"...and then i see him walk out with *hick* some other fucking chick!" you scoffed, cursing through your clenched teeth.
fwb!Geto has one hand right between your waist and hips, while the other goes up to caress your cheek gently. his thumb runs across your bottom lip with a ironic sympathy. "just tell me about it, princess."
it's almost impossible with how brutal he thrusts up into you, and how you're practically fogging up the windshield of your car like animals. your hands find some sort of stabilization above the driver's seat windows as his cock slams up against the hilt of your pussy while his hands push your hips down impossibly harder.
"i-its just..aaah-. he t-told me he was just out with his 'friends'... but he nnever told me he was going to some stupid g-gosh darn party and bringing a girl back!" your hasty remarks turn into broken sobs that spill from your throat uncontrollably as he pushes himself in-and-out of you wildly.
"he sounds like a real chud." he tilts his head at you, eyes fending a mocking concern. "so much for a fuckin' boyfriend, aren't i right?"
the wet, ferocious noises bounce off the walls of his tinted windows. the drivers seat fully reclined, and your thighs straddle the entire width as he fucks you relentlessly.
your panties—not the pair he already stashed in one of his compartments—are long discarded beneath the two of you, your skirt is hiked up to your waist, and strands from your messy bun fall onto your face adorably. geto stands in awe at the sight of you.
and geto, that casually smug asshole from campus is balls-deep in you to comfort you from your cheating-idiot of a boyfriend. obviously, this wasn't the first night either. but geto, of course, was willing to play the long game.
“i don’t know why you’re still hanging around him.” your hips roll down onto his, ripping a low groan from his throat while his grip on you even tighter. the thrill tugs a bittersweet smile at hero’s mouth as warm, beaded tears fall from your eyes. “good, just like that. show it to me.”
what better cure for sadness than an orgasm?
warm, wet slick gushes down from you onto him, your hands brace his shoulders for support. the intensity is making you see stars at this point. “haah— suguu… i dunno…”
the man gave you an overly dramatic pout. "well, why dont we start with this?" his hands moved up to your exposed breasts, handling them in his palms as he squeezed your nipples between the gaps in your fingers. "does he fuck you like this?"
you shook your head fevrently as you rode through waves of pleasure, moans escaping your mouth frantically.
as one hand cupped your left breast, his other hand traced down from your chest to your pussy. then, his hand spread out your lips as his thumb found your clit. geto drew deep circles into your sensitive nub while he thrust himself up in you.
"aaah! suugu— you're so deep.!" you cry. his pace ignored your cries. it was brutally relentless. the added stimulation at your clit brought you to a new heaven as he revealed in the sight of you.
"does even make you cum, princess?"
his words elicit another head shake from you, filling his desires to the absolute brim. he keeps up at your clit just to hear you scream.
"let me see you cum on my cock, i know you can."
your body snaps, your vision whites out and stars decorate each part of your closed eyelids as your orgasm rushes over you. hot rounds of bliss flash through your body. geto growls as your pussy holds a vice grip onto his cock, making him chase his own release quickly.
his load punches its way into your cervix, cock pulsing as each drop of himself is emptied into your plush walls. geto's sounds turn into something not the slightest bit less of animalistic as he milked himself into your leaky holes.
breathing heavy, geto still went back to that undeniable sweetness of his and stroked your pretty face gingerly. "you feel better now?"
—it comes to you on a dark, humid night in your bedroom. the glow on your computer is the only thing that brightens the room, soft light that splays over your work-ridden face.
and it's no different where he is. this 'mysterious' seller on a slightly shady website is right on the same page as you. his desk is littered with textbooks from his studies, pages drowning in highlighter brighter than the sun—annotations leaving little room for the actual words.
undoubtedly, it was no surprise he so easily passed with flying colors.
12:50 am
user : alr not even a thanks
✓ Seen
but why did law school have to be so expensive? taking up an extra job on the side wasn’t such an inconvenience, but at times he felt like he was just scraping by. somewhere, higuruma knew that it would all pay off some day when he’d decide to go all out as a defense lawyer.
five-thousand yen every half hour of consultation. two-hundred thousand yen success fee.
what did any of that mean if all his success was blocked by some ridiculous loophole? a dead-end retrial?
12:57 am
user : cold
✓ Seen
he was smart, of course, and brutally studious. a genius, as his peers would refer to him. such trivial matters shouldn’t kill him like this. he held his face in his hand, finger tips spreading across his eyes. with increasing pressure, he pressed a climatic hand into his temples. pieces of his dark locks spilled onto his face. releasing a heavy, deep breath through his nose, he slumped back in his chair. his legs were spread, and his hands hit his thighs with an audible slap as he got up.
stimulation. that’s what he needed. that’s what he wanted to feel.
...or some quick cash.
and what the hell was he about to do?
"Law Student Bath Water - 6oz, newly sourced (clothed)" — with a few attached images of a simple plastic container filled with the liquid.
just for the right price of whatever the people screamed their desperation out for.
like it would, he had a buyer on his hands.
blank account, no description, no profile picture, and a username that lead him to nowhere. at some point in looking at the page, maybe the slightest tinge of doubt whispered into his mind. other than that, what was there to lose?
in that image he sent you, captured the scene of his craftsmanship. a slightly blurry, shaky image right above his bath. from the image, you could faintly trace the way his fingers trembled lightly, or the cautious way he handled the wet phone. the fabric of his (once) finely ironed slacks all the way up to his dress shirt and blazer clung close to his skin as his articles were soaked. it embraced the fine details of his body.
the wet pieces of clothing mapped the outlines of his legs, climbing to his hips and even what seemed like the faint profile of his cock. his sodden dress shirt provided a translucent window to his waist and deepened chest. there was a strange sort of provocation the peculiar photo gave off— even if that meant he stayed fully clothed.
1:08 am
h.143158 : Why wouldn't it be?
—
the package came to your doorstep just a few days later, and soon just right at your desk again where you struggled with the plastic packaging that was reinforced with an unhealthy amount of tape. tearing it out of its bubble wrap confinement, you stared at the little 6oz container in all its glory as you brought it up to the light.
9:05 pm
h.143158 : Hey.
h.143158 : my thing, it says it should of shipped earlier today, Did it?
user : you betcha
✓ Seen
user : oh yeah
✓ Seen
user : super real
✓ Seen
the bath water came in that same dainty container you saw on the website, just like those containers people sell slime in.
9:28 pm
user : [1 video attachment]
✓ Seen
higuruma saw through the lens of your webcam. not much of an increase of quality of his own, being the fact it was on what was supposedly your laptop. he watched as you tilted the camera attachment down almost dangerously low, only just stopping at around your chest and part of your desk setup.
he saw the container placed right in the center, and your hands moved to unscrew the white plastic lid off, letting the ambient light shine off of it.
what the hell were you about to do?
and most importantly, what did he get himself in to?
the man noticed your own surroundings. he couldn't see much past you, but he gazed on your collarbones and skin of your neck as they were masked by a light-colored tank top. right on top sat a delicate, fine silver necklace with tiny angel wings affixed to the chain.
"jesus..." he muttered, bringing a hand to rub his temples.
through the screen, he watched as you brought the plastic receptacle up to your mouth.
wait.
what?
your tongue swiped over the ridges on the opening before taking the liquid into your mouth. tipping it in, you let the salty fluid scatter across your tongue all at once. holding it in your mouth, you let it run side-to-side between your cheeks as the water traversed your lips.
something in him just broke. his teeth clenched, the grip on his pants tightened, just nearly ripping the fabric as something he might've known all to well came all over him.
with just a barley audible gulp, you swallowed the liquid. as some of it dripped down, falling and creating a minuscule stain on your tank, your finger came up to ghost over the excess on your chin.
higuruma felt his face flush madly. blood rushed to his face, fingertips, and coursed through down to his dick. his eyes widened like they could blow out his head to the sinfully inflammatory sight of you. the hand he used to support his head quickly went down to palm that sensitive tent that began to pitch, stretching out the cloth of his pants.
leaning down to end the video, his hawk sight caught a small glimpse of your lips in the frame as you moved closer. he wanted you to move closer. he wanted to you come through the screen and just—
he slammed his laptop immediately. loud and empathic, like it had just wronged him. his jaw tithed, and a painful hiss strung from his teeth as the room got impossibly hotter. the man's heart rammed against his ribs as his breaths got labored, harder, even.
the room was quiet, too quiet, now.
too easy for him to soak in his own humiliation. and his humiliation? what a joke. what was he thinking, feeling—what the fuck was going on?
—
just like the days came and passed, he was back in the lecture hall. what mattered now was that he was back. what mattered was that no one knew what went down in his bedroom just a few nights ago, that it would be all fine and he'd firm his stance back in his studies.
he took a seat where he always did, reaching down in his bag to retrieve the notebook he always used, mind clearing already and ready to focus.
a figure came down the rows, taking a seat in a seat a little bit below and diagonal from his.
higuruma watched as she dug into her bag for her own belongings. a face he had seen many times before, but skipped over. a face that didn't seem any more relevant than anyone elses.
her head just slightly obscured his vision of what was in front of him, and it had ticked him off just enough to say something about it.
but just as he was about to extend his hand to tap her on the shoulder, she brought her hands up and turned to move her hair to the side. he watched as her hair fell over her shoulders smoothly, and that's when he saw it.
that necklace.
the one with the small silver beads and the finely-carved angel wings.
the one that made him freeze in his spot.
holy shit.
your head shifted, meeting the presence you sensed behind you. watching the man who's face looked like he just saw unexplainable horrors, you tightened your lips and scrunched your face as he practically scowled at you.
"do you need something?" you huffed, voice laced with growing annoyance.
"i-..." he was quick to shake his head and fix himself. "nothing... just, sorry. saw something."
syn. after a well-needed function with your friends, you all decide to spend the night in the cramped, unbearably house just like back then. however, your wandering mind will let you do anything but sleep. a late-night trip to the kitchen leads you to your ex boyfriend, and things escalate quickly.
cw. explicit sexual context. post-func, drinking, fucking your ex, HATE SEX, guided masturbation, finger sucking, oral sex (fem rec.), hitting, unprotected piv, semi-public, degradation, creampie, they’re both crazy and fight the entire time actually — heavy inspired/basically this
w.c 6.0k no sig figs
the kitchen is silent, except for the occasional buzzing of overhead fan that quietly drones off. steps across the slightly sticky tiled floor bounce back with a small noise, and compared to the rest of the silence, stood out.
everyone in the house was asleep— knocked out cold after a night overflowing with noise, drinking, and reckless partying.
who could blame them? after what seemed like the longest, stressful, most dreadful semester it was what everybody needed. a night to unwind and finally have some sort of release after the hell of what was their and your exams.
so you and your big friend group had no better idea than to have a wonderful little sleepover "reunion" to celebrate the start of spring break.
sleepovers that now ended up with your friends all passed out drunk— and having to listen to shoko and utahime snore incessantly, too far gone, while also conveniently using you as their big body pillow in the guest room.
you loved the girls, but you weren't sure how longer you could keep this up.
running on what, two, three hours of sleep from the night before? you were hoping, no, praying you'd be asleep by now. but the drinks just made you groggy and irritable and now it was definitely past midnight and you just had to have a disgustingly painful headache right about now.
you rubbed your forehead, trying to not hit shoko who made your arm her own personal headrest.
it took you a while to try and maneuvered out the bed without waking the girls, but after a good minute you were successful. you were practically stumbling down to the kitchen across the hall in hopes to find water, or advil, or just anything that'll put you back to bed and make you wake up less… terrible. well, your hopes worked and there was definitely something awaiting you.
ryomen sukuna.
shirtless. yes, shirtless. hands slumped over the counter, head thrown back— his muscular back adorned with dark tattoos basically gleamed under the kitchen's dim lights. clad only in his loose gray sweats, they hung deliciously low on his hips. his deep, carved v lines trailing down to his pelvis.strands of his rich-colored hair fell weakly right on his raven undercut. each muscle on his back was rigid, firm and exceptionally sculpted. god, looking at him might have been the same as looking at a statue of a greek god.
his arms were pushing back down on the counter, palms flat, casually flexing his triceps that you just couldn't keep your eyes off. he let out a groan—low with that undistinguishable deepness. you stood in the doorway entering the kitchen, leaning slightly on the door frame. did he notice you yet? would it be a crime to stare? his head tilted to the side, revealing those venetian red eyes that wandered around the room until he caught the sight of you, staring.
"holy fuck!" sukuna startled backwards, catching himself on the corner of the counter. he quickly lowered his voice again, hoping that his shock didn't wake anyone else in the house up. "shit. it's just you."
ryomen sukuna.
your ex.
"'m sorry." his words came out as nothing more than a grumble, body finally relaxing. "you scared me. its fuckin' late, didn't think anybody else was up.
"gosh… i'm sorry. i didn't mean to startle you." your face brightened with a light shade of red, flushing with embarrassment from the encounter. "i had no clue either —what time is it anyways?" it couldn't have been any later than midnight, you thought, it was just another restless night for you. you know, like the way you get after a big outing with your friends.
"3am."
"ah…"
it was not in fact just no later than midnight. but it was a good 3 hours past it instead.
"can't sleep?" his eyes met yours, sending that familiar pang of thrill down your spine as they lazily mapped out your face.
you nodded, trying your best not to cower under his gaze. "yep. i don't know, my head is just killing me right now. i thought i'd be out by now anyways."
"me neither. its so fucking hot in the living room, i don't know how the other guys do it. all we have is a puny box fan that they keep turning to themselves and away from ME. and you know satoru? he fucking snores! i swear, i was about to shove my blanket straight down his throat." sukuna cursed under his breath."yeah." he leaned into the marble counter, resting his weight on one of his arms as he looked off to the side. "me neither."
"ryo… shh.." you laughed softly, bringing your index to your lips in hopes to shush him. "you're so loud."
"shit, you're right." he soothed just a bit, staring back at the entrance to the living room. "but seriously. i hope he knows how fuckin' annoying it is to hear him—poor suguru, probably has to hear that shit every night rooming with him."
"no rightt? shoko said she's gonna have to check utahime for like… sleep apnea or some shit— all from the way she snores. i have no clue how she's way asleep now, guess she got used to it. probably the same with sugu.
the silence between you was filled with a tension that felt electric, yet comforting in your sleepless haze. maybe it wasn't so bad after all. maybe you could bare the awkwardness.
he let out a sharp exhale. "you wanna drink?"
"ah fuck. my head already hurts. bad idea , ryo."
"you'll end up feeling worse anyways. you'll still feel like shit, just in the morning. aren't i right?"
"your logic is shit." voice carrying on a bit of your laughter. "sure then."
"knew you'd say yes." sukuna reached for the white cupboard above the counter on the wall, searching around for the goods gojo always kept hidden for late nights. " i know where he puts all the good stuff. this one's perfect." he pulled out a deep amber colored brandy, pouring the strong liquor into a glass he took out as well—lolling the alcohol around in the bottle.
the man slid the other glass to you, nodding his head indicating you to take a sip. you took the liquid quick down your throat, letting that smooth, delicately sweet flavor take over your mouth . you watched as sukuna swiped his tongue over the rim of the small glass before drinking it down in one gulp, eyes meeting yours as a result of your staring.
"thanks, ryo." your eyes remained on his, smile straight and soft. the man gave you that classically unreadable nod in return.
"hey." he placed the container on the counter with a soft clink! "fuck… s'weird to say, but i'm glad someone else is up too. felt like hell just standing and staring."
swiping down the glass from your lips, you smiled, eyes peering off to the side. "yeah. guess my stress really wants its way into my spring break."
"oh—you know who seems really fucking stressed?" voice full of that consistent playful annoyance. "fushiguro. no clue what the fuck went on with him, but i'd hate to be him."
stifling a quite disruptive laugh, you brought your hand to your mouth. "shit, you're right. what was it he was complaining about? something about like… online.. uh—"
"online gambling!" sukuna said quite loudly which was received by you harshly shushing him a second time. " i swear, digs himself into that problem himself, and goes off about it for half an hour. it felt like hours just listening to him. seriously, i couldn't take it anymore!"
"i know." you rolled the glass absently in your hands. "i mean, whatever gets it off his mind, i guess. he seemed to get pretty fucked up tonight."
"yeah, because satoru's smart ass thought it was a good idea to pour half the bottle of vodka and whatever else he found in the cabinet straight into his mouth." he sneered. "makes me fucking sick thinking about it."
"i love that idiot, but he really doesn't think. well—i think he does, and this is his messed up version of fun." your comment received a snort of sukuna's end.
"how are you and him? toji—i mean, anyways?"
"…huh?"
well, you definitely talked to fushiguro tonight. you know, the simple catching-up every friend had. but it wasn't like that— he gave you his attention and you gave him yours. or at least that's what happened to you, anyways.
"the fuck you mean huh?" sukuna scoffed, raising his tone. "i don't know, it just looked like you seemed occupied with him tonight."
your brows pinched together. "what? i was just talking to him. we're adults. we're friends. what does it even matter to you, ryo?"
his posture tightened, overtaken by discomfort. "god, i was just fucking wondering." he fidgeted on his temples, looking like he was trying to ward off a headache. "what we had is over, okay? if doesn't matter to me. not anymore."
cursing under your breath, your eyes darted off to the side, unable to look at him properly without cringing .the silence that once filled the room now buzzed with that pulsing tension of annoyance. you could practically feel your, and probably his, patience running thin quick.
"ryo… are you jealous or something?"
that.
that's what probably set him off.
a stupidly ignorant little phrase that just slithered off your silly tongue.
"don't even fucking start."
"are you FUCKING kidding me?" you almost lunged at him, stepping forward to limit the space between your faces. "you started this. you literally fucking asked first. can you try not being a dick for once?"
sukuna threw his hands up defensively, "oh it's just me now?" he turned his nose up at you. "jeez, i guess i couldn't tell wether you were talking to him or me."
"sukuna. what the hell are you talking about?"
"you know what the hell i'm talking about."
you grit your teeth. you didn't know how much more of it you could take. body tense, it was like you couldn't even keep still.
"don't fucking play dumb." he inched closer to you, feeling his breath in an unorthodox proximity. "i know how you look at me, i fucking notice it. every. single. time."
"what—"
"shut the fuck up." his voice lowered, so much that it nearly frightened you. "how are you supposed to explain acting all fucking flirty with him, just to look in my direction? using him as a pawn in your fucking game is shitty, should've expected it from your ass."
your face burned an embarrassing shade of pink, which was genuinely more rooted in your anger. "jesus. can you stop being a self-centered asshole for once?" you jabbed a perfectly manicured finger right at his neck in a cutthroat (literally) fashion. "sorry." you said in a mocking tone. "guess i can't be as over with us as you are apparently."
sukuna grabbed your wrist with a surprising amount of force, practically ripping your hand off of him. "oh yeah. don't give me that shit. was that lame excuse of a skirt really that hard to adjust? or did you just like showing off in front of me, huh? you're such a fucking slut.
"you're the one staring." you retorted, face scrunched. "and resorting to calling me a slut? you have no fucking decency, sukuna."
the way you seethed his name would have men on their knees. but sukuna always had that relenting temper of his that was… a perfect match for yours?
and you couldn't care less.
"if the shoe fits." sneering at you. "i'm just telling you the truth. you're the one making a scene."
"fuck you. at least i'm not fucking insane." you managed to hiss through your tightly clenched jaw.
"fuck me?" he let out a dark laugh. "fucking right you are. " his hand still held your wrist, but his grip on you seemed to lighten. his thumb habitually stroked over your lower palm.
leaning in, you could almost feel his lips graze your ear. he dropped his head down between your neck— so close you could still smell his cologne from tonight, flooded with notes of almond and tobacco, with his own musk lifting from his sweat. your body picked up on his warmth, like it was sending rivets of electricity down yours.
"tell me. does he do it as good as me?" the sound of his voice vibrated on the soft skin of your neck. "does he fuck you as good as i do? does anyone?
you felt your demeanor fall the floor, letting out a noise that was a mix between a gasp and what sukuna could make out as a whimper. skin, hot to the touch, and way too close to your ex. his words send your mind into a twisted frenzy, and suddenly, you could feel each filthy memory with him— each one starting a raging fire, an insatiable desire in your core.
stunned by his advancements, you felt as if you couldn't manage a single word out. the depraved blend of your resentment and absolute lust towards the man spiraled inside of you. without knowing it, you subdued yourself beneath him.
"i hate you." you choked out, head tilted to stare him right in the eyes.
"answer me." he let go of your wrist, moving to hold you by your jaw. his fingers grounded themselves on your smooth cheeks with a firm yet pillowy soft grip that pursed your lips lightly, and your head slacked in them like clockwork. "or do i know the answer to that already?"
you gazed at his lips.
he drank in the curiosity of your eyes.
bad idea.
sukuna was a bad idea.
there's just— something so wrong about him.
screaming, fighting, cursing his name out while you ran from his probably moving car, it all felt like some bad love-story ending. it was like there had to be something better than him.
but was there really?
"tell me to stop. i will."
"don't."
with his mind made up, and without a second thought, he crashed his lips onto yours. crazed and pushed to the limits of his hunger and soaring desperation for you. his lips worked yours like a starved man, ravaging yours with a passion that you enthusiastically returned.
the two of you fought for dominance, tangling your hands in his hair which made him growl deeply into your mouth as he backed you up into the cool edge of the counter. there's a taste sukuna can't quite discern, maybe it's the alcohol, but he knows it's something he's been thinking about since he first met you.
"fuck—" he said between low moans you exchanged. "get up here."
holding onto your waist, he hoisted you up on the kitchen counter with ease. your arms found its way around his neck as you cursed him on your tongue. longing triumphed over your pervasive revulsion for sukuna. mixing your salvia with his, your body leaned into that hooking flavor of his with a hint of liquor. the kiss was more a clash of teeth and tongue, hands fighting to keep each other where you wanted with no sign of letting go soon.
there are no words needed. it's as if the world stops for a second— more like your bickering and instead your bodies speak for themselves. your thighs pull him in, legs driving him in closer as you held an impossible grip on his shoulders.
"i want these off." eyes flicking down to your dangerously tiny pajama shorts.
scoffing, you hooked your fingers in the waistband of your pastel yellow bottoms before pulling them down to reveal an adorably lacy pair of panties. the sudden coolness of the counter made you shiver on your exposed skin. "do you have to be so bossy?"
sukuna ignored you. "panties, too." his eyes fell over your hips, precisely catching how your desire quite literally soaked itself through your underwear. he wasn't making it obvious, but his cock kicked in his pants at the sight. there wasn't much longer until he couldn't fight the urge to rip them off yourselves.
you rolled your eyes, peeling them off. and off to the side, you dangled the pair between your fingers like an apex predator dangling food above its hungry prey, giving sukuna an irked expression with pouty lips that screamed 'and what are you going to do about it?'
"touch yourself."
that's what he was going to do about it.
your face twisted with something that attested to your indignancy. "w-what?"
"open your fucking ears." he snarled, eyes narrowing with a present irritation. your knees—previously fixed together— suddenly were pulled apart by the man's strong hold. "don't go all shy on me now. that attitude run out now?
staring back at his face, you gave him a tight smile and a quick shot of your middle finger before sticking out your tongue. your digits wet themselves in your mouth, tongue gliding painfully slowly until only a string of your spit separate them.
holding yourself back with your free palm on the counter, your fingers tip-toed down to your unveiled pussy. each digit ghosting over your overwhelmingly sensitive clit as you bit your lip with surging pressure. your tongue clung to the edge of your upper lip as sharp breaths crept from your mouth.
diving your fingers into your syrupy folds, thrilling jolts of pleasure went through you with the lightest touch. slipping your index in let you feel that first streeetch as you let out an exasperated moan—yet never breaking away from sukuna's gaze.
"another finger. c'mon, let me see you ruin yourself. d'ya think of me when you slut yourself out like this?" his words greedily fed into your haze—making each little sensation just a bit more unbearable.
his eyes locked onto yours that narrowed at him, giving him a rude silence while he was tilting his head to get a better look at you. crimson globes claimed yours through each round of your indulgent. sukuna's hands found either sides of your thighs, keeping you in his large stature. the man watched you like the perfect porn figure, and now right in his domain.
it was like an animal the way he absorbed each inch of your skin, your scent, and sliver of warmth that radiated off of you. "jesus. aren't you such a dripping whore?
"fuuck… you like getting off on me or something?" you strung out—trying to keep your voice to a smooth low. refusing to give him the benefit of your unbridled satisfaction, you bit your lip. it was nearly impossible to stay as quiet as you were now. adding another finger, your eyes flew shut as you curled two right into that sweet spot of yours.
your pitiful attempts to hold your silence began to fleet recklessly quick. looking over your ex's shoulders, your eyes stood on watch at the doorframe. were you being too loud? you had no doubt, and a creeping nervousness someone would get up to find you like this.
"hey hey hey…" sukuna's tone was laced with a mocking concern. he harshly took your jaw, forcing your head back to look at him as that classic smirk formed on his face. "keep those pretty little eyes on me, whore. no ones coming…
...or would you like them to?"
"s-shut the fuck up sukuna…" you hiccuped, nearly melting beneath him. "o-oohh— suukuna—" the syllables of his name melted on your tongue, stretching out with disoriented arousal you felt yourself clench around your fingers, palm occasionally hitting against that sensitive nub, causing that hot coil in your stomach to tie itself tighter.
"just look how you take it. swear i've never seen anymore more slutty." his praise felt like another hand stroking yours as you numbingly pleasured yourself. "don't hold back, show me how much you want it."
"you're haaah- annoying. fucking dick…" words all breathy and barley coherent.
"yeah and if you're good you'll get some." classic. his eyes ran all the way up from your feet to the mussed up strands of your hair as you (not so) sloowly but surely fell apart in front of him. eyes fixated on you in all your glory. yours just rolled at him. and then back into your head.
with your free hand, you guided yourself to your breast. you cupped it gently as your fingers felt around your pebbled nipples. tender squeezes only added to the dangerous sensation while you pinched the soft skin.
"let me see those fingers" sukuna guided. you took out your fingers, disappointed by the sudden denial of your orgasm and he held your wrist up as if he was examining how the slick fell over your fingers "yeah, in my mouth. 'just want a small taste."
he began by ghosting his tongue at the base of your wrist before dragging up to your fingers, taking them into his mouth as he sucked gracefully— making sure he wouldn't let a drop of your sweet nectar go to waste. he suckled on the soft skin, it was so familiar, too familiar, and definitely too addictive. he mewled at the flavor, tongue lapping at each bit.
"god…" voice a low rumble as a primal urge switched in his head, wrapped around something so unreadable. he harshly slammed your wrist to the table which elicited a small yelp out of you. sukuna threw his head back with a harsh, cruel laugh, like he enjoyed tormenting you. "i need this."
"huh? kuna— haahh!—"
and then suddenly his mouth was suddenly pinned to your pussy. licking a loong stripe against your puffy folds, he held a vice grip on your thighs like restraints to the cool surface of the counter. moans fell out your mouth as his mouth suctioned to the most sensitive parts of your sopping cunt—sounds that didn't fall short of sukuna as he indulged in each sticky sliver of your tension.
no second of his is wasted, god forbid he did. sukuna's nose fell flat against your pussy, tongue lapping at each neglected area of your luscious area. with his hand, outstretched, he pressed the pads of his thumb into your clit. he drew rigid circles in that oh-so delicate spot of yours as you received it with resounding moans. your eyes grew wide as you forced the lower part of your palm to your lips.
"i just can't get enough of this. y'just taste too good…" he said, words caressing the skin against your thighs."
his tongue delved lower, groans vibrating against your hole as he fucked you with a thrill that made you arch your back and stable yourself on his hair. yanking on his pink hair around like some sort of leash, you guided his head around, causing his tongue to explore every part of your cunt. your hips buck up into his face, knocking his tongue around as jolts of pleasure coursed through your body.
sukuna's tongue sinks into you wonderfully. it draws through each of your plush walls like an artist releasing each stroke on a canvas— your juices carelessly dribble from the corner of his mouth as he mindlessly pleasured you. his lips fell flush against your other lips as his mouth was latched on your pussy his dick twitched in his pants, definitely leaving a sticky stain of pre-cum in his gray sweats.
your thighs closed around his head, the wet sensation feeling almost too good. slick coated the insides of your thighs, the man moaned as he sunk back down into your cunt, and it made you want to come even more. sukuna pushed back, using his strength to keep your thighs open. "i'm not fucking done yet." he growled, still steadily working at your pussy. "what, you can't keep up?"
the grip on his hair tightened, fist clenching around his dark strands. "u-ughh! stop. stop, t-take it easy…". you groaned. but as if he misheard you, his index and middle replaced his tongue in your while as his mouth moved to your clit instead. wrapping his mouth around, he held a steady suction as his fingers curled deep inside you. you had to stifle your increasingly growing noises with your had again, eyes going wide. "mmphhf— j-jesus..!"
"let me fuck you 'till you get it right." he lifted his head from your clit, eyes half lidded and unmoving while he was kneeling, entirely focused on your pussy. those skillful fingers of his scissored your folds that you could just feel his ego radiating off of. "not jesus, just ryomen."
while slowly working your abused clit in tortuous circles, the orgasm that swelled sweetly in your stomach felt like it was about to crash down any second. his lips returned to clasp around your sensitive nub again, and this time you felt him spell his initials all around your gummy insides. "r-ryomen..!— p-please,, 'mgonna come!"
naturally, sukuna kept up his heated pace, egging you on with just his fingers. "that's it. fucking give it to me." your legs shook violently as the temp rose in your body, all crashing over you at once. waves of hot, white satisfaction crashed in and through your body, slick coating the lower half of sukuna's face through your release. his tongue lapped eagerly at each drop of your pleasure, insistent on not wasting a single bit.
breaths came out you, panted and uneven as your back arched into the euphoria. sukuna's pink muscle kept cleaning you up from down under, finally pulling away. your wetness basically dripped from his chin, and he was quick to clean it off his face. "that was…*phew.. haah..*.. good.." you heaved, reeling in your orgasm seconds ago.
"good." he scoffed, a real, genuine scoff. "fucking really? just good? you just came all over my fucking face— and i'm just good to—"
just like that the two of you were right back at it again.
damn.
"shut it, just shut up." you retorted, waving your hand out. he quickly stood back up, and he towered over you menacingly despite the added height of the counter. menacingly, what a joke.— is was you would've said. you cleared your throat as your head came back down to earth. "great. y'just had to ruin it. i'm demoting you to an allllright."
"i don't even know how i put up with you for… however the fuck long we were together." he slammed his hand down to lean into you, and his other hand palmed his rock-hard erection through his pants. "such a fucking brat. doesn't even know how to thank me."
he was granted with that perfect bitch-face of yours. and your eyes wandered down to where he seemed to be occupied elsewhere.
"show me something to be thankful for then, ryo."
temptation and irritation got the best of him, and before you knew it, he had you pinned down. your back hit the cool counter hard as he slammed his mouth back of yours in a manner that was somehow more desperate than before. slipping his cock out of his sweats, his hardened length sprung out onto your stomach.
pre-cum that kept leaking from earlier found its way dragged on your stomach, causing your attention to snap back down. sukuna's cock was huge. you knew this, obviously— but if there was something that was bigger than his ego, and irreplaceable in any other guy you could use instead of him, it would be that.
"missed me?" he muttered.
"almost."
"not talking to you."
right. he was conversing with your pussy instead. yet he couldn't deny one thing, he definitely missed it.
sukuna dragged his swollen tip in between your folds. he relished in the slippery, soft feeling of your cunt as he pushed them apart. with his cockhead squishing itself into your clit, your thighs shook with anticipation.
finally lining up his tip with the entrance of your pussy, he thrust himself inside of you that caused you both to gasp involuntarily. even more so, sukuna himself. "h-haah.. s-shit.." you clamped around him hard with the first push, feeling that big streetch as he inserted himself inside of you. the immediate rush made him wait a good second before moving inside you again and hiss out from clenched teeth. "you're just so fucking tight f'me…"
you sneered. "oh you can't keep up now?" your snarky response made him grab a fistful of your hair from beneath him, tugging with a grueling strength that triggered a harsh curse from our lips.
"fucking brat." with the burning intent to make you eat your words, he brought his hips back to slam himself right back into your drenched cunt. as his hips roll against you beautiful, hearty moans pour from your mouth over inch by inch pressing further into the depths of your pussy. each stroke of his cock hit impossibly deep into your cervix.
still riding on that high from your orgasm, your back arches into each delicious punch of his cock, the overstimulation bringing you right back to the edge. sukuna is nothing less than rough. it's animalistic the way he fucks you, and he fucks you like he hates you. as if he doesn't already. lewd noises sinfully composed from each squelch and grind of your combined slick fill the room.
you can feel sukuna fuck his pent up rage into you, and you don't doubt he can feel yours squeezing him back. his cock head abused that perfectly gummy spot of yours, burying himself to the hilt with each brutal thrust. it was like he was impatiently chasing his own release. your legs wrapped around his waist, nearly screaming into his ear. a guttural moan tore from your throat. "ryo— ryoo— fuuck!"
"quiet the fuck d-down, bitch." he spat angrily in your ear, crashing himself even harder into you. his body in the mating press trapped you down onto the counter so hard you could barley breathe. you're fucked out already. his hand smacks your cheek multiple times, like if he were trying to wake you up from your 'cock-drunk-ness'.
sukuna's cock is virtually splitting you in two now. it's vicious, definitely raw, and heaven, with his thrusts hard and bottoming out against your cervix. "don't fucking slap me around!" both your hands quickly find his neck, squeezing in some ungodly retaliation. yet it made him speed up, thrusts moving at even more harsh pace.
his face scrunches you take a hold of his neck, hissing from the strain on his neck. sukuna he moves back trying to hold your face down, shoving your head to the smooth surface. he bares his teeth, his pace picks up, thrusts relentlessly and violent against you. the sensation was heavenly, and it was definitely making you see it. "take me. i know you can, slut."
soon enough, his hands aren't enough to keep you quiet and his lips come down on yours. kissing you fervently, full of tongue and sweat, you could just swear you could feel him smirk against your mouth. your hands stayed wrapped around his throat, but as your body shifted back and forth with each passionate stroke they fell back down to his back. sukuna's thick shaft dragged out through your walls messily, and your fingernails ran across his back with a aggression that was sure to leave a mark. his muscular back became a portrait for your nails to scratch up.
his thrusts fell sloppily inside of you, feeding off nothing but a fierce hunger for just— everything about you. he's nearing his orgasm, you can just tell. his movements render your mind useless. the way his cock just fills you up so deeply, so completely, it makes you feel like nothing has and ever will once he's done with you. noises become these desperate growls in your ear as he fucks you. "so damn frustrating. you know that don't you?"
"r-right back at ya." your pussy lips are spread wide, engulfing his girth so vehemently as a creamy ring is formed at the base of his cock. tensing up, you can feel his heavy balls hit the crevice of your ass with every slam of himself into you. and just with a few more rolls of his dick, that familiar knot in your belly comes right back up. "oh god, ryo, c-come…"
"are you asking me or telling me?" he taunted, pulling at your barley coherent sentences. but now that you mentioned it— he could come too, and you couldn't hold back anymore. sukuna's pace was punishing, just pulling back and driving in you harder.
"askin— n-no, i m-mean telling, fuuck!" gasping, your orgasm hit you like a freight train. your eyes go spotty as your pulsing cunt breaks the painful coil of your stomach, sending pleasure down your body in untamed waves. sukuna's shoulders held up your hands as you gripped him like your life depended on it, as well as your pussy.
as you came once more, your pussy clamped down tightly like a vice onto sukuna's length. it was like you were trying to milk every last bit of him, and he couldn't take another suffocating second of it without release. "o-oh yeah, thats it—"
with one final sloppy push of his cock, his orgasm came crashing down on him. hot, sticky ropes of cum shot restlessly from his dick, painting your walls with an indistinguishable white. you didn't no if you could feel more full in this moment, sukuna's cock and vicious seed filling you up tight.
inside of you, his hips jerked erratically like it was trying to empty every last bit of himself into you. sukuna rode his orgasm out, reaching each peak of his high as he lost his mind inside of you like his own filthy personal cumdump. the sheer size stuffed you even further as your gummy walls hugged him back perfectly, worn out pants tore fell from his mouth right through his bitten teeth.
his load drips out of your hole, breaths labored yet dimmed down by the sound of your sopping pussy against his length. thick strings of cum coated your insides as sukuna collapsed right onto you, the sudden weight making you let out a small 'oof!'. his body remained warm on yours as the two of you let out heavy breaths. the normally callous sukuna let his head fall slack in between your neck without his guard up, while your hands rested in his pink hair, picking up and examining the soft strands
the two of you stayed silent, just breathing. your breaths steadied under the soft blow of the kitchen fan. and usually, the two of you were nothing but silent.
but this time you were.
sukuna mumbled into your neck something you couldn't quite catch in the heat of the moment, or rather the dying down of it. sleep corroborated his low voice. his chest heaved against yours. from what was presumably the strenuous fuck he just gave you, you could feel his heart beat against your ribs.
"what was that?" you whispered, hand laying atop his head with an unfamiliar mildness.
"nothing." he groaned.
"get off me, then."
"no."
"…"
finally, sukuna let out an exasperated gripe. as the man laid flush to your chest, he hauled himself off of you before running a hand down his face to wipe the sweat off. you lifted yourself up with your elbows, panning your head to look at his face.
he pulled up his sweats at his hips, pulling on the worn strings to tighten them. he laughs. "i'm going to bed.
bastard.
but you didn't say anything in return, and just lowered your face. what were you supposed to say, anyways?
a beat passes, silently and one that created an even bigger space between you two.
"...and then i see him walk out with *hick* some other fucking chick!" you scoffed, cursing through your clenched teeth.
fwb!Geto has one hand right between your waist and hips, while the other goes up to caress your cheek gently. his thumb runs across your bottom lip with a ironic sympathy. "just tell me about it, princess."
it's almost impossible with how brutal he thrusts up into you, and how you're practically fogging up the windshield of your car like animals. your hands find some sort of stabilization above the driver's seat windows as his cock slams up against the hilt of your pussy while his hands push your hips down impossibly harder.
"i-its just..aaah-. he t-told me he was just out with his 'friends'... but he nnever told me he was going to some stupid g-gosh darn party and bringing a girl back!" your hasty remarks turn into broken sobs that spill from your throat uncontrollably as he pushes himself in-and-out of you wildly.
"he sounds like a real chud." he tilts his head at you, eyes fending a mocking concern. "so much for a fuckin' boyfriend, aren't i right?"
the wet, ferocious noises bounce off the walls of his tinted windows. the drivers seat fully reclined, and your thighs straddle the entire width as he fucks you relentlessly.
your panties—not the pair he already stashed in one of his compartments—are long discarded beneath the two of you, your skirt is hiked up to your waist, and strands from your messy bun fall onto your face adorably. geto stands in awe at the sight of you.
and geto, that casually smug asshole from campus is balls-deep in you to comfort you from your cheating-idiot of a boyfriend. obviously, this wasn't the first night either. but geto, of course, was willing to play the long game.
“i don’t know why you’re still hanging around him.” your hips roll down onto his, ripping a low groan from his throat while his grip on you even tighter. the thrill tugs a bittersweet smile at hero’s mouth as warm, beaded tears fall from your eyes. “good, just like that. show it to me.”
what better cure for sadness than an orgasm?
warm, wet slick gushes down from you onto him, your hands brace his shoulders for support. the intensity is making you see stars at this point. “haah— suguu… i dunno…”
the man gave you an overly dramatic pout. "well, why dont we start with this?" his hands moved up to your exposed breasts, handling them in his palms as he squeezed your nipples between the gaps in your fingers. "does he fuck you like this?"
you shook your head fevrently as you rode through waves of pleasure, moans escaping your mouth frantically.
as one hand cupped your left breast, his other hand traced down from your chest to your pussy. then, his hand spread out your lips as his thumb found your clit. geto drew deep circles into your sensitive nub while he thrust himself up in you.
"aaah! suugu— you're so deep.!" you cry. his pace ignored your cries. it was brutally relentless. the added stimulation at your clit brought you to a new heaven as he revealed in the sight of you.
"does even make you cum, princess?"
his words elicit another head shake from you, filling his desires to the absolute brim. he keeps up at your clit just to hear you scream.
"let me see you cum on my cock, i know you can."
your body snaps, your vision whites out and stars decorate each part of your closed eyelids as your orgasm rushes over you. hot rounds of bliss flash through your body. geto growls as your pussy holds a vice grip onto his cock, making him chase his own release quickly.
his load punches its way into your cervix, cock pulsing as each drop of himself is emptied into your plush walls. geto's sounds turn into something not the slightest bit less of animalistic as he milked himself into your leaky holes.
breathing heavy, geto still went back to that undeniable sweetness of his and stroked your pretty face gingerly. "you feel better now?"
the two of you had been at it for a good 30 minutes now.
here's the deal. you would take a fun lipsmacker from your wild and wide variety, and you'd give choso a kiss right on the lips and make him guess what flavor it was. simple enough, right?
choso seemed to like it. a bit too much.
"mm.. it's root beer. yeah, definitely root beer" muttered choso, using his thumb to wipe the sticky residue from under his lips. "do the next one."
a smile adorned your face. "that's right! good job cho." the soft praise brightened his own, perking up at yet another correct guess.
you rummaged through the drawer once more until you found a new purple lip smacker to add to the “tested” pile. the chapstick was then uncapped, and you swiped the sweet product to your lips and rubbed them together. giggling, you brought your hand to choso’s eyes. “don’t peek!”
“promise m’not.” his fingers found your wrist as he held it gently, fidgeting with a small, shiny bracelet he gave you.
“okay. ready.” uncovering his eyes, you pressed your lips against his. choso mewled softly into your mouth, soft lips pushed up against yours in a slow, almost methodical manner. he gasped for air as you pulled away, stunned by the loss of your warmth.
“grape.” he said with a straight face.
you raised an arched brow, prompting him for more. “grape?”
he gave you a look before reaching over to meet you, planting his mouth on yours again. but this time, he really tried to taste each corner of yours. choso’s lips worked your top as the sensation rushed through his body. even without all the sweet cosmetic, there was something so addictive— so irresistible about those perfect lips of yours.
and choso wanted every bit of it, just for himself.
“ah—cho!” you seperate your lips from his, pouting. your eyebrows were pinched together, hinting at your slight annoyance . “you already tried once, you’re missing the point of the game.”
“oh yeah. that’s grape fanta.” he nodded, licking the residue from your lips from his— ignoring your remarks about his unfairness. to him, that was his idea of fun. to be all over you. “c’mon, next one.”
rolling your eyes, you reluctantly agreed and went back to searching for another chapstick for him to try. discarding the grape fanta one, you bit your lip trying to find one he wouldn’t be able to guess right away. suddenly, you stumbled upon a dainty cupcake flavored one. a sweet match for your sweet boyfriend.
uncapping the product, you walked over back to your bed where the two of you were sitting. you were about to bring the chapstick to your lips right when—
“mmphf..” choso leaned in quickly to press his lips to yours, closing his eyes as if they weren’t rolling back into his head. “i like this one the best so far.”
the sudden move startled you, causing you to nearly jolt back as he cornered you into the headboard. “choso!” you placed your hands on his shoulders and pushed him down from off of you. “i didn’t even try it on yet.”
“yeah, i knoww..” he laughed, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth as he pawed towards you once more. with a growing sense of impatience, his lips found yours again.
“gosh—“ even though your arms naturally found its way around his neck, you re-opened the space between the two of you through gritted teeth. “we’ve lost the plot, choso. why don’t we just play this normally??”
choso’s stature practically enveloped yours, pinning you down to your soft mattress. he couldn’t be stopped now. but seriously, did you want him to? strands of his raven hair that was down trickled from his forehead, so very close to yours. “i think this game is more fun.” his lips grazed your ear in a low whisper. “i have my way with you and you’re just as tasty as you always are.”
“cho!” you muttered, face wildly flushed with a feeing that was a bit more than just embarrassment.
“it’s my turn now.” he said between gentle kisses along your jaw, neck, and most importantly those perfect, puffy lips of yours. “fuuck… it’s like torture trying to behave while you just kiss me like that, baby.” his knee slid in between yours legs, each inch of your skin growing increasingly needy. choso’s free hand stabled itself on the headboard while his other one pressed your cheeks until your lips formed that perfect little “o”.
“please…” you cooed softly beneath him, chapstick long discarded from your reach.
“oh yeah. you’ll be praying that once i’m done with you.”
each passing day felt heavier, impossibly longer, like a sinking weight that held your head into midnight dark waters. on days that didn’t feel like drowning, which rarely came, you felt as if you were just floating through life. floating with no feeling, no meaning. for a moment it felt almost like relief, not feeling anything, anyone. just like a jellyfish that treads through water with nothing to form a coherent thought, not even its own spatial awareness.
bags under your eyes only grew darker, deeper and made your face feel even weaker to the touch. mascara—if you even had the will to put it on some days— clung to your eyelashes and stuck in clumps like ink and if lucky, were removed in the morning. your body in the mirror became unsightly, utterly unrecognizable to you. you were, to put it simply, a mess. a mess that spiraled out of control, out of your control with no end in sight.
life became tiring. everything became tiring. a kind of tiring that made your head spin with an almost crushing force, making your mind scream for something. just something to make you feel literally anything else. anger, fear, sadness, frustration had settled in your stomach for too long, and transformed into a hollow, empty void that coursed through every vein of your body, from your forehead to your feet. somehow, that emptiness stripped you of everything the most. it took you out of the world— stripped you off your own mind.
every sensation felt unworldly. words became meaningless on your tongue, blabbering off at everything with no purpose. your own hands felt unwieldy, steps staggering with a mind of their own. there was no more living in the moment, especially when your body was living on autopilot. you were caught in between the rift of life and death, dread and peace, space and time.
your dog would sit by your bed where you lay, nuzzling your almost unmoving hand. it would whimper with a growing hunger for your attention, pawing on your back or shoulders. it hurt. you’d let out a slurred “mm.. i’ll be up..” that never seemed to reach your eyes. you would run your thumb across his fluffed head, letting your palm rest on his ears. you knew you’d lose him to. maybe the last thing that felt truly stable to you— that last bit of routine that made you feel human.
but life would go on without you. it would, anyways. of course it would. no matter how ridiculously slow it turned. soon, it would pass right over you and everything you left with it no matter where it was. and life would bring you rude surprises like it always did. rude surprises with stark white hair and highlighter bright blue eyes like he was some sort of angel. satoru gojo— the untouchable, unsurpassed jujutsu sorcerer, and your best friend.
satoru gojo who stacked your house full of sweets that he’d end up eating all of in the end. expensive, decadent treats from tokyo that were more cream than pastry. fluffy, warm pancakes stacked high with hot syrup and whipped cream would end up on your barren counter— so much you thought you’d be sick. he’d literally teleport into your small apartment complex, because your dog kept yapping every time he came to your door. satoru felt it’d be rude to wake you up all groggy and found he could just kneel by your bed and mimic the wide eyes your big puppy gave you instead.
he’d shove you in his car, and drive you around the quiet, restful town under the lone moonlight until you dozed off on your dangerously restless nights. when you’d finally fall asleep, he’d bring you to bed and stay until morning. you never had it in you to kick him out, clearly. but you couldn't help wring out that sting in your heart when you’d wake up and turn over to find him missing. this habit of satoru’s kept up for days, it’d been weeks now where he’d spend the night just watching you breath— where you’d finally be at peace with your mind just for a few hours.
satoru had shoko teach him how to braid hair. he begged and begged until suguru was absolutely sick of the both of them teaching and practicing on his own dark hair. after all of that, he could tie up a french braid that would make anyone jealous. all of this just so he could tie yours in that somehow french braid so your hair would be free of big, annoying knots throughout the day. he’d still brush your hair for you, apologizing profusely when you’d yelp when he tug too hard, pulling your head back.
things of his started piling up in your house. his hoodies became your nightly ritual. a new toothbrush laid next to yours in your slightly unkept bathroom. he claimed a pair of stupid plastic shark slippers he wore proudly around the house, swearing they “complemented his eyes”. the sweets in the fridge started getting “SATORU’S DO NOT EAT!!” on your bright pink post it notes. obviously, you wouldn’t— but it was just that touch that showed his claim over your routine. and he did become apart of your routine, your lifestyle. satoru gojo wasn’t just apart of your lifestyle, he was your lifestyle.
it felt nice.
it was nice.
but you didn’t know why satoru would do all of this for you. all of this when all you would do was sulk and sit in silence with nothing but your pain. it made you feel like an endlessly sucking void that took everything with it, and soon, it would take satoru.
that felt worse.
because you knew at the end of the day, you were the one suffering.
you were the one spiraling day by day, falling further into the waters like the weight was pushing back down on you.
you were the one whose will weakened with each passing day.
you were the one whose memories and thoughts faded away like the end of a record player.
you were the one with no way to scream.
you were the one who saw no other end to it.
he was laying in your bed now, like always. his chest was pressed against your back, enveloping you in this weird spooning position with his chin rested on your soft hair. his legs were kicked out, around yours just like a koala.
“mm.. toru.. get off..” you mumbled.
“why? i think i like it just like this.” that smug smile was distinctable even in his speech. his hands fidgeted with your fingers, nails painted a pretty white he found at the local pharmacy (and that he painted himself). “s’the only way you’re sleeping now, sweets.”
it did get that bad, if sleep wasn’t impossible enough.
“stop calling me that.” swatting his hands off, you curled up further into a ball under him. “you’re so weird.”
“don’t be sour. i call joey that, sweets.”
“exactly. you’re calling me a bitch.”
“bitch is for female dogs.”
“shh.”
the two of you sat in silence for a bit. that kind of silence that felt comfortable, even safe between the two of you. silence
“toru?” you turned over, hands finding his chest like it was natural. cerulean eyes found yours, admiring his thick, pale eyelashes that you always envied.
his heart jumped.
“yeah?”
yawning, your eyes fluttered shut. “why do you keep coming over anyways.” your words started to slur, slowly becoming consumed by sleep. “dont you have *yawn* a world to save? don’t waste your time on me, toru.. not worth it..”
oh.
oh.
fuck.
the jump in his heart fell right back to the ground, sending a shooting hot pain through his head. the sensation almost enough to make him gag. his grip on your waist tightened- so tight he could feel into your soul—yet his fingers trembled like a shaking animal. warm, wet tears flowed down his face violently, wringing a choked sob out of him that sounded animalistic. he fell apart right into your arms, pouring every last drop of energy into your hair. he was embracing you like you’d disappear if he even lightened the pressure of the hold on you.
“fuck.” his breath hitched. “i-i love you so fucking much.
who was satoru gojo, if not the strongest?
…
yet in this moment, he was nothing more than a warm body clung like glue to yours.
you were the world he had to save. his world.
your body was still, unmoving besides your gentle breathing. head nuzzled in his chest, cheek pressed tight to his sternum. your hands had found a spot right between his traps and neck, feeling him so delicately.
satoru gojo was so in love with you.
you were asleep.
fast asleep in his hold, with nowhere else to run to or any reason to at all.
he could say that he was a fool for you, but there was nothing foolish about the overwhelming love he had in his heart for you.
right next to your kitchen counter, you had a thick calendar with funny pictures of animals that decorated each month. each month, each week, each day was riddled with bright, clunky paint marker. you had all your friends birthdays, outings, and tasks all marked up. you couldn’t miss that thing from a mile away. up close it looked like a hot mess but it was your hot mess. it was a reflection of your unparalleled personality— laughter that flowed out endlessly from you and drawn out of everyone around you, compassion that made the world seem a little bit brighter with each heart you touched, and that little wisp of mystery that made you even more unforgettable.
but during his constant visits, satoru noticed something new. the month after was ripped out with a staggered edge of paper where it should be.
after that, nothing. just blank boxes and those stupid looking animals.
so he stuck to staying by your side, every waking moment. he stayed with you until morning, crafting up those sickeningly sweet pancakes— spraying the can of whipped cream straight into his mouth while you rolled your eyes at him. he dragged you out the door to take you on walks to the dog park, then maybe stop by for a fun drink where suguru and shoko conveniently had the idea for too. and after all that, he’d cuddle you until you fell asleep. right in his arms. right where you belonged.
he resorted to barging into your house uninvited because when he’d drive, he couldn't keep his hands steady on the wheel. his eyes would grow wet and blurry, clouded by absolute terror. how could he drive another mile without knowing you’re breathing? what if it’d be too late once he got there? the thought alone haunted him beyond words. without a doubt, he’d rather have you beg him to get out of the house than him begging you to just stay with him.
and he knew that he would come back, do the same thing the next night. and the night after that. and then finally, he’d come to the conclusion he’d be doing this forever.
he would. in a heartbeat, he’d give up forever for you.
because you were forever.
he would give up every part of him just to see you smile, genuinely, again. because satoru gojo could have all the power in the world and feel nothing more than just satisfied. what didn't make him complete was his influence—fear even. but it was that piece of you that made him stable. it was you who gave him that little bit of control that made him feel human.
because his humanity wasn’t just flesh and bones, but becoming more than the strongest. he could be that all he wanted—yet there was nothing he craved more than connection. he didn’t want to be a weapon. born a soldier, he chased his own belonging in the world. until you.
all of that stuff didn’t matter to you.
in those midnight dark waters, satoru could finally sit right at the shore. he could dip his fingers into the cool water and feel human. all because you could bring him back to the surface with every inch of your being. and first, you were his friend.
you were his.
he would do anything to let you feel the tranquility of the shore too.
and maybe you could sit with him under the moon’s soft gaze, together. the waves could lap at your feet and finally touch you with a cold that didn’t sting, but made you feel free from everything— all of your pain. then, he’ll splash the water back in your face and you’d laugh that laugh which was unbearably loud and comically you with a genuine smile on your face.
so he’ll stay for however long it takes.
just to do anything to save your soul. even if that meant up giving you his. but that favor would be infinitely less than what you do to him.
even if you pushed him away each step of the way.
even if in the end, you could only reject him from your life— too ridden by memories of the time.
⭑.ᐟ જ⁀➴ buzzer beater! d1basketball!geto x reader x d1basketball!gojo - march madness
The air was strung thick with anticipation, a bass chorus of tension, and a heat you couldn’t tell if it was from the tens of thousands of bodies packed in the arena— or the sheer intensity coming from the court below. Each burning second that passed fueled the crowd. Screams, cheers, calls becoming deafening.
2 minutes.
What could happen in the last 2 minutes of Duke vs. UConn? You already knew the answer to that—pure cinema.
The numbers were splayed above the rim like a looming angel, decorated with raging orange. Every move by the players was practically sung by the announcers, watched like a hawk by the voices above. Masses of people hovered in their seats, drawn by the overwhelming apprehension and thrill.
Duke was up by five.
Cheers poured out from each side. Blue, white, black respectfully suiting either way with a thrumming divide. It was the Elite Eight, narrowing down to the Final Four. There was no doubt in your mind the kind of schools, brackets, money, and whatever the hell else was on the line for tonight.
Suguru Geto traveled the court with tremendous ease— weaving through players alike. The man was a machine, each step coldly calculated. His stature didn’t fall short. If there was something more impressive then his performance on the court or his control over the ball, it was his demeanor.
Raven locks fell gently across his back, tied up with loose strands framing his face naturally. He was tall, towering you would say, and exceptionally strong. Of course, unbeknownst to the everyday student/fan’s eye, he had piercings that were quite well-explored with your body.
He moved aggressively, but handled the basketball with what looked like the most feather-light touch. Clad in his carbon-copy jersey, your eyes relished in each pass, each swing of his body.
Lined up for the foul shot, Suguru shot the ball through the air.
UCONN 65 - DUKE 70
You cheered with excitement! The crowd below you buzzed similarly. For a split second (haha), Suguru’s eyes darted around the arena, locking with yours and filled with that unrecognizable bearing. If people could call you unfairly lucky for scoring with the man, he’d say it’s unfair he has the most unbelievable girl faster than you could say “go blue devils!”.
The ball was passed through the UConn players, all with the same goal in mind. With a quick whizz! the ball flew straight to the goal. The move was met with dissatisfaction from the team—right as they had the shot, the ball bounced off the backboard, just missing the rim.
As the ball came back down, their satisfaction was quickly returned. Somewhere in the chaos, a foul was played. The opposing team scored, and the other side filled with a new hope.
UCONN 66 - DUKE 70
Back to the hoop. And back to the hoop Duke ran, the ball back in hand. One of Suguru’s teammates dribbled, blocked by three of UConn’s men. With a slim chance out, he passed to.
“Geto—“
…
His arms extended to reach the ball, what possibly could go wrong?
Fwiip!
—loses the ball! And it’s scooped up by Gojo! Turnover, Duke with one minute to go!”
1 minute.
UConn, down by four.
Satoru Gojo throws a following pass to his teammate, ball gliding through the air. With an overconfident, billowing shot, he readied his arms. Duke and Uconn rushed up to the rim, racing for the rebound and—
“Bullseye!”
He scores! Walking back mouth agape, the UConn crowd was erupting with resounding applause. Sweat beaded on your neck, scores dangerously close. Your eyes desperately searched for Suguru and you found him, biting his lip with a visible impatience.
UCONN 69 - DUKE 70
“UConn has cut it to one with 42 seconds left!”
40 seconds.
40 seconds. 40 fucking seconds. Time raced out of the clock— was it going to end like this? Was UConn about to cut it close with its loss or did Duke just lose its trip to the Final Four? In the most thrilling game of the season, They weren’t just playing around anymore.
Suguru rushes up to the rim, walking the ball from a pass gifted to him almost halfway across the court. Going for a field goal, his reach was blocked by UConn, going against everything, he throws. It connects, faltering slightly from the blockage and it attacks the rim with great strength.
“And it’s good! Great play from Suguru Geto.”
UCONN 69 - DUKE 72
You’re fully up now like the rest of your classmates, clapping with blossoming excitement.
25 seconds.
UConn down by three.
18 seconds left.
Uconn is practically circling the field line like vultures, the ball being handed between Satoru and his teammate with unrelenting speed. With that, another foul is played. Satoru’s head is in his hands, eyes glued to the scene ahead.
“1 out of 2.”
Yet, the ball finds its way through the line of players. One missed. One scored. Either way, it fall to the court with a thump!, leaving players scrambling back for the ball.
UCONN 70 - DUKE 72
10 seconds left.
Suguru’s heart is racing. Yours is too. Hell, if the stadium had a pulse it’d be coursing at lighting speed. Any idea of sitting back down is way out of your mind, which seems to be the same with everyone else.
The ball is somewhere on the court, it’s traveling in between so many hands it’s impossible to keep up. From Suguru, to his teammate, to another— he runs back the other way on the court, making himself open for the next pass
Thump.
8 seconds left.
The ball whizzed over heads and hands that try to block it
Thump.
Now 6 seconds.
The board still glows with:
UCONN 70 - DUKE 72
Bodies are brought together. There is an unmistakable tension— as if each school was face-to-face, toe-to-toe to each other despite the vast stadium. Blue, white, and black; Blue Devils and Huskies. The grip on his jersey you’re wearing tightens, knuckles turning white.
Thump.
Five-
It shoots its course across heads to Suguru. He moves to take it, to bring it back home. So close, he can almost taste it. All eyes are upon him. Your eyes pierce him the most. You’re in the crowd. Everyone is. He’s going to bring it, bring the win home. There is no doubt in each face above him that he’s going to bring them to the Final Four.
Each twitch of his arm, each tinge of sweat forming on his body is electric. His feet are heavy on the floor, striking his heels with a force that electrocutes him. He’s going to bring it. Your eyes light up, his eyes light up.
Thump.
He’s there.
Thump.
Suguru b—
Thump.
“THAT BALL IS DEFLECTED AND STOLEN BY GOJO!”
Who is Satoru Gojo, if not the strongest?
2 seconds.
With a quick throw, the ball is shot back to his teammate. His snow white hair is blinding, tussled and thrown back— vivid, sky blue eyes that practically shimmer pierce each square inch of the court.
0.5 Seconds.
His teammate runs further up, sending it right back to Satoru’s open arms.
0.4 Seconds.
“GOJO PASSES IT UP— AND OHHH!”
Swiish!
Time freezes for less than a second— or moves impossibly slow.
Like experiencing flight for the first time, the ball rockets behind tremendous force. Each centimeter it courses through winds up its speed, sending it flying.
So close.
Heads turn. Eyes lock onto the ball like it was overboard. Friends and family squeeze each other. Your heart could pound out of your chest, becoming deafening in your own ears. The energy in the stadium exceeds anything before it, transforming it into something unworldly.
How close?
It breaks through the bright orange rim and into the net— ball clashing against the soft fabric. It falls to the ground. A sound so small, so miniscule. A sound, a sensation that seemed just like clockwork in the world of college basketball. Yet, in this moment, it broke the world you were in.
The crowd erupts.
If time didn’t truly freeze, the clock in your reality most definitely did.
0.3 seconds.
UCONN 73 - DUKE 72
You couldn’t believe your eyes. Honestly, who could? Duke was up by nineteen first half. It was right there. It was so, so close. It was safe to say, Duke wasn’t making it any further on the bracket. A 36-year old revenge best served cold. (real)
Shortly afterwards, UConn would come through with a twinning victory for the Women’s team.
That night, the second half of Duke vs. Uconn proved why college basketball is absolutely unmatched.
— ⭑.ᐟ
“Fuck!” Suguru hissed under his tongue, throwing his tightly crumpled Division 1 coat to the ground.
Under the night sky, he leaned his head against the cool metal wall outside the stadium’s training center. He’d been at this for quite a while now, after the particularly brutal locker-room brief.
“Suguru.”
He turned his head, eyes landing upon him.
“What.” His voice was just a tiny bit louder than a whisper. “What do you want?”
Strands of stark-white hair surrounded the man’s head like a sort of halo under the moonlight, a smug grin proudly decorating his face. “Gonna tell me what happened out there?”
“Fuck off.”
“C’mon, don’t be like that.”
“I can be however I want, Satoru.” He ran an irritated hand through his darkened hair. “Are you gonna tell me what happened out there? What was it, divine intervention?
“You’re so funny.” He let out an almost genuine, hearty laugh. “Yeah, probably. And TONS of confidence. Seriously, it pays off.”
“Not surprised."
“I know.”
The two of them stood in silence for a bit until Satoru spoke again.
“So, are you gonna take me up on that deal or what?” He tilted his head at Suguru.
“Oh fuck off.” Suguru palmed his forehead. “You’re not serious about that.”
“So serious, Sugu.” He snickered. “You’re so lucky. I’ve been waiting to crack not gonna lie. Gorgeous, such a sweetheart, too.”
“That’s my girl, asshole!”
“Yeah, fucking sure!” His vividly blue eyes tore into his. “I swear you carry her around like arm candy, and you aren’t even boyfriend-ly. Fuck, situationship final boss over here.”
“I cannot BELIEVE you, Satoru.”
“Trust, man. You aren’t doing anything. She seems happy right in my instagram d—“
“Don’t even go there.” He grunted, glaring right back at the man.
“Hey, hey.” Satoru approached him and snaked his fingers out. Tipping Suguru’s chin up, almost condescendingly, a smile tugged at the corner of his lips. “Why don’t we just share?”
this is very short and sweet but i hope you enjoyed because its the reason my bracket is fucked, also their colors are mismatched lol
frat!Gojo who’ll ghost you for days, and respond the exact second you text him back.
frat!Gojo who is always looking at you—you can feel his gaze practically burning you alive. if eye-fucking really was a thing (definitely is), he’d be groping every inch of your skin with them.
frat!Gojo who will ramble off to you about anything and everything just to keep your attention, or at least in his territory. even if all you want is a free drink.
frat!Gojo who refuses to follow you on instagram to not mess up his following-to-follower ratio (which is clearly disproportionate anyways), yet could have came on the follow button based on the amount of times he’s jerked off to your pics.
frat!Gojo who is posted up with you on your schools barstool page. if you looked at it hard enough, it was… cute?
frat!Gojo who’s chain dangles over your face during sex, hips snapping against yours, breath hitching as you tug on it. you swear you could hear him whimper—mumbling curses as he ruts deeper.
frat!Gojo who has snapchat stickers of your tits, and hovers his fingers so close to the screen when he’s in the group chat— knowing he’d kill anyone if they had them before him. (and throws a fit when you put the timer on your unbelievably sexy snaps)
frat!Gojo who sometimes usually centers his parties around what he thinks you’ll look sexy in.
frat!Gojo who can make your BedRock.
oh, that was your girl? i thought i recognized her.
frat!Gojo who is already staring when you turn to look at him, a grin forming on his face as you scramble to look away all flushed. eye tag final boss...
frat!Gojo who’d get you kicked out of parties just for watching you tangle yourself with one of his brothers who was trying to get in your pants. what the fuck was your deal with frat!Sukuna anyways?
frat!Gojo who no matter what girl he drags upstairs, never fails to think about you instead. about how desperate your hands moved around him, how your eyes gleamed with desire, how tight your mouth was around his-
frat!Gojo who makes his fraternity pledges send you… baskets of flowers? of course, you had not a single clue it was on gojo’s behalf. just some ridiculous pledging ritual
frat!Gojo who pours shots in your mouth by the bottle, practically mesmerized by how you take it so well by your throat. he’ll let a little bit spill and watch as it dribble down your throat, just to watch you lick your lips and trace each drop back up your neck.
frat!Gojo who puts his hat on you while you’re riding, eyes rolling back, too fucked-out to even realize. he laughs about how big it is backwards on your head while he fucks you senseless.
frat!Gojo who makes frat!Geto or sweetheart!Ieiri go through your private/spam accounts since they follow you. they call him a pussy each time.
“hey— she’s hot as fuck, i have eyes, but why don’t y’just follow her yourself?”
frat!Gojo who’s My Eyes Only is just your pretty back as he fucks you in doggy.
frat!Gojo who can’t seem to figure out why he’s so obsessed with you— with your body, with your scent, with your smile. sure, there was some appeal in the mystery of each hook-up, but something about you turned you into a drug his brain desperately craved. each party at the house became him stalking the door, absolutely tense until he heard the sound of your laughter, the addicting aroma of whatever you wore that night, and your eyes as they met his across the room. god, it was impossible to not be hypnotized by you.
CW - self harm, mentions of masturbation, references to addiction/drugs, restraints, spanking, power dynamics, non-con elements, dead dove: do not eat
2k words • Dr. Easterman/Reader
"Its nothing a little motivation can't fix."
Inspired by Secretary (2002) - All rights reserved to respective creators
━━━━━━━━━━
Control.
You felt it slip out of your fingers. Not like it had any place to belong there anyway.
The idea of purpose slithered around your mind endlessly. Snaking around the thought that you had some—or didn’t—or were destined to see it like the light of day.
That’s what Murkoff Corporation was to you. A way to run free from the mind that trapped you like a mouse, a way to break through the hell you trapped yourself in.
That’s who you were. A nobody. A face that got lost in crowds.
They say if a star goes missing nobody would notice compared to the rest, but you knew you paled in comparison to one. If a star went missing, at least a devoted scientist would be troubled.
That wasn’t you though. You might have well been a piece of broken satellite too minuscule to be noticed.
And that’s what you became. A soul that deserved suffering. A broken entity in the miserable world ahead.
But what that made you, if anything, was willing. Fearless in a way.
Tenacious, you were, or maybe just pitilessly lucky. Raw material to be forged into elements of freedom. Or whatever that meant to you..
What freedom was to you was release.
In a pathetic, rueful, manner, you found release in pleasure.
Pleasure that enveloped you down your legs.. Feeling edged, almost medical scores across your tainted skin.
Skin so, so impure. Or the electric, filthy sensation that felt wrong to you. That made you feel like the abstract of desperation.
But what did that change? You were nothing.
It was mockery to even think someone the likes of you would be ridiculed like that, even noticed to begin with.
That might have been the resolve that fit you in the facility. It granted you that sweet feeling of release. It coursed through your veins at speeds that drove your head in circles of solace.
On the other side of the picture, that’s what made you purposeful.
You hauled yourself between each trial, too alert to make a childish mistake, too aware to loll about. And in return, you were showered with good grades.
The hymn of praise satisfied your ears. The doctor had reins over your working mind. That purpose that enveloped your judgment, your heart.
Each ounce of control filling your hands, like water, running over each of your fingers like a cool, limpid dream.
Control you did not know better enough to indulge in it.
You were a child gratified by gold foil stars, a lamb satiated by affection. It made you important.
You were a perfect sheep, among the herd of your others, you followed the shepherd with wide eyes.
Order.
It shaped you. Dug into your skin like the grain of a whip.
The therapy. What Sinyala gave you was order.
That leash it held you on gave you a strange sense of comfort.
You knew your control— or what you had left of it— laid in the ground of what order you had in your life.
Tasks, calendars of blood, bones, and guts. Coagulate that ended up having some of you in it. A gruesome reminder and a stark constant to the life you gave for it.
Each scream, a freeing call.
You craved that rhythmic motion, having someone, something, to serve stroked your desperation. It felt good.
More than good, it was fulfilling. You were a subject. An exemplary student to the teacher, and a star pupil to the eyes above you.
What that pleasure gave you made you slip.
It drowned you like a form of ecstasy. You felt nothing could stop you.
If there was anything those grades gave you other than control gave you vainglory.
Succeeding became compulsive. You choked on triumph, it was an addiction.
Not like an addiction that cheap Murkoff pills gave, but something different, something worse.
The therapy nurtured you like a baby doe.
Relapse sent you reeling, sending you over the edge.
God, it drove you mad.
This was rebirth. This is what it felt like to reborn. Your insides turned itself out and it was excruciating.
This is what it was like. You might as well been a drug addict, face down on a matress in a warehouse, needle in arm.
A’s with bold plus signs slipped into B’s, C’s, and even D’s. You desperately wrestled for it back, cashing you to fall back further.
It burned you out. And that killed you.
It sent you back to that scratchy, needy feeling in your skin.
It was bursting through your skin. It hurt. Bad. The doctor’s warm words felt cold.
D for disappointment. D for "didn't stab anybody to death." D for "daddy's limp-wristed dilettante.". You moved to punishing yourself.
Pain begged to be released from beneath you. And that’s what you did.
Pain.
It killed you.
It made your entire body swell, blurring your senses, corrupting each inch of you.
You woke up, body cold on the touch wood. After coming to your senses, you realized you were on a desk. Hands tied, eyes blinded, your breath hitched as you tried to squirm within the restraints. You suddenly felt the pointed, carefully ironed creases of slacks against your legs.
The slow, careful sound of dress shoes ran across the floor.
Was this a test?
“Here we are.”
That familiar voice felt your ears. You knew that voice.
You wanted to scream, you wanted to at least make some sort of peep, but in that instant you felt trapped. Instead of words, rough, bristly fingers thumbed your lips.
You felt his hands in your hair as untied the cloth stuck to your eyes. Pulling your hair back, his fingers trailed down the curve of your back.
“I’m here for you now.”
Words so sharp they could cut glass. Praise so sweet it melted on his tongue, slipping into you and tainting your mind.
It all blended together, the situation just barely sinking into you.
Was this real? Why is he bringing you here? Nevertheless you braced yourself, tightening under his grasp.
“I see you doing the work, I know you're trying. But if we're going to change the world, we need to be making leaps.”
You heard him sigh as you felt both his hands right outside your shoulders, now barely leaning over you.
“What I’m telling you is that I’m disappointed. Not angry.. just disappointed."
You failed.
Because you’re a failure.
“I don't know why I even try.”
His hands slithered down your body, making you shiver with each feel of his digits.
Reaching your waist, his slender fingers rested above your belt buckle, before unbuckling it and pulling it through your loops before you could even process what was happening.
He reached for the fly on your pants, then pulled them down in a swift motion.
Your face flushed as you felt so.. exposed, closing your eyes to hopefully push back whatever he was about to do in your mind. You could feel his eyes burning through your skin, examining each inch of your lower body.
His fingers found themselves lightly pressing on your thighs. They traveled along each indent, each scar on your legs.
He traced along the marks, stroking them as if they were some symbol of passage. You were a butterfly, pinned down ready to be examined.
“Why do you do this to yourself?” He asked, tone not filled with worry or anger, but rather with inquiry.
“I-..” You stumbled. “I don’t know.”
“Do you feel shame in this?” His voice felt heavy on your skin. “Does it give you comfort?”
You felt weak, unable to respond.
“Do you feed off of that initial relief?” His lips inches away from you. “Because you know better. I know you do.”
He backed off, feeling like a blanket being ripped off of you in the cold. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
“You wanna know what full feel likes?”
“Daddy will show you what full feel likes.”
Now, you felt his chest rest on your back. He bent over, presumably shifting through papers until he found one.
One of his hands rested on the sheet, while the other meticulously fiddled with the knot around your wrists, untying you. Freeing you, wrists most likely red from how tight you were bound.
His hands went down to his own belt, pulling it out and folding it in between his hand. You shuttered at the noise of leather rubbing together.
“Hands on the desk. Elbows down, hands flat, fingers spread.”
And you followed, obediently.
He shifted the paper towards you, placing it neatly under your head.
“I want you to read this to me.” Crossing over your arms, he traced under the lines, circled in red.
You swallowed.
“Regeant 87367 has demonstrated consistent, declining prefo-“
He landed a swift, initial blow to your ass, causing you to release a high yelp, your hands nearly jolting off the table.
“Don’t.” He quickly cut off your frantic movement. “Did I tell you to stop?”
Shamefaced, you continued.
“Performance.. within these recent trials.” You remembered how you slipped, barely grasping an exit. “The regent exhibited careless and perfunctory behavior-“
Another hit.
“During testing.. Mistakes that could easily be avoided, but met with heedless neglect instead.”
You whined at each strike, noises that he disregarded, threw away like a messed up file spilling with blank ink.
“Conclusion.. Regent seems to be regressing, further therapy required.”
He slammed his hand back down on the paper.
“Do you think I like reading this? Do you think it makes me proud?” You could practically feel his breath over you, hands so close you thought he’d attack those next.
“This does not correlate with your potential. You know you’re special, your performance should reflect that.
He continued to pull up papers, all splattered with bright red circles, each bleeding through the next page.
The man took himself off of you, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You’ve shown me better, you’ve shown me the best.”
You felt his legs pressing into your back again. “Do you take me as a joke? If you do, then so be it. I love you, and this is how you treat me?” His now harsh words felt so foreign, so cold.
He sighed heavily, then snatched the paper back from under you. A gentle hand tucked a piece of your hair behind your ear. Behind you, you heard the soft rustle of something out of his pocket.
“You can do better. If I'm going to sculpt you into a masterpiece, I need you hard enough to grind. Can you do that for me?”
You nodded, cheeks warm under his palms. Your entire body heated, melting under his. He rested your jaw in between his pointer and thumb, holding you like some sort of prize heifer.
“I see you behind that mask. Those eyes. That appetite. You're my little how-high. Show father how high you can get.”
You hung onto each word he said. Wanting to melt into them, wanting to fade into him.
That was the last thing he said, actually, the last thing you remember.
Your head was brought back, quickly to be subdued by the sharp edge of a needle, quickly bringing you back to your mindless state. Just for a moment, could you hear him ease, you beneath him. It was a new high.
That high.
It wasn’t the intoxicating vain of victor, or the reeling feeling of mutilation, but something different. It felt… like progress.
Progress that gently put order back in you. Like a father loves a child, with the watchful eye of a spider.
That’s what he wanted.
He lolled you from his strings, feasting on your insecurity.
He craved that control as much as you did, and in return, you devoured each accolade he uttered.
So much to be completed, so little time. Yet his hand, stiff, came to take the reins.
Carrots and sticks. It was evident that all his children had some sort of potential in them, action to instill, calls to be pursued like a hound.
Patience. Discipline. Passion.
It was a beautifully twisted harmony, a song choked out from ruin.
Mutualistic, you could describe it. Nights where Easterman laid on one’s own, he dove into the mercy he had upon you.
Mercy that he delivered, like some sort of angel. Not just an angel, but a god. A god that you worshipped, that you laid beneath the feet of in mania, for any sign. Passion drove your substance to him, assenting to his fetish.
And it worked.
A teacher isn’t supposed to love a student.
But he saw through that. He saw deeper in you
And being unable to help himself, he loved you.
That’s what progress looked like.
━━━━━━━━━━
a/n thanks for reading! check me out on ao3
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Hey everyone it's been a couple months... I'm back!
I don't know how many of you remember me or gaf about this but, below is an explanation to my sudden "disappearance", WG: Before the Storm, and more! if ur curious... LOL
Sooo a little short recap...
A couple of months back, I was super into Wordgirl (if that wasn't obvious enough)... I'd post a few sketches, promote a fanfic I was working on based on 80's Final Destination AU, and answer Q&A's yata yata...
Why I was gone...
Around summertime, I began to get into other fandoms- causing me to stray away from posting content here
(because I only centered this account around WG)
Eventually, the worst came to worse... the device I used for all my drawings broke down on me. Not even a single repair could help it resulting in me losing all my saved artwork and projects I never finished. It left me super demotivated for a very long time to the point I couldn't even look back at this account.
The same went for the fanfic I was working on (my first post ever)... There was just so much I had planned for the story that I never found the energy to finish or even continue it.
How its going now.
I've been flamed a few times by my best friend for abandoning this blog (with all good intention). But, I knew I wanted to come back at some point because I love the community I've gotten to know here. I felt guilty for abandoning my ability to share my work with such lovely mutuals and fans.
On a better note I've recently gotten a device I can use for my art. Only downside is that my apple pencil won't work. And now... I've literally lost it.
the drawing above? That was all with my finger. I don't know how you finger artists do it... One can only hope I'll find a workaround eventually.
I've also been getting illustration lessons this school year, so that's helped my creative, artistic juices flow haha.
On an end note, I wanna tell to you guys that I'm not sure if I'm going to be posting as frequent as I did before... But if I do, it's most likely not going to be with as much WG content.
As much of a place as WG holds in my heart, I definitely wanna focus on my other interests- even if it's still hard to find the "hell-of-a-lot" motivation I used to have. As for my fanfic... it's more than likely that it'll be discontinued, but that DOESN'T mean I'll never let it come back...
*There is sooo much more I wanna talk about, but I want to keep this post as concise as I can!! I'll discuss more things later down the road perhaps.
Feel free to leave any questions in the Word up!! Q&A :D
If you've made it this far, thank you and watch out for more blog posts <3 Cya later!
HIYA! I'm super duper into Wordgirl and I've been wanting to share this fanfiction I've been working on:
WORDGIRL: Before the Storm,
you can use the link here / or find it on AO3! Under my username: soufpouf
So far, there's only one chapter released, but there is more to come!
*Read more for a summary down below! (This is gonna be a lengthy post, so get prepared)
Where I Start...
AKA the not so important stuff, but read if you want to learn a bit about me I guess idk:
It's my first time posting, I'm kinda new to this whole Tumblr thing lol.
Initially, I was kinda hesitant on sharing this (especially on Tumblr where I have no idea what I'm doing and I currently have NO FOLLOWERS LMAO...).
Honestly my friend was my main motivator for making this post in the first place. I'd appreciate any tips on how to operate this whole thing, I'm still getting used to it hah.
I'm not so confident on sharing my art publicly so this is a first for me. If you ever get the opportunity, please take the chance to go and check this fic out! I'd really appreciate it as this is my time posting a fic ever + I know how little this fandom is. :') I believe that this story has a fair chance at diving deep into a continuation of Wordgirl, along with being filled with "a roller coaster of emotions".
*Summary:
During Becky Botsford's pre-teen, she created plans in which she ended up going through multiple attempts of trying to turn supervillains from evil to 'good'. Especially when it came to Tobey. Perhaps it was due to how much easier it seemed on the surface...
As Becky goes through the beginning year of highschool, her troubles begin to catch to on her and impact her life both in and out of being a superhero. She begins to wonder how she could live a normal life through all the hardships and duties she is willing to go through—particularly when it comes to her identity and helping the people around her.
...
This is very very much inspired by @8_0mph 's comics, which I'm a HUGE fan of. If you haven't already, PLEASE go check them out. Their artwork and narrative is amazing, and it's ongoing as I speak!! :)
Guessing that this is technically an introduction post---Other than Before the Storm, I'm planning to potentially post some fanart on here! Currently I'm into Wordgirl (obvi), but I also like Sonic, Ninjago, Life is Strange (can you tell where I got the fic's title name from) and much more.
If this post somehow gets some traction, then maybe I'll continue to post more Wordgirl content that I have stuffed in the trenches (aka my camera roll). THANK YOU FOR READING IF YOU MADE IT THIS FAR ;) For now, here's Bob with his JPGs of chips:
