"ONE MORE SHOT, I'M SUPER TWEAKED! THAT LIQUOR TURN ME TO A FREAK!"
— “That’s what boyfriends do, right? Show out. Keep your girl and her friends happy.” — ft. ryomen sukuna
+18 MDNI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x boyfriend!sukuna, porn w/ plot, clubbing culture, houston club scene, mentions of alcohol, drinking, ryomen treating the girls, plotting to get your boyfriend drunk, established relationship, f*cking off the liquor, unprotected sex, dom/sub undertones, possessive, praise & body worship, creampie, edging, nasty rough sex, dirty talk, aftercare. notes. image sourced from pinterest. word count 4.5k. title: Latto - Liquor
The bass hits so hard it shakes the cup in your hand, bubbles fizzing against your tongue as you lean into your best friend’s ear to laugh about something stupid she just said. The club is a whole different planet tonight— strobe lights flashing, bodies moving like they’ve got something to prove, perfume, smoke, and sweat mixing in the air until it’s thick enough to taste.
You’ve been dancing for what feels like forever now, your heels biting into your feet, with your hair sticking to the back of your neck. So when one of the girls yells, “Bathroom break!” you’re the first one to agree.
The four of you spill into the restroom like it’s home base, laughing too loud, clutching onto each other as you wobble on unsteady heels. There’s a line for the stalls, so everyone crowds around the mirrors— phones out, purses open, liner getting touched up.
You’re halfway through blotting your lipstick when one of your friends leans in with a pointed look. “So…is your man good out there?”
You glance at her in the mirror. “Whatchu’ mean?”
“I mean he looks bored, like he doesn’t wanna be here.” Another pipes up, fixing her curls. “Yeah, I don’t think he looked away once the whole time we were dancing.”
“Girl, stop.” You laugh, but they’re all giving you that you know we’re right look.
“She’s not lying.” Your best friend says, smoothing her leave-out down with a pocket brush kept stashed in her purse. “He looks tense. Like, scary tense. You think he’s having fun?”
You hesitate, dabbing the corners of your lips with gloss. “…Probably not. No. You know he doesn’t go out. Clubs aren’t his thing.”
“Okay, but he came out for you.” Another says, pointing at you with her powder puff. “So don’t let him sit there looking like Secret Service all night. He’s scaring the hoes.”
“That part!” One of your friends calls from inside a stall, the door clicking shut behind her.
You laugh again, but softer this time, tucking the gloss back into your purse. She’s only saying that because earlier she thought some guy had curved her— too intimidated to come up to the section y’all are in to talk to her.
“I’m just saying.” She adds, zipping her purse. “Maybe pull him in a little. Dance with him, something. Make him feel part of it before he kills somebody.”
You roll your eyes, but you’re smiling as you fix the strap of your dress. “Fine, fine. I’ll talk to him.”
“Please girl, ‘cause I could finish another bottle. It’s too early to be going home.”
When you finally push back into the crowd, the heat hits you again— music pounding in your chest, lights flashing across sweat-slick faces. Your boyfriend Sukuna is still sitting exactly where you left him, posted at the edge of the booth like he owns it. Well, technically he does for the night at least. Shades still on, jaw tight, phone in his hand like he’s scrolling, you catch a cup shifting in his grip every now and then— he’s making himself look busy, but you know damn well he’s not looking at anything important.
And now he’s watching you cross the floor. Slow. Head to toe. Like every second you were gone cost him something. If looks could kill, half the club would be gone by now. Maybe it’s the way his grip on that small cup tightens for a second when your eyes meet, something about it makes your stomach twist.
“Hey, baby!” You purr, sliding up next to him and slipping your arm through his like you’re calming down a pit bull. “Miss me?”
Lowering his shades, he drags his eyes from your legs to your face, mouth twitching with a shrug. “Nah, just countin’ how many guys stared at you since we walked in.”
You laugh, lifting off him to reach for the pitcher of water on the table in front of you to pour yourself a glass.
“Don’t do that. It’s a club. That’s what people do.”
“Yeah, well…” His gaze drags slowly over you like he’s trying to memorize every inch and curve. “They need to un-do it before I cause a problem up in here.”
You just smirk, sipping slow. “Mm. Somebody’s jealous.”
“Somebody’s real fuckin’ observant.” He mutters, tugging you closer by the waist like that’s gonna fix anything. He’s not mad at you, pissed for coming here if anything. You’ve seen him at his worst enough times to tell the difference.
He always hated this kind of scene— the blaring music, the crowded dance floors, the neon lights bouncing off bodies pressed together. He’d made that clear every time you and your girls went out, but tonight, after a heated argument about him being too controlling, he decided to prove a point.
Spitefully. He bought a whole section for you and your friends, smugly declaring that if you wanted the club, he’d give you the club. But you know him too well; he didn’t drink much, hated the chaos, hated the tight outfits you wore, the way you acted when you had one too many drinks in your system. He was already twitching at the first thump of the bass when y’all walked in.
Thinking to yourself— you’ve got to do something, because his attitude is not going to be what sours your mood tonight. Maybe if you get him a little tipsy, loosen that iron grip just enough for him to let go and have fun without realizing he was enjoying himself, then maybe y’all both can have a good night.
Spotting your girls making their way closer to your section, you lean into him further, brushing your lips against his ear just to watch him twitch. Something about the way he tilts his head back makes you wonder if he’s already had a little drink before this.
“‘Relax, ‘Kuna. Matter of fact, how about we get us some more shots?’
He blinks at you, deadpan like you said something off. “Us?”
“Yeah.” You point over to where your girls are. “That’s what boyfriends do, right? Show out. Keep your girl and her friends happy.”
“Where they start doing that at?” He laughs like you’ve lost your mind for asking, setting his cup held in his hand down on the table. The look on his face makes you grin so wide your cheeks hurt. He hates this. You know he does, that’s why you love doing it.
So maybe you did lose your mind. Getting the section was already a stretch, but it’s a fact to everyone who knows Sukuna that he doesn’t give handouts, let alone to your homegirls, but it’s worth a shot.
“If you ain’t treating, you ain’t tricking.” You set your finished glass down next, kicking a leg up and over his lap, letting it rest there just long enough to make him shift. His hands wrap around your legs like he wants to do more than just look.
He freezes for a beat, jaw tight, trying to hide the grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.
“Don’t play with me.” He says, narrowing his eyes, voice low, like he’s counting down how many seconds you got left to cut it out.
Rising to your feet, you let your hips sway just enough to draw his eyes, fluttering your lashes slow and deliberate.
“Baby, I’m not playin’. We like Casamigos…” You drag the words out, letting your smirk do half the talking.
He exhales, leans back, giving you that slow, knowing look, and you grin to yourself, satisfied— because let’s be real, you’ll always get your way one way or another.
With a playful toss of your hair, you turn back toward your girls to meet them on the dance floor, letting him watch as you disappear into the crowd, the smirk still lingering on your lips.
Fifteen minutes later, you’re sliding back into the booth with your girls, and there’s a tray of shots on the table— glasses clinking like music. You cheer with them, throwing back tequila like water, and before long you’re warm and giggly, pressed against his side with your fingers hooked in his belt loop.
“Kuna’, help us finish this bottle. Can’t have it go to waste.”
You’re close enough now that your knee brushes his thigh every time you shift. His eyes drop there, then back up at you with that lazy, irritated stare that really means he’s thinking something else.
“You really want me drunk?” His hand slides to the back of your neck, thumb grazing skin like he’s trying to distract you. “For what?”
“So you’ll stop mean-muggin’ everybody in here.” You giggle, leaning off him to pour a shot halfway, holding it to his lips like you dare him to refuse.
He does. Instead tilts it towards you, watching as you take it slow, his fingers brushing your lips on purpose. Heat rushes to your face, but you play it cool, reaching for the bottle of cranberry juice to fill up a cup, throwing it back quickly like the burn didn’t faze you.
“Two more— me and you.” You lift the bottle up, showing how much is left. He hasn’t had a taste of this liquor yet, though you know he caught a sip of something earlier, just enough to make his eyes linger on you differently. Meanwhile, between you and your girls, you lost count a couple shots ago.
“Look at you, already drunk.” His voice dips, rough in a way that makes your stomach tingle, taking the bottle from your grip.
“This how you get when I’m not around?”
Your lips curve as you let him have it, leaning in close enough that your breath grazes his jaw. “I’m not that drunk. Tipsy if anything, but not drunk.”
“Could’ve fooled me.” His eyes cut to yours, lingering like he’s searching for the lie.
“Please? Finish it with me?” You whine
“I still have to drive, don’t I?” He sets the bottle down slow, like he wants you to know he’s the one in control— even when you’re trying to play.
“Call your friends over. We all can split it since we’re not wasting.”
Calling your girls back over, Sukuna moves to pour six shots, one for each of you, nearly finishing the bottle out. The girls cheer like it’s the biggest win of the night, clinking their glasses against his before tossing theirs back. He hesitates for half a beat, then downs it, jaw flexing as the tequila burns its way down.
“See? Was that so bad?” You grin like you just scored a winning shot. He shakes his head, setting the empty glass down, but you’re already moving to pour another.
“Don’t get cute.” He grumbles.
“Too late.” You laugh, sliding it toward him before he can protest. “C’mon. Loosen up. Dance with me after this one.”
That earns you a sharp side-eye, but you know you’ve got him. It’s in the way his hand is already resting on your thigh, squeezing just enough to remind you who you’re teasing. He tips the second shot back without another word, face balling up. He slams the glass down with a whistle, shaking out his arms, and that’s when you know the heat of the liquor starting to run through him.
The bass drops hard enough to rattle the table, and you don’t even wait for him to think twice. Fingers laced through his, you pull him up, ignoring the curse that slips from his mouth as you drag him into the smoke and the lights, a grin breaking across your face when you feel him follow without resistance.
You can’t say what happened between then and now, other than the fact that you’re down in the garage being buckled into the passenger seat of his car. Your entire body light, lips buzzing from laughter and lime, the world feels like it’s tilting, like it’s been set to a softer, slower spin.
His hands are steady on the seatbelt buckle, veins in his forearms jumping as he clicks it into place before jumping into the driver’s side then turning to ask if you’re all good, before backing out.
The drive is quiet except for the hum of the engine and your shallow breaths, your thighs pressed together because every time his hand slides up your leg at a red light, your body lights up feeling sensitive. If you were any more sober, you’d be less ashamed to tell what followed next when his fingers brushed against your pussy, but that’s what tints are for.
By the time you make it through the front door of your shared condo, you’re not sure if you walked in or if he carried you. Everything's a blur now— the slam of the door, the sound of your heels hitting the floor, his jacket dropping somewhere you don’t care to look— because the only thing you can focus on is him. His weight against you as your back meets the bed, his breath hot and sharp in your ear.
“Had me sittin’ there watchin’ you all night, little ass dress ridin’ up, dancin’ like you ain’t got nobody at home. You know how bad I wanted to drag you outta there?”
Your head is spinning, but it’s not just the tequila— it’s him. The way his mouth claims yours before you can even think of an answer, the taste of liquor on his lips, his hands everywhere at once like he’s trying to make up for every second you kept him waiting. You melt easily under it, giggling into his kisses when he lifts you clean off the bed just enough to slip your dress and thong off, like you weigh nothing.
The bed catches you in a soft bounce, his mouth brushes yours again, slower now, teasing, dragging your bottom lip between his teeth until your toes curl.
“Look at you.” He murmurs against your chin, voice rough.
“Drunk off your ass and still so fuckin’ pretty. You know how many dudes were starin’? How many I wanted to break in half for even thinkin’ about you?”
Your laugh is breathless, shaky. “You’re so jealous…so fucking jealous.”
“Damn right.” His smirk is dangerous, something serious behind it, that makes your stomach tingle. “They get to see you like this. Only me.”
When he kisses you again, it’s slower, deeper, like he’s trying to swallow every sound you make. His tongue slides against yours, sloppy and hungry, and you can taste the tequila on his breath when he groans into your mouth.
Your hands tug at his hair, as your knees fall open without thinking, giving him space to press in. A moment after, he’s trailing wet kisses from your chest to your stomach, pausing to swirl his tongue just above your lower belly before traveling further to kiss at your pussy. Within seconds those kisses turn into licks with his tongue flat against your clit, heavy enough to make you feel pinned in the best way.
“You feel that?” His voice rings, lips brushing your inner thigh as you catch your breath.
“Been wantin’ this all night. Watchin’ you out there, dressed like that, lettin’ those bastards look at what’s mine.”
You can’t even answer— just a breathless whimper when his fingers slip in slowly for you to feel every inch of them, curling. Then he moves, flips you like it’s nothing, strong hands guiding you flat onto your stomach.
Your face sinks into the sheets, hips tipped up just enough for him to squeeze your ass, the sound of his belt loosening and pants dropping to the floor quieter than your moans as you rock back needy, chasing his fingers to fill you up again. Pushing his dick through your slick folds, he sinks in deep from this angle. The sound you make when he bottoms out is filthy, your head spinning as he sets a brutal rhythm— each thrust punching the air from your lungs.
He groans, palm sliding up spine, pressing until your stomach flat against the mattress and you’re taking him the way he wants.
“Stay like that. Don’t move. Just lay there and take it for me.”
You do. You take it, face buried in the sheets, drool pooling at the corner of your mouth as he fucks you hard, your body rocking with every deep, punishing stroke. You’re too inebriated to make this any sexier for him, eyes threatening to roll to the back of your head each time he hits up against that bundle of nerves that makes your toes curl.
For all that shit he talks about hating you drunk, you know he eats it up. Love how loose you get, all giggly and slick-mouthed, talking back like you don’t know who you’re speaking too. Loves how easy you are to handle, body gone soft, limbs like damn Jell-O every time he puts his hands on you.
Drunk sex is your favorite for a reason— because when you’re like this, he takes full advantage, folding you into any position he wants, fucking you deep until you can’t do anything but moan and whimper.
Right as you reach a hand back to spread one of your cheeks, he pins your wrist back down, hips slow, almost stop, and you whine at the sudden loss of motion. He’s still deep, buried so far it aches, but he just stays there, pulsing inside you like he knows you’re seconds from falling apart. His mouth drops to your ear, voice low and hot enough to make your stomach tingle.
“You feel that, baby?” His words flow like honey, coming off more as taunt than a question.
You nod quick, breath shuddering, but that’s not enough for him. Never is. “How that feel?” He presses, hips giving the smallest grind that has your toes curling.
“‘So good.” You whine, pushing back hard, desperate to get more of him, all of him, anything but this teasing.
“More! More! More!” You rock against him, needy, trying to force the rhythm back, but he’s stronger— holding you there, feeling his smile against your back as your walls flutter around him. Then he eases his hand, shifting his weight off you to give you just enough freedom to grind back on him, pussy hugging him tight. “Fuck— Fuck— Yes! More!”
“Fuck…you’re so wet baby. I’m not even moving, that’s all you.” He murmurs against your shoulder, hot breath fanning against your skin. You can hear it in his voice how weak you got him, and it makes you whimper even louder, feeding him every broken whine slipping past your lips.
“Move! Please! I wanna cum, I wanna squirt on you.” Your words come out rushed, as if begging alone could make him snap.
You don’t care how desperate you sound, you need him fucking you so hard you’re gushing around him when it’s due. You think you hear him growl out something along the lines of promising to give you exactly that, but you’re too drunk, too wrecked, too focused on the grip of his hands pinning your hips down.
You feel the mattress dip on your right as he hikes a leg up, planting it besides your head, shifting into a new angle that gives him even more leverage to fuck into you. The thrusts hit deeper, rougher, downright nasty. His dick got you so stretched out you already know the second he busts, that cum’s going to be spilling easily.
With one hand gripping the sheets to keep yourself from riding up the bed, the other slips between your thighs, fingers circling your clit in messy, desperate strokes. Your body trembles with every pass, that familiar heat rushing to your pussy as you inch yourself closer and closer to your orgasm.
“This my pussy!?” He growls low through clenched teeth, his weight crashing down on your ass as he pounds into you back to back, he’s fucking into you like a man possessed— hips snapping, strokes deep and ruthless, not a single flutter in his pace.
“Yes!” You cry out brokenly, you’re so close, so damn close, already starting to feel your pussy squish around him, your wetness trickling down your thighs. You’re about to squirt— you can feel it, fuck, he can feel it too— your whole body gives it away in the way your voice and legs start to shake.
“This always gonna be my pussy?” His question rips through the air right before the sting of his hand landing upside your ass. One slap, then another, and another, each one knocking a moan out of your throat. Your fingers don’t stop— they can’t stop— tight circles spinning on your clit like your life depends on it. Sex feels so fucking good drunk, right behind being high. You wouldn’t have it any other way.
“Yes!” It’s almost a sob.
“Huh!?” Another smack, even sharper, echoing. “You never gonna give nobody my pussy?”
“No! Fuck— No!”
“C’mon then! Show me this my pussy!” His voice is pure sin, all possessive and demanding.
“Yes— yes— Kuna’, baby— don’t stop! Don’t fucking stop!” It rips out of you, wild and shameless, right as your orgasm hits, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your whole body shakes, squirting around him, wetness gushing down your legs as his name keeps falling off your lips like a prayer. A brutal, nasty groan rumbles from his chest, as he buries himself to a hilt, dick twitching, filling you full.
For a second, all you can hear is the wet, filthy sound of your pussy talking back, sucking him in. He pulls out slow, then sinks back in even slower, humming like he wants to memorize the way you feel.
When he finally pulls out of you completely, it’s with a wet pop that has your hips trembling. He crashes back against the mattress, breathing like he ran a 4K. You’re no better with your chest heaving, face buried in the sheets, trying to remember how to breathe. Your thighs are still trembling so you’re half convinced they might give out if you even think about moving. The sheets under you are a mess— sticky, damp, and smelling like cum.
Beside you, you hear him exhale sharp through his nose, humming deep and satisfied. For a second, there’s nothing but the sound of his breathing— before the mattress dips again.
“You made a fucking mess.” He murmurs, voice rough, sliding a hand down the curve of your spine. Stopping at your ass, squeezing lazily, messaging the muscle out. His fingers then drag through the slick between your thighs, and you flinch, hips jerking.
“Kuna’” You whimper, breath still catching. Your voice sounds wrecked, throat raw from all the crying and moaning you’ve been doing.
“What?” He leans down, lips brushing your ear as his hand presses down against your lower back, keeping you still. “Don’t start actin’ shy now. You just squirted all over this dick like a good girl.”
You groan into the pillow, heat flooding your cheeks as his fingers glide through the mess of your pussy, lazy and teasing. When you look back, you catch him bringing them up to his mouth with zero shame, sucking them clean with a hum that sends another shiver through your spine.
“Drunk sex ass.” He teases, lips curling against your skin as he kisses the back of your neck. “Got you talkin’ all that ‘don’t stop, baby’ shit like you wasn’t tryna fight me when I first got in it.”
You let out a breathless laugh, face still buried in the sheets, too tired to argue. He’s fucking right. And he knows it. For a moment, neither of you move. His hand stays on your ass, thumb stroking lazy circles, while you feel your heartbeat slow to something steady. It’s quiet now— except for the soft hum of the A/C in the background and the faint wet sounds when he drags his fingers through you one last time before finally letting go.
“C’mere.” He says, voice softer now. Grabbing a handful of tissues he wipes you down slow, surprisingly gentle for someone who just fucked you into the mattress like that. You peek back at him, lashes low, and he smirks, tossing the tissues aside before pulling you into his chest. His skin is hot and sticky with sweat, and you sink into him without thinking, letting his arms lock around you, as he throws the blankets over you both.
“That’s my pussy.” He mutters again, low and possessive against your temple, before pressing a wet kiss there that makes your face ball up. You should say something smart, roll your eyes and tell him to shut the hell up. But all you can do is hum, eyes feeling heavy, because if this is what being his means— warm and wrecked and too tired to move— you’re not complaining.
₊✩‧₊˚౨ৎ˚₊✩‧₊
“I said that?” He shoots you a look over his shoulder, stirring the creamer he just added into his coffee. The two of you are in the kitchen, enjoying breakfast this morning— delivery, of course, spread out across the table, because neither of you were fit enough to stand over a stove after last night.
For the past twenty minutes, you’ve been recapping everything that went down, from estimating the amount of liquor you drank, to what the bottle girls wrote on their signs each time they marched out.
For the most part, you’re on the same page— until you got to the part where he cracked you down so good, he knocked out before he could clean his own nut off the bed. He doesn’t remember anything after getting through the front door, barely recalls driving home, or the filthy shit he was talking while he was deep in you. Sukuna’s always been possessive— you knew that a month into dating him, when he made you delete every guy in your phone and proved exactly why. But last night? Last night was something out, and it definitely needs a conversation.
“Yes! Yes, you said that! You don’t remember?” You press, driving a knife through your pancakes a little harder than intended. You’ve been going back and forth for minutes now, and he’s refusing to admit he could have possibly said the things he said.
“No.” He mutters, turning back to his coffee with a lazy shrug. “I was drunk as fuck.”
“You had two shots! Two!” You throw up both hands, fork and knife tight in your grip like you’re holding the evidence in court.
He glances at you then, grin slow and sharp. “Could’ve been two shots of anything.” He taps the spoon against his mug and sets it down with a clink. “Maybe I’m a lightweight.”
You blink at him, stunned, squinting like you’re trying to figure out which alternate reality you woke up in. Because this? This makes zero sense.
“What the fuck did you drink then?” You hit back with, and he just looks at you and laughs.
you weren't sure who you hated more. your ex, satoru, or your backstabbing best friend who's now his girlfriend, shoko. you loathed them. they knew that. so why the hell do they look at you like you're something to eat?
꒰ alcohol consumption :: threesome :: slight car sex :: f.oral :: p in v :: cum swapping :: rough sex :: creampie :: scissoring :: praise :: slight degradation :: dirty talk :: overstim ꒱
𝓔𝚇!𝚂𝙰𝚃𝙾𝚁𝚄 + 𝓑𝙴𝚂𝚃 𝙵𝚁𝙸𝙴𝙽𝙳 𝚂𝙷𝙾𝙺𝙾ᅠ🌷͏͏♡ ͏͏ᅠ𝓕.𝚁𝙴𝙰𝙳𝙴𝚁
You couldn't divide your hate equally between Satoru and Shoko.
The first, your no-good ex.
The second, your supposed best friend, now dating that no-good ex.
It's been three months since you guys broke up, Shoko defended. Yeah, and you cried for one and half. So much for girlhood, huh?
You weren't sure what you hated more. The way he looked at her, or the way she kissed him.
A party you had no interest in. Bass and booze merging in the air like the poorly mixed cocktail you'd downed. This was your— what, third?
You stopped counting after you saw her. With him.
Strutting in like they owned the place. Satoru's glasses hung infuriatingly low and Shoko's smile liquor enough. She wore his jacket. His arm was around her.
And of course, they spotted you.
Oh come on, we can still be friends right? Satoru had insisted.
How the hell were you supposed to be friends when his mouth, that was once on your mouth, was now on her mouth?
You'd humour them. Because for some bizarre reason you couldn't let go of Shoko. And a selfish part of you wanted to see Satoru, even if at the expense of him at her side.
But tonight was different.
"Can't. Gotta go home." You turned from their offer, downing the rest of your drink. Letting the buzz drown out the ache in your heart.
Satoru's brows arched. His arm still hooked around his girlfriend. "Huh? Look like you just got here though, sweets."
"Don't." Your glare sliced to him. Dull under the fluorescent lights.
"Don't. Call me that."
"Don't he such a buzzkill." Shoko drawled, slinking from Satoru's hold. Her cold hands ghosted your tense shoulders.
"C'mon. We're all still friends, right? You said so."
You shook her off, ignoring the shiver tickling your spine.
"Yeah, whatever. Friends. I'm just not in the mood today."
Satoru rolled his eyes. "When're you ever in the mood?"
"Excuse me?" You spat.
His grin told you that he wasn't sorry, and Shoko's little giggle only made it worse.
You shoved your purse over your shoulder and dug your stilettos into the floors. Ready to storm through the drunk crowd, lest you did something stupid while sober.
Yet a slithering pair of slim arms slipped around your waist from behind. Shoko's perfume wrapped you up. Cinnamon and something clinical. A sly drawl stroked on your ear.
"Oh come onnnn baby."
Baby?
Her lips dragged down your neck.
Kisses?
Your body went solid. Then liquid once Satoru stepped in front of you. The blues of his eyes a taunting star as he peered at you over his shades.
Cunning, large hands slipped to your hips. His deep voice husked above you.
"Yeah sweetheart, c'mon."
You should have shoved them off.
Elbowed Shoko.
Tramped Satoru's shoe.
Instead, you let your body do the talking.
His apartment. Or maybe hers? You don't know. The ride there was a blur of Shoko's tongue down your throat and fingers between your thighs.
Your soaked panties were probably abandoned over the centre console. You don't remember. Not when Satoru pulled off to wrench the back door open and tongue on your clit, pulled off in the middle of the highway.
They hadn't even switched the lights on. Just stumbled your half-naked self into the living room. It didn't matter, you could see Shoko's brown eyes glowing down at you through the dark.
You're bent over. Your thighs rubbed raw over the arm of the couch. The angle awkward. Straining your neck, with her ballerina nails in your hair. Stuffing you closer to her cunt.
"That's it doll. Mhhm."
She sighs, head tipping back as your whimpers muffle on her clit.
You weren't doing much. How could you when your pussy was fucked open by a deliciously familiar cock?
Satoru's nails dented your thighs. Large hands welting bruises into your hips as he squeezed your legs tight together. Rendering you helpless to his violent thrusts.
Each plunge knocked the air out of you. His leaky tip smooching your cervix that spasmed. Weeping with your pussy about how much she missed him. Missed the way he stuffed you full.
"Fuck, sweetheart. Still take it like you're my girl." He grunted above you. A sharp spank! stung your jiggling ass.
Your mewl quivered into your best friend's creamy mess. Cum smeared across your lips and staining your tongue. Your eyes droop as she yanked you back over her clit to feel your pitiful whines on the bud.
"Mm. Yeah toru, fuck her like that," Shoko palmed at her own tit. Hazy eyes watching you through her lashes.
"Makes her pretty little head go allll stupid, angh. Use your tongue doll. That's it."
"Heh. Told you she's an angel."
Satoru rammed forward. Skin smothering yours. His thrusts shallowed to a nasty hump that rolled your eyes back and squirmed your thighs.
"Hngh wait— fuck. Not thereee." You wailed, choking on sweetness as Shoko gushed around your mouth again.
"Awww what's that? Not here?"
You could feel Satoru's grin on your back as his grip clamped around your waist. Dragging you back on every thrust. Fucking cruelly into that spot he knew oh so well. "But baby, you just looovveee it when I fuck right here, don't you? Look at ya. Crying into Sho's pussy."
Your toes curled. Tears spilling from your blurry eyes as he drove you through yet another blinding orgasm. Hiccuping into Shoko's slit, yet still trying to lap at her cum.
Her fingers tighten in your hair. Dragging you forward to grind your face into her. Smeared you all over her mess while you sobbed into her cunt.
"Ssshh. Shhh, dollface. Don't cry." Those devilish fingers played with a piece of your hair.
Suffocating. She practically suffocated you as Satoru pummelled your poor pussy. Ready to stuff you full of his cum for a second round.
Her smile turned wicked. "Or do. You're so pretty when you do." Her thumb slipped to wipe at a tear, bringing it to her maroon lips to taste.
Hot, thick streams flooded your cunt. Spilling down your glossy thighs. Satoru's deep groan rumbled into the back of your neck.
"Fuuuckkkk. Pussy missed my cum."
"Mmm. I sure do too."
Shoko batted her eyes at him. Something you'd find sickening if you weren't drunk on pleasure.
You missed the coy look Satoru gave her through sweaty strands hung over his eyes. Too busy whining from the loss of his cock as he slipped out of you. Trickling some of his frothy cum.
"Don't worry, baby." He swooped over you to kiss her lips.
Rough hands jostled you. Slotting you to sit on the couch. Your pussy spread as he wrenched your thighs open.
Shoko's joined soon after. Legs locking with yours. Her cunt met yours in a filthy smooch. Rubbing in to smear Satoru's cum all over her.
A breathy whine spilled from her as she reached for you. Cupping the back of your neck. Bringing you in to her hot mouth and tongue piercing. All while your cunts ground together in a filthy rhythm.
Satoru's hands steered your hips. Helping his ex girlfriend rub clits with his current. Groaning into the back of your neck.
"My filthy girls. Having fun with my cum?"
"Toru," you whimpered.
Shoko whined, "so good."
Maybe it was better to focus on her lips. Focus on his hands. On the cum they stained you in.
Because when you were here, humping with your best friend while Satoru's tongue delved down your throat?
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬◞﹒୧ . Eren, Ony and Connie have a crush on the same woman: the cute, sweet and autistic girl always dressed in pink who works in the restaurant next to their university. Eren loves you because you're so soft when he's so rough, Only loves you because you're always so polite with him, Connie loves you because he has a thing for chubby women like you. You’re always so shy with them, you have no idea to what extent they want to ruin you. When at a college party they find you crying because your boyfriend Jean cheated on you, they offer you revenge with them. You’re a good girl who has never done anything too freaky with anyone so you don’t really know how to handle three dicks inside you. But don’t worry, they will take good care of you. And show you that you can be loved exactly as you are.
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬◞﹒୧ . 10.3k words, black!fem!reader, plus!size!reader, college au, hyper feminine autistic reader w/ social anxiety, hispanic!connie, plug!eren, basketball!player!ony, pervert stuff & stalking, polyamory, romance, affection, reassurance, male friendships, connie calls you ‘mami’ and ‘princesa’, ‘sweetheart/baby/bitch’ by eren, ‘baby/love/mama’ by ony, hard!dom!eren, soft!dom!ony, submissive!connie, gay ass stuff between the boys, mild daddy kink with eren, nipple play, fingering, cunnilingus, masturbation, choking, blowjob, handjob, vaginal sex, rough sex, gentle sex, shower sex, standing sex, somno, double penetration, consensual recording, hair pulling, overstimulation, cumming on face, crying from pleasure, titty fucking, slapping, dumbification but on a man !
𝐤𝐫𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬◞﹒୧ . finally a new fic since january!!!! very SCARED of your reactions because my characterization of the boys isn't that popular so i hope yall will like it <333
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 + 𝐨𝐧𝐲 + 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
‘Kiss of Life’ by Sade was playing in the restaurant, making you hum along as you cleaned the tables left by the last customers. Nearby, Eren, Ony, and Connie were watching you intently, as usual.
“Shazam that song, she seems to like it,” Eren ordered Connie, nudging him.
Connie lazily looked up from his phone to look at his best friend. “It's Sade. You have no memory, 'Ren. She always hums when one of their songs, come on.”
He still used Shazam to find out the exact name of the song and added it to the ‘sweet baby’ playlist that he, Eren, and Ony had created to catalog all your favorite songs.
“She's wearing a new dress,” Ony noticed. The three boys' eyes ran over your body.
You were wearing a new dress that you had bought the day before. It hugged your chubby body perfectly, stopping halfway up your thick thighs. The pale pink fabric brought out the luminous glow of your brown skin. Made of satin and molding to your curves in the most exquisite way, with thin straps that barely supported your breasts, the ribbon bow at the center of your chest made your sexy outfit cute. Your long braids was tied in a low bun held by a ribbon bow at the back, leaving your pretty round face uncovered. Your eyelids were enhanced with glittery pink eyeshadow, your long false eyelashes made your gaze so seductive, and your lips were glossy, looking so delicious. A literal angel. Eren, Ony, and Connie would eat you up if they could.
Eren adjusted his bulge in his black sweatpants and tried to look away so as not to worsen his erection by staring at you, while Connie and Ony were still staring, completely unashamed of looking like creeps. Your Mary Jane heels clicked on the floor as you walked around the restaurant taking orders from your little notebook, and when you arrived at the three men's table, your eyes lit up, happy to see them.
They were your favorite customers. They'd been coming to eat at the restaurant three times a week for at least a year. You didn't know how they'd managed to always be there during your shifts—Connie had threatened your boss to give him your work schedule—but it was always a pleasure to see them. They always complimented you and were so sweet to you, nothing like the old men who had wives and looked at you with lust in their eyes.
The most intimidating one was Eren. He was always dressed in black with a hood over his head that hid his face, but you could glimpse his neck tattoos peeking out from under his hoodie. His eyes were always hald-lidded and red from weed, staring intensely into your soul when you took his order, sending shivers down your spine. He was known as the university's plug; you'd never used his services, but his deep voice spoke to you so sweetly that you considered buying from him so he could talk to you privately.
The friendliest was Ony. Compared to Eren's dark appearance, Ony exuded light. You would have to be a psychoapth to not to like Ony's intelligence and kindness. He loved fashion and taking care of himself, you both always talked about skincare and clothes. He played basketball on your university team, making him the most popular of the trio. You loved learning about his sport, and hear the passion in his voice when he talked about Lamelo Ball. He was a bit of a star on campus but was the least arrogant man you'd ever met, always smiling softly when you talked to him, making you feel so safe and care for.
The most flirtatious was Connie. You could never look him in the eye when he called you ‘princesa’, joking about how you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen. You never knew if he called you ‘mami’ just because it was normal for latino men, or if he was actually trying to flirt with you. Like Eren, he often wore his hood up, hiding his eyebrow piercings, but he wasn't as intimidating. He always had a teasing glint in his eyes that made you flutter.
“Hey,” you said shyly, approaching their table.
As always, Eren was stoned out, his pupils dilated as he looked at you, making your spine tingle. Ony’s lips curved into a smile, clenching his tattooed hand to bump his fists against yours.
You didn’t have any friends because of your social anxiety, only Jean as a boyfriend, so it always made you happy when they treated you like one of their own, even though they were just regular customers you sometimes ran into at university.
“The usual?” you asked, already knowing what they were going to order. A cheeseburger with fries for Ony (don’t tell Reiner, his coach, that he loves that), a steak with fries for Eren, and a salad for Connie.
“No, I want something sweeter today,” Connie replied, leaning back against the back of his chair. Eren smirked, understanding perfectly what his best friend really wanted.
“You just want dessert today?” You tilted your head.
Ony’s eyes softened; you looked so cute with your head cocked to the side.
“Nah.” Connie’s voice grew seductive. “Just you.”
Your autistic brain, which didn’t quite grasp irony and sarcasm, made you wear a confused expression. “Hm, what do you mean?”
Connie just licked his lips, his gaze lingering on your fat thighs. “Nothing, mami.”
“Is that a new dress?” Ony asked, tugging at the hem. “You always wear frilly dresses.”
“Yes!” you exclaimed, enthusiastic and all smiles. You loved fashion so much; you were happy that Ony, who was also a fashion boy, noticed your new clothes. “My boyfriend said frills were childish, so I’m trying out a new style.”
The trio frowned and looked at each other, silently saying, “We should kill that motherfucker.”
“Break up with him,” Eren advised, his face hard.
You shook your head, your heart squeezing painfully at the thought of leaving the only man who accepted your autism without judging you. “N-No, it’s okay.” You looked at your feet, your lips trembling as you realized that the only reason you were with Jean was because he didn’t make you feel different from other girls, not because you actually loved him. You needed so much validation from others.
Ony caressed your thigh, sliding his hand up under your dress to grasp the plushness.
“Hey, it’s okay, baby. ‘Ren is kidding.’”
“I’m dead serious, man.”
Ony's gentle caresses on your skin relaxed you, and your autistic brain didn't really grasp that this was inappropriate contact between friends. You just thought he was being kind. Your face softened, and Ony took a perverse pleasure in exploiting your lack of understanding of social cues.
After the chef prepared their meals, you brought them. As you placed the tray on their tables, you dropped a glass, which shattered. You apologized and bent down to pick up the shards, the skirt of your dress lifting up. Eren glanced at your ass, now visible to everyone, lingering on the way your panties molded your folds. His gut twisted in arousal.
“Connie, take a picture,” Eren whispered.
“I’m your lapdog or something? I only like orders from her, idiot,” Connie muttered but silently took a picture of your body under your dress. They had a whole dossier like that. Photos of you smiling at other customers, photos of you space-outing, photos of you studying in the university library… They were perverts. And stalkers. They didn't really care that it was wrong.
When you finally picked up your mess from the floor, you gave them a shy smile that accentuated their secret erections before walking away.
What a cute angel. You had no idea these men were devils.
────────
'I saw Jean with a girl at a frat party, I'm so sorry sweetheart I think he's cheating on you :(('
Your stomach dropped when you saw Sasha's text message, your world crumbled in minutes.
It wasn't possible.
You and Jean had been together for two years. You'd experienced all your firsts with him. He was the first boy who didn't think you were too much, the first boy who didn't seem to see your autism as a burden, the first boy who made you believe that a weird girl like you could finally be loved. He couldn't have cheated on you. Jean loved you. He told you every day. You weren't too much for him. Please, you hope it was a misunderstanding.
You got out of bed, where you'd been studying your botany books, and went to your closet. You'd never been to a frat party because your social anxiety made it difficult for you. Places where there were too many people scared you too. You preferred to stay safe in your apartment, in your bed with satin sheets and stuffed with plushies.
You slipped into a pink denim skirt, a matching bustier top, and your white Naked Wolfe platform boots. You let your long pale pink goddess braids cascade down your back, hoping your outfit was cool enough for a frat party and people wouldn’t overdose with all the pink on you.
Sasha sent you the address, and you left your apartment with a knot in your stomach.
A two-year relationship couldn't end like this. Jean loved you, right? You weren't some unlovable woman who was going to end up alone for the rest of her life, were you?
You clutched the strap of your bag, looking at the floor as you entered the frat house. You didn't want to see the sea of students; it would trigger a panic attack. Rap music blasted from the party's big speakers; maybe a Big Boogie song. People laughed and yelled along to the lyrics. The smell of alcohol, tobacco, and marijuana were everywhere, and you felt like you were in hell. There were too many stimuli all around you, enveloping you and making your brain confused, unable to function properly.
You raised your head, your heart pounding. You had to look around to find Jean. You inspected the ground floor, trying to ignore how your body stiffened when you brushed against the sweaty bodies of the dancers. You hated physical contact because of your autism; you needed to be in a comfortable environment to be touched because of your sensory issues. Sex needed to be gradual.
And then, as you climbed the stairs, reaching the first floor, you saw him.
Pressing Mikasa's body against the wall, his head buried in her neck, his hips grinding into her.
You stood paralyzed, watching them, your heart aching.
You knew Mikasa well. She was a goth girl who was in the same major as Jean. You'd already seen them hanging out together, and Jean had told you she was just a friend.
You didn't yell that he was an asshole. You didn't try to separate them.
You turned around, went downstairs, and left the fraternity house to sit on the sidewalk.
Was it because she understood sarcasm and didn't need the same jokes repeated to her to get the humor?
Was it because she knew how to be quiet when she was passionate about something instead of yapping for hours about a topic nobody cared about, annoying everyone around you?
Was it because she didn't shut down when she was upset?
Was it because she knew how to recognize her feelings when she experienced strong emotions instead of being unable to speak and explain what she felt?
Was it because she didn't need childish things like plushies for comfort?
Was it because she was interested in grown-up things instead of being obsessed with dolls?
You wrapped your arms around your knees and let the tears flow.
As always, because of your autism, you never knew what you were feeling and struggled to identify your emotions. Was it heartbreak? You weren't even in love with Jean. He was just a boy who gave you attention when everyone else rejected you.
No, it was failure.
Failure because you were both not enough and too much. You just wanted to curl up in bed, hug your plushies tightly, and forget that you were an unlovable woman.
To make matters worse, a torrential downpour soaked your clothes, making them wet and sticky, sending shivers of discomfort down your spine. You hated it when your clothes felt too tight because of your sensory issues; it almost hurt and could cause meltdowns.
A flashback of Jean telling you he loved you in the missionary position and that you were his favorite girl intensified your tears.
Could you really blame Jean?
Who would want a girl like you?
A shy girl who was scared of eye contact, never spoke in public, and barely managed to hold a conversation without getting distracted.
You wished you were a normal girl. You wished you were better at hiding your symptoms. You wished you fit in more easily in society.
“Who stole your smile, mami?” A deep voice boomed in front of you, and someone flicked your forehead. You lifted your teary eyes and met Connie's gaze. Next to him, Eren had his hands in the pockets of his baggy jeans, his hood still pulled up, but you could see his concerned expression. Ony held a coat over you to keep the rain from soaking you even more.
You parted your lips, trying to speak, but no words came out. You felt so many emotions that your brain couldn't function anymore. You were happy to see them; they always brightened your day, but tonight, you were so depressed. You failed at love. You were unlovable.
The combination of your clothes clinging to your skin, the loud music blasting from the frat house, and your pain—you just buried your head in your thighs, ignoring everything around you.
Several muscular arms wrapped around you, lifting you off the ground, and when you raised your head, you were sitting in a car with them.
They drove for a good hour on purpose so you could calm down and refocus on your bodily sensations. The silence of the car calmed your distress for a moment, and you remained silent until they drove you to their apartment.
You were so depressed that you followed them without a word to their place, instead of asking them for a ride home. When you entered their living room, you sat on their couch, staring at the floor.
Eren casually slumped down next to you and put an arm around your shoulders.
“Where is my bubbly girl?”
“Dead,” you muttered.
He chuckled lowly.
“Don’t say stuff like this, I would be very heartbroken if you died.”
“I doubt it.” You were playing with the bottom of your skirt. “You will replace me easily like my boyfriend did when he cheated on me.”
Eren glanced at Ony, seeming to say ‘emotional stuff is for you, man’, and Ony sat down next to you. He placed his hand on your thick thigh, squeezing the plushness, his voice gentle.
“He cheated on you?”
You nodded, silently. There was nothing else to say.
“You don’t feel like you can change him and the need to go back to him like some abused women do?” Connie asked, standing with his hands in the pockets of his pants.
“Not really. I think it’s clear I wasn’t the right woman for him.”
“You mean, he wasn’t the right man for you,” Eren corrected.
“No.” You shook your head. “I don’t blame him.”
Connie tsked.
“Princesa, you talk like those abused women.”
“Yeah,” Ony joined the conversation, “I don’t like how you’re talking right now, mama.”
Your eyes watered again as you thought of all the reasons Jean was right to cheat on you.
“You don’t understand,” you sniffed.
Eren leaned against you, his warm breath caressing your neck as he spoke into your ear, his deep voice making you shiver.
“Then explain, sweetheart.”
Ony kissed the tears that were running down your chubby cheeks, and you suddenly felt strangely cared for. Like a warm blanket over your bruised heart. Wrapped in gentle warmth. In the light of affection, not the darkness of rejection.
Maybe they'll understand if you explain? Maybe you weren't really alone in the world?
“I was homeschooled because I had school phobia,” you said shyly. They all listened attentively without saying a word. “I didn't understand the children around me, so it created anxiety. I didn't learn how to mask my autism because I was never in contact with the outside world and my parents were overprotective. So, I just… live my life without hiding my symptoms.”
“That's actually a good thing, you're sincere,” Connie commented, kneeling down to rest his head on your lap. You ran your hands over his bleached buzzcut, your autistic brain fascinated by the feel of his short, freshly shaved hair. Heat rushed to your cheeks when you realized you were the center of attention, making you even more timid than you already were.
“Not really,” you hesitated, “you need to mask your autism to fit in. Only people who want to be outcasts don’t mask it.”
“I’m an asshole, I don’t try to soften up for people, and I have a very good social life,” Eren grumbled, absolutely disagreeing with what you were saying. You didn’t need to perform a personality that wasn’t yours to be accepted; just being yourself was enough.
“That’s right, Eren is the worst person I know.”
Eren glared at Ony who had said that, his brown, lidded eyes shooting daggers, but Ony smirked at him.
“What’s your point, mami? Are you saying Jean cheated on you because you’re not masking your autism?” Connie ignored these two best friends, focused on your suffering.
Your breath hitched when you gazed into his eyes and saw only care, concern, and affection.
“I’m just saying… Maybe if I was a normal girl, maybe he wouldn’t—”
“You know what to do when a boy cheats on you?” He cut in.
You shook your head.
“You show him you’re wanted elsewhere.” He lifted the hem of your skirt to place kisses on your plush thighs, his lips soft against your skin.
“W-Wait,” his kisses made you tickle, “Connie, you’re—”
“Get revenge on that bastard with us.” Eren buried his head in your neck, and your body warmed as you felt his hot tongue on your flesh. Ony slipped his hand under your top to knead one of your breasts. His hand was so large it enveloped it perfectly, making you flustered.
Your brain was in overdrive. Just seconds before, you had been crying because you were suffering from your disability, and now three hot men were kissing and touching you intimately.
An hour ago, you would have pushed them away because you had a boyfriend, but now?
Your freaky side had awakened, your cunt throbbing at the thought of letting yourself be manhandled by three men.
“How do I get revenge?” You whispered, your voice sounding innocent as if you weren't squeezing your thighs together to hide the smell of your arousal from Connie.
“You know damn well, sweetheart,” Eren chuckled before catching a piece of your skin between his teeth and sucking it vociferously. A wave of heat snaked through your lower abdomen and up your upper body, warming your entire being.
Your cheeks burned, feeling slutty for even liking the attention the three men were giving you.
Connie took his phone out of his jeans pocket, turned on the camera to record a video. He spread your legs and lifted your skirt, filming your clothed pussy where a wet spot resided.
“You’re gonna show that dumbass that if he doesn’t want you, other men will take good care of you,” he asserted, rubbing his fingers on the darker part of your panties, making you shiver.
You didn't think Jean would really care if you were getting laid by other men; he'd already shown enough that he didn't give a damn about you. But you said nothing, because part of you was thrilled at the idea of a foursome.
When you were 18, you had a list of things you wanted to experience once you were cured of your social anxiety. Group sex was one of the things on the list. You were a freaky girl, what can you say? It was time to make one of your dreams come true.
“You’re not gonna eat her out before me,” Eren pushed Connie’s head from between your legs.
“Nobody likes chubby women more than me, so yeah, I’m gonna eat her out first.” Connie bit Eren’s hand before nibbling at the inside of your thighs. “Right, baby? Nobody likes your body more than me?” He looked up at you, his voice sultry.
Before you could answer, Eren’s hand wrapped around your throat, pulling you closer. You gasped, your breath coming in the tightness of the pressure, and when you turned your head toward him, his intense eyes made you swallow hard. There was something terrifying about him in that moment.
“Don’t even answer his question, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I love you more than him.” He crushed his lips against yours, forcing his tongue into your mouth. An electric current pulsed beneath your skin. You closed your eyes, enjoying the intensity of the kiss. There was something about Eren's intimidating aura that made you want to be an obedient girl, fulfilling his every desire and simply pleasing him. You moaned into the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours, kissing you as if he had something to prove. His hand tightened around your throat, making sure you knew who was in charge.
When he pulled away, your eyes fluttered open. His gaze was burning hot, and you almost wanted to tell everyone to leave so he could kiss you like that all night.
Ony's eyes narrowed when he saw the interaction between you and Eren. That bastard. Eren had always been possessive; it didn't surprise him that he was trying to monopolize you.
There had always been a kind of tension between the three boys. As many people said, there was always a duo in a trio, and that was the case with them. Ony and Connie always teamed up to annoy Eren, ragebaiting him and provoking his anger issues.
Now that they were in love with the same girl, it was a race to see who would be your favorite. Ony could no longer count on Connie to beat Eren; he had to assert himself.
While Eren was dominant, Ony was the gentlest man alive. Most of his exes had left him because he was too nice, but he wasn't heartbroken. He didn't want to become a bully like Eren to be appreciated for who he truly was. He was going to find a girl who would find comfort in his kindness, not get bored by his loving caresses, and be satisfied by his gentle side. He was determined to make sure that girl was you.
“Stop choking her, that's not how you treat the girl of your dreams.”
“I touch her however I want. She seems to like it, doesn't she ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚?”
You looked back and forth between Eren and Ony, silent before giggling softly.
“I like you both.”
“Nah, you need to choose someone.” Eren’s hand around your throat moved down to caress your pudgy belly beneath your top, and he sucked on your earlobe. Ony lifted your top to just above your breasts before leaning down to take your nipple in his mouth. You didn't even think about sucking in your stomach or trying to position yourself in a way that would lessen the sagness of your breasts. You were comfortable, felt pretty under their hands and lips, your body hot all over.
Connie slapped your thigh.
“Stop focusing on these useless men, mami,” he muttered.
He caressed your clothed core, making gentle back-and-forth movements that transformed into circular motions around your clit. His hot breath on you, his intense gaze, and his calloused fingers against you were an explosive cocktail that already had you trembling.
“Sensitive as fuck,” he chuckled. “Autism or you’re just needy?”
“Both,” you breathed shyly.
The wet patch grew larger as Connie played with your clothed pussy. A frenzy took hold of your body. The atmosphere was perfect, the touches were intentional and tailored to your needs; you didn't feel overwhelmed by the sensory stimulation. Ony's mouth on your breast, Eren's teeth on your lob, and Connie's fingers pressing against you… It was so simple, yet perfect.
You rocked your hips against Connie's hands. “I want more, please.” Your neediness was barely concealed in your voice.
Connie smirked. “Yeah? What does my girl want?”
"Um… You know what I want," you whispered, feeling so shy you would have hidden under the sofa if you could. Being a shy, introverted girl in a freak body was a nightmare. You wanted to be slutted out so badly but struggled to get there.
"You have no game, Connie," Eren mocked, his hand still gently caressing your stomach. His petty laugh was hoarse and sent waves of pleasure into your center.
Connie ignores his best friend and slowly took off your panties. You hated thongs and very thin panties with your sensory issues, you were glad nobody made fun of your plain pink cotton underwear.
When he looked at your bare pussy, he had the same glint he had when he called you a ‘tremendo mango’ at the restaurant. For many weeks, you thought it was a cute way of showing appreciation with a fruit metaphor before googling and realizing it was a compliment on your looks in Cuba.
“So pretty.” The tip of his fingers wandered over the gossy folds just to feel your wetness and touch your cunt swollen with desire and expectation.
“Do you like sexual stimulation?” Ony asked gently, his tongue curling around your other brown nipple.
“Isn’t that what we’re doing?” You said, clueless, shivering again at Eren’s open-mouthed kisses on your neck.
“I mean sex toys and temperature play.”
Your lips parted in anticipation.
“If it’s gradual and we stop when it’s too much, I think it’s okay,” you smiled.
Ony was jealous of Connie at that moment because he would have eaten you for days for that cute expression.
Ony left the room, already missing his tongue on your body. But Eren’s on your neck was divine. He wasn’t ashamed to devour your neck, sucking on the bits of skin he had caught between his teeth, making you dizzy.
Connie set up his phone so he could film you and have his hands free. He sank his fingers between your lips, parting them, and the way he inspected your flesh made you nervous, but the sensation was so good, he chuckled every time you clenched your thighs too much.
“Focus on the top, please, Connie,” you said, trembling with longing to feel his touch on your clit.
“Nah. You’re not dominant enough for my submissive side, I’m bored.”
You widened your eyes as he withdrew his fingers and, in a panic, you grabbed his head, pressing it against your pussy. The vibrations of his laughter against you sent waves of electricity through your body, and when his tongue lapped through the folds, you saw stars. Ony returned with mysterious toys in his hands and glared at Connie, who had the chance to taste you first. You thought Ony was going to use the objects on you, but he sat down next to you and resumed sucking your nipples greedily, as if preparing you and testing waters. One hand on Connie's buzzcut, pressing it against you, the other on Ony's short black hair—with a fresh new fade because he doesn't play about his appearance, just like you (#besties)—you felt like a queen with her loyal maids existing to please you.
Eren had practically become a vampire with all the little bites he'd made on your neck.
"I could eat you up," he whispered, nuzzling you. "Why do you smell so good?"
“Well, to make perfume last longer, it’s recommended to start with a cream and then layer it with oils, butters, mists, and even Vaseline so it lasts longer. You also need a perfume with a high concentration, not just an eau de toilette—”
He bit you so hard you let out a pained moan.
“Nerdy ass.”
“She’s right, though,” Ony joined the conversation, leaving your nipples alone. “Men need to stop with cheap cologne and buy pure perfume. They buy Savage by Dior and are still surprised they don’t have game.”
“Not everyone is a self-care nerd like you, Ony,” Eren chuckled. “Opinion on Maison Crivelli?”
“You’re trying too hard to be niche, just buy Creed Aventus or some Armani stuff.”
“It’s $300, dumb ass.”
“You’re a rich plug, ‘Ren. But I would buy it for you if you weren’t the ban of my existence.”
“Is this… What they call ‘bromance’?” you added to the conversation in a frail voice because the way Connie was eating you out… You tried not to make a fool of yourself by whimpering like a dog in heat.
“More like rivalry,” Eren said, mock-disdain in his voice.
“He’s jealous because I’m taking care of you while he’s hurting you with his teeth,” Ony teased, clipping a nipple clamp to your little finger to check if the intensity of the fixed pressure and tension wasn’t too overwhelming. After receiving your blessing, he clipped them to your nipples, the silver chain connecting them contrasting with your princess-like appearance.
It felt a little painful… but the pain was exquisite, a sensation you hadn’t experienced before. You were discovering a masochistic side to yourself today.
“She looks so pretty like this,” Eren murmured, staring at your body. “I feel like I’m going to ruin her if I touch her more.” He put a little distance between you to unbutton his jeans and free his heavy erection.
Connie stopped eating you out for a moment. He collected a lot of your arousal on his hand to spread it on Eren's dick, making masturbation easier. You looked at Eren, amazed that he wasn't bothered by his best friend touching his cock. He smirked.
"Brotherhood, baby."
You burst out laughing but ended up moaning as Connie went back into business.
Ony and Eren glanced at each other, both captivated by the way you arched your back on the couch, your chest rising and falling, your lips agape.
Ony kissed your arm, along the length of it, as Eren shamelessly stroked his dick while staring at you.
"Ony, you need to fuck her first. I'm going to overwhelm her, I'll save my turn for last," Eren proposed, his voice raspier as his hand worked itself over.
"I like the way you're thinking," Ony smiled against your skin, happy to be the first. Connie's tongue traced around your clit. He was having fun. Sometimes he pressed the tip of his tongue against your clit without moving, to make you whimper; sometimes he made circles over it to make you tremble; or most of the time he avoided touching it so as not to overstimulate you and lapped through the folds. The combination of Ony's kisses returning to your neck, the nipple claws, Connie's tongue, and the sounds of Eren's hand rubbing together made you feel like you were overheating, until you finally exploded. It wasn't spectacular; your autism made you struggle to show big emotions on your face, but Connie and Ony caught the way your body was wracked with spasms and your lip was bitten.
"Now get out of the way." Ony pushed Connie aside, who was laughing at his best friend's excitement.
Connie got up from the floor and picked up his phone to be the cameraman again. Ony laid you down on the couch, resting your head on Eren's lap. Eren smirked at you, looking down at you, his erection just next to your shy face.
“Are we going to do double penetration at some point? Because I need to be prepared, it can hurt,” you said softly, anxiously. Your autistic brain needed to know all the preparations and plan everything in advance so you wouldn't be surprised when it happened. You constantly needed clear instructions and reassurance.
The three of them let out a quiet laugh.
Eren used the hand that didn't touch his length to stroke the top of your head.
“You are prepared, don't worry.”
Ony removed his clothes, and your jaw dropped at the sight of all the tattoos that adorned his dark brown skin, making him look intimidating and even sexier now. He lay on top of you, the hard planes of his body pressed against your soft curves. You felt the definition of his muscles against you, the proof of his dedication to his sport.
His head above you, his beauty and his handsomeness made your cunt clench.
“Hey,” you whispered softly.
“Hey.” He smiled wrapping your thick thigh around his waist. “How do you want it, love?”
You wrapped an arm around his neck, pressing him against you. “Slow and deep.”
“I’m gonna give you that.”
“I’m not this filming this sappy shit,” Connie grumbled.
“Yeah, they are acting as if my dick isn’t aching right now. The fuck you mean slow?” Eren added.
Ony and you ignored them. He kissed you as he lined his dick to your entrance and pushed his hips in. Your eyes widened at the size difference with Jean, and glanced at Eren, who also had a large one. Feeling full, you had trouble breathing as he bottomed out, and then being able to do it again when he moved his hips backward.
Ony felt Eren’s jealous glare in the back of his head and chuckled.
“Take care of my friend, baby,” he commanded.
With your free hand, you jerked your wrist to jerk Eren's cock, while Ony fucked you. Eren let out a groan of relief at the contact of your hand.
“Such a versatile girl,” Connie teased, making you flustered.
Ony was a precise man. He hated jackhammering during sex. All his thrusts were calculated to please his partner, not just to ejaculate. He was gentle, but incredibly intense. Slow thrusts didn’t mean no hard thrusts. So he angled his hips perfectly so that every time he hit the depth of your pussy, he struck a sensitive spot that made your chubby body tremble even if his pace was slow. The way your curves jiggled with his every move was mesmerizing, and all three men’s eyes in the room were fixed on you.
Your hand ran along Eren’s length, squeezing sometimes, stroking most of the time, as you moaned because of Ony fucking you. His hips slammed so hard against you, feeling so good, while still being gentle; this man was crazy. How was that possible? You hugged him more, wanting to make love with him forever.
Eren’s hand twitched at the top of your head, his breathing ragged. He didn't even contain his arousal for long and let himself cum on your face. You let out a chuckle at the surprise of the action. Ony leaned down to lick some of it on your cheek.
“Why are all of you so gay?” you asked, confused.
“Shhhh,” Ony pressed his lips against yours, continuing his slow love making
“Okay, Ony your time is up,” Eren muttered, punching Ony in the shoulder. Ony groaned, not even that close from release but agreed to withdraw from you. Eren cleaned your face with a tissue before placing a kiss on your forehead.
You let them manipulate your body into whatever position they wanted. You were now sitting on Connie, who had given the camera to Ony, with Eren positioned behind you.
You knew Eren was aggressive. You could feel it in his aura and the way he spoke to people. So, as both dicks slid inside you, your heart pounded with the excitement of being manhandled. It took a little while to adjust to the two cocks inside you, but once you were comfortable, Connie murmured, "Kiss me." You leaned down to give him what he needed.
You rocked your hips, Eren's and Connie's hands on them for the moment. Eren was dangerously calm as you rode Connie, and didn't give him much friction. The sweat that had accumulated on your back intensified as you thought about when Eren would snap and show his true colors.
“Boring,” he finally snapped, grabbing a handful of your braids and pulling them back, making you gasp.
On his knees on the couch, his hips moved back and forth at a punishing pace. Absolutely no attempt at a gradual rhythm to get you used to it; he didn’t care about your whimpers. He took what he wanted, when he wanted it.
Connie kept his hands on your hips, guiding them to gyrate on him. Sometimes, his hands moved up to touch your love handles, kneading your softness.
“The way we don’t need any lube,” Ony joked, moving closer to the trio, nudging his dick against your cheek while filming your flustered reaction. “You think you take three dicks inside you, baby?”
You nodded softly, wanting to please him. Eren released your hair to let you lean down to take Ony’s dick in your mouth. But Eren picked up the pace even more, hand on your back.
You almost choked on Ony’s dick with the aggressiveness of Eren’s thrusts, and the worst part was that Ony pushed his hips anyway. You looked up at him in surprise and he gave you a little smirk, zooming in on your betrayed expression.
“What is it? Your mouth is full of dick, you can’t tell me how betrayed you are that I have a bit of Eren in me. Poor you.”
Ony’s tone became more petty and you moaned on his dick, turned on by this new change of event. You hoped he would still have mostly his gentle side, but you don’t mind his mean side sometimes.
“Bounce that ass, bitch. You’re not doing enough for me,” Eren muttered.
Eren’s frantic pace made you gargling with Ony’s dick, the sound of it making the three men growl. Ony fed you his cock with quick snap of his hips, hitting the deepest spot you can take him. Connie played with your breasts and nipples clamps as he lifted his own pelvic floor to penetrate you deeper. Eren still stroked your braids even though he fucked you like he hated your guts.
The video continued to play, filming the spectacle.
But the camera will never be enough to understand the pleasure you were currently feeling. Hearing Ony groan because of you made you feel powerful. The fact that Eren fucked you like an animal made you let go. And Connie, who was a mix of both but in a submissive way, made you feel understood, since he saw your lack of confidence.
Everything was perfect.
But as always, your disability ruined everything.
Maybe they'll get tired of you like Jean did because of it. You patted Ony's thigh to let him know you wanted to stop, and when the boys realized you were overstimulated, they stopped everything, including the video.
It was like you had needles everywhere, and even the touch of a feather was unbearable. Anxiety and discomfort paralyzed you. You couldn't speak until the sensory overload dissipated, and you just sat on the sofa staring at the floor, extremely embarrassed by how you felt in front of them.
────────
𝐚 𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐡 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫…
They weren't making fun of you. They understood what was happening and turned off the lights to reduce sensory input and did breathing exercises with you. You begged them never to mention it again, it was so embarrassing and you felt bad about ruining everything, but they always reassured you that they didn't care.
Now, you were in a polyamorous relationship with them.
It happened so naturally. The day after they sent the video to Jean, you were bombarded with messages from him, but you ended up blocking him on Eren's orders. Sad about your breakup, Ony took you shopping with him, and Connie made you Cuban dishes that catered to your autistic food obsessions to comfort you.
After a few days, you had stopped thinking about Jean because you were always spending time with your new boyfriends.
They were all diametrically opposed, but all perfect for you.
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
This should have stayed private between you and Sasha.
When she asked you who your favorite boyfriend was, you told her you loved them all equally for different reasons, but that Ony was the one you felt the most cared for with.
One day, Eren was on your phone for some random reason, and Sasha sent you a TikTok about couples, saying, "That's so Ony, no wonder he is your favorite boyfriend."
You never saw Eren so angry.
No matter how much you explained the nuance of your opinion, he wouldn't listen and was deeply hurt that you were had a favorite in your relationship with them.
Connie was nonchalant, so he couldn't care less, but he wasn't helping to ease the tension in the apartment because Eren had been in a constant sour mood since the incident. During the week you made love individually, and on weekends you had foursomes, but Eren had stopped participating in anything.
Eren always played the bad boy, but he was one of the most emotional men in the world.
But, thinking about it, you understood why he was so hurt.
You and Eren had a somewhat special relationship. It had taken you weeks to get used to calling him by the word he wanted to hear from you, because it was new to you. But he deserved it. He lived up to the word. He had punched a guy at a frat party who had made fun of you for not talking much. He was the one who knew the signs of your sensory overload best. He gave you advice on how to earn more respect. He was all about making yourself respected, protected, and taken care of. A dad.
Of course, he was hurt that you felt more cared for by Ony than with him, just because Ony was gentler. It made him feel bad about his personality, about himself. He didn't want to be the favorite, but he didn't want to be one of the least liked of your quartet either.
“Eren, you're such a child,” you pouted when he continued to ignore you while he played Final Fantasy XV on the big TV in your apartment.
“You literally have stim toys,” he mumbled, not an ounce of gentleness in his voice, his jaw clenched.
“A real daddy wouldn't act like that.”
That's when you annoyed him. He threw his controller onto the couch, abandoning Noctis character, and ran after you. You screamed as he charged toward you and started running all over the apartment. Instinctively, you went into his room—big mistake. Eren locked the door and grabbed your braids, pulling you against his muscular chest. Eren had a sleeper build, thin from the outside, a greek god once naked.
“And a daddy wouldn’t fuck his daughter so what is your point, huh?” Eren mumbled.
You nuzzle his hard chest, not finding the comfort you can find in Connie’s body which is less muscular and softer. “Connie is better for hugging, like a real daddy,” you teased him.
“Strip.”
“Uh?”
“You’re going to learn who is really taking care of you in this house.”
── .✦ 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐮𝐭𝐞𝐬 𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫…
“I’m so sorry!” you cried, but it didn’t matter since Eren had pushed your face into the pillow. All your pleas, screams, and cries were muffled now. The only thing that could be heard was Eren’s ragged and your flesh bumping against each other. The backshots were crazy, and he wished he could send this to Connie.
“Sorry for what? Disobeying dad? Making fun of me? Be specific because you’ve been a really bad kid lately and it pissed me off,” he panted, picking up the pace, if that was even possible.
Your tears soaked the pillow and intensified as he thrust into you. It felt so good; before Eren, you didn’t know you could have sex like this because of your sensory issues. But it was perfect. Eren didn’t change much. He would always be dominant, and you would always be submissive. He would always choose positions where he was in control, always slap you, choke you, and spank you. It was very brutal, but it was so comforting for you, autistically. You loved routine. Eren's brutality was comforting.
“I love you, I'm sorry for saying Ony was my favorite,” you sniffed, lifting your head as best you could so he could hear you.
“You're only sorry because I'm fucking you to make you say it.”
“No, I—”
“I love Ony. He is the smartest man I know. People only care about his athletic performance, but he has a brilliant brain, very strategic. However,” he grumbled, “my kid can't love him that much.”
“You're right, I'm sorry,” you repeated like a robot because you wanted him to turn you over quickly so you could kiss your favorite angry boyfriend. “You're perfect for me, Eren.”
“Uh,” he smirked, his pace slowing down, “I don’t remember being called this.”
“Stop trying to make me embarrassed. Our relationship is already very weird,” you whispered.
“Ah, you're a hypocrite now? It's just because Connie came back from college a few minutes ago that you're whispering. When he's not there, you easily shout “i feel it in my belly daddy”. You think I'm stupid?”
“Shut your damn mouth, oh my god!” you screamed, mortified that Connie knew what you and Eren had as a dynamic. Connie was a bastard, he was gonna make fun of a dynamic that is deeper than just sex.
A deep chuckle rumbled in Eren’s chest. He pulled your thighs back so that you were lying down and in a prone bone position. He nuzzled your neck. “I accept the apologies of my daugther.”
“Ewwww.”
“Acting you’re not into that shit.”
You laughed and he kissed your skin, making you shiver.
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐞𝐫𝐞𝐧'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
[messages from ‘princess’s harem 🎀 ’ group chat]
goofiestcubandick69 : i just heard our girl call eren daddy in bed ??????????
lamelo’s left ball : wdym daddy that boy can’t even handle his own emotions
lamelo’s left ball : how he is gonna handle a kid
goofiestcubandick69 : thats what im saying
[...]
you : ummmm can yall forget this okay…….
worstpsychiatricpatient : im actually her dad tho
worstpsychiatricpatient : do you even know what is hyposensitivity in autism
lamelo’s left ball : you’re acting like that’s a fatal character flaw to not know
lamelo’s left ball : admitting you don’t know something is the first step to be smarter
goofiestcubandick69 : no but do she knows you ate your own shit when we were at the nursery
[worstpsychiatricpatient has left the chat.]
goofiestcubandick69 : yeah thats what i thought
you : WTF ????????????????????
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐫𝐝 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐨𝐧𝐲 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
Studying for exams was torture for your autism.
Exams disrupted all your routines; you now had to care about things you didn't care about, and you didn't dare complain to your boyfriends because you felt like you complained all the time. As if you had a monopoly on suffering. They suffered from exams too, and you didn't want to bother them with your usual autistic complaints.
You were trying not to burst into tears in the university library because of all the academic pressure and the sheer amount of material you had to study.
As you were reviewing your lectures’s notes, someone sat down next to you. A familiar scent of men's cologne made you stiffen as you looked at the person.
"Not sucking three dicks?" Jean smiled, but there was nothing warm in his expression.
“I’ll do what I want, you cheated on me,” you muttered, unsure of yourself, but like Eren and Connie had taught you to be more confident in your comebacks.
“You weren’t exactly the ideal girlfriend. They’ll leave you eventually and realize it too.” You looked away from the brown-haired man to your textbooks, your eyes welling with tears.
It was your biggest fear.
Being a burden to others. That’s why you tried not to complain too much about your autism so as not to bore your boyfriends.
You wanted your boyfriends to be able to talk about your personality first. About your love of pink. About your collection of perfumes and platform boots. About your knowledge of cosmetology. About your rare vintage clothes.
No, they had to tell all their friends during parties that you were autistic so no one would be mean to you because you didn't talk much because of not understanding the world around you and struggling to read the room.
You were chatty with your boyfriends because they had become routines. But anything new was difficult for you to understand, so you struggled to be yourself.
You shouldn't be ashamed of your disability, but a disability did what it did: it handicapped you in life.
"Many autistic people are happily married. My boyfriends are happy with me. You're the only idiot who can't leave me and prefers to be unfaithful," you said in a trembling voice before leaving the university library. You hoped your boyfriend were proud of you for standing for yourself.
────────
When sadness strikes, always turn to Ony. It should be a famous saying.
“Point in my life” by Gucci Mane was playing in the gym, accompanied by the sound of bouncing basketballs. You cheered Ony on as he made baskets for his practice. With each basket, you yelled, and he turned to look at you, laughing. The other people in the stands looked at you as if you were the male-centered protagonist of a romance novel, but you didn't care. Your baby, your man was surely going to be drafted this summer; he deserved all the praise!
When he finished his practice, you went to the locker room with him. You innocently watched all the men getting dressed in front of you, giving you strange looks, waiting to be alone with your lover.
Once alone, Ony d led you to the showers so you could get undressed.
“What’s on your mind? I know these eyes cried, ma’. Don’t fool me,” Ony murmured, kneeling before you when you were finally naked under the shower spray.
“W-What are you doing?”
He pressed your back against the shower wall and lifted one of your legs to his shoulder.
“You don’t know? Pussy eating therapy session.”
You burst into laughter at the absurdity but quickly panted when he buried his nose and mouth deep into wet folds.
“I… I feel like I’m going to burn out from the exams. It’s just too much. I can’t sleep because it stresses me out so much, and on top of that, I’m not doing my usual routines anymore, so I’m not myself anymore,” you paused to let out a moan as his tongue caressed a particularly sensitive spot. “I cry all the time when I study, and I didn’t want to seem like an attention whore by talking to you about my problems.”
Indulging in your arousal, he groaned at the scent of you; it made him lose his mind. He moved his tongue deeper, lapping at you, twisting it inside.
“I’m scared you, Connie and Eren will leaving me because of my autism.”
That made him stop completely, and he looked at you in horror.
“The fuck?”
Thinking about what Jean said made your eyes water, and fed up, you sobbed. Sometimes you laughed, sometimes you cried; these days you didn’t even remember yourself.
“Mama,” he said softly, rising from the floor to embrace you, kissing your cheek wet not from the shower but from your tears. “Who put these shitty ideas in your head?”
“M-My ex…”
“And what did I tell you about that motherfucker?”
“That he was stupid to look at any other woman but me.”
“Exactly, so why do you listen to him?”
“I don’t know, he was as loving as you all, and still cheated.”
“Being loving doesn’t mean shit. He never helped you during a meltdown. We did. A lot. I hope he dies.”
You widened your eyes. “Don’t say that!”
“What are you gonna do with your socially anxious ass to make me stop, huh?”
You pouted. “Nothing…”
“Right, now let me fuck you good, you need it.”
He lifted you up, wrapping your legs around his waist, as he stood pushing you against the wall.
He kissed you as his dick slid in, all his affection communicate through his tongue, his kiss, the way his hips slammed again you.
You wrapped your arms around his neck, your hands stroking his short hair under the shower jet which dampened it into tight curls.
“I feel so safe with you, Ony. Sorry for what I said, I trust you. I’m a bit tired because of school, I think,” you whispered against his lips.
“Yeah? You’re not gonna listen to this dumbass again?”
You shook your head.
“Proud of my sweet girl.”
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐨𝐧𝐲'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
[messages from ‘princess’s harem 🎀 ’ group chat]
goofiestcubandick69 : are yall into public sex
you : NO!!!!!!!!!!
worstpsychiatricpatient : yea
lamelo’s left ball : hell no
lamelo’s left ball : nobody looks at my girl like that
goofiestcubandick69 : then why there is a rumor on the campus about our girl looking at naked men with you
worstpsychiatricpatient : thats even gayer than when he licked my cum
lamelo’s left ball : we masturbated together in middle school eren
[worstpsychiatricpatient has left the chat.]
goofiestcubandick69 : man you’re a child
goofiestcubandick69 : and gay
goofiestcubandick69 : ony i didnt forget
goofiestcubandick69 : you put MY girl with naked men
goofiestcubandick69 : tf is wrong with you
lamelo’s left ball : why are we focused on ME when SHE was in my male locker room ?????
goofiestcubandick69 : mi princesa can do no wrong
goofiestcubandick69 : soy su perro
you : exactlyyyyyy
[worstpsychiatricpatient is back in the chat.]
worstpsychiatricpatient : two dumb bitches telling each other ‘exactlyyyyyy’
[worstpsychiatricpatient has left the chat.]
goofiestcubandick69 : this man is true to his @
goofiestcubandick69 : don’t call mi princesa a bitch u motherfucker
goofiestcubandick69 : but call me a bitch if you want to i’m into that
you : ????????
lamelo’s left ball : he has the nerve to call eren gay
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
If Eren was your angry boyfriend, Ony your gentle lover, Connie should be your sexy latino man?
That's what everyone thought about Connie.
On campus, the girls with a latino men fetish are interested in him because of his accent. His tattoos. His piercings. His immigrant status. He knows these white american girls well, girls who see latin America as a land full of sexy men, who think latin culture is just about aesthetics. So he created three phases to find the right people for him.
First, phase number 1, which attracts all the girls: The laid-back latino.
Sweatpants. Tattoos. Laid-back persona. Stoned out a lot. Hanging out with the university's plug Eren and the university's star, Ony. Calling any girl 'mami'. The girls love it, adore it, and can't get enough.
Then, he reveals a little bit of himself, and that's when things get out of hand.
There's his "goofy" phase, when he shows how weird and funny he can be, even if it makes him less of a stereotypical latino man.
99% of the girls leave or get the ick.
That's how he knew you were the one because you never thought much of his goofy behavior sometimes and just went along with him. He feels so normal with you; he doesn't have to perform some racist stereotype with you, you just accept him with all his facets.
Now, he can finally show his final layer: his submissive side.
────────
Being the dominant one in the relationship was so much fun.
Of course, you liked being manhandled by Eren, or being praised by Ony.
But it was just as exciting as getting what your submissive man wanted tonight.
“Do whatever you want to do to me in my sleep. If I don’t wake up with you fucking me, I’m gonna blow up the apartment.”
You and Connie looked at each other during dinner, even when you were on Eren’s lap or in Ony’s arms. You both knew you were going to have fun tonight when everyone was asleep. You were going to have fun when he was asleep.
You crept into his room so as not to wake him. You climbed onto the bed and noticed he wasn’t wearing a blanket or a shirt. You chuckled; he was really waiting for this.
You leaned down to kiss all over his chest and abdomen, your tongue flicking around his navel piercing and all his tattoos.
His body shivered, but he didn't open his eyes.
You stripped him of the rest of his clothes and spat on your bare breasts, then smeared the saliva on the inside of your breasts. Your mouth watered at his hard pierced dick that reacted to your kisses. Big. Thick. Exactly the type of dick you wanted to rub your tits around.
You gently palmed his cock before placing it between your breasts. You added more saliva to your mess as you kneaded your breasts around him. The situation was oddly stimulating sensorially with the softness of your chest and the humidity of your saliva.
“Mami, I missed you,” Connie murmured, voice still sleepy as he rubbed his eyes.
You gave him an affectionate smile. “What do you want tonight?”
“Uh, you never learn? My body belongs to you. You’re the one who chooses everything.”
A fire snaked through your belly, igniting your insides.
You stopped what you were doing even though you saw disappointment in his eyes, but they lit up when you sat on his pelvis, sliding down his dick.
“Oh hell yeah,” he moaned, his hands coming to your hips but you slapped him.
“I didn’t say you could do that, Connie,” you chided him. “Put your hands above your head, I’ll slap you if you move them.”
His gut twisted with arousal, he absolutely nodded and obeyed with enamored eyes.
You couldn't say no to people but were able to slap your man, the duality of an autistic freaky woman.
You leaned down to stabilize yourself on his shoulders. Lifting yourself off his cock, you slid down again brutally, making him gasp and whine for more. When he whined too much, you slapped him and told him to stop. He almost cummed and bit his lower lip till it bled not to.
You did everything you wanted to Connie. A slow pace when your legs were tired. At fast pace, fucking yourself on his dick. Sometimes, you turned over and he thanked God women existed just to see your ass gyrating in front of him.
When you were the dominant one, you experienced less sensory overload during sex, that’s why you loved having sex with Connie so much.
You rode him, rocking your hips against him, your tits bouncing, looking like a voluptuous succubus who haunted him at night. It made him lose his mind, and spouting nonsense, his brain going dumb.
“Yesterday I genuinely cried because I wanted to eat you out but it was Ony’s day, so I ate so many sweets just to feel you on my tongue.”
Your heart fluttered and you leaned down to kiss him. “You’re so cute and weird, Connie.”
He forgot about the rules and just hugged his favorite girl ever.
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐞'𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐮𝐝𝐞 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
[messages from ‘princess’s harem 🎀 ’ group chat]
worstpsychiatristpatient : how do you cope with the fact that your girl is a rapist
you : WTFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
you : ???????????
goofiestcubandick69 : she cant rape me since i am her slave
goofiestcubandick69 : my body is her propriety
worstpsychiatristpatient : not only my girl is a rapist
worstpsychiatristpatient : but she uses mind control
goofiestcubandick69 : exactly
goofiestcubandick69 : my mind is controlled by her
goofiestcubandick69 : i always think of my girl
lamelo’s left ball : i’m employed what happened
you : eren discovered somno
[lamelo’s left ball is now offline.]
goofiestcubandick69 : thats why i love ony
goofiestcubandick69 : he knows how to mind his own business
worstpsychiatristpatient : just so you know i called the police
worstpsychiatristpatient : mind u i’m the only one who have a real job and a dangerous one at that
worstpsychiatristpatient : so fuck u lamelo wannabe
────────
˚₊‧꒰ა 𝐛𝐨𝐧𝐮𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐧𝐭 : 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬 ໒꒱ ‧₊˚
“Ma’, you’re going to hurt yourself.”
Ony took the star you were trying to put on top of the fake pink tree Connie had found on some niche website. He placed it where you wanted it.
“There is no way, it’s really the only color we will ever see at Christmas,” Eren grumbled, rummaging through the Christmas decorations you and Connie had bought weeks earlier, appalled by all the pink in them. “Christmas is green and red!”
“Well, it’s my girl’s world so I don’t care about Christmas rules,” Connie mumbled, taking a drag of his blunt, sitting on the couch.
“And you guys also have pink Christmas pajamas to wear!” you said excitedly, pulling out the pink pajama sets with snowflake patterns.
Eren winced, Connie gave a thumbs-up, and Ony chuckled. But they wore them all, just for your beautiful eyes.
It was going to be a fun Christmas, but you wouldn't trade places for anything in the world.
Because you were with the three loves of your life. In no particular order. Just the trio of your heart.
──────── ✃- - - - - - - - - - - you liked it ? please support fics you liked with a reblog or a comment ! writers never know how we impact you if you don't say anything <3 ── .✦
𝜗℘ ˖ ࣪ . ˖˙ a soft and intimate morning with (older) bf!gojo :: cws. smut, pwp, vanilla, crēampie, reader gets called 'baby, sweets, good girl'
“it’s okay, baby, i know,” satoru whispers words of comfort in your ear from behind. one of his arms is wrapped around your waist to keep your body close, the other circles your thigh, holding up your leg so his cock could slide in and out smoothly.
you’ve both just woken up from an afternoon nap, needy for each other’s touch. your lover’s raspy voice paired with his bedhead has been an irresistible combination.
satoru wasted no time in pulling your shorts down and freeing his erection from its confines. he went from rolling his hips against the fat of your ass and fondling your tits under your shirt, to burying his fat dick all the way up your cunt.
he’s so soft—so caring. his butterfly kisses make you drowsy again, the tingly sensations running from your face to your nape, and back down to your shoulders and upper arms. “let it out, yeah—good girl. don’t be shy,” satoru chuckles softly as he grinds his cock upwards, tip prodding at that sweet spot that makes your toes curl.
your eyes are half-lidded and blurry. you’re feeling so good and loved, so pleased and happy to have a partner like him. “right there, ‘toru,” you whimper quietly once you feel the head of his dick rub back and forth on the deepest parts of your velvety insides. satoru happily obliges, hugging your body even tighter to his chest before burying his face into the crook of your neck.
“here, baby?” the white-haired man asks, his hot breath sending a shiver down your spine as it ghosts over your skin. he keeps his dick balls deep inside you and switches to slow and shallow strokes, “y’re so pretty. you always know jus’ how to take it. so, so, so good.”
your hands are scrambling to hold onto the white sheets. you can’t physically take the amount of pleasure you’re getting, that inevitable peak gets closer and closer. your hips involuntarily jolt back against satoru, reciprocating his gentle thrusts. a big hand reaches out to yours that’s tugging at the covers, slender fingers intertwining with your own.
“m’sgood,” you mumble incoherently through a soft whimper. your back is positioned in a nasty arch that makes satoru’s dick tingle.
he sighs against your nape before allowing his tongue to wet the skin, sucking on the same spot soon after. he does the same to your sensitive ears and neck—covering you with his love while also filling your body with the same.
satoru holds your hand tightly, squeezing it every now and then to reassure you. “i love you so much, y’know that, right?” he says in a gentle tone. he’s confessed his love to you so many times before, though he always makes it sound like it’s his first time doing so.
“i’m never letting you go, ever,” he promises before leaning over your shoulder to catch your lips in a kiss.
satoru’s tongue sweeps over your bottom lip before rolling around in your warm mouth. his hips don’t stop, cock repeatedly appearing and disappearing inside of your pussy. the pace never escalates to make the moment last longer.
“mhmm— wanna b-be with you forever,” you mutter against his glossy lips, feeling safe and protected in satoru’s embrace like this. all you’re feeling, hearing and smelling is him. that’s what peace is for you. as long as you got him, you’re going to be just fine.
satoru smiles at your words. you feel so perfect around him, your cunt molded to fit his cock whenever he pleases, remembering its shape and allowing it to ruin your insides. “of course, sweets. i’ll treat you so well, ‘kay? you can count on me,” he comforts you with a forehead kiss.
“pretty girl. you’re perfect,” satoru continues to praise you like no other. his free hand runs over the small of your back and back to your thigh, keeping a gap between them so his cock can move a bit more freely.
“let me hear your cute moans, c’mon. fuck, y’ turn me on so much,” he sighs, not knowing what he’d do without you.
satoru is obsessed with all of you. the combination of your personality and looks is heavenly. his lips never stop distracting you, his tender kisses covering your entire upper body. the lovey dovey atmosphere in the room never dulls even once.
“ah, ‘toruu, hnghh—can’t last f’ any longer,” you moan, your eyes nearly rolling back. your lover is all the evidence needed to let you know that sex doesn’t have to be rough to be good. he can make you cum for an infinite amount of times by simply grinding his hips against you—changing his techniques every now and then.
rolling his hips in small circles or simply pressing his cock all the way inside your cunt and then prodding at your sweet spots, is all what’s needed to make you feel like you’re on cloud nine.
“aww, my poor baby. can’t hold it in f’me?” satoru pouts before kissing your temples lovingly. he caresses your hip, other hand still not letting go of your hand. there’s such a deep connection between you two—no one can ever sever it. that strong bond feels more intimate when you’re merged into one like this.
“nooo, can’t,” you shake your head and whine about how close you are. satoru nods at your needy words and dips a hand down to rub your clit. his middle and ring finger move around the small bundle of nerves in circles.
“khehe, that’s okay. let’s cum together,” he whispers as kisses find their way down your jawline.
you hum in agreement, little moans filling satoru’s ears as you get closer to your climax. your body trembles and heats up, your tummy tingles and tenses up. satoru’s in the same situation as you, his low moans turning into hisses and even quiet whines against the skin of your shoulder.
he holds you close, preparing both of you to reach your long awaited releases. “sh—shit, ‘m g’nna pull out, baby—give me a second,” you hear him whimper under his breath as his hand tightens its grip around yours. he’s nearly crushing your bones.
you don’t give him time to even think of pulling his cock out. you want to relive the sensation of having his seed spread inside of your cunt, overflowing until it’s dirtying the sheets.
“no- ‘toru. inside, please,” you beg quietly as your pussy locks around his cock. your walls cling onto his dick, yearning to milk his heavy balls dry of every drop.
satoru gasps and hisses, trying to speak up, but getting overpowered by his own noises of desperation. “fuck, all right, princess. as you wish,” his voice is husky and deep as he pushes his cock in to the base before dumping his load inside you.
ropes of hot cum come out quickly, one after the other, filling you with a hot creamy liquid. you can feel every drop being drained inside your spasming cunt. your own cum mixes with his, creating a lewd mess between your thighs.
“th-thank you,” you whisper tiredly. your body relaxes in satoru’s embrace. you’re trembling due to the intense aftershocks and your lover wastes no time into kissing it better. your forehead is peppered with small pecks, the rest of your face following.
satoru giggles at your fucked out state. he gives you a head pat and nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck. you can feel him grinning uncontrollably against your skin—the joy emitting from him is contagious.
“any time,” he sighs. you can feel his cock softening after that release, still nestled deep inside of you. he has no intention of pulling out, especially since it’s so comfortable. you let him cum inside you and thus he’ll do everything to keep that hot load buried deep inside your cunt.
you can nearly fall asleep like this with satoru. you have zero complains and simply need to relax after what just happened. perhaps take another nap or two.
the white-haired man kisses your shoulder and rubs your lower tummy, enjoying the softness, “i’m gonna prepare us a warm, relaxing bath in a second. let’s just cuddle some more, baby.”
⤿ ꒰ you get so needy during ovulation but thankfully your boyfriend knows how to handle you ⭒ marathon sex ꒱
"toru— oh my god, toru,"
that's what he loved to hear. arms thrown over his broad shoulders. legs hugging him close. plunging him deeper into your needy, drenched cunt.
"enough for ya sweet girl?" huffed your boyfriend into your ear. his hands splayed over your ass and pressing you further into him. suffocating you in his body that already dwarfed you. "fucking the need right outta this pretty pussy aren't I?"
his filth smoothed with a tender concern for your pleasure. ovulation was always hell on earth for you. it didn't matter how many times you spasmed around your vibrator or endlessly humped your pillow— nothing satisfied you.
it's why you tried to hide away in the shame of your desperation. tried to avoid thinking about sex altogether, and even your boyfriend. lost in your own thoughts and needs. one in particular always reared its ugly head.
could he handle it?
"that's it. there we go pretty. taking it like a good girl."
well, four orgasms, a barely faltered pace, a spluttering tip french kissing your cervix and those endless, darkened blues staring down at you? satoru had proven he could do a lot more than handle it.
your thighs bundled in his palms. you're wrenched back. so pliable. so his. your knees kissed your tits as he pulled you into a void of limitless bliss. the same way he yanked you back on his cock. hammering you down onto his pistoning thrusts.
white clouded your vision. hazes of heat, and nothingness, and him. oh him, your perfect, nymphomaniac boyfriend.
"there she is." his grin carried in the air. flexing forearms slammed beside your head. his face hoovered your dumbstruck expression. "there's my girl, fuck. there's my gorgeous girl."
his thrusts grew near erratic. fucking out every choked moan and whimpered whine your static mind could manage. pleasure weighed on your tongue. lightened only by satoru who swooped in to suck on it with his lips on yours.
he encased your senses. brutal, and beautiful and oh so blissful. bruises painted across the backs of your thighs. you returned them with red scratches down his back. hickies all over your arched neck. tears clouding your eyes as he took you higher- and higher—
"satooorruuuuu," you sobbed. hands abandoning your favourite canvas for his hair instead. he choked a whine.
"talk to me baby," he rasped.
"I'm cumming— cumming - again, please."
please? you needn't beg. not you. his scoff and mindless, ruinous pace said it all. he angled just right. pounding on your sweetspot and catching your clit on his pelvis. fading into a tempo that fucked out that cute little— 'ah ah ah!' from your spit-webbed lips.
"c'mon," he groaned above. cock pulsing at the base, throbbing at the tip.
"cum for me. need it so bad. need my pretty girl to cum— mngh, so I can. please baby? please."
now he's the one begging. you know he doesn't mean it. or does he? the needy rumble in his throat was the last burst. the knot unravelled. you clawed his hair and sobbed his name to the ceiling as it all crashed down. shattering. blinding. his.
"torrruuu ohgod- yesyesyes," he caught your praises with his mouth and gulped them down. losing rhythm in the mindlessness of his bliss before he too crashed. spraying your clenching walls white. creaming you so full that excess squirted from your quivered slit.
the world spun. then stopped. like your head. your heart. you tugged on his strands and he collapsed into you. aimlessly humping and grinding until your whines became one.
"more," you croaked.
"more?" he laughed. broken, manic.
you pushed on his shoulders with little strength. he let you. tumbling back into the bed and instinctively cupping your ass. the rhythm flowed so natural. a choreography of your passion and need with him as your lovely partner. always ready to catch you.
"I've got you sweetheart," his deep drawl came with a promise, sealed by his bucking hips and guiding hands. fucking you down on his still hard, overly sensitive cock. guess that makes the both of you. your pussy wept with her need.
still you clung around him. face buried into his neck. drooling. crying.
"toru, toru toru — toru,"
"yeah yeah, let it out." he huffed into your ear. bouncing you just right. aiming just perfect. giving you exactly what you needed and so much more.
"gotta make sure my girl's got it all. give her all of this dick cause she fuckin' deserves it."
warning ladies !! do not spit in gojo’s mouth unless you’re ready for him to nut instantly!
“c’mon baby,” he whines, voice all breathy and cocky, his blue eyes sparkling looking greedy. “i’ve been good. spit in my mouth, please?”
you laugh, because this six-foot-whatever menace who can literally warp reality is pouting like a brat because he wants your spit.
“you’re so fucking weird, toru.”
“you are weird,” he corrects instantly, tongue already poking out a little. “now c’mon.... i’m dying here. my dick’s so hard it’s bout to file a complaint.”
you roll your eyes but lean in anyway, gripping his jaw with one hand, thumb pressing into the soft skin just under his bottom lip. he opens wider, eyes half-lidded, that signature gojo smirk twitching at the corners because he knows exactly how nasty this is.
you gather it slow on purpose, letting him watch, then spit directly onto his waiting tongue. thick, warm, right in the center.
the sound he makes is downright criminal. a broken little moan-groan that vibrates straight through his chest and into yours.
“fuck— again,” he gasps, “do it again. spit like you mean it.”
you do it again, messier this time, letting some of it miss and drip down his chin. he doesn’t even wipe it. just lets it slide while his eyes roll back.
“you’re actually getting off on this, huh?” you tease, grinding down slow on the massive bulge straining against the fabric. “big bad strongest and all it takes is a little spit to make you stupid?”
“shut up and degrade me properly,” he whines, but he’s grinning like an idiot, tongue still out. “call me a nasty little slut or sum. i’m literally leaking for you right now.”
you laugh again, i mean you can’t help it. before you do the request, you reach down and shove his sweats just low enough to free him. he’s flushed dark at the tip, already dripping down the shaft.
“open wider, pretty boy.”
he obeys instantly, loving every second of being absolutely humiliated by you.
you spit again, then lean down and lick into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue while you sink down onto his cock.
satoru’s whole body shudders. he moans into your mouth, hands scrambling on your hips, already babbling.
“more!! fuck— spit on me while you ride me. please baby i’ll do anything. i’ll buy you a country. i’ll cancel infinity for the rest of the night. just keep spitting in my fucking mouth—”
𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 had said it offhand one evening, sprawled across the couch with his head in your lap while you idly ran fingers through his white hair. “y’know,” he’d murmured, eyes closed behind his blindfold, a lazy smirk on his lips. “i wouldn’t mind it. waking up to that. to you. already on me. best alarm clock in the world.” he’d nuzzled into your thigh, sighing contentedly. “just don’t expect me to be coherent. might just fuck you back to sleep.”
the idea had taken root, a secret little fantasy that bloomed in the dark of his bedroom weeks later.
he sleeps like the dead—a boneless, glorious sprawl across the king-sized mattress, having claimed seventy percent of it as his divine right. one arm is flung over his head, the other curled loosely near his pillow.
the thin black blindfold is askew, revealing a sliver of pale eyelid and long white lashes. his lips are slightly parted, breathing deep and even. the sheet is tangled low around his hips, doing nothing to hide the impressive outline of his cock, already half-hard against his thigh even in the depths of sleep.
you slip from your side of the bed, the cool air raising goosebumps on your skin, but the heat radiating from him is a palpable force. you slide under the sheet, the scent of him enveloping you—clean cotton, his expensive sandalwood soap, and something uniquely satoru: ozone and limitless potential and man.
you nuzzle his inner thigh first, feeling the coarse, white hair, the solid muscle beneath. his skin is fever-warm. you press an open-mouthed kiss there, and his leg twitches, a soft, sleepy sigh escaping him. “nnngh…”
emboldened, you shift, your breath ghosting over his length. it stirs against his stomach, thickening almost imperceptibly. you don’t use your hands, just your mouth, leaning in to lick a slow, flat stripe from base to tip.
a low, rumbling hum vibrates in his chest, but his eyes remain shut, his breathing deepening. he’s still under, lost in whatever dreams the strongest sorcerer allows himself.
you take him into your mouth slowly, savoring the weight, the silken skin over iron-hard core. your lips stretch around his girth, and you suck gently, hollowing your cheeks. pre-cum beads instantly at the slit, a bitter-sweet tang on your tongue. you work him with deliberate, languid pulls, one hand finally coming up to cradle his heavy balls, rolling them gently in your palm.
his reactions are purely somatic, unfiltered by consciousness. his hips give a minute, rocking thrust upwards, seeking more depth. a soft, broken whimper escapes his parted lips—a sound of pure, helpless pleasure. “nngh…”
his brow furrows slightly, not in distress, but in intense feeling. his fingers, resting near his pillow, curl into the sheet. you suck harder, adding a twist of your tongue along the frenulum, and his whole abdomen tightens, those perfect abs clenching. another whimper, higher this time, almost a plea. a string of incoherent, sleepy mumbles follows: “…feels… good… good— please…”
you lose yourself in the rhythm, in the power of him completely surrendered to sensation. saliva drips down, making a wet patch on the sheet beneath him. you bob your head, taking him deeper until he nudges the back of your throat, and he moans openly in his sleep, a deep, ragged sound that goes straight to your own core. his cock is fully erect now, pulsing in your mouth, leaking steadily. you can feel the tension coiling in his thighs, the telltale sign of his approaching peak even in slumber.
but you don’t let him finish. not like this.
you pull off with a final, obscene pop, leaving him glistening and twitching in the cool air. he makes a noise of protest, a lost, needy grunt, his hips searching for the vanished heat. you climb his body, knees settling on either side of his narrow hips. your own arousal is a slick, aching mess, and you grind it against him, coating his length with your wetness, dragging your swollen clit over the throbbing vein on the underside.
still, he sleeps, but his body is taut, strung like a bow. you position him, notching his broad head against your entrance. you sink down, an inch, then two, a slow, burning stretch that makes you gasp. his unconscious mind responds instantly; his hands, which had been lying limp, fly to your hips, big palms slapping against your skin with a sound that echoes in the quiet room. his grip is instinctive, possessive, holding you in place as you impale yourself further.
“wha—?” his voice is a gravelly rasp, thick with disorientation. his head turns on the pillow, the blindfold slipping completely off. those limitless blue eyes blink open, hazy and unfocused, pupils blown wide in the dark. he stares up at you, confusion and sleep warring with the overwhelming physical sensation. “...baby…?”
you bottom out, sheathing him completely inside you, and his eyes roll back for a second, a long, drawn-out moan tearing from his throat. “f-fuck. fuck.” he’s awake, but barely—brain still fogged, body operating on pure, raw instinct. his hands tighten on your hips, unsure if he’s dreaming. “a-are you—”
“you said you wouldn’t mind,” you whisper, beginning to move, a slow, rocking grind that makes him see stars.
comprehension dawns slowly, beautifully. his confused frown melts into a dazed, blissed-out smile. “oh. o-oh, hell yeah i did.” his hips jerk up to meet your next downward stroke, and he moans again, deep and satisfied.
“keep going… d-don’t stop… s’perfect.” he’s fully hard, fully inside you, and now fully invested, though his movements are languid, syrupy with sleep. he thrusts up in time with your rolls, his strength undeniable even half-conscious. one hand slides from your hip to your ass, kneading the flesh, urging you faster.
“woke up to heaven,” he slurs, eyes drifting shut again, not in sleep, but in overwhelmed pleasure. “knew it was you… o-only you feel this good, baby— fuckfuckfuck—” his other hand finds your breast, thumb rubbing lazy circles over your nipple.
every sound he makes is a sleepy, turned-on groan—each drive of his cock into your wet heat pulling another one from his chest. he’s pliant, eager, utterly into it, letting you use him for your pleasure while he drowns in his. his earlier whimpers have transformed into continuous, low moans of “yes” and “right there” and your name, breathed like a prayer.
you ride him harder, chasing your own climax, the slap of skin filling the room. he meets every bounce, his abs flexing, a sheen of sweat breaking out over his chest. just as you tense, about to fall, his eyes snap open, clear and blazing with sudden, awake intensity. he flips you over in one fluid motion, pinning you beneath him, never slipping out.
“my turn,” he growls, no trace of sleep left, only feral, devoted hunger. and he fucks you awake properly, proving that some wishes are best granted in the deepest, most intimate parts of the night.
FIRST RICH BABY DADDY IN MIAMI, IM UNSTOPPABLE!- ♡
— you know how they say friendships never make it pass miami? — feat. satoru gojo
+18 MDI. WARNINGS. baddie!reader x rich!gojo, porn with plot, this is not going to go the way you think, false Identity, girls just wanna have fun, f*cking 4 the bag, drama & mess, miami club scene, miami testing y’all friendship, vip sections & bottle girls, high-value men, instagram models, drinking, high-fashion, unprotected sex, creampie, praise & body worship, gojo satoru is his own warning, descriptions of nudity. notes. word count 6k. title: Flo Milli - Edible (A03 link)
photo’s sourced from pinterest, credits to original ♡
“Hold the fuck on!” You holler in response to the repeated banging on the bathroom door. A line of people had formed behind the door trying to rush y’all out.
“Fuck Utahime don’t sit on the floor it’s disgusting.” You reach under her arms to help support her weight as she continues to throw her stomach up into the toilet.
“I’m so fucked up...” She dry heaves then coughs, tears starting to brim around her eyes. She's crouching down over the toilet, hands gripping the edges of the rim, this was fine, it’s okay, as long as she didn’t get her knees on the sticky wet floor she could wash her hands in the sink and use the sanitizer you keep in your purse.
You hold her hair up as she continues to get the rest of the toxins out of her system, long thick jet black hair wrapped around your knuckles, you two always joke about how if she ever went broke enough she could cut her hair and sell it.
“Wait a fucking minute!” You holler again, more knocks and bangs hitting the door. You were really getting pissed off now, as big as this club was, you knew there were plenty of other bathrooms for them to use. You weren’t leaving till your girl could walk out on her two feet, fuck if it was ignorant…let them say something to y’all when y’all walk out. You dare them.
“I’m so sorry yo…” she cries out…she wasn’t even pissy drunk…you couldn’t figure out why she was throwing up. Y’all barely drunk before y’all got here and only had two henny shots after making it inside. Could have been the food at the seafood bar y’all went too earlier…y’all were in the states so it couldn’t have been the tap water so what the fuck was it?
“It’s cool…just…c’mon…” You pat her back, she’s crying now and you're growing frantic. They’re still banging on the door and she won’t stop. This was a fucked position to be in and you don’t know what to do…if y’all call for help they’d just kick y’all out then y’all would really be fucked up standing on the curb while she’s sick as a dog.
“I can’t…I really can’t…” She babbles out, fat tears running down her face. You love her to death but this was gross, you don’t do throw up…the bathroom was gross, the floor was gross, but you weren’t leaving your girl’s side, she needed you.
“Just get it all out, we can get water—” she hurls again before you could finish your sentence, one final fat spit in the toilet then moves to get up, you let her hair go and steady her as she rises to her feet.
“I’m okay…I’m okay…” She says. The two of you move to the bathroom sink, she still looks somewhat put together, just sweat on her forehead and tear streaks down her face. You gather paper towels out of the dispenser to help clean her up, you have mascara she can use in your bag and she has her lip gloss and lip liner in hers. She didn’t bring her powder to touch up the rest of her makeup but y’all could pull something together before stepping out.
“I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” You step back as she washes her hands. The banging had stopped…she’s okay now…you could finally breathe.
“It’s cool…just get yourself together, take your time.”
“It’s not. I ruined the whole night. We paid so much to get in here I—” She runs back to the toilet to hurl again…fuck!
“Utahime— oh my god what the fuck…” You stress out…you don’t know what to do or how to help her to make this stop.
“I’m so fucking sorry, I don’t know what’s going on.” She cries out.
“Bitch we’re gonna have to leave…but I can’t call an Uber if you’re throwing up like this…”
“I know I know I just need some time…”
“Sweetheart what time!? We can’t stay in this bathroom, we have to move somewhere or something. Can you walk!?” You don't mean to bitch at her but this was getting ridiculous at this point, too much to deal with, you Don't. Do. Throw. Up.
“Yeah, I can walk…I need food or something to hold this down…my fucking stomach is turning.”
“Bro you don’t need shit else in your stomach. C’mon wash your hands again, we got to go.”
It takes you both a mere ten minutes to finally fix yourselves back together before getting it out, making sure to spray her down with a ton of perfume before leaving. There was a line of people standing to the side. Angry and annoyed looks on their faces, just as you thought y’all would survive the walk of shame you hear someone accuse y’all of holding up the bathroom to do lines of coke…y’all don’t even do drugs. Utahime sours at that, ready to cuss them out but you drag her deeper into the club stopping to lean against a ledge.
There were no couches on this level…just bar counters, a dance floor and paid sections. You don’t want to go down to the lower levels as y’all both paid extra to get up to this floor and y’all couldn’t leave the club till you were sure she was good. You leave her there for a minute to come back with two cups of ice water, one for you and one for her and she drinks it up and keeps it down like a fucking G.
“This dude keeps looking at me…” she shouts over the music, it was fucking booming in inside with bodies everywhere. You crowd around her to try and cover her to prevent whoever it was from looking at her…you knew why though…the two of you wearing the skimpiest shit y’all could find off OhPolly. Could you blame him? No.
“He still looking?” You ask, not wanting to turn back to look in case he takes it as an invite to come over. You were swaying to the beat now, good vibes still in you…Utahime might feel like it was but the night wasn’t ruined for you just yet. It’d take a whole lot more than this to kill your vibe.
“No but…bitch I feel sick again…”
“It’s a whole bunch of people in line now…can you hold it down?” Worry in your voice…if she throws up on the floor y’all were gonna be fucked.
“I don’t know…” She whines out.
“That guy…he’s coming over here.”
You look back…and he was…a tall guy…it was dark in the club so you couldn’t see his face. You turn your back to him quick, hopefully he takes the hint and fucks off. Now was not the time.
“Hey, what’s up? ” He approaches behind you, the smell of expensive cologne wrapping your noise and it wasn’t no cheap shit either.
“We’re cool.” You say dismissively without turning back to face him. Not to be a stuck up bitch in the club but now was not the time to be macking.
“You two look too good to be standing here, how about y’all—”
“I said we’re cool!” You argue back with venom in your voice, this guy was fine as hell too but unfortunately for him he’s being met with your protective side tonight.
“Damn, is she good?” He asks, worriedness laced in his voice…you can’t tell if he actually cares or not.
“If y’all need somewhere to sit and chill I got a section with some of my homies…y’all can’t be standing here like this.”
“We’re good, her feet just hurt.” You lie but they probably do, Giuseppe heels aren’t nothing to play with, but to your dismay she croaks out somewhat of a burp and a cough then spits into her empty cup. C’mon girl…act like a lady, get it together.
“She looks sick…” He carries on.
“She’s not—”
“Sis…please can we…” She whispers out…thighs trembling like they’re about to give in from leaning. You grab her shoulders to help keep her up.
“How many of y’all over there?” You ask, fuck it, you need to help your girl out by any means…all you had to do was just sit and chat his people up till she was good to go. Easy work.
“It’s three of us…my name Suguru by the way. I can call somebody over to get something for her too, it's not a problem. Y’all too cute to be standing over here.”
“Okay yeah…alright that’s cool.” You move to help her up, he steps to the side and takes his arm around her waist to support her. Just as you were about to protest to this stranger touching her you remind yourself why y’all got invited to the section and keep your cool.
He leads the way towards the back side of the club, the baddest bitches sitting up in the booths and you could tell by how the guys they were with were dressed that they had money. The bloody red soles of Suguru shoes as you walked behind them weren’t lost on you either…you peep the watch and chains on his wrist. He was iced the fuck out. Any other day you and Utahime would be all over him but tonight you were on a mission.
The three of you stop at a partitioned off booth where his two boys and a girl he hadn’t mentioned are sitting. There were empty ice buckets, some glasses, tall bottles of liquor and plates of eaten food on the table. The girl eyes the two of you, her gaze isn't cold but it is unreadable. It doesn’t faze you though, you could go toe to toe with her if need be.
“One sec…” He drops Utahime’s waist to explain the situation to both guys who were looking confused as to why y’all were here. You move to her side and you whisper to her to ask if she’s good, she simply nods to you in return. The two guys' expressions shift from confusion to at ease, the girl more so busy touching up her lipstick in a pocket mirror.
Suguru waves you both over now and you two take a seat in the booth across from them.
“This is Sukuna, Satoru, and my other man’s girl Mei Mei. Y’all this is…”
“Utahime.”
“Y/N” you say calmly.
“Sukuna, text back-of-house and tell them to bring gatorade, Pepsi, and something for this one to eat. And some more waters.” Pointing to Utahime, surprisingly she was sitting up nice and perfect as if she didn’t just give you hell like she was about to just die.
“Ard.” He whips his phone out to handle the request.
“I’m actually going to head out now.” Mei Mei says, shifting to grab her purse, a black leather Cassandre YSL shoulder bag. Your preloved Vivienne Westwood bag isn’t coming close to that price tag.
“Be safe!” Satoru says, then turns to the two of you as she scoots her way out, her silver dress shimmering under the low lights as she moves.
Piercing blue eyes now gaze at you over the rim of Cartier glasses.
“Suguru said you two were on the floor standing around…what’s wrong with your friend?”
“She’s just tired.” You lie again, not wanting to reveal to them the truth of the matter. Utahime shifts under the weight of their gaze, not speaking for herself.
“Yeah? He said she looked like she was about to pass out. People calling on staff saying y’all were holding up the bathroom, what’s that about?”
“We were just freshening up…” She speaks up now, her voice nearing a defensive tone.
“Bullshit.” Sukuna says, placing his phone down.
“Cleaning crew said the bathroom looked a mess when y’all got out.”
“Was like that when we went in.” You shoot back, voice still calm and collected, you weren’t looking to pick a fight with these three…you know how to behave. Though, by the way they’re speaking it sounds like they run the club and had cameras watching yall or something…
“Look, we own the club. Just making sure everything runs smoothly. This is a business at the end of the day.” Satoru finishes dropping the subject, your suspicions stand correct. This club wasn’t the only thing that spoke for their wealth…it was also what they had on, each of them wearing designer pieces, immediately you could spot and name a few brands…Chrome Hearts, Louis Vuittion, and Balmain.
“You two from out here? Or just visiting?” Suguru cuts in, pouring a glass of cognac for himself.
“Vacation.” You reply.
“Yeah? Where y’all from and how long?”
“Cali, we leave tomorrow afternoon.” You continue lying in hopes Utahime knows to play along, you learnt to never give up the truth of y’all backgrounds when asked.
“That’s what’s up, what part?”
“San Diego.”
“Yeah where? I sell properties out there, I got a house for myself down in Laguna too.” Sukuna butts in, interested now. You stutter at that, not sure what to say…you don’t know shit about San Diego but you do know about Balboa park so you come up with something quick.
“About a couple minutes from Balboa park, we just moved there. I don't really know the area too well to name anything.” You’re lying like shit now.
“Gotcha.”
“What do y’all do for a living? Flights from coast to coast ain’t cheap.” Satoru chimes in, picking up on your demeanor.
“I’m a lawyer.” Utahime cuts in before you could speak, catching on to the game you’re playing.
“Really!? What do you practice?”
“Divorce law.”
“What school did you graduate from?”
“Brown.” Now see the bitch did go to Brown…for a single semester.
“How old are you?” Sukuna bluntly jumps back in, you could tell by his voice he wasn’t buying it but y’all were gonna keep lying either way. Y’all were Miami, ain’t shit out here just like the bodies of half the girls in this club was real anyway.
“I’m 27.” Fuck. She’s lying like shit now too…she just turned 23 yesterday, y’all came out here together to celebrate her birthday week.
“Can I see your ID?” Satoru asks, coming out more like a request.
“We left them at the hotel…didn’t want to lose them. Happened before.” She lies effortlessly again, the dumbest shit she could have said.
“Well someone’s getting fired…” He leans back letting out a laugh, crossing a leg over the other.
“Sukuna, find out who’s watching the door before our shit gets shut down. I put too much money into this building to get sued and pay fines.”
Sukuna gives you both a look over before getting up and leaving. He looks pissed…but Satoru wasn’t…he was fucking smile as he watches him do as he was told. He’s been getting bitch since y’all two sat down…it was clear who the leader was.
“You a lawyer too?” He asks you.
“No, I don’t work.” You keep your lie simple, you weren’t about to get caught up any further. You and Utahime are gonna have to start rehearsing lies before stepping out now.
“Your friend works but you don't? How do you get your money then?”
“I model.” It wasn’t a total lie, you had an Instagram page full of pictures from photoshoots. You used to date a photographer, a popular one in New York, you stood in as his muse from time to time till you caught his ass cheating with a so-called client.
“Can I see your work?” He passes you his phone unlocked, a black iPhone that somehow feels heavier than the same one in your purse.
“It’s on my Instagram page.” You ask for permission before you start tapping around on his phone.
“Go ahead.”
You open up the app, catching a glimpse at his own page before quickly searching up yours. A gorgeous waitress comes by to drop off the food and drink order right before you can hand him his phone back. He looks over your page in glee…probably at the lingerie and swimsuit photos you have posted. Those were advertising deals you did as a side gig many moons ago.
“Ever considered working out here?” He cocks a brow at you, those icy blue eyes hidden behind those dark frames. Suguru leans over to take a look himself, brows raising at what he sees. He locks his phone to stop him from looking any longer, shoving it back in his pocket.
“It’s our first time here…never thought about it.”
“Could I…” Utahime cuts in, pointing towards the food at the table. A spread of cheese and crackers, cooked chicken, and a small plate of mash potatoes…enough to keep her stomach at bay…she seemed to be better now though.
“Yeah go ahead, here.” Suguru passes her a plate along with opening up the bottle of gatorade and pouring her a cup of the blue liquid.
“Thank you.” She says sweetly as she takes the plate. You catch him smile at her.
“First time in Miami, you seen anything good yet?”
“We’ve just been up Ocean drive and the beach so far…couple bars and clubs the other day.”
“So you thought to bring your IDs there but not ours? I’m offended.”
“We heard through some girls you could get in here without one…and that their friends had there’s stolen here one night so we planned accordingly.”
“The hell…”
“Well someones losing more than their job tonight, Suguru text Sukuna that for me, the fuck kind of club are we running?”
Utahime gives you a look, you never lied so much in your life now and this is snowballing like crazy. Sorry to whoever is about to get their shit rocked.
“Ahh…” Satoru lets out a sigh, neck cracking as he stretches it from side to side. “Business business…didn’t think the club scene could get any more crazier than what we dealt with last year.”
“What happened?” You ask, curious.
“Investigation still open, I’m not at liberty to say. But if your gorgeous friend over here ever needs a new job, I'm well connected with a stellar law firm. They represent my club and my other business. I own an art gallery.”
“You deal art?”
“Precisely.”
“Sounds like you have your hands full, I’d love to come see it one day.” You flirt back now that you’re more at ease with the conversation.
“It would be a pleasure to have you both stop by, a shame you’re leaving so soon. I have a busy day tomorrow.”
“Maybe you two could fly back out here?” Suguru chimes in, moreso speaking to Utahime…it was clear he had his pick tonight and it wasn’t you.
“Should definitely come back out here, I’m sure a girl as gorgeous as you could get work out here instantly. Has a scouting agency come up to you yet?”
“No, we haven’t had many interactions out here.”
“That’s good then. They’re everywhere like rats, posted up on every beach and club. Most are scams, if you catch my drift.” You shudder at the implications of his words. You knew all too well about the risks of modeling…
“Matter of fact, I know a guy that knows a guy who’s the head of an agency. I could set you up with them, they’re global and about to open an office in London.” Your ears perk up at that, he seemed legit so far, maybe he wasn’t bullshitting and even if he was it wouldn’t be a loss on your end.
“That sounds nice, I’d really appreciate it…”
“Of course, Suguru call up Kusakabe for me, I’m sure he’s awake. Tell him I have the most beautiful girl I ever laid my eyes on here. And call Ijichi, see if they have an empty desk at his firm, and if they don’t tell them to bring in another. They’ll have clients coming in droves once this one is through their door.”
You can’t help but blush at that…Utahime doing the same. All that damn lying y’all two done did sprouting legs to now have the utmost most flattering compliment thrown y’all way. Whelp, can’t stop the lies now…
Suguru get’s up to leave for a quieter space at that, a sad expression crossing his face having to depart from Utahime…her eyes trail after him. Satoru catches on but continues to direct his attention to you.
“You two have any plans after tonight? Your friend seems to be feeling better.” You turn to look at her, her eyes give confirmation to you without having to speak. You both know what that meant…an invitation…y’all were close to bagging at least one of their rich asses tonight…but it’s going to take a bit more convincing to go back with them.
“What do you imply?” She takes the lead now, composure calm as she speaks. She might have been a hot mess an hour ago but you both know the way in which she can work a man out of his wallet when it comes down to it. Atlanta March 2022, you’ll never forget it.
“Well, it’s getting late…” He starts off.
“...been here for a couple hours. I’d like to head back to where my boys and I are staying for the time being. We’re actually here on a business trip, just to check on how the club has been doing. Glad I did now that I know we got someone letting girls in without verifying their ages. Utahime I’m sure you know how much trouble we’d get into if authorities found out, you know the law…”
“Would be hell of a case to fight…”
“Where are you three from?” You ask, curious now.
“Japan. Ever been?”
“No…Utahime you’re—”
“I’m Japanese. My family is from Kyoto. I was born here and haven't got a chance to visit again since I was a kid.” She cuts you off before you could tell him.
“Really?” He says surprised. “Suguru is going to get a kick out of this.”
“I’m back.” Sukuna plops down on the sofa before either of you could speak, angrily tossing his phone on the table while doing so. “We switched Toji out for Todo, waited till I caught the fucker about to let four nineteen year olds in. The fuck is he thinking!?”
Both you and Utahime were stunned…no way your lie was true…but then again this was fucking Miami. Anything goes out here.
“Hey Sukuna, get this…this one tells me word on the beach is that our club doesn't check IDs. God knows how long this has been going on for.” Pointing to you now.
“You fucking serious?”
“So serious. Go ahead, tell him what you told me.”
“We met some girls on Ocean drive and they told us this club doesn’t card. That’s how they got in their first few times…they said they were twenty at the time.” Lies lies lies and more lies. At least you didn’t feel guilty about it anymore.
“Well fuck me then… better hope and pray we don’t have papers already coming our way.”
See…lying does work sometimes. The two of you likely just saved their club from going under or worse…being raided.
“Hey…they're both not answering…but I left a message. Sure they’ll see it in the morning.” Suguru swings back around, taking a seat next to Utahime, resting an arm above where she’s sitting.
“Did you tell them what I said word for word?”
“Uh— no. Is ‘two pretty girls’ enough?”
“Suguru, words have meaning…these two ladies are far more than pretty, pets like cats are pretty, these two are gorgeous. Matter of fact, she speaks Japanese, her folks are from Kyoto! Don’t we love Kyoto? Your summer vacation home there was featured in Architectural Digest once right? Or was that Metropolis?”
Suguru eyes light up at that, followed by saying something in Japanese to her and she replies back flawlessly to prove she actually could. Your ass is stunned by the exchange…you can’t understand shit being said but you could tell from the way he was looking at her that Utahime just talked her way into a fucking bag! Attagirl!
“Hear that Sukuna?”
“Yup.” Busy on his phone now, uninterested in their conversation that was likely getting flirty by the way she was blushing and giggling now. An arm comes around her waist pulling her in, you avert your eyes letting them have their moment.
“Ticket hit!” Sukuna shouts, the most excitement you’ve seen from him thus far.
“What team?” Satoru asks, akin to talking about stocks at the country club.
“Raptors, 6k off it too.”
“Got 9 off of the Lakers the other day, sure you’re going to beat my goal of reaching 20k in winnings by the end of the month?”
“Suguru at 17 right now, I been threw that towel in. I’m just betting for lunch money now.”
Man Utahime…you hope she’s hearing this! Because these men got fucking money.
“Ha! Well then I’ll quit too now then, I may have lost my ticket tonight but in the presence of these two beautiful ladies I’m a winner. Hey Sukuna, cut them both a thousand, they just saved our business from that slime Toji, they earned it.”
Hold on. Pause. You two bitches came down to Miami with 200 dollars in your pockets now you’re coming up on a stack all off a fucking lie? This city is actually unreal!
“What’s your apple pay?” He asks, not even batting an eye. You gesture for his phone to put your number is…but it’s not his that you want.
“Wisconsin number?” He asks curiously after taking the phone back from you.
“Yeah…I have a crazy ex. Had to change it to somewhere he wouldn’t think of dialing.”
“Smart cookie.” Is all he says before hitting your phone with a hefty apple pay payment.
“What’s hers?”
“She doesn’t use apple pay, you can send it to me again and I’ll make sure she gets it.” You speak for her, needing to conceal her actual phone number to ensure they don’t find out where either of you live.
“Gotcha.” Is all he says sending the payment again, $2,000 being enough to cover rent twice over and y’all two didn’t even have to fuck for it. A smile crosses your face now, you feel like taking shots.
“How about we take shots?” You say with cheerfulness in your voice.
“Let’s!” Satoru says, reaching over for the bottle of D’usse and pouring five glasses each.
“No more for her, she’s cut off.” Suguru says, taking the shot glass out of her hands, and like a pliant little thing she knows to be, she doesn’t protest.
“Too not getting shut down.” Satoru says. You all repeat it cheering. The four of you knock back a couple of shots, liquor hitting your system soon after. The vibes and music was great, the two of you were having a great time.
The atmosphere settles down an hour after, tiredness starting to kick in. Sukuna had left after the third shot, something about having to meet up with his wife. You had swapped seats with him now and were sitting next to Satoru whose hand had been trailing up your thigh, he tells you the rings he wore were Tiffany, so you tell him you always wanted a necklace from there, he tells you stick around long enough you could get one, and that’s all you needed to hear to keep your glued to your seat as he pours you shots of Hennesy.
You’re drunk at the end of it all, not pissy enough to black out but enough to stumble out of the club…and still you deserve a gold medal for not tripping in your heels in the parking garage. Large warm hands guide you into a sleek black Bugatti, Utahime sober in Suguru’s Lambo, he said they’d follow you both to the high-rise they’re staying at.
Satoru hands continue to grip at your thighs as he drives, this was an insanely reckless thing to be doing, going back to this still stranger's place, but all the boxes had been checked. They didn’t just talk money, they showed it, so this was either going to go right or very left.
His hand reaches higher up your thigh close between your legs now, you spread them open giving him access to your pussy and his fingers go to rub at it. What can you say…henny goes straight to the pussy and you were already wet from the grips and grabs back at the section.
Your friend Shoko back home texts you asking you how the trip is going, too drunk to explain what’s happening you simply tell her that you both are “outside outside!”, and she sends you back a string of laughing emojis telling you to be safe.
Satoru's car continues to roar down the highway, Miami so beautiful at night yet not coming anywhere close to the man beside you.
Your eyes close, tiredness finally setting in.
The next thing you know you’re being helped out of his car and walked into a lobby, Utahime and her new beau arriving soon after. She looks so happy in his arms, you love her so much, more than anything. Your ride or die for life.
The four of you take the elevator up to the penthouse floor, being met with the most insane flat that you’d only see in movies. You kick your heels off at the door after stepping in, Utahime already being led elsewhere down a hall. Suguru gives space to let her shower before retreating into a room with him.
Floor to ceiling windows make up the walls as you walk around the place, Satoru soon coming to hand you a glass of wine you happily accept. You barely drink it though…already having enough. Miami is beautiful from above, lights twinkling and the moon making the ocean shimmer.
“It’s beautiful isn’t it?” He comes behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist whilst nuzzling his face in your neck.
“Yes.”
“But not as beautiful as you.” Is all he says before hooking a finger under the strap of your top teasing to take it off. He takes your glass then, placing it on the nearest table he then walks you into the master bedroom. A beautiful space only you could once ever dream of resting your head in.
“Model for me?” He asks, softly pushing you down to sit at the edge of the bed as he stands in front of you, lifting your head up by chin to look up at him. You don’t remember him taking his glasses off, eyes seeming to glow under the light of the moon.
You move to strip your outfit off, revealing a lace strapless bra set with a matching thong underneath. You watch as his plump lips curl up into a smile.
“If only I had a polaroid…” is all he says before taking out his phone. You move back further up the bed and he follows you on his knees already positioning the camera to snap pictures. You pose as he takes a million and several more, and before you know it he’s throwing his phone to the side and grabbing at your body to bring you close.
His lips quickly follow after, leaving kisses on your neck down to the crevice of your cleavage. Your bra soon makes its way off landing somewhere on the cold polished floor.
“I've wanted this since the moment I saw you…” he whispers between kisses, fondling your boobs as he makes his way down your stomach. Fingers come to pull down your thong, your pussy now free from what shouldn’t even be considered underwear.
Spreading your legs apart he takes a finger collecting the fluid now building up at your entrance, pulling his hand back he brings his coated fingers up to your lips and you happily take them in your mouth. He kisses you then right after, hot and wet with a lot of tongue.
“You’ve been such a delight…let me treat you.” He says, pulling off his top and unbuckling his belt to drop his pants. If he told you his body was sculpted by Michelangelo himself you’d believe him. Your eyes trail down his figure stopping at the bulge in his boxers, sobering up a bit from the sight of it. Lifting yourself up you bring your hands to curl around the band, looking up to slowly pull them down and he takes both hands cupping your face and kisses you deeply.
Stepping out of his boxers, he then moves you onto your back again, this time your arms going up above your head as he takes your body.
Fucking Satoru is the closest you think you’ll ever come to heaven before death…every whine, moan, gasp, and call of his name swallowed up by his mouth on yours. Each thrust of his hips knocks the air out lungs yet he breathes life back into you. His touch though isn’t anything but soft, a never ending shower of compliment and praise spoken into your ear. How beautiful you are, how good you feel, how amazing you are, you think you hear words pertaining to loving you thrown somewhere into the mix but you have to be imagining things. How could he? He just met you.
Your climax soon rushes over you rougher than the ocean that the building overlooks, and it’s then you realize how much you want to savor this moment, to melt away in his arms as he now cradles you close to his chest. You’d give your all to have one more night with him.
Your chest rises and falls as you steady your breathing as you come down from your climax, you take notice of the feel of fluids between your thighs and under you, and as you look down you see it’s his cum coming out of you. You always wondered how the richest and most accomplished men end up trapped with baby moms, and if it weren’t for you already on birth control he’d be just that. Having him as a father sounds nice, but in practice you know raising a child, his child in fact, could be fucking hell.
You turn to him then, climbing up onto his chest laying your head down to hear his heartbeat. Fingers come to card through your hair, he speaks up soon…and it’s his choice of words that come nothing louder than a whisper that makes your entire body go rigid.
“I know your friend isn’t a lawyer.”
You don’t know if you should respond or move away, his grip tightens in your hair lifting your head up to look him in the eyes. You weren’t trapped, you could get up and leave if needed, but you don’t, you stay put gearing up to take on whatever humiliating accusation that will eventually reveal to both of you the liar that you are.
“And you don’t live in California. The card you used to get in, New York zipcode.”
“How do you know?” Is all you could ask, the jig was already up.
“Sukuna ran the cameras and pulled the card info from the POS, texted me right before we left. Your full name is Y/N too.”
“I know you’re not stupid, but your friend might actually be. Wanna know how I know she’s not a lawyer, or at least that she didn’t go to Brown?”
“How?” He finally lets your hair go, folding his arm behind his head as he sits up.
“Brown doesn’t have a law school. I was once an exchange student there.”
“Shit.” Is what you stop yourself from saying, you should get up to go grab her ass and leave while he’s still calm.
“How old are you really, and please let it be a number that’s not going to get you kicked out.”
“How old do I look?”
“Well you act like you’re at least over 25, but you look–”
“I’m 22.”
“Jesus fuck…” He winces, “...you’re a fucking kid.”
“Kid? How old are you? 30s?” Annoyance in your voice, you didn’t have any right to be but this kid just worked two grand out of his hands like it was nothing.
“28 and watch your mouth, I’d hate to see your pretty ass get fucked up out here.”
Pretty…he had said pet’s were pretty.
“Fuck you!” You get up now, gathering your clothes up off the floor to put them back in. You were out of here and you needed to get Utahime quick before she gets caught up next.
“You call me a kid but you just nutted in me? You’re the fucking idiot.” Getting your thong and skirt back on, working on the top next.
“I keep Plan B in the bathroom if you need it.”
“You’re fucking disgusting.” You nearly spit at him as you say it. “I’m leaving.”
“Yeah I can clearly see that ya little liar. Keep the child if you want, my god son Megumi could use another sibling.” He says it like you need it. You’d bleed him dry of child support if you could.
“Kill yourself.” You don’t even look back at him when you say it, too embarrassed to face him, you slam the door behind yourself to find Utahime sitting on the small chaise in the hall all put together and back in her heels as if she never undressed.
“What’s wrong?”
“Let’s go!”
“No wait he called us an Uber–”
“We can fucking wait downstair.”
The two of you make your way back down to the lobby, your hands trembling with anger and disgust. Utahime stops not once from asking you to tell her what happened and reason as to why you were so upset.. The Uber pulls up soon after, a jet black Escalade. The two of you hop in, she tells the driver it’s from Suguru and he simply say’s. “Thank you, but I know.”
You sit back now trying to calm yourself down but all you could think of is how gross you felt, his seed still inside of you as you hadn’t had the chance to do away with it. Utahime turns to you then, bambi eyes looking all but innocent. She turns her purse to you, the Louis pochette you spent a year saving up to give her for Christmas one year.
“Look what he gave me.” She pulls out a Piguet, the same silver and diamond one Suguru wore. The watch glimmers under the light of the lamp poles as the car drives down the road. Your jaw nearly falls off your face.
“He told me I can sell it and go back to school if I want! He’s was actually so nice, we didn’t even fuck I only gave him head and he said we can come back soon. He didn’t care that I lied about being a lawyer and all that shit. He told me to stay in school and he’lll make me his wife if I graduate.”
“Utahime…”
“Bitch do you know how much this shit cost? Fuck school, I’m selling this and buying out the first mall we walk into!”
“There’s no way that’s real.”
“Oh no no no bitch…this is real! Did Satoru give you anything?”
“Maybe?”
“Maybe? What do you mean?”
“He nutted in me…”
“Oh my god— a baby! He put a fucking baby in you!?”
“Utahime, I would never keep–”
“Bitch are you out of your fucking mind!?” Her eyes nearly popping out of her head, all she could see were dollar signs on you now.
“I think so…”
Fuck Miami. Fuck that club. Fuck Satoru. Fuck a baby.
Summary: You’ve got the call to be in Thugnificent’s new video! All you have to do is drink, be pretty and go home, but somebody wants a private shoot to handle a REAL big problem..
!!CW!! pornwithlittleplot, backshots, missionary, teasing, Thug talking crazy, deepthroating, pussy eating, mentions of smoking, idk what possessed me to do this guys, i hope you enjoy
Now Playing on HNEY Radio at Playbouse Records..
Rock Your Hips- Crime Mob
Real Big-Mannie Fresh
What’s Your Fantasy- Ludacris
Slow Motion- Juvenile
There was no doubt you were destined to paid for how you look, you expected nothing less! From the time you stepped out into the music scene, you knew what kind of lifestyle you were aiming for. The expensive cars, the diamonds, the designer wear, no matter what the price was for fame you were determined to pay it and luckily for you all it took was a pretty face.
Sitting in your wooden chair across the lit up vanity mirror, you'd just finished up a photo shoot for one of the hottest ebony magazines out, touching up your makeup for the next gig you had set in place.
Your manager, Semiu wasn't one to play around with scheduling, she had your day stacked from special appearances to fittings for the next Juicy Couture drop and there was no room for complaining! No matter how hungover or how much sleep you didn't get the night before she had your back and your ass in every situation possible.
"Okay I'll tell her, He's covering the flight and everything as well?" Her voice spoke into the blackberry attached to her ear. You sat back in the chair embroidered with your name, looking at your manager through the mirror with questionable eyes of who she was on the phone with.
"Today?! She's booked for- I don't give a damn-100 grand?"
"A hundred grand for what? For who?" You were hushed by a finger to the face and an intrigued Semiu pulling out a piece of paper and a pen from her top, writing down the information with a nod.
"Uh huh, okay Maryland got it. Flight leaves in 2 hours okay she'll be there.."
click
There a small pause between the two of you as your eyes narrowed at Semiu who just stole another part of your day.
"What I should be hearing is thank you! Your schedule is clear for the next three days." She scoffed back, handing you the piece of paper she scribbled on.
"Thugnificent? He wants me?"
"He's shooting this big ass video at his house and wants you to show your face, sit in one of his cars. You know the drill."
"Like THE Thugnificent?" You chuckled to yourself, letting an image of one of his videos come to mind. "I'm surprised he knows who I am."
"I know how to do my damn job, He's covering for all your travel and your hotel so we on his timing."
This wasn't something out of the ordinary, of course you had the money to get yourself around but you loved and could tell when an artist wanted to show off his riches, Thugnificent was definitely one of them.
His name rung a lot of bells especially since his hit TV show "Rags to Bitches took over the world by storm, his face was plastered on almost everyone's TV screens. It was one thing to have a cameo on his show but to be all up on Thug in a video was something different, it meant more to you then a couple of scripted lines.
"For three days?" You pondered to yourself, rising out of the seat to follow Semiu who found herself back on the phone. You waved to the other girls on set while Semiu laid an arm on you shoulder to move you along.
Your name had a little weight behind it and the demand slowly but surely began to surge, you were featured in a few music videos that broke the charts but an A list artist was a new height you didn't expect to reach in such a short time. Semiu gave you a much more detailed debrief about what you would be doing for the next three days since you weren't completely off the hook. You already had an assumption of what was gonna do down and what type of guy Thug would be so the nervous jitters of performing well hadn't hit the surface just yet.
In your mind, he was another rapper and another job to complete, was he fine? Kinda. From what you could see if he wasn't wearing his ridiculous bright ass watch all the damn time. You've seen some of his videos of him in his signature two puffs and thought he was alright, cute enough not to pretend or perk up your actions on set.
The way first class had you all set up it really did feel like a vacation, you made it to the airport just in time, landing in Maryland with ease where a name card and a white and gold limo were waiting for you out front.
"We'll get settled in the room first then make our way to his house. Some of the other girls are already there."
"Doesn't the shoot start at 2?"
"Are you a groupie or a model? Which one is it because we can go over there now, that's fine by me."
"I was just asking a simple question! I'm not in a rush to see a nigga named Thugnificent.." You replied, pushing air out of your nose, sitting comfortably in the limo's leather seats.
"Oh before I forget, before you go in put these on.." She spoke, going in her bag to pull out a pair of blackout sunglasses.
"Semiu, what the fuck do I need these for? Cool points?"
"Put em in your bag and don't forget about them. Trust me." Her face sat still passing the glasses to you so you took it as serious as you possibly could, for all you knew it could've been a tracking device to put on your wandering ass.
The limo had his music playing in the background on one the DVD screens flipped down from the top, it was one you haven't seen with his hair out without his signature two puff style, your eyes glued to the screen reluctantly watching him smile with them shiny ass grills and touching up on the girl he had dancing on him. You found yourself daydreaming, putting yourself in the girls shoes picturing yourself grinding up against him, widening your eyes as your thoughts of work turned into something else. Something like him rolling up on your ass while you-
"You know how you doing your hair?" Semiu cut in, flipping through a hair magazine eyeing some of her own favorite hairstyles.
"Yeah! Yeah, I was thinking about that one.." You smiled, focusing on a random hairstyle you mindlessly picked, taking a closer look to see that you actually liked what you landed on. By the time you got your own horny thoughts together you were at the front of the luxurious hotel not too far from Thug's house.
The mean looking chafferer got out of the car to open your door, telling you what time he'd be back to pick you up with his hand out like he was asking for something so you slipped him a bill to cheer his attitude up and surprisingly it did.
"Namora and the girls'll be here soon to fix you up..come on girl."
~
*song 1 + 2*
After a much needed shower and half a nap, your team showed up with a few options of what you could wear to his house. You picked a cute halter top short set combo in your favorite color to keep it simple, giving yourself one last look before heading out of the hotel to meet the driver.
You hopped inside and drove off to the neighborhood of Woodcrest, a suburban like area with flourishing trees, beautiful houses and plenty of white folk. Your eyes couldn't believe the size of the white and gold mansion or the insane driveway the limo carefully drove into, a slight wave of anxiousness crossed over your skin as he came to a stop where you heard the music bumping through the car.
Before you could place your heel on the pavement, your phone buzzed with a message from your manager saying
-Put em on.
You scoffed at the phone, digging in your little pouch to grab the blackout sunglasses from it, slipping them onto your face before you walked up the stairs, ringing the buzzing doorbell. The giant door opened with a gust of smoke blowing in your face as a girl you recognized from another video shoot greeted you at the entrance, waving to you in excitement.
"Y/n!! They said you were on the way, come on we by the pool." She smiled, stepping out of the way so you could emerge inside where the house was filled with camera crew, some of thug;s friends and all the women he needed for the video scattered around the place.
"How long ya'll been partying, Yasmin?" You asked, making your way past the living room in to the kitchen to say hello to the rest of the girls where instead of colorful bikinis, Thugnificent himself sat near the island countertop breaking down a cigar with his friends while the crew continued to set up in the background.
"Since 12-" A ridiculously bright light reflected off of your sunglasses and the girl beside you screamed, shielding her face from his watch moving on his wrist as he began to roll.
"I told yo ass bout coming in here, all that screaming and shit! Ya'll know what time that girl supposed to be - awww damn!"
"Thug take that shit off! The camera can't see shit but ice." One of his friends hollered.
The man sucked his teeth, unhooking the watch and tucking it away into his pocket before continuing to pack his blunt, picking up the wood to lick across the sides. You coughed up a laugh before checking up on the girl blinded to death by diamonds, mentally thanking Semiu for saving yourself from embarrassment.
Thug had his hair out sitting in one of the spinning stools lighting the wood smoothly as one of the girls got up to start on his signature style. He had his shirt off exposing the decorations scattered across his skin, the waistband of his boxers sat near his belly button and the blinding ice he had on his wrist was nothing compared to the long silver chain sitting on his chest, twinkling in the afternoon sun.
His music videos did him no justice.
"There she go right there.." The petite girl smoke to him.
"Who- ohh shit.."
"Ass sit up like two waterbeds.."
"Gahdamn, something you bring home to yo mama.."
"Real ghetto bit-"
"What's up?" You cut in, hesitant to take off you sunglasses due to the heavy piece sitting on his pecs.
"Y/n…mmm..Like I told everyone, I got drinks, I got whatever you need, let's just have a good time baby. You do yo thang, Imma do mines..and." He pauses, going into his other pocket to pull out a thick wad of cash, passing it to you on the counter with a slide.
"50 up front and the rest when it's a wrap, that cool with you?"
"That's fine with me, real simple.." Your cadence slowing down, counting the bills in your head as you tucked them into your little pouch, eyeing the smoke he blew from his lips while the girl brushed through his scalp.
"Uh huh, don't walk too fast now.." A slick smile etched on his lips as his brown eyes steered down your body, watching your heels click towards the patio near the pool with the other girls pouring champagne.
A man with a long silk press daps him up, laughing with the rest of his friends passing the blunt behind him, listening to the director call you over to put you to work immediately with you posing for certain shots around the pool and in front of Thug's car playing his song in the back. He took a few close up of you singing the words which you learned on the spot, you heard the track on the way to the house, mumbling the words so you could act like you knew what you were doing.
He added a few more girls into the shot having some of them sit in the car before Thug came out fully dressed in a big white t-shirt with a baby blue and white jersey on top, he had put his grills in and his fingers decked out in rings to top it all off.
"Okay Thug right in front of the car, Y/n you stay where you are, Yasmin you and the others keeping playing in the pool, it's a party. Pretend I'm not even here.." He spoke, tossing a beach ball to the girls, walking back behind the camera. He counted down from 3 as the music resumed, you bent over the hood of the car while Thug did his thing, mouthing the words and stepping closer to your figure as you moved to the song.
"Alright Y/n, I need you a little closer to Thug if you're comfortable with that..Perfect.." He called out, waving his hand to the right.
"Don't be scared.." He chuckled, holding his hands up as you slid closer to Thug's frame, close enough to feel the cloth of his shirt rub up on your ass.
"Stop being shy then.." You spat back, pushing air through your nose. His only response to your remark was his hips pushing up, the metal of his belt tapping you on the ass. You pressed back on him feeling his warm hand lay a hefty smack and the camera come in close to capture it, with another one following right after this time he held your flesh within his fingers grunting to himself.
"Damn.."
The cold sting of his rings marking your skin caused you to mentally curse, wiggling your hips to spread out the pain thankful that director called for a break so he could move towards the pool. You joined the rest of the girls in the pool, grabbing a spare shot glass to take a few while the director set up the next scene, Thug walked over with his guys as they took their pick of who they wanted to stand by and Thug swiftly made his way over to you.
"For this Thug wants you all to jump in, splash around the pool and play with the liquor got it? Y/n sit on his lap, lean over on him while he's rapping got it?" You all agreed and the girls got into positions while you waited for Thug to sit down. You didn't have a clue why your heart went off like a weed eater seeing him this close in person, the jitters should've dissipated with the shot you just took but it only amplified the ringing in your chest.
You took in the heavy scent of his cologne sitting down firm on his lap, waiting for the director to give the cue, hearing Thug's voice push through the sounds of the water being splashed around by the others.
"He ain't gon bite.."
"I was hoping he would.." You snicked, taking a closer look at the diamonds glowing in his ears and that bright ass smile he flashed at your joke. His eyes were glossed over from the weed and the intention lying behind those brown pupils were far from innocent. He adjusted himself as the camera man came towards the two of you and the flirting ceased as you focused on getting the job done and not where your next nut was coming from.
You grooved along to the song once more, gasping softly yourself hoping that whatever you were grinding up on was his leg, the thumping heartbeat traveled from your chest to the middle of your core and it didn't help that Thug had his hands all on your thighs, squeezing them like he was kneading bread. In between takes you hopped off of his lap to take a shot with the girls just to return back to bend over his legs when the camera came around, wiggling your ass in a circle.
Thug was slick enough to have his hand on your ass while swiftly swiping up on your pussy, allowing the pads of his finger to graze your clit, she twitched in response and in your mind you wanted to see just how far he would take it in front of everyone. You played it off by grabbing a nearby bottle of champagne, showing off the brand in the video only for Thug to take it out of your hand to pour on your ass while he rapped, earning a few cold giggles from you and the other girls he sprayed the rest of the liquor on.
"Last shot for today, how we feeling?"
"Yeah keep that. We good." He smiled to the director, wiping off his face with a towel, looking over his shoulder at you following behind the girls to get back inside, drying off while catching your breath from laughing at how much fun you were having, definitely not from the burning liquor sitting heavy on your chest and the imprint of Thug's hand on your ass.
Every time your mind flashed back to his fingers grazing against your clit, your cunt throbbed like she had her mouth full, yet she clenched around nothing. You were in search of a fresh bottle to end the night and take home alone with the other half of your payment, scanning the island counter for something unopened when a glimpse of Thug taking off his shirt caught the corner of your eye.
"Take yo ass home, text me when you're ready and I'll send a car."
Semiu's words lingered in your mind just as much as Thug's back muscles did, his two ponytails flinging out the shirt as the cold bottle of Hennessy sat in his grasp of his left hand, he looked over into your direction nodding his head towards his room in a 'come here' motion, his bottom grills stinging your corneas in the best way. You looked down to your phone then back to him heading towards his room telling yourself you'd only be a minute. The sun was about to set so you had a few more minutes of daylight and just enough time to sneak another drink.
And maybe some head for the ride home.
"Miss Y/n, you had a good time?" He smiled, cracking open the bottle open.
"I know you did, got liquor every damn where.." You chuckled, stepping further into the room, hearing the click of the door closing shut. The gigantic king sized bed sat in the middle of the room, with soft white linen curtains covering the wall to floor windows that looked over the city. You sat down on the edge of the bed, eyeing Thug pouring you a cup full of the brown liquor, handing it over to you smooth along with the rest of your money for the shoot.
"You kept yo cool, hope it wasn't too much, a new outfit ain't nothing baby." Thug smiled, sipping from the bottle, taking a hold of his belt.
"A professional knows how to come with extra, I appreciate the offer though.."
"Yeah you a professional, had my dick all up on that ass and you ain't move a muscle.."
"Nothing too big I can't handle," You peered your eyes up to the shiny silver covered man, taking a sip from the cup to hide the greedy smile etching upon your face. You'd been eyeing his little friend since the moment you woke him up in the pool, you thought he was carrying but from the way it twitched while you sat in his lap felt more lifelike than a piece of metal.
"Oh you think you can handle this?" His voice lowered as he chuckled, taking a swig from the bottle of Hennessy in one hand and unloosening his belt buckle with the other, looking down to you sitting on his bed. You had a feeling something like this would go down when you accepted the job, not because he was THE Thugnificent but because of your own personal track record!
You knew how to keep yourself together around artists although if the opportunity presented itself you weren't one to back down from it either. A full check and some head to add on to it too? Who in there right mind would turn down an offer like that?
*Song 3 + 4*
"Handle that then.." He grinned, pulling out his dick with a heavy flop, flinging up at attention, the pinkish two toned tip dripped in anticipation and his eyes locked onto your pretty lashes blinking to him slowly, still sipping from your cup.
He was thick enough to make you swallow hard picturing him stuffing your throat full, you couldn't cross your plump thighs any harder. You licked your lips in approval, nipping at your glossy lip as you took your hand forward to pick up his dick, so heavy and warm to the touch wasting no time to stick your tongue out to tap his still growing tip on the wet muscle.
Your slutty eyes peered up to him as you took him into your mouth, wetting his shaft up with sticky gloss and spit, earning a low groan from him and a hand on the back of your head to push you further down.
"Right to it, that's what the fuck I'm talking about..uh huh. Get that shit.."
His size alone stretched out your lips and the long vein running down his shaft grazed against your tongue and sent a harsh shiver directly to your clit, throbbing in your shorts. Your head bobbed up and down, slurping him up as his precum dripped down on his balls creating a mess.
The sight made you moan around his dick, adding your hand to stroke those juices back in, collecting spit in the back of your throat each time his tip kissed your uvula, doing your best not to gag so early on. You licked it all up only to spit it back out to jerk him off, twisting your head a bit while stroking him in circular motion.
"Making them nasty ass sounds, fuck! Pretty ass lips wrapped around my shit, eat that dick up. Eat it." He kept his hand steady, careful enough not to fuck up your hair but rough enough to force your throat down to the base, letting your nose kiss his soft bush nuzzling your skin.
His mixture stained your cheeks and chin as it dribbled down your neck, leaving his mark on your tits jiggling each time Thug pumped into your mouth. You tugged on your shirt to lift it up,holding them in your hands while you pinched your hard nipples, rubbing the nasty mess onto your chest.
"Open your mouth, all the way. Yeahhhh like that, tongue wide like a nasty bitch. Drink up mama.." He sneered, pausing his movements before taking the bottle to pour it's contents down his body, the liquor trickled down his stomach, past his happy trail right off of his dick like a waterfall.
"Fuck.." You cursed to yourself, catching the burning liquid into your mouth, sucking his dick back into your lips tasting the combination of Thug's new concontion.
"Show me what that mouth worth, gon make me nut all in yo face."
"Cum all over this face?" You hummed back, listening to the squelching noises of your hand pumping his dick, tapping him on your cheek and tongue, gazing up to Thug biting his bottom lip, flashing those shiny silver diamonds and taking another swig of the liquor before placing it down on the ground to put all his focus on you feeding yourself.
"No hands, move em. Yeahhhh oh shit. How many niggas you let in this mouth? Gahdamn!" He groaned, placing both hands on the back of your neck, pushing his hips deep into your esophagus, letting your uvula brush over his tip.
All you could do in response was gargle syllables, causing spit bubbles to form on the sides of your mouth and your eyes to roll to the back of your head. The music bumped loud from the other side of the door, flooding your ear with Thug's moans and his music swirling in your mind. His scent engulfed you entirely as he slung his dick over and over, suddenly coming to a halt to glare at the bulge poking out of your throat.
"Uh huh, that's all I wanna hear. Right there hold that dick.."
Your muffled cries were ignored as he chuckled at your eyes crossing over, taking it out and slamming it right back in before you could catch your breath.
"Look at me, keep that fucking tongue out. You show out for every nigga like this? Or you being a nasty bitch 'cuz I got it like that? Huh?
Thug pulled out of your throat with a slight "shluck" sound, his dick now at full length twitching for more. Thug stood there stroking himself as he let you breathe, taking a step back to let you stand up from the edge of the bed.
"Keep them shorts on.." He huffed, eyeing you down as you leaned against his bed, face in the sheets and that ass on full display. You arched forward at a slow pace, reaching your hand under to swipe your pussy, already marked with your own juices, wiggling your hips just how he wanted.
Thug couldn't keep his eyes off of you on set and now he couldn't keep his dick from laying on your ass cheeks while you shook your ass for him. The warmth of his shaft bounced on your ass giving you a small idea of how deep he was about to be inside of you. Your cunt shivered, covering its own lips in gloss at the thought.
He tapped his dick once, then twice before peeling your shorts to the side, revealing the web like mixture hiding between your thighs. You heard him suck in a breath as he drug his tip over your soaked lips, parting you open and sliding his length against your heat, creating sticky sounds humping your cunt like the nasty nigga he was.
"Slick pussy talking to me crazy.." He murmured, smacking your ass repeatedly, watching the ripples traveled across your skin. You shook your hips at him to spread the sting, pushing back ever so slightly to press your ass on his lower stomach, staining his bush.
"Give her what she want.."
"What you want? This?" His face smug, grabbing a hold of his dick to push inside of that trembling hole practically whispering to him to slip in.
"This dick right here? You want this dick? Hm? So…goddamn..tight.." If your throat had a hard time taking him in, your cunt wasn't doing any better. His tip struggled to push past that barrier yet Thug didn't give a fuck, he had to break you in. He needed your pussy to learn his name and learn it the right way.
He spread your cheeks with both of his hands easing his way inside, slowly digging in before ramming his tip into your lower stomach, sending a wail out of your mouth.
"Oh shit!" Your acrylic hands dug deep into his covers, your legs quivering from his tip piercing that aching spot he found so fucking quick.
"Uh un, handle it." He huffed, starting a steady pace plopping his dick inside of your greedy pussy.
"Lay that dick in me, Thugni-oh my fucking god.." You threw your hands back to help him keep your ass cheeks open, slapping your ass while the wrist that carried his shiny ass watch took a hold of your hips to yank you down on his throbbing length.
"Gimme me that pretty pussy, give me that shit taking Daddy dick like this, throw that pussy on me.." The way your ass wobbled in circles there was no telling how long Thug would keep up at this rate, your voice crying out his name didn't make anything better! The nasty slick lines his dick made every time he threw his dick inside made his stomach tighten up and the moans he tried his best to conceal to fall from his lips.
The liquor in his system mixed in with your pussy choking him like he owed you money sent a fire shooting through his veins like crack. It was disgusting how warm your cunt felt as he drug his dick inside of your twitching walls.
"You finna make this pussy cum Thug.."
"All over this fat dick?"
"All over that dick don't stop baby this shit so…so..fucking deep in me.." Your voice trembled, the sharp sounds your skin slapping against his filling your ears only making you leak on his dick even more. His strokes slowed down only for a moment so he could pick the bottle back up to take another sip, still pumping inside of your leaking cunt.
"Ass so fat it don't make no damn sense. Shake that shit." He groaned, smacking your ass again as he wiped his mouth, rutting back in with no hands, just laying his hips into your pussy with no remorse. His grills flashed in your eyes turning your head back to look at him with a drunken smile.
You let your hips swing side to side feeling his hands rub and knead your skin, gripping you hard with a satisfied smirk, watching your pussy swallow his dick whole making it disappear over and over again.
"Who fucking this pussy?" He called out, the bottom of his cold chain hitting your ass.
You could only moan in response feeling him lift one of your legs to prop them on the bed, turning your body to the side so he could get a good look at you drunk off of his strokes. You only took a couple shots yet it felt you had the whole fucking bottle!
"You fucking this- shit Thug I'm finna-"
"Right on this dick! Let me see you cum, right here look at me. Show me who I'm finna trick on."
Thug took a hold of your neck , forcing your lash covered eyes to connect with his low eyes heavy with lust as your slimy walls gripped around his dick. Every time he stroked inside your pussy lips wouldn't let him go, your hazy eyes looked down to him disappearing and pounding that spot over and over until a soft stream of your cum messily covered his dick, the both of you groaning at the filthy sight.
"F-Fuck! Fuck!"
"You wetting this dick up? Pussy making a fucking mess on my goddamn floor. Awww fuck I'm gonna cum in this tight ass mess…shit!" He cursed, popping his dick out of your swollen cunt turning your body over on your back, folding your legs to your chest practically molding you in half.
Thug stuck his long, pink tongue out of his mouth to place an open mouth kiss on your cunt, shaking his face as he found that sensitive bud with ease, slipping it inside of his thick lips to suck on it hard.
"Mmhmm, that pussy taste good? Oh fuck, yeah lick on that clit, face all in my ooouu!"
He grunts in response, replacing the harsh feeling by lapping his pink tongue around your clit, digging the muscle inside of your twitching walls creating sloppy, dramatic and wild noises. You moaned out his name as he kept your legs spread, pushing his tongue in and out of your heat smearing your pussy juices across his face.
"Nasty ass nigga, I swear I'm gonna cum in yo mouth, I wanna cum on yo tongue Daddy fuck!"
"Pop that pussy in my face.." He mumbled, sliding his tongue up and down your slit, spitting all of your cum out just to swallow it all over again. You bucked your hips into his mouth grinding your slick on his face causing his nose to brush over your clit, barely giving you what you needed but did just enough damage to send you over the edge.
He flicked the tip of his long, wet tongue up your cunt letting it bounce just like your ass did on his dick earlier, earning whines and whimpers out of your mouth like an alarm, reaching your arms forward to grab this nigga up by his two ponytails to steer his mouth, slobbering his spit all over your pussy lips.
Thug groaned against your slit letting a dirty laugh come out of his mouth. He pulled off of your clit with a harsh 'pop', repeating that lewd movement over and over, the both of you watching your pussy lips twitch just for him while he laid another nasty hot stripe up, diving back in to start making out with your pussy.
This was for his own personal gain.
Fuck the party, fuck the niggas that was in the other room, Thug had the chick of his dreams pussy fucking his mouth and you had the hottest rapper dicking you down and drowning you in blinding ice, you didn't want him to stop plunging his tongue so deep inside of your creamy tight walls, but like Semiu said, you were on his timing.
That burning glass ball formed within your core quick, spreading across your body like fire as he flicked and smeared his nasty ass tongue all over your pussy bringing you so close until he dug his tongue out, grabbing his dick to tap on your puffy pussy with a drunk chuckle, dipping his tip in and out. In and out only thrusting half of his length inside of your needy hole and ignoring your begging whines.
"Cant even..fucking fit in this..whew shit! Look at this fat pussy choking me the fuck out."
"Stuff that dick in me.."
"You can't take it.."
"Make me take that shit Thug.."
"Un uh you can't take it.." He grinned, pumping the rest of his shaft back where it belonged, that cute little bulge poking out of your stomach each time he slammed inside. He had both of his hands wrapped around your ankles spreading them apart so your pussy could have enough room to talk more shit only to shut her cries with all 9 inches splitting her open.
"I can take that dick Thugnificent..oh fuck this pussy pleasseee! Oh shit.."
"Listen to this wet mothafucka, come on and suck this dick dry! Get all that nut outta me.." Thug huffed, slinging his hips against your skin at a sporadic pace, removing his hands from your ankles to cup the back sides of your knees to keep you stuck, having no choice but to take each and every inch he was giving to you.
Them two ponytails you messed up earlier fell out of the tight hair ties causing his hair to fall down his back as he stroked into you, leaving you face to face with Thug grinning as he bit his bottom lip hard watching your eyes flutter to the back of your skull.
Your quivering mewls sounded like background vocals blending in with the music and the nasty plops of Thug's dick squelching inside almost matched the beat of the song. The soft squish of your thighs in his hands melted like butter as he left indents in your skin like he was bracing himself from cumming too fast.
"Fuck! Get that nut, yeah creaming all over Daddy dick.." He mumbled under his breath, peering his pink eyes down to your cunt creating a white ring around his shaft. The filthy lewd sounds of your sloppy pussy sucking him in made him groan in the crook of your neck, humping into you like a dog in heat.
"Thats it, thats it! I'm gon nut all in this pussy! Right there, oh fuck!" His hips stammered inside of your closing walls, shivering from that orgasm building up within your stomach once again, your legs fell out of his hands and attached to his shoulders dangling in the air as they crunched together from his tip abusing your gspot.
"Dumb ass dick, this shit finna make me-" Your words were cut short due to Thug rising from the crook of your neck to wrap his hand around your throat, using his thumb to press on that big vein on the side, your vision blurring in and out of focus.
"Cum on this dick, cum on this- h-hhahhh! Shit!" He slammed you down over and over letting little dribbles of slick stain his lower stomach almost like leaving a kiss mark on his abs, you took your hand to start rubbing fast circles on your clit as your body ricocheted with the bed slamming up against the wall. You didn't give a fuck if anybody heard what you and him had going on, all you wanted was for him to put his money where his mouth is and he kept his end of the bargain by pulling his dick out of your sloppy mess to jerk his tip right over your throbbing clit.
"Daddy i'm gonna cum, Daddy I'm gonna, shiitttt!" You sprayed his lower half, wetting his dick up while he stroked himself right on your pussy spitting up white globs of his cum all on your stomach, rubbing his dick on your clit to add to the nasty ass mess.
"Awww fuckk, make that fucking mess!" He swore, tapping his dick on you like a button, sending another stream out of your cunt automatically.
"Sssss fuckkkk!"
"That's what good pussy do, make a fucking mess. C'mere clean this shit up.." Thug's voice dropped, watching you lean up to slip his tip back into your mouth, licking your residue off of his shaft while he stroke himself past your lips. You kissed his knuckles and took the tip of your tongue to swirl around his hole before taking almost every inch down your throat just to gag on him.
"All that dick, gahdamn!" He held your head on his shaft allowing his tip to stay in your esophagus coughing and spitting up all over his bed as he slid out with a nasty shlick sound, tapping his heavy dick on your tongue, groaning at the spit lines.
"Up on them toes, c'mere.." He huffed, slapping your ass while you crawled off of the bed, standing on your shivering legs bending back over to wiggle your hips in front of him, spreading your ass cheeks with your pretty nails, smacking your skin.
"Whatever you want, Imma give this pussy whatever she want.." He breathed, gripping your ass with the palm of his hand, directing your throbbing pussy back over his tip, sinking you back down on his slippery shaft, plopping your hips down into his lap.
"Whatever? Mmhmm, let me keep cumming on this dick.."
"That's right, keep cumming on this fat dick." He groaned, drilling his hips upward to match how hard you throwing your ass back, crying out his name as he pressed indents into your back creating placeholders with his thumbs, yanking you back on his dick.
Your eyes swelled up with tears with how hard he punctured your g spot His harsh grunts filling your ears only turning your insides into putty for him to play with. Each stroke removed your ability to breathe as he folded you over with no warning regaining a second wind, pounding inside of your creamy hole forming a white ring around his dick.
"Nasty pussy making a mess, don't run from this dick! Thug got it now un uh.."
"Oh fuck! W-wait! Fuck, you fucking the shit outta me!"
Your arms were on the floor and your tits bounced along with his rhythm as his balls smacked against your clit aiding to his relentless strokes deep inside of your walls.
Your skin collided together making disgusting sloppy noises causing the both of you to groan out like sluts, your cunt wrapped around his dick like a vaccum, gripping him so tight that he couldn't stay out of your pussy if he tried. You kept pulling him back even as his dick twitched inside, poking out of your stomach with each thrust.
"Gon cum so deep in this- oh my god give me that shit! Hold on to that dick, let me fill this pussy up..fuck!"
"I want allll that nut give it to me.."
"I'm gon give it to you, take that fucking dick! Take that—-ahh! Fuck!" He laid more smacks on your bruising skin, stopping his movements to let you work his dick, leaning back on the bed as you took over, humping his dick making your ass move on his tip, coaxing more of his sinful moans to leave his lips.
"Want all that dick, you like the way this pussy squeezing you?"
"Keep talking that shit.."
"Watch this pussy for me.." You hummed, slowing down your slutty movements so he could gaze at his dick disappearing inside of your pink walls. There was no use in fighting back those naughty noises falling from your mouth each time his dick slammed that spot over and over. You sat down on his long shaft sending shots of adrenaline throughout your body, screaming out his name in broken syllables as he groaned from your pussy farting on his tip, laughing to himself before taking a hold of your neck.
"Both of yall talking that-awwww fuck! Don't stop..pussy so damn good you gon make me—ouu fuck!"
"Thugggggg!"
"All that hollering shut that shit up, get what you want..get that dick.." He growled, shoving your cunt down on his dick, giving you his all. Your walls tensed up and almost like magic a sharp shot of your cum sprayed his dick clean yet he didn't stop his sporadic thrusts.
He ignored your whimpers and your arm folding back to ease up his animalistic strokes, he took both arms back and ricocheted his hips into you, calling out your name as your cunt covered his lower half repeatably.
"Don't fucking stop! Keep fucking this pussy please!"
"What I tell you? Over and over keeping cumming on this dick fuck!" His hips stammered inside of your tight grip, that warm suction like feeling hitting him in his lower stomach. His balls tighten up and a loud groan left his lips as he pulled out, hot shots of his cum spraying all over your ass cheeks, watching your ass dribble in his scent.
The afterglow washed over you as your body fell back on the bed and Thug passed out right beside you, his chest heaving up and down. You peered over to the nightstand where an additional stack of cash say waiting for you and your phone ringing off of the hook with a familiar name flashing on the screen.
"Yeah I'll see that ass tommorow.."
Don’t throw nothing at me y’all, life got hands! But not i’m gone! I’m still flourishing in the playhouse with a lot more free time on my hands to make up for the time i’ve been gone..i’ve got something special i think y’all might like but until then..i’ll imagine with you later!
Suguru Geto doesn’t kiss. Only hits it from the back. Doesn’t stay the night. And he definitely doesn’t chase. Everything with him is simple and transactional— until the new girl at the party rejects him without blinking. Now he’s got something to prove. The only problem? The closer he gets, the harder it is to pretend it’s just a game.
a/n: chococat and frat!geto are both so underrated >:( and the amount of times i accidentally wrote fart instead of frat
(credits to @/VoidBringerr on x for that lucious fanart :P credits to @bhavihelps for the divider :D)
Suguru Geto, vice president of the frat, walked like the world had already signed itself over to him. Girls gravitated toward him like it was instinct. He didn’t chase. He didn’t try. He didn’t need to. They lined up anyway.
Suguru Geto who rolled into lectures twenty minutes late—that was if he even showed up at all—and still somehow pulled stellar grades. Suguru Geto who submitted assignments seconds before the deadline, unbothered, unhurried, like time itself would wait for him. Suguru Geto who never really had to work for anything.
Things just came easy to him. Until you.
Shoko introduced you at one of the frats parties.
You’d been her childhood best friend before your parents moved overseas for work, and when she found out you were coming back—same college, same city—she nearly lost her mind. Promised she’d show you everything. The best cafés. The quiet corners of town. And of course, the “hot parties.”
The hot parties were always at the same place.
Infamous brothers. Infamous parties. The kind of place people warned you about and went to anyway. Geto and Gojo at the center of it all, like twin pillars of chaos and charm.
They carried a reputation like cologne—expensive, heavy, impossible to ignore.
Even you, the new girl, had heard the stories.
Frat boys who only did casual. Hook up, have their fun, and send you home before you could even fully come down from the high of it. Don’t linger. Don’t catch feelings. It was practically printed in invisible ink on the walls of that house.
And honestly? The rumors didn’t bother them. If anything, it saved them the trouble.
Most girls knew exactly what they were walking into. Some even liked it that way. No strings. No expectations. No pretending it was something deeper.
And Suguru was always clear. He didn’t chase, he selects.
No lingering.
No feelings.
No kissing.
No sleeping over.
Clean lines. Clear rules. Strictly transactional. Mutual pleasure, nothing more.
You walked into the party trying not to look as out of place as you felt.
People moved through the frat house like they owned it—like they’d been born under neon lights and bass-boosted speakers. You followed behind Shoko as she pulled you through the crowd, grinning like she was about to present you with a prize.
“Satoru, Suguru!” Shoko called out.
Shoko looked like she had personally delivered a miracle. Her hands in the air around you. Basically like that one picture of Will Smith.
They turned immediately.
“Shoko has told me so much about you!” Satoru beamed before pulling you into a hug that was all limbs and spilled alcohol. His drink sloshed onto your top and his shirt. He didn’t even care, or didn’t notice.
“I’m glad I can finally put a pretty face to the name.” He pulled back, still holding your hand, and pressed a soft kiss to your knuckles. Surprisingly gentle. Almost princely.
You laughed, easing your hand back. “I’ve heard a lot about you too.”
From the side, Suguru’s eyes dragged over you—slow, assessing.
“Good things, I hope?” Satoru grinned. He knew better. Most things people said about him weren’t flattering. Just accurate.
“Something like that.” you smiled, soft and amused.
The sound of your laugh did something strange to Suguru’s chest. A small, sharp skip. He frowned internally. That was new. He’d watched girls strip in front of him without so much as a pulse change. Why did a simple smile from you feel different?
“You must be Suguru, right?” you turned toward him.
He’d already been staring. He didn’t even pretend otherwise.
“Yeah,” he replied smoothly, confidence sliding back into place like it had never left.
“It’s nice to meet you.” You said. He stepped forward and pulled you into a hug, hands settling at your waist. Familiar. Controlled. Easy.
“Nice to meet you too, pretty girl,” he murmured, shifting so his arm rested around your shoulders afterward, keeping you tucked neatly under his side.
“Let’s get you something to drink.”
The kitchen counter was cluttered with liquor bottles, and red cups stacked in the corner. He grabbed one and started mixing something without asking what you liked. You took the cup when he handed it to you. Your fingers brushing.
“Thank you.” It was small. Polite. Not breathless. Not flustered.
He showed you around the house, introducing you to the brothers and the regular girls who might as well have been honorary members at this point. The house was massive, loud, vibrating with music blasted by DJ Yu—a freshman who’d apparently been given the job mostly to prevent him from launching himself off the roof into the pool and breaking his bones.
You laughed at that. Suguru liked the sound again. Too much. “Thank you for the tour, Suguru,” you said eventually, still loosely under his arm.
“We’re not done yet,” he replied quickly. “Haven’t shown you upstairs.” He winked. This was the part where girls usually blushed. Leaned closer. Whispered something suggestive. Begged, even. Instead—
“I’m fine.” You stepped away. His arm dropped. The music kept playing. People kept going around him. But something in his head went quiet.
Rejection? That… didn’t happen.
“I’m going to look for Shoko. Thanks for the tour though.”
You waved lightly before heading toward the couch where Shoko sat between Yuki and Satoru. You slipped down next to her, and she draped her arm around your shoulders—the same place Suguru’s had been moments ago.
He stood there for half a second too long.
Then he followed.
He sat on the armrest of the couch, close enough to still be in your space, but not touching this time. Not claiming.
Something in his ego felt… dented. You hadn’t blushed. Hadn’t hesitated, hadn't chased. You just walked away. A strange feeling settled in his chest. It was small, but sharp. Annoying. His pride stung in a way it never had before. This didn’t happen to him. Usually it was easy. A lazy wink. A hand at someone’s waist. A low comment spoken close enough to feel. Girls were already leaning in, already asking to go upstairs before he even decided if he wanted them.
He didn’t chase. He never had to. So why did the thought of you walking away still sit wrong with him? It wasn’t about you. It couldn’t be. It was just the rejection. He had something to prove something to himself now. He saw you as a challenge.
And Suguru liked winning.
He had been so sure he would win.
There was something in him that needed to prove it — not just to himself, but to his friends too. Even though they hadn’t seen him get rejected by you.
Drunk,immature, and his ego bruised in a way he’d never experienced before, he’d walked straight over to the other frat brothers — Satoru, Haibara, Nanami, Toji, Sukuna — like it was nothing. Like you were nothing. “I can bag her,” he’d said with a careless laugh. “Even when she’s being difficult.”
They’d teased him, of course. Raised brows. Doubt. Curiosity. He’d leaned back in his chair, drink in hand, acting like it was already decided.
“I like the challenge,” he’d added. “She’s my challenge.”
And Suguru had always been the one who could make even the most stubborn girls soften. Fold. Give in. And to him you were certainly one of those.
⋆˚꩜｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Next Friday, he stood near the couch, drink loose in his hand, eyes fixed on the front door more than he’d admit.
Waiting for you.
Satoru had insisted on the pajama party. “Intimate,” he’d called it. No one bought it. It was just an excuse to see girls in lace and silk. Satoru looked unfair as usual. Blue plaid pajama pants hanging low, thin white shirt clinging in a way that made people stare too long. He acted oblivious. He wasn’t.
Suguru wasn’t exactly subtle either.
Grey sweatpants. Black shirt. Sleeves pushed up just enough to expose strong forearms, veins faint but still prominent beneath warm skin. The cotton of his shirt clung lightly to his chest and shoulders, outlining muscle without trying too hard. It stretched when he moved, hinting at the strength underneath.
He looked comfortable. Relaxed.
The sweatpants hung low on his hips, the fabric thin enough to suggest more than it hid. When he shifted his weight or leaned back against the counter, the outline of his bulge noticeable. Not exaggerated. Just there. Impossible to ignore if someone let their eyes wander.
And people were looking. He could feel it. A few girls tried to be subtle. Most weren’t. Normally he’d smirk. Maybe lean back a little more. Let them look. Tonight, though, his attention stayed fixed on the door. Until you walked in.
Your eyes met his from across the room before you started walking toward him.
And just like that, something shifted. The air felt heavier. Quieter.
You were wearing a small purple lace and silk sleep dress — delicate straps resting on your shoulders, the fabric catching the light with every step you took. It skimmed your body just enough to leave very little to his imagination.
He loved your outfit.
The way the lace traced your silhouette. The way the silk moved softly against your thighs. The way it looked like it had been made just for you.
Heat pooled low in his stomach before he could stop it. His hand tightened subtly around the cup he was holding, pupils dilating as his gaze dragged — slow, deliberate — from your face down to the hem of your dress and back up again.
But it wasn’t just desire. It was the way you walked toward him. Calm. Unhurried. Like you knew exactly what you were doing to him.
When you hugged him — when your body pressed against his — he felt exactly how you fit against him. The thin layers of fabric between you did very little to dull the contact. Warm. Close. Distractingly close.
His body went rigid for half a second, hyperaware of every point of contact. The heat pooling low in his stomach felt even heavier, unwelcome in how fast it came.
You pulled away first. His hands lingered at your waist a second too long before dropping. He followed you into the kitchen without thinking about it. “Do you always do this?” you asked, not turning around, focused on pouring yourself a drink.
“Do what?” he replied, leaning back against the counter, palms resting against the edge behind him. Casual. Like he wasn’t watching you over the rim of his cup. “Following girls around,” you clarified, taking a sip before leaning back as well. Now you were beside him. Close enough that your arms brushed lightly.
He didn’t move away. “No. Just you.” Smooth. Effortless. Delivered like it wasn’t a line.
“You’re so rehearsed,” you snickered into your drink. You barely looked at him. Your attention drifted to the kitchen, the music, the people passing by. You adjusted the hem of your dress. Anything but him.
And that — more than anything — got under his skin. Because he was used to being the center of attention.
He was used to being watched. But you? You acted like he was optional. His jaw tightened slightly, though his smile stayed lazy.
“If I’m rehearsed,” he said, pushing off the counter. He stepped into your space, one hand bracing against the surface behind you. Close enough to crowd. Not close enough to touch.
“I wouldn’t be standing here trying to figure you out.” His head tilted slightly as he leaned in, just a fraction closer. There was something different in his tone now. Less polished. Less automatic.
He let it show — just a little — that this wasn’t routine. That he was actually trying. You raised a brow lazily, finally meeting his eyes. “But go on,” he continued, softer, almost coaxing. “If I'm rehearsed, tell me what you think I’m going to say next.”
His other hand came to rest on the counter behind you, boxing you in without quite trapping you. Testing. Seeing how much you’d tolerate. How far he could push before you pushed back.
You only chuckled. Took another slow sip of your drink. Like his proximity meant nothing. Like he wasn’t practically caging you in. You set your cup down and crossed your arms. “You’re trying to figure me out?” you said evenly. “You’re doing a bad job, then.”
A quiet beat passed. “Am I?” His voice lowered, amusement threading through it. He liked this. The resistance. The way you didn’t melt or giggle or fold. “And yet…” A lazy smirk curved his mouth. “You’re still standing here.”
The confidence was still there — but thinner now. Sharpened. His eyes dropped to your lips for a second. Just long enough. Just slow enough.
“I’m still here because I’m entertained. Not because I’m doing you a favor by letting you figure me out,” you said evenly. Calm. Almost absentminded.
You took a small sip of your drink. “I’m also curious what cheesy line you’re going to try next.”
Suguru’s lips twitched. A quiet breath left him — not quite a laugh, but close. “Cheesy?” he echoed softly. He reached up without asking, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. Slow. Deliberate. Tucking it behind your ear like he had every right to. Then he leaned in. Close enough that his breath ghosted over your skin, lips barely grazing the shell of your ear. “Wanna find out?” he murmured.
He pulled back just enough to watch your reaction. Waiting for the shift. The blush. The swallow. The crack in your composure. It never came. Your expression stayed the same. Relaxed. Mildly bored.
“I'm good.”
Two simple words. You nudged his arm away — not aggressively, just enough to move past him — and walked back toward the couch where Haibara, Shoko, and Yuki were sitting. Like it was nothing.
Like he hadn’t just made a move on you. Suguru stayed where he was. For a second, he didn’t move. He didn’t fully process it. The rejection hit slower this time. Not sharp. Just heavy. Settling somewhere behind his ribs.
His heart was still beating too fast from the closeness. From the warmth of you. From the almost. He wasn’t sure what churned in his stomach more.
The sting of being brushed off. Or the fact that he wanted to try again.
⋆˚꩜｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Suguru was fucked.
The scene from last Friday wouldn’t leave him alone. It replayed in his mind in sharp, unforgiving detail. The way you looked at him. The way you sounded. The way you said I’m good like he wasn’t worth your time.
He could still remember how close you were. The warmth of your body. The faint trace of your perfume that seemed to linger in his memory no matter how many showers he took.
He had thought about that single interaction more than the dirtiest things he had ever done. And he hadn’t even properly touched you. Every time it replayed, something twisted low in his stomach. Not lust. Not exactly. Something heavier. Stranger.
Something he’d never felt before.
His lecture dragged on endlessly. Some rant about foreign economies and stock markets. The professor also spiraling about his own investments tanking.
Suguru didn’t hear a word. His thoughts kept circling back to you. When class finally ended, he left without thinking, shoulders tense, jaw tight.
Everything felt dull. Boring. Until he saw you. Sitting on a bench outside. Headphones in. Sunlight spilling over you like it was intentional. Like the universe was presenting him with something he wasn’t sure he deserved.
You looked… beautiful. Your legs crossed neatly. Your outfit soft, effortless. Your hair falling perfectly over your shoulders. Brows slightly furrowed as you stared at your phone.
Beautiful.
The word made him pause.
He’d called girls hot. Sexy. But beautiful? Perfect? That was new. And he didn’t like how easily it was when it came to you.
He swallowed the thought down quickly. It was just the chase. That was all this was. Right?
He called your name as he approached. You looked up at him. And his heartbeat ticked up, just slightly. “Oh, hi,” you said, tugging one headphone out.
“You done for today?” he asked casually, already calculating how he could stretch this interaction. “One lecture left,” you sighed, slipping your phone into your pocket and pulling the other headphone out.
“When?”
“Ten minutes.”
“Come on. I’ll walk you.”
He didn’t wait for permission. He picked up your bag from the ground and slung it over his shoulder like it belonged there.
“You don’t have to,” you called, following behind him as he started toward the main building.
“Where’s your lecture?”
He ignored the protest entirely.
“018.”
He adjusted his pace slightly so you could keep up, leading you toward the back of the building without another word.
The hallway was quieter here.
Room 018 came into view on your right.
He stopped in front of you. You stepped closer, reaching up to tug your bag off his shoulder. “Thank you for walking me,” you said lightly. “Even if it was against my will.”
He scoffed, crossing his arms. “So charming,” he muttered.
“I’ll see you later.” He ruffled your hair — casual, almost teasing — before stepping past you and walking away.
Good thing he walked away. Otherwise he would’ve seen it — the slight widening of your eyes, the faint warmth rising to your cheeks where he’d ruffled your hair.
The last time — at the party — he had been closer to you. Closer than this. But there had been dim lighting and music loud enough to swallow hesitation. Alcohol warming your skin. Shadows to hide behind. This time there was none of that.
No haze. No flickering lights softening the edges. Just daylight pouring through the windows. Just the quiet hum of campus around you. Just him standing there, fully aware, fully sober. Good thing he walked away.
Otherwise he would’ve seen it — the slight widening of your eyes, the faint warmth rising to your cheeks where he’d ruffled your hair. He would’ve known he’d affected you.
An hour later, you stepped out of your lecture hall. And stopped. Suguru was leaning against the wall across from the door. Like he’d been there the whole time.
His phone hung loosely in his hand, forgotten. He found your eyes almost immediately, a lazy smirk spreading across his face like this had been inevitable. “What are you doing here?” you asked, walking up to him.
He hadn’t prepared an answer. Not really. “Thought I’d walk you home,” he said honestly. The words leaving before he could dress them up. You blinked at him. “You waited an hour to walk me home?” A small huff escaped you — half disbelief, half something else.
“Don’t ask questions you already know the answer to,” he replied, pushing off the wall. His hands slipped from his pockets, reaching for your bag again and slinging it over his shoulder like it belonged there.
You fell into step beside him this time. “For someone with such a reputation,” you said lightly, “you’re being such a gentleman.”
“And what does that reputation entail?” he asked, glancing down at you like he genuinely didn’t know. Of course he knew. He just wanted to hear what you thought and heard.
“Come on,” you muttered, looking away. “You know what people say about you.”
“I do,” he replied smoothly. “But I’m wondering what you heard.” There was something different in his tone now. Less teasing. More searching. Because for once, it wasn’t about what the campus thought. It was about what you thought.
“You’re a manwhore,” you said plainly. No hesitation. No sugarcoating. His eyebrow twitched slightly. “You don’t do face-to-face,” you continued. “And you don’t kiss.” Your gaze stayed forward, focused on the path ahead. His eyes, however, were locked on you.
“People talk,” he said simply. Even though most of it was true. He had kissed a few girls back in freshman year. Early on. Back when he was still figuring out what he preferred during hook ups.
He’d learned quickly that he didn’t. Kissing complicated things. It made girls linger. Made them think. Made him pretend he wanted something more. “So it’s not true?” you asked, your gaze snapping up to him.
“I didn’t say that,” he chuckled, glancing back at you. This time, you were the one who looked away first. A quiet beat passed.
“Why no kissing?” you asked. There wasn’t judgment in your voice. Just curiosity. That made it harder to brush off. He exhaled through his nose, shoulders rolling slightly as he considered how to phrase it.
“Keeps things easy,” he said finally. “Sex is transactional. You feel good, I feel good. End of story.”
His tone was matter-of-fact. Almost clinical.
“But most people don’t get anything out of kissing,” he continued. “You kiss someone because you want to be close to them.” His eyes flickered toward you. “Seems more personal than sex to me.” He said it like it was obvious. Logical.
Like it was the most reasonable thing in the world. And you could follow what he meant. You understood the train of thought. You just couldn’t understand him. Because to you, that sounded backwards.
Detached. Safe. And maybe that was the point. “How do you even get in the mood without kissing?” you asked. You were trying to follow his logic. You really were.
“You just do,” he replied easily. “You don’t really get in the mood to do your assignments either, but you still do them.” He said it like it made perfect sense. You giggled. It was soft. Unfiltered. And something in him twitched at the sound.
He’d had girls whisper filth in his ear. Beg. Moan. Say things far more obscene. And yet a simple giggle from you did more to him than any of it ever had. “That’s… one way to put it,” you said, shaking your head slightly.
“What about you?” he asked.
“Mh?”
“What do you like?”
The question caught you off guard.
“Uh…”
You frowned faintly, thinking.
No one had really asked you that before.
You knew how to flirt. You’ve had boyfriends before — not many, you could still count them on one hand. From the outside they’d all seemed fine. Good guys. But when it came down to it… They hadn’t really known what to do with you. Everything had always revolved around them. Their pace. Their finish. “I don’t… know?” you admitted, shoulders lifting slightly.
“What do you mean? Even virgins know what they like.” He looked at you, genuinely confused.
“I’ve had a few boyfriends,” you said quietly, a hint of pink rising to your cheeks. “But they weren’t really any good. And whenever I tried to explain or try something different… it didn’t really work.” There was embarrassment there. Not dramatic. Just subtle. Like you’d quietly decided somewhere along the way that maybe you were the problem.
“Maybe I’m just not made for sex,” you added with a small, almost self-conscious laugh.
Something in Suguru hardened at that. Not lust. Not entirely. Something sharper. Because the idea of you thinking that — of some mediocre guys fumbling their way through you and leaving you convinced you were the issue — irritated him more than it should have.
“Or,” he said calmly, cutting in, “you just didn’t have the right partners.”
“When it happens with one boyfriend, it could be coincidence,” you said with a faint, bitter chuckle. “When it happens with two? That’s not really a coincidence anymore.”
He looked at you differently then. Not like prey. Not like a challenge. Like something he wanted to prove wrong. “If you had the wrong ones twice,” he said evenly, “that just means your sample size was bad.” There was a faint smirk there, but softer than usual.
“It doesn’t mean there’s anything wrong with you.” His tone wasn’t teasing. It was steady. Certain.
And for once, he wasn’t trying to get you into bed (well not completely) He was trying to undo something someone else had planted in your head. And that might’ve been worse for him. Because this wasn’t about winning a challenge anymore. It was about wanting to be the one who showed you differently.
“Thanks,” you said softly. “That’s… oddly comforting.” For a second, something warm settled between you.
“Maybe I could be the one to show you,” he added, a wink following right after.
And just like that, the warmth shifted. A quiet bucket of disappointment washed over you. Right. He was still him. Still the campus manwhore. Still the guy who turned everything into an invitation. “Yeah,” you said lightly, pushing his shoulder with two fingers, “no thank you.”
He laughed, not offended. But something flickered behind his eyes — quick. Almost unreadable. The conversation eased after that. Safer topics. His time in college. Your time overseas. Gossip about mutual acquaintances. Who dated who. Who cheated. Who dropped out.
It felt normal. Almost easy. And that was the dangerous part. Because you genuinely enjoyed talking to him. By the time you reached your building, the sky had softened into late afternoon gold. You stopped at your door. “Thank you,” you said, taking your bag back from him. “I really enjoyed our talk.”
And you meant it. His expression shifted — subtle, but softer than the smirking version he wore so easily. “My pleasure,” he replied. Polite. Controlled.
“I’ll see you around.” He gave you a small wave before stepping back from the entrance, giving you space as you unlocked your door.
He didn’t linger. But as he walked away, hands sliding back into his pockets, something about the interaction replayed in his mind.
He enjoyed talking to you. Not flirting. Not teasing. Talking. And for the first time, Suguru wasn’t sure if that made things easier… Or infinitely more complicated.
⋆˚꩜｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. 𐙚 ˚
“Where are you going?” he asked when you took a different turn instead of heading toward your building. He was standing outside your lecture hall again, like he had been for the past few weeks. It had become a routine of sorts — he would wait for you, walk you home, and talk with you about nothing and everything.
“I have to go to the library,” you replied. “My professor assigned something last minute, and I want to get it done before the weekend.”
Suguru fell into step beside you without hesitation. “Mind if I join?” he asked, his arm settling over your shoulder in a way that had slowly become familiar. At some point, you had stopped shrugging it off.
“Sure,” you said, looking up at him with a stern expression. “If you promise to be quiet.”
“I promise,” he replied, lifting his pinky in a childish gesture.
You sighed, but your lips curved slightly as you hooked your pinky around his. A pinky promise. The library was warm and quiet when you stepped inside, the faint scent of paper and coffee lingering in the air. You led him toward a quiet corner where a small table with two chairs sat facing each other.
To your surprise, he actually kept his promise. He opened his laptop and pulled up his own assignment, though he barely looked at it. Most of his attention was on you. He watched the way your hair fell forward when you leaned down to write, the way your sweater slipped slightly off one shoulder, the crease between your brows when you concentrated, the back of the pen resting against your soft bottom lip. His textbook sat open and untouched, the words blurring together because he couldn’t stop glancing up at you.
“I have to grab something,” you said eventually, standing from your chair. He stood immediately. “I’ll come with you.”
“You do that a lot,” you remarked as you scanned the shelves. “Following behind me.”
“Are we having this conversation again?” he replied lightly, his eyes focused on you rather than the rows of books.
“You’re like a big puppy.”
He laughed at that, an actual, unguarded laugh. “That’s what I’ve been reduced to?”
“That’s what you’ve been upgraded to,” you corrected as you spotted the book you needed. It was on the top shelf. You stretched up on your toes, your fingers barely grazing the metal edge beneath it. Suguru stepped closer behind you, not quite touching you but close enough that you could feel the warmth of him at your back. He reached over you easily and grabbed the book.
Instead of handing it to you, he lifted it just slightly higher. You turned around with a small frown, your brows knitting together as you tried to reach for it again. He watched you from above, his smirk lazy but his heartbeat louder than he liked to admit.
“Not even a thank you you? Or a please,” he teased. “Didn’t think you were ill-mannered.”
“Do you want me to beg you?” you countered, your tone unimpressed. The thought alone made something stir in him. “Would you?” he asked, leaning a fraction closer.
“No,” you replied immediately, crossing your arms despite the way your stomach fluttered at his proximity.
“Then you’re not getting your book about…” He glanced at the cover. “International politics.” You flushed faintly, embarrassed that he had said the title out loud when it was perfectly normal.
“Fine.”
He waited, expecting more. “Please, Suguru,” you said flatly.
It wasn’t breathless or sweet like he had imagined, but hearing his name leave your lips so casually still did something to him that caught him off guard.
“Not good enough,” he replied, shaking his head.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” you said, refusing to give him the satisfaction of looking flustered. “Do you have some sort of worship kink?”
He chuckled and stepped closer until his chest brushed lightly against your body. “Just trying to teach you manners.”
You scoffed. “Fine. Keep the book.” You pushed past him and walked back toward the table, your pride too intact to play along with whatever game he was trying to start. After a second, he followed you, the book still in his hand. This hadn’t gone the way he imagined. You didn’t fold. You didn’t beg. You didn’t give him what he wanted.
And he hated how much he liked that. “I’m going home,” you said as you began packing your bag. “Already?” he asked.
“Might as well. I can’t really go any further without that book.”
You walked ahead of him again, refusing to look back, your pride too strong to let him win.
And as he followed behind you — because of course he did — Suguru realized he admired that stubbornness far more than he should have.
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His room was quiet, the late afternoon light spilling lazily across the floor. Suguru lounged on his bed with his phone in hand, half-reading through the fraternity council group chat. Over a hundred messages flooded the screen about some reckless freshmen stunt that could get the house in trouble. Arguments about whether to kick them out or just put them on social probation dragged on endlessly. He barely cared.
His phone suddenly rang. Your name lit up the screen. The number you had reluctantly given him two weeks ago. A smile spread across his face before he even realized it.
“Sweetheart—”
“You really took that book with you?” you half-yelled through the phone.
His smile shifted into a slow smirk as he leaned back against his pillows. Usually you were composed, cool, untouchable. Hearing you slightly ruffled did something to him.
“You said I could keep it,” he replied lazily.
“I didn’t expect you to actually take it.”
“You told me to. Who am I not to comply?”
“Did you even register it, or did you just steal it?”
“It’s not stealing if I bring it back.”
He could practically hear your eye roll through the phone.
“What do you even want with that specific book?”
“For someone as smart as you, you’re awfully slow.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I dont want that book. I just want to hear you say please.”
“I already did,” you snapped.
“That wasn’t good enough.”
“Then you should’ve been more specific.”
“I was specific,” he said calmly. “Just say the words and I’ll give it to you.”
“Oh, please, Suguru,” you replied in an overly sweet, dripping tone.
It was sarcasm.
But the effect was very real.
“Go on,” he murmured, smirk widening.
“Fuck off.” The line went dead. He stared at his phone. You really just hung up on him. He almost pouted. Still, he was getting closer. You wouldn’t be this annoyed if you didn’t care.
Twenty minutes later, a knock sounded at his door. He rolled off his bed, expecting Satoru, maybe Haibara or another brother.
Instead, you stood there. Arms crossed. Cute frown firmly in place. “Give me that book.” No greeting. No smile.
“So impolite,” he tsked, leaning against the doorframe. He found it amusing that you had come all the way here for a book you could probably find online. A part of him wanted to believe you were enjoying this just as much as he was.
“Suguru, please. I have plans this weekend, and the deadline’s Monday.”
“You’re getting closer,” he replied.
You stepped inside his room without waiting for permission. It was surprisingly tidy for a frat house. You went straight to his desk and began rummaging through the drawers.
“It could save you a real headache if you just asked nicely enough,” he said, watching you search. You straightened and finally turned to face him. There was something different in your eyes now. Determined. Slightly desperate.
“Suguru,” you exhaled. “I really need the book. Please.” That one was more sincere. And it hit harder than the sarcastic ones. He didn’t move. From the outside, he looked unbothered. Inside, his stomach was flipping and his heart was beating fast enough to power a small city.
“Please,” you said again, softer this time. He swallowed. “Knew you could be polite,” he said lightly, ruffling your hair before stepping past you.
He grabbed the book from his bag. It hadn’t moved since the library. Your hands reached for it immediately. He pulled it back again. “What are your plans this weekend?” he asked casually.
Your expression shifted to mild annoyance. “Seeing a friend.”
A friend? His jaw tightened slightly. What kind of friend? Why did that word suddenly irritate him? “What friend?” he pressed.
You scoffed. “I came here to get a book, and now you’re interrogating me about my social life.”
“You want the book?” he challenged. You hesitated for a second. “I’m going on a blind date. Now can I please have my book?”
A blind date. The word landed heavier than he expected. Jealousy flared before he could stop it. It didn’t make sense. You were a challenge. A game. A mission to see how long it would take to get you in his bed. So why did the idea of someone else sitting across from you make something ugly twist in his chest?
He lowered the book without another word. You grabbed it immediately. “Thank you,” you said, smiling.
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Suguru laid quietly in his bed that same night you came storming into his room. His head clouded with jealousy and also lust.
You saying ‘please' and almost begging him really did something to him. It may have been because you wanted a book and not because you wanted him, but that didn't matter to him. The words that bordered on begging had taken their toll on him, and especially on his cock.
The room was dark, except for the faint glow of moonlight slipping through the curtains, casting shadows over the rumpled sheets. Suguru's chest rose and fell unevenly, his mind replaying the scene over and over.
'Suguru, I really need this. Please.' Fuck, the way your eyes had locked on his. It twisted something deep in his gut, even when he had completely taken your words out of context.
A hot coil of envy still in his stomach because of that stupid blind date, but his dick still throbbing with need.
He groaned low in his throat, palming himself through the thin material, feeling the heat radiate from his skin.
With a frustrated huff, Suguru shoved his boxers and sweats down his thighs, freeing his cock. It sprang up, thick and heavy, the tip already glistening with pre-cum in the dim light. He wrapped his hand around the base, squeezing firmly, and let out a shaky breath.
His mind flooded with images: you on your knees, not for your blind date, but only for him. Begging to touch him, to taste him.
'Please,' you'd probably whisper, lips parted, eyes dark with want.
He started stroking, slow at first, his fist gliding up the shaft, thumb swiping over the sensitive head to spread the slickness. A jolt of pleasure shot through him, making his hips buck involuntarily. Fuck, he was so hard it ached, veins pulsing under his grip. He picked up the pace, hand twisting slightly, imagining your mouth instead—wet and warm, sucking him down greedily.
His free hand clutched the sheets, knuckles white, as he jerked faster, the slick sound of skin on skin filling the quiet room. His balls tightened, drawing up as the pressure built low in his belly.
He muttered your name, head falling back against the pillow.
In his mind, you were there, begging louder, your voice breaking as you rode him, pussy clenching around his cock. He thrust into his fist, chasing that fantasy, breaths coming in ragged pants.
He couldn't hold it anymore.
With a choked groan, Suguru came, hot spurts of cum shooting over his hand and stomach, his body shuddering with the force of it. He milked himself through it, every last pulse, until he slumped back, spent and sticky. The jealousy lingered, a dull ache.
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Suguru had almost manifested it — the worst possible outcome.
And somehow, the night had gone exactly that way.
That’s how you ended up still wearing your date outfit — burgundy dress, black heels — on a grimy frat couch, completely out of place in the chaos of the house. But right now, you didn’t care.
The bass thumped through the house hard enough to rattle the walls, music vibrating through the floorboards. The air was thick with sweat, perfume, and cheap alcohol. Out in the yard, a small group lingered in the glow of porch lights, passing a blunt between them and laughing too loudly. Satoru stood near the kitchen island, effortlessly charming two girls at once, his grin bright and shameless, while across the dance floor Toji had a girl pressed flush against him, moving in a way that made it very clear neither of them cared who was watching.
Suguru sat beside you, arm wrapped loosely around your shoulders. His thumb traced slow, absentminded patterns along your arm while he held his cup in the other hand, occasionally bringing it to your lips so you could take a sip.
You leaned into him slightly.
He leaned back into the couch, gaze lazily fixed on you, pretending he wasn’t studying every expression on your face.
“He was barely taller than me,” you complained, arms crossing. “And in the same sentence he claimed he was 6’1.”
Suguru brought the cup closer to your mouth again. You took a sip.
“That sucks, sweetheart,” he murmured, rubbing your arm soothingly.
“He wore this stupid expensive watch and could not stop talking about it. I swear I just sat through a forty-five minute TED Talk about watches.”
You let your head fall back lightly against his chest.
His heartbeat picked up immediately.
Your perfume. The warmth of your body. The way you looked — dressed up for some idiot who didn’t deserve it.
He kept his expression neutral. Secretly, he was relieved it had gone badly.
“And then,” you continued dramatically, “he showed me his stock portfolio. And then not even his car — the car he’s planning to buy after college. Like that’s supposed to impress me.”
“Business major?” Suguru asked knowingly.
“Ugh. He was.” You groaned into your hands. Hands completely covering your face now.
He chuckled quietly, then set his drink down and gently grabbed both of your wrists with one hand, pulling them away from where you’d buried your face.
You reached for his cup instead and took a long drink before handing it back to him.
“I don’t get it,” you sighed. “I think I’m cursed when it comes to men.”
His jaw tightened slightly at that.
“Or,” he said calmly, “your taste is just terrible.”
You shot him a look. He smirked faintly. “Good thing I could fix that for you.”
You chuckled and nudged him lightly with your shoulder. For once, you didn’t follow it up with a snarky comment or a casual rejection. You just laughed. And he hated how much that did to him.
It shouldn’t have mattered. It was just a laugh. Just you relaxing around him for once. But something warm and unfamiliar twisted low in his stomach. Maybe turning this into a challenge hadn’t been his smartest idea. Because somewhere along the way, it had stopped feeling like one. He told himself it was still about the chase. About winning. About proving that even you would fold for him eventually.
But hope had started to creep in. And that was dangerous. “Wouldn’t that just make you one of my bad decisions?” you asked, tilting your head up at him.
His eyes were already on you.
“You think I’d treat you like that?” he asked, and for once there wasn’t much teasing in it. There was something almost earnest there, like he genuinely needed to know.
“You want me to be honest?” you chuckled lightly.
“Depends,” he said, though his voice wasn’t as steady as he wanted it to be.
You studied him for a second.
“I think some bad decisions could be worth it.”
His breath caught before he could hide it. For a split second, his composure cracked — eyes widening just slightly, jaw tightening like he was processing what you had just given him.
Worth it.
His heart was pounding in his throat now, loud enough that he was sure you could feel it through his chest.
His hand on your shoulder tightened slightly, pulling you closer without him fully realizing he was doing it. Your gazes didn’t break — not once. Slowly, his free hand slid down to your wrist. He lifted it carefully, like it was something fragile.
His lips brushed against the pulse point there — soft, lingering just long enough for you to feel the warmth of it.
Then higher, to the center of your palm. It wasn’t rushed. It wasn’t showy. It was deliberate. He looked back up at you. The music in the other room felt distant now. The world narrowing to the space between you.
“You won’t regret me,” he said quietly.
At first, the kiss was soft — exploring, tentative. But as it went on, it took on a life of its own. His tongue flicked against your lower lip, seeking entrance. When your mouth opened for him, he pressed closer, his body fitting against yours.
The kiss grew more urgent, more demanding. His hand left your cheek and tangled in your hair, pulling you even closer. You could feel the heat radiating off him, the way his body pressed against yours without an inch to spare. And the sounds he made — low, almost desperate — sent a shiver down your spine.
His mouth left yours, trailing hot kisses down your jawline, to the spot where your pulse thundered in your throat. You felt him smirk against your neck — he knew what he was doing to you.
“Wanna go?” he murmured against your neck, his breath hot where your pulse fluttered.
You nodded eagerly. he was already on his feet.
Your hand stayed in his as he pulled you up with him, fingers tight around your wrist as he led you through the crowd and up the stairs. The music downstairs faded with every step, replaced by the sound of your own breathing and the rush of blood in your ears.
The second you stepped into his room, the door shut behind you with a heavy click.
He didn’t waste time.
His hands gripped your waist firmly, pulling you closer as his mouth crashed back onto yours. Tongues tangled languid and heated– exploring each other with deliberate strokes.
You toed off your heels with a quick kick, the clatter lost in the thrum of music drifting up from downstairs. His fingers found the zipper of your dress, tugging it down slowly.
The fabric loosened, slipping around your shoulders like a whisper of surrender. "Let me make you feel good," he murmured against your lips, voice low and rough, pulling back just enough for the words to sink in.
"I'll show you what your previous ones couldn't." His hands slid the straps down your arms, the dress pooling at your feet in a silken heap, leaving you exposed in nothing but your lingerie—lace clinging to your skin, a fragile barrier.
His mouth claimed yours again, the wet smacks of kisses echoing in the room, mingling with the bass-heavy rhythm from below. Both hands cupped the underside of your ass, lifting you effortlessly. Your legs hooked around his hips, and he carried you like that, devouring your mouth as if it were the last kiss he'd ever steal—deep, insistent, stealing your breath.
He lowered himself onto the edge of the bed, settling you on his lap. One hand traced the curve of your waist, skin warm under his palm, before dipping lower to toy with the delicate lace of your panties.
His fingers lingered, teasing the edge, brushing close enough to make you ache. Then he slipped inside, parting your folds with a confident stroke. His thumb circled your clit in slow, firm circles while two fingers curled into you, pressing against that sensitive spot deep within. The stretch was perfect, building friction with each deliberate thrust—curling, twisting, scissoring to stretch you open. "This okay?" he asked, voice a husky murmur, smirking as he watched your face twist in pleasure.
"Must feel good, huh?"
You could only nod, breath hitching as he ramped up the pace, fingers pumping faster, thumb relentless on your clit. He leaned in, capturing your mouth briefly before his lips trailed to your neck, nipping at the skin. With his free hand, he reached behind you, unhooking your bra in one smooth motion. The lace fell away, and he palmed your breasts, thumbs flicking over your nipples, rolling them until they peaked hard under his touch.
Your whimpers filled the air, soft and desperate, and he groaned low, his cock twitching harder against your thigh. It had been straining against his pants since you kissed him back, thick and insistent, your sounds only adding to it.
Pressure coiled tight in your core, his fingers relentless, curling just right to hit that spot over and over. Your body arched, thighs trembling around him as the wave crested. A burst of colors exploded behind your closed eyelids—an orgasm ripping through you, fierce and shattering, the kind you hadn't felt in ages. Your walls clenched around his fingers, pulsing as you came undone, slick coating his hand.
You panted, chest heaving, but he was there instantly, mouth sealing over yours, swallowing your gasps like they were his to claim. You tried to kiss back, lips clumsy against his, but the aftershocks still quaked through you, leaving you boneless.
"Need a moment?" He leaned back onto the bed, propping himself on his elbows, biceps bulging against the fabric of his shirt, veins standing out in sharp relief.
The haze cleared just enough, and you slid off his lap, dropping to your knees on the cool hardwood floor. The chill bit into your skin, grounding you.
"You don't have to," he said, thumb brushing your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze.
"Let me give you something back," you whispered, hands already at his belt, fumbling with the buckle in your eagerness. Your fingers shook, haste making them clumsy.
"Calm down, sweetheart," he chuckled, the sound dark and fond, his hand covering yours to steady it, unfastening the belt and popping the button with ease.
His cock sprang free as you tugged his pants down, thicker and longer than any you'd known before—heavy, veined, the tip already glistening with precum. You wrapped your hand around the base, stroking once, twice, before leaning in to swirl your tongue around the head, tasting him on your tongue.
He hissed, fingers threading into your hair as you took him deeper, lips stretching around his girth. You bobbed slowly at first, hollowing your cheeks, tongue pressing flat along the underside as you sucked. Saliva slicked him, your hand twisting in tandem with your mouth, working him with eager pulls.
"Fuck, you feel so good," he groaned, hips bucking slightly. "So proud of you, taking me like this. My sweet girl." His praise washed over you, spurring you on, but just as his breaths grew ragged, his grip tightened in your hair.
He pulled you off with a wet pop, right before he could tip over the edge. "Not yet," he rasped, eyes dark with intent. "I want to be inside you when I come."
In one fluid motion, he shrugged off his shirt, revealing his muscular chest and abs. Then he scooped you up from the floor like you were weightless, manhandling you onto the bed. He flipped you flat on your stomach, the mattress dipping under his weight as he settled behind you. His cock pressed hot and heavy against your ass.
"Sugu," you moaned, voice muffled against the sheets, body arching back in desperate invitation.
He didn't make you wait. Lining up, he thrust in deep, filling you in one smooth stroke. The prone position let him grind against you, cock dragging along your walls with every snap of his hips.
His hands roamed—one sliding up to cover your mouth, fingers pressing against your lips, "Open," he commanded softly, and you did, sucking on his fingers as he fucked into you harder, the wet sounds of skin meeting skin filling the room.
"Bet you've never felt this good, huh?" he groaned against your ear, pace unrelenting. "You're so gorgeous like this.”
“How does my cock feel? Come on, tell me."
You could barely form words, pleasure overwhelming you—mewling around his fingers, body rocking with each thrust. It felt too good, too full, his dirty words stoking the fire higher.
But after a few minutes, he slowed, a frustrated huff escaping him. This position—it wasn't hitting right– not like he thought it would. He usually stuck to from behind, keeping emotional distance, but now... He pulled out fully, the sudden emptiness making you whine.
Grabbing your waist, he flipped you onto your back with effortless strength, manhandling you again, your legs splaying open. His cock looked even harder, flushed and straining as he positioned himself between your thighs.
"Fuck, needed to see you," he muttered, slamming back inside, the angle deeper, hitting new spots that made stars burst behind your eyes.
"Want to see your pretty face." His hand found your clit, rubbing in tight circles as he drove into you, mouth descending to yours in a messy, claiming kiss.
The combination shattered you—his cock stretching you, thumb working your clit, lips bruising yours. Tension snapped like a wire, your orgasm crashing over you, walls fluttering around him as you cried out into his mouth.
"I'm right behind you," he panted, thrusts erratic now, chasing his release. With a final, deep grind, he came, spilling hot inside you, body shuddering. "My pretty girl," he whispered, voice wrecked. "So pretty just for me."
You both rode out the waves, breaths mingling as he collapsed beside you, pulling you close. The high faded slowly, but even as warmth lingered, his thoughts lingered.
He had broken two of his rules to get you into his bed. No kissing. No face-to-face. Both gone. And he had hopefully broken your man-curse.
This was supposed to be simple. A challenge. A bruised ego that needed repairing. A girl who had rejected him and needed proving wrong. That’s what he had told himself from the beginning. That he was chasing the thrill, not you.
But somewhere between kissing you and needing to see your face, something shifted. He had never needed that before — never cared about eye contact, never cared about expressions. It had always been easier that way. Detached. Controlled.
With you, it hadn’t been controlled at all. He wanted to see you. Needed to. Needed your face in front of him like proof that this wasn’t just another meaningless night.
And that realization unsettled him more than anything. He liked you. Not because you rejected him. Not because his pride had taken a hit. Not because he had something to prove. He just liked you.
Still, even as that truth pressed against his ribs, he tried to smother it. This is why you don’t kiss. This is why you don’t do face-to-face. It complicates things. It makes it real.
You were just a challenge– a bet he had made with himself. So why did something twist painfully in his chest when he saw you slipping out of his bed?
You moved quietly, gathering your dress from the floor, smoothing it down like you were preparing to step back into your own world.
His hand reached out before he could stop himself, fingers closing gently around yours.
“Where are you going?” he asked, and the softness in his voice surprised even him.
You glanced over your shoulder at him with a faint, knowing smile.
“Thought you had rules,” you said lightly. “No staying over, and all that”
His thumb brushed slowly over your knuckles. Instead of letting go, he lifted your hand to his mouth and pressed a slow kiss against your skin.
He tugged you back toward him, and you fell against his chest, your body fitting against his like it had earlier. “I don’t think those rules really matter when it comes to you,” he admitted quietly.
He leaned in, pressing slow, unhurried kisses along your cheek, your jaw, your temple. There was no rush this time. When he reached your mouth, he paused, studying you for a second before kissing you softly. “Rules don’t apply to you,” he murmured against your lips.
You smiled despite yourself. The rational part of you knew better. It told you he probably said similar things before, that this was just another smooth line delivered in the afterglow.
But the part of you still tangled up in him, warm and softened and wanting to believe, chose not to argue.
“Besides. I'm not done with you”
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You and Suguru had settled into something dangerously undefined in the six weeks you’d been seeing each other.
Not official. Not casual.
If he wasn’t at your apartment, you were at the frat. There was barely a day you didn’t see him. He still walked you home almost every evening like it was routine, like it had always been his place beside you. But now it didn’t end at your door.
Now he’d stop halfway down the street and say, “You studied for hours. That deserves food.”
He called it a reward. He always paid. And when you’d protest — because you always did — he’d just shrug with that lazy grin of his. “You already do enough for me,” he’d say lightly when you would try to pay him back. And without fail it would always send a wave of heat within you.
And it turned out you weren’t cursed when it came to men. The men before had only cared about themselves. Suguru had proven that wasn’t a universal rule.
Your things had started to mix with his. Your apartment was slowly overtaken by his hoodies, sweatpants, jackets, a toothbrush he’d left behind and never taken back. But his room wasn’t much better. Duplicates of your skincare products lined his sink because he “wanted you to feel at home.” Your panties mixed into his laundry. Your perfume soaked into his sheets.
It was a challenge for Suguru at first, but that feelings were quickly replaced by something real– feelings? love?
You were tucked away in the library now, headphones snug over your ears, soft music humming in the background as you tried to focus on your textbook. Four hours of studying had drained you, and nothing new was sticking.
With a quiet sigh, you packed up your bag and started weaving between the shelves toward the exit. That’s when you heard it. “Have you seen Suguru and his girl?”
Satoru. You recognized his voice. Too loud for the library. You slowed instinctively. “Looks like he’s finally mature enough to have a girlfriend. Finally done with the ‘I have rules’ bullshit,” Satoru added, amused.
“Yeah, right,” another voice responded. Sukuna his voice.
You couldn’t see them clearly from where you stood, just shapes a few shelves away. You should’ve walked away. You didn’t. “Remember what he said?” Sukuna continued.
Satoru sounded confused. “What?”
“His ego got dented when she rejected him at that first party she showed. Said it was a challenge for him. Wanted to see how long it’d take for her to give in.”
The words hit before you could brace for them. Your heart dropped. The air felt thin.
“Oh,” Satoru muttered after a beat. “I feel bad for her. She’d be good for him.”
“She would,” Sukuna said. “Too bad he’s… him.”
Your vision blurred before you even realized tears had gathered.
Challenge.
The word echoed louder than anything else.
All the late nights. The borrowed hoodies. The way he’d said rules didn’t apply to you. Your stomach twisted violently. You didn’t wait to hear more. Your legs moved on their own, carrying you down the aisle and out of the library before your brain could catch up.
You were supposed to go to him today. You couldn’t. If Satoru and Sukuna knew, how many others did? How many people had watched you and thought you were just part of some ego game? The humiliation burned hotter than the hurt.
By the time you stepped outside, tears were already spilling freely down your face. You walked fast, almost blindly, ignoring the strange looks from people passing by.
You didn’t care. You just needed to get home.
You got home after what felt like eternity, and let your bag drop by the door. Your apartment felt different now. Smaller. Louder with memories.
Every corner held him. The couch where he’d pull you into his side. The kitchen where he slow danced with you at 4:00am after a rager. The bed where he made love to you multiple times. The faint trace of his cologne still lingering in the air like it refused to leave.
You walked to your closet to grab pajamas. It was littered with his stupid hoodies and shirts. You’d stolen them absentmindedly over the weeks, and he’d never asked for them back.
You pulled one down. Even after sitting in your closet for days, it still smelled like him. Ridiculous. Your throat tightened again. You changed slowly, forcing yourself to breathe, pushing the tears away with the heel of your hand. But the second you lay down on your bed, it all came rushing back.
Challenge. You were just a challenge to him
The words echoed over and over. Apparently that’s all you were. A dented ego. A game. A timer he had started the moment you rejected him. Your mascara smudged against the pillow, but you didn’t bother fixing it. You were too embarrassed. Too humiliated.
How many people knew? How many had watched you walk into that frat house nearly everyday while they secretly pitied you. The room blurred. You cried until exhaustion dragged you under.
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When you woke up hours later, the apartment was dim. Your face felt tight, puffy. You reached for your phone. Notifications flooded your screen.
Seven missed calls.
Twelve messages.
All from Suguru. Right. You were supposed to go over after the library. Your chest twisted. You dropped the phone back onto the mattress like it burned.
In the kitchen, you opened the fridge and stared at it without seeing anything. There was food. Plenty of it. You just weren’t hungry. Your stomach felt full of something heavier. Regret. Shame. Hurt. You closed the fridge and went back to your room, curling in on yourself again.
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Suguru stood outside your lecture hall the next morning, scanning the crowd. You weren’t there. He checked his phone again. Still nothing. That wasn’t like you. You always texted back. Always.
He sent another message.
Then another.
Then called. This time it went straight to voicemail. You declined him?
Something cold slid down his spine. Had he done something? He replayed the last few days in his head, searching for a misstep.
Nothing made sense.
Within minutes he was outside your apartment, slightly out of breath from walking too fast. His heart pounded harder than it should have.
He knocked.
No answer.
He knocked again.
Still nothing.
His jaw tightened as he knocked a third time, more urgently.
The door finally opened while you stood half-hidden behind it. Your eyes swollen. Skin blotchy. Dark circles under your lashes. It hit him like a punch.
“Sweetheart—” He stepped forward instinctively, but you shook your head. “Don’t,” you whispered.
His chest tightened immediately. “What’s wrong?” he asked, voice softer than he meant it to be.
“I’m not feeling well,” you said. The lie was obvious. Being sick might explain missing class. It didn’t explain the puffy eyes.
“Let me take care of you,” he said quickly. There was uncertainty in his voice now. Fear, almost.
“I’m fine.”
You started to close the door, but his hand caught it gently. Your eyes lifted to him again. God. The sight of you like this hurt more than he expected.
“Sweetheart, please,” he said quietly. There was no cockiness left. No smirk. No lazy grin. Just concern.
“No,” you said, firmer now. “I said I’m fine.” There was bite in your voice this time. He hesitated. But then slowly stepped back.
His hand dropped to his side and the door closed. And he stood there, staring at it, something unfamiliar and heavy settling in his chest.
He knew it now. You were mad at him.
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Suguru tried everything. For two weeks straight, he showed up at your door.
Sometimes you didn’t open it at all. Sometimes you did. And every single time, his heart climbed into his throat. The seconds between knocking and hearing the lock turn felt unbearable. A mix of dread and hope twisted together in his chest. Relief when you opened it. A selfish flicker of happiness just from seeing you.
And then the guilt.
Because every time you stood there, you looked a little more tired. A little more guarded. Like something inside you had dimmed. It was subtle to anyone else but not to him.
Your eyes didn’t light up when you saw him anymore. You didn’t lean into the doorway. You didn’t tease him. You didn’t call him Sugu.
He stood in front of your door with coffee from your favorite place and the sandwich you always ordered. It was early, but he knew you’d be awake by now. He had gotten up earlier than usual just to make sure he got it before the morning rush.
It took a while before the door opened. When it did, you looked the same as the night before. Puffy eyes. Skin slightly blotchy. A fragile kind of tiredness that made his chest tighten.
“How are you feeling?” he asked carefully, like speaking too loudly might break you. “Fine,” you said again, your voice still rough from sleep.
“I got you breakfast,” he added, holding up the cup and the small paper bag. He tried to smile, but it felt wrong when you didn’t mirror it. You took the food from his hands.
“Thank you,” you said politely. The door closed before he could say anything else.
You didn’t eat it. You couldn’t. The sandwich stayed untouched in the fridge. You took a few sips of the coffee, but even that tasted wrong.
The next day he showed up again, this time closer to evening. You still opened the door for him. That alone gave him a flicker of hope. “Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly.
Your eye bags were lighter, but the tiredness hadn’t left. Your lashes looked heavy, your nose faintly red like you’d been crying recently. He noticed. He didn’t mention it, he didn't want to push it.
“Dinner from your favorite place,” he said, lifting the bag slightly. You hesitated before taking it.
“Thank you.” The door closed again. More firmly this time.
The day after that, he tried something different. Maybe it wasn’t about food. Maybe it was about effort.
It was noon. You didn’t have lectures. He stood outside your door with a bouquet of your favorite flowers tucked under his arm. He raised his hand to knock. The door opened before he could.
You startled slightly when you saw him there. You were dressed to leave — skirt, sweater, jacket, scarf wrapped around your neck. You looked put together.
Beautiful.
But the dullness in your eyes was impossible to miss. The spark that used to be there when you looked at him wasn’t there.
“Hi,” he said quietly. It felt strange standing this close to you again.
“Hi,” you replied.
“Going somewhere?”
“grocery store.” A lie. Your fridge and pantry were still stocked. You just needed some air.
“Ah,” he said, holding out the bouquet. “These are for you,” He watched your face carefully, searching for anything — softness, annoyance, something.
You took them. “Suguru, please stop doing this.” The flowers rested against your chest.
“Doing what?” he asked, though his voice was tighter now.
“Whatever this is. Stop wasting your money.”
You stepped back into the apartment and walked toward the kitchen. He half expected you to throw them in the trash. Instead, you grabbed a vase and placed them inside. Careful.
That hurt more.
He stepped inside slowly, unsure if he was overstepping. You returned to the doorway and stood there, leaving a respectful distance between you. Too much distance.
He took a step closer. You took one back.
His heart shattered.
“Please tell me what’s going on.”
You looked at him for a long moment.
Not angry. Not screaming. Just tired.
“Did you win?” Your voice was steady. Cold. But your eyes betrayed you — glossy with tears you were trying very hard not to let fall. He frowned slightly. “What are you—”
“The challenge,” you cut in, your hands sliding into the pockets of your jacket like you needed something to hold onto. “Did you win the challenge?”
You said it clearer this time. Slower. His stomach dropped.
It had started as something stupid. A careless comment. An ego he didn’t know how to soothe when you rejected him. He had never been rejected before. Not like that. Not calmly. Not without you even flinching. You had unsettled him. And instead of admitting that, he’d turned it into a game. A challenge. Something to conquer. He had said it drunk once. Careless. Laughing it off in front of people who didn’t matter. But somewhere between chasing you and actually knowing you, it had stopped being about pride.
It had become something else. Something he hadn’t planned on. You leaned back against the counter, watching his expression carefully — the shock, the dawning realization.
“Where did you hear that?” he asked, trying to keep his voice even.
“That’s what matters to you?” you scoffed, pushing yourself off the counter. You walked toward the door.
A bitter laugh slipping out before you could stop it. One tear finally escaped, sliding down your cheek. He moved before thinking, his hand closing gently but firmly around your wrist.
You didn’t turn around.
“It started out that way,” he admitted. The words felt heavy coming out. “But it didn’t stay that way.” Silence filled the space between you.
“The first time you rejected me, at that party” he continued quietly, “I didn’t know how to handle it. I’ve never been told no like that. You left me feeling… off. And instead of dealing with that like an adult, I said something stupid to my friends.”
He stepped closer. You didn’t pull away this time.
“But when I got closer to you— when I realized I actually wanted to get closer to you… not to win, not to prove anything, but because I wanted you—” His composure held, but his voice cracked just slightly. “That’s when it stopped being a challenge.”
You finally turned your head just enough for him to see your profile. “How does that fix anything?” you asked quietly.
Your eyes were glossy now, tears threatening to spill, but you refused to let them fall again. You stood straighter, trying to hold yourself together. He saw through it immediately. And it broke him.
“I can’t fix how it started,” he said, voice low, steady but strained. “I can’t erase what I said. I can’t pretend I didn’t humiliate you.”
For a second, he just looked at you.
Then, before he could overthink it, he let go of your wrist — only to drop down in front of you.
Not dramatically. Not loudly. Just… down. Both knees hit the floor. You blinked in shock.
“Suguru—”
He took your hands in his before you could pull away, holding them gently, like he was afraid they’d disappear.
“I can’t change the past,” he said, looking up at you now. No smirk. No ego. No control. “But I can change what I do next.”
Your breathing faltered.
“I don’t want to win you,” he continued. “I want to deserve you.”
His thumbs brushed lightly over your knuckles.
“It started stupid. It started with my pride. But after everything. it stopped being about proving anything.” His jaw tightened slightly. “You weren’t a game to me. You weren’t something to conquer. You were the first person who made me want to stay.”
That word hung heavy between you.
Stay.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me,” he added, quieter now. “And I don’t expect you to believe me just because I’m here.” His grip softened.
“But I’m not getting up until you understand that you were never just a challenge.”
Your fingers threaded through his hair, the movement so natural it felt like second nature. When your lips met his, he inhaled sharply, the sound almost a gasp. Your touch was soft, the kiss gentle but filled with longing.
His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into the kiss, his hand coming up to cradle your face. He held you like you were something precious, something fragile.
As you broke away, he looked up at you, his expression vulnerable.
“Stand up," you ordered, voice sharp like shattered glass, cutting through the heavy silence of the kitchen. He rose slowly, eyes locked on yours,
You pushed up on your tiptoes, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that was more punishment than passion—fierce, biting, a reminder of the hurt you carried. Pulling back just enough, your breath ghosted over his mouth. "I'm still mad at you."
Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging lightly, not in affection but in the raw need to anchor yourself to something, anything, amid the ache in your chest. "That's okay," he murmured, voice breaking just a fraction as he leaned in, capturing your lips again.
His hands found your hips, shoving you back against the counter, the cold marble slamming into your spine like a slap. It stole your breath, the chill seeping through your shirt. He broke away for a heartbeat, eyes dark and pleading. "Take it out on me."
Your hands fisted the collar of his jacket, yanking him with you as you backed toward the bedroom, the hallway blurring in your periphery. He followed without resistance, letting you lead, letting you use him like a weapon against your own pain–something he caused.
In the dim light of the bedroom, you shoved him down onto the bed, the mattress creaking under his weight. You climbed onto his lap seconds later, straddling him, your skirt riding up your thighs. His hands hovered at your sides, hesitant, waiting for your cue. "Tell me what you need," he said, voice thick with desire, eyes burning into yours like he was memorizing every fractured line of your face.
"Touch me," you replied, the words vague, laced with the numbness you wielded like armor. But he knew. God, he always knew.
In a swift move, he flipped your positions, pinning you beneath him on the bed. The shift stole the air from your lungs, his body heavy and warm over yours, a stark contrast to the ache inside. His hands slid down, hooking into the waistband of your skirt and panties, dragging them off in one rough pull. Leaving you bare and exposed for him.
His fingers parted your thighs, tracing the slick between them before diving in. One digit slipped inside you first, slow and deliberate, testing your readiness despite the tension coiling in the room.
You were wet—traitorously so—your body responding even as your heart screamed no. He added a second finger, curling them deep, pressing against that spot that made your hips buck involuntarily. His thumb found your clit, rubbing in firm, insistent circles, building the pressure with each thrust of his hand.
The wet sounds of his fingers working you filled the space, obscene against the quiet sobs building in your throat.
He watched you, unblinking, as your breaths turned ragged, your walls clenching around him. "Let go," he whispered, voice raw, like he was begging for absolution.
The coil snapped, pleasure ripping through you in a violent wave—your orgasm crashing hard, leaving you trembling and spent. Tears welled up, spilling hot down your cheeks, not from bliss but from the pain he gave you, the reminder of what he had done to you. You cried softly, the sound muffled against his shoulder as he held you through it, his touch gentling but never pulling away.
He kissed the tears from your skin, murmuring your name like a prayer, but you turned your face away, the intimacy too much, too raw. When the haze cleared enough, you shifted, rolling onto your stomach, presenting your back to him—a wall he couldn't breach. He paused, hands stilling on your hips. "Why are you turning around?" His voice cracked a little, laced with confusion, the question hanging heavy in the air.
"Don't wanna see you right now," you said, the words heartless, slicing through him like a blade. You heard his sharp intake of breath, felt the way his grip faltered for a second, his heart shattering audibly in the silence. But he didn't stop. He couldn't. Positioning himself behind you, he freed his cock—hard, aching, a testament to how deeply he still craved you, even in ruin.
He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, filling you with a stretch that bordered on pain, your body yielding despite the emotional chasm. He moaned your name, voice breaking on each syllable as he began to move, thrusts deep and measured, grinding against you from behind. "I missed you so much. Fuck, I missed you–." His words were a litany, desperate pleas wrapped in groans, his hips snapping harder as if he could fuck the distance away.
You bit the pillow, stifling the moans that threatened to betray you, the pleasure building traitorously even as tears soaked the fabric. He reached around, fingers finding your clit again, rubbing in time with his pace, drawing you under despite yourself. Your body clenched around him, the orgasm pulling you apart—waves of heat pulsing through you, leaving you gasping, spent once more. He followed seconds later, spilling inside you with a broken groan of your name, his release hot and claiming, body shuddering as he collapsed over you.
He always came with you, your body the one thing that could still unravel him completely. But the warmth faded fast. He barely caught his breath, chest heaving against your back, before you were shoving him off, scrambling out of the bed. The sheets tangled around your ankles as you snatched your discarded clothes, pulling them on with frantic hands.
"I have to go," you said coldly, the fleeting spark of vulnerability from moments ago snuffed out like a dying ember. You didn't look at him, couldn't bear the devastation in his eyes. "Please leave as soon as you can."
The words landed like a final blow, the door clicking shut behind you as you fled to the bathroom, leaving him alone in the wreckage of the bed, heart in pieces on the floor.
To your surprise, when you stepped out of the bathroom, Suguru was gone. For a second, you just stood there, staring at the empty space where he had been. You had expected him to still be there. Leaning against the wall. Waiting. Stubborn.
A part of you had wanted him to stay. You just didn't want him to see you fall apart again. During Sex? a little embarrassing but could just be from the pleasure. But afterwards?
You needed a distraction. And he was right there. But now the silence felt heavier.
The tears came again, hot and uncontrollable. You didn’t bother wiping them away this time. You let them fall as you changed back into your clothes, hands trembling slightly as you pulled your sweater over your head.
You didn’t crawl into bed.
Instead, you slid down beside it, sitting on the cold floor with your back against the frame. Your knees pulled tightly to your chest, arms wrapped around them like you were trying to hold yourself together.
You missed him. That was the worst part. Not the humiliation. Not the anger. The missing. Because after he made a joke out of you and your self-respect, you still missed him.
His words replayed in your head.
It started that way, but it didn’t stay that way.
You didn’t know if you were strong enough to believe.
⋆˚꩜｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Suguru was a wreck.
He sat on the edge of his bed, elbows resting on his knees, his face buried in his hands. The dark circles under his eyes were deeper than they had been when he’d stood outside your door. His room was quiet, but his mind wasn’t.
It felt like he was already halfway to completely losing you.
You had gone cold. You stopped replying the way you used to. No calls. No lingering touches. No softness in your voice. And the worst part was that just a few days ago, he’d thought things were finally going well.
You had let him into your space. You had kissed him. You had sex with him. And then you’d looked at him with those same eyes and said you didn’t want to see him when he fucked you. When you told him to leave, he felt something in his chest physically crack.
A knock sounded at his door. He didn’t move. “Come in,” he called out, his voice rougher than usual. Satoru pushed the door open without hesitation. “You missed the meeting today.”
Right. The fraternity council meeting. It had completely slipped his mind. Then again, everything had slipped his mind lately. The only thing replaying on a loop was the way you had looked at him when you said he needed to leave.
“Sorry. Forgot,” he muttered, still staring at the floor.
Satoru raised a brow and walked further into the room before dropping down beside him on the bed.
“What’s up with you?” he asked, nudging Suguru lightly with his elbow, trying to keep it casual.
Suguru turned his head slightly.
The dullness in his eyes, the exhaustion etched into his face, the way his hair hung loose around his shoulders — it was enough to wipe the grin off Satoru’s face. Suguru looked forward again, jaw tightening.
“She found out.” That was all he said. Satoru didn’t need more context.
“I’ve been trying to fix it for two weeks,” Suguru continued, his voice quieter. “I thought I was getting somewhere.” He stopped there, but the strain was obvious. Satoru leaned back slightly. “What happened?”
“She let me in,” Suguru said. “She let me into her apartment. She kissed me. We had sex. And then she told me she couldn’t look at me when i was fucking her. Said she didn’t want to see me.”
He exhaled sharply, running a hand through his hair. “And then she made me leave.”
Satoru tilted his head. “Isn’t that usually your thing?”
Suguru let out a hollow laugh. “Yeah. It was.”
The old him would have shrugged it off. No strings, no expectations. A girl walking away first would’ve been convenient. But this wasn’t convenient. “I don’t want that with her,” he said quietly. “I don’t want it to be casual. She’s not like the others.”
Satoru studied him for a moment before placing a hand on his back. “Then tell her that.”
“I did.”
“Then tell her again,” Satoru replied simply. “And again. Until she believes you. You don’t get to mess something up like that and expect one confession to fix it.”
Suguru frowned.
“You hurt her pride,” Satoru continued. “You made her feel like a joke. That doesn’t disappear because you look miserable.”
Suguru’s jaw clenched.
“So what do I do?”
“Show up. Not to win her. Not to convince her. Just show up because you want to be with her. "Be consistent." Satoru said while he gave Suguru a pat on his shoulder.
⋆˚꩜｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. 𐙚 ˚
A month had passed. Almost every single day, he showed up at your doorstep and would walk you to school or the library.
At first, it was awkward. You would put your headphones in and walk a step ahead of him, pretending he wasn’t there. But he didn’t complain. He was just grateful you hadn’t told him to leave.
After a while, the headphones disappeared.
You still weren’t chatty like you used to be. Conversations were short, polite. “Hi.” “How are you?” “Good.” But even that felt like progress. Hearing your voice again felt like something he didn’t deserve but desperately needed.
He felt like he was starting over. Now he carried the weight of every silence, wishing he could go back to one stupid drunken comment and erase it from existence.
Two weeks in, you spoke to him first.
Just a question about class. It was small, almost insignificant, but it felt like a door cracking open. After that, conversations came in fragments — short, cautious exchanges. He didn’t push. He took whatever you gave him.
His feelings didn’t fade with time. They worsened.
Every day you looked impossibly prettier to him. He found himself craving small things — the sound of your voice, the way your perfume lingered when you walked past him, even your soft smile that wasn't even directed at him but a stray cat lounging on the pavement.
After three weeks, it almost felt like before. You walked beside him instead of ahead. You talked about something dumb a professor said. You even laughed once. You were still guarded. He could feel it.
But he was a greedy man.
After four weeks, you let him wrap an arm around you once. Just once. He had to focus on breathing because his heart felt like it was trying to climb out of his throat.
And now, a full month had passed. He stood outside your apartment like he had every day before.
“Hey,” he said softly when you opened the door. You weren’t dressed for class. You were wearing a simple white dress and a jacket. Casual, but clearly not for studying. You looked beautiful.
“Suguru… it would be better if you didn’t walk me today,” you said, leaning against the doorframe.
Something uneasy stirred in his chest. His brows furrowed. “Why?”
You hesitated just a second. “I have a date.” The word hit him harder than he expected.
Date.
His mind went blank for half a second, like someone had cut the power. “What do you mean?” His voice came out softer than he intended.
“I’m going on a date,” you repeated.
He felt it then — panic. Not loud. Not explosive. Quiet and suffocating. Like something tightening around his lungs.
“Why?” he asked again, the question more raw this time.
“I thought it would be good for me to get back out there,” you replied.
Get back out there.
Like he was already something behind you. He stood there for a moment, unable to process it. He had known he wasn’t entitled to you. He had known you didn’t owe him anything. But hearing it felt like the ground shifting under his feet.
“Please don’t,” he said quietly. The air between you grew heavy. He wasn’t jealous in the old way. This wasn’t ego. It wasn’t competition. It was fear. Fear that he had taken too long. Fear that the progress he thought he’d made wasn’t enough. “Please don’t go,” he repeated, his voice unsteady now. You looked at him, unreadable.
“I don’t think you’re in a position to tell me whether I can,” you said, crossing your arms. You were right. That made it worse. “I’m going to be late,” you added, pushing off the doorframe.
He moved without thinking, his hand landing on your shoulder. He stepped closer, gently pressing you back against the frame. Not rough. Not forceful. Just desperate.
His hand slid from your shoulder down to your hand, his fingers wrapping around yours.
“Please,” he said again. His eyes were glossy now, and he didn’t even try to hide it. “It took me too long to say this properly,” he continued, his voice cracking just slightly. “But I’m in love with you.”
The words hung between you, heavier than anything he’d said before. “I still want you,” he went on. “I still need you. This past month has been torture. Watching you walk ahead of me. Not knowing if you’d ever look at me the same again.”
He swallowed hard. “I don’t care about pride. I don’t care about being right. I just— I can’t watch you walk away like this.”
“I’m so sorry I made you feel like you couldn’t trust me,” he said, the words rushing out before he could stop them. His grip on your hand tightened slightly, not to hold you there, but like he needed something steady. “I would do anything to prove to you that you’re going to be it for me.”
“Suguru,” you said softly.
Your voice wasn’t sharp. It wasn’t angry. It was tired.
A tear slipped free despite yourself, trailing down your cheek. His thumb came up instinctively, brushing gently beneath your eye to catch it before it fell further.
“Stop,” you whispered. But he shook his head slightly. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever wanted to prove myself to,” he said, his own eyes glassy now, his composure barely holding. “And I plan on you being the last.”
Your breath hitched, and that small sound almost broke him.
“I don’t want to win you,” he continued, his voice quieter now, steadier in its vulnerability. “I don’t want to chase you because my ego’s bruised. I want to choose you. Every day. Even if you don’t choose me back right now.”
“I want to be better for you,” he said. “I really do. Even if it takes the rest of my life to prove it.”
There was no cockiness left in him. No pride. Just something raw and honest sitting in his chest, waiting for your answer.
Your hand found his wrist and gently pushed it away from your face.
“I want to believe you,” you said, your voice trembling despite your effort to keep it steady. “But I don’t trust you.”
This time, you wiped your own tears away. He didn’t try to stop you.
“I felt used and stupid” you admitted, the word sticking in your throat. “Because of you.”
His expression shifted immediately, something wounded flashing across his face. “I never used you,” he said quickly. “And you’re not stupid.”
“But that’s how I felt.”
That landed. Hard.
It knocked the air from his lungs because he knew it was true. It didn’t matter what he meant. It mattered what you felt.
And he had done that.
He had let you fall for him while knowing how it started. He had kept that piece of truth tucked away because it was easier.
“Please,” he said quietly now. “Give me the chance to replace that feeling.”
He looked wrecked. Not dramatic. Not performative. Just… worn down. Like someone who hadn’t been sleeping properly. Like a man who knew he had messed up something precious and was terrified of losing it. His shoulders weren’t squared the way they usually were. His confidence wasn’t sitting on him the same.
“I’m scared, Suguru,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “I don’t ever want to feel like that again.”
His jaw tightened. “Then I won’t give you a reason to,” he said, almost immediately.
His hand rose slowly, carefully, giving you enough time to pull away if you wanted to. When you didn’t, his fingers slipped gently beneath your chin, tilting your face up just slightly. So gentle.
“Please,” he murmured. “Let me prove it.” There was no arrogance in him now. No ego. Just hope. And for the first time in weeks, you smiled at him. Small. Fragile. But real. The tight, suffocating feeling in his chest loosened instantly, like something had finally unclenched.
“I really don’t know what to do with you,” you said with a shaky chuckle, another tear slipping free. The sound of your laugh — even broken like that — made warmth spread through him. That faint sparkle in your eyes, the one he’d been missing for a month, flickered back to life.
And he realized he would spend the rest of his life protecting that sparkle if you let him. “Don’t make me regret this,” you whispered as you wrapped your arms around him.
For a second he just stood there, stunned. Then his arms came around you — firm, almost desperate — pulling you into his chest like he had been holding that hug in for weeks. His warmth surrounded you again, familiar and grounding, and something inside you finally unclenched.
He exhaled into your hair. When he pulled back, it was only enough to look at you. Your eyes met his. You rose onto your toes slowly, giving him more than enough time to move away if he wanted to. Instead, he stayed completely still.
You pressed the smallest kiss to his lips. Barely there. Soft. Careful.
It had been a month, but it felt like relearning something delicate. Testing if you still fit each other.
His breath hitched almost imperceptibly.
One of his hands came up to cradle your cheek, not guiding you, not pulling you closer — just resting there. Letting you know he wasn’t taking control this time.
You were. You kissed him again. Still soft. Still unsure. Like the two of you were introducing yourselves all over again.
When you tugged him gently inside and shut the door behind you, he followed without resistance. No urgency. No hunger.
Just closeness.
Your lips met his once more — slow, polite, almost shy. There was no claiming in it. No desperation.
Just warmth.
He pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his breath warm against your skin. For a moment neither of you moved. It felt fragile — like one wrong step could undo the careful rebuilding of the past month.
You kissed him again. Soft. Intentional.
He followed your lead immediately, matching your pace, letting you set the rhythm. There was no urgency in him, no greedy pull of his hands. Just patience. Every time you shifted closer, he responded. Every time you slowed, he did too.
He wanted you to feel it — that you were in control.
His hands rested at your waist, steady but light, as if he was afraid of holding you too tightly. When your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt, he let out a quiet breath against your lips.
Not rushed. Not claiming. Just there.
You tilted your head slightly, deepening the kiss by a fraction, and he followed without hesitation, his thumb brushing gently along your side in a slow, grounding motion. He wasn’t leading. He was responding. Learning you again.
When you pulled back just slightly, he didn’t chase your lips. He stayed close, his nose brushing yours, waiting.
He let himself be guided by your movements, his mouth moving softly against yours. His hands remained at your waist, his touch light but firm, anchoring you to him.
He was almost hesitant with the way he kissed you, like he was re-learning the shape of your lips, the touch of your tongue. Every movement was deliberate, every breath synchronized.
He was letting you set the pace, following your every whim, like your body had become his compass. And as your hands tangled in his long hair, drawing him closer, he went willingly.
Every sense was heightened — the taste of him, the way he smelled, the way he felt under your fingertips. It was intoxicating, the way he responded to your touch.
You pulled away from his lips, but only to wrap your arms around him again. Your hands slid around his neck, your cheek resting against his shoulder as if you needed to make sure he was real.
“I missed you,” he whispered, his voice low and almost disbelieving.
One hand stroked gently over your hair, slow and soothing, while the other traced absent patterns along your waist.
“Me too,” you replied softly. It was barely audible, but he heard it. He always did.
His arms tightened slightly around you, like he was afraid the words might disappear if he didn’t hold you close enough. Without rushing, he slipped one hand beneath your thigh and lifted you carefully. You instinctively wrapped your legs around him as he carried you toward your bedroom, steady and protective.
He set you down gently on the edge of the bed. Instead of climbing next to you, instead of escalating, he walked to your closet.
He pulled one of his hoodies from where it hung among your clothes and handed it to you.
“Change,” he said quietly. In his other hand were the sweatpants and shirt he’d left at your place weeks ago.
“I’ll change in the bathroom,” he added before stepping out.
When he returned, he was wearing gray sweatpants and the black shirt you loved on him— the one that made you stare a little too long whenever he wore it. The hoodie swallowed you the way it always did, sleeves falling past your hands, fabric bunching around your thighs.
You sat on the edge of the bed waiting for him.
You did actually have a date tonight.
But you hadn’t been excited about it. Not really. Shoko had pushed you to try. To move on. To protect yourself. But your thoughts stayed on Suguru.
And here you were, listening to Suguru like it was second nature. He placed his folded clothes neatly on your desk before turning back to you. Then, instead of climbing into bed, he knelt in front of you. Right at your feet.
His head rested gently against your knee.
“Wanna be with you today,” he said quietly. “Forget that date please. I just want it to be me and you.”
Your fingers slipped into his hair, guiding his face up slightly. Your thumb brushed over his cheek.
“Please don’t go,” he added, looking up at you — eyes soft, vulnerable in a way he rarely allowed anyone to see.
“I won’t,” you said. You leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to his lips — slow, certain.
Then you tugged at his hands, pulling him up with you. He let himself fall back onto you– his arms keeping from crushing you, both of you landing in a quiet tangle of limbs and fabric.
He pulled the blankets over you instinctively, wrapping them around the two of you like a shield from the outside world. For the first time in weeks, there was no tension. No fear. Just warmth. He held you close, your head tucked beneath his chin, your legs tangled together.
His heart felt full — steady, content. And this time, he wasn’t going anywhere.
The rest of the day blurred into something warm and quiet. You stayed in bed far longer than either of you meant to. At some point your phone buzzed again — the date calling, then texting, asking where you were.
Suguru reached over without hesitation, glanced at the screen, and blocked the number before you could even respond.
You blinked at him. “What?” he muttered defensively. “He doesn’t need an explanation.”
You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue.
Eventually you crawled out of bed, but Suguru followed immediately — wrapping himself around you and following behind you like an oversized puppy. you complained half-heartedly as you tried to move toward the kitchen.
“And yet you’re not pushing me away,” he replied, his chin resting on your shoulder.
You ended up making dinner while he hovered behind you, arms loosely around your waist, occasionally pressing a kiss to your shoulder or cheek. It wasn’t possessive. It wasn’t heated.
It felt like he was afraid that if he let go for too long, the moment might disappear.
You ate at the small table in your kitchen, talking about mundane things — a professor’s weird habit, something stupid Satoru had said, a cat you saw earlier that week.
Halfway through a show on the couch, you noticed Suguru wasn’t even watching.
He was watching you.
When you caught him staring, he didn’t look away.
You fell asleep curled into him, his arm firm around your waist, your legs tangled together. The television kept playing long after neither of you were awake.
Morning light filtered through the blinds, casting soft stripes across the room. The TV screen displayed a quiet, glowing message:
Are you still watching?
Suguru was breathing steadily behind you, his chest rising and falling against your back.
You tried to gently shift out of his hold, wanting to brush your teeth and freshen up before he woke. His grip tightened instinctively. “Don’t go,” he murmured, still half asleep, his face nuzzling into your shoulder.
“I’m just going to the bathroom,” you whispered. He groaned softly but loosened his arms.
A few minutes later, as you stood at the sink, toothbrush in hand, you caught movement in the mirror.
Suguru was leaning in the doorway, hair messy, eyes still heavy with sleep.
He walked over without saying anything and reached for his toothbrush — still sitting in the cup beside yours.
He paused briefly, almost surprised it was still there. You hadn’t thrown it away. He didn’t comment on it. He just started brushing his teeth next to you.
The bathroom was quiet except for the soft sound of running water and the hum of the light above you. It felt strangely intimate — domestic in a way that didn’t require effort.
When you finished and set your toothbrush down, he immediately stepped closer again.
His front pressed gently against your back, arms slipping around your waist.
He rested his chin on your shoulder, eyes half closed.
You could feel it now, his hard-on pressing against your ass. He left a small kiss on your shoulder, before turning your chin gently to meet his gaze in the mirror. His eyes held yours, full of quiet intensity. "Tell me if you want me to stop," he whispered, voice low and earnest, giving you the space to breathe, to choose.
But you didn't want to stop. You leaned into him, your head tilted to his and he captured your lips in a deep kiss.
His hands slid up your sides, turning you around when he broke away for a second. He lifted you effortlessly onto the bathroom sink counter, the cool porcelain a sharp contrast to the heat of his body. Your legs parted instinctively, the kiss growing hungrier, tongues sliding together in slow, languid strokes.
His palms roamed your body without a word, one hand cupping your breast, thumb circling your nipple until it peaked under his touch. The other hand traced the curve of your hip, dipping lower to squeeze your thigh, pulling you flush against him. You arched into his caresses, fingers threading through his long hair, tugging lightly as his mouth trailed from your lips to your jaw, nipping softly. He kneaded your ass, grinding his erection against you through the fabric, the friction building a delicious ache. Your breaths mingled, heavy and uneven, bodies pressing and shifting in a wordless dance of rediscovery, his touches tender yet possessive, mapping every inch like he was afraid you'd vanish.
Finally, he broke the kiss just enough to scoop you up again, carrying you from the bathroom to the bed with ease. He laid you down gently on the soft sheets, his eyes never leaving yours as he hovered above.
Starting at your collarbone, he pressed a feather-light kiss there. He moved to your nipple, taking it into his mouth with a gentle suck, tongue flicking over the sensitive bud until you gasped, his mouth ghosted wet kisses across your stomach, each one a promise, leaving a trail of heat.
His hand was already between your thighs, fingers finding your clit with unerring accuracy. He rubbed slow circles at first, coaxing slickness from you, before dipping lower to tease your entrance.
Then his head followed, settling between your legs. He licked a broad stripe up your folds, groaning against you as if savoring the taste. "You're so gorgeous," he murmured, voice muffled but fervent, before diving in fully—tongue lapping at your clit with frantic urgency, sucking gently as his fingers slid inside, curling to stroke that perfect spot.
"Missed you so much," he breathed between licks, the vibrations humming through you. His free hand gripped your hip, holding you steady as you writhed. "Never letting go of you again."
He sucked harder onto your clit, tongue swirling, drawing whimpers from your throat. "So sweet," he praised, fingers thrusting deeper, faster. "Let me spoil you—let me make it all better." The words spilled out in a rush. His mouth working you relentlessly until the pleasure washed over you, your body tensing and releasing in shuddering waves.
“Sugu” A soft cry on your lips.
He crawled back up, lips glistening, and kissed you deeply. You didn't care about the taste of yourself on his tongue—it was intimate, raw, a shared secret that made your heart swell.
Your arms wrapped around his neck, pulling him closer as he positioned himself, the blunt head of his cock nudging at your entrance. He pushed in slowly, inch by inch, stretching you open with a delicious burn that turned to fullness. You moaned into his mouth, and he swallowed it, kissing you through the initial thrust, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm.
It was all soft moans and heavy breathing now, the room filled with the quiet sounds of skin meeting skin. He braced on his forearms, gazing down at you with eyes full of adoration, thrusts deep and unhurried, grinding against your clit with each pass. "My sweet girl," he whispered against your lips,
voice breaking with emotion. "I love you." He kissed your forehead, your cheeks blushing with each declaration. "I'm so in love with you." His pace quickened, but it stayed tender, loving.
"I'm all yours—always." He said through panting. You clung to him, nails digging into his back. Lost in the connection, the way he filled you completely, body and soul.
A few tears slipped from your eyes, A mix of overwhelming joy and the relief of being wanted so fiercely.
He noticed immediately, pausing to kiss them away, his lips soft on your damp cheeks. "I've got you." he murmured, nuzzling your nose with his
He shifted then, pulling back from your face to grab your leg, lifting it gently. He pressed a kiss to your calf, eyes locked on yours, before draping it over his shoulder. The new angle let him sink deeper, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every thrust, drawing gasps from you both.
The pleasure coiling tighter with each shared breath, each whispered endearment. Your walls fluttered around him, and he felt it, hips stuttering as he chased the edge with you. "Come with me," he breathed, voice husky, and you did—climax crashing over you in sweet, rolling waves, your body arching into his.
He followed right after, spilling deep inside with a muffled groan against your neck, holding you close as tremors shook you both.
His arms wrapping around you, peppering your face with lazy kisses as you came down, murmuring how much he loved you.
He stayed buried inside you for a moment longer, his chest heaving against yours in rhythm with your slowing breaths. His weight was a comforting anchor.
He lifted his head just enough to gaze into your eyes, a soft smile curving his lips. “So proud of you,” he whispered. He brushed a damp strand of hair from your forehead with his thumb, then leaned down to press a lingering kiss to your temple.
Slowly, he eased out of you. “You did so well for me,” he murmured, his lips finding the shell of your ear. “My perfect girl.”
You melted into his touch, the praise wrapping around you warmer than the sheets tangled at your feet. He left you for a short while to come out of the bathroom with a warm damp towel.
With deliberate care, he began wiping you down, starting at your neck where sweat glistened on your skin. The cloth glided over your collarbone, tracing the swell of your breasts, circling each nipple until they pebbled again under the gentle friction. He paused to kiss the spot he'd just cleaned.
The cloth pressing tenderly between your thighs. Mindful of your sensitivity, his free arm holding you steady. “Look at you,” he said softly, eyes dark with lingering heat but softened by love.
“Still so beautiful, even after I wrecked you.” He kissed your shoulder, then your arm, working his way down to your wrist.
He tossed the cloth aside and gathered you closer, pulling the rumpled sheets over both of you. His body molded to yours from behind now, spooning you perfectly, one arm draped over your waist while the other pillowed your head. He nuzzled into your hair, inhaling deeply.
Your eyelids grew heavy under the weight of his warmth, the steady rise and fall of his chest lulling you. His hand splayed possessively over your stomach, fingers tracing lazy circles as sleep crept in. You drifted off, limbs entwined, hearts beating in sync—the world reduced to this moment.
⋆˚꩜｡𐔌՞. .՞𐦯⋆. 𐙚 ˚
Suguru was waiting outside your lecture hall again. He still insisted on walking you everywhere. To class. To the café. Back home. Today, though, he didn’t turn toward your apartment. He turned toward the frat. You glanced at him but didn’t question it. He held your hand the whole way up the stairs, a little quieter than usual.
When you reached his room, he opened the door and then turned to you with a strange expression — somewhere between excited and terrified. “Stay here,” he said. “And close your eyes.”
You raised a brow. “Suguru—”
“Please.”
You sighed dramatically but shut your eyes anyway. You heard him moving around. Something fell over. A soft curse. Then the sound of plastic rustling. “Okay,” he said, a little breathless. “Open.”
You opened your eyes.
He was standing there holding a huge Chococat plushie and a bouquet of your favorite flowers. The plushie had a small tag tied around its neck.
You took a step closer, reading it.
Will you be my girlfriend?
Your lips parted in surprise before you let out a soft giggle.
“Sugu…”
You took the plushie from him first, then the bouquet. He looked almost painfully nervous — hands hovering like he didn’t know what to do with them.
It had only been a couple of months since you’d started seeing him again. Officially unofficial. Rebuilding. Healing.
And even though your anxiety had lingered in the beginning, even though some nights you still remembered the hurt — the way he treated you now didn’t feel like strategy. It felt like certainty. He looked at you like you were the only person in the room. Like you were the only person.
“Well?” he asked, trying to play it cool and failing miserably. You stepped forward, your hand sliding up to rest against the side of his neck. Instead of answering, you kissed him. Slow at first. Then a little deeper. When you pulled back, his eyes were wide.
“Is that a yes?” he asked, a nervous laugh slipping out. You nodded eagerly. Relief washed over his face so fast it was almost funny. He let out a breath he’d clearly been holding for the last thirty seconds — maybe the last month.
“You bought Chococat because I said you reminded me of him?” you teased, hugging the plush to your chest.
He nodded immediately.
“You said I had the same energy,” he defended. “You do,” you giggled.
He didn’t waste another second. He wrapped his arms around you, lifted you clean off the floor, and spun you around like he couldn’t contain himself.
“You’re officially my girlfriend,” he said, grinning like an idiot.
You laughed, clinging to him.
He set you down only to cup your face and press a firm, happy kiss to your lips.
“Won’t be long until you’re my wife,” he added, half-joking, half-not. You rolled your eyes but couldn’t hide your smile.
Synopsis . In which your ‘killers’ soon realize you’re not stuck with them but they’re stuck with you… / Pairings . (Semi-Separate) Ghostface!Geto x f!reader, Ghostface!Gojo x f!reader, & Ghostface!Choso x f!reader / Content . afab!reader, three/foursome, squirting, non-curse au, oral sex, reader gets kinda passed around, men teasing one another, dirty talk, unprotected sex, established relationship, lowk feral reader, cuck!Geto, rough sex, praise, overstim, degrading, tw: spitting, pet names, filth (cùm eating), pussy slapping, teasing, a hint of knife play, etc . / wc . 9.6k (oops!)
A/N: Sorry this is late, but anywho! I <3 Ghostface. Art creds to @aransmind [MDNI]
“You want me to wear that and chase you around the estate?”
“Yeah, and when you find me…”
“I fuck you instead of killing you.”
“Mhm!” You hum cheerfully to your rather concerned boyfriend whose lap you’re currently sitting on.
Those dark raven strands of hair framing his gorgeous face sway with the light tip of his head to the side as his naturally slim eyes narrow at your overly excited expression, “And I’m doing this, why?” Geto questions.
You let out a giggle, which only confuses him even more. “Because Scream is my favorite franchise and Ghostface is hot… Duh.”
It’s as if the man only falls for you more and more every day. Geto’s been with you for roughly two years now and yet you’ve never revealed this sudden… mask kink you clearly have. He likes the Scream franchise just as much as you do and the idea of chasing you around and eventually fucking you in costume definitely excites him.
So there you are; sitting in his lap and pouting, steadily snaking your arms around his neck and pulling yourself in close before you plant a chaste little kiss on his lips.
“C’mon Sugu, I know you’ve thought about it before,” You point out to him in a low purr as your lips depart from his.
The hands that’d been calmly resting on your hips suddenly grow intrigued as they slide up to your waist and give you a soft squeeze, “I really haven’t.” He admits honestly. You can see it all in his eyes that he silently agreed to this the moment you brought out that stupid mask.
At his soft admission, a gleaming smile spreads across your face, “Okayy, well you are now… So is that a yes or what?”
He pretends to think for only a moment longer, glancing off to the side in faux thought before landing those pretty lilac irises back onto you, “Yeah, sure. Tomorrow's Halloween so, we can do it then.” Geto tells you.
And that was all it took.
Halloween night was here before you even had time to fully prepare for it. The entire day you weren’t able to stop thinking about the moment Geto would walk through the front door, dressed in all black with that overly attractive ghostface mask cloaking his equally beautiful face.
Your heart was racing in anticipation as the sun began to set outside and the clock ticked closer and closer toward the time of which he would return home from work. You knew he’d be there no more than thirty minutes after and all you could do was wonder how this all would go down.
Clad in only one of his oversized white t-shirts, you distracted yourself by mindlessly scrolling on your phone as you awaited the moment he’d get home. Any second now and you’d hear that lovely security chime go off—
You jump a little in your bed when your thought is cut off by an incoming unknown number. If you weren’t buzzing with excitement before, you damn sure are now because it’s clear your boyfriend is going out of his way to play into this with you. There are practically small hearts in your eyes as you tap that enticing green button on your screen to answer the phone.
Biting back a smile, you’re quick to bring the phone up to your ear, “Hello?”
An almost low-quality distortion to the person’s voice is instantly recognized by you—it wasn’t Suguru’s voice at all, it was that infamous voice changer that spoke to you. “Why don’t you wanna talk to me?” A man asks, and you know this line all too well.
Hell, you know the entire dialogue. This is exactly why you sit up in your bed and hold back that smile of yours like your life depended on it. Tilting your head into the phone, you glance around your bedroom, “Who is this?”
“You tell me your name, I’ll tell you mine,” The ‘mystery’ man continues.
You had to slap a hand over your mouth to keep yourself from giggling right then and there. Your dark little fantasy was becoming true right before your very eyes and it had a sliver of excitement slipping down your spine. Sliding out from your bed, you take small steps toward the nearby window and glance outside.
Scoffing softly, “I don’t think so.” You quote, straight from the first Scream. You’ve seen the movie enough times to recite the whole thing word for word, even his lines.
It’s a bit off-script how things go from here on out but, that’s the goal.
“Aw, you’re no fun.” He purrs. Even with that damn voice changer, you’d recognize that purr any day. You know this is your boyfriend and that only has your body heating up with each passing second.
Now you’re left to improv a bit. “Think so?” You reply as you pull your bedroom curtains closed and turn away from the window.
“Oh I know so, sweetheart. It’s Halloween night and you’re doing nothing to celebrate.” The man on your phone points out.
You’re walking out of your room now and taking a careful peek into the dimmed hallway. “And that makes me not fun? What am I supposed to do to celebrate Halloween aside from dressing up and maybe handing out some candy?”
He chuckles. “You’re a smart girl, I’m sure you can figure something else out.”
“Let me guess,” Your brows raise a little, “I should be watching scary movies?”
“That depends. You like scary movies?” There you are, right back onto the script.
“Uhuh,” You hum in response with a slight nod as if he could see you.
“What’s your favorite scary movie?” And there it is, infamous line one of many. You nearly let out a dreamy sigh knowing that it’s nothing but your boyfriend on the other end.
Allowing yourself to smile this time, you trek down your hallway and towards the staircase. “Uhhh, I dunno,” Of course you know, but where’s the fun in saying it so soon?
“You have to have a favorite. What comes to mind?” Every scratchy distorted-pitched word that pours from the man’s mouth has anticipation bubbling within you.
You sigh. “Uhmm, Halloween!” As you recall that answer straight from the movie, you turn to your staircase and allow your eyes to scan the first floor of your home.
Most of the lights are on so it’s not too dark or anything but you really are curious whether or not Geto has made his way inside already.
“Y’know, the one with the guy with the white mask who walks around and stalks babysitters?” You quote flawlessly yet again. You’re such a fanatic for the Scream franchise that you’re loving every single second of this.
“Yeahh,” He purrs again, making your heart involuntarily flutter.
You begin to slowly descend down the flight of stairs, “What’s yours?”
“Guess.” He orders on the other end.
Pausing halfway down, you glance over to your kitchen. The light is still on and everything is exactly the way you left it. “Uhm, Nightmare on Elm Street?” You soon reply.
“Is that the one where the guy had knives for fingers?” The way your boyfriend knows every word to this just as well as you do makes your stomach churn in affection just a bit.
Your voice turns enthusiastic and you continue your steps down, “Yeah! Freddy Kruger.”
“Freddy, that’s right.” He continues, “I like that movie—it was scary.”
“Well the first one was but the rest sucked.” You’re downstairs now, looking around at the way all the blinds in your home are open. Did you leave them like that for this exact reason? You don’t remember.
“Mhm,” ‘Mystery’ man hums and you swear you can picture the smirk on his face as he utters the next infamous line. “Soo, you got a boyfriend?”
You pull your lower lip into your mouth for a second before smiling, “Why? You wanna ask me out on a date?” Now you’re making a right to enter your living room, heading toward your couch placed in the center.
“Maybe. Do you have a boyfriend?” He asks again.
You pause for a second. This literally is your boyfriend so, surely he wants you to play into this question, right?
“No.” You chirp simply.
You can hear the smile on his face even through that stupidly attractive voice changer, “You never told me your name.”
You know what comes after this and you can’t help but begin to look around as you plop down on your couch, “Why do you wanna know my name?”
It’s silent over the phone for a long couple of seconds
“Cause’ we wanna know who we’re looking at.”
Your heart surprisingly sinks as those words hit your ears. We? That’s not… how that scene goes. He was supposed to say that he wants to know who he’s looking at. There’s no we? Where the hell did he even get that from??
For the first time since you picked up this damn phone and started this whole thing, you’re actually a bit nervous. Chuckling loosely, you try to play it off as your eyes glance around your living room, “What do you mean, ‘we’?”
There’s a shuffling over the phone for just a moment. Then, you hear that distorted voice again, but the pitch is slightly different. “C’mon, princess. You’ve seen the movies, you should know by now that there’s hardly ever only one killer.” The man says.
Eyes all over every corner of the house, heart thumping slightly in your chest, you can feel your anxiety rising within. “I… I don’t understand.” You murmur softly.
And then… all the lights go out with a loud noise coming from somewhere outside. If you weren’t shaking in fear before, you damn sure are now. Your eyes go even wider and you move to put your phone on speaker, clicking your flashlight on right after.
“S-Suguru, this isn’t funny! I like the movies ‘nd all but I’m not the biggest fan of being scared, you know that.” The person(s) on the phone can hear the clear trembling in your voice as you stand up and point your flashlight to whatever area your eyes land on, searching for any signs of anyone.
There’s a snicker over the line. “Oh but this iss funny, sweets.” The tone changed again—it’s still distorted in that famous Ghostface pitch, but it’s not Suguru nor the person who’d said something before. “You look sooo scared right now.”
Aw hell, that lets you know he (or they) can see you right now. Which is just great considering you can’t see shit aside from darkness and the few areas of your house that your light lands on. You’re scared to leave the living room but… you’re also terrified of staying right where you are. You don’t know how many Ghostface’s are in your house right now and you don’t know what the hell Suguru has planned for you tonight.
“Stop playing around! Turn the lights back on and quit this scary shit, Suguru.” You huff out into the call, taking one step to your right and hearing the floor creak below your foot.
The house is eerily quiet—which is ridiculously concerning considering how he-, they can see you but you can’t see them at the moment. How the hell are they talking to you without you hearing them? They are in your house now, right??
“You said you wanted to get fucked by Ghostface, baby.” The voice returns, as does that natural purr, letting you know it’s Geto talking once more. “You never said how many…”
You slowly walk around your couch and shift your flashlight toward the blinds, trying to get a look outside your windows. “Are you serious? That sounds insane. How many of you are there?!” Your gaze flicks toward the nearby staircase and you only scare yourself as your eyes get lost in the darkness of your home.
Geto’s still talking, “Including me, there’s three of us. How does that sound, hm? I’m obviously not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to but, you do know who we all are.”
You swallow thickly. “Do I?” This time your words leave in a whisper and you swear you hear a shuffling coming from upstairs.
Lord knows you’re scared out of your mind right now. But, it is comforting to know that whatever this is, your boyfriend is in control of it all. You trust him more than anything, so there’s no real reason to be scared… right?
“Mhm. So how ‘bout we play a game?” Your boyfriend requests, and the sound of him smiling again is heard through his tone.
You stop walking entirely and your eyes are fixated upstairs as you flash your light up there. “Okay Jigsaw.” You snort, “What… What kind of game, huh?”
He sighs, almost sounding as though he were sitting back against something. “The one you and I were going to play. Y’know, you run around ‘n hide but if I find you, I fuck you. Let’s continue that but… with two others.”
“Suguru, you’re gonna let two other guys fuck me?” You’re beyond baffled by this whole thing. Never in a million years would you have expected this from your boyfriend. This is the same man who got mad a while ago for the way some guy who was all flirty with you at a restaurant…
Geto hums deeply, “S’long as you’re okay with it and they find you before I do, yeahh.”
“I didn’t know you were into that…” You reply, moving a hand to tug his shirt further down your body. Knowing that there was more than just him in the area right now made you a bit self-conscious.
“Didn’t know you were into masks but the Ghostface thing really does it for ya’, huh?” Suguru snaps back with that sass you know and love.
“I mean…” You shrug, “Yeah.”
“Right. So then, the game is simple. You try to hide and whoever finds you first; fucks you.”
“That’s it?”
“Oh, nooo. There’s more to this baby…” You swear you hear a creak upstairs—coming from somewhere down the left end of the hallway. It gives you the chills as Geto continues. “See, I know how loud you are when you cum so… tonight, I want you to be nice and quiet.”
You gulp, “What happens if I’m not?”
“Another one of us will find you.”
“Oh—“
“…And join in.” He steadily adds on with an amused smile on his face that you obviously can’t see right now.
Your heart races at the thought alone. “Oh.”
Just for extra consent, Geto tilts his head against the phone, “That alright with you?”
“Yes… but, wait do I still have to be quiet even if there ends up being two of you guys fucking me…?” You lean to the side a bit and aim your light toward the direction you heard the creak, spotting no one and no signs of life whatsoever.
“Yep.” Geto replies with a teasing pop of the ‘p’.
“But—“
“Don’t worry, I’m sure you’ll do fine. After all,” The voice changer clicks off and Suguru’s tone is nice and clear with you, “Y’know whose cock you’re supposed t’get loud on.”
You feel yourself throb at the sound of his voice without that stupid filter, puffing out a little sigh in reaction to his lewd words.
“Oh, and by the way…”
“Huh?”
The voice changer clicks on one last time and he chuckles. “They’re already in the house.”
——
Okay, you knew Halloween was one of Suguru’s favorite holidays but shit you didn’t expect him to go all out like this.
Not one, not two, but three Ghostfaces in your home searching for you right now? You’re lucky the house is big and there are plenty of places to hide but fuck is your anxiety through the goddamn roof as you sit in the empty tub of your first-floor bathroom. The door is shut but not locked and you’ve got the tub curtain pulled closed, just in case one of them does happen to stroll in.
Obviously, this wasn’t the best hiding spot in the world but you wanted them to eventually find you. You were scared in the beginning because of how unexpected this was but now you’re just as excited as you were when you first received that infamous phone call and recited all the lines with your boyfriend.
As soon as the call had ended, you clicked your flashlight off and snuck around in search of a hiding place—which is roughly how you ended up where you are now…
Now you’re left wondering who would find you first. Well, that and who the hell is under two of those masks. You suspect one of them is Gojo Satoru since that’s your boyfriend’s best friend but the other guy… you’re not too sure. Geto said you knew him but that still doesn’t help much.
Your boyfriend has a lot of friends that you know. Which one does he trust enough to let them have their way with you??
After maybe fifteen minutes of sitting in the tub, you start hearing someone outside the bathroom door. Footsteps shuffle by and you can tell the person went off into your kitchen. Then you hear the sounds of doors and cabinets opening, all of which make your breath hitch.
It’s so nerve-wracking and exciting waiting for someone to swing open the bathroom door. The footsteps soon pass it again and you let out the faintest sigh.
…Only to hear those steps halt not too far off from the door. Then, they turn and your body stiffens up entirely as each thump against the hardwood floor draws closer and closer to the door. You can’t see it because of the shower curtains but, there’s a shadow at the bathroom door.
Then you hear a small clinking sound, followed by a very soft… thump? Almost as if someone were leaning against the bathroom door to listen.
It was so scarily exciting that you had to move a hand over your mouth to keep yourself as silent as possible. After which, it’s all so very motionless.
There’s no sound, safe for someone walking around upstairs, and you just know someone’s outside the bathroom door right now. Your heart sinks into your ass the moment you hear that doorknob turning torturously slow until it’s lightly pushed open.
Then, there are but two soft steps taken inside and you don’t hear it but the door is closed behind whoever just entered.
They could be coming in to just use the bathroom… riiiight?
That’s extremely naive of you to think but a girl can only hope. Another step is taken deeper into the bathroom and that soft clinking sound you heard before is getting louder. It’s faint, almost like… jewelry or… necklaces slapping against one another gently. Jewelry… Necklaces… Which one of Geto’s friends do you know wears a lot of jewelry...? C’mon, think.
Necklaces… rings maybe… piercings—
The very second it clicks in your brain who this might be, you practically flinch right out of your skin as you spot a knife slowly moving to slide the bathtub curtain open. As the curtain is pulled open, you’re met with the tilted head of someone in a Ghostface costume.
Your eyes are all wide on them and you genuinely have no idea where on your body this guy is looking but the mask is actually quite scary when it’s all dark and neither of you is making any sudden movements.
His head slowly angles to the opposing direction, just like Ghostface often does in the movies, and you gulp loudly. The curtain is pinned to the wall by the knife in his hand and you think you’re sweating.
“Scared?” His voice is deep. Familiarly deep. It quickly confirms your suspicions of who’s face may be lying beneath that iconic mask.
With your eyes all frantic along what’s covering his face, noticing the bits of blood and cracks decorating it, you swallow thickly yet again. “Choso?” Your voice is hardly above a whisper and the air feels so heavy with tension.
His hand moves away from the wall and the knife, which you hope is fake, is placed on the edge of the tub with a soft tapping noise emitting into the still air. Then he takes that same hand and lifts it to pull his mask up to the right side of his face, revealing his expression to you as he crouches down to your eye level. You quickly feel your fear die off and it’s replaced with… something else as you study his face. There’s fake blood splattered on his skin, makeup extending the tattoo along the bridge of his nose, and piercings that stand out against his facial features.
“The tub, really?” He whispers to you, chuckling softly and flashing this kind smile at you that makes you feel overly warm inside. “S’this the best you could do? Y’know if I was a real killer you’d be dead right now, right?” Choso teases, all of his words kept in a low voice.
You roll your eyes and shift against the cold tub flooring, “I wouldn’t have hid in here if you guys were real killers, I’m not dumb.”
His lips curve into this sexy yet lazy smirk and you can feel your heart fluttering in your chest. You had a thing for Choso way back before you started dating Geto and it seems as though your body hasn’t forgotten why. “Yeahh?” Choso chastises with another tilt of his head, “Think you would be the final girl?”
Leaning forward a bit, you nod. “No, I know I would.”
Choso lets out a hum before biting his lower lip for a moment. Then, he lets it fall from in between his teeth and you think you’re in a trance. “Oh she’s cocky, huh?” He teases.
You smile at him and then push up to stand on your knees. Leaning all the way forward, you slowly reach for the knife and take it into your hands. Then you move to hold the tip of it right underneath his jaw and the sound of his breath hitching hits your ears just right.
You openly stare at his lips and watch the way his smirk slowly transcends into a full cocky smile. “Y’know that’s not fake, right?” Choso hushes out to you.
The knife is carefully caressing his skin as you trace it up slightly to his chin, “It’s not?” You ask innocently, placing your free hand on the edge of the tub and watching how he slowly moves to sit on his knees so that he’s looking up at you.
His face is all pretty from this angle, big brown doe-eyes batting up at you so softly, such a pretty face of dark innocence presented before you. Who’s really the ‘victim’ here—you or him?
“Nah,” Choso whispers, “That’s a real knife.”
“Why would you carry around a real knife?” You ask in an equally soft tone as your brows twist up in confusion.
He shrugs. “Honestly, I was gonna ask if you were into a bit of knife play…”
His words make your mind stray away from the situation at hand. Your imagination is quick to push out ideas and all sorts of scenarios that could have occurred with this knife of his had you not looked so scared when he first saw you…
“Are you?” The question in return makes Choso’s gaze flicker into something way more lustful than it was moments before.
He scoffs, “Am I? Why would I ask you about it if I wasn’t.”
“So… What, you wanna cut my clothes off of somethin’?” You ask carefully, steadily slipping the tip of the knife along his jawline.
Choso just barely nods his head in response.
“Y’know it’s funny you say that and yet you’re the one on your knees with a knife held up to your chin right now.” You point out with an all-knowing grin plastered all over your face.
Choso bites back a laugh. It’s cute that you think you have the upper hand here. “You and I both know that could easily change in a matter of seconds.” He claims.
And y’know, maybe it’s because you found yourself turned on by this whole game or maybe it’s simply because you wanted to fuck Choso but either way—you do not shy away from testing that theory. All you said was a simple ‘prove it’ and you found yourself in quite the position moments later.
It was one thing that Choso managed to easily gain a hold of the knife once more but it was another thing entirely that he was able to swiftly and quietly get you out of the tub and into his arms. All without even so much as grazing you with that sharp weapon too.
It was almost impressive, in all honesty.
Somewhere in the mix of all that, he ends up placing the knife down and soon has you sitting on the bathroom counter. Well, had you sitting on the bathroom counter—it quickly becomes a lot more than simply that.
Choso used that lil’ knife of his to cut down the center of your (Geto’s) shirt and was quick to have you all exposed to his overly greedy eyes. You were wearing nothing more than this lacy black set beneath that oversized shirt so it wasn’t much to get you unclothed.
One second he was cutting your shirt open and the next his lips were on yours. Then his pierced tongue was in your mouth and your arms were around his neck, tugging him closer to you and feeling his hard cock poking you through the thick layers of black clothes between you and him.
Which is exactly what led to the way you are currently.
Choso now has your legs spread wide open for him and his clothes are hardly even off, safe for the black cloak-like jacket that slipped off of his shoulders and the way his pants have been tugged down. He’s got on this black compression shirt and you spot the layered chains/necklaces hanging from around his throat that you heard earlier. Now leaning back slightly against the mirror behind you with your eyes set down between the two of you, you’re left watching the mean slap of Choso’s leaky cockhead against your clit.
“Cho,” You whispered out pleadingly. He’d been doing this for the longest—tapping his thick cock against your clit and then rubbing it from side to side against you, feeling the way you leak onto the counter below and hearing those faint whines escaping your throat.
Then he has the nerve to have the sluttiest expression on his half-revealed face, eyes all low-lidded and glued to your exposed pussy, bottom lip locked in between his teeth as he holds back his own breathy sounds of pleasure, and brows all tense as if he’s not the one torturing the two of you like this. “Shiiiit,” Choso rasps out, sliding his cock down slowly and pressing his fat tip against your weeping hole. “Suguru was right, this pussy is s’fuckin’ loud ‘n messy…” He breathes.
Your lips are all parted and all you can do is pant softly as he lifts his tip away and then slaps it against your cunt again, listening to the shlick tapping sound that comes from your sex.
Almost in a daze, he glides his cock up and down your wet folds, “Look at herrr,” Choso purrs, “All wet f’me. Can’t believe he’s lettin’ us fuck you.” His hips push forward a bit and you feel the way his heavy shaft glides against your cunt instead of inside like you so desperately want him to.
You have to suppress the needy whine that threatens to escape your throat, holding one hand slightly over your mouth. “Choso, please.” You whisper beneath your palm.
He pulls his hips back and angles his tip back down to your entrance, pushing forward ever so slightly and teasing that tight ring of muscle, not trying to really push himself into you at all. “What is it, princess?” Choso taunts, smirking as he lifts his eyes up to your face, “Want me to fuck you?”
You throb at his words, nodding as if a second longer would have you pronounced dead. “Please,” You whine, trying your best to wiggle your hips forward.
Choso leans forward and moves his lips right up your ear, his breath all warm and tickly against your skin. “Yeah? Y’want my cock inside you that badly?” He says with another faint push of his hips. Every word that leaves his lips has you dripping all over him.
It’s not until you move your hand away from your mouth and place it on the counter space behind you, and whisper, “Yes Choso, just put it all the way in already, I’m losing my fuckin’ m-mind…” Your last word leaves a little shaky due to the way he suddenly moves a hand over your lips.
Pressing his palm against your mouth, you grow confused until you look over to the bottom of the bathroom door and see a shadow moving by. Yet another Ghostface was nearby.
Choso, not yet wanting to ruin his alone time with you, presses his lips further against your ear, and his other hand grips your thigh tightly. “M’not ready t’share you yet so, be really fuckin’ quiet f’me, alright?” His warning confused you for half a second before you felt him roll his hips forward with a sharp snap at the end, stuffing you full with every hard inch of his cock in one go.
Your eyes tear up and your mouth hangs open under his hand, a strangled moan escaping your throat. Choso’s dick is so stupidly big, reminding you of your boyfriend in more ways than one. Unlike Geto though, Choso’s got this ruthless right curve and just drags against your sweet spot with every small movement he makes, the rest of his cock felt throbbing and twitching wildly against your sodden walls.
He lets out a choked grunt against your ear and you can feel him humping his cock deeper inside you with these small maddening little thrusts. “Does he even fuck you? S-Shiiit…” Choso lets his thoughts be vocalized against the crown of your ear and you only squeeze around his girthy shaft. “S’fuckin’ tight.. God-, fu-uck…” His voice has this pretty lil’ crack at the end that makes you soak his cock even more, sloppy juices leaking all out from where the two of you are connected.
Choso has to tug his hips back a bit and he completely forgets that he recently heard someone walking by the bathroom as he mindlessly thrusts right back into you. Your eyes meet the back of your skull and you groan into his palm. The wet gurgles and squelches from your pussy are what draws attention to the bathroom, if any.
Which is something you can’t even control, especially not with the way Choso goes from short grunts in your ear to moaning delightedly against your skin and fucking his thick cock into your sinfully warm cunt. Deep and almost passionate strokes are made into you and he can’t help but rid his hand from your mouth at some point. Moving it back to your thighs, he sprawls your legs out even wider so his cock can dig deeper into you.
With your jaw still hanging open, the sounds of him fucking you against the counter slowly grow louder and louder. You’re trying not to moan but it’s so hard with him—Choso knows how to use his cock all too well and his eyes are studying your face so he knows where exactly he should be thrusting. Just the slightest shift of his hips causes drool to leak from the corner of your lips and that makes him flash this fucked-out little smile.
Choso leans up closer and his body sandwiches against yours for a moment. You swear you can feel his angry cockhead prodding at your guts because fuck is he in there deep. Not to mention how orgasmic it is to feel him drag his pierced tongue against your chin, lapping up the mess of drool from your face before shoving the muscle into your mouth and forcing you to suck on it.
That leaves your moaning drowned out for a bit and Choso takes the opportunity to pound himself into you like a damn madman. Your legs quickly begin to feel like jello in his hands and you couldn’t even focus on sucking on his tongue anymore. Then, he pulls his mouth away, just barely, and the two of you are staring deep into each other’s eyes as his pace gets faster. His hips are so sharp against you and you can feel his weighty balls slapping against your ass with every mean and pronounced thrust.
Your breath mingles with one another and you’re both so fucked out that you don’t even realize you’re a lot louder now until you spot the bathroom door cracking open in your peripherals. It barely makes a sound as it’s pushed open slightly and all you see is yet another person wearing a Ghostface mask—the sight alone and the clear eye contact you make with them leading straight to your orgasm.
The second Ghostface stands motionless, doing nothing more than watching the blissful way your eyes lull to the back of your head and you release this sweet moan of Choso’s name. Choso, oblivious to being watched right now, is so close to emptying himself inside you.
“F-Fuck,” He huffs, tipping his head back and looking up to the ceiling for a moment. “So tight… I’m gonna c-cum if you keep squeezin’ me like that.” His voice fluctuates here and there but by the time your eyes roll back into place, the bathroom door is shut and that second Ghostface is now standing right behind Choso.
You flinch and Choso chokes out a grunt at how tightly you just clenched around his cock. The second Ghostface is slow to lift his mask up a bit, only revealing his mouth with this recognizable snake bite piercing that has your cunt gripping onto Choso even tighter. Then, the man leans to Choso’s ear and practically scares him into cumming inside you.
“What do we have here, hm?” Gojo whispers, making Choso’s hips stutter against you. He then reaches a gloved hand around Choso and your neglected clit is met with his thumb swatting over it, “Can’t believe you found her first. S’not fair…” Gojo hums softly with a slight pout.
You have this dumbfounded look all over your face and you may be fucked out of your mind but you swear Choso’s cock is almost harder inside you. The two of you curse in unison as Gojo rotates his thumb against your clit in a sensual circle motion, making you clench again and Choso rolls his gaze back—only the whites of his eyes visible to you.
“K-Keep rubbin’ her like that,” Choso pants with a soft moan. “She’s so fucking tight… I’m gonna die in here, s-shit.” He curses dramatically.
Gojo flicks his thumb upwards against your clit with a nasty trickle of your slick oozing out onto Choso’s cock. “You’re not gonna die, Cho,” He says in a chastising tone with a smile on his face, taking his free hand to pull his mask further up so that you can see his eyes.
You watch the way Gojo looks over Choso’s shoulder and stares at Choso’s lengthy cock disappearing in and out of your slobbering pussy. Gojo feels his own dick throb against his pants, pressing himself a bit closer to Choso and moving to talk into his ear. “I mean look at her,” Gojo directs, leading to Choso focusing his hazy gaze onto your face. “You’re already fucking her to tears, you’re not gonna die, heh. You’re fuckin’ her good.”
That last praise is what causes Choso to slump forward against you and roll his hips harshly against you—followed by which is a thick spurt of cum as he finishes inside you with a broken groan pouring from his lips. All as Gojo keeps his thumb on your clit, despite his hand getting squished in between you and Choso’s body.
Then Gojo smirks and leans in toward Choso again, “There ya’ go, good boy. Let it all out inside her. Jus’ like that…”
You don’t think you’ve ever been this… ruined before in your life. Watching Gojo tease and praise Choso like that while you were still being fucked and your clit was being stimulated led to you abruptly squirting. Choso’s cock slips right out of you and Gojo removes his hand just so that both of them could watch you let out that filthy lil’ stream.
Choso’s completely out of it as he watches your pussy spasm wildly. “Holy…” He whispers, hardly able to finish the rest of his statement.
Gojo clicks his tongue, “Suguru didn’t tell us you were a squirter. Or, has he never made you do that before?” He asks, slowly lifting his eyes up to your face.
You look like you’re about to pass out, your body all sweaty as you lean back against the mirror again and pant heavily. “He… hah, f-fuck, h-he has.” You squeak out softly.
Gojo hums before looking back down, allowing Choso to step (stumble) back slightly past him so he can catch his breath. Then, once Choso is completely out of the way and the space between your legs is left vacant—Gojo lets out an alarming chuckle.
He watches the way Choso’s cum dribbles out of your overstimulated cunt, glob after glob leaking out so prettily that Gojo can’t help but crouch down to get a closer look. Your eyes lazily follow his snowy head of hair and watch as his face is repositioned in between your spread legs. He moves his gloved thumb to your pussy lips and sloshes that mix of you and Choso’s cum around against you.
Then, Gojo flicks his gaze up to you and you gulp. He looks you dead in the eyes before spreading your lips further apart with his thumb and leaning forward. Your jaw drops in shock as Gojo cups his mouth against your pussy and suckles the mess from Choso into his mouth.
You whine, “S-Satoru—oh, w-wait,” You’re left gasping as you shoot a hand down to his hair and grip him tightly.
Gojo groans deeply and you feel his tongue lap against your saturated cunt leisurely. Moving up and down in a sloppy filthy manner, your legs are trembling while Gojo cleans you up casually.
Choso’s sitting on the nearby toilet seat now, batting his lashes at Gojos actions in shock. “Satoru you… you know I just—“
“Mhmm,” Gojo mumbles into your pussy, pulling his lips back just barely to allow a cool slap of air to hit you. Then, he swallows. “You both taste really,” Gojo leans back in to kiss your cunt, “Mmph… fuckin’ sweet.” He murmurs against you before slithering his tongue inside you.
Your back arches and your legs move to close around his head as your fingers tug desperately on his locks of hair. “S’toru,” You mumble, “Fuck. Please… mgh, n-needa’ break. I-I can’t—“
Gojo tilts his head and smiles into your honeyed slick, “Sweetheart,” He rasps against you, suckling on your taste for a moment longer before pulling off with a wet pop! “I jus’ got here ‘n you want a break from me already?” He says, pushing out his bottom lip to pout. “That’s so mean.”
Before you even get the chance to argue with that, he’s diving right back in and eating you out like a man staved. Sucking, licking, kissing, spitting—Gojo’s between your legs in some kind of trance as he drools all over his current meal. He’s such a messy eater too, his actions quickly leading to the lower half of his face being coated with remnants of you.
After a bit, Choso seems to have collected himself and he’s soon standing up. His pants have been hastily pulled up and you’re too lost in the overstimulation Gojo’s giving you to realize Choso is approaching you too. When your eyes lift, you see Choso with his Ghostface mask back over his face and his phone held in his right hand.
Cocking his head to the side, he looms closer to Gojo and sneaks a, now gloved, hand into his bright white tufts of hair, prying his mouth away from your cunt with a harsh tug. You watch with teary eyes as Choso holds his phone up to Gojo’s face, and hums out a low, “Smile.” With the voice changer turned on.
Gojo sparks a toothy grin and his expression is all high in pleasure. He looks faded out of his mind, simply off of eating you out alone. The flash from Choso’s phone lights up the bathroom and within the picture he just took, only your legs are visible dangling over Gojo’s shoulders. They’d just recreated that infamous photo you see around this time of year all over your socials. Usually, the victim would be laid out stomach first on the floor and Ghostface would tug their head up by their hair but, this definitely works too.
“Atta’ boy,” Choso praises after he’s taken the desired amount of pictures.
Gojo looks up to you and he’s pretty sure he can see little hearts in your eyes as you glance back and forth between him and Choso. “You don’t mind, do ya’? We wanna have somethin’ to remember this by,” He tells you.
You simply shake your head no and both of the men in front of you smile. Choso then nods his head a little before using his grasp on Gojo’s hair to shove him back down in between your legs—earning a surprised hum from your throat and a muffled groan from Gojo’s.
Despite the little Surprise, Gojo gets back to work with his mouth and you end up leaning forward a bit in surprise. Choso moves over to the side a bit and he feels you drop a hand to Gojo’s head to give him a light push away so he can ease up on you. In contrast to this, Choso steals your attention by wrapping a free hand of his around your throat. Your eyes shoot up to him and you’re met with the eyes of Ghostface since he’s got the mask back on.
Purposefully, he does that head tilt again. So slowly does it tip to the side as Gojo’s teeth graze your clit, causing you to let out a pleasureful yelp. “Fuck!” You gasp, to which Choso removes his hand from Gojo’s hair.
Creeping up along your body, Choso grabs a greedy handful of your breast before leaning in. “That was loud, princess. You’re gonna get us all caught,” He snickers to you.
Your bottom lip quivers and you think the sight of it makes Choso feel bad. He takes his hand off of your tits for just a second to pull his mask up and then returns his gasp. Both of you have the same idea in mind but it’s you that reaches for him this time, tugging him in so that his lips can meet yours again.
And then it’s just sloppy from there on out. Anyone with ears could walk past that bathroom, or anywhere down stairs for that matter, and hear the sliding of lips over one another followed by gurgled gasps and barely muffed goans. Choso’s making out with you while he plays with your tits in his hands and Gojo’s still lost in between your legs.
Your whole body feels like it’s on fire and your head is beginning to spin from how good you feel everywhere. It only gets worse when the two start muttering praises out to you.
Dragging his lips down to your chest, Choso hushes out these elated whispers, “C’mon pretty girl, don’t tap out on us jus’ yet.”
Then there’s Gojo who moves to suck on your inner thigh. “Yeahh, don’t tap out. Let us make you feel good, baby.” He hums into your skin.
The counter beneath your ass is a slippery wet mess just like the bottom of Gojo's face and all the way down his neck with the way he let your juices trickle along his skin as he ate. All three of you get a little lost in the moment for quite some time. So much that you all seem to forget there’s supposed to be a third Ghostface.
Who, unknowingly, ends up silently opening the bathroom door and catching the way his two friends have his girlfriend all spread out ‘n ruined like some slut. Geto swore he almost came in his pants at the sight alone. You don’t seem to notice he’s standing there and you’re the only one facing him. His eyes are all over your wet expression, watching and listening to you moan two other guy’s names.
He didn’t even want to say anything. Geto just wanted to remain where he was and watch because lord knows if he joins in he won’t last longer than a few seconds. So, he does exactly that—going completely unnoticed there for a while.
Up until Gojo pulls his mouth off of you for a second. He looks up to see Choso decorating your chest in hot kisses and wet hickies, the two of you constantly making eye contact with one another before he moves his lips to yours again. Fuck just watching you two was hot. So hot that it makes Gojo wonder where the hell his best friend is at and why he’s missing out on all this.
Which is what leads to him turning around to glance back at the bathroom entrance, quickly spotting Geto standing there leaning against the door frame. Well, shit. It’s in that moment that Gojo realizes he sees the appeal in the whole Ghostface thing because fuck is his best friend just as hot as everything and everyone else in this damn room.
After Gojo, you’re the next person to realize your boyfriend is now present, and then Choso seconds later. Each of you have this face as if you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to but that little detail is irrelevant given how Geto could care less about how he was the last to find you. And sure, he may have watched you run into the bathroom earlier and could’ve gone in there to scare you a while ago but, watching Choso and Gojo eventually find you and then listening to them interact with you from outside the bathroom was far more entertaining.
—
So, one thing led to another and…
You find yourself laid out in your bed all over again, this time accompanied with three men. Geto was the first to get himself situated—seating himself not too far away from the bed and telling you to “put on a show for him”.
By this point, who were you to even question him? If Gojo and Choso were leading things before, they damn sure aren’t now because it’s you who’s ordering them around and letting them know where you want them. Starting with you on all fours, showing off that arch that Geto has had you perfect over the years. Then your legs part slowly and Gojo’s behind you in a trance as he watches you move a hand to spread your cunt open for him.
“You spoil us, sweetheart,” Gojo rasps in a low pitch, voice slightly hoarse from how long he’d gone without talking earlier.
You wanted to focus on him some more but a pair of fingers are placed on your chin and your face is quickly redirected to the second man of need. The moment your head turns, you’re met with Choso’s fat cockhead right in front of your face. Batting your lashes, you’re slow to look all the way up to him and see the way he’s smirking down at you.
“‘Could get off on that look alone, y’know.” Choso comments deeply in reference to your wide glossed over eyes and how close his tip is to your lips.
Gojo’s behind you frowning at the way Choso stole your attention yet again. In an attempt to, at least, have your mind on him once more, Gojo simply pushes his hips forward and eyes the sloppy part of your pussy spread against his pink tip. He hears it, Choso hears it, they all hear the way you gasp softly. It’s like they’re all hyper aware of every sound or slight movement you make.
Immediately after, your hips are wiggling back and Gojo’s quick to palm the fats of your ass. “Finally givin’ me some attention now, huh?” He quips.
You pull away from Choso’s touch just to look back at Gojo. “Suguru should’ve told you guys, I hate bein’ teased.” The way you force yourself back on him not even a second after that last word is leaving your lips has Gojo’s jaw falling and his fingers curling into your skin.
“W-Woah sweets, you could’ve warned me f-first…” He stammers, eyes dropping down to your greedy cunt swallowing up his lengthy inches of cock like it’s nothing. Gojo had to bite back a whine as he listened to the syrupy squelches that came with each backward push of your hips. “Fuuck, don’t stop. Give it t’me, baby.”
Gojo doesn’t even have to move yet and you’re already letting off a shaky moan, driving your hips back carefully and feeling him fill up every inch of your cunt. He’s all dazed while he watches his aching cock delve deep inside you, inch by inch—you take him like you were fuckin’ made for him.
The man is just dazed. He understands why Choso said he was gonna die earlier becuase fuckin’ hell he’s not even all the way in yet and you’re already clamping around his veiny shaft with no intention of ever letting go. And the goddamn arch you have, they way your ass looks all pretty backing up against him—
Gojo’s thrusting forward before he even realizes he is and his hands slide up to your hips to hold you nice ‘n steady. Your legs shake and your jaw mirrors his with the way it just hangs open. Then there’s your eyes and the way they roll back, a delicious moan exiting from deep within your throat.
He definately fucks you harder than Choso was earlier because you can feel his cock everywhere—he has you so stupidly full and dumb on his dick within seconds, landing a mean hand down onto your ass amid his thrusts.
“Ohh fuck, Suguru y’had this pussy all to yourself all this time?” Gojo grunts. “…S-Selfish bastard.”
Gojo’s hands are arguably slimmer than your boyfriends but his grip on you is just the same. Hence why you can’t do anything as he tugs you back to meet his rough pounding. Hell, all you’re left with is a brain full of nothing as your head turns to face forwards and you unconsciously look up at a stunned Choso.
His hand is wrapped around his cock and despite being right in front of your face, he’s definitely jerking off to they way Gojo’s fucking you (or maybe just to Gojo himself, who knows). When Choso does look down, you see his brows twist up and his lips part.
Your mouth is already hanging open so clearly you’re silently offering to help him, right? Which is why he angles himself toward your gape mouth and grunts, “Open up f’me pretty girl, nice ‘n wide…”
And you do, widening your mouth for him to slide his cock in steadily. Choso hisses at the sensation, the underside of his cock gliding down the center of your slobbering wet tongue so lewdly that it makes his teeth grind together. God, if you weren’t every bit of perfect like this. He watches the way his dick fills your mouth and feels how ridiculously tight your throat is as he eases his hips forward.
Almost in unison, Gojo and Choso and up tossing their heads back—one letting out a guttural groan and the other releasing a sweet moan. You’re soaked just about everywhere. Your pussy is sobbing and dripping around Gojo’s cock and your mouth is hardly any better with the way drool is dribbling down from your chin and onto the bed.
All as your boyfriend is losing his ever loving mind.
Geto came twice in his hand already and yet he’s still bucking his hips up into his fist. He’s never been this hard in his life. Something about watching you get absolutely ravaged by his two friends just make his dick throb in ways he cannot explain. You look perfect too, so damn angelic despite the rather sinful situation you’re in. There’s a creamy mess of cum slicked up and down Geto’s length from the thick tip to his base.
You’re busy getting fucked to tears (again) by Gojo and Choso, one of which has a heavy hand on your head encouraging your throat further around his curved cock and the other keep’s snapping his hips against your ass with his weighty balls grazing your clit every now and then.
You’re all so screwed. This is like something straight out of a damn porno and yet you didn’t care. Hell, you could hardly fathom enough thoughts at the moment to care.
And of course all three of them are just babbling all sorts of things to you, teasing you, taunting you, making you dizzy with pleasure.
Gojo’s back there spreading your ass apart and watching how wet you’ve gotten his dick, smiling sinfully at the sight. “Look at this pretty girl,” He grunts, “Takin’ my cock so. fucking. well. ungh.”
Then there’s Choso, nodding along as if he agrees with Gojo’s groaned words. His fingers are buried into your hair and by this point he’s fucking your face at the same rate Gojo’s fucking your cunt. “Her throat’s even better—shit. Y’should see how her lips look wrapped around me right now. Especially when I get,” Choso pauses just to give his hips one tortuously slow push, making you deepthroat his angry cockhead. “Right here, f-fuck.”
Again, Geto’s on the side just losing himself at the moment. You make the mistake of glancing over at him and his eyes lock with yours. Geto’s bottom lip is quivering and you watch his hand jerk himself off faster, his legs shifting open and closed as he overstimulates himself. Some nerve you had to look at him as if you don’t have two cocks inside you right now.
“M’gonna cum,” Geto’s muttering to himself over and over in some fucked-out little mantra.
Watching his head toss back and the way his Adam's apple bobs up and down is probably one of the sexiest sights. The Ghostface mask is all pulled up and his hair is splayed out in a mess of strands.
You end up gagging around Choso when Gojo hits your sweet spot for the sixth time in a row, your fingernails clawing against the sheets below. That’s all it takes for Choso to pull out and come undone all over your face without warning. In his defense, he wasn’t expecting your throat to tighten around him like that so suddenly…
Geto’s not too far behind, cumming in thick ropes with a sexy groan of your name leaving his lips—a sight you barely get to see because then Gojo’s leaning over you and your torso is suddenly pressed down against the bed for a moment. Then, you’re tugged up by a harsh grasp of your hair and Gojo’s fucking you even rougher than he was before, pressing his lips right against your ear.
“Fuckin’ slut,” He degrades so suddenly, wraping a free hand around your waist just to swat a finger over your clit again. “Look at this mess,” Oh, he’s just mean all of a sudden. Gojo lets go of your hair and turns your face toward him, leaning in and… licking the remnants of Choso’s release off of your face, again.
Your breath hitches and you wish you could have said something snarky but then you’re shoved right back down onto the bed. Gojo shifts his gaze to Choso, who flinches at the sudden eye contact, and then motions for him to come closer.
Once he does, Gojo grabs him by the jaw and pulls him in. “Open your mouth,” He breathes out hotly.
Choso bats his lashes at the man but doesn’t hesitate, parting his lips and taking the extra step as to sticking his tongue out. Gojo spits right onto the center of it and then smirks, “Good boy, now swallow it ‘n taste yourself f’me.”
It’s right about then that you release for the nth time of the night, followed by you squirting again due to the exchange you just heard between those two men. Then, as you wait for the stars in your vision to clear out, you hear Choso gulp loudly.
Half-way smiling to himself, Choso scoffs. “Guess you were right… I do taste pretty sweet.”
A/N: ty guys so much for 6k followers here btw!! much love, mwah.
18+ MDNI, smut - squirming away from bf!geto during sex
you always do this.
every time. every single damn time.
you say you can handle it. crawl into his lap all sweet and soft and glowing with need. kiss his throat. press your thighs together. breathe all breathless against his neck like please, sugu. i need you.
and then he gives it to you - slow and deep - and your body betrays you completely.
your legs start shaking. your back arches. and you squirm.
every time. like you’re trying to run. like you forgot what it feels like to be full of him.
geto always just lets it happen, just for a second. watches you try to crawl up the bed, squirming from the stretch of it, fingers twisting in the sheets as your hips twitch and roll. his cock’s barely halfway in and you’re already trembling.
“were do you think you’re going?” he murmurs, low in your ear.
you whimper something into the pillow. nonsense. apology. maybe his name. you’re not even sure. he laughs, soft and dangerous.
“nah. you’re not going anywhere.”
and then he grabs your hips, pulls you right back down onto him - slow, thick, all the way in.
you moan. your back bows. your thighs shake again.
“baby,” he says gently, “you gotta stay still.”
you can’t. you’re trying so hard but u just can’t. it’s almost as if your body’s not listening. every time he moves, even just a little, you twitch. gasp. try to inch away from how much it is - how full, how deep and how good.
he strokes a hand up your spine. kisses your shoulder. keeps his hips flush with yours while you squirm and sob and pant into the mattress like you’re being split in half.
“you get like this every time,” he hums. “so fuckin’ sensitive. makes me wanna ruin you.”
you cry out when he grinds in just a little deeper - not even thrusting, just deliberately pressing. and your body reacts, all instinct, hips twitching, trying to squirm away again.
he pins you down. one hand flat between your shoulder blades. the other wrapping around your waist, pulling you back against him like he owns you.
“stop running from it,” he whispers. “take it. you can take it. can’t you?”
you nod, even as your body shivers under him. you’re so wet. stuffed so full, you can feel every inch of him. the feeling of his cock dragging against your walls with every slow and torturous roll of his hips.
“attagirl,” he praises. “fuck, look at you. so pretty like this. twitchin’ all over me.”
you whimper. try to bury your face in the sheets. he doesn’t let you.
his hand curls into your hair, tugging gently. just enough to tilt your head back, let him see the way your mouth falls open with every sound you make.
“let me hear it,” he says. “don’t hide.”
and then he starts to fuck you in earnest - slow and deep strokes. every thrust just a little sharper, dragging that wrecked little noise out of your throat again and again. your body squirms, hips wriggling, fingers gripping his wrist, but it’s no use. he’s stronger.
you’re not going anywhere.
“that’s it,” he groans. “that’s my girl. look at you. can’t stop moving. can’t take it but you still want more.”
you’re going to lose your mind.
and he’s going to help.
based on this request
A/N: guys i'm sorry this was so buns :( i have to get used to writing geto 😃
blakekathryn
romaincrisis
janainaart
origamiaround
germansingergirl
2087
