she was the talk of the building. having a quote, unusual relationship with the man himself, hiromi higuruma. though, not proven their looks say so that everyone seems to know.
it's not uncomfortable.
common? yes.
but being bent over the table with hiromi making you read all the typos you have done in a simple client letter— your skirt pulled up in your waist, panty hose and panties down to your knees.
his hand soothing the soft skin, soft hand-print painted skin.
making you learn of your mistakes, just so you wouldn't bury yourself into the void of disappointment.
learning to please yourself and him, rather.
their dynamics? uncommon.
but that's just the talk. who knows if it's real, he wouldn't even look at you anyway.
the office was quiet, almost concentrated on what needed to be done. her fingers rambled in her keyboard, only focusing on the text that should be written in the letter. there comes higuruma — storming through the halls with his suit and slacks flowing as he steps.
her ears can already hear he could be demanding again making her lips escape a quiet sigh.
"where's the letter that I've been requesting?" his tone was firm, standing tall; face slightly distressed from she doesn't know what he is even doing that may cause it. then her fingers stopped working.
"I prioritized the letter for Mr. Nakamichi because you needed it today." she might sound confident and calm but deep inside, she's far more than worried— to please him.
she did it in purpose.
to purposely forget it.
just then, higuruma realized he didn't follow up the letter he urgently needed today. his eyes flickered into something she can't understand. his expression wasn't easily read by anyone anyway.
"efficient. finish that off and write the letter, 5:30 pm I need it in my office." then immediately storms off like nothing happened. she didn't even have time to react knowing how serious this maybe for him.
but she's used to that.
so used.
5:25 pm sharp, her heels clicked into the hallway while her hand held the important paper. not bothering to knock, she opened the door. higuruma was reading an important paper giving no attention with her presence.
she walked into his desk already knowing he wouldn't care.
"the letter," she mentioned but no verbal replies. it was an obvious response so she placed it in his desk, grabbing an envelope from his table-
"if you place that inside the envelope with mistakes." he says without looking at her, seeing his hooked nose from the side— her breathe hitched. her fingers stopped and dropped the envelope, not a single response coming from her.
"are you sure?"
"you can proofread it, sir."
"that's a yes or no question, ms. (l/n)."
then his eyes burned a hole in hers, she blinked.
"yes, sir."
"you may leave."
it's like waiting for a bomb to tick, despite knowing the consequences she can't fucking wait— for him to ring the bell so she can bend over, feel his hands on the very curve of her body. his lips on her ears, earning malicious praises.
it's so fucking wrong, but it's making her feel right.
training her to be perfect. to be sorry for her mistakes, so the next time she will be able to please him.
and every minute is making her feel so anxious. her teeth biting into her lower lip, her pen clicking, and her stilettos hitting the table.
buzz. buzz.
"ms. (l/n)-" that voice of his immediate made her bolt, like she's been anticipating this moment.
it was no surprise that she came immediately, he's aware. too aware.
he learned quickly, the way these typos are made. the forgotten letter, how can she even forget? she might be the most organized person ever, she refused not to please him.
but, now he understands.
she's finding the satisfaction in feeling wrong and him making it right.
he then stood up from his desk, raising the paper between his fingers. seeing her eyes— he knew it. it's like a kid seeing a treat.
"6 typos, 3 wrong grammar, and 2 misuse of marks." he says making her breath heavily. then he gave it to her, standing tall like a damn post making her feel vulnerable.
"sir?"
"ms. (l/n), even a third grader wouldn't make the same mistakes. you're a qualified secretary with a degree." he sighs; disappointment? and she fucking hated that.
she couldn't bring herself to speak, shame? is that it? seeing him like this, enough to make her knees weak. the loose first two buttons of his blouse, wrinkled suit, and his loose tie.
"what is it that you want, (l/n). say it." he spoke firmly, definitely an order.
she feels that strange feeling crawling in her back. it's almost filthy what she's thinking about all day.
she's been so good for a week straight to keep the speculations down.
this is so filthy. her stomach was aching already.
"I'm just going to re-write it, sir." but it's too late, hiromi could already see the shame in her.
"you're never going to survive a trial, are you?" because, she couldn't even answer those questions. simple questions. before she could even turn around and leave like she always does when she's too shy to even speak up, he immediately spoke.
"just tell me."
"is it because of the filthy comments people are saying?"
"hiromi." she says as if wanting to make him keep his voice down.
"you're just going to answer me."
stubborn. individualistic too much?
she sighs, wetting her lower lips trying to keep herself calm. she steps up making their contact so much closer. not knowing how to confess the filth she's been thinking about.
"I-" she exhales, looking away for a moment then back at him— the strand of his hair falling, his hooked nose, and impatient expression. fuck.
"I purposely made the mistake, sir." she says as if confessing a sin.
"so you can punish me." she says now looking away out of shame, so far from what she thinks about earlier.
higuruma didn't respond. it was amusing that she's admitting this right now, very submissive she is. he grins lightly.
she was bent into the desk, the papers slightly crumpled because of her position and weight. her skirt was raised up, revealing her bare ass; her pooled cunt.
"higuruma," she quietly whimpers feeling another strike on her left, causing it to ripple and leave a mark.
"sir." he corrected.
"sir, fuck." she buries her face into the desk feeling the sting within her skin, but the pleasure was building a coil inside of her. feeling the void of her emptiness.
"have you heard what they're saying?" he spoke in her ear, feeling the hot hitch of his breath.
"yes, sir."
another strike.
"have you been listening?"
"no, sir."
another strike.
it didn't matter what they were saying, she learned that because it's the truth. so what if that's the truth? it's shameful but fuck, if this doesn't feel as good as it is.
she loves this, more than she ever cared to admit and hiruguma didn't expect much coming from his, well, very shy secretary.
this feeling, she can't explain it. it's like a million fireworks exploding inside of her when he's around— ever since this, ever since the first time. her body was ultimately submitting, not just sexually but how she acts towards him. that's why she never learned to listen to whoever person talks about them.
"hiromi, fuck." she sobs holding into his hair tightly, feeling the flicker and suction on his lips— devouring that bud and juice, with his fingers pumping in and out merciless.
she's so fucking perfect.
his bulge was feeling packed inside his pants, throbbing and eager to meet hers.
"is this what you want?" his nose was resting between the slit making her feel this certain ecstacy. she fucking love that nose.
"yes, sir. fuck, fuck." she cries grinding purposely, feeling his nose nudge the bud.
he felt a sense of satisfaction.
"im cumming- shit, oh my god!" she cries gripping into his arm tightly, his tongue is absolutely diabolical.
the way her eyes roll in the back of her skull, her thighs rippling as it shakes, and her filthy fucking moans calling out for who knows exist.
he felt that sense of satisfaction, the one he feels when he's winning.
the same euphoria that rushes in his blood when the judge announced his victory.
that feeling he feels when she's trying her best to make him smile every damn day with those treats from the bakery.
he felt way too satisfied.
"you're so good, doll." he whimpers in her ear watching her bounce on his shaft, her pussy swallowing him in so easily yet tightly. his hand on her hips, guiding her through it.
"mhm," she nodded feeling his other hand getting busy on her, his thumb brushing on her lower lip.
"you're smart, hm?" he says referring to the fact she's making mistakes purposely to have him.
"my smart fucking doll."
"my good doll."
" 'atta girl."
he can feel his balls tightening already, this undeniably filthy yet glorious view in front of him. the way her tits bounce, he's holding back not to cum inside her. to make her officially his. his tie on her neck. fuck.
"im cumming, higu." she says burying her face in his neck, moaning messily. he continues to thrust from under, holding her more gentle this time. feeling her vulnerability giving in, their connection getting tighter and tighter every second.
"i love you, higu-"
she sobs feeling the tight coil pop, weakening in his arms. his member throbbing as it shoots ropes of cum inside of her. he then held her tightly.
he's feeling vulnerable and he heard it.
he stroked her back, making sure she feels loved.
"i love you too," he whispers.
he doesn't care if whoever is hearing them right now, he's too individualistic to give a damn. he's making love right, not his fault. they can't speak about her when he's around, most likely not now even if she's alone.
if there's something these people dare to forget in their gossip, it's the fact that every after work, he's taking her out and treating her nicely just like how she deserves it.
that he grows an orchid in his office because hse likes it and he eats the bakery goods.
just like the last time, this author right here says hiruguma is a lover.
ෆ PIXIE'S NOTE ! : inspired by SECRETARY (2002) plus this is my second and last freakyy ahh posting ✌🏻 took me a lot of balls to write ts, not proofread bye 🤤 no more FREAKY WRITING 😡
─ REBLOGS, LIKES, AND COMMENTS ARE APPRECIATED & FEEL FREE TO JOIN MY TAGLIST!
‧ ₊❝ spiderman!gojo gets a little hard seeing you trapped in his webs
“is that cum?”
the first thing you notice when you walk into satoru’s room are the strings of a sticky, white substance decorating his bed, all over the sheets and headboard. and now you can’t get the image of him jerking off on his patterned sheets, cock throbbing and glistening with slick, out of your head. definitely not how you should be thinking about your best friend.
“what—NO! i’ve been working on a new web formula. something stronger and more resistant, but doesn’t take too long to dissolve. the mayor’s been on my back again about 'littering public infrastructure with my webs'. ungrateful much...” satoru explains, waving his web shooter in the air, “i can’t seem to get it right though, and now i’m covered in webs that i can’t scrub off.”
ah. that makes sense. a lot of sense, actually.
you take a good look at the web shooter in his hands, its metal glinting under the fluorescent ceiling light. it’s a marvel of engineering, how he gets the resources and brains, you’re not entirely sure.
however, it’s clear he’s frustrated about his lack of progress. his metal-framed glasses lay crooked on his nose, smeared with thumb prints and perspiration. if it weren’t for his white hair, you probably would’ve noticed the strands of webs on that mop of frizzy hair.
you reach up on your tip-toes to pick them from his head, giggling, “do you need any help? i don’t think i’d be of much assistance for the nerdy stuff, but if there’s anything i could do…”
satoru ponders this for a moment.
“hmm, actually, there is something you could do for me,” he walks over to his desk in the corner, picking up a beaker. using the stirring rod propped up against the walls of the beaker, he froths up the mixture inside. when he lifts up the rod, the mixture clings onto the glass, stretching it out to reveal a web-like pattern.
“this is my newest trial, i was just about to test it when you came in. since you’re here, do you…want to help me test its strength?” he asks shyly, an awkward chuckle forced out of his mouth, “i mean— you don’t have to do it, just thought it’d be, y’know, easier for me to make observations.”
you giggle at the flush that creeps up his neck, the tips of his ears a burning red. you didn’t understand why he was being so nervous to ask for your help, as if you had never emergency-texted him at 2am for help on your chemistry homework.
“of course i’ll help! what do you want me to do?”
pushing his glasses up so they sit nicely on his nose bridge, he tells you, “i’ll web your body together, and all you need to do is to try your best to break free.”
with your approval, he takes his web shooter, carefully pouring the web fluid into the canister, locking it with a soft click. he fixes the device onto his wrist, bending his index and middle finger to lightly press against the trigger without releasing the webs.
“uh…sit on the bed and stick out your arms, i’ll shoot the webs there.”
you do as told, watching as satoru tongue darts out from the corner of his lips, eyebrows furrowed in concentration.
“okaaay, you ready?”
fwip!
he pushes his fingers against his palm, pressing hard against the trigger, the webs springing out from a small hole. it attaches to your right arm, then your left, slamming your limbs to the headboard. it feels cool against your skin, sticky (well, obviously), painting your arms a stark white.
you see satoru pull out his notebook, taking the tip of the pen between his teeth. you take that as a sign to start pushing against the webs. biceps flexing, you thrash against your restraints. you hear the scratch of a pen and a soft hum as satoru jots down notes.
you feel a thread snap, the web stretching against the raw strength you’re exerting, which you take as a single of progress. even more determined now, your body almost falls over as you attempt to escape, a bead of sweat sliding down you forehead. but it doesn’t budge further than that.
you had severely overestimated your abilities. and severely underestimated satoru’s genius and intellect.
suddenly, the notebook in his hand drops down to his crotch, arm tense and stiff. an abashed smile grows on his face, a sharp inhale of breath too loud for the small room.
“what—” your eyes drop to the notebook, and that’s when you see it. the subtle rise in his pants.
your voice comes out accusatory, “are you…hard?”
“NO! i mean, no, i-i’m not. what makes you say that?” he squeaks out, pressing the notebook tighter against him.
“then why are you covering your crotch with your notebook?” your raised eyebrow only makes him even more nervous.
“ummmmm…i find it easier to write like this. yeah-yeah, that’s right!” he even tries to demonstrate, stretching his other arm awkwardly to scribble on the page. “i swear i’m not trying to disrespect you!”
the blatant lie only makes him grow harder, pushing against the fabric. he looks huge, almost suffocating. was this an effect of the spider bite?
“i—it’s just…youlookreallyhotcaughtinmywebs.” he can’t even look you in the eyes as he says it, eyes glued to his beaten up shoes.
oh.
“well, i would offer my help, but uhh—as you can see, my hands are occupied,” your eyes dart to the webs. it’s an innocent action, but satoru catches the mischievous glint in your eyes.
hesitantly, he walks over to you, hooking his fingers under the waistband of your sweats. with an encouraging nod, you wrap a leg over his waist, pulling him in closer. he pulls your pants down, revealing a red pair of panties. intention disguised as a coincidence.
“fuuck, you’re dripping.” his eyes are glued to the wet patch. and it only gets even wetter under his heated gaze.
turns out he wasn’t the only one who enjoyed the experiment.
Satoru takes holidays very seriously especially holidays that revolved around you. Women’s history month, your birthday, anniversary, etc he’s going beyond for it.
ᥫ᭡
The sun rise filtered through the soft white curtains in your shared room, the unexpected warm light making you stir slowly waking your brain up. The smell of pancakes filled the house making your brain stir even more awake, groggily sitting up and swinging your feet to the edge of the bed you make your way to the kitchen.
footsteps shuffling on the soft tile entering the kitchen. The kitchen counter having a big basket of roses those ones that last a year next to it sat a small little pink note, and of course satorus broad back that was painted with the sunlight facing you.
He senses you behind him, soft lips turning into small smile he turns around finally facing you. “there’s my favorite girl,” he says with that big grin on his face making his way over to you, his large hands wrap around your waist pulling your body into his.
“soo how’d my pretty girl sleep?” he asks trying so desperately to not make it noticeable what his intentions were in the moment, his hands slowly leading you back into the marble kitchen counter.
“i slept good,” you murmur, your brain still laced with sleep to even notice he guided you back into the counter. Satoru hums in response - large hands lifting you effortlessly up onto the kitchen counter.
standing between your knees, his hands rubbing up n down the side of your soft thighs. His lips gently kiss your cheek trailing from your forehead to the tip of your nose, then finally his soft lips capturing yours into a quick soft kiss.
“gonna be good for me?” his large hands still rubbing up and down the sides of your thighs his eyes looking into your still sleepy ones, you nod your head and that’s all he need was that small nod of consent.
he crotched down between your thighs his hand bunching up the skirt of your night gown. his lips trail kisses from your inner thigh to your already wet pussy, his lips softly kiss your sensitive clit making you gasp at the sensation.
His tongue darts out licking between your drench folds, the tip of his nose gently hitting your clit as he licks up your sweet sex tasting you on his tastebuds making him whimper against your pussy, his tongue continues lapping up every ounce of your sweetness not missing a single drop.
Your hand flies to his white locks gripping at it, your hips buck up into his face desperately needing more. His large hand smacks your ass cheek making a small moan escape past your lips, “such a pretty girl, cmon sweet girl cum on my face. show me what a woman can do,” he grunts, soft lips wrapping around your clit making your entire body jolt as he sucks, hard.
soft moans escape your lips, hips softly bucking up into his face trying to chase your high - his stupid eyes keeping eye contact with you.
“oh- fuck! imma cum- sato- please,” you moan, Satorus suddenly push past your folds 2 fingers entering your aching cunt. he groans, the sensation vibrating your clit.
your walls suck him in clenching onto them for dear life, he picks the pace up with his mouth sucking on your sensitive nerves faster as his 2 long fingers fuck into your aching pussy. With one final curl of his long fingers and his tongue flicking your clit, your tummy knot snaps, vision going white coating his lower face in your sweetness. Squirting on him.
with one little pop, his mouth detaches from your clit his breath coming out even. “shit, that was so hot-,” his fingers curl inside of you slowly again testing to see how much more you can take.
“cmon, give me one more. Need to show my favorite girl how much i appreciate her and everything she does,” his voice coming out whiney, he’s pleading for you to give him one more.
with a shaky spread of your plush thighs satoru groans at the sight of your dripping pussy, his face going back in lapping up your sweetness like he’d been starved for an entire week.
He’d eventually have to stop from the burning smell of the pancake left on the stove, and make you a whole stack of new ones, and you’d eventually get to eat while you read over his sweet little note to you for women’s history month while you ate your breakfast and getting satorus sweet hand treatment on your shoulders.
But his mind was too clouded with how much he needed to make you feel good and make you feel all cloudy from his tongue. You’d eventually get to the rest of the surprises Satoru had for you but not quite yet.
ᥫ᭡
(not proof read)
this man definitely does it for your pleasure and honesty mostly his
chick habit (gojo x reader) series unfinsished
who said romance was dead? (gojo x reader) smut imagine
kiss kiss fall in love (gojo x reader) series unfinished
national anthem (gojo x reader) one shot
RYOMEN SUKUNA
sex adddict husband sukuna (true form) sukuna x reader smut
Warnings: slight yearning for gojo from reader? no use of y/n, slight angst? not really, bitter sweet
word count: 1104 words
authors note: i was listening to the demo version of national anthem by lana del rey and had the idea to write this. I hope you all like it! i have a criminal justice test tomorrow and instead of studying I wrote this and now I'm forcing my frien to help me study ha ha....
Money is the anthem of success so before we go out what’s your address?
Gojo Satoru wasn’t just a man—he was an enigma, wrapped in mystery and poise, effortlessly decadent. You first met him during one of Yaga’s meetings, some strategic briefing that dissolved into background noise the second he walked in. It was almost comical how quickly the room shifted, how attention bent toward him like gravity had changed its mind.
It was as if the moment he entered, he owned the space. Not because he demanded it—he never did—but because everyone gave it willingly. He got everything he wanted. He always had.
Why?
Because he was the strongest.
I’m your national anthem, god, you’re so handsome.
He was beautiful—there was no use pretending otherwise. You knew it. He knew it. Everyone knew it. Beauty sharpened by confidence, softened by a smile that suggested he was in on some cosmic joke no one else understood. He felt impossibly distant, like something meant to be admired from afar, yet dangerously close all the same. Untouchable, in every sense of the word.
Until he noticed you.
Not a glance that passed over you, not a lazy scan of the room—but a real look. His head tilted, eyes hidden but intent, like he was actually curious. Like you were something worth pausing for.
And just like that, you fell—bad.
It wasn’t dramatic. No thunder, no lightning. Just a quiet, traitorous pull in your chest. The kind that made you feel foolish for thinking you’d ever be immune to someone like him.
Take me to the Hamptons, Bugatti Veyron, he loves to romance ’em, reckless abandon.
Being with Gojo Satoru felt like stepping into a world that glittered too brightly to last. Everything about him was indulgent—his laughter, his confidence, the way he leaned in just a little too close when he spoke, like he wanted you to forget there was anyone else in the room. And sometimes, when it was just the two of you, it almost felt real. Intimate. Like you weren’t standing beside a legend, but a man who let his guard slip in rare, unguarded moments.
He touched you gently, like he was careful not to break something fragile. Like he knew this-whatever this was, existed in borrowed time.
You never asked him for promises.
He never offered them.
holding me for ransom, upper echelon, he says to be cool, but i don’t know how yet
Loving Gojo Satoru felt like being suspended between wanting and knowing better. Like standing at the edge of something glittering and dangerous, fully aware of the fall, and stepping forward anyway. He never asked you to give more than you could—but somehow, you always did.
He made it look easy. Effortless. Like caring was just another thing he wore loosely, slipping it on and off as he pleased. When he told you to relax, to be cool about it all, you tried. You really did. But how were you supposed to stay calm when being with him felt like being chosen and forgotten all at once?
There were moments—quiet ones—when he held you like the world wasn’t watching. Like he wasn’t the strongest, like he wasn’t a name people whispered with awe and fear tangled together. Just a man, warm and solid, breathing against your shoulder. In those moments, you almost believed you mattered more than the pedestal he stood on.
wind in my hair, hand on the back of my neck
It was always the small things that undid you.
The way his hand settled at the nape of your neck, thumb resting there like it belonged. Not possessive—just steady. Anchoring. As if he was reminding himself you were real, that this moment existed beyond the noise of everything waiting for him. The wind tangled through your hair, carrying the faint chill of night, and he leaned in just enough for you to feel his warmth without fully closing the distance.
He didn’t say anything. He rarely did in moments like this.
Gojo had a way of being quiet that felt heavier than words. Like he was choosing not to fill the space because he knew it wouldn’t last. You wondered if he felt it too—the way time thinned around you, stretched fragile and translucent, ready to tear at any moment.
I said “can we party later on” he said “yes”
He shifted slightly, his hand finally slipping away from your neck, the loss immediate and sharp. The night air rushed in to fill the space he left behind. You missed the weight of him before you even had the chance to step back. He apologized, said he had to go on another mission, you sighed but nodded.
Being with Gojo Satoru meant learning how to live in the in-between. Between missions and moments. Between what he gave and what he withheld. Between the person he was when no one was watching and the symbol he became the second someone else entered the room.
You stayed anyway.
Because when he smiled at you—soft, unguarded, fleeting—it felt like a secret. Like something the rest of the world would never get to touch. And even if it only lasted until the music started, until the lights washed everything out, you let yourself believe that the quiet meant something.
That it counted.
Tell me i'm your national anthem
It lived in the way you watched him when he wasn’t performing—when his shoulders slouched just a little, when his smile dulled at the edges, when the weight of being Gojo Satoru pressed in on him harder than he’d ever admit. You wanted to be the thing he came home to, the place he rested in, the constant beneath all the noise.
Not the loud kind of love.
The quiet one.
The one that didn’t ask to be seen.
But Gojo didn’t belong to quiet things.
He belonged to spectacle, to devotion on a massive scale. To a world that needed him more than it could ever love him properly. Standing beside him, you felt it;how small you were in comparison, how easily you could be lost in the crowd cheering his name.
Still, when his hand brushed yours, deliberate this time, you held onto that contact like a vow. Like if you could just stay close enough, steady enough, he might choose you in some small, private way.
He never said you were his anthem.
Never named you as something permanent.
But in the way he leaned toward you before the music swallowed everything, in the way his voice softened when he said your name—only yours—you let yourself pretend.
FEM Satoru Gojo x FEM reader WLW BRO
warnings: degrading, fingering, name calling, EDGINGGG, begging, gojo is mean </3
authors note: this is my first time writing a wlw post so i'm kind of nervous that this is bad
word count: 1464
art credit: Rezijellyfish0
In all senses, you were a loser.
You barely had friends. While people your age were out partying, you were inside bed-rotting or watching something new just to pass the time. You were awkward. Quiet. Forgettable. everything you weren’t, Satoru Gojo was.
Confident where you shrank.
Loud where you went silent.
Wanted where you were invisible.
She was the kind of girl people turned their heads for.
You were the kind they walked past without noticing.
So standing inside the Alpha Delta Pi sorority house felt like a cosmic mistake. Music pounded through the floorboards. Red cups everywhere. Girls in glitter and tiny skirts laughing too loud. The air smelled like perfume and cheap alcohol.
You hovered near the snack table like it was a life raft.
I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t—
Shoko had vanished ten minutes ago, abandoning you to “socialize,” which really meant suffer alone. You awkwardly walked around the party, pretending to check your phone whenever someone made eye contact. Almost bumped into a couple making out. Mumbled apologies to a stranger. Accidentally grabbed someone else’s drink. You were a walking disaster From across the room, laughter erupted,a crowd had gathered in the living room.
Chants.
“Spin it! Spin it! Spin it!”
You should’ve avoided it.
You really should’ve.
But curiosity (and desperation to look busy) dragged you closer.
Someone explained, “Seven minutes in heaven!”
Your stomach dropped.
A circle of people sat on the floor with an empty bottle in the middle.
Closet door nearby. People cheering like it was life or death.
You tried to back away.
Too late.
“Hey!” one of them pointed. “You! We need one more person. SIT!”
And thats how you ended up itting cross-legged in the circle like you’d been summoned. You could practically feel your heart vibrating in your throat. The crowd parted, just your luck Satoru Gojo dropped down into the circle across from you like she owned the floor. Tiny skirt. Long legs. White hair falling over one eye. Lip gloss shining under the lights. Everyone cheered louder.
“President’s turn!”
“Gojo spin first!”
She smirked lazily, fingers drumming against the bottle.
she flicked the bottle.
It spun.
Round and round and round. Your heart hammered so loud you couldn’t hear anything else. The bottle slowed. Just your luck the bottle ended up pointing to you. Everyone paused and looked confused
"uhhh who is that again?"
"I dunno"
"Gojo and uhhh this girl I guess"
She looked disgusted, actually disgusted wasn't the right word, something worse than disgusted you couldn't really put a name to her disgust. Someone shoved you both toward the closet before either of you could protest.
“Seven minutes! Don’t waste it!”
The door shut behind you.
Satoru leaned back against the closet wall, arms crossed, and eyed you with open disdain. "Well, this is just fucking perfect," she muttered, "Of all the girls at this stupid party, I end up stuck in this closet with you." She shook her head, a nasty smirk twisting her glossy lips.
Satoru's gaze raked over your body, she looked away with a scoff. "Listen, let's make this quick, okay? I don't want to waste my time on someone like you." She reached out and grabbed your wrist, yanking you closer. Her fingers were long and strong, nails tipped in a light shade of pink. She leaned in, her breath hot against your ear.
"I think we both know why you're really here, loser," she whispered, her voice a low, cruel purr. "It's because you're a pathetic virgin, aren't you? Never been touched at all"
Satoru's other hand grabbed your face, she squeezed, fingers digging into the soft flesh. "You're just begging for someone to put you in your place, aren't you? To show you what you're missing?"
She squeezes your face again."Isn't that right, you desperate little slut?" When you don't respond she continues to speak.
"Let me guess," she purred into your ear, her lips brushing against the shell. "You've been sitting at home, touching yourself to thoughts of someone like me, haven't you? Somebody who actually knows what they're doing?"
Satoru's fingers tightened on your face, her long nails digging into your jaw. She tilted your head, forcing you to look up at her with wide, vulnerable eyes. The grip was possessive, dominating, making it clear who held all the power in this cramped space. Her other hand moved to your hair, tangling her fingers in the soft strands and pulling your head back against the wall of the closet. The position made your neck arch, exposing the delicate line of your throat. Satoru leaned down, her breath hot against your skin as she traced her tongue along your collarbone.
"You want me to touch you, don't you?" she breathed against your ear. "You want my fingers inside you, making you squirm and moan like the pathetic little slut you are?"
All you can do is nod she hasn't even done anything and yet you've been dumbed down.
Satoru's hand slid down your body, her fingers hooking under the waistband of your jeans and then your panties. She pulled them down just enough to expose your most intimate area, her gaze locked on yours with an intensity that made your breath hitch.
"Tell me, baby," she commanded, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper. "How bad do you need this? How badly do you want me to finger you right here, right now?"
You swallow, looking away isn't an option your face is still in her hand.
"I need it, I need you so badly"
Satoru's fingers found their way between your thighs, stroking along your slick folds. Her touch was confident, deliberate, making you gasp as electricity shot through your body.
"Ah, you're already so wet for me," she purred, her fingers slipping inside you with a single, practiced motion.
"Let me teach you what this needy body of yours has been craving," Satoru breathed, her fingers pumping faster, plunging deeper. "What you've been secretly dreaming of "
Her thumb found your clit, circling it with a maddening rhythm. Pressure built low in your belly, your hips rocking instinctively against her skilled hand. Satoru's lips crashed against yours, swallowing your moan as she kissed you with a ferocity that stole your breath. Satoru's tongue dominated yours, exploring every inch of your mouth, claiming you utterly. Your body trembled against hers as Satoru's fingers worked their magic, stroking and curling in all the right spots. The sensations were overwhelming, unlike anything you'd ever experienced on your own. You could feel yourself getting closer, teetering on the brink of a precipice you'd never before reached.
Just as you were about to cum, Satoru pulled her hand away abruptly. You let out a whimper of protest, your hips jerking forward as if chasing her retreating touch. Satoru tutted, her voice a cruel mockery. "Not so fast, loser, you really think I'd let you cum so easily?"
She brought her slick fingers up to her lips, making a show of licking them clean. Her tongue swirled around each digit, tasting your essence with a hungry intensity.
She smirked at your whine of protest, clearly relishing the power she held over your pleasure. Her hand released its grip on your hair, only to slide down to cup your cheek, tilting your chin up to force you to meet her mocking gaze.
"No, I have something else in mind for you first," Satoru purred, her thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips. "I want to hear you beg for it. I want to hear you plead like the needy little slut you are."
"Beg for it," she commanded, her voice a dark purr. "Beg me to let you cum, you desperate fucking whore."
You felt humiliated but you needed your release. "Please, Please let me cum, I need it"
Satoru's eyes flashed with wicked amusement at your desperate plea. A cruel smile played across her lips as she drank in the sight of you, debased and wanting, practically panting with need. Without warning, she plunged two fingers deep inside you, curling them just right to stroke that sensitive spot within that made your vision blur.
"Yes, that's it," she purred, pumping her fingers at a punishing pace. "Gonna make this needy cunt mine. Can't hold back anymore..."
Your body tensed, muscles pulling taut as a coil wound tight in your core. The pressure built, higher and higher, until finally, with a strangled cry, you came undone. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed over you, your inner walls clenching tight around Satoru's plundering fingers as you gushed your release.
"SEVEN MINUTES ARE UP!"
You and Satoru just stared at eachother she wiped her hands off on your jeans.
"See you later loser"
Tojis big hand was cupped against your mouth covering the entire lower half of your face muffling your moans as he slammed his hips in and out of you, the car filled with wet skin slapping and tojis low grunts as his thick cock hits your sweet spot over and over again with each brutal thrust.
His hand on your hip traveling up grabbing a fist full of your hair forcing your head his eyes on your glossy ones, his cock still drilling into your wet cunt.
“stupid f-fuckin’ girl always needing my cock - shit, you should be fucking grateful i’m even giving it to you after being a bitch to me all ahh- day.” he pants his thrusts growing erotic as he feels your walls flutter around him.
his fist with your hair let’s go shoving your face into the car seat, his hand moved landing a hard smack on the fat of your ass cheek his eyes watching the spot turn pink. “fuckin’ slut,” he spat out, voice laced with mock disgust. His hand uncovers your mouth making you let out a gasp - air filling your lungs before it’s quickly ruined by a moan his thumb roughly drawing fast circles on your puffy sore clit.
“oh fuck-! ‘ji!” a whine ripping from your throat, your knees planted in the car seat on the verge of giving out. his hand grips your hip tighter threatening to leave a bruise later as he keeps you in place, toji grunts lowly as he keeps the pace up on your clit his hips slamming in and out of your soaking cunt making your eyes roll back at the overwhelming pleasure he’s giving you.
“the fuck were ya thinking getting a bitchy attitude with me in front of shiu, huh?” he spat his hand landing another sharp smack on your ass cheek making your entire body jolt.
Your brain felt like mush all you could do was whimper in response, too fucked out to answer your boyfriend. Toji lets out a deep mean laugh at your pitiful whimper the whole noise pissing him off even more.
His cock slowly drags out of your pussy making you whine missing the feeling of his thick cock filling you up so sweetly. his hand lands another quick hard slap on it before rubbing the spot. his chest looming over your sweaty back, lips brushing against your ear.
“clean your dumb self up before shiu gets back in here, then once we get home i’ll fuck you how my bitchy slut deserves to be fucked.” his voice laced with nothing but a promise, Toji doesn’t do threats.
sucking Satorus cock in his office before his meeting with the higher ups
ᥫ᭡.
His head was tilted back - his large hand in your hair keeping your head down while grunts and shaky breathes leave his moisturized lips.
“doin’ soo good baby, yeah - just like that,” Satoru praises trying to keep his voice steady as he bucks his hips up into your sweet mouth— eager to see how many times you can make him cum until he has to go to a meeting with the higher ups.
Satorus hip shudder letting out a sharp whimper as he feels your soft hand sneak up cupping his balls. You go lower down on his cock, bobbing your head up and down - your eyes peering up at him through your lashes needing to see his pretty face needing to prove to him that your worthy of sucking his pretty cock.
His chest heaves a whimper falling from his lips - tilting his head back up to look down at you making eye contact with your glossy eyes. “f-fuck-! look at you,” Satoru moans. His large hand that wasn’t keeping your hair in a tight grip comes down carefully puts the sweaty strands of hair back behind your ear, a silent way of praising you.
“mmmgnh — always so good to me, always taking the best care of me when no one else does” he continues, breath shuttering. Between your legs your cunt aches from the lack of attention, at the much attention it needed. It throbs and gushes wet slick between your legs, you pathetically try and close them tightly trying to gain any sort of relief.
Satorus continuing his babble praises his hand tightly in your hair keeping your head down. “Such a good fucking girl f’me, my good girl. Always gonna be mine, huh?” He babbles breathlessly, his cheeks completely flushed and forehead sweaty - strands of his snowy hair sticking to his delicate forehead.
His praises don’t do you any good, your inner thighs dripping with slick from his sweet words and noises. His eyes flutter shut, head falling back on his office chair. Sucking him harder, gagging as his cock’s tip breaches your throat with every bob of your head. The sounds falling off his lips are so filthy, but so right and just for your ears only.
His babbling and moans continue as he takes your hand off his thigh holding onto as he chases his high using your mouth for his own pleasure. He rocks up into you, riding out his high, spilling his warm seed into your mouth, his balls twitching as he cums. “so perfect f’me pretty girl,” he deliriously praises, panting heavily, his large hand relaxing in your messy hair.
You gulp and swallow as you pull off him, a string of saliva connecting you to his cock as shaky and deep breaths fill your lungs.
Satoru adjusts slightly in his office chair before looking down at you. His large hand that was in your hair lazily comes down stroking your cheek before trailing to your plump lips. His thumb lazily swipes off the cum and saliva on your bottom lip.
“Such a good girl, now get that pretty ass on my desk so i can eat before i go to that stupid meeting, then when i get back imma fuck you bent over this desk.”
and even though your mind is still fuzzy you dumbly nod before following his instructions.
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