Hobbywriter 27y ..a Newbie ..

Austrian girl, powered by coffee and anime.

[m-beatrice]

Sukuna as a boyfriend is never easy...

He is often grumpy, as emotionally accessible as a rock, and he can't even stand 90% of humanity. The fact that he has a girlfriend at all should be considered a new wonder of the world.

And with you -his Girlfriend, it's not different. You've never heard him say “I miss you,” and of course an “I love you” is out of question. but sometimes—just sometimes—he slips.

you slowly begin to wake up, a familiar warmth on your back, big warm hands lie lazily around your waist - suddenly you hear a soft grumble,“...mhmm... you smell... nice...” time stops Sukuna- still half asleep, buries his nose deep in your neck. You stop breathing, you don't think, what did he say, clearly you must have heard it wrong, right?!

“You like how I smell?!?” your voice shoots up—you can't believe what came out of his mouth, you're sure you must have died in your sleep and now you've woken up in heaven.

“..nope.. never said that..,” he immediately backtracks when he comes back to his senses- realizes what kind of lovey-dovey nonsense he babbled in his half-sleep.

“Oh yeah, you can't take it back now...”

“Please stop talking, you are ruining my mood” he mumbles in your hair and takes another deep breath of your scent, like a little junkie who doesn't want to admit that he has an addiction problem.

“Ohhh kunaaa... you loooove meee give me a kiss..” your voice begging for his lips. You try to wiggle your way out, but his big arms won't let you move an fucking inch, Clearly he doesn't want to see your smug grin because of what his dumbass said in a moment of weakness.

“Woman, silent now.” a large pillow lands directly in your face, trying to quiet your overly happy babbling.

“You're an ass,” you murmur into the pillow, but your grin only widens under the soft fabric. “Yeah, and you better not forget that.”

---- Sorry, wrote this quickly on my way home. Hope you like it anyway, love yah. ---

[iamsoclone]

NOBLE ✦ heian!sukuna and his new arranged wife!reader...who barely looks at him, let alone fucks him... | NSFW. oral (f. rec). slight degredation. manhandling. a steamy onsen. ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა (3.6k)

Life had been a series of decisions made by everyone but you.

Being raised under strict rule and watchful eye just to be sold off to the wealthiest, most respected man in the country wasn't something you fought exactly, you knew it was a battle you wouldn't win.

They could treat you like a prize sow, but that didn't mean you'd sit there getting fat and happy and filled with babies like one.

Especially not when you were being unloaded onto a warlord.

Sorry, not a warlord, the warlord.

Unrivaled and undefeated, Sukuna Ryomen wore blood and ash to your first meeting as casually as he did his kimono.

Draped, loose, open in the front like he didn't care who gawked at his chiseled chest or the thick black ink that wrapped his body and disappeared into the robe.

You kept your head low but your eyes on the bored, tattooed face of the man who didn't even seem to be listening to the details of your ceremony taking place the following week.

Sukuna got one look at your expression, your posture, your dress, and was about to write you off as yet another mindless, well trained insect who got off on following orders. You certainly looked the part.

But as the meeting finished and you rose to your feet, lowering to a deep and respectful bow, you muttered something at him.

"I do hope you plan to bathe before the ceremony, I can smell you from here."

When you straightened, your face gave absolutely nothing away. But there was venom and fire slithering behind the courteous tone.

When you walked off to follow your mother and father, you did not look back.

But you... you insulted him. Told him he stunk right to his face and shattered the image he'd built in his head in the moments you knelt across from him.

Maybe you weren't the polite, sweet, mindless doll your parents raised you to be.

Well, at least you wouldn't be boring.

...

Oh, how he had come to regret those words.

Sukuna didn't think much about how his life would change once he was married. He'd be expected to make an heir, but it wasn't like that would affect his life.

Ha.

Hard to make an heir when his wife refused to acknowledge his existence, god forbid sleep in the same bed.

Hard to make an heir when his balls were full and the only seed he spent was on pretty, fluff-for-brains concubines, or eventually, when he could hardly stand to even look at them, his own god damned hand.

Being married to you wasn't only not boring, it was hell.

He had to wonder which of the many heinous acts he'd committed thus far in his lifetime had landed him living punishment in the form of you.

Probably all of them.

But Sukuna wasn't only a sadist, but a masochist just the same.

Sure he glared and sneered and scoffed at your back as you walked out the moment he stepped in a room. Making a snide comment under your breath as you passed him just to set his teeth grinding away.

Sometimes he would bark a, "Know your place, woman." At your disappearing form, catching your shoulders shaking the slightest bit. Like you were fucking laughing.

It made his blood boil and hands itch to do something. To retaliate, to show you your place and put you in it.

You were supposed to be a wife. Subservient and devoted in every way to him and his wants, his needs.

That’s the thing, in every technical way, you were. You ran the household, ate meals with him when expected, attended ceremonies and political gatherings when it was called for. On the outside, you were absolutely perfect.

And in some backwards way, you really were perfect for him.

A match in fire and callousness, you didn't let it rage out of control like he could. You kept it in check and used your seething as an underhanded weapon.

One that really got you what you wanted, because now you had all the freedoms of a wealthy noblewoman, and you had Sukuna reluctantly wrapped around your pretty little finger.

You knew he was not the person to have worked up and left on the edge, but it’s not like you particularly gave a shit. It was amusing to see how his crimson eyes lingered as you passed in the hall, some staff member in tow as you listed off your preferences and plans for a gathering. The way his nostrils flared as he caught your scent. 

No, it slapped him across the face. Invaded his senses and had all four of his fists clenched.

He told himself you were just another woman. His wife, sure, but no different than any other concubine. But the way his hands itched to reach and grab you at the waist, rip your obi off and squeeze the soft curve instead, to pull you in and bury his face into the crook of your neck and breathe so deep he’d never get your scent out of his sinuses.

The way he ached to have you sat on his lap taking every inch of him, to fill you until your belly swelled with his babies. Fucked his heir into you.

He’d never had the urge to breed before, and it was really fucking annoying. It made him feel like a fucking animal, and he hated it. 

Sure he sated animalistic needs, eating, fucking, killing. But they didn’t control him. 

Sukuna could level civilizations singlehandedly, raze villages to the ground and upheave the world just to toss it on its head. He was a warlord—no, the fucking warlord, and his pretty little wife had him tearing his own hair out. 

God, he needed to relax. This wasn’t him. He didn’t let emotions run his life, and he certainly didn't let people run his life.

Meanwhile you and your life carried on just the same. Ate dinner and sipped fine tea imported from the mountainous regions to the east, strolled the gardens full of fresh blooms and the low buzzing hum of cicadas, stripped free of your yukata with the help of your attendants and left to soak in the hot spring watching the sun set on the land. 

On your land. 

You supposed being married to the brute wasn't so bad after all. 

Steam rolled off the water, lifted by the light breeze that rustled leaves and set chimes twinkling. 

It was peace. You were exactly where you wanted to be, and certainly enjoyed it, but you couldn't deny you craved something just a little more. Something exciting. 

“B-but sir! Please, wait!” The shrill, panicked voice of an attendant rang out just outside the door into the onsen and you whipped your head around just in time to see it slide open with a bang!

And behold, your husband. 

Taking up nearly the entire doorway with nothing but a towel barely hanging on around his hips. So short the black rings inked on each thigh were visible.

It left you speechless, to see so much of him so bare. That he’d be brazen enough to walk right in on you so indecent. But you dipped quickly, putting your body underwater up to your neck and covering your breasts. 

“What do you think you're doing in here?” You lifted your chin, dignity intact even as you hunched to maintain a shred of modesty.

Sukuna froze in the entrance, ruby eyes wide and stuck on you for a long moment until he finally broke and stepped into the room.

“Bathing. I believe it was you that requested me to, no?” He quirked a brow, bare feet slapping the stone as he walked toward the steps into the water. 

The same attendant hurried in behind him, coming to crouch next to you. “Ma'am, your towel? Would you like to—” 

“Leave us,” Sukuna dismissed her without a look, halted and about to get in. 

You took the towel and muttered that you were fine, that she could go. She bowed low to you both and then that was it. You were alone. 

Well, alone with your husband. 

Who at least had the decency to go against tradition and leave the scrap of towel on and covering where thick black lines dipped low on his abdomen. 

You studied each other for a moment. Your hands cupping your breasts and his crossed over his chest and planted on his hips. 

You broke the stare first, turning to look out at the open scene and he started down the steps. He sank into the water and you watched from your periphery as he eased back, running a damp hand through his dusty pink mess of hair and rested two muscled arms on the stone ledge.

It was the first time you'd ever been alone with him, and you refused to look at him or speak first. 

“I despise how they hover.” Sukuna's gruff voice cut through the silence and you did not look at him as you retorted.

“That is their duty. An attendant would not be properly fulfilling their role if they were not present when needed.” 

Sukuna barked a laugh, “Well, you'd know all about that now, wouldn't you?” 

Your head snapped to the side and you looked him right in the eye with brows furrowed. “What, exactly, is that supposed to mean?” 

“Don't act oblivious now.” He tch'd, casting his gaze out at the view instead of you. “Stupidity does not suit you.” 

You blinked. A few times. And despite the heat of the water, felt warmth race across your cheeks.

Was he really so callous?!

He caught your slight shock and smirked, “I assumed you'd be fleeing about now, is something the matter?” 

“I will not be bullied out of my evening soak.” You huffed.

“Bullied?” Sukuna scoffed, “You've had quite a soft upbringing if this constitutes bullying in your eyes.” He could see your face twist, fire flickering in your eyes as he prodded you and all he could think was finally. 

“You know nothing about me, so do not speak as if you do.” You almost sneered as you hissed it at him. Like he'd truly struck something.

And Sukuna was not one to back down when he struck a nerve.

“I know enough to know you're a sheltered, well mannered brat. If there is more than that, I have not seen it.” He said it like a challenge, like he was daring you to show him there was more.

He had no fucking idea what he was talking about. Sukuna was a brute, blood and dirt still under his dark fingernails from the havoc he likely wreaked just before coming to interrupt your evening.

So fast the water splashed the ledge, you snatched the towel and wrapped it around your body under the surface. It was flimsy and lewd, but better than your hands.

His eyes went wide, gripping the ledge as you rose to your feet. Waist deep in the water, the towel clung to your form and had him swallow visibly. 

“You seem to have certain expectations of me, does it upset you that I have not met them?” Your head cocked, taking a step forward.

Sukuna did not waver on the outside, simply sneered, “I am no stranger to disappointment.” 

Your eyes narrowed into a glare that threw daggers at him and god, he felt his heart skip a beat as you cut right back with, “Well, neither am I.”

The water rippled around you as you took step after step closer to him. “I never asked to be married off to the likes of you.” 

“That makes two of us.” He shot right back, rising to his feet as you drew close enough to look down at him, making you tilt your head back a bit to keep your eyes on his.

They betrayed you though and flickered to his chest, following the black lines that cut down his abdomen. Water dripping from his bare body, the tiny scrap of a towel heavy on his hips, soaked and clinging to his muscled thighs.

God, why did he have to look like that?

“Brute.”

Surely you'd be the death of him.

“Prude.” His brow lifted like a dare and you stepped right up to the challenge.

“Whore.” 

It surprised even you and as it left your lips you saw the shock hit Sukuna like a slap to the face. 

Too far?

“Why you little—” He snarled, grabbing you at the waist with one hand, nails pressing in enough to make you gasp as he brought his face close and held you in place. “You dare to speak to me like that?” 

“So all those women, you mean to tell me you keep them around for idle chatter? Please.” You scoffed and Sukuna lifted a brow, lips pulling into a slow smirk. 

“What’s this? Is the brat jealous?” 

You? Jealous? Pfft, ridiculous.

He wasn’t about to tell you that it had been weeks since he’d last even tried to be with another woman. That it disgusted him to even think of. That he couldn’t. 

But here you were, right here in his grasp, trembling a little but not pulling away. A crinkle to your nose like he just caught you red handed. And that certainly stirred something in him.

“You… your—” You stammered a little and his smirk split into a grin. Sharp and gleaming. He could feel your heart racing away under his grip. A clear of your throat and you refitted the blades in your gaze. “Clearly, your delusion knows no bounds.”

“You’d think it delusion that a woman would be jealous of another bringing pleasure to her man?” He hummed, grip softening on your waist slightly just to slide down to your hip. Your lips parted and he could see your thighs squeeze under the surface as he stepped closer. 

“Or maybe you like the thought.” He mused, so close you could feel the heat of his body and his breath on your skin as he laughed once, low and gruff. “Maybe you touch yourself at the thought of another woman bouncing on my cocks, screaming my name in ecstasy."

Wait… what?!

You had to have heard that wrong. Sure the brute had four arms but that would just be…

It took a moment to gather your thoughts and hiss a meek little, “Never.”

“Do you ever touch yourself?” He hummed again, dipping underwater to trace the edge of your towel, grazing bare skin and making you swallow. “Or are you too prudish for even that?” 

You could just shove him away and storm off. In fact, why weren’t you doing exactly that?

Heart racing, you could feel your pulse between your legs, squeezed together as your belly tightened. His eyes bored into you like he knew exactly what was happening. How traitorous your body had become. 

Lips parted and wavering, you hesitated to answer.

Sukuna Ryomen could always sense blood in the water, and he knew it was time to strike. 

He moved, his face coming down so close to yours, but still out of reach. Thick fingers dragging over the bare skin of your thigh, he pressed up between your legs and sent a jolt of lightning ripping up your spine. You yelped and gripped his arm with both hands, but he didn't move. Just held pressure and studied how your face twisted and flushed.

“Tell me to stop,” He said, voice hoarse and quiet. 

“S-s—ah! S… S-kuna,” You whimpered his name, clinging to his tattooed forearm. God he could feel you throbbing against his fingers and his cocks—already stiff, twitched. Ready to spear you on both and fill you with him until you sobbed. 

“Yes, brat?” 

You squirmed, eyes squeezing shut. What the hell was happening to you? “I… I can’t—”

“Look at the prude, coming undone and I haven't even done anything. Do you want more?” He rubbed a slow, tiny circle on your clit and your cunt clenched around nothing.

“Mmph—god,” You gasped, using his arm to support yourself. 

“Use your words, brat. Ask me nicely, and I’ll make you see stars.”

The way he spoke to you, shit… you must have been out of your fucking mind. Or so horny you could barely stand. Either way, you pried your eyes open and met his. 

“Please,” You whined, so filled with pressure you could hardly stand it and the word almost had him on his knees. 

“Please what?” He held firm even as you glared weak little daggers at him, that fire burning behind your pretty, glazed eyes. 

“Please,” You couldn’t believe the position you’d landed yourself in. You couldn’t believe just how good it felt… “Make me see stars.”

Restraint snapped with a low groan and his hands were on you. It was a blur and you could hardly keep track of how surrounded you felt. One slipping up into your hair, two squeezing down your sides and pulling at the towel—barely hanging on and about to give—

Ah, yep, there it goes. 

Hit the water with a wet plap and you were left fully exposed. 

His finger found your slick entrance and he pushed inside. Barely even half of it but your eyes went wide with how thick it was and you squeaked nonetheless, starting to protest but Sukuna shut you up.

He hefted you up like you were nothing, slotting your thighs around his hips and his own covering let go just the same as yours. 

God how he was dying to use you, feel you squeeze around him like you did his finger. But you weren’t quite ready for that yet.

So he pulled your hair, tilting your head back as he brought his mouth down on yours, lips pressing yours open and delving in with his tongue.

The sound you made into his mouth, tongue tangled with his as you gave in and let your hand thread up into his hair, nails dug into his bicep, it was lewd and perfect and exactly what he craved. 

“You're still a—ah—brute,” You panted between kisses, gasping as he squeezed your ass and spread your cheeks, grinding your bare pussy on his abdomen.

“You're leaking on me,” Sukuna growled, tugging harder at your hair. “Maybe you like that fact.” 

Before you could protest, something wet squished against your pussy. You jerked with a gasp and started to squirm, but Sukuna had you trapped in his grasp and wasn't exactly keen on letting you go. 

“Ah, you asked for this. Stars, remember?” 

“Wha-what is that?” Your voice pitched as he held you against the thing flicking up on your twitching clit.

It felt amazing, electricity shooting through your limbs with every movement, but it was foreign. Big but softer, unlike how his hand had been.

“You like it, don’t you? Like riding on my tongue?” He nipped at your lip like it was obvious. 

His tongue?

Your nose crinkled, “What are you—oh my—mmph!” His tongue thrust into your mouth again as his… uh… other tongue prodded at your hole. 

Sukuna groaned into your mouth, tasting you—all of you. Legs pinned wide open for the wet muscle to work its way inside. Slick hitting the tastebuds making his eyes roll.

God you tasted fucking good. One taste and he was surely addicted, just like he was to your scent.

The feeling of it squirming and exploring deeper, licking up into your gummy walls as sharp teeth grazed your clit, it had you keening and bucking in his arms. The stretch was unreal, and had you struggling to breathe.

“Fuck…” He rasped, pulling back to watch as you writhed, brows knit and bitten lips pushed out in a sweet little pout. You looked perfect, you felt perfect, walls pulsing around the length squelching in and out. 

He was fucking you with it, and you were on the verge, ready to explode from a white hot pressure filling your belly. Shit… this had to be a sin of some kind.

Sukuna tugged your hair, leaning you back and supporting your weight to give you both a full view of how he stretched you out. “Look at that. Poor little pussy can barely handle the whole thing.” He thrust that tongue in deep and curled and you cried out. 

“Oh god! I-I can't—” 

“Do it,” He commanded and whatever was holding the dam back, broke. Head thrown back, your chest heaved with a strangled noise erupting as you spasmed, nails raking down his arms. 

As slick leaked into his maw, trembling in Sukuna’s grip as he groaned with the feeling, the taste of you coming undone, your fuzzy mind went…

Stars… 

As you rode the last waves, he pulled out of your twitching pussy, giving your clit a flick and humming a laugh when you jolted. 

“Well, where did all that attitude go? Speechless already, brat?” He mocked, watching your lashes flutter and eyes struggle to focus into a glare. On fire with a flush that raced across your cheeks and chest. 

“Pu-put me down you fiend.” You huffed and pushed weakly at his chest and Sukuna barked a laugh. Grinning wicked and feral with gleaming canines and your tummy clenched all over again.

“No-no, I’m not done with you.” Your knees hit the hard stone as Sukuna sat back on the ledge, thighs spread over his, letting your weight drop into his lap and right onto his cocks, pushing your hips back to grind you against the thick lengths. The feeling had you choke on air and despite thinking he would destroy you if he stuck one in, god forbid both, your cunt throbbed and you were painfully aware of how empty you felt. 

“Not even close, wife.”

this is for u @interlude-enternude <3 it was supposed to just be a drabble but i love us torturing suki too much :3 m. list | divider by @/kthice <3

[sluttyangel04]

18+ you beg your mean fuck buddy!sukuna to fuck you… slow?!

“hah- fuck,” your moans echo through sukunas room, who is currently preparing you with his fingers to fuck you stupid. ready to sink his dick into you any second.

finally he looses his patience, not wanting to waste anymore time. you whimper and the sound of his belt opening and falling to the floor is a hint of what’s to come next. “oh shit, i’m gonna fuck you so good,” he groans as he positions himself at your entrance but-

“w-wait sukuna.. hmpf- can you..,” you stutter those words out as there’s been something on your mind lately that you haven’t been able to adress yet. “huh? what is it, woman?” he grumbles, impatient. he just wants to fuck you. that’s no good time for talk right now.

“can you… fuck me slow this time?” a deep laugh escapes him and he thinks you’re joking but when you don’t join in and stay quiet instead he raises an eyebrow at you. “shit- you’re serious?” you can only nod in response and your cheeks heaten up instantly. he scoffs, rubbing the hair at the back of his neck irritated, “I don’t do slow.”

“but-“ “no. you wanna continue being my little slut? then take that dick the way I give it to you,” he groans annoyed, then finally pushes inside your tight little entrance. both of you moan at the same time and your walls clench around his thick cock as it stretches you wide open for him.

“oh yea, she’s taking me so good. y’feel that?” he emphasizes his words, sliding out and pushing inside your tight hole again, making you tremble and whimper loud. he starts fucking into you in a fast pace, luring such sweet sounds out of you.

“mhnngh.. ‘s so big sukuna-,” you moan into the pillow as he stretches you out wider. his hips slam against you from behind.

“can’t believe you’d ask me to fuck you slow. I mean who do you think I am? you really wanna get fucked like that instead?” he scoffs and his thrusts slow down, fucking you in a painfully slow rhythm now with no real force behind it.

you gasp as you feel every vein of his thick length brush against your walls, making them clench around him hard, “mhh- shit. don’t do that,” he groans, your pussy squeezing him so tight he needs to stop for a second.

“ahh-! ‘kuna! p-please,” you stutter out and he can only laugh. now he is pulling his cock out of you completely and teases you, dragging the tip through your wet folds. “please what? didn’t you want me to fuck you slow?” you clench around nothing, legs shaking and your pretty little cunt aching from emptiness.

“pleasee ‘kuna, I need you..hmpf,” he chuckles amused at your desperate pleas for more and finally he pushes his dick back in but takes his sweet time. it’s gliding in slowly while he presses his thumb on your clit to massage it slowly. “yea, that what you need, princess?” he mocks and you can only whimper, wiggling your ass against him to ask for more.

“getting impatient now, are we? slut,” he spits those words out, slapping your ass hard and slamming the rest of his dick inside with a loud squelching sound of your juices gathering around his dick. “hah- s-sukuna-..mhhn,” you’re a moaning mess as he grinds into you relentlessly, getting your insides sore and leaving red hand prints on your ass.

he’s getting faster and faster and you can already feel your orgasm build up, “mhpf.. w-wait ‘kuna.. p-please I want-.. s-slow so bad..” he groans and suddenly pulls out again, flipping you on your back. he’s hovering over you now and staring down, “you’re such an entitled little brat, god.” he rolls his eyes but it turns into that big smirk when he degrades you the way he likes it, “you’re so pathetic, the way you beg me to take you like probably one of your little boyfriends did before me, huh?”

your cunt’s dripping and your cheeks turn a dark shade of pink. you can’t help it that he’s got you wrapped around his finger, all under his control with your body instantly reacting to his words. lips parting, you open your mouth to just say anything but his hand clamps down on top of your mouth.

“shh, keep your pretty mouth shut for me, yea? ‘wanna concentrate on the look on your face when I ruin you for anyone else.” both his hands trail down your body then, grabbing your hips and pulling you close against him. one hand at his dick, guiding it inside you slowly. he stares down at you, watching every little change in expression. “mhh.. ‘kuna-“ your eyes flutter with pleasure as you feel every ridge of his cock fill you out again, and it doesn’t stop. you watch the way his cock disappears inside you, twitching as your walls pulse around him.

grabbing a handful of your hair, he yanks your head up to crash his lips against you, messy. he pulls his cock out, then slowly pushes back into you again. oh fuck-

you moan into his mouth, a shiver rolling down your spine at the sensation. he rolls his hips against yours slowly, groaning against your lips too as he continues eating them up hungrily, “that’s what you asked for, whore, you better fucking enjoy it,” he murmurs in between kisses.

as another whimper leaves your throat, he starts to grind into you harder, deeper, pulling your hips flush against him and bottoming out inside of you. you see stars. he is hitting spots he hasn’t before and your legs start to shake uncontrollably already. “hah.. oh my god- sukuna-!” a satisfied smirk forms on his lips, grabbing your hips harder and most likely leaving marks, “ah.. fuck- you’re such a mess for me, my slutty little girl, even whining when I’m barely fucking you?” a deep laugh escapes him and you could almost think he’s went insane, slamming his length into you harder with every push.

“mhh-! hah- ‘kuna..!” your eyes roll back and you can only stutter any words you wanted to say out.

sukuna seems to visibly enjoy it, yanking your face towards him by the back of your head. he wants to see every of your little expressions. wants to see how bad he ruins you. “fuck- if you could see your fucking face right now,” he’s jerking his hips faster now, chasing after relieve for the both of you.

“hah- shit, you’re so helpless under me- it’s a shame,” he slams into you, grinning as he slows it down again, making you shiver. you’re a mess when he keeps switching up between slow, deep thrusts and fucking you fast. he’s got your body pressed into the matress under him, legs wrapped around his waist. so close his dick is not only stimulating your insides but also rubbing against the outside of your clit between the two of you.

oh my god. you’re going to lose it. every rub against your clit, brings you to the edge and sukuna seems to notice too by the way he’s pressing you even closer against him by your lower back. “shit, come on, cum all over my dick while i’m ruining you,” his breath comes out in shaky gasps, hips stuttering.

and thats it. a high pitched moan rings its way out of your throat and your legs shake around him as you cum all around his dick - no - as you squirt all over him and yourself, soaking your thighs and sukunas shaft. “ahh! mhh- s‘kuna-“ you’re crying out at that point and he doesn’t stop, slamming his dick into you continuously.

“shiiit, did you just squirt all over my cock?-“ sukuna can’t hold back any longer, rutting into you with a last hard thrust. thick ropes of his cum spill into you as he groans loudly. his hips jerking as he fills your ruined pussy with so much of his white liquid. he’s never filled you out with that much.

he’s also never fucked a girl slow before.

“we should.. do that more often..” you whisper shyly as you both calmed down, earning just a scoff from him, “whatever.”

but maybe he did enjoy it and will try it out more often now. just to torture you, obviously. not that he likes it or something…

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[sapph22]

When Two Red Flags Meet

Synopsis : You and Satoru Gojo are the definition of a toxic couple. On and off, breaking up at least once a month. But this time, things might actually get serious. And maybe there’s someone, maybe two someones, waiting and more than ready to take his place.

Pairing : Satoru Gojo X reader X JJK men

Warnings : MDNI, 18+, Yandere

A/n : Reblogs and comments are appreciated

Part1 Part 7 (Last part)

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[ok-sougo]

in which he voices his plans to marry you.

minors dni

thinking about: toji, shiu, geto, gojo + your favs! contains: post-sex fluff, nsfw themes, fem!reader, pet names (baby, babe, doll), talk of marriage 

you’ve both barely come down from the high of your simultaneous orgasms when he whispers it in your ear.

“gonna marry you someday, baby,” he mutters against the crook of your neck, brushing loose hair out of your. forehead. “you know that?”

your breath hitches. the idea of staying together long-term has been implied by both of you but never stated in such certainty—especially not by him. even though you had never felt more certain that he was who you wanted to spend your life with, hearing him taking the initiative to say it takes your breath away. not so much the words themselves but rather how casually he says them, but because of how casually he says them—as if this is something written into his very bones. as if the idea of not marrying you is unthinkable.

his hand runs slow and warm down your thigh. his cock, now softened, is still inside you—normally you’d be eager for round two, but right now, you’re still a bit stunned. you want to soak in the intimacy of this moment.

“is this some sort of post-nut clarity?” you joke.

he scoffs, flipping the two of you over as he maneuvers you so that you’re straddling him, his cock slipping out of you. “oh, come on. don’t act like you didn’t know i’ve wanted to wife up your ass for a while now.”

you lean forward to wrap your arms around him and rest your head on his bare shoulder, fingers tracing shapes on his back.

when he speaks again, his voice is a a little cocky, but soft around the edges. “don’t go quiet on me now, doll,” he murmurs, kissing your neck. “you’re the one that told me you don’t do casual.”

“i don’t,” you say, fingertips running over his shoulder blades, tracing the old scars. “which is why i’m a tad alarmed i let a man with only expired snacks in his kitchen take my virginity of commitment.”

he huffs a breath—maybe a laugh. “and yet, you let me do this to you ten minutes ago.” he takes your left hand, examining the faint teeth marks that remain at the base of your ring finger.

your cheeks flush, and you snatch your hand away from him. “ok, that was kinda cute, i do admit.”

“you moaned.”

“shut up!”

“but babe, you did,” he says, grinning now, teasing. he grips your hand again, this time to intertwine your fingers with his. “arched your back, clenched tighter around me and all. coulda sworn you were tryin’ to say ‘i do’.”

“ever been told how annoying that filthy mouth of yours is?”

he leans in close, breath warm against your ear. “actually, you were just telling me how much you love it.”

and you do, you love all of it, all of him. how he reserves this side of him for you and you only. how his love for you is so apparent in everything he does, even if he’s only recently been able to express it aloud to you in words. 

he shifts a little, pulling you tighter against him, and he hopes you can somehow telepathically understand what he’s trying to communicate to you in this moment—that he knows he’s a complicated man, a broken one, that maybe he doesn’t deserve you, but he wants to try anyway because you’re the only constant in his life and the only part of it that feels like home. 

“hey,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead. “i mean it. i’m gonna give it all to you: the marrying thing, the ring, the love. all of it.”

“sounds like a grocery list from the way you’re describing it.”

“if it is,” he says. “then you’re on my list. next to the eggs.”

you chuckle, gripping onto his hand tighter. your bodies are still sticky and the sheets are a mess, and in a moment the two of you will probably have to get up and shower. but for now, you cling onto the moment, just lying there tangled in his limbs, basking in the warmth of his love.

meanwhile, he makes a mental note to figure out what cut of ring you want.

any interactions highly appreciated!

[naomiiocha]

Since he won the poll I gift you Fratboy!sukuna, he has a tongue piercing too maybe I’ll show it in another drawing later

[kaiserresque]

Taking what's not yours — S. Gojo

From the very first day, Satoru Gojo didn’t enter your line of sight. He stole it.

It started with a brief look, the kind that shouldn’t really mean anything other than friendly, but here you were. That man could walk into a room and boom- everyone’s eyes (yours included) were suddenly glued to him.

But you being reasonable, practical, painfully realistic you, told yourself what every sane person would:

He’s way out of reach. A guy like him doesn’t happen to simpletons like you.

You convinced yourself of that so thoroughly it became a shield. A quiet, stubborn truth you clung to whenever your pulse reacted stupidly to his presence. Whenever his laugh came too close. Whenever he turned those damned eyes on you for a second too long.

You realise quiet late that you should’ve held on tighter.

Because the moment he initiated something; the first teasing comment meant only for you, the first brush of fingers stealing something from your hands, the first night he stood closer than ever before; you felt something unlock in your chest.

Something warm. Something foolish. Something that whispered, maybe…

And being wanted by him, or whatever version of wanting he offered, felt like standing on a rooftop with the whole city beneath you.

Reckless, elevated, like wind had chosen you. Like the world suddenly opened its palms and said go on, take him.

But you didn’t know that being something to Satoru hurts worse than being nothing at all.

And now?

Now you’re sitting on your bed, knees pulled to your chest, the blue glow of your phone washing over your face.

Your thumb scrolls through your contacts, not to call anyone, you’re not that brave anymore. But just to avoid the line right at the top:

Satoru Gojo — 14 missed calls (Outgoing).

Over the course of three days, you had called him fourteen times. And he answered not once.

You don’t know what stings more. That he stopped trying… or that you didn’t.

A humorless laugh escapes you.

Silly, wasn’t it?

Reaching for the moon and expecting it to belong to you.

Because the moon isn’t anyone’s. And certainly not yours.

-------

The rain starts sometime past midnight.

A slow thumping against the windowpane that makes your dull apartment feel smaller than it is. You step out of the shower after standing under the hot water far too long, hoping the steam would clear your head the way it clears a mirror.

It doesn’t.

You’re towel-drying your hair when you hear the knock. It's strange, given the odd time. Who could be here at this hour?

You take one step toward the door, then another, the towel dragging behind you… but before you can reach the handle, the latch clicks, and the door opens on its own.

Your heart sinks and lifts at the same time.

You know that presence instantly. Mainly because no one else has the audacity or the keys to your apartment.

Satoru’s silhouette fills the doorway first, then steps into the light.

He’s drenched from head to toe. His hair is soaked through, strands sticking to his forehead, others dripping onto the collar of his shirt. Water clings to his lashes, his eyes- normally too bright and endearing for their own good- look tired and muted, like someone dimmed him down.

He shuts the door behind him with a quiet thud.

You don't speak yet. You wait for him to say something. Anything.

He doesn’t.

He just breathes out slowly and toes off his shoes, pushing them aside with a wet squeak against the floor. His jacket comes off next, peeled off his shoulders and dropped carelessly. The fabric hits the ground with a dull, damp slap.

Satoru's fingers rake through his wet hair, sending droplets down his neck. He looks nothing like the man who walks into rooms as if the world revolved around him.

He looks… human. Exhausted, frayed.

When he finally looks up and scans you up and down with those ocean blue eyes, you feel that same godforsaken hope come back.

He steps toward you without a word. One gradual step, then another.

You’re backing up before you even realize you’re moving. Something in his gaze is pulling, not demanding, but desperate in a way that makes the back of your throat tighten.

His hand lifts to your cheek, cold and soft. His thumb gently sweeps along your skin, like he’s checking if you’re really there.

You barely get out a shaky inhale to speak. His lips are on yours a heartbeat later.

There’s no warning, no easing into it, no room to think. His mouth crashes into yours with a hunger you haven’t felt from him in weeks.

Satoru's breath is warm but his body is cold from the rain. His fingers slide into your hair, still damp from the shower, gripping just enough to tilt your head back.

You gasp against his mouth, but he swallows the sound. He walks you backward, step by step, his body pressing into yours, until your back hits the wall with a soft thud. His other hand grips your waist, pulling you in until you can feel every line of him.

“Satoru—” your words disappear into a mumble between both of your mouths.

He only kisses you harder, lips moving with urgency, as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he stops.

“Wait—” Your nails graze the back of his neck as you try to push him away, but he takes it as a shiver, not resistance.

His mouth trails down your jaw, the slick of rain on his hair dripping onto your collarbone.

“I missed you,” he murmurs against your skin, voice rough. “I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I was going insane.”

“Stop,” you breathe, pushing firmer this time.

He doesn’t hear it. Or he refuses to.

His teeth catch your lower lip, grip tightening on your waist. His whole body leans into yours, caging you in.

You shove him, as hard as you can this time.

He stumbles backward from the force, shock written so clearly on his face it almost physically hurts. He braces a hand behind him to keep from falling, breath coming in sharp, uneven pulls. His hair drips onto the floor, lips still slightly parted from the kiss.

You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand, chest rising and falling rapidly. “I told you to fucking stop, Gojo.”

He takes a tiny, hesitant step towards you, fingers flexing as though he doesn’t know whether to reach out or pull away.

“I thought…” His voice drops further. “I thought you wanted this.”

The redness on his lips catches your eye again, the slight swell from the kiss making him look vulnerable in a way that almost hurts you more than his words. Satoru's gaze flickers between anger and something softer; hurt, confusion, disbelief; all tangled together.

You look at him for a long moment, then shake your head faintly.

“What about hello?” You gesture helplessly. “What about asking me how I’ve been? What about sorry I didn’t answer your calls ? Or sorry I disappeared for days ? Not even once?”

He sighs, running a hand over his face. “You know how my job is. You know very well that I—”

“Do you think you can show up at my door anytime you feel lonely and I’ll just open my legs for you?”

His eyes widen, a flicker of guilt and confusion crossing his face. “That’s not… you know i didn’t mean it like that.”

“That’s what it feels like.” Your voice trembles, frustration finally surfacing. “Satoru, that’s exactly what it feels like.”

He steps closer, slower this time, cautious of your reaction. “I don’t see you that way.”

“Then why does it feel like that’s all I am to you?” Your fingers curl into fists. “Why do I get the disappearing and the last-minute nights where you touch me like I’m necessary but treat me like a convenience?”

The words land like a blow in the silence of your apartment, and he doesn't dare move.

“I’m terrified, Satoru. Of waking up one day and hearing nothing because you’re gone.” Your bottom lip trembles, even when you try your best to keep your composure. “Because you went ahead and got yourself killed.”

Something in him snaps at that. The softness collapses, replaced by something hot and brittle. A spark of anger flickers across his face, tightening his jaw.

“So that’s why you pushed me away. Because you think I’m going to die, just like that?”

“No.” Your fingers press into your temple. “You can't just walk in and—”

“That’s just how I show I care.” he blurts out, hand darting out to catch your wrist before you look away.

It’s not rough, but it’s desperate. His grip tightens for a second like he’s afraid you’ll slip from him entirely.

“That’s not caring, Satoru!”

He flinches at the volume in your voice, his eyes widening just a little, like he never expected you to react.

“I’m just...” You sigh, pulling your wrist away sharply from his grip. “I'm scared because losing you is the one thing I don’t think I’d recover from.”

The anger on his face stutters for a moment. But just as quickly, it reignites.

“That’s stupid,” he says stubbornly. “That’s ridiculous. I’m not going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.”

“No, you don’t.”

“Are you done?” he drags his hands down his face, like you're the one being difficult. “Because I'm still here.”

“Satoru…” You fight the urge to laugh, or cry, or collapse entirely. “You are not immortal.”

He looks away sharply, jaw ticking.

Satoru hates hearing that.

You can tell he wants to fight you on it- wants to argue, wants to insist- but he stays silent, staring at the floor as water drips from his hair. You step closer as his chest rises and falls in tight, uneven breaths.

Finally he mutters, voice smaller than you've ever heard. “I don’t want you thinking about me dying.”

You bring your hand slowly up to his cheek, cold and pale from the rain.

“I don’t want to think about it either,” you whisper, thumb brushing the corner of his jaw. “But I can’t shut it off.”

For a beat, Satoru goes utterly still. He leans into your palm like it’s the only place he’s allowed to rest; eyes fluttering shut, his own hand coming up to cover yours, fingers curling around your wrist as if it's his one and only hope.

His shoulders lose their usual careless posture, sagging just a little, like your touch is the first real thing he’s felt all day.

He looks nothing like the man people call invincible. He looks like someone who’s running out of places to hide.

“I don’t want you thinking I’m using you.”

Your hand twitches in his grasp, but he only tightens his hold.

“You don’t get it,” he says quietly, almost defeated. “When I’m not with you, everything feels… wrong. Like I’m stuck in a world I don’t want to be in.”

His thumb strokes the inside of your wrist absently.

“But I don’t know how to do this. I don’t know how to love you like you deserve to be loved.”

He turns your hand slowly, bringing it up to his lips and pressing a kiss into your palm. Soft, lingering, but with a kind of desperation.

Then he finally opens his eyes, blue and hurting.

“I don’t want to lose this. Whatever it is.”

He's trying to persuade you, but it isn’t enough.

It’s never enough.

“This is what I mean,” you say, yanking your hand back. “You say things that sound like answers. And then I end up right where I started.”

You turn away haughtily, walking to your room before he can say anything else, footsteps light against the floor.

But you barely make it past the hallway as you feel the warmth of him at your back a moment before his hand closes around your wrist.

Not rough, but strong. Like he’s decided you don’t get to walk away from this conversation.

Your body stops with a small involuntary jerk, breath catching in your throat.

Satoru pulls you toward him, not yanking you, not dragging you, just guiding you backward with a pressure that brooks no argument.

Like he’s done this a hundred times.

Like your body naturally knows how to come back to his.

You pivot slightly as he spins you gently but firmly, your back hitting the wall behind with a muffled thud. His fingers slide from your wrist to your lower waist, palm warm even through your skin.

“Don’t walk away from me.”

Satoru's chest is almost touching yours, brows drawn together like he’s frustrated with you and himself at the same time. His other hand slides up your neck, softly tracing your skin like he’s reminding you of every night he’s had his hands on you.

Your chin lifts slightly as he tips your head toward himself, thigh brushing yours. His lips ghost your temple, voice is low and irritatingly calm.

“Maybe where you started wasn’t so bad.”

Your heartbeat stumbles as he lowers his head and kisses the spot beneath your ear.

“Maybe you’re overthinking.”

You let out a shaky breath. It feels like he steals it straight from your mouth.

“Satoru, stop.” you mutter.

He laughs under his breath. It’s small and humorless, and it hits your skin with instant goosebumps. “You always say you'll leave. But you never do.”

And you can't even argue this time. Because you're right where he wanted you, yet again.

[m-beatrice]

Love this 🔥

[viixa]

ME & MR. WRONG GET ALONG SO GOOD

pairings — frat!satoru x suguru'sgf!reader

synopsis. you go to a frat party with your boyfriend suguru, but he always forgets you’re even there. one look from satoru across the room—one text you shouldn’t answer—pulls you into a moment you can’t take back.

✶ tags → 7.5k words. 18+ mdni, cheating / emotional cheating, intoxication (not reader), explicit sexual content, choking (light, consensual), mirror sex, creampie, rough handling / dirty talk, jealousy, angst, toxic dynamics, frat party environment, mild humor sprinkled in hehe, possessive behavior, morally questionable choices...

✶ author's note. helloooo omg this came out of nowhere lol i originally wanted to write about suguru buuuut this came to mind instead ... also i was listening to “mr. wrong” for some odd reason and boom this is how the fix was born !!

the frat house is louder than it needs to be, the kind of loud that makes the air feel swollen, like the walls might split from the pressure of too many people talking over the same bass-heavy playlist. cheap liquor burns through the air, sticky floors catch at the bottom of your shoes, and someone’s vape pen leaks miami mint-scented clouds that cling to your hair and clothes the second you walk in.

it should feel familiar—you’ve been here a hundred times, held suguru’s hand through this doorway more weekends than you can count, kissed him in corners when the music drowned everything else out. it should feel warm in that nostalgic, messy way these parties sometimes do.

instead, the moment you step inside, you feel something fall a little out of place.

suguru has your hand for maybe three seconds before someone calls his name from across the room. he doesn’t look at you when he lets go. just drops your fingers and disappears into a cluster of people like he’s been waiting all night for an audience.

you blink once, twice, watching him get swallowed by the crowd—broad shoulders, easy smile, dark hair tied back the way he knows you like, except he didn’t do it for you tonight. he’s laughing before you even catch up to the fact that you’re now standing alone in the entryway.

you tell yourself it’s fine. it’s normal.

you find your way toward the couch because standing alone feels worse. some guy you vaguely recognize moves his legs so you can wedge yourself onto the armrest. the cushion sinks under your weight. the bass vibrates through your spine. you smooth your skirt, tuck a piece of hair behind your ear, try—unsuccessfully—to pretend you aren’t looking for suguru in the crowd.

he’s easy to spot. he’s already settled between two girls, both of them leaning into him like they rehearsed it. you wait for him to notice you sitting only a few feet away. you wait for him to gesture you over. you wait for something.

he doesn’t look at you. not once.

you swallow around the strange, quiet ache that rises in your chest, the one you try to ignore because you know it makes you feel unreasonable. you grip your solo cup a little harder than necessary, forcing a smile when someone bumps into your knee.

you pull out your phone if only to look preoccupied.

that’s when you feel it—the weight of someone’s gaze.

you look up and see him.

satoru gojo, lounging near the pong table like he was sculpted there, one hand on a ping pong ball, the other wrapped around a red cup he’s clearly been using as more of a prop than a drink. the LED lights hit him unfairly—blue catching the angles of his jaw, pink bleeding into his white hair, making him look less like a college guy and more like some kind of chaotic myth leaning against a folding table.

he’s talking to someone, half-listening at best.

his attention is on you, and he’s smiling.

your phone buzzes. your heart almost stops.

you look down. it’s him.

>> satoru : u look bored

your lips part in disbelief.

you glance up.

he raises his red cup in a small salute, like he’s saying caught you.

the music thumps. suguru laughs at something one of the girls says. they lean closer. your stomach sinks.

your phone buzzes again.

>> satoru : blink twice if u wanna be rescued

>> satoru : or kidnapped. either works

your breath stumbles out in a quiet, startled laugh. you type back before you can think.

>> you : drunk already i c

>> satoru : on ur misery

heat creeps up your neck. you look up again without meaning to, and he’s already watching you, chin tilted, eyes bright even from across the room.

he pushes off the table, still pretending to listen to the guy next to him, but his eyes flick back to you every few seconds.

you shouldn’t feel this flutter in your stomach. you shouldn’t feel anything. you have a boyfriend. you came here with him.

but suguru still hasn’t looked at you. he hasn’t even noticed you moved from where he left you.

your phone buzzes once more, almost gently this time.

>> satoru : seriously tho

>> satoru : why does he always forget ur here

your thumb hovers over the screen, vision blurring around the edges of the little gray bubbles he sends like he’s whispering in your ear instead of standing thirty feet away. you don’t answer right away. you can’t. there’s a pressure building in your chest that you don’t know how to release without something cracking open inside you.

you force your gaze toward suguru again, like maybe the universe will rearrange itself if you look long enough. he’s laughing at something the girl beside him says, head tipped back, eyes warm in a way you haven’t seen directed at you in weeks. one of them brushes his shoulder. the other touches his wrist. he doesn’t pull away. he doesn’t even glance in your direction.

your phone buzzes a third time. softer, somehow.

>> satoru : i'm not tryna be an asshole

>> satoru : i just... see it

your throat tightens.

you type slowly, choosing each word like it might explode if you press too hard.

>> you : can u not pls

your hands shake. you hope he can’t tell.

he answers instantly.

>> satoru : sure. i can "not"

>> satoru : i can also mind my own business

>> satoru : u want that?

you look up again. he’s leaning against the wall now, not pretending to mingle anymore, that half-lidded stare locked directly on you. he twirls his red cup by the rim, bored, restless, watching you like he’s waiting for you to lie to him.

you chew your lip.

>> you : maybe

>> satoru : nah

>> satoru : i don't buy that for a sec

>> satoru : ur too honest with ur eyebrows yo

>> you : wtf does that even mean

>> satoru : it means they're screaming "i'm not fine" across the damn room

you press your knees together instinctively, the skirt riding a little higher, the shifting motion drawing attention you didn’t mean to give.

satoru notices.

another buzz.

>> satoru : also >

> satoru : the way ur squeezing ur thighs together rn

>> satoru : that's not rlly giving "i'm fine" energy rn babe

your pulse kicks hard. you lift your head fast, ready to glare at him, but he’s already grinning.

he lifts his cup to his mouth without drinking, watching you over the rim like he’s imagining something he shouldn’t.

you stare him down.

your fingers fly before your brain can catch up.

>> you : stop calling me babe

>> you : i'm literally dating ur best friend

>> satoru : then stop looking up at me like that

>> you : like what?

>> satoru : like ur one bad decision from coming over here and climbing in my lap

your mouth goes dry.

across the room, he tilts his head slightly, lips curving, like he’s daring you to deny it again.

you force a breath, blinking slowly, fingers tapping at your screen just to feel like you still have control.

>> you : ur delusional af

>> satoru : maybe

>> satoru : but ur still staring

>> you : no

>> satoru : babe im literally looking at u. ur looking back?

you snap your gaze away so fast your neck aches.

suguru shifts on the couch, laughing at something, leaning closer to the girl beside him. they’re speaking right over you, voices rising and falling around you like conversation is happening through you instead of to you.

your phone vibrates again.

>> satoru : does that not bother u?

>> satoru : honest question

>> you : what

>> satoru : that ur boyfriend hasnt even looked at u tn

>> satoru : if i brought u to a party i’d have u in my lap half the night

>> satoru : but hey, thats just me tho!

you clamp your phone in both hands like holding it tighter might steady something inside you.

>> you : dude stop

>> satoru : tell me why

>> you : because

>> you : bc hes drunk

>> you : bc im fine

>> you : bc none of this is ur business

>> satoru : but it is

>> satoru : ur literally sitting there trying not to cry

your vision blurs for one humiliating second.

you inhale sharply, swipe at your eyes quickly so no one sees.

>> you : stop looking

>> satoru : then stop pretending its not happening silly

you bite your lip until it stings.

the bass rattles the floor. someone yells about pong. the two girls beside suguru lean even closer. his hand brushes one of their thighs.

your stomach twists in a way that feels like grief.

>> satoru : hey

>> satoru : look at me

you don’t want to.

you promise yourself you won’t.

you last maybe five seconds before you do.

he’s not smiling now.

the frat-boy chaos bleeds off him like someone turned down the volume on his personality. his posture is different—less performative, more natural, shoulders heavy like he’s carrying something you can’t see.

he looks at you like he’s sorry. like he’s angry. like he’s trying to decide whether to walk across the room and pull you away himself.

your phone buzzes.

>> satoru : come here

your breath catches.

>> you : satoru

>> satoru : just come here

>> you : and tell ppl what exactly ??

>> satoru : nthing

>> satoru : u don’t have to explain anything

>> satoru : just get up

>> satoru : i’ll find u i promise

you swallow.

>> you : where

>> satoru : anywhere away from him

you stare at the screen. at the words. at the implication.

your chest rises and falls too fast, the air suddenly too thick, the room too small, the couch too suffocating.

your phone buzzes again.

>> satoru : tell me u don’t want me to come get u

>> satoru : and i won’t

your fingers tremble over the keyboard.

tell him no, you’re fine. tell him to leave you alone.

but the truth spills out first.

>> you : i cant say that

a beat,

>> satoru : then get up

>> satoru : and walk toward the hallway

>> satoru : i’ll meet u halfway

your entire body lights up like a hit of adrenaline and before you realize what you’re doing—before guilt can drag you back down—before suguru even glances in your direction—you slowly stand. heart racing so hard you think it might shake the drink from your hand.

you don’t realize the entire room has gone soft around the edges until you’re already moving, until you’re already pushing off the couch with a hand that feels too light, too shaky, until your breath lodges high in your chest like you forgot how lungs work.

the bass thumps against your ribs, people shift around you, conversations blur into background noise, but none of it feels real. the only thing that feels real is the way your pulse skitters each time you take another step away from suguru and closer to the hallway.

you don’t look back.

you can’t.

because if you do, you’ll see him still laughing with them, still leaning in, still forgetting you’re even here—and that will either break you or freeze you. so you just move, weaving through bodies, murmuring “sorry” when someone bumps your shoulder, pretending you’re just heading to the bathroom like any other person leaving a couch.

your phone buzzes in your hand.

>> satoru : good

>> satoru : keep going

>> satoru : i see you

heat rushes up your spine. you feel naked under his gaze, exposed in a way that terrifies you and pulls you in deeper.

the hallway is dimmer, quieter, lit by a single lamp someone taped to the wall years ago. the noise from the living room fades into a distant hum, and the shift in atmosphere makes your skin prickle. it feels like stepping out of a storm and into the eye of it—calmer, but still dangerous, the wind still circling at the edges.

you stop halfway down the hall, unsure, the reality of what you’re doing pressing cold fingers around your throat.

your phone lights up again.

>> satoru : don’t stop

>> satoru : take one more step forward

>> you : where r u

>> satoru : behind u

you whip around so fast your hair moves with you.

and he’s there.

leaning against the opposite wall like he’s been part of the shadows this whole time, one foot crossed lazily over the other, his cup abandoned on a side table, his hands now empty.

the second your eyes meet, something in his expression flickers. something softer, heavier, threaded with such raw honesty it knocks the breath out of you.

“hey,” he says quietly.

the word feels intimate. wrong. like he says it to you differently than he says it to anyone else.

you swallow hard. your fingers tighten around your phone even though you aren’t reading anything anymore. “hi.”

he pushes off the wall slowly, his body unfolding in long, confident lines, but there’s nothing cocky in the way he moves toward you. this isn’t frat-boy satoru, the one who shouts across rooms and makes jokes at everyone’s expense. this is something else that makes your stomach twist.

“you left without him noticing,” he murmurs as he stops in front of you, close enough that you can feel the faint warmth of his breath. “figured you wouldn’t.”

you look down at your shoes because you can’t look at him right now, not when you feel like your skin is too hot for your own body, not when the guilt and the relief and the ache all collapse inside your chest at once.

“don’t,” he says, voice softening. “don’t fold in on yourself right now. not with me.”

you inhale, shallow and shaky. “i wasn’t folding.”

“you were,” he says, smiling slightly. “i know what that looks like.”

he reaches out—slowly, giving you time to pull back—and brushes his knuckles along your arm in the lightest, softest touch, like he’s testing how much of you is real.

you hate how easily it happens. you hate how good it feels.

“satoru…” you whisper, your voice barely there.

“yeah,” he says, stepping closer. “i know, baby. i know.”

his eyes drop to your lips for one split second. just one. enough for your heart to stumble over itself. enough for something in your stomach to clench painfully.

and then—he looks past you at the living room, at the echo of suguru’s laughter spilling down the hall, at the two girls leaning into him like they belong there.

satoru’s jaw flexes.

he looks back at you with something that almost looks like anger, but you realize quickly it’s not anger—it’s restraint. careful, trembling restraint.

“he shouldn’t have brought you here if he wasn’t going to treat you like…” he trails off, shaking his head. the muscles in his throat shift as he swallows. “like you matter.”

you breathe out, the sound cracking in the middle.

“stop,” you whisper. “please stop.”

his brows pull together—worried, not offended. “why?”

“because if you keep talking like that…” you start, but your throat closes up around the end of the sentence.

his eyes heat. “yeah?” he whispers. “what happens if i keep talking like that?”

your silence itself is an answer.

satoru’s breath catches for half a second. he takes one more step closer—closer than he should, close enough that his chest nearly touches yours, close enough that the warmth of him seeps through the tiny space between you like it’s reaching for your heartbeat.

“come with me,” he murmurs. “just for a minute.”

“to where?”

he glances at a door behind you—one of the upstairs bathrooms, closed but not locked, a sliver of warm light leaking from underneath like the room itself is waiting.

“anywhere we won’t be interrupted,” he says.

your pulse slams into your ribs.

“satoru,” you breathe again, but you don’t step back. your body refuses to. your feet are traitors. your heart is begging.

he lifts one hand, hesitating for the first time all night, and cups your cheek with slow, searching pressure—as if he’s asking permission without words.

“just tell me to stop,” he whispers. “tell me you don’t want this. that you don’t want me. just say the words.”

your heart screams the truth, and nothing comes out.

satoru’s eyes close for one shattering second, relief and hunger and devastation passing over his face like a storm.

when he opens them again, his voice is lower. honest in a way he can never take back. “then let’s go,” he breathes.

he doesn’t take your hand at first. he waits. waits for the smallest nod, the tiniest shift of your body toward his, something that tells him you’re not moving out of fear or impulse but because something inside you finally gave up fighting.

you nod once—barely a movement, more breath than motion.

that’s all he needs.

he slides his fingers gently around your wrist, guiding you. his touch is warm, surprisingly soft for someone who lives so loudly everywhere else. he walks backward a step, eyes on you, making sure you’re coming with him before he turns toward the door.

the hallway feels ten degrees warmer as you follow him. the music thumps under the floorboards, someone shouts about pong in the living room, a girl laughs too loudly from the kitchen. it all sounds far away, like a party happening on the other side of a dream.

satoru reaches the bathroom door and opens it without looking inside—too focused on you, too aware of the way your breath catches when your shoulder brushes his arm.

when the door shuts behind you, the sound is final in a way that makes your pulse skip.

the bathroom is small, warm, lit only by a flickering overhead bulb that casts a soft gold glow over the tile. the counter is cluttered with forgotten hair ties and leftover soaps. the air is humid, quiet, intimate enough that you can hear your heartbeat in your neck.

you stand near the door, frozen in place, while he leans back lightly against the counter, hands braced on the edge, looking at you with an expression you’ve never seen on him before—open, a little vulnerable, like he’s afraid to move too fast.

he exhales a long breath, slow and shaky. “okay,” he murmurs. “we’re here.”

you nod, even though you’re not even sure what you’re acknowledging.

his voice softens. “you don’t have to do anything.”

your chest tightens. “i know.”

“i mean it,” he says, pushing off the counter and stepping closer, his height filling the room without crowding you. “one word from you and i’ll unlock the door and we’ll walk back out there like nothing happened.” he pauses. “i won’t bring it up again.”

the idea hurts in a way that makes your throat sting.

“do you want to leave?” he asks quietly.

you shake your head.

his eyes warm, gently, uncontrollably. “okay.”

he stops a few inches in front of you, close enough for the heat of his body to roll off him in waves, close enough that you tilt your chin slightly to keep eye contact. satoru looks at you the way he looks at the sky sometimes—like he’s trying to memorize the view.

“can i?” he whispers, lifting his hand a little.

“yeah,” you breathe.

his fingertips touch your jaw, featherlight at first, like he’s testing the feel of you, the reality of this, like part of him still doesn’t believe you’re letting him. his hand slides along your cheek, curving behind your ear, pulling you in just an inch—not enough to steal a kiss, just enough to ask for it.

your breath shudders. your lips part. your body sways toward him without thinking.

“come here,” he whispers.

you do.

and he kisses you. not sloppy. not the frat-boy show he puts on in front of other people.

this kiss is slow and aching and reverent, like he’s been holding it in his mouth for months, saving it for the moment he couldn’t pretend anymore. his lips are soft, warm, moving against yours with a careful tenderness that makes your knees wobble.

your hands grab his shirt without meaning to, pulling him closer, needing something solid to hold onto. he steps into you, chest brushing yours, the kiss deepening as a low noise escapes him—something like relief, something like confession.

his other hand rests on your waist, fingers sliding under your shirt, just touching, learning you. the pad of his thumb strokes your skin in slow, grounding circles that make heat pool deep in your stomach.

when he finally pulls back, he doesn’t go far. his forehead rests against yours, breath mingling with yours, both of you too stunned to speak.

“fuck,” he whispers, eyes closed, “i knew it.”

you swallow. “knew what.”

that slow, crooked smile ghosts across his lips. “that it would feel like this.”

your cheeks burn. your heart stumbles.

he opens his eyes, and the way he’s looking at you is almost too much—blue and sharp and full of something you’re not allowed to name.

“come here,” he murmurs again, though you’re already in his hands.

he backs up until the counter hits the backs of his legs. his fingers trail down your arm, guiding you between his knees. when you settle there, he exhales like he’s been underwater.

his hands slide up your thighs, warm and sure, curling around your hips as he pulls you flush against him. his breath stutters when you land on the firm line of him through his jeans. you feel him twitch under you, and the sound he makes—quiet, needy, unguarded—goes straight to your core.

“fuck,” he mutters, voice cracking as he leans his head back for a second before looking at you again. “you have no idea what you do to me.”

you do, now. you feel it under your fingertips as you slide your hands up his chest, over his collarbone, to the sides of his neck.

he leans into your touch like he’s been waiting for it.

you kiss him again, and it’s different this time—hungrier, messier, all the restraint burning away at the edges. he groans into your mouth, his tongue sliding against yours with a desperate, searching need that makes your whole body melt into him.

his hands grip the back of your thighs and he lifts you effortlessly onto the counter. the movement steals the breath from your lungs, and he covers your gasp with another kiss, deeper this time, hotter, his fingers spreading your legs gently as he steps between them.

your skirt rides up around your hips.

he sees. you feel the moment he sees.

his breath falters.

he looks up at you with a question in his eyes—not should i?

more like can i keep pretending i don’t want to?

you shake your head before he can speak. “don’t stop.”

he swallows sharply, thumb tracing the inside of your knee.

“i’m trying,” he whispers, voice strained, “so fucking hard to be good right now.”

you slide your hands down his chest, to his stomach, to the hem of his shirt. “don’t be.”

the sound he makes is broken, like everything he’s been holding back finally cracks.

he kisses you again—urgent, intoxicating, all teeth and tongue and heat while his hands slide higher up your thighs, fingers trembling slightly as he pushes the fabric aside.

you whimper into his mouth when his thumb grazes you through your panties.

he freezes—not out of hesitation, but because of how hard the sound hits him.

“fuck,” he murmurs, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he presses his thumb there again, slower this time, tracing the wet heat through the thin fabric. “you’re already—”

you bite your lip. “i know.”

he groans, biting gently at the soft skin of your neck as his fingers drag your underwear aside with slow, trembling precision.

“tell me if you want me to stop,” he whispers.

you don’t.

“satoru,” you breathe, grabbing his shirt, pulling him closer until his hips press hard against the counter between your legs. “please.”

his hand slips between your thighs.

his fingers find you.

and when he touches you—skin to skin, slow enough to break you—your breath leaves your body entirely.

his fingers find you—sliding through that wet heat like he’s been imagining this exact moment every night he pretended not to. he inhales sharply against your throat, the sound low and disbelieving, like he can't help it, like he’s trying to memorize the shape of you with just his breath alone.

his knuckles brush the inside of your thigh as his middle finger glides up again, parting the soft slick of you with a careful, hungry attention that makes your entire body pull tight.

“oh my god,” he murmurs into your skin, but it’s not a joke, not something tossed out for effect. he's actually stunned. almost angry with want. his other hand tightens at your hip, thumb pressing into the bone like he needs to anchor himself, like the feel of you under his fingers is knocking the sense out of him.

you don’t even realize your legs are widening until his wrist slips closer, his body moving with yours like he’s been waiting for permission you didn’t even know you gave. his mouth drags up your neck, his breath catching when his finger circles your entrance—just once, just enough to make your lips part around a sound you don’t get the chance to swallow.

he hears it. fucking reacts to it.

his forehead drops against your jaw as he presses his finger inside you, slow enough to feel every inch, deep enough to make your back arch into him on instinct. his hand trembles for the smallest second—like he wasn’t prepared for how warm you’d feel, how tight you’d be around him, how your body would welcome him without hesitation.

“jesus…” he exhales, voice fraying. “you’re—fuck.”

you grab the back of his neck to steady yourself because the world tilts when he moves his finger, curling just enough to make your breath hitch and your thighs tense around his hips. he kisses your jaw like he needs something to hold onto, his lips soft but frantic, barely-there against your skin because he’s trying to focus on the feeling of you clenching around his hand.

and then he looks at you.

his eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide, breath uneven, lips red and wet from your mouth. he looks starved. undone. like you're the first thing that’s ever truly knocked the wind out of him.

“you’re gripping me so hard,” he whispers, his voice rougher than you’ve ever heard it. “i can’t… fuck, i can’t even think.”

you almost laugh this tiny, shaky sound because you feel the same, because thinking stopped the moment you walked down that hallway, because everything inside you is being pulled toward him like a tide too strong to fight.

his thumb finds your clit with a gentleness that doesn’t match the tension in his jaw. he traces you there, small, circling strokes that send heat rolling up your spine, building fast, climbing higher with every breath he drags in like he’s trying to swallow the noises you're making.

“does he touch you like this?” he mutters, barely audible, his thumb pressing exactly where you need it. “does he even know what you sound like when you’re—”

“s-satoru,” you gasp, your fingers tightening in his hair, your hips lifting into his hand without shame.

that’s all it takes for something in him to snap.

he kisses you again messy and hungry, like he needs your mouth to stay alive—and his hand works you with a rhythm that feels tuned to your pulse. you can’t separate the feeling of his tongue from the feeling of his fingers, everything blurring together in heat and pressure and the dizzying realization that he’s giving you more attention in this cramped bathroom than suguru has in weeks.

you pull at his shirt, needing him closer, needing something to brace against as he curls his finger inside you again, deeper this time, dragging against a spot that rips a sound from your throat you’ve never heard yourself make.

he groans into your mouth, his hips jerking forward just enough to tell you he felt that too.

“say it,” he whispers against your lips, kissing you between breaths. “say you want me.”

you try to answer, but your voice breaks on the next roll of his thumb. your thighs tremble, your head tilts back, your breath stutters in a way that makes him curse under his breath and kiss down your throat like he’s losing whatever control he came into this room with.

your fingers slip under his shirt, dragging up warm skin, feeling the muscles in his stomach tighten as he pushes another finger inside you.

your moan is soft, unguarded, helpless.

he closes his eyes like the sound wrecks him.

“that’s it,” he breathes, kissing the corner of your mouth, your cheek, your jaw. “let me hear you. let me do this for you.”

your hands grip his shoulders as the pressure builds so fast it feels like a warning. you’re close and he feels it. you can tell by the way his rhythm shifts, tightening around your reactions, his thumb stroking you with a precision that makes your breath catch every time.

“satoru—”

“aww, i know, i know baby,” he whispers, kissing you again, his forehead pressing to yours as his fingers move faster. “cum for me. right here. right fucking here.”

your body arches before your mind catches up.

heat breaks open low in your stomach, spreading fast, unstoppable, curling you into him as your orgasm hits messy and overwhelming. he holds you through it, one hand gripping your hip, the other working you through every pulse of it, his mouth on your cheek whispering praise you can barely process.

“that’s it… that’s it, i’ve got you… fuck, you’re perfect…”

you cling to him, breath shaking, thighs trembling around his hand. he slows when you gasp, his fingers easing off, thumb gentler now, tracing circles that feel like grounding instead of building.

when your breath finally steadies, he doesn’t pull away.

he stays right there, forehead resting against your cheek, his fingers still lightly touching your thigh, like he’s afraid to break the moment. his chest rises and falls against yours, uneven and full of everything he’s been holding back.

after a long, heavy second, he speaks against your neck. “tell me to stop,” he whispers, “or i’m not done with you yet.”

you don’t answer him right away—not because you’re unsure, but because your body is still catching up to itself, still trembling in the aftermath of what he just pulled out of you with nothing but his hand and the sound of your name on his mouth. your breath shakes against his throat, your fingers still curled in the fabric of his shirt, holding on like letting go would drop you straight through the counter.

satoru lifts his head first. he looks at you like he’s learning your face all over again, like he can’t quite believe you’re still letting him touch you. his hand drags up your thigh, knuckles brushing the crease where your leg meets your hip, a soft, warm path that makes your belly curl even though you’re already wrecked.

“look at me,” he murmurs.

you do. and whatever restraint he had left dissolves right there.

his jaw flexes as his eyes drag down your body—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, your skirt hitched around your hips, the thin strip of your underwear still pushed aside from his fingers. he takes all of it in with a hunger that makes heat flare low in your stomach again, this immediate, dangerous need that makes your thighs tighten around him without thought.

his breath catches. his hand closes around your waist.

“c'mere,” he whispers, but he doesn’t wait. he leans in and kisses you hard—like he wants to taste every sound he just pulled from you. your hands fly to his shoulders, gripping him, holding on, pulling him closer because his mouth feels like it’s undoing you from the inside out.

your fingers trail down, sliding under the hem of his shirt, palms mapping the heat of his stomach, the dip of muscle, the sharp line of his hips. you feel him flinch—this soft, desperate jolt that tells you just how close he is to snapping.

your hand drifts lower and he shudders.

“fuck,” he mutters into your mouth, his breath catching when your fingertips brush the buckle of his belt.

you fumble with it for half a second before he covers your hand with his, eyes burning into yours.

then he guides your hands to his belt, helping you undo it, metal clinking softly in the quiet bathroom. the sound is obscene in the best way—like an intimate secret.

you pull the leather free. he watches your hands the entire time, pupils blown wide, breath unsteady, body drawn tight like he’s fighting not to grab you and wreck you straight into the counter. you undo the button. the zipper. your knuckles brush the hardness straining against his boxers and he drops his head to your shoulder with a broken sound that shoots heat straight between your legs.

your voice barely comes out. “take them off.”

he does—shoving his jeans and briefs down enough to free himself, enough for you to see him, thick and flushed and aching for you. your breath stutters. his does too, because he’s watching your reaction like it’s undoing him.

he turns you gently, hands firm on your hips, guiding you until you’re facing the fogged mirror above the sink. your reflection stares back at you—cheeks flushed, lips swollen, hair a little messy from his hands. you barely recognize yourself. you look like someone who’s been wanting him for longer than you’ve ever admitted.

he stands behind you, towering, his chest pressed lightly to your back, his breath warm against your ear. one hand slides up your stomach, pushing your shirt higher, fingers spreading over your ribs, holding you in place like he’s needing you to stay exactly where you are.

“look,” he whispers against your neck.

you do.

his other hand wraps around himself, stroking once, guiding the head of his cock to your entrance, brushing against the sensitive slick he left behind on his fingers. you gasp and your knees almost give—and he tightens his grip around your waist to keep you upright.

“i’ve thought about this so many times,” he murmurs, his mouth tracing along your jaw. “you… in front of a mirror… letting me watch your face when i fuck you.”

the words go straight through you.

“satoru—”

“i know, baby. i’ve got you," he breathes, his voice shaking as he drags the tip along you again, coating himself in the wet he just pulled out of you.

he pushes in—slow, thick, stretching you, a deep glide that makes your hands fly to the counter edge, fingers gripping until your knuckles ache. your mouth falls open. your breath fractures. he presses into your back, groaning quietly against your shoulder as your body pulls him in inch by inch.

“fuck,” he whispers, voice breaking. “you feel—god, you feel unreal.”

you barely manage to breathe. “m-more.”

he hears the need in it—feels the way your hips try to push back—and he bites gently at the curve of your neck as he sinks the rest of the way inside you. your knees completely buckle this time. he catches you before you fall, arms wrapping around you like he’s holding something precious, something fragile and wanted and his.

your reflection blurs for a moment, breath fogging the mirror, but when it clears—you see everything.

his blown pupils. your parted lips. the way his chest rises against your back. the way your body takes him so perfectly.

he pulls his hips back slowly, letting you feel every inch leaving you, then rocks back in with a low, choked sound that vibrates down your spine.

you moan, your forehead tipping toward the glass.

satoru kisses your shoulder and whispers against your skin, voice raw with hunger he’s been holding back for far too long. “baby… watch.”

he thrusts into you again.

“i want you to see how good you look when i’m inside you.”

his words ripple through you before you even have time to react—and something deep in your stomach clenches so hard you grip the counter with both hands. your reflection tilts for a second, breath fogging the glass again, but even through the blur you see the way your body takes him, the way he disappears into you with every thrust.

and then he stops holding back.

his fingers tighten on your hips, guiding your angle, pulling you back onto him with this hungry, rhythmic force that makes your thighs shake. his hips snap forward, deeper, harder, this sharp, perfect pressure that hits a spot inside you that makes your breath break into pieces. you choke on a sound half a gasp, the other half a loud breathy moan—and he swallows it with his mouth on your neck, teeth grazing lightly, like he’s been waiting to taste you like this.

“yeah,” he groans against your skin, voice rough and fraying. “that’s it. that’s the sound i wanted.”

you feel him everywhere—behind you, inside you, pressed to your back like he’s trying to stabilize the both of you, trying to keep his control from unraveling even though it already is. your palms slide on the counter, your breath stuttering as he thrusts again, harder this time, the slap of skin sharp in the tiny bathroom.

your reflection finally comes back into focus—your flushed cheeks, your parted lips, your eyes blown wide and glassy. behind you, satoru looks ruined: his white hair a mess from your hands, his jaw clenched, his brows drawn tight from how good you feel around him. his chest rises against your back with every uneven breath he takes.

he sees the way you’re looking at him in the mirror. his lips curve into something dark and soft at the same time.

“watch,” he whispers, thrusting into you again, harder, his grip sliding up your waist, your ribs, until his hand closes gently around your throat—guiding your gaze back to the mirror. “don’t look away from me.”

your breath catches. your pulse pushes against his palm, and he feels it—his eyes dragging from your throat to your mouth to the place where your bodies meet.

“fuck, baby,” he says, the words punching out of him with each thrust. “you’re taking me so well… look at you… look at how pretty you are like this.”

heat floods your chest, your stomach, your legs—your whole body responding to his voice, his grip, the way he drives into you like he’s trying to bury something deeper than just himself.

and then he hits that spot again.

your knees wobble. your voice breaks. your hips jerk back into him without thought.

he groans—loud, uncontrolled, head dropping to your shoulder for half a second before he drags it back up to watch your reaction in the mirror like he’s starving for it.

“you feel that?” he breathes, voice shaking. “right there?”

you nod, barely—your mouth open, your eyes fluttering.

he thrusts again, harder, right against that same spot.

your hand slams against the mirror to steady yourself.

“that’s the one,” he mutters, his lips brushing your ear. “that’s the one that’s gonna make you cum all over me.”

you whimper—and he almost loses it right then.

“fuck, such a good girl,” he gasps, his grip on your hips tightening. “you’re so fucking wet… dripping all over me… you want it that bad, huh baby?”

you don’t answer—you can’t—but your body does, clenching around him so hard his thrust falters. he curses, forehead falling against your jaw for a second before he picks up the rhythm again—rougher now, needier, like he’s chasing the edge with you.

“'t-toru—” you gasp, your voice barely there.

“i know, baby,” he growls, breath hot against your cheek. “i know… you’re close… fuck, i can feel it…”

his hand around your throat slides up, fingers threading through your hair as he pulls your head back just enough for his mouth to find your neck again. he kisses you there—harder than before, open-mouthed and hungry meanwhile, his other hand drifts between your legs, finding your clit which makes your entire body jump.

your moan breaks open. your legs shake.

“oh my gosh—”

“cum for me,” he whispers, his fingers moving in tight circles while he fucks into you from behind, the pace relentless, each thrust pushing you higher, tighter, closer. “come on… let go for me… i wanna feel you.”

your orgasm crashes through you so fast it steals your breath entirely. your whole body tenses, then collapses into heat, your voice catching in your throat as your vision blurs. you grip the counter, you grip his wrist, you try to breathe, but he holds you through it, whispering against your ear—

“that’s it… that’s it, baby… come on… fuck—yes—”

he thrusts into you through every pulse of it, hips stuttering, breath breaking, hands shaking against your skin. you feel him unravel behind you—feel the way his rhythm becomes ragged, the way his chest presses tight against your back, the way his fingers dig into your hips like he’s finally losing the fight he’s been holding since the moment you walked down that hallway.

“'m gonna—” he chokes out, voice cracking.

your hand reaches back blindly, fingers curling around his lower back.

“inside,” you breathe, dizzy, wrecked. “please—inside.”

that single word destroys him.

he groans loud, raw, as if it was physically punched out of his chest—his hips slamming into yours one last, deep, shaking thrust as he spills inside you. his hand covers yours on the counter, gripping tight, grounding himself as he buries his face against your shoulder and shudders through every wave of it.

his arms wrap around you from behind, holding you against him as he trembles through the last pulse of his release, his body pressed so tight against yours you can feel the throb of him inside you with every heartbeat.

he doesn’t pull out.

he doesn’t move at all for a long moment—just breathes against your neck, forehead pressed to your shoulder, his hands still on your hips like letting go would undo something the two of you can’t take back.

“fuck,” he finally whispers, voice soft and wrecked. “i didn’t mean… i mean—i couldn’t—”

you reach back and lay your hand over his, your fingers slipping between his.

“i know,” you breathe.

because you couldn’t either.

you don’t know how long the two of you stay like that—his chest pressed to your back, your hand covering his on your stomach, the warmth of him still inside you like your bodies forgot how to separate. the bathroom feels too small, after everything you just did, and satoru’s breathing is still uneven against your shoulder, little shivers running down him every time your body pulses around him again.

eventually he shifts, just a tiny motion of his hips, like he’s finally ready to pull out even though neither of you wants to. the movement draws a soft sound out of you—and he groans, forehead pressing to your neck like he needs a second to survive it.

he’s about to say something—something low or stupid or soft, you can’t tell which—when his phone vibrates in his pocket.

he startles like someone slapped him.

he freezes.

you freeze.

slowly… reluctantly… he reaches for his phone with his free hand, the other still braced on your hip.

he lifts the screen.

squints.

and then his eyes go wide.

“oh, fuck me,” he whispers.

you blink. “what?”

he tilts the screen so you can see the notification glowing up at both of you.

>> suguru : bro where r u >> suguru : have u seen my girl?

your stomach flips so hard you almost laugh. satoru stares at the message like it’s personally threatening his lifespan. his grip tightens on your hip as if he can physically keep time from moving forward.

“oh, he’s gonna kill me,” satoru mutters, voice cracking like his soul is leaving his body. “he’s actually gonna beat my ass into dust. i’m gonna die in this bathroom. they’re gonna find my skeletal remains holding a broken belt and a guilty conscience.”

you snort before you can stop yourself.

his head snaps toward you, offended but still buried halfway in your neck. “why are you LAUGHING—this is SERIOUS—”

you shrug, breath still shaky from everything, lips curling. “maybe if you stopped texting me at parties…”

his jaw drops like you just exposed state secrets.

“EXACTLY?? THANK YOU?? THAT’S WHAT I’VE BEEN SAYING FOR MONTHS.” his voice breaks dramatically as he gestures helplessly with the phone. “no more denial from you. you just admitted it. this is recorded in the universe now.”

you roll your eyes, cheeks aching from how hard you’re trying not to laugh. “satoru—”

“no, no, no,” he says, clutching his chest, still inside you like he forgot he hasn’t moved. “don’t ‘satoru’ me right now. i need you to fully understand i am about to commit social suicide for this pussy.”

your breath stutters into a laugh.

his eyes soften instantly.

and then, because he can’t help himself, he leans in, kisses the corner of your mouth, and whispers against your lips.

“worth it.”

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[m-beatrice]

Drunk!Satoru had one thought in his mind when he saw you -you must be an angel. An angel that would make his dream come true.

Drunk!Satoru -the one Suguru warned you about so earnestly — how unbearable he can become after one too many tequilas.

Drunk!Satoru -who’s clearly already had one too many tequilas, because he sees you and immediately assumes God sent you as a gift -just for him.

Drunk!Satoru -doesn’t even give you a second to respond to his lovestruck babbling before he mutters.. “You are soo beautiful, and I don’t know if you knew this, but I am even more beautiful… so I know for sure we’d make the most beautiful babies in this world. You think the same, right?!”

“I know ..dumb question, of course you do!!”

Drunk!Satoru -looks at you with big blue puppy eyes as he keeps going. “When do you think we should get married? Maybe next week? Have you ever thought about a quick Las Vegas wedding?!”

Drunk!Satoru -who just will not shut the fuck up “How many kids do you want? One? Maybe two?? You know my favorite number is three sooo—” with a massive headache brewing, you finally interrupt him. “Satoru…?” you ask, pained, because this man simply does not know how to stop talking.

“Yeah? What’s wrong?? My beautiful beloved woman who will make the most gorgeous babies on this planet with me..”

“Please… please shut up.”

Not-so-Drunk!Satoru -who calls you the next morning, voice rough, brain clearly still not fully online — and you finally have to admit it: you have no choice anymore. Your fate is sealed.

“So, what do you think about Hawaii ?…Huh? What i mean??

..our honeymoon, of course ??!”

------

-My first Gojo piece and he’s already talking about marriage. -Reblog this before he plans our baby names 😭🩵

------

[m-beatrice]

Ex-boyfriend Sukuna (Heian era) - is in big trouble with you -his new lovely concubine.

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — who doesn’t even know you broke up with him, because you are his concubine and he would never believe for one second that you even have that option.

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — who laughs in your face when you tell him you’re distancing because you heard he’s sleeping with another concubine. -“I’m the king. I do what I want.”

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — who tries to talk to you and tells you to stop being such a brat: “You’re mine. Act like that, woman.” But you strictly refuse to come to his chamber again.

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — who would love to kill you for your bratty attitude, but for some inexplicable reason he just can’t, and that drives him crazy.

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — one late night he can hardly believe it himself, but he misses you, and when you refuse again to come to his chamber, something in him snaps.

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — suddenly finds himself dismissing every woman he slept with in his palace except you, because you’re so fucking stubborn.

“Stop looking at me, woman. I didn’t do this for you. They were bad concubines anyway.”

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — who is sure you must be the strongest sorcerer of his era he’s ever met, and somehow you cursed him, because now you’re lying in his king-size bed with that fucking self-satisfied smile on your face — not as his concubine. No. As his new, beautiful wife.

---- -tried something new today if you enjoyed, reblogs/notes mean a lot..🤍 -have a nice day/night wherever you are ♡ love yaa ----

[m-beatrice]

Ex-boyfriend Sukuna (Heian era) - is in big trouble with you -his new lovely concubine.

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — who doesn’t even know you broke up with him, because you are his concubine and he would never believe for one second that you even have that option.

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — who laughs in your face when you tell him you’re distancing because you heard he’s sleeping with another concubine. -“I’m the king. I do what I want.”

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — who tries to talk to you and tells you to stop being such a brat: “You’re mine. Act like that, woman.” But you strictly refuse to come to his chamber again.

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — who would love to kill you for your bratty attitude, but for some inexplicable reason he just can’t, and that drives him crazy.

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — one late night he can hardly believe it himself, but he misses you, and when you refuse again to come to his chamber, something in him snaps.

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — suddenly finds himself dismissing every woman he slept with in his palace except you, because you’re so fucking stubborn.

“Stop looking at me, woman. I didn’t do this for you. They were bad concubines anyway.”

ex-bf!sukuna (heian era) — who is sure you must be the strongest sorcerer of his era he’s ever met, and somehow you cursed him, because now you’re lying in his king-size bed with that fucking self-satisfied smile on your face — not as his concubine. No. As his new, beautiful wife.

---- -tried something new today if you enjoyed, reblogs/notes mean a lot..🤍 -have a nice day/night wherever you are ♡ love yaa ----

[yukiiisx]

Caught On Camera

sypnosis: you come home from uni expecting to have a good vacation for a week, but you see your brother's annoying bestfriend living in your house. Cool, right? Oh and you've got a secret only fans too - except it's not so secret.

pairings: brother's bestfriend! satoru gojo x reader

warnings: dacryphilia, fingering, age gap (reader 22 satoru 28), praise kink, tummy bulge, fat shaming (not reader), exhibitionism, streaming, creampie

wc: 5.3k words, yes

a/n: hi guys i think a lot of u are from ao3 too? hope u like it <3

You love your brother Suguru - you really do. which is why when you got a week off from college, you excitedly booked tickets back to home to see your brother hoping to spend some time with him. But much to your dismay, as you enter your house there's a 6'4 white messy snowy haired guy sprawled out on your couch.

Your suitcase slips from your hand that lands with a dull thud that nobody seemed to hear - because there he is. A long-limbed catastrophe of a person is sprawled across your favorite cream-colored sofa like he owns the place. A mess of snowy white hair is all you can really see from this angle, the rest of him buried under a throw pillow and what looks like one of Suguru's hoodies.

Satoru.

"-Satoru I swear to god you prick, did you take the cookies -"

Suguru's sentence is cut off abruptly as he appears in the kitchen doorway, - a wooden spoon in one hand and his dark hair pulled back into a loose bun. He's looking past you toward the couch, his expression one of long-suffering patience. then his eyes flick to you. and his eyes widen and lips quickly quirk up into a swift, bright smile that lit up his whole face.

"Y/N?" he said, dropping the wooden spoon onto the mahogany table beside him as he came to you in 3 swift strides, pulling you into a hug, his arms wrapping around you that smelled of home and soy-sauce - something you had missed these few years after going off to college. "You told me your flight was for next Tuesday."

Suguru pulls back, his hands firm on your shoulder,"I would've cleaned up a bit if I knew. Something Satoru isn't really aware of."

"I wanted to surprise you" you said, smiling as you finally pulled away from the hug. Your gaze instinctively drifted past him toward the couch toward the boy-no, the man-now watching you with quiet interest.

It was Satoru, unmistakably. The same shock of white hair, the same sharp features. But the years had sanded down the boyish edges, he had filled out, his frame broader in shoulders, the line of his jaw more defined.

He pushed his sunglasses onto his white hair, familiar grin spreading across his face. "Well look at you" His voice is deeper than you remembered it,"You got your braces off."

A warm flush crept up your neck at his direct attention. Your tongue instinctively darted to the smooth surface of your teeth, a nervous habit you thought you'd kicked. Yeah, you thought, fighting the urge to look away from his knowing smirk. Definitely still annoying.

You sit on the couch, dropping with a heavy thud as Suguru pours some of his cookies he kept in the jar into a white ceramic bowl, taking a seat beside you.

"So how's college life treating you, pipsqueak?" Satoru asked the - old nickname which you hadn't heard in years landing with a familiar, irritating thud. He shifted, hoisting one leg over the other to prop an ankle on his opposite knee. the movement made the soft grey fabric of his sweatpants pull taut, outlining the solid, powerful curve of his quadriceps and the dense muscle of his calves. stop looking, it's creepy y/n.

"It's fine." you said, voice impressively level.

"Just fine? awh, no boyfriends, no wild parties and staying drunk out till 2 am?" he said teasingly, the movement making the couch dip. You refused to let your eyes track the way his sweatpants stretched over his thighs.

Suguru sighed annoyed from beside you,"Could you not?"

"Whaaaat?" Satoru feigned innocence, his eyes still on you,"She's all grown you. I'm just asking valid questions."

"My social life is perfectly curated- thanks." You deflated, the cookie melting into your mouth. You could feel the heat creeping up your neck under the intensity of his stare.

"She doesn't have time for that anyway. college and part time work is tiring enough." Suguru defended.

You coughed suddenly at the mention of your work, the "part-time freelancing" you'd described with such vague confidence- choking on a cookie crumb. "Sorry" you mumbled, avoiding Suguru's concerned glance,"choked on my cookie" before taking a sip from the glass of water in front of you.

Satoru's blue eyes were fixed on you,"Work? What kinda?"

Before you could answer, your phone chimed with a specific, soft melody you'd set for this exact purpose. Stream Time!

You stood up abruptly,"Oh. Part time work. Got to go, it's important."

You didn't look at Satoru. You couldn't. You focused on Suguru's understanding nod, using it as an anchor.

"Don't work too hard" your brother said, his voice warm and oblivious.

You were already moving toward the staircase, your back to them. But you felt it- Satoru's gaze, a laser burning into your retreating form. You heard the low murmur - a rumble you felt in your bones more than heard with your ears.

"Part-time work with alarms... must be a strict boss."

----

Suguru wasn't wrong though - your work was tiring. Hours of streaming, replying to old creepy men, putting on a perfect perfomance every night but as long as it paid the bills - you couldn't complain. If your brother really knew what his sister's part time job was, he would have a full on meltdown.

You made yourself comfortable on your childhood bedroom where you practically grew up and felt a tinge of shame, but it was too late to worry about that. You pulled your work ornaments out from your suitcase, a pink rose dildo with a defined tip of a cock, and pulling out your pink lingerie.

The bralette was cut low, its scalloped edges framing your curves, with a subtle bow centered at the cleavage. The straps of the garter belt were thin, adjustable ribbons of silk that connected to sheer stockings with a delicate lace band at the top. You liked it a lot, and so did your fans.

You adjusted your webcam, making sure it was at the right angle. You took a deep breath before your cursor moved on the 'Go Live' button.  The red light on the webcam blinked on. A slow, practiced smile curved your lips as you leaned into the lens.

"Hey everyone" you murmured, your voice dropping into its on-stream cadence, soft and intimate,"Sorry I'm a little late tonight. Family stuff."

You toy with the rose dildo in your hands as you watch people slowly join the stream, comments rushing in. You put your toy on your cheek, grazing it slowly before bring it to near the edge of your mouth, licking up a stripe.

whiterabbit: missed u so much sexy

pornlover81: show us more of that toy baby

"Did you guys miss me? I missed you all too!" You said-voice honeycoated, cringing at your own line. You pushed the feeling down, playing with the straps of your bralette, pushing it down slowly. It harshly pulled down to reveal your breasts, which shook by impact of the thrust. You bring your dildo to slowly poking your nipples before sliding it down to your pussy.

You spread your folds on the camera, your middle finger lining your slit, collecting the wetness there, before pushing it in softly. You slowly put the dildo in and out, your wet pussy gushing around nothing.

Your hands go up to play with your perked nipples, as you slid yourself down onto the 6'inch something dildo, your walls stretching around it. Lewd sounds started coming out of your mouth, as you started going up and down on the dildo.

You look at the screen, while fucking yourself on the dildo slowly in a riding position, hands continuing to play with your clit. Your mind suddenly wanders to Satoru - for some reason how his thigh muscles were flexing on the couch, and his broad shoulders- before you curse your mind for even going there and look at the screen.

whiterabbit gave $8 as a tip!

suhhkuna: wish my wife was pretty like you, but she's a fat bitch

↳kingdaddy replied to suhhkuna: haha man mine too 😂 told her to hit the gym today LOL

meimeiscumslut: i just got paid today and this is worth my money

kingdaddy gave $10 as a tip!

jackofalltrades gave $10 as a tip!

Ew, you thought to yourself, reading suhhkuna's comment. But then again, you couldn't really complain because this was what paid for Constitutional Law and Civil Procedure course you had took. Instead, you laughed mindlessly, as your breasts bounced and your clit brushed against the hilt of the toy, speeding your pace up. You looked at a familar name on the screen.

sixfootandfeminist: hey sweetheart, you look gorgeous ;)

sixfootandfeminist gave $100 as a tip!

Your eyes widen, it was the same guy. He always gives generous amounts of tip in your every stream and is one of your biggest supporters, and left almost sweet comments. You finish, your walls clenching around the toy, moaning exaggeratingly because that's what you learnt of how you need to behave on live streams for men to really pay you a lot. You shut your eyes, riding out your high, before pulling the toy out, glistening with your wetness.

abc123 gave $10 as a tip! ⤷and 7 more notifications.

"Byee guys. Love you all!" You said sweetly, seeing the cash roll into your only fans account, before ending the stream. Your mind goes back to sixfootandfeminist. That guy has to be filthy rich to just give away 100 dollars like that.

Your breath heaves as you sit down on your bed, the first thing that leaves you is the hyper-awareness of your own body. The arch in your back relaxes, your shoulders slump forward from their deliberately seductive pose. You felt tired, and parched, so you close your laptop just when you hear a ding!

You forgot this was a part of the job - sometimes those men sent you private requests for extra cash. The memory of one man offering a paltry ten dollars for a photo of you crying-"I wanna see those pretty tears, baby"-flashes, ugly and sharp, before you push it down. Your cursor hovers over the laptop to see who it is.

It was a message from sixfootandfeminist.

Your heartbeat quickens. You don't know why. It's a foolish, traitorous reaction. This is just another client. Another transaction. You've navigated a thousand of these moments with a cool, detached professionalism that is your truest armor.

sixfootandfeminist: hey, sweets :) a picture of you in your lingerie, that's all. $200?

Your jaw drops on the floor, $200 for a lingerie picture? this is a steal. there's no debate or hesitation, it's just a reasonable picture demand and for such a high price. God bless sixfootandfeminist. You tilted the webcam towards yourself, lying on your side, your curves showing off as you pose, protuding your ass. aaandddd click.

You sent the image attachment along with a paypal request of $200. And just as you hit send, the notification appears almost instantly.

Payment of $200 received from sixfootandfeminist.

sixfootandfeminist: gorgeous. have a good night ;)

A ghost of a smile touches your lips, you finally close your laptop, sinking into your soft pillow, relief washes over you like a warm blanket. And you don't know when you've dozed off.

And what else you don't know is, just in the other room separated by a thin wall, Satoru is palming his cock from his sweatpants, looking at that lingerie picture you just sent him, just as your own brother is sleeping soundly beside him. He hooks a pillow over his bulge and rubs his discreetly, grinding against it softly.

Satoru's fingers work on his cock, squeezing at it. The precum is oozing from his pants, and it has already stained his boxers. He imagines you on your knees, sucking his cock sweetly, those doe eyes looking up at him, begging to be filled up?

His breath hitches an octave higher, he feels so good. He feels like a teenage guy watching porn for the first time, cheeks stained pink, his hands hit the play button for your stream again. His hands drift underneath his boxers, pumping it along his length. he speeds up his pace, hands tightening around the pulsuating cock, as he closes his eyes shut.

In his earphones, he could hear your pretty moans, and the bounce of your breasts drives him insane - he pumps his cock faster and faster, shutting his eyes until he shoots his cum all over his boxers and slightly on your brother's blanket.

----

Apparently, it was Suguru’s idea,"It's been years since we had a proper movie night" he'd declared after dinner. It was the third day of your college break. You are cuddled up on a couch with a big blanket with Satoru on your right side. Suguru is sitting on the far end of the couch, finding something to play on the TV. Satoru's long legs were stretching out and immediately making the sofa feel smaller.

The movie started- some big-budget superhero film Suguru had chosen for its lack of intellectual demand. You tried to kept your gaze on the movie, but you could feel uneasy, and you didn't know why? Maybe it was the fact that your brother's annoying friend had gotten hotter over these years. You still remember how he used to teach you to ride a bike with your brother.

When you scraped your knee one time, at around age 7 and he was 13 he put his hand on your back comforting you, telling you it was okay. He was the one who'd relentlessly teased you for your braces at age 10 and he was 16, calling you "tinsel teeth." 

So you don't understand why, when he shifts and he stretched his arm along the back of the couch behind you, his fingers coming to rest on your shoulder just behind the nape of your neck - your face feels on fire.

"You 'kay pipsqueak? You're awfully quiet." Satoru says lowly, his cold fingertips dancing on your naked shoulder, pressing into the warm flesh erupting goosebumps on yours skin.

You swallowed, your throat tight,"Yeah" you managed, the word coming out as a strained whisper,"M'fine."

It was a pathetic lie, and the smirk that played on his lips said he knew it. He shifted again, a subtle movement that brought him closer.

His hand slid from your shoulder, down your arm in a slow, deliberate, painfully slow, as it stopped before going up to bicep to gently squeeze it, his hand was a brand on your bare thigh, his skin shockingly warm against yours. His thumb began to trace slow, deliberate circles on your sensitive skin, a motion so intimate and possessive it stole the air from your lungs. You froze, your entire body tensing.

Satoru’s expression was one of pure, innocent concern, his voice a soft murmur,"You sure you're okay? You seem really tense." His thumb pressed down just a little harder, a hidden punctuation to his seemingly caring words.

From his end of the couch, Suguru sighed, still focused on the movie,"She's always like that when she's overworked. Just let her relax, Satoru."

At this point, either your making up stuff, but you could feel the tension in this air and your brother was too oblivious to notice it.

"I, uh... I think I'm actually coming down with something," you stammered, your voice sounding thin and reedy. You stood up, your legs feeling unsteady,"A headache. I'm just going to go lie down."

This time, Suguru looked over, his brow furrowed with genuine brotherly concern. "You okay? Do you need an aspirin?" You shook your head, avoiding looking at either of them, focusing on a spot on the wall.,"No. No, I just need to sleep it off. Goodnight."

You didn't wait for a reply. You practically fled the room, feeling Satoru's silent, triumphant gaze burning into your back all the way up the stairs. You shut your bedroom door and collapsed onto your bed, the cool sheets a relief against your feverish skin.

Your heart was still pounding, the phantom sensation of Satoru's hand on your thigh a brand you couldn't erase. Needing a distraction, you pulled your phone out, when you saw a notification.

sixfootandfeminist: hey, gorgeous. the way you bite your lip when you're thinking. $300 for a picture of that?

The request was simple, nothing too much. the money was high as always. You could buy a whole new chanel bag with that. You angled your phone, posed for the camera, and bit your lip. a faint, internal cringe washed over you, but you obliged with the request.

Payment of $300 received from sixfootandfeminist!

sixfootandfeminist: thank you, gorgeous. have some rest. you must be tired.

You stared at the last message. You must be tired. The comment felt oddly specific, reminding you of a certain white haired boy. But you brushed it off. It was a common enough thing to say. He was just being polite, you should really get some rest.

-----

The final straw came later the 5th night. You needed to ask Suguru a question, something mundane about laundry, you padded down the dark hallway to your brother's room, the floorboards cool beneath your feet.

"Suguru, where's-" you began, pushing the door open without knocking. but the question dies in your throat, there's no Suguru.

The room was steamy, smelling of expensive soap. Satoru stood with his back to you, a white towel draped low on his hips. Water droplets clung to the sculpted muscles of his back, tracing the defined grooves down to the towel, if it was a little lower you could see his- He turned at the sound of your voice, and your brain short-circuited.

His chest was broad and perfectly defined, water still glistening on his skin. He spoke in a low rasp, sounding sexy as ever, white hair still damp,"Suguru's not here."

He took a single slow step towards you, making no attempts to cover himself"You need something?"

Your breath hitched, your first thought being that you should get out of here soon. The growing heat between your thighs was getting impossible to ignore, and the lingering touches of the past week was finally catching up to you. Seriously, does he not know what he's doing?

"Uh nothing-" you said meekly, making your way back to your room before he could answer.

Your cheeks were on fire. You could feel the damp evidence of your arousal soaking through your panties, a direct, physical result of the mere sight of him. The tension had become a living, breathing thing inside you, and it demanded release.

In a frantic, almost desperate hurry, you didn't even lock the door. You fumbled with your laptop, opening it and launching the streaming software. It was time to stream anyway. You fumbled with your clothing, leaving nothing but your bra and panties on as you hit on the 'Go Live' button.

"Hey everyone, sorry." You said, voice almost a desperate sound but this time it was genuine,"I'm a little worked up tonight."

The comments started rolling in, almost instant, but you felt dizzy. Your nipples were perked, due to the cold atmosphere of the room.

You clasp your bra off, your eyes locked on the camera lens, but in your mind, you weren't seeing your subscribers.

You were seeing him. Satoru. The water dripping down his chest. The low drape of that towel. The possessive circles his thumb had traced on your thigh.

A soft, involuntary moan escaped your lips as you cupped your breasts, your thumbs brushing over your nipples. You arched your back, the movement not for the camera, but a physical manifestation of the tension coiling inside you. You were chasing a release, using the performance as a proxy for what you truly craved.

"You guys have no idea" you whispered, your voice husky,"how much i want to fuck my brother's bestfriend."

Your hands dipped into your cunt, one middle finger going inside, as you moan out satoru's name, eyes clenched shut and head thrown back.

whiterabbit: who is this guy? he must be luckyy

sexywhole: oh you look so worked up tonight

You were so lost in the frantic rhythm of your own hands, in the vivid, fantasy playing behind your eyes, that you didn't hear the soft creak of your door swinging open. You didn't see the tall, broad-shouldered figure step silently into the room, his own phone in his hand, the screen glowing with your live stream.

It was only when a deep, familiar voice cut through the charged silence of your room, laced with a dark, triumphant amusement, that you froze, your blood turning to ice.

"You want to fuck your brother's bestfriend?"

Your head snapped toward the door. Satoru stood there, leaning against the frame, his blue eyes blazing with a predatory light. He lifted his phone, showing you the live feed of your stream- the same one you were broadcasting to hundreds.

Your breath hitches in your throat, like a deer caught in headlights. Your hands stop, and the color drains from your face.

His half dressed state- it shattered the fragile tension that had been building. A wave of hot shame washed over you.

"Sa-satoru, this is out of line" your voice trembling despite your effort to sound firm.

He didn't move. A slow, infuriatingly knowing smirk spread across his face. He actually had the gall to look amused.

"Oh, this is out of line?" he asked, his voice a low, mocking drawl. He took a deliberate step forward, His eyes, blazing with lust, locked onto yours, hands pointing at the stream,"But this isn't?"

He pulled his phone and a few swift taps, he brought up the screen and turned it toward you. It was your streaming profile. Your username. Your profile picture.

"Admitting you want to fuck your brother's best friend isn't out of line?" he challenged, his voice dropping to a vicious, amused whisper,"Selling him pictures of yourself biting your lip, in that little pink lace set I saw you buy last week? That's perfectly within the lines, is it?"

Your stomach did a roll. He was sixfootandfeminist. He was the one who had been watching, tipping, requesting.

"Sixfootandfeminist, you should've guessed who it was already." He said cockily, his chest rumbling as he let out a low laugh. A smile spead across his face, you backed on your bed as he approached closer, almost climbing on top of you, so slowly.

He kept his eyes locked on yours as he leaned into the frame of the camera, his voice a low intimate sound,"Looks like you've got a special guest tonight, folks."

His hands hold your cheeks and pulls your face into a hot, possesive kiss. Your lips parted, and his tongue entered your mouth, squishing your cheeks tighter. He grabbed the base of your neck, thumb placed on the underside of your jaw.

He broke for air, a string of saliva connecting your swollen lips. His blue eyes were dark, blown wide with lust.,"Tell me to stop" he breathed, tilting your head to expose the area of your throat.

You couldn't. The words wouldn't form. All you could do was whimper, your body arching against his of its own volition. You felt shame surge through you, this was the guy who taught you how to ride a bike, the one who went college with your brother, the one who used to make fun of you and now he's going to ravish your insides.

A low, guttural sound ripped from his chest. His mouth descended on your neck, sucking a bruising mark into your skin as his free hand slid from your waist down to the hem of your panties, He yanked them down your thighs in one rough, impatient motion, his fingers immediately lining up your slit.

"Fuck, you're drenched. And it's all cause of me?" he murmured against your skin, voice thick with cockiness . He hooked his fingers in the lace and tore them aside. He collected your slit in his fingers and two of his thick fingers drove into you, curling deep, hitting a spot that made you see stars.

A sharp, ragged cry tore from your throat, your nails digging into his bare shoulders. And all you could feel was the brutal, perfect stretch of his fingers, the hot brand of his mouth on your neck, near your earlobes licking and biting, and the terrifying, exhilarating knowledge that you had never wanted anything more in your life.

"Satoru" you gasped, your voice strangled as his lips traced a devastating path along your jaw, sucking and biting at the skin. "The stream-they're-"

"Shhh, let 'em learn," he murmured, his voice a playful sound right against your ear. He didn't pull away. Instead, he glanced at the camera, a brilliant, cocky grin flashing across his face as he pulled his fingers out of your cunt and showed it to the camera. "What's up, guys? Bet you didn't see this plot twist coming."

whiterabbit: NO FUCKING WAY IS THIS YOUR BOYFRIEND? pornlover81: fuccck im going to nut this is the best streams ever

Satoru dived his head back in between your chest, he grabbed one of your breasts harshly before squeezing them and started sucking at the areola. He swirled his tongue around your nipple, and bit at it, causing tears to form in your eyes.

“Cat got your tongue, pipsqueak?” he purred, his voice a low, intimate thrum that vibrated through your chest. His thumb, calloused and warm, stroked a slow circle on your bundle of nerves while his two fingers are buried deep inside you.

You felt overwhelmed with emotion, his fingers were so so deep inside you, almost where your hands could never reach, hitting at that spot again and again.

He turned back to you, his gaze dropping to your parted lips, his fingers working insanely fast, you bit your lip so hard, drawing blood tasing the iron tange on your tongue, “C’mon, sweetheart. Give ‘em a show."

He didn’t wait for an answer, instead curled his fingers inside you, he seared his mouth into a kiss with you, silencing your moans, the tears formed on your lashline. You arched your back, clenching around his fingers, your cunt throbbing. He pulled the fingers out and licked it clean.

"One day," he started, his voice rough, he leaned in, his lips brushing the shell of your ear,"I'll make you suck my cock. Get on your knees and take every inch until you forget your own name." He pulled back, his smirk a wicked, knowing thing,"Not today, though."

His hands on your hips were firm, turning you with an effortless strength that sent a fresh wave of heat pooling low in your belly. Oh god, he's really going to-

"On your hands and knees, sweetheart, he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument, layered with primal lust,"Let's give them a show."

A shudder wracked your body, part terror, part blinding anticipation. Your mind was a frantic, static-filled mess—this is insane, he's insane, my brother is down the hall—but your body was already moving, obeying the primal pull in his voice. You got onto all fours on the rumpled sheets, the comforter soft beneath your trembling hands. The camera, you realized with a dizzying jolt, had a perfect, unobstructed view.

He's making sure they see.

"You're so fucking beautiful like this" Satoru murmured, his voice husky as his hands ran possessively over the curve of your ass. The cool air hit your exposed skin, followed immediately by the searing heat of his palm. He squeezed, a groan rumbling in his chest, "All mine."

You heard the tear of a foil packet, the sound obscenely loud, and then the blunt, wet pressure of him nudging against your entrance. Your breath hitched, your eyes squeezing shut.

"Eyes on the screen, Y/n." he ordered,"I want you to see how much they want what I'm about to have."

You forced your eyes open, your gaze locking onto the live feed just as he drove into you in one smooth, ruthless stroke.

Holy—

A sharp, guttural cry was torn from your throat, your back arching as he filled you completely. The chat exploded. You could see the comments flying - "LUCKY GUY" "HES SO FUCKING HOT" but they were just colors, meaningless noise against the overwhelming reality of Satoru moving inside you.

He set a punishing rhythm from the start, each deep, rolling thrust punching a broken sound from your lips. His grip on your hips was iron-clad, surely leaving bruises. Marks. He's marking me. The thought sent a fresh, shameful thrill through you.

"That's it" he grunted, his own breathing becoming ragged. One hand slid from your hip, tangling in your hair again and pulling just enough to make you cry out,"Let them hear you. Let them know who's ruining you."

The air was thick, charged with the sound of your ragged moans and the relentless, chiming symphony of tips. Satoru’s name tumbled from your lips, a broken, worshipful mantra with every deep, rolling thrust.

“Satoru… Satoru.”

ou moaned, you sobbed his name, the sounds raw and unfiltered, a far cry from the practiced, honeyed tones of your usual streams. he was unravelling completely, turning your body into his own personal toy.The pleasure was a coiled, white-hot wire, tightening with every snap of his hips, every filthy, praising word he growled into your ear. His cock drove inside you and out, and in and out...

"You feel that?" he panted, his thrusts becoming deeper, more focused, his hands coming down to press on your abdomed,"You feel me in there, pretty?"

Your vision spotted, the comments on the screen blurring into a single, bright light as the coil inside you snapped. You shut your eyes, and you felt your vision becoming white. Satoru pulled on your hair harshly, paining you scalp, as he kept rutting inside you driving you closer to your release.

"S'toru- oh i'm going to- im so.- close pleaseplease"

the words were a ragged, helpless prayer, and it was all the encouragement he needed. His rhythm became perfectly, devastatingly precise, each deep thrust hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars, and your walls clenched around him.

"Go on, baby. Cum on this cock, make it all yoursss" He groaned, his nose buried inside your neck, tickling your neck.

your pussy imploded into a supernova of pure, white-hot pleasure. A shattered scream tore from your lungs as your body convulsed around him, clenching and milking his length in a series of violent, uncontrollable spasms. With a final, deep, grinding thrust that buried him to the hilt, groan ripped from his chest as you felt the hot, sudden rush of his release filling you, thick white seed dripping inside you.

Satoru slowly pulled out, the loss of him making you gasp. He collapsed onto your back for a moment, breathing heavily. You look at the comments, your eyes teary from crying so much.

whiterabbit: HOLY SHIT THAT WAS SO GOOD

pornlover81: i am changed as a person

suhhkuna: that prick doesn't fucking deserve her????

👁️100k views, 50k likes, 1 dislike.

↳+30 notifications, +50 new follows

He reached out with his other hand, his fingers-the same ones that had just traced every inch of your skin-gently brushing a damp strand of hair from your forehead, weaving through them as if he didn't fuck your brains out,"So" he said his voice softer than before,"Still think im annoying, pipsqueak?"

You love your brother Suguru, you really do but when you heard his voice outside your door, the color drains from your face. And you realize with a certainty that the line has been crossed, and there's no going back.

"Y/N?" Suguru calls, his voice muffled through the wood but clear with concern,"You still awake? I thought I heard some... screaming?"

a/n: hi guys, please let me know if you liked it. PLSS I REALLLY WORKED FOR TISS

taglist: @gojhoes @satorusaysiloveyou

[m-beatrice]

Sukuna as a boyfriend is never easy...

He is often grumpy, as emotionally accessible as a rock, and he can't even stand 90% of humanity. The fact that he has a girlfriend at all should be considered a new wonder of the world.

And with you -his Girlfriend, it's not different. You've never heard him say “I miss you,” and of course an “I love you” is out of question. but sometimes—just sometimes—he slips.

you slowly begin to wake up, a familiar warmth on your back, big warm hands lie lazily around your waist - suddenly you hear a soft grumble,“...mhmm... you smell... nice...” time stops Sukuna- still half asleep, buries his nose deep in your neck. You stop breathing, you don't think, what did he say, clearly you must have heard it wrong, right?!

“You like how I smell?!?” your voice shoots up—you can't believe what came out of his mouth, you're sure you must have died in your sleep and now you've woken up in heaven.

“..nope.. never said that..,” he immediately backtracks when he comes back to his senses- realizes what kind of lovey-dovey nonsense he babbled in his half-sleep.

“Oh yeah, you can't take it back now...”

“Please stop talking, you are ruining my mood” he mumbles in your hair and takes another deep breath of your scent, like a little junkie who doesn't want to admit that he has an addiction problem.

“Ohhh kunaaa... you loooove meee give me a kiss..” your voice begging for his lips. You try to wiggle your way out, but his big arms won't let you move an fucking inch, Clearly he doesn't want to see your smug grin because of what his dumbass said in a moment of weakness.

“Woman, silent now.” a large pillow lands directly in your face, trying to quiet your overly happy babbling.

“You're an ass,” you murmur into the pillow, but your grin only widens under the soft fabric. “Yeah, and you better not forget that.”

---- Sorry, wrote this quickly on my way home. Hope you like it anyway, love yah. --- Masterlist

[m-beatrice]

🔥🔥🔥

[adiadagaki]

Satoru has too much money to ever do anything half assed, he specialises in grandeur, one of a kind. After all, what is the point in having something if everyone else has it, or can, too.

This philosophy carried weight particularly when it came to your engagement ring, a ring he had been hunting for for years now. They were either too small, too large, too tacky, too impersonal or too cheap. None of which Satoru wanted in a ring that represented forever with you.

Until one day, as if by fate, he wandered by Harry Winston, a little deflated from all of his failed shopping, and saw it.

A new display had replaced the previous lack lustre showcase, in its place exactly what he was looking for.

In a box infamous worldwide for exclusivity, sat a blue diamond ring, so light but so powerful in its possession of the shade. The 8 carat diamond shone fiercely, tucked against its side two clear baguette diamonds, all set on a platinum band.

A statement piece, without being over-exaggerated, timeless and tasteful, blue was your favourite colour (thanks to him) and it paid a homage to a piece of him.

It was perfect.

As if the wind could snatch it from its post he shot into the store, fingers tapping impatiently against his black card as he signed contracts and confirmed his identity with his bank.

An hour later and he walked out several millions of pounds lighter, but with a heart so full of love and content the lost weight was made up for.

[siennayaps]

fwb Suguru x Reader (18+ mdni) Part-1

(Friends with benefits, lots of angst, Suguru isn't over his ex, you're in love, miscommunication, cheating? not giving you more tags)

Part-2

You wake up with a dull ache in your chest. It’s the usual mix of longing and self-loathing, that ache that comes from being tangled up with someone who doesn’t do feelings the way you do. Suguru’s gone out somewhere already, or at least you think he has — the apartment is quiet, empty except for the faint scent of him lingering in the sheets. You lie there for a while, trying to make sense of the storm in your chest.

And then you see it. A faint glimmer on his phone, left carelessly on the nightstand. You catch the image before you can look away — Manami. Just a glimpse, just a fragment of her face, and it hits you like ice water. Your stomach twists, your heart contracts, and a sharp, familiar pang of jealousy settles in your chest. She’s still there. He’s still… connected to her somehow. Even in these casual, reckless moments with you, part of him is somewhere else. Somewhere that isn’t yours.

You shove the thought down, swallow the lump in your throat, and force yourself up. Shower. Dress. You go through the motions, but the sting lingers, and you can’t help replaying every detail of yesterday. Every kiss, every claim, every possessive touch.

Work is a blur. Emails, calls, meetings — everything dull, everything mechanical. Your mind keeps wandering back to him, to Suguru. You try to ignore it, but it’s impossible. He’s a constant echo in your thoughts, a shadow over your day.

Finally, the workday ends. You step outside your office building, keys in hand, ready to leave. And there he is. Naoya. Leaning casually by the steps of the office building, close enough to whisper something in your ear, close enough to make you smile, to make your chest flutter with warmth.

“Hey,” he murmurs, leaning in, mumbling something in your ear, and you can’t stop yourself from laughing. You feel light, unburdened for a moment. You’re just enjoying this, the teasing words, the closeness, the smile that won’t leave your lips.

But then — you feel it.

Eyes. His. Suguru’s. And suddenly the warmth drains from your chest, replaced with a cold, gnawing ache. You sense it more than see it: the intensity, the possessiveness, the quiet storm behind those eyes. You’re not sure if he’s angry, jealous, or… something worse, but it rattles you to your core.

You leave Naoya and head towards home, heart thudding. That night, neither of you call, neither of you speak. It’s not a regular thing; it’s just… whatever it is when it happens. And yet, you can’t shake it — the way he fucked you the next day, the way he was possessive without a word, his body claiming yours, the kisses sharper, more demanding, his hands leaving marks you can still feel on your skin. The mark he gave you around your left nipple. He never gave you marks around your neck because the next day…they will be a reminder of your conditional closeness.

When it’s done, he rises, preparing to go for dinner with his friends again. You watch him, you felt his possessiveness, something in your chest tightened, and in a moment of desperate, foolish hope, you wrap your arms around him from behind. Your hands press against his chest, your cheek resting against his back.

“I’m hungry,” you murmur, almost shyly. “Can I come with you too?”

He pauses, just slightly. But then — the shrug, the cold, precise words that slice right through you:

“No. It’s just my close friends. I don’t want them to get the wrong idea. They don’t know about you.”

They don’t know about me?

You freeze. The weight of his indifference, the casual brutality of it, hits you like a fist. He doesn’t speak about Naoya, doesn’t speak about Manami, doesn’t speak about anything that matters to your heart. You’re just… the girl he’s fucking. That’s it. That’s all.

You step back, your hands trembling. You want to argue, to protest, to make him see — see you — but you can’t. Because you already know. You’ve known from the start. And the cruel part is, part of you agreed to this. Agreed to be in this messy, beautiful, painful arrangement because it’s better than nothing, better than watching him with someone else, better than being entirely left out of his life.

And yet… it hurts. God, it hurts.

He moves past you, oblivious to the storm in your chest, and you can’t help it — the tears sting, the heat in your throat rises, and you swallow hard, telling yourself: he’s just Suguru. He’s always been like this. It’s just the way he is. It’s just the way it’s supposed to be.

But it doesn’t make it any less painful.

You hate how pathetic it makes you feel. You got teary almost in that exact moment, but you can’t show it to him, can you? You can’t say that hey, Suguru, I’m this stupid fucking bitch who’s been in love with you for years, who has always been in love with you, but I couldn’t say it, so I just settled for stupid friends-with-benefits because that’s how crazy I am for you. Yeah, just walk all over me. Can’t do that, right? So, you just let things happen.

It’s been a few days.

Same day at work. There’s this band’s concert that you both really like. You didn’t want to play around, didn’t want to make a fool of yourself again, but you just… simply shared a text with him. Asking if he’s up. You can see him from your cubicle. He’s an eye’s distance away. And then he smiles up and looks at you. God, you love his smile. Your mood lifts instantly. Okay… maybe that is a beginning of something, isn’t it?

Just so you notice that smile drift somewhere else. Behind you. To somebody else. To Yuki. The blonde. One of the prettiest girls at work. Of course. Of course, it’s her. You’ve made a fool of yourself again. You feel nauseous. Putting all these things to the back of your head—you will just never make yourself embarrassed again. Never, ever overstep… whatever this shit is that you’re into. You know you need to get out of it. It’s not serving any purpose.

You thought being casual would let you keep an eye on him, know who he’s meeting. But all it’s doing is causing pain, suffering, longing. Seeing Manami’s face come up on his phone. Seeing him smile at somebody else while he… while he fucked you. Like you were his. When you were talking to Naoya. It has to end. God, you feel nauseous. You feel so stupid. What have you gotten yourself into?

And as you finish up for work that day, you see him. He hasn’t replied to your texts. You can see him being chirpy with others. He is mostly reserved, so you don’t mind it. Things can get busy. But he certainly has time right now. You shouldn’t read too much into it. It’s casual. Remember?

⸻

I was gonna post this tomorrow but I thought of giving y’all an early treat. I’m almost done with the next two parts too! 😚

Reblogs appreciated

Taglist: @realalpacorn @nooshie11037 @melancholyhills @miyalangnaman @hoesluvshoko @zlinguss @archivedfilesofmei @fantastucbaby @Imaogottazayn @pridooodles @perqbeth @yomama2089 @peachessxoxo @khaosq @drretrospace @gojoscumslut @soupydumplings @daddypriceugh

[lumieros]

― AFTERCARE WITH JJK MEN

feat. ( 五条悟 ・satoru gojo )

“don’t pass out on me yet, baby,” satoru’s voice dipped into a hoarse laugh, a smirk tugging at his swollen lips, snow hair damp and clinging to his forehead, “you begged too much to just crash now.”

you groaned, pressing your face to his chest, “you could at least pretend to be sorry, toru.”

“sorry?” he chuckled, brushing a strand of hair from your forehead, “i should be sorry for giving you the night of your life? weren’t you screaming for more a few minutes ago.”

you groaned again, too exhausted to answer properly. he simply tightens his embrace in a content victory.

“yeah, baby, I know,” he murmured, sighing into your hair, “hold on.”

and before you could protest, before you could ask him to not leave the bed and stay with you—he disappeared into the bathroom, leaving the warmth of his body pooling faintly on the silk sheets. the low rush of water followed the sound of his footstep in the bathroom, the tub filling quickly. steam curled through the room. you heard the hiss of bubbles erupting and the gentle smell of lavender filling the room and following him when he returned.

satoru crouched and scooped you up bridal style, your arms instinctively slung around his neck, legs curling naturally. your body fell limp in his embrace, too tired from the night to even walk, too tired to ask him anything.

the warmth of the water welcomed you as he lowered you into the tub. steam clung to your skin, satoru crouched beside the tub, thumb brushing over the back of your hand, towel sliding slightly from his shoulder.

“you did so well baby,” he murmured against your temple, pressing a light kiss there, “always do, my perfect girl.”

you sighed softly, burying your face in the crook of his neck. he kissed the crown of your head, then the side of your shoulder, “made me feel so good,” he continued, voice low, teasing, “relax, now. i've got you baby, you’re mine now.”

then he joined you, easily settling behind you like a puzzle piece. the steam melded with the heat of your bodies, ghosting over you like a second blanket of warmth. you sat between his legs as big, strong arms envelope around and satoru rests his chin on your shoulder. you huff at the feel of his semi hard cock dragging against your ass.

“seriously, toru?” you sighed.

“what?” he chuckled, feigning suprise, “can’t a man be hard with his gorgeous wife in the tub with him?”

“aren’t you tired now? you came 3 times.”

“i can never get enough of you,” satoru pouts, “is that so bad?”

you shake your head, finding no point in going back and forth with him. instead, you settle for threading your fingers though his hair, coaxing warm sighs of relief from him. his own hands come to rest on your thighs, kneading softly at the plush muscles bruised with his marks.

“you love me, right?” he asked softly, head still dipped on your shoulder, “you’ll never leave?”

“hmm?” you hummed, it was almost routine for him to be vulnerable after sex like this, times when any of his insecurities would suddenly slip out, and you’d always know how to calm them, “of course i do toru, love you so much, how could I ever leave?”

satoru hummed into your skin, biting and kissing and doing everything he could to show gratitude. he massaged your thighs, caressed your hair, mindless i love you’s spilling with his voice in between.

you drifted off like that—in his hold, surrounded by warmth and lavender and quiet affection.

and when your eyes opened again, you were back in bed, tucked beneath the covers, pressed against the steady rise and fall of satoru’s chest, his arms still wrapped around you like he never planned to let go.

[fairysuku]

malevolent shrine

[belimah]

Fuga.