lauren ⋆ ˚｡⋆ @kurtcobaingirlie - Tumblr Blog

virgin → track seven: clearblue

how's it feel, being this alive..?

pairing dad's best friend!satoru gojo x virgin!afab reader

synopsis satoru has you right where he wants you - embedded into his daily life until you can't see or sense anything but him. it feels like heaven until the reality of your relationship hits and you're both left to scrounge for answers.

tags angst, unbalanced unhealthy relationship dynamics, mentioned blood/fighting, drinking, struggles w eating/insecurity, yuta/maki cameo, lots of pet names, crude language/humor, smut, tw: pregnancy scare, smut (f!body worship/oral, 69'ing, risky sex/breeding kink, etc), nsfw

word count 13k

author's note so much has happened since last chap - i soft-launched virgin's sister fic, exposed the truth between satosugu, and spent long hard hours on the battlefield defending my boys. i can't waittttt to hear your thoughts on this one xoxo i love my little characters sm they finally feel real in this one

(jo by @/_3aem 🩻 gradient divs by @/cafekitsune, chains by me)

Every day this week has started the same. You can't breathe. You can't touch him.

Worst of all, you can feel the cycle you're running yourself in — obsessing over something you know you won't be able to grasp.

It all started as a stupid joke — a dare. Now, Satoru stands in front of you, shirtless under his zipped-open hoodie and matching sweat shorts. A few days ago, in the very studio you're in now, he jokingly blamed you for running off his potential protege, then challenged you to take his place. All you needed to do was land a hit behind his physical, padded barrier. You needed to touch skin, but all you've gotten these past few days is straight foam.

He started with the basics — honing in on your fighting stance with a gentle, strong grip on your hips. You tried the first day and failed miserably. So, last night, he spoke so much praise to you that you almost threw it all up, but this morning, there's no mercy. He stands in front of you, sweat dripping from his flat, greying locks as he blocks every one of your closed-fisted hits with his targeted focus mitts. You can't move fast enough, and he couldn't be any slower; still, he blocks every single one like he's moving through a waltz with his eyes closed.

Between missed assaults, he breathes out with a wild, blue gaze, "Distract me, baby. Just like I taught you."

You run him in circles, sneakers squeaking against the hard floors as he walks you backward towards the mirrors, blocking a left hook, then a weak recoil towards the side of his jaw. Taking his instruction to the head, you rise on your toes, bearing your teeth as you fake a hit from his right, then raise your left fist, aiming it behind his gloves and towards his bright, pretty nose.

Just before you can land your first solid hit, he calls your bluff and ducks — dropping one of his hands to slap your arm down.

"That's a good fucking girl… Good, good!"

"I was so…" You pause, letting your fists speak for themselves. You two are hot in each other's space — soul to soul, breathing so heavily that you can taste his perspiration on your tongue. "So damn close!"

"I'm looking in your eyes — I can see your next move in your eyes." He rushes out between blocks, grunting when a particularly hard jab hits his left glove. "Look in the dead center of my face, between the brows."

"Your uni-brow? That's cute."

"Haha." He breathes, biting down on a smirk when he watches your pretty, familiar eyes zero in on his third eye. "There you go. Now, let those fists talk."

So, you swing on him, and you give it your all. Holding your breath, you focus on his eyes, keep him on his toes just like he taught you, and throw punch after frantic punch. You don't stop until one hits — a jab to his chest, a squat and hook that he dodges with a well-timed turn, then the final, fatal uppercut that catches him off-guard after a previous, sloppy dodge. Your delicate, ringed fist hits him right under the jaw, clamping his mouth shut so fast that he can't steady himself, nor dodge, in time.

You finally landed one.

Except, Satoru pauses, his head dipping— hair falling in front of his eyes as time stops. He lets out a small noise, reaching up to bite his gloves off and drop them at his feet.

You rush for him, smile dropping as you breathlessly whisper, "Satoru—

"It's fine." He slurs, lifting his other hand to his teeth to tear the Velcro on his glove apart. It thuds to the ground in a limp heap, but he keeps his head hung, swaying against your gentle touch on his shoulder. He goes to laugh again, painting over the worry on your face when he finally looks up, teeth blood-red as he smiles at you. "You got me good, little girl."

You swallow down the nickname, knowing how he wants these reactions out of you. Instead, your heart drops as you reach for his chin, pulling him closer so you can investigate his bloody smile. "Did you bite your tongue?"

"Chomped it to Hell and back." He replies, electric blue eyes zeroing on yours as he cooperates with your care, leaning down to level, dropping his jaw so you can peer inside.

"Oh, no. Does it hurt? I'm so sor—

"I asked for it. I wanted you." His voice straightens out from the light tone it just carried — turning authoritative and sure as he glares. Stroking his cheek with your thumb, you shake your head, body heavy under the guilt of drawing blood. "Stop." He pulls you out of it, pushing your shaking fingers away so he can hold you. Your heart is more injured than his poor, bloody tongue, but of course, he'd be the one to take the brunt of the mental load. "Damn near begged for you to punch me."

"I know, it just doesn't feel real."

"Yeah? Come here, it's okay." He whispers, kicking his target gloves away so he can step closer to hold you. "Wanna kiss it all away for me? It'd make the throbbing feel so much better."

"Does it hurt… really bad?" You whisper, closing your hands over the sides of his face as he takes you by the hips, guiding you forward into him. He feels so close, here, pressed hip-to-hip. His breath tastes like a bloody version of yours, and you're so enamored that you're starry-eyed.

He nods pitifully like a boy, silent as he leans down, nudging his nose against yours before kissing over your soft, sweaty lips. You lean into it, arching back against his hold on your waist as he parts his lips, pushing his tongue into your mouth. The overwhelming taste of clean copper floods your senses, but it tastes like… him. It's the only comfort you have as your head goes hazy with it all.

Your hands trail from his face to the back of his neck, where you tangle your fists in his hoodie, holding on for dear life. You let him take control for a moment, kissing you out of your head before the haze takes over.

Then, it hits you like a ton of bricks. In his hold, your head goes heavy, knees limp as exhaustion takes over.

You… almost pass out, falling limp in Satoru's arms, where he catches you before he can even register what's wrong. He notices your weakness, brows furrowing as he lowers you onto the ground, pressing his knees into the floor as he gives in to your dead weight, not fighting it with strength. Satoru doesn't panic, but he does worry. The entire morning flashes before his eyes as he scans your paling face. He saw you eat and drink a healthy amount of water — his only stipulation for joining him at the gym. Satoru doesn't know if you took your vitamins, but knows that it wouldn't truly throw your body like this.

"Geto? Hey, baby, can you hear me?" He whispers, pushing some drying, stringy hair behind his ear. He then lowers that same hand to your face, touching the back of his hand onto your overheated, clammy forehead and cheeks. You don't really notice how weak you feel until your mind starts racing back to reality, ready to bear the embarrassment you know you'd feel whenever you do something off in front of him.

"It's okay, don't open your eyes." He reassures, petting over your skin as you blink for the first time since you fell out. "We're just gonna stay like this for a moment. You know where you are and who you're with?"

"Y-yeah, I'm with you." You whisper, voice cracking around the edges as you try to blink your eyes open again. You feel… fine; you just can't get a hold of your head. It feels like your insides are swimming.

For some reason, he laughs. "Don't like the taste of blood, huh?"

Squeezing your eyes shut tighter, you can feel the embarrassment start to fall over you like a weighted blanket. It's uncomfortable and heavy, but something about your partner makes it a bit… lighter.

"I've just felt… off this week." You croak, finally cracking an eye and trying to gain the strength to sit up. You're not rushing, enjoying the safe reality in his arms. "Like every step I take falls short."

Satoru sits up with you, a hand behind your neck and one over your lap. "And it's not just your period?"

When you open your eyes, you turn to stare at him like he just exposed the truth of the world right between your lips. You're staring at him, and it still doesn't feel real, because you can't remember the last time you had a period. At first, it was normal after your IUD was taken out. Then, you just… forgot about it. It feels like you've been having unprotected sex damn-near every night — your womb is stained in him, and you're just now putting two and two together.

You two could get pregnant.

You don't respond. Satoru isn't stupid. Under his breath, he whispers, "Oh, no."

Rolling around in Satoru's bed, you can't get back to sleep.

You're a champion of midday naps — your favorite spot being in his bed, on his couch, or in his arms. Only, Satoru doesn't nap; he hardly sleeps, and you're worrying him to death. It's been nearly ten minutes of you tossing back and forth next to him, and he can't focus on the work he's squinting at on his phone, lounging with his back propped against the headboard and your head in his lap. He raises his phone as you fuss and whisper in your sleep, whining and fisting the blankets to pull them over your eyes so you can catch some rest.

Now, Satoru is not stupid — nor is he young— but he's never been in this position. He navigates to a new tab on his phone, punching in the search bar with one finger:

Is restlessness a sign of early pregnancy?

Then the results make his stomach turn.

He glances down at you, having to stifle a smile when he sees you small with the covers yanked over your head. Your fist is tight around a gold ring he bought you, and he wonders if you'd open your eyes right now, if you'd be able to see just how terrified he was.

Sure, he knows. Of course, he knows. Sex leads to pregnancy — it's so textbook that he's nauseous with his own stupidity.

For some reason, he can't remember why or how he thought you were still on some kind of birth control. He can't believe you didn't take the initiative and demand a condom, but knows he'd put up a fight if you brought it up. It's an endless, circling battle in his mind. He can't swallow it down, so he drops his phone at his side and presses his hands into his eyes.

Once you finally settle and relax against his strong, familiar frame, he pulls his hands away and peeks down at you, reaching to tug the blankets from your eyes. For that fleeting moment as you get an inkling of rest, he looks at you, like really.

He looks at you, then blinks — your mother's face flashes before his eyes, then he blinks again and sees your father. It's only on the third blink, when he really squints hard, that he sees you. It's written in all of your beauty and flaws, trailing from your lips to your eyes, then all the way to your toes. Satoru is in love with you; he knows it. Every single part of you, he knows, has felt, and he doesn't want to live without, but he just can't deal.

Satoru can't imagine having to stand face-to-face with the one he's known his entire life and tell the truth. The entire plan was to never let this slip into anything more than a fleeting affair — a way to live out his past in the haze of the future, and channel his need into something other than killing himself all day at the gym. Suguru never had to know when it was a quick fuck, but now that the idea of a baby has been pushed to the front of his mind, that conversation is feeling a lot more realistic.

Still, he blinks down at you and almost believes that it might be worth it. For a child of his own and a partner he couldn't get enough of, anything is worth it. He'd have the rest of his life made — he would take care of you. Long after he's gone, his money could be yours. Everything he owned could be yours. He just… had to tell Suguru.

His dreams come crashing down again.

As you sleep, he lets his arm fall down your back, resting over the swell of your ass. The tiny movement makes you shift, burying your face deeper into his lap to ward off the distraction. Satoru knows you're not really asleep — you're probably close to it, but your lips are zipped shut, and your eyes are fluttering. He knows you well enough by now to read your signs.

"You know we have to talk, right?"

"About what?" You whisper, pulling your face clear so he can understand your carefully chosen words. There are a million things you two have to talk about. Megumi, your Dad, your Mother, his tongue, or your weakness. The mental list goes on and on in your head, but you'll let him land on one. You've become almost masterful at following his lead.

"You're on birth control, right? I thought I heard something about it in passing."

Your heartbeat picks up, and Satoru can feel it. "You might've." You rush out, shifting to your side so you can face the wall. You have to scoot off his body, piquing his attention. "I had an IUD in my uterus for a few years."

"But you don't have it… anymore?"

"Bingo."

"Could you turn and look at me?" He sighs, peeling the blankets from your shoulders to stir you back to your senses. "I'm not your father; I won't scold you."

"But you're mad that I didn't tell you. I know it was stupid; I just got so caught up—

"That first night, you should have told me; I just assumed." Satoru squeezes his eyes shut again, lifting his hand to his eyes before letting it fall. "This is my fucking fault. It's mine. I'm mad at myself, but I need you to turn around and face reality for a second."

"Can you just… be nice about it?" You don't open your eyes until you're turned back towards him, head on the pillow and not his lap anymore. "Tell me I'm stupid, but don't tell me I'm a child."

"Two things can be true at once, you know?"

"Satoru… don't—

"I'm joking, I know you're not a child." He reaches forward, resting his cheek on his bare shoulder as he pinches your nose in passing. His fingers are slow, trailing down the peak of your face and over your lips before landing on your chin. Then, his tone dips. "Look at me."

So, you open your eyes and stare straight up at him, needing to manually slow the racing of your heart and the butterflies in your tummy when you see him staring right back down at you, unblinking.

"If you're pregnant, we're going to have to tell your father, and it won't be pretty."

"What? Do you really think I'm pregnant?"

"You nearly threw up this morning, then fell out during training. I've finished inside of you almost every single night for a month — Yeah, I think you're pregnant."

"You're disgusting."

"I'm realistic." He drives his point deeper, finally blinking before leaning closer to your face to speak straight into your soul. "So, we're taking a pregnancy test. Today. Right now."

"You're gonna have to bribe me with something sweet." You deadpan, staring right back at him because you don't think you're pregnant. Surely, if you were, it'd sit like a rock on your heart. You feel… nothing. "Not sex. I just need to look at you, and I get what I want."

Satoru hums, pursing his lips as he ponders for a second. Then, when the bribe comes, it hits him like lightning. "I'll let you go back to that terribly uncivilized tourist club that I had to drag you out of last week."

That makes you perk up.

You crack a smile, only for him to rush you with, "But only if you're not pregnant."

"If I am?"

"Then… I will be the one to tell your father. Not both of us. Just him and me, completely alone."

"He's going to chop you up into pieces and find a way to feed it to me; he's crazy like that."

"Yeah? Well, we should've thought about that before getting into this situation." He responds with an easy laugh, rolling over to his knees, where he slaps you once on your bare thigh to get you up. "I don't mind. It'll be good nourishment for you and the baby. Good deal? Let's get up, come on."

"But, baby boy… I'm so comfortable in bed right now. You can't just go and bring the test back?" You whine, pointing your foot as he kneels in front of you, trailing your polished toes down his bare chest. It's true — you're hardly covered in a loose silk set, no underwear, no inhibitions. Your eyes are tired and heavy-lidded, and Satoru looks like a hyper spring chicken.

Satoru makes a show of letting out a big, deep sigh, watching as your foot traces his skin. He wants to give in—let you marinate like a princess so he can come home and have you for dinner —but he needs to slow down. Thinking with his dick is what got him in this situation, so he manually takes control of his mind, reaching to grab you by the ankle.

"Put some clothes on. We're going together."

Finally, you and Satoru can walk through the city like you're together.

He hasn't said anything about a title, but actions speak louder than words, and his arm is heavily slung over your shoulders as the sun sets over Tokyo. You're wearing wired headphones, but you can still hear him talking low and slow in your ear, whispering about the new training he wants to put you through during the last half of your city stay. He promised you — guaranteed, at the end of your time together, you'd be able to take him, and any grown man, to the ground.

That promise felt like forever. You didn't need anything more.

"You're getting so flexible with your stretches, too." He continues over your soft rock song in your headphones, stumbling into you. "Once you feel better, I'll show you some great hamstring exercises. We're gonna really work on that before we do some legwork."

"We can do all that even if I'm pregnant?"

"At the beginning, yes. I'm sure." He nods, peeking down at you as you stare at your feet. He notices how quiet you've gotten since you left his place, but doesn't know if he wants to touch on it. Satoru thinks it's obvious. "We'd have to talk to a doctor."

"Of course." You whisper, shoving your phone in your sidebag so you can reach up and hold the hand slung over your shoulder. Satoru takes that little hint of affection, then leans over to kiss the side of your head. It's inconspicuous — him in his hoodie and your eyes glued to the ground, but it's there. You lean your head into your joined hands, trying to be sweet for him in a moment where you're sure he'd need it just as much as you. "I trust you."

"I love you, too."

You two end up buying the test — he picks the one he wants you to take, carries it to the front, and pays for it. He and the auntie behind the counter don't exchange more than the usual transactional pleasantries, but it feels like you're watching a circus act. He smiles that award-winning smile, and any lady blushes; then he turns around to you, and everything feels real.

The walk back home was slow and simple. He walked ahead of you this time, the test sticking out of his back pocket as he feverishly messaged a client back. Night has settled over by the time you're walking back into his apartment, and before he can turn on the lights, you're rushing him with the familiar, "Our deal still stands, right?"

"What, that club you wanna go back to?" He's mumbling, brows furrowed as he stares down at his phone. His big hand hovers over the room lights before flicking them on. "Sorry, baby, I have to call my lawyer with a question… But yes, here," He looks up at you, reaching behind his back to toss you the test. Before you can react after catching it so quickly, he holds up a palm, "Don't take it yet. Just… sit down and read the instructions." He goes to walk away, heart deadset on this question he has to ask, but stops himself again. "I'll… quiz you on it, too. Don't let me down."

"I got it." You insist, fingers already digging at the cardboard enclosure. A single test sits inside—99% accurate, as the label says —as you rip into it. Satoru walks out onto the balcony, sweet light business voice already in the air as he calls up the man he always seems to be on the phone with.

He knows about you now — Satoru's lawyer, Higuruma. He brought up an NDA to protect the business from pleasure and almost got fired.

Still, you take that past and smile at it, venturing deeper into the room to sit yourself down and read over the test. You don't think Satoru's threat about quizzing you held any ground, but you still won't risk it. For your own peace of mind, you sit with the test and pull out the tiny, folded paper of instructions inside. Through the window, you can hear his hushed voice against the heat of the city. He's going on and on about a specific client that he's been seeing for years — something about copyright. It's all just noise, but the sound of his voice, so relaxed and steady, calms you like a lullaby. Suddenly, this test in your hand feels a lot lighter than it once did — maybe this thing could actually work.

Ten minutes pass before he comes back with one ear pod in, trailing his hand over the kitchen island as he wraps up the call. "Sure… I'll call you later. And I'll let you know about drinks tomorrow. I may end up making plans… Okay… Bye, now."

"What plans do you have?" You speak up almost as if it's your right, still scanning over the directions and lounging back in his comfortable furniture.

"Hauling your sorry ass to and from Shinjuku." His voice picks up so you can hear it loud and clear. You smile as you sink further down in the cushion, feeling his footsteps close in behind you. "Right?"

"That's the deal, right?" You nod, reaching deeper into the box at your side to pull out the slim, blue stick. "If not, you get to be chopped into pieces?"

"You think too highly of your father; he'd just leave me somewhere whole, to rot." He stops directly behind you, closing his hands over your shoulders. He massages them for a second, catching your attention before leaning down to your ear. "How are you feeling? Okay?"

"Scared." You give, but it's only a half-truth. Swaying with the weight of him on your shoulders, you really want to say that you want this baby if it means you two could be together, but you know that's impossible. So, you reach for that secondary feeling. "But… I don't think I'm pregnant. I just think I was exhausted."

"Then we take the test and forget this even happened, hm?" His voice gets low like it always does when he's being sweet — letting it fall against your ear in a gentle purr that makes you shiver. "And I'm squeezing into a condom every time we're together from now on. I mean it."

"Learned your lesson, huh?"

"Mm, yeah. You got me once — won't get me twice." He stands up, and it's sudden. As he steps back, you peek over your shoulder. "I'm far too old to be anyone's daddy but yours."

You stand up slowly, leaving the instructions littered in the spot you once sat. Of course, Satoru has no mind to really quiz you on it, so he ignores it as you step next to him. "Yeah? Your jokes actually aren't helpful right now, my love."

"Oh." He frowns, dramatic as always, and you shoot him a smile before leading the way to the bathroom you use way more than your own. "What this situation really needs is a good joke," He insists, trailing behind you slowly with his huge hands stuffed into his pockets. You nod like you're listening, heart set on this test, saying no before you could entertain him further. "Let's talk about how stupid we both are, actually."

You ignore that, letting the bedroom swing behind you after you step inside. The bathroom door is wide open — light on, just beckoning you to your fate. Every step makes this feel a bit more real, and Satoru's cheeriness is more distracting than helpful. Most of the time, this is how it is. Satoru talks to hear himself talk — to have the last word even when it isn't necessary. It's at times like these that you can feel the difference in age. It's a blessing because he's the wisest, sweetest person you know, but a curse in almost every other way.

You beat him there, taking a second to plant both open palms to the icy-cold expanse of the modern bathroom countertop. "Satoru—

"What, are you ignoring me, now?" He sticks his head into the bathroom, looking into your eyes through the reflection of the mirror. You don't even look up when you hear him, just shaking your head and letting a silent smile ghost over your lips.

"Can you go grab me a cup? It has to submerge for a few seconds."

"A cup like… my drinking cups?"

You finally look up, locking eye contact with him as he lingers in the doorway. "Unless you want me to pull one out of my ass..?"

His head drops, arms crossing around his chest as he chuckles softly. "God — you're just like your fucking mother."

"Shut up!"

"Sorry, sorry," Satoru mutters under his breath, sneaking in another soft laugh as he ventures back into the kitchen.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror, you chew on a scowl as you think. You think about everything — how and if Megumi would react if you really were pregnant. Of course, you hope that he'd be distraught, but deep down you know he'd just be disgusted. You truly wonder how your Dad would handle things, or what your sisters would even think. They all know Satoru, but not like you do. Nobody knows Satoru like you do, now.

You drop a hand down to your bladder, pressing it through your thin shirt as you really think about it. Realizing that you truly don't have to pee, you reach for the faucet and crank it on, watching the water rush and gather in the shallow basin before leaning your head down and drinking straight from the flowing water. You get a few swallows, then deem that enough as you sit up, reaching a cupped hand to gather the cool liquid to splash over your face.

The day was slowly coming to a crawl, and your body could feel it. You're sore from training and exhausted after a night of… very little sleep, so you have to jolt yourself back to the surface. Your head is nearly underwater when Satoru comes back, a crystal-clear drinking glass dwarfed in his grip. He pauses when he sees your head in the sink, then smiles a bit, walking up behind you slowly. He puts the cup next to you, the soft sound of it hitting making you look up in a slight fright.

Satoru steps behind you, leaning over to kiss your clothed shoulder. "Can I stay in here while you pee?"

You chuff out a small laugh, turning to gaze down on his heavy cheek resting on your shoulder. Your nose nudges his — he presses a fleeting, tiny kiss there. "Only if you can be normal about it."

"Can I hold the cup for you?"

"Satoru—

You squeeze your eyes shut, heart dropping as he finally starts annoying you. He knows that tone nearly as well as he knows you, and laughs as he sits up, smoothing his hands over your sides, trailing down to your hips.

"I'm sorry — I'll stop," He laughs, peering at your dripping face through the mirror. You're looking down at the collected pools of water on the counter, and he's fixated on you. "I was gonna say something about drinking it, is th—

"That's why I'm telling you to be normal! Oh, my God — let's just hope this baby doesn't exist for its sanity. Can't imagine someone having you as a father." You mutter on and on, peeling yourself from his grip and taking the cup as you head for the toilet.

"And imagine it having Suguru as a grandfather. Just wrong."

That one makes you laugh, but it's not in bad faith. You know what he's trying to do, and you'd be terrified if he wasn't here putting all this effort in. "Now, imagine having him as a father."

"You poor, sweet baby." Satoru settles at the edge of the bathroom, leaning against the western-style shower door as you get situated — knees parted, and a glass cup in your hand. He watches, and makes no secret of it, but it doesn't unnerve you; it empowers you. "I know that man had you kneeling before you could even walk."

You laugh again, letting the smile linger on your face as you stare at him. Backed by the sound of your output hitting the cup in a weak stream, you shake your head. "He's such an asshole."

"That's your Dad."

"Your friend, by the way."

Satoru laughs, tossing his head back before stepping forward as you finish. "You're right — I chose him, you didn't." He approaches you, so close that you can smell the ghost of his addictively pheromone-altered soap. "Give it to me—

"Don't be weird—

"Give me the cup." He holds his hand out like he's accepting money — not a warm, quasi-full cup of urine that would spell out the rest of his life if it was contaminated. "Clean yourself up," He demands, grabbing the small cup and taking it to the sink, where he sets it by the sink, right next to the Clearblue test you disregarded earlier. "I'll dip it so you can get situated."

"So thoughtful." You mumble, cleaning yourself up well enough to stand and pull your pants back up. Satoru lets the test sit heavily in his hand, staring at it for a moment before pulling off the blue plastic protective cap and lowering it into your cup. He sighs as the toilet flushes, then moves out of the way so you can wash your hands clean of your shitty aim.

You two stand silent as the test dips, then let out a breath when he pulls it back up. He moves the test to his other hand, using the one closer to you to fall over your lower back. It's a small sign of togetherness without words. He's here for you no matter what the test ends up saying, and it makes you breathe just a touch easier.

"How long is it supposed to sit? Pop quiz." Satoru puts the cap back on the test, balancing it over the cup and turning to wrap both his long arms around your waist. You smile, reaching up to cross your hands around the back of his neck.

"A few seconds; it depends." You whisper, staring down as the tiny spiral in the center of the test turns on and on. "We're just gonna sit here with bated breath 'till it loads?"

"No," He responds, turning his head to stare you straight on as he nods softly. "I'm going to stand here and tell you that whatever this test says won't and never will dictate how much I love you. It's not your fault, right?"

"It takes two people to make a baby."

"Not in our situation, no." He shakes his head, so suddenly sure of himself and his sins without really coming to terms with them. "I'm the one with the experience. Can I really expect a virgin to stop and demand that I wear a condom? Or to even casually bring up birth control when I'm the one who crawled on top of you?"

"I want you to crawl on top of me until the day I die."

He laughs again, rolling his pretty blue eyes as you gaze into them longingly. Purposefully, you pout, leaning forward to press your forehead into his big, safe chest. "I love you, little one, you know it." You can feel his nod — steady and strong, but you can't see it from your self-induced blindness. "Love you so goddamn much that it's ruining my life."

"You're taking me down with you." You comment as you feel him pull away. Standing up straight, you keep your cheek pressed to his chest as he reaches to pick up the test. You don't look at the screen, trusting him fully as he reads the results.

He doesn't even have to speak; he just has to smile.

"You can breathe now. There's no baby."

You sit in front of your mirror, pumping your mascara wand back into the tube before continuing to paint your face. You and Satoru's deal stuck, and you almost didn't take him up on it in favor of another night with him, but he almost insisted. You two haven't had a night apart in almost a full week, and he loves you more than anything, but finds himself putting his own needs to the side to accommodate you. Satoru can feel it when he flexes in the mirror, noticing the gathered skin around his hips that were once steel.

"Don't be weirded out," You reply, looking over your shoulder at your childhood best friend as she types away on her phone, lying back on your unmade bed. "But we can just have Satoru take us."

"Who?"

You squeeze your eyes shut, a small, stupid smirk on your face as you think about how to actually tell her. "Gojo… You know, Dad's friend."

Maki laughs, but it's not a real laugh. It's a sarcastic one, hidden behind a soft, unsuspecting snort. "You're calling him by his first name all of a sudden?" Then she stops, her words finally sinking in. Maki sits up like she just came to the most damning conclusion. "Your Dad is going to literally kill you. He's crazy."

"It's not like that."

"Yes, it is." She deadpans, glaring at you with slivered eyes through the mirror as you scoot closer to comb mascara through your lashes. "It's exactly like that, because I know you."

"Whatever."

Maki sighs, falling back on the bed and continuing her scrolling while she waits for you to tiptoe through your budge-proof makeup routine. "And you haven't been hanging out with me. So, unless there's another mysterious friend of yours in Tokyo, I can imagine he's the one you've been replacing me with."

"I haven't been replacing you; it's just hard to juggle how strict he is." You mumble, eyes downcast in your makeup bag as you rifle through it for your lip products. "Had to fight tooth and nail just for tonight. Made a deal with the devil."

"Is he nice to you?"

"He's more than nice." You reply with a vague smirk over your lips, manually having to swallow it down when you glance back at her figure. "I mean — he's sexy, older, rich…"

"Could literally be your father…"

"Blah, blah. He loves me."

"He told you that?" The rise in her tone makes you peek back up, shaking your head as she looks over her phone screen and dead into the back of your head. You can feel the judgment. "You haven't even known him an entire month."

"I've known him my entire life—

"That makes it worse." She replies, then goes back to her phone, ringer on as she types incessantly. "And, no, you haven't. I mean — none of them talk about him anymore."

"He and Dad talk on the phone every night like kids." You annunciate the end of your thought against the soft clatter of your makeup tube dropping in your bag. "Literally since forever."

She snorts, "Naoya and Toji hate him."

"Good. He hates them, too."

Maki sits up again, stretching her arms above her head as you stand, thoroughly satisfied with your reflection in the mirror. You tried out some new products — did your eyeliner a bit longer, just to see what Satoru would say. There's glitter on your nose and cheeks, and as you turn around, Maki notices. "Cute. You ready? Yuta just got off the train; he's almost here."

"Okay, I'm gonna call Satoru."

"Nice. You have fun with that, because I'm definitely not getting in that car."

"The train would probably get you there faster—

"And I'm not carrying that shit around with me. I obviously can't tell anyone you're seeing him, right? Yuta can't keep a secret."

You laugh as you lean down, zipping your calf boots up with a steady hand on the entryway wall. Maki steps behind you, tucking her freshly-cut nape-length hair against her slicked scalp. You two go on as she slips into her sneakers.

"Tell whoever the Hell you want." You mutter as you grab your shoulder bag, slinging it on as you glance over at her. "Save me the trouble, seriously." She follows you out of the apartment with a careless shrug, trailing behind you as you pull out your phone and reach for Satoru's number. You text him first, knowing that he's waiting for you to reach out around this time.

"Wasn't Megumi just down here, too? Mai told me he got on a train."

"Who?"

"You're so full of shit." She draws it out over a laugh, skipping down the steps to the exit right behind you. "He's gonna be so pissed if he finds out."

"Whatever, he already thinks I'm a whore for reasons unrelated. And… maybe I am. Actually, yeah, I am." You go on and on, spilling your heart out because it's the first time you've seen her in a few days. You can't talk to Satoru like this, and you surely can't talk to your Dad about it. "I drop them for any guy who's actually nice to me; maybe he should take notes."

"I think he's good, girl."

"He actually just makes me so mad, I'm sorry." You mutter, crossing your arms as you clear the final row of steps. You're waiting for Satoru to text you back, wishing he'd just show up here now and make you forget that Megumi ever really existed. "He acts like my Dad — just self-righteous as shit. They'd start a fucking religion on how holy they are because they don't drink or fuck."

"You know way too much about your Dad."

"No! I actually don't know shit. I've made a lot of educated guesses about him in my days. It's like… I love them, but nobody wants to live anymore. When I do it, it's the end of the world, but I'm having great sex, learning so much, and doing things my Dad or Megumi haven't even fathomed. Who's living now, huh?"

"Oh…" Maki laughs as you two leave the building, shutting up and letting you talk just to get it out. "Okay, exactly. So happy for you." She couldn't be any more far removed, but of course she wants to listen to you even if you sound like a rambling idiot. "Gonna run off and get married while you're at it? You have that manic look in your face."

"You know what? Probably, yeah."

That's when you get the first real laugh out of your friend all night, and it had to be as soon as her boyfriend rounds the corner, visibly perking up at the distant shadows of you two. Still, you continue, laughing with her, "I swear, I haven't been drinking but, fuck…"

"You… do not have to go out with us. Go home to your man, if that's what you really wanna do."

"What?! I'd rather go out with you." You two wrap up your conversation just as Yuta gets close enough to hear, knowing you'd play it by ear and see where the conversation leads. If Yuta happens to find out, you're not too worried. It's not in his nature to hold anything over anyone; neither is it to tell anyone else.

"Hey. You guys ready to go?"

You watch with a soft smile as they hug in greeting, rolling over the balls of your feet because you just can't sit still. Maki answers for you, speaking the words between his lips like an indirect kiss. "Gojo is picking her up."

"Oh? I haven't seen him in a while." He's always so polite — dark hair jelled and combed over his ears, in soft silver jewelry and dwarfed by trendy, baggy clothes.

"He's literally around the corner." You take a step towards them as they settle in a soft embrace — his hand around the small of her back, hers over his strong back. It's always been in your nature to notice their subtleties. You wonder if you and Satoru translate as naturally as they do. "He's probably already here."

In comparison to Maki's skin-tight pleather, it's like they're perfectly bred opposites. Soft and hard, dark and light — it's mesmerizing.

If only they could see you and your man the way you do. If only you didn't have to hide.

They look at each other like they see the world in the other's eyes, then look back to you simultaneously like they share the same mind. "Shinjuku City, right?" Yuta perks up, peeking back at Maki. "About… fifteen minutes away on the train?"

She shrugs. "I'm not from here."

As they talk, the draw of headlights — a brighter pair than the ones that have been lazing by- catches your attention. It rolls around the corner like it's entitled to the road, and entitled to whatever direction you're in. You step back, smiling around the edges as Satoru pulls up right next to you, rolling his window down as he idles for a few moments. Seeing your friends, he turns into Dad-mode, smiling and pulling his shaded glasses down as he calls for you.

"Hi, Little Geto..! And Geto's friends!"

You scoff, jogging over to the curb so you can squeeze in that confined space with him as fast as humanly possible.

Satoru looks almost edible tonight — hair still wet and dark from a recent shower, and skin glossy from the meticulous care he puts into it. As you get closer, his soft, relaxed fit t-shirt hangs off a shoulder, giving air to his pale collarbone and chiseled shoulder. Your heart picks up a few paces, and it feels like you're bound to explode if you don't insert yourself inside of him as soon as humanly possible.

You open the door and slide in, biting down on a smile as you interrupt his space. You get so close that your noses touch, but you don't kiss. Not yet. Suddenly, you clear your throat, looking back out to your friends approaching the window. "Just wait at the front entrance for me; there's definitely going to be a line."

"Hi, Gojo." She regards him, leaning down just enough to catch your gaze in the car. "Anyways, we'll see you."

"You two be safe, now. I can't chaperone today, but I would if I could."

"Uh…" She stalls, looking between you and Satoru before standing up straight. "We're good, but thanks."

"God forbid a guy tells a joke."

"Your jokes are just bad, though." You whisper, sitting back in your seat as he shifts the car into drive. You wave to your friends as he raises the window, idling with his hand on the shift as he leans over and finally kisses you. You smile, leaning closer to him over the console as his lips meet yours twice in a soft, intimate touch. You know his windows aren't tinted, but you don't really care. Neither do Yuta and Maki.

"I missed your annoying back talk all evening."

"I missed your stupid jokes, too." You smile, reaching up to hold his cheek and kiss him one last time before he settles back and starts driving. "I wanna go home with you, really. I don't know why I chose to do this today when I had the whole trip to take you up on this deal."

"Then, we can just go home." He chuckles, driving with one hand on the wheel — the other propped on the door. He leans his head onto a propped fist, electric eyes flicking from his windows, then to your fiddling fingers in your lap. "But that'd be awful to your friends."

"No, I know. I love you, but you're not worth losing my best friend over."

He laughs again, nodding with his eyes dead-set on the road. He knows this was a deal, but he's worried sick. Hopefully the presence of him and his blessing cools your loins a bit, because he'd rather do anything else with his night than struggle with your drunk problems and dump you in bed.

"Can you promise me you won't take it too far?" He lets his tone settle in that dull, deep, authoritative valley that makes you feel two sizes smaller. Still, you nod for him, knowing he doesn't really ask for much unless he feels he has the authority. He feels like he has some, now. "A few drinks, yes, is fine. Just come home to me somewhat sensible, okay?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good girl."

In your drunken blue haze, Satoru Gojo looks a lot like God himself.

He's smiling with the light of a million suns — arms open for you to trip and stumble into. Your friends are somewhere behind you, arms in the air as they wave you off, voices lost over the traffic of the door. The night is still young, only a couple hours past midnight, but Satoru wanted you home. You met his strict curfew in his arms, drunk, but alive and real enough for him to feel close.

"Did you have a good time?" He purrs over the music spilling out of the club, a strong hand over the small of your back as he guides you back to his car. The lights are so bright that they're almost painful, and you're so light that you could be floating right now. Best of all, you're in his arms and this moment feels like heaven.

"So much fun." You slur, looking up to nuzzle your sweaty nose into his neck. You suck up all the gathered scent there like it's yours, heart throbbing in your chest as he drags you down the sidewalk. He tosses his head over his shoulder again, waving towards your friends, reminding them that you're safe as they linger outside for a smoke.

"Missed you, daddy."

Satoru doesn't gasp; he stares down at you like you just uttered a curse word. "Who? Oh, yeah, you're drunk."

You giggle, yelping when you trip over your toes in your heeled boots. He catches you before you can even fall with a light laugh, and once you're focused on your footing again, you smile up at him. "Want you to… take me home and t-take off all my clothes."

Satoru laughs louder this time, free hand in his pocket as he fishes for his keys. He switches you to his other side, stepping off the curb where you're just a bit taller than him, now. He raises his brows at you as the door pulls open, slow and steady. "That's the plan, baby girl."

"Good." You speak into his mouth, breath hot as you kiss his familiar skin. "I love you."

He kisses you back, but it's slight — blurred around the edges so he can rush and get out of here. "Wanna get in the car so I can hurry and take you home?" You whine as he lowers you into your seat, eyes shut as your hazy mind swims and takes that as the rejection you're so hard on. Satoru hasn't seen you drunk very often, but knows that you want to do one of two things when you are: sleep, or sex. Both, on a good day, and one, inevitably. He thinks about that to himself as he shuts the car door behind you, making sure you're secure before walking to his side.

Through the rolled-up windows, he can hear your pleading voice as you whine, "You didn't say you l-loved me back. You know I kick ass for that."

"I am so sorry, my sweet, angel princess." He goes on and on, dragging in your endearments because he knows he can get more out of you in this state. "You know I love you, little lady."

As he settles in, his scent overtaking you again, you shift in your seat, fingers itching to reach for him. "Yeah, keep going. I love when you just talk."

Satoru is loving this — genuinely eating out of your drunken palm as he says the things he knows you'd hate if you were sober. He digs his heels in, pulling his tinted glasses down in the middle of the blackest night, and the heaviest interior. "Been thinking of this position I want to get you into..."

"Mm?" You slouch back in the seat, pouting up at him as he leans in, voice dipping deep and unapologetic.

"Gonna pin those knees to your ears and really stretch out those hamstrings."

You gasp as his words fall over you, both hands slapping over your face, hiding your shock from his all-seeing gaze. "That's so—

"Don't hide from me, silly." He insists, closing his hand around yours to pull them from your face. His natural strength is nothing compared to your limp, drunk strength, so you're falling apart like your willpower hardly existed for him. "Got a fresh pack of condoms tucked into our bed with your name written all over it, too."

"God, you're such a freak." You're shaking under his intense eye contact. He's so close that you can feel his breath on your upper lip, and he doesn't blink as he pushes all of these obscenities into you. "Hurry and take me home… been thinkin' about this all night."

"You think I'm gonna leave you in my passenger seat without a strap on?" He grunts, leaning his bodyweight over you as he reaches for your seatbelt. "Look at you, you're like jelly."

"Just hurry." You insist, knees rocking together as he grunts and presses against you. The space is too small, and you're too taken on this tequila and the way his voice feels in your ear. You reach up, crossing your arm across his torso and over his back, hugging him close. "Mm, I just love you."

"You know I'm never going to let you live this down, right?" He chuckles, and you can feel the vibrations as you hug him to your body, fully clothed. It's now, in your drunken state, that you realize how you've never really embraced Satoru like such, so you unpin your hand from under your thighs and tuck it over his waist.

"You're so warm… and safe… smell good, too…"

"You hate it when I call you sweetheart, but just hear yourself…"

"I can't help it. I'm in love." You purr into his body, holding him a bit tighter when you feel him pull away. Satoru smiles, biting his bottom lip as he wrestles with your hold. "No—

Two fists locked in the fabric of his shirt, Satoru realizes he's in a bind and leans into your ear. "The faster I can get us home, the faster you can say that to me when I'm inside of you." He whispers, then pulls back far enough to look into your eyes. "You know, a drunk man tells no tales."

"I'm not really into superstitious things. I'm into you."

Finally settling into his seat, sitting up arrow straight, he looks over at you and laughs. "Tell me, how do I keep getting this silly, honest version of Geto all the time?"

"Just keep being nice to me." You mutter, head lulled in his direction as he finally starts driving — your body feeling every rock in the pavement in this loose state. "Keep touching me… keep worrying about me."

Satoru nods that all down, eyes flicking from the slow-moving city traffic, then back to you. He looks to your eyes, staring him right down, then to your neck and chest, back to your eyes, the road, then your legs. A tiny smile forms over your lips, and he smiles back when he turns to you. The exchange goes on and on, looping like a broken tape until he hits a light, letting the vehicle jerk him back to his senses.

He sits up suddenly, spiking your blood as he leans over and reaches around in the car towards your feet. Next to your crossed ankles, he plays with something… plastic and excessive, disturbing the air you two have meticulously created in this space. You sit up when he does, brows furrowed as he presses the convenience store bag into your shivering lap.

"Snacks?"

"For your liver, yes." He straightens up as soon as the light turns, inching his foot on the gas as you messily stifle through the condensation-sticky plastic. You pull out two bottles, letting him drive with one hand as you sit up and inspect it. "It's a vitamin drink you're supposed to consume after drinking. Here you are… after drinking."

You bite down on a smile, feeling those butterflies touch down like airplanes whenever he shows that he cares. He waited for the perfect moment to pull this out, too. It makes you wonder just how magical Satoru truly is.

You tuck the tiny bottle on your lap, digging your hand back in to pull out the unopened, cool bottle of water. He doesn't have to really instruct you on what to do — context clues are still bitchy even when you're drunk and hazy. Still, it feels like you have something to prove, so you crack into the vitamin drink, scrunching your face up as you take the tiny potion in four or five good swallows.

Sure, it makes you want to vomit, but you can feel Satoru's smile before you see it, and it empowers you.

Finishing off the first drink, you shove it back into the bag and reach for the water, hand shaking as you slowly turn the cap off. While he's at another light, Satoru holds his hand out for it, and you pass it over without needing to be told — watching as he peels the cap off like it's paper, bringing it to his lips to take a few sips, then handing it back to you.

"So you wouldn't spill it." He mentions in passing, peeking over at you as you giggle and lean your head back, chugging down the water before he can turn into his apartment's parking deck. You settle in as he parks, putting all the discards together in the bag he'd gifted you.

"I…" He starts slow, eyes squinting down at his console screen as it shows him where to back in. It's like you're privy to every single one of his tiny moves — the way he chews on his cheek when he's focused, or the way the veins and muscles flex when he drives with one hand. He has perfect eyesight, but still squints every time he's looking at something close. He squints when he looks in your eyes, and bites his tongue when he thinks of you. "…I have food in the kitchen. Don't worry, I didn't cook; it's just pizza."

"Pizza… water… vitamins. What else?" You count on your fingers, feeling your drunkness fade with every passing, deep sound of his grounding voice. You're more focused on the butterflies kicking in your insides, and the way his skin glows under the dusky interior light.

"Two slices of pizza before you're allowed in my bed." He challenges, knowing he can only get so far. He hasn't seen you eat today — he hasn't seen you at all. It's why he's so meticulous about his bases being covered.

"One and a half. We share the half."

"Deal, but only if you get the bigger slice." Satoru shifts the car into park and immediately shuts it off, heart already racing and eager to get you out of here and into his arms again. "How are you feeling? Sick?"

"No, just hungry."

He nods like a child who just received good news, eyes wide as he pockets his keys and opens the car door. Of course, he makes it a thing to cross the hood of the car, winking at you in passing before opening your door. "Did you train at all today? No, right? Supposed to be a rest day."

"I just went for a b-bike ride this morning." You reply, squinting as the heavy-duty lighting in the parking deck renders you small and shell-shocked. He stands over you with a smirk, watching you do your face up before holding a hand out for you. "Not a lot; it was before the sun was even out."

"You know what I'm about to say, right?"

"It's not rest if you're breaking a sweat — I know." Your words are all falling together, messy as they topple over into his lap. He helps you onto your feet and keeps you by his side as he locks his car and leads you away. In this new closeness, you feel him differently. "I j- was just worried…" You stop to clear your throat, trying to connect your dragging feet to your running mind, but coming up short every single time. "I was feeling angst… anx—ious, and training is the only way I know how to feel better."

Satoru peeks down at you as you piece together your stumbling train of thought. He leads you through the lobby where everyone knows your name now, not paying attention to anyone but you as you stumble, sway, and side-step. "Call me… next time you have one of those introspective morning bike rides." He settles in as you two step into the elevator.

You rest against the far wall, and he settles on your opposite, hands behind his back as he watches your chest rise and fall against your low-cut shirt. He makes it no secret when his eyes wander — he stares, and it's so powerful that you can feel it even when you can't see it. "Having a man there sounds like my worst nightmare… but I'll make an exception for you."

Satoru smirks at you from across the elevator, and you think you know what this night is going to feel like. It turns out you don't really know anything.

"You still haven't told me about your night." Satoru stands against his counter, bare ankles crossed together as he eats your shared split of dinner. He takes a bite of his plain pizza and nods over at you, cross-legged in the kitchen chair. Your legs are open — light, silk panties on show and forever his to gawk at as he eats his dinner and picks at useless small talk. "I also meant to talk to the Okkotsu kid a little more, but bad timing."

You nod like you're paying attention to him — not like you're giving all of your willpower to keeping your eyes open. "Yeah, bad timing." You yawn around the tail end of your sentence, having more to say, but cut short by his soft laughter.

He smiles, "Coffee?"

You crack a smile, dropping your head into your propped palm as you shake your head. Coffee sounds great, but you fear it won't be enough, so you respond with, "Coke."

His smile falls on impact. "Was that supposed to be funny?"

You giggle, shifting about in your seat as you hang your head and pick up your slice of pizza. "Coffee, yeah. That sounds good."

Satoru turns around with a softer smirk on his face, bypassing the clock that shows the time ticking down through deep morning. He brews espresso for you at half past four, sliding you a small glass of ice water that he dumps the bitter coffee over. "You want some plain water to go with it?"

You shake your head, tucking into the sustenance he's offering you on a diamond platter. The pizza is good, even after being reheated in the air fryer. That was his idea; your drunk ass was more than okay with drunk, cold, gourmet pizza. "Mm, pizza and coffee at four… This couldn't be any more cliché." He swallows around his final bite, sucking the tips of his long fingers clean from the staining red sauce.

"You're so goddamn thorough." You laugh, about halfway through the half-piece you heckled over.

"Why wouldn't I want your stamina to be at its best? Benefits both of us." He points his finger between the two of you, then turns around to wash his hands, looking up at the TV show he put on by the windows for background noise. Tongue-in-cheek, Satoru watches his dirt fall down the drain and smiles a bit, his own body in shambles just thinking of being with you tonight.

"Pizza? Done. Coffee? Chugged."

Cranking off the water, Satoru lingers for a moment, chuckling under his breath as his crotch catches attention. "How's that bladder?" He raises his brows as he turns around with dripping hands, footsteps measured as he stares you down, footsteps dragging as he closes in.

You open your mouth to laugh in disbelief, only for it to get swallowed by his voice.

"I'm fucking with you." He moves in the blink of an eye, closing in and taking you by the chin. Your heart stops beating, your hands tight on the edge of the table and against the chair you're being lifted out of. His tenacity loosens your grip and relaxes your body from the intense focus you're falling into as you wake back up.

His lips start at your neck, using one of his strong hands to bend your head back so he can mark the expanse as his. Satoru leaves hickeys from your chin, all the way down to your collarbone, turns you around, and does the same thing down the length of your neck. Your back pressed to his front, you can feel what's quickly starting to become your favorite feeling — his rock hard need for you, aching and jumping every time he thinks of you.

Satoru thinks you taste like the club — salty and sweaty with the chemical undertone of lotion and perfume. It's his favorite taste once it muddles on his tongue with your pheromones. They're addicting — smoky and deep with the sweetest, sour tinge that he can't explain, but he feels like a dog when he gets to licking, full-tongued down the back of your neck and shoulder.

Scrunching your face up, you part your lips as he leans you into the table. His hand tucks between both of your heated bodies, finding its way between your thighs. Excitement overtakes you, and it hits harder than the arousal does, so you smile as he shoves you deeper.

He's at your mercy already, rutting into you like a dog. "You just— God, you smell great; I gotta eat you out."

Your knees go weak, forearms shivering as he forces you straight into a ninety-degree angle, taking your hips with him as he steps back. "We agreed next time I'd do the oral."

"I've had a lifetime of head, I wanna taste you." The hand tucked safely between your thighs slips away as he lifts your skirt, eyes hyper-focused on the wet spot your cunt is leaving against the delicate fabric that meets his eye. He uses both hands, spreading your soft cheeks apart so he can see how messy you've become for him.

Laid out in his kitchen like you have nothing to lose, you tuck your head over your shoulder so you can watch the expressions on his face change as he works himself up. He swallows hard, Adam's apple bobbing as his fingers run over your clothed core. He's beading sweat on his brow, needing to swallow again before blinking up at you. "Could feel you watching me."

Stale-faced, you raise your brows at him like you have a point to make. "I have an issue with the oral thing."

"Tell me, baby." He swallows… again, lips parted like a man parched, as he takes in a lungful of air, then drops into a squat behind you. "I'm listening!" He reassures, pressing his lips to the back of your thighs, kissing and biting the flesh until he gets to your soaked underwear.

"I just feel the duties of oral in a relationship should be split, fifty to fifty. Not… ninety-ten."

He chokes on a laugh right over your core as he's about to dive in, then whispers, "So dramatic. I'm thinking it's more seventy-thirty for us right now." Still, he lets himself have the final say before he shoves his mouth into you, nose digging into entrance like he's trying to fuck you through the fabric. You try to roll your eyes, but it catches you off-guard, and instead of a moan, you whimper.

Satoru's spit soaks into your ruined underwear, mixing with your juices that create a sinful, salty combo that he sucks back out like you're a straw. He focuses in on that like only someone so full and bloated with servitude that he can't see straight anymore. He doesn't ever get skin-to-skin, just taking his time to inhale your very essence, making sure it stains his mouth and nose so he doesn't smell anything but you for days.

It feels… good, of course, but it doesn't feel like anything that could possibly get you off, so you sigh. "Are you done?"

Deepening his kneel behind you — pressing his knees onto the floor, Satoru chuckles, and you can feel it. "All this talk about numbers — you know this is why they invented sixty-nine, babe?"

Your body gets hot in the only way it does when he's being… like this. Satoru has an unhealthy way of flipping on this unfiltered, lewd way of existing, to the sweetest person ever, and it gives you whiplash. You're still not used to it, and it makes you feel like a born sinner.

"Maybe not for predicaments as shallow as yours, but it exists nonetheless." He kisses the back of your thigh once more before standing up, taking your wet panties with him. He helps you step out of them, then tucks them back in his pocket as he nods you towards the room.

You've never had to work for something more than you're working for it now. Your legs are screaming, eyes struggling to stay open as you hover on top of him, knees folded at his side as he holds you apart and eats you alive. It's so fucking distracting — you've done more moaning on his dick than anything, absentmindedly grinding back on his tongue when he lays it flat against your raw, shivering clit so you can cream all over his face for the third time.

You feel completely removed from self — numb and feeling everything simultaneously. The caffeine killed all the alcohol in your blood, giving your endurance a soft sort of edgy high that keeps you hanging on even after you beg him to stop.

It takes a soft pinch on the inside of your thigh for you to wake up, head hanging as you pant and wince every time he nibbles on you. He wants to talk, but he's suffocated in the best way, so he resorts to guiding you in Morse — two pinches to the ass, don't forget about me.

"S-sorry." You whine, shifting your weight to your dominant arm so you can use the other one to fist at his length, spreading your cooling spit across the shaft before leaning back in.

As soon as you close your lips around the tip, he starts up again and leaves you gagging and pooling spit around him. He groans into your cunt, fingers shaking as he grabs at the softness of your ass, using your body as his personal stress relief.

You're struggling to get into a rhythm, he notices, so he turns his head to the side, sucking in a lungful of air before rasping, "F-fuck — ease up, I'm close. Are you? Come on, we'll cum together."

"No, keep going." You respond in a pitchy whine, hips shaking as you stroke him off in time with his feverish licks and prods. The sheets under you are ruined, and your legs are screaming for a break — all tense and shivering as you try to keep balance over him.

You drop your head again, forgetting about the conquest of getting him off as your own release draws closer. You're coated in sweat — his spit dripping and staining the insides of your thighs as you tap out, squeezing the rock-hard muscle in his left leg.

"Oh, right there — I'm so close, oh my—

"I knew it." He grunts, slapping a hand over your cheek, nose buried and sucking in your air as he fucks you down open on his tongue. "You can't hide that from me, get up."

Your heart drops like he just damned you to Hell — eyes flying open as you sit up. "No! N- keep doing that t-tongue thing."

Satoru laughs, throwing your desire to the wind as he sits up as well, massaging your flesh in his grip so he can maneuver you wherever he needs you to go. "Come on, come here, let me see your sweet face." He purrs behind you, kissing over your naked shoulder, leaving a trail of wetness where he graces that smells a lot like your need for him.

You give in, soul putty for him to play with as you lift your leg, turning around so you two are face to face. You giggle a bit when you see his ruffled reflection — the spit caught in his stubble and the way the bottom half of his face looks ten times redder than the top. You comb a hand through his messy, white hair, letting your nails linger on his scalp as he leans in and kisses you.

It doesn't even cross your mind, let alone Satoru's, to grab the condoms he bought just for tonight. They're littered — forgotten about under the bed where they fell and tumbled when he threw you in the sheets. You're pressed so close that your chest burns with it, but you make no effort to turn away, just so enamored in the closeness and love you two both just excrete like second nature at this point. You should have caught it when he whines between your open lips, "Wanna finish inside of you," But, you don't.

You're a fool in love. And you're a fool overtaken by lust as he helps guide you down his body, hissing when you reach back to stroke his wet cock. You've never been on top like this, at all, but you want to try for him. It's always unnerved you — just how deep he'd be in your womb, but now it empowers you. You nod towards his needy silence, breathing through your open mouth as you lift your hips and run the leaking tip between your dripping, sensitive folds.

Satoru swallows around nothingness, watching you so intently that it feels like acid burning into your skin. His hands naturally gravitate back to your sticky body, running his grip down the front of your thighs as you hesitate and linger, heart racing at the mental image of being impaled so wholly on his length.

"You're okay, sweet love." He murmurs, lips cherry red and bitten raw. You smile around the new nickname, rolling your lips under your teeth as you gain the courage to start sinking down. Just the tip at first, and he understands why — it's new, and everything new is uncomfortable. It feels like he's playing around in your womb only when he's buried a couple of centimeters in.

About halfway through, it feels like he's about to impale you, and the new feeling makes you scrunch your face up and stop. "Fuck, I can't do it—

"Yes." He cuts you off before your doubt can truly sink in. "It's just your nerves; you can do anything."

"It's so deep." You toss your head back, arms shivering as they fight to keep you upright. You shake your head even though he's utterly silent, letting your head drop back down and hang limp between your shoulders. Satoru sits up with you, trailing his hands over your sides to reel you back down to Earth.

He starts so slow, using his pent-up strength to gently ease his hips up, burying his length deeper inside of you. "Look at me." He demands, grabbing your chin and forcing eye contact, nose-to-nose. You peel open your eyes begrudgingly, chest rising and falling rapidly as you try and try. "You can do anything… See?" His thumb prods at your lips, easing its way between your lips. You part them for him, suckling on the end of his thumb as you absentmindedly sink all the way down.

"F-fuck, it's al—all the way in?"

"All the way inside your womb… So warm…" He whispers, close enough to close his teeth around your jawline, creating little indentations in your skin before he pulls back, kissing his handiwork over and over again.

Satoru finally sits back as you start circling your hips, getting used to the new feeling, and letting it become something that you crave instead of fear. He bares his teeth in a soft, seductive way, watching as the morning light pours in through the windows and kisses the side of your body in golden streaks. Your sweat drips down your body like you're made of stone — a true work of art that he can't take his eyes off of.

He helps you ease into a rhythm — lifting your hips gradually at first with his big hands guiding you. You're already sweating again by the time you work up your momentum, panting heavily once he sits back again, leaving you to his vices when you don't need his help anymore.

You pick your hips up like his lap is on fire, head hanging over your shoulder as you ride him like you never have before. Every fuck punches at your cervix, and it'd fucking hurt if you weren't so focused on his pleasure and how close you were to finishing all over him.

"Oh, my God!" You cry out, shooting him a death glare as his fingers find their way to your clit, pinching and circling the tiny bud of nerves until tears burn at your eyes. "Fuck, Go— 'toru, don't stop!"

"There you go, baby girl…" His voice fades around the edges like you're experiencing a brutal vignette — the tears turning into sobs that leave rivers streaming down your face. "Let it all out…"

He's making it worse, but somehow it just feels better. Satoru holds your sanity as you blank out, hips moving of their own accord as you sniffle and sob for him. Broken pleas in the form of his name come pouring out like vomit — both of you uncaring of the fact that there's no condom. He wants to get you pregnant, tell your father, and marry you. It's the only thing he can think about, and the only thing he has to say when his release comes to him faster than a bullet train at full speed.

Satoru doesn't warn you when it comes, and you don't warn him. Your bodies are so much in sync that the second his cock twitches on your down-thrust, you're a mess, creaming and staining his length in your essence. As soon as it starts, you stop, collapsing on top of him, still buried at the hilt.

Then, as soon as he has control again, Satoru flips you onto your back, empties himself inside of you, and does exactly what he promised — guiding your bent knees to your ears so he can love you until the morning breaks into early afternoon.

You don't know if it's the all-nighter or perhaps the mix of liquor and caffeine, but you've never felt this alive before. You've never felt so… free.

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