Honey ! That dick was 11 inches !
Teaser: Childhood best friend!Suguru who has always looked like an emo, closed off loser in your eyes ever since you were awkward middle schoolers suddenly grows to be a womaniser you can’t seem to move on from.
Tags: [MDNI/18+] Porn with a whole lotta plot, smut, fluff and angst w comfort, pining, yearning and pathetic geto, blowjob, riding, f recieving, messy sex, hotel sex, doggy style… When will I actually write pure smut without feelings?
Satoru and Suguru are the two most inseparable but different boys you have had the misfortune to meet.
Suguru is the kind of man straight out of your kinkiest most freaky dreams that would have you floored if they were to ever escape the confines of your mind.
He’s all black clothes, ear gauges that suit him criminally well, long and shiny locks that took years of growing to achieve, subtle yet dangerous piercings that make you spiral whenever you catch glimpses of them.
But your mind refuses to resonate with that perfectly obvious fact.
Because you’ve known Suguru before the tattoos and the cigarettes he carries in his pockets.
You know the boy with less than shoulder-length jet black hair that was dry before he learnt to take care of it junior year of highschool to try and impress some preppy bitch that used to get on your nerves too quickly.
You know the version of him who threw his guts out in your bathroom toilet after his first party, and the one who collapsed with his then-boney figure on your bed and called it a night—only to wake up 16 hours later.
Groggy as shit, voice deeper than a broken speaker, eyes swollen as if he were crying but it was really just from the first time he smoked mary and had a bad reaction to it.
That is the Suguru you know.
The one who isn’t a muscular and seductive man he has turned into. You love him in the present either way, but your mind can’t process that little virgin Geto is now the same man that has thousands of girls wrapped around his pretty pale and long fingers without doing anything about it.
Maybe it’s a secret defence mechanism of sorts that your body set up for you after you noticed how popular he got first year of college.
Or it could be that deep down you hate not being the only girl around him anymore. The only one he could find comfort in after getting rejected by yet another girl because of Satoru.
Satoru is a complete 360 from Suguru. He’s bubbly, bright, dramatic, overly friendly and extroverted for his own good.
With no sense of personal space or privacy, Satoru jumps around life surprisingly with no repercussions—flunking all of his classes in high school due to his fucking around with girls but somehow ending up at the same prestigious school you, Suguru and Shoko got into by working hard.
Though none of you dare to say it out loud, you’re all aware it’s because of his connections. The Gojos are quite well off.
Which makes the three of you resent the little albino shit at times.
But you wouldn’t change him for anything.
Within your group of 4 though, Suguru and Satoru have always stuck out like sore thumbs. Being glued by the hip since babies, of course they share a bond deeper than you and Shoko do with them.
The difference is, you entered the picture a bit after Shoko did in middle school to kind of “replace” Satoru during that time as he discovered the world of girls and parties after only living in the comfort of video games and his best friend for the last 15 years.
So while Gojo ran around flaunting his awkward charm and pick-up lines—living off the thrill of being able to get any girl he wanted because of his looks—you and Suguru naturally got closer as your short-haired friend was always buried in her books.
Weekends at Satoru’s turned into weekends at yours with cookies in the oven and chess pieces fighting eachother.
Somewhere along the lines, you stopped seing Suguru as someone else in the ground and more like your own best friend.
He seemed to see it the same way. Soon confiding in you more and more—sharing plans about his future and how he wanted to pursue philosophy while his parents pushed him into a business-oriented career.
Back then, you supported him, convinced him that he didn’t have to listen to his parents nagging because he was his own person, forcefully drilled confidence into that innocent teenager until he finally grasped it.
Everything was going smoothly.
Satoru was in his own world.
Shoko was doing great in school and after-hours clubs, anything for extra credit so she could get better grades for uni.
You and Suguru shared dreams over tea.
Everything was fine until that party.
Satoru had invited him, saying that his frat friends—the ones he had recently met and somehow managed to befriend despite being younger by a few years—promised fun and a good time.
You didn’t expect hard-headed Suguru to cave and go. But he did.
Shoko stayed with you that night while the boys were out until her mom picked her up at 11 P.M. as she had piano practice in the morning.
Fridays were usually the quietest days for you. Your parents took weekend trips to your grandparents house religiously and you usually skipped on visiting to study.
Which was what you were doing when at 1 in the morning, the front door was being unlocked and the sound sent a bone-chilling shiver down your spine.
An old baseball bat in hand and with hesitant steps, you slowly moved down the stairs to catch sight of messy black hair over a tall body slouching against the entry.
Your heart recognised him before your eyes caught up in the dark. And you managed to drop the bat, cross the distance and reach him before he fell over.
Later, you found out as he threw his guts out in the toilet bowl, that he was batshit drunk.
You remember holding his hair back, the dry locks in between your fingers as he retched on and on.
The small purple and faint red marked along his side that peaked out from under his loosely fitted black shirt all across his collarbones.
Your breath had hitched without you even noticing it. But your world shattered.
Because you’d grown feelings for the man that you knew would cause you more harm than good. But who were you at the hands of love? Only 16 and already feeling betrayed when there was nothing promised between the both of you.
You never acted like you liked him, never spoke about love, never showed interest. So who were you trying to blame?
Who were you going to blame for being such a pussy when Suguru got on the same train Satoru was and started changing again.
Learned how to do his hair, got piercings, gauges and his first tattoos in no time. Suddenly turning into a woman magnet that had your heart clenching painfully in your chest.
Yet, throughout the years. No girl ever stuck. No woman made it past the texting stage, not a single one of them slept in his bed the way you did at times when you’d crash at his place.
And you never stuck to any man either. A relationship here and there to get Suguru off your mind with some asshole that only messed with your head even further before you’d ditch him and swim in regret over never having confessed to your best friend before the words carved themselves into your bones.
So Suguru, at 24, has been your crush for seven round years by now.
And you’re one sorry excuse of a supportive best friend when he mentions dates and girls. You want so badly to rip your ears out, stuff his mouth with cotton till he chokes on the skinny blondes and Coke addicted bitches he ends up with at random bars.
Your raspy, beer-ghosted voice cuts him off as he tries to scramble together where he met his latest situationship.
“I’m tired, Suguru. We should continue this tomorrow.”
It’s not often you cut him off so brutally but the few times you do, Suguru sees the sirens going off in his head.
Head lolling to the side, left hand holding his drink in between his fingertips, he subtly lifts an eyebrow as his eyes rake over every inch of your beautiful skin.
Covered in a sheet coat of shine, probably from a body oil that he will remember tonight as he pumps his cock in his hands like he does almost everytime he sees you because you always come so pretty for him.
Well, he hopes it’s for him.
But 7 years of acting like he’s fine with being your best friend with his feelings wrapped under bandages and buried under cement, and he’s fearing that soon he won’t be able to hold it in anymore.
You’ve never shown interest in him. He’s never caught a sliver of love swimming in your eyes when his onyx ones prayed to find it in them.
What was he supposed to do? Risk your friendship? No.
Instead, he put himself out there. For every other person to see, hoping that you realise someday he is actually selling himself open for you to snatch off the market.
Yet, time passes and time passed. Nothing.
When in the present, your jaw is working and you’re mumbling something along the lines of “I’m really worn out, not really in the mood for talking right now.”
Suguru softly sighs, eyes crinkling at the corners as his eyes soften under the dim yellow-light lit bar you’re both at after work.
He can’t remember the amount of times he’s done it for you. Taken you home tipsy, carried you up your apartments stairs because the hellhole you live in has an elevator that works once a month, tucked you into bed after tugging most of your clothes on because he’s done it ever since you were young and too tired to change but refused to sleep in dirty clothes, kissed your forehead goodnight and let his chest tighten.
Because he wishes he could say “let’s go home.”.
And he wishes he would stay over, wake up with you in his arms in the morning where he’d kiss the soft corner of your shoulder before the pecks would turn warmer.
But he buries those thoughts deep down and walks out the front door, steps heavy and shoulders weighing a ton.
You wake up feeling like a truck slammed into you sometime in the night—muscles aching, head banging, eyes burning. Though last night you swore you didn’t drink too much, your morning dizziness is really screaming for a rain check on how many beers you actually had.
Were you turning into Shoko?
Catching sight of your phone plugged to charge on the nightstand, you open it to find a mess of texts from your coworkers in the group chat talking about some event they’re trying to set up.
A plethora of messages from Shoko stressed out because of her latest karen patient. A checking in text from Suguru you’ll reply to in a bit. And a thousand texts from Satoru..?
You click on his icon and swipe past the hundred of messages where he’s literally just screaming your name in order for you to reply and get straight to the point.
The favor he’s asking you seems almost ridiculous as it stares back at you.
You, me, Shoko and Suguru. Friday at my company, need u all there for a major event. But I don’t have a date, I need you to act like my girlfriend. 🙏🏻😭
Please help, can’t take Shoko ‘cause she’s already been here and everyone knows her.
I’ll literally buy you anything you want, you know I got the means, boo.
And unfortunately, that last text is what sells it for you.
Friday you waltz hand in hand into one of six eyes’ hotel branches with Satoru who paid for your custom Chanel outfit—elegant silk dress with the tiniest most intricate details around the hemming, a nice cream shade that brings out all the right places—and you wear your new Manolo Blahniks that he got you like the deal promised.
Feeling good, you barely notice how the hall holds you it’s breath when you come in. People’s spines straighten up, how certain women that aren’t really comfortable with being outshined with simplicity and elegance, narrow their eyes.
But the tint gasps go straight to your blood vessels and straight into your heart. You feel good and nothing can stop you tonight.
Satoru whispers in your ear—hair gelled back, crisp cream suit to match your dress with subtle brown outlining, black slacks.
“Careful, Suguru is about to jump at anyone who stares at you for longer than three seconds.”
Your breath hitches, head swinging back to him. You’re supposed to feign innocence over your little huge crush on your best friend, but all along, Satoru has known.
He smirks, that cocky and know-it-all one that makes you want to slap him square sometimes. “You’re not so slick, Y/N. I am also your best friend after all.”
Before you even have time to debunk his claim—which was already confirmed by your subconscious look of surprise, caught red handed in the worst possible moment—a figure you hadn’t noticed creeping up cleared their throat.
Your heartbeat jumps to the hundreds at the sight of Suguru. Clad in everything dark—black blazer with no lining or details, just the dark void of the color complimenting him dangerously well—silver piercings shining under the bright hall light, helix in place, gauges sitting in their right place, three small studs on his lobes.
And that tongue piercing you know he has is tucked away behind his teeth.
Shoko monotonously stands by his side, expression dull, looking every bit unhappy to be here. Though you know she’s about to hop onto the bar and flip that look right around.
You exhale for the first time in what feels like the five excruciatingly tense minutes beneath Suguru’s piercing quiet gaze.
You’ve been calling him a lot that recently and he’s not liking the sound of it. Where is the nickname you usually use on him?— Sugu?
It’s his name. He knows. But god does he hate to hear it coming from your pretty lips.
The words “What the fuck are you doing wrapped around Satoru?” and “You look gorgeous.” drop straight into his stomach acid as he swallows them and says instead a brief, oddly cold “Hey.” back.
Truth is, you look divine. But the sight of you clinging onto his best friend kicks him in the wrong way even though he knows you’re both just friends and this is just an act.
He’s been let on the plan.
Yet he can’t stand to watch it unfold.
Satoru sweeps you away to network with you on his arm because it gives him a good look. A nice lady on his side and smooth words could get him deals after deals tonight.
You pretend that you’re enjoying yourself when all you can think about is how you felt and feel Suguru eating you up with his eyes.
It feels illegal. The way his eyes are so hungry for you, shooting bullets through your skin from where he is with Shoko at the bar.
From your side, Satoru mutters something you barely catch from having your mind somewhere else, and your arm drops from his forearm suddenly.
You find yourself alone at a small circular table in the gathering, swirling your drink in your cup and patiently waiting for him to come back till a cold, possessive hand settles on the small of your back.
Chills immediately overtake your body.
The air in your lungs gets kicked out once the figure circles you and reveals Toji Zenin. You know him from the bullshit smeared over his name everywhere.
The business industry’s biggest rival. Every season he’s out for some company’s neck again. The Zenin’s have their claws deep in everyone’s business.
He’s weirdly tall, looming over you with his wispy bangs covering the half-lidded eyes he has. Dark like someone else’s, still different.
But the hair on your skin stands up despite the fire in your eyes. His touch feels like poison to you.
“Toji Zenin.” You recognise. He smirks, sending a small nod your way.
Huh? How does he know your name?
“I’ve had my eye on you all night.” He casually points out, putting your questions to rest for the moment.
His touch is long gone from your back but it lingers there in an uncomfortable way that still has the hairs on your arms prickling.
He’s every bit intimidating, from his looks to his gaze. The tattoos on his skin that don’t offer a single ounce of comfort to you like Suguru’s does.
Shit, why can’t you ever get him out of your head no matter how many times you throw yourself in-front of other men?
“Yeah? Am I that intriguing?” You ask, a sly smirk mirroring his on your face. Deciding to play into his game, you rest your drink on the table and relax your previously tense stature.
Briefly, he takes a good look at you again before replying confidently. “Very.”
You fake a giggle to keep the chat going.
“Let me buy you a drink?”
The freshly ordered cosmopolitan you were sipping on suddenly seems good enough to abandon, so you nod.
In the blink of an eye, before the man can even open his mouth, you’re yanked away. A strong grip on your wrist and your body getting dragged through the multitude of people in the room by someone you don’t catch sight of until you reach outside of the hall.
"Suguru." He finally stops dead in his tracks at the sound of your sweet and confused voice ringing in his ear.
Body on fire, soul frusturated, he holds it in to not lash out over seeing Toji even think you're on his level.
“Suguru.” You try again to rip him out of his head.
Only when your hands find his bicep does he physically jerk out of his thoughts.
Deep onyx eyes stare back at yours under the dimly lit sidewalk where the only thing wrapping around the both of you is the faint noise coming from behind the closed wooden hall doors and the night’s coldness.
“What’s wrong?” You ask, worry lacing your tone.
“Nothing.” He spits out, too quick to be thought through.
You push back, knowing him. “There is something wrong. Come on, you’ve always been clear with me.”
One of his hands run down his face to try and lessen the growing turmoil inside of him.
Defeated, resolve chipping little by little by your warm concern, he sighs. “No, I haven’t.”
“What?” A shaky breathe escapes you, maybe from the cold or because of the tension.
Unlike himself, he dodges your question. “I didn’t like seeing you with Satoru.”
Confusion replaces your initial worry. Eyebrows knitting together, your hands twitch by your side.
Suguru doesn’t dare to look into your eyes, glueing his sight to the empty street behind him.
Nevertheless, you continue. “Why did you pull me away from him? I was getting to know him.” Bothered by how he stepped in when he had no right to.
“You could’ve just asked me to come with you like a normal person does. There was no need to cause a scene.”
You catch the way his fists ball into fists by his side, the way his shoulders square up under your words.
“Stop calling me that.” He cuts you through.
Something splits in your chest. “What? Why? It’s your name.”
Without missing a beat, he continues while dodging your face. “You never call me by my name.”
And you realise where you both have gotten.
When did it ever turn so cold between the two of you? Was it when it started to hurt too much to keep your feelings in check while he fucked around?
“I don’t get what’s your problem.” You breathe out, shoulders slumping.
He finally turns to you. “You are my problem.”
A knife is jabbed between your heartbeats.
His eyes thin out, unaffected by you. “I won’t.”
Voice shaky, you pry again. “Then what do you want from me, Suguru?”
What does he not want is the question.
“I want you to see me for once.”
Your heart turns to stone immediately. Every vein in you freezing.
“I want you to look at me and not those other men. Fuck.” He pivots on his heels, slacks clicking against the cement as he turns around and runs his hand through his pulled back hair again. Frustration bleeding from him.
“I’ve been in love with you for seven fucking years, Y/N. What don’t you understand?”
Your eyes burn with tears you’re not sure are supposed to be brimming.
Since the chess matches? The afternoon study sessions? The nights you’d both spend stargazing?
“In middle school you told me to start taking care of myself if I wanted girls to like me so I did. And you thought I did it for them when it was all for you.”
“In high-school I got my first piercing because I overheard you tell Shoko that men who had them were hotter.”
“Then the tattoos too. I’m a pathetic loser who has done everything to try and get you to look at me. Yet you don’t.”
“I went around to try and find you in someone else but I couldn’t. And i’m at my wits end, Y/N. I don’t know what else to do.”
The air is too thick for you to swallow, but its even harder to process his words as they pierce painful holes in your chest.
He did all of that for you?
Every single detail carved into his body is for you?
“God, you’re such an idiot.” You whisper, feeling a warm tear slip past your waterline and fall down your cheek.
“I’ve always loved you, asshole. You never looked at me.”
He swings back to you, to see the streaks falling down your angelical features. And something fractures inside of him too.
Fuck, you’re both such idiots.
His arms wrap around your trembling figure before you can calculate your next sentence. Warmth and his signature smell of faint vanilla and musk cradling you to calmness.
Your head softly hits his chest, listening to his heartbeat for a second before pulling it upwards and searching for his eyes.
He tilts his head down and loses himself in your doe-eyed look. Feeling his rough corners go smooth.
Neither of you need to communicate anything as your souls search for each other, bringing your lips in a deep kiss.
One that took too long to play out.
The kiss lasts an eternity longer than it actually did, but you’re experiencing such euphoria that you don’t pay mind to the way your lungs pray for air.
Eventually, you do break the kiss.
The fragile moment feels like it’s a fragment of your imagination.
It shatters when the front door of the hall opens, a plethora of people spilling out in a hurry.
You freeze in Suguru’s hold. His head is already running though. Once more, this time gently, he gets a hold of your wrist and takes you with him back inside.
You’re confused as you cross the swarm of people inside still working. From the corner of your eye, you see Satoru, and you see Toji following you from the other side of the room too—hand in hand with Suguru—and him with a drink pressed to his lips.
Subconsciously, you swallow the awkwardness before you enter a different room.
Standing before a corridor full of elevators, you turn with the intention to question Suguru—but before you can, a lift’s door opens and he pulls you inside where you land against the mirror.
He locks you there beneath him, palms pressing into the mirror that sees you both. And he catches your gaze so much you don’t even dare to think about looking anywhere else.
Feeling butterflies explode in your stomach, crawling up your throat and spreading through your chest, you can only look up at him with the galaxy in your eyes.
Suguru is breathing heavily, eyes clouded with possession and love while he looms. Chest lifting and falling in the quietness.
The elevator doors close with a ding! and your lips meet once more. Hungrier this time. You feel his desperation clinging onto every surface of you as his hands drop from the mirror and circle your waist.
A small moan escapes you when he parts from the kiss and pecks a sensitive spot beneath your ear. Something needy has overtaken him and you won’t complain at all.
His long fingers press into your ribs, keeping you in place and not enough to harm, but enough to make your panties wetter by the second.
You didn’t even hear the lift stop or the doors opening, fortunately, he did and slowly he guided you out the elevator. Mouth still on your neck, one hand on the small of your back while his other shuffles around for something in his pocket.
You’re pressed against a foreign door that unlocks when he presses a keycard to the lock while still kissing you madly.
Cold, cold kisses your bare shoulders the second you’re gently pushed inside into the darkness of the empty room.
Before you can catch a glimpse of the place, you’re meeting the closing front door again, Suguru’s hands roaming more freely than before.
The cold tips of his fingers meet the exposed skin of your back as his lips press soft kisses to your collarbones. Ghosting around your neck every now and then.
Every coherent thought is fleeing your mind—Is this how it feels like to be touched by your best friend? What have you been missing out almost for a whole decade?
“Y/N.” Barely hearing his muffled call, you try to hum a yes but accidentally let a small whimper escape when he briefly bites your carotid gently.
He kisses the red spot once his teeth detach and you feel his lips in a smirk as they meet your throat.
“Do you really want to do this?” He asks, nipping on your sensitive skin—searching for where you’re most delicate and where you fall apart the easiest.
Teeth grazing a particularly sensitive spot, you shudder and he fights back the urge to chuckle at his effect on you.
“Yes.” You breathe out after getting a grip on your mind again.
He hums against you, the vibration travelling all the way down to your soaked panties begging to be pulled off.
“Really?” He muses, a slender hand tracing the curve of your waist unhurriedly, landing on your hip before giving it a firm squeeze and continuing it’s way down.
Hand on your ass, he starts to knead the plush skin of it over your silky dress once your lips combine again in a sloppy, half-minded kiss.
Fed up and so needy, your hands fist his silk shirt—black like most of his closet which you’ve learned over the years—and bring his lips close enough till they brush yours again.
And he crashes against you, lips colliding, hips closing in on you and making you feel the hard outline of his boner pressing against your stomach.
Moving on your own while your mind is absent, your sly fingers find the hem of his pants and slip past to palm him over the thin material of his boxers.
You almost groan at the feeling of his cock—at the shape of his prominent vein under your touch, and the tiny bit of liquid spilling from his tip.
Not even noticing it, you’re so beyond dripping that when Suguru hooks a leg between yours and presses up into your cunt, you leave a wet patch on the cotton of his pants.
He continues to explore your mouth as you subconsciously grind your hips on his muscular leg, steadily supported with the help of his hands on your waist to the wall.
Under your hand, you feel his length twitching—every time his cock jerks weakly in your hand, struggling to move much by the restriction of being in his boxers and because of its weight—you wonder why he feels so big.
And if he will even… fit.
The thought consumes you quicker than you have the time to stop it. Suguru feels you stopping your dry humping and your hands settle on his chest before pushing him back.
Curiously bites at him but disintegrates when he sees you drop to your knees, pupils blown wide open and your hair falling perfectly on the sides of your face. Framing those perfect features of yours.
Without ever admitting it, Suguru feels himself being able to already cum at the mere sight of you like this—but he holds it in the best he can as he feels your hands crawl up.
Hook around his belt, slowly pull the leather out of the secure, pull it off and throw it somewhere on the side, bundle the fabric at his upper thigh and pull down till the only thing in your sight is his aching cock pulsing against his underwear.
You bring your hands excruciatingly slow like everything else you’ve done in the last few moments to his dick. Seeing the thick ridges of him throw the light gray and practically salivating at the mouth.
The material smoothly glides off his skin once you pull it by the edges and…
Suguru might look like he always messes up somewhere along the way with girls, never able to get an actual girlfriend and settle down—resulting in him looking like he gets no bitches.
But boy, that dick is eleven inches.
Those girls have no idea what they are missing on.
And you’re the lucky winner.
It slaps loudly against his firm abs once it’s set free, tempting you alternately with its looks.
Pale, dusty pink tipped, veiny all around, girthy and criminally long. For a second, your eyes flicker to Suguru.
And he’s smirking. Looking down at you like you wished for this upon yourself and now there’s nowhere to run to.
Swallowing, you bring saliva onto the floor of your mouth and prepare to take him in. Wrapping your hand around his shaft, you part the connection between his chest and his dick before licking the tiny pearl of pre-cum that was on the top.
Suguru quietly hisses, and that’s all you need to immediately take him in your mouth.
Starting by the tip, you feel your mind already exploding at the salty and tangy feeling of his juices, smearing the sensitive end on your textured tongue while peering up at him.
Desperate to catch every reaction.
His fists ball into tight fists once you wrap your pretty lipstick-smudged lips around him.
Immediately wrapping him in the warmth your mouth it.
Then your tongue comes into action and Suguru starts counting his blessings, praying he has room for one more so he doesn’t immediately lose it already.
Skillfully swirling your tongue around him, you map every surface of his dick and memorise every dip of his veins—every length of them, the ones that go all the way to the base and the ones who only pop up at the very top.
Only being able to take him halfway before choking, you try to stroke the rest with your hand until you feel him place a hand on your head and start to choke you on his dick.
Your eyes shut closed as his tip hits the back of your throat, saliva spilling from the corners of your mouth as he breaches your oesophagus—hauling himself somewhere tighter.
Flattened tongue resting on the bottom of his heavy cock, you fight the urge to gag as he fucks himself harder.
Only when you feel yourself about to collapse from the lack of oxygen do you tap out and he immediately pulls out.
Your throat burns with that delicious ache you’ve just discovered.
Voice hoarse and raspy, you let out a curse under your bed before he’s moving again.
Back meeting the soft mattress of the hotel bed, you let out a breath before seeing that Suguru is already sitting between your legs, spreading them so far that your dress rides up and displays your wet panties clearly for him.
The low chuckle he gives reaches your ear in a soft melody. Long fingers hook around the flimsy material and you’re already jerking at the feeling of his knuckle brushing your clit.
There’s not an ounce of shame in your body when you let out a throaty moan as his fingers dip inside of your hole, mouth latching onto your twitching clit instantly after.
He takes two licks with a flattened tongue and your touch-deprived self already starts to collect tears on your waterline.
Mewls start to subconsciously spill out of you.
You feel him smirk against you as your sensitive bud makes out with his mouth. Quickly, your vision starts to go blotchy when he curves his long fingers inside, finding that spot that makes you gummy in his hands.
You’re so close to the edge, so ready for the orgasm to crash over you when he pulls away in the blink of an eye.
You whimper at the loss of contact, near damn crying at the escape of your climax.
And he smirks, he fucking smirks.
Pulling his shirt over his head and climbing back, saying.
“That’s for leading on Fushiguro, and for even accepting being Satoru’s for the night.”
Eyebrows knitting and your eye catching the possessive side of him, you circle back to the first name.
“Leading on Fushiguro?” There’s curiosity in your scratchy voice.
But he doesn’t miss a beat, doesn’t let you ponder any further while his hands hook around your waist and flip you on your stomach.
And his cock breaches the first muscle of resistance, making you scream out both in pain and pleasure as the first few inches mercilessly dip inside of you.
Feeling like you’re being split in half, your hands start fishing the sheets, anything to lessen the pain.
Suguru presses slow, open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder and back, soothing you through the ache that soon turns delicious.
Once the pain subdues, you feel him move again—only being able to fit half of him inside of you, but he takes it nonetheless.
Pulling your hips upwards and arching your back—Suguru finally starts hitting mean thrusts to your poor overwhelmed pussy.
Not caring at all how the whole building can hear you scream out, moan his name like it’s the only thing you know how to do.
The headrest groans in an uneven rhythm as Suguru plunges deep into your velvety walls, creating a frothy ring at the base where your bodies meet.
“Come on, Y/N, relax so I can fit.”
“N-No—You won’t-haah.” You can barely get your words out, panting and shaking while tears run down your face. “Fit.”
But Suguru is a level of stubborn and hard-headed you’ve known since middle school.
“I’ll make it fit, dear.”
And you’re flipped on your back again, wincing at the loss of him nuzzling his tip into your womb, but getting hauled up before being able to catch your breath.
His back meets the leather of the headrest as his hands guide your shaky legs to each side, your knees digging into the soft cotton sheets, and you pussy hovering right over who she wants inside.
You succumb to his order like a body with no mind. Legs collapsing on you from the lack of strength and lowering your cunt to meet his glistening tip again.
He hungrily watches himself disappear up until where you physically cannot take him anymore—halfway through.
Seeing how your hands tremble on his shoulder, how your breathing is shaky and your body unsteady, he hooks an arm around your back and places a warm hand on your hip.
Till he’s buried to the hilt and you’re groaning so much that they are bouncing off the walls and settling in his bones.
You can’t believe Suguru has been hiding this monster for god knows how long. It almost makes you wish you never had sex with anyone else just to experience this as your one and only.
But some things can’t he changed.
Just like you know that he has been with other girls because you didn’t notice he was in love with you the whole time.
What a mess it is between your bodies too—sweat clinging to Suguru’s forehead and moistening the front pieces of his silky jet-black hair that cling to his forehead.
The straps of your dress have long fallen and revealed your chest once you sat down on him, giving Suguru the perfect angle to nip and suck on your breasts as you focus on riding him.
He takes control once more when he rams up at you, feeling your walls fluttering around him and spasming closer to the edge you were previously stripped of.
You feel your jaw going slack, the air in the room impossibly hot and the coil in your tummy at its end.
And it takes him a few more thrusts, angry and desperate till you come down crashing on him.
Body violently shaking, high-pitched mewls coming out of you and your weight going dead on him.
At the very last second, he pulls you up, almost cumming inside of you—but his dick slips between your bodies—shooting his seed over your dress and chest.
Ruining your attire, shamelessly so.
And the room goes dead silent save for your heavy breathing and his.
Fingers twitching against your sex-slicked skin, Suguru finally relaxes against the bed. Draping your body over his—the aftermath of him finishing sticky between your bodies but neither of you care.
It’s quiet for a second while the memories and the weight of the moment settle between the both of you.
“We are so stupid.” You whisper after another beat, cuddling your head further into his chest, searching for the steady beat of his heart beneath the muscles and bones.
Not proofread yet, maybe my longest work as of now (def in the smut category.) this is my 1k special as a thank you to all of you for being so kind with me and genuinely making writing so fun <3
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