GATEWAY

why stay when you can run away?

[savantsoulfinder]

─────  ❝ 𝐆 𝐀 𝐓 𝐄 𝐊 𝐄 𝐄 𝐏 𝐄 𝐑 ❞  

ミ 𝚜𝚊𝚛𝚊 . 𝟸1 . 𝚜𝚑𝚎/𝚑𝚎𝚛 . 𝚕𝚎𝚘 . 𝚒𝚗𝚝𝚙 彡

─────  ❝ 𝐒 𝐇 𝐈 𝐅 𝐓 𝐄 𝐑 𝐒 ❞  

ミ 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐠𝐚𝐭𝐞? 彡

─────  ❝ 𝐆 𝐀 𝐓 𝐄  𝐏 𝐎 𝐑 𝐓 𝐀 𝐋 ❞  

𝙋𝙄𝘾𝙆 𝘼 𝘎𝘈𝘛𝘌 𝙏𝙊 𝙎𝙃𝙄𝙁𝙏 𝙏𝙊 𝙏𝙃𝙀 𝙐𝙉𝙄𝙑𝙀𝙍𝙎𝙀 𝙔𝙊𝙐 𝘿𝙀𝙎𝙄𝙍𝙀

ミ 𝐦 𝐮 𝐬 𝐢 𝐜 𝐚 𝐥 彡

ミ 𝐰 𝐨 𝐫 𝐤 𝐬 彡

𝐮𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐬 𝐧𝐬𝐟𝐰 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐨𝐜𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐬 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐝𝐚𝐫𝐤 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐨𝐫𝐬 𝐝𝐧𝐢

© savantsoulfinder all rights reserved. please do not modify or repost any of my content anywhere

[sugurusbeloved-deactivated20260]

“daddy, i kissed a boy at school today.”

satoru freezes mid–lego stack, the bright blue block dangling between his fingers. his six–eyed gaze snaps to the tiny girl sitting cross–legged beside him, happily bouncing her doll around like she hasn’t just detonated a bomb.

“you— you what?”

“i kissed a boy.” she repeats innocently, blinking up at him with the exact same mischievous spark that used to get him in trouble. “i like him. he always shares his crayons with me. and his cookies.”

satoru’s jaw drops. “cookies— you mean my little girl kissed some… crumb–bribing hooligan?”

“daddy,” she sighs, annoyance already coloring her tone. “he’s nice. he said my pigtails are pretty.”

satoru dramatically clutches his chest. “so what, now you’re in love? do i need to transfer you to a new kindergarten? change your name? fake our deaths—”

“satoru,” you cut in from the couch, laughter bubbling in your voice, “she’s four.”

“she’s mine!” he whines, scooping the giggling girl into his lap and smothering her with kisses of his own. “no boys allowed. ever. you hear me, princess?”

his daughter glares at him with all the sass a preschooler can muster. "daddy, you can’t tell me what to do. i like him. he shares."

satoru gasps like she just betrayed him personally. "you like me too, don’t you? i share my candy with you all the time!"

"but you eat half of it first," she shoots back instantly, folding her little arms.

satoru freezes again, staring at her like she’s cursed him. then he turns to you, pleading. “sweetheart. my love. the light of my life, please tell her she’s not allowed to like him.”

but you only smirk, enjoying the show. “i think she inherited the stubborn gene from someone i know. it's a losing battle.”

defeated by your logic, satoru crawls closer to his daughter, lowering his voice like he’s letting her in on state secrets. “sweetheart, listen to me. boys don’t just share cookies without ulterior motives. he’s trying to steal you from me.”

but she just rolls her eyes again, an annoyed huff spilling through her tiny lips. “daddy, you’re being dramatic. he’s my friend. i like him.”

satoru gasps like she just stabbed him in the heart. “i’m your friend! your best friend!”

“no,” she says firmly, adjusting her bunny’s ears. “you’re just daddy.”

satoru groans, burying his face in his daughter’s hair. “why is the universe punishing me?”

you lose it, laughter spilling out as satoru flops onto the floor like he’s been mortally wounded. he mutters something about betrayal and needing to “transfer her to an all-girls kindergarten,” while his daughter happily hums and keeps playing.

[s0dium]

Victoria Secret

A/n: For all my Geto lovers, i made sure the fucking was extra juicy. Enjoy!

Synopsis: Your secret indulgence? Buying lingerie. You've managed to keep this "hobby" under wraps until your worst nightmare, Geto Suguru, discovers your secret. Unexpectedly, he proposes a deal: he'll keep your secret, in exchange you help set up his friend Gojo with your roommate, and after that he will even buy you ten sets of your favorite lingerie. There’s just one catch—you have to model them for him. What could go wrong?

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat. "Why? Do you want me to stop?" He murmurs against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool. "Good girl."

Warnings: Teasing, praising, body worship, nipple play and sucking, soft-to-rough sex, unprotected sex, breeding

Word count: 5.5

Every Sunday, at precisely three in the afternoon, you sneak out of your apartment for what you call your "secret indulgence."

Your eyes gaze at the velvet-lined shelves, mentally dissecting the lace and silk items that sit on the red fabric. A familiar, gentle melody fills the boutique, playing overhead as soft light casts a warm glow on the meticulously displayed delicate fabrics. As you run your fingers over each fabric laid before you, you stop when you find one that feels like a whisper against your skin.

This one is perfect.

Carefully you hold the item up on either side, feeling the fabric between your index finger and thumb. Intricate floral patterns cover the lace material and you note the high-waisted cut and scalloped trim that would certainly flatter your figure. You hum in contentment. Yes, this piece of underwear will go perfectly with your collection.

Your "secret indulgence" you may ask? It is collecting lingerie.

Your indulgence was secret for a reason as well. Far too often people assumed that you collected lingerie for a boyfriend or even an audience, but it wasn't like that at all. In fact, it was the opposite, you collected lingerie for you. It wasn't like you never thought about trying it on for someone though, you just never seemed to have an opportunity too. Unlike many of your peers, you're not a social butterfly, never one to attend college parties or gatherings. Even your best friend Shoko has to drag you out of your room every once in a while. Yet, ever since you can remember, there's something about lingerie that captivates you—perhaps it's the delicate lace, the intricate patterns, or how damn good you looked in it. You were simply in love with it.

And up until now, you were pretty damn sure your indulgence was perfectly secret as well.

"Y/n! Just the person I needed to see."

Oh what the fuck.

Your steps halt instantly at the sound of the familiar voice, freezing you in place. You didn't want to look back, you didn't need to look back, you knew who was behind you. You purse your lips as a rush of thoughts floods your mind: Had he seen you leaving the boutique? He wasn't a fool; surely, he'd deduce that the two bags you were clutching came from somewhere significant nearby.

Shit shit shit. Fuck it.

With a nervous bite to the inside of your cheek, you slowly turned around, facing the tall man behind you.

"Geto." You dead pan. There’s a tightness around your mouth, the corners pulled down just enough to betray your displeasure. The usual spark in your eyes is conspicuously absent, replaced by a guarded, cool glare that clearly communicates your discomfort at this encounter.

Geto smiles and takes a few steps toward you. Your first instinct is to step back but you stay in place, taking in his appearance. He's wearing a black tank top today, one that clings to his well-defined muscles and shows off the tattoos covering his arms. He pairs this with casual grey sweatpants that hang loosely around his hips and of course, his long black hair is partially tied up in a man bun like it usually is, while the rest cascades down his back.

Of course he looks good.

Thin sharp black eyes scan you before landing on the two bags you are clutching. His smile grows. You know you're fucked. The last person you needed to uncover your secret.

"Enjoy your shopping?" He chuckles, nodding to the bags and you harshly bite your lip.

"Just some clothes for the summer" You respond dryly, making sure to be heard over the bustling people around you.

"Ah, you don't have to keep secrets from me." Geto chuckles and he gestures to the tattoo and piercing shop across the street. "You know I work there right? I see you go into the little shop every Sunday."

No. No, you did not know that.

You pause before speaking again. "Can I help you with something Geto?"

"Actually, yes you can. I need a favor."

"Favor?" Your eyebrows raise and you scoff. "What could I possibly help you with."

Geto smiles and takes another step forward. "I know we aren't friends, but Shoko is your best friend and she is also mine so I thought maybe we could benefit each other a bit."

You dont respond this time and he continues.

"My best friend, Gojo, im sure you know him."

You have to fight to hide the disgust on your face upon hearing the white-haired man's name. Of course, you knew Gojo, every one on campus knew Gojo, you specifically for the amount of girls he has "toyed" with.

"Yes, I know who the fuck Gojo is." You roll your eyes and you notice Geto has taken another step forward, effectively closing the distance between you two.

"Well, he is head over heels for your room mate-"

"Head over heels or just want to fuck her." You sarcastically snap back, cutting Geto off.

"Is there any difference these days?" he replies, a slight smirk playing at the edges of his lips, challenging the cynicism in your tone.

"And you want me to do what, exactly? Set her up with him? No way," you snap back, your voice rising slightly in indignation. "She's my friend, and I'm not some kind of matchmaker. Gojo can go screw himself."

"No, no, that's not what I'm saying at all," Geto quickly interjects, holding up his hands in a gesture of peace. "I'm just asking you to let her know that he's available, that he likes her. Just make him out to be an option, you know? Your roommate can do whatever she wants with that information."

"Still, why would I want to do that?" you question, your eyebrows knitting together in confusion and frustration. The warmth of the afternoon seems to intensify the tension between you as Geto steps closer, diminishing the gap until he's just inches away.

"Because in exchange, I'll buy you anything you want," he offers, his voice low and persuasive.

"Um, what?" Your response comes out more as a reflex than anything else.

"Let me rephrase that," he continues, nodding slightly towards the bag of lingerie you're holding, which causes your cheeks to flush with embarrassment. "I’ll buy you what you really want."

"No," you retort firmly, feeling the discomfort rise.

"No?" He echoes, his tone a mix of amusement and disbelief.

"Yes, no. Besides, I'm not strapped for cash. I can buy what I want whenever I want—"

"Didn't I tell you you don't have to lie to me?" Geto cuts in, his voice lowering a bit. "Please, I know how expensive that store is, and I'm not offering just one thing. Say, how about 10 sets from that store you love?" he declares, his eyes flashing with a mix of challenge and amusement.

"10? Can you even afford that?" you retort skeptically, your eyebrows arching in disbelief. This game of his was becoming more intriguing and absurd by the minute.

He leans back, a smug smile playing on his lips. "Oh, and I have to go shopping with you and see you try it on," he adds, as if the deal wasn’t provocative enough.

"Why the hell would you want to do that?" You feel the tips of your ears grow red and you scoff. The idea of Geto Suguru choosing lingerie for you sounds so personal sends a shiver down your spine.

"Because," he pauses, his gaze intense, "its not about buying you lingerie, Consider it… a test of trust, can't just give you hundred of my dollars and let you do whatever you want, I want to make sure you use the money the way our deal assures you will which is... buying lingerie."

You pause, absorbing his words, the heat of the afternoon sun pressing down on you, making the moment feel even more surreal. "Fine. We follow each other on Instagram, so I'll DM you when it's done. But like you said, it's up to her what she wants to do with that information."

"Alright by me. See you soon," he replies, his tone casual yet carrying an underlying note of finality.

As you turn away, walking down the busy street, your mind races with the absurdity of the conversation.

What the hell just happened?

Your fingers hesitated over the blue send button, poised to confirm the completion of your part of the unusual bargain.

Earlier, you had shared with your friend the prospect of a date with Gojo Satoru, carefully omitting the details of the deal behind it. As expected, she was ecstatic, thrilled by the idea despite Gojo's questionable reputation—a fact that gnawed at your conscience. But what could you do? The arrangement was already in motion. Now, it was time to let Geto know that you had held up your end of the agreement, and it was his turn to fulfill his promise.

You took a sharp breath through your nose and pressed down on the screen, watching as the word "delivered" appeared beneath your message in the chat. Just as you were about to set the phone aside and start getting ready for bed, it pinged with a new message. It was from Geto Suguru. Your heart raced as you read the simple words.

When do you want to meet?

The sun blazes down as you approach your favorite boutique, the heat making the pavement shimmer like a mirage. Despite the sweltering temperature, you've donned a big, baggy sweater over your shorts—a choice more about comfort and less about fashion, especially since you didn’t want this meeting to scream 'date'. It’s your casual armor, albeit a warm one on a day like today.

As you near the boutique, you spot Geto Suguru waiting by the entrance. He leans casually against the wall, dressed in some graphic t-shirt and black jeans, his eyes hidden behind a pair of dark sunglasses. This time his hair is completely up in a man bun that shows off his black gauge earrings and hints of a tattoo on his back. The moment he sees you, his lips curve into a knowing smile, as if he can read your thoughts about the outfit.

"Hey," he greets, pushing off from the wall to stand upright. His voice is smooth, a calm contrast to the bustling street around you. "I was starting to think you were gonna bail."

"And miss a chance at free money? I think not." you quip. "Hope Gojo enjoyed his date by the way." Sarcasm drips from your words and Suguru chuckles.

"Probably not as much as I'm gonna enjoy this." he counters smoothly. "Come on," he says, gesturing towards the boutique's door. "We got some shopping to do."

The moment you walk through the boutique doors, cool air hits you in refreshing waves, making you sigh with relief. The boutique interior sparkles with delicate lighting and the gentle clinking of hangers, an ambiance you know and love all too well. You notice that the store is unusually quiet today, with no other customers around—just the shop owner standing by the cashier, who flashes you a small, welcoming smile as you enter. As you step further, your eyes lock onto a stunning pink lingerie set draped elegantly on a mannequin right by the entrance. Its intricate lace and delicate details shimmer under the boutique’s soft lighting, radiating an aura of both luxury and temptation. It's new, and most definitely pricy.

"You’re staring," Geto observes with a smirk, catching you in your admiring glance.

"I'm appreciating," you correct him, the corner of your lips twitching upwards. The price tag hanging from the mannequin does nothing to deter you; it's clearly on the pricier side, but today, Geto’s wallet is on the line. "And since you’re offering, I think I’ll indulge."

Geto's laughter fills the air, playful and unbothered. "I should’ve known you'd go for the gold. Well, it’s your day. Let’s make my pockets weep then," he says, gesturing grandly towards the set.

Who were you to deny him?

You dive into the racks, your fingers grazing over silks and satins, selecting the most exquisite pieces you lay your eyes on. One by one, you gather a collection of lingerie sets—each more lavish than the last. There’s a daring scarlet set that promises to captivate, a royal blue ensemble that speaks of deep oceans, and a classic black lace number that's timeless in its elegance. By the time you're done, nine luxurious sets accompany the initial pink one on the counter.

Geto watches with a mixture of admiration and apprehension as the pile grows, his eyebrows raising slightly at each new addition. But he doesn’t protest; instead, he engages in light banter with the shop owner, who carefully folds each set into sleek boutique bags.

As the total rings up—a sum that makes even the shop owner blink twice—you don’t look away from Geto's face, watching for any sign of regret or hesitation. None comes. He simply pulls out his black card, the smirk never leaving his lips as he hands it over.

The transaction goes through with a soft beep, and you can’t help but feel a thrill of victory as he signs the receipt. You reach out to grab the bags and head toward the door, already planning where each piece will go in your wardrobe, when Geto’s voice stops you.

"Where do you think you’re going? We still have the other part of the deal, remember?" he says with no attempt to hide the amusement in his voice.

Geto's reminder hangs in the air, the playful edge in his voice more pronounced now. As realization dawns on you, you let out a low groan, remembering the full scope of the deal. "Oh," you say, hesitance hanging from your voice. "Right, the 'trying on' part."

"Exactly," he grins broadly. "Come on, my car is parked outside."

"HAH! You think I'm going to your house?" you scoff, raising an eyebrow in mock disbelief.

"Why not? Or can we go to yours?" he counters quickly, his grin turning into a challenging smirk.

You bite the side of your cheek. Your place was an absolute mess right now and you don't think you can handle Geto Surguru in your room. "Fine, yours it is," you finally concede.

The drive to Geto's place unfolds in a tense silence, your gaze fixed on the cityscape sliding past the car window. Your heart pounds with a mix of dread and nerves, the quiet amplifying the whirlwind of thoughts in your head. There had to be a way to get out of this. The idea of layering your clothes under the lingerie flickers through your mind, but you dismiss it almost instantly—Geto would see right through that. The thought of making a daring escape through a bathroom window doesn't seem entirely out of the question, though it feels more like a scene from a comedy than a realistic plan.

As you mull over these scenarios, you wonder about Geto's intentions. Was this all just a game to him, a way to tease you? He'd watched you choose each piece with care, so there was no question of you running off with his money. Was this some weird way he got off?

Your so into your thoughts that you dont even realize your at Geto's door.

"Welcome to my humble abode," He says through a grin as he swings upon the door. Rolling your eyes at his grandeur, you step inside, instantly taken by the loft's undeniable charm. The space is open and airy, with high ceilings and large, sunlit windows that overlook the bustling city below. Exposed brick walls add a touch of urban cool, while modern art pieces dot the walls, giving the place a curated yet lived-in feel.

"The bathroom is over there," Geto points nonchalantly towards a sleek, sliding door on the far side of the room. His tone is casual, as if inviting you to try on clothes was an everyday occurrence. He saunters over to a plush couch, settling in comfortably. "You can start whenever you're ready."

Feeling a flutter of nerves, you clutch the bag of lingerie a bit tighter. "You want me to—to try on all of them?" Your voice barely hides your anxiety.

"Nah, just two or three," he responds, his voice calm and nonchalant as he picks up a magazine from the coffee table.

With your heart pounding so loudly you're sure he can hear it, you make your way to the bathroom. The cool, modern aesthetics of the loft seem to blur as your mind races. Was this just a fucking joke to him?

As the door closes behind you, you set your bags down on the bathroom floor.

Holy shit Holy shit Holy shit.

You were going to die, this was it. You were going to die out of embarrassment because of god damn Geto Suguru. Your face burns a deep shade of red, heart racing as you lean against the cool, marble sink. Fuck, you're overwhelmed, your thoughts a tumultuous whirl, but you know you need to pull yourself together. Yes, the task is simple: pick two sets of lingerie, try them on, and get this ordeal over with. Just two sets, then you can leave. That's all.

Peeking through a slight crack in the bathroom door, you see Geto lounging effortlessly on the couch, casually flipping through a magazine as if he hasn't a care in the world. A quiet curse escapes your lips at his composure— god you hated him.

Turning back to the task at hand, you rummage through the bag containing the 10 pieces of lingerie. Each piece is stunningly beautiful, making the choice unexpectedly difficult. The last thing you wanted was to make it seem like you where trying to impress him. After a moment's hesitation, your hands settle on a set of black lace lingerie—bold but the plainest out of all of them.

Slipping into the black lace, you feel the fabric glide smoothly over your skin. The lace is intricate, delicate yet firm, offering a sensation that is both luxurious and comforting. As it settles into place, you notice how perfectly it cups your breasts, enhancing your natural shape without discomfort. The fabric molds to your body, sculpting your curves in a way that boosts your confidence, even in such a vulnerable moment.

Turning to face the mirror, you take a moment to really look at yourself. The lingerie accentuates your figure beautifully—your waist appears slimmer, your hips more pronounced. Yes, this was exactly what you loved about lingerie, how it made you look and more importantly how it made you feel. Despite the situation, you can't help but feel a surge of self-assurance. It's a small victory, but in this moment, it's enough to steady your nerves.

Now was the hard part.

Slowly you step out of the bathroom, your heart pounds fiercely in your chest, echoing in your ears. The moment the door clicks shut behind you, Geto's attention shifts from his magazine to you. He lays the magazine aside, his gaze instantly locking onto you. His eyes rake up and down your figure, taking in every detail of the black lace lingerie that clings to your curves.

"Well, well, what do we have here?" Geto muses, a teasing grin playing on his lips. "If it isn't the bravest fashion model of our time."

"S-shut up," you stammer, trying to mask your discomfort with irritation. "Just remember, I'm only doing this because of the deal."

"Oh, and you're doing it magnificently, may I add. Who knew you hid such bold taste under that sweater."

"It's just underwear, don't read too much into it," you retort, your cheeks warming under his scrutiny.

"Turn for me," he commands softly. "I want to see the back."

"What?" you falter, caught off guard.

"Turn for me, I want to see behind," he repeats more firmly.

Fuck it.

Reluctantly, you turn, exposing the delicate lace detailing on the back.

"Beautiful," he murmurs, almost to himself, his gaze lingering appreciatively on the design.

"What?" you ask, your voice wavering slightly—unsure if you're more startled by the compliment or by the intimacy of his tone.

"Nothing, baby," he responds, his hand dismissively waving as he looks away, pretending to refocus on something else in the room. "Go try on the next one."

You dont say anything, instead slipping back into the bathroom and rummaging through the bag. Your heart still thumps audibly in your chest, but now there's an undercurrent of excitement mixed with the nerves. The flutter in your chest isn't just from anxiety though; it's also from a burgeoning sense of empowerment. You realize that you have control over how you present yourself, a certain power over Sugruru.

After discarding the set you were wearing, you reach into the bag and pull out the pink set you splurged on earlier. The fabric is luxurious, with a hint of sheerness to the bra that would no doubt show your nipples. The underwear is equally bold, designed as a thong with delicate straps that loop around each thigh, highlighting the curves of your hips and legs.

As you slip into the pink lingerie, the fabric settles against your skin like a whispered secret. The sheer material of the bra makes you acutely aware of your own body, and as you adjust the straps around your thighs, the ensemble frames your form in a way that feels almost artistically deliberate.

Yes, just after this you would be done. So why not go out with a bang?

As you step out of the bathroom, the transformation in your demeanor is palpable. The delicate pink lingerie accentuates your confidence, which resonates with each step you take towards Geto. His eyes lift to meet yours, and the moment they travel down to take in the full view, his expression shifts dramatically to one of... shock? His usual composure falters, and he lets out a low, incredulous whistle.

"Jesus Christ," he breathes out.

You shift in place, playing with the silk hem of your underwear.

After a moment, he composes himself slightly and gestures towards him with a slight tilt of his head. "Come here," he says softly, his voice low and inviting.

You pause, the hesitation clear in your stance. The intensity in his gaze and the palpable tension in the air make your heart race even faster.

Seeing your reluctance, Geto's expression softens. He leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees, his eyes never leaving yours. "Please," he adds, a hint of something more vulnerable in his tone this time.

The room seems to pulse with the silent energy between you as you take a tentative step forward, then another, drawn by the magnetic pull of his gaze. The air thickens with a charged mix of anticipation and desire as you finally stop just a breath away from him.

He looks up at you, standing up from his seat, his gaze intense yet tender. "You look incredible," he murmurs. You flinch when you feel his hand his finger trace your jaw and his other hand play with the hem of your lace underwear. He bends down, his lips just grazing your cheek, a feather-light touch that sends shivers down your spine, making your entire body quiver. "If you want me to stop, say it now," he whispers. When you remain silent, he brushes his mouth against the hollow of your temple. "Or now." He traces the curve of your cheekbone. "Or now." His lips meet yours.

For a moment your so shocked that he kissed you, you don't do anything. It feels like you are having an out-of-body experience like you can't believe this as actually happening to you. Then in a matter of seconds, his lips move against yours and you melt. Suguru is gentle at first, then unyieldingly hard. You feel yourself falling —not just physically, but emotionally too. You open for him and his tongue snakes its way inside your mouth. His hands move from your face to your lower back as he pulls you toward him, closing whatever space was left between you. He pushes you against him as he deepens the kiss. One of his hands remains on your hip, while the other travels to cup your breasts.

"W-what are you doing?" You manage to gasp but Geto just kisses the hollow of your throat."

"Why? Do you want me to stop?" He mumbles against your skin. And you know you should say yes, but you shake your head. Like a fool.

"Good girl."

Without a warning, Geto sweeps you up in his arms with an ease that leaves you breathless, carrying you effortlessly across the room to his bed.

Geto stands over you, his eyes tracing the contours of your body splayed elegantly across his bed.

"Shit baby, you let anyone else see you like this?"

You thickly gulp and shake your head.

"Oh thank god." He murmurs, climbing over you to place light kisses along your neck, trailing down your chest. Each kiss is soft yet deliberate, sending a cascade of warmth through your entire body. You close your eyes, allowing yourself to be fully immersed in the sensation.

"Your skin feels like silk," he murmurs.

"Did you steal that line from a hallmark card?" You crack.

"Nope just stating a fact." He skims the underside of your bra with his fingers. "Always watched you come out of the store, always wanted to see how you'd look in what you bought." He lifts his head to give you a wry look "You're so smooth and perfect you know that right?"

You let out a soft gasp when his lips find your nipple, pulling your lacy bra down so soft lips can evoke your nub.

"Oh god sugu-" He doesn’t let you get to the last consonant, his eager, hot mouth enveloping one of your nipples and sucking. His tongue flattens, rolling your peak and swirling around your areola, fast and rough until you’re whining. His ears go hot at the sounds you’re making, all desperate and needy.

"So beautiful, fuck your tits are so beautiful" He groans into your skin like it was cocaine. He then switches to your other breast, sucking and licking until he knows you will be sore. Jesus, your breasts feel so good in his mouth, so soft and sweet, why didn't he do this sooner? How much longer did he think he could maintain this facade of being your 'enemy' when all he truly desired was to have you underneath him?

You are squirming underneath him now, the stimulation of his wet tongue on your nipple is becoming unbearable and so was the growing heat between your legs. Your tits feel so good in his mouth, supple, sweet, far better than his imagination could ever conjure

"God, sugu-"

"Love it when you say my name." Suguru breaths between licks and you feel your stomach twist with.

"Sugu please" you manage to gasp, "please touch me please anything please-"

"Fuck you?" Suguru coos, and the words make warmth blossom from your core.

"Please." You breath.

And who was he to deny you?

Without much of a word he pulls your lace panties down to your ankles, making you instinctively hide your bare cunt with your hands, but he clicks the roof of his mouth with his tongue and swats your fingers away. Then, as he stands over you, Suguru steps out of his black pants and pulls off his t-shirt. As you glimpse Suguru, you feel your breath get caught in your throat. His large, incredibly toned frame is a clear testament to rigorous workouts, and intricate tattoos weave across his skin, adding to the attraction.

You were no longer in the kiddie pool.

You are too immersed in his figure that you dont even notice he has lowered down his black boxers just enough so his long length springs out and slaps against his abdomen.

You thickly gulp.

"I dont think that will-" You stammer, the sheer size or his dick making your gut twist and turn. "I think it will hurt I dont think it will-" As you continue to stammer, searching for the right words, Geto cuts you off with a deep, consuming kiss that immediately shuts you up. When he finally pulls back, a confident smirk plays on his lips.

"It will, baby, it always does," he murmurs, his voice low and dark.

Geto positions himself atop you, his strong legs straddling either side of your body, anchoring him in place. He leans over you, the intensity of his gaze capturing yours as he methodically entwines his fingers with yours. With a firm but gentle grasp, he pins your hands down on either side of your body, his proximity reducing the world to the space between you. The warmth of his breath brushes against your face, his presence both overwhelming and exhilarating, as he holds you there under him, completely in control yet tender in his touch.

Before you can even get a word in, you gasp when you feel large pressure against your hole.

"Slowly baby," he hushes you before you can protest. "I'll go slowly."

Suguru's slow roll of hips hips into you is enough to make you scream. The way his dick parts your walls and fills every single inch of you makes your brain go hazy, especially when his tip smooshes against your cervix, sending blots of electricity throughout your body.

"Talk to me baby," Suguru murmurs, his voice cracking from the vice grip your cunt has on dick. "Want me to move?"

You're too lost in the hazy pleasure to form words, all you can do is nod, making Geto breathe out an air of what must be relief. His thrusts started out shallow and slow, testing the waters for how much he could get away with. What your limits were, and if you could fully take him for what he wanted.

You feel like you are going insane from the pleasure. Your cries came silent from your throat, eyes screwed shut in complete bliss. Your body adjusted rather quickly to him, Suguru coaxing you to relax as he peppers kisses along your neck, sucking and biting your sensitive skin. And as you adjusted, your hips began to buck against him at their own pace, beckoning him to move faster.

Of course, Suguru doesn't miss this, and without missing a beat he speads up his thrusts, the pap pap pap of his skin against your echoing in your ears

"Shit, you feel so good baby." Geto practically whines. You don't know it, but he's starting to lose his grip, the overwhelming pleasure beginning to unravel his usual composure.

The delicious friction of his dick scrapping your walls has your heart pounding in your ears and your breath close to hyperventilating. Everything is too much too good all at once. The proximity of Geto's body is overwhelming, his warm skin against yours, his ragged breath hot against your neck. When you gaze into his face, the sight nearly makes you faint—his eyes scrunched shut, lost in euphoria, beads of sweat lining his black hairline. His mouth is slightly open, panting, a sight that makes your cunt flutter from excitement.

"Su-Suguru, so good you're fucking me so good." you babble and he can only groan in response. Your toes curled and uncurled as he continued to wreck your body with his completely brutal thrusts. The pain of him hitting the tip of your cervix nearly every time mixed with the kisses he peppered on your neck and lips was all enough to end you to heaven.

He knows you're close. And you know it too. The way Suguru is fucking you is truly a primal display of affection; him rutting into your cunt like an animal in heat and you frantically scratching and clawing at his back.

Thats when an idea hits you, no, a need overcomes you, You need Suguru, you need all of him, all of him inside you filling you up and making you his.

"Sugu cum in me please," you beg through a hoarse voice. "Fill me up please please please."

He’s been pressing kisses and biting into your shoulder, but you don’t miss the way he practically whines at your words.

"Course baby, course I will."

As if on cue, you feel your seize up and your mind go blank. It feels like your body is free falling into a euphoric grave, electric arrows of pleasure coursing through your sin and directly to your core.

"Oh shit" Suguru curses at the way your cunt clamps down on him and it isnt to long before he follows you, shooting thick ropes of cum straight into your belly. In a fluid motion without leaving your insides once, he picks you up so you are straddling him, and his bare chest is pressed against yours.

“You’re so warm,” he murmurs into your ear. And you can only sigh in response.

'I'll buy you 1000 more lingerie sets if we can do this again."

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐀 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔, 𝐉𝐔𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐔𝐏 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR EX HUSBAND FINDS OUT YOU'RE DATING AGAIN, HOW DO YOU END UP FUCKING HIM IN YOUR BED ?? ❞

✧ pairing: ex-husband!satoru gojo x f!reader

✧ summary: satoru gojo is the man everyone wants, except you -- well you married him and you wanted him, but when he pushed you away after you had your daughter, you had no choice but to divorce him. so what happens when he comes to pick up your daughter for his weekend, and he finds you ready for a date? and how is it you always end up under him?

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, so much smut, exes to lovers, modern au! (no curses), gojo is a CEO of a company, gojo has a daughter with you, divorced, some angst, switch! gojo, nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (near entryway), semi exhibitionism, sex (p in v), creampie, swearing,

✧ wc: 8,271

“You were supposed to be here at 6:00 PM,” 

Satoru Gojo stood in your doorway, as opposed to splashed on the covers of magazines and countless front page articles — you would think it would be business magazines, but you would only be partially correct — he made the covers of business, fashion, health, entertainment, and even a few women’s magazines. 

And what every single one had made apparent in their colorful print was that Satoru Gojo was anyone’s ideal man — the CEO of the wildly successful Six Eyes Corp, a philanthropist in his free time spent mentoring children and teenagers through establishing proper programs, and he was flawlessly beautiful — ocean blue eyes you could drown in, porcelain skin seemingly without a blemish or scar, and pretty lips that were a weapon when curled in a smirk. 

Just as they were now. 

“Well,” he smirks, leaning against your door frame, “I’m sure it’s 6:00 PM somewhere,” 

“Well, I’m not concerned with somewhere else since you daughter exists here, not elsewhere,” your words lacked their usual bite, only tinged with annoyance rather than cutting anger, “but good thing I told you to be here an hour and half earlier than I needed you,” 

Needed him as just as you did before you had divorced — just as you asked him to be. But he only grew more distant by the day — and soon he was already out the door when you had served him with divorce papers. 

And now, you can almost forget how it used to be — your eyes catch sight of the picture on your mantle of the two of you with your daughter, Satoru’s lips pressed to your cheeks as yours were pressed to your little angel — almost. 

He gapes at you as you walk inside, as he follows behind you, the click of the door closing overshadowed by the sound of his voice. 

“How could you lie to me, sweetheart? Thought we had a bond of trust,” you don’t have to look back at him to know he has a pout on his lips that would quickly melt into a grin if you conceded. 

“Bond of trust ended when you showed up two hours late to pick up our daughter,” and he grumbles, cheeks tinged with pink. 

“That was one time! I’m never that late. And it’s only on a Fridays when I have—“ 

“Meetings all day,” you finish with a sigh, “I know, Gojo, I know it’s not on purpose — but I know you’re always late on Fridays so I found a solution,” your lips curl, “anyway, our girl is napping still, so give her a bit before you wake her, but you can stay here until she does,” you’re shrugging off your bathrobe, littered with flecks of makeup, only to have a gorgeous black dress underneath. 

One that he very much hadn’t seen before — and he would know, he’s explored every centimeter very intimately of each one of your dresses, but this is new. His eyes skim down the exposed skin of your thighs — very new, but very familiar. 

He’s running fingers through his hair, not bothering to hide how his gaze rakes over his body, “Special occasion? Don’t tell me your birthday suddenly moved months, or I forgot our anniversary,” 

You scoff, as you pick out earrings from your jewelry box,  “Does an anniversary count when you’re divorced?” you can’t hide the hint of bitterness in your voice, and he’s stepping closer as you look in your vanity to put your earrings on, only to meet his gaze in the mirror, deep blue sucking you in as it always does. 

“But you’ll always be mine,” and you roll your eyes, expecting a cheeky grin, but find genuine longing in his expression, before it's hidden away behind a frown, “but you still haven’t told me where you’re going, sweetheart,” 

A sigh stuck in your throat, ignoring the use of your usual pet name that he had lost the rights when the ink dried on your divorce, as your teeth graze your bottom lip, “I have a date tonight,” 

He tilts his head, “A date?” and you can already hear it in his voice — ice creeping over usually still waters, “who’s the lucky guy? And do I get to meet him?” 

“And have you scare him off?” And he only grins in reply, hands slipping into his pockets. 

“If he’s intimidated by me, isn’t that more on him than me, sweetheart?” His footsteps only grow closer, as you turn to look at him, his hand on the wood of your vanity, nearly caging you in on side, “after all, he may be your date, but I’ll always be your husband, and the father of our daughter,” 

You didn’t know whether you wanted to kiss him or slap him — slapping him was self explanatory, but the want to kiss him was a lingering feeling, one that you couldn’t shed — no matter how much time passed. But that was the thing about Satoru Gojo — it was easy to fall in love with him, but even harder to fall out. 

And a part of you could never admit to yourself that you never did. 

No matter how hard you try.

“You haven’t been my husband for a year and half now, Gojo — a year legally now,” 

And he’s changing tactics, “You still haven’t answered my question, who are you going on a date with?” And you already can feel the beginning of a headache throbbing in your forehead, and you know why no one could say no to Satoru Gojo — because you’re sure he’s never understood it. 

“Why do you need to know?” And he's tilting his head, a small scoff parting his lips. 

“I need to know who you're potentially bringing home, don’t I?” and he’s far too close, and you don’t know why you’re not pulling away — his breath warming your skin, as he drags a finger down your cheek, “The man who might step foot in our home, might meet our daughter,” and his thumb brushes over your lips, “might kiss my wife—“ 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects you. 

You rub at your temples — yup, you definitely have a headache now. You brush past him, heading to the living room to pick up some of the mess, hoping your ex would somehow fall and hit his head on the doorframe and forget this conversation.

“And this dress?” Ah, no such luck, “did you buy it for the date?” 

“Do you keep a catalog of my wardrobe?” you scowl as you pick up the strewn about toys and things to collect into your daughter’s toy bin, and he’s bending down too to pick up your daughter’s things in his hundred thousand yen suit. 

“So you didn’t deny it,” and you sigh again, but grit your teeth all the same, his sharp words finely grating on your nerves. 

“This isn’t a business negotiation, you don’t win just because you use my words against me,” you stand up after picking up the last of the things, “yes it’s a new dress, and yes I bought it for the date since this is my first date in years, happy?” 

“Thrilled,” he says flatly, and you know it’s not the end of the discussion, “remember our first date?” 

And how could you forget? But you decide to humor him, if only for a break from the interrogation. 

“Which one? Because one was a date, and the other—“ 

He raises an eyebrow, “It was a date too, I asked you out—“ 

“You asked me to hang out—“ 

“And we kissed—“ 

“Only because I told you how I felt first—“ and he smirks again and you know you’ve dug yourself into a hole, cheeks burning at his stupidly smug face, “shut up,” 

“And what did you say again?” He slips the things you have in your hands into the toy box, his fingers brushing yours, and his touch is the same as you remember, even the barest brush was enough for your traitorous soul to yearn for more. 

“You know what I said,” his lips curl, the same smile he had given you all those years ago that made you fall for him in the first place, but his raise of his brow tells you he’s not going to let it go until you say it, “I told you that I liked you for a long time, and I was tired of waiting for you to make the first move. Because maybe by then it would be too late,” and his fingers brush against your cheek, featherlight — just as the bunches of butterflies that bloom in your stomach. 

“And you say that wasn’t a date,” and you scoff, biting back the small smile on your lips, “will any other first date compare to that?” 

“Gojo—“ 

“Satoru,” he corrects, and you know his brow is furrowed without having to look at him, “do you have to call me by my last name—“ 

“I do, because Satoru was my husband, and Gojo is my ex—“ 

“I’m still your husband—“ and you give a bitter chuckle. 

“In what world? We’re divorced, it’s over,“ 

“It doesn’t have to be,” 

“But it does. This isn’t me confessing to you on a movie night curled up on my twin bed. This is my ex-husband asking me to give him another chance far too late,” you slip past him, but he follows behind anyway, as you stand near the entryway to your home,  “it’s time to move on,” and you’re stepping from your bedroom and only reach the doorway when he speaks. 

“How can I move on when I never wanted to?” You still yourself in your tracks, fingers curling into a fist. 

Not this right now. Not now. “Gojo—“ you sigh. 

You’re so tired. You were hoping you wouldn’t have to have this conversation. You never had expected to have this conversation, not when you wanted to only marry one man your entire life was the one to break your heart. 

“It's almost two years too late for this conversation,” you willed your voice not to break — not when your heart was long broken by him, and you wouldn’t allow him to do it again, “you should have had it with me before I filed. When I asked you to spend your time with us, when I asked you to take time off, when I asked you to be present in our lives—“ 

“Sweetheart-“ and you snap. 

“Don’t call me that,” your quiet words hang in the silence, the wedding bells he heard in his head were nothing more than the sounds of bells drowning out the mourners screams, “don’t call me that when you don’t get to anymore,” 

“I’ll always be yours, sweetheart, a few papers don’t change that,” and he’s stepping towards you, but you’re rooted to your spot, and you want to say it’s stubbornness, but you know what it really is —weakness, because Satoru Gojo was your one and only weakness. And even now, walls raised and erected against him came tumbling down with one touch. 

Because he knew exactly where to touch and what to say. 

“Do you think any other man could please you the way I can? I know every place, every sound, every inch of you — inside and out,” he’s nearly against your back now, “are you going to let a stranger do that? Let them learn how to please you, but knowing your husband knows how to do it better,” 

“Ex-husband,” and he’s leaning down to press a kiss to your bare shoulder, “we shouldn’t—“ 

“And yet you’re letting me,” his nose brushes against the soft skin of your neck, warm breath sending a shiver down to the tips of your toes, and his words sending a wave of need right to your core, “because you know it’s true,” his hands tentatively brush against your hips and when you don’t resist, he squeezes, drawing a gasp from you, lips curled in a smirk, “more sensitive than usual, Princess? Been too long?” 

“I swear to god—“ he’s cutting you off with a bruising kiss, a rubber band snapping back against your skin, and now it’s taut against you, ensnaring you in its grasp. And yet, his kiss is so sweet, affection dripping from the slide of lips to the caress of his fingers against your cheek, and it reminds you of just why you don’t want to let go. 

“You don’t have to swear yourself to me, but I’d appreciate it, Princess,” and his mouth reminds you of the reason you (and that you don’t). 

“Gojo—“ and he’s placing more kisses along your jaw now. 

“Shouldn’t you at least call me Satoru now that we’ve kissed?” 

“You’re impossible—“ 

“And yet I’m here,” his teeth nibbles at the juncture of your neck and shoulder, tongue flicking over the blooming love bite, “almost forgot how sweet you taste,” he’s humming, as he kisses along your shoulder before he toys with the strap of your dress, “almost,” his large palms slide down your body, skimming your bare thighs as he’s pressing you against the walls, “but your skin isn’t what I want to taste,” 

You gasp, “we can’t—“ but why were you letting him? Irritation overrode by lust, and he knew the spots to make you bend to him, his hands squeezing your hips, “fuck you,” you wonder if his touch are phantoms engraved against your skin and muscles, forced to repeat the same patterns again and again — and a hand slides back up to cup your cheek. 

“That’s what I’m trying to do, sweetheart,” his lips find yours again, his tongue dragging against the seam of your lips, before slipping inside. His hand is lifting your thigh around his waist, as his lips part from your own, eyes raking over your pretty, bitten red lips, “do you know how much I missed you?” 

“No, I don’t,” and his smile slips from his lips, as he cups your chin, “Satoru—“ 

“Even all the days I was gone, there wasn’t a second I didn’t think of you,” you waver a moment at the sadness rippling through his gaze, “I know I wasn’t there—“ his lips press a kiss to your forehead. 

“Why weren’t you?” 

And that’s when there’s a knock at the door that makes your heads snap over to stare at the door a good four or five feet from you, the shadow of feet visible through the crack at the bottom of the door, and you were sure it was your date. 

“Fuck,” you whsiper under your breath, “you have to go—“ your palms pressed flat against his chest, but Satoru doesn’t budge, “please, I have to get the—“ 

And his hand is slipping up and under your dress, hiking the material higher, “do you really want to go on your date like this, sweetheart?” His fingers graze your soaked panties, a gasp pulled from your lips, lithe fingers rubbing and pinching your clit through the thin fabric, “gonna go see him when you’re this wet?”

“Please—“ and his fingers snap the elastic of your underwear against your skin, drawing a squeal from your mouth, “fuck—“ 

“Any louder, Princess, and he might hear us,” he’s leaning down to press his forehead to yours, forcing your gaze to meet yours, “but maybe I should let him, let him know who’s the only one who can make you feel this good,” his words only make your cunt flutter, as if your body was in agreement, even if your mind was still in denial, “you’re much more honest down here, Princess, but you always were,”

Another knock as your attention is being tugged only for him to yank it back as his finger slips inside you. You’re burying your face in the crook of his neck to stifle your moans — his fingers were so much longer than yours, reaching places you could only have dreamed of — when you had dreamed of him. 

His finger squelches as he fucks you open, walls squeezing around him as your molten insides cling to his touch desperately. Small whines and pants are muffled against your hand as you clamp it over, your phone vibrating uselessly with your date’s messages inside your purse. 

“Please, Satoru let me—“ and he’s ripping your underwear, as he’s forcing your dress higher, “I have to tell him—“ 

“Tell him what?” His eyes are nearly glowing in the dim light of the fluorescents leaking in from the living room, “tell him you’d go on your date with him but you’re too busy being finger fucked by your husband?” And he’s sinking another finger into you, making your head loll back against the wall, “tell him that you’d let him fuck you in our bed, but you’re too busy letting me?” 

“Sa-toru—“ you’re biting back your whines, glancing at the door, but he’s forcing your gaze back to him, his thumb pressed against your chin, “just let me—“ 

And he’s turning you in front of the mirror near the entryway, forcing you to look at yourself — your lips kiss bitten and ruined, your dress hiked up and mussed, and underwear tugged down to your ankles. 

“Do you want him to see you like this?” His breath is hot in your ear, a soft murmur that makes your knees nearly buckle, “want him to see you how much of a mess I’ve made you?” His fingers sink into you again, a third finger with the other two. The lewd squelch of your cunt rings in your ears, your eyes catching sight of your own moans and pants in the mirror, your walls squeezing around them, “I’m the only one who gets to see you like this, sweetheart, and now you can watch too,” he’s guiding your gaze back to watch yourself, watching him knuckle deep in your sweet cunt, “gonna make you watch your tight pussy break my fingers,” he spreads his fingers inside you, letting you watch your slice drip down his fingers and wrist and splatter on the floor.

And your head falls back against his shoulder — he’s thrusting into you faster, your walls working deeper and deeper into you — fingers curling against your molten insides, until he’s finding that one spot that has your lips falling open, “I’m so—” your voice is a broken whisper, and he’s pressing a kiss to your jaw, “Please—“ 

“Cum f’me baby,” his thumb rubs at your clit, and you do, walls clamping down as you cum, his fingers relentless as they fuck you through your orgasm, a wordless moan of his name on your lips. He’s holding you up as he does, your body buckling under the pleasure, blood roaring in your ears that slowly ebbs away, as his fingers slow, and you’re shuddering under his touch, “good girl,” and your walls flutter as he pulls out as if they want him to stay, and he’s tilting your gaze, “watch,” your eyes open reluctantly, a small moan on your lips as you watch him carefully each one of his fingers clean, pink tongue darting out to lick at the trails of your juices that had dripped down his palm and wrist, “still the sweetest thing I’ve had, princess,” 

And there’s another knock, as he clicks his tongue, “Doesn’t give up does he?” and he’s pressing a kiss to your neck, “must have really done a number on him and he’s willing to wait this long for you, huh?” he hums, nuzzling the hollow of your throat, “but I can relate. So, should I let him down for you?” 

Your eyes fly open, meeting his cheeky gaze with a glare, “Don’t you fucking dare,” 

“What? You still want to go out with him? Be my guest, but,” and he’s pulling at your ruined underwear until they rip under his touch, “can’t wear these, can you?” you gape at him as he pockets the ruined panties with a shit eating grin, “for later,” and you’re scoffing, and you hear a call of your name through the door. 

And you take a better look at yourself — completely disheveled and marked up along your neck from his kisses and nips, your skin shiny with a sheen of sweat, and your lips obviously bruised and bitten from his treatment. 

“Fuck,” you can’t go out like this — it looks as if you’d spent the morning before getting ravished, panic sets in as you hear his voice through the door. 

“Want me to send him on his way?” Satoru’s hands curl around your waist, “our angel’s still fast asleep, and that means we can spend some time together—“ 

“Fuck off,” you hiss, walking over to the door, “Atsuya, I’m sorry I can’t go out today. I’m not feeling well,” 

“Eh? Are you okay? Do you need anything?” And Satoru steps forward to speak but you cover his mouth with his hand. 

“No, I’m fine, but I have the flu and I’m still contagious, so I don’t want to get you—“ Satoru drags his tongue between your fingers — this fucker, “sick,” 

“Are you sure you don’t want me to stay and take care of you?” Satoru’s hands are dragging over your sides, squeezing your far too sensitive hips. 

“Hear that?” Satoru’s whispering to you between the gaps of your fingers, “He wants to take care of you. Should you let him? Maybe he could fuck you better in the home we bought together and in the bed we shared,” 

“No, I’m fine, really, I-I—“ and Satoru’s sucking at your finger, tongue curling around the digit, and you grit your teeth, “I’m going to rest. I’ll text you later, I’m sorry—“ and you don’t get to hear the rest of what he says, as Satoru’s pulling your hand away, and finding your lips in another kiss. 

You hate how good this man is at kissing, his lips and touch must have the ability to leech sense from your brain, and leave lust in its place. 

“What’s wrong with you?” you mumble against his lips, as his lips burn a trail of kisses down your jaw, a smirk against your skin. 

“Nothing’s wrong with me, except that I love you,” he’s pouting again, “you think that guy could please you the way I could?” 

“No, but maybe he would actually be there,” you bite back and his kisses pause, smirk slipping into a frown. 

“I know I’ve made mistakes—“ 

You give a bitter chuckle, “Mistakes? You left us,” 

He opens and closes his mouth, “you’re right I did, and I’m sorry,” his words are slow, but so is the anger building inside you, “but I’m asking for a second chance, begging for one more chance—“ 

You finally turn to face him, and you can only hope the tears welling in your eyes weren’t noticeable, “You don’t get to beg, when I already did,” your voice finally breaks, as your clenched fist shakes, “where were you? After our daughter was born, you were gone. You kept saying you would make time for us, you would be there for us, but you just busier and busier, and the only time I’d see you were the nights you made it home to crawl into bed,” 

“I—“ 

“No, I’m tired, I’m tired of waiting and being upset, I’m so done—“ and he’s pulling you into his arms, and the familiarity of his grasp is nearly enough for your defenses to crumble, but you can’t, “Satoru” 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I know I did wrong. I know I don’t deserve you or our baby, not after all I did,” he’s murmuring, “but it was never because of you or her,” 

Tears spill from your eyes, streaming down your cheeks, “I used to cry, thinking that not only that I wasn’t enough, but your daughter wasn’t enough either—“ 

“You weren’t the ones that wasn’t enough,” he cuts you off, “I am,” the last words come out a whisper, as he runs fingers through his hair, “I’m the one who wasn’t good enough,” 

You stare at him, “What do you mean?” 

He’s scrubbing a hand down his face, “I don’t know how to be a husband, much less a father. I didn’t think I even wanted to be either, until I met you,” his voice softens, “and then I wanted it all if it was with you,” 

“Satoru—“ and he’s shaking his head. 

“I thought I could handle it — but when I saw you two — the two most important people in my life — how much you were counting on me, how much you needed me to not fail — I threw myself into work,” he’s swallowing, “I thought if I could support you both, things would get better. But it only made things worse because I pushed myself away,” 

“Why?”

“Because I thought I’d mess it up — I don’t know how to be a father. I didn’t even know I wanted to be a husband until we got married,” and you swallow, “I thought I never would after watching my dad neglect and abuse me and my mom,” you knit your brow together, “and there were so many nights when you were sleeping, I got so frustrated with our angel. She wouldn’t sleep, she screamed for hours, and I just felt like I had failed her. And I would just fail you too,” he scrubbed a hand down his face, “so—“  

“So you ran away,” you finish, voice caught in your throat. 

He gives a curt nod, “And when you filed, I knew it was coming, but I thought you both would be better off. I thought even if I was miserable, it would be worth it to see you two happy—“ 

“Satoru, do you think I would be happy without my husband?” Your sigh stuck in your throat as your fingers find his cheek, featherlight, but he crumbles and melts against it, as if he was a statue made to wait for your touch, “you’re nothing like your father. I see you with Satomi, I see how much you love her — you dote on her, you know what she likes — she gets a cut and you’re panicking,” you chuckle as he huffs, a cute blush settling over his cheeks, “and you were a good husband, when you talked to me and didn’t run away,” 

“I know,” and the question unspoken hangs in the air, “can I be again? Your husband,” and your instinct is to pull him into your arms, where you wanted him to be, where you always wanted to be, but your instinct is tangled in fear, barbed wire dragging you down and digging into your skin. 

“I want you to be,” his eyes light up, hope flicking across his gaze like a comet tail, until it burns out with your next words, “but I’m scared,” you swallow, arms crossed, hoping if you physically hold yourself maybe you could hold yourself together, “I don’t want to get hurt again,” 

“I won’t, I promise,” he’s cupping your cheek again, and you find yourself leaning into his touch, “every night I only thought of you and Satomi — there’s no one else that matters,” he’s drawing closer again, it makes you want nothing more than his touch again — it had been too long — too long without him. 

And your lips find his again, it’s a chaste kiss at first, a breath shared a centimeter apart, as his eyes find yours, brow furrowed, “We have a lot to talk about,” you murmur, as your lips graze his again, and he’s chasing your lips, “but it’s going to take time,” God, you want to kiss his knowing pout away, as you drag a thumb down his lips, “a lot of making up to me and our angel,” He’s nodding obediently, a complete puppy under your touch, as he shivers as your fingers run through his hair before tugging, “are you ready for that?” 

“Yes, baby,” he’s biting his lip, fingers twitching wanting to touch you. 

Your lips curl, “Good boy.” 

“All that big talk and now look at you, Toru,” Satoru’s white knuckled fingers fisted at the sheets of your shared bed, as your own fingers teased the head of his leaking cock through his boxers, “such a mess for me,” 

You kneel at the foot of your bed, settled between his thighs, and though you were on your knees, you were the one who held the power. Fingers tracing the trigger right within your grasp, his cock twitching against your hand. 

“Please, sweetheart, fuck,” he’s hissing when your lips lean down to press a kiss to his clothes weeping slit, the wet heat of your mouth seeps through, making him twitch against your touch — a spark of need that burns against his skin and boils his blood underneath with need, “please, don’t tease me,” 

“Well that’s not fair,” you hum, as your fingers toy with the elastic of his boxers, snapping the elastic against your skin, sending a shiver up his body along with an ache that reaches his bones — and he wondered how he had let your grip on him grow this deep — and how he had ever let it go when it felt this good, “when you’re being teased I’m supposed to relent, even though you made me cum downstairs in my entryway?” 

And he’s swallowing thickly, Adam’s apple bobbing just as anticipatory as the rest of his body, a bow string drawn tight just waiting for you to release it. But you wished to toy with the arrow more. 

“I have half a mind to make you clean my cum off the floor with your tongue,” you click your own tongue as a taunt, but that only makes him squirm, “but maybe I’ll spare you since you’re being so good for me,” you’re dragging your fingers down his boxers, freeing his cock— already far too hard, flushed and dripping with precum as it slaps against his stomach, the flared head nearly begging you to touch it, “tell me what you want,” his cock is far too gorgeous, you thought that from the first time you saw it  — long and curved, and the veins that ran along it were so pretty— just like the man himself. 

And a whimper escapes his lips, “sweetheart, please, touch me—“ 

“With what?” you thumb his tip lightly, smearing the cum down his shaft, “my fingers? Or my mouth,” and your lips lick the pre that clings to your thumb clean, dragging your thumb down the flat of your tongue. 

“Y-Your mouth,” and you’re smiling, your lips curling as his pretty gaze pleads with you, “please,” 

“Imagine your subordinates saw you like this, begging your ex-wife to blow you, nearly ready to blow your load already just from fingering me,” your fingers toy with his balls, while you leans down to trace the tip of his tongue up the bottom of his cock, “what do you think they’d say?” And your lips part to let his engorged tip enter, as his head falls back with a groan, the wet and warm mouth, as you start to bob your head up and down his length. 

“Fuuuuck, pretty,” and you’re pausing as you wait for a reply to your question, his own tongue tying itself in knots, “think I’m down bad for my wife,” he’s grunting, the words ‘my wife’ and his groans sending white hot arousal to your needy cunt, “think I’d let her fuck me anyway she wants and they would be right, sweets. I’d let you use me,” your tongue is wrapped around his length, as his dick sinks deeper into your mouth, nose brushing against his pubes, his hips held taut as he forces himself not to face fuck you. 

And his eyes flutter down to meet yours, only to find your eyes drowning in lust, molten with need that nearly burned him with want, lips sloppy and dripping with a mix of precum and your spit out of the corners of your mouth, and your fingers —buried deep in your cunt as you sucked him off. 

Fuck. 

With the nasty way you slurped at his length, the noise ringing in his ear as your fingers begin to squeeze and stroke his balls, he wasn’t going to last much longer. His hips bucked against your mouth, and he’s muttering apologies but you let him, moaning as his tip hits the back of your throat. 

“I’m close—where—“ and you’re sucking hard, tongue flicking against his slit and when he fucks your mouth once, twice — he’s gone. He’s cumming down your throat, hot spurts of cum painting your lips and mouth, his head falls back, fingers gripping the sheets as his eyes flutter open. And he watches you pull away from his cock, sticky strings of cum and saliva connecting you to his length still, “fuck, sweetheart,” his softening dick already twitching at the sight of you — your pretty tongue darting out to lick his cum from your lips. 

“You taste as good as I remember, Toru — always so sweet,” and you’re pulling your own fingers from inside your tight pussy, and he snaps. 

You’re on your back on the bed now, flopped down against the mattress as his hand closes around your wrist of the hand that was just inside you. Your words are lodged in your throat but come out a shiver when he brings your soaked fingers to his lips, he kisses each one before sucking and licking them clean. 

“Toru—“ and he pulls away from the last finger with a pop, eyes clouded with need, “I—“ 

“And you say I taste good?” he’s humming, as he leans over you, “wait until you taste yourself, Princess,” and his mouth is insistent on giving you an entire course of your taste on his tongue, mapping out a detailed cartography of very crook and crevice of your mouth, “aren’t you so much sweeter?” He’s pulling away from your bitten red lips, spit connecting your lips still, “and that taste is all mine, just like you, wifey,” 

The pet name sends a fresh wave of desire coursing through your veins, stoking the burning need already threatening to consume you both, “Toru—“ and he’s already stripping your dress away, pulled away up and over your head, thrown away like every thought of why this was a bad idea. Your nipples perk in the cool air of your bedroom and under his hot gaze, standing at attention as if they’re begging for his attention. And he’s more than happy to oblige. 

His fingers toy with the buds, rolling between your forefinger and thumb, until he’s bending down to take one in his mouth, and you’re arching into his touch, your fingers finding purchase on his shoulders. 

“Bet Atsuya would love to see you like this, huh?” He’s switching to the other side, teeth dragging against your nipple to draw a gasp from your lips, “Would love to see you such a mess like this, spread out and needy,” and he’s spreading you with warm palms, his half hard cock brushing against your thigh, “Were you gonna let him fuck you on this bed? Our bed?” 

He doesn’t allow you an answer as his fingers spread your dripping walls, “Gonna let him taste you like this?” His lips warm your fluttering pussy, nearly begging for his touch and to swallow you whole, “when I already said this pretty cunt was mine,” he clicks his tongue far too close, making you whine, “g’nna have to answer my question first, Princess,” 

“No, I wouldn’t,” and he presses a chaste kiss to your dripping pussy, making you whimper, your walls spasming around nothing, “Toru,” 

“Remember when we moved into this home?” his lips are teasing your inner thigh, teeth dragging against your hot skin, “we broke the bed in all night long,” he’s looking up through half lidded eyes, “think he could please you like that? Make you moan his name?” 

And you’re growing desperate as his lips draw close to your clit, tongue dragging against it, only to pull away to your thighs again, “no, no, only you, Toru, please—“ 

“Only I what?” oh you know he’s goading you, but your want is drawn taut like a stringed instrument, tweaking your strings when you’re dying for him to play you — “c’mon sweetheart,” 

“Only you make me feel this good — fuck, Toru, I swear to god—“ your head falls back into the pillow as his face buries itself in your cunt, his laugh vibrates against your walls, pleasure rising faster than smoke from a burning building. His fingers dig into your hips as he holds you in place now, settled between your legs. 

“You swear to me what?” and you swear his god complex gets worse and worse, and the way you moaned with his head between your legs wasn’t helping, “sorry, Princess, I have my mouth full,” and his tongue as silver as his words were, parting your folds with ease, as his lips slurped at your folds messily. 

Fuck, he was too good at it, and he knew it, smirk on his lips as the wet, nasty noises of his mouth wrapped around your cunt and your bordering pornographic moans filled the silence. Pleasure ribboned up your body, mixing with the sharpness of his fingers pressed against your plush thighs to keep you in place. 

“Gonna make me cum before I even fuck you, Princess,” and you hear the telltale squelch of his hand around his weeping dick — the shudder of your groan making him moan all the same, “taste so fucking good, never gonna go a night without tasting you again,” he murmurs far too reverently with his tongue dipping back into your folds for more of your juices, “you know how many times I fucked my fist to the thought of eating you out again? Never gonna spend a second without burying myself in this cunt,” 

“Toru, I’m close—“ and you are, greedy tongue flitting over your clit, his nose bumping against his folds, and the practiced ease of his touch — he knew just what to do to make you cum. And he did, his mouth closing around your clit, before sucking harshly. 

You cum on his face, swallowing your slick with the thrust of a desert weary man, his eagerness apparent on his soaked face, as you finally came down your high. He doesn’t waste a drop, only pulling away with a pop when your orgasm ebbs away, licking his lips clean of your juices. 

“Still dripping even after I licked you clean?” He clicks his tongue as he watches your slick soak the sheet, “gonna have to find another way, maybe you need something bigger,” he hums in fake contemplation, “what can we use?” 

“I have some sex toys that might do the trick,” and he scoffs, as he kisses up your body, before pressing his hard erection against your thigh. 

“Don’t think any toy you have compares to me,” and you’re gasping as he drags the head of his cock against your puffy clit, “nothing can fill you up like I can,” and he groans as he watches your releases mix, “just for that, g’nna make you beg for it,” 

“Toru,” you’re whining, but he’s only teasing your entrance with the head of his dick, your walls fluttering, already begging for him to sink into you, but he’s waiting for your mouth to do the same, “please, fuck me, I need you inside—“ 

He grins, “Well how can I deny my pretty wife when she asks so nicely?” And he’s splitting you open with his thick cock, balls deep with only a thrust of his hips. Your hands are grasping at him for purchase, needing to hold onto him as his cock stretches your walls out. It’s as if you remember him, walls sliding to accommodate him as they always did, but clinging to him desperately, a grunt parting his lips, as if they never wanted him to leave again. And you didn’t. 

“So fucking tight, Princess,” he’s groaning in your ear, a swallow roll of his hips drawing a chorus of moans from both of you, “don’t have to break my dick off to keep it — I’ll take you anytime you want,” and he’s pressing your thighs forward, slinging one over his shoulder, as he presses himself even deeper. 

A whine leaves the back of your throat, “too deep, Toru,” and his cock twitches inside you at that, “fuck,” and it takes everything in him not to blow his load there and then, 

“You love it when I fuck you like this, Princess, or do I have to remind you?” And he does, beginning to piston in and out, the lewd slaps of skin and moans filling the air of your bedroom, “be careful or our daughter might wake from the sounds of her mommy getting fucked,” he clicks his tongue, “maybe we should give her another sibling?” He’s watching the way your cunt eagerly welcomes his cock, sinking in and out with ease, “fuck another baby into you, hm? Would you like that princess?” 

“Toru, ngh,” your walls flutter at the thought of a kid, of his seed filling you up, “please—more—“ 

He gives a chuckle, “I’ll give you everything, sweetheart — fuck you so full that you’ll be dripping with my seed for days,” he’s grunting, legs trembling as his thrusts grow more sloppy as his orgasm begins to build, “fuck, you feel so good for me, “gonna give you another baby, make sure everyone knows you’re mine, my wife—“ 

“G’nna cum, Toru,” you’re falling back against the mattress, as he bends down to press a messy kiss to your lips, all tongue and teeth, before his fingers reach down to rub at your clit. Your eyes finding his, face flushed a pretty pink, eyes shrouded in a deep lust that was reserved only for you, and as he bucks into you even deeper, he brushes against that spongy spot that has the taut string snapping as you fall apart. 

“Cum on my cock, sweetheart,” he’s grunting, as he grazes teeth along your neck before biting. And you cum hard, toes curling as your mouth falls open with only moans of his name on your lips. The way your walls squeeze around him has him only rutting into you harder, deeper, messier — as he watches the ring of cum pool around the base of his cock, fucking you through your orgasm, “g’nna cum—“ and you’re pulling him into another kiss, legs wrapped around him as he falls over the edge with you. Hot cum spills in ropes inside your walls, his hips rolling as he does, if only to fuck his cum deeper inside you. 

“Toru, s’good, I—“ you’re incoherent nearly under him, soft kisses pressed along your jaw as you both come down from your highs, cock softening inside you only him to pull out, another groan of your name on his lips when he watches his cum drip from inside you, staining your thighs along with the sheets. 

And you whimper when he’s gathering his spilled cum on two fingers only to push it back inside, “can’t let you waste a drop, can we, sweetheart?” 

He’s finally pulling away, his other hand cupping your cheek, as he finds your lips in a lazy but far too sweet kiss, “Toru,” you mumble, “I never stopped loving you, because I don’t think I ever could,” 

His eyes grow glassy, his fingers finding the back of your neck, “I know nothing I’ll do will make up for what I did — to you and Satomi, but,” he presses his forehead to yours, “if you both let me, I’ll spend the rest of my life trying to make it up to you,” 

And tears burn at the corners of your eyes, “Just stay with us, and promise to never leave — that’s enough,” and your lips brush his, “you’re more than enough for us, Satoru,” and he kisses you again and again and again, nearly climbing on top of you again, when you both hear a tiny gasp from the door. 

Your heads both snap over to your baby daughter leaning against the door, badly hidden behind it, as she pokes her head in, “did mommy and daddy make up?” 

Your cheeks burn as you cover your face — you both had checked on Satomi before but she was fast asleep still, and now — you checked the time — 9:30 PM, you were sure she’d be up all night. 

“Yes baby, mommy and daddy had some stuff to talk about,” Satoru grabs your robe for you, handing it over as he pulls his discarded boxers on under the sheets, “come here,” and she squeals as she runs into her daddy’s arms, Satoru scoops her up before pressing kisses all over her face, her giggles and his grin nearly too much for you. 

“Now she’s gonna be up all night,” you murmur to Satoru, and he’s smiling. 

“I can tire her out,” he grins, and then he adds with a whisper, “and then I’ll tire you out,” and you flush, shoving him playfully, “come on, my love, let’s go play for a while and let mama rest,” and he’s sliding out of bed, carrying her out of the bedroom, and you watch him, lying on your side, with a smile on your lips.  

Maybe it wasn’t so bad having a husband — especially when it was Satoru Gojo. 

Satoru lets you and Satomi sleep in the next morning, making a smoothie for himself, as he starts to prepare breakfast. He did tire you both out last night, especially you — and you did some exhausting of your own, his fingers running over the hickies you left all over his neck and collarbone with a slight hum. He tied your apron on himself, only boxers and a sleeveless tee on. 

He started to crack eggs into a bowl with one hand. He wouldn’t make the same mistakes again — he meant what he said. He would make it up to you, or at least he would try — and he would spend the rest of his life treasuring you and his kid — and maybe another if you let him have his way, he thought, biting back a grin. 

You had turned him down last night when he asked, 

“Don’t you think it’s time we try for another one?” His arms are winding around you, half hard erection already pressing into you, as the two of you stood right outside your daughter’s doorway, watching the angel sleep, “we did do well with the first one,” 

“Toru, we just got back together, we’re not having another kid,” and he’s already pouting, you know without looking at him, “but that would be nice — for our daughter to have a sibling,” and god, it made him to take right there (which he did), but he couldn’t wait until all three of you were ready. Because he wouldn’t dare to miss a second of it — never again. 

And then a knock at the door pulls him from his thoughts, and his brow furrows. Who could it be this early?

He walks over, checking through the peephole, a grin growing on his lips, oh, perfect timing. Satoru opens the door, leaning against the doorframe, “Yes?” 

Atsuya Kusakabe frowns, jaw nearly dropping as he attempts not to gape at Satoru Gojo standing in his date’s doorway, nearly dropping the bag of medicine and soup he had packed up for you, “Uh, sorry, I was looking for—“ 

“My wife?” He raises a brow, and Kusakabe’s face blanches, as Satoru only smiles with a shrug, “sorry I should say ex-wife, we did get a divorce,” and Kusakabe’s mouth opens and closes, “but you know, she never stopped being mine,” 

Kusakabe clears his throat, rubbing the back of his neck, “where is—“ 

“She’s sleeping still,” Satoru’s lips curl, as he sighs, “she wasn’t feeling well yesterday, but I think I made her feel better last night,” and he’s rubbing the back of his neck, movement drawing his attention to your marks littering his body. 

A flush crawls up his neck and ears and he clears his throat, “I-I see,” he thrusts the bag into Satoru’s hands, “could you please give this to her and let her know—“ and he’s shaking his head, rubbing at his temples, “tell her whatever you want.” 

And he’s gone, door slamming behind him, click of the lock. He holds the bag behind him, only to walk forward to see you peeking from the bedroom, his button up shirt thrown over your head, as you rub your eyes,  “who was it?” 

He only smiles at you, dropping the bag in the trash, “No one important,” and he’s finding his way to your side, arms winding around your waist, “I made us breakfast,” 

“Oh really?” You hum, as he buries his face in the crook of your neck, pressing sweet kisses that only makes you sigh contently, “what’s the occasion?” 

“Oh, just the first day of the rest of our lives, nothing too big,” he hums, and you laugh, his favorite noise that only makes him fall deeper in love with you, if that was even possible, “have to treat you right don’t I, wifey?” 

“Yes, you do,” and your lips find his again, “my husband,” and the word sticks in his chest, a missing piece that fits right back into place, and fixes a hole that had been aching for far too long, “should we go wake up our daughter?” 

He presses a kiss to your forehead, “Together.” 

✧ a/n: so i didn't think i'd finish this week with being at my sister's and having a con this weekend but i found the time! i hope you enjoyed this one. this is my reality for gojo i'm living in :) fun fact, satomi and satoru both mean enlightenment! :)

✧ taglist: @jasminelee324 , @forest-hashira , @spider-fan72 ,, @rougebrainsludge , @theshylittleelfgirl , @ririchurl , @johannakhalafalla , @hanlay , @fawnlikelore , @vickkysthings , @dead-kats , @hantaslittlearsonist t , @being-me-is-not-a-sin , @augustwinesworld , @forest-fruits-jam , @kirashuu , @catsgomurp , @daddytojji , @notgoodforlife , @hyori2 , @shrimpy109 , @goddess-ofthe-godless , @i-spilt-ink-on-my-phone , @sunamatic , @rougebrainsludge , @redmangotango , , @psychxbby , @nakariabnrb , @mua-for-now @dazailover1900 , @alwaysfreakingout , @yamaguccitadashi , @equikaz , @gojosatorubrainrot

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩。THE SAME — GOJO SATORU.

✩ — contents ⋮ fluff, gn! reader, established relationship, recent chapter spoilers, just gojo coming home and reuniting with you :(

when gojo comes home, everything is still the same.

that picture on the wall that’s too high for you to reach is still crooked, no matter how many times you’ve asked him to fix it. the pile of shoes you keep by the door is still there for him to step over, no matter how many times you swear you’ll clean it up. that blanket on the couch is still draped messily over the cushions, no matter how many times you both agree it should be folded. and that bowl of candy on the coffee table is still filled to the brim, no matter how many times you claim you won’t keep buying sweets if he finishes them too fast.

everything is still the same, like you’ve left it all there waiting for him, hoping he’ll come home. and just like always, the way you run up to him and greet him by the door is also still the same—even though right now, your eyes are a lot more teary than usual.

“oh,” you breathe, “oh, satoru,” you say gently, like saying his name too loud will make him disappear. he pushes his blindfold up to his forehead, meeting your eyes as he’s opening his arms for you to fall into. if his eyes are a little misty too, you choose not to mention it, and he’s grateful.

“i’m home, sweetheart,” he grins, plastering that easy grin on his face. “miss me? you didn’t replace me already, did you?”

your face is buried into his chest before he can finish speaking, tackling him into a tight hug. gojo wraps his arms around you tightly, grounds himself with the weight of your arms as you clutch his shirt. you still feel the same too, still feel like that familiar warmth in his arms that feels like holding the sun, that feels like he can get too close without burning.

it’s not hard to see that you’ve missed him.

it’s been nineteen days without gojo satoru. four hundred and fifty six hours. twenty seven thousand three hundred and sixty minutes. it’s a long, agonizing period of time—one that makes you realize how accustomed you are to gojo’s presence—even when he’s not always beside you.

you’ve missed his whiny voicemails to pick up his calls in the mornings as you try to get ready. you’ve missed the bathroom mirror he manages to get completely wet when he washes his face after shaving. you’ve missed the socks he always keeps laying around the bedroom floor. you’ve missed the coffee mug he leaves for you to wash before he leaves for the day. you’ve missed the empty gallon of milk he puts back into the fridge instead of throwing away.

it’s lonely, you realize, when there are no voicemails to delete, no mirrors to wipe, no socks to pick up, no mugs to wash, no milk cartons to throw away.

you’ve missed gojo—even in the ways you swore you never would, in the ways that are imperfect, but not hard to love.

“no one can replace you,” you say teasingly through sniffles, pretending you haven’t stained his shirt with a wet spot, “you’re the only person who could be this big of a headache.”

“i’m the only person who could be this handsome too,” he insists, squeezing you tighter.

“don’t know about that one.”

“c’mon, just look at me,” he whines, squeezing your hips with his hands. you’ve missed them, missed the way you fit in between them, missed the way they find your body for a touch, even if it’s quick. “i’m the cutest.”

you pull away enough to cup his cheeks, pressing your forehead to his as you scan over his face. you could count every lash, stare at every curve, relearn every inch of skin if you could. now that he’s here, you can.

“i’m looking,” you breathe, pressing a kiss to his cheek. he closes his eyes at the feel of your lips, at the sear of your love melting through the skin and into his bones.

“like what you see?” he hums, making you chuckle as you nod.

“i suppose,” you murmur. “did you come back to me in one piece?”

“just who do you think i am,” he pouts, “course i did.”

“got all your fingers?” you raise a brow.

he grabs your hand, lacing your fingers together as he hums.

“all ten,” he confirms.

“both kidneys?”

“fully functioning,” he nods, making you grin.

“you seem to have both of your lanky old legs,” you chuckle, making him gasp a dramatic hey! “got all your toes?”

“you’ll have to pay me to see those,” he wriggles his brows, making you scoff as you swat at his shoulder.

and you’ve missed him like this too—in his laughter you feel through his chest, in his dramatic pout when you playfully smack his arm, in his finger he points to his cheeks for a kiss to feel better.

something tells you he’s missed you too, if the way he keeps his arms tight around you means anything.

because what is a god without his creations? and what is gojo satoru without the gentle love he’s built with you, created carefully between rough hands and the worn out knuckles? he holds you like you’re the answer to his prayers, like he’d kneel before you if you asked him to, like he’d rebuild the gates of heaven before your feet if it meant keeping you here in his arms for a bit longer.

gojo satoru is home. nineteen long days later, he’s home. he’s back in your apartment, the one with that crooked photo and pile of shoes at the front door, the one with the blanket on the couch to hold you under as he eats the candy you keep just for him on the coffee table.

he’s home, and he thinks he’ll never spend another night without you again.

“i missed you,” you say through a watery voice. he hums, wipes your tears with delicate thumbs that trace the lingering ache away.

“yeah? how about now, still miss me now?”

he smiles when you nod, kissing between your brows and swaying your body gently.

“always miss you,” you say with a teary pout. “don’t do that again.”

“i missed you too, sweetheart. don’t worry.”

“i love you,” you say, tasting the words on your tongue after so long.

and he lets his head fall to your shoulder as he hears them, lets out a shaky breath at the way they sound when you say them like that. like you missed him. like you need him. like you can’t lose him. like he’s all you have left. like he’s your past, present, future, and everything beyond that. like he’s yours in this life and the last, and always the one that comes next.

“love you too, sweetheart,” he says against your ear, kissing your skin gently, “i’m home.”

i love him painfully

[kishibei]

WHAT A CREEP !

— K!NKTOBER DAY 9: PERVERSION

pervert! suna rintarou x reader | smut, 18+ | 3.8k words

summary: when your hot roommate offers to do laundry in exchange for a favor, you oblige in a heartbeat! your clothes seem to be returned in perfect condition, except there's one big problem: several pairs of panties are missing ...

cw: f reader, perversion, panty thieving, peeping, voyeurism, male masturbation, teasing, man-handling, fingering, mirror sex, dumbification, hate-fuck (?), rough sex.

← K!NKTOBER MLIST

You’ve never had a problem living with Suna; he was the nicest roommate you could’ve asked for.

Rent always came in weeks before it was due, and he stayed out of your way for the most part. What he lacked in social aspects he made up for in general politeness. Suna always greeted you in the mornings before leaving, and when he came back he'd offer you takeout in exchange for watching movies with him.

Though he didn't talk much, you were never uncomfortable with his silence. He was much better company than your mutual friend Atsumu, who just couldn't handle shutting up for five minutes, let alone for a film.

Suna was a calming presence and when he did offer his thoughts on things, he was brutally honest. it was something you both seemed to agree upon, a small unifying factor that helped you grow a bit closer to him. He was clean and organized, and your communal spaces were a calm mix of both your living habits. You could definitely trust him with domestic tasks, he had never given you reason not to. So when he began offering to do your laundry in exchange for a couple of favors, you obliged in a heartbeat.

It couldn’t have been that big of a leap anyway. Suna was a self-sufficient man and had done his own laundry ever since he had moved in. Knowing that eased you, and there really wasn't a seed of doubt in your mind when you handed your hamper over to him before work. It was truly impossible for him to fuck this up. Most of your colors could go in the same wash, so all that was really left for him to do was load up the washer and throw in a softener mid-cycle.

In spite of your confidence in him, you still had lingering doubts about his abilities. He was a guy, of course, one who probably had his mommy back home to wash his jerseys all season long. You knew he was capable of doing his laundry just fine and yet you'd successfully convinced yourself he would fuck up somewhere. Mental preparation, you'd called it. Just in case he did manage to disappoint you. Most men had a way of doing that sort of thing, anyway.

Once you had returned, you were pleasantly surprised to be met with your clothes not only intact but neatly folded and organized on your bed. A quick look over your things proved them to be in order and you’d even caught yourself smiling as you packed everything into their respective drawers. You didn't expect Suna to go so far as folding them, so naturally, you felt as if you owed him something extra for what he'd done. Maybe you should cook him dinner?

Turning to the final pile, you paused.

Heat crawled up your body when your eyes fell on the remaining stack of garments.

"No fucking way..." you trailed off, picking up a neatly folded lace thong. You stood frozen in place, staring at the dark sliver of fabric with wide eyes. You could almost hear the gears turning in your head before the realization dawned on you. You had not only let your hot roommate wash, but fold an entire set of your panties.

The mental image that played behind your skull had you wanting to kill yourself. You could so imagine Suna standing in the middle of your room picking up pair after pair of underwear, snickering at each design choice. The mere thought of it made you want to die and at this rate, dying seemed like a way better option than having to face him after this.

It was times like this that made you wish you weren't so lazy. You had intended on separating your underwear from the rest of the wash the night before, but sleep had taken over and you’d completely forgotten about it in the morning.

Sifting through the pile, you inspected the panties one by one, cringing at the embarrassing pattern that decorated your favorite pair. Suna was an attractive man, even after living with him for this long you’d never changed your mind. From the very beginning and especially after finding out who he was, you were hoping he’d have an embarrassing routine or bad habit that would rid you of your feelings for him. But up until now, he had a clean track record.

if anything, it was rather you who had slipped up. It was you who had just now let him see your character-speckled panties, all for some small favors. Tossing the piece of fabric into the nearest bin, you threw yourself onto the bed. Violently kicking your feet, you buried your face in the pillows, screaming about your little fuck up until your throat went dry.

Quick footsteps and a sharp rapping at your door snapped you out of your tantrum. The sheer embarrassment of it all almost had you forgetting you shared the apartment with someone else. But how could you forget? He was the whole reason you were acting this way to begin with.

“You okay in there? I'm coming in!” the man called out.

Suna fumbled with the doorknob, it was his way of respecting your privacy. Wordlessly, he offered you some time to collect yourself before stepping in. Shit like that made you hate the situation even more, why'd he have to be so gentlemanly even after seeing something so humiliating of yours?

Cursing yourself, you sat up. Not only had he seen your worst pair of underwear but now he had witnessed your screaming fit. If he didn't already think you were weird, he would definitely think you were now. He was probably only checking in to tease you anyway.

“Yea Suna, I'm alright!" you blurted out. "I was actually just gonna thank you for washing my stuff!"

“You really didn't have to fold them too, you know?” the words left your lips so fast, you nearly couldn't catch what you were saying.

Suna’s eyes shifted from you to the now messy pile of underwear you sat next to, then met yours again. He wasn't stupid, it was very clear what you were flustered about.

"Oh,” he trailed off slowly, a hand coming up to comb through the hair framing in his face.

“It wasn't a big deal for me, sorry if you didn't want me to.”

“It’s fine!” you squeak. “I guess I owe you an extra favor for that.”

There’s a pause before Suna speaks again, almost like he’s contemplating the right thing to say. He's unreadable at the moment and you're about to curse him for it. But just when you fix your lips to get a word out, it appears he's decided.

“I'll keep that in mind.”

There's a smirk to his words that don’t quite reach his face, and before you can process it, he’s disappeared down the hall and back into his room.

Huffing you drag a hand over your face, turning your attention back to the stack of underwear in question. Sorting through them again you come to a halt. You're sure you’d included a couple more pairs than this so you recount, and recount, and recount. You're probably overthinking it, and things get lost in the dryer all the time. You can't even begin counting how many pairs of socks you’d orphaned in the wash.

This was Suna Rintarou you were talking about: star middle blocker for EJP. A division one player with a reputation to maintain wouldn’t do anything stupid like what you were thinking. Just because he stuck to himself didn't make him some reclused creep, he was a well-known guy who just happened to choose to enjoy a modest life. You're sure his name gave him plenty of girls to fuck, what business would he have stealing panties anyway?

You brush the thought from your mind. It's definitely a stretch, and beyond unlikely. You're almost ashamed that you even had such an idea, to begin with. Suna’s never given you a reason to doubt his intentions, but what kind of man just does a girl’s laundry for fun?

You need to be sure of your suspicions, if they were real at all. You need to catch Suna Rintarou red-handed.

Tonight, you hardly sleep. Staring up at the ceiling, your throat is dry, and your head is filled with unease, mind swirling with all kinds of theories about Suna. Frustrated, you slip out of bed to get a glass of water. The floor is cold, and a shiver crawls up your spine as your feet meet the chilly wood. It's an eerie feeling and it almost makes you want to crawl back into bed and try to fall asleep again.

Forcing the thought away, you make your way to the kitchen, treading lightly so as not to disturb your roommate. You know he has to travel in the morning, and you’d hate to be the reason he isn't well-rested. But as you pass his room, you realize he’s left his door cracked open and isn't asleep at all, heavy breaths and a soft rhythmic patting are proof of that.

The noises he makes cause you to stop in your tracks, and before you realize it, you find yourself drawn to them, clinging to the wall to secure a better view through the gap in the doorway.

Suna’s eyes are screwed shut. The faint glow of his phone screen just barely illuminates his features and you can see the soft dusting of pink covering his angular face. His lips parted and a shaky inhale followed as your eyes drop from his face to the hand that was gripping his heavy cock. You almost gasp yourself as you note the impressive size of it.

He was huge and girthy, even from afar you could make out the thick veins that decorated the shaft and the aggressive shade of pink that blushed over his leaking tip. You watched as fat beads of pre flowed down his cock, dribbling over his fingers before falling onto his weighty balls. You were so entranced by him you had barely registered what he held in that same hand until he began stroking himself with it.

Your jaw fell laxly as you watched how he worked himself with the lacy black fabric. He was practically choking his cock out with a grip so intense you were sure it was painful. Looking back at his face, you watched attentively as his brows knit together before he opened his eyes again. Zeroing in on his phone, a string of expletives fell from his lips as he picked up the pace.

The loud slapping of his skin and the creaking of his bed rivaled the sound of his voice but still, there it was. Among all the obscenities that came dripping from his tongue, there was your name.

It started as a whisper and you couldn’t even believe it was coming out of his mouth. It grew into a continuous desperate chant as if he was trying to summon you to properly finish him off before he pushed himself over the edge.

Suna came hard. Stupid hard. So hard he had let his phone slip from his grasp, and there you could see it.

You could recognize that photo anywhere, it was one of your best. Even if you had gone blind the next day, you could still point it out in a lineup of other revealing photos. There you were on Suna’s phone screen, on vacation at matira beach in bora bora, playfully bent over in a small bikini top and shorts.

This time you couldn’t hold the gasp you let out. Fully opening the door now, you watched Suna scramble to cover himself. The cum that covered his abs dripped onto his sheets as he sat up. Before he could open his mouth to speak you started.

“Fucking pervert.” you spat out.

Suna physically recoiled, the words had cut deep and bothered him more than he had liked to admit. But you’d instantly noticed how he flinched at them.

“Really, panties? And my Instagram? You're pathetic, Suna.”

He couldn't say a word, he sat staring dumbfounded blinking up at you like an idiot.

“Nothing to say, either? I expected a lot more out of you, guess you're nothing but a little pervert.” you spat contemptuously turning to leave the room. “And keep them. I don't want you going through any more of my stuff, freak.”

Suna sputtered as he watched you stand in the doorframe with your back to him. You were desperately waiting for him to say something, anything.

“That's rich coming from you” he fired back.

You froze as soon as the harsh words had reached you. Clenching your fists, you turn. "Accusing me is really low of you, Suna.”

“You think I didn't see you watching?” Chuckling, he ran a hand through his hair. “I mean watching me jerk off? You're even lower than me. I never crossed that line”

“Shut up.” you spat, turning to him. "I was only here to close your door. You're the one who left it open, you wanted to get caught.”

“Such a tease, youre the one who gave me your panties. it's almost like you wanted me to take them.”

Sputtering, you gave up on responding.

“You're no better than me.” he finished. Turning, you faced him fully now. “And you're right, I did wanna get caught, seeing you there made me cum, came real hard actually."

You cringed at his vulgarity. You’d never seen this side of Suna at all. He was always calm and reserved, the complete antithesis of what he was right now. You hated his sudden confidence and yet it turned you on all the same. Before you could think you began making your way into the room. Stopping before his bed, you lowered yourself to be at eye level with him.

“You know if you had just said something instead, we could’ve fucked.”

Bringing a hand to the nape of your neck Suna pulls you in, resting his lips against the shell of your ear. “So what’s stopping you?” he purred. Wrenching your head back to get a better look at you, his crushing grip on your neck intensified.

“Don't fight me now. If you want it, just tell me. I won't judge.” he simpered. "Besides, you do owe me a favor."

Your head spun at the thought of it, but you had also just caught him jerking off with your panties a few minutes ago. He was a creep, but you had also coveted him from the very moment he hauled his boxes in to stay. You didn't want to say it aloud, so you merely nodded. Admitting it would make it so much more real and you liked the idea of this just being some fever dream you’d wake up from in the morning.

“That won't do, I need you to say it,” he cooed, the smile playing on his lips growing sinister.

"I want it.” you whispered.

"Louder”

“I want it, Suna.” you said with more confidence now.

“Good,” he let go of your neck, deft fingers creeping up to get a good grip on your hair, beckoning you into a burning kiss.

The kiss was rough and nasty, spit escaped the corners of your lips and dribbled down your chin as his tongue explored your mouth. Pulling away with a gasp, you met Suna’s eyes, there was something dark steeping in them, but before you could think too hard about it, his hands gathered your hair again, pushing you down to your knees.

Your hands ran up his muscular thighs as he took the sheet off of him, swinging his legs off the bed to rest on either side of your head. He was much bigger up close and the sheer size of him made you nervous. Swallowing thickly you looked up at him again, and he brought a hand to your face, squeezing your cheeks so your lips puckered up for him.

“Go on,” he said with a nod, his other hand gripping his cock, slowly stroking it before bringing it to your eager lips. You opened your mouth and took him in immediately, already huffing around the thick of his shaft.

He was so big you could barely breathe around him, he was only halfway in and you’d already felt like throwing up. Pulling back with a gasp, you followed the trail of spit still connected to his cock, watching it split before pressing light kisses and kitten licks to the length of it.

The expression that painted Suna’s face almost made you laugh. His eyes were shut hard again and his forehead was creased in frustration at the barely there stimulation you offered him. Getting bored of teasing him, you put him in your mouth again.

You'd done it slowly this time, letting the tip of his member reach the back of your throat before pulling away. What couldn't fit in your mouth, you stroked with your hands and Suna was truly in heaven once he peered down at you working him skillfully. Grunting at your ministrations, he shifted his hands to cradle your face before plunging your head further down the shaft. You began to gag but he shushed you, gently stroking your head as he aided you closer to the base of his cock.

“See? Not so hard if you breathe through your nose, girl.” Humming around him you let him take control, allowing him to maneuver your head how he pleased, fucking your face with vigor. Tears streamed down your face and drool ran to your chin, the mix of fluid pooling down at the tip before dripping onto the floor.

“Fuck...” he grunted, bucking his hips as you took him down your throat, the harsh movement causing you to gag around him. “So pretty taking me like this…” his words were muttered and punctuated with moans. “So fucking good for me,” he grunted.

His words went straight to your pussy, and you clenched your thighs at the praise. Suna reveled in the sight of you falling apart in front of him, his words had an effect to them and he had clearly begun to make a mess out of you.

Suna was close, so fucking close. Pushing your face closer to him, you breathed heavily once you’d reached the hilt, nose buried in the light dusting of hair smattered over his pubis. A string of expletives left his lips as a warning. He couldn't quite find the words in time before he was cumming down your throat. When he had worn himself out you pulled yourself off with a pop, swallowing hastily to catch a proper breath of air.

You gasped violently, chest heaving as you huffed waiting for your breath to steady. Suna returned a hand to your face again, raising your chin to examine it. He brought his thumb to the corner of your lips, smearing around some of the fluids that escaped before pushing his thumb past your lips for you to suck. Capturing them obediently you met his eyes again, they were lidded and danced around your face and body, unable to focus on one thing.

“I didn't know pervert girls sucked cock so well,” he jested, sharply pulling back at the feeling of your teeth clamping down on his thumb. “I was joking!” he shook his hand for added effect.

“Let me take care of you now…”

Pulling you up to your feet, Suna helped you undress. He worked slowly and his touch lingered in the places he ran his hands over. Coaxing you over to him, he situated you in his lap with your back to him, pressing his nose into the crook of your neck, he spread your legs.

“Look,” he whispered, pressing soft kisses and the occasional nibble to your clavicle. Glancing up, you had finally taken notice of the mirror that sat across from you. Seeing yourself spread open with him behind you made you shiver, your skin prickled with goosebumps when his hands traveled south, holding your thighs apart.

"Aren't you pretty?” he asked, not really expecting an answer. You were already babbling about him stroking your thighs and he hadn't even touched you where it meant anything. Pushing your panties to the side, Suna ran a finger down your slit, pulling it back to admire the thread of wetness that was still connected to your cunt.

“So fucking wet for me,” he began, bringing his fingers to his lips, sucking them loudly. Your flesh burned in embarrassment as you watched him lick your slick off his digits.

“And all that just from sucking dick? You really are a slut.”

You writhed in his arms, wishing he would get done with the teasing and actually touch you seriously. You were so turned on it almost hurt, the steady thump of your pussy irritated you, and you were practically on the verge of tears.

“Suna,” you whined, circling your hips desperately. “Please,  just touch me already…”

You watched his head lift from its position at your neck, making eye contact with you in the mirror. Without warning, he brought two fingers to your cunt, harshly plunging them into your dripping hole. You cried out, bucking wildly in his lap as he drew them out before pushing them in again, curling them to skim the spongy area hidden at the back of your cunt. His digits were long and skinny and he had no problems reaching deep where you needed him. Tears streamed down your face as he worked you to hysterics, hiccupping and gripping his wrists when you were close to your peak.

“S-suna!” you yelped, shutting your eyes hard at the incoming wave of pleasure. Suna grabbed your face, turning it back to the mirror.

“Open your eyes.” he cooed, roughly scissoring his fingers in your pussy. “I want you to see how you look cumming all over my fingers.”

Prying your eyes open, you focused on the mirror. Training your sights on Suna’s nimble fingers knuckles deep in you, you clamped down on him hard, gushing over his hands and thighs with a scream.

Before you had even fully come to, Suna was already busying himself with your spent pussy. Peeling your panties off, he slotted himself between your folds, coating his cock with your fluids before sinking you down on it.

Mutually, you gasped. Your hole fluttered around his length as the stretch of him entering burned you. Letting out a shaky exhale, Suna took his time, slowly lowering you down with small strokes until he had fully bottomed out. When you had finally adjusted, he hooked his arms around your legs, folding you in on yourself as he dragged his cock out of you.

You trembled at the feeling of his length being drawn out before slipping back in. You could practically feel every vein stroke your insides and the angle of his cock had you jabbering incoherencies when he abused the spot that had you falling apart. Suna’s pace was unrelenting, he bounced you on his lap, letting gravity take over before he lifted you up again.

“Fuck,” He grunted, angling his body to sink himself deeper. “Keep clamping down on me like that and I'm gonna cum.” His words had the opposite effect on you, and your cunt was swallowing him up, squeezing his cock with a vice-like grip.

Groaning, Suna tightened his grip on your legs. Standing up from the bed, he bullied his cock into you, lifting and dropping you down on him with vigor. Moaning in pure ecstasy, you hollered at his pace grabbing onto whatever you could to steady yourself.

You’d gone dumb at this point. Sobbing uncontrollably, you were unable to moan or form any sounds other than the string of slurred syllables that made up his name.

“Suna! Su- su-…”

“I know,” he hushed you, pressing sloppy kisses to your cheek down to your neck and shoulders.

“Fuck!” he grunted. “Gonna… gonna cum!”

Gripping his wrists you tried to find the words. “Don- don’t pull out..” you slurred, teetering over the edge of bliss.

Your words shot straight to his pulsing cock and he emptied himself inside you with a strangled cry. The feeling of him filling you up with his warm seed pushed you over the edge. Crying, you gushed around him, pushing his cock out as he tried to fuck you through your orgasm. Coming down from his high, Suna pulled out of you, the mix of fluids dripping out of your worn cunt and onto the hardwood floor.

Relaxing in his arms, your eyes fluttered closed. Leaning your head back, you looked up at him. Sweat lined his brow and his face was a violent shade of pink as he huffed, meeting your gaze.

“So,” you rasped. “Wanna go again, pervert?”

[edens-pen]

romans 3:23

summary | nanami kento can't bring himself to pull back because he was fucked from the moment you walked into the church. your little white dress was the noose around his priesthood.

pairing | priest!nanami kento x fem!reader

word count | 3,206

warnings | oh god — blasphemy, sacrilege, sex in a church, oral (f!receiving), pussyjob, masturbation, corruption kink, virgin kink, unprotected sex, cervix fucking, god kink, worship kink, praise, degradation, creampie, slight breeding kink, just the tip, squirting, dub con (ish), minorly ooc kento :(

a/n | this was not beta'd + i have church in the morning. dabbling in some kinktober!! something light for y'all to enjoy <3

[ 18 + | minors, blank, ageless blogs, do not interact! ]

—

nanami kento was a man of the cloth.

of course, the operative word being "was."

he was a man of the cloth until you waltzed into the church with your family. a fresh college graduate, staying with her parents to save money, teaching at the local elementary school.

the first sunday you came in a modest dress, your soft eyes taking in the composure of the church before they landed on him. a demure smile settled on your face and you ducked your head after meeting his eyes.

he was hooked.

it's not like he could help it. your eyes stayed trained on him throughout every service and he loved your attention. he thrived under your watchful gaze, the way you hung off of every word he spoke.

and you weren't a mystery, nanami could read you like a book. he saw the way your thighs clenched in the pew when his voice raised.

it only took a few weeks for you to show up in his office.

the perfect combination of innocent and repentant. the conversation starts sweet, a recollection of your time in college and your abandonment of church.

"i didn't go to church when i went away, i was busy and distracted," you sigh, fiddling with your fingers. "i have maintained my purity in college, but recently, i've been...tempted."

nanami can't explain the relief that floods him when he hears that you're a virgin, and the excitement that hits him when you start to open up.

"i've been having impure thoughts and they've been getting worse every week, i try to ignore them, but last night, i couldn't." your voice is a shaky whine, afraid of the consequences. "i touched myself."

your confession has nanami's eyes nearly rolling back. he bites the inside of his cheek thinking about you with your hands between your legs, rocking against your fingers. he thinks about how slick your thighs would be, how easily you would give in and come for him. he knows you're pent up, you've spent your life in restriction.

it's that moment of silence that has you filling the gap again.

"it was only that one time father, and i've never done it before then, and i haven't done it since!"

nanami refrains from smiling, only nodding at your words. he leans forward, clasping his hands on the desk.

"i'd like you to come to me the next time you're experiencing your impure thoughts, i believe i can help."

you graciously accept and nanami only bids you a good evening.

he doesn't expect to see you again so soon, or for you to be sitting in his office on a friday night, the edge of your skirt between your fingers, tears in your eyes.

"i'm so sorry father nanami, i tried not to think about it!" you're crying now and nanami is so thankful he's behind his desk because the sight of your tears is getting him so hard.

he gives you a little smile before he asks, "what did you think about?"

this is when you freeze, body tight and in panic. you stutter out a few words, but nanami cuts you off. "it's okay, all have sinned and fall short of the glory of god, confess and i can help you."

with his reassurance, you open your mouth and confess.

"i have these thoughts all the time," you bow your head and swallow harshly as you continue. "it's wrong but i think about him having sex with him."

"it's best to talk about our sins," nanami takes a slow breath before rising from his chair. "to relieve ourselves from concealment. who is this person you're having these thoughts about?"

at his words, your eyes meet his again. "i can't—"

"do you believe that you can hide from god? they are not hidden from my face, nor is their sin concealed from my eyes."

his tone is stern and it makes you nervous to see the hard line of his frown.

"it's you."

nanami clenches his teeth at your pitiful, little whisper. the shame sits hot in your face and he can't help but drink it in.

he can't bring himself to pull back because he was fucked from the moment you walked into the church. your little white dress was the noose around his priesthood.

the only thing he can do now is drag you down with him.

that night, nanami consoles your fears and worries, he tells you the real work will start after sunday morning service. he promises you that there is nothing to worry about, there is no sin that can't be washed clean by god's love.

—

so sunday evening, you tell your parents you're doing intensive study with nanami and they are overjoyed to hear it.

in fact, they encourage you to stay as long as you can.

so nanami takes his time with you. he walks you through scriptures and teachings and prayers and at the end he even gives you a technique to keep you from truly sinning.

"what people don't know is that masturbation is a sin," nanami explains, taking your hands in his. "only if you climax."

your eyebrows furrow and nanami continues, "it's not a sin if you don't finish."

he demonstrates by having you sit on top of his desk, skirt hiked up around your waist, panties hanging off your ankle.

nanami's kneeling in front of you, eyes shut. he's just breathing you in and he wasn't surprised to see that your thighs are glistening. you've just spent the last hour skirting his touches and listening to the rumble of his voice.

he pets lightly at your folds, as you lean back, propped up on your elbows. spreading you open, nanami groans to himself at your slick hole, begging for him to touch you. his fingers trace lightly over your cunt before tapping at your clit.

of course you're sensitive. his light touches have you trembling and shaking, already crying out his name.

"is this what you thought of when you touched yourself," nanami speaks, his breath right over your mound. his eyes flicker up to meet yours, hooded and desperate. "me between your legs, playing with this filthy mess?"

you nod pathetically and nanami continues. there's no rhyme or reason to the way he's touching you. he's greedily spreading your mess around your thighs and flicking at your clit while you cry above him.

"please, please nanami, it feels so good."

he responds by sealing his mouth over you, teasing his tongue against your clit.

his finger starts slipping inside your cunt, stretching you out. nanami relishes in how tight you are, knowing that your little fingers weren't enough to open you up for him. with little effort, nanami's grazing spots inside of you that you didn't even know existed.

your mess is sliding down his wrist, but he doesn't stop. he keeps going until you're whining his name again, desperate and pleading.

"oh god, please, i can't!" your fingers find purchase in his hair, keeping his mouth over your pussy. "let me cum! just this once, please, i'll be good. i need you."

tears are welling up in your eyes, but nanami knows this isn't what you need right now. he feels your cunt tightening around his fingers as your voice goes up in shrill cries.

"you want to cum?"

"yes, so bad! please let me cum!"

it only worsens when he pulls away, leaving you empty.

the tendrils of your upcoming orgasm slip away and your tears fall even faster.

your watery eyes find nanami who's sitting back, smiling teasingly at you.

"see? you did so good."

you don't believe him, not until nanami has kneeling in front of him as performs similar acts on himself.

his cock is hard and weeping against his fist. he insisted on using the slick from your denied orgasm to smooth the movements of his hand. the wet sounds of his pleasure fill the office.

"you make me feel so good, you're so damn pretty," nanami grunts. you're inches away from his dick, and he can feel the puffs of your breath against the tip. your eyes are trailing the motions of his hand, the flex of his stomach, and the tension in his thighs.

his languid pace speeds up to something rough and fast, it's taking everything in nanami not to come on your face, not to spew every disgusting thought in his mind.

all in due time.

so he settles for making you think he's just like you. when he feels the knot of pleasure about to unwind, he grabs the base of dick and squeezing until your name sounds like a curse on his lips.

"god, baby, see?" he's out breath, but it's okay when he sees the light smile on your lips. "it's okay if you don't come."

—

nanami honestly doesn't know when he got so fucked. he thought he had control of this. he believed he had control of his actions, but you've taken root in his brain, and he had to know that edging you and himself wasn't going to be enough.

it only takes a few more sessions for nanami to convince you to do more. that it's okay, as long as you come with nanami in the room to oversee it. and it's okay as long as you come on his fingers, or in his mouth.

now, nanami has you grinding on his lap, using your cute little cunt to give him a pussyjob. your panties are stuffed in his pocket and his pants are around his ankles. his dick is harder than its ever been in his life, the tip is leaking between your pussy lips, throbbing and red.

"don't worry," nanami groans into your neck. "it's fine as long as i'm not inside you."

nanami feels like he might even believe it himself, because he knows it must be heaven inside your pussy. and to deprive himself of it right now must make him a saint.

the way you're whining in his ear and clutching his shoulder has nanami strongly considering otherwise.

"this feels so good, you're so big nanami!"

and while he doesn't need his ego stroked, he knows your words are genuine. he can tell from the way you're crying it out in disbelief. he needs to hear the way you'll sound when he's sinking his cock inside you, fucking against that sweet spot he touches his fingers.

"'nami, 's good, oh my—" you cut yourself off with a broken moan, and nanami can tell you're getting close with the way your slick pours out, covering his cock.

he's learned that you cum the hardest when he's pinching your nipples and talking you through it. so with one hand nanami guides your hips, keeping you moving in his lap, and with the other he's playing with your chest.

all the while nanami's speaking praises into your ear.

"you're such a pretty little angel, you listen so well," nanami kisses your neck, careful not to leave a mark above your collar. "always so perfect for me."

and his words have you soaring, crying out his name as you clutch his shirt.

but this is still not enough.

your pretty eyes filled with tears and the sound of his name on your lips isn't enough anymore.

it should be alarming that it's taken nanami such a short period of time to be so infatuated with you, but he can't bring himself to care.

not when you look at him like he hung the stars in the sky,

like he gave the sun it's light,

like he's god.

it's love and it's power and nanami cannot let this go. your body is singing the devil's song and he's echoing the words.

so in the same breath, he's teasing the tip of his cock at your entrance, whispering reassurance as he does.

"promise it'll be just the tip, angel, just need to feel you like this."

he doesn't try to assuage you with promises of heaven and a sinless life. he knows that won't work. nanami thinks you might love him more than you love your religion.

he hopes he's right.

so you're giving in, making him promise "just the tip." and nanami nods half-heartedly, already pussydrunk imagining the way you're going to swallow him up.

"too big, 'nami, 's too big!"

but it's just the tip and it's got his eyes fluttering at the feeling of your sucking him.

he lets you settle around him before he tilts your head up to look at him again. placing kisses under your jaw, he tries to distract himself from the inviting warmth of your heat, but the feeling of his lips on your neck has you squirming in his lap.

"i can—oh god—i can take more, right? you'll give me more?" you whine in his ear, desperate and pleading, like it's nanami's fault he's not touching your cervix right now.

in truth nanami was trying to control the situation, swearing to himself that he wouldn't ruin you in one night.

but he's a weak man with simple desires and being inside you is a pleasure he can no longer deny himself.

so nanami takes your hips in his hands and keeps you right on his tip. then he takes his time sinking you down, ignoring your cries and whines of it being too much. he knows you can take it.

it takes him too long to get your hips all the way down, his balls pressed against your ass. by the time he's seated completely inside you, sweat has collected in the valley between your breasts and nanami has left marks along your neck.

"doin' so good for me, so wet and tight," nanami grunts in your ear. his praise sinks right in your stomach and he knows it.

nanami tries to take it slow because this is your first time, he barely even got to prep you, but once he starts thrusting, the sound of your voice knocks him out entirely.

"oh—oh my god!" your nails are raking down his back as you cry out, "kento!"

the sound of his first falling off your lips has nanami's rhythm stuttering. he doesn't know why it floors him, but he knows he's not going as slow as he was when he first started.

in the back of his mind, he know he should not be drilling you like this. nanami should have you laid out on his bed, softly easing his way into your cunt, probably with a condom on, after having wrung multiple orgasms from your body. he should continue praising you, reminding how good you're doing for him.

instead he's got you bouncing totally naked in his lap, his pants down around his ankles, with his hand clutching the base of your throat. tears are falling down your cheeks and nanami can't stop himself from licking them up with fervor. and all he can think of is how filthy you are for letting him fuck you in a church, and that's all that comes out of his mouth.

"so fucking slutty for me, baby," nanami groans, thrusting up harder. "letting me in this cunt so easily? have you been saving it for me?"

"yeah, all for you, just for you," you swear. "god, it's only yours!"

nanami nods, kissing your lips sloppily, "just for me? your tight, wet pussy was waiting for my fucking cock?"

"kento—"

"this body's supposed to be the temple of god, you know that? i've taken an oath, bound myself to God, spent hours of my life in prayer and solitude," nanami rambles, flicking your nipples as he speaks. "then you walk in with this sweet, virgin cunt and i've never wanted anything more."

with every thrust, nanami's rolling against your spot, fucking you into the shape of his cock. and he's in your ear telling you that he owns you now, that every inch of your body belongs to him, entirely. so you keep agreeing with him, nodding and promising that nobody else will touch you like this.

he's got his hands all over your body, playing with your chest, groping your ass, and then gripping your throat tightly.

in the silence that comes from you being choked, nanami chuckles a little.

"hear that?"

and you know what he's talking about immediately. the sounds of him fucking you, the squelching sounds of your arousal loud and echoing in his office.

"it's how bad your little pussy wanted me. how bad she wanted to fuck her priest. came to my church to fuck things up, hm?" nanami slows down, grinding you on his lap while he taunts you. "wore that white dress and wanted me to lose my religion. knew i couldn't resist this hot fucking body sitting in my pew."

you're trying to disagree but with nanami's cock pressed against cervix, but you can't even uncross your eyes.

"fucking answer me."

nodding, you mindlessly agree, "yes, you're right! kento—my god—i'm so close, please don't stop."

and the way you keep mixing his name with cries for God is making nanami's head spin. he's starting to think you're doing it on purpose.

"yeah? beg me some more," nanami smiles, nipping at your neck again. "i like hearing you."

you bite back the petulant whine rising up in your throat and choose to be obedient. "kento, please let me cum—want it so bad, please!"

this time nanami obliges you, twisting your nipples between his fingers, urging you to cum for him.

"be my nasty fucking girl and cum on my cock, sinful little slut."

your nails dig harshly into his shoulder as you toss your head back in heavenly ecstasy.

"oh my—fuck!"

the curse falling from your lips is followed by the collection of tension in your body. your cunt tightens around nanami's cock as you freeze on nanami's lap. he keeps fucking you through it, his cock pounding into your cunt while you gush and squirt around him.

"can you cum inside me, kento? please?" you're begging again, even more for his cum than for your own orgasm. "i want it so bad, want you to fill me up, okay? you'll do it right, kento? you'll give me your cum?"

and what choice does nanami have? he has to empty his balls inside you.

"gonna dump my fucking cum in your cunt," nanami growls.

that's all the warning you get before he's fulfilling his promise, giving you everything he's got. his groans and curses fill your ears while his hips stutter, painting your insides white.

nanami sighs in contentment, rubbing his hands up and down your back as his cock softens inside you. he feels you relax in his lap, tiredness overtaking your limbs.

the evidence of your sin leaks down to nanami's balls.

you lean your forehead against his, stars still in your eyes. even after the depraved acts nanami's performed on you in the last couple of weeks, you still think he's created heaven and earth.

"thank you so much kento, you're so good to me," you whisper and it sounds like a prayer.

in nanami's ears, it sounds like worship.

—

[satorini-deactivated20230626]

𝐍𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐃

ও rating. explicit

ও summary. “I’ve known him since we were kids, and trust me when I say that he’ll fuck you and forget about it.” | wc. 3.5k+

cw/ tw. college au. slightly dark content, obsessive behavior, smoking (although not by the reader), frat parties, dry humping, dubcon, loss of virginity, degradation, spanking, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, jealousy, slightly yandere, pet names (ex. pretty girl, baby)

ও featuring. Frat-Boy!Geto x Shy!Reader

ও an. i’ve been swallowed up by long wips, but i haven’t posted in a minute. also, i’ve been dying to rewrite this one, so enjoy!

You met Geto at a frat party your roommate, Shoko, forced you to attend—and you couldn’t say that you were too upset about it now that you were standing beside him. 

He was twice your size. Easily a head taller than you, which had your stomach twisting into neat little knots.

Geto was the type you’d usually avoid and admire from afar. Because rich, popular guys like him didn’t have time for unspecial girls like you.

It should also be disconcerting how openly you were gawking, not even trying to hide how your eyes traveled from the perfect bun atop his head to his broad, slightly tanned chest. His open, silky, short-sleeve button-up revealed a few necklaces dangling low between his pecs and a glimpse of a tattoo that started at his ribs and trailed down beyond his shirt.

You almost felt a little underdressed, standing beside him in just a cropped sweater and tennis skirt.

“Hey, I’m Geto,” he said. 

His voice was nice. Low and sweet. Sly, in that way most guys like him tended to embrace after years of getting what they want.

Then you realized he had been talking to you, the corners of his mouth curling as he stared at you expectantly.

Embarrassment swam through your veins as you shyly gave him your name before shifting behind Shoko until the heat in your face went away. Geto's lips twitched, and he brought his red solo cup to his mouth with a hand covered in rings.

It wasn’t until after your head was a little fuzzy from a few fruity drinks that you relaxed around him, swaying on your feet towards him instead of away. The slight buzz made words fall a little easier off your tongue, and you were surprised to find that he listened—even though you weren’t sure what you were talking about anymore.

After he plied you with a fourth cup of some fruity red concoction, you moved into the corner of the living room on a lumpy old couch where Geto sat with you in his lap, casually talking about mundane things while he took long drags from a blunt you let him roll up on your thigh.

He offered you a hit, which you politely declined, and he pulled you along with him when he leaned back further into the couch, his voice now close enough that it was gently humming against your ear over the loud music.

Geto turned his head to blow out another hazy cloud of smoke before leaning in to ask if he could have a taste of your drink.

“S-sure,” you breathed shakily, about to give him your cup, only to freeze at the feel of his soft lips pressing against yours.

He chuckled when you released a startled squeak against his mouth—the faint smell of weed on his breath fanning across your face and making you slightly light-headed. Then his tongue sought out yours, and the taste of mint and cheap vodka graced your tastebuds. 

You sighed, subtly rubbing your thighs together, and before you could even return the kiss, he’d pulled away with a wry smile.

“Tastes good,” he hummed, a warm hand gently running along your thigh. Your tongue ran over your bottom lip, and you watched his gaze track the movement. “Can I have another?” 

You were already leaning in before he could finish asking.

He started texting and calling you after that night.

You thought he was sweet, in his own way—little things that made your heart flutter like butterfly wings and stomach bubble with anxiety because this was bound to crash and burn. But one crooked smile, and you suddenly forgot why guys like him were off-limits.

Sometimes he’d bring you coffee after long nights of studying, and it made you sway on your feet whenever he’d tuck hair behind your ear after it fell out of place.

You’d find yourself pressed against your soft bed whenever Shoko wasn't around while Geto licked away the little whimpers dripping from your lips. Some days it went further than that, where the messy grinding and needy kisses weren’t enough, and his hand would tease up your skirt to smooth over your drippy-wet cunt through damp panties. 

Although, it didn’t go beyond dry-humping and heavy petting because—

“I’ve never done this before,” you admitted softly.

Something about him was almost dangerous when you told him this, his eyes a darker coffee-colored brown than usual. But it dissolved with a syrupy smile as he squeezed your hips. “It’s okay, pretty girl. We’ll take it slow.”

The amount of trust you had for him after only a couple of weeks should be alarming—

You grin at him instead of thinking about it too much. A dumb and foolish part of you held onto the fact that he promised.

And you believed him.

Or wanted to. 

“Slow,” you agreed, kissing the edge of his mouth.

A month goes by, and you could only keep the secret from Shoko for so long before she finally caught you smiling like a love-sick idiot over a text Geto sent one day. She wasn’t as upset as you’d expected; instead, she almost seemed disappointed.

And that was somehow worse.

She warned you not to take anything seriously that came out of Geto’s mouth because he had a habit of running the same script on every girl he met.

“I’ve known him since we were kids, and trust me when I say that he’ll fuck you and forget about it,” she told you, pointing her coffee spoon in your direction.

“Oh.”

Shoko reached over and patted your shoulder at the look of dejection on your face. "I just don’t want to see you getting hurt, alright?”

You turned over Shoko’s words in your head because you knew this.

Part of you knew all of this. And yet…

And yet Geto made it easy to forget.

He texted you that night, inviting you to a party his frat house was throwing.

Are you coming? 

You told him you needed to study for a test coming up. Shoko insisted you go to it anyway.

At the party, you scanned the crowd for a familiar head of long, dark hair until you got dizzy from turning your head so much. And just when you were about to give up and message him instead, you spotted him from where you stood in the dimly-lit kitchen, and what you saw had your heart sinking bitterly into your stomach.

It shouldn’t have come as a surprise after what Shoko warned you about earlier—how you already knew that he had an assortment of red flags hanging around his head since the moment you met him.

But you hoped that maybe…well.

You watched Geto share a blunt with the girl in his lap, that familiar crooked smile curling his mouth as her cherry red lips wrapped around the end.

Some of you wondered if someone else had looked at you with the same pity when they witnessed you falling so easily for Geto’s soft-spoken words and recycled pick-up lines. The sweet shy girl who didn’t know any better.

He caught your wide-eyed gaze from across the crowd with his bloodshot one, though you didn’t stick around long enough to see what he did after that because you were already walking back home.

You were a bit heartbroken, or that was what you called it, for the first few days—ignoring the texts he’d send late at night and leaving for class earlier than usual to avoid bumping into him.

Avoiding him was more difficult than you thought since he shared the same friend group as your roommate. And lately, he seemed more interested in movie nights, or somehow he always needed to borrow notes from Shoko for a class.

Those days you sat next to Gojo when there was nowhere else to sit in your cramped living room—none the wiser about the fact that Geto had a strained relationship with your new couch mate.

At parties, you no longer paid attention to where he was in the room, choosing to stick by Shoko and her girlfriend the entire time. It was only during a moment of misplaced curiosity that you finally looked over, already finding Geto’s darkened gaze on you, sneering as you talked and laughed with other guys.

Decent guys.

This game of cat and mouse went on for two more months: Geto trying to get you to notice him and you acting like he didn’t exist. 

It bothered him for reasons he couldn’t put into words. He could have a different girl warming his bed almost every weekend, and before he met you, he never batted an eye when they stopped talking to him once they found out that he wasn’t interested in anything other than sex.

Yet, here you were, taking over his every thought like a fucking disease.

He saw you walking around campus with guys that were nothing like him—guys that probably didn’t get high five days out of the week, that willingly took you out on proper dates. Then he’d creep onto your Instagram and get annoyed by the new number of male friends liking and commenting on how pretty you were.

Geto wondered if you held out for them as you were so hellbent on doing with him or if one of them managed to taint the innocence you wrapped yourself with before he could.

That put a sour taste in his mouth, one he couldn’t wash away with shots of cheap vodka. And after he watched you leave the party with a guy that looked like he didn’t know how to find the clit, Geto reasoned that he needed to find out.

That was one of the worst dates of your life, by far, since the guy didn't even show up. All night you earned pathetic looks from the restaurant staff while you sat at your table set for two.

What an asshole.

He would get an earful whenever you see him in your Psych class on Monday. You’d make sure of it.

You padded to your bathroom to wash off your makeup and sticky hairspray, hoping a warm shower would help brighten your sulky mood.

Your soft, fluffy towel was at least a small comfort as you stepped out of your steamy bathroom to get a change of clothes. Only, you stopped dead in your tracks at the sight of Geto lounging on your bed in a black hoodie and grey sweats—his long legs hanging off the edge so he could spread his knees, accentuating the very obvious bulge between his thighs.

He gave you a wry smirk when he caught you staring. 

"Should learn to lock your doors, pretty girl. Never know what kind of creep might sneak in."

Finding him sitting on your bed, uninvited, should terrify you more than it did, and all the alarm bells going off in your head clearly indicate that you should tell him to leave instead of standing there clutching your towel to your chest.

"What are you doing here, Geto?" you asked quietly.

He blatantly ignored your roused suspicion, unable to stop himself from thinking about how cute you looked, skin flushed and dewy from the shower you just took, a scowl painted on your features. 

God. He wanted to ruin you, to see how far down that flush went beyond the towel since you’d never let him under your shirt no matter how many cheap praises he whispered into your ear.

Although tonight, he was set on seeing what you hid behind a thin layer of fabric. He’d break you down, and then you’d give him what he’d been craving for months. You just needed a little encouragement.

Because he was tired of waiting.

Geto sat up, then, now so close that he could reach his hand out and grab your towel. And he did exactly that, tugging you closer and watching in amusement as you stumbled between his spread knees on coltish legs.

Finally, he met your gaze: "Isn't it obvious why I’m here?"

You swallowed. "Geto, I—"

He watched your confidence crumble a little when his hands snaked up your thighs under your towel, getting closer and closer to your slick heat. "I-I made it clear that I didn't want to talk to you anymore."

His brow arched. "Yeah? You don't want to talk to me?” Suddenly his thumb was running through your folds, and you gasped in shock, trembling. “Then why are you so wet?”

Geto could tell that you wanted to deny it, even as he pulled his hand out from under your towel to show off your shiny arousal clinging to his thumb, the pink string lights hanging around your room making it more glaringly obvious.

“I-I’m not—”

“I-I’m not,” he mocked meanly. 

His eyes swam with the same flicker of intensity he showed you that day you told him you were a virgin. Although this time, it swallowed his gaze entirely—the soft brown of his irises washed away by something that had your body betraying you with another pool of slick between your thighs.

“Get on the bed, pretty girl. Leave the towel on the floor.” His voice was ragged, practically torn to shreds. “And don’t make me say it again.”

Your back was in an uncomfortable arch as Geto curled over you from behind, large hands gripping your hips tight enough to bruise.

“What do they have that I don’t, hm?” 

You ignored how your stomach plunged at the mere fact that he might’ve been jealous, that perhaps he cared just a little.

“Bet you were whoring yourself out for them, huh?” He sneered, grasping your hair and tuggging, so you were looking up at him. The odd angle had you wincing in discomfort, and he laughed humorlessly. “You know what I think? I think that you’re secretly a little slut.”

“N-not a, ah, not a slut.”

He slapped a hand down against your ass just to hear the sharp cry he knew you couldn’t hold in, enjoying the pretty picture of tears prickling the corners of your eyes. “Liar.”

“M’ not,” you pleaded as the impact of the next blow against your tender flesh had you gasping for air, your empty cunt clenching almost painfully.

Geto smoothed his hand over the curve of your ass, smiling when you flinched. You looked so fucking wrecked, and he hadn’t even done anything yet. “Prove it then,” he said. “Prove that you’re only a fucktoy for my cock.”

You wracked your brain, head too dizzy with how fast this was happening to think properly—

“K-kiss me first,” you babbled.

"How about you beg me first," he threw the word back in your face. 

You didn't answer—everything you wanted to say was choking up in your chest. The smile Geto gave you was uncharacteristically sweet, yet it didn't meet his eyes, and he laughed. “Or are you too dumb to think already?”

“Please, kiss me,” you sniffled, lips wobbling. The sight made Geto’s cock twitch.

So fucking pretty, he thought.

You knew that he would at least give you this when his eyes slightly softened.

Then his mouth was on yours. Heavy and unforgiving, teeth clacking and nipping at your lips. The familiarity of his lips soothed the overwhelming feeling in your chest and made you feel like you were touching the ground again. 

He always made your brain scramble whenever he kissed you, turning thoughts into air, that you didn’t even realize that he was lining himself up with your entrance. 

His cock heavily slid against your slit once, twice. Up and down, and back up again. You whimpered when he nudged your clit, parting you open slowly. It nearly gave you whiplash with how gentle he was being compared to how he treated you moments before.

"Open up for me, baby."

It was embarrassing when you parted your knees, showing him a part of your body that nobody else had seen before—

"Ah!" you squealed when he unexpectedly pushed in to the hilt, your walls straining to accommodate the new feeling of fullness and trying to push him out. You cried and squirmed in his hold—the stretch too much as you took big gulps of air to make room where there wasn't.

"Huh, looks like you still had a cute little virgin cunt after all," he grunted, jerking deeper inside.

Geto didn't even give you a moment to adjust to his length before he was roughly pounding into you, his balls slapping against the sore flesh of your ass. And all you could do was lay there and take it.

He loved this part, feeling a virgin pussy stretch around him for the first time. It made his stomach twist and his head fuzzy—he swore it was better than getting high.

Suddenly, he shoved you into the mattress, his hands pressing against your shoulder blades to prevent you from moving. The new angle had his cock going deeper, pushing against a soft spot deep inside you that felt nearly devastating when his tip hit it again and again.

Your thighs were shaking, no longer able to control the lewd noises leaking from your lips. The tight coil in your abdomen had you twitching, only coiling tighter as Geto continuously abused that sensitive spot in your cunt. It was so overwhelming and intense that you nearly burst when Geto reached between your legs to play with your sticky-hot clit.

It twitched violently against the rough pads of his fingers. "'m gonna—"

"Shut up," he sneered, his voice dangerously low before shoving your face further into the mattress with a hand at the back of your neck. "Shut up and cum."

No sounds left your mouth, your body seemingly obeying his command. Your thighs clenched, trying to close, but his broad body prevented you from pushing him away. And then—

“ Fuck —look at that,” he groaned as you felt a gush of liquid spray between your legs, splashing his thighs and getting the blankets under you sopping wet. All you could do was sob, overwhelmed by how fast he made you cum.

He gave you a rough thrust, a long whine slipping out of your throat. “Gonna fill this pussy nice and full. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

With your face pressed into your comforter, it prevented you from shaking your head no; the only sound coming out through the mouthful of cotton was an mmph, nearly choking on your own drool.

“I’m ‘gonna make sure everyone knows you’re mine—shit, keep squeezing me.” He released a feral moan. "Just like that! Good girl."

Geto held you still, his mouth attaching to your shoulder to muffle the loud groan rumbling in his chest as his balls twitched and drew up almost painfully. His hips pressed flush against yours to cum as deep as your cunt would allow, trying to make it stick.

"Fuck," he panted.

Afterward, he tangled you up in his arms, his soft cock still nestled in your snug, tacky-wet walls. Cuddling was the last thing you expected, but you decided not to bring it up lest he got upset.

Nor did you say anything when you noticed the small bloodstain on his grey sweats after getting dressed and his slightly bruised knuckles pulling the cotton up over his hips. You never brought it up, not even as your date from Saturday showed up to class with a suspicious swollen lip and a black eye.

And you didn't ask if Geto wanted to hang out after class. It had just been sex—a one-time thing.

He'd already gotten what he wanted and left. That was always how this would play out: no extra dates or late-night texts. Guys like Geto didn’t do strings. Et cetera.

You knew this. 

You knew.

Although, the dark look he shot Gojo when he pulled you into his lap for movie night could make you believe otherwise—that maybe it was more than sex.

...It was probably best just to keep your mouth shut.

A few weeks later, Geto muffled low groans into his shirt caught between his teeth as he fisted his cock to a picture of you—because you were avoiding him again. 

But that was okay, silly, that you ever thought you could. He already had it planned out how he’d have you again, and just the thought of feeling your tight cunt wrapped around him had Geto painting his stomach white.

tagging. @jordyn-degas @sailorstrawberi @chloee0x0 @grim_gal @dazvia @savantsoulfinder @yams046 @lilithlunas @jadeisthirsting @dilfs-lover @venussakura @simp-lauren @stygianoir @rottmntrulesall @swaying-sanity

[lunaekalenda]

It's still dark outside when your phone rings soflty, making you wake up slowly. Your head still hurts a little and your nose is stuffy. Little by little you gain consiciousness, starting to notice the heavy arm around your waist, the open palm on your chest and the rythmic breath agains your neck. You move as soft as possible, trying not to wake the man behind you, but his hand grips your breast as he pulls you closer towards him, sighing when your body is totally against his and his legs tangled with yours.

"Stay." his voice is low and husky, sleepy. It almost makes you fall asleep again, but you turn around, facing the blond man who has his pretty hazel eyes closed. Leaving a kiss on his lips, you murmur.

"I have work today. I can't skip it." Nanami smiles softly while his arms bring you closer.

"No, no, honey." he coos. "You had a terrible cold yesterday, all the time sneezing. As your husband, I could never let you go to work like that." even when he keeps the low tone on his voice, there's a little smile on his lips. "I already talked with Gojo this morning, and Shoko can cover you." he says. "Stay in bed today, yeah?" his skin is hot against yours as he hugs you again, a gesture that gives you the biggest comfort. "Let me take care of you, alright?"

[qissu]

JJK MEN & HOW THEY TREAT F! READER DURING JEALOUSY SEX

synopsis: How the jjk men treat y/n during jealousy sex

ft: Toji, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

cw: Slightly extreme, jealousy sex, anal play, forced penetration, double penetration, begging, degrading, oil, spanking, impregnation, knife to the throat, cervix bruising, intimate sex, manipulation, slight sub themes, blood, disobeying, etc.

WC:1k

Toji: He has you chained to the bed, watching your pussy move as you squirm in front of him. he’ll stand over you, holding a bottle of oil as he lets it drip onto your skin. Watching as you tremble under the hot oil.

“It’s not like I did something that’s against the law.”

“But you did, giving attention to other men/woman is against my law. When you’re with me you get nobody else.”

Your words pissed him off, how could you not see what the problem was.

“I’ll just have to train you to be a good girl.” He clamps a collar around your neck, one with a long chain. Since you were chained facing away from him it was even better.

Keep reading

[adonnae-deactivated20221119]

Missed my period.

When Wakatoshi reads the text he’s half exhausted from a grueling day of training, chest heaving and sweat lining his top lip and hairline, so he doesn’t quite understand why you’re telling him this. He’s straddling a bench on the sidelines with Aran Ojiro in front of him.

Maybe he stares at the text for too long because Aran’s head suddenly appears in his line of visions.

“Are you good?”

Wakatoshi blinks. “She missed her period.”

Aran’s inhale is so sharp that he starts coughing. This draws the attention of his other teammates, and Wakatoshi drops his phone on the bench to thump his friend on the back once, twice.

"Jesus Christ, Ushijima," Aran clears his throat.

"What did he do?" Iwaizumi squints at Wakatoshi.

Aran shakes his head. "What do you mean she missed her period? Like she might be pregnant?" He asks, ignoring Iwaizumi's presence and the others closing in.

Wakatoshi freezes, at the same time Hinata and Atsumu collide with each other. "Oh," he breathes dumbly.

"Oh? Oh!?" Atsumu squawks.

"Wakatoshi-kun you might become a dad!"

Oh.

Aran gestures wildly to the phone on the bench between them. "Well? Text back! Ask if they'll take a test Wakatoshi!"

A mix of dismayed groans fill the air as Ushijima fumbles with his phone. His hands are shaking he notes. And he realizes that he might be panicking just a little. A ding goes off before he can get the phone to unlock and your name lights up the screen.

His face unlocks the phone and he catches a glimpse of an image. His heart rises into his throat when he clicks it open and finds a picture of the bathroom counter in the master bedroom. There are pregnancy tests covering every surface that he can see within the frame.

All different brands. Some have double lines, others say pregnant outright.

"Fuck," Kageyama breathes over his shoulder. "You're gonna be a dad."

Silence falls amongst them as Wakatoshi continues to stare at the picture.

And then Hinata bursts into gleeful laughter.

"Congratulations!"

It's a catalyst. Atsumu and Kageyama hug him on either side. Ushijima finds a small smile forming on his lips. He's going to be a father.

"I'm going to be a father," he says slowly.

"Hell fucking yeah!" Atsumu attempts, futilely, to pick him up and Ushijima's smile turns into a surprised laugh. Cheers ring up around the court.

The celebration is cut short by the shrill ringing of Iwaizumi's phone. He's stunned to see your name on his trainer's screen. Iwaizumi eyes him as he answers.

"No he's- he- wait a minute now- he's right here- I-" Iwaizumi seems to grow more frantic the longer he tries to calm you down.

Ushijima snatches the phone from him.

"Hello?"

You sob. A full, ugly, hiccupping, gross sob. You can't even speak to him, can't even express how you feel. The turmoil you've been in for the past fifteen minutes as you waited for his response and then got none.

"Sweetheart," he breathes, and he doesn't sound upset. You try to suck air into your lungs, to gather yourself together so you can have an actual conversation with him but God just hearing his voice soothes your nerves but also unravels them. "We're having a baby?"

You nod, and then catching yourself and suck in a huge breath. "Mhm," you manage to croak out. "Mhm, we are,” you whimper.

Ushijima is quiet for a moment. You can just make out a bit of whispering in the background and the sound of sneakers squeaking before he responds. "Are you upset? Do you-" he gulps "-do you not want to have-"

You shake your head frantically. "I thought you were mad! You left me on seen and then you didn't answer your phone and I know you had a plan and we're not marrie-"

Ushijima grunts. "I don't care about any of that. I care about you and I and what we have right now. And if that's a baby then I'm- I'm very happy, extremely happy to do whatever you want to do."

You begin to sob again, but for a different reason.

"Please don't cry, you're breaking my heart."

A startled laugh interrupts your hiccupping at his sudden admission.

"I'm too far away to comfort you and it's driving me crazy."

"I love you," you giggle wetly.

Ushijima's smile is tiny as he replies, completely ignoring the presence of a wide eyed Atsumu and smug Aran. "I love you too. I'll be home in a day or two."

[savantsoulfinder]

late night drive with ran haitani

𝙨𝙖𝙧𝙖 · Playlist · 46 songs

new fic coming up?

[savantsoulfinder]

lotte milkis strawberry

𝙨𝙖𝙧𝙖 · Playlist · 113 songs

Geto Suguru X Reader, angst, wc: 449 words

“Try it.”

“No, I don’t want it.”

“Oh, c'mon, Suguru, just a sip. It’s strawberry flavored, —"

“I don’t like sugary drinks. Give them to Satoru. He’ll like it.“ He cuts you off and brushes past you through the hallway, leaving you alone there with the Strawberry Milkis in your hand.

He didn’t even bother to look back. Honestly, he couldn’t. He doesn’t know why you accepted that mission. You somehow seem unbothered by how the universe put you in a life where you were told to sacrifice yourself for others. An angel like you doesn’t deserve this.

Keep reading

[savantsoulfinder]

lotte milkis strawberry

𝙨𝙖𝙧𝙖 · Playlist · 113 songs

Geto Suguru X Reader, angst, wc: 449 words

"Try it."

"No, I don’t want it."

“Oh, c'mon, Suguru, just a sip. It’s strawberry flavored, —"

“I don’t like sugary drinks. Give them to Satoru. He’ll like it." He cuts you off and brushes past you through the hallway, leaving you alone there with the Strawberry Milkis in your hand.

He didn’t even bother to look back. Honestly, he couldn’t. He doesn’t know why you accepted that mission. You somehow seem unbothered by how the universe put you in a life where you were told to sacrifice yourself for others. An angel like you doesn’t deserve this.

A few hours passed by. He was in the car when Ijichi told him that you were badly injured after a mission. When the car arrived at the school, he opened the car door without even waiting for it to fully stop and ran to the infirmary. He prayed to the gods to not take you away, not this soon. He burst through the door and stopped as soon as he saw you on the bed. Whether you died that quickly, he didn’t know, but you were dead by the time he reached you. You were gone; he was too late.

No, no, no.

"Geto-san," principal Yaga called to him. No, this can't be.

"Suguru." Principal Yaga called to him as he put a hand on Geto’s shoulder in an attempt to calm him.

"No, this is your fault! You let them die! You let them go on that mission! " He screamed as he pushed away Principal Yaga’s hand and stormed out of the infirmary.

He let his leg drag him away from the infirmary. God is unfair, he repeated in his head. He kept on walking until he was standing in front of your dorm room. He turned the doorknob and slowly entered your room. He didn’t realize he was crying as he was standing in front of your desk. There was a pack of Lotte Strawberry Milkis. One was missing from its place. It was the one you wanted him to try.

There he was, sitting alone in your room, thinking about everything that had recently happened to him. How you were excited for him to taste that white and pink can soda a few hours ago.  He regrets leaving you there. He places his index finger under the tab’s ring and lifts the backside of the tab. He took one sip from the drink before he broke into tears. Hot tears streamed down his face, and he squeezed his eyelids shut in the hope his tears would stop. His choppy breathing and watery eyes remained for quite some time, and he sat there holding the milkis, unmoving.

[qissu]

ਏਓ ｡ ﾟ The yakuza’s wife ➢ Toji x chubby f! reader

wORD cOUNT ≡ 2K

CW ≡ Smut, Forced penetration, talking y/n thru their orgasm, fucking to impregnate.

Toji’s clan has been growing and before your father knew it his clan was the second biggest, not wanting to have problems between the two a partnership was born.

Both clans work together, your father gets to keep the peace and as for Toji, he gets you in exchange as his wife.

Surprisingly you’ve been treated good, someone brings you meals and you have maids at you beck and call.

Toji is busy most of the time, whenever he gets home he’s always greeted, whenever you heard this you always rush to go to bed, not wanting to face him.

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[savantsoulfinder]

Hi dear! I just saw your rb on the nanami fluff so I wanted to just pop in and wish you a belated happy birthday! I’m glad my piece was able to make your day and I hope you have an amazing rest of your day 🤍

💕 thank you so much for the wish, i hope youre doing well wherever you are 🫶🏻

[semisgroupie]

1001 ways to say i love you

nanami kento x fem!reader

wc: 1.7k

warnings: just some tooth rotting fluff!

synopsis: some of the ways you and Kento have shown that you love each other

a/n: this is for @hanmas after you read angst collab! this is the first fluff piece i’be written in a long time and i’m so happy i got to write this for nanami!!

The thing that you loved most with your relationship with Kento was that none of you could question if you loved each other.

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