content warnings: 18+ mdni, anal sex, f!reader, dirty talk (gojo calls r a dirty bitch, good girl, and a slut)
he blinks a few times, unsure if he even heard you correctly.
the two of you had been making out on his bed, semi-undressed and legs tangled together. his large left hand was possessively cupping your full breast over your bra, thumb lazily circling your hardened nipple, while your right hand was greedily palming his thick, prominent bulge straining against his boxers. you were consumed by raw, aching lust, when you whispered ‘i want you in my ass’ into the kiss.
“are you sure?” he asks, searching your eyes for any sign of confusion or even regret. yet he finds neither. instead, you’re looking at him with a pleading expression, your bottom lip tugged between your teeth in a way that has his cock twitching hard against your palm.
“yeah,” you nod. “i’ve, uhh, never done it before and i figured we could try it. but only if you’re cool with it!”
satoru chuckles as he brings his hand to cup your face. “you know i’m down for anything, babe. i just want you to be absolutely sure.”
“i am,” you confirm. “i want you to be the first one i do this with.”
he answers you with a kiss. a hard, deep, kiss that practically steals your breath away, tongues sliding hot and wet together.
after a lot of slow, slick prepping, and constant reassurance on his end that he’ll stop if it becomes too much for you, he gently eases the thick, leaking tip of his cock into your tight, fluttering hole.
you both hiss sharply at the intense feeling of him entering you, the stretch burning so deliciously. you knew it was going to hurt, but the pain melts into deep, throbbing pleasure sooner than you were expecting, your walls greedily sucking him deeper.
“fuck, baby, you’re so — fuck — damn tight,” he whimpers, and the sound makes you clench hard around him. “i’m not gonna last. shit…”
you can feel him bottom out completely, his heavy balls pressed flush against you, and he doesn’t move at first, letting you adjust to the obscene stretch of his fat cock filling you. you become impatient, however, and start slowly pushing back against him, craving more.
he grips your hips like a vice, groaning low and filthy as he watches you move. “so needy. can’t even wait two goddamn seconds for me.”
normally you’d have some sassy remark to throw back at him, but you honestly can’t think straight. not when his cock is making you feel so perfectly stuffed and owned.
and he knows it.
“fuck you like this, don’t you?” he teases, thrusting into you at a faster pace. “getting fucked in the ass. shit, you’re such a fucking slut. did you know that?”
all you do is moan as you nod your head. at this point, you’ll agree with anything he says as long as he keeps fucking you the way he is.
“dirty bitch,” he chuckles darkly, glancing down to watch his cock slide deep into you.
“mhmm,” you mewl, reaching between your legs to rub tight circles on your throbbing clit.
“you’re so hot,” gojo moans, bringing his hand down hard against your ass with a sharp smack. “this ass is mine. do you hear me? no one, and i mean no one, is allowed to fuck you here. i..mm..i don’t give a shit who it is.”
“y-yes,” you cry out as your orgasm starts to approach way faster than you would’ve liked, pleasure coiling tight and hot in your core.
“good girl,” he praises, smiling down at you while he swats your hand away from your cunt and replaces it with his own, fingers rubbing your swollen clit with perfect pressure.
It was supposed to be a normal dumpster dive. Now you’re home with a magic keyboard that can rewrite reality, a curious Suguru who wants to understand it, and a very irresponsible Satoru who keeps saying “just one more test.” At first, it’s harmless but the more it responds, the more it listens… and the harder it becomes to ignore the kind of thoughts that probably shouldn’t be tested.
tags: 18+, mdni, 3some, oral (m! & f!), train (lol choo choo), handjob, slight tears, spit, praise, anal, double penetration, unprotected p in v, slight satosugu, face riding, gagging, creampie.
wc: 5.5k
a/n: the song... cough cough hint hint. Also, do yall know smosh?
Wednesdays were, objectively, your most questionable hobby.
Not in an illegal way. Well… kind of but in a “you are literally digging through a store’s trash like a raccoon with standards” type of way.
And honestly? You stood by it.
Because the beauty store threw away perfectly good products every single week, and you were not about to let a $23 foundation die in a dumpster just because the box was dented.
So here you were.
One foot hooked over the edge, the other awkwardly balancing as you leaned deeper into the dumpster, aggressively shifting bags around like you were on a mission.
“C’mon… don’t piss me off,” you muttered, pushing aside a ripped open box.
“I know y’all got my shade in here somewhere.”Your hand brushed against something small. You pulled it out, squinting at the small print label.
“Ooo Nyx lip liner? Don’t mind if I do.”
Straight into your roommate's old backpack. The bag felt heavy as you stuffed it more. You nodded to yourself like this was a successful haul so far.
It wasn’t because where the hell was the foundation.
You dug deeper, fully committed now, moving things around with less patience and more attitude.
“Where the fuck is it.”
Your hand froze.
“…huh?”
That… was not makeup.
You shifted a piece of cardboard out of the way and stared.
“A keyboard?”
You blinked at it like maybe if you stared at it hard enough, it would make sense as to why it was there. A broken palette or a hair tool or literally anything else would’ve made sense.
This did not.
“…why would anyone throw away a perfectly good keyboard?” you said, already reaching for it because, obviously, you’re going to take it.
Finders keepers. That’s global dumpster dive rules.
You pulled it out, brushing off dust and random debris, turning it over in your hands. It was… fine. It’s not cracked or has any missing keys. Just a few minor scratches like it had been tossed in here without much thought.
Weird, but not your problem.
You pressed a key.
Click.
Click.
“…okay,” you murmured, now fully testing it like you just found a free laptop on the street. The keys felt too smooth. You kept going anyway, tapping a few more.
Click click.
Your fingers moved without thinking.
Ctrl. A. Delete.
And then… the smell disappeared.
One second you were inhaling hot garbage air and the next your lungs were finally breathing in clean oxygen. You blinked.
“…wait.”
The heat from the pile of trash vanished like someone turned the world’s worst oven off. Suddenly your skin didn’t feel like it was being radioactively damaged.
“Hold on…”
You look down.
Oh shit.
“WAIT!”
You dropped to the ground. Concrete hit your back so fast it knocked the air out of you. An oomph leaves your body as the keyboard clattered somewhere beside you. You just laid there groaning, blinking up at the sky like your brain needed a full system reboot.
“…damn.”
You sat up and looked around you. The alley was still there. The store was still there. But the dumpster was gone? Like completely gone as if it had never existed. You slowly turned your head toward the keyboard, your stomach doing that awful little drop again.
“…what the fuck did I just do.”
You slide the keyboard into our bag and zip it closed, lingering there for a second trying to process what just happened.
I'm not high?
Your brain is still stuck replaying it over and over again. The image of the dumpster disappearing was way too clear to ignore.
Did I just find a magical keyboard?
You shake your head, letting out a small breath as you walk toward your car, still trying to process what just happened and how a random keyboard was somehow able to do… that. It doesn’t make sense.
Yet the more you replay it in your head, the clearer it becomes that you didn’t imagine it, that it actually happened. That alone is enough to send a quiet thrill through you. Because who just randomly finds a keyboard that can delete things out of existence?
Exactly.
You slide into the driver’s seat, your hands settling on the wheel as that excitement lingers. Before you can even think to question it further, you’re already starting the car and pulling out of the alley way.
Oh, the boys are going to flip their shit when they see this.
The drive home passes quicker than usual. You finally pull into your usual spot, right between Suguru and Satoru’s cars, parking a little messier than normal because you’re already reaching for your bag before the engine fully cuts off.
You hop out, shut the door, and head straight for the apartment, unlocking it quickly.
“GUYS GUYS.”
Your voice carries through the space as you step inside, already smiling, and a little breathless from the rush of it all.
You make your way into the living room where Satoru is sprawled across the couch, completely relaxed with one leg thrown over the armrest as he eats his daily kikufuku. He watches TV like nothing in the world matters, while Suguru sits on the lounge chair nearby, scrolling on his phone with a calm, unbothered expression.
“GUYS, guess what I found!”
You step directly in front of the TV without hesitation, blocking it completely as you stand there, your bag still hanging from your shoulder.
Satoru groans immediately, dragging a hand down his face in annoyance. “Oh my... moooove.”
“Another makeup product you don’t need,” Suguru says flatly, not even bothering to look up yet.
“Or clothes you think are ‘fine if you wash them,’” Satoru adds, glancing at you now with a smirk. Suguru lets out a quiet chuckle at that.
You roll your eyes, already glancing down at the table as you reach for the remote without asking.
Click.
The TV shuts off.
“Y/N!” Satoru snaps, sitting up immediately. His irritation is clear as he looks at the now black screen.
“…seriously,” Suguru mutters, finally lifting his gaze toward you.
You step back into place like nothing happened. A grin spreads across your face, your excitement obvious now that you actually have their attention.
“Now that I have your attention…”
“You better have found Cleopatra or something because what the hell,” Satoru says, clearly unimpressed as he is still slumped on the couch.
Your grin only widens, turning a little mischievous as you slowly reach into your bag and pull out the keyboard, holding it up like it’s the most impressive thing in the world.
“Taa daa.”
There’s a pause.
Suguru stares at it for a second before he bursts out laughing. The sound genuine as he leans back into his chair, shaking his head like this was the most stupidest thing ever.
“Are you serious?” he asks, still laughing under his breath.
“Y/N... just move out the way,” Satoru mutters, already reaching for the remote again.
“No you're not even going to let me show you what it can do,” you say, stepping forward and placing the keyboard down on the table. Your tone shifts just enough to show you’re actually serious now.
Suguru looks at you again. His expression shifts from amusement to curiosity as he studies your face, like he’s trying to figure out if you’re joking or not, or if you’ve actually just lost it.
Satoru, meanwhile, barely spares you another glance. He's already halfway through eating the last of his kikufuku as he reaches for the remote again, clearly ready to ignore whatever thi—
Until you press the keys. Your fingers move a little more deliberately this time, repeating exactly what you did before.
Ctrl. A. Delete.
The kikufuku disappears. No crumbs, no wrapper, nothing left behind, like it was never there in the first place.
"Hey!" Satoru whines. His voice sharp with disbelief as he stares down at his now empty hand. You freeze as your eyes widen. You look between his hand and the keyboard, your breath catching slightly.
“Oh my god…”
Suguru leans forward slowly. His attention completely locked in now and the earlier laughter gone as his gaze sharpens, watching the exact spot where the kikufuku used to be.
Satoru looks up at you again, his expression shifting from confusion and melting into shock, then into something much more interesting.
Suguru’s gaze lingers on the keyboard for a moment longer before he finally looks up at you. His expression is noticeably more serious than before.
“Where did you find that?” he asks.
You let out a breath, still riding that weird mix of adrenaline and excitement as you launch into the story. Explaining everything that happened from the dumpster, and the random keys you pressed, to the way it just… disappeared.
You gesture a lot while you talk, like maybe acting it out will somehow make it sound less insane, but judging by the way they’re both staring at you, it’s not doing you any favors.
By the time you finish, the room is quiet.
They are taking a while processing what you just said.
Suguru is staring at the keyboard again with his brows slightly drawn, while Satoru is looking at you like he’s halfway between impressed and deeply concerned.
“…what else does it do?!” Satoru suddenly blurts out. The excitement hits him all at once as he pushes himself up from the couch. Before you can even respond, he’s already gone, disappearing down the hall at full speed.
You blink.
“…oh, he’s about to make this worse,” Suguru mutters under his breath.
Satoru is back in seconds, holding up a slightly crumpled five dollar bill like it’s the key to a life changing experiment.
“Okay, okay, watch this,” he says, slapping it onto the table with way too much confidence for a guy who has no idea what he’s doing.
“Wait...maybe don’t—” you speak up already sensing where this is going.
“Gimme,” he cuts in, reaching over and snatching the keyboard straight out of your hands before you can even finish the sentence.
He pulls it closer, leaning over the table like a kid who just discovered something illegal but exciting. Suguru leans in, clearly just as invested now even if he’s pretending not to be.
Satoru smooths the five dollar bill out on the table like presentation matters, then glances down at the keyboard.
“…copy aaaaand paste…” he murmurs, sounding way too proud of himself for figuring that out. He presses the keys.
In the blink of an eye, another five dollar bill appears right next to the first, perfectly identical, like it just spawned there out of thin air.
All three of you freeze.
“…woah,” Satoru says, his voice dropping in genuine awe as his eyes light up instantly. He grabs both bills, flipping them over, and holding them up to the light. Comparing them like he’s about to discover some hidden flaw but there isn’t one.
“…no way,” he mutters, grinning like this is the best thing that’s ever happened to him. Before either of you can stop him, he presses the keys again.
Ctrl. C.
Ctrl. V.
Another bill. Then again and again.
The table starts filling up fast, bills stacking unevenly as they keep appearing one after another. Satoru is fully locked in now, laughing menacingly as he just unlocked a cheat code for life.
“HAHA okay, wait, this is actually insane,” he says, not even looking up.
“Satoru...” you try again, watching the growing pile with a mix of disbelief and concern.
“This is literally free money. Do you understand how illegal this probably is?” he continues, completely ignoring you as he keeps going.
“Yeah, and you’re still doing it,” you point out.
“That sounds like a future problem,” he shoots back instantly, not missing a beat.
Suguru watches for another second, his expression tightening just slightly as the pile keeps growing, before he suddenly leans forward and snatches the keyboard right out of Satoru’s hands.
“That’s enough,” he says calmly, though there’s a quiet firmness there that wasn’t before.
Satoru looks up immediately, offended. “Hey—”
“You’re going to crash the economy in our living room,” Suguru replies without even looking at him, already turning the keyboard slightly in his hands as he studies it more closely.
Satoru blinks. “…that feels dramatic.”
“You just made about forty dollars in ten seconds,” you add.
“Okay, but how would the police know?”
Suguru ignores both of you, his focus fully on the keyboard now, his earlier amusement completely gone as curiosity takes over.
“…if it can do that,” he says slowly, more to himself than anyone else, “then there’s more.”
You glance down at the keyboard again, turning it slightly in your hands like it’s magically going to explain itself if you stare at it long enough.
“Okay, wait, there has to be something on this.” you mumble, already pulling your phone out. You type in the model number printed on the back, scrolling as the results pop up.
“…okay, um... apparently this is an HP SK-2501 wired multimedia keyboard from… 2000?” you say, blinking at your screen.
“2000? That thing is older than my patience.” Satoru repeats, leaning over your shoulder.
You snort a little, still scrolling. “I’m serious, it literally looks like a regular old keyboard.”
Suguru leans in slightly, way more focused than Satoru. “Keep reading.”
“Yeah yeah, hold on…” you skim through the page, your nose scrunching.
“Ooo, okay so this says it has a built-in microphone.”
That gets both of their attention.
“A microphone?” Suguru repeats.
“Yeah, like… voice command or something. It says if you say ‘computer,’ it activates a search function… I think?” you say, tilting your phone so they can kind of see. You barely finish your sentence befo—
“COMPUTER!” Satoru shouts.
You flinch. “Why are you yelling?”
The air in front of you flickers. Right there in the middle of the room. It kind of glitches for a second, like something trying to load, and then a search bar pops up.
Just floating there right in front of you.
“…oh.”
It’s not attached to anything just floating in the air. Glowing softly with a blinking cursor waiting at the left.
Satoru leans forward immediately. “No way.”
Suguru stands up without even thinking, stepping closer with that quiet curiosity of his, and reaches his hand out slowly.
His hand goes straight through it. The light bends around his arm for a second, like water rippling, before settling back into place when he pulls away.
“Okay, that’s… weirdly cool” he says under his breath.
You step a little closer too, staring a little too hard at it. Satoru, of course, is already over it in the best way possible, leaning forward with a grin like he just found his new favorite toy.
“Give me a random sweet treat… I don’t know,” he says, way too eager.
The cursor blinks as the bar flickers slightly. You glance at Suguru, then back at it, that same feeling creeping in again. Not just excitement this time but something a little… off.
All of a sudden, a banana split sundae appears on the table. It just pops into existence like it’s been there the whole time.
It's stacked with three scoops of Neapolitan ice cream, whipped cream piled way too high, chocolate drizzle melting down the sides, sprinkles everywhere, and a cherry sitting on top.
Satoru gasps like he just witnessed a miracle.
“No way- don’t touch it, don’t even look at it, I’m getting a spoon. ” he says already halfway to the kitchen before anyone can even process what just happened.
“You weren’t gonna share anyway,” you mutter, watching him disappear. Suguru leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees as he studies the sundae like he’s trying to figure out if it’s real or if this is some kind of elaborate hallucination.
“That’s actually insane,” he says slowly.
Satoru comes back in record time with a spoon in hand. He sits down and drags the sundae closer to himself like someone’s about to snatch it out of his hands.
“This is the best day of my life,” he says, already digging in without hesitation.
“Of course it is,” Suguru replies even though he’s watching the bowl like he’s debating whether to snag a bite.
You don’t say anything at first, just standing there with your arms loosely crossed, watching them like this is the most normal thing in the world, even though five minutes ago none of this existed.
“Oh, by the way, you guys can't use it” you say casually.
Satoru pauses mid bite and Suguru stops moving completely. They both deadpan towards you.
“…what?” Satoru says slowly.
You smile, stepping forward and pulling the keyboard back toward you, holding it just a little closer to your chest.
“You both said it was useless so, technically, you don't get access to such a useless item,” you explain completely serious.
“That’s not how that works,” Satoru says as he points at you with his spoon.
“Yeah how were we supposed to know it was magic?” Suguru adds, leaning back now, clearly amused.
“Exactly, how were we supposed to know that shit deletes desserts out of existence and then spawns better ones?” Satoru continues, gesturing wildly now.
You shrug. “Sounds like a personal problem.”
They both stare at you like you just slapped them in the face. Satoru scoffs, shaking his head. “You’re gatekeeping that now?”
“Yes,” you say immediately.
Suguru huffs out a quiet laugh, shaking his head as he glances between the two of you. “This is ridiculous.”
“No, what’s ridiculous is that I live here and suddenly I don’t have access to the magic reality keyboard in my own home,” Satoru says, still holding the spoon like he’s making a valid point.
“Correct.”
“That’s crazy.”
“Oh well...” you gesture vaguely.
They both start talking at once after that, Satoru getting louder and more dramatic while Suguru chimes in with calmer with more sarcastic comments. The two of them very quickly team up against you like you’re the unreasonable one here.
You let them.
You let them complain and talk over each other. Letting Satoru take another bite mi -argument like that somehow strengthens his case. Honestly, it’s kind of funny watching them act like this over something they dismissed two minutes ago.
While they’re going back and forth your attention drifts back to the keyboard in your hands. Your thumb runs lightly over one of the keys, absentminded as your thoughts start wandering. Their voices blur into background noise.
Delete. Copy. Paste. Create.
Your gaze lifts slowly back to them. Satoru is still eating like nothing in the world matters. Suguru is watching you out of the corner of his eye like he knows you’re thinking something.
…does it work on humans?
Your fingers still for just a second, your expression shifting ever so slightly as you stare at them a little longer than before, your mind already starting to turn that idea over in ways it probably shouldn’t.
You don’t say anything at first, just staring at the keyboard.
“Computer?” you say.
The search bar flickers back into existence midair, glowing softly like it’s been waiting for you this whole time. Satoru doesn’t even look up, still focused on his sundae.
“Oh brother, here she goes again.”
You tilt your head slightly, eyes flicking toward him.
“…have Satoru drop his sundae.”
Satoru’s arm jerks like a random muscle spasm. The spoon flies, his wrist twists, and the entire sundae slips right out of his hand.
SPLAT.
Right onto the floor.
You blink once then immediately burst out laughing. You don't even feel bad that you can't hold it in. Satoru just sits there staring at the mess on the ground. His brain is clearly trying to catch up to what just happened.
“…what the fuck?” he says slowly, looking down at his hand like it betrayed him.
Your breath catches before you even realize it as your grip tightens around the keyboard. Your heart begins to race, the feeling curling in your chest a little too close to excitement for comfort.
Because now you know that it obeys.
Your fingers hover over the keys again and your thoughts move faster than you can keep up with. The possibilities stack on top of each other in ways that feel a little dangerous.
This thing control more than just objects. Your heart raced as you were ready to say another command.
"Computer?" You hesitate for a minute as you glance between Suguru and Satoru.
"Make these guys make out."
Instantly, Suguru's composed facade shattered as he turned to Satoru. Their eyes lock in a heated gaze before their mouths collided and lips parted with urgent need. Their tongues explore each other as Suguru's hands roam up Satoru's chest, pulling him closer.
The sight of them making out sent a jolt to your own wet heat between your thighs. Satoru's cocky grin melts into desire as Suguru's touch turns sensual. Your body aches with jealousy and excitement.
As they kissed deeper, their bodies pressed together. You watch as Satoru's hands slide under Suguru's shirt, tracing the firm muscles of his back. You couldn't resist escalating things.
With a mischievous grin, you spoke up. "Computer?"
"Have them strip each other down to their boxers."
Clothes flew off in a frenzy. Suguru yanks Satoru's shirt over his head to reveal his toned abs and a trail of white hair leading to the bulge in his pants. Satoru quickly unties Suguru's drawstring, sliding his shorts down to expose his massive thighs and the outline of his erection straining against his black boxers.
They didn't stop kissing, their mouths devouring each other, moans vibrating in the air as you had another brilliant idea spark in your mind. The keyboard's power is fueling your boldness.
Why stop at two?
"Computer?"
"Have all three of us... fuck."
Satoru's eyes gleam with thrill and Suguru's reserved demeanor crack into a sensual smile. They broke apart just long enough to grab your hand and guide you towards Satoru's bedroom. The door closes behind you with a click, enclosing all of you in a room full of anticipation.
You set the keyboard down on the bedside table before turning your attention back to the boys.
The air grew thick, musk and sweat lingered as you fell into a three-way kiss. Your lips and tongue colliding in a chaotic dance. Satoru's cocky energy pressing against you while Suguru's steady hands roam over your curves and squeeze your breast through your hoodie.
Satoru's fingers trail down your sides and Suguru's thumb brushes your nipple until it hardens, leaving you breathless. They worked together to strip you down, tugging off your hoodie and jeans with efficiency. They leave you in your bra and underwear, the fabric clinging to your damp skin as your pussy throbbed with need.
You all tumbled onto the bed with Satoru on your left and Suguru on your right.
Their warm bodies sandwich you as their hands explore your thighs and waist. You leaned into Suguru, your kiss deepened into something predatory. Your tongue dove into his mouth while your other hand slipped back to palm Satoru's thick cock through his boxers. Feeling it pulsed under your touch
Your hunger shifted, urging you to turn your attention fully to Satoru.
You broke away from Suguru for a moment, capturing Satoru's lips in the same fierce kiss. Your mouth melds with raw intensity that made your toes curl. His tongue teases yours as his hands roam upward to cup your breast
He squeezed them firmly, his thumbs brushing over your hardened nipples through the thin fabric of your bra. Meanwhile, your other hand ventured down to Suguru's boxers, slipping inside to wrap around his throbbing cock. You do the same to Satoru, pulling them both free into the warm air of their room.
They were hot and heavy in your grip, their veins standing out along the shaft as you stroked them slowly. You savor the silky skin gliding under your fingers as their breath hitches into a deep groan.
Suguru threw his head back, his face flushed of pure ecstasy as his eyes fluttered shut.
"Fuck, y/n, your hands feel so damn g-good...keep going, just like that." he whispered.
Satoru's lips teased against your ear as he trailed his hand down your stomach. His fingers dip beneath the waistband of your panties to feel the wetness there.
"You're so w-wet already. God, I love how you get for us." he murmured. His touch unerring as he rubbed your swollen folds and circled your clit making you moan into his mouth.
"Stroke me harder, baby." Suguru's dirty words cut through, his voice sounding commanding despite his pleasure-druken state. You quickened your pace on them both.
You all were enjoying that for a moment before Suguru sat up fully against the headboard, yanking his boxers off completely in one swift motion. His cock standing proud and glistening with his precum.
You slipped off your own panties, the cool sheets brush against your bare skin as you positioned yourself between his legs. You lean down, taking his cock into your mouth with slow sucks, tasting the salty tang of his precum. You swirled your tongue around his sensitive head.
The wet squelching sound filled the space. Satoru laid back on the bed, guiding you to straddle his face. His tongue dove into your pussy the moment you settled down. His tongue lapped at your folds with eager strokes that made you gasp around Suguru's cock.
Your body is trembling.
The overwhelming pleasure it too much to handle.
Your eyes watered as Suguru's cock hit the back of your throat, making you gag softly around his thick length. Saliva drips from the corners of your mouth in sticky strands that trailed down his shaft.
He was gentle in his guidance. His hand cradling the back of your head with a firm grip in your hair, urging you deeper while his hips rocked ever so slightly.
Satoru's arms were locked around your waist like iron bands. He pins you firmly to his face as his tongue keeps moving relentlessly into your pussy. He can barely breathe but he doesn't care. His strong hand grips your ass while he sucks on your swollen clit. That drew out a muffled moan from you.
The feeling was utterly intoxicating.
Your body was shaking, every nerve felt alive. As the pleasure built up to an unbearable peak, Satoru's grip tightened, his fingers digging into your ass as he pulled you even closer. You grind involuntarily against his face.
"Mmm that's it, take me deeper..." Suguru's breath comes in ragged gasps as he whispers words of encouragement.
The hunger in the room demanded more.
Satoru released his hold just enough to switch positions. He guides you onto your hands and knees while he gets behind you. His hard cock presses against your entrance.
Suguru moved with him, positioning himself in front of you. Satoru pushed slowly into your dripping pussy, filling you with one deep, stretching thrust. The pressure makes you gasp as he pushes inside, inch by glorious inch.
"You're so fucking tight," he groaned. His hands grip your hips steady as he fills you completely. You could feel his cock throbbing deep within your pulsing walls.
You whimper at the sheer size of him. The stretch burned.
Suguru was quick to silence you, thrusting his cock back into your mouth with a commanding grip on your hair. His length sliding over your tongue that left you a moaning mess.
Satoru's deep growls, Suguru's huskily breaths, and your muffled cries echoed the room. The intense pleasure made your fingers clutch the bedding.
Satoru leaned forward, his athletic frame arching over you, meeting Suguru's eyes. Their lips crash together is a passionate kiss, their tongues swirling in a battle for dominance. The wet sounds of their mouths mirror the slapping of skin.
Satoru slowed down, sliding out with a slick with plop that left you aching and exposed. You were shifted into missionary, legs spreading instinctively as Suguru positioned himself between them. His lean, muscular frame hovers over you.
His tip brushed against your soaked entrance, teasing before he pushed in deep. Stretching and filling you made you gasp. His thrust was steady and powerful as each one drove deeper. His dark hair falling forward as he lost himself in your pussy.
"That's it, take it all," Suguru muttered.
Satoru knelt by your head. He slapped his hard cock against your cheek.
"Let me feel that pretty mouth now," he said with a wicked grin. He rubs his tip against your bottom lip, guiding himself in as your lips parted. Cries of pleasure muffled around him.
Satoru's free hand trailed down Suguru's back, his finger tracing his muscles before dipping lower to rub circles against your sensitive clit. The tripled sensations overwhelmed you.
"So tight, so fucking perfect," Satoru groaned.
"Every inch of you is ours now." Suguru added.
The sounds of moans, wet slurps, and skin slapping sounded like a damn symphony. You pulled your mouth away from Satoru's cock, barely being able to catch your breath.
"Oh fuuck yes, I need both of you..." The words spill out of you in a lustful haze as you feel Suguru's balls slap against your ass. Suguru leaned down to capture your lips in a teeth clashing kiss. His tongue invades your mouth just as his cock fills you.
The keyboard's lingering magic whispered in your ear, urging you to push further. Your voice hoarse with need as you call out the next command.
"Com- computer~" you try to get out.
"Have her take both of us." Satoru interrupts.
Instantly, your bodies shifted in a whirlwind of motion. Satoru rolls onto his back and pulls you down onto his lap. His strong hands guide you to straddle his hips. His cock, still rock hard and glistening, slid into your dripping pussy with a single, deep thrust.
"Ahhh shiit," you cry out, your thighs trembling as you begin to ride him. Bouncing slowly at first, then picking up a frantic rhythm that had his head falling back against the pillows.
The stretch of him filling you was so intoxicating. Every downward grind sends jolts of pleasure through your core. Your breast brushes against his chest with each movement.
The overstimulation hit like a car crash when Suguru moved behind you. His hands gripped your waist with the firmness that you craved, positioning himself at your ass.
"You're so greedy for us, aren't you?" Satoru murmured in your ear. His hot breath mixed with the sweat on your neck as he thrust up to meet your hips.
Suguru pressed in, his cock pushing past the tight ring of resistance, stretching you in a way that bordered on overloading. The dual invasion makes your whole body quake with painful pleasure.
They pounded into you, Satoru's thick cock stroking your pussy while Suguru's drove deeper into your ass. The sensation left you breathless. Suguru leaned in close, his lips brushed your shoulder as he whispers near your ear.
"Take it all, mmh, let us r-ruin you completely." His sensual words pushed you right to the brink of your climax. The pressure is building up and about to burst.
"Come for us, baby," Satoru's dirty whispers grew more urgent. Their thrust got even harder.
Their encouragement shattered you. Your body convulsed in a blinding release that crashed over you, pulling them along.
"Aahh, shit... you b-both feel s-so good."
Their own climaxes erupt inside you with guttural groans and shuddering thrusts. Satoru's cock pulsed deep inside your pussy, spilling hot waves of cum that filled you up.
His seed seeps out around him as you collapse on his chest. Your breath is coming in ragged gasps as every muscle trembles from the aftershock.
Suguru followed after, his final thrust into your ass grows erratic before he stilled. His seed is flooding your ass leaving you with a feeling of being claimed.
You lay there sandwiched between them, Suguru's heart pounded against your back and Satoru's hands trace soothing circles on your thighs.
Yet, even in the blissful aftermath, the keyboard eerily sits on the bedside table, tugging at your awareness of it. A reminder of the danger game you've played. Satoru's fingers threaded through your hair.
"Fuck, y/n, that was incredible," his words sounded of genuine affection that made your chest tighten.
Suguru moved your hair and pressed gentle kisses on your neck down to your shoulders.
The night deepened around you, the soft glow of the street lights filter through the curtains. Satoru's hand slid down the interlock with yours as Suguru's breath was warm against your neck. You completely surrendered to the intoxicating feeling of satisfaction.
I stopped playing love and deepspace for over a year only to find out that we BOMBAYAAAAHED BITCH.......... I died watching the clips on YouTube and tell me why SYLUS SPANKED OUR ASS😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭 And OMG Caleb MOANS are so PRETTY AND DEEP WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK GUYS PLEAASSSSSEEEEEEEEEEE
Truthfully you were no stranger to this line of work. After all this how you were able to get through college, pay your bills and now living inside of a very nice apartment complex with your best friend.
Even so, now you’re rated as the number one cam girl on that site, due to your physique. Being extremely short and tiny to you is an accomplishment, because if it wasn’t for those two main factors then it may be a possibility that someone else would’ve turned out to be number instead.
So yeah, at this point you knew all the tricks and trade on the site. You knew what works best for you, you knew what the viewers loved, what they wanted from you. You also knew their dislike and so on.
To add, you also know what to do or how to grab your viewers attention by doing stuff like feature collabs with other cam stars or pornstars. It helps to boost your ratings and gain more recognition. And you know what they say, the more people who watch and subscribe to your content, the more money you’re about to roll in.
But funny enough, you’ve never once had a featured guest star on your livestreams, or even in the videos you’d post on OF. The thought had never crossed your mind, nor did you care enough to think about it. But today, you might actually consider working with a pornstar.
You almost choked on your water when you opened up your gmail and saw that you’ve received a letter from the owner of the biggest playboy magazine in Japan and he happened to be the number one hottest pornstar of 2023.
You almost jumped out of the chair when you opened the email that was sent a half hour ago and began reading.
Dear Y/N,
I’ve seen a few of your videos online and I must say I’m impressed. I have to say, I was pretty shocked to see such a small girl like you perform so well in bed. You’re a star baby girl. Oh, just to let you know I’m also your biggest tipper on your live stream.
Anyways, I want to make a proposal to you. You don’t have to accept but I’ll try my luck with you. Let’s do a big collaboration together at my place. It could be anything you like; like roleplaying, BDSM, or just simple vanilla sex. It doesn’t really matter to me, I’ll be fine with whatever you choose. I’ll just have to make sure that I inform my camera crew about the collaboration, and ensure that everything is alright and in place just so that you could feel comfortable.
I think this would be a perfect opportunity for the both of us. You'll have an amazing stream to broadcast and I’ll have content to post on my private website. Your rating will also go up, and as an added bonus I’ll make you the face of the winter 2023 playboy magazine.
So how about it, pretty girl? Do you wanna fuck me? Because I want to fuck you. Let’s talk this over at my place Friday, which is the day after tomorrow by the way. This is my address. I live at xxxxxxxxx in penthouse number two. I'll have a keycard at the front desk for you. Also call me whenever you are through with reading this email. My number is +81 xxxx xxxxx. I want to know what you think and if you’re up to the task.
I’m waiting for your call.
Sincerely,
Gojo Satoru.
You’ve never rushed to grab your phone so fast. But as soon as the device was in your hand, you quickly dialled up his number and after the second ring, he answered.
Gojo: Hello? Who is this?
You swallowed thickly, eyes almost popping out of your head the moment you heard his smooth voice through the speakers of your phone.
Gojo: Hello?
You: Uhm hello Mr. Gojo?
Gojo: Speaking?
You: Hi Mr. Gojo it’s Y/N, you said that I should give you a call immediately after reading your email.
Gojo: give me a sec and let me call you right back.
With that said, he hung up but immediately called you back. But instead of a voice call, he jumped the gun and went straight to facetime. You blinked a couple of times before answering, blinked a few more times the moment you saw his angelic face appeared on screen. “Hey,” he said and smiled at you with those perfect pearly whites as he stared at you with those cerulean eyes of his.
“Hello,” you answered with a shy, but adorable smile gracing your lips.
“You’re cute you know,” he complimented you which had your cheeks burning from being so embarrassed and shy at his compliment.
“Thank you Mr. Gojo,” you said to him.
“Please call me Satoru.” he suggested and you shook your head ok. “So, I guess it’s safe to say that you want to collaborate with me.” You shyly nodded your head at him and he chuckled. “That’s perfect, I’ll get in touch with my camera crew then and let them know that you and I are going to collaborate together.”
You said nothing, only stared and watched as he pulled out another phone from his pocket, you assume and began dialling a number.
“You’re pretty shy, for a cam girl that is. Most cam girls that I’ve worked with in the past aren’t as shy as you,” he pointed out.
“Well, that’s because I can’t believe that I’m on the phone with Gojo Satoru. I admire your work very much and to know that I have the opportunity to work with someone that I admire is making me feel a bit shy. I don’t know what to say or even how to act around you currently,” you answered truthfully.
“I admire your honesty, but no need to feel shy with me.”
“I’ll try not to be,” you replied and he laughed.
“You’re adorable… ah hold on. Nanami,” he called out to the guy who was talking to him through his other phone. “Y/N called and she said that wants to collaborate with me. Yeah- so I guess we can set up the guest room tomorrow and prepare everything for her stream on Friday night. Your streams are on Friday night right pretty girl?”
“Yeah I stream every Friday at 8,” you answered him.
“Yeah, so like I said we’re setting up the guest room for her stream. I’ll run through everything later in the afternoon, Nanami. Alright, later then,” he bid his goodbyes to Nanami then hung up and turned his attention towards you. “I guess everything is settled then.”
“I think so.”
“You sure?” he asked. You thought about it for a while, wondering if there was anything else you’d like to say and you almost said no, but that is until you remember something that you think it’ll be important for him to know before progressing further with the planning and preparation.
“Uhm, Mr… I mean Satoru. There is something that I’d like to say.”
“Go on, I'm listening,” he said to you.
You took a deep breath, closed your eyes and turned your head away from the phone and said. “You know I’ve never collaborated with anyone right?” He hummed in response to this. “Well part of the reason for this is because I wasn’t all that interested and the other reason is that I lack sexual experience.”
That shocked him a bit, blinking a couple of times as he blurted out. “You’re a virgin.”
You quickly shook your head no as you responded, “No, I’m not. I’m saying that I don’t have that much experience in bed. I’ve had sex maybe two or three times, but that’s it so I don’t know if I’ll have any fun.”
“Ah… doubting yourself already, pretty girl?” He asked while chuckled. You stayed silent and he never was really expecting you to respond anyways. “You don’t need to worry about having experience or not. You don’t need to worry about such silly things. All you have to do is trust me and trust that I’ll take absolute care of you and your squirting pussy.”
You gasped, “Mr. Gojo?”
He laughed, “Don’t worry your pretty little head too much about it. Anyways I wished I could stay and chat with you for the remainder of the day, but I just got home from Okinawa and I’m extremely tired. So, I’ll text you when I’m all rested and tomorrow you and I can talk on the phone and get comfortable with each other.”
“That would be lovely,” you said to him.
“Alright I’ll text you later to talk more about the collaboration.”
“OK Satoru, goodbye,” you said to him.
He smiled and waved at you as he bid his goodbyes before hanging.
Well then I guess you’ll be busy tomorrow and on Friday night. You were so excited.
…
The following night and throughout the next day, you’ve been texting with Gojo non-stop. You both shared funny memes, talked about your favourite food and such- you know just light innocent conversations to lighten the mood between you both until he started questioning you about your Journey towards becoming a successful cam girl.
You felt quite a bit shy at first, but still you told him how much you struggled to get through college and you found out that being a cam girl was the easiest way to make money. You didn’t plan on doing it for too long, but somehow you got so caught up in the fun and the blood rushing thrill, filled with excitement from being watched by a thousand people got to your head; you just decided that this was going to be your career for a very long time.
You even told him that at first you were so ashamed of yourself because you’ve never once thought that you would be in such a position to be showing your body off to the world. But overtime, you got over it and now, you could care less about what the public had to say about you and your career. He told you that he was happy to hear that you’re having so much fun with your job and he hoped to make the live stream just as fun.
After that conversation you went on to talk about random things while pitching a few topics about sex along throughout the conversation. You were honestly starting to feel a bit comfortable with him, you know, being able to have such obscene conversations with him without being scorned or called a slut. You even decided to give him a free private show that night. You were a bit nervous but comfortable enough to spread your legs for him in front of your webcam while he sat in his office to watch you.
He watched as you tossed your head back, your dainty hands gripping your breast, squeezing the mound as that tiny little booty of yours jiggled each time you slid up and down on that plastic dildo you use for your every stream. “Want me to tip you pretty girl?” he asked. But you shook your head no, too focused on feeling rubbery vein caressing your wet, gummy walls. He chuckled and licked his lips then he said, “Bend over for me… I want to see your pussy dripping all over that toy when you cum pretty girl.”
“Ugh… Ok,” you moaned and did as you were told. But not without looking back at the screen to see Gojo blue eyes staring dead at you. You could see him fighting against himself, trying his hardest not to pull his cock out on you while you gave him a show. He wanted you to have this moment for yourself, show him exactly how freely you’re able to express yourself when indulging in pleasure. So his cock will have to wait, blue balls would have to be his best friend tonight.
“Mr. Gojo… I,” You stuttered through your moan.
“It’s Satoru to you, Angel,” he said to you. “You wanna cum?”
“Yes, please may I cum Satoru? I really wanna… ahhh.”
“Go ahead,” he ordered before falling back against his chair to watch as you fell apart for him over the computer screen. Your pretty pussy was on display for him and only him. You bent your knees slightly to ride the dildo a bit faster, your thighs were trembling. He could see your pussy pulsing and creaming around his cock.
“Ah… Ahh… mhm,” you cried and twitched as you cum around the plastic cock. Gojo could’ve sworn he dumped a heavy load in his pants, but he is not going to check, well not right at least, not when you started to ride that dildo once again. Oh boy was Gojo going to have so much fun filming with you tomorrow and see how much he can make that pretty pussy of yours squirt with his fingers, mouth and his cock.
After what happened with Gojo that night, all the worries you had about filming with him disappeared during the night, only to return the next day when you walked inside his apartment to see him getting his makeup done for the stream. He greeted you with a smile the moment he saw you stepped foot inside his home and wasted no time in calling you towards him to watch as he got his makeup done.
He pulled you down onto his lap and pressed a kiss to your cheek, gripped your chin and slightly tilted your head upwards to meet his gaze. And just before you were able to utter a sound out of your mouth, he lightly pressed a kiss to your lips, then whispered, “There is a lot more where that came from pretty girl.”
His words left you a flustered mess, he had you blushing like a teenager who just got kissed by their crush. You knew that he was a smoother talker, based upon the conversation you had with him over the phone and somehow you knew that he had some sneaking plan up his sleeves to get you all flustered up your stream. But what you didn’t expect him to do was to kiss you as soon as you entered his home.
Dammit! He was dangerous.
Anyways it didn’t take him much time to get his makeup done, not that he needed it anyways his skin is already perfect as it is. But you guess it's somewhat showbiz, or pornbiz. Anyways he offered for his makeup artist to do yours, and while you declined at first, you ended up agreeing because you realised that you left your makeup pouch at home.
Anyways, as they did your makeup and so on, Gojo explained that his camera crew or lets say his friend Nanami would be inside of the room, filming the both of you while Geto sat in a private room and monitor your stream and thank the viewers for the tips, because you were going to be too busy getting fucked (basically) to be paying attention to stream. He went on to explain that there’s much to discuss with Nanami. He said that Geto is normally the one to explain what Nanami is about to tell you later, to new and upcoming Pornstars like you.
But since he didn’t want to overwhelm you with too much manly presence, Nanami decided that he was going to take up the initiative to explain it to you instead. As he went on to explain other things, you just sat quietly and listened. There isn’t much for you to say anyways.
After the conversation, he left you for a moment and came back with an envelope.
“What is this?” you asked him as you reached out for the envelope that he stretched towards you.
“A STD test results of course. It is important for me to provide you with this information. As you can see, I am clean. I don’t nor have I ever contracted an STD. With that said, I want you to trust me enough to have sex with you without using a condom. I don’t mind if you want to use it. At the end of the day, it’s your body and I want you to feel comfortable. That’s my goal here.”
“Ok Satoru,” you said while smiling.
“Great, now give me a kiss,” he said as he slotted himself between your legs. Your shyness kicked in once again. You tilted your head downwards a bit and peered at him through your lashes. He chuckled - how adorable you look he thought before resting his forehead against yours, his perfect pointy nose rubbing against you and you could feel his cool mint breath against yours lips as he whispered, “Better get used to kissing me now to avoid you tensing up in front of the camera.”
And with that said, he gently pressed his lips against yours, sweetly capturing the taste of your strawberry flavoured breath before pulling away. “Sweet,” he whispered, his lips moving from your lips and pressed them against your cheeks a couple times before returning to your lips to kiss you deeper and more passionately than he had before.
Your skin felt like it was on blaze - your heart hammering through your chest the moment you felt his tongue caress yours. “Satoru…” you whimpered against his lips. He chuckled before pecking your lips a couple of times.
᭡୧ synopsis: in which your brother’s best friend, satoru gojo has spent years keeping his distance, treating you like the little sister he’s supposed to protect. but when your brother leaves town and asks him to “keep an eye on you,” the careful line he’s been walking finally starts to crack. what was meant to be an innocent visit to check on you quickly turns into something forbidden and filthy, something neither of you can walk away from anymore.
᭡୧ pairings: brother’s best friend!satoru x fem!reader
᭡୧ c. warnings: heavy yearning, heavy sexu-al tension (like super heavy!), emotional restraints, dry hum-ping, protected se-x, ti-ts play, sp-it play (?), mutual pining, did i say heavy se-xual tension? slight size kink, overstim, thigh rid-ing, we have an aftercare this time yayyyy! — word count: 7.2k+
you’ve known satoru gojo since you were six years old and he was twelve, the loud, white-haired boy your older brother dragged home after school like a stray cat he refused to leave behind.
back then satoru was all gangly limbs and bright blue eyes, always stealing your snacks and letting you ride on his shoulders when your brother got tired of carrying you. the three of you became a little unit almost instantly. movie nights on the living room floor, summer afternoons at the park, late-night video games where satoru would let you win just to watch you cheer.
your brother was officially his best friend, but somewhere along the line the lines blurred.
you were never sure if satoru was your brother’s best friend or yours. he was just… satoru. the constant reminder in your life who knew how you liked your ice cream and remembered your favorite color even when you changed it every month.
years passed and the dynamic shifted without anyone noticing at first. you grew up, and growing up consisted of puberty.
satoru grew taller, broader, more dangerously handsome with that lazy grin that made girls at school blush. but you stayed the little sister in everyone’s eyes, the one who tagged along behind her brother and his best friend, the one who fell asleep on the couch between them during horror movies, the one satoru would tuck a blanket over with gentle hands while your brother snored on the other side.
everyone else thought like that but satoru. satoru noticed the changes. he noticed the way your legs got longer, the way your laugh got softer and feminine, the way your body filled out in ways that made his throat tight and his thoughts guilty. he told himself it was nothing. you were his best friend’s little sister, which meant you’re off-limits. and by off-limits, you’re a forbidden fruit he wasn’t allowed to even look at for too long or he would rot you with his dirty thoughts.
nobody sensed how he started pulling away in small ways when you turned eighteen. longer gaps between visits, fewer sleepovers, more excuses about being busy with college and then with work. but he never stayed away completely. satoru couldn’t.
every time he saw you he felt that familiar pull, the way his chest tightened when you smiled at him like he hung the moon for you. the way his cock would twitch traitorously when you wore those tiny shorts around the house in the summer every time he came over and god, he hated himself for it because right after he’s done, he would go home after and jerk off in the shower with his jaw clenched, whispering your name like a curse while hot water beat down on his back, telling himself it was the last time.
it was never the last time.
now you’re twenty-two and he’s twenty-eight. your brother still treats you like the kid who used to beg for piggyback rides. satoru still calls you “boogers” sometimes, but the word tastes bitter on his tongue now.
the three of you still hang out, still have movie nights from time to time since satoru could never say no to your asking, he joins your family and still act like nothing has changed. but everything has. satoru can barely look at you without feeling the weight of all those years of wanting. he watches the way you move around the kitchen in your sleep shorts when you’re getting snacks ready for the movies, the way your t-shirt rides up when you reach for something on the top shelf, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes and rest your head on his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
every innocent touch feels like torture. every time your thigh brushes his on the couch he has to fight the urge to pull you into his lap and show you exactly what you do to him.
this time your brother is out of town this weekend for a work trip he couldn’t get out of.
he left satoru with the spare key and the casual instruction to “keep an eye on her.” satoru laughed it off on the phone, responding with a choked ‘yeah, ‘course, i got you man.’ but the second he hung up his mind was already spinning. he told himself he’d just check in once, maybe bring some takeout, make sure you weren’t lonely and nothing more.
but fuck was he wrong, cause satoru only lasted exactly four hours before your text came through:
“movie night? the new horror one just dropped. brother’s gone so no one to complain about the jump scares :)”
he stared at the message for ten full minutes. then that’s when he grabbed his keys, all thoughts starting to get pumped to his dick.
when he knocks on your door it’s a little after ten. you open it wearing your usual oversized, small ribbons printed t-shirt and those damn cotton shorts that have haunted his dreams for years. your skin is soft under the radiating light from the porch, face bare, and you smile at him like he’s the best part of your night.
shit. satoru feels his stomach drop.
“hey, you came,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is casual, warm, the kind of voice that used to make him feel safe and now makes his cock stir in his sweatpants.
“couldn’t let you watch horror alone,” he replies, forcing that tired, loose grin. he holds up the bag of snacks like a peace offering. “brought the good stuff.”
you laugh and it hits him straight in the chest. he follows you to the living room, trying not to stare at the way the hem of your shorts teases him in front of him. the fabric riding up with every step. the tv is already on, lights dimmed, blankets piled on the couch. you settle in your usual spot, patting the cushion beside you. satoru sits, puts the snacks down onto the coffee table, leaving what he hopes is a respectful distance, but you immediately scoot closer, tucking your legs under you and leaning your head against his shoulder like always.
maybe your nickname was not supposed to be boogers but dumbass cause you don’t seem to take sign on how you’re making it hard for him to stay normal and sane. or so he thought.
the movie starts. the opening credits roll. satoru tries to focus on the screen. he really does. but all he can feel is the warmth of your body against his side, the soft press of your bare thigh against his, the faint vanilla scent of your shampoo. his hand rests on the back of the couch, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder when he shifts.
every innocent touch feels loaded tonight. the house is too quiet without your brother’s loud commentary. it’s just you and him and years of unspoken tension hanging heavy in the dark.
halfway through the first act you stretch, arms lifting above your head, shirt riding up to show a strip of soft stomach. satoru’s eyes flick down before he can stop them, fingers twitching not to touch you and when you settle again your leg presses fully against his. he doesn’t move away. instead his fingers brush your shoulder again, slower this time, thumb stroking once along your skin.
“cold?” he asks, voice quieter than he means.
you shake your head, tilting your face up to look at him. your eyes are soft in the glow of the tv. “no. just getting comfortable.”
he swallows hard. his hand drops from the couch to rest lightly on your upper arm, thumb still stroking slow circles. the touch is supposed to be casual but it isn’t. at least that’s what satoru knows.
the movie keeps playing but the man sitting next to you is not really watching anymore. the air between you feels thicker, warmer, charged with everything you’ve both been pretending doesn’t exist for years.
satoru’s jaw clenches. he can feel his cock starting to thicken in his sweatpants, the traitorous heat building low in his gut. he tells himself to stop. he tells himself you’re his best friend’s little sister. he tells himself a lot of things.
you shift again, turning slightly so your knee brushes his thigh. and lord knows how he’s struggling not to make a sound, especially when your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak.
“satoru?”
he looks down at you, blue eyes dark in the low light. “yeah?”
you bite your lip, just for a second, and the small movement sends another rush of blood straight to his cock.
“you’ve been really quiet tonight.”
fuck.
he forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. “am i?” he asks. “just focused on the movie.” his reply doesn’t satisfy you and you don’t look convinced so your hand rests lightly on his chest, right over his heart. “liar.” you call him out.
liar…
the sting of the word is heavy because satoru is not the only one suffering alone here, you’re a liar as well. and you’re pretending none of this is eating you alive when that’s exactly how it’s been for you since satoru came to your house.
you’ve been stiff as a board since the moment you sat down, even though you’re trying so hard to act normal. you can feel it in the way his shoulder has gone tight under your cheek, the way his breathing isn’t quite as steady as usual, the way his long fingers keep flexing against the couch like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
the tv flickers soft blue light across both of you, painting shadows over his sharp jaw and the faint flush creeping up his neck, but you’re not watching the movie anymore. you’re watching him, noticing every detail.
your hand stays light on his chest, right over his heart, and you can feel how fast it’s beating under your palm. thump-thump-thump, way too quick for someone who’s supposedly just chilling on the couch. you shift a little closer, letting your bare thigh press more firmly against his — testing water — and that’s when you notice it full.
the soft, heavy bulge under the dark blue-black sweatpants he’s wearing. it’s not fully hard yet, but it’s definitely there, thickening slowly against the loose fabric, the outline just visible every time the tv screen flashes brighter. your stomach flips, heat pooling low between your legs because you did that. you’re doing that to him right now, just by sitting here in your tiny shorts with your head on his shoulder like you always have.
the tension sits thick and heavy between you, wrapping around every small movement. every time you breathe, your chest brushes his arm.
every time he shifts, his thigh presses harder against yours. the air feels warmer than it should, like the room itself is holding its breath along with both of you. you can smell his cologne mixed with the faint mint from his gum, and underneath it all something warmer, something that makes your mouth water.
satoru’s hand on your upper arm hasn’t stopped moving. his thumb keeps stroking those slow, careful circles, but now each pass feels heavier, more deliberate, like he’s fighting the urge to slide his whole palm down your skin.
you tilt your head up a little more, letting your breath fan across the side of his neck. his jaw clenches. you watch the muscle jump, watch the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. the bulge in his sweatpants twitches again, growing thicker, the fabric starting to tent just enough that you can see the clear shape of him.
your own body reacts instantly, a warm rush between your thighs, your nipples tightening under the thin t-shirt. you’re suddenly aware of how little you’re wearing, how your shorts exposed so much skin the bottom curve of your ass is almost showing, how your shirt keeps slipping off one shoulder no matter how many times you fix it.
satoru’s fingers tighten on your arm for half a second before he forces them to relax. his breathing has gone shallow. you can feel the heat pouring off him, the way his thigh muscles are locked tight under your leg. the movie keeps playing, some girl screaming on screen, but none of you flinch and the only sound that matters is the quiet hitch in his breath when your knee accidentally nudges higher up his leg, brushing right against the side of that growing bulge.
he doesn’t pull away. he stays perfectly still, like moving even an inch might break whatever fragile control he has left.
you bite your lip, heart hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it. the flush on your neck is spreading, warm and prickly, and a tiny bead of sweat is already forming at the small of your back. you feel sticky and hot and aching, and all you’ve done is sit here with your head on his shoulder.
the years of quiet ‘wanting’ press in harder tonight, sharper because your brother isn’t here to act as a buffer. it’s just you and satoru and the heavy, suffocating knowledge that you’re both thinking about the same thing.
satoru clears his throat suddenly, the sound rough and forced. he shifts, moving his arm from around you, and stands up in one quick motion. his sweatpants do nothing to hide how hard he is now, the thick outline pressing obviously against the front, the fabric stretched tight. he keeps his back half-turned to you like that will somehow fix it.
“uh… i need some water,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “or a coke. something cold.”
you sit up slowly, fixing your shirt so it covers your shoulder again, but it doesn’t help much. your skin feels too warm, a light sheen of sweat already making the back of your neck sticky. your cheeks are flushed, you can feel the heat in them, and between your legs you’re starting to get embarrassingly wet, the thin cotton of your panties clinging to you. you swallow, trying to sound normal even though your voice comes out a little breathy.
“oh yeah, okay. it’s in the fridge. you know your way around.”
satoru nods once, still not fully facing you, and heads toward the kitchen. his shoulders are stiff, steps a little too deliberate, like he’s forcing himself to put distance between you. you stay on the couch, legs pressed together, heart still racing and satoru disappears into the kitchen.
you stay on the couch, legs pressed tight together, trying to calm the flutter between your thighs. the movie is still playing but the sound feels distant, like it’s happening in another room. you can hear him open the fridge, the soft clink of a can, the quiet hiss when he cracks it open. a few seconds later he walks back in, coke in one hand, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to shake something off.
he’s too distracted to consider bringing you one.
he looks at you for a long moment before he sits down again, this time leaving a little more space between your bodies but it doesn’t help.
the air still feels charged, heavy with everything neither of you has said out loud. you notice the way his sweatpants still sit a little awkwardly, the thick line of his cock not fully softened, pressing against the fabric every time he shifts, manspread awkwardly.
your own skin is warm and sticky, a faint sheen of sweat on your neck and between your breasts, your nipples tight and sensitive under the thin t-shirt.
satoru takes a long sip of the coke, throat working, then sets the can on the coffee table. when he leans back against the couch his arm brushes yours again, and this time he doesn’t pull away. his fingers find your shoulder once more, but instead of the casual thumb strokes from before, his whole palm settles there, warm and heavy.
it seems he’s calmed a bit.. which means you’re the one who’s suffering hundred percent.
“you okay?” he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.
you nod, but it feels like a lie. “yeah… just warm in here.”
his eyes flick down to the flushed skin of your neck, then lower to where your shirt has slipped off your shoulder again. he doesn’t say anything, but his thumb starts brushing the bare skin near your collarbone. the touch is slow, almost absent, but it sends heat straight down your spine. you shift like you’re under a spell without thinking, your bare thigh sliding against his again, and this time your knee nudges right against the side of his cock through the sweatpants.
satoru inhales sharply. his hand slides from your shoulder down your arm, stopping at your wrist. his thumb presses lightly against your pulse point, feeling how fast your heart is racing.
“you’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“so are you,” you whisper back.
the only light flickering on both of you is the glow from the tv, casting soft blue and white across both of you. satoru turns his head to look at you fully, blue eyes dark and conflicted, pupils blown wide as if he’s high. his free hand comes up, hesitating for half a second before he cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your lower lip.
“this is a bad idea,” he says, eyes dancing over your lips but he doesn’t sound convinced. his voice is thick, breath warm against your mouth.
“then why does it feel so good?” you have no idea how words are forming in your mouth when your brain disconnected from your tongue a long time ago, and the only option you have is leaning into his touch.
he lets out a quiet, broken sound, half groan, half sigh. his thumb presses a little harder against your lip, parting it slightly. you part your lips more, letting the tip of his thumb slip just inside, brushing against your tongue. satoru’s eyes flutter for a second, jaw tight.
“fuck… you’re killing me.”
you suck gently on his thumb, just enough to make his breath hitch. his other hand slides down to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt like he’s anchoring himself. the tension snaps slowly, like a rubber band stretching thinner and thinner until it finally gives.
satoru pulls his thumb from your mouth with a wet sound and replaces it with his lips. the kiss starts soft, almost careful, lips sliding together warm and slow. but the second you make a small needy sound in the back of your throat he deepens it, tongue licking into your mouth, hot and hungry. years of holding back pour into that kiss, all the stolen glances, all the guilty nights in the shower, all the times he told himself no.
his hands slide down to your hips, gripping firmly as he pulls you sideways until you’re straddling one of his thick thighs. the moment your core settles over the hard muscle you both moan quietly into the kiss. your soaked panties press right against his leg, the thin cotton already clinging to your folds from how wet you are. satoru’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding you into a slow, rolling grind.
you start moving. slow, deliberate rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the firm muscle of his thigh. every pass makes the fabric of your shorts and panties rub against you, the friction hot and slick and perfect. each roll pushes more wetness out of you, soaking the cotton until it clings transparently to your pussy. satoru groans low in his chest when he feels the damp heat spreading across his thigh, his cock twitching hard in his sweatpants, the thick head nudging against your inner thigh with every grind.
he breaks the kiss with a wet sound, lips shiny, breathing ragged. his mouth trails down your neck, sucking softly at the sensitive skin, then lower, until his lips brush over your collarbone. when he reaches your chest he doesn’t push your shirt up. instead he closes his mouth around one of your pebbled nipples right through the thin fabric.
the sensation is immediate and filthy. his tongue swirls slow and heavy over the stiff peak, soaking the cotton instantly. warm spit seeps through the material, making it cling to your breast, turning the white fabric translucent.
he sucks gently at first, then harder, pulling your nipple deeper into his mouth while his tongue flicks fast and wet. the wet patch grows, dark and shiny, the outline of your hard nipple completely visible through the soaked shirt. every pull of his mouth sends sharp sparks straight to your clit, making your hips roll faster against his thigh.
“mmh… fuck,” he groans against your chest, the vibration traveling through the damp fabric. “look at you. letting me cover you with my spit. your body’s so fucking readyfor me already, yeah?”
he switches to the other nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. more drool collects from the corners of his lips, smearing down the front of your shirt in shiny trails, soaking the fabric until both your tits are glistening and see-through. the cool air hits the wet patches and makes your nipples ache even more, stiff and sensitive under his relentless mouth. he keeps sucking noisily, alternating between slow, deep pulls and quick flicks of his tongue, you could swear his spit is probably dripping down your stomach now, making the front of your shirt stick to your skin.
you’re grinding harder, hips rolling in needy little circles, clit dragging over his thigh with every movement. the friction is slick and constant, your soaked panties sliding against the hard muscle, the wet sounds of fabric rubbing together mixing with the filthy noises his mouth makes on your chest. your hands are in his white hair, tugging gently, soft whimpers and gasps spilling from your lips every time he sucks particularly hard.
satoru’s cock is throbbing visibly in his sweatpants, the thick ridge pressing insistently against your inner thigh, leaking enough that a small dark spot has formed at the front. every time you grind forward the head of his cock nudges closer to your core, teasing you both with how close he is to where you both desperately want him to be.
he pulls back just enough to look at the mess he’s made. your shirt is completely ruined, plastered transparently to your tits, nipples dark and shiny with his spit, little droplets still sliding down your stomach. his eyes are heavy-lidded, breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet.
“so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. “y’know how i’ve been dreaming about marking you up like this for years? look how filthy i got you… your brother will fuck me up.”
he leans in again, mouth latching back onto your nipple through the drenched fabric, sucking harder while his hands grip your ass tighter, helping you grind faster against him. the wet, messy sounds fill the room — his mouth sucking noisily, your slick panties sliding over his thigh, both of you breathing hard and shaky.
the tension is thick and suffocating, every slow grind and every wet kiss pushing you both closer to the edge without either of you saying it out loud yet.
after what feels like euphorically forever, satoru pulls back from your chest with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, eyes heavy as he looks at the absolute mess he’s made of your shirt.
his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling fast under his hoodie, and for a second he just stares at you like he can’t believe this is real. then his hand slips down, fingers dipping into the pocket of his sweatpants, and he pulls out a small foil packet. the condom glints under the dim light, and you raise a brow, lips parting in quiet surprise.
he catches the look and just shrugs, a lazy, almost sheepish tilt of his shoulders, causing your cheeks flushing darker. “had to,” he mutters, voice low and rough, like the words are being dragged out of him. “couldn’t risk it. not with you.”
you let out a soft, cheeky laugh, the sound breathy and teasing even though your heart is hammering. “you’ve always wanted to fuck me, huh?”
satoru’s brows knit together instantly, that familiar stern little frown pulling at his face, but his eyes stay dark and hungry. “that’s a vulgar word, boogers,” he says, the nickname slipping out like habit, but there’s no real bite to it. he leans in and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the tip of your nose, lips brushing there gently before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. “i want to make you feel good. that’s all.”
you groan, half playful, half frustrated, and swat your hand lightly against his chest. “stop calling me boogers, toru. seriously!”
he just hums, low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands slide to your hips. he helps lift you a little higher on your knees, giving himself room, and shoves his sweatpants and briefs down in one smooth motion. they pool around his calves, leaving his thick cock springing free, heavy and flushed, the head already glistening.
he tears the foil packet open with his teeth, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet room, and the sweet strawberry scent of the condom fills the small space between your bodies, fruity and almost too innocent for how filthy this feels.
satoru rolls it down his girthy tip first, jaw tightening as the latex stretches over him. a soft, broken whimper slips out of him when the cool material slides along his sensitive head, his hips twitching once before he rolls it all the way to the base with steady fingers. the condom sits snug, shiny and strawberry-sweet, the faint pink tint of it catching the tv light. he looks up at you then, eyes dark and solemn, waiting.
his hands move to your shorts and panties next, hooking into the waistband and sliding them down your thighs together in one slow tug.
you lift your hips to help, and the soaked fabric peels away from your pussy with a wet sound, leaving you completely bare from the waist down. he doesn’t stop there. his fingers catch the hem of your spit-drenched shirt and peel it up and off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. now you’re completely naked in his lap, skin flushed and glowing under the flickering light, tits still shiny with his dirty work, pussy glistening and swollen from all the grinding.
satoru is still mostly dressed, only his hoodie on, sweatpants and briefs shoved down to his calves, the contrast making everything feel even unholy. he licks a bold stripe across his palm, tongue dragging slow and wet, then reaches between you and swipes the slick hand over your folds. the touch is warm and deliberate, fingers spreading your wetness, thumb brushing your clit once before he grips the base of his cock and guides the thick, condom-covered head to your entrance.
he presses in slow, so slow, the blunt tip stretching you open inch by careful inch. his brows knit tight with concentration, eyes locked on your face, watching for any flicker of pain or discomfort. you feel every thick ridge as he sinks deeper, the stretch burning sweet and full, your walls fluttering around him.
your eyes start to haze, lashes fluttering, jaw going slack as the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him hits you. your breathing stutters, lips parted on a silent gasp, completely detached for a moment while your body adjusts to the heavy, girthy length pushing inside.
satoru knew you were small compared to him but never did he think you’d be struggling to fit his fat cock in your tight cunt this much.
satoru stays perfectly still once he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, breathing hard through his nose. his hands grip your waist tight, thumbs stroking soothing circles on your skin as he waits, watching the way your eyes glaze over and your jaw hangs open. the strawberry scent mixes with the sharp smell of your arousal, the room quiet except for the low hum of the credit scene of the horror movie and the sound of both of you trying to breathe through the intensity.
“can i move?” he asks, voice low and calculated, almost a whisper, like he’s afraid to break the moment. his brows are still knitted, waiting for any sign from you.
you can’t find words right away. instead you just tap his shoulder once, twice, a small, mute signal that you’re okay, that you want this. satoru exhales shakily, relief and hunger mixing in the sound, and he starts to move.
at first it’s slow, careful rolls of his hips that drag his thick cock along your walls, the stretch burning so good it makes your breath hitch. you start grinding down to meet him, hips rolling in small, needy circles, your slick coating the base of his cock and smearing messily over the soft, dark trail of hair that runs from his navel down to where he disappears inside you. every grind leaves a shiny trail of your wetness glistening on his skin, the wet sounds squelching in the quiet room.
you’re vocal in little bursts, whispers of his name slipping out between shaky breaths. “satoru… toru…” the words are breathy, almost reverent, filling the living room like a secret. your hands slide up his hoodie, fingers digging into his chest as you grind harder, chasing the friction, the fullness, the way he fills you so completely.
“too big.. you’re– toru, fuuuck,” you cry out.
satoru leans back against the couch, arms dropping to his sides for a moment, face going almost numb with pleasure. his blue eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, white hair messy and falling into his face as he watches you ride him. he looks completely under your spell, like the sight of you naked and grinding on his cock has short-circuited his brain. the curve of his cock jerks inside you when you desperately grab his hand and bring it to your tits, pressing his palm against the soft, post spit-slick flesh.
that seems to snap him back. his face shifts from dazed to focused in an instant, intention clear in the way his jaw tightens. he wants to make you feel good. that’s all he cares about right now.
“i got you, yeah? ‘m here.”
he braces himself, planting his heels firmly on the floor, one arm wrapping tight around your hips while the other hand stays on your breast, fingers tweaking and rolling your nipple between them. then he starts fucking up into you. the first thrust is deep and powerful, hips snapping up so his cock drives into you harder, the angle perfect, the thick head rubbing right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark.
“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked but steady, focused entirely on you. “feel good? tell me if it’s too much.”
he sets a rhythm, slow at first but building, each upward thrust meeting your downward grind, the wet slap of skin on skin growing louder. his arm around your hips keeps you steady, guiding you, while his fingers keep playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging just enough to send sparks straight to your clit. every time he bottoms out you whimper his name again, softer, breathier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock, making everything messy and shiny.
satoru’s eyes never leave your face. he watches every twitch of your expression, every time your lips part on a moan, every time your eyes flutter. his whole focus is on you, on making sure every thrust feels perfect, on drawing out those little whispers of his name until they turn into broken cries. he fucks up into you with controlled power, the condom sliding slickly inside your soaked pussy, sweat mixing with the sharp smell of sex.
he leans forward slightly, mouth finding your other nipple again, sucking it into his mouth through the remnants of dried spit still on your skin, tongue swirling while he keeps thrusting. the dual sensation — his cock dragging inside you and his mouth on your breast — makes your back arch, a louder moan spilling out this time.
“good girl,” he breathes against your wet skin, voice low and praising. “taking me so well. just let me make you feel good, yeah? that’s all i want.”
his hips keep snapping up, steady and deep, the arm around your waist holding you down so you take every inch while his fingers keep working your nipple and his mouth keeps sucking the other. the living room fills with the wet sounds of him fucking into you, your soft whispers of his name, and the heavy breathing of two people who have waited years for this exact moment.
satoru keeps that steady, deep rhythm, hips rolling up into you with controlled power while his mouth stays busy on your tits.
every upward thrust drags his thick, condom-covered cock along your walls, the head catching perfectly against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his arm around your waist holds you down on his cock, the wet slap of skin meeting skin growing louder, messier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock until the dark hair glistens with it.
he switches between sucking one nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, tongue swirling slow and wet, spit dripping down your chest in shiny trails that catch the flickering tv light.
you’re riding him but barely, your hips grinding in small, desperate circles while he does most of the work, fucking up into you with deep, purposeful strokes that make your breath hitch every single time he bottoms out. your hands clutch at his hoodie, nails digging into the fabric as soft, broken whispers of his name keep slipping out — “toru… satoru…” — the fruity scent of the condom mixes with the sharp smell of sex, filling the dark living room until it’s all you can breathe.
your legs start to twitch first. the muscles in your thighs quiver against his sides, small, uncontrollable tremors that travel down to your calves.
satoru notices immediately. his eyes flick down, watching the way your knees shake beside his hips, the subtle way your body is starting to tighten and flutter around him. a low, knowing hum vibrates in his chest and he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under the knee closest to him. with a smooth, effortless motion he hooks it up and presses it toward your chest, folding you open even wider while you’re still on top of him.
the new angle spreads you so much more, your pussy stretching tighter around his cock, the head dragging harder against that perfect spot with every thrust.
you gasp sharply, the sound cracking in the back of your throat as the deeper penetration hits you all at once. satoru’s other arm stays banded around your waist, holding you steady, and now he’s fully in control even though you’re on top. he fucks up into you with stronger, deeper strokes, hips snapping with purpose, the wet squelch of your soaked pussy taking him echoing louder in the quiet room.
“c’mon, you’re gonna bless me, baby?” he murmurs against your neck, voice rough and focused. “come on my cock, there you go. you just gotta feel it.”
your riding turns sloppy, hips stuttering as the pressure builds fast and overwhelming. your legs tremble harder, the one he’s holding to your chest shaking visibly. your walls start to flutter and clench around him in tight, rhythmic pulses, your slick gushing out around the base of his cock with every thrust. satoru groans low when he feels it, but he doesn’t slow down. he keeps driving up into you, steady and relentless, the arm under your knee keeping you spread wide and open for him.
you come hard.
your whole body folds forward suddenly, chest pressing against his as a broken, whining cry tears from your throat, your mouth is open and breathing straight into his mouth. your pussy clamps down around his cock in strong, pulsing waves, gushing wet and hot around him even through the condom. tears slip down your flushed cheeks, eyes squeezing shut while you sob his name in soft, overwhelmed whimpers — “toru… fuck, toru…” — your hips jerking and twitching uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you.
satoru keeps fucking you through it, slower now but still deep, drawing out every pulse and every shaky sob. his hand on your waist rubs soothing circles while the other keeps your leg folded to your chest, holding you open so he can feel every flutter and gush. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your wet cheek, murmuring quiet praise against your skin as you tremble and cry in his lap, completely spent and folded against him.
tsatoru holds you close through the last trembling waves of your orgasm, his cock still buried deep inside your fluttering pussy. he presses gentle kisses to your damp temple then your flushed cheek, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back while you come down.
“i’m.. fuck, you’re so good to me.” the way he grunts those words out shows you he’s not done yet.
his grip tightens on your waist and under your knee, and he starts fucking up into you again — deeper than you thought was possible. each thrust is slow, powerful, and deliberate, driving his thick cock so far inside you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
the new angle has the head of his cock pressing right against that spot with every upward snap of his hips, stretching you open wider, filling you fuller than you’ve ever been filled. the wet, filthy sounds of him plunging deep into your soaked pussy echo in the quiet living room, your slick leaking out around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls with every thrust.
“shit… so deep,” he groans against your ear, voice wrecked and low. “can you feel me, baby? feel how deep i’m getting? that’s it… take every inch.”
he fucks you with long, grinding strokes, hips rolling up hard and steady, the arm under your knee keeping you folded and spread so he can bury himself to the hilt every single time. your body jolts with each thrust, tits bouncing against his chest, soft cries and whimpers spilling from your mouth as the overstimulation turns into another building wave of pleasure.
satoru’s breathing grows ragged, his thrusts turning sharper, more desperate, the slap of skin on skin getting louder as he chases his own release.
“gonna come,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours, blue eyes dark and hazy. “gonna fill you up… fuck, you feel too good.”
he drives in deep one last time, hips stuttering as he buries himself as far as he can go.
“fuuuck,” a low, broken groan tears from his throat as he comes hard, cock pulsing thick and hot inside the condom while he grinds against you, drawing out every last spurt. his whole body trembles under you, arms locked tight around your frame as he empties himself, the strawberry-scented latex stretching with every heavy pulse.
for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky breathing and his quiet groans. he stays buried deep inside you, holding you close, the leg he had hooked to your chest gently lowered back down so you can relax against him. slowly, carefully, he pulls out, tying off the condom and setting it aside before he gathers you fully into his arms.
satoru shifts so you’re both lying on the couch, your smaller body draped over his chest, his hoodie soft against your bare skin. he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch (you didn’t notice that was there from the beginning.) over both of you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. one hand strokes slow, soothing lines up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.
“you okay?” he murmurs, voice soft and rough at the same time. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips — gentle, lingering kisses that feel like apologies and promises all at once. “did i hurt you? was it too much?”
you shake your head against his chest, still catching your breath, and he hums in quiet relief. he keeps touching you. slow strokes along your spine, gentle kisses to your shoulder, his palm rubbing warm circles over your lower back where you’re still a little sore. every touch is careful, tender, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel in his arms now that the line has finally been crossed.
and now that his time with you is very limited. by limited:
“your brother told me to keep an eye on you,” the topic feels heavy already when he says it after a while, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. his fingers keep tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “if this is what it takes… so be it.”
so be the risk of making the person, his person whom he lov—
realization hits and splashes on satoru like a bucket filled with water and ice. satoru loves. satoru loves you. he is in love, satoru loves someone who is a very much forbidden person.
he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you fully, the thought of your brother finding what he did to you can be stressed over for later, what matters now is your naked body tucked safely against his mostly-clothed one. the tv is still playing a new trailer for next movie faintly in the background, completely ignored.
satoru holds you like that for a long time — warm, steady, protective — pressing soft kisses to wherever his lips can reach, murmuring quiet praises and gentle nonsense until your breathing evens out and your eyes start to drift shut.
“toru, do you think this is okay?” your voice is muffled with how you’re both tangled together. he doesn’t reply at first so you take it as a sign to continue. “what are we gonna do after this? what if my brot—”
“i’ve got you,” he cuts you off with a whisper against your hair, one last kiss pressed to the top of your head. “always have and nothing will happen, just take some rest and we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
he can feel your body relaxing the moment he says that and satoru smiles a little, his heart swelling of fonding.
the living room feels smaller and warmer now, the weight of years of tension finally settling into something softer, something real, as satoru keeps holding you close under the blanket, his hand never stopping its gentle strokes along your back before he himself is dozing off from reality.
feeling too tired from his post nut session his brain is blank.
guys am i made for long fics or should i just stick to my regular short drabbles/blurbs? I WANT TO KNOW!
᭡୧ synopsis: in which your brother’s best friend, satoru gojo has spent years keeping his distance, treating you like the little sister he’s supposed to protect. but when your brother leaves town and asks him to “keep an eye on you,” the careful line he’s been walking finally starts to crack. what was meant to be an innocent visit to check on you quickly turns into something forbidden and filthy, something neither of you can walk away from anymore.
᭡୧ pairings: brother’s best friend!satoru x fem!reader
᭡୧ c. warnings: heavy yearning, heavy sexu-al tension (like super heavy!), emotional restraints, dry hum-ping, protected se-x, ti-ts play, sp-it play (?), mutual pining, did i say heavy se-xual tension? slight size kink, overstim, thigh rid-ing, we have an aftercare this time yayyyy! — word count: 7.2k+
you’ve known satoru gojo since you were six years old and he was twelve, the loud, white-haired boy your older brother dragged home after school like a stray cat he refused to leave behind.
back then satoru was all gangly limbs and bright blue eyes, always stealing your snacks and letting you ride on his shoulders when your brother got tired of carrying you. the three of you became a little unit almost instantly. movie nights on the living room floor, summer afternoons at the park, late-night video games where satoru would let you win just to watch you cheer.
your brother was officially his best friend, but somewhere along the line the lines blurred.
you were never sure if satoru was your brother’s best friend or yours. he was just… satoru. the constant reminder in your life who knew how you liked your ice cream and remembered your favorite color even when you changed it every month.
years passed and the dynamic shifted without anyone noticing at first. you grew up, and growing up consisted of puberty.
satoru grew taller, broader, more dangerously handsome with that lazy grin that made girls at school blush. but you stayed the little sister in everyone’s eyes, the one who tagged along behind her brother and his best friend, the one who fell asleep on the couch between them during horror movies, the one satoru would tuck a blanket over with gentle hands while your brother snored on the other side.
everyone else thought like that but satoru. satoru noticed the changes. he noticed the way your legs got longer, the way your laugh got softer and feminine, the way your body filled out in ways that made his throat tight and his thoughts guilty. he told himself it was nothing. you were his best friend’s little sister, which meant you’re off-limits. and by off-limits, you’re a forbidden fruit he wasn’t allowed to even look at for too long or he would rot you with his dirty thoughts.
nobody sensed how he started pulling away in small ways when you turned eighteen. longer gaps between visits, fewer sleepovers, more excuses about being busy with college and then with work. but he never stayed away completely. satoru couldn’t.
every time he saw you he felt that familiar pull, the way his chest tightened when you smiled at him like he hung the moon for you. the way his cock would twitch traitorously when you wore those tiny shorts around the house in the summer every time he came over and god, he hated himself for it because right after he’s done, he would go home after and jerk off in the shower with his jaw clenched, whispering your name like a curse while hot water beat down on his back, telling himself it was the last time.
it was never the last time.
now you’re twenty-two and he’s twenty-eight. your brother still treats you like the kid who used to beg for piggyback rides. satoru still calls you “boogers” sometimes, but the word tastes bitter on his tongue now.
the three of you still hang out, still have movie nights from time to time since satoru could never say no to your asking, he joins your family and still act like nothing has changed. but everything has. satoru can barely look at you without feeling the weight of all those years of wanting. he watches the way you move around the kitchen in your sleep shorts when you’re getting snacks ready for the movies, the way your t-shirt rides up when you reach for something on the top shelf, the way you laugh at his stupid jokes and rest your head on his shoulder like it’s the most natural thing in the world.
every innocent touch feels like torture. every time your thigh brushes his on the couch he has to fight the urge to pull you into his lap and show you exactly what you do to him.
this time your brother is out of town this weekend for a work trip he couldn’t get out of.
he left satoru with the spare key and the casual instruction to “keep an eye on her.” satoru laughed it off on the phone, responding with a choked ‘yeah, ‘course, i got you man.’ but the second he hung up his mind was already spinning. he told himself he’d just check in once, maybe bring some takeout, make sure you weren’t lonely and nothing more.
but fuck was he wrong, cause satoru only lasted exactly four hours before your text came through:
“movie night? the new horror one just dropped. brother’s gone so no one to complain about the jump scares :)”
he stared at the message for ten full minutes. then that’s when he grabbed his keys, all thoughts starting to get pumped to his dick.
when he knocks on your door it’s a little after ten. you open it wearing your usual oversized, small ribbons printed t-shirt and those damn cotton shorts that have haunted his dreams for years. your skin is soft under the radiating light from the porch, face bare, and you smile at him like he’s the best part of your night.
shit. satoru feels his stomach drop.
“hey, you came,” you say, stepping aside to let him in. your voice is casual, warm, the kind of voice that used to make him feel safe and now makes his cock stir in his sweatpants.
“couldn’t let you watch horror alone,” he replies, forcing that tired, loose grin. he holds up the bag of snacks like a peace offering. “brought the good stuff.”
you laugh and it hits him straight in the chest. he follows you to the living room, trying not to stare at the way the hem of your shorts teases him in front of him. the fabric riding up with every step. the tv is already on, lights dimmed, blankets piled on the couch. you settle in your usual spot, patting the cushion beside you. satoru sits, puts the snacks down onto the coffee table, leaving what he hopes is a respectful distance, but you immediately scoot closer, tucking your legs under you and leaning your head against his shoulder like always.
maybe your nickname was not supposed to be boogers but dumbass cause you don’t seem to take sign on how you’re making it hard for him to stay normal and sane. or so he thought.
the movie starts. the opening credits roll. satoru tries to focus on the screen. he really does. but all he can feel is the warmth of your body against his side, the soft press of your bare thigh against his, the faint vanilla scent of your shampoo. his hand rests on the back of the couch, fingers occasionally brushing your shoulder when he shifts.
every innocent touch feels loaded tonight. the house is too quiet without your brother’s loud commentary. it’s just you and him and years of unspoken tension hanging heavy in the dark.
halfway through the first act you stretch, arms lifting above your head, shirt riding up to show a strip of soft stomach. satoru’s eyes flick down before he can stop them, fingers twitching not to touch you and when you settle again your leg presses fully against his. he doesn’t move away. instead his fingers brush your shoulder again, slower this time, thumb stroking once along your skin.
“cold?” he asks, voice quieter than he means.
you shake your head, tilting your face up to look at him. your eyes are soft in the glow of the tv. “no. just getting comfortable.”
he swallows hard. his hand drops from the couch to rest lightly on your upper arm, thumb still stroking slow circles. the touch is supposed to be casual but it isn’t. at least that’s what satoru knows.
the movie keeps playing but the man sitting next to you is not really watching anymore. the air between you feels thicker, warmer, charged with everything you’ve both been pretending doesn’t exist for years.
satoru’s jaw clenches. he can feel his cock starting to thicken in his sweatpants, the traitorous heat building low in his gut. he tells himself to stop. he tells himself you’re his best friend’s little sister. he tells himself a lot of things.
you shift again, turning slightly so your knee brushes his thigh. and lord knows how he’s struggling not to make a sound, especially when your voice is barely above a whisper when you speak.
“satoru?”
he looks down at you, blue eyes dark in the low light. “yeah?”
you bite your lip, just for a second, and the small movement sends another rush of blood straight to his cock.
“you’ve been really quiet tonight.”
fuck.
he forces a laugh, but it comes out strained. “am i?” he asks. “just focused on the movie.” his reply doesn’t satisfy you and you don’t look convinced so your hand rests lightly on his chest, right over his heart. “liar.” you call him out.
liar…
the sting of the word is heavy because satoru is not the only one suffering alone here, you’re a liar as well. and you’re pretending none of this is eating you alive when that’s exactly how it’s been for you since satoru came to your house.
you’ve been stiff as a board since the moment you sat down, even though you’re trying so hard to act normal. you can feel it in the way his shoulder has gone tight under your cheek, the way his breathing isn’t quite as steady as usual, the way his long fingers keep flexing against the couch like he doesn’t know what to do with them.
the tv flickers soft blue light across both of you, painting shadows over his sharp jaw and the faint flush creeping up his neck, but you’re not watching the movie anymore. you’re watching him, noticing every detail.
your hand stays light on his chest, right over his heart, and you can feel how fast it’s beating under your palm. thump-thump-thump, way too quick for someone who’s supposedly just chilling on the couch. you shift a little closer, letting your bare thigh press more firmly against his — testing water — and that’s when you notice it full.
the soft, heavy bulge under the dark blue-black sweatpants he’s wearing. it’s not fully hard yet, but it’s definitely there, thickening slowly against the loose fabric, the outline just visible every time the tv screen flashes brighter. your stomach flips, heat pooling low between your legs because you did that. you’re doing that to him right now, just by sitting here in your tiny shorts with your head on his shoulder like you always have.
the tension sits thick and heavy between you, wrapping around every small movement. every time you breathe, your chest brushes his arm.
every time he shifts, his thigh presses harder against yours. the air feels warmer than it should, like the room itself is holding its breath along with both of you. you can smell his cologne mixed with the faint mint from his gum, and underneath it all something warmer, something that makes your mouth water.
satoru’s hand on your upper arm hasn’t stopped moving. his thumb keeps stroking those slow, careful circles, but now each pass feels heavier, more deliberate, like he’s fighting the urge to slide his whole palm down your skin.
you tilt your head up a little more, letting your breath fan across the side of his neck. his jaw clenches. you watch the muscle jump, watch the way his adam’s apple bobs when he swallows. the bulge in his sweatpants twitches again, growing thicker, the fabric starting to tent just enough that you can see the clear shape of him.
your own body reacts instantly, a warm rush between your thighs, your nipples tightening under the thin t-shirt. you’re suddenly aware of how little you’re wearing, how your shorts exposed so much skin the bottom curve of your ass is almost showing, how your shirt keeps slipping off one shoulder no matter how many times you fix it.
satoru’s fingers tighten on your arm for half a second before he forces them to relax. his breathing has gone shallow. you can feel the heat pouring off him, the way his thigh muscles are locked tight under your leg. the movie keeps playing, some girl screaming on screen, but none of you flinch and the only sound that matters is the quiet hitch in his breath when your knee accidentally nudges higher up his leg, brushing right against the side of that growing bulge.
he doesn’t pull away. he stays perfectly still, like moving even an inch might break whatever fragile control he has left.
you bite your lip, heart hammering so loud you’re sure he can hear it. the flush on your neck is spreading, warm and prickly, and a tiny bead of sweat is already forming at the small of your back. you feel sticky and hot and aching, and all you’ve done is sit here with your head on his shoulder.
the years of quiet ‘wanting’ press in harder tonight, sharper because your brother isn’t here to act as a buffer. it’s just you and satoru and the heavy, suffocating knowledge that you’re both thinking about the same thing.
satoru clears his throat suddenly, the sound rough and forced. he shifts, moving his arm from around you, and stands up in one quick motion. his sweatpants do nothing to hide how hard he is now, the thick outline pressing obviously against the front, the fabric stretched tight. he keeps his back half-turned to you like that will somehow fix it.
“uh… i need some water,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “or a coke. something cold.”
you sit up slowly, fixing your shirt so it covers your shoulder again, but it doesn’t help much. your skin feels too warm, a light sheen of sweat already making the back of your neck sticky. your cheeks are flushed, you can feel the heat in them, and between your legs you’re starting to get embarrassingly wet, the thin cotton of your panties clinging to you. you swallow, trying to sound normal even though your voice comes out a little breathy.
“oh yeah, okay. it’s in the fridge. you know your way around.”
satoru nods once, still not fully facing you, and heads toward the kitchen. his shoulders are stiff, steps a little too deliberate, like he’s forcing himself to put distance between you. you stay on the couch, legs pressed together, heart still racing and satoru disappears into the kitchen.
you stay on the couch, legs pressed tight together, trying to calm the flutter between your thighs. the movie is still playing but the sound feels distant, like it’s happening in another room. you can hear him open the fridge, the soft clink of a can, the quiet hiss when he cracks it open. a few seconds later he walks back in, coke in one hand, the other rubbing the back of his neck like he’s trying to shake something off.
he’s too distracted to consider bringing you one.
he looks at you for a long moment before he sits down again, this time leaving a little more space between your bodies but it doesn’t help.
the air still feels charged, heavy with everything neither of you has said out loud. you notice the way his sweatpants still sit a little awkwardly, the thick line of his cock not fully softened, pressing against the fabric every time he shifts, manspread awkwardly.
your own skin is warm and sticky, a faint sheen of sweat on your neck and between your breasts, your nipples tight and sensitive under the thin t-shirt.
satoru takes a long sip of the coke, throat working, then sets the can on the coffee table. when he leans back against the couch his arm brushes yours again, and this time he doesn’t pull away. his fingers find your shoulder once more, but instead of the casual thumb strokes from before, his whole palm settles there, warm and heavy.
it seems he’s calmed a bit.. which means you’re the one who’s suffering hundred percent.
“you okay?” he asks, voice low, a little rough around the edges.
you nod, but it feels like a lie. “yeah… just warm in here.”
his eyes flick down to the flushed skin of your neck, then lower to where your shirt has slipped off your shoulder again. he doesn’t say anything, but his thumb starts brushing the bare skin near your collarbone. the touch is slow, almost absent, but it sends heat straight down your spine. you shift like you’re under a spell without thinking, your bare thigh sliding against his again, and this time your knee nudges right against the side of his cock through the sweatpants.
satoru inhales sharply. his hand slides from your shoulder down your arm, stopping at your wrist. his thumb presses lightly against your pulse point, feeling how fast your heart is racing.
“you’re shaking,” he murmurs.
“so are you,” you whisper back.
the only light flickering on both of you is the glow from the tv, casting soft blue and white across both of you. satoru turns his head to look at you fully, blue eyes dark and conflicted, pupils blown wide as if he’s high. his free hand comes up, hesitating for half a second before he cups the side of your face, thumb brushing your lower lip.
“this is a bad idea,” he says, eyes dancing over your lips but he doesn’t sound convinced. his voice is thick, breath warm against your mouth.
“then why does it feel so good?” you have no idea how words are forming in your mouth when your brain disconnected from your tongue a long time ago, and the only option you have is leaning into his touch.
he lets out a quiet, broken sound, half groan, half sigh. his thumb presses a little harder against your lip, parting it slightly. you part your lips more, letting the tip of his thumb slip just inside, brushing against your tongue. satoru’s eyes flutter for a second, jaw tight.
“fuck… you’re killing me.”
you suck gently on his thumb, just enough to make his breath hitch. his other hand slides down to your waist, gripping the fabric of your shirt like he’s anchoring himself. the tension snaps slowly, like a rubber band stretching thinner and thinner until it finally gives.
satoru pulls his thumb from your mouth with a wet sound and replaces it with his lips. the kiss starts soft, almost careful, lips sliding together warm and slow. but the second you make a small needy sound in the back of your throat he deepens it, tongue licking into your mouth, hot and hungry. years of holding back pour into that kiss, all the stolen glances, all the guilty nights in the shower, all the times he told himself no.
his hands slide down to your hips, gripping firmly as he pulls you sideways until you’re straddling one of his thick thighs. the moment your core settles over the hard muscle you both moan quietly into the kiss. your soaked panties press right against his leg, the thin cotton already clinging to your folds from how wet you are. satoru’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your ass, guiding you into a slow, rolling grind.
you start moving. slow, deliberate rocks of your hips that drag your swollen clit along the firm muscle of his thigh. every pass makes the fabric of your shorts and panties rub against you, the friction hot and slick and perfect. each roll pushes more wetness out of you, soaking the cotton until it clings transparently to your pussy. satoru groans low in his chest when he feels the damp heat spreading across his thigh, his cock twitching hard in his sweatpants, the thick head nudging against your inner thigh with every grind.
he breaks the kiss with a wet sound, lips shiny, breathing ragged. his mouth trails down your neck, sucking softly at the sensitive skin, then lower, until his lips brush over your collarbone. when he reaches your chest he doesn’t push your shirt up. instead he closes his mouth around one of your pebbled nipples right through the thin fabric.
the sensation is immediate and filthy. his tongue swirls slow and heavy over the stiff peak, soaking the cotton instantly. warm spit seeps through the material, making it cling to your breast, turning the white fabric translucent.
he sucks gently at first, then harder, pulling your nipple deeper into his mouth while his tongue flicks fast and wet. the wet patch grows, dark and shiny, the outline of your hard nipple completely visible through the soaked shirt. every pull of his mouth sends sharp sparks straight to your clit, making your hips roll faster against his thigh.
“mmh… fuck,” he groans against your chest, the vibration traveling through the damp fabric. “look at you. letting me cover you with my spit. your body’s so fucking readyfor me already, yeah?”
he switches to the other nipple, sucking it deep into his mouth with a wet, obscene sound. more drool collects from the corners of his lips, smearing down the front of your shirt in shiny trails, soaking the fabric until both your tits are glistening and see-through. the cool air hits the wet patches and makes your nipples ache even more, stiff and sensitive under his relentless mouth. he keeps sucking noisily, alternating between slow, deep pulls and quick flicks of his tongue, you could swear his spit is probably dripping down your stomach now, making the front of your shirt stick to your skin.
you’re grinding harder, hips rolling in needy little circles, clit dragging over his thigh with every movement. the friction is slick and constant, your soaked panties sliding against the hard muscle, the wet sounds of fabric rubbing together mixing with the filthy noises his mouth makes on your chest. your hands are in his white hair, tugging gently, soft whimpers and gasps spilling from your lips every time he sucks particularly hard.
satoru’s cock is throbbing visibly in his sweatpants, the thick ridge pressing insistently against your inner thigh, leaking enough that a small dark spot has formed at the front. every time you grind forward the head of his cock nudges closer to your core, teasing you both with how close he is to where you both desperately want him to be.
he pulls back just enough to look at the mess he’s made. your shirt is completely ruined, plastered transparently to your tits, nipples dark and shiny with his spit, little droplets still sliding down your stomach. his eyes are heavy-lidded, breathing ragged, lips swollen and wet.
“so fucking pretty,” he murmurs, voice rough and low. “y’know how i’ve been dreaming about marking you up like this for years? look how filthy i got you… your brother will fuck me up.”
he leans in again, mouth latching back onto your nipple through the drenched fabric, sucking harder while his hands grip your ass tighter, helping you grind faster against him. the wet, messy sounds fill the room — his mouth sucking noisily, your slick panties sliding over his thigh, both of you breathing hard and shaky.
the tension is thick and suffocating, every slow grind and every wet kiss pushing you both closer to the edge without either of you saying it out loud yet.
after what feels like euphorically forever, satoru pulls back from your chest with a wet pop, lips shiny and swollen, eyes heavy as he looks at the absolute mess he’s made of your shirt.
his breathing is ragged, chest rising and falling fast under his hoodie, and for a second he just stares at you like he can’t believe this is real. then his hand slips down, fingers dipping into the pocket of his sweatpants, and he pulls out a small foil packet. the condom glints under the dim light, and you raise a brow, lips parting in quiet surprise.
he catches the look and just shrugs, a lazy, almost sheepish tilt of his shoulders, causing your cheeks flushing darker. “had to,” he mutters, voice low and rough, like the words are being dragged out of him. “couldn’t risk it. not with you.”
you let out a soft, cheeky laugh, the sound breathy and teasing even though your heart is hammering. “you’ve always wanted to fuck me, huh?”
satoru’s brows knit together instantly, that familiar stern little frown pulling at his face, but his eyes stay dark and hungry. “that’s a vulgar word, boogers,” he says, the nickname slipping out like habit, but there’s no real bite to it. he leans in and presses a soft, almost tender kiss to the tip of your nose, lips brushing there gently before he pulls back just enough to look at you again. “i want to make you feel good. that’s all.”
you groan, half playful, half frustrated, and swat your hand lightly against his chest. “stop calling me boogers, toru. seriously!”
he just hums, low and warm, the sound vibrating through his chest as his hands slide to your hips. he helps lift you a little higher on your knees, giving himself room, and shoves his sweatpants and briefs down in one smooth motion. they pool around his calves, leaving his thick cock springing free, heavy and flushed, the head already glistening.
he tears the foil packet open with his teeth, the sharp sound cutting through the quiet room, and the sweet strawberry scent of the condom fills the small space between your bodies, fruity and almost too innocent for how filthy this feels.
satoru rolls it down his girthy tip first, jaw tightening as the latex stretches over him. a soft, broken whimper slips out of him when the cool material slides along his sensitive head, his hips twitching once before he rolls it all the way to the base with steady fingers. the condom sits snug, shiny and strawberry-sweet, the faint pink tint of it catching the tv light. he looks up at you then, eyes dark and solemn, waiting.
his hands move to your shorts and panties next, hooking into the waistband and sliding them down your thighs together in one slow tug.
you lift your hips to help, and the soaked fabric peels away from your pussy with a wet sound, leaving you completely bare from the waist down. he doesn’t stop there. his fingers catch the hem of your spit-drenched shirt and peel it up and off, tossing it somewhere on the floor. now you’re completely naked in his lap, skin flushed and glowing under the flickering light, tits still shiny with his dirty work, pussy glistening and swollen from all the grinding.
satoru is still mostly dressed, only his hoodie on, sweatpants and briefs shoved down to his calves, the contrast making everything feel even unholy. he licks a bold stripe across his palm, tongue dragging slow and wet, then reaches between you and swipes the slick hand over your folds. the touch is warm and deliberate, fingers spreading your wetness, thumb brushing your clit once before he grips the base of his cock and guides the thick, condom-covered head to your entrance.
he presses in slow, so slow, the blunt tip stretching you open inch by careful inch. his brows knit tight with concentration, eyes locked on your face, watching for any flicker of pain or discomfort. you feel every thick ridge as he sinks deeper, the stretch burning sweet and full, your walls fluttering around him.
your eyes start to haze, lashes fluttering, jaw going slack as the overwhelming sensation of being filled by him hits you. your breathing stutters, lips parted on a silent gasp, completely detached for a moment while your body adjusts to the heavy, girthy length pushing inside.
satoru knew you were small compared to him but never did he think you’d be struggling to fit his fat cock in your tight cunt this much.
satoru stays perfectly still once he bottoms out, hips flush against yours, breathing hard through his nose. his hands grip your waist tight, thumbs stroking soothing circles on your skin as he waits, watching the way your eyes glaze over and your jaw hangs open. the strawberry scent mixes with the sharp smell of your arousal, the room quiet except for the low hum of the credit scene of the horror movie and the sound of both of you trying to breathe through the intensity.
“can i move?” he asks, voice low and calculated, almost a whisper, like he’s afraid to break the moment. his brows are still knitted, waiting for any sign from you.
you can’t find words right away. instead you just tap his shoulder once, twice, a small, mute signal that you’re okay, that you want this. satoru exhales shakily, relief and hunger mixing in the sound, and he starts to move.
at first it’s slow, careful rolls of his hips that drag his thick cock along your walls, the stretch burning so good it makes your breath hitch. you start grinding down to meet him, hips rolling in small, needy circles, your slick coating the base of his cock and smearing messily over the soft, dark trail of hair that runs from his navel down to where he disappears inside you. every grind leaves a shiny trail of your wetness glistening on his skin, the wet sounds squelching in the quiet room.
you’re vocal in little bursts, whispers of his name slipping out between shaky breaths. “satoru… toru…” the words are breathy, almost reverent, filling the living room like a secret. your hands slide up his hoodie, fingers digging into his chest as you grind harder, chasing the friction, the fullness, the way he fills you so completely.
“too big.. you’re– toru, fuuuck,” you cry out.
satoru leans back against the couch, arms dropping to his sides for a moment, face going almost numb with pleasure. his blue eyes are half-lidded, lips parted, white hair messy and falling into his face as he watches you ride him. he looks completely under your spell, like the sight of you naked and grinding on his cock has short-circuited his brain. the curve of his cock jerks inside you when you desperately grab his hand and bring it to your tits, pressing his palm against the soft, post spit-slick flesh.
that seems to snap him back. his face shifts from dazed to focused in an instant, intention clear in the way his jaw tightens. he wants to make you feel good. that’s all he cares about right now.
“i got you, yeah? ‘m here.”
he braces himself, planting his heels firmly on the floor, one arm wrapping tight around your hips while the other hand stays on your breast, fingers tweaking and rolling your nipple between them. then he starts fucking up into you. the first thrust is deep and powerful, hips snapping up so his cock drives into you harder, the angle perfect, the thick head rubbing right against that spongy spot inside you that makes your vision spark.
“that’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice wrecked but steady, focused entirely on you. “feel good? tell me if it’s too much.”
he sets a rhythm, slow at first but building, each upward thrust meeting your downward grind, the wet slap of skin on skin growing louder. his arm around your hips keeps you steady, guiding you, while his fingers keep playing with your nipple, pinching and tugging just enough to send sparks straight to your clit. every time he bottoms out you whimper his name again, softer, breathier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock, making everything messy and shiny.
satoru’s eyes never leave your face. he watches every twitch of your expression, every time your lips part on a moan, every time your eyes flutter. his whole focus is on you, on making sure every thrust feels perfect, on drawing out those little whispers of his name until they turn into broken cries. he fucks up into you with controlled power, the condom sliding slickly inside your soaked pussy, sweat mixing with the sharp smell of sex.
he leans forward slightly, mouth finding your other nipple again, sucking it into his mouth through the remnants of dried spit still on your skin, tongue swirling while he keeps thrusting. the dual sensation — his cock dragging inside you and his mouth on your breast — makes your back arch, a louder moan spilling out this time.
“good girl,” he breathes against your wet skin, voice low and praising. “taking me so well. just let me make you feel good, yeah? that’s all i want.”
his hips keep snapping up, steady and deep, the arm around your waist holding you down so you take every inch while his fingers keep working your nipple and his mouth keeps sucking the other. the living room fills with the wet sounds of him fucking into you, your soft whispers of his name, and the heavy breathing of two people who have waited years for this exact moment.
satoru keeps that steady, deep rhythm, hips rolling up into you with controlled power while his mouth stays busy on your tits.
every upward thrust drags his thick, condom-covered cock along your walls, the head catching perfectly against that spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his arm around your waist holds you down on his cock, the wet slap of skin meeting skin growing louder, messier, your slick continuing to smear over his happy trail and the base of his cock until the dark hair glistens with it.
he switches between sucking one nipple and tweaking the other with his fingers, tongue swirling slow and wet, spit dripping down your chest in shiny trails that catch the flickering tv light.
you’re riding him but barely, your hips grinding in small, desperate circles while he does most of the work, fucking up into you with deep, purposeful strokes that make your breath hitch every single time he bottoms out. your hands clutch at his hoodie, nails digging into the fabric as soft, broken whispers of his name keep slipping out — “toru… satoru…” — the fruity scent of the condom mixes with the sharp smell of sex, filling the dark living room until it’s all you can breathe.
your legs start to twitch first. the muscles in your thighs quiver against his sides, small, uncontrollable tremors that travel down to your calves.
satoru notices immediately. his eyes flick down, watching the way your knees shake beside his hips, the subtle way your body is starting to tighten and flutter around him. a low, knowing hum vibrates in his chest and he shifts beneath you, sliding one arm under the knee closest to him. with a smooth, effortless motion he hooks it up and presses it toward your chest, folding you open even wider while you’re still on top of him.
the new angle spreads you so much more, your pussy stretching tighter around his cock, the head dragging harder against that perfect spot with every thrust.
you gasp sharply, the sound cracking in the back of your throat as the deeper penetration hits you all at once. satoru’s other arm stays banded around your waist, holding you steady, and now he’s fully in control even though you’re on top. he fucks up into you with stronger, deeper strokes, hips snapping with purpose, the wet squelch of your soaked pussy taking him echoing louder in the quiet room.
“c’mon, you’re gonna bless me, baby?” he murmurs against your neck, voice rough and focused. “come on my cock, there you go. you just gotta feel it.”
your riding turns sloppy, hips stuttering as the pressure builds fast and overwhelming. your legs tremble harder, the one he’s holding to your chest shaking visibly. your walls start to flutter and clench around him in tight, rhythmic pulses, your slick gushing out around the base of his cock with every thrust. satoru groans low when he feels it, but he doesn’t slow down. he keeps driving up into you, steady and relentless, the arm under your knee keeping you spread wide and open for him.
you come hard.
your whole body folds forward suddenly, chest pressing against his as a broken, whining cry tears from your throat, your mouth is open and breathing straight into his mouth. your pussy clamps down around his cock in strong, pulsing waves, gushing wet and hot around him even through the condom. tears slip down your flushed cheeks, eyes squeezing shut while you sob his name in soft, overwhelmed whimpers — “toru… fuck, toru…” — your hips jerking and twitching uncontrollably as the orgasm crashes through you.
satoru keeps fucking you through it, slower now but still deep, drawing out every pulse and every shaky sob. his hand on your waist rubs soothing circles while the other keeps your leg folded to your chest, holding you open so he can feel every flutter and gush. he presses soft kisses to your temple, your wet cheek, murmuring quiet praise against your skin as you tremble and cry in his lap, completely spent and folded against him.
tsatoru holds you close through the last trembling waves of your orgasm, his cock still buried deep inside your fluttering pussy. he presses gentle kisses to your damp temple then your flushed cheek, his hand rubbing slow circles on your back while you come down.
“i’m.. fuck, you’re so good to me.” the way he grunts those words out shows you he’s not done yet.
his grip tightens on your waist and under your knee, and he starts fucking up into you again — deeper than you thought was possible. each thrust is slow, powerful, and deliberate, driving his thick cock so far inside you that you swear you can feel him in your stomach.
the new angle has the head of his cock pressing right against that spot with every upward snap of his hips, stretching you open wider, filling you fuller than you’ve ever been filled. the wet, filthy sounds of him plunging deep into your soaked pussy echo in the quiet living room, your slick leaking out around the base of his cock and dripping down his balls with every thrust.
“shit… so deep,” he groans against your ear, voice wrecked and low. “can you feel me, baby? feel how deep i’m getting? that’s it… take every inch.”
he fucks you with long, grinding strokes, hips rolling up hard and steady, the arm under your knee keeping you folded and spread so he can bury himself to the hilt every single time. your body jolts with each thrust, tits bouncing against his chest, soft cries and whimpers spilling from your mouth as the overstimulation turns into another building wave of pleasure.
satoru’s breathing grows ragged, his thrusts turning sharper, more desperate, the slap of skin on skin getting louder as he chases his own release.
“gonna come,” he pants, forehead pressed to yours, blue eyes dark and hazy. “gonna fill you up… fuck, you feel too good.”
he drives in deep one last time, hips stuttering as he buries himself as far as he can go.
“fuuuck,” a low, broken groan tears from his throat as he comes hard, cock pulsing thick and hot inside the condom while he grinds against you, drawing out every last spurt. his whole body trembles under you, arms locked tight around your frame as he empties himself, the strawberry-scented latex stretching with every heavy pulse.
for a long moment the only sounds are your shaky breathing and his quiet groans. he stays buried deep inside you, holding you close, the leg he had hooked to your chest gently lowered back down so you can relax against him. slowly, carefully, he pulls out, tying off the condom and setting it aside before he gathers you fully into his arms.
satoru shifts so you’re both lying on the couch, your smaller body draped over his chest, his hoodie soft against your bare skin. he pulls the blanket from the back of the couch (you didn’t notice that was there from the beginning.) over both of you, tucking it gently around your shoulders. one hand strokes slow, soothing lines up and down your back, the other cradling the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.
“you okay?” he murmurs, voice soft and rough at the same time. he presses a kiss to your forehead, then your nose, then your lips — gentle, lingering kisses that feel like apologies and promises all at once. “did i hurt you? was it too much?”
you shake your head against his chest, still catching your breath, and he hums in quiet relief. he keeps touching you. slow strokes along your spine, gentle kisses to your shoulder, his palm rubbing warm circles over your lower back where you’re still a little sore. every touch is careful, tender, like he’s trying to memorize the way you feel in his arms now that the line has finally been crossed.
and now that his time with you is very limited. by limited:
“your brother told me to keep an eye on you,” the topic feels heavy already when he says it after a while, a small, tired smile tugging at his lips as he looks down at you. his fingers keep tracing lazy patterns on your skin. “if this is what it takes… so be it.”
so be the risk of making the person, his person whom he lov—
realization hits and splashes on satoru like a bucket filled with water and ice. satoru loves. satoru loves you. he is in love, satoru loves someone who is a very much forbidden person.
he pulls you closer, wrapping both arms around you fully, the thought of your brother finding what he did to you can be stressed over for later, what matters now is your naked body tucked safely against his mostly-clothed one. the tv is still playing a new trailer for next movie faintly in the background, completely ignored.
satoru holds you like that for a long time — warm, steady, protective — pressing soft kisses to wherever his lips can reach, murmuring quiet praises and gentle nonsense until your breathing evens out and your eyes start to drift shut.
“toru, do you think this is okay?” your voice is muffled with how you’re both tangled together. he doesn’t reply at first so you take it as a sign to continue. “what are we gonna do after this? what if my brot—”
“i’ve got you,” he cuts you off with a whisper against your hair, one last kiss pressed to the top of your head. “always have and nothing will happen, just take some rest and we’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
he can feel your body relaxing the moment he says that and satoru smiles a little, his heart swelling of fonding.
the living room feels smaller and warmer now, the weight of years of tension finally settling into something softer, something real, as satoru keeps holding you close under the blanket, his hand never stopping its gentle strokes along your back before he himself is dozing off from reality.
feeling too tired from his post nut session his brain is blank.
guys am i made for long fics or should i just stick to my regular short drabbles/blurbs? I WANT TO KNOW!
summary. three months. that’s how long it takes before gojo poses a problem. | wc. 1.8k+
cw/ tw. fem!reader, nanny reader (he's your boss), gojo's kid is an oc, domesticity, pet names (ex. sweetheart, baby), feral behavior, intended for 18+ readers
an. the ad said 'nanny wanted,' but reader didn't know he was looking for a little wife instead v_v, also mildly self-ship coded, comments and reblogs are appreciated ༉‧₊˚.
You sometimes wistfully imagine having a family of your own—a soft and sweet little bundle to cuddle and someone strong and capable, competent, at your side. But you can’t think of the last time you’ve been on a date where that person had the same interest in something more serious than casually sleeping around.
Nannying seemed like the natural conclusion, especially when you’re still settling in a new city and barely scraping by for rent and student loans for a degree you don’t use.
You pick up a few jobs just to get a feel for it: parents going away for a honeymoon, a last-minute call-in, a weekend business trip. Then a friend of a friend says she makes enough to afford one of those picturesque apartments that overlook tall high-rises and iridescent lights, the very ones you’ve dog-eared in real-estate magazines.
All it takes are a few phone calls and an interview until you’re packing up your apartment and taking the freeway outside of the city to somewhere remote and expensive, your car looking almost out of place parked beside the shiny new one in the long driveway.
You rap on the front door before you lose your nerve, and a few moments later, it opens, and you’re unsure who looks more out of place: this man with a smile too big, dressed for work, immaculate suit dampened by the baby rag slung over his shoulder and what looks like drool on his crisp collar, or you in your scuffed shoes and second-hand store clothes, standing in front of the nicest house you’ve ever seen.
“The nanny?”
“Yes,” you mutter, licking your lips. “That’s me.”
“Good, Ren just woke up from his nap,” he opens the door a little wider with a creak, the darkness behind him almost comforting.
You take a deep breath and pass over the threshold into his home.
The entire time, his hand stays on the small of your back to steer you toward the nursery, and a shiver threatens up the length of your spine.
Three months. That’s how long it takes before your boss poses a problem.
It’s not that he’s a terrible boss; in fact, he’s quite the opposite. He lets you take over one of the many spare rooms in his massive house, pays you double the regular rate, and gives you time off when you ask for it.
It also helps that Ren is cute, only a year old, and still so sweet and tiny.
Perfect.
The problem lies in that you know what he sounds like first thing in the morning, that he knows how you like your coffee, that he helps you fold laundry in the living room while the baby naps, how you catch him staring anytime you hold his son—his expression shuttered, a foreign thing that you can’t read. It’s all so terribly domestic.
Terrible because you think it’s a horrible idea to develop a crush on your boss, that you can’t help but get flustered anytime he so much as looks your way, even if it’s fleeting. How a sleepy smile before he retires to his room for the night can turn your thoughts into a scattered, ill-defined mess of what they used to be until all that’s left are words like spun sugar melting on your tongue.
But also, it’s not normal, at least not from your experience.
You were lucky in the past if your employer even wanted to know about their kid’s day. Barely saying hello once they walk through the front door before sending money to your bank account.
Satoru—because that’s what he asked you to call him one afternoon while you were in the middle of feeding Ren mashed banana, a lazy smile curling the edges of his lips after you say it for the first time—wants to know everything: what Ren ate, if he laughed, how your day was, if you finally got your hands on that book you’ve been meaning to buy.
“You don’t have to ask about my day,” you tell him shyly, accepting the glass of wine he proffers you after spending the past hour trying to put a teething baby to bed. “To make me feel better, that is.”
“Would it be so bad if I said I want to? You live here, too.”
You try to separate the two: that he cares as your employer and not for any other reason besides that.
That's what you tell yourself when cool fingers cup your chin gently—thumb caressing the top of your cheek, now close enough that you catch the warm notes of his cologne and see the light blue flecks in his eyes—it's probably very inappropriate for a boss and an employee to be standing like this in the middle of his kitchen.
“I never say anything I don’t mean.”
You swallow, nodding, slightly shaky, breath caught in your chest. “Okay.”
“Good girl.” He retreats to his office before witnessing how those two words knock the wind out of you.
He starts saying things like our shopping list, our car—because he gave you the keys to the SUV parked beside his car and hasn’t touched it since; for you and the baby, he said, plus it’s terrible on gas when I drive it to work—our house, our baby. You don’t think he means to do it; more of an easy slip in conversation.
But then, one morning, he’s rushing around the kitchen, hair still damp and smelling like his shampoo, as he grabs his coffee and briefcase from the counter, kissing Ren’s forehead first…and then yours.
You’re half convinced that you imagined it—that his lips hadn’t stayed there for a second longer than necessary—until he straightens his tie and heads out for the day with a ‘be good’ tossed over his shoulder, and you’re left wondering if he meant to say that to you or Ren.
It sets off a chain reaction of thoughts whirling away in your head, leaves you wanting and wondering—only ever allowing yourself to fantasize a little when the house is quiet and dark, the baby monitor humming on your nightstand, and images of your boss flit behind closed eyelids as you fit your hand underneath your soft sleep shorts.
In the morning, you worry he can tell what you did, his smile almost too sharp, too something—more teasing than what you’re used to—his hand resting on your lower back as he leans down to kiss Ren’s chubby cheek while you make breakfast.
“I have a meeting this afternoon, so I’ll be late. Want me to pick up some food on the way home?”
No, you think, there’s no way he knows.
You spend most of the morning cleaning and folding the array of graphic onesies Satoru has a penchant for dressing Ren in, and the later half walking around the pool because it’s warm and Ren enjoys splashing around in the water. It’s enough to tucker him out for bed early, hardly able to keep his eyes open while eating a plate of mashed potatoes.
It’s also the first time in weeks that you have the night to yourself, no baby keeping you busy, no Satoru to—well.
After a long shower, you step out of the bathroom, moving into the hallway. And there are many reasons why you felt confident walking the few steps it takes to reach your bedroom. Most of them revolve around what Satoru told you that morning, so you don’t expect him to be standing there, shirtsleeves rolled up, piercing gaze sliding down the length of you wrapped in a towel and little else.
“I brought home those drunken noodles you like,” he says once his eyes focus back on your face, his whole expression softening into a smile.
A beat. “Thank you,” you whisper, unable to look away.
He tucks the wet strands of hair clinging to your cheek behind your ear. “Why don’t you get dressed, and I’ll join you downstairs?”
The noise in your brain goes static.
You’re unsure what causes it, but everything changes when he comes home early one afternoon and finds you and the baby napping in the nursery. He has this soft look on his face and something else you can’t decipher, eyes settled firmly on you.
Ren coos softly into your shoulder.
When Satoru picks him up and settles him in the crib, then walks you to your room—here, let me help you—and when he hovers in your doorway, you let him in without question.
He doesn’t waste any time peeling off your clothes, eager to have you naked and splayed out underneath him. You cum on his tongue more times than you can count until you’re silently begging him to fuck you.
He laughs, large hands spread over your tummy.
“Use your words, baby. I’m not a mind reader.”
You feel like you’re someone else watching you from the outside, another body rocking against the length of your boss’s cock, back arching every time you manage to find the friction you need. He’s hard against your back, thick in a way that makes you wonder if he did enough to stretch you out.
“I-I want—”
All other thoughts are obliterated by the stretch and press of him against your cunt.
“Think I’m going to keep you,” he rasps, lips dragging over your throat. “Keep this drippy little cunt spread open on my desk whenever I want while the baby naps. Would you like that? For me to fuck you full until you give me a baby.”
You clench, nerves shot.
“Gonna get all round with my baby, stay here forever,” he mumbles when he draws away, and you can’t tell if the words are meant for you to hear or slip out without him realizing. “Fuck—breed my little wife until it takes—”
Your eyes roll up, lost in the little promises he paints across your skin, body shivering over and over until you’re sobbing from it until he has to clamp a hand down over your mouth—shh, you’re going to wake the baby—going limp when he finally cums, pressing as deep as your body will allow, as if he can somehow imprint himself there.
Wonders if maybe he’s been building up to this moment all along.
It’s so easy to lay there after, blissed out while he litters kisses across your face and collarbones, letting him lift your hips up to slide a pillow underneath, even though the position is awkward when he tries to cuddle you afterward.
His fingers draw shapes on your stomach, giving you a wistful look, like he can’t believe he’s laying here with his cum still dripping between your thighs—no matter how many times he scoops it up and pushes it back inside you. “Do you think it’ll take?”
And you don’t have the heart to tell him about the little foil packet of pills tucked away in your nightstand.
Ceo husband Gojo Satoru! x Stay at home wife reader!
Random thought, but imagine getting caught having sex with your husband in his office. Its not unusual for the both of you to get it down and dirty in his office, but that's usually during his lunch hours or after dark when he knows he has you all to himself because the kids were at their grandparents and no one was really lurking around his office.
But today, today's different. Upon receiving a text message from your husband. "I need you, come to the office as soon as you can." You wasted no time packing up the kids in the car along with their sleepwear for the night, just in case your husband decides to have his way for you for the whole day. And you hurriedly dropped them off at their grandparents for the night before rushing to tend to your husband.
As soon as you arrive at his company and greeted those who were in sight with a smile and gentle wave, you were finally standing in front of your husband's office. "Satoru, I'm here," you called out.
"Come in doll, I've been waiting," he responds and you did. Slowly twisting the door nob and quickly making your way inside his office. When you close the door behind you and turn around, there he was sitting around his desk with a glass of dry whiskey in his hand swirly around. Piercing blue eyes staring at you as you slowly made your way over to him.
"What's wrong?" You ask him, taking note of the scowl that was currently present on his face. "Is everything alright with you?"
You were patiently waiting for a response, your hand rubbing up and down your arm as you stare down at him with worry. However, instead of receiving kinder response or maybe an explanation, he instructed you, "Take of your clothes and bend over the desk. I would rather much talk to your pussy instead of answering your questions."
In times like these you would scold him and demand for him to provide with an answer. But not today! Something just felt completely off about him today. So you obeyed him, like the good pretty wife that you are and stripped naked, kicking off your shoes as well before bending over his desk, spreading your legs in the process too.
You only see his hand place the glass of whiskey in front of you before moving to open up his drawer to pull out a lube he keep in there for times like these. He wasted no time, loosing his tie, popping open a few if not all the button on his work shirt as well as unbuckling his belt, dropped it on the floor, then unzipping his pants and quickly pulled out his already erect cock.
"I'm going to be rough with you ok," he said to you as he squirts some of the lube on your pussy and also on his cock. He didn’t want to waste any more precious time. He wasted enough for the day, all he wanted to do right now is to sink his cock into your hole and pound your pussy beyond its limits. "I'm going to be so fucking rough with you."
"I can take it Satoru, so go on ravish me all you want," you said in an understanding too that just turns him on even more now.
He strokes his cock, hoist on of your leg on the table before resting one hand in the middle of your back, and the other pressing the fat tip at your weeping entrance. "Forgive me," he says before sinking into you, stuffing your precious cunt full of his cock. And you husband did not waste a sec more before pulling his hips back and slamming into you with one sharp thrust, almost knocking the very soul out of you.
"Fuck, baby... ugh Satoru," you moan out from his harsh painfully yet pleasure thrust.
"Just what I need after that stressful fucking meeting," he moaned. "They stressed me fuck out, with the marketing and sales department fuck shit, I just had to call my wife, so that she can relive me of my stress with this fucking pussy right," he mutters, pulling your hips back to meet his harsh thrust. The skin your ass swelling too and your pussy burning red from his harsh thrust and he's not going to stop now, not anytime soon.
And now here you both are two fucking long hours of your husband fucking your pussy raw over the desk, in his chair and now here your are again, laying flat on your back thing time with your legs bent all the way back to your chest and your messy pussy, filled with his cum and yours on display and he continued to fuck your hole out.
He's so focused on busting a nut inside your pussy, yet again, he completely forget another cooperate meeting with a few of the board if directors that started fifteen minutes. But not for long though because in came bursting into his office, his secretary and both managers and there secretary from the sales and marketing departments.
"Oh... oh... oh," they all said in union, eyes widening at the scene that is before them. Their boss, holding his wife in the most scandalous position and he roughly pounds away in your cunt.
"Satoru... darling..." You said, panicking, upon realizing that five men we're currently inside your husband's office, watching as he degrades your body in the most shameful and disrespectful way possible. "Satoru, stop people are watching..."
"Shut up," he says to, slapping his hand over your mouth, before turning to look the five men up and down then turning his attention back to you. "Don't speak, you were being such a good girl for me, keeping that pretty mouth of your occupied with only sounds of my name and your precious moans. Right, now go on moan as loud as you can for me."
And of course you followed through with his request, despite a set of ten eyes that were currently watching you being tamed and controlled by your husband.
Still stunned, by what's going on, they continued to watch on until Gojo yelled, "Get the fuck out of my fucking office. Can't you see if busy fucking my wife. Get out, all of you."
"But... but sir the mee..."
"I said get the FUCK OUT OF... ugh fuck fuck... MY OFFICE."
With that said, they all rushed out his office. All traumatized and cock hard from the sight that was before time.
And as they all walked away from the office to go and attend the meeting, to inform the BOD's that the meeting as been canceled due to unforeseen circumstances, they could hear you loudly moaning Gojo’s name and him grunting as he spoke, "Look at how much cum fills up your pussy, your better take every drop, just so you can get round and swollen with out fourth child."
"You've been avoiding me haven't you?" He asked as soon as you entered the bathroom. He locked the door behind you before shoving you up against the door and trapped your body between himself and the door.
"Gojo I have to get back to my child," you whispered as you pressed your hand against his chest to push him away from you, but he wouldn't budge.
"He's not even here," he stated. He saw when your step daughter took your baby for the evening, and then told you to go home and rest.
"Gojo…"
"And even after what happened three nights ago, you're still calling me by my last name?" He asked.
"Gojo…" you tried speaking but he shuts you up with a hiss of his teeth.
"You've been avoiding me Mrs. Hiroshima," he whispered yet again.
You sighed heavily, "No, I've been busy," you lied as you cast your eyes behind him to stare at his tall body hovering over yours through the mirror.
"You're lying," he mumbled underneath his breath, his hand slowly moving towards the fat of your hip. "I tried to get in contact with you. I even went as far to find out if Mr. Hiroshima came back from his business trip."
"My husband isn't my only priority," you stated as you tried to shove him away from you, but instead he caught your wrist in one hand and pinned them above your head. The other hand rests itself on your hips to keep you steady against the door.
"Then what is? And please don't say baby Kaori," he said. Of course he had already figured out that you would have used your son as an excuse to not be around him. "What's got you so busy?"
"I…"
"Don't lie to me Mrs. Hiroshima," he mumbled his hand clenching tightly around your wrists. "Why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm not," you exclaimed.
"If that's the case then, why won't you look at me?" He asked. A lump caught itself in your throat, your palms were beginning to get a bit sweaty. "You won't make eye contact with me at all, Mrs. Hiroshima."
You didn’t know what to say or how to respond to him. So you caught your mouth shut before turning to look at him. His burning cerulean eyes staring intensely at you as he wanted for your response.
He sighed when no response came, "Mrs. Hiroshima, it hurts to know that we had such a great time together that night, even though it was unexpected on your part we still had fun," he said briefly, reminding of the events that happened a few nights ago inside the bedroom you shared with your husband. "I didn't force you to have sex with me, even though I was the one who asked you to. But you said yes, and we did it anyway and you had fun, we had fun. I gave you pleasure. So why are you avoiding me?"
"I'm married, Gojo," you reminded him, which earned you an eye roll.
"I don't care. I know you're married. I know you're married to the CEO of Date Tech. I know you're married to my father's closest friend. And I also know that your marriage with him is not going well."
You blinked away from his gaze and squeezed your eyes shut. At a time like this, you wished he never mentioned your failing marriage with your husband, Hiroshima Haru.
"I've said this before, haven't I?" He asked as he removed his hand from your wrist and rested it on your other hip as well. "He doesn’t deserve you Mrs. Hiroshima."
You remembered, as clear as the morning sky. You remembered those exact words being whispered into your ear when Gojo placed a cup of latte in front of you, and later that night when he unexpectedly (not entirely because he told you that he was going to do so) showed up at your house with home cooked meals. You remember his words very well.
You deserve better than a man who is never home to take care of his beautiful wife. You deserve better than a man who only cares about fucking his assistant instead being at home with you. I've seen him around, he doesn’t hide the fact that he cheats on you constantly Mrs. Hiroshima. You deserve better, you deserve to be treated like the woman you are. Please Mrs. Hiroshima, if you let me, I can do all the things that your husband should be doing for you. I can take care of you and your son, I can prove that to you if only you let me."
Those were his words before he kissed you and pulled you on top of him, wrapping you in his arms tightly and as you shared a sweet kiss with him, he asked if he could have sex with you and after a lot of convincing on his part, you finally gave in and you had to be honest with yourself, he never fucked you like you were his one night stand.
It felt like more than that. His touch, his soft sweet lips kissing yours, the way he rolled his hips as he slowly moved inside of you. The way he called you mommy when he sucked at your tits and tasted the sweet milk that flowed from your breast. All of that felt as if you were his lover, a woman that he's in love with.
He never fucked you, he made love to you.
"Gojo…"
"Tell me Mrs. Hiroshima." He cuts you off yet again and rests his head beside yours and close enough to your ear just so that he could whisper, "Am I a disturbance to you? Am I a painful memory? Did you regret what we did that night?"
You swallowed thickly, the lump burning your throat as it slowly passed down. And yet again you were unable to respond to his question. You never saw him as a disturbance, he wasn't a painful memory in fact, he's the best memory you had since you had Kaori. And you never regret what happened, it was the best sex you had after going dry for a year and almost a half.
You opened your eyes to look at him yet again and you saw his waterline wet with his tears. "You won't say anything? You're so mean, Mrs. Hiroshima."
He sighed heavily as he closed his eyes, then he removed one hand from your hips to wipe away the tears that threatened to spill. "I understand. Then… Please keep me in your memories even if it's painful for you."
He took a long pause before cupping your chin in his hot palm and brought his face closer to yours, "Mrs. Hiroshima, I like you. I've liked you since the moment I laid my eyes on you when you were pregnant with Kaori."
You gasped silently and before you had a chance to process his confession, he placed his lips on yours and kissed you passionately. A soft chuckle left his lips as he pulled away to whisper, "Your lips are so soft."
He pulled you in for another kiss, pressing your back against the door even more as he slowly worked his lips against yours. Soft sounds left your lips as you slowly parted them and allowed him to slip his tongue inside your mouth. He whispered yet again, "Even though we're kissing like this, you still won't say a word."
You remained silently as you tangled your hand in his hair and pulled at his roots. He pulled away from your lips and pressed them against your cheeks and whispered, "Can we… do it here? Or do you want to come over to my place? I know Kaori is gone for the evening. Please Mrs. Hiroshima, give me a chance. Let me prove to you that I can be a man for you."
"Sa… Toru," you breathlessly whispered as you stared into his mesmerizing cerulean eyes.
"Mrs. Hiroshima," he kissed you. "Are you gonna let me?"
Erotic, sweet sounds of pleasurable moans fell from your lips as you combed your fingers through his hair. His soft lips kissing your cheek, his hands resting at the sides of your head to keep a steady pace as he gently rolled his hips to move slowly inside of you.
You looked so beautiful beneath him with your hair sprawled out over the pillows, your lips slightly parted as you moaned sweetly for him and your half-lidded eyes filled with sweet lust as you stared up at him.
You’re just as beautiful as you were all the months ago when he first laid his eyes on you.
He remembered how he kept his eyes on you the moment you walked in the room.
A smile gracing your lips, your hair tied neatly behind your head, and those small delicate hands holding the swollen bump before you. He knew it was wrong to think of a married woman the way he does. But how could he not when you’re all he could think about the moment he first laid his eyes on you a few weeks back.
He has had a crush on you ever since. At first he thought it was just a silly feeling that would eventually go away, but when he found himself having these dirty thoughts about you, he just knew that he had to have you, even though you were married.
He was amazed to see a beautiful woman such as yourself, walking inside his father's home with your husband. He remembered how low you carried your head as you dared not to look at your husband as he conversed with his father.
You 're just too beautiful.
And It was too much for him to handle. You moaned yet again while slightly arching your back and pressed your swollen breast against his chest. “Satoru,” you moaned.
“Shh, mommy. You don’t wanna wake up your son,” he whispered before kissing your lips to stifle your moans. That’s right your son, your six month old son was sleeping in the room next to yours while you made love to a man that wasn’t even his father.
“I wanna cum,” you moaned against his lips and he hummed.
“Cum then, but I’m not finished,” he whispered before slipping his large hand between your bodies to play with your throbbing clit. Your thighs trembled around his hips as he moved a bit faster. The tip of his throbbing cock brushed against your sweet spot so nicely, it wasn’t long before he felt your walls tighten around his cock as you came violently.
“Fuck, mommy,” he whispered as he planted his lips around your tender, swollen nipples. A hum slipped from his mouth as he tasted your sweet breast milk. God, he could drink from your breast all day, if only you let him.
“Yes,” you sighed while pulling him away from your nipple to kiss his lips. “Again Satoru, please.” And he couldn’t help but to roll over on his back and let you sit on top of him. You wanted more and that he was going to give it to you.
But then he knew that this was wrong, you both knew that this was wrong. You were married and you had a baby too. And yet still here you were on top of a young twenty one year old guy, with your tits dripping milk and your warm cunt wrapped tightly around his cock as you slowly moved your hips against his.
But then again was it really wrong of you to be sleeping with another man, when your husband is out warming some other woman’s sheets. Gojo thought it alright for you to have someone to take care of you.
After all, your husband didn’t deserve you.
He didn’t deserve to see you like this, your husband didn’t deserve to hear your sweet voice calling his name. Nor did he deserve to wake up to your beautiful face in the morning. But who was Gojo to say to your husband do not deserve you? But if only they knew that Gojo knew more than what he should have.
He was there watching as your husband disrespected you time and time again. Especially when he saw you that night at his father’s party.
He remembered how harshly you bit on your lips to prevent yourself from crying whenever your husband wouldn't hold your hand. But what he remembered the most, is when you cried later that night when your husband shouted at you and told you that he was disgusted to be around you.
He remembered how those sweet lips of yours trembled when your husband shouted that he didn’t want to be seen with a fat, pregnant woman. Your husband said that he was ashamed of you, he told you that he wished you would have gotten rid of the baby before he left you standing outside in the cold while he went to enjoy his night with his friends and women who never looked like you.
"How could a man talk to his wife in such a manner, and here I thought he adored her," Gojo mumbled to his friend as he stared down at you from where he sat and watched you wipe your teary eyes before looking down at your beautiful round and swollen tummy. "I hate when pretty women cry over ungrateful men."
Then he left his friend's side and he began to make his way outside. In hopes to find you out there.
The bitter taste of disgust burned his throat as he watched your husband slip his ring off his finger before dragging another woman away to one of the many rooms inside the house.
"Disgusting," He mumbled. He had such a beautiful wife, pregnant and ready to give birth to their child at any moment. Your husband should have been with you, but instead he was too busy getting his cock wet by some other woman that wasn't you.
You deserved better - that's what Gojo thought as he made his way outside to see if you were gone, and indeed you were. If he were in your shoes, then maybe he would have left too, but he could never imagine how horrible you must have felt. How ashamed you might feel? It sickens him to know that your husband, a man he once looked up treated you this way.
Yeah your husband really didn’t deserve you one bit.
And even after that night, Gojo was yet again able to witness that man you called your husband fooled around with other women. It pained Gojo to know that your husband had you waiting at home for him your husband had the audacity to have sex with other women inside the bathroom of the cafe, that Gojo’s father owned.
Gojo knew you didn’t didn’t deserve to be treated like that. He knew you deserved better than that man you called a husband. You deserved a man that is going to treat you better than your husband ever did.
And man that’ll make you feel loved, someone who knows what you’re worth. A man who is willing to take care of you and your baby. And as young as Gojo might be, he knew exactly how to do so. After all, he liked you.
And that’s why he wasn’t afraid to approach you that day inside his father’s cafe that Gojo now owns, after he witnessed you having a small argument with your husband while you held your three month old baby in your hand.
He made sure to prepare your favourite caramel latte before walking over to you. He made sure to smile and admire you before resting the latte on the table in front of you. He remembered how beautiful you looked that day with your hair neatly combed and a smile gracing your lips as you stared down at your beautiful baby boy Kaori. But he saw tears in the corner of your eyes.
He wasn’t doesn’t dumb. And that’s also why he wasn’t afraid to say these words that now had you on top of him. Those words that had him sleeping in the bed that you shared with your husband. It was those words that made his relationship with your son beautiful.
He remembered those words and he knew you did too.
“Your husband doesn’t deserve you Mrs. Hiroshima. You are too good for him. I see how he treats you, and I hate it. You deserve better than that Mrs. Hiroshima.”
He remembered how you gasped as your hands formed into small fists. He even remembered your response, “You know nothing.”
“But I do Mrs Hiroshima. I can treat you better than that old man Mrs Hiroshima. I won’t ever cheat on you. I won’t disrespect you, I would never neglect your beautiful son. And I will never let you wear such a ugly frown on your beautiful face Mrs Hiroshima. I can take care of you and I’m gonna prove it to you.” and as dumbfounded as you were you stared at him in shock.
“Mrs. Hiroshima Let me show you that I can be the man you need. Let’s start tonight yeah. I’ll prepare dinner for us tonight and spend a little quality time together. Wouldn’t that be nice?” And he didn’t even wait for you to respond because later that night he was at your home.
And he did prepare a meal like he said he would and later after a little bit of convincing he was balls deep inside of you, making love to you. And since then, Gojo kept coming around and he never stopped.
“Fuck mommy, I’m gonna cum,” he moaned.
And now look at you moaning his name as if he were the man that asked for your hand.
He wishes he did, and he will ask for your hand in marriage one day. But for now as he laid inside the bed you shared with another man, holding you tightly against him, he’ll just have to be content with what he had with you now.
One day, you’ll be fully his. One he’ll be able to wake up with you in a bed you shared with him.
I need to confess my hatred for Dottore runs deep 😭😭😭😭 however I can't lie that man is so freaking fine like ugh aaaahhhh 😭😭😭😭😭😭 fucking please I can't believe that I called Dottore "DADDY DOTTORE" Kill me please cause what the fuck.... I need to go before Flins and kiss his feet 1 million times and beg for forgiveness cause why.... why... whyyyyyyyyyyyyyy did I do that
a curious psychology student would have the time of their life trying to determine why gojo satoru is such an attention seeking whore. he grew up normal. got plenty of love from friends, teachers and family, so that couldn't be the reason why he acts so needy.
satoru fucks anything pretty with no discrimination. girls, guys, anyone with a sharp tongue and fluttering lashes who call him pretty words, whether it's stupid whore or pretty boy, he's on it like a moth to a neon flame.
his body is a testament to that life. he works hard to make himself as appealing to as many people as possible. he's got broad shoulders, muscles that flex and strain against the tight clothes he often opts to wear, nipples pierced with silver bars that catch the light just right, a belly button ring, and snug briefs that never give an inch of comfort or modesty. he never wears boxers, always briefs. it's because comfort doesn't come first, flashing and teasing does.
satoru doesn't even bother to pretend like he's not a slut. he lives for it, actually. he'll come to a party in the tightest shirt possible that rides up any time he even shifts his arms, with pants that show the imprint of his fat cock, and relishes in the way everyone's eyes turn to him. then he'll lounge on a couch with his legs spread obscenely wide, ensuring his bulge is framed just right, and grins at anyone whose eyes linger.
he makes propositions, too. saying "yeah, i'd fuck you," between sips of alcohol, then grins at the way his victim blushes and squirms at all the affection they're receiving from him. "c'mere, lemme see what that mouth does," he'll laugh, tugging someone into his arms. he'll ride some big, beefy man's thighs in front of a crowd simply because it makes his cock throb harder knowing people are watching.
in bed he's worse. he moans like a pornstar, loud and unashamed, begging and groaning and making sure everyone in the building knows he's getting his hole stuffed or his cock milked dry. he loves being degraded. call him a dumb slut, a pretty bitch, a whore, and he'll cum for it. he'll rut against the sheets while he's being edged, smearing precum all over, moaning "fuck, please, I'll do anything, just put it in."
and he loves cum. he wants it everywhere, on his face, dripping down his chin, sprayed across his abs, soaking his briefs, in his ass, or if he's doing the fucking, he'll paint it all over the person's body. but his favorite is filling up someone with his thick loads.
he'll leave parties with strangers and come home the next morning with bruises on his thighs, bite marks on his chest, silver bars through his nipples swollen from being tugged all night.
as you walk down the quiet hallways of jujutsu high, having finished teaching your last class of the day, you try to ignore the chattering from the other teachers about the so-called "charmer" on staff. you've heard enough rumors of gojo satoru and how good he allegedly is in bed, because the second the students are gone for the day, all the teachers like to do is gossip. and their favorite topic is one they all have in common, satoru.
it seems as though they've all had turns with him and just want to whisper about their experience. but you don't care for any of it. you really don't care.
which is why he seems so interested in you.
leaning against the wall outside of the teacher's lounge as he listens to all the noise in there around the halls about him, he watches you head towards your office. you're new. cute in a way that's untouched and unaware, and that just makes you all the more enticing to him. he loves untouched goods.
"hey there," he says, voice smooth as he steps up to your side, keeping pace with you. "looks like i finally get a chance to meet you, newbie."
you glance up from your papers in hand halfheartedly, giving a polite but curt nod. "hello."
that's it. no flirting, blushing, or checking him out. no reaction, just neutrality. like he's a speck of dust on your notebook.
his grin falters slightly, brows lifting incredulously. did he just... not get the reaction he wanted? he takes a step closer to press up against your side, invading your space, hand brushing lightly against your arm provocatively. "not impressed by me?" he tries to hide his offense with teasing. "surely you've heard about my... talents." he pauses. "at teaching and sorcery, of course."
you shrug, keeping your gaze on the papers in your arms. "i've heard a few things."
he narrows his eyes for a second, hoping the suggestive tone in his voice would at least make you think about everything you've heard about him in bed, and how he's trying to catch you off guard. but he keeps his composure. "anything interesting then?"
you lean away from him slightly, making a left towards your destination. you still don't take the bait. "not particularly."
satoru is not used to this.
people usually react in some way or another. blush, hesitate, flirt back, get nervous... something. but here you are, giving hints that you want him to fuck off, not fuck you.
"nothing about me interests you at all?" his entire ego is shaking. satoru leans closer again, grinning through his offense, and raises his blindfold enough to stare into your eyes. "hm. don't think i won't find a way to make you change your mind. i'm very persuasive."
you brush him off by disappearing into your room and making a point to close the door on his face.
from then on, satoru doesn't leave you alone. he's everywhere you are, even when he has no reason to be. the hallway, the lounge, the the parking lot - you walk into a space, and he's already there, getting into your space. every movement you make, every subtle shift of your posture, every nervous brush of your fingers against your own papers, he notices. he watches. how you slowly start to crack under the pressure of his unwavering attention.
he's touchy, too. puts his hand on your ass to guide you through a door he's held open for you, grabs your hips and looks over your head to see what you've got in your hands, and squeezes through tight spaces you're in to brush his cock against your ass so you feel what you're doing to him.
he looks at you as though he's imagined having you, under him, gasping and whimpering at his touch and his cock stuffing you full. his behavior reflects this too.
...
you realized staying to work so late was a bad idea the minute gojo offered to spend the extra hours with you. when he'd asked, you'd simply shrugged and waved him off, having forgotten about agreeing to his request of; "oh, you're staying late? mind if i stick back with you? i have so much to get done too, and i'll work so much better if i have someone to help me focus."
it wasn't a problem to gojo. he simply reminded you of your agreement by dragging you off to his office once everyone started trickling out. now he's sprawled at his desk, papers scattered everywhere, pen balanced between his fingers because he hasn't actually done a single bit of work since you walked in.
"you know," he says, leaning back in his chair as you flip through a stack of research notes, "most people would kill for alone time with me. you won't even give me a smile. i'm hurt."
"you could actually help instead of talking," you reply flatly, not looking up.
"i am helping," he says easily, and the scrape of the chair legs follows as he moves closer to your side. gojo peers down at your notes, chin hovering just above your shoulder. "see? moral support."
with a sigh, you push one of the papers toward him. "if you want to be useful, read that section and summarize it." gojo takes the paper, but instead of reading, his eyes lift up to meet yours again.
"i'd get a lot more work done if you were here on my lap to guide me."
your eyes lift from the desk to glare at him. "not a chance."
he pouts, giving you his best puppy dog look possible. "but i'm so cold, and i keep fidgeting, and all of this work is just so overwhelming. why don't we share an assignment? that way we can use both our brainpower to get it done twice as fast. then you get to go home sooner. isn't that what you want so badly, teacher? to run away from me?"
you watch him for a minute, catching the way he veils his sarcasm and mockery so intricately. if you weren't as observant as you are, it'd be hard to notice that he's trying to get in your head. not taking your eyes off his pitiful expression, you give a small, unimpressed hum. "or," you say slowly, "you could just focus for once in your life."
he grins wider, leaning closer until his shadow spills across your notebook. "oh, i am focused. just not on the paper."
"gojo-"
"satoru," he corrects, voice almost coaxing. "say my name properly. because we're friends, aren't we?"
you give him a long, withering look, the kind meant to shut him up. it only makes him beam. his knee bumps yours beneath the desk. deliberate. testing.
every time you shift away, he follows and skates his fingers along the edge of your chair, the tips brushing lightly on your leg. "you're really determined to resist me, huh?" his tone is light and mocking. "that's cute."
"you think everything's cute," you respond back shortly, pushing his hand off you, to which he responds with a pout.
"not everything." he leans in just enough that you can feel the warmth rolling off him and smell his cologne. "just you." you turn your head sharply, but his smirk only deepens when your eyes meet. you're so close you can see the faint glint of his nipple bar glinting under the thin fabric of his shirt.
your heartbeat stumbles. beyond your better judgement, knowing he won't stop pestering you until he gets what he wants, you oblige with a roll of your eyes. "fine. i'll sit on your lap and help you. but if you touch me, i'm leaving again."
he perks up excitedly, spreading his legs to make space for you to sit. "you got it." he says far too playfully, taking your hand once you stand and dragging you to sit on his broad thighs. you can feel something hot twitch against your butt the moment you're seated.
shaking your head, you ignore his nonsense and give him the benefit of the doubt. his thing probably isn't as big as what's prodding you right now anyway. maybe he's got something in his pants. maybe he's the type to stuff his bulge with socks. you wouldn't put it past him.
you return to your work, analyzing the figures on your paper intently when satoru slides his hand between your legs, just holding his palm against your soft mound unabashedly. you whip your head back so fast he gets a gust of your sweet shampoo. "what are you doing?" you snap at him, to which he simply responds with a grin.
"my hand's cold. and you're all warm over here, direct body heat, y'know?"
"can't you hold them in your own lap?" you shoot back, hitting his hand when it pushes against your clothed pussy.
he shakes his head quickly. there's a look on his face that gives off the impression that he planned this whole thing. "not with you sitting on me. and don't move, this is better."
you let out a breathy moan when he rubs his hand up and down your pussy through your panties. you couldn't believe you wore a skirt today. it's as if fate wanted you to be easily accessible to him. "satoru," you warn through your little breathy pants. all that does is make him preen, your use of his name spurring him on.
"tell me to stop and i will." he hesitates, but doesn't remove his hand from where it's cupping your mound. you press your lips together to prevent any more noises leaving you, thighs clenching around his hand, as it presses firmer into your clothed pussy.
no gesture that you want him to stop.
he lets out a huff through his nose and nods. "thought so."
satoru's fingers slip under your soggy panties and start toying with your folds, long cold fingers circling and rubbing up from your hole to your clit. he gathers the slick arousal that's already coating your lower lips, then spreads it around with delight, watching you squirm around. "oh, you're sensitive." he says, voice full of mock sympathy. "is this why you didn't want me to touch you? cause your pussy's all messy?"
you're about to tell him to shut up, but he beats you to it, easing a long, dexterous digit inside you. he immediately feels your silk walls flutter and clench around the intrusion, sucking him in greedily. satoru begins to pump his finger inside you steadily, his thumb circling your clit in time with each thrust.
his other hand comes up to grope your breast, fingers rolling and pinching your nipple through the thin fabric of your top. then, he tugs the neckline down, buttons popping open the further he stretched it. your soft, pillowy mounds get exposed to the cool air and his greedy gaze, and he wastes no time in angling you so he can take one into his warm mouth, suckling and grazing a nipple with his teeth.
the finger in you gives a sudden twist inside you as he eases it inside you to the knuckle, prodding and nudging against your squishy insides. his thumb hasn't stopped on your clit, and neither has his mouth on your breast. so much stimulation to your body at once has you overwhelmed and already embarrassingly close.
somehow, he knows how close you are, and spreads you out using two fingers, slipping his middle one in with his ring finger, then, unexpectedly, a third.
you feel so full from his fingers alone, and your hand grabs at his wrist as he plunges his fingers in and out of you, sending your juices dribbling and gushing out of your hole. "oh my g-gosh, please!" you cry out, squirming and squeezing around his wrist firmly when he starts fucking you with his finger rough and slow, pushing firmer on your clit and rolling it around now that he knows you're about to cum. he pulls off your tit and soothes where it's puffy and swollen from his sucking with his tongue.
you let out a pathetic and needy sound, body pushed back into his as you cum around his fingers, walls clamping and fluttering around him as your orgasm crashes through you, cream leaking down your joined hands and onto the seat below, creating a wet mess.
"hngh- s-satoru, take 'em out now, too much!" you babble, though your hand never exits from around his wrist and you keep grinding your clit into the soft pads of his fingers. "now you wanna use my first name?" he says, finally slipping his fingers out of your pussy with a gooey pop, taking them into his mouth and cleaning them off while you look back at him, embarrassed, but moreso, aroused.
satoru sits you upright on his lap and aligns your bare pussy directly on his bulge, holding your hips and slowly starting to grind you on his clothed cock, hands groping and rough against your body. "ngh- you feel so good... body's so soft," he praises, moving his hands down to your ass, tugging his lip between his teeth and moaning as the flesh just molds into the shape of his hands. it's like you're made for him.
the rough sensation of his slacks to your swollen, folds leaves you twitching and gasping, and your hands rush to cling onto his shoulders. he lifts his hips a little each time he nudges you forward, making sure the seam, bumpy and textured - hits your embarrassingly hard clit over and over. it's almost torturous, how he's making you continue even though you just came, but you don't tell him to stop. you don't want to tell him to stop.
instead, you gasp and look down, fumbling with his zipper needily and wanting him to stuff you full. if you've already gone this far, you might as well see what all the hype is about. if king satoru gojo is as good as he seems to be.
he smirks and lifts his hips a little further so you can free his cock from the confines of his pants and boxers, and lifts the hem of his top into his mouth so you can see his pretty piercings, gold today, and his toned, pale body. he grins at the way your movements slow a little. you take the time to study his body appreciatively, before rolling your eyes. "fucking arrogant-" is the last thing you say before his long, thick cock slips out of his bottoms and hits his tummy.
well, there's another thing for satoru to brag about.
his cock is just about perfect, pale and pretty with a dusky pink, flared head. slightly curved, with veins wrapping around the shaft and sitting pretty on a plump pair of balls. you nearly salivate.
"you think it'll fit?" he looks up at you, making sure to fake sincerity again, furrowing his brows and fanning his lashes at you. "i can fuck you with my fingers more if your little pussy isn't stretched out properly-"
you scowl at him, and, determined to prove him wrong, push your panties to the side and spread yourself just as he did before he slipped those three thick fingers in you.
your pussy slowly descends around him, inner muscles instantly wrapping around his sensitive head, causing joint moans to leave both your lips. his head is tilted to the side so he can look at your face even with your back to him, and his eyes don't leave you once as you sink down nice and slow onto his cock. not even to look at the way your pussy stretches around him to accomodate him inside you. he just can't get over your expression. eyes hazy, lips parted in a silent moan that turns into a shaky gasp as you finally take in his thick base. you've managed to take in every bit of him; his dick isn't visible anymore because it's sheathed completely inside you.
with quivering thighs, you try to grab the handle of his chair and lift yourself up to begin riding his thick cock, but he beats you to it, grabbing you and handling you up and down onto his cock with no warning.
you squeal out his name and tip your head back into his shoulder as he wastes no time in controlling the pace of your fucking, lifting you up and down on his throbbing cock like you're a toy. his hands span across your body, big and heavy as he guides you, your toes curling where they're skimming the floor.
he kicks your legs open a little wider so your pussy's spread to take in more of him, sucking down his cock each time he bottoms out. he can feel how deep it hits inside you, pushing up against the deepest, softest parts inside you that cling to the head of his cock each time he tries to pull out. he's sure to grind his hips up onto that spot each time they milk him in.
you moan loudly when he does, fingers wrapping around his and guiding down so he can push on the faint bulge in your tummy that appears when you're seated fully on his cock. he groans and takes your lead. "fuck, your pussy's so soft." he moans, licking a broad stripe along the side of your neck. "soft and ngh- tight and creamy. best i've ever had, i think. oh shit."
he keeps rolling the swollen head of his cock against that velvety spot inside your inner walls, causing both of you to moan in unison yet again, louder as he lifts you up to leave only his tip in you, before sinking you back down around his cock, your pussy rippling around his cock as it adapts to his size.
each thrust stirs around the creamy mix of your shared juices inside you, both your slick from the orgasm you've just had, and the creamy loads of precum that keep drooling out of him. "s-satoru, we're making a mess," you gasp, watching and hearing the mess leaking out from where the two of you are joined, hitting the floor and the chair under you.
satoru groans and stands up, pushing you over the desk and bending you in half, thrusting his cock back into you rough and sudden. he lets out a pleased huff at your squeal your body not accommodated to this new angle, but you quickly get overcome again with the feeling of him fucking into you hard and fast, his hands caging you in under him.
"you look so pretty like this," he pants, leaning down over you to push his body against yours, making sure his cock stays as deep inside you as it can go while he pounds his hips into your ass, balls slapping into you. "fucked dumb on my cock. don't you wish we did this sooner?" he pants into your skin, tongue poking out to lick your sweet skin. "just ask me if you wanna fuck from now on, okay? mnh- i'll let you do whatever you want to me."
you pant, orgasm nearing the more his cock spears into you, the repeated motion making your brain slow and clogged up as he hits your sweet spot again and again and again, his mouth closed around your throat now to suck marks on your sweat slick skin. "satoru-! please, please please," your words are a blend of hiccups and whines as a stream of tears from overstimulation start falling down your face, which is smushed against the cool surface of the table. as are your tits, which are still bare and rubbing against cloth and polished wood, your nipples swollen and puffy.
your pleading is drowned out by the sloppy sounds of his thrusts, squelching and plap! - ing as he chases his orgasm.
withdrawing his hips just a few inches back, satoru shoves right back inside with no warning, deep enough until he feels it won't go further. the flared head of his cock presses tight against your cervix, putting pressure inside you until you can't take it anymore, legs shaking before you gush around his cock.
your pussy milks him in and clamps down around him as your juices spill around his shaft, coating his balls. he grunts, hips stuttering as he pushes firmer against your cervix, cumming straight inside you and spilling into your womb, hot, creamy fluid overflowing inside you until some trickles out alongside your mess.
he comes home to a freshly cleaned house, the fresh smell of cleaner and air freshener wafting through the air. He drops his suitcase to the floor, kicking off his shoes and slipping off his jacket. He sees you hurrying around the corner to greet him.
“Well back home, Mr. Gojo,” you smile, taking his jacket from him and picking up his suit case.
He sighs, loosening his tie and rolling up his sleeves, a tired and annoyed look written on his face.
“Dinner we’ll be finished in about half an hour—”
“No need. Finish your tasks and meet me upstairs when you’re done.” He stares at as if he’s looking straight through you, his tone deep and words sharp. You can tell he wasn’t in the best of moods…which can only mean one thing.
“Yes, sir.” You nod, thighs squeezing together when you glance down at his pants, noticing his bulge. He walks away as you hang his coat and put his briefcase in the closet.You quickly head to the kitchen, turning the stove off.
The house is silent when you walk up the stairs, heart racing the closer you get to his room. The door is cracked, beckoning you to step inside. Slowly, you push the door open to see Mr. Gojo standing there completely naked. He strokes his cock slow, beads of pre cum dripping from the tip.
“Crawl,” he demands.
You do nothing but obey, dropping to your hands and knees, crawling towards the tall man. You can feel your pussy throb with anticipation, growing wetter when you hear him curse under his breath. Finally, you’re at his feet, looking up at him through your lashes. He reaches a hand down, gently cupping your face before he slips his thumb past your lips, laying it flat on your tongue.
You suck on it, swirling your tongue around the digit while never breaking the contact with the man. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, moving his wrist in circular motions as pumps his cock. Without saying a word, he stops touching himself and immediately you know to take over. Both of your hands wrap around his shaft, thick and veiny, moving up and down.
“Such an obedient girl.” He pets the top of your head, removing his thumb from your mouth. “You like doing what I tell you to?” He hums.
“Yes, sir.” You nod, sticking your tongue out and licking the underside of his head, pressing small kisses to it in the process.
He lets out a throaty groan, tossing his head back when he feels your lips wrap around his cock, pushing him to the back of your warm throat. “Fuck! Atta girl.”
You gag around his cock, feeling his big hand on the back of your head, pushing deeper under your nose is pressed against his abdomen. Tears well up in your eyes as he holds you there for a few seconds. He eventually pulls you off, strings of spit connecting from your lips to his cock. You gasp for air, trying to catch your breath while jerking him off. He pushes your head down towards his balls, your mouth wrapping around them as you suck and lick at the sensitive area.
“Yessss, just like that,” he moans, eyes rolling back. “Get it nice and fucking sloppy.” A lazy smile spreads around his face when spit on his cock, taking him in your mouth again and opening your throat the deeper you go. He grabs either side of your head, holding you still before he starts fucking your throat. “This is just what I needed,” he breathes.
Your nails dig into his muscular thighs, leaving crescent marks in his skin. He can hear you choking on his dick, he can feel each time he hits the back of your throat, and he can see the tears rolling down your cheeks, but knows that you can take it. You enjoy when he treats you like this. Like a toy.
He pulls your head away, giving a brief break. You gasp for air again, coughing as you suck in a breath. “Oh god, look at a what a fucking mess you are. So perfect.” He rubs the head of his cock over your lips and across your face. You smile up at him, purely caught in a moment of ecstasy, a hazy look in your eyes. “Keep looking at me that and I’ll cum all over that pretty face of yours.” He bites down is his lip.
“Please, sir. I want it,” you beg, voice soft. You give kitten licks to the head of his cock, kissing down his shaft. His dick throbs, jumping up when you lick at a prominent vein running along his shaft. “Cum on my face, pretty please.” You blink your lashes up at him, pumping his cock while you suck on one of his balls.
“S-shitttt. Fuck me.” His voice grows shaky, jaw slack as he watches the way you desperately try and milk the cum out of him. “Oh fuck,” he gasps. “Oh fuck, I’m gonna cum.” His abdomen tenses up, balls tightening up as you stick your tongue out for him and speed up your pace. “Nnnghh! Fuckkkk!” He groans, thick white ropes spurting from his cock, landing all across your face.
Your eyes quickly shut, feeling the warm substance hit your skin, from your forehead, tongue, lips, and so on. His hips quiver, loud moans echoing all throughout the house as finally comes down from his orgasm. You pry open your eyes, that tired look back on his face, trying to catch his breath.
“Mmmm.” You lick the cum off of your lips. “Need anything else from me, Mr. Gojo?” You innocently ask.
“No…no, not at the moment.” He gulps, sitting on the edge of bed. “Thank you, sweetheart. Such a good girl,” he praises.
“Of course. I’ll clean up and get dinner back on as soon as possible.” You sweetly smile at him, standing to your feet to walk out his room and give him his space. “If you need to destress again, please don’t hesitate. It’s what I’m here for.” You shut the door behind you.
streamer!jo mid-sentence, leaning back in his chair, headset slightly crooked, the soft click of the door barely registers over the sound of his stream when you walk in. he stops, just for a second. his eyes flick over you. your tight, soft pajamas, the way they hug you just right, the faint scent that follows you in. his whole expression shifts into something quieter.
“hey,” you hum softly, walking over like it’s nothing.
the chat explodes and he doesn’t even glance at it.
voidking99: BROOOOO WHO IS THAT
satorusimp420: HE GOT A GIRL??????
angelmilk: she’s so pretty what 😭
gojosleft_toe3: WHY IS SHE IN HIS LAP LIKE THAT IM SICK
“oh my fuck,” he says instantly, voice lower now, already reaching for you.
you don’t question it—you never do. you just step between his legs and sit in his lap like it’s your spot, because it is. his arms wrap around you immediately, pulling you close, one hand settling at your waist, the other resting along your thigh.
“you look so gooooood,” he murmurs, nuzzling lightly into your shoulder for a second before straightening again, like he just remembered he’s live.
his hand doesn’t move though. it drifts. slowly. absentmindedly. down your thigh, fingers brushing soft circles like he’s not even thinking about it. then back up, resting at your waist again.
the twitch chat is going insane.
you notice quickly
you’re already leaning forward slightly, eyes scanning the stream, curious. “what are they saying?”
“nothing important,” he mutters quickly, tightening his hold on you just a little.
too late.
you squint, reading out loud, confused, “I usually skip this part…?” your face still contempt, you tilt your head, genuinely puzzled. “what does that mean?” and then you shift. just a little. trying to get closer to the screen. but it makes you press back into him.
torus breath catches, just barely but enough.
you’re still focused on the chat, completely oblivious, squirming slightly again to get comfortable. “wait, there’s more—”
his arm tightens around your waist. not rough, just firm.
grounding.
his other hand stills on your thigh, fingers pressing in just a little like he’s trying to anchor himself. “hey,” he says suddenly, sharper now—directed at the screen.
the chat floods faster.
softgirlcult: she’s literally clueless this is insane
domainexpansionTHIS: “i usually skip this part” LMAOOOOOO
gojoswifeREAL: GIRL DONT READ THAT OUT LOUD
blueeyeaddickt: HE TENSED UP DID YALL SEE THAT
he exhales through his nose, jaw tightening slightly before he leans forward, voice dropping into something more commanding.
“alright, that’s enough,” he says, tone lazy. “don’t read that stuff,” he murmurs, voice softer now.
you blink, looking back at him. “I was just asking—”
“don’t worry about them,” he murmurs, softer now, eyes locked on yours. way too focused, way too intense. his arms tighten around you again, pulling you flush against him, chin resting lightly on your shoulder as he leans back into his chair.
chat? forgotten.
game? paused.
and satoru? completely, helplessly distracted by you.
megumislostdad: stream is over guys pack it up
sukunaIRL: move chat i’m watching this
KING.naoyazenin: embarrassing. stand up bro
LimitlessGojo banned KING.naoyazenin
yes strict bf gojo be strict and cocky we love that
“Motherfucker!” Your voice carries from your room towards your kitchen, where your boyfriend is making lunch. Satoru stops chopping the green onions and places the knife on the counter. The white marble countertop suffers as his grip tightens.
He pushes his glasses up from the bridge of his nose as he makes his way to your shared bedroom. He pushes open the closed door, staring you down. Distracted by the noises of Junkrat’s explosive laughter and shots from Widowmaker’s gun, you don’t notice him until he taps your shoulder.
“Hmm?” you respond, your focus staying on the game, and not your six-foot-three boyfriend.
“Watch your mouth.”
You bite your lip as you notice him in the reflection of your computer. “Sorry, my teammates are real idiots.” Not wanting to interrupt your game, he waits until you’ve been killed to tilt your head up and place a deep kiss on your lips. He pats your shoulder, heading back out of the room. “You get another round after this one before lunch is ready, sweetheart.” You nod as he disappears down the hallway.
When you and Satoru first got together, he was a nervous, shy mess. Back in your freshman days, he could barely speak up in class without stuttering; as a fresh grad, his confidence exudes, filling the whole room with his presence.
Another thing that changed was his role in your relationship. Before, he rarely ever took charge; he went along with whatever you wanted, and often put aside his own needs for yours.
However, after talking with you, he realized that his actions were making you both miserable. So, at the beginning of your sophomore year, he changed. He started working out with his friends, building on his already existing physique.
Satoru started reeling you in when you got too rowdy. At parties, he would cut you off, often making you leave when you wouldn’t listen. He’d pull down your shorts or skirts if they rode up, or if they were too high.
He was never the type to police what you wore; however, he would police how you wore it. You had stopped cussing around him, a boundary he implemented after realizing that you cuss worse than a sailor. Satoru had a zero tolerance for skipping meals, one because he had become something of a gymrat, two because he wouldn’t tolerate the love of his life developing unhealthy eating habits.
You welcomed this change with open arms. People were worried about him when you two first got together, since your personalities were so different.
To outsiders, you were overly loud and spontaneous, which was a vast difference from Satoru’s shy and chill personality. As the years passed, you’ve calmed down considerably, your boyfriend’s influence definitely helping.
In your apartment, you let your personality run free, catching him off guard with random questions, making him play Animal Crossing with you, showing him your Sims family that always had something new going on, and more.
In public, you’re attached to your boyfriend at the hip, you don’t ask those embarrassing questions anymore, and you’ve stopped saying crazy things that’s caught both your friends and the people around you off guard.
You two have helped mold each other into better people, keeping each other in check. Mainly, though, it’s Satoru keeping you in check.
Playing Overwatch, in this day and age, is no joke. From annoying Widowmakers who keep headshotting you to incompetent teammates who jump off point at the last second, it’s a struggle not to cuss them out. Especially when your boyfriend has a thing against it.
So, as you’re playing with your friends, you’re trying to be mindful about the insults you spew out.
Hitting your keys and mousepad hard as you try to help your team stay alive and stay on point. Your PC is custom-made and built by Satoru, of course, and it runs perfectly.
There’s little lag and tons of space for you to download games. Another green flag he has is his strong support for your hobbies. The PC was a birthday gift you received last year, and you were more than thrilled to use it.
So there you are, sitting in your bedroom, angrily mashing keys when your DPS, and fellow support, dies in the midst of defending a point. You take a deep breath before preparing to carry your tank to victory.
In the midst of mental preparation, you forget that your tank is indeed not one of your friends, but instead is a random person the game paired you with. You had also forgotten that your tank was Orisa, so whatever plan you had was useless.
Watching helplessly as your tank decides to charge and step off of point, to immediately die and leave you defenseless. You try your best to stay alive, hopping around the point avoiding the enemy team, until they corner and kill you.
As the bright red words of “DEFEAT.” appear on your screen, you lean back in your gaming chair, it squealing as you do, covering your face in embarrassment and annoyance. Your friends can be heard hurling obscenities at the loss, asking what happened on point.
Taking a deep breath, you take your hands off your face as you look at the play of the game. Your calmness is taken for granted, as you watch a recap of what just took place, your emotions boiling over and erupting as you watch your tank play like an idiot.
“Bro, are you fucking serious!” You exclaim as your friends laugh at you and what had happened. “This fucking idiot, she not only charged for no reason, but her dumbass didn’t do shit. She did no damage whatsoever and then died immediately. A fucking-”
Your rant is interrupted by your bedroom door slowly opening, revealing your boyfriend. You can hear the door creak under his sheer grip. His icy blue irises narrow at you, freezing you in your spot. Sheer annoyance covers his face as his eyes travel over to your phone, signaling what you need to do. “I’m gonna call you guys back.” You say hanging up quickly. Taking your headphones off, you look up at your irritated lover.
He says nothing, but everything at the same time. You’ve broken one of his rules after he already asked you politely to stop. Satoru walks out of the room, adjusting his glasses as he does.
You watch his chiseled back disappear around the corner before getting up to follow him. He sets two bowls of ramen on the table, coupled with a ginger ale for you and a protein shake for him. You sit down, anxiously moving around in your seat.
He slides you a fork and leans back in his chair as he waits for you to start eating. His abs peak through his tight tee as your eyes travel back to his face. It’s unmoving like a mountain, his eyes waiting for you to act.
Wrapping the noodles around your fork, you can feel his glare burning a hole through your head. Your lunch is filled with nothing but silence. When you’re finished, he takes your dishes swiftly and puts them in the dishwasher.
You watch him and act very calmly, despite knowing he’s pissed. You stand up from the table to go back to your room when he stops you, “Did I say you could leave?” You turn around to face him. No longer is he slouched over the dishwasher; he’s stood tall in the doorway of your kitchen speaking with a dominant tone.
You shake your head no, prompting him to roll his eyes. “Speak.”
You swallow hard, feeling your heart beat rapidly in your ribcage. “No.” You respond, eyes not quite meeting his. It would be incorrect to assume that you’re scared of your boyfriend. That definitely wasn’t the case; intimidated would be a more accurate description. Before you can sit back in your chair, he grabs your arm gently and guides you to the couch. He sits next to you as he turns on a movie.
You watch as the beginning credits for Return of the Jedi roll through, but you’re primarily focused on his hand on your waist. It gently strokes your hip up and down, the heat alone navigating its way to your core. You’re suddenly hyper aware of your outfit right now; short cotton shorts with a long Pokémon shirt, Satoru’s most likely.
His hand finds its way to your lower stomach, slowly moving it further down beneath the shorts. You look up at Satoru, his face focused on the movie, pretending not to notice the distress he has you in. Nonetheless, your legs open wider, giving him more access.
You hold in a moan as his fingers find their way to your dripping folds, slowly swiping. “Sator-”
“It’s movie time. Focus on the movie.” He interrupts you, fingers not stilling for a moment. Swallowing hard, you follow his command, directing your gaze back to the screen.
The pleasure he gives is indescribable. A wayward finger finds its way inside you, curving the digit, slowly going in and out. You grab his forearm, chest rising as he picks up the pace, eyes staying locked on the screen.
Two fingers turn into three as they reach deep inside. You have to stop your head from falling on the back of the couch. Your body turns limp in his hold as you rest on his chest.
Your hips buck uncontrollably as you try to hold in the sounds trying to leave your mouth. You taste warm iron, realizing you bit your lip so hard it's bleeding. Satoru is fully aware, of course, a small smirk forms on his face as he glances down slightly, laying a chaste kiss on your forehead.
Satoru Gojo was skilled; he was wise beyond his years and one of your university’s top scholars, they were in no comparison to how skilled he was when it came to navigating your body.
It had only taken him two months to learn which parts of you were most sensitive, how to bring you pleasure with just a simple touch. If he were the bragging type, he’d gladly go around campus boasting about how you were ruined for any other man, because no one could make you feel as good as he did.
Your grip on his arm tightens as you begin to reach your peak. As quickly as it arrived, it was gone in an instant. His fingers no longer stretched you; instead, he was licking them clean. Your eyebrows knit in confusion as you open your mouth to protest, “I never said you could come, matter of fact I never said you were coming at all today.”
Your eyes widen in realization as he carefully places your body so that your ass is raised high on his lap. He slowly removes your shorts, rubbing the plump brown flesh. Satoru massages your ass, going slow in circles.
It doesn’t take long before he’s raising his hand and striking. Rubbing again before smacking it. “Color?” Your cheeks feel cool and sticky, eyelashes sticking together. You’d been crying, whether it had been from his spanks or his denial, you didn’t know.
“Green,” Your voice rings clear through the living room as he cracks a devious smile. “Count.”
Satoru loved punishing you almost as much as he loved overstimulating you. He liked having control of your body like this, and he liked seeing the faces you made. Tears descending down your cheeks, lips bruised, and eyes crossing.
“Seven.” You say as he pulls your shorts back over your ass, and sits you up on his lap. Your arms automatically wrap around his shoulders, and he picks you up. You hear nothing but water running, as he’s undressing you. He’s placing a shower cap on your head, not wanting to get your beautiful curls wet. You’re gently placed in the bath, Satoru crawling in behind you.
You rest on his chest, still lost in a dreamy wonderland. His deep voice tickles your neck as he murmurs reassurance in your ear, gently washing over your body. You smile, slowly coming back to.
You’ve never been so grateful for a team sucking in Overwatch before, but here we are.
