you out?â
The moan that escapes you sounds like a sob, âFeel how deep I am?â He thrusts again, brutal and perfect, âFeel me right fucking there?â One of his big hands presses right on your lower belly, a helpless whimper falls from your lips; his eyes go dark, âThatâs where I wanna cum.â
Your stomach drops, âSatoruââ
âI want it so bad I canât fucking think,â Each thrust is more forceful, sloppier, desperate, âYou have no idea,â He pants, âNo fucking idea what it did to me the first timeâseeing my cum dripping out of you. Fuck, I been thinking about it every night since.â
Your cunt clenches around him, his eyes roll back, âYeahâŚâ He groans, âYou liked that, didnât you?â
His hand slides to your jaw, holding your face still so you canât look away, âYou want me to fill you again? Want me to make you mine for real?â
God, you shouldnât want it. Not one bit.
Not with him and not when the risks outweigh the rewards. But at the same time, you fucking do.
Your brain fogs, melts, almost liquifies, âI wantââ You gasp, nails sinking into his back, âI want you to fill meââ
He growls, âFuck, princessâdonât say it unless you mean itââ
Youâre too far gone to stop yourself, âMake me yours,â You whisper, trembling, âI want all of it, please.â
Hearing you beg for a load would make even the strongest man fold, and for a guy like Gojo, it takes very little to get him to. He snaps, thrusts turn punishing, ragged, the rhythm of a person who has lost every ounce of sanity, âYou donâtâunderstand what youâre asking for.â
You cling to him, eyes half-lidded, âSatoruâdonât pull out.â
He shudders, grip on you tightening painfully, âBabyâfuck. Youâre gonna make meâshit, youâre gonna make me cumââ
You wrap your legs around him and pin him in place, he fails to hide the moan that leaves him, âOh my God,â He grunts, âYou want itâyou actually want it.â
He convulses then, slamming into you one last time, shoving himself all the way until his tip kisses your cervix, and cums inside you with a sound that is pure, ruined surrender.
His cock is throbbing, pulse after pulse, pumping you full of hot, thick white ribbons. He stays there, trembling through it, shaking, and when he finally pulls out, he looks down.
The sight that greets him is his favorite in the world. His cum leaking out of your pussy in warm, heavy streams, âFuckâŚThatâs perfect.â
He drags two fingers through the load, smearing it, then pushing it back in you with the darkest smirk on his face, âI could get addicted to this,â He murmurs, before adding, âMaybe I already am.â
Your chest is heaving, the room spinning around you. Heâs still hovering over your hips, transfixed on the mess he made like he canât look away, âShould make you keep it.â
Your entire body tenses because he doesn't look at your face when he says itâheâs still staring at your legs, like the sight has rewired something fundamental in him.
He pushes his fingers deeper, you whine, âBut I canât,â He mutters more to himself than you, âI shouldnât.â
He pulls his fingers out and wipes them on your thigh, eyes hooded and dark with something youâve never seen in him before. Gojo sits back on his heels, rakes a hand through his hair, when it finally hits himâreality.
He actually did it. He came inside you. On purpose this time. His eyes flick up to yours, unsure, ââŚWe need to get you a Plan B.â
You knew that was coming, but the tone is different. He sounds shaken, disappointed even, âOkay.â
But he doesnât move. He just keeps staring at youâthe bite marks blooming on your throat, the mess between your thighs he put there, and something in him cracks all over again, âThat was the hottest thing Iâve ever done in my life.â
Your pulse stutters as he exhales hard, standing. The room tilts as he grabs his USC hoodie off the floor, tugging it over his head with shaky hands. He hesitates a second too long before speaking, âI-I didnât mean toâŚdo it like that.â
âDo what?â
His eyes flick away shamefully, âNut in you like you I was trying to get you pregnant,â He mutters, rubbing the back of his neck, âBecause thatâs what it felt like,â Your heart skips, he glances back at you, almost pained, âBut thatâs notâweâre not doing that.â
Silence stretches, then he shakes his head as if snapping himself out of whatever daze heâs in, âGet dressed. Please.â
You pull your shorts back on and he hands you one of his shirts without looking directly at youâlike one wrong glance, on more glimpse of you fucked-out and dripping, and heâll pin you back on the bed to do it again.
When youâre covered enough to leave, he grabs his keys; his hand finds yours, he squeezes without thinking and doesnât let go. He leads you out of Sig Chi through a side door because he doesnât want anyone seeing you like this.Â
He walks too quick, not talking, not until you reach the quiet part of the sidewalk does he finally say something, âDonât ever let me lose you like that again.â
You look up and heâs staring straight ahead, but his grip tightens, exposing more than he means to, âCome on,â He murmurs, unlocking the Porsche, âWeâll get the Plan B.â
But even as he says it, even as he feigns rationale, his hand wonât stop squeezing yours. The Porsche unlocks with a chirp, he opens your door for you and then slams his own harder than necessary. He starts driving, fast, silent, and focused but not on the road.Â
Every streetlight flickers across his face, shadowing and revealing the truth in flashes. Good. Sheâll take the pill. This was just heat, adrenaline, possession.Â
But beneath that, something far darker hums through him. StillâŚfuck. I could give her what no one else can. I want that.
He swallows hard, grips the wheel tighter, drives even faster. The CVS is almost empty, thank God. He shoves his hands into his hoodie pockets because he doesnât trust them not to shake, walking over straight to the aisle he was in mere weeks ago.
Gojo remembers the last time he bought it, but the last time he never wished, that for one stupid second, that if biology had given him a loophole, that maybeâmaybe youâd keep a piece of him.
He grabs the box with stiff fingers and at the register, the cashier doesnât make eye contact; something ugly and possessive in Gojo likes that. Likes that no one here knows what he just did or what he put in you and how deep you let him.
He pays the fifty dollars again, shoves the box into his pockets, and hands it to you the second he makes it back to the car as if he may take it back if he doesnât.Â
You take the pill out, open a water bottle, tip your chin back, and he watches. His jaw moves once, like heâs grinding the idea to dust. Good. Sheâs safe. She wonât be pregnant. This isnât happening.Â
Then, right behind it, a quieter, eviller truth. Wouldâve been kinda nice if it was.Â
And the thought doesnât fade, it festers. Even after you swallow the pill and he drives away with his hands white-knuckled on the wheel, even after he drops you off at your dorm and tells you to text him when youâre inside.Â
No, it fucking lingers. A wrong desire he keeps trying to destroy, a feeling he canât outrun. Something vital within him shifted when he finished in you that second time, and it bleeds into everything that happens next.
The next morning, youâre brushing your teeth when your phone buzzes.
satoru: you got class at 10 right?
Before you can answer, another text comes.
satoru: be outside in 5
He picks you up with a coffee in the cupholder, the exact way you like it, and a muffin he claims he âaccidentally bought two ofâ. You donât call him on the lie.Â
Gojo doesnât drop you off at the curb, either. He walks you all the way to the building and when you turn to go inside, he hesitates, âText me when youâre done.â
âYou donât have toââ
âI know,â He cuts you off quietly, âBut just do it,â And he walks away before you can fight him on it.
The night after, he shows up again in the same hoodie with the same look in his blue eyes, and that same damn inability to stay away.
He kisses you before the door fully closes behind youâsoft at first, almost tentative, like heâs afraid of wanting you too much. Then he remembers your voice calling him yours, your legs wrapped around him, your cunt squeezing around his dick while he came inside you, and suddenly? Heâs not soft anymore.Â
He lifts you, carries you to your bed, lies you down like youâre fragile, but unravels you like heâs ravenous. He fucks you slow and deep, way too deep; breathing into your neck, voice shredded, hands quivering on your thighs.
At one point, he stops entirely. Stops moving, buried all the way inside you, hips pressed flush, eyes squeezed shut like heâs in physical pain, âPrincessâŚâ His forehead presses to your jaw, âIf I move, Iâm gonna cum in you again.â
You shiver and he doesnât pull out, not yet, only when he finally forces himself; finishing on your stomach, staring at your body the way a sinner stares at temptationâruined, in awe, and absolutely starved for more.Â
In the days after, he starts acting like your boyfriend. Though neither of you ever say the word, and acting like your boyfriend also apparently includes spoiling you rotten, but heâd never admit thatâs what heâs doing.
It starts with him handing you his card one afternoon, âHere. Go get your nails done. Want your hands lookinâ nice around my cock.â
You choke on air, but he wonât meet your eyes, pretending itâs not the sweetest, filthiest thing anyone's ever said to you. Next thing you know, heâs paying for all kinds of appointments. He sends you money for your facial along with a text claiming, âi could give you a better one but idt youâd like it as muchâ.
Then heâs bringing you on routine mall runs. He takes you straight to Sephora, Aritzia, Zaraâanywhere you so look at or mention and buys everything you touch. You tell him heâs insane, but he just shrugs, âItâs not a big deal. Gotta keep you pretty for me.â
You donât buy the reason for a second.
Then comes the dates. Real ones at fancy places. The first time youâre confused when he tells you to âdress niceâ. The second time, youâve learned that âdress niceâ means heâs dropping a stupid amount of money at a restaurant where the menus donât have prices.
From sushi restaurants in Beverly Hills to Italian spots in West Hollywood, the dinner always goes the same way. With him watching you the entire time like the sight of you sitting across from him looking so beautiful is doing things to his soul and paying the bill without giving you any time to even pretend to pick it up.
âDonât insult my manhood, princess,â He jokes, already placing his card down, âIâd rather die than let you pay a dime.â
But the worst parts arenât the dates or the ridiculous instances of spoiling you. Itâs what happens after.
One night, youâre sitting in his bed when he removes his silver chain he never takes off, the one youâve seen in every photo and TikTok. Heâs hooking it around your throat while you protest, âToruââ
âShh,â He hushes, âJust try it.â
It settles against your collarbone, cool and heavy with a distinct weight to it. His eyes drag over your neck, slow and hungry, like the sight of something thatâs his on you does something violent to him, âMm,â He hums, thumb grazing the metal, âLooks real good on you.â
Your pulse stutters and he kisses you before either of you can process what it means.
And then thereâs the night where youâre laying on his chest, tangled in the sheets after he fucked you senseless, when you ask, âWhatâs Japan like?â
His voice softens in a way you feel in your ribs, âDepends where you go. Tokyoâs crazy. Kyotoâs pretty. Snow up north is perfect.â
You smile into his skin, âSounds amazing.â
âYeah,â He replies, adding way too casually, âIâll have to show you one day.â
Youâre quiet for a second before saying, âTeach me something.â
His eyes are warm, melting, âOkayâŚSay thisâsuki.â
âSuki,â You whisper; he exhales slowly, almost shakily, âWhat does it mean?â
He hesitates, choosing to lie gently, âIt meansâŚI like this.â
You believe him, but the truth is written all over his face. He doesnât mean he likes the moment, he means you. Then he looks at you with his chain glinting on your neck, wondering when wanting you turned into needing youâand heâs terrified he canât stop.
And the need for you only grows.
He picks you up every day from class, keeps snacks in his car that he only buys when youâre around, gives you his favorite sweatshirt when he notices your cold, opens your door every time. On his wrist sits your hair tie, although he says itâs for you, part of you thinks he wears it just because itâs yours.
When youâre walking together, he switches sides so heâs closest to the street. When guys stare, he sees it before you do. One afternoon on the quad, a guy from your lab waves too eagerly at you. Gojoâs voice is flat, âWho the fuck is that?â
You elbow him, âHeâs just in my class.â
Gojo scoffs, âYeah. Donât like how he looks at you.â
You try not to smile, yet you do.
His frat brothers also start to tease him, âGojo doesnât even talk to other bitches anymore.â
âBroâs whipped.â
âHeâs in love with the QBâs daughter.â
He throws a pong ball at their heads, but doesnât bother denying any of it.
Then, the sex between you? It starts to evolve into something precarious. He no longer fucks you like some sleezy, fuckboy frat bro chasing a climax. The tempo is slower, sensual, intimate in a way that makes your blood curdle.
Thereâs a night in his room with the lights low and music soft, where youâre riding him, moving slow, his hands gripping your hips like youâre sacred.
His head falls back against the pillow, heâs too sensitive, too close, âBabyâŚâ His voice breaks, âDonâtâŚdonât do that unless you wantââ
But you roll your hips anyway and he loses it. His fingertips dig into your thighs, eyes rolling back, breath catching in a strangled gasp, âFuck, princessâstop, stopâif I cum like this itâs going inside you.â
And the terrifying part is that he doesnât sound scared of that. He sounds desperate for it.
He pulls out at the very last heartbeat, just barely. His cum splashes across your chest in hot, heavy ropes and he stares at you like heâs memorizing it. He touches it, swipes some with this thumb, smearing it over your skin. He whispers, almost reverently, âGodâŚwouldâve looked better in you.â
Then his gaze glosses over his chain around your neck, and he wonders what it would be like to give you something more permanent.
Next weekend, thereâs a tailgate at Sig Chi for the USC football game. Itâs loud and crowded, red solo cups litter the backyard and Don Toliver is blasting from a blown out speaker Gojo keeps threatening to throw over the fence.
Youâre sitting in his lap in a tiny red skirt you probably shouldâve reconsidered, but he hasnât stopped touching you since you showed up. His hand rests on your thigh at first until it slithers its way to the curve just beneath your ass; thumb rubbing slow circles like heâs publicly claiming territory.
Every time you shift, you feel how hard he is under you. Heâs shameless in how he pretends not to care, but his brothers definitely notice. One of the Pledges walks by and does a double take, though Gojo doesnât look up. He just tightens his grip on your waist and says, completely casual, âYo, Pledge. Flick me up with my girl.â
My girl. The words strike your bones, âYourâyour what?â
Gojo finally lifts his eyes, jaw set like itâs the most obvious thing in the world and that he hates the entire Pledge class, âMy girl,â He repeats, patting your thigh once, âCâmon, hurry the fuck up, idiot.â
The Pledge blinks and scrambles to grab his phone, you try to move off Gojoâs lap, flustered, but his arm locks around your waist, âSit still,â He murmurs into your neck, âWanna see how pretty you look sittinâ on me.â
Your pulse skitters and he doesnât even look at the cameraâhe looks at you, hungrily, lazily possessive, like he already knows heâs gonna post this shit.
When the Pledge sends over the photo, heâs immediately plugging it into his feed on Instagram, which is something he never does. His feed is reserved for himself, thirst traps, aesthetics. So when he posts you with a caption, âme and mineâ, all of USC sees it and implodes.
He brushes a kiss onto your jaw, âLet them talk.â
And that same night, you barely make it inside his room before he has you against the wall, kissing you like heâs been deprived of it. Your skirt is on the floor already, your top has been shedded. He lifts you, legs locking around his waist, and thrusts into you so deep your vision spots.
His entire body is shaking, âPrincessâfuck, slow, slow, if you keepââ
But youâre too cockdrunk to stop. He grips your ass, burying himself inside you to the hilt, moaning into your shoulder like heâs rupturing, âIâm not gonnaâŚbabyâI canât, if you donât let go.â
You tighten your legs around him and he falls apart. For one horrifying, heart-stopping second, he doesnât pull out. He stays in your pussy, groaning into your neck, the two of you trembling against each other.
Gojo only yanks himself out at the very last fraction of a second, finishing in thick, desperate ropes on your inner thighs; he stares at the mess like itâs his masterpiece, but also like he wants it somewhere else.
He strokes your thigh with the back of his fingers, voice impossibly soft, âI canât keep doing this. Iâm trying. I swear Iâm trying. But every timeâevery fucking time, I almost stay inside you.â
Your heart skips a beat, âAnd the worst part?â He looks at you, eyes blazing, âI donât even know if Iâd stop myself next timeâŚâ
And it happens two nights later, when things between you have settled into this terrifying, intoxicating rhythm. Youâre already falling asleep in his bed, cheek pressed to his shoulder, his arm wrapped around your lower back like heâs locking in you place.
He whispers, âCome here,â Pulling you into his chest so your thigh slots between his and you feel him instantlyâheâs hard, achingly so.
You look up at him through sleep-heavy eyes and he caves. He rolls you onto your back, slow, like heâs been waiting for an excuse to fuck you.
His mouth finds yours, hungry and unhurried; your breathing is barely steady when he finally pushes his cock into you and itâs different. All of it is. Far too deliberate, delicate, deep.
He groans into your neck, voice already wrecked, âFuckâŚIâm obsessed with you.â
Heâs still sliding himself in when you clutch his biceps, arching up into him with his breath catching in his chest, when he loses the last piece of control he had. His hips snap forward sharply, burying his cock fully inside, and curses low like the feeling of being right where he is now knocks the sense out of him.
He does try to pull out once, you feel it, the hesitation in his hips. But for reasons unknown, you wrap your legs around his waist on pure instinct rather than purpose, and he canât stop what happens next.
Gojo collapses into you with a broken sound, forehead to yours, thrusts morphing sloppy and desperate, âBabyâfuck, donâtââ His voice cracks, âI canâtâif you do thatââ
But youâre already tugging him closer, nails digging into his back, those pretty little cries spilling from your lips send him straight past rational thought.
His hands clamp around your hips, dragging you flush against him, âOhâŚGodââ He chokes and thinks maybe for a second, heâll try to pull himself back, but the moment he feels you tighten around him, he breaks with a sound heâs never made before.
A desperate, helpless moan punched out him as he bucks his hips and stays thereâburied, locked to you like he couldnât move even if he tried.
âFuck, Iâm cummingâinsideâŚshit,â And you feel it, hot spurts filling you so completely full that it steals your breath. He canât even stop, his entire body spasms against yours, quaking through the release, his forehead lodged into your throat as if heâs holding onto you while he falls apart.
Itâs a lot. More than the last time. More than either of you expected. So much, itâs leaking around him even while heâs still stuffed deep, twitching through the last waves. He doesnât move, he just stays there, even when he pulls his face up to look at you with blue eyes blown, ââŚFuck. I didnât pull out.â
Your heart sits high in your chest, he watches your expression like itâs life or death, âHonestlyâŚI didnât even try.â
But thatâs when it hits him. He should tell you to go on birth control. He knows it. That itâs the responsible, sensible, smart thing to do; the normal thing guys in college say when they donât want their lives derailed.
Though, truth is? He doesnât want normal, not with you. Because birth control kills the possibility, the danger, the fucked up little thrill that coils low in his stomach every time he pushes in deep and realizes that he could claim you in the one way no other guy has.
If you were on the pill, there would be no risk. No moment where he hovers on the edge, shaking, wondering if he should pull out or just stay, and he lives for that moment. That heartbeat of insanity right before he cums, where he thinks, if I donât pull out, sheâs mine for real.
So thatâs why he never says the words, âYou should get on birth control.â
And as deranged as it is, he doesnât want to eliminate the one thing that makes fucking you feel holy, catastrophic, and fate-altering.
ButâŚlittle does Satoru Gojo know that youâre already on it. You got on it right after that second time he finished in you.
Because that night scared youâyou couldnât trust him anymore, you couldnât trust yourself either, and the recklessness was going to ruin you both.
You werenât an idiot. Despite being a sheltered good girl your whole life and being inexperienced with sex, you know the consequences. And after watching his hesitation to pull out disappear night after night and feeling him stay inside you longer each time you fucked, you knew you made the right call.
However, you kept it a secret. You figured it was what was best for the both of you. You were protecting yourself all while letting him play out his little fantasy or whatever sick game he gets off on, letting him think every time might be the time he gets you pregnant.
It was smart, it was calculated, it was you being safe. OrâŚSo you thought. Because of course, life had other plans, cruel and ironic ones. The kind of plans that are in motion before you even realize anything is wrong.
The Plan B you took after that second time he finished in you? Yeah. Unfortunately, it doesnât work when youâre ovulating. And that night was exactly when you were.
The symptoms creep up on you so sneakily that you donât even notice them. At first, itâs just fatigue. A bone-deep heaviness that sinks into your limbs on a random Monday morning, although you chalk it up to Gojo keeping you up until 3 A.M. againâhim pinning your wrists above your head and whispering âone more round, princessâ.
But then the smell of breakfast the next day makes you nauseaous, an odd twist within your gut when you catch a whiff of Blairâs bacon egg and cheese sandwich, âGirl, you good?â
âFine,â You lie, "Probably just dehydrated,â Though youâve been drinking water all day and still feel wrong.
Then your boobs hurt, really hurt. Tender in a way youâve never felt before and Blair notices when you flinch throwing your tote bag over your shoulder, âThat bad?â
âI think Iâm getting sick.â
Youâre not getting sick. You know what your body feels like when something is off and this feels different. The next morning youâre brushing your teeth when Blair says casually from the sink beside you, âWhen did you last get your period?â
âLast month,â But then your hand stops in mid-air.
Last month. You havenât gotten it this month yet and it shouldâve come by now. Your blood runs cold, âWaitâŚwhat day is it?â
Blair checks her phone, âOctober 27th.â
No. No, no, no. Your toothbrush slips from your fingers and clatters into the sink as realization cleaves through your ribs. Itâs been three weeks since that night. Three weeks since the Plan B. Absolutely enough time to pass to start experiencing...pregnancy symptoms. And you already know it has a reputation for not always being effective.
You lift your trembling eyes to hers, âFuck class, weâre skipping. I need to go to CVS.â
She nods at that and the two of you urgently walk together to the CVS of doom and despair. Except this time, thereâs no adrenaline buzzing within your veins, only fear.
Youâre in the family planning aisle once again, but not to grab a Plan B, instead itâs a box of three pregnancy tests that feel far too heavy in your shaky hands. Blair hovers behind you, pale, âYou really thinkâ?â
âI donât know,â You whisper, voice breaking, âI donât know.â
But you do. You do know. You just canât bring yourself to admit it. Your hands continue to tremble as you pay and walk back to the dorms and shut the bathroom door. Blair waits outside for you, â(Y/N)âŚIâm right here, okay?â
You nod, barely breathing, your reflection in the mirror looks like a strangerâpretty, terrified, wearing his silver chain around your throat like a brand or prophecy to something more.
You open one of the tests, take it, and set it on the counter. You wait two minutes, only two, and grip the sink and pray. For what, youâre not sure. That itâs negative? Or that itâs positive so you donât have to keep pretending you arenât already half in love with Satoru Gojo?
Negative. Yeah, definitely negative. Youâre only eighteen, in your first semester of college. You moved across the country for this experience. Your dad would literally murder you for fucking it up.
You squeeze your eyes shut, then you look, and everything inside you falls, collapses, and rearranges.
Two pink lines. Bold and immediate. Youâre fucking pregnant. That canât be. You rip open another test and force yourself to pee again. False positives happen all the time, right? Right?
You wait another two minutes, only for the result to be the exact sameâŚpregnant. Yeah, thereâs no denying both. But fuck it, might as well take the third.
Another test, another positive. Three positive fucking tests, âOh my God,â You whisper, âOh my GodâŚoh my fucking Godââ
Blair knocks lightly, â(Y/N)? You okay? Whatâs happening?â
âHeâŚâ Your voice cracks, âHe got meâŚpregnant.â
The word tastes unreal in your mouth, âBut didnât you take a Plan B? Arenât you on birth controlâ?â
âI mustâve been ovulating or something,â You hiccup, tears brimming, âI-I did everything right.â
âBabyâŚopen the door.â
You open it, numb, and Blair pulls you into a crushing hug as the three tests shake in your hand, âOh, sweet girlâŚâ She coos, âWhat are you gonna do?â
You shake your head, tears hitting her shoulder, âIâI have to tell him.â
As soon as you make it back to your dorm room you text him.
toru come over
now
please
He replies instantly.
satoru: omw whatâs wrong
satoru: princess ??
You donât answer, but minutes later you can hear the rumble of his Porsche pull into the dormsâ parking lot and not even seconds pass before his frantic knocking rattles your door. When you open it, he stops breathing. Your eyes are bloodshot red, your entire body is quaking, and his chain, of course itâs still on your neck.
â(Y/N),â He exhales, stepping inside and shutting the door behind him with trembling fingers, âWhat the fuckâs going on? Did someoneâdid a guyâ? If someone touched you I swear Iâllââ
âItâs not that,â You whisper and hold out the three tests.
Gojo goes utterly still. He looks at the tests, then at you, then at the tests again. His throat bobs, ââŚWhat are those?â
âYou fucking know what they are.â
âTheyâreâŚpositive?â
You nod once, he inhales sharply like someone punched him, âFuck,â He says it again, quieter, âFuck.â
You watch his whole demeanor short circuit. At first itâs shock, but then something within him settles, something darker, something like acceptance wrapped in possession. Heâs already thinking, youâre pregnant. With my baby. Mine.
His throat works once, hard. His mouth twitches, barely but unmistakably, because he tried to smother whatever expression is trying to surface.
âCâmere,â He murmurs, pulling you into him like he can fold the entire world away. You break immediately, tears spill hot and fast, your hands clawing into his hoodie as you shake uncontrollably.
And Gojo holds you, arms wrapped around your waist, palm pressing the back of your head gently into his chest, and behind your hair, unseen, his lips curl with a quiet, corrupt satisfaction he canât suppress.
He does feel bad that youâre crying. He really does, but he also doesnât care in the way he probably should. Because at the end of the day, youâre carrying his baby, and no one else will ever be able to say that.
He keeps rubbing circles into your spine, shushing you softly. His voice is warm, soothing, everything he thinks heâs supposed to sound like in this moment, âItâs okay, princessâŚbreathe. Iâm here.â
But really, ever since you said the words, heâs been reminiscing. Which time was it? After the third time he came in you, heâs stayed in you more often than not. Heâs lost count of the nights he finished deep inside, hand fisted in the sheets, moaning your name.
Was it the night on his couch? The night he fucked you in the bathroom of his frat formal because he couldnât stand the way his brothers were looking at you? Was it when he pulled you onto his lap and didnât even pretend to pull out? Orâ
You sob, âI donâtâI donât know how it happenedâI thoughtââ
He pulls back slightly, thumb brushing your cheek, âWell, we stopped buying Plan Bs. So we werenât exactly beingâŚsafe.â
Your chest tightens, oh, right. He has no idea that youâve been on the pill, âSatoruâŚI need to be honest with you.â
His thumb stills against your cheek, petrified for whatever youâre about to say, ââŚOkay,â He says slowly, carefully, âTell me.â
Your bottom lip trembles, âIâŚIâve been on birth control.â
Everything in him freezes, ââŚWhat?â
âI started itâŚafter that second time, the night we fought,â You whisper, tears slipping fast down your cheeks, âI couldnât trust us anymore. I knew we were being stupid and I justâŚneeded to do something. But I didnât tell you because I didnât want things to change.â
Gojo stares at you like the entire universe just rearranged itself behind your eyes. Birth control. You were on birth control and still wound up pregnant. It wasnât the nights after. It wasnât the couch or the bathroom, it wasnât the time he came in you so deep he saw stars behind his eyelids.
No, it was that night. The one where he called you his and you called him yours, the one where he finished inside you on purpose and you wanted it. The night you took the Plan B after he watched his cum drip out of you like it was the eighth Wonder of the World. Of course it was that night; a night that ended up being prophecy.
Gojo isnât even upset with you for not telling him about the whole birth control thing, either. Matter of fact? Some twisted, fucked up, and deranged part of him feels satisfied. Because you really tried, you tried so hard not to get pregnant.
But fate already made its decision long before either of you pretended you had control and the idea of that makes something warm and primal settle in his chest, âOh my GodâŚit was that night.â
You squeeze your eyes shut, fresh tears dribbling down your cheeks, âSatoru, IâI donât know what to do. This wasnât supposed to happen. I took the pill, I was on birth control, weâwe shouldâve been fineââ
He shakes his head immediately, firmly cupping the back of your skull. What he wants to say is that this was always supposed to happen, but instead he opts for, âHey. Stop. No. This isnât on you.â
Because it isnât. If anything, the blame sits squarely on himâheâs the one who kept cumming in you like he was trying to write your future with his body alone. You were the one taking precautions and trying to keep things under control. He was the one who didnât stop.
So, of course you got pregnant. He practically begged the universe for it with the way he fucked you, âI shouldâve been pulling out,â He murmurs, thumb brushing away the tears, âBut I didnât. Thatâs on me.â
Your breath breaks, âHow come you donât you look upset?â
Gojo stiffens at the accusation. He doesnât look devastated or destroyed and he definitely doesnât look like a twenty year old frat boy whose life got flipped upside down.
He looksâŚeerily calm, âI donât know what Iâm feeling yet,â He lies; he knows exactly what heâs feeling and itâs not something he can say out loud without disrupting whatever fragile world youâre clinging to.
You turn away, pressing your hands to your face, shoulders jerking, âMy whole life is screwed, Satoru. My dadâmy classesâeverything. I donât even know how to breathe right now.â
His stomach twists, he hates that his lack of fear and panic makes him feel like a monster. He steps closer until his chest brushes your back and wraps his arms around you from behind, tugging you into him.
âPrincess,â He murmurs against your shoulder, âI know youâre terrified. I get it. You have every right to be. But I need you to hear me,â You donât look at him, but he tilts his head, voice dropping into something achingly soft, âYou didnât do anything wrong.â
Your lips quiver, âThen why does it feel like everything is falling apart?â
He exhales slowly, forehead dropping to the curve of your neck. Everything is falling apart for you, but for him? It feels like everything is falling into place. Youâre pregnant. With his baby, and no one else on the planet will ever be able to say that.
The girl who arrived to USC that every guy wanted, the girl who has always been good until she met Satoru Gojo, had been claimed by him. He closes his eyes, swallowing down the feral pulse in his chest, âIt feels like itâs falling apart because youâre shocked. Itâs big and sudden. Anyone would feel what youâre feeling.â
You shudder and he tightens his hold, protective in a way that feels instinctual, âBut youâre not alone in this. Not for one second.â
You sniff harshly, âYouâre taking this way too well.â
He almost laughs at how easily you see through him, âIâm taking it the only way I know how.â
Quietly, privately, his mind says a different thing, because some part of me knew this was coming the second I didnât pull out. He presses a soft kiss to your temple before you can see the flicker in his expression.
âTalk to me,â You whisper, voice rasped, âTell me what youâre thinking.â
He hesitates, because the real answer is, youâre pregnant because of me. Because you told me to make you mine and I did. What he says to you is gentler, âIâm thinking that weâll figure it out and that youâre safe with me.â
But beneath it, humming like electricity in his bloodstream, I donât regret it. Not even a little. It was always gonna be us. You were meant to be mine.
You donât even get a chance to respond to what Gojo has said when the universe decides to fuck you over for a second time. Your phone vibrates in the pocket of the hoodie youâre wearingâhis hoodie. A single buzz, then another. You still instantly, Gojoâs hands pause on your waist, âWho is it?â
You pull back just enough to fish your phone out, wiping at your cheeks with the back of your hand. Your vision blurs as you blink at the notification. And when you see the name on the lock screen, you freeze entirely.
Gojoâs brows knit, âBaby?â
ââŚItâs my dad,â You swipe his message open with tottering fingers and the text hits you like a brick to the sternum.
dad: Hey sweetheart! Good news! College gameday is in USC this weekend so Iâll be seeing you in a few days.
dad: I canât wait to see you, princess. Love you.
Your throat swells, he leans in slightly to read the message himself because you canât find your own voice, and for the first time tonight, Satoru Gojo breaks, ââŚOh fuck.â
Your dad is coming in three days.
And has no idea that his daughter is knocked up by a frat boy.
extra credit: edging the favorite lab rat until she cries
warnings/nsfw: smut; p in v sex, creampie, heavy edging, overstimulation, sadist!gojo, slight degradation, crying kink, mindfuck narration, praise mixed with humiliation, possessive creampie, aftercare, nerdjo being a total freak under the glasses, dirty talk, clinical dom vibes with humour.
song recomms: eoO by bad bunny, maria by justin bieber and bumpy ride by mohobi ;)
he texts you late: âneed a volunteer for extra credit psych/bio crossover project. my room, now. bring nothing but yourself. doorâs unlocked.â
you show up thinking itâs actual studying. heâs in his usual oversized hoodie (hood up, glasses slightly fogged from the mini-fridge cold), hair a chaotic white mess, but his eyes are sharp behind the lenses. the room smells like energy drinks, old comics, and that faint metallic tang from his hidden toy drawer.
âperfect timing,â he says casually, closing the door behind you with a soft click that feels way too final. âweâre testing human physiological response to prolonged sensory deprivation and edging stimuli. purely academic. you in?â
he doesnât wait for a real yes - just smirks when you hesitate, already pulling out the blindfold (black silk, probably stolen from some cosplay prop). âsubjects donât get veto power. strip to your underwear and lie down.â
you end up on his bed, wrists cuffed to the headboard (those same hidden ones from the snack drawer incident), ankles loosely tied spread with soft rope he âborrowed from the physics lab.â blindfold on. darkness. his voice turns clinical, almost bored - the ultimate mindfuck.
he starts slow. a single fingertip tracing your collarbone, down between your breasts, circling one nipple until it pebbles painfully hard. no pressure, just endless teasing circles. stopwatch clicks.
âphase 1: light tactile stimulation. duration: 10 minutes. subject is already exhibiting goosebumps and minor vocalization. interesting.â
you squirm. he chuckles low. âshh. data requires stillness. try not to ruin the experiment by cumming too early - probabilityâs only 4.7% right now.â
next: ice cube from his mini-fridge. he drags it over your stomach, down your inner thighs, then presses it right against your clit through your panties. the cold shocks you into a gasp; he holds it there while narrating.
âtemperature differential causing rapid vasoconstriction followed by rebound vasodilation. subjectâs hips are bucking involuntarily. cute. but unscientific. hold still or i restart the timer.â
when youâre dripping, soaked through the fabric, he finally peels your panties aside. tongue - warm contrast to the ice - flat and slow laps from entrance to clit. no sucking, no speed, just relentless, measured strokes like heâs charting every twitch.
âphase 2: oral stimulation. time to first near-orgasm: 7 minutes 42 seconds. subject is whimpering incoherently. vocal data logged.â
he edges you mercilessly. brings you right to the brink - thighs shaking, pleas muffled against the blindfold - then stops. completely. hands off. stopwatch resets.
âaww, poor variable. denied at 98% threshold. thatâs three edges now. your arousal index is off the charts⌠but no release until i say the hypothesis is proven.â
by the fourth edge youâre crying softly under the blindfold, tears soaking the silk, begging in broken whispers. âtoru-please-itâs too much-
he leans in close, breath hot on your ear, voice dropping from clinical to cruel-sweet.
âwrong. itâs exactly enough. say the hypothesis out loud, baby: âiâm a needy little experiment who cums only when her sadist nerd tells her to.â say it clearly for the recording.â
you sob it out, voice cracking. he groans - first real crack in his composure - and finally, finally sinks two fingers deep, curling hard against that spot while his thumb grinds your clit in tight circles.
âgood subject. hypothesis confirmed. now cum for the data.â
you shatter - whole body arching off the bed, cuffs rattling, a choked scream he smothers with his mouth. he doesnât stop. keeps fingering you through it, drawing out aftershocks until youâre oversensitive and twitching.
then the blindfold comes off. glasses still on, but his eyes are dark, hungry. he uncuffs one wrist just to flip you onto your stomach, yank your hips up, and slam in from behind in one brutal thrust.
âfuck-empirical evidence: your pussy was designed for this cock. take the rest of the trial like a good lab rat.â
he fucks you hard, mean, one hand around your throat (light pressure, just enough to make your head spin), the other spanking your ass in rhythm. âcry louder. i want quantifiable decibels.â
when he finally fills you - hot, deep, grinding to push every drop in - he collapses over you, panting, kissing the tears off your cheek.
âsession complete. a+ performance. weâll need⌠repeat trials. for science.â
after everything he pulls you into his lap (still leaking his cum), wraps you in his hoodie, strokes your hair while murmuring, âyou were perfect, baby. so responsive. daddyâs proud of his favorite test subject.â feeds you snacks from his stash, lets you play with his legos while you come down.
âśď¸ď¸ SCREAM VI (starring . ghostface! geto, gojo, & choso)
synopsis . In which your âkillersâ soon realize youâre not stuck with them but theyâre stuck with youâŚ
content . afab!reader, three/foursome, squirting, non-curse au, oral sex, established relationship, reader gets kinda passed around, men teasing one another, dirty talk, unprotected sex, established relationship, fear play, lowk feral reader, cuck!Geto, rough sex, praise, overstim, degrading, tw: spitting, pet names, filth (cĂšm eating), pussy slapping, teasing, chojo sneak bc i cant help it, a hint of knife play, etc.
word count . 9.6k || authorâs note: in honor of the new scream movie coming out tmr i thought iâd go ahead and repost this from kamitvâif it looks familiar, thatâs why. banner art by the lovely @/aransmind!!
âYou want me to wear that and chase you around the estate?â
âYeah, and when you find meâŚâ
âI fuck you instead of killing you.â
âMhm!â You hum cheerfully to your rather concerned boyfriend whose lap youâre currently sitting on.
Those dark raven strands of hair framing his gorgeous face sway with the light tip of his head to the side as his naturally slim eyes narrow at your overly excited expression, âAnd Iâm doing this, why?â Geto questions.
You let out a giggle, which only confuses him even more. âBecause Scream is my favorite franchise and Ghostface is hot⌠Duh.â
Itâs as if the man only falls for you more and more every day. Getoâs been with you for roughly two years now and yet youâve never revealed this sudden⌠mask kink you clearly have. He likes the Scream franchise just as much as you do and the idea of chasing you around and eventually fucking you in costume definitely excites him.
So there you are; sitting in his lap and pouting, steadily snaking your arms around his neck and pulling yourself in close before you plant a chaste little kiss on his lips.
âCâmon Sugu, I know youâve thought about it before,â You point out to him in a low purr as your lips depart from his.
The hands thatâd been calmly resting on your hips suddenly grow intrigued as they slide up to your waist and give you a soft squeeze, âI really havenât.â He admits honestly. You can see it all in his eyes that he silently agreed to this the moment you brought out that stupid mask.
At his soft admission, a gleaming smile spreads across your face, âOkayy, well you are now⌠So is that a yes or what?â
He pretends to think for only a moment longer, glancing off to the side in faux thought before landing those pretty lilac irises back onto you, âYeah, sure. Tomorrow's Halloween so, we can do it then.â Geto tells you.
And that was all it took.Â
Halloween night was here before you even had time to fully prepare for it. The entire day you werenât able to stop thinking about the moment Geto would walk through the front door, dressed in all black with that overly attractive ghostface mask cloaking his equally beautiful face.Â
Your heart was racing in anticipation as the sun began to set outside and the clock ticked closer and closer toward the time of which he would return home from work. You knew heâd be there no more than thirty minutes after and all you could do was wonder how this all would go down.
Clad in only one of his oversized white t-shirts, you distracted yourself by mindlessly scrolling on your phone as you awaited the moment heâd get home. Any second now and youâd hear that lovely security chime go offâ
You jump a little in your bed when your thought is cut off by an incoming unknown number. If you werenât buzzing with excitement before, you damn sure are now because itâs clear your boyfriend is going out of his way to play into this with you. There are practically small hearts in your eyes as you tap that enticing green button on your screen to answer the phone.
Biting back a smile, youâre quick to bring the phone up to your ear, âHello?â
An almost low-quality distortion to the personâs voice is instantly recognized by youâit wasnât Suguruâs voice at all, it was that infamous voice changer that spoke to you. âWhy donât you wanna talk to me?â A man asks, and you know this line all too well.
Hell, you know the entire dialogue. This is exactly why you sit up in your bed and hold back that smile of yours like your life depended on it. Tilting your head into the phone, you glance around your bedroom, âWho is this?â
âYou tell me your name, Iâll tell you mine,â The âmysteryâ man continues.Â
You had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from giggling right then and there. Your dark little fantasy was becoming true right before your very eyes and it had a sliver of excitement slipping down your spine. Sliding out from your bed, you take small steps toward the nearby window and glance outside.
Scoffing softly, âI donât think so.â You quote, straight from the first Scream. Youâve seen the movie enough times to recite the whole thing word for word, even his lines.
Itâs a bit off-script how things go from here on out but, thatâs the goal.
âAw, youâre no fun.â He purrs. Even with that damn voice changer, youâd recognize that purr any day. You know this is your boyfriend and that only has your body heating up with each passing second.
Now youâre left to improv a bit. âThink so?â You reply as you pull your bedroom curtains closed and turn away from the window.
âOh I know so, sweetheart. Itâs Halloween night and youâre doing nothing to celebrate.â The man on your phone points out.Â
Youâre walking out of your room now and taking a careful peek into the dimmed hallway. âAnd that makes me not fun? What am I supposed to do to celebrate Halloween aside from dressing up and maybe handing out some candy?â
He chuckles. âYouâre a smart girl, Iâm sure you can figure something else out.â
âLet me guess,â Your brows raise a little, âI should be watching scary movies?â
âThat depends. You like scary movies?â There you are, right back onto the script.
âUhuh,â You hum in response with a slight nod as if he could see you.
âWhatâs your favorite scary movie?â And there it is, infamous line one of many. You nearly let out a dreamy sigh knowing that itâs nothing but your boyfriend on the other end.
Allowing yourself to smile this time, you trek down your hallway and towards the staircase. âUhhh, I dunno,â Of course you know, but whereâs the fun in saying it so soon?
âYou have to have a favorite. What comes to mind?â Every scratchy distorted-pitched word that pours from the manâs mouth has anticipation bubbling within you.
You sigh. âUhmm, Halloween!â As you recall that answer straight from the movie, you turn to your staircase and allow your eyes to scan the first floor of your home.
Most of the lights are on so itâs not too dark or anything but you really are curious whether or not Geto has made his way inside already.
âYâknow, the one with the guy with the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters?â You quote flawlessly yet again. Youâre such a fanatic for the Scream franchise that youâre loving every single second of this.
âYeahh,â He purrs again, making your heart involuntarily flutter.
You begin to slowly descend down the flight of stairs, âWhatâs yours?â
âGuess.â He orders on the other end.
Pausing halfway down, you glance over to your kitchen. The light is still on and everything is exactly the way you left it. âUhm, Nightmare on Elm Street?â You soon reply.
âIs that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?â The way your boyfriend knows every word to this just as well as you do makes your stomach churn in affection just a bit.Â
Your voice turns enthusiastic and you continue your steps down, âYeah! Freddy Kruger.â
âFreddy, thatâs right.â He continues, âI like that movieâit was scary.â
âWell the first one was but the rest sucked.â Youâre downstairs now, looking around at the way all the blinds in your home are open. Did you leave them like that for this exact reason? You donât remember.
âMhm,â âMysteryâ man hums and you swear you can picture the smirk on his face as he utters the next infamous line. âSoo, you got a boyfriend?â
You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second before smiling, âWhy? You wanna ask me out on a date?â Now youâre making a right to enter your living room, heading toward your couch placed in the center.
âMaybe. Do you have a boyfriend?â He asks again.
You pause for a second. This literally is your boyfriend so, surely he wants you to play into this question, right?
âNo.â You chirp simply.
You can hear the smile on his face even through that stupidly attractive voice changer, âYou never told me your name.â
You know what comes after this and you canât help but begin to look around as you plop down on your couch, âWhy do you wanna know my name?âÂ
Itâs silent over the phone for a long couple of seconds
âCauseâ we wanna know who weâre looking at.â
Your heart surprisingly sinks as those words hit your ears. We? Thatâs not⌠how that scene goes. He was supposed to say that he wants to know who heâs looking at. Thereâs no we? Where the hell did he even get that from??
For the first time since you picked up this damn phone and started this whole thing, youâre actually a bit nervous. Chuckling loosely, you try to play it off as your eyes glance around your living room, âWhat do you mean, âweâ?âÂ
Thereâs a shuffling over the phone for just a moment. Then, you hear that distorted voice again, but the pitch is slightly different. âCâmon, princess. Youâve seen the movies, you should know by now that thereâs hardly ever only one killer.â The man says.Â
Eyes all over every corner of the house, heart thumping slightly in your chest, you can feel your anxiety rising within. âI⌠I donât understand.â You murmur softly.
And then⌠all the lights go out with a loud noise coming from somewhere outside. If you werenât shaking in fear before, you damn sure are now. Your eyes go even wider and you move to put your phone on speaker, clicking your flashlight on right after.Â
âS-Suguru, this isnât funny! I like the movies ând all but Iâm not the biggest fan of being scared, you know that.â The person(s) on the phone can hear the clear trembling in your voice as you stand up and point your flashlight to whatever area your eyes land on, searching for any signs of anyone.
Thereâs a snicker over the line. âOh but this iss funny, sweets.â The tone changed againâitâs still distorted in that famous Ghostface pitch, but itâs not Suguru nor the person whoâd said something before. âYou look sooo scared right now.â
Aw hell, that lets you know he (or they) can see you right now. Which is just great considering you canât see shit aside from darkness and the few areas of your house that your light lands on. Youâre scared to leave the living room but⌠youâre also terrified of staying right where you are. You donât know how many Ghostfaceâs are in your house right now and you donât know what the hell Suguru has planned for you tonight.
âStop playing around! Turn the lights back on and quit this scary shit, Suguru.â You huff out into the call, taking one step to your right and hearing the floor creak below your foot.
The house is eerily quietâwhich is ridiculously concerning considering how he-, they can see you but you canât see them at the moment. How the hell are they talking to you without you hearing them? They are in your house now, right??
âYou said you wanted to get fucked by Ghostface, baby.â The voice returns, as does that natural purr, letting you know itâs Geto talking once more. âYou never said how manyâŚâ
You slowly walk around your couch and shift your flashlight toward the blinds, trying to get a look outside your windows. âAre you serious? That sounds insane. How many of you are there?!â Your gaze flicks toward the nearby staircase and you only scare yourself as your eyes get lost in the darkness of your home.
Getoâs still talking, âIncluding me, thereâs three of us. How does that sound, hm? Iâm obviously not gonna make you do anything you donât want to but, you do know who we all are.â
You swallow thickly. âDo I?â This time your words leave in a whisper and you swear you hear a shuffling coming from upstairs.
Lord knows youâre scared out of your mind right now. But, it is comforting to know that whatever this is, your boyfriend is in control of it all. You trust him more than anything, so thereâs no real reason to be scared⌠right?Â
âMhm. So how âbout we play a game?â Your boyfriend requests, and the sound of him smiling again is heard through his tone.
You stop walking entirely and your eyes are fixated upstairs as you flash your light up there. âOkay Jigsaw.â You snort, âWhat⌠What kind of game, huh?â
He sighs, almost sounding as though he were sitting back against something. âThe one you and I were going to play. Yâknow, you run around ân hide but if I find you, I fuck you. Letâs continue that but⌠with two others.â
âSuguru, youâre gonna let two other guys fuck me?â Youâre beyond baffled by this whole thing. Never in a million years would you have expected this from your boyfriend. This is the same man who got mad a while ago for the way some guy who was all flirty with you at a restaurantâŚ
Geto hums deeply, âSâlong as youâre okay with it and they find you before I do, yeahh.â
âI didnât know you were into thatâŚâ You reply, moving a hand to tug his shirt further down your body. Knowing that there was more than just him in the area right now made you a bit self-conscious.
âDidnât know you were into masks but the Ghostface thing really does it for yaâ, huh?â Suguru snaps back with that sass you know and love.
âI meanâŚâ You shrug, âYeah.â
âRight. So then, the game is simple. You try to hide and whoever finds you first; fucks you.â
âThatâs it?â
âOh, nooo. Thereâs more to this babyâŚâ You swear you hear a creak upstairsâcoming from somewhere down the left end of the hallway. It gives you the chills as Geto continues. âSee, I know how loud you are when you cum so⌠tonight, I want you to be nice and quiet.â
You gulp, âWhat happens if Iâm not?â
âAnother one of us will find you.â
âOhââ
ââŚAnd join in.â He steadily adds on with an amused smile on his face that you obviously canât see right now.
Your heart races at the thought alone. âOh.â
Just for extra consent, Geto tilts his head against the phone, âThat alright with you?â
âYes⌠but, wait do I still have to be quiet even if there ends up being two of you guys fucking meâŚ?â You lean to the side a bit and aim your light toward the direction you heard the creak, spotting no one and no signs of life whatsoever.
âYep.â Geto replies with a teasing pop of the âpâ.
âButââ
âDonât worry, Iâm sure youâll do fine. After all,â The voice changer clicks off and Suguruâs tone is nice and clear with you, âYâknow whose cock youâre supposed tâget loud on.â
You feel yourself throb at the sound of his voice without that stupid filter, puffing out a little sigh in reaction to his lewd words.Â
âOh, and by the wayâŚâ
âHuh?â
The voice changer clicks on one last time and he chuckles. âTheyâre already in the house.â
ââ
Okay, you knew Halloween was one of Suguruâs favorite holidays but shit you didnât expect him to go all out like this.
Not one, not two, but three Ghostfaces in your home searching for you right now? Youâre lucky the house is big and there are plenty of places to hide but fuck is your anxiety through the goddamn roof as you sit in the empty tub of your first-floor bathroom. The door is shut but not locked and youâve got the tub curtain pulled closed, just in case one of them does happen to stroll in.
Obviously, this wasnât the best hiding spot in the world but you wanted them to eventually find you. You were scared in the beginning because of how unexpected this was but now youâre just as excited as you were when you first received that infamous phone call and recited all the lines with your boyfriend.
As soon as the call had ended, you clicked your flashlight off and snuck around in search of a hiding placeâwhich is roughly how you ended up where you are nowâŚ
Now youâre left wondering who would find you first. Well, that and who the hell is under two of those masks. You suspect one of them is Gojo Satoru since thatâs your boyfriendâs best friend but the other guy⌠youâre not too sure. Geto said you knew him but that still doesnât help much.
Your boyfriend has a lot of friends that you know. Which one does he trust enough to let them have their way with you??
After maybe fifteen minutes of sitting in the tub, you start hearing someone outside the bathroom door. Footsteps shuffle by and you can tell the person went off into your kitchen. Then you hear the sounds of doors and cabinets opening, all of which make your breath hitch.
Itâs so nerve-wracking and exciting waiting for someone to swing open the bathroom door. The footsteps soon pass it again and you let out the faintest sigh.
âŚOnly to hear those steps halt not too far off from the door. Then, they turn and your body stiffens up entirely as each thump against the hardwood floor draws closer and closer to the door. You canât see it because of the shower curtains but, thereâs a shadow at the bathroom door.
Then you hear a small clinking sound, followed by a very soft⌠thump? Almost as if someone were leaning against the bathroom door to listen.
It was so scarily exciting that you had to move a hand over your mouth to keep yourself as silent as possible. After which, itâs all so very motionless.
Thereâs no sound, safe for someone walking around upstairs, and you just know someoneâs outside the bathroom door right now. Your heart sinks into your ass the moment you hear that doorknob turning torturously slow until itâs lightly pushed open.Â
Then, there are but two soft steps taken inside and you donât hear it but the door is closed behind whoever just entered.
They could be coming in to just use the bathroom⌠riiiight?
Thatâs extremely naive of you to think but a girl can only hope. Another step is taken deeper into the bathroom and that soft clinking sound you heard before is getting louder. Itâs faint, almost like⌠jewelry or⌠necklaces slapping against one another gently. Jewelry⌠Necklaces⌠Which one of Getoâs friends do you know wears a lot of jewelry...? Câmon, think.
Necklaces⌠rings maybe⌠piercingsâ
The very second it clicks in your brain who this might be, you practically flinch right out of your skin as you spot a knife slowly moving to slide the bathtub curtain open. As the curtain is pulled open, youâre met with the tilted head of someone in a Ghostface costume.
Your eyes are all wide on them and you genuinely have no idea where on your body this guy is looking but the mask is actually quite scary when itâs all dark and neither of you is making any sudden movements.
His head slowly angles to the opposing direction, just like Ghostface often does in the movies, and you gulp loudly. The curtain is pinned to the wall by the knife in his hand and you think youâre sweating.
âScared?â His voice is deep. Familiarly deep. It quickly confirms your suspicions of whoâs face may be lying beneath that iconic mask.
With your eyes all frantic along whatâs covering his face, noticing the bits of blood and cracks decorating it, you swallow thickly yet again. âChoso?â Your voice is hardly above a whisper and the air feels so heavy with tension.
His hand moves away from the wall and the knife, which you hope is fake, is placed on the edge of the tub with a soft tapping noise emitting into the still air. Then he takes that same hand and lifts it to pull his mask up to the right side of his face, revealing his expression to you as he crouches down to your eye level. You quickly feel your fear die off and itâs replaced with⌠something else as you study his face. Thereâs fake blood splattered on his skin, makeup extending the tattoo along the bridge of his nose, and piercings that stand out against his facial features.
âThe tub, really?â He whispers to you, chuckling softly and flashing this kind smile at you that makes you feel overly warm inside. âSâthis the best you could do? Yâknow if I was a real killer youâd be dead right now, right?â Choso teases, all of his words kept in a low voice.
You roll your eyes and shift against the cold tub flooring, âI wouldnât have hid in here if you guys were real killers, Iâm not dumb.â
His lips curve into this sexy yet lazy smirk and you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest. You had a thing for Choso way back before you started dating Geto and it seems as though your body hasnât forgotten why. âYeahh?â Choso chastises with another tilt of his head, âThink you would be the final girl?â
Leaning forward a bit, you nod. âNo, I know I would.â
Choso lets out a hum before biting his lower lip for a moment. Then, he lets it fall from in between his teeth and you think youâre in a trance. âOh sheâs cocky, huh?â He teases.
You smile at him and then push up to stand on your knees. Leaning all the way forward, you slowly reach for the knife and take it into your hands. Then you move to hold the tip of it right underneath his jaw and the sound of his breath hitching hits your ears just right.Â
You openly stare at his lips and watch the way his smirk slowly transcends into a full cocky smile. âYâknow thatâs not fake, right?â Choso hushes out to you.
The knife is carefully caressing his skin as you trace it up slightly to his chin, âItâs not?â You ask innocently, placing your free hand on the edge of the tub and watching how he slowly moves to sit on his knees so that heâs looking up at you.
His face is all pretty from this angle, big brown doe-eyes batting up at you so softly, such a pretty face of dark innocence presented before you. Whoâs really the âvictimâ hereâyou or him?
âNah,â Choso whispers, âThatâs a real knife.â
âWhy would you carry around a real knife?â You ask in an equally soft tone as your brows twist up in confusion.
He shrugs. âHonestly, I was gonna ask if you were into a bit of knife playâŚâÂ
His words make your mind stray away from the situation at hand. Your imagination is quick to push out ideas and all sorts of scenarios that could have occurred with this knife of his had you not looked so scared when he first saw youâŚ
âAre you?â The question in return makes Chosoâs gaze flicker into something way more lustful than it was moments before.
He scoffs, âAm I? Why would I ask you about it if I wasnât.â
âSo⌠What, you wanna cut my clothes off of somethinâ?â You ask carefully, steadily slipping the tip of the knife along his jawline.
Choso just barely nods his head in response.
âYâknow itâs funny you say that and yet youâre the one on your knees with a knife held up to your chin right now.â You point out with an all-knowing grin plastered all over your face.
Choso bites back a laugh. Itâs cute that you think you have the upper hand here. âYou and I both know that could easily change in a matter of seconds.â He claims.
And yâknow, maybe itâs because you found yourself turned on by this whole game or maybe itâs simply because you wanted to fuck Choso but either wayâyou do not shy away from testing that theory. All you said was a simple âprove itâ and you found yourself in quite the position moments later.
It was one thing that Choso managed to easily gain a hold of the knife once more but it was another thing entirely that he was able to swiftly and quietly get you out of the tub and into his arms. All without even so much as grazing you with that sharp weapon too.
It was almost impressive, in all honesty.
Somewhere in the mix of all that, he ends up placing the knife down and soon has you sitting on the bathroom counter. Well, had you sitting on the bathroom counterâit quickly becomes a lot more than simply that.
Choso used that lilâ knife of his to cut down the center of your (Getoâs) shirt and was quick to have you all exposed to his overly greedy eyes. You were wearing nothing more than this lacy black set beneath that oversized shirt so it wasnât much to get you unclothed.
One second he was cutting your shirt open and the next his lips were on yours. Then his pierced tongue was in your mouth and your arms were around his neck, tugging him closer to you and feeling his hard cock poking you through the thick layers of black clothes between you and him.
Which is exactly what led to the way you are currently.
Choso now has your legs spread wide open for him and his clothes are hardly even off, safe for the black cloak-like jacket that slipped off of his shoulders and the way his pants have been tugged down. Heâs got on this black compression shirt and you spot the layered chains/necklaces hanging from around his throat that you heard earlier. Now leaning back slightly against the mirror behind you with your eyes set down between the two of you, youâre left watching the mean slap of Chosoâs leaky cockhead against your clit.Â
âCho,â You whispered out pleadingly. Heâd been doing this for the longestâtapping his thick cock against your clit and then rubbing it from side to side against you, feeling the way you leak onto the counter below and hearing those faint whines escaping your throat.
Then he has the nerve to have the sluttiest expression on his half-revealed face, eyes all low-lidded and glued to your exposed pussy, bottom lip locked in between his teeth as he holds back his own breathy sounds of pleasure, and brows all tense as if heâs not the one torturing the two of you like this. âShiiiit,â Choso rasps out, sliding his cock down slowly and pressing his fat tip against your weeping hole. âSuguru was right, this pussy is sâfuckinâ loud ân messyâŚâ He breathes.
Your lips are all parted and all you can do is pant softly as he lifts his tip away and then slaps it against your cunt again, listening to the shlick tapping sound that comes from your sex.
Almost in a daze, he glides his cock up and down your wet folds, âLook at herrr,â Choso purrs, âAll wet fâme. Canât believe heâs lettinâ us fuck you.â His hips push forward a bit and you feel the way his heavy shaft glides against your cunt instead of inside like you so desperately want him to.
You have to suppress the needy whine that threatens to escape your throat, holding one hand slightly over your mouth. âChoso, please.â You whisper beneath your palm.
He pulls his hips back and angles his tip back down to your entrance, pushing forward ever so slightly and teasing that tight ring of muscle, not trying to really push himself into you at all. âWhat is it, princess?â Choso taunts, smirking as he lifts his eyes up to your face, âWant me to fuck you?â
You throb at his words, nodding as if a second longer would have you pronounced dead. âPlease,â You whine, trying your best to wiggle your hips forward.
Choso leans forward and moves his lips right up your ear, his breath all warm and tickly against your skin. âYeah? Yâwant my cock inside you that badly?â He says with another faint push of his hips. Every word that leaves his lips has you dripping all over him.
Itâs not until you move your hand away from your mouth and place it on the counter space behind you, and whisper, âYes Choso, just put it all the way in already, Iâm losing my fuckinâ m-mindâŚâ Your last word leaves a little shaky due to the way he suddenly moves a hand over your lips.
Pressing his palm against your mouth, you grow confused until you look over to the bottom of the bathroom door and see a shadow moving by. Yet another Ghostface was nearby.
Choso, not yet wanting to ruin his alone time with you, presses his lips further against your ear, and his other hand grips your thigh tightly. âMânot ready tâshare you yet so, be really fuckinâ quiet fâme, alright?â His warning confused you for half a second before you felt him roll his hips forward with a sharp snap at the end, stuffing you full with every hard inch of his cock in one go.
Your eyes tear up and your mouth hangs open under his hand, a strangled moan escaping your throat. Chosoâs dick is so stupidly big, reminding you of your boyfriend in more ways than one. Unlike Geto though, Chosoâs got this ruthless right curve and just drags against your sweet spot with every small movement he makes, the rest of his cock felt throbbing and twitching wildly against your sodden walls.
He lets out a choked grunt against your ear and you can feel him humping his cock deeper inside you with these small maddening little thrusts. âDoes he even fuck you? S-ShiiitâŚâ Choso lets his thoughts be vocalized against the crown of your ear and you only squeeze around his girthy shaft. âSâfuckinâ tight.. God-, fu-uckâŚâ His voice has this pretty lilâ crack at the end that makes you soak his cock even more, sloppy juices leaking all out from where the two of you are connected.
Choso has to tug his hips back a bit and he completely forgets that he recently heard someone walking by the bathroom as he mindlessly thrusts right back into you. Your eyes meet the back of your skull and you groan into his palm. The wet gurgles and squelches from your pussy are what draws attention to the bathroom, if any.
Which is something you canât even control, especially not with the way Choso goes from short grunts in your ear to moaning delightedly against your skin and fucking his thick cock into your sinfully warm cunt. Deep and almost passionate strokes are made into you and he canât help but rid his hand from your mouth at some point. Moving it back to your thighs, he sprawls your legs out even wider so his cock can dig deeper into you.
With your jaw still hanging open, the sounds of him fucking you against the counter slowly grow louder and louder. Youâre trying not to moan but itâs so hard with himâChoso knows how to use his cock all too well and his eyes are studying your face so he knows where exactly he should be thrusting. Just the slightest shift of his hips causes drool to leak from the corner of your lips and that makes him flash this fucked-out little smile.
Choso leans up closer and his body sandwiches against yours for a moment. You swear you can feel his angry cockhead prodding at your guts because fuck is he in there deep. Not to mention how orgasmic it is to feel him drag his pierced tongue against your chin, lapping up the mess of drool from your face before shoving the muscle into your mouth and forcing you to suck on it.
That leaves your moaning drowned out for a bit and Choso takes the opportunity to pound himself into you like a damn madman. Your legs quickly begin to feel like jello in his hands and you couldnât even focus on sucking on his tongue anymore. Then, he pulls his mouth away, just barely, and the two of you are staring deep into each otherâs eyes as his pace gets faster. His hips are so sharp against you and you can feel his weighty balls slapping against your ass with every mean and pronounced thrust.
Your breath mingles with one another and youâre both so fucked out that you donât even realize youâre a lot louder now until you spot the bathroom door cracking open in your peripherals. It barely makes a sound as itâs pushed open slightly and all you see is yet another person wearing a Ghostface maskâthe sight alone and the clear eye contact you make with them leading straight to your orgasm.
The second Ghostface stands motionless, doing nothing more than watching the blissful way your eyes lull to the back of your head and you release this sweet moan of Chosoâs name. Choso, oblivious to being watched right now, is so close to emptying himself inside you.
âF-Fuck,â He huffs, tipping his head back and looking up to the ceiling for a moment. âSo tight⌠Iâm gonna c-cum if you keep squeezinâ me like that.â His voice fluctuates here and there but by the time your eyes roll back into place, the bathroom door is shut and that second Ghostface is now standing right behind Choso.
You flinch and Choso chokes out a grunt at how tightly you just clenched around his cock. The second Ghostface is slow to lift his mask up a bit, only revealing his mouth with this recognizable snake bite piercing that has your cunt gripping onto Choso even tighter. Then, the man leans to Chosoâs ear and practically scares him into cumming inside you.
âWhat do we have here, hm?â Gojo whispers, making Chosoâs hips stutter against you. He then reaches a gloved hand around Choso and your neglected clit is met with his thumb swatting over it, âCanât believe you found her first. Sânot fairâŚâ Gojo hums softly with a slight pout.
You have this dumbfounded look all over your face and you may be fucked out of your mind but you swear Chosoâs cock is almost harder inside you. The two of you curse in unison as Gojo rotates his thumb against your clit in a sensual circle motion, making you clench again and Choso rolls his gaze backâonly the whites of his eyes visible to you.
âK-Keep rubbinâ her like that,â Choso pants with a soft moan. âSheâs so fucking tight⌠Iâm gonna die in here, s-shit.â He curses dramatically.
Gojo flicks his thumb upwards against your clit with a nasty trickle of your slick oozing out onto Chosoâs cock. âYouâre not gonna die, Cho,â He says in a chastising tone with a smile on his face, taking his free hand to pull his mask further up so that you can see his eyes.Â
You watch the way Gojo looks over Chosoâs shoulder and stares at Chosoâs lengthy cock disappearing in and out of your slobbering pussy. Gojo feels his own dick throb against his pants, pressing himself a bit closer to Choso and moving to talk into his ear. âI mean look at her,â Gojo directs, leading to Choso focusing his hazy gaze onto your face. âYouâre already fucking her to tears, youâre not gonna die, heh. Youâre fuckinâ her good.â
That last praise is what causes Choso to slump forward against you and roll his hips harshly against youâfollowed by which is a thick spurt of cum as he finishes inside you with a broken groan pouring from his lips. All as Gojo keeps his thumb on your clit, despite his hand getting squished in between you and Chosoâs body.Â
Then Gojo smirks and leans in toward Choso again, âThere yaâ go, good boy. Let it all out inside her. Jusâ like thatâŚâÂ
You donât think youâve ever been this⌠ruined before in your life. Watching Gojo tease and praise Choso like that while you were still being fucked and your clit was being stimulated led to you abruptly squirting. Chosoâs cock slips right out of you and Gojo removes his hand just so that both of them could watch you let out that filthy lilâ stream.
Chosoâs completely out of it as he watches your pussy spasm wildly. âHolyâŚâ He whispers, hardly able to finish the rest of his statement.
Gojo clicks his tongue, âSuguru didnât tell us you were a squirter. Or, has he never made you do that before?â He asks, slowly lifting his eyes up to your face.
You look like youâre about to pass out, your body all sweaty as you lean back against the mirror again and pant heavily. âHe⌠hah, f-fuck, h-he has.â You squeak out softly.
Gojo hums before looking back down, allowing Choso to step (stumble) back slightly past him so he can catch his breath. Then, once Choso is completely out of the way and the space between your legs is left vacantâGojo lets out an alarming chuckle.
He watches the way Chosoâs cum dribbles out of your overstimulated cunt, glob after glob leaking out so prettily that Gojo canât help but crouch down to get a closer look. Your eyes lazily follow his snowy head of hair and watch as his face is repositioned in between your spread legs. He moves his gloved thumb to your pussy lips and sloshes that mix of you and Chosoâs cum around against you.Â
Then, Gojo flicks his gaze up to you and you gulp. He looks you dead in the eyes before spreading your lips further apart with his thumb and leaning forward. Your jaw drops in shock as Gojo cups his mouth against your pussy and suckles the mess from Choso into his mouth.
You whine, âS-Satoruâoh, w-wait,â Youâre left gasping as you shoot a hand down to his hair and grip him tightly.
Gojo groans deeply and you feel his tongue lap against your saturated cunt leisurely. Moving up and down in a sloppy filthy manner, your legs are trembling while Gojo cleans you up casually.Â
Chosoâs sitting on the nearby toilet seat now, batting his lashes at Gojos actions in shock. âSatoru you⌠you know I justââ
âMhmm,â Gojo mumbles into your pussy, pulling his lips back just barely to allow a cool slap of air to hit you. Then, he swallows. âYou both taste really,â Gojo leans back in to kiss your cunt, âMmph⌠fuckinâ sweet.â He murmurs against you before slithering his tongue inside you.
Your back arches and your legs move to close around his head as your fingers tug desperately on his locks of hair. âSâtoru,â You mumble, âFuck. Please⌠mgh, n-needaâ break. I-I canâtââ
Gojo tilts his head and smiles into your honeyed slick, âSweetheart,â He rasps against you, suckling on your taste for a moment longer before pulling off with a wet pop! âI jusâ got here ân you want a break from me already?â He says, pushing out his bottom lip to pout. âThatâs so mean.â
Before you even get the chance to argue with that, heâs diving right back in and eating you out like a man staved. Sucking, licking, kissing, spittingâGojoâs between your legs in some kind of trance as he drools all over his current meal. Heâs such a messy eater too, his actions quickly leading to the lower half of his face being coated with remnants of you.
After a bit, Choso seems to have collected himself and heâs soon standing up. His pants have been hastily pulled up and youâre too lost in the overstimulation Gojoâs giving you to realize Choso is approaching you too. When your eyes lift, you see Choso with his Ghostface mask back over his face and his phone held in his right hand.
Cocking his head to the side, he looms closer to Gojo and sneaks a, now gloved, hand into his bright white tufts of hair, prying his mouth away from your cunt with a harsh tug. You watch with teary eyes as Choso holds his phone up to Gojoâs face, and hums out a low, âSmile.â With the voice changer turned on.
Gojo sparks a toothy grin and his expression is all high in pleasure. He looks faded out of his mind, simply off of eating you out alone. The flash from Chosoâs phone lights up the bathroom and within the picture he just took, only your legs are visible dangling over Gojoâs shoulders. Theyâd just recreated that infamous photo you see around this time of year all over your socials. Usually, the victim would be laid out stomach first on the floor and Ghostface would tug their head up by their hair but, this definitely works too.
âAttaâ boy,â Choso praises after heâs taken the desired amount of pictures.Â
Gojo looks up to you and heâs pretty sure he can see little hearts in your eyes as you glance back and forth between him and Choso. âYou donât mind, do yaâ? We wanna have somethinâ to remember this by,â He tells you.
You simply shake your head no and both of the men in front of you smile. Choso then nods his head a little before using his grasp on Gojoâs hair to shove him back down in between your legsâearning a surprised hum from your throat and a muffled groan from Gojoâs.Â
Despite the little Surprise, Gojo gets back to work with his mouth and you end up leaning forward a bit in surprise. Choso moves over to the side a bit and he feels you drop a hand to Gojoâs head to give him a light push away so he can ease up on you. In contrast to this, Choso steals your attention by wrapping a free hand of his around your throat. Your eyes shoot up to him and youâre met with the eyes of Ghostface since heâs got the mask back on.
Purposefully, he does that head tilt again. So slowly does it tip to the side as Gojoâs teeth graze your clit, causing you to let out a pleasureful yelp. âFuck!â You gasp, to which Choso removes his hand from Gojoâs hair.
Creeping up along your body, Choso grabs a greedy handful of your breast before leaning in. âThat was loud, princess. Youâre gonna get us all caught,â He snickers to you.
Your bottom lip quivers and you think the sight of it makes Choso feel bad. He takes his hand off of your tits for just a second to pull his mask up and then returns his gasp. Both of you have the same idea in mind but itâs you that reaches for him this time, tugging him in so that his lips can meet yours again.
And then itâs just sloppy from there on out. Anyone with ears could walk past that bathroom, or anywhere down stairs for that matter, and hear the sliding of lips over one another followed by gurgled gasps and barely muffed goans. Chosoâs making out with you while he plays with your tits in his hands and Gojoâs still lost in between your legs.
Your whole body feels like itâs on fire and your head is beginning to spin from how good you feel everywhere. It only gets worse when the two start muttering praises out to you.
Dragging his lips down to your chest, Choso hushes out these elated whispers, âCâmon pretty girl, donât tap out on us jusâ yet.â
Then thereâs Gojo who moves to suck on your inner thigh. âYeahh, donât tap out. Let us make you feel good, baby.â He hums into your skin.
The counter beneath your ass is a slippery wet mess just like the bottom of Gojo's face and all the way down his neck with the way he let your juices trickle along his skin as he ate. All three of you get a little lost in the moment for quite some time. So much that you all seem to forget thereâs supposed to be a third Ghostface.
Who, unknowingly, ends up silently opening the bathroom door and catching the way his two friends have his girlfriend all spread out ân ruined like some slut. Geto swore he almost came in his pants at the sight alone. You donât seem to notice heâs standing there and youâre the only one facing him. His eyes are all over your wet expression, watching and listening to you moan two other guyâs names.
He didnât even want to say anything. Geto just wanted to remain where he was and watch because lord knows if he joins in he wonât last longer than a few seconds. So, he does exactly thatâgoing completely unnoticed there for a while.Â
Up until Gojo pulls his mouth off of you for a second. He looks up to see Choso decorating your chest in hot kisses and wet hickies, the two of you constantly making eye contact with one another before he moves his lips to yours again. Fuck just watching you two was hot. So hot that it makes Gojo wonder where the hell his best friend is at and why heâs missing out on all this.
Which is what leads to him turning around to glance back at the bathroom entrance, quickly spotting Geto standing there leaning against the door frame. Well, shit. Itâs in that moment that Gojo realizes he sees the appeal in the whole Ghostface thing because fuck is his best friend just as hot as everything and everyone else in this damn room.
After Gojo, youâre the next person to realize your boyfriend is now present, and then Choso seconds later. Each of you have this face as if youâd been caught doing something you werenât supposed to but that little detail is irrelevant given how Geto could care less about how he was the last to find you. And sure, he may have watched you run into the bathroom earlier and couldâve gone in there to scare you a while ago but, watching Choso and Gojo eventually find you and then listening to them interact with you from outside the bathroom was far more entertaining.
â
So, one thing led to another andâŚ
You find yourself laid out in your bed all over again, this time accompanied with three men. Geto was the first to get himself situatedâseating himself not too far away from the bed and telling you to âput on a show for himâ.
By this point, who were you to even question him? If Gojo and Choso were leading things before, they damn sure arenât now because itâs you whoâs ordering them around and letting them know where you want them. Starting with you on all fours, showing off that arch that Geto has had you perfect over the years. Then your legs part slowly and Gojoâs behind you in a trance as he watches you move a hand to spread your cunt open for him.
âYou spoil us, sweetheart,â Gojo rasps in a low pitch, voice slightly hoarse from how long heâd gone without talking earlier.Â
You wanted to focus on him some more but a pair of fingers are placed on your chin and your face is quickly redirected to the second man of need. The moment your head turns, youâre met with Chosoâs fat cockhead right in front of your face. Batting your lashes, youâre slow to look all the way up to him and see the way heâs smirking down at you.
ââCould get off on that look alone, yâknow.â Choso comments deeply in reference to your wide glossed over eyes and how close his tip is to your lips.
Gojoâs behind you frowning at the way Choso stole your attention yet again. In an attempt to, at least, have your mind on him once more, Gojo simply pushes his hips forward and eyes the sloppy part of your pussy spread against his pink tip. He hears it, Choso hears it, they all hear the way you gasp softly. Itâs like theyâre all hyper aware of every sound or slight movement you make.
Immediately after, your hips are wiggling back and Gojoâs quick to palm the fats of your ass. âFinally givinâ me some attention now, huh?â He quips.
You pull away from Chosoâs touch just to look back at Gojo. âSuguru shouldâve told you guys, I hate beinâ teased.â The way you force yourself back on him not even a second after that last word is leaving your lips has Gojoâs jaw falling and his fingers curling into your skin.
âW-Woah sweets, you couldâve warned me f-firstâŚâ He stammers, eyes dropping down to your greedy cunt swallowing up his lengthy inches of cock like itâs nothing. Gojo had to bite back a whine as he listened to the syrupy squelches that came with each backward push of your hips. âFuuck, donât stop. Give it tâme, baby.â
Gojo doesnât even have to move yet and youâre already letting off a shaky moan, driving your hips back carefully and feeling him fill up every inch of your cunt. Heâs all dazed while he watches his aching cock delve deep inside you, inch by inchâyou take him like you were fuckinâ made for him.Â
The man is just dazed. He understands why Choso said he was gonna die earlier becuase fuckinâ hell heâs not even all the way in yet and youâre already clamping around his veiny shaft with no intention of ever letting go. And the goddamn arch you have, they way your ass looks all pretty backing up against himâ
Gojoâs thrusting forward before he even realizes he is and his hands slide up to your hips to hold you nice ân steady. Your legs shake and your jaw mirrors his with the way it just hangs open. Then thereâs your eyes and the way they roll back, a delicious moan exiting from deep within your throat.
He definately fucks you harder than Choso was earlier because you can feel his cock everywhereâhe has you so stupidly full and dumb on his dick within seconds, landing a mean hand down onto your ass amid his thrusts.
âOhh fuck, Suguru yâhad this pussy all to yourself all this time?â Gojo grunts. ââŚS-Selfish bastard.â
Gojoâs hands are arguably slimmer than your boyfriends but his grip on you is just the same. Hence why you canât do anything as he tugs you back to meet his rough pounding. Hell, all youâre left with is a brain full of nothing as your head turns to face forwards and you unconsciously look up at a stunned Choso.
His hand is wrapped around his cock and despite being right in front of your face, heâs definitely jerking off to they way Gojoâs fucking you (or maybe just to Gojo himself, who knows). When Choso does look down, you see his brows twist up and his lips part.
Your mouth is already hanging open so clearly youâre silently offering to help him, right? Which is why he angles himself toward your gape mouth and grunts, âOpen up fâme pretty girl, nice ân wideâŚâ
And you do, widening your mouth for him to slide his cock in steadily. Choso hisses at the sensation, the underside of his cock gliding down the center of your slobbering wet tongue so lewdly that it makes his teeth grind together. God, if you werenât every bit of perfect like this. He watches the way his dick fills your mouth and feels how ridiculously tight your throat is as he eases his hips forward.
Almost in unison, Gojo and Choso and up tossing their heads backâone letting out a guttural groan and the other releasing a sweet moan. Youâre soaked just about everywhere. Your pussy is sobbing and dripping around Gojoâs cock and your mouth is hardly any better with the way drool is dribbling down from your chin and onto the bed.
All as your boyfriend is losing his ever loving mind.Â
Geto came twice in his hand already and yet heâs still bucking his hips up into his fist. Heâs never been this hard in his life. Something about watching you get absolutely ravaged by his two friends just make his dick throb in ways he cannot explain. You look perfect too, so damn angelic despite the rather sinful situation youâre in. Thereâs a creamy mess of cum slicked up and down Getoâs length from the thick tip to his base.
Youâre busy getting fucked to tears (again) by Gojo and Choso, one of which has a heavy hand on your head encouraging your throat further around his curved cock and the other keepâs snapping his hips against your ass with his weighty balls grazing your clit every now and then.Â
Youâre all so screwed. This is like something straight out of a damn porno and yet you didnât care. Hell, you could hardly fathom enough thoughts at the moment to care.
And of course all three of them are just babbling all sorts of things to you, teasing you, taunting you, making you dizzy with pleasure.
Gojoâs back there spreading your ass apart and watching how wet youâve gotten his dick, smiling sinfully at the sight. âLook at this pretty girl,â He grunts, âTakinâ my cock so. fucking. well. ungh.â
Then thereâs Choso, nodding along as if he agrees with Gojoâs groaned words. His fingers are buried into your hair and by this point heâs fucking your face at the same rate Gojoâs fucking your cunt. âHer throatâs even betterâshit. Yâshould see how her lips look wrapped around me right now. Especially when I get,â Choso pauses just to give his hips one tortuously slow push, making you deepthroat his angry cockhead. âRight here, f-fuck.â
Again, Getoâs on the side just losing himself at the moment. You make the mistake of glancing over at him and his eyes lock with yours. Getoâs bottom lip is quivering and you watch his hand jerk himself off faster, his legs shifting open and closed as he overstimulates himself. Some nerve you had to look at him as if you donât have two cocks inside you right now.
âMâgonna cum,â Getoâs muttering to himself over and over in some fucked-out little mantra.Â
Watching his head toss back and the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down is probably one of the sexiest sights. The Ghostface mask is all pulled up and his hair is splayed out in a mess of strands.
You end up gagging around Choso when Gojo hits your sweet spot for the sixth time in a row, your fingernails clawing against the sheets below. Thatâs all it takes for Choso to pull out and come undone all over your face without warning. In his defense, he wasnât expecting your throat to tighten around him like that so suddenlyâŚ
Getoâs not too far behind, cumming in thick ropes with a sexy groan of your name leaving his lipsâa sight you barely get to see because then Gojoâs leaning over you and your torso is suddenly pressed down against the bed for a moment. Then, youâre tugged up by a harsh grasp of your hair and Gojoâs fucking you even rougher than he was before, pressing his lips right against your ear.
âFuckinâ slut,â He degrades so suddenly, wraping a free hand around your waist just to swat a finger over your clit again. âLook at this mess,â Oh, heâs just mean all of a sudden. Gojo lets go of your hair and turns your face toward him, leaning in and⌠licking the remnants of Chosoâs release off of your face, again.
Your breath hitches and you wish you could have said something snarky but then youâre shoved right back down onto the bed. Gojo shifts his gaze to Choso, who flinches at the sudden eye contact, and then motions for him to come closer.
Once he does, Gojo grabs him by the jaw and pulls him in. âOpen your mouth,â He breathes out hotly.
Choso bats his lashes at the man but doesnât hesitate, parting his lips and taking the extra step as to sticking his tongue out. Gojo spits right onto the center of it and then smirks, âGood boy, now swallow it ân taste yourself fâme.âÂ
Itâs right about then that you release for the nth time of the night, followed by you squirting again due to the exchange you just heard between those two men. Then, as you wait for the stars in your vision to clear out, you hear Choso gulp loudly.
Half-way smiling to himself, Choso scoffs. âGuess you were right⌠I do taste pretty sweet.â
This might be pretty controversial, but I really like Naoyas characterđ(most of you could've already guessed that from my fics) NOT his personality. As a psych major im super interested in childhood traumas, and the development of children who came from problematic households and hes a perfect example to that. And I think that hes super overhated considering the fact that a lot of ppl from the jjk fandom love characters like Sukuna and Kenjaku(and so on) I wish we've gotten to know more about him tho. Also his technique and design is soo coolâĄâĄ but I feel like he was greatly nerfed for the plot.(NOT saying that hes stronger than Maki, Im just mad he got obliterated by ONE punch, she beat his ass tho wich im happy for) I feel so maternal towards him in a way, like he could've had a good life without having to live up to the expectations of the zenin familyđđ
Agreed, I should be allowed to admit I like Naoya without being told Iâm a misogynist or weirdo when people literally simp for Sukuna the mass murder and cannibal, Geto the cult leader, or Kenjaku who is just way too fucked up to mentioned all his crimes. Itâs fiction we should be able to draw the line and just be able to say that we like him because heâs pretty, has a nice voice, and has a cool ability.
There should be no moral shit for why people like a fictional character. Theyâre fictional for a reason. That doesnât mean we support their actions. Letâs have common sense guys, fandom spaces now are given wayyyy too many rules and standards when itâs just meant for a group of people to come together and enjoy collectively.
â.đ Ě Satoru canât get enough of his crazy ex. 18+
GOJO SATORU does not have a dating curse.
Thatâs what he says, anyway.
What he actually has is a reputation for being charming, attractive, and, according to Shoko, emotionally inconvenient. Which ironically, thatâs exactly what you were.
She watches him lean against the bar. âYou tend to disengage,â she says evenly. âThatâs typically where things tend to fall apart.â
Gojo considers that for a moment. âIâm not interested in dragging things out with someone like her.â
Lies. Lies. Lies.
âHow accurate,â Shoko says, smoke curling past her lips as she tips her cigarette toward the woman who had decided, somewhere between drinks, that Gojo was hersâan unimpressed assessment disguised as commentary.
The woman beside him laughs politely. Hopeful.
Pretty. Clearly interested.
She looks smart at a glance. Which makes the choice questionable, because who in their right mind goes for a man like him.
But, he likes her well enough.
Enough to flirt.
Enough to let her think this could turn into something lasting.
Enough to have her bent over a grimy bathroom sinkâhowever, not enough to imagine a tomorrow with.
He thinks, this is fine, and almost believes it.
Almostâbecause the problem was never the woman beside him. It never is. Itâs the fact that, no matter how predictable his nights have become, his mind still has the irritating habit of circling back to something far less manageable.
You.
You had been many things. Quiet was never one of them.
The thought of you irritates him on principle. The way you used to show up unannounced, say exactly the wrong thing at exactly the right time, refuse to be managed or smoothed over.
You never played along with the version of himself he let the rest of the world see, and youâd taken a particular pleasure in dragging him out of character in publicâlaughing when he lost composure, pushing when he most needed restraint.
He misses you in a way that grates at him, nostalgia tangled tightly with resentment. You were loud about wanting him, unapologetic in how you took up space in his life, and the memory still catches him off guard. He tells himself it was too much, too messy to lastâ
âYour hands fisted in his hair, yanking his head back as you sank onto him, the rhythm broken and demanding, teeth scraping his throat as you growled his name like a claim he still feels branded on his skin. He downs the rest of his sugary drink anyway, annoyed that the thought of you still has a way of surfacing at all.
Shoko watches him set the empty glass down a little harder than necessary. âYâknow,â she says casually, âif you keep pretending youâre fine, one day it might actually stick.â
He scoffs. âThat sounds like optimism. I donât trust it.â
She smirks, lifting her cigarette again. âSuit yourself.â
Gojo flags the bartender with two fingers.
The short-haired woman rolls her eyes, expression flattening as she crushes out her cigarette. Whatever comment she makes is lost to the noise before she melts into the crowd.
A fresh glass replaces the empty one. Beside him, the woman laughs softly. Her fingers lingering on his arm, reminding him sheâs still there. Oh⌠Right.
Sheâs exactly his type. Exactly what he needed on a Friday night. With Shoko gone, it feels quietly sanctioned.
Gojo smirks and drops a vulgar little joke, one with more truth behind it than he lets on. She laughs, flustered, color blooming across her cheeks.
The bar fills quickly after that. Voices stack. Bodies press closer. The music sinks heavier, more insistent.
So, Gojo leans into it instead of thinking too hard. He turns fully toward her, closes the space between them, his untouched non-alcoholic beverage sweating on the counter while his mouth does all the work.
He wasnât lonely. He wasnât sure why he kept going along with this. Maybe it was easier than leaving, knowing exactly who would fill the silence if he did.
His voice softensââoh so smoothâenough to keep her smiling, leaning closerâwanting more. He laughs near her ear, lets his lips linger close to the warmth of her skin, attention focused. Heâs in it, convincingly so, when his gaze lifts without warningâ
Deadly daggers stare right back at him.
Shit.
Work for you had been brutal. The hospital was busier than usual, hours piling up without pause, patience worn thin by the time your shift ended.
On top of that, youâd just ended a two-year relationship. It felt like a good enough reason to recruit a coworker for drinks, less for celebration and more to avoid sitting alone with it once the alcohol hit.
You werenât here to think. You were here to occupy yourself.
Three steps in and the decision is already made. The night will improve once thereâs a drink in your hand. The bar takes priority over everything else.
Your gaze flicks to your coworkerâgiddy and half-dancing with each step as the music grows louder. Youâre quietly relieved you didnât drag along some boring intern. âLeast she knew how to party.
âBar,â she laughs, hand firm on your wrist. âIâm so thirsty!â
The corners of your mouth lift despite yourself. You adjust your grip on her wrist and let her pull you along, heels clicking faster against the floor as the bar draws closer.
Your fingers skim the hem of your skirt, adjusting the denim as it rides up with each hurried leap. The bartender is just ahead, shoulders turned as he pours for a man and a womanâ a couple by the look of it, leaning close together, the womanâs laughter dissolving into the noise around you.
Without meaning to, your eyes drift past them, unfocused at first. Then a streak of white flashes across the room, impossible to ignoreâbright enough to make your temples ache.
One strand.
Then another.
Recognition hits before you can stop it.
You look closer, heart stuttering as familiar blue collides with yours. Your steps falter. Your jaw tightens, teeth grinding as irritation sharpens into something hotter, uglier.
What the hell is he doing hereâwith a girl?!
â(Y/N), are you okay?â
The question barely registers. You hadnât noticed youâd stopped moving, hadnât realized how long youâd been staring. Your coworkerâs hand finds your shoulder, in attempt to ground you back into reality.
Your name keeps coming, louder each time, her concern obvious now. You donât look at her. You canât. All you can see is him, exactly where he shouldnât be, knowing he shouldnât be there.
A sane person would turn around. Walk away. Maybe grab someone else just to prove a point. But youâve never been that person. You donât hesitate. No need to look back. Your feet move on their own, and your coworker fades behind you.
Across the bar, Gojo Satoru looks calmâtoo calm. Relaxed posture, easy smile. But his eyes have sharpened, attention snapping fully into place the moment he clocks you moving toward him. Whatever he sees on your face makes his stomach drop.
Fuck. Heâs cooked.
He leans toward the woman at his side, voice smooth, casual. âHeyâhow about you wait for me outside, sweetheart?â
Confusion flickers across her brows, then softens into something pleased once she misunderstands his intent. Her smile widens as she leans in, pressing a quick kiss to his cheek.
He shouldnât, but he flinches. Could he possibly beâŚscared?
Scared of you? Please. As if seeing you here, watching him with another woman, would be enough to make his body betray him. Never him. He swallows, the lump in his throat refusing to disappear.
The sight pushes you over the edge.
Another girl touching him like she belongs there, and him letting it happen. He tries to move, tries to gently guide her away before you reach them, but youâre already too close. Youâve seen enough.
The woman notices somethingâs wrong a second too lateâhis smile faltering, body tensing like a wire about to snap. She follows his gaze instinctively, head tilting with a flicker of confusion.
And then she sees you.
Eight feet away and closing fast, fury written plainly across your face, the woman you came with still at your side, uselessly trying to slow you down.
And suddenly, thereâs nowhere left to pretend this wonât explode.
You stop directly in front of them.
Gojo adjusts his sunglasses out of habit, like it might buy him time. Time to make an excuse. Time to disappear. His fingers rake through his hair. A tell. A bad one.
He takes you in before he can stop himself. All coiled in anger, soft face clashing with that familiar glareâthe contrast thatâs always undone him, made him ache to fuck every last knot of fury loose, inch by inch.
Youâve always been beautiful. Even like this. Especially like this, flushed and fierce in that short skirt, leather jacket clinging to your every curve, leaving nothing to the imagination. Itâs what he hated most in the relationshipâhow you flaunted what was his, daring anyone to look.
And still, you donât look at him first.
They go to her.
Slow. Assessing. Silent.
Sheâs beautiful in the obvious wayâtight, short dress clinging to her curves, cleavage pushed up and daring gravity to lose. Put together. Confident. Your gaze drops lower, clinical now, and you almost scoff.
Really?
Youâd always known his preferences. He liked weight in his hands. Soft, yielding curves that filled his grip, begged to be squeezed. In simpler terms: a nice, round ass that could make him lose focus. If he was going to stand next to someone tonight, it shouldâve been someone who could actually compete.
And she couldnât.
You lift your eyes back to him, unimpressed, unbothered on the surface. You both know it. No one ever got under his skin the way you did. No one ever rewired him the way you had. That was the problem. Thatâs why heâd spent so long pretending you were the unstable variable instead of the constant.
Because admitting how deep he was in wouldâve meant admitting he never had control to begin with.
Heâs crazy about you. Still is. Always has been.
Itâs easierâfor him, for everyoneâto pretend you were the problem. Easier than admitting how thoroughly youâd dismantled him.
The woman shifts beside him, finally noticing the shift in the atmosphere. Her brows furrow deeply as she glances between the two of you, confusion turning into visible unease.
âUh,â she starts, uncertain. âAm I missing something?â
Gojo opens his mouth but you donât give him the chance to answer.
âIâm not sure why you think this involves you.â you say, amused, a small smile curving your mouth.
You look her over once more.
âWho are you?â
She blinks.
Whatever response sheâd prepared stalls out, her mouth opening, then closing again as she recalibrates.
âExcuse meââ she starts, indignation rising, shoulders squaring, a means to reclaim ground she never had.
âOhâso you donât know either,â you say lightly, head tilting, smile barely there. âInteresting.â
Oh.
The woman stiffens, confusion flashing across her face. âWhat are you talking aboutââ
âDidnât expect your standards to drop so low, Satoru,â you say, the smile that follows not quite reaching your eyes. âQuite the downgrade.â
ThisâŚ
You glance at Gojo this time, eyes cold.
His expression doesnât change.
His grip doesâknuckles whitening against the countertop.
â(Y/N)ââ he starts, warning threaded through your name.
She steps forward instead, offense flaring hot and immediate. âWho do you think youâre talking to, you arrogant bitch?â
Isnât...
That finally gets your full attention.
You look at her slowly. âAnd who exactly are you calling a bitch?â
Good.
She steps closer instead, close enough now that you catch itâthe sharp bite of alcohol on her breath, sour and careless.
âYou donât get to waltz in here and speak to me like that,â she says, words a little too loud, a little too loose. âYou donât fuckinâ know me.â
Her hand comes out of nowhere. Fingers biting into your arm, nails pressing hard as she shoves once, testing.
The crowd shifts around you, bodies angling closer as the tension draws eyes.
Gojo moves at the same time. âHeyââ
Too late.
Your gaze drops to her hand on you. Lingers. When you look back up, your expression is flat. âGet your hand off me.â
She doesnât.
Her grip tightens instead.
The rest blurs together. Voices rise, someone shouting your name, glass rattling as bodies collide. She claws at you, desperate and ugly, teeth sinking into your leg as she tries to buck you off.
You donât think. There isnât time for that. Your grip tightens, fists coming down in rough, unmeasured strikes, all reflex and momentum. The world narrows to heat and motion, to the sharp sound of breath knocked loose and hands scrambling for leverage.
Someone grabs at your shoulders, another set of arms hauling her back, the noise swelling and splintering until the moment finally cracks apart.
Familiar arms lock around you instantly, strong and sure, pulling you back until youâre pressed against his chest.
At the same time, your coworker lunges, catching the woman by the wrists as she thrashesâfury and humiliation warping her features.
âEnough,â Gojo snaps, voice sharp now, stripped of humor. The woman spits something incoherent, still fighting to get free. You lean forward anyway, calm cutting straight through the noise.
âTry another man!â you yell, the words ripping out of you before you can stop them. A beat. âBecause heâs taken.â
Silence crashes down around you. Behind you, Gojo exhales slowly. His grip tightensâjust a fraction. This wasnât his first rodeo. Unfortunately, you had a habit of turning moments like this into scenes.
Yeah. This is officially past damage control.
He huffs through his nose, jaw tight, holding himself in check in a crowd this big. Then he stops trying. In one smooth motion, he hoists you up, settling you over his shoulder like itâs the most natural thing in the world. You feel the solid press of his biceps against your lower stomach, grounding and unyielding all at once.
You puff your cheeks in protest, but he doesnât slow. Instead, he maneuvers through the bar on pure instinct, bodies parting like waves before him as he carries you straight toward the exitâyour skirt riding up, cool air brushing your thighs.
Outside, away from lingering eyes and the barâs humid haze, he finally pauses. The night air hits you like a brick, sobering.
Whatever frustration youâve been holding ontoâ
This is where itâs coming out.
He sets you down on the concrete, heels clicking sharp as they hitâjarring, like the drop in your stomach.
A quick tug at your skirt. Annoyance flares as you pull your leather jacket tighter, shoulders hunching while the cold creeps in, biting through fabric and the last of the adrenaline.
When your gaze lifts, his eyes are gone. Hidden behind those stupid sunglassesâthe ones he wears when he doesnât want to be read. When he wants to pass for just another man out for a drink.
The same ones that make lonely women mistake charm for sincerity. Not you. He canât pretend heâs here casuallyânot when he looks like this.
His cologne hits first. Strong. Unmistakable. The button-up strains across his chest, sleeves shoved up, fabric bunching around his biceps. Big. Solid.
You hate how much it still affects you.
The man standing over you doesnât look surprised. Instead, his fingers pinch the bridge of his nose, lips pressing thin as he counts backward, reins himself in.
This wasnât the plan. Heâd only come because Shoko wanted to talkâabout work. A bar had suited her. Not him. He hadnât meant to flirt. Hadnât meant to take anyone home.
Definitely hadnât meant to see you.
A quiet bite at your lip betrays you anyway, eyes tracking the tension in his posture. Frustrated. Pushed clean out of character. Exactly how youâve always liked him.
His hand drops from his face. A measured exhale follows as he plants his hands on his hips, looking down at you like heâs deciding how much patience youâre worth.
âOkay,â Gojo exhales.
âLetâs resetâbecause youâre not about to do that thing where you act like I blindsided you.â
You scoff. âYouâre the one who showed up with another woman.â
âYouâre the one who walked straight up and put your hands on her,â he counters, calm but firm. âAnd I didnât come with her. I came with Ieiri.â
You let out a hollow laugh, eyes rolling skyward. âI couldnât care less who youâre here with,â you say, jaw tightening. âAnd she touched me first.â
He meets your eyes. âI saw what was happening. I wouldâve dealt with it. You didnât need to take it there.â
âOh, so now you had it under control.â Your brows lift as you cross your arms.
He doesnât look away. Doesnât blink. âYes. I did.â
âRight,â you say. âBecause it really looked that way.â
That sarcasm. That smart mouth. Insufferable. One of the reasons it never worked between you. You never listened, too prideful to hear anything that didnât already match your mind. And somehow, here he is, standing in front of you, explaining himself for the consequences of your own actions.
âHow about you take some accountability,â he says, voice sounding deeperâmore tired. âand stop piling your shitty lack of discipline on me.â He reaches up to remove his glasses, it hardly matters whether theyâre on or off. The headache youâre giving him feels exactly the same.
âYou donât get to stand there with someone else and act surprised when I react,â you shoot back, eyes deliberately fixed anywhere but on him.
You feel it then. The embarrassment, slow and creeping, settling in now that heâs really looking at you. The misstep. The exposure. With his glasses off, thereâs nothing buffering his attention, nothing dulling the way he looks at you. It leaves you unsteady in a way you donât bother explaining.
Why is it only with him that you lose your grip like this?
âI thought you didnât care,â he says. âWhy does it matter?â You open your mouth, frustration crowding your throat.
âI donâtââ
He cuts you off before the excuse can take shape. His mouth tightens, jaw flexing once like heâs biting back something bitter, then eases. A familiar tell. One that twists irritation and something uglier in your chestâbecause you still notice. Always have.
âYâknow, if it helps,â he says, voice steady but worn thin at the edges, âIâm not surprised.â
His gaze holds yours this time, unreadable, the space between you suddenly heavy. âI just expected better timing.â
Thatâs enough.
You step closer, your gaze finally locking onto his, any hesitation stripped away. The night air cools your skin as you meet him head-on. âWhat is this really about Satoru?â
âItâs about control,â he answers, eyes flicking once toward the club doors before returning to you. âYouâre a grown adult. You donât need to react in that way.â
Silence stretches between you, thick and charged.
Then, quieter, he adds, âTo put it simplyâa normal person doesnât walk into a situation like that unless they care.â
Your laugh is short. Humorless. âDonât flatter yourself.â
He tilts his head slightly, a faint smirk tugging at his mouth as he studies you the way he always did when he thought you were lying. It used to make you feel seen. Now it just makes your chest ache. âYouâre bad at pretending you donât.â
Another pause. Youâre close now, close enough to feel the difference in height, the way he has to look down while you look up. It catches you off guard how familiar his face still feels, how much youâve missed it without ever admitting thatâs where the anger comes from.
His voice dropsânearer now. Close enough that you lean in without meaning to. âSo tell me,â he says, âdid you come over to make a point⌠or did you come over because seeing me with someone else got under your skin?â
You donât answer.
The smile that follows tells you he didnât need one.
Fuckâ
Your jaw drops open with a ragged moan, slick dripping down your thighs as Gojoâs thick length stuffs you full, splitting you apart inch by inch. The carâs front seat creaks under the force, your hands braced on the dashboard, ass up and presented like a gift he canât resist.
âNghââToruââ You gasp, walls clenching tight around him, feeling every vein drag against your insides as he thrusts deep, blunt tip kissing your cervix with a jolt that sends stars bursting behind your eyes.
âFuck, so tight,â he growls, hands gripping your hips hard enough to bruise, pulling you back onto him with each snap. Your ass jigglesâslap-slap-slapâagainst his pelvis, the sound obscene in the fogged-up space, and he watches it hungrily, like itâs his favorite view.
âMissed this pussy,â he mutters, voice rough and broken, one hand sliding under your open jacket to palm your breast, thumb pinching your nipple sharp. No bra, just bare skin pebbling under his touch, sending sparks straight to your core.
You arch back, grinding down harder, the rhythm franticâslick-slideâhis cock throbbing inside, ridges pulsing as you milk him. âD-donâtâfuckâdonât stop,â you stammer, thighs trembling, the ache building low and hot.
He chuckles dark, leaning forward to bite your shoulder, hips pistoning faster. âWouldnât dream of itâgonna fill you up, make this pussy remember who she belongs to.â His free hand smacks your ass lightly, watching it ripple, groan vibrating through you both.
Sweat slicks your skin, breaths mingling heavyâmoan after moan pulled from your throat as he hits that spot, over and over. The longing crashes in waves, raw and unspoken, this mess of anger and need thatâs always been you two.
âF-Fuck, ahâright there,â you gasp, voice breaking as his hips piston harder, cock dragging along your walls with every retreat, veins pulsing hot against sensitive flesh.
He groans low, eyes dark and fixed on yours, sweat dripping from his brow onto your collarbone. âYeah? Like that?â Thrusts turn sharper, tip grinding deep, nudging your cervix in that sweet ache that blurs pain into bliss.
Memories flood unbiddenânights like this, back when you were official, before missions pulled him away too often, leaving you resentful, him defensive. Fights ending in rough make-ups, just like now.
You hated how he made you feel exposed, vulnerable. But God, the way he filled the emptiness no one else couldâitâs why you always came back.
His hand slides up, thumb circling your clit slow, deliberate. âMissed how you take this cockâfuck, so perfect.â Longing roughens his words, unspoken regret for letting ego ruin what you had.
You clench tighter, thighs quivering around him. âH-Havenâtânghâbeen touched s-since you.â The confession spills raw, vulnerable, as you rock back, meeting his rhythm, ass jiggling against his firm grip.
Heâs not surprisedâcocky smirk curling his lips as your confession hits, eyes gleaming wicked behind those lowered lashes, thrusting up with a teasing grind that has his cock stretching you wider, veins dragging hot and insistent against your clenching walls.
âHehâsaving this tight little pussy just for me? Thatâs my girl,â he drawls, voice playful yet rough with heat, one hand sliding up to press your chest down harder against the steering wheelâbreasts brushing the cool leather with every bounce, nipples pebbling sharp from the friction as you grip the wheel tighter, knuckles white, thighs quivering around his hips.
He chuckles low and filthy, hips snapping up harder as his cock drags against your sensitive walls. âThatâs cute,â he taunts, voice dripping with smug satisfaction, âbeen keeping this sloppy little pussy untouched just for me? How loyal, baby.â
Before you can reply, he suddenly pulls out and flips you around with ease, turning you to face him. He yanks you back down onto his lap, thick length sliding back inside you in one deep thrust as your breasts press flush against his chest. His hands grip your ass tightly, eyes burning into yours with wicked hunger.
âFuckâlook at me,â he growls soft, hands kneading your ass rough and reverent, lifting you just to slam you down again, cock filling you to the hilt with that slick, obscene stretch that makes your toes curl.
You gasp, breasts bouncing against his chest, nipples grazing his skin hot and teasing as you meet his gazeâblue eyes wild, affectionate, devouring you like youâre his only weakness. ââT-Toru, I loââ
He captures your mouth messy, tongue delving deep, tasting your moans while thrusting up slow and filthy, veins throbbing against your walls, tip nudging deep in loving punishment. âLove how you feelâmy perfect, messy girl,â he murmurs against your lips, voice tender-dirty, hips rolling to grind just right.
Connection surgesâfilthy love, the kind thatâs ruined you both, past fights forgotten in this heat, his cock owning every inch while his hands worship your curves, squeezing your ass like heâll never let go.
You grind down harder, walls fluttering tight around him, slick coating every thrust as your breasts press flush against his chest, nipples scraping his skin with electric friction. ââT-Toru, yesâfuck, I love y-you,â you whine, voice cracking needy, hands clawing at his shoulders, pulling him impossibly closerâclinging like youâll shatter without him.
âFuckâsay it again,â he demands, voice breaking filthy-tender, hips slamming harder as his cock stretches you impossibly wider, tip bullying your cervix with each punishing grind, veins throbbing like a heartbeat inside your fluttering walls.
You cling desperate, hands roaming his back, nails raking red trails down sweat-slick skin, legs locked tight around his waistâpulling, needing him deeper, fuller. âL-Love youâSatoru, love you so much,â you babble, vocal and wrecked, words spilling needy as you nuzzle his neck, lips brushing his pulse, cock-drunk haze making you agree to anything, everything.
He laughs breathy, delighted and dirty, rhythm stuttering at your clinginessâadorable, how his fierce ex melts into this whiny mess on his cock. âYeah? Love me enough to marry me right now?â he teases, but his eyes soften raw, thrusting deep and holding, grinding slow to feel you clench. âPut a ring on itâfuck a baby into you tonight, make you mine forever.â
You nod frantic, head lolling back, breasts heaving against him as nipples drag his chestâtouchy, hands everywhere, cupping his face, pulling him down for sloppy kisses. âY-Yesâmarry you, want your kidâfuck, anything,â you moan, cock-drunk and pliant, agreeing blind, walls spasming wild around him.
He chuckles low, finding it hilarious yet heart-clenchingâhis crazy girl, all fire outside but putty now, nodding to his wildest dreams. âShitâokay baby,â he groans, pace brutalizing, cock swelling thicker, pounding relentless as climax coils tight for you both. âGonna do itâmarry you, breed this perfect pussy.â
You shatter firstâcrying his name loud, clinging fierce, walls milking him vise as waves crash, soaking him slick. He follows with a guttural curse, spilling hot and deep, holding you through the trembleâbodies locked.
The windows fog thick, condensation sliding down the glass like sweat, sealing the car in a steamy haze that blots out the world beyond it.
Labored breaths fill the spaceâyours still uneven, his slower now, measuredâthreading together with the muffled bass thudding from the club outside.
It all fades into background noise as more drunks spill into the street, tripping over curbs, laughing too loud beneath flickering streetlights.
He shifts you gently in his lap, still inside, one hand lazy on your thigh. âYou alive?â he asks, voice low and wry, thumb tracing a slow circle over your skin.
You huff a laugh against his chest, fingers idly scratching his scalp, holding on like you might float away otherwise. âBarely. You?â
He exhales near your ear, not quite a laugh. âIâve been through worse nights.â he says quietly.
A lazy kiss finds your neck, familiar, grounding. The smirk fadesânot into softness, but certainty.
Truth is, heâs tried. Distance. Distraction. Other people. None of it sticks. No matter how chaotic you are. No matter how much trouble you bring with you.
This was sitting in my drafts collecting dust, so I finally pushed it out. Itâs a bit dragged and very much a first work, but sometimes you just gotta post and move on.
observe the zenin heir in his natural habitat.
despite repeated domestic provocations, he maintains composure.
a lesser man would lash out. he, however, endures.
this is the mark of superior breeding.
is what naoya zenin's internal monologue sounds like.
in realityâ
he's standing at the top of the stairs, hand on the wall like he just survived a victorian tragedy⌠over dust on a shelf.
"what's your problem today?" you look up at him from the bottom of the stairs, sighing, because you know that's the look he has before he says some stupid shit.
"why is there dust collecting on my shelves? you're supposed to clean it," he starts, crossing his arms and turning his head away from you dramatically. "how'd i end up with such a useless, worthless woman like you?"
he's not angry. not yelling. but instead, he's crying..? like heâs the victim in some documentary titled:
âlife with an incompetent housewife: my silent suffering.â
the funniest part is heâd 100% expect comfort too.
he's insulting you through sobs and then pauses. ââŚwhy arenât you apologizing.â
you sigh once more and silently make your way up the stairs, a dangerous smile on your face and now he knows he's in trouble.
"i haven't even started cleaning yet. but now that you mention it, let's go check if its actually dust or just the visible particles in the air you can see because the sun is out, yeah?"
it was infact, not dust.
another incident was him crying for days because you'd cut a few tiny inches off of your hair because summer was coming around and it was all hot.
he saw your hair, dropped to the floor and went through the five stages of grief in real time.
denial. ââŚthis is temporary, right.â
anger. âwhy would you do this without consulting me.â
"naoya, it's literally just hair, you fucker. it grows back if you didn't already know."
bargaining. âif you buy a wig we can pretend this never happened.â
"what the fuck..?"
depression. then, he's locked in his dark room, staring at an old photo of your long hair like you've just passed away and he's mourning his dead wife.
acceptance. never reached. he dies mad.
now heâs walking past you dramatically sighing every 10 minutes.
wonât look at you directly.
shaking his head.
muttering about âmodern women.â
also you know if you refused the wig ultimatum he wouldnât even break up normally. heâd announce it like a clan decree.
âi can't be with a woman who resembles a boy.â
meanwhile no one even notices your haircut and yet heâs spiraling because his internal 1800s aesthetic agenda collapsed.
but if another man complimented your shorter hair heâd switch up IMMEDIATELY.
now heâs mad at them.
suddenly itâs:
ââŚi guess it does suit you. but only because itâs you.â
another example was when you dropped a spoon and he materialized behind you like some sleep paralysis demon.
"youâre lucky i donât beat you.â
"brother what. say shit like that again and i'll be the one beating you."
you breathe too loud?
ââŚyouâre lucky.â
you walk slightly ahead of him?
â..know your place.â
you exist wrong on a tuesday afternoon??
â...youâre lucky i'm merciful.â
and the thing is heâd say it like itâs romantic too.
in his head heâs being protective, restrained, noble even.
âsee how kind i am? i control myself for you.â
meanwhile, youâre staring at him like he's finally lost his mind. "congratulations on not committing domestic violence? round of applause i guess..?"
history will remember him as powerful.
his wife will remember him as deeply embarrassing.
i js had to write this after seeing a headcanon naoya slander tiktok LMAO imsorry if yhis was poorly written it was more of a thought than an actual fic
I giggled. I gaggled. I goggled. He really is such a loser but dammit I canât help how much I like him. Heâd probably shit on me for dying my locs pink, claiming I should appreciate my natural beauty as if HIS shit isnât obviously died with those gnarly roots growing in đ âđž
Projection sorcery was always quite handy. Being able to break one second into 24 frames and moving at insane speed helped Naoya get from one point to another quite efficiently. Especially when he comes back from training, frustrated and in need to fuck your brains out. Somehow, it has never occurred to him to use his technique on you. So when you brought it up with him, he almost got mad at you for having a better idea than he did.
Your legs were spread open for him, seated at the edge of his bed. Naoya was looming above you, hands teasing your clit and eliciting those sweet little whimpers from you. âYa sure ya want me to finger you with it? I donât think ya know what youâre getting yâself into.â A smug grin appears on his face, the tips of his fingers teasing your entrance.
âVery â nghh, very sureâŚâ
Naoyas bottom lip gets caught between his teeth as he sinks his fingers inside of your snug cunt. âDonât go cryinâ if it gets too much then, brat.â You choose to ignore the warning, feeling his fingers finally inside of you is much more appealing. They linger for a moment, feeling the tightness around simply two of his digits. An impatient whine escapes you, hips wiggling in anticipation.
You couldnât really begin to imagine how it might feel once he starts, 24 times in one second his fingers would be plunging in and out of you. Can you even handle that? The tiniest bit of doubt arises in your head, is it even possible to handle it?
Naoyas eyes shoot up towards your own, giving you a warning glare at your impatience. He could see the sliver of doubt in your eyes, scoffing. âNah, ya ainât backinâ down now.â ,he grits out.
You wanted to say something, mouth slightly ajar. But you couldnât get any words out. Instead, you cry out like an animal as he activates his technique, fingers piston in and out of you at a speed that you couldnât fathom.
âOh my âfuuucking god!â
Out of instinct your legs shut around his arm. Naoya groans out of irritation, his free hand yanking them apart. âYou better take it now, slut.â An amused, dark chuckle leaves him while you tremble and writhe. Your pussy clenches around his fingers in an unsteady pattern, squelching and gushing as his brutal pace doesnât let up.
You canât even see the singular movements of his fingers, itâs all a blur and so overwhelming. Hands clutch and pull on the sheets, trying to ground yourself somehow, somewhere. Youâre loud, incredibly loud âand even if you wanted to keep it down, the sheer speed and ecstasy youâre feeling wouldnât ever let you. âShush, shut up you-â, Naoya growls while his hand goes to cover your mouth. It doesnât really do much, but itâs the thought that counts.
âOh my- my goood Naoya! I canât- too m-â
His technique stops, fingers slowing down immensely before he completely stills them, pulling his drenched digits out of you with an obscene pop. You take a deep and shaky breath in, chest heaving while you try to calm your trembling legs down.
Naoya takes in your ruined state, his soaked hand, arm and your own legs. You look so deliciously fucked out, whole body canât stay still. He feels his cock painfully hard in his pants, cursing himself for not doing this any earlier.
âYa such a messy bitch. Told ya, yâdonât know what ya gettinâ yerself into. Now turn around.â
