warnings: dub/con -> non/con, afab!reader, heavy intoxication, dom!reader, sub!satoru, handjobs, oral sex (f. receiving), water sports/omorashi, verbal degradation, impact play, blood, and prolonged stalking. satoru's the yandere but there is something very, very wrong with reader. dead dove: do not eat.
You didn’t like Shoko’s friends.
You tried to steer clear of people she introduced you to as a rule. You loved Shoko, had ever since the two of you met during her eerily brief time in medical school, but she kept odd company. There was the strange, grinning man with the lopsided bangs and a penchant for staring at something just over your shoulder, and the clean-cut blonde with awful taste ties and a habit of checking his watch every other second. Occasionally, she’d treat you to Utahime, who made you laugh but always drank too much too quickly, or subject you to Yuki, who never seemed to be able to keep her hands to herself for more than a minute at a time. They were all weirdos, sure, but of the relatively benign variety. There was only one that really bothered you.
The blue-eyed guy. The tall one. You couldn’t remember his name, but you knew one thing for sure.
He was really fucking creepy.
Even more so now that you’d left the crowded bar, where some amount of uncomfortable proximity and dazed staring was unavoidable. Now, standing on the deserted sidewalk just outside, lit only by one flickering streetlamp and a few neon signs, the unwanted attention seemed like less of an occupational hazard and more of an active threat. His sharp, cold eyes were focused on you unblinkingly from behind his sunglasses, and with the sleeves of his button-up rolled to his elbows, you could make out the muscle along his arms, layered over his chest. There was more of it than you would’ve expected from someone so lanky. More of it than you had, certainly.
You still had your back to him, something you were infinitely grateful for. Watching him in your peripheral, you took a measured step forward, then stopped. He did the same. Another step, and another from him, too. You glanced over your shoulder, and he cocked his head to the side, his lips parting as he met your stare.
Like you’d said, fucking creepy.
You turned to face him. He didn’t move. Cautiously, you approached, keeping your hands in your pockets and a placid smile plastered across your lips. “Hi there.”
His mouth opened, but closed again just as quickly. You caught a dash of color rise to his cheeks, but that was all.
“It’s Suguru, right?” you tried again. “Shoko’s still inside, if you’re looking for her.”
He grimaced. “Satoru. And I—I’m not—” His speech was slurred and uncoordinated. It took him long, awkward seconds of trying before he was able to spit out something intelligible. “I don’t want Shoko.”
“And why’s that, big guy?”
“She’s—” Another stumble, another desperate pitch for the right word. “She’s mean.”
Immediately, you understood two very exciting, very important things.
The first was that Satoru was drunk. Very drunk. Not black-out, not quite, but not coherent, either. You probably didn’t have a lot to fear from a man who’d be knocked on his ass by another shot.
The second was that Satoru, in his drunken stupor, had sought you out. If you didn’t know better, you might’ve thought that he had a bit of a crush.
You edged that much closer. “You really should head back inside, buddy. I’m on my way home.” A pause, a smile. “Unless you’d rather come with me?”
He nodded, clumsily and hastily. Perfect.
“I don’t know. I can be pretty mean, too.”
“Let me co—”
“That’s not how we ask for what we want,” you cut in. “Try again.”
He glared, but did as he was told. A spoiled brat, but not one with much of a backbone. “I wanna— I want to go home with you. Please.”
You hummed, feigning uncertainty, but Satoru pouted and you cracked in an instant.
Let it never be said that you didn’t have a soft spot in your cold, cold heart for pitiful things.
~
The short walk to your building was slow and stumbling. Satoru ended up on the ground more than once. By the time you herded him into your elevator, he was all-but draped over you, those too-strong arms wrapped around your midriff and his face buried in your hair. It couldn’t have been much more than pure force of will keeping him upright. You’d have to take advantage of that while it lasted.
He drifted to your apartment’s door as you trailed behind him, then drooled on your neck while you fiddled with the deadbolt. He made it all of two steps past the threshold before tripping over his own feet and collapsing onto your living room couch – his long body spilling over either armrest as he struggled to get up again. A hand on his chest was enough to stop him, another on his cheek to smother his constant squirming into a few drunken, reflexive twitches. Once he was still, you let your fingertips skirt up his temple and hook underneath his sunglasses, flicking them to the carpeted floor.
He shut his eyes on instinct. You were quick to correct that. “You have to look at me, Satoru.”
His response came on a delay, meek and slurred. “…I don’t wanna—”
“Did I ask what you wanted?” You grabbed a handful of his unruly hair and tugged. Not hard enough to hurt, but hard enough to prove it could hurt, if you wanted it to. “You’re in my home, ‘toru. My home. It’d be rude not to listen to your host.”
There was a second of hesitation, but eventually, the creases around the corners of his eyes relaxed, his lids flickering open. Bright, toxic blue burnt into you – hot and technicolor and hideous.
You let out a breath of a laugh. “I can see why you wear the glasses. Those things aren’t exactly doing you any favors.” He scowled, but any offense he might’ve felt was quickly forgotten as you threw a leg over his thighs and straddled him, shrugging off your jacket in the same motion. Immediately, the faint pink that’d been painted across his cheeks all night sparked into a violent, all-encompassing red. He started to stammer, but you put him out of his misery quickly. “You’re okay with this, right?”
“I—”
“You don’t have to answer.” You dropped your hands to the fly of his dress pants. “I think I already know.”
You could already see it – the tent in his pants, already painfully stiff at the slightest hint of stimulation. You undid the button, first, taking your time and letting his breathing go ragged, then the zipper, revealing—
Oh.
Oh.
Revealing a pair of your panties. The ones you’d lost two weeks ago. Thin and lacy and red with little pink hearts dotted across the front, identifiable by the tiny tear near the waistband that’d always driven you crazy. His cock strained against the material, arousal darkening the fabric.
You clicked your tongue. Come to think of it, you hadn’t needed to tell him which apartment was yours, either. You couldn’t be surprised, though. You’d always known there had to be something wrong with him.
No wonder Shoko liked you. You were probably the only normal person she knew.
You pulled the ruined panties to the side, freeing his cock. Or, trying to, at least. For some reason, you just couldn’t seem to make contact – your fingertips always falling half an inch short. Your gaze flickered back to his face, his cloudy eyes, his parted lips. His eyebrows were furrowed, like he was concentrating. You half-remembered a conversation you had with Shoko an eternity ago about strange, reality-bending powers, or martial arts, or a mix of the two. At the time, you’d assumed it was just another grad school mental breakdown, but her friends were pretty weird. There might’ve been a reason why.
“Satoru,” you started, as sweet and as tender as a lover could be. “Is there a reason I can’t touch you?”
A beat lapsed. Eventually, he nodded.
“But, you want me to touch you, right?”
Another nod, this one shakier than the first.
“Can you ease up on the force-field, then?” You rocked your palm over his cock. “If you don’t, I can’t help you with this. And you do want my help, don’t you?”
There was a low, fractured whimper, but the inexplicable force pushing you away disappeared. You laughed, finally taking his cock in your hand. It was big. Bigger than you’d expected from someone so desperate, at least. Pale as fresh snow with a pale pink tip, already leaking thick beads of iridescent pre-cum. “You’ve gotta be a virgin,” you muttered, lining it up with your lower stomach. A cock like that could puncture your lungs, if you weren’t careful. “Nobody’s letting you put this monster inside of them.”
“’m not,” he protested. “Back in high school, me n’ my best friend—”
“He let you fuck him? Or did you just lie there and take it while he fucked you?”
Satoru pursed his lips, refusing to answer. You all-but purred with satisfaction.
“That’s what I thought.”
You wrapped your fist around the base, pumping gently. Satoru moaned shamelessly, every noise pained and breathy, as if he’d simply forgotten how to close his mouth.
“So,” you started, tracing your thumb over his slit. “How long have you been stalking me?”
Denial came immediately, as natural as breathing. “I didn’t—”
You slapped him across the face. Open palm, but with enough force for the crack of skin against skin to echo through your living room. He didn’t flinch, but he blinked up at you – tears forming in the corners of his eyes. You felt his cock pulse against your palm.
“Don’t lie to me, ‘toru.” This wasn’t going to be fun unless he played along. “You wouldn’t want to hurt my feelings, right?”
It took a little more convincing, a few more seconds of grinding the heel of your palm into his shaft, but eventually, Satoru relented, his voice little more than a pitchy, prolonged babble. “Fo—Four months.”
You let out a low whistle. “That’s a long time. Even for a pervert.”
“’m not a—”
Your hand slid under his shirt, finding a nipple and pinching hard. His entire body arched underneath you, his hips bucking into yours.
“What’d I say about lying, honey?”
“‘m sorry, ‘m sorry, ‘m sorry.” And then, hands scrambling to find purchase on the cushion beneath him, “I—I love you, ‘n I can’t stop, and I’m gonna— I’m gonna—”
Anything he might’ve said was swallowed by a hitched groan. His eyes rolled back in his head, and you felt something warm wash over the back of your hand – too clear to be cum and too thin to be premature ejaculate. Abruptly, your living room seemed to reek of ammonia and musk. Worst of all, his cock was still humiliatingly hard.
He’d pissed on you.
Your smile widened.
You spread your free hand over his lower stomach, leaning your weight onto his bladder. Your formerly languid pace was adjusted to suit your new goal – milking him dry, making sure you wrung out every last thing he might’ve been keeping from you. Satoru sobbed openly, now, tears running down his cheeks as he chanted a pitiful mantra of ‘please don’t, please don’t, please don’t’s. He’d never look better.
You pressed down that much harder on his stomach. A thick stream of piss and watery cum flowed down your wrist, dripping onto his legs, his pants. You could see a puddle of it forming underneath him, but his dignity and the state of your couch were abruptly secondary. It was all you could do to look away long enough to lower yourself down to his level, brushing your lips against his cheek and kissing away his tears before drifting south, slotting your mouth against his. Of course, Satoru pushed back against you, forcing his tongue past your teeth and lapping against yours. It was sloppy, messy, dirty. Very suddenly, you were very sure that you were the first person he’d ever kissed.
For the first time that night, something cruel and hungry came into being inside of you. To show him your appreciation, you took his lower lip between your teeth and bit down until your canines met. Blood washed into your mouth, dripping down your chin. Something thick and searing splashed against your midriff. A glance down confirmed what you already knew.
He’d cum already.
How boring.
You could feel him going soft in your hand. You let him go, rolling to the side and off of the couch entirely. You started for your bathroom, intending to take a hot shower and head to bed early, only to be stopped by a shaking hand latching onto your wrist. Satoru’s, of course, barely strong enough to keep you where you were.
His eyes were huge and glossy. Somehow, that was even more pathetic than the piss and cum that stained his lower half. “I thought we were gonna…?”
You let out a breath of a laugh. “You want it that bad, huh?”
There was no pause, this time. A slight distortion due to his punctured bottom lip, but no hesitation at all. “I love you.”
You rolled your eyes. “Give me a minute.”
You took a rushed shower, washing away the stench of urine and liquor. By the time you returned to Satoru, he was barely conscious, his eyes half-lidded and the blood smeared across his face just beginning to dry. With some effort, you clambered onto the armrest, placing a knee on either side of his head and settling on his face. His tongue lapped, warm and senseless, over your cunt. It was almost endearing – just how desperate he was.
Almost.
You fished your phone out of your discarded jacket and pulled up Shoko’s contact.
you: come get your friend
you: he peed on my couch :\
ieiri: lmaooooooo
ieiri: nanami should be there in ten
Nanami. The blonde one with the bad fashion sense. He was pretty, if you were into the depressed accountant type.
You ground into Satoru’s mouth, wondering if Nanami would want anything to drink.
part 2 to fratjo can't find his hookup! ˚˖𓍢ִ໋❀ part 1 here
mdni ❀ smut ❀ fem!reader
wc 1138
a/n: smutty part 2 as promised 😋 watch out, suguru put you up to no good...
When you actually showed up at his door, Satoru was more shocked than he’d liked to admit.
Sure, you said that you would, but it wasn’t unheard of for a girl to lie about her intentions.
Especially to a very social frat boy such as himself.
So, when you greeted him all sweetly at the door, freshly showered and in an oversized shirt, he had a hard time keeping his surprise to himself.
Unfortunately, the surprise shifted to smugness and inflated his ego. How could it not, especially when a girl like you wanted to come back for seconds?
This time, he’d make sure you stayed the full night.
He’d coaxed you inside with some charming words, taking your bag off your shoulder and setting it down on the counter. He led you to his living room, asking if you’d like to watch a movie, and how could you say no?
Of course, you knew what he was up to.
What he didn’t know was that you too had your fair share of sleeping around and instantly figured out what he was trying to do.
You went along with it, giggling at his corny jokes and letting him pull you into his side during the movie.
To be fair, it wasn’t very difficult. He was so gorgeous that you’d let him do this anyways.
You let it happen, biting your lip when his hand drifted under the hem of your shorts and giggling breathlessly when he kissed you.
You let him fuck you on the couch, eager to please you and prove he was worth coming back to. He buried himself in between your breasts, letting you pull and tug at his hair as he listened to your pretty moans over the sound of the movie.
Sequentially, it wasn’t long before he got you back in his bed.
“S-Satoru,” you gasped, hands gripping onto his white sheets as the headboard kept banging into the wall.
He had you on all fours, fucking you from behind with both hands on your hips.
You had to give him credit where it was due. This was your third round and each one had you in a different position.
“Yeah, baby?” He panted, tone condescending and much cockier than last night. “Use your words.”
“Need more,” you whined, head tilted down.
“Ask nicely.”
You could hear the grin in his voice. Smug bastard.
“Please, it’s-ngh-so good,” you went along with it. “Need more, please.”
“Yeah? I’ll give it to you, baby,” he grunted, hand reaching up to pull your head back as he started pounding into you harder.
He picked up his speed, letting you hear the filthy sounds of skin against skin as he leaned down to leave hickies along the back of your neck.
You’d already left a trail down his neck and onto his chest, so you guessed it was only fair.
When his breathing grew more ragged and his thrusts became sloppy, you prepared yourself for the inevitable warmth that would either drip down your legs or splash onto your back.
“Fuck, so fucking good,” he said, grip on your hip getting tighter. “Fuck!”
He swore again, suddenly pulling out to spill himself onto your lower back.
You let him catch his breath, finally letting go to collapse on the bed next to you. He fell on his front, arm slung across your stomach.
“Was that good, baby?” He asked.
You hummed, never passing up an opportunity to humble an overly egotistical frat boy.
See, what you hadn’t told him yet was that Suguru did recognize you.
He had told you that Satoru had been whining about you all day and it was irritating Suguru and their brothers.
He encouraged you to hurt Satoru’s ego as much as you could.
“It was good and all…”
That got his attention. He turned to look at you, panic visible in his expression.
“What’s wrong?”
“I just… you didn’t make me come.”
“What?”
Satoru was sitting up now, heart sunken down into his chest.
You took in the panic in his eyes, trying not to smile as you told him the lie.
You'd faked orgasms before, but you'd never faked not having one.
“Are you serious?”
“It’s alright,” you shrugged. “It happens. I can–”
“No!” He yelled.
You blinked.
“It's fine, Satoru.”
“Absolutely not.”
You blinked again, and when you opened your eyes, Satoru had flipped you on top of him.
Your hands braced against his chest, he maneuvered you until you were fully straddling his hips.
“Satoru…”
“Ride my face.”
You couldn't help the disbelieving laugh that escaped your lips.
“What?"
“I’m serious. Let me eat you out.”
You’d be crazy to say no to that.
“Ask nicely,” you grinned, using his own words against him.
“Please,” he didn't hesitate to say as he leaned back.
You chuckled under your breath at his eagerness, still in disbelief, as you lifted yourself up to move closer to his face.
“Please,” he repeated, eyes looking up at you through his gorgeous white lashes.
“Since you asked so nicely,” you mocked, bending your knees to sink down over his mouth.
His hands immediately went up to grab your thighs, mouth latching onto your pussy eagerly.
You couldn't stop the gasp that left you when you felt the heat of his mouth, hands digging straight into his hair.
When you involuntarily rolled your hips, he actually moaned against you.
You took that as encouragement and let yourself rock your hips against his mouth, fully riding him as he flicks his tongue.
He lapped at your clit in quick licks, only going faster when he heard your soft moans. You cried out sharply when it bumped against his nose and he gripped your thighs harder.
He sucked on your clit as you clenched around nothing, only spurring you closer to the edge,
“Fuck, Satoru!” Your voice grew breathier and whinier as you felt yourself start to cum in his mouth.
He lets you ride it out, not slowing down until your grip on his hair relaxes.
Finally, you rolled yourself off his face and fell into the pillows.
“Was that better?” He asked hesitantly, and you felt a little bad.
“That was great,” you promised, rolling onto your side to get a better look at him.
Your face feels hot when you see your juices still clinging to his chin. Oops.
“So,” he cleared his throat hopefully. “You can stay the night if you want.”
“Sorry,” you shrugged apologetically and sat up. “I’ve got some stuff going on tomorrow.”
“Oh,” he tried to hide his disappointment. “Like what?”
You tried to hide your grin. Suguru had tasked you with more than hurting his ego.
Satoru Gojo considers himself a victim of circumstance.
Geto was busy doing whatever it is he gets up to when he's not entertaining Gojo's whims, Shoko was out with Utahime and Nanami was… never too inclined to 'waste'—as he had put it— any of his free time with Gojo anyway. So what is a man to do when he feels like all of his friends are too busy for him?
Get sloppy drunk. Leave each of them no less than 10 voicemails that ranged from telling them he missed them to cursing them for not loving him. Then, ending up in front of the pink neon lights of Kittens Cabaret . What can he say? He's a dangerous combination of drunk, rich and lonely. The perfect cocktail to convince himself he isn't above paying for company, especially when it's coming from a pretty stranger. He'd do anything— pay anything to not feel so damn solitary for one more second, and who better to do it than a professional?
Through the sea of drunkards and fishnet he spots you, dancing to whatever overly sexualized pop song is most popular at the time. His eyes rake over you, greedy and lust driven. You glow under the lights, clad in a white fishnet dress with no panties on. You're tall in your pleasers, little fake fish in the clear platforms— he finds them amusing. You, even more so.
There's something magnetic about you, the way you smile lazily as you move and contort on the stage. He wants to devour you whole, like a lion taking possession over its prey.
It starts off small at first. Satoru watches you from the tall chairs surrounding the stage, picking the ones that'll cause the least interference with his vision— you know, blinding strobe lights and all. He watches you take men to the backrooms for private dances— all long legged and perfect with a man— who looks like his parents and his parents parents might've been related— following behind you.
He, of course, white knuckles the arms of the chairs the whole time. Feigns interest in the other dancers to remain unsuspicious and stays until you sneak your way back into your dressing room. He makes his way back out to his car, all long limbs and casual as he leans against it, beer bottle in hand.
He stays just teetering on tipsy, right before a warm hum starts tickling his cheeks and ears— still too sober to pass this off as a drunken interest. He watches you walk to your car, a nice little Mercedes bought with other men's money— your money— watching the tail lights as it drives off. He throws his beer bottle against the dumpster where the homeless man leaning against it snaps awake and curses at him. He gets in his car and goes home, falling asleep thinking about you— tying you up and all that super normal stuff.
The second week is when he starts getting… weird. He comes by 4 days out of 7, lets you tease him silently from across the club. Clenching and unclenching his fists as your spine bows and your legs spread. He grits his teeth as you bend over, your teeny tiny bikini puts your pretty pussy lips on display. He buys your company for the last 2 hours of your shift, half hard in his pants as you sit in his lap and purr in his ear.
"What's a pretty thing like you doing here?" He watches your mouth as it moves, awe struck.
He gulps, "I could ask you the same."
Keeping his cool from across the club is one thing, touching your skin and pretending he isn't teetering on the edge of orgasm at the smell of your perfume is another.
"I've seen you eyeing me." You smile, your ankle coming to rest on his shoulder, "But this is only the second night you've booked me."
You feign something between hurt and intrigue. He's handsome, tall as all hell and clearly has money if he's able to come so often and book your last two hours. You were a hot commodity, priced out at $1,000 an hour and here he was the second night in a row. 4k in two days, plus the $500 he'd given you as a tip the previous night and the extra $200 for your outfit. He was sitting at a whopping $5,400 if tonight went the same, which you had no doubt it would. He's paid your rent for two months in two nights.
"What can I say, I wanted you to notice me a little." He chuckles, pearly whites glowing in the dark light.
He doesn't consider himself particularly partial to sex workers. No, he was partial to you. You could've been a barista or a librarian— hell you could've been a damn beggar on the street and he'd be dishing out cash your way. He buys your outfit again, another $200 dollars extra in your pocket but he tips you $600 tonight.
He has you reach inside his pants pocket, fishing out his wallet but not before feeling his hard on through the thin fabric. He prays you don't feel how sticky it is. You do.
You say your goodbyes, slinking out of the room butt naked but not before bending over and showing off the way your lower lips part. He bites his knuckles to hold back a moan before making a beeline for the exit.
He watches you walk to your car through his rear view mirror, spitting down onto his cock and pressing the bottoms part of your outfit to his nose. He takes a big breath in as he fists himself, imagining your fingers wrapped around him— better yet your wet little mouth that keeps his ear too occupied to think about the little beads of precum your movements often left in his boxers. He laps at the little bit your pussy sits in, sucks on the thin piece of fabric that rests against your asshole. His eyes roll back, hips bucking as he tastes the sweat and other bodily fluids from the long shift. He thinks he may be able to understand addicts a little better, he feels high off the euphoria of it all— the wrongness. His body tenses and writhes as he spits hot spurts of cum into your bottoms, savoring the way both of your scents mix together.
He deludes himself into thinking he's special, something more than a wallet to take advantage of. That you're young and naive enough to let a kind man feel like anything more than a cash cow. He is sorely mistaken, doesn't understand that you go home and scrub the nastiness of the night off and don't pay him a second thought until you count your money and hope he comes to offer more again soon. He was a transaction.
The line he's willing to cross goes further when he begins following you home, keeping a safe distance behind you with his headlights turned low. You live in a nice apartment in the middle of the city, on the top floor with a nice view, you know the ones seated behind a big gate with a security guard manning it. Gojo lies, telling the man he's a delivery driver and giving him your real name instead of your stage name. He doesn't want to think about how much he'd paid the private investigator to find that out.
Night after night, the security guard lets him pass. They make small talk as Gojo waits for the gate to open, never questioning why a delivery driver is sitting inside such an expensive car. Satoru lies about other deliveries he's been on, how much of a nightmare some customers are. A wolf in sheep's clothing.
He starts by just sitting in his car, keeping up his nightly ritual of jerking himself off with fishnet and spandex. That doesn't last long, he's fickle and covetous as most men are. He doesn't come in one night, just sits in the parking lot close to closing time in a less recognizable car. He follows you home once again, is let in beyond the gate and pulls a medical mask over his face. He's dressed in all black, a hat pulled on to cover his unruly and easily recognizable white hair and glasses pulled over his eyes. Suspiciously unsuspicious.
You don't think anything of it when he stands next to you in the elevator, there were plenty of people in your building who wanted to keep their anonymity. His cock strains against his pants when your perfume wafts around him, he likes you in your regular clothes even better— the way they let his imagination run wild.
He gets off on the same floor as you, pretends to go the opposite way down the hall. You don't see his phone in his back pocket and even if you did you wouldn't suspect a stranger of recording you walking into your apartment.
He watches the video back over and over once he's back in his car, zooming in to watch your tongue peek past your lips as you input your door code. He memorizes the door number, watches your fingers and maps out the door code.
He pacifies that guilty part of his conscious that tells him this is wrong by feeding the much larger part of him that believes he's doing a good thing. He tangles himself in a web of self-important delusions: he's just taking the necessary steps to make you fall for him, to be a good man to you and give you a beautiful life where you want for nothing.
Satoru begins paying closer attention to when you arrive at work instead of when you leave, putting one of those non-detectable trackers on your car before making his way to your apartment. He brings the security guy a case of beer under the guise of manly comradery. His eyes are glued to his screen, watching the little blue dot sit inside the club as he rides up the elevator.
He gets into your apartment on the first try, pushing his way in and familiarizing himself with the layout. No pets, a big white couch taking up a quarter of the living room, leading into the kitchen with all its pink utensils and pots and pans. These rooms are of no consequence so he passes through them quickly. He walks down the hall, with its warm motion sensor lighting leading the way to what is probably tantamount to the entrance to heaven.
He presses the door open, fingers itching at his sides as he decides where to look first. He takes a deep breath in, letting the air back out slowly as he fishes a hidden camera out of his back pocket. Your bed dips under his weight— he had been nice enough to take his shoes off before stepping on it— and places the device in the ceiling light above your bed.
The smart thing to do would be to turn tail and get the hell out of there, and as smart as Gojo is— he has impulse control. He needs something that smells like you, he'd fucked and came inside everything he'd already bought from you, though he still keeps them by his bedside. Little trophies that he saw as equal to love letters. Misguided in his way of thinking, as if you hadn't sold a hundreds of outfits both in person and online to whatever sick fucks offered the right price.
His fingers shake as he rifles through your laundry hamper, trying to decide whether he wanted to take your stage outfits or one of the less sexy pairs you probably slept in. He goes for the latter in the end, shoving them deep in his pocket, but not before giving them a hearty sniff.
There's a vibration on his phone signaling the camera and his phone were now synced, a toothy grin pulling his cheeks up unnaturally. His footsteps reverberate around your apartment as he takes his leave, checking his phone again to make sure you're still at work like a good girl.
That night when he's all curled up in bed mindlessly scrolling his phone vibrates again. Movement detected! His overexcited fingers struggle to click on the notification, heart thrumming behind his ribcage. Frustration licks at his already fried nerves as the app loads before giving way to your room. He watches as you undress, your tits and pussy freed from the confines of your clothes and the micro-bikini hidden underneath.
He finds that he enjoys the way you look with no makeup on, gets off on the fact that only he gets to see you like this. So much so that he pulls his half hard dick out, letting it slap against the pale skin on his stomach and brush against the little patch of white just above his pubic bone. His fingers tremble as he watches you lay on your bed, stroking himself slowly as your large t-shirt is pulled just under your breasts.
Your fingers dip between your legs, your phone held in your hand as soft moans part your lips. Something akin to butterflies dance in his stomach as he matches your pace.
To Gojo, it's almost like your fucking. That overactive imagination of his creating the delusion that it's your hand and not his own pulling at his skin, thumb grazing over his frenulum.
He can hear your cunt squelching around those pretty little fingers and pulls the panties he'd stolen earlier from his bedside drawer, stuffing them in his own mouth and moaning around the fabric. Your eyebrows knit together, knees open to the point of almost laying flat against your pink sheets.
Even from here, he can tell how close you are. Your fingers are getting sloppy as they move in and out of you, his own stomach is tightening as he focuses on his tip. He mewls out your name, the crotch of your panties soaked with his drool as he picks up his pace. His balls pull tight, cock pulsating underneath his grip as he watches you cry out and spasm. His screen is painted white not too long after and he uses your underwear to clean himself and his cellular device.
That night and for the next few nights after, he falls asleep watching you do the same.
Everything comes to a head when the club starts implementing "Topless Tuesday"—not that you or your coworkers typically wore a top anyway— and of course Gojo's there. He's sitting in his usual chair, a particularly pink drink in hand as he awaits your arrival onto your usual stage.
His mouth runs dry when he sees you, all dolled up and glistening, music thrumming through every cell. You smile at him, naked as the day you were born with nothing more on than pink pleasers that glow under the black lights.
You follow your usual song and dance, though he buys out your time a lot earlier than usual. He watches your tits bounce with every step closer to his favorite dark room in the back, the one that smells the least like dried cum and years old spilled alcohol. You can feel the irritation buzzing off him and it makes you uneasy, seeing a man usually so easy going with a poorly concealed tick in his jaw.
"Something bothering you, handsome?" You melt into his lap like a lazy kitten, your delicate fingers on your right hand stroking the side of his face while the ones on the left run through his soft hair. His expression snaps into one of calm, quiet. The sudden change makes something in your stomach twist, the inside of your cheek pulled between your molars. You continue coddling him like a child.
"Just a long day at work." He smiles, leaning into your touch. A lie, of course, he had spent the early hours of the morning watching you, fell asleep and woke up just in time to watch you get ready for the day. He hadn't noticed how little you'd thrown in your bag that afternoon, too enthralled by you to care. He feeds you that facade of comfort until you relax, he needed you to relax if he was gonna move up his plan.
So, he compliments you and creates a web of lies about his ever-so-hard day; he pays you more than he had the time before and smiles at you as if he hadn't just handed you enough money to pay off another two months of your rent. He stays within the boundaries of normalcy whilst puppy dog eyeing you about how disappointed he is he can't buy the piece of string pressed against your asshole— though he words it much more beautifully. He is the picture of perfection as that ugly, jealous feeling gnaws at him just under the surface.
You're especially kind, chalking him up as nothing more than a lonely stranger. You take the little black straw from his cup, pushing it past your lips to suck the liquid left behind off while maintaining eye contact. He gulps down a breath, too aware of how far you're leaning into him and the way your perked up nipples rub against his shirt.
"You're always so good to me," your breath fans against his ear as your purr, sending goosebumps down his whole body, "so let me be good to you. Just this once, 'kay?"
He nods, the tips of his ears tinged pink as he watches your legs spread, heels resting on either side of his knees. His heart hammers against your back, watching as you swirl the straw through your pussy lips, collecting your sticky slick wherever it touches. You lean further into him, head lolling back against his shoulder so you can look him in the eye when you dip it just past your entrance. He's so hard underneath you that the fabric of his pants feel like an illusion and he wishes as much when he hears the low, wet sounds emanating from between your legs. You play it up like an Oscar-winning actress, your hand coming up to play with one of your breasts as you pump the slender object in and out with an exaggerated moan or two.
You don't know that he's all too aware of what you really sound like when you're enjoying yourself, that you aren't satisfied with something so small between your thighs. Regardless, his whole body stiffens underneath you to keep him from creaming his jeans. You smile, all pink cheeked and unaware as you dip the straws back into his cup. He scrambles to his feet, closing time only ten minutes away. He needed to fade into the cover of night so he could linger behind you on your way home. You wave and tell him how you hope to see him again soon, pretending that you care as you tell him to take care of himself.
He stuffs the straw in his pocket, leaving in a hurry and sucks on it the whole time he follows you to your place.
The wait is akin to torture. Dramatic as it may be, the sentiment is true to Satoru Gojo. He sits in his car, tucked into a dark corner as he watches you lay in your bed doom scrolling. His fingers fidget with impatience, wishing to himself that there was a way he could've slipped you a sedative. Next time. Next time he'd find a way.
Ironically, it's almost 4 a.m. when your soft snores grace his ears. He waits another 20 minutes just to be safe, so logical in his depravity. The sky is blooming into the pinks and purples of morning which makes it all the more exhilarating. He's alive with euphoric delight as he pushes through the lobby, practically floating his way to the elevator. He feels the same way you do before you go on a big trip, all full of restless energy and excitement. He pulls himself together, footsteps quiet and slow as he approaches your front door. His fingers twitch as he inputs your code and lets himself inside, closing the door softly, like he was performing open heart surgery.
He knows the layout like the back of his hand at this point, he even had a map all scrawled out in panicked chicken scratch tacked to his wall at home. When he opens your bedroom door he almost stops breathing, he'd figured out you're quite restless in your sleep after many nights of surveying you. You're laying on your side, scrunched up in the fetal position. If he was a godly man, he would've thanked god for creating such a beautiful opportunity for him.
His steps are slow and soft as he inches toward you, stopping just in front of your face. He unzips his pants with careful fingers, eyes watching you harder than the camera he'd installed. His cock is heavy and weepy in his hand as he gives a few tugs. Your mouth is inviting, all hung open and wet with drool. He presses his tip to where its leaking, using your saliva to lubricate himself as he keeps stroking. Out of reflex, your tongue darts out and touches his frenulum, his eyes roll back and he bites his bottom lip to muffle and whine.
He fights against whatever rationality is left and pushes the very tip of his dick past your lips, instinct making you suckle a bit. Soft hums fall past your lips as his precum beads onto your tongue and it's a fight for him to keep from cumming. He stays like that for a while, letting you nurse his cock totally unaware. But he's greedy, detrimentally so. Especially when he pushes a bit further, his thickness making your mouth open wider and your body stir uncomfortably.
His heart stops when your lashes flutter, though his cock gets impossibly harder when your blinking up at him— trying to discern whether you were still frolicking through dreamland or not. It's a harsh reality when you realize it's the latter, shooting straight up in bed with your mouth agape and no sound coming out. You scramble to the opposite side, hitting your knee on your nightstand as you plant your unsure feet on the ground. You try to make it to the door, heavy breaths puffing in and out. But he's on you, overpowering you in every way as he wrestles you to the floor.
"Where do you think you're flying off to little bird?" He coos, broad chest pressed to your back. It's apparent he doesn't really want an answer when his hand cups over your mouth, despite that you manage to let out a couple muffled sounds as you try to bite his hand.
It had been the wrong night to sleep nude, but the sweltering heat of the day was still trapped in your apartment. His unoccupied hand pulls your legs apart, resting his cock right where your back dimples. "It's okay baby, 's just me."
You're terrified, limbs flailing before he uses one hand to pin your wrists behind your back, sliding his cock between your ass cheeks. You don't realize it you're pissing yourself until a soft trickling sound floods your eardrums, followed by a guttural moan from behind you. "Do it again, pretty. This time when I'm inside you okay?"
He uses it to lubricate himself, disgusting enough to dip his fingers in the little puddle you've made and bring it to his lips. He gives you what he thinks is a compliment, telling you how even your piss tastes good as he pushes his reddened tip past your entrance. You recoil at the stretch, he's much too large and much too rough. He's leaning forward to nip at your shoulder, biting too deeply as he thrusts the rest of his length in. Tears prick at your eyes and that only goads him on further, covetous free hand coming to dig half moons into your hip.
"Gonna take my hand off your mouth, okay?" His tongue laves over the bite mark as you nod too quickly. "And you're gonna be a good girl and be quiet, yeah?"
You nod, not sure if you even mean it. You realize you do when his hand comes of your mouth and you're silent as a mouse. His hips continue their assault on your ass as he moves forward and back, the slapping sounds reverberating— you can't decide if the echo is in your head or bouncing off the walls. His biceps comes to wrap around your throat to pull you up, practically kneeling on his cock as he brutalizes you from behind.
"Why are you doing this?" You croak, fingernails clawing at his forearm. He laughs, it's cold and unfeeling, leaving a trail of goosebumps behind in its wake.
"Well because I love you, of course." He says it like it's a very obvious conclusion to have come to, you think you might throw up. You don't. "You became my companion, think of this as us sealing our contract."
The tears really have begun to fall now, all hot and wet against your cheeks. He gasps with delight when he sees them making paths on your face, licking up their saltiness with a satisfied hum. You think you feel his cock twitch when you wince at his saliva covering your face like a dog.
"This isn't right." You choke out. He sticks his long fingers in your mouth to shut you up, playing at the back of your throat to make you gag. It makes you squeeze around him and he gasps into your ear.
"Oh? But this pretty little cunt is drooling all over me." It's smug as he drills you deeper, harder. "Don't worry baby, it won't be much longer. You're making me feel so fucking good."
You hate the betrayal from your body, the way your pussy milks him as he drags his tip from just outside your cervix to that little ring of muscle at your entrance; the way your lips part to let out little pants that do anything but dissuade him. You can't deny him even if you try.
"Gonna cum in you so everyone knows you belong to me." He's aggressive, losing his mind as he delves deeper and deeper into insanity. He thinks this is what heaven feels like, all warm and wet and you. You oppose him, convincing yourself that you have descended into hell or at the very least were stuck in a very convincing nightmare. "You don't have to go back to work though. I'm prepared to take care of you forever."
"You're out of your ever loving mind if you think I'm gonna have your baby." You spit. His sentiment would be heartwarming in any other circumstance. You're struggling to regulate your breathing as an unwelcome pressure builds just below your belly button. He's pistoning so hard inside you that drops of sweat are dripping down your shoulder, seeping into your pores as if solidifying his wants.
"Hmm, maybe we'll wait then? Yeah we'll wait. I want us to have time as a couple before we become a family." He's dipping his nose into the space between your shoulder and neck, huffing you like a drug. His bicep gets tighter and tighter around your throat, his balls pulling close so they no longer slap at your clit.
Your vision starts to blur at the edges as his grunts become more frequent, his movements more sloppy. He whispers little stomach twisting praises in your ear but they sound like they're coming from a different room. He whines and cries out as he fills you up, paying no attention to the way you claw at his arm as he uses you as a means to and end. Your vision blacks and your body goes limp, yet he keeps fucking himself through as you piss on him, your cunt spasming with your orgasm.
When you wake up the next morning you're tucked between your sheets, the only evidence of the night before being a bite mark on your shoulder and a dull ache between your thighs. You almost believe it was just your overactive imagination, you were always prone to vivid nightmares. You probably could've kept deluding yourself if Satoru hadn't come to see you two nights later to repeat his little ritual.
You let him in, the door clicking softly behind him.
clan leader!Gojo Satoru x reader
the 'elders' lay their hands on you.
...
everytime you look at his footwear, you remember the first time you ever tried cleaning them.
“Sweetheart” Gojo Satoru’s voice rolled like summer thunder, low and indulgent. “What did I say about touching those?”
You looked up, after two months of marriage, the sight of him stole your breath. his eyes, glowing softly in the daylight. The haori of the clan head rested over his broad shoulders, the fabric whispering as he crouched before you.
“I was only going to wipe the dust” you murmured, cheeks warming. “You have the elders’ meeting after breakfast, and—”
“And nothing.” His large hands, hands that had ended curses with casual flicks, gently took the cloth from you. He lifted your chin with two fingers, thumb brushing your lower lip.
“The only thing these hands should be doing is resting on my chest while I kiss you senseless.”
Before you could protest, he rose, pulling you up with him as if you weighed nothing. In one smooth motion he swept you into his arms, carrying you back inside the main house. The servants bowed and vanished around corners. they had long grown used to their lord’s open affection.
...
the elders were already gathered. You moved to serve tea, old habit, but Satoru’s hand caught yours.
“Sit” he said simply, guiding you to the cushion beside his own.
The elders’ eyes widened when he asked them to pour thier own tea. One elder, an old man with a face like weathered stone, cleared his throat.
“You should not be idle, daughter” Elder Haruto intoned, sipping his tea while his gaze flicked disapprovingly to the way Satoru lounged nearby, one hand resting possessively on your knee. “The floors must be polished. The lord’s footwear cleaned and set properly. A wife’s hands are never still, child or no.”
“Her hands will rest when I say they rest.” He smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “If the floors need polishing, the servants will handle it. As for my geta—” He glanced at the wooden sandals by the door, the ones you had never been allowed to touch, even before you were pregnant, “—I never let her near them. Why would I start now?”
“My lord… the lady is perfectly capable of light duties, tradi—”
“Tradition? now observing education for higher students is enough work for her.” Satoru cut in, voice pleasant yet edged with Infinity’s chill, “She worked herself to exhaustion at home before I wed her. I will not allow it now.” He glanced at you, eyes warm. “Besides… I like doing things for her.”
You stared at him again, long, unblinking.
The elder looked displeased, but said nothing more.
...
It happened on the third afternoon of his absence. The sky hung heavy with late spring clouds, and the air inside the main hall smelled of aged wood and incense. You were kneeling by the low table, arranging fresh white camellias and pine branches, when elder Haruto and two others entered without announcement.
“Daughter in law of the Gojo house” Haruto began, his voice like dry leaves scraping stone. His gaze flicked to your middle with clear disdain.
“Carrying the heir does not exempt you from your duties. It is a wife’s role to maintain the household’s dignity. Do not think your condition makes you special.”
Tradition bound you, as a non sorcerer brought into the clan through marriage, your place was one of service and quiet strength. Defiance against the elders could ripple through the entire household.
“But… my husband said—”
“His indulgence is temporary,” another elder cut in sharply. “The child is not yet born. Clean them, thoroughly.”
A servant boy hovered anxiously nearby, eyes wide with worry, but he dared not intervene.
...
The sliding shoji screens of the estate did not merely open, they rattled on their wooden tracks, vibrating with the sheer force of the cursed energy bleeding off Satoru as he stepped into the main pavilion.
The air in the compound always grew heavier when the clan head returned, but tonight, it felt suffocating. It tasted of ozone and impending lightning.
You were already asleep in the main room, exhausted from a day that had fractured your spirit far more than your body. Beneath the heavy, silk futon, your hand rested protectively over the slight swell of your belly, a few months along, still delicate, a fragile miracle you and Satoru had wept over in the privacy of your quarters.
Satoru shed his haori, his six eyes instantly cataloging the state of the house. He had been gone for three days on an emergency deployment in the north. Three days too long.
"Gojo sama."
A small, breathless voice broke the silence of the corridor. It was a servant boy whose family had served Satoru’s personal branch for generations. The boy was with some information.
Satoru paused.
"Tatsuya" he murmured, his voice deceptively low. "Why are you still up? And why does the courtyard smell like damp earth?"
Tatsuya swallowed hard, looking toward the closed doors of your bedroom before continuing. "While you were away... the council of elders called upon the lady."
Satoru’s posture didn't change, but the ambient temperature seemed to drop. "Did they?"
"They... they claimed she was becoming arrogant. They said a housewife of the Gojo clan must know her place, less she 'grow into her mind' and believe herself above the bloodline." Tatsuya’s voice hitched. "They dragged her to the northern wash-basin. They forced her to clean the clan’s formal geta and zori. With the well water."
The silence that followed was absolute. Not even the crickets in the garden dared to make a sound.
"They forced her?" Satoru repeated. The words were quiet, but they carried the weight of a collapsing star.
"She refused at first, reminding them of her condition," Tatsuya whispered, tears leaking onto the floorboards. "But Elder Ogi... he grabbed her arm. He forced her down to her knees on the stone path. She tripped. Her knee... her knee was scraped. She spent three hours in the cold, scrubbing their filth. She asked them to let her rest, but they told her she needed to be 'disciplined'."
Satoru didn't say another word, nor did he storm off. He simply vanished from the hallway, leaving behind a draft of freezing air.
In the dimly lit inner sanctuary of the estate, three of the clan’s oldest elders sat around a low table, sipping roasted green tea. They were discussing the upcoming seasonal rituals, completely self assured in their ancient, stagnant authority.
The heavy oak doors of the sanctuary didn't just open, they shattered inward, exploding into wooden splinters that embedded themselves into the priceless hanging scrolls on the walls.
The elders scrambled backward, but before they could even draw a breath to protest, Satoru was there.
He didn't use Limitless to crush them from afar. This required the brutal, visceral reality of his bare hands.
"What" he begins, voice deceptively soft, "in the name of all the ancestors, possessed you to order my pregnant wife to wash filth?"
"Satoru! What is the meaning of—"
Ogi, the eldest among them, didn't get to finish his sentence. Satoru lunged forward, his movement a blur of lethal grace. He grabbed Ogi’s right wrist and twisted.
A sickening, wet pop echoed through the room as the bones in Ogi's wrist shattered under Satoru's grip. The old man screamed, a high, reedy sound of pure agony, as Satoru slammed him face first onto the tatami mats.
"You touched her" Satoru whispered. The sound of his voice was worse than any shout. It was dead. Completely devoid of the playful sorcerer they thought they could manage.
Satoru brought his heavy, geta down directly onto Ogi’s outstretched hand, grinding his heel into the old man's knuckles. The sound of fracturing finger bones filled the room. Ogi choked on his own vomit, pinning himself to the floor under the immense, crushing weight of Satoru’s physical strength.
"Satoru! Step back! This is a violation of clan law! She is a woman! She must be disciplined to understand the weight of the Gojo name!" another elder shrieked, his hands shaking as he tried to form a cursed technique sign.
Satoru turned his head, his brilliant blue eyes glowing with a terrifying, unhinged light in the shadows. He had never been this angry in his entire life.
"Disciplined?" Satoru's voice rose, vibrating with a rage that made the very foundations of the estate groan. "You dynamic pieces of garbage. You dare talk about discipline to me? About my wife?"
He stepped off Ogi, leaving the old man weeping into the ruined tatami, and advanced on the second elder.
"I don't let her touch a single piece of anything when she is perfectly healthy" Satoru snarled, the raw emotion finally breaking through his terrifying calm.
"the servants wash my damn boots. I carry her across the courtyard when the gravel is too sharp. And you... you useless, disgusting, vile, rotting fossils... you dragged my pregnant woman out into the cold? To scrub your filth? Her knee bleeds because of your exclusive skill of not using a brain"
He grabbed the second elder by the front of his expensive silk kimono, lifting the grown man entirely off the ground with one hand.
"She is the future of this entire fucking world, and you risked her safety—you risked my child—because your fragile, pathetic egos were threatened by her existence?!" Satoru roared, his voice shaking the roof tiles.
"She will think she's the best of all? She is the best of all! She is mine! Which makes her untouchable to the likes of you!"
He threw the elder across the room, smashing him into a heavy wooden cabinet that collapsed under the impact.
"Satoru... the--the hierarchy... her place-" the third elder stammered, backing into the corner, clutching his prayer beads as if they could save him from a god.
“Her place?” The air crackled. “Her place is to be cherished. To be protected. I have torn apart special grade curses with less effort than it takes me to tolerate your outdated nonsense. You dare speak to my wife as if she is a common servant? As if the life she nurtures is insignificant?”
Satoru stood in the center of the ruined room, his breathing heavy, his chest heaving under his clothes. The sheer pressure of his cursed energy was cracking the plaster on the walls. He looked down at them with a disgust so profound it was sickening.
"Listen to me very carefully" Satoru said, his voice dropping back to a lethal, quiet hiss. "Tradition dies when it threatens what is mine."
"I have never asked her to perform such tasks. Not once. Not before she carried my child, and certainly not now. Do you have any idea what pregnancy entails? The strain? The risk? My wife is not a servant. She is the heart of this clan. She carries the future."
His voice rises, never before this uncontrolled. "You forced her to kneel by a basin while I was away securing this clan's power? While she should be resting, being cared for? If any of you so much as suggest she lift a finger for menial labor again, I will personally ensure your retirement is... permanent. and I will remind you exactly why I am the clan head. Not because of bloodlines or dusty customs. Because I am the strongest. And I will not hesitate to make examples.”
He stepped closer, his shadow engulfing the final elder, deciding it was enough.
"Get out. All of you. Pack your robes, your tea sets, and your useless books, and fuck yourselves out of my estate before the sun rises. If I see a single one of your faces within the clan boundaries tomorrow morning, I won't just break your hands. I will erase your entire branches from the registry. Try me. See if the jujutsu authorities can stop me."
None of them doubted him. The strongest sorcerer in the world was standing before them, completely unhinged. They nodded frantically, Ogi clutching his ruined arm as they dragged themselves out of the room, terrified for their very lives, knowing the strongest's word was law, and his wrath absolute.
The slide of the shoji screen was a mere sigh in the quiet night, a soft friction of wood on wood. The moment Satoru crossed the threshold into the master bedroom, the terrifying, static heavy aura of his rage dissolved entirely, locked away behind the absolute precision of his control. He didn't want even a stray spark of his cursed energy to disrupt your sleep.
The room smelled of sweet tatami, dried lavender, and the faint, bitter tang of the medicinal salve Tatsuya had helped you apply.
Satoru shed his socks, his bare feet sinking into the woven mats as he approached the futon with agonizing care. He knelt beside you, the sheer size of his frame casting a protective shadow over your sleeping form. Without his blindfold, his six eyes tracked every rhythm of your breathing, noting the slight, tense line between your brows even in slumber.
You stirred, your senses waking up before your eyes did. The air in the room suddenly grew warmer, sweeter, thick with the distinct, dizzying scent of him.
"Satoru...?" you mumbled, your voice heavy and thick with sleep. You began to shift, your palms pressing into the futon to push yourself up, but a large, impossibly warm hand slid over your shoulder, gently anchoring you down.
"Shh... stay down, hime" he whispered, his voice a low, gravelly rasp against the quiet of the room. "Don't get up for me. Never get up for me."
He slid under the heavy silk duvet, but he didn't pull you into his arms just yet. Instead, he worked his way down to the foot of the futon. His touch was feather light as he peeled back the edge of the blanket, exposing your bare legs to the cool night air.
Your heart pinched, a sudden flush of anxiety warming your cheeks. You remembered the heavy, frozen stone of the northern wash basin, the harsh, disapproving glares of the elders, the way the coarse bristles of the brush had scraped against your skin. You had desperately wanted to hide it from him, to spare him the headache of clan politics when he already carried the weight of the entire world on his shoulders.
But Satoru was already staring at your right knee. The neat, white bandage Tatsuya had carefully wrapped was stark against your skin.
A tiny, involuntary tremor ran through Satoru’s hands. The very fingers that had just shattered bones and ground old men's knuckles into dust were now trembling with a terrifying fragility as he slid his palms beneath your calf, lifting your leg just an inch to cradle it against his chest.
He leaned down, his silver hair spilling over your skin like silk. He didn't just look, he pressed his lips gently against the side of your knee, just beside the gauze, kissing the uninjured skin with a soft, lingering reverence. Then, his lips tracked a slow, agonizingly tender path up your thigh, his breath hot against your skin.
"I'm sorry" he murmured, his forehead resting against your thigh as his voice cracked, raw and bleeding with a guilt he couldn't hide. "I'm so sorry I left you alone. I'm so sorry I wasn't here, sweetness."
The sheer vulnerability in his tone made your throat tight. You reached down, your fingers weaving into the thick, ridiculously soft tufts of his white hair, gently tugging until he shifted upward. He crawled back up the length of your body, sliding his frame beneath the covers until he was flush against you.
"It's okay" you whispered, your thumb catching a stray tear that threatened to spill from the corner of his brilliant, crystalline eyes. "It's just a little scrape, Satoru. Truly. They... they just wanted me to learn the household duties. They said it was tradition for the women of the house. I just didn't want to cause trouble for you."
Satoru let out a ragged, shaky breath that stuttered against your collarbone. He nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his nose scenting your skin, inhaling you as if he were a starving man. His lips pressed a frantic, hot sequence of kisses along your jaw, up to your cheek, and finally against your lips, a soft, bruising, desperate kiss that tasted of a possessiveness so deep it bordered on worship.
His large hands slid down your back, molding your spine to his chest, before one palm found its permanent home, flat and warm against the slight, delicate swell of your belly. His fingers splayed wide over your abdomen, a protective shield of flesh and boundless power.
"You don't have duties to anyone but yourself" Satoru swore against your lips, his chest heaving as his heart thudded rapidly, a frantic, wild rhythm against your own ribs. He pulled you so close you could barely tell where your body ended and his began. "You are the lady of this house. My lady. You don't bow to anyone, you don't clean for anyone, and you don't break yourself for their rotting ideas of tradition."
He kissed the crown of your head, his hand on your stomach gently rubbing in tiny, soothing circles, his thumb caressing the soft fabric of your sleepwear.
"Let them talk. Let them rot" he whispered, his voice turning dark for a fraction of a second before softening as he pressed another kiss to your eyelid. "You just stay safe. Stay soft and warm right here. Let me handle the rest. Please, hime... just stay safe for me."
You smiled softly in the dark, your senses clouded by his immense, radiating warmth and the intoxicating rhythm of his breathing. You let your eyes close, completely melting into him, entirely unaware of the bloodied, broken elders currently packing their things in the dead of night, fleeing the estate in absolute terror.
You didn't need to know. As Satoru tightened his arms around you, pulling the duvet up to your chins and burying his face back into your hair, he held you like you were the only piece of reality that mattered in the universe.
And as his thumb continued to trace slow, adoring lines over your belly, you knew that to him, you absolutely were.
Satoru Gojo is fucking gorgeous, which is so deeply unfair that you’re still kind of processing it as he pays for your movie ticket with trembling fingers. His white hair is slightly tousled, soft against his ears, and his glasses are tilted just a bit on the bridge of his nose. He keeps pushing them up like he’s stalling, trying not to meet your eyes too long because every time he does, he gets flustered. His face goes pink and he laughs too loud. You bite your lip every time he does that.
You’re no better. Your hands are clammy inside the sleeves of your hoodie, because you thought this was going to be a safe little date. Nerdy. Harmless. You met at a fucking Doraemon expo for god’s sake, where he gave you a Doraemon-shaped candy and then looked like he wanted to die from shyness.
And now you’re sitting in a too-dark movie theatre with his knee brushing yours.
You think you’re gonna die too. Because there’s heat pooling between your legs, and you're pretty sure you’ve soaked through your panties, and this was supposed to be your first normal date. Not a panty-ruining, thigh-clenching disaster where you keep imagining his stupid hot fingers pulling your hoodie up and touching you like you're not both trembling virgins about to combust from one misplaced touch.
Satoru’s voice cracks in the dark.
“You, uh— are you okay?”
You look at him, wide-eyed. “What? Yeah. I’m fine.”
He fidgets. “You’re breathing kinda fast.”
You are. Shit.
“I’m just…” you squirm, thighs pressed tight together. “The seats are uncomfortable.”
He makes a strangled little laugh, eyes darting to the screen and then back to your mouth. You don’t know who moves first, but a second later, your hands are brushing in the popcorn bag and boom— your bodies are pressed together like magnets.
The movie is completely forgotten. You’re both leaning toward each other, breathing the same hot air, and it’s dizzying how close he is. His scent is soft and clean, like soap and sugar and some light cologne that makes your thighs ache. Your lips almost brush before he pulls back, cheeks pink.
“I-I gotta pee,” he blurts. Then winces. “Fuck. Not like— fuck, I didn’t mean it like—”
You stare at him, lips parted.
“…Me too,” you whisper. “Bathroom. I mean.”
So of course, of course, ten minutes later, you’re both in the tiny single-stall bathroom behind the snack bar, the door locked, and you’re pressed against the wall with Satoru’s hands hovering an inch from your waist like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch you.
You’re panting.
So is he.
And there’s the faintest bulge pressing against his pants.
“You’re hard,” you whisper, stunned.
Satoru turns bright red. “I didn’t mean to be! I swear I wasn’t thinking anything— well I was thinking but not like— well yes like that but I didn’t expect you to—”
“I’m wet.”
That shuts him up.
He blinks. “Wha— You, wait really?”
You nod furiously. “Soaked. I thought I was dying. You’re, l-like— you’re so hot and tall and your hands are big and I thought—”
He sways toward you like he’s being pulled by gravity.
“You think I’m hot?” he breathes, shocked.
Your voice is barely a whisper. “You’re like—the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”
“…But I’m a virgin.”
You blink. “You’re a virgin?”
He freezes. “You didn’t know?”
You shake your head. “You’re too confident. And tall. And your voice, like— you talk like you’ve seen shit.”
“I haven’t! I’ve literally never seen anything. I still sleep with a body pillow.”
“Oh my god.”
You both start laughing, but it’s too breathy, too nervous. You’re looking at his lips again.
“I thought you weren’t a virgin,” he admits, voice low now, almost in awe. “You look like— like—”
He waves helplessly at your body. “You’re so pretty. So hot. You look like you’d ruin me.”
“I’ve never even kissed anyone,” you whisper.
“Me either,” he says.
There’s a beat of silent realization.
Then— tentatively— his hands touch your waist. He’s shaking.
“Can I…”
You nod. “Yeah. Please.”
The kiss is terrible. Teeth clashing, noses bumping, your mouths slipping messily before you both pull away with startled laughter. But his face is flushed, and his eyes are glassy, and your thighs are pressed tight together because the way he’s looking at you is not innocent anymore.
“We’re so bad at this,” you whisper.
“I’m gonna die,” he mumbles, forehead pressed to yours.
“I’m so wet I think my panties are ruined,” you say, like a confession.
He groans. “That’s so hot, please don’t say things like that unless you want me to cum in my pants.”
You both snort, but neither of you moves away.
“Can I… touch you?” he whispers, barely audible.
Your eyes widen, breath catching.
“…Yes. But I don’t— I don’t really know how.”
“Me either,” he whispers. “Let’s be awkward together.”
You reach for his belt, and he lifts your hoodie just enough to see the swell of your tits in your bra. And then you both freeze, panting, staring— because holy fuck this is actually happening.
Two very horny, very confused virgins. In a bathroom. At the movies.
Grinding desperately like you’re learning each other’s bodies in braille.
His hands find your hips, pulling you closer. Your fingers tremble at his zipper. And you swear— you swear— when your pussy brushes against his bulge through your panties and tights, he nearly whimpers.
You're both gonna combust.
You’re still half-laughing, half-gasping into his neck, your panties damp and sticking to you like sin, and Satoru’s hard dick is pressed against your inner thigh through his jeans like it hurts. He keeps doing these little shaky inhales, fingers digging into your hoodie at the waist like he needs something to hold onto or he’ll float off the planet.
His glasses are fogged. His cheeks are pink. And when you drag your nose along his jaw just to feel him shiver, he makes the softest noise you’ve ever heard. A tiny, broken sigh— like the kind of sound you might make when someone pets your hair just right.
You feel like you’re on fire.
“You’re really… hard,” you whisper, a little dreamy, dragging your hand down the front of his jeans like you’re curious more than anything else. Because you are. You can feel the length of him, thick and hot under the denim, twitching at just the barest touch of your fingers. “Like… all the way.”
“I know,” he whines, quietly. “It’s been like that since the popcorn scene.”
You giggle. “We didn’t have a popcorn scene.”
“You were licking butter off your fingers.”
“…Oh. Yeah okay, fair.”
You’re still staring at the bulge in his jeans. It’s insane. It’s… kind of intimidating, honestly. But you’re so curious, and he looks like he might actually die from the idea of you wanting to see him like this.
“Can I see it?” you whisper.
His breath catches. His whole body freezes.
“You— my… dick?”
You nod shyly, face burning. “Just once. I just— I wanna know what it looks like.”
He stares at you like you’re a mythical creature. “You really want to see it?”
“…Yeah.”
His fingers are shaking as he fumbles with his zipper.
You don’t look away— not even when he shoves his boxers down and his cock bounces free, flushed and heavy and dripping. You make a noise, something halfway between shock and awe, because holy shit he’s big. Not just big— long, curved a little toward his stomach, thick enough that your mouth goes dry. The tip is glossy and wet, a pretty pink color— a clear bead clinging to the slit like he’s leaking from just grinding on you.
“Oh my god,” you whisper, stunned.
Satoru makes a noise that’s not human. “D-don’t look at it like that.”
“I can’t help it,” you breathe. “It’s pretty.”
His brain shuts down.
“Pretty?” he croaks.
You nod dumbly, staring. “It’s like… glossy. And pink. And it’s twitching.”
He groans. “Don’t say twitching—”
“But it is! It’s like it’s waving at me or something. It looks so needy.”
He grabs the wall behind your head like he might collapse.
“You’re so cute,” you whisper. “You’re really hard just from kissing me.”
“You’re soaking,” he counters, voice hoarse. “You’ve been wet for an hour.”
You whimper a little. “I didn’t even know I could get this wet.”
Satoru groans again and cups himself like it’ll stop him from cumming just from talking to you.
You reach out— slowly— and wrap your fingers around the base.
He jolts, hips stuttering forward into your hand like it’s instinct. His eyes flutter shut and his whole body shudders, like he’s never felt anything like this.
“…You’re so warm,” you whisper. “And thick.”
“I’m gonna cum,” he blurts.
You pause. “Wait, already?”
“I told you,” he gasps, pressing his face into your neck. “It’s your voice— fuck, the way you’re touching me—”
You slide your hand up and watch his cock twitch, leaking over your fingers.
He sobs a little. “Angel, please—”
That makes you freeze.
“…Angel?”
He peeks up at you, embarrassed. “It slipped out.”
You bite your lip, then smile, stroking him again. “I like it.”
“You’re so soft,” he moans. “And your hand’s so small, it doesn’t even fit—”
You squeeze a little tighter. He gasps.
“Tell me when,” you whisper, eyes wide. “I don’t wanna waste it. You’ve been hard for so long.”
“‘When’?” he pants.
“Yeah,” you say, breath catching. “I want to see what your cum looks like too.”
He shatters.
Just like that— hot, thick ropes spill out across your fingers, your hoodie, his shirt. You watch with wide, fascinated eyes as his whole body curls toward yours, hips stuttering, voice cracked and pleading into your shoulder. His cock throbs in your hand like it’s losing its mind. He sounds so helpless, so high and soft when he whimpers your name.
You stare at the mess.
“…Whoa.”
He’s panting against your cheek, totally limp. “That was so embarrassing.”
“It was awesome,” you breathe. “I made you cum.”
“I exploded in ten seconds.”
You stroke his hair. “I think you’re perfect.”
He melts a little into your chest.
“…You wanna see me next?” you whisper.
His head jerks up like a prairie dog.
Satoru’s still shaking.
You can feel it— his breath hot and unsteady on your neck, his heartbeat punching against your ribs where your bodies press together. Satoru Gojo just came all over your hand like some desperate teenager, having a wet dream, and you’re still standing in a movie theater bathroom, soaked to the skin and so turned on it’s getting hard to breathe.
His cum is sticky on your fingers. Warm, it smells faintly like salt and sugar, and he’s still leaning against you like he’s not sure how to stand on his own.
And then—
Your voice, soft and daring, nearly a whisper:
“…You wanna see me next?”
Satoru blinks. Eyes blown wide. Mouth parted, in disbelief.
“…Are you serious?”
You nod.
He looks stunned. “Like… your pussy?”
Your whole face burns.
“Y-yeah,” you stammer, suddenly nervous. “If you want. I mean— I know it’s— kind of a lot, and maybe messy, but I just… I’ve never… shown anyone." You're looking down at the floor before you finish the rest of that sentence... then your eyes are darting back up to his face, blue eyes stargazed in disbelief. “And I want you to see.”
He’s speechless, Satoru is utterly speechless.
You fidget, heart thudding, tugging your hoodie down like it can hide the way your thighs are trembling, how wet you still are under your panties.
“I just thought… since I saw yours…”
His hand flies up, quick. Cupping your face, both of you look into each other's eyes.
“I want to,” he blurts. “I want to so bad I think I’m gonna die.”
You smile, shy and giddy. “Okay. Then… can you take my panties off?”
He gasps.
Like, actually gasps. Clutches his chest. Staggers backward like you hit him with a spell.
“Say that again,” he whispers.
You reach under your hoodie, slowly rolling your leggings down to your thighs, revealing just a sliver of your pale pink cotton panties, soaked straight through. There’s a wet patch over your pussy— obvious, shiny, and dark.
“Take them off,” you whisper, voice trembling. “Please?”
He looks like he might cry.
“Oh my god,” he chokes. “You’re so wet you soaked through. That’s from me? From just— grinding on me?”
You nod, cheeks flushed. “You made me so wet I couldn’t focus on the movie.”
His hands are on your thighs now, huge and hot, trembling a little as he sinks to his knees in front of you like he’s not even aware he’s doing it. His glasses slide down his nose. He pushes them up, eyes fixed on your panties like they’re the most sacred thing he’s ever seen.
“I don’t know what I’m doing,” he whispers, “but I wanna learn so bad.”
You’re breathing so fast your legs are shaking.
His fingers slide under the sides of your panties. He hesitates.
“Ready?” he asks, voice so soft.
You nod, in eager anticipation, like when you know you're about to rip a band-aid off. But... in this case, it's your soaked sticky ruined panties.
And he pulls them down.
Slow, slow, slow
The cotton clings to your cunt, like they're almost glued to you, but he gets them off with a firmer tug.
Your cunt glosses in the light.
Dripping. Swollen. Slick as fuck and twitching under his gaze. You clench a little just from the air, the tension, the way he’s looking at you like he just saw an angel squirt holy water.
He moans. Moans.
“You’re so pretty,” he breathes. “Holy shit, you’re soaked. I didn’t know it could do that.”
You giggle nervously. “It doesn’t usually. I think it’s a you thing.”
He gulps, audibly.
His eyes don’t leave your pussy, even as he leans forward, nose almost brushing your thigh.
“Can I… touch you?”
You feel your knees threaten to buckle.
“Yes.” You say with too much enthusiasm than you meant.
His fingers twitch. “I don’t know how.”
You grab his wrist and guide it...
His middle finger barely grazes your folds and you gasp, clenching, hips jumping forward.
“Oh fuck,” he moans. “That was barely anything. You’re shaking.”
“You touched my clit,” you pant. “It’s sensitive.”
His eyes sparkle.
“Oh my god. I love that you know what it’s called.”
You’re breathless, laughing a little. “I’ve read fanfiction. Have you not?”
“I have, but in those they just say ‘your little pearl’ and shit.”
You groan. “That’s not even close.”
He’s looking again, hand hovering like he’s terrified to mess it up.
“Okay, so… this is your clit,” he murmurs, grazing it again, watching how your whole body twitches. “It’s so tiny. But you sound like I electrocuted you when I touched it.”
You whimper, cause he's teasing... He's curious as well and doesn't fucking know how much him petting your clit actually affects you.
“You like that?” he whispers, a bit entranced. Crystalline blue eyes focusing on the sticky strands of your slick connected to his fingertips as they stretch when he rubs and pulls them off your glued pussylips.
“Y-yeah.”
He touches again, a little firmer... slower, really working your clit, the soft squelches audible, he really wants to taste it, the creamy thing webbing his fingers, the thought pounding in his head.. Would you be grossed out if he just shoved his fingers in his mouth right now and got a taste of that sappy cream?
You whimper louder, snapping his attention back from his lewd thoughts.
His voice is shaking. “Can you c-cum like this? Just from me touching you?”
You nod furiously. “If you keep going, Fuck. Please keep going.”
His thumb brushes you now, a bit more confidently.
“You’re dripping,” he mumbles. “It’s getting on my wrist, angel”
Your thighs snap shut, embarrassed.
But you’re so close and he’s still rubbing in slow, shaky circles and whispering your name and watching you like he’s studying for a test he’s gonna fail with honors. Your clit feels like it’s throbbing. You can’t stop shaking. Can’t stop whining.
And then—
“Cum for me,” he whispers, awed. “Please, please pretty girl, I wanna see.”
That makes your cunt clench, his voice the thing that makes you break instantly.
You clam up around nothing, crying out as your pussy gushes over his hand, wet and twitchy, making a fucking mess on his hoodie sleeve. Your knees give out. He catches you instantly, still on his knees, arms full of shaking, panting girl.
You’re sobbing in relief, thighs sticky, pussy still fluttering, and his hands are holding you like he’s afraid you’ll vanish.
“You’re so amazing,” he breathes. “I can’t believe I made you cum.”
You whimper. “You’re so good. I didn’t think it would feel like that.”
He kisses your thigh.
Then your stomach, and makes his way up and then your lips, just to feel you.
Soft and careful, with utmost devotion and care.
And you melt against him, fucked out and flushed, pressed to his chest.
“…We should do this again,” he mumbles.
“Next time,” you pant, smiling, “I wanna see if you can make me squirt.”
He chokes, on what little air he's breathing.
But you’re still trembling.
Your panties are hanging off one ankle, his cum is drying on your sleeve, and your pussy is throbbing— still fluttering every now and then like your body can’t believe you actually came. You’re slumped against Satoru’s chest, half-limp, while he rubs soft little circles on your lower back like he’s trying to soothe an overstimulated kitten.
Time is passing and neither of you has said anything in the last full minute.
Except him whispering “holy fuck” under his breath every ten seconds like a mantra.
“I can’t believe that just happened,” he finally says, voice all hushed reverence. “You came.”
You nod, agreeing lazily. Dazed, and still reeling in the high. “Like… a lot.”
“You squirted.”
“I did not.”
“There was liquid. Splash zone level.”
You slap his chest, giggling, but your thighs twitch. You’re so sensitive you could cry, your clit aches in that perfect, pulsing way that means it wants no more and yet… you’re still soaking wet.
And you feel it. That ache deeper inside you now. Heavy and throbbing. Unused.
Unsatisfied.
You shift against him, face buried in the soft cotton of his shirt, and whisper:
“…Satoru?”
“Yeah?”
“I want you to put your fingers in me.”
You feel him freeze. Every muscle goes stiff. His hands still on your back. You feel his dick— hard again— press against your thigh like it heard you first.
“Wha— what.”
You look up at him, breath shaky. “You made me cum from the outside. But I’ve never been touched inside.”
His ears go red.
“I— I don’t wanna hurt you—”
“You won’t.” You take his wrist, place his hand gently against your mound. “I trust you.”
He swallows hard. You begin to guide his fingers between your thighs again, letting him feel how wet you still are. You gasp a little just from the contact— still sensitive, still twitchy.
His voice comes out hoarse. “You’re soaked.”
“Just go slow,” you whisper. “I wanna know what it feels like.”
He moves down again and actually takes his jacket off and spreads it over the tiles beneath you. He's kneeling like it’s instinct now, reverent and worshipful. Like he belongs on the floor for you. He kisses your inner thigh once, sweet and shaky, then stares between your legs like he’s seeing magic.
“Tell me if it’s too much,” he says.
You nod, open for him by parting your thighs, trembling ever so slightly.
His fingers sliding along your sappy folds, middle finger inching closer to your hole's opening, more slick gathers and pools as it tries to worm its way in.
You gasp at the feeling.. a bit in fear and uncertainty, but he's so gentle, holding you tighter against him.
His finger begins to push in, your tiny hole fighting him, the intrusion. It's nothing like you've ever felt.
Satoru’s breathing stops entirely.
“You’re tight,” he whispers, stunned. “You’re— fuck, you’re so warm, I can feel your pulse.”
You whimper. “Go slow. Just the tip.”
He pushes a little, and you clench involuntarily, sucking him in just a bit.
He moans. Actually moans. Like you’re the one touching him.
“Angel, you’re gripping me.”
You bury your face in your sleeve, whining. “It’s not fair. Your fingers are big.”
He curls his finger just slightly— experimenting— and your entire body jolts.
“Oh— oh fuck!” you cry out.
His eyes go wide. “Was that— was that good?”
“D-do it again,” you pant.
He does. Gentler, carefully pressing just right, and your walls flutter around him so tightly it’s like your body doesn’t know how to handle it.
“You’re so wet,” he mumbles. “You’re sucking me in.”
You grab his wrist. “Try two.”
He stares. “Are you sure?”
“Please, Satoru.”
You’re breathless, begging.
He shivers like it physically affects him.
He slides another finger in— and your pussy stretches around him, tighter than he expected. Your mouth drops open. Your thighs twitch.
“Oh my god,” you gasp.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing me— I can’t move,” he moans.
You rock your hips, helping him, whining through your teeth.
It’s deep. It’s thick. He curls again— and you sob, eyes fluttering back.
“There— oh my god there, right there—”
His fingers are hooked now, rubbing that spongey spot deep inside that makes your eyes cross. His thumb finds your clit on instinct, and suddenly you’re wailing, your whole body shaking, your pussy clenching so hard around his fingers he can barely move.
You cum again, messier and needy. Your velvet walls constricting his fingers in waves.
And he watches, awed, wrecked. His other hand supporting you as your thighs tremble uncontrollably.
He doesn’t even pull out.
He just whispers, “You’re so beautiful when you cum.”
And you start crying.
Happy tears. Dumb overwhelmed tears. Because no one’s ever touched you like this, seen you like this, loved your body with nothing but his hands and awe.
He kisses your forehead.
You sniffle. “I want you inside me someday.”
He nods. “Me too.”
“…But I might have to train for it.”
He laughs, breathless. “Me too. My heart can’t take this.”
You null away on his chest for a minute. Exhausted by everything your body's endured tonight, your panties still on the floor, his arms still secured tight around you and he press soft kisses to the top of your head.
Eventually when he slowly eases his fingers out of you, you're relaxed, no longer holding them hostage, it slides out with a flurry of slick gushing out, all what's been welling up and stuffed inside your cunt for the entire time.
He rubs it up and down your pussylips then into your clit one last time before he's bringing his fingers to his lips, and moaning as your flavour hits his tongue. Finally, getting a taste of you and he couldn't be more pleased at the tangy-sweetness of it.
Satoru licks his fingers clean, savouring it and after he's the one reaching for your panties, tugging them back up along with your leggings as he tells you softly to, "Raise your hips for me please, angel. Good girl, just like that." You do, and he secures them back in place, cunt still pulsing. Fresh slick soaking your panties again.
Satoru stands first, all long limbs and easy grace and he reaches down for you next. His hands are warm as he pulls you up from the bathroom floor. His jacket lies there still, a dark wet patch blooming where your cunt had soaked through.
Heat floods your cheeks, you're quick to mumble an apology, eyes glassy with leftover pleasure and sudden shyness.
He just chuckles softly. Bends to snatch the jacket up like it’s nothing. He balls it in one hand and tucks it under his arm.
“Shh, angel. It’s fine.”
He cups your face, thumbs brushing your flushed skin. Then he kisses you slow and deep, tasting like sin and sweetness. “One wash and it’ll be brand new. Don’t worry about it.”
He doesn’t tell you he plans to keep it exactly like this. A filthy little souvenir, from tonight.
His fingers lace with yours as he leads you out of the stall. The movie is long forgotten. He keeps you tucked close against his side the whole way through the emptying theater. The night air hits cool when you step outside.
In the car he drives with one hand on the wheel, the other resting on your thigh. Possessive and gentle.
Later that night you lie in bed, sheets tangled around your legs. Your phone glows in the dark. Heart hammering, you type the silly questions anyway.
you 🩷
so… are we...
dating?
omg omg
am i your girlfriend now?!
His reply comes instantly.
toru 🩵
i knew we were soulmates when you asked to see my dick
aaaand called it "pretty"
ilysm angel omg
You giggle into your pillow, face burning. Your chest feels too full. Tonight was crazy. Wild and messy and perfect.
But now one, no two orgasms later and Satoru Gojo is yours. Officially. The nerd from the Doraemon expo.
You fall asleep smiling stupidly into your pillow, already wondering when you’ll feel his hands on you again.
An outcast you rejected a while ago cannot bear the sight of you with other men! And what's a better place to corner you and beg to love him? By the lake, at night, when you're naked and alone. After he made sure to get rid of your newest lover, of course!
part of slutty (slasher) summer
˖ꨄ ݁˖ pairing: ꒰ Stalker/Killer!Suguru Geto x Slutty!Reader ꒱
˖ꨄ ݁˖ content & warning: ꒰ mdni 18+ :: heavy smut :: set in 80s :: psycho stalker suguru :: yandere :: obsessive behaviour :: extreme possesiveness :: violence (not towards the reader) :: emo Suguru :: minx reader :: she's so mean :: murders :: death threats :: university au :: suguru has piercings :: oral sex :: masturbation :: stalking :: panties stealing (ofc) :: breeding kink :: creampie :: oral sex :: pussydrunk suguru :: belly bulges :: blood :: we love beating men :: miserable suguru :: extreme jealousy ꒱
˖ꨄ ݁˖ words: ꒰ 11.4k ꒱
˖ꨄ ݁˖ notes: It was supposed to be shorter, but then I spiralled and cooked another long fic. Hope you'll like it <3
He was always there – somewhere, lurking behind the university's walls, with lavender eyes fixed on your figure.
Suguru Geto was known as your menace, stalker, the man who somehow became utterly obsessed with this campus's slutty sweetheart. A freak, an outcast, always hanging out with his weirdo friends. Metal bars coated his face like twinkling stars, and long, shiny hair brushed the ends of his hips, hung with heavy chains.
Two years of a master's degree, two years of a nightmare, a man haunting your dreams like a spectral creature with eyes always fixed on your body and heavy, bittersweet cologne trailing you through the corridors.
You first met in September of 86'. Right on campus, you sat on the grass with your new group of friends and a jock whose name you had long since forgotten, clinging to you like a puppy. The prettiest new girl at university, a heartbreaker, a slut, which you never truly denied. For it was the truth that you enjoyed sleeping around and chirping bewitching sweetness to your next foolish victims.
And Suguru saw you then, as you lay on lush grass in a mid-thigh skirt and white socks, wrapped just above your knees. You wore a checkered top and long earrings that brushed your neck. Squinted eyes turned to his freaky group once, with glossed lips curving into a mischievous smile and a slightly raised eyebrow.
"Why is he staring at me?" you asked, piquing Shoko's interest.
She looked over her shoulder, pushing a low groan. "Ugh, I guess he wants to talk to you. Don't mind them, probably some weird art major."
But it was hard to ignore the lavender irises hiding behind the almond-shaped eyes and this curious, slightly cheeky tilt of his head. September was still rather warm, and yet black jeans wrapped his long legs, hung with silver chains and patches. Dark tee with some washed-out band and thick bracelets stacked one after one on his pale wrists. Massive shoes could probably leave a hole in your delicate, white heels, and so grimace tug on your lips.
A jock sitting right next to you pushed a lock of hair behind your ear, with a, "Don't worry, sweetheart, he won't be bothering you."
But you didn't answer, since he would be replaced by another guy by the end of this week. There was no need to raise his hopes.
The days were passing, and you were soon completely wrapped up in the university's tight schedule. Classes, studying, partying. Classes, studying, partying, fucking.
The young adult life was fun, with your friends always pulling you out of the dorm in the dead of night and taking you from one bar to another. From the local student's club to the cabin by the lake, owned by one of the jocks you happened to sleep with.
But the joys of a student's life – be it an evening spent studying or fucking in the car after a stressful exam – were, after a few months, taken away by your stalker.
Suguru Geto has been following you since day one. The moment his eyes fell on your body sprawled on the campus lawn, skin shimmering in the late summer sun, and a sweet giggle tickling his pierced ears.
His brain turned fuzzy whenever he saw the angelic aura wrapping around your cheeky face. Heart melted when your eyes fell on him, even for a single second. An uncontrollable feeling bubbled in his chest at the sheer sight of a little crease appearing between your brows when you bestowed him with a grimace.
It was clear that, for some reason, you treated him rather as a foe than a man who could pique your interest.
At first, he did nothing but look. Observe, with this devilish smile tugging at his lips and lavender irises taking pleasure in the loveliest scowl slipping onto your face. He tried to keep himself at bay, but not because shyness coiled in his heart.
No, simply because he wished to know everything about you, before making an official approach. Your favourite flowers, the desserts you most cherished, the tight course schedule that always seemed to keep you up all night, favourite shapes and colours of the clacking jewellery that hung from your skin. Of the big hoops that always brushed your neck, and bracelets stacked one on another, chirping like sweet birds whenever you passed by.
He wished to know the colour of your lingerie and how your panties smelled after a long day. To feel the warmth of the bra that had just left the embrace of your breasts. Smell the sweetness of your slightly sweated skin after days when you joined the cheerleading sessions.
Suguru… Suguru wanted to be the one having you all to himself, even if you hated the sheer sight of him.
Whenever you took a shower during late, late nights – someone always seemed to be there. In the shared bathroom on your floor, the one meant to be used solely by the female students. A listener, whose ears pricked up to hear a soft hum of a random melody that bubbled in your throat and sweet sighs when the first hot droplets hit your skin.
The first time you noticed it was when the bathroom doors closed louder than they should. Another girl coming back from a late session, you thought, giving it no mind.
But the silence that lingered in the air stretched for too long. As no other shower seemed to be in use, nor did any other sounds of movement filled the lonely bathroom.
You waited, and waited, to hear something that would not make you believe that a fucking creep slipped inside the room just to await your naked body leaving the shower.
But nothing else ever came, and so your voice echoed off the walls with a, "Hello?"
Silence stood still, and the hot droplets soon turned into the cold sweat tickling the shivering skin along your spine. Nothing, but the thick fog filled the tiled bathroom and a heavy breath of yours, trying to listen for the eerie footsteps that clacked against the wet floor a few seconds ago.
Coming closer, and closer, till you could already see the heavy, black boots peeking from the lower door crack. A gentle tingling of the oh-so-familiar silver chain slashed through the air, and if you lifted your head up, surely you could see a peek of silky black hair. The shower doors were, after all, not two meters tall.
"You fucking freak," a low snort escaped your throat. "You don’t think I know who you are?"
Silence.
He simply stood there, as if waiting. For you to come outside? Or maybe simply enjoying the tension that rose within a blinding fog. The faster beating of your heart, shuddered breath you tried to conceal with a harsh tone, and trembling fingers covering your breasts, as if he could see your naked body through the door.
"Cat got your tongue, huh? Don’t be a coward, at least say something," you continued, making sure the miserably weak latch was keeping the door closed. "You’ve been stalking me for months. Don’t you know who my boyfriend is?"
Suguru knew.
But he also knew that the captain of the basketball team wasn’t your boyfriend. Because you didn’t do that stuff – relationships, love, cheesy romance.
So a low chuckle slipped past his lips as he pressed his forehead to the door. Trying to smell the sweet body wash that lingered in the air, imagining the foam that coated your soft body and curled around those plush breasts he loved so dearly.
"I can’t believe you’re getting off to this," another snort escaped your throat, as you banged with a fist on the door. "You don’t think I’ll report you? I’ll end you, do you hear me?!"
But Suguru could simply laugh – deeply, with a vibration hitting the plastic surface. His large palm pressed to the door, as if he tried to imagine where exactly your hand lay. So the image of your skins almost touching could slip an eerie, excited thought that tickled his mind in such a pleasant manner.
A wrath coiled beneath your heart, hearing how much he enjoyed this little torture. Because, if only he wanted, he surely could rip the door off the hinges with little to no sweat. Instead, he simply let out a hum, curling the fingers into a fist.
"Sure, baby. I hear you loud and clear," a low purr bounced off the tile, foggy walls.
The heat made your head spin, body leaned against the plastic door in need of fresh air. But going out now would mean slipping right into his needy clutches.
And before you could snap once again, he added, "I hope you won’t mind me taking those pretty panties of yours, hm? I’ll give them back one day, pinky promise," and with that, the leather shoes disappeared from your sight.
With your pitched you fucking psycho, kissing his cheeks goodbye, as he left the stuffy bathroom.
And so during the first semester, you started seeing the consequences of having a stalker like him.
Your panties were disappearing one by one, and you knew that it was not a fault of the old washing machines in the dorm. Always suddenly appearing back on your bed, clean and fragrant, although only god knew what he did with them.
Other times, it was the white knee-socks from the cheerleader costume. The woollen, soft material that wrapped your sweaty thighs after hours of training. Always disappearing whenever you planned to do the laundry, always back on your bed a bit stiff, with a heavy cologne still clinging to the cloth.
The report to the headmaster did truly nothing, as you had no proof whatsoever that Suguru Geto was your stalker, nor that he slipped into the women’s bathroom. After all, no one else saw him, and for that matter, no one could accuse him of anything.
The jock you were sleeping with back then refused to deal with him another way, for he simply didn’t see a reason to it.
You snorted, the first time Toji said it and slipped off his bed. The winter’s biting cold was sneaking past the old dorm windows as you started dressing yourself up.
"Doll, what are you doing?" The mountain of a man asked with a sigh, stretching his massive body on a bed. "I won’t kill some random guy, just because you think he’s stalking you."
You scoffed at the quizzical tone of his voice, pulling on the warm, woolly sweater. "So you think I made this up, huh?"
Toji groaned, lazily wiping his face with a hand. "Come on, I’m just saying that he may have a crush and that’s it."
"He’s been stealing my underwear and listening to me taking showers for months!"
The emerald eyes followed you with a raised eyebrow, as you pulled tight jeans onto your ass. The scowl between your brows made him chuckle lowly and sit up on a bed, patting the still-warm place next to him.
"Come on, let me make you feel better. It’s not as if he’ll do anything else." His long hand reached for the loops of your jeans, but you quickly smacked it. "Doll, I’m serious. If you were in danger, I would definitely deal with him."
Fully dressed, with shoes on, you turned to him with a low tsk and, "I think you’re too much of a fucking coward to do it," before going out of his room and closing the door with a thud.
Months passed; winter turned into early spring, the second semester began, and Suguru Geto was slowly getting closer.
In slow, baby steps and yet you felt the line between the two of you thinning. With him appearing on your horizon much more often, following you around the campus, barely trying to hide it.
In early spring, he started leaving little gifts on your bed, under the door, in the locker. A pretty set of lingerie, favourite flowers, a tape with music he thought you could like, the… death threats.
Not to you, oh, but of course, as he would rather cut his limbs off than make a single, precious strand of your hair fall for the greediness filling his heart.
All the death threats were always aimed at your lovers, of course.
As Suguru had a little patience left for seeing you change men like gloves, with none worthy to be bestowed with the softness of your skin. To nuzzle into your neck, trace kisses down the chin, and hear the sweet laughter every single day.
Suguru was simply jealous. And he addressed it quite openly in short, paper notes that you somehow always found in your bag.
The mix of, baby he’s not good for you, and, break it off, or he’ll regret ever setting his eyes on my girl.
When you brought them all to the headmaster, he simply offered to monitor the situation. As you still had no proof to offer that Suguru Geto was the one who wrote them all. No one saw him slipping the notes into your bag, nor his ghastly figure stealing all your lingerie.
On a campus, he was simply a weird guy.
In classes, the best student.
For you, a hellish nightmare that tried to crawl under your skin and wrap around your body like a deathly viper.
And so you ignored the threats. Broke most of your relationships, but didn’t quite reveal the reason. If he had a problem with you sleeping with one guy for a month or two, then… you simply had to stick to one-night stands and not show yourself on campus with any other men.
As long as you weren’t hanging onto anyone’s shoulder, it should be okay. Somehow, you would last the next year and leave this town behind. With the stalker hot on your heels and the presents stacked in your bedroom, one on top of another.
The middle of the second semester began quickly, with spring in full bloom and the sizzling sun once again letting you slip away for the pool parties at the jocks’ houses. You allowed yourself to get lost in the pleasures and madness of student life, with summer just around the corner. Only a few months left, and you would get a break from your stalker for the whole holidays.
But then… Suguru Geto confessed.
He came to your dorm with a bouquet of your favourite flowers, a small bun sitting high on his head, and pierced lips curling in a gentle smile, as he knocked on your dorm’s door. After months of following you obediently like a puppy, he knew every little thing about you.
Every mood swing of yours, each emotion, always oh so visible on your lovely face. He learned how to watch you, please you, and say the right things to become the perfect boyfriend.
He knew how your pussy smelled during the ovulation days. How you usually tasted, checking it each day with a pretty lingerie of yours pressed to his lips, and fingers pumping his leaking cock.
He learned the melody you always hummed under the shower and the brand of shampoo that made your hair smell like the sweetest garden.
He found out what you liked and hated in bed, all the kinks you wished to try. The way your fingers pressed to your swollen clit, whenever you stayed in your dorm room alone. How your breath hitched when you were close, and thighs squeezed around nothing, although he truly wished it was his head being squished between the heavenly softness that haunted his dreams.
And when you opened the door, he knew that it was now or never. He, finally, was worthy to ask for your love.
"Hi, baby," he said, glancing at your figure dressed in nothing but a skimpy gown.
Wrapping you a bit too tight, ending just above the mid-thighs and with perked nipples poking through the flimsy material.
A scowl bubbled in your throat, and you quickly, with full force, tried to close the door. But he was quicker, slipping his heavy shoe right into the small crack.
"Leave, or I’ll start screaming," you warned him, getting as an answer a low giggle.
He pushed the door easily, coming into your room. The dim light slipping from the night table bathed the small space with a soft glow. A few scented candles flickered on your desk and the bed of your roommate, as usual, was empty.
You took a few steps back, trying not to show any signs of panic.
The sudden fear that rose in your chest. Breath becoming slightly more hitched, fingers trembling around the gown you tried to pull down. Eyes fixed on him, as if he could attack any minute now.
But he, as always, was looking at you. Closely, carefully, with lavender warmth slipping up and down your body and a handsome smirk tugging on his lips. Long hair tickled his shoulder, swimming down along the muscular back dressed in leather jacket. Metal bars on his lips and eyebrows twinkled like coins under the spilling candle-flame, adding a sort of wickedness to his demeanour.
Suguru Geto was… handsome.
Dear lord, he was beautiful.
And as difficult as it was to swallow, you could not change the fact that your stalker was one of the prettiest men you had ever seen. With a horrendous and sinful character, yet the face of an angel.
So you allowed yourself to trace the broad back bulging under the jacket. The height looming over your shivering figure. Long fingers that gripped the bouquet and beefy thighs dressed in black jeans. The woodsy scent of his cologne wrapped around your senses in an utterly pleasurable way, melting you in its warmth.
You hated the way he made you feel. Confused, scared, and most of the time simply furious. But somehow, on some days, a bit too balmy. With a heat spreading all over your body, slipping under the chest, down the belly, between the thighs, as if the wickedness of his actions, the sheer idea of how obsessed he was with you, made you excited.
So then, while he stood in your dorm with a straightened back, you decided to wait. To see what other foolish plan would bloom in his devilish mind, only for you to bring it back to the headmaster.
"What the fuck do you want?" you snapped, crossing arms over your chest.
He took a step closer, lavender eyes mingling with an excitement of a source that made your spine tingle in an unpleasant way. Long hand extended towards you, pushing a lush bouquet right into your arms.
"Go out with me," he stated, not even curving his tone into a question.
A statement, rather, it was as if he was utterly sure that you would agree.
And you stood there with the same scowl that didn’t leave your forehead even for a second. Fingers wrapped around the heavy bouquet, nostrils tingling with the strong, flowery smell you loved so much.
But the wrath coiling beneath your chest was dangerously close to spilling. Eyes bulged, hearing the question he dared to push after months of acting like a psycho stalker and turning your life into madness. Everyone looked at you like a crazy, delusional woman who tried to frame a poor outcast as a maniac who, Suguru Geto, definitely wasn’t.
And now he had the audacity to stand in your bedroom, checking your body dressed in nothing but a flimsy robe, as a sly smile tugged at his lips.
"What did you just say?" Rolled in tremble, as you could barely stop the rage bubbling in your chest.
His head tilted. Long legs took another step closer. Until the big hand lifted to nuzzle your soft cheek, strong thumb brushing the skin aflame with fury.
"Go out with me, baby. Let me love you as you deserve it." The silkiness of his tone made your head spin, in both an unsettling pleasure and madness. "And if you don’t want to date me, use me. It’s been a while since you slept with someone, hm? Why won’t you just use me for your pleasure?"
Thumb slipped to your slightly parted lips. The urge to bite it and suck on it fought in your mind, bringing an irrational feeling that made your lower lip tremble right under his digit.
His words clearly stated that he, in fact, did not know that you hadn’t given up on sleeping with other men. Because if he did…
"Why so sure that I’m not fucking with anyone?" You muttered, tilting head in a cheeky manner.
As if you wanted to indulge yourself in the psychotic game of his, fully aware that you would always end up as a loser. Because for the past few months, Suguru Geto was never, ever, letting you win any of the tricks you tried to play on him. The reports, gathering the evidence, paying people to give him the lesson, although the next day he was always appearing back on the university’s lawn. Fully aware of all your miserable attempts.
Something in his eyes twinkled, but the smile didn’t come off his lips even for a second. "Do you?"
You smacked away his hand, and with a swing, shot the flowers through the room. Gentle petals smashed against the wall, falling pitifully on your roommate’s empty bed.
Before he could even look their way, your arms wrapped around his neck, perked nipples pressed against his torso as you lifted yourself up on tiptoes. The sweetness of your skin immediately enveloped his senses, and it seemed this sudden, intimate gesture left him speechless.
"Every. Single. Night." You whispered, tugging harshly on the long, silky hair curling behind his neck. His breath slipped out shuddered, and, for the first time, you noticed a true rage bubbling in his gaze. "Think you’re so smart? That I’m scared of your stupid threats?" He didn’t answer, allowing himself to cherish the softness of your body pressed to his. "I’m fucking every day with a different guy. Guys, maybe? Who knows, maybe I’m already knocked up stupid after all the cum they–"
His patience finally snapped.
One hand curled around your waist, the other lifted to squeeze your jaw before the last, nasty words would fully set his mind ablaze. The fingers dug painfully into your cheeks, the arm kept you in place, forbidding you from slipping away from the deathly clutches.
"Aren’t you a smartass, hm?" He chuckled, but his low voice was edged with the wrath that made the lavender irises narrow into a cat-eye glance. "I’m giving you an easy way out, baby. If you’re a fucking nymphomaniac, why won’t you make me your boy toy? Think I was joking?" He tugged you, drawing a soft groan from your throat. And as fear filled your body from head to toe, something exciting, maddeningly confusing, tingled in your fingertips.
"You are a fucking joke," a muffled mutter bounced off the walls, only making him squeeze your cheeks even harder.
"I don’t think you’re in a position to make me angry, baby," he leaned closer, his lips mere millimetres from yours.
Another move, and he could taste the sweetness of your lip gloss.
"Or what?" You snorted, enraging him even more. "You’ll kill me? Come on, psycho. At least I’ll get myself free from you."
Suguru never wanted to hurt you. He never wanted to do anything that would cause you even a moment's pain. But the way you spoke to him, the way your eyes twinkled with the truth of choosing death rather than spending another second in his presence, made his blood boil in a disgustingly dangerous way.
Your doe eyes fixed on his, lovely face twisted in a wicked smile as he finally loosened his grip on your cheeks.
"Is that your final answer, then?" He asked, low bass filling the small room. Candle flames licked a side of his face, with warm tongues and peppered kisses. A devil truly looking like an angel. "I promise you’ll regret it, baby."
And with a final scowl, you pushed him away. This time, he allowed you to do it without a fight.
To kick his massive body out of your room and smash the door till the tremor bounced off the corridors.
Back then, while gathering the beautiful flowers of the bed and pushing them all to the trash can, you didn’t know what consequences your decision would bring upon the lives of not just you, but all the other people you associated yourself with. The rage filled you from head to toe, making your mind go foggy from the dizziness and adrenaline that still pulsed in your veins.
Back then, you thought that the official rejection would finally stop all his attempts to coax you into this weird relationship he had made up in his head and give you a little breather.
So when you didn’t notice his presence around yourself for the next few days, a grain of hope bloomed beneath your heart. That maybe, he finally decided to leave you alone.
Your lingerie stopped disappearing, death threats were no longer found in your bag, and all the little presents stopped appearing on your bed. Life was getting back on track, and you could enjoy the last few months of university, hanging on jocks’ shoulders and slipping into parties every single weekend.
But as it would soon turn out, those few days of peace were nothing but a bad omen. The storm that would soon haunt not only your life but the whole campus itself.
As on the night one of the male students had left your dorm, he disappeared. Simply, just like that, only to be found two days later in the local forest. With body dismembered into pieces, head a few meters away from the torso.
When the news spread across the campus, not a single student or professor was left unshocked, their hearts shattered.
Did he have any enemies? People wondered. Did he find himself in the wrong place at the wrong time?
The police went to you first, of course, since you seemed to be the last person who saw him that night. But the two officers didn’t get anything from the stuttering, and weeping body of yours, with dark circles swollen under your eyes. As, in fact, you didn’t even know his name, after meeting at some party and taking back for a quick fuck to your room.
Weeks passed before you could somehow move on and find calmness within a company of another guy. Not a one-night stand, but simply someone whose kindness and gentlemanly manner made your mind flutter with peace. He talked to you gently and made a sweet, genuine laugh slip past your lips. A friend, companion, but of no love interest from your side.
And yet, after a while, he disappeared too. Only to be found in the lake, with a purple body bulging from the water and a head wrapped in a dirty sack.
This case… made you spiral into madness.
Because, as you would soon discover, men who got close to you in any way were always, always, going missing just a few days after exchanging a few simple words with you. Be it a random student working in a library or a waiter at your favourite dinner. It didn’t matter who they were to you, but a single glance at your face was enough to sentence them to death.
And whenever another person was disappearing, you always saw him.
Suguru Geto, looking at you from across the campus, with a diabolical smirk tugging at his lips. Of unmatched beauty, with cheeks, straight eyebrows, and almond-shaped eyes. Lavender gaze lingering, with an uncanny sense of a secret only the two of you knew. The love and obsession so heavy that he was ready to cut you off from any men if that would force you to crawl back to him.
So you simply stopped hanging around campus. You just gritted your teeth, hid face beneath the heavy hoodie, and left the room only for classes. Room – classes, room – classes, the route that, during the last month before the summer break, became your routine.
You made minimal contact with other men, be it people in your class or a cashier at the local supermarket. Avoided the parties, gatherings, hangouts, just to not risk anyone’s life any further.
Just one month, you thought, desperately wanting to move back to your parents’ house for the summer holidays.
To leave Suguru, the university, this whole mess behind, and lock yourself far away from all the problems you already caused.
And then, a few days before leaving, Shoko knocked on your door. And when you opened with a puffy face and a shirt dirty from a chocolate ice cream you just stuffed yourself with, she sighed heavily, quickly coming inside.
"Do you even have a roommate?" She asked, noticing that the other half of the room was always empty.
With a brief nod, you fell back on your bed and closed the book you had just been reading. Ice cream in a big paper cup was melting on your bedside table, and heavy curtains cut off the summer light in the stuffy room.
"She’s always hanging out with her boyfriend," you muttered, patting the place next to you.
Shoko took a seat, watching the misery furrow your face. "You can’t cut yourself off. It’s not healthy, you know?" she said, tugging a lock of your hair back behind an ear.
Your fingers fiddled with the old, pink tracksuit, picking on the little, plastic diamonds glued to the soft material.
"I don’t want anyone else to die," a low, almost crying voice filled the space as you desperately tried to hold back the tears already swirling behind your eyelids. "What if he’s going to hurt you?"
She wondered for a second, taking in your state, a pain ripping at her heart. "Don’t worry, I won’t let that bastard get anywhere near me. Besides, it seems that he only aims for your…" She bit down on the lower lip, as if not wishing to confirm what was already obvious. "Anyways, I thought that maybe we could have some fun tonight. Nothing crazy, just a simple funfair with me, Utahime and Yuki."
You looked up from behind the wet eyelashes, seeing the comforting smile on your friend’s face.
"I don’t think I’m in the mood for fun," another sigh escaped your tightened throat. "Besides, he can follow me there."
She hummed, nodding her chestnut head. Short hair curled around the lean cheeks, and a single cigarette was pushed behind an ear.
"Well, how about you slip away through the window? He won’t notice you leaving the dorm. His room is on the other side of the building; he won’t even see you cross the lawn."
A low giggle slipped past your lips, seeing a cheeky grin lift her lips. "And how do you know that?"
"I think you truly underestimate your friends. Yuki’s boyfriend is friends with his roommate, the nerd guy, Satoru. We’ll make sure he keeps him entertained for a few seconds," Shoko laughed, squinting her eyes like a sly kitty. "Besides, there’s some weird metal band in town. I’m sure he and the rest of Addam’s Family will hang out there. He already knows you’re too scared to even leave your room, so… he won’t suspect anything."
The plan indeed sounded good. And as your room was on the first floor, slipping away would be easy. The worst that could happen was a small scratch, but it seemed worth it to experience even the simplest moment of joy before leaving your friends for two months.
At the same time… the fear was eating you alive. The thought that he might somehow be able to track your location sent a shiver down your spine. Made your mind freeze, heart trying to leap from the tightened chest. You didn’t want to hear about any more murders. Didn’t want to befriend kind, innocent people who would meet a tragic end only because of the psychotic stalker who cared for you in his sick, twisted manner.
And yet, without a second thought, you nodded, drawing a squeak from Shoko’s beaming face. She pulled you into a tight, warm hug, a sweet fragrance of perfume and cigarette smoke wrapping around your senses.
"So get your ass up now and go take a shower," She said, pushing you towards the door. "I’ll prepare a little special outfit for our night out."
The bathroom was empty when you entered, but no one interrupted your long, warm shower. No heavy footsteps bounced off the tiled walls, and no one’s silky hair peeked down at your naked body. It felt almost unusual, yet you tried to enjoy this intimate moment of peace just as you used to, with the same melody hummed softly beneath the dripping rain and a sweet body wash lathering your skin.
Colours seemed to slowly spread across your cheeks, the purple smooched disappeared from under your eyes, and a heavy, relaxed breath escaped your throat.
The life, even for a slippery second, felt as if it was back under your control.
When you turned to the room, a small, shocked gasp rolled off your tongue.
"I am not wearing that!" You scowled, looking at the set Shoko prepared for you.
You had long forgotten about the tight, extremely short pink skirt and the sparkling white top that were hidden in your wardrobe. A set of white lingerie lay right next to them, and your heart almost stopped at the bra, thin enough to make your perked nipples visible through the flimsy top.
"What do you mean? You wore it so many times before!" she exclaimed, adding a pair of big hoops and milky-white heels. "Come on, don’t be a prude!"
"I’m not, but…" but what if some guy tries to talk to me, and he will be there, and…
"Nuh-uh, stop. I can read your thoughts," Shoko said, quickly wiping a towel over your naked body. Her chestnut eyes slid up and down your figure, a cheeky smile tugging at her lips. "Mhm, perfect. Dress up and let me do your make-up."
So after an hour and a long fight over the crimson lipstick that smudged your lips in an utterly whorish way, you and Shoko, under the sky blanketed in darkness, finally slipped away through the window. Bags fell onto the lawn first, heels following right after, only for your stupidly giggling lips to shush each other as you ran across campus.
Yuki and Shoko were already waiting outside, and when you saw them crouched behind the bushes, a loud, alive laugh filled the warm summer night.
"Why didn’t you wait in the car?" You asked, slipping into the passenger seat.
Yuki started the car, slowly reversing from the university’s car park. "For your entertainment, dear." She chuckled before pulling onto the main road.
After ten minutes of laughing and chit-chatting in the car, with music blasting from the speakers and Yuki’s cabriolet swooshing along the forest roads, you finally noticed the lights.
Red, orange, and purple, with a Ferris wheel looming over the dark, haunted house, rollercoasters, and multiple colourful booths filling the place with a mixture of burnt popcorn and sweet cotton candy. The tacky music beamed from the stickers, bouncing off the nearby lake, hidden just behind the deep forest.
Children, teenagers and students filled the park to the brim, with plastic red cups or paper boxes of food in their hands. Men tried to show off their muscles, hitting the high striker again and again until the golden bell buzzed with a red alarm, tickling your earlobes. A few squeaks escaped from the haunted house after a group of girls left it, laughing and giggling, while another group just entered, fear twisting their faces.
It seemed perfect, joyful and carefree, lifting a heavy burden from your shoulders and allowing you to experience a moment of happiness.
Shoko wrapped her arm around your shoulders and pulled you towards the entrance.
After an hour, you completely forgot about the terror that had haunted you for the past year. You couldn’t count the cans of beer you drank, the amount of caramel popcorn that filled your belly with sweetness, all the times you almost barfed on the rollercoaster, and your miserable attempts to win a plush toy in darts.
Some men looked behind their shoulders to sense a direction from which sugary laughter was coming. Some tried to talk to you, but all three girls were immediately taking you away from their clutches, knowing that the presence of another guy was the last thing you needed.
But then all of them left for the haunted house, which you refused to enter, and suddenly became easy prey. Easy enough for someone to come into your line of sight and let out a chuckle when another soft ball didn’t hit the moving object.
"I’m sorry, but you really suck at it," a low voice whispered in your ear, and you quickly looked over your shoulder.
A young man, surely your age, with coffee-coloured eyes that mingled like little stars and sandy hair brushed slightly back. He stood tall, with broad shoulders bulging beneath the blueish shirt. Muscular arms peeked from beneath the short sleeves, with a few creamy buttons revealing his warm chest.
Your lips pouted. "I’m not that bad."
"It’s the fourth time you lost it."
Sixth, almost slipped away, but instead, you let out a giggle.
His eyes scanned your face, taking in the loveliness warming your skin, before drifting towards a booth filled with plushies.
"So which one do you want?" He asked, giving the cashier a few dollars for another try.
You bit the plush inside of the cheek, pointing with a finger at the big, black cat with yellow eyes and a pinkish nose.
"He looks mischievous," a man murmured, nevertheless sending you a smile.
His legs spread a bit wider, and his body leaned over to get a better view of the moving cans.
"I like them a bit mischievous," you said, moving yourself to stand right next to him.
With a corner of the eye, you noticed his gaze on your warm cheeks, before he looked back towards the game. "I’m sorry to tell you this, but I’m a nice guy."
The first ball flew, hitting right in the middle of the small can. You gasped, shooting your head towards him. To look at the cheeky smile and sandy brows curving up.
"You did not!"
He shrugged, rolling a chuckle. "Not bad, hm?"
Another three balls in his hand disappeared just as quickly. One by one, each hitting the can with force, until the metal cups fell to the ground. The cashier seemed just as surprised and charmed as you, watching the blue veins bulge on his forearms and squinting at the aim.
When the last can fell, you suddenly, without a further thought, grabbed his shoulders and started jumping with loud squeaks.
"Oh my god! Amazing!" The pure happiness lighting your face swelled his heart with pride as he pointed a finger at the big, black cat.
"Here you go, pretty," He said, a gentle rosiness kissing his lips as he pushed the plush into your arms.
A bit too small to hug it fully, slightly bigger than your chest.
"Pretty?" Fell rather cheeky, as you walked towards one of the benches.
The warm summer air coated your body, hair stuck to the glossed lips, and you noticed the way his finger curled into a fist, as if wishing to push those few strands away.
"Well, aren’t you?" He scratched the back of his neck at the poor attempt to crack a flirty joke.
And as heartwarming as it was, maybe a little cheesy, you smiled, nuzzling cheek into the soft fur of your new gift.
"Mhm, whatever you say, handsome."
This time, his lean cheeks blazed with colour. Eyes slipped over your shoulder, as if the loveliness of your eyes was simply too much to bear. Cute.
"I’m Nanami," he said, coffee eyes finally meeting yours once again. "I was watching you for a while and thought you were pretty…"
The shyness creeping up his neck melted your heart. He was handsome, of course he was, with a sharp jaw and sandy hair, a few golden strands as if licked by the sun's rays. Eyes deep and warm, like sweet cocoa, held the damnedest purity that men your age usually did not possess. Pale skin, coated with a sheen of sweat, fingers curling and straightening under the weight of your gaze.
You sat down on the nearby bench, nothing but a black cat keeping your thighs from touching each other.
"Are you trying to flirt with me, Nanami?" You asked, turning head his way.
"Is it working?"
You hummed, leaning closer with a devilish smile dancing on your lips. "I think you’re pretty cute."
Nanami turned out to be the utmost gentleman. Always paying attention to everything you said, listening with pricked ears and quick nods. Sometimes the conversation turned to him, but more often to you. And although you thought of yourself as a rather boring person, Nanami enjoyed every word that slipped past your lips.
He seemed rather boring, but kind, shy, and utterly curious about your persona. Making a pleasurable warmth bubble in your belly and a wicked need to coax him into your arms. To use him for your own satisfaction, as back in the days when you enjoyed spending your nights with men too good to hang out with girls of your sort.
And soon you started leaning closer. And closer, placing the cat on the other side of the bench, pressing your thighs together. He was sweetly, utterly aware of your presence. Of the sweetness that filled his nostrils, the warmth of your body and giggles kissing his earlobes.
"I was thinking…" fell sweetly, with your breasts stuck to his arm.
"Maybe we could move somewhere quieter?" A lovely pout formed on your lips, doe eyes lurking up from beneath the curtain of lashes. "There’s a lake nearby. And I could reaaally use a cold swim right now."
You felt a tremor slip down his spine. The goosebumps rising on the skin of his bicep, you curled fingers around. A bulge in his trousers that made your eyes twinkle and lips lift in a wicked smile.
"But you don’t h-have a swimsuit," he said, perfectly knowing how stupid his reasoning was.
Because the lack of a swimsuit was, indeed, the whole point of this secret meeting.
So when a low, "Do you mind?" Slipped past your lips, he quickly shook his head.
"Let’s meet in ten, then." You said, before walking away towards the hidden beach with a gentle sway of your hips and a big cat wrapped within your arms.
It was safer to meet there separately. The reasons were obvious, but Nanami didn’t need to know them. There was no need, as for the past few hours you had been carefully scanning the park for the dark, heavy shoes and their owner, a face that still haunted your dreams.
It seemed he truly had no idea of your whereabouts, so the invitation seemed quite safe. Nanami appeared too good to get himself tangled up in your whole mess, yet the egoistic, carnal need for pleasure was far stronger than the need to keep a clear mind.
The short path through the dark forest led you towards a small beach, with trees looming over the crystal water and the moon peeking through the thick branches. Crickets hummed a summer melody, gentle waves crashed over the soft sand and without a second thought, you started undressing yourself.
The top, skirt, heels, followed by the flimsy white lingerie. A shiver ran down your spine when you dipped your feet in the water. Lukewarm, but still cooling your body in such a pleasing way. You slowly went further, and further, till the lake wrapped around your hips and moonlight bounced off the crystal droplets gathering on your skin.
Soft sigh slipped past your lips as you immersed yourself fully, with only your head peeking over the calm surface.
After a while, you finally heard footsteps slowly coming towards the beach. Nanami was close, and so you went back to the shore, slowly, slowly, walking out of the lake, with beads coating your naked body. Hanging off the perked nipples, nuzzling into the collarbones, dripping down your pussy, and a sheer sight of you could make one recall legends of water nymphs. With a beauty that unlatched heaven itself, carrying a wicked spell that spiralled men into madness.
When the shadow lurked from between the bending trees, your lips curled. Head tilted, mind already imagined the fever that would hit his lovely, virgin cheeks.
"Nan–"
And yet, before the name could fully roll off your lips, your breath hitched instead.
Because the man who appeared in front of you wasn’t him. The kind boy you met just minutes ago.
No, but instead Satan himself. Demon, nightmare, a fiend plaguing your life since the year before.
With a tall, muscular body dressed in black, heavy shoes wrapped around his ankles, creamy skin drenched… in blood. Long fingers wrapped around the long knife, and this damned smile bubbled behind the lavender irises.
"You–" a shuddered breath escaped your tightened throat, body suddenly a lot more naked than it should.
Everything you showed, exposed, and wanted to offer wasn’t meant to be seen by him.
And Suguru Geto knew it. Oh, he knew too well, and that’s why the lavender gaze travelled up and down your body with a satisfaction.
"Hi, baby," he said, slightly tilting his head. "Why the surprised face? Have you waited for someone else?"
You didn’t say anything. Didn’t need to confirm the obvious. Instead, your hands lifted to cover the soaked breasts, eyes quickly fell on the clothes left messily on the sand. Four big steps and you could at least grab the lingerie.
But Suguru noticed the way your gaze wandered, and a small gasp escaped his lips. He was faster, with long legs carrying him to your panties before you could take a step, body still frozen in fear. With one hand gripping the knife, he bent over and grabbed the dirty panties with the other.
"Such a pretty set. All for me?" He giggled, lifting the material to his nose. You could hear a low moan as he took a deep, heavy sniff with utter pleasure. Pervert. "Fuck, baby. You always smell so fucking good." Before you could snap back, his tongue peeked out past the pierced lip, taking a long, moany lick of your juices, lavender eyes not leaving your face for a second. "And taste like heaven."
Something bubbled in your belly. A mix of emotions too strange to identify, making your mind spin into a fury and spine tingle with a craving too queer to admit. The sole fact that standing naked in front of your stalker felt…
"Where’s Nanami?" you added quickly, trying to ignore the way your thighs clenched the moment Suguru moaned around your panties.
He took a step closer, coming your way at an unhurried pace. Panties hidden in the back pocket of his jeans, a thumb brushing away your juice, mixed with a crimson liquid on his cheek.
Suguru shrugged, eyes still fixed on your face. "Who?"
Your fingers turned into fists, as "What did you do to him, psycho?" fell through the gritted teeth.
But the gentle crease appearing between your brows melted Suguru’s heart. Low chuckle bounced off the calm water, as he was only a few steps away. If he wanted to, he could simply extend his hand and grab you by the neck.
"Baby, I really thought you learned your lesson," an angelic pout twisted his lips, as he pressed the drenched knife to his cheek. "Let me think… are you talking about the guy who was coming to see you? Blond, slightly shorter than me?"
When a terror flickered behind your gaze, his eyes lightened. "Ah, so that was him? Well, I didn’t like the fact that he was coming to meet my girl," Lavender irises dropped down to your breasts covered by your hands, before slipping towards the soft belly, hips, mound of your pussy, with a low growl tickling your ears. "Fuck, baby. I’m so happy this fucker’s dead. I can’t believe–"
Before Suguru could finish, you took a step.
And the next one, and another, before your palm met with his cheek. You didn’t expect the hit to be that hard, and yet he stumbled and fell on the soft sand. With a shock crossing his face and hand lifting to grab his burning skin.
"Bab–"
You launched towards him, your hips straddling his, palms pressing his shoulders down until his head hit the ground. Everything felt too weird, unnatural, as burning rage took over your mind and adrenaline pulsed beneath your skin.
Another slap echoed from the looming trees, and when his head flew to the left, you quickly turned it right with the next hit. And the next, next, counting each man who died because of you. The jock, the kind guy, the diner waiter, the student from the library… Nanami.
One hit more ruthless than another, but the adrenaline cooed over the sizzling pain that ripped your palms. No tears ran down your face, no trembling washed over your spine.
It was a wrath that had been simmering beneath your heart for months and finally found a way to spill in a deeply dishonourable way, leaving you filled with disgust for the violence he forced upon you.
When you finally finished, with deep breaths slipping one by one through your parted lips and eyes looking down at his face, a sort of peace dripped into your mind. Upon seeing a thin thread of blood trickling down his lips and a nasty, lavender bruise slowly forming high on cheeks.
He lay still with a mix of shock and absolute, loving madness that slipped in a shudder past the bloody traces on his face.
If Suguru Geto had thought he already loved you those few minutes before, now, with your naked body straddling his and cheeks pulsing from a beating he had himself awakened in you – he wasn’t sure whether love was enough to describe the devotion his heart swelled with.
Your breasts rose with deep breaths, lips slightly parted, while your hands still pressed his shoulder into the sand. And before he could speak, your finger hooked around his lip piercing, pulling him forward as pain shot through every nerve the metal had struck.
"Stop fucking testing me," you growled, with squinted eyes looking straight into his. "Think you’re so smart? I know your psychotic ass is too miserable to lay a finger on me. Pull another stunt like that and I’ll fucking kill you," you launched him forward, without a care whether the lip ring would rip through the skin. "Do you understand?"
He quickly nodded, but the heart-shaped irises were enough to raise another wave of fury beneath your chest.
And when he thought you would stand up and simply walk away, leaving him on a sand with a blood trickling down his chin and a hard cock trying to rip through his pants, you…
Kissed him. Smashed your lips against his, licking clean the crimson liquid pooling on his skin.
Suguru was already taken by surprise, but now, feeling your warmth so close to his body, he could swear that heaven was nowhere but in the taste of your sweet breath.
He moaned, drinking the saliva dripping from your lips and feeling the wet pussy rolling against his bulging jeans. Your hands lifted to his cheeks, squeezing them tight till another pitiful groan slipped right into your mouth.
And when his big palms landed on your hips, you pulled back, giving him yet another slap. "Don’t fucking touch me, you psycho."
Your words fell harshly, but the desire bubbling in your lower belly and sticky juices coating his jeans were enough evidence to make you feel utterly, madly turned on by the miserable state he allowed you to put him in.
"Baby, fuck, sit on my face, I’m begging you," he moaned, looking down at the long, silky thread that dripped down from your cunt right onto his bulge.
The sheer sight made his mind spin, and when you moved over his face, Suguru was sure that blood started dripping from his nose.
"I don’t care if you’ll suffocate, but you better make me cum," you stated, looking down into his dazed eyes.
Knowing fully well that the death between your thighs would bring him the peace he did not deserve.
With one move, you sat yourself on his face, tongue already peeking out and plastered to meet the heavenly sweetness of your cunt. A low, loud groan filled your drenched walls as he could finally savour the flavour he had craved for so long.
Lavender eyes rolled back, muscular body trembled as you sat with your full weight, till his teeth grazed your swollen clit and tongue sealed the leaking entrance. He drank the honeyed saps like a man starved, lapping through your folds with low moans and shallow breaths. Getting himself intoxicated by the creaminess trickling down his throat and coating the inside of plush cheeks with a sheen of sugar.
His hand immediately slipped down to his cock, fiddling with a belt, only to pull out a massive, leaking shaft that hit his abdomen. You looked over your shoulder, mouth watering at the sheer sight of the monstrosity he dared to keep hidden all this time.
He did offer to be your boy toy, and maybe, maybe, you would think it over, knowing the fatness that could poke each and every nerve deep inside your pussy.
When his lips curled around your clit, sucking on the swollen button, your hips rolled in pleasure.
"Fuck," you moaned, feeling a smirk already tugging on his bloody lips.
The metal rings felt slightly cold, bringing a weird pleasure to the heat that ripped you from the inside.
His long fingers curled around the thick shaft, pumping it in slow, lazy strokes. The reddened head pulsed as if ready to burst, balls contracted whenever your hips rolled over and over again, smearing his chin, cheeks, nose in a creamy cum.
His tongue fluttered around your clit, folds, poking inside the tightening cunt. When his other hand slipped up to grab your tit, you allowed it with a soft groan. Long fingers rolled the hardened nipple, squeezing the fat that fit into his palm just right.
"My sweetest," he pulled slightly away, forcing a frown upon your lovely forehead. "That desperate to get fucked, huh? I’m sorry my baby needed to wait that long."
It could look as if he was talking to you, but, in fact, his squinted eyes were nowhere but on your glistening pussy. With another wave of cum already sticking to his lips and lonely hole clenching desperately around nothing.
"My–"
"Stop talking," you muttered, grabbing a fistful of his silky hair, only to push him towards your cunt. "I’m far from cumming."
And he did as you ordered, plastering himself again to the heaven between your legs.
This time, he lapped more hungrily. With lips, tongue, nose poking all your sweetest buds, sucking on the trembling clit and pushing, pushing, pushing inside the weeping cunt. Each roll of your hips tugged painfully on his piercing, but he didn’t mind.
No, but rather took a carnal pleasure from the heaviness of your body, feeling that dangerous warmth bubbling in his loins.
And you were no better, with head falling behind and eyes closing from the ecstasy that was ready to spill any second. Looking back on his cock, you moaned, already imagining the fat, leaking shaft nuzzled deep inside your pussy. With a slightly curved head hitting your womb and a warm cum filling you to the brim.
"Oh fuck, I’m close," an almost inaudible whisper rolled off your tongue, but Suguru caught it in time.
With a sly smirk and lips sucking on your clit harsher, till the plumped bud trembled on his tongue, leaking a few droplets of sap.
His face turned red, for you really cut the air off and made him suffer in pleasure, strangled beneath your oozing cunt. Eyes rolled back again, a low groan spread through your pussy, sending another wave of climax down your spine.
And within the next few rolls and his tongue digging deep inside your soft walls – you finally cummed. Gushed, all over his face, drenching it in splatters of crystal droplets, landing in his mouth, on cheeks, dripping down the forehead. Your thighs squeezed around his head, a pitched moan left parted lips, and fingers grabbed his hair tighter.
You trembled, and trembled, feeling the ambrosial orgasm tickle your spine. Probably the first and best given to you through oral sex alone.
And as embarrassing as it was to admit, Suguru was, by far, the only man who made you moan that loud.
You didn’t have a moment to catch your breath. No strength to lift yourself up from his body. And to him it was of no problem, as the second later, the world spanned only for you to find yourself under him.
With thighs glued to your chest and ass slightly lifted up.
"I told you–"
His lips fell onto yours before you could finish, drawing a sweet moan from your throat.
"My poor baby is in heat," he muttered, licking a long stripe of your sweating cheek. "Let me take care of you. You waited so fucking long, didn't you?"
"And whose fault is that?" You snapped, feeling his smirk back onto your lips.
He kissed you messily, yet with a sweetness and care you would never associate with a psycho of his sort.
"I told you," he started, pulling away to take his shirt off. Muscles upon muscles glistened under the moonlight spilling through the trees, dark locks cascading down to his hips. "You will regret rejecting my love."
His trousers quickly joined the shirt on the sand, and soon he was hanging over you naked. With a heavy cock lying on your belly and droplets of precum leaking onto your belly button. It burned down through your skin – the hefty girth that made your mind spin from the sight alone.
He didn’t cum, as if waiting to release himself deep within the warmth of your pussy, and his next "Last time you mentioned something about getting knocked up, hm?", only confirmed the nasty thoughts already bubbling in your skull.
"Don’t know how to use a condom?" You bit down on lower lip, deep inside knowing that you yourself would throw that condom away.
There was simply no way you would pass up a chance to feel such a monstrous shaft deep inside you. His big palms hook under your thighs, folding you even further, till the breath alone slipped in trembled gasps and chest squeezed under the heaviness of his body.
And yet, you still tried to expose yourself even further, moving your hips in desperate need to meet the long-craved fraction and the maddening stretch. It felt so embarrassing, humiliating, to get yourself drunk on the pleasure that tickled your fingertips and made your lips fall open.
Dizziness already coiled behind your eyes, and Suguru could see it clearly. In the way you looked at his leaking cock, with this slutty, needy gaze.
"Do you want me to use it, baby?" He chuckled, leaning himself down. Only lick a long stripe down your neck, feeling the sweat tickle his taste buds. "Tell me you don’t dream about getting fucked raw and stupid."
A moan slipped past your lips when the head of his cock smooched your entrance, and lips sucked on sensitive skin right beneath your jaw. "Just do it already, fuck."
"Tell me you love me," He murmured, teeth grazing one of your pulsing veins. "Tell me you’ll stay, and I promise to give you everything."
Hips already rolling, as you tried to get yourself closer to his fatness. To the tip that oozed with sticky precum and the heat radiating from his cock.
A pathetic mewl escaped your throat as he sank himself a bit deeper. But only the plump head, that already marked the painful stretch you would surely get after the rest of the shaft followed.
"Stop dreaming, you psycho," you gritted through your teeth, pushing out even more of the cum that wrapped in a creamy ring around his cock. You stretched your hand, taking a fistful of his hair, only to pull him closer. Till your lips crashed in another kiss, the dried blood sticking to your maws. "Fuck me stupid, and I’ll think about it."
And Suguru, as desperate as he was, needed only those few, mean words to shove his massive shaft deep inside your pussy.
A loud scream bounced off the trees, soon muffled by his lips, drinking in every cry, every moan that started spilling out.
The stretch was as painfully ecstatic as you expected, spinning your mind with drowsiness and rolling eyes into the skull. He filled every corner, every fold of your plush hole, till the reddened head smooched your womb. You trembled from head to toe upon a sudden intrusion, and the way he immediately started moving.
Pushing, thrusting, shoving his cock till the balls squelched against your lifted ass, and nasty splashing filled the little beach. He kept you in place, with muscular arms folding you in half and lips licking, sucking, and biting on the sensitive skin of your neck. Chest plastered to your nipples, brushing the perked buds each time he rammed his cock inside your weeping cunt.
The air felt sticky and steamy, with the sweetness of your breaths mixing whenever another moan slipped past your lips, and Suguru watched carefully as pleasure twisted your face.
The ethereal beauty that warmed your cheeks, eyes lidded in delight, a stream of spit dripping down your chin, before he licked it with a low, nasty groan.
"Fuck, baby, I waited so long," He muttered, mind spinning into madness whenever your plush cunt clamped on his cock. "So hungry, weren't you?"
When his fingers slipped between your bodies, only to press against your clit, a pitched, "Mmm y-yeah, fuck, I hate you so much," rolled right into his smirking lips.
He chuckled, shoving his shaft faster, deeper, till a small bulge appeared right under your belly button. "Do you? Because I thought you, ugh, liked them a bit mischievous, huh?"
You heard those words somewhere before. Maybe because they were the same words said to Nanami.
But then, with his cock stuffing you, nasty, full and plush lips caressing yours, you couldn’t give a single fuck about how he knew about them. The only thing that mattered was his heavy, beefy body pressed to yours, leaving barely any space for the warm air that desperately tried to slip between your sweating skins.
"Suguru," a lovely mewl escaped your throat when his curved tip hit your sweet spot inside. Ramming into it relentlessly, with a force that drove your body into the sand. "So, oh god, you fill me so good."
His lips met your jaw, chin, lavender eyes tracing each scowl of your face. "You love it, don’t you, baby?" Big thumb rolled the swollen clit, pulling another pinched moan from your throat. "I know, baby, you love it so fucking much. And if I’ll do this," He rammed his tip against your spot again, before nuzzling it right against the plumped womb. "You will cum very, very soon."
And he was right. Pushing all your buttons, kneading your body in all the right places as if he knew exactly how to make a warmth bubble in your belly.
Fingers of one hand dug painfully into the backs of your thighs as you opened them even further, letting him slip into you even deeper.
"Talk to me, baby." He ordered, feeling the erratic clenching of your walls. "Tell me how much you love me."
"I love it–ahhh," rolled instead, and you could feel a dissatisfied tsk bouncing off your chin.
"No, baby," his teeth sank into your neck, his thumb pressing on your clit even harder. "Come on, baby, tell me how much you fucking love me. I’ll kill every man you’ll ever try to talk to. Hell, I’ll slash your pretty friends’ throats if they try to keep me away from you." Each nasty word was marked by a more brutal roll of his lips. Till the sweet pleasure of smooching your womb soon turned into your painful cries. "Say it, say that you love me."
The warmth in your lower belly was ready to spill, head lulled to the side only to be brought back by his lips, tugging harshly on yours. He bit into them, then licked the swell with a coo, as if trying to coax you into the madness-confession he had waited so long for.
And you, wrapped around the heavy weight of his cock inside your cunt and the way he made your feet curl in pleasure, finally, unfortunately, had given up.
"Suguru, I love you–nghh–s-so fucking much," a sweet mewl slipped past your lips. "So good, fuck, you feel so fucking good. I love you, love you, love you, love you–"
Your desperate cries were muffled by his low groan, dripping into your throat, as he finally stilled.
With cock kissing your womb, lips lick the tears rolling in the corners of your eyes and a thumb pinching the trembling clit.
You came with a loud cry, squirting all over his beefy thighs, abdomen, soaking the trembling shaft that started filling your clamping walls with waves and waves of cum. Its stickiness glueing to your soft insides, creamy droplets plugging you so full, till the milky threads spilled from the rim of your cunt.
And in the brief moment when Suguru Geto let his guard down, your fingers seized the long knife left messily on the sand and, with a single furious thrust, drove it deep into his left thigh.
A low groan slashed through the air when the shimmering iron struck his thick muscles, sending a painful wave over his spine.
You rolled his heavy body off, milky cum still dripping down your thighs and eyes…
Eyes looking no better than his. With heart-shaped irises glancing down at his body wrinkling in pain, with a sweet giggle, as you finally felt the winning pleasure spreading all over your chest.
His naked, muscular figure sprawled on the sand, cock already getting hard once again, upon seeing the bloody, sticky mess you left on him. Lavender gaze gazed up to you with a swelling devotion, and you needed to grit your teeth not to give him one last slap.
Instead, you started dressing yourself, slowly, with eyes squinted and lips tugged by a sly smile.
"I should fucking kill you," tickled his ears, and he could only give you a short nod. "But it would be a waste of resources," your eyes slipped onto his already leaking cock.
"I’ll come over tonight, baby," he mumbled, wrapping his hand around your ankle. If he could, he would crawl behind you, but the pain slashing through his thigh was already spiralling him into dizziness. "Fucking, wait for me, I’ll come over."
"I’ll be taking a shower in two hours, and I expect to see you there," you said with a final low hum and a tilt of your head, before walking away.
And Suguru… he had to jerk himself twice before he could finally stand up, swaying and pain swirling droplets of sweat on his neck. Yet, neither death nor such a minor injury could ever keep him away from his sweet, precious girl.
You know what, I kind feel sorry for Nanami... anyways, pyramidhead Toji next! I haven't written Toji for such a long time! I hope you enjoyed the first story <3
Tarot Reading on Their (Jungkook & FS) Sexual Tension + Energy 🔥(NSFW, channeled,sensual deep-dive)🔥
✦ by Lumi, your fave tarot it-girl 💅✨
Tarot Deck Used: A traditional Rider-Waite-Smith
Let’s ask the cards
✦ TAROT SPREAD
Overall Sexual Energy: The Devil (Reversed)
This is intense AF. The kind of desire that’s almost dangerous if not grounded in emotional maturity. this is a deep soul-binding addiction that they constantly have to balance. There's an underlying push-pull of obsession vs. freedom here. There’s a karmic edge to their physical bond. They’ve likely known each other in past lives possibly lovers who never got to finish what they started and now? Their bodies remember,but reversed devil says that they’re learning to own that chemistry without letting it control them. It's conscious.....a kind of sacred lust
Jungkook’s Desire for Her: King of Wands + Ace of Cups
Oof. This is dominant + soft boy boyfriend energy in the hottest blend. The King of Wands is that divine masculine, I want you right now kind of craving,Jungkook likely feels deeply masculine, powerful, and even primal when it comes to his FS. She awakens a very animalistic side of him. He might even fantasize about claiming her, or marking her as his (like biting her shoulder, leaving hickeys, pushing her limits).This boy is in love too. It’s not just about her body, it’s about worshipping her. He probably wants to make her cry from pleasure. His kinks might include overstimulation, slow teasing, emotional aftercare, and eye contact so intense it feels like you’re floating. He’s the type to whisper "You’re mine." and mean it with his whole chest.
Her Desire for Him: Queen of Swords + The Lovers
She might come off cool or a little guarded on the surface like she knows her worth and won’t just fold. She teases him, holds back just enough to drive him crazy,but inside? The lovers says she’s just as obsessed.
This woman wants him. Craves his body, his scent, his dominance but also his soul. She’s mentally stimulated by him too, which turns her on even more. Their foreplay might be full of eye contact, banter, playful taunts, mind games. She loves watching him unravel.
The Queen of Swords also says she’s not afraid to ask for what she wants in bed. She might have a commanding presence herself by making it a battle of wills every time.
First Time Together: Temperance + Knight of Pentacles
Wow. Slow burn. Patient, intentional, emotionally tuned-in. This is not a rushed hookup. This is two people savoring each other like a glass of expensive wine. They’ll likely take their time...explore, taste, whisper. Music in the background. Maybe candles.
The Knight of Pentacles suggests Jungkook is very focused on her pleasure. He studies her. Watches her body react. He wants to be good not just for his ego, but because he truly cares.
This night might last hours. Possibly multiple rounds. Intensity builds, and then releases like a dam finally breaking.
Long-Term Sexual Dynamic: The Empress + Strength (Reversed)
she’s his muse. He’s obsessed with her body, her softness, her scent, her curves, the way she moans. He could write entire songs about her. This is a very feminine-worship dynamic. He likely adores going down on her, using his hands, whispering filth in her ear while holding her down gently. She melts around him. The cards say that she doesn’t need to hold it together anymore. With him, she lets go of control. Becomes undone. He triggers her most vulnerable self and she loves it.Long-term, their intimacy only grows. This isn’t one of those “fizzles after a year” type of bonds. Their chemistry keeps evolving.
One Word Summary: Tower
Their chemistry catches them off-guard every time. One minute they’re arguing, the next they’re tearing each other’s clothes off. Sex might be a way they resolve conflict sometimes. They fight, flirt, and fuck in the most emotionally raw ways. The Tower also implies they shake each other up. Sex isn’t just sex, it’s a trigger for healing, release, transformation. They may cry after, fall asleep in each other’s arms, or even have spiritual experiences (e.g., intense eye contact orgasms that feel like ego death).
Jungkook pushing her against a mirror, whispering, “Look at how much you need me.”
Her dragging her nails down his back while he groans into her neck.
Intense, silent sex — just breathing, eye contact, and raw energy.
Him holding her trembling body after, gently kissing her forehead, whispering “You’re safe.”
Shower scenes. Soapy, steamy, slow. Water pouring down their bodies as he kisses her shoulder.
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🖤 closing words from Lumi:
We ride or die, even through the mess. 💅 — Lumi, the Moon’s Bride 🌕💋
satoru loves that your ears perk up when he’s near and the way your soft tail wraps around his leg when he comes home, marking him with his scent.
your sweet soft nose twitches as you smell him; he still smells the same, just the way you like it.
he squats down, scratching behind your ears and rubbing the top of your head, taking off his glasses so you can take a full look at him.
“hey there, kitty, you been good?”
watching the way your ears twitch and your eyes flutter when he hits your sweet spot, nodding while staring at him with your big glassy eyes, but he moves his hand away, standing back up still staring at you.
“don’t want you cumming from head scratches alone… you know how you get.”
walking into the bedroom knowing you’ll follow, the sound of his shoes clicking against the wood floor makes your heart pound with anticipation; you're already so warm and wet for him.
“satoru…”
your voice is soft and high as you follow after him, the cold breeze from the AC hitting your wet, throbbing core, wanting your owner to take care of you, but he’s taking his time.
loosening his watch and putting it in his case, taking off his ring, he knows you’re watching and waiting; that’s why he's going so slow. he wants you to sit in your mess until he wants to play with you.
that’s what you’re for after all.
his little toy, but you like it that way. when he’s nice and generous, he loves you; he brushes your tail, gives you baths, and feeds you, but when he's mean… he’s really mean.
one night you couldn’t even sleep after he slid a dildo in and out of your wet pussy for hours.
arched over his lap while he kept going, holding the base of your tail and tugging it whenever you tried to move even an inch away from him.
“stop moving, you’re still so wet. look how you’re clinging to it. why are you trying to run away?”
copying your high-pitched whines as he keeps pushing it deep inside of you, your walls stretched around the eight-inch silicone, you didn't even know how he managed to make it fit.
so when you’re sitting on your knees waiting for him to give you attention and take care of the mess you’ve been sitting on for hours, you’re hoping he’s nice this time and babies you instead.
but from that little glimmer in his eye when he keeps glancing at you… you know that’s not going to happen.
after stalling for a while, he sits down on the edge of the bed and pats his thigh, and you quickly crawl over, and he helps you into his lap, softly laying you over his lap.
his big slender hand rubs over your soft plump ass, giving it a squeeze, humming as he gives it another squeeze.
“how many times did you rub your sloppy pussy on my pillow?”
your ears perk up and you start squirming, and he gives your ass a sharp smack, making you yelp.
“ah! i… i didnt, i promise.”
he knows you did, because he knows you can’t help yourself and your pussy has a mind of its own.
whatever you can get your dirty little paws on that has his scent on it, he knows you’re there, humping it and whimpering.
“you did, don’t lie; it’ll be much worse for you.”
sliding his hand in between your thighs, his fingers already coated heavily with your sweet slick, bringing his fingers to your mouth.
“so what’s this? or are you just this wet for your owner?”
bringing his other hand down to your ass, making you whimper, tooting your ass up because you want him to take care of you. sticking out your tongue and licking out his wet fingers by your mouth.
“please, satoruuu.”
whimpering while your pupils dilate to the max, sucking so hard on his fingers your nip him from your canines and he snatches his fingers out sighing in irritation, picking you up off his lap and plopping you on the edge of the bed.
“not tonight, kitty, you’re too out of your mind.”
he cups both your cheeks and kisses your forehead, your body still trembling from the buzz your body is on.
“come on, let's get you in the tub.”
satoru holds out his hand, and you whimper sadly, taking it, not making a fuss because he’s being nice and that’s all you want.
Definition: Sexsomnia is a documented parasomnia where people engage in sexual behaviors while in deep non-REM sleep.
You were half-asleep on your stomach, one of Toji’s heavy arms slung over your waist. He’d passed out after a long job and you’d barely managed to peel off your panties before he dragged you into bed with him.
You thought you were dreaming when you felt his thick hard cock slide against the curve of your ass. “Toji…?” you whispered.
Nothing.
A big, calloused hand slid down your body, seamlessly squishing different parts of your body until he found your tits.
He just made a sleepy, satisfied sound and rocked forward again, the fat head of his cock nudging between your folds, spreading your slick without asking. You tried to stay quiet, but a soft whimper slipped out when he finally pushed in.
You bit the pillow. He was so fucking big especially at this angle, keeping your thighs pressed tight together.
He started fucking you like that relentless strokes while he stayed dead asleep. His hand stayed possessively on your hip, holding you right where he wanted you so he could grind in harder. “F-fuck… Toji—”
He didn’t answer. Just buried his face deeper into your hair and growled in his sleep, hips picking up speed.
This motherfucker is actually asleep and still rearranging my guts.
The realization made you clench violently around him. The wet sounds of his cum-covered cock sliding in and out of your soaked pussy were getting louder.
His cock throbbed inside you, veins dragging against your walls with every drag. You were clenching around him, dripping down his balls, and he still didn’t wake up. You reached back blindly, fingers threading into his messy hair. “Toji… oh god—”
You came first pussy fluttering and gushing around the thick cock that refused to stop moving. The extra slick just made it easier for him. He fucked you harder with few brutal thrusts before he shoved himself as deep as he could go and came with a long groan. Thick ropes of cum filled you as he continued to pump weakly into you.
And still… the bastard didn’t wake up.
He stayed buried deep even after, cock twitching as the last of it leaked out. His arm stayed locked around you as he began to snore lightly.
The next morning light filtered in, waking you slowly, as you stirred. You were sore and sticky between your thighs.
Toji stirred behind you, stretching with a grunt before his hand lazily patted your ass. “Mornin’,” he rumbled, voice rough with sleep. “You look like you got fucked stupid last night.”
You stared at him, there’s no way this man had sexsomnia.
Toji’s sleepy smirk widened as he propped himself up on one elbow, green eyes dragging down your body. He blinked once, then shrugged, reaching down to massage your hip. “What? You look good.”
You pushed up on your forearms, wincing at the deep ache between your legs. “Toji… you fucked me last night. And you were like dead asleep the entire time.”
He laughed to himself, “Must’ve been a good dream,” he said, “Don’t remember shit. You should’ve slapped me or something if it was that bad.” He leaned in, kissing up your neck to your ear, “Wanna jog my memory?”
𓏲ּּAbout𝄢 A pocket pussy synched to you falls into his hands. What's the worst that could happen?
𓏲ּּFeaturing𝄢 Rafayel ホムラ
𓏲ּ CW𝄢 NSFW | MDNI | porn no plot, onahole, usage of actual sex toys, a little of Professor!Rafayel bc hell yeah, F!squirting, technically double penetration, cervix fucking, clit stimulation, some exhibitionism, overstimulation, tears, creampie.
🪽Dove's notes: im back on my bullshittt !! Three down, two more to go!
Rafayel is a born tease. Not the light-hearted, goofy type, no, what gets him off is watching people— Specifically you— squirm because of his words and actions. He knows every tell and nervous tic you have and soaks it in when he is all up and personal in your business. There is truly no greater joy to him than knowing he's stuck in your mind 24/7, making you pout and frown all cute. Gods, he could just gobble you up whole.
And, well, when he's given an all access pass to play with your body anytime and anywhere he wants? He may just start believing he's blessed again.
"Then sit in today's lecture, we can grab dinner together after I'm done." The suggestion had slid in smoothly during the morning discussion about plans for later. Rafayel have been awfully well behaved for the last week despite the new found power he received, which had the exact opposite effect of soothing your nerves and instead has kept you on edge all day, every day. You knew he was planning something— Long used to his mischievous self by now— and the radio silence only meant one thing when it came to him: Absolute and guaranteed chaos.
The lecture hall was full as always. All eyes on the pretty professor in front of the class, explaining something you weren't actually listening to because the feeling of something pressing against your clit since the beginning of class has kept your mind busy. It, whatever it was, wasn't doing anything— Not vibrating or sucking. Not even pushing into your entrance. It was just... there, which drove you insane with both curiosity and frustration.
Rafayel noticed you growing progressively more antsy, gaze flickering when you crossed and uncrossed your legs multiple times like you couldn't quite find a comfortable position.
"I'll be reviewing your projects next so pay attention." He spoke clearly to his students, calmly walking over to his bag to look for the papers he'd need, and in addition also use the chance to push the bullet vibe inside your cunt, catching in the corner of his eye the way your entire body jumped in your the seat and feigning ignorance when he returned with the paperwork in one hand, the other tucked in the pocket of his pants. Throughout boring speeches his finger would play with the intensity, completely ignoring the burning glare coming from the back of the class and containing his smile at the sight of you pressing your knees together— If it was to somehow make it less intense or to chase your own orgasm Rafayel doesn't know, and to be honest, he doesn't really care either way.
Because now he has complete control and you can count on your pussy being abused and left puffy from the many games he intends on playing with you during the most inconvenient of times. Whenever he texts "Where u at" or "Whatchu up to" and you fail to respond within the next thirty minutes he will make sure you remember his existence by stuffing you with random objects of varying sizes (and shapes) throughout the hours, leaving you completely drenched and weak at the knees by the end of the day.
Needless to say, Rafayel has a preference of doing it when he can watch you, of course. His pleasure comes from how you squirm and struggle to maintain your composure while in public when his fingers join the dildo pushed all the way to the rim inside your dripping cunt, biting his lip to keep himself from laughing the sight of of waddling next to your friend, barely capable of keeping your legs from trembling when his thumb circles your swollen clit, feeling the way your walls tighten around his digits, about to come, only for him to pull everything out at once and leaving you hanging.
Not to worry, he has a treat reserved strictly for you later.
"Well, if that's the problem..." He drawls out when you come complaining about his earlier antic, tracing your folds with the tips of his fingers before spreading the silicone mold, pushing one of his bullet vibe inside unceremoniously, not sparing you a glance as he grabs the largest dildo he had at his disposal (shopping has always been a passion of his) and shoving it alongside all the way to the hilt. One of his legs crosses over the other as his eyes flicker to your shaking form over his reading glasses, tutting his tongue at your reduced form in front of him.
"N-Not all at once—" You struggled to say it as your knees buckled and a strained whine escaped your throat, squirting all over his carpet as the stubborn dildo was pushed deeper inside of your gummy walls, hands clutching the fabric under you as you panted like a bitch in front of him.
"I don't give you what you want, you complain. I give you what you want, you complain." He leaned his head against his hand, keeping his expression stern and bored, the same one he uses with the bad students in his grade. "You're making this so hard for me. I have feelings too, you know?" He went on, sighing dramatically while standing up from his chair, stopping right in front of him, hovering above your poor self with a hand on his hip. The other reached down, pulling your chin up to look at him then slowly he let his palm slide down, wrapping around your neck gently and pulling you up and closer so his lips brushed against yours, "You certainly seem satisfied in my eyes. Should I just leave you like this for the rest of the night?" he threatened, words laced with a cruel mock consideration.
"Raf', please...You haven't touched me in over— Ah, a whole week, c'mon.." You finally found your voice again through your fifth orgasm just today. The glint in his eyes after you said is all the answer you needed and perhaps it was both hell and heaven wrapped in a single man.
The wet and obscene sounds of his thighs slapping against yours filled the dimly lit office, one of his hands clutched tightly into your hair as he kept your chest pressed against the desk while the other held up one of your legs. "If you're this loose maybe I did take it a little too far." He murmured cynical, watching the tears roll down your face and mouth hang open dumbly as the nth climax wrecked through your trembling body. The dildo was pushed right into your cervix still, not to mention the constant buzzing of that dammed vibe as his cock took the opportunity to reach even deeper than usual— You were being spread out so good it made your vision blur, thighs dripping with slick as he dragged himself out slowly just to make you feel each burning inch of him before he buried himself all the way into and through your actual cervix, pumping you full of his seed.
You won't dare to leave him out to dry so soon once he's done with you, of that he is sure.
you stare at the paper slotted through your bedroom’s door for a solid ten seconds before getting up, and picking it up.
you unfold it.
there in unmistakable penmanship is a small illustration of your husband with a sad frown and scribbled next to it: “this couch is ruining my spine, if i die it’s on you”
taking in a deep breath, your patience at its limits, you tear the paper into neat parts and open your door.
satoru who’d been anticipating your response, perks up over the couch only to watch his missives flutter down to the floor, crushed just like his hope for reconciliation.
“…wow” he mutters, “cold”
it’s not as if he didn’t deserve it.
he had been on your case, hovering over you, questioning everything, poking you.
you were overstimulated.
so what better solution than to kick your beloved out and finally enjoy some peace?
the mansion had so many other rooms! he could sleep anywhere!
but ofcourse, personal space was a foreign concept in the gojo household and so he remained outside your door.
writing you stupid chits…
i also miss you. but it’s mostly my spine
i think this is illegal. pretty sure the geneva convention says you can’t exile your husband
i just checked. it doesn’t. but it SHOULD
p.s: can you reply, i don’t know what to do with myself
we haven’t spoken in a while, so i thought why not update you in case you’re worried? current activity: sitting outside my wife’s door. thinking about my poor life choices. missing her terribly
i’m starting to forget what you look like. tragic. we should get a painting made of us. regency style. hang it up in the living room so i can jerk off to the portrait of my wife.
you sketch out a small middle finger, passing it back through the door in response.
too..far? i meant it tho. as long as you’re okay with it. also atleast that got you to reply to me. feels like we haven’t spoken in ages. i’m gonna be shy when we see eachother next.
p.s: hopefully soon
p.p.s: we will see eachother other right?
on a serious note, i’m sorry. i shouldn’t have done that. i was being annoying on purpose.
rsvp: gojo satoru in your bed, tonight, mayhaps?
you chuckle to yourself, clicking open the door and being engulfed in all six foot something embrace of gojo satoru himself.
firefly; IM SO SORRY FOR NEGLECTING MY BEAUTIFUL BLUE EYED GLORIOUS KING, i haven’t written for satoru in ages, this was so fun ❀ུ͏
more toru (and yes i know him personally like that)
Every guy you date disappears without explanation, but your three best friend… Shoko, Gojo and Geto… never leave your side, and they never will.
Yandere Shoko Gojo Geto x reader
Tw: Yandere, mentions of violence and death, obsessive and possessive behaviour
You’re sitting in Geto’s apartment, mascara running down your face because Haruki… your boyfriend… blocked you on everything. Every social media account, your number, even LinkedIn for fuck’s sake. No explanation, nothing.
And this is the fourth time this has happened to you in two years.
“I don’t fucking get it,” you’re saying, wiping your nose with the tissue Shoko handed you. “Things were going so well. We were literally talking about meeting his parents and…”
Shoko’s behind you on the couch, and you’re between her legs, leaning back against her stomach in a way that would probably look weird to outsiders but feels completely natural to you. You’ve been friends since college. Her fingers are in your hair, scratching your scalp the way she knows makes you relax.
“Some guys are just cowards,” she says. “They’d rather disappear than have an actual conversation like adults.”
“He didnt deserve you anyway.” Gojo adds. He’s on the floor between your legs, arms rested on your knees, looking up at you. “Remember when he couldn’t even kill that spider in your apartment? He made you do it. What kind of man does that?”
You would laugh if you weren’t so miserable.
“He was weak,” Geto says from his position next to Shoko, close enough that his knee touches your hip…. which is another thing that would probably seem weird to people who don’t know you. But you’ve all been friends for six years. His hand comes up to wipe a tear from your cheek, thumb brushing across your skin with a gentleness that seems at odds with how imposing he looks “You need someone stronger than that.”
“I just need someone who doesn’t disappear on me,” you mutter. “This is the fourth guy, you guys. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you.” Gojo says it too quickly, with too much intensity. He shifts closer, and now both his hands are on your legs, palms warm through your jeans. “You’re fucking perfect. They’re the problem.”
Shoko’s hands slide from your hair down to your shoulders, massaging. “Maybe you should take a break from dating,” she suggests. Her voice is right by your ear. “Just focus on yourself….. On us.”
“You’ve got us,” Geto adds. His fingers move from your cheek to your neck, just resting there. His hand is big enough that his thumb sits on one side of your throat and his fingers on the other, not squeezing, just… there. “We’re not going anywhere.”
“I know, but I can’t date you guys….” you say, and you mean it as a joke. Obviously. Because they’re your best friends and that would be weird. Right?
“Why not?” Shoko says it like she’s joking too, but something about her tone is off.
“Because you’re my friends, weirdo.” You lean your head back against her stomach, looking up at her upside down face. She’s so pretty it’s honestly unfair. Even from this angle. “You don’t date your friends. That’s like… rule number one of having friends.”
“Right,” Geto says… there’s something in his voice that you can’t quite read. “Friends.”
You don’t catch the way they all look at each other over your head. Don’t see Gojo’s grin or how Shoko’s fingers tighten in your hair or the way Geto’s jaw clenches like he’s physically restraining himself from saying something.
You’re too busy crying over a guy who isn’t worth your tears. Too busy feeling sorry for yourself to notice the way all three of them are touching you… hands on your legs, in your hair, on your neck….. in a way that’s definitely crossed some invisible line.
Later, after they’ve calmed you down with food and too much wine and made you laugh despite everything…. Gojo doing his impression of Haruki’s spider scream, Shoko telling you about the absolute disaster of a date she went on last week (a lie, but you don’t know that), Geto putting on a stupid comedy special you love……. Gojo insists on walking you home.
His arm stays around your waist the entire way, even though you’re perfectly capable of walking on your own. Even when you’re in the elevator of your building and there’s literally nowhere for you to fall.
“You gonna be okay?” he asks when you reach your door. You’re fumbling with your keys because you’re still a bit drunk and your hands won’t cooperate.
“Yeah. Thanks for….”
He hugs you before you can finish. It’s tight…. tight enough that you make a small “oof” sound… his face buried in your neck, and it goes on just a bit too long. “Sleep well, yeah?”
“Yeah,” you say into his shoulder. “You too.”
You don’t see the way he watches your door after you close it. Don’t see how he stands there in the hallway until he hears the lock click and the deadbolt slide into place. Don’t see the way his expression shifts into something that would probably scare you if you could see it.
☽☽☽.
“She cried for thirty fucking minutes,” Shoko says. She’s lighting a cigarette in Geto’s living room. “Over that limp dick loser.”
“He cried longer,” Gojo says cheerfully. He’s lying on the couch, looking entirely too pleased with himself, legs spread out and head tipped back against the cushions. “Pissed himself too when Suguru started with the knife.”
“He kept saying he loved her,” Geto says. He’s washing his hands in the kitchen sink. There’s still some blood under his fingernails. The water runs pink, then clear. “Had to gag him. The warehouse walls are thick but not that thick.”
“Where’d you dump him?” Shoko asks, taking a long drag. She’s examining her nails… she’d stayed behind for this one, played alibi, but she looks a little disappointed that she missed it.
“Same place as the others. The lake.” Geto dries his hands on a towel, inspecting them in the light. “Weighted him down properly this time. He’s fish food now. They’ll find him in spring maybe. If there’s anything left to find.”
They sit in silence for a moment. Comfortable silence that comes from knowing someone so well that you don’t need to fill the empty spaces.
“I love her so much it makes me want to break shit sometimes,” Gojo says suddenly and his voice has lost its cheerful tone. “Like, I see her smile at some random asshole and I genuinely want to cave his skull in.”
Shoko takes another drag, blowing smoke toward the ceiling. “How long do you think until she figures it out?”
“Does it matter?” Gojo shrugs… and the grin is back. “Where’s she gonna go? Who’s she gonna tell? No bodies, no evidence. And even if she did know….”
“We’re not letting her go,” Geto finishes. “Ever.”
The cigarette smoke curls in the air between them, and somewhere across the city, you’re falling asleep in your bed, completely unaware that the three people you trust most in the world have killed for you four times now.
Your two boyfriends decided to beat the world record for the longest plank, but also forgot to clean the house. As you asked them to. Three times already. That's why you opt to give them a little punishment.
content/warnings: MDNI 18+, smut smut smut, barely any plot, masturbation, temptation, plank challenge, sly reader, use of sex toys, kissing, squirting, punishment, cunnilingus, they are starvedddd, and also pathetic (of course), dirty talk, they talk you through it
WC: 3.5k
a/n: late for the trend party, but oh well...
art by @/aransmind
When you came back home after a tiring day at work, a little flame had lit behind your barren eyes.
The first thing you noticed after crossing the hallway was a living room. Quiet, with only your two cats purring serenely on the sofa and all the blankets left as messy as they were in the morning.
The setting sun was bathing the room in warm hues, bouncing off all the dirty cups and glasses still sitting on the low table, although you asked Satoru and Suguru to clean them up.
Long beams of sun clearly showed the dust on the bookshelves before slowly slipping towards the kitchen, where the sink was still stuffed with dishes. The whole place was pure clutter, with plates and cups and a dirty pan from the morning's breakfast lying on the counters.
Something boiled inside your chest, and the tiredness made your head spin. In a fury, irritation, and disappointment, because where the fuck were your two boyfriends if not here, brushing the kitchen squeaky clean?
It's been four days since they've been doing god knows what and where, sneaking out of the house early in the morning and coming back late afternoon, with sweat coating their foreheads and dripping down their spines.
You asked them what it was for, but the only answer they offered was a short – you'll see baby, soon we're going to be famous.
Famous my ass, for your home was starting to look more like a brothel rather than your usual cozy apartment. Your job has been awfully busy recently, and from time to time, you also need to work on Saturdays.
Like this one, for instance, while your boyfriends had a whole day to take care of the house and still refused to do it.
That's why now, with a fury twisting your forehead and hands clenched in fists, you stormed through the apartment, going straight for your shared bedroom.
Quiet moans and pantings slipped between the door's frame, and you quickly opened it with a loud thud.
And then, expecting to see your boyfriends just fuck each other, you noticed them somewhere below.
On the floor, supporting their bodies solely on the forearms, bulging with blueish veins. With straight, naked spines and gym shorts brushing their trembling knees. With lots and lots of droplets of sweat blanketing their skin, and throats choking out low, short breaths.
"What the fuck are you two doing?" was the first thing that filled the room, and both of them slowly looked back.
"Oh, hi baby, how was your day–ahh," Satoru mumbled, with interrputing snippets of moans.
Your eyes moved to the open laptop in front of them, showing a timer displaying... one hour?
And then you noticed their phones, connected to the chargers, with a camera turned on and directed right at them, and a clock.
"How was my day? Awful, tiring, stressful, and I thought about nothing but going back to my clean house and two loving boyfriends," you said on one breath, seeing their faces freeze in horror.
Satoru growled, and Suguru followed him with a heavy sigh.
"Baby, we're so sorry, fuck, yeah it, ugh, somehow slipped our minds–" Satoru started, but you quickly cut in.
"Slipped your minds? I've reminded you three times already!"
"Darling, we're really sorry," Suguru added, lifting up his hips a bit higher. "It's just, we've been training so long for this, and–"
"For what exactly?" rolled irritated, with arms crossing on your chest.
You moved in front of them, sitting down on the bed. From this perspective, they looked much more tired. Exhausted, truly, but the sight of their broad backs bulging with muscles and sweat dripping down their chins was... oh well, it was rather pleasant.
They glanced up at your fuming face, trying not to look at the way your crossed arms plumped up your breasts.
"For beating the world's Guinness record in the longest plank," Suguru mumbled.
The what?
"I'm sorry? How the hell have you even got this idea?"
Satoru noticed a few strands of hair slipping from your pin-up, and Suguru started to move his attention towards the fire lighting up your curved eyes.
Oh, something else on his body also started to get fired up!
"Baby, you're not chronically online, and it shows," Satoru mumbled, and you did everything in your power to not slap him across his cheeky face. "We're just trying to assert our dominance in the plank challenge community."
"Assert your dominance?"
They nodded.
"To prove to some random people on the internet that you can do some stupid plank?"
They nodded again.
"Meaning, you need to stay in this position for the next–"
"Eight and a half hours," Suguru choked out, and your knees almost gave away.
Oh, they must've been joking.
You looked down at their sweating bodies with shoulders shaking from fatigue. Two pairs of eyes, one ocean blue and the other deep purple, wandered around your body, stopping on every curve of your skin.
You weren't wearing anything nice, truly, just normal, daily clothes.
The problem was that the three of you hadn't had sex for the past four days. Yes, rather... weird. But you were truly flooded with work, and they trained like two fools, so at the end of the day, all of you were too tired to even lift a finger.
But now, the tension slowly rising inside the room was getting unbearable. With their feverish bodies shuddering under your gaze, and low whimpers making you a little warm.
A little wet, with crossed legs making your cunt squish in pleasure as the material of your panties brushed against your clit.
The room was getting foggy, almost stuffy, with a smell of salty sweat lingering in the air and their hot breaths warming it up.
You've noticed their glances – lost and longing. Deprived of any attention whatsoever, and focusing only on the way the jeans dipped into the curve of your hips.
"That's a pity," you said, before rolling a dramatic sigh. "I thought we could finally have some fun today."
Their breaths shuddered.
"F-Fun?" Satoru muttered. "Like–"
You stood up, walking to your night table.
To the drawer that has been closed and dusted since you started dating those two fools. But now that a little teasing punishment slipped into your mind, you turned the key and opened it again.
The jewel.
Your favourite sex toy, you've been using every single night for all those years.
"Like me taking your cocks at the same time. You fucking me in Paris–"
"In France?" Satoru asked speechlessly, and Suguru tsked.
"No, dumbass, she meant the Eiffel Tower position," he muttered, irritated, and you giggled under your breath.
Your back was turned their way and the only thing they could see was you, bending over the drawer and taking something out.
Something long and heavy, hidden warmly in a plush bag. But then you turned their way and came closer, holding in hands a little, dirty secret you've been keeping from your two boyfriends for the past three years.
A long dildo, covered in soft pink silicone. With a little vibrator that could be either attached or used separately, having the sweetest, most toe-curling function of clit sucking.
And both of them growled, with hips almost hitting the floor.
Something behind Satoru's eyes boiled, and his pupils looked almost heart-shaped. "Baby, what the hell is this?"
You giggled, taking off your top in one quick move. The bra followed right away, finally letting your breasts spill from its relentless cups.
With nipples already hard and warm, as if waiting to be caressed.
A second later, you took off your trousers and panties, dropping the wet, dirty material right in front of their faces.
Not close enough to let them grab it and shove straight into their noses.
And thus you stood above, naked like a goddess, with plush thighs already wet in dripping juices and eyes dropping down onto their flushed faces.
"Unfortunately, it seems that my boyfriends are completely useless for the next," you glanced at the timer. "Eight hours, so I need to pleasure myself with something else."
A few soft pillows landed in front of them, before you plopped your supple ass down.
"Darling, just give us a few more hours and–" Suguru started, but then his throat suddenly clenched.
Because you spread your thighs open, giving them a delicious look of a creamy cum dripping down your fluttering hole and a little clit peeking from between soaked folds.
You raised two fingers to your plump lips and wetted them with a spit, before plunging them down, down, down. Straight between your legs, to give your two boyfriends an even better view of your cunt.
Your back leaned against the bed's frame, allowing your second hand to squeeze your plush tits, with fat spilling softly between your fingers.
"I can't Sugu," your lips pouted, doe eyes glancing at two possessed men. "Been waiting so long, look how wet I am."
Your finger circled the trembling clit, sending a wave of pleasure down your spine.
"I-I see darling, I see," he mumbled, looking almost like a starved dog.
In fact, both of them resembled beasts – with eyes glued to your sweet pussy and spit circling in the corners of their mouths.
You've noticed a bulge in their shorts, hiding behind a black material painfully hard cocks.
Your lips lifted in a smirk before you tested your clit again. Circling, pinching, rolling it with fingers, and letting sweet moans fill the stuffy room. One finger slipped inside your tight hole, but it was rather too short and too thin, compared to the thick digits of your boyfriends.
But you didn't show any dissatisfaction – instead, let out a honeyed cry.
"Mhmm, if only there was someone worth eating me out," slipped seductively, with a sweet, whiny voice.
Both of your boyfriends nodded in unison – frenzily, madly, with a quiet b-baby let me, and, fuck, darling, c-come a bit closer, rolling from their mouths on a single breath.
Your head tilted. "I don't think you deserve to taste her, hm?"
They whimpered (oh!) and shook heads.
Because they knew, fuck, they knew that if only they did what you asked them for, none of this would happen.
If only they didn't put into their heads some weird challenge and instead focused on their beautiful girl, right now Satoru could sink his cock into your tight cunt, and Suguru could suck on your plush tits.
To be the ones flickering your clit and have you moaning on their fingers, but instead, they could only take pleasure from watching a soft little frown crease your forehead.
Torturing them like that, however, wasn't enough and a sudden, horrific idea slipped into your mind.
"Do you want to have a little taste?" rolled in melody, and their heads almost snapped from the frantic nodding. "But just a single lick, hm? I can't leave my boys starved, after all."
A desperate yes, yes, yes baby please, and, just a lick, I promise, fuck darling just let me smell it, filled your ears.
So you moved a bit closer, till your cunt was right under their fallen lips and already lulling out tongues. Forearms started to shake from the fever coiling in their bodies, and cocks burned in need to get into the clutches of your warm cunt.
"Easy, remember, just a–"
But, well, foolish you must've been to think that your two starved beasts wouldn't use this chance to dive deep into your spread cunt.
With both Satoru and Suguru lowering their faces the second your hips moved close enough, to have your drenched hole right at their fingertips.
With two tongues sliding between your silky folds, lips sucking on a clit, and groans vibrating right into your womb.
"Fuck, baby, fuck fuck fuck, you taste heavenly," Satoru cried, with your sugary juices already dripping down his chin.
Suguru was no better, with a tongue trying to thrust inside your hole, till your feet curled in pleasure. "My sweet girl, oh fuck, tasting so good, clenching on me like a slut."
Their tongues brushed against each other, licking you clean in a harmony, working your hole open and slurping on a little, trembling clit like their life depended on it.
At some point, oh dear lord, they started kissing – messily, yearningly, with your gluey juices stuck to their lips, mixing with a spit. Your pussy was left alone for a single second before they went back to her again, smacking lips against each other while slurping on your drenched cunt.
You almost brushed their cheeks, beaming with droplets of sweat and single strands of hair twisting on pulsing temples.
Oh, they looked absolutely defeated. Miserable, with wet foreheads furrowed in a maddened crease and forearms almost giving out under the sweetness of your cunt.
They looked as if they enjoyed it too much, so...
"No, no, no, baby, w-where are you going?" Satoru whined, with a single, pearly string stretching between your folds and his chin.
Suguru, on the other hand, was ready to cry, with wobbly lips and a teary gaze following your glistening cunt, slowly drawing away.
You giggled, catching their delirious eyes, almost begging you to come back.
"Darling, forgive us, please, we're so fucking stupid," Suguru started.
Satoru rolled a sharp breath, feeling his cock leak through the shorts. "We're sorry, baby, we're so sorry, p-please come here."
Oh my!
You loved to see them in such a state. So miserable, beseeching, so, so different from their usual bold personalities.
And thus a sudden warmth hit your face, with a thrill boring through your spine.
One could think they were punished enough. Maybe it was time to let it go.
But watching them was just purely too exciting, and your cunt squeezed in need, every time their warm, shuddered breath hit your folds.
"How can I? Have you forgotten that it's supposed to be your punishment?" Your head tilted, before you finally grabbed the thing they had feared the most. "Besides, I don't think you can make me cum in such a state, but this–" a soft, pink dildo sat neatly between your fingers. "Can do the job."
Satoru furrowed. "Baby, do you really think it can make you cum? It's rather–"
"Small," Suguru finished. "Darling, your cunt needs a bigger stretch."
Well, they were right.
But it didn't matter, for your aim wasn't to cum, but to give them a taste of discipline.
Your finger flicked a button and the dildo, together with a vibrator, started buzzing in a low hum. You moved a little, pinkish head towards your clit, before–
"Oh fuck–nghh," a cry rolled from your fallen lips, feeling the vibrator sucking on your bud. With a little waves sent towards a bundle of nerves and pearly cum vibrating under its whirr.
Your legs spread wider, eyes already crossed, and when a long toy pushed through your flapping hole, you almost burst.
And the best of all – your boyfriends were right there.
Watching, with jealousy eating them alive and bodies quivering from a honeyed melody of your moans.
From your cunt swallowing the pinkish dildo the same way it always swallowed their dicks, and wetness pooling under your hips. The pillow was already drenched, and both Satoru and Suguru couldn't wait to lick it clean of your cum.
"Mhm, fuck, T-Toru, S-Sugu," you purred, pushing the toy even deeper. "Wish it were your cocks, nghh."
Their minds spiralled, gaze wavered between your puckered hole and hearty face twisting in pleasure. With glossy eyes, lips fallen open, and saliva trickling from the corner.
You looked fucked, and for some reason, they weren't the ones to push all your sweet buttons and cherish the plush, trembling body wriggling under theirs.
Instead, they could only pant and sob, with fat cocks strangled by already drenched briefs and cheeks still wet from your juices.
But instead of oogling you like two losers, they decided to give you a little push.
To come back willingly and move those fat hips back under their noses.
Maybe they wouldn't be able to sink their cocks into your wet cunt, but they could also not look at your plush body wriggling in pleasure and not talk your pretty mind through it, right?
After all, you were always such a slut for dirty talk.
"You look so fucking good, baby," Satoru started, glimpsing straight into your eyes. "My pretty girl, so so pretty. Thrust it a little deeper for us, hm?"
Your brows creased, but you followed his deep voice, moving the silicone toy inside your hole. "Mmm, so good."
"Heighten the intensity, darling. Feel it suck your sweet little clit," Suguru hummed, seeing you push a vibrator's button. It was buzzing louder, with its small gap pulling in your trembling clit. "That's right, our good girl–fuck–you're doing so well."
"Do you feel good?" Satoru added, a smile curving his sly lips. "Tell us, baby, talk to us. Is it good? Does it suck on your clit the way we do?"
Your head shook, tears already pricking in the corners of your eyes. "No–mhmm–you always eat me s-so good–ngh–the best."
None of you knew who was losing this battle – you, hearing their deep voices slowly talking you through it, or they, seeing how sloppily you tried to make yourself cum.
The silicone dildo pushed all your good spots, but it didn't kiss your cervix the way their cocks did. It didn't have a slightly curved head and bulging veins that scraped your walls in pleasing thrusts.
It wasn't warm and heavy, sitting inside your cunt snuggly and pumping you full of hot cum.
Fuck, it couldn't even breed you.
And they knew all of it too well, so that's why your creased forehead was giving them so, so much delight.
You would break at some point, they thought.
"Have you found it, baby? Is your silly little toy long enough to push your sweet spot?" Satoru cooed, clenching his fingers on a plush carpet. "Talk to us, baby, tell us how nice it's filling your tight cunt."
"It's too small, right?" Suguru rolled, watching a toy disappear inside your hole with quicker thrusts. "Wouldn't it feel better to be stuffed with our cocks? Our pretty girl loves to get pumped full of cum sooo much, I'm not sure whether she'll cum like that. Right, Toru?"
Another man nodded, with cheeky eyes oogling your shaking thighs. "You're right Sugu, who's going to fill your belly, baby? Aren't you just a little slut who likes to get bred, huh? Come on, move a bit closer, let us have a good look."
"N-No, it's–mhmm–your p-punishment," you cried, feeling a warmth already coiling somewhere inside your stomach.
But it wasn't enough.
Fuck, something was missing, and you knew precisely what.
"You can't cum, right?" Satoru guessed. "Your eyes betrayed you, baby. Move it a bit lower, yeah, that's right, good girl."
"Press it again, let it cover your clit fully," Suguru cooed, seeing your belly rising in and falling much, much quicker. You were almost there. "Imagine it's our lips, darling. Think about us sucking on your sweet clit. Shoving our cocks into your tight cunt, fuck," his eyes travelled deliriously between your messy hole and crossing eyes. "You look so delicious, pretty girl. Move a bit closer, come on. Let us make you cum."
But, oh, you were stubborn.
And they – they were stupid.
Because after another few dirty comments and their low voices tickling your spine, the knot finally untied.
Your cunt squeezed around the toy, clit quivered, and with a last few strokes, you finally cummed. With sweet squirt landing all over your boyfriends' faces, cushions, and carpet, drenching your thighs and their lips in a rich liquid.
You came with curled toes and thighs fallen open, giving them a scrumptious look of your pulsing hole and cum dripping down your velvety thighs.
And then, fuck, both of them just gave up, feeling all the accumulated strength leaving their bodies.
But before their chins hit the floor, they started crawling. With sore muscles and trembling arms, after almost two hours of staying in a plank, they already regretted so fucking much.
"Wait, what are you-" you didn't finish, as they were already here.
Right between your spread legs, with tongues licking your pussy and thighs and belly clean, slurping on the sweet cum and brushing their cocks against the carpet.
"I can't believe–fuck–I can't believe we missed it," Satoru cried, pushing his fingers inside your hole, and scooping away even more of the creamy liquids.
Suguru followed, licking Satoru's fingers clean, like a starved animal. "We're so stupid, darling, so so stupid, but never do it again."
They needed only a few, pathetic strokes to cum straight into their slacks. With heavy ropes of cum marring their cocks and choked moans going right into your sensitive cunt.
There was a moment of silence, with nothing but your heavy breaths filling the steamy room. It smelled of sex and sweat, with their backs still coated in salty droplets, and shoulders shaking in exhaustion.
"Well," you started, looking over at the clock. "It seemed that you still have eight hours left, so I expect you'll spend them on cleaning the house."
They nodded obediently, with a silent yes baby.
"But," Satoru murmured, seizing your dear, pinkish treasure. "This devil's spawn is leaving our household."
You giggled, grabbing the dildo from his hand. "It will if there won't be a single dust on the table."
"And we're also going to Paris," Suguru gave you a wink, before both of them left you with a sweet kiss.
˚₊‧꒰ა pussy eater.ᐟ satoru gojo ﾉ f reader ໒꒱ ‧₊˚ satoru just never stops moving his jaws, whether talking, eating or . . . eating. so, what's it like having a boyfriend with oral fixation? well. ꒰ ᡣ𐭩 ꒱ lots of oral ˖ face sitting ˖ toru doesn't stop talking ˖ dirty talk ˖ 0.7k
ᝰ.ᐟ✧ sweetheart host, oh my precious munch ⌇ requested
˖ ࣪✧ pussy eater gojo satoru .ᐟ really doesn't know what you expected. have you seen this man? of course he has an oral fixation. but it's not the 'I need to eat her out first and foremost' no, it's a genuine obsession with having his face and tongue buried in your pussy. fucking you on his mouth, eating you out like his last damn meal. he doesn't even care if he doesn't get his dick in. as long as he gets to drown himself in your taste for hours on end.
˖ ࣪✧ pussy eater gojo satoru .ᐟ does not stop talking just because his mouth's occupied. what, you thought he'd shut up between your legs? if anything he's worse. groaning and grunting and slurring so messily into your slick all: "fuuckk baby, prettiest fuckin' pussy", "taste shooo'good", "fuck yourself, please, fuck yourself on m'tongue", "sweetest girl, sweetest pussy, fuck, please." he gets soooo whiney while going down on you.
˖ ࣪✧ pussy eater gojo satoru .ᐟ who genuinely relaxes the second he's got a taste. he'll trudge back in after a long day of tutoring and flying halfway round the world only to drop to his knees in front of your snuggle spot on the sofa. lathes the most adoring kisses down your thighs as he parts them and flashes you pleading blues beneath thick white lashes. "please baby, just need my girl." and the second he's pulling your panties to the side and pressing his tongue against your slit? oh his shoulders visibly slump and he limps into your heat all sloppy.
˖ ࣪✧ pussy eater gojo satoru .ᐟ who asked if you were up for free use for no other act other than oral. you'll be comfortably scrolling through your phone when all of a sudden your dress is pushed up and something fluffy nestles between your legs. he says nothing, doesn't attempt you gain your attention. just gets right to kissing down your panties and taking in your scent, before he's slipping them down and starting his kitten licks. other times you're finishing up paperwork at jujutsu tech and he's slipping beneath the desk to 'warm your clit'. and don't even get started on morning head. he's taken you through a whole orgasm without you waking up once.
˖ ࣪✧ pussy eater gojo satoru .ᐟ has an addiction to you sitting on his face. no he doesn't care if you crush him. in his words — "then the headlines would go: strongest sorcerer suffocated by the sweetest cunt' that's a win-win." oh he gets feral when you're sat. wrenching your thighs open, riding you on his nose, tongue fucking you until you're clenching and squirting all over his face. large hands squeeze on the fat of your ass and grind you down further, until he's smothered in your juices and slick.
˖ ࣪✧ pussy eater gojo satoru .ᐟ has his eyes rolling into the back of his head when you grip on his hair and grind up into his face. fuck does he love when you use his mouth. he becomes a slave to your pleasure.
˖ ࣪✧ pussy eater gojo satoru .ᐟ who hates whenever you try to delay your orgasm. it's his only moment of clarity. icy blues shot up to glare you down as he yanks his tongue from your hole, lays sloppy, messy kisses up your slit and then swirls on your clit with a rough. "don't you fuckin' dare. cum on my face." before he's wrapping his lips tight around the throbbing nub and sucking down hard. you'll be made to cum three more times for that.
˖ ࣪✧ pussy eater gojo satoru .ᐟ who humps on the bed or whatever he can when he's between your legs. even if he doesn't, your pleasure is enough to make him cream his pants. and he's not ashamed either. your hands buried in his hair and your pussy rubbing on his face as you're sent crashing through and orgasm, and he's whining into your heat all sloppily and fluttering his eyes as he's sent off the edge too.
˖ ࣪✧ pussy eater gojo satoru .ᐟ who threw your rose toy out the window when he found it because why the hell would you need that thing when he gives you the best head of your life?
Synopsis. “So, are they like holograms? Or can you really touch them?”
“Why? Trynna cop a feel, sweetheart?”
In which you and your boyfriend find very unconventional uses for his powers.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! reader, established relationship, foursome (but they’re all Satoru + you LMFAO), NSFW, unprotected sex, double penetration, spit-roasting, face-sitting, doggy, missionary, anal, pet names (sweetheart, pretty, babe), oral sex (male + female receiving), overstimulation (female), swearing, slight breeding kink, cum (like lots).
Word count. 3.0k
A/N. A lil' sum while I get on with a 10k arranged marriage fic. H O R N Y >>> actual JJK technicalities.
Jokes, but idc what that technique was, I took that one chapter and ran with it. Art by @_3aem on X.
Cross-posted on AO3
“They just nerfed Naruto in Boruto cuz they knew he’d be too DILF-y.”
“Amen.”
Sprawled out on Satoru’s couch, both of you were fixated on the Naruto episode playing on-screen. It wasn’t anything new for a Friday night. His soft hairs tickling your chin, and legs dangling off the other end of the couch as he lay atop, cuddling you like a 6’3 housecat.
Times like this, it’s easy to forget that your boyfriend constantly bears the burden of being “the strongest”. That is- until Satoru, eyes still locked onto the screen, speaks up “I can do that too, y’know.”
You turn to look at Satoru, “Do what?”
He nods his head towards the screen - now showing young Naruto mastering his iconic technique. “You could call it Shadow Clone Jutsu.” he hums.
Raising a brow, “So you could make tens of thousands of Satoru clones? The world may never know rest.”
Eyes brimming with smugness, he grins “Something like that.”
You cock your head, wanting to know more, “So, are they like holograms? Or can you really touch them?”
“Why? Trynna cop a feel, sweetheart?” he wiggles his brows in a way that would definitely be creepy if it was anyone but Satoru.
“You wish.”
Satoru huffs out a laugh, before going back to using your breasts as his personal cushions. “Not quite clones or holograms, they’re still me. But also not really, y’know?” he murmurs.
“Ahh. No.”
The conversation dwindles into a comfortable silence.
Or so you’d think. But the air was charged with something, and - knowing Satoru - you had an inkling it didn’t bode well for you down there.
As quickly as you suspected, he turns the TV off and turns to you with twinkling eyes.
“Toru...” you reproach.
He whines dramatically, “Come onnnn. Don’t they say the best way to learn is hands-on experience?”
“You just have ulterior motives, Toru.”
“Hell yeah, I do.” he mutters into the valley of your breasts. Satoru peeks at you through his thick lashes, eyes bright with mischief.
How could you say no to those eyes? And, well, you’d be lying if you said that the idea of multiple Satorus didn’t make your pussy clench in excitement.
That’s how you found yourself here.
Shirts thrown across the room and splayed out on Satoru’s overpriced silk bed sheets. You gasp in pleasure as he leaves hot, open-mouthed kisses on your neck.
Wrapping your legs around his waist, he rocks into you, pushing you deeper into the plush bed. Your pussy drips with anticipation as you feel the outline of his rock-hard cock straining against his sweatpants.
Hooking two fingers under your waistband, he swiftly pulls off your panties along with your shorts. “Already so wet and ready f’me…” he groans out. Quickly shuffling your bodies around, “C’mon sweetheart.”
Now, Satoru knows he has a pretty face - too well, in fact, he uses it to his advantage to get his way with you too much. And he thinks there’s nothing that makes his face prettier than you on it.
It’s why he has you bent over and straddling his head. The tighter you squeeze him, the better.
One arm holds you in place while the other spreads your folds. Satoru teases your entrance with a finger, gathering your wetness before popping it into his mouth. He groans sinfully as he tastes you. “Fuck- always so good for me.”
You slowly put your weight onto him, failing against the strong arm that pulls you to sit on him properly.
Satoru moans around your cunt as he finally dives nose-deep into it. Languidly, he licks long stripes against your folds, purposefully catching your clit in the process. “Hah- Fuck. Toru, more!”
Satisfied with your whines, he finally slides his tongue inside your dripping pussy, fucking you with his mouth till his cock twitches for friction.
You notice, and urgently shuffle his sweatpants down. Satoru’s cock stands achingly hard, precum dripping enticingly along the vein on the side of it. You lean down to kiss the shaft, delighting in his noises that send vibrations down to your clit.
As you take his blushing red head into your mouth, Satoru increases his abuse on your cunt.
You arch your back further into his face - moaning around his thick cock. He starts fucking into your mouth steadily, forcing you to take more and more of his length. Drool drips down the corners of your mouth, “Mmm Toru- Feels so good.”
If one Satoru makes you feel this good…what would two feel like?
As if reading your mind - you wouldn’t be surprised if he actually could - Satoru pulls away slightly, ropes of spit still connecting him to you.
“Ready, sweetheart?” he murmurs lowly, hot breath making your cunt quiver.
And before you can respond, the hairs on your body raise as the air stills with the crackle of jujutsu. You remove yourself from Satoru’s cock with a wet pop! Looking up to see…those cerulean eyes.
Another set.
“Toru…” you drone out, turning behind to glare at Satoru - who was now placing innocent kisses to your dripping pussy. His eyes peek out with visible amusement, “Jus’ say the word and I’ll stop.”
Satoru knew he had you cornered. He’d fully felt the way your walls clenched around his tongue once you saw the other version of him. This was going to be fun.
Harshly rolling his tongue against your clit, he lightly smacks your ass - signaling you to pay attention to the other Satoru in front of you now.
So you do.
It was quite surreal seeing an exact copy of your boyfriend grinning down devilishly at you. He cups the back of your head, bringing you closer to him. “Don’t be scared, pretty. It’s jus’ me.”
At first, you were unsure of what to do, the only thing you know being that - clone or not - this one was just as well-endowed as your boyfriend.
Experimentally, you press soft kisses to his hot tip, relishing in his drawn-out groan. You take him in deeper, tonguing the slit in the way you knew your boyfriend liked. “Yeah- Jus’ like that.”
He tightens his grip on your head. Pumping your Satoru with one hand, you use the other to steady yourself as your mouth gets used as the other’s own personal fucktoy.
Shit. This was heaven.
Eyes rolling to the back of your head, you pull away, “Hngh- Toru, feels so fucking good.” Mewling at the stimulation on your cunt as well as the depravity of the act, you grind your hips deeper into Satoru’s mouth - searching for your high.
Soon, you feel that familiar snap in your stomach. Satoru uses his fingers to spread your lips as you cum all over his tongue. He laps up your juices with lewd squelching sounds as his clone fucks your face deeper. Nose meeting his snowy white pubes and balls hitting your chin, you choke from both the position and Satoru’s relentless tongue.
“Yeah, cum all over my tongue, sweetheart.”
You ride out your high on Satoru’s pretty face, slick spreading all over his mouth and nose. With a final kiss to your cunt, he shifts your legs and moves to tower over from behind.
Removing yourself from the other’s cock, you look over your shoulder to see your boyfriend sensually pumping himself, readying to enter your eager pussy.
“Hey now, eyes on me, pretty.” A long finger moves your chin so that you face the Satoru in front of you. Seems that no matter what, every Satoru was a little possessive over you.
He rubs his dripping tip on your face, smearing his precum as a gloss before fucking into your mouth once more.
Almost at the same time, Satoru fully rams his cock inside your pussy without any warning, tip kissing your cervix.
“Shit. Always taking me in so good, sweetheart.” he huffs out as your walls flutter around his length.
You groan loudly around the cock in your mouth, partly from the pain of being unprepared and partly from the pleasure of getting what you wanted the most - both ends filled by your loving boyfriend.
Your eyes were dazed as you stare doe-eyed up at the Satoru that was plunging into your mouth mercilessly - the other fucking your hole at a similar pace. Strangled yelps leave your mouth as his balls sinfully slap against your clit.
The room fills with loud, wet noises, and the slapping of skin. Both Satorus hunch over you in pleasure, muscles rippling. Your cunt quivers in an almost-animalistic way at the small grunts falling from their pretty lips.
You whine as he finds that one spot inside you which makes you see stars every time his hips meet yours. One hand - you were too far gone to recognize whose - reaches under you to draw harsh circles on your clit.
Tears spring to your eyes at the sheer overstimulation, and you rock your hips to meet his powerful cadence. One of your hands reaches for the other’s hip for stability, nose meeting his pelvis nails dragging along the soft skin. He grips your hair tighter, lips bitten and swollen at the stimulation.
From the way your pussy was clenching, you knew it wouldn’t be long before you were cumming again.
Now, throughout his life, Satoru has been called crazy many times. Crazy powerful, crazy handsome (in front of the mirror), and just downright mad. But it’s right about now - watching as you choke and cry around his own dick as he plows into you from behind - that he truly thinks he just might actually be a little crazy.
Slowing to shallow rocks, he focuses on his technique.
Satoru basks in amusement when your whines of disappointment at his slowing pace die down as you register the tugging and sucking on your nipples from below.
You gasp as you break away from the Satoru in front of you and look down, breath catching in your chest as you realize that your boyfriend has conjured up another clone of himself.
He was going to be the death of you.
“Pay attention, sweetheart.” you hear from behind you as Satoru starts up his relentless rhythm once more, hand now moving to squeeze and spread your ass.
You knew where this was going, and you didn’t mind it one bit.
The stretch of your cunt as it adapted to Satoru’s length burned almost as much as your nipples as his clone continued to bite and tease them. “Feels good, babe?” he sighs around your breasts. Yet your whines of pleasure are quickly muffled by the flushed tip kissing your lips once more.
“Hope you didn’t forget about me, pretty.”
“More- Hngh, Toru!” you whine, not sure which Satoru you were addressing anymore . All three of them speed up their motions, the pleasure from all points pushing you over the edge.
You as you cum fast and hard.
But your Satoru(s) don’t let you have a moment’s rest as your orgasm is quickly overshadowed by your boyfriend’s hands on your ass. Teasingly drawing circles around the rim. You shiver, hole quivering at the cold feeling of his saliva hitting you.
His cock still ramming into your abused cunt, Satoru enters a finger into your ass. Using his spit and your slick from before to stretch you out till he’s satisfied. “Fuck- Taking me so good, sweetheart.” he moans out at the sight of you being stretched out from all ends by him and only him.
You continue mewling as the pleasure overtakes you. He was going to ruin you.
Half-delirious from all the stimulation, you barely hear the lowly “Ready, babe?” from below you before Satoru pulls out and suddenly you’re flipped. Easily manhandled by your boyfriend, your head lolls against his replica’s strong shoulder as you’re caressed from three sides once more.
“Feeling alright, sweetheart?” your boyfriend rasps from above. Now hot and bothered once more from how your loving boyfriend was using you like a ragdoll, you gasp out “Yeah, Toru. Need you so bad.”
“Oh yeah?” he grins, lining himself up with your pulsing pussy. “Tell me how badly you want me in all your tight lil’ holes.”
You choke out a sob at the way your Satoru was teasing your folds with his thick cock. “So bad- Need you so bad Toru. Want you to fill me up everywhere.”
Arching your back, you grind your ass against the furiously hard cock prodding at your asshole. Hearing choked gasps from below you, your pussy clenches in anticipation around nothing. To Satoru, your arousal is almost palpable - as strong as the cursed technique in the air surrounding you two.
And that seems to be what finally makes Satoru snap before he sheathes himself entirely in your dripping cunt. Your strangled moans are cut off by the other Satoru slowly bullying himself into your other hole.
“Ah- Ah!” you yelp in both pain and pleasure as you’re stretched to your limits. You feel full. So full. You were going to snap - like a rubber band - and your boyfriend was going to be reveling in his success. The man in question furrows his brows, groaning at the sweet feeling of his pretty lil’ girlfriend being so tight.
A single tear streaming down your face is gently brushed away as a pair of muscular thighs come to rest beside your face. “Shhh, pretty. You can take it.”
Both of them start moving carefully.
Satoru would never admit it, but feeling his own dick stretch you out twofold has been a little fantasy tucked in a deep, dark corner of his mind ever since he realized the nefarious purposes his technique could be used for.
He could feel his other version pumping into you from behind as he ruts into your cunt mindlessly. The friction mixed with the gummy wetness of your pussy was mind-blowing - fuck, he really should have watched Naruto with you sooner.
Satoru gazes at you through half-lidded eyes as you press kittenish pecks to his clone’s cock above you. You stare right into your boyfriend’s eyes as you take the length into your mouth once more, inch by inch. Nose meeting his pelvis.
Shit. Satoru feels like he could pass out - whether from seeing the sinful image of all your holes filled by him or from the excessive use of his cursed technique, he doesn’t question. Your walls flutter, struggling to take him both.
Fuck, he really feels like he’s gonna explode.
Satoru pulls out fully before harshly thrusting into you once more, keeping up a pace that has his abs burning and you struggling for air. He sees another tear fall delicately down your cheek.
“My girl takes me so well, huh? Fuck. Made jus’ for me, sweetheart.”
The air was stagnant with the smell of sex and jujutsu.
All three Satorus thrust into you fiercely, the bed creaking furiously. Satoru has half a mind to worry about whether it would break down in the middle of all this. How inconvenient that would be, he’s so close.
It was animalistic, the way you could just sit there and take it as your boyfriend used you in all sorts of ways you never deemed possible.
You’re pretty sure your body is completely bruised and raw at this point. Eyes fluttering shut, tears cling to your lashes as you’re filled up. Your brain, as well as your holes, were overwhelmed with only Satoru Satoru Satoru. If your mouth wasn’t suckling on his length, you’re sure you’d be screaming loud enough for Satoru’s neighbor’s to file a noise complaint.
Good. So good.
Feeling that sharp tug on your stomach again, your legs flail as you steadily reach your climax. Held down by three sets of large hands - all caressing you relentlessly in various ways - you finally cum with an exhausted whimper.
Brain foggy and eyes unfocused, you barely feel the twitch of Satoru’s cock.
With a throaty moan, all three versions of your boyfriend cum - not one pulling out. Your senses are overtaken as Satoru doesn’t relent his pace, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into your abused pussy.
Ah- He felt he was gonna fuck another Gojo into you. Carry on his legacy. Shut those old cows up about a Gojo heir.
You’d look so round and beautiful with his kids.
“Only I get to cum in this pussy.” he drawls out as he keeps rutting his sensitive cock into you. Low whines get stuck in his throat as he loses himself in the feeling of your tight walls coated in his semen. His other versions were also at their limit, shooting out thick streams of cum to paint your face and ass.
You were so beautiful like this. Fucked out and covered in his seed.
His and only his.
As you slowly come to your senses, the first thing you feel is wet. Not from your own slick, but from Satoru’s thick cum - it was everywhere, decorating your lips, your tits, all the way down to your holes below.
The second thing you feel is raw. You weren’t too sure anymore that you’d be able to make it to that family dinner tomorrow, Satoru had absolutely gone all out tonight.
Laying there, willing yourself to move, you flinch as something soft and wet touches your legs. “Shhh…easy there, sweetheart. Get some rest, I’ll take care of it.” you hear the soothing whisper of your one and only boyfriend.
You muster up the strength to look up and see his gentle smile. “Rest.” he breathes out as he continues to wipe you down. In the back of your mind you register the distinct lack of the other presences of your boyfriend.
“T-Toru...” you were too fucked up to formulate proper sentences.
“Shhh it’s okay.”
At his tender whispers, you easily drift into a fatigued sleep. You dream of shadow clones and blue, blue skies.
Waking up after your brief nap, you find yourself dressed and cuddled by Satoru on a fresh set of sheets. “You okay?” he mutters in-between innocent pecks to your bruised lips.
At your affirmative nod, he probes further “Learn anything about my technique?”
“Absolutely not.” you sigh, pulling him in closer. As you snuggle into the crook of his neck, you almost miss the devious grin spreading across his face.
“Then…wanna try six next time?”
A/N. No Part 2 till I figure out better ways to differentiate these bitches LMAO.
