Suguru’s Gurl

[tonycries]

The Viscount Who Loved Me - G.S.

Synopsis. Dearest gentle reader, The Ton are aflutter - and so are our hearts - for, this season, Lord Geto Suguru seeks a wife. Yet be warned, dear reader, whispers abound that Lord Geto has an eye for a particular lady that bites - you. And his lordship knows how to bite back.

Pairing. Geto Suguru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem!viscountess!reader, viscount!Geto, BRIDGERTON AU, enemies-to-Iovers, regency AU, he’s a rake, scandal sheets, The Ton, PlNING Geto, oraI (fem rec.), fíngering, spítting, p talking, síxty-nine, chokíng, he’s BIG, making it fit, full neIsons, arguing during it, tummy buIges, pressing down, manhandIing, dúmbifícation, teasing, PÚSSYDRÚNK GETO, creampíes, overstim, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.

Word count. 9.4k

A/N. Hehehe I told you babygirls I’d do it-

“Are the young ladies of this season truly so easily won by a pleasing smile and absolutely nothing more?”

A chuckle. “So you find my smile pleasing, My Lady?”

A few gasps. “I find your opinion of yourself entirely too high.” The scandal sheets were practically writing themselves. You could envision it already: ‘The Rake and the Spinster—the most unpromising match of the season!’

Of course, it was entirely Viscount Geto Suguru’s fault. 

All because he simply had to saunter up to your little group at this evening soirée; he simply had to leave them swooning with a mere bat of his lashes. Feline eyes meandering down your body, you could catch the exact moment that his lips curled for a fight.

“And-” You sniff, hand urging to pull back as he presses a lingering kiss on the back of your palm. “-only in your most fantastical dreams would I be ‘your’ lady, Lord.”

You can feel Geto’s grin curl on your skin, “For now.”

You balk—what was that supposed to mean?

Geto huffs out in priggish laughter like he could read that exact sentiment on your face. Instead, turning back to the group surrounding you two, clutching feathered fans and flutes of champagne like it would hide the way they were listening in.

And oh, were they listening in.

The twirling couples on the dance floor were ebbing themselves closer and closer towards your corner of the gathering just to overhear. Dukes upon ladies upon elderly merchants were stuffing themselves behind the draperies and seasonal lilies - all to bear witness to your brush with him.

It was common knowledge among The Ton that the viscount of the Geto Estate and the viscountess of yours - well, you - would rather trek through mud than even bear to stand in the same room. Something about old family disputes and a few business dealings gone wrong - as long as you two didn’t have to speak to one another, then all was…tolerable.

Which was impossible when it just-so-happened that you both were debuting yourselves in the market for marriage this season.

Coincidentally. 

And it’s a wonder that you can stare up into his handsome face and not want to slap it. Scowling, “If you believe that for even one second I would consider being bedded by you-”

“Of course not.” The dark-haired man waves off, baritone lilting into that teasing purr it does whenever he knows he’s about to leave you seething. “The Ton might know me to be a rake, but not even I should fall so low.”

A few whispers pluck up, even louder than the orchestra. But you only raise a challenging brow, meeting Geto’s half-lidded gaze head-on. “Is that why you stare at me so?”

“Hm?” Geto tilts his head, and his long, long braid of inky hair sways behind him. Leaning in with an almost-believable look of confusion, “How so?”

“You’re aware how so, Lord Geto. You’re doing it at this very moment.”

“I fear I am befogged, My-”

Another step.

Out of pure pride, you physically stop yourself from taking a step back- “Not-”

Another. 

“My Lady.” 

And another. 

Geto Suguru was fully in your line of vision now, obscuring your sight of the wide-eyed aristocrats around you both. And you could hear your etiquette tutor screaming bad manners at you inside your head as you freeze, almost chest-to-chest with the most alluring bachelor of this soirée. Perhaps even this season, though the sane part of you would not admit that.

And you could take in each and every detail of him.

From the broad, towering stature of his body, fitting out his intricate black n’ gold suit so sensually, at least a head above most of the audience- to the strands of raven hair framing his cheekbones. He had plush lips that were so rude, and delicate features that might have been carved by the devil himself. You almost understood why it was claimed that several ladies fainted each time he stepped into a room.

Geto Suguru was beautiful.

And he was staring down at you like he knew of his effect, so close that you could count each inkling of grey in those amethyst irises.

“Enlighten me.” Geto hums, scorched breath heating your face. His tone dips low—“How do I look at you, pretty lady?”

You have to force your larynx to strangle out, “Like- like you wouldn’t mind if I boxed your ears for calling me that.”

He looks like he expected no less of you. “What a dangerous mouth.” And could not be any happier than he was now. Before you can even think, Geto sweeps your right hand into his and plants a second, soft kiss. “Yet, indeed I would not mind, My Lady.”

Somewhere behind you, you’re hearing a few elderly ladies laugh fondly, as if the pair of you were the sweetest courting couple. 

And Geto straightens his tall figure back, tipping his head in a bow. “I bid you the most excellent season.”

You narrow your stare, “And to you, Lord.” Under your breath- “Uncouth fellow.”

Under his- “Bluestocking.”

“Rake.”

“Prude.” 

“Cease it.”

He bats his lashes innocently, volume raising just a pitch. “May you find a husband just as…charming as you, pretty lady.”

You smile back, “And may you find any wife at all, Lord Geto.”

His dark brows raise, cheeks tinting red just slightly—before Geto waltzes back into some other corner of the heavily-decorated hallway - surely to sweet-talk more débutantes than he can possibly remember. 

You’re left, slightly breathless, as you turn back to your little group. Now tittering amongst themselves as the crowd begins to disperse, whispering. 

This season was undoubtedly in full swing.

“Well…” You’re starting, more to cut through their nonsensical rigmarole than anything. You tip back your glass of champagne in one gulp, “With that blessing, I believe it is certain that I shan’t find a husband this season.”

Oh, how mistaken you were.

.

.

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Dearest gentle reader,

While you may have been reading Shakespeare’s ‘Romeo & Juliet’, the most fortunate Ton attending last night’s soirée were living in it. And where scandal waltzes, Viscount Geto Suguru is most sure to ask for a dance.

Handsome, alluring, and sly as a cat; this author’s reliable informants have whispered that only one feigns allergy to his lordship’s charms. Yes, gentle reader, our one and only headstrong viscountess found herself pulled into the midst of Lord Geto’s courtship, despite their famous family feud.

Those who happened upon the interaction shared sordid details of the blossoming couple’s plans to—forgive my forwardness—bed, and the viscount’s notorious flirtations. Gentlemen, this author kindly suggests that you surrender your bouquets, because witnesses claim that Viscount Geto was all the viscountess could speak of all night.

Of course, his lordship was no better with her. It leaves no question why both heads of estate have debuted in unison. 

I, for one, cannot contain myself at the thought of perhaps the most promising match of the season.

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown.

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.

.

“Quite the news this fine day, don’t you think?”

“Of course you would be the type to read a washrag such as those papers.” You don’t greet Viscount Geto Suguru at the horse races, and he doesn’t seem inclined to greet you, either. “Does it help memorize your prospects?”

Whether it be out of pure petty regards, or the fact that the crowd surrounding you two was gawking at the conversation, you were unsure. And you find your fist clenching into the fabrics of your silken riding robes, realizing that so many onlookers had scrambled and piled to seat themselves next to you. And that left only one open seat - next to him.

With as much of a dignified huff as you can muster, you sit next to Geto and swear you hear a few gasps from behind. Training your eyes firmly on the ready line of horses ahead, perhaps if you pretended that he was a tree stump you were seated beside and nothing more-

“How should you know they’re washrags unless you’ve read them, too?”

Your head snaps towards Geto- only to find that he was already looking at you. Rosy lips curled till there was a dimple at the edge of his smirk, eyes twinkling. 

You sputter hotly- “Wh-what?”

He’s repeating, despite it behind a rhetorical question. “How should you know they’re washrags unless you’ve read them, too?” The viscount tips his high hat back so he can twist his features with mock curiosity, leaning in. “Does it help memorize my prospects, My Lady?”

“Your prospects are of no concern to me, Lord Geto.”

“Is that so?”

“My Estate was simply in uproar at my association with such an ignoramus fellow such as yourself, of course.” You’re looking down at him somehow, even though he managed to tower his frame above yours. Shoulders against shoulders. Scoffs against scoffs. “My poor ears had no choice but to be punished with those fibs this morning.”

And it was quite true…almost.

With the mantle of head falling on you, your family weren’t ones to question your choices in dalliances. No matter how…questionable.

So when you’d been delivered your copy of Lady Whistledown’s society papers, you’d expected to see yourself in it. Perhaps a line or two about the altercation with Geto - at most, a paragraph.

But finding the story spun to last the entirety of the scandal sheets left your poor Estate rumbling at the impact of your scream. Hell, one of your attendants had sent urgent summons for the palace healer - and your friend - Shoko.

Only for her to smack a cold washcloth over your forehead and threaten you to stop reading.

Too late; you’d already flipped through all there was to - and so had half the kingdom, certainly. You had not found yourself in the middle of Geto’s courtship, you had not talked about plans of bedding. 

And you had most definitely not spoken of him all night - it was miffed complaining! Only complaints! You two were far from the most promising match of the season. And at this rate, you would find yourself unwed and squabbling with a certain viscount till you were aged.

In fact, the reason you found yourself early at the horse races was for the sole purpose of forgetting that those papers ever existed - and Geto. 

Unfortunately for you, he seemingly had the very same idea. And here was the pretty, buttoned-up problem, startling you out of your whirlwind of thoughts with two fingertips tracing the shell of your ear.

Pointer and middle, tracing the shape like a frigid breeze. 

“Poor ears. Poor ears indeed.” Geto tuts, and you could catch the snicker threatening to break across his maw. “So it was merely a soirée tale that you were speaking of me all night, My Lady?”

Something at the pit of your stomach lurches, and your words come out higher than they usually were. “But of course. Surely you can’t be that involved with yourself to believe that you were all I could think of all night?” You’re sure that you’re being watched now, instead of the awaiting race.

And at his shrug you find yourself almost incredulous - almost wondering. “Why, then am I to believe that you spoke of me all night, like the papers claimed?”

Another infuriating shrug - and you don’t know whether it’s the mere action or the absence of an answer that leaves you biting back an audible groan. A strange part of you almost wanted to know. 

“Fear not, you will find out, I assure you.” Almost like he was reading your face, Viscount Geto glances at you - then back at the race. 

You hated to admit it, but he had chosen the perfect seat. It was in the very first row, with your line of vision optimally falling upon the kicking horses, readying for sprint. It was one that you would have chosen yourself - and, often, you did. Except for the days that Geto Suguru had arrived first to the races, and you had to situate yourself yards away, of course.

The dark-haired man stands up and continues, “In a bet.” 

“A bet? And I am to trust you?”

“Believe it to be but business.” Strong arm stretching out to point, you reluctantly follow his finger to the stark white stallion in the far corner of the starting line. Keen eyes yellowish, long mane coiled. “I wager that the Geto Estate’s Rainbow Dragon shall beat yours in this race. In the rare instance I lose, I shall share the answer you seek.”

You, of course, would never be left behind. And you stand up yourself, toe-to-toe.

You’re staring at your own estate’s horse - your short-haired, cream Manta Ray. It would be a close one. You’re feeling anticipation bubble up inside you as the announcer raises his pistol to the sky, finger tracing the trigger in a signal to start. “And if, heavens forbid, you win?”

Geto’s lips curl up in a smile. “The two of us shall cross that bridge when we come to it, pretty lady.”

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Dearest gentle reader,

Yesterday’s races ended in a sweep-all for the Geto Estate’s Rainbow Dragon, as my avid horse-racing readers may already be aware. But like all good gossip of the season, it doesn’t simply end there!

Lord Geto Suguru was witnessed not only basking in the victory of his stallion - but also his latest blossoming courtship. The Ton was positively abuzz at the presence of the viscountess, and it is rumored that the very special pair were discussing the announcement of their engagement. Why, this author has her pen at the ready if the lord and lady wish for a certain set of papers to report on their romantic activities. 

However, some of my informants swear that the couple was seen in a muddy squabble towards the end of the race, and it is certain that agreeing upon wedding decorations is difficult for even the most fated of matches. Isn’t it a passion that just makes one swoon?

But patience is a virtue, dear reader. And, for now, we will have to wait to see this wedding come to fruition. 

Until then, I suggest you don your finest silks, tinker your most exquisite embroidery, and practise those curtsies - for this author has reason to believe that Her Majesty’s watchful eye will soon gaze at The Ton in search for her new Diamond of the season!

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown.

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.

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It was not a bridge that should have been crossed.

It was a bridge that should have been deconstructed, made a mull, and absolutely burned. 

At least, Viscount Geto Suguru imagines that’s what you must have been pondering that day after the races. After all, there’s not much else that would provoke the notoriously level-headed viscountess into storming away so fast that you’d nearly planted right into a spectacular pool of mud.

(You had, in reality - and so had he, in his valiant attempts to save you. But there was a silent understanding between the both of you to pretend that didn’t quite happen, and that neither had been drenched in clumps of mud that day.)

But it was all to be blamed on his immediate request upon winning the wager, as if he had kept this in mind all along. His request: for you to join him at the upcoming Royal Diamond Ball. 

Join him.

Not simply as a reluctant acquaintance, not even as an unlikely cordial friend. But on Geto Suguru’s arm. 

But that was a week ago. And here you were. 

Your fingers quivering on his firm, bulging bicep through his velvet jacket. Being escorted inside the ball by the very man you’ve despised for so long.

It was gorgeous, and even more. Spirals of florals cascaded from each nook and cranny of the enormous chamber, lit with flickering candles that illuminated the ballroom like miniature suns. It was Spring, diamonds, and the thrill of heady romance. The dazzling silks of each débutante fought for attention - and yet, it was stolen instantly by you.

It was like the orchestra had suddenly drowned their music underwater the moment you two made your grand entrance; every dancing couple misstepped, every mouth gaped mid-sentence or mid-bite, every pair of eyes snapped to you.

You swear, by the far end of the royal ballroom, you could see Her Majesty the Queen straighten upon her throne to steal a closer look.

Fuck.

“Why, as expected, we’re all The Ton shall gossip about for weeks, My Lady.” Geto’s confident croon graces your ears, and he suavely leads you to one gilded corner.

Standing beside you, he bears no hesitation before leaning in- shoulders brushing shoulders, the viscount’s deep voice curling around your eardrums. Slow. Almost sensual. “You shine everyone else down, pretty lady.”

“Shamming it with flattery won’t win me over.” You’re massaging your temples, weary.

“I could never lie to you.”

It had been a week of this.

A week of having the notorious Geto Suguru make each of your attendants swoon with his mere presence inside your Estate. A week of him driving you positively crazed, teasing you with that coy mouth until you snapped. A week of him observing you, hard enough that once Geto had presented you with a dark blue satin gown for tonight, studded with tiny diamonds - it had your perfect measurements.

It was tailored to you, and it tailored him to you.

And he was proudly running his thumb down the sleek fabric of his waistcoat, the same shade as your dress. Long hair tied back, medals dazzling. “I believe I always have been honest with you, My Lady. In every instance but one.” Silently, he stares at the dancefloor behind him as the orchestra muses out a slow, romantic waltz. Then back at you, with an open palm and a deep bow- “May I have this dance?”

“You wish to dance with me?” Almost balking.

He pretends to give a sweeping look around the hall, “I see no other prettier lady, nor one I would like to dance with.”

“And I see no gentleman I wish to dance with. At all.”

“Oh, my apologies.” Geto edges closer, and you already know the next words to befall from his mouth won’t bode well for you. “I have failed to realize that you are frightened.”

Scoffing, “Frightened of dancing with you? Oh, please-” You’re carefully watching the playful raise of his dark eyebrows. The way his palm curls open in your direction ever-so-slightly - yet, still not completely, as if he was the one almost frightened. 

And you can only nod. “Fiend seize it- but only because it wouldn’t do well for you to go without dancing the entire night, your prospects shall be rather put off.”

“I am honored by your benevolence, My Lady.”

“Charmed.”

“Smitten.”

“Cease.”

Tentatively, you’re led to the middle of the ballroom.

Where Geto was slowly - almost agonizingly - stepping into your heated proximity. His near-trembling hand falls upon your waist, the other clasping your hands.

And, sweetly, you’re being twirled. Your feet instinctually find their rhythm with the lilting melody, forming little boxes as you’d been taught during dance classes upon classes - never touching, constantly orbiting each other.

“Curious.” You’re the first to speak, staring into Geto’s lowered, questioning eyes, “I believed you would be more…” Trailing off at the gentle, gentle drag of his hand down the back of your bodice. “-uncouth.”

He tugs you even closer, “Would you like me to be?”

“It would be better if we leave the scandals to the wed.” Squirming in his arms, you somehow manage to burrow yourself even deeper. And you can feel the whispers, the eyes-

“Should you wish us to be?”

Breath catching, “What?”

“F-forgive me-” And there’s something you can’t quite understand in his pupils as he looks away, though that only displays the burning rouge of Geto’s high cheekbones. “I jest-”

“You find amusement in enraging me, don’t think I haven’t noticed, Lord Geto.” His predatory eyes widen. You dare to tuck a palm onto his cheek and make him look at you, an action that sets the gallery alight with whispers. “But right now, I do not believe you jest. Or should the reputed rake of the season fear speaking his mind with a prospect?”

It was in the way his face was scarlet, in the thud-thud-thud of his heart beating through his chest. And in the way that you had made Geto Suguru of all people stutter.

The crowd bustles ever-closer, craning their bedazzled necks to spy a better look when Geto tucks his sizzling face into the crook of your neck. Whispering, “Of course I fear you.” Scandalous, and yet, neither of you could bring yourselves to care at this very moment. “Of course. Oh, you’re no prospect, you’re the bane of my existence.”

And then the viscount hums gutturally - drinking in your scent, your slight gasp. He lets it all out into the skin of your throat—“But no. No, I do not jest at all, My Lady.” 

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.

.

Geto Suguru has been in love with you since the very moment he laid eyes on you.

All those years ago. Since the moment he’d attended the horse races as the all-new viscount of the Geto Estate- only to wind up seated next to you, the equally fresh viscountess who won the race that day and didn’t hesitate to goad in his face. To challenge him. To scoff at his flirtations.

But, right now, he believes himself to be almost as deeply in-love with the pretty, pretty wet noises he was pulling out of you.

“N-ngh, mmm, Lord Geto-” Skirts pooling around you. Thrown over the armrest of a couch in some hidden-away gazebo of the royal gardens. “Fuck!”

All Geto has to do is drag the rough, honed edge of his thumb between the swollen lips of your pussy before you’re gushing. The slimy stream of slick that makes the viscount lick his lips greedily, “You utter my last name even whence I’m between your legs, My Lady?”

Barely - just barely - you manage to raise your head mere inches off of the dampened cushion. 

Whirling it over your shoulder to where Geto was kneeled on the floor from behind, “W-would you rather I call you a hngh- ‘buzzard’ or a ‘chit’, then?”

“Now, isn’t that simply hurtful—” He’s crooning out, and something in his voice was dangerously husky. And the next few syllables escaping his smoky throat were barely even audible past the embarrassing squeeeelch of your thin undergarments being tugged to the side. Snapping the side of your thighs- “What do we say, hm?”

“S- oh! S-” Strangling out moans at the feeling of the chilly night air tickling your slope.

He’s edging even closer, tendrils of his breath heating up your wet pussy. He was so ravenous that specks of Geto’s dewy drool dripped down onto your legs. “Yeeees–?”

“Cease it!”

The very moment that response is being mumbled from your lips, Geto’s departing something from his - a large, sticky wad of spit that splashes between your sultry pussylips. He’s sticking a thumb between your folds and watching as his mess webs up your entrance.

“Forgive me, I must clean that mouth o’ yours up, pretty lady.” Before striking your cunt with yet another wet hit of saliva. “Again.” And another. “Again-”

You’re whimpering, spine arching into the perfect curvature on top of the loungechair. And Geto only swabs his thumb on the fleshy insides of your pussylips, teasingly. Grunting, “Such a wanton mouth on ya.”

“Please-” You could feel his flicking lips reaching closer, mere millimeters away just to make you sob in need. “Please- I only have so much patience-”

“I’m well aware-” And before you know it, your pussy’s being stained with another knotted glob of saliva. And as you moan, he’s snickering- “Consider that revenge for the harm you’ve done to my- oh, heart. And this…”

The way that he’s then easily sinking in nose-deep was just pure greed.

Raw, primal; the minute that Geto’s scratchy taste buds hit the front of your cunt, he’s slickly slipping and easing his tongue in everywhere. Anywhere. 

Poking n’ prodding. 

Lapping up every ounce of slick clinging to your pussy like he was a man dying of thirst- and he was addicted to your hot core. Oh, he was addicted. Your knees drag on the couch cushion once Geto takes ahold of your waist and hauls you deeper down onto his handsome face.

“Mmmm–” His glossy, puckered lips slurp at the wet folds of your pussy. You’re feeling the underside of his tongue slither down to flick at your clit and makes you drool - from both sets of lips. “She’s more hah- honest than you. Aren’t you, pretty lady?”

The straight line of his nose bridge tucks in even deeper, in such a lecherous way you feel so stuffed. “I-I’m not-”

“Not you.” And you could almost hear the roll of his hazed peripherals. 

The smug, sleazy grin across his face as Geto tickles your glistening hole with his tongue. You were clenching ‘round nothing, feeling such a delicious streeeetch once he’s pumping inside. Muffling out- “Her.”

And the Lord Geto Suguru that you knew was suave. He was smooth. 

But the man between your honeyed legs was simply messy– just thrust after aching thrust of his maw. Geto’s attractive jawline was stretched so wiiide open, damn near swallowing you whole. He flattens his tongue just to pry apart your walls - again.

And again. “Aren’t you?” And again. Letting off some of the most sinful noises that make your heart race, “Aren’t you, pretty lady?”

Calling your treacly pussy by that nickname that drove you wild. 

“Who’d have thought that you’d be oh- hiding suuuuuch a gorgeous, gorgeous lady under all that snark and mouth.” Almost grumbling at the fact that he wasn’t granted this chance earlier.

“Heavens- you’re f-fast-” And Geto’s rovering his gaped mouth all over, not leaving even an inch of your outer pussy. 

Mercilessly, he’s thrashing his textured tongue on the roof of your cunt and you have to throw your hand behind you and shove back at his forehead.

Unsure whether you wanted to hold him or push him away.

But you didn’t have to choose - Geto’s making the choice for you. 

In a swift instant, he’s fighting against your strength and gnawing down on the thin fabric of your underwear. Murmuring, “And- these-” Soon enough you’re hearing the sharp rip-rip-riiiip of him tearing your undergarments with his mouth. “-skirts.”

“Suguru–!” You’re trilling out, watching as Geto spits out the tattered remnants of your panties. 

Quickly, both his hands smear open your bloated pussylips. And he doesn’t waste a second - not even a nanosecond - before diving deeper. 

All bared open for him, he’s flopping out his lengthy tongue to soften up your tight hole. Making you feel his flicking, wet crown with thrust after thrust- “You’re so- soooo fucking wet.”

“You’re- hah!” Choking on both sobs n’ whines as his perky tastebuds sizzle against the sweet spots of your walls, Geto was fucking you with his tongue the way he was aching to with his cock. “-talking f-far more than you should, Lord Suguru.”

“And what shall you do about it, My Lady?”

He was about to find out.

Oh, he didn’t have a clue. 

The viscount was practically stunned as you immediately lurch your hips away, chasing your pussy with a pathetic whine.

But you’re holding firm- dragging him up by the intricate, posh lapels of his jacket. You’re helping Geto impatiently lay himself down on the couch, face straddled between your two thighs. Backwards.

So his mouth was hovering underneath your pussy, and yours was gulping impatiently as you struggled with the buckles of his dress pants. Such a lewd sixty-nine position that made him crane his head up n’ lick between your tender folds with a whimper, “Mmm, let me partake in my dessert at once, My Lady.”

“Patience is a virtue.” You tut, finally succeeding in undressing his lower half. And oh-

Oh, fuck.

You gape. 

Geto Suguru…was huge. 

About eight, perhaps even nine solid inches that throbbed even fatter the more intensely you were staring at him. Huge and pretty- the first thing you’re making out is the ruby-red cap of his shaft, glossy with a syrupy layer of precum. 

Your needy thumb wipes it off, only to have Geto’s leaky orifice weep out even more of his sticky sap. Drip-dripping down the ridges of his thick cock, travelling between his four prominent veins, disappearing into his slightly unruly tuft of jet black at the base. They looked like they’d positively ruin you from the inside out.

And Geto was bucking up like he wanted to do exactly that. 

“‘Nough-” He’s cutting himself off with a gasp, “Enough admirin’, fuck! Just- oh.”

So, so sensitive. You’re blowing your heated air down on the mushroomy tip of Geto’s erection, and watching as he sprays out in pre. 

Grinning, “Language. Seems like someone was on the verge of cumming in their pants, Lord Suguru.”

“I’ve fucked my fist raw to the image of your furious face at the- hngh, races that day, My Lady. Have mercy.” He’s babbling out, such pure honesty from just how pussydrunk he was. With your pussy mere millimeters away and dripping like a waterfall into his mouth.

The top of Geto’s tongue spanks down on your teary slope the very moment that he perks his hips up. Pre-glazed tip swabbing your lips like those shimmering lipstains you’ve seen some other nobles wear.

He feels the hot cavern of your mouth plop! down on the thickness of his cockhead and titters, “I should do well to wax that chatty mouth of yours shut, yes?”

The only response you can force your body to even do is to bully your hips down in a lewd attempt to suffocate the rude words spilling from Geto’s mouth.

Pushing down. Dragging your cunt sloppily. You think he might sputter, you think he might even choke out a slight protest- but what you certainly didn’t expect the viscount to do was to anchor your grinding hips with his two hands.

Shoving you deeper down his ajar maw. And you swear you feel him gasp out a little—“S-suffocate me.”

Groaning into the flared ridge of his dick, you’re swirlin’ your textured tongue around a few times. Before having done enough damage - because Geto was simply left rutting his hips primally. Unlatching, “Wh-what-”

“Suffocate me, My Lady.”

He doesn’t stutter, he doesn’t even set himself free for air—he’s only forking his tongue between that first rim of muscle. Licking up your walls, reaching for your heart. Again n’ again until it’s all loosened up enough for two of Geto’s slender, doughy fingertips to bludgeon against. 

Pap after slimy pap of his fingerpads, “Open up, pretty lady.” Wheezing against the outer part of your pussy, “Since you like- ngh- talkin’ so much- fuck! Open those pretty lips up for me, I beg.”

Sensually, ever-so-sensually, his knobbly digits are stirrin’ inside. 

He’s pricking his crowned fingers against each and every spot inside you, half-thrusting back just to fit even deeper. And it sounds out just deafening squelches.

Spurred on - you couldn’t fall behind to Viscount Geto. In a split-second, your lecherous tongue dangles out, tracing the pulsating veins simply covering his cock. 

The patterns of his length scrape spots inside of you that you weren’t even aware existed, and Geto didn’t have to fuck his mazing cock up into your mouth to have you choking. To have you cryin’ at the probe of his merciless cockhead. 

“H-hck!” Sobbing out, you’re suckin’ a few inches of his ramrod erection like your favorite ice cone. And he was just so big that the insides of your cheek streeetch out farther than you ever knew possible, “Two can play ngh- games like so.”

“Just like I claimed. How daaaangerous this unlady-like mouth of yours ngh- is.” As his middle and his ring finger pump into your velvety insides, Geto twists his thumb ‘round to press on your throbbing clit. 

All at the same time. 

Watching with a grin once you’re shrilling out in utter pleasure, white flashing behind your eyes. He’s spitting once more, letting a fragile string of spittle connect your cunt to each lick after lavish lick. You whine, “P-please, My Lord.”

Ah- 

Geto’s glassy eyes roll to the back of his skull. 

He keeps trying to breathe- but his body won’t even let him. Geto’s suffocating himself on your pussy, cock twitching right near the back of your throat.

You’re relaxing your neck to lodge him even deeper as you constantly moan and moan those very same words - My Lord - and he feels like he’s on the verge of fainting. Fast. 

He has to do something. Faster. 

Before you can brace yourself, the viscount swiftly slips off the family signet ring on his left hand. Pushing it onto the index finger of his right and bullying it between your folds.

Making sure that your cunt walls feel every frigid groove, “F-fuck! Feels good, huh?” At your dazed moans, “Accept my betrothal and I shall don more than one ring. And if you can- hah, take me on, pretty lady, you can take this-” He’s bucking up meaningfully, buttery tip bruising the roof of your mouth. Watching you flutter ‘round his ring, he can’t help but lap at your sloppy hole once more. “And then….fuck…”

And then he’s pumping his ravenous fingers inside even harder. Rough enough that the mountains of his knuckles sting, being slammed red on the folds of your pussy.

Geto’s cocktip pummels the soft back of your throat and you buck down in need- accidentally rovering his ringed fingers ever-deeper. Pushin’ his golden ring against the splotchy area of your g-spot, “O-oh my god, Suguru—”

“Th-there.” He’s breathing out, raggedly. Eyes widening. And as soon as Geto discovers your most favorite spot, he’s obsessed. “This is for the way you’ve been- been driving my screws loose for, ngh, years.”

He’s jerking his slick-soaked wrist into the perfect angle to swab your cute insides, you’re just crying out prettily after each scratch of his fingerpads. “This is for all the horse races I’ve oh- lost to you.” Pump after pump. He spits once more on your wettened pussy and growls, “And mm- this is for the way you make a fool of me, without even trying.”

“C-can’t help it-” Gurgling, the deepest corners of your throat were all flooded with the caramel salt taste of his precum. And yet, you were indignant despite the dizzying movements of his tongue.

Another slap of his scratchy underside, Geto was rovering his mouth so deep that you’re struck with the point of his chin. Almost punishing. “This is for how insatiable you leave me.”

“Please-” You’re jerking atop him at the flashes of bliss, hands struggling to cup his swollen balls. They’re so heavy in your palms as you massage, struggling out- “I believe I’m…”

“Ohhh— what’s that?” And it takes a few more squelching noises, a few more nods of Geto’s flushed face for you to realize that he wasn’t even talking to you. It was back to your sopping wet pussy, plugging each orifice up with both his fingers n’ his flicking tongue. “Yeah- yeah, and this is for how long you’ve held this pretty lady out from me.”

“Please-”

Three-more repeated slams, you’re pushed so close to the edge by now that even the slightest motion makes your pussy weep. Geto huffs at the pearly slick coating him, tongue gifting a fat thrust just to feel your cute clenches. “And this is for making me fall in, ngh, love.”

“I shan’t last-”

“Why don’t you apologize, viscountess Geto?”

You’re practically ripping yourself off of his strawberry-red tip, your maw stupidly opening ‘round a few wanton syllables- “I’m s-sor-”

And, in reality, Geto doesn’t let you apologize. Of course, he doesn’t let you. 

Why should he make you apologize for putting him in a position like this? One that was precisely where he carnally desired to be.

Your voice breaking mid-sentence, within a few seconds he’s forcing in a fourth finger and straightly rummaging your g-spot. Racing straight towards where your hot, puffy core needed him the most. And you’re feeling the four thud-thud-thud-thuds against your bundle of nerves, skirting down your slippery walls to reach for your womb.

It’s enough to push you over the edge, your abdomen bursting with white-hot pleasure. Babbling, “I’m orgas- oh, mm-” Body wrenching stupidly on top of his muscular core, “Cum—ing, My Lord.”

Your toes curl, mouth wafting down to the very tip-top of Geto’s veiny cock without even realizing. It’s as if your entire body was set alight with just how good you felt like this.

And he’s just so focused on fucking you through peak after peak. Mentally counting the seconds between each lurch of your hips, you’re riding his pretty face sloooooppily. 

So hypnotic that he barely even registers it once your swollen, puckered lips reach for the rock-hard tip of his shaft. Placing such a sweet, loving peck—“S-Sugu—”

The first thing you see is white- buzzing inside your vision after each bang of Geto’s fingerpads on your g-spot. And then the next creamy white you’re spotting is from the leaky end of his cock- spurt after spurt of ribbony cum.

The viscount completely drenches the lower half of your face, just from you kissin’ on him like that. Over and over- you half wonder whether it hurts for him to stuff out such sheer volumes. 

Thick, gooey clumps of seed stick to your lips, and Geto groans as he feels it splatter down onto his toned pelvis. Creating a little puddle that you’re smearing with your thumb, after his spraying cockhead was finished. You plop your glazed fingertip into your mouth and shoot Geto a look over your shoulder, “Wh-what was that about- hah, revenge, My Lord?”

His half-lidded pupils dilate, practically heart eyes by this point.

“I-I…”

Throat husky, voice botched. The suave, swift smooth-talker barely gets out two syllables before tearing off his coats, his layers. Swiftly wrenching you upwards onto his naked body: your back against his flexed abs. 

He was just Herculean, from the naturally chiselled ridges of his core, to the blush that was taking over his pecs. The long tendrils of his raven hair tickle your spine as you’re pinned backwards.

Geto’s hands twitch where they clung onto your waist- almost as if they were about to flip you over. To bend you down, down, down in half like he’s always wanted to.

But one look at your beautiful, shaken features and the viscount is sure he won’t last.

And he did want to make a good impression, after all. He could cum just from seeing your face too close up.

So Geto’s pryin’ apart your shaky legs with a swat of his palms, buttering up your soppy slit with the crowned edge of his shaft.

“O-oh.” Your mouth drops at the sheer size difference, you swear he must have swollen even bigger since pliably manhandling you into this position. Because the massive girth of Geto’s reddened, rock-hard cock was intimidating in comparison with the circumference of your slick hole.

As red as a few luscious strawberries, and just as plump.

His glistening cocktip slides down your folds, struggling to stuff himself between them - and you wonder whether you could even take him.

“Nonsense, pretty lady.” Did you dare utter that out loud? He spanks your sap-flooded cunt once with the curve of his length and makes you squirm. “You shall take it. You shall.” Unsure whether he was talking to you or your pussy. And yet, he sounds so reassuring. 

So breathy.

So ruined.

You’re swivelling your head behind to look at Geto, and his cock twitches at the eye contact- oh.

It’s only then that you realize it’s not high, needy reassurance seeping into Geto’s rough tone - it was primal need. And you can’t help but press back into his glissading pecs, cushioning his heated length with your thighs. “And what if I shan’t?”

Geto wheezes, “But-”

“Where are those lordly manners?”

Geto near-sobs, “Please!”

So complacent. There’s no other fight, you’re only gasping once two greedy palms wrench apart your thighs and immediately sinks his ravaging cock inside. 

And you ponder whether you might have to be the one begging for mercy at his sheer size. 

The globed, fleshy knob of Geto’s shaft unsticks your gummy walls, clinging onto him like bubblegum. You’re being molded to his very size without even trying - with only a few rapid, urgent half-thrusts just to fit inside. 

He wasn’t even pounding up into you properly, and yet the viscount already had you stupidly drooling with a few strokes. Pump after pump- he grips onto your thighs and glues you to his muscular body. 

“Please- p-please.” The haughty noble simply couldn’t stop, crushing you to him. Holding you still just to bump your entire body up with pressurized pumps. 

About two more inches of Geto’s veiny cock gets sucked up by your cunt and he finds his temples sweating. Dark brows scrunched, face flushed. “I desire to be- inside- all of it, haaah.” The overworked edge of his tongue darts out and tastes the tears trailing down your face, ones you didn’t even realize were there yet. “So- so incredibly. You don’t understand, I’ve a-always desired to be inside you like this, My Lady.”

And the line of Geto’s slit was so pretty when you gazed closely at it earlier, but right now it just felt so mean engraving up n’ down the roof of your cunt.

As if that wasn’t sinful enough, one of his palms unlatches from where he was spreading your unstable legs apart. Flattening on top of your tummy, and feeling for the proooobing push of his fat cock easing inside.

Geto presses down on that cylindrical outline with a groan, “I believe you’ve finally- hah, beaten me, viscountess.”

Although it certainly didn’t feel that way.

Geto Suguru had you cornered. All wrapped up in his big, beefy arms- you were seeing stars with every slight buck of his ravaging cock. 

Filling you up from the inside - and as if his staggering size wasn’t enough, cobwebs of precum n’ cum were sploshing around your innards by now. Filling up your tiniest crevices, his cockhead spears into you like a flashlight in search of your g-spot. In search of the bottom of your pussy. 

Twitching, leaking, blushing.

You’re reaching your hand out and half-blindly intertwining them with his. Squeezing- and that makes Geto flush.

It makes him instantly drill his toned hips upwards in a singular, rigid jackhammer. Geto immediately skids his plump cock against your sweetest spot, hard enough to make you bawl. Hard enough that the rickety lounge creaks in protest.

“I-I’ve sunken in…” He’s breathing, something airy in his tone. Something akin to disbelief. 

As if to make sure, your viscount rovers his length even deeper- feeling for that slimy trailway by pressing down on your stomach. Your toes curl, the dual pressure of both his palm and his girth making your mind spin. “I’ve really- really-”

“Yes- hck!”

He can’t even have you speak like this. Can’t even let you breathe.

The muscles of Geto’s hips strike your bottom with a stinging smack! of skin-on-skin - bottoming out. Ruggedly, he weeps out a generous few dollops of precum near your spongy cervix.

Probing in deep-

“H-heavens!” You think you’re seeing the pearly gates with his sloppy, driving cadence, “Why in the heavens are you this- oh, big?”

“I hear no word of her complaining.” Geto has the audacity to hover his plush lips near the shell of your ear and bite. He almost chuckles, “See? Honest.”

Purposefully, his ringed fingers drag on the perky nub of your clit. Toyin’ in sultry hearts like he yearned to hear those dewy squelches, like they were now his favorite song. 

Again and again. Geto’s trying to synchronize the bruising pumps of his cock with each swivel of his thumb. 

“Your walls cling onto me like they- hah, never wish to let go.” He’s whispering in your ear, snickering at the way your poor cunt was swallowing him up. Sucking him impatiently back in, he’s forced to fight back against your pretty pussy just to fuck you crazy. “Is this how you really- ngh, feel inside? Do you think she’s falling for me, My Lady?”

And the only thing you can do is clamp down your velvety walls until he whimpers—“Honest.”

Just then, Geto cranes his neck over- targeting the slippery slope of your cunt with a glittering stream of spit. Aim so precise from all those noble hunting trips, and yet, he’s making just enough of your mess that your inner thighs are left with a sheen of slobber. 

It startles you into a yelp, body restless. “I-in your most- ngh, fantastical- oh, dreams.” 

“Is that so—?” Something dark was crackling at the back of his throat, and it’s enough to make your hips falter in their bucking pursuit.

For a split-second- before Geto throws a forearm over your front and pins you to him. He was pounding you cleanly into midair by this point, stopping you from escaping. Stopping you from even thinking of running from the frenzied motions of his fingers.

Ruthlessly, he’s pinching your clit and slightly draaaagging. “Was it in my most hah, fantastical dreams that you would gaze upon me like that during every soirée?” 

You’re looking away, veins boiling with heat. “I-I have no notion of what you prattle on about-”

He cuts you off by letting go of that cute lil’ tummy bulge he was fucking into you, immediately gripping your throat and manhandling you into a kiss. 

The glossy edges of Geto’s lips suck on your whiny tongue, moaning. “Mmm, make no fuss, pretty lady. You and I are one- oh, fuck. I can barely even recollect how many shallow, strait-laced suitors I wished to brawl for simply looking your way-” 

And oh- oh, there was something in his tone that was jagged. Dark. Low.

“-for I was looking at you like that, too.”

You didn’t even think it was possible - but you feel him engorge even bigger from right inside of you. So swole, the curvy tip of Geto’s cock pokes into the entrance of your womb and makes you keen.

Hiccuping through tears, “Please- fuck.” You were drooling like a spring, every whipping lash of his erection against your g-spot made your taste buds sizzle. Humping back into him as if you were in heat- “Fuh-fuck! I didn’t know it could feel this- ngh, good.”

But the more, more, more you were grinding back into his racing tempo, the lazier he was dragging his cock down your cunt. 

Faster and slower.

Faster and sloooower, making you recount the pattern of his mazing veins. He’s sensually rubbin’ your g-spot raw, and it’s rendering Geto himself absolutely pussydrunk. “Were you aware that it makes me i-impossibly harder to have you blustering around me? To have you yell at me?”

And now he was fixated on a sloppy staccato.

Your toes curled after each pathway of his globular, glazed tip - from the very forefront of your hole to target your battered g-spot. And then allllll the way back to rest against the spongy platform of your cervix.

It was a voyage he was repeatedly thrusting over and over and over.

“To- to have you…” Still continuing on with his inebriated conversation, after every slimy clench you were blessing him with. “To have to pretend your eyes weren’t- oh, falling upon my lips each time we argued- it killed me, My Lady.” 

One of his rolling thumbs slips inside your damp hole like he was trying to pry you even wider open. Bottomed out and still rutting against the very back of your cunt- if Geto could bury himself even deeper then he already would have.

“Killed me to- to pretend I didn’t want to silence that gorgeous mouth right in front of The Ton, hah.” He almost giggles near the corner of your ear, writing his name on the very tip-top of your clit and feeling your body go limp at the sensation. “Killed me to not- mmm, really give them gossip for the entire season.”

Your head falls against his firm clavicle, the area of Geto’s pecs were so firm n’ cushy. Again and again, your poor lower half was a complete mess, flooding with heat. “S-Suguru- mmpf.”

Before he’s spitting straight between your unfastened mouth. 

“Forgive me, my mind is not at the place to- oh, handle that smart mouth.” Drag after drag. Your pretty, breaking tone was what was sure to have him shattering before you did - and he didn’t want that. Not at all. 

So concentrated on the gift of unravelling your honeyed pussy that Geto doesn’t even realize he’s said that out loud-

“Before me, hm?” Grinning behind you, his trembling hands are nothing against the gyrating bounces you start up. Fucking back into his spearheading cock, all you have to do to disarm his strong arms is to clench– and Geto was all yours.

All ruined.

You’re smugly declaring, “How about a- hah, a wager?”

Murky amethyst eyes widen, “A w-wager?”

“I wager I will make you orgasm first.” The filthy words are pouring out of your mouth before you can stop them, “In the instance I win, I- oh, claim the first row at the races for two months.”

“And in the instance I win…”

You’re peeking up in curiosity, “Yes–?”

But Geto only leans in, gravelly tone grating sexily against your ear. “You will remember it, I assure you.”

His long, silken hair was messy now- numerous Stygian strands plastering across his forehead, others, thrown over both your shoulders. And you can’t stop yourself from clawing behind and tugging- enough to make him groan.

Prolonged cockhead stirrin’ inside of you, he’s jostling you up, up, up–

Thwack! 

“Cum.”

Perhaps it’s the utterly lecherous feeling of Geto’s plump, heavy ballsack spanking your cunt. Perhaps it’s the way he pinches out your clit after drawing such a cute heart on top. Perhaps it’s just him- but you’re crashing into a high you weren’t even aware was simmering.

But as soon as it bursts - it’s fiery. It’s frying the ends of your nerves with pure bliss, it’s leaving your vision a kaleidoscope of tears. “Fuck- fuck fuck fuck, cumming—”

You can only hold onto Geto’s muscular frame for dear life and let him ride your own orgasm out.

Spitting through solid, rovering paps of his cock, “Hah! What did I- oh, it’s my victory lap, is it not?” Still milking himself in vicious jackhammers, Geto streams out yet another wad of saliva down onto your pussy to hear the wet noises as you cum.

To hear the way he was thoroughly dragging you through the bursts of your high. You claw onto the couch and shriek- “Inside, I beg of you- I wish to feel you- hngh, inside, My Lord.”

“P-pardon?” His voice breaks. Breathily disbelieving, the primal pumps of his prolonged inches only accelerates - as if Geto was aiming to fuck the answer out of you. Inside. Inside. 

In and out in and out in and- “I wish for it all here- inside.” You’re guiding his free hand to claw back down your front, feeling for that bump of his globular cock. Babbling against Geto’s mouth, it takes you no longer than a split-second to spit- “Always have, Suguru.”

And that’s enough for his weeping, rawly-red orifice to burst into the hardest orgasm of his entire life.

Geto doesn’t stop until he’s dragging himself dry on your walls. Filling your creamy cunt up with so many knotted ounces of seed that you can feel it slickly sliiiiiding down your walls. Trickling out from between your legs. 

You squeeze your thighs together and squeal at the hot glue of cum sticking them together, “Fuck- fuck! Just like that-”

“I’m s-so fond of you. I’m so in love…” You hear his confession whisper against your eardrums like the viscount had nothing more left to lose. 

You’re still tender, and each unsteady spurt of his cum sprayed inside makes your spine zap with something carnal. Your own high still a few tingles, you fist your fingers into his night-dark hair, pulling him in.

And something in his hoarse breath catches- and Geto finds himself biting his honed canines into the skin of your throat. 

Making you moan, head unfogging ever-so-slightly. “A-are you aware that we are still obliged to attend Her Highness’s ball, Lord Ge-”

“Suguru.”

“Lord Suguru?”

“No, nothing but Suguru.” He finishes off for you, finally finished marking after a few more bite-shaped indents of his teeth. He’s still sluggishly jerking his cock inside, completely splashing n’ trickling sap over your tender spots. “And are you aware that I have ha-hah! reaped the victory of our little oh, wager?”

Your mouth parts, “And is this what you wish for? To bite me?”

“Not at all.” Biting you a few more times after then, Geto finally angles his head to face you fully. To take you in. To memorize. To slip his drenched family signet ring onto your left ring finger. You’ve never heard him sound so sincere- “All I wish for is for you to marry me, My Lady.”

“Suguru…” You shiver, his overstimulated cock pulses at the sound of that. Rutting harder. “You don’t require a wager for me to marry you.” And it’s just astonishing how pretty he looks when he flushes. 

As he whines, you smile. “I shall do so anyway. And you can’t stop me now.”

Somewhere in the back of Geto’s mind, he knows there is much to plan - a proper engagement ring, first of all, with the biggest diamond of all the land, and then the family proceedings, The Ton announcement, the honeymoon. 

But, for now, Lord Geto Suguru is content curling up in your arms. “I should expect no less from you, viscountess Geto.”

And his ravenous hips are still squeezing against yours, still needy. 

Still feral.

You didn’t think you’d be escaping from him that easy, did you?

“Now, about my reward for that wager…”

.

.

.

Dearest gentle reader,

One might just ponder whether the speculations from last week’s royal gathering hid a divine ability to read the future. For the absence of both Lord Geto Suguru and his viscountess beau did little to quell the suspicions of a blossoming romance, particularly when neither party was in attendance once Her Majesty the queen announced our viscountess as the Diamond of the season.

And yet, my trusted sources fervently claim that the most scandalous noises were heard deep in the groves of the royal gardens where both disappeared.

But perhaps daring whispers are of no import - however, this author must note that both were observed meandering back late into the ball, guiltily satisfied, thoroughly marked in bites. Yes, of no import at all, certainly…

And I am delighted to share that this is not the mere extent of the romantic antics between our beloved viscount and viscountess.

Why, it is this author’s greatest honor to impart to you: the Diamond couple of Her Majesty’s Diamond Ball has officially announced their union with the most enormous diamond seen this season!

You have most certainly read that right, as Viscount and Viscountess Geto safely arrive from their voyages across the sea, The Ton may look forward to the wedding of the year. 

Cease those shattering hearts at once! Who would have imagined that the most charming, handsome bachelor would transform from ‘rake’ to ‘Romeo’—with a capital ‘R.’ Shakespeare should weep!

It is said that Lord Geto is positively enamored with his fiancée, and I personally hear from sources close to the happy couple that this romance had been blooming for a long time, for none other than each other. How delightful that it should blossom right for us to gossip about.

Now, I don’t know about you, dear readers, but this author will be hastening to the tailors at once - and I suggest you do, too. We have a wedding to attend!

Yours Truly, 

Lady Whistledown.

A/N. Also watched Superman and suddenly I believe in love again so here’s this.

Plagiarism not authorized.

[tophollands]

HANGING OUT TO DRY

A bet is classic. What could be more fun than targeting a sweet girl and making her fall in love with the reputable campus fuckboy? Surely he wouldn’t fall in love with you.

fratboy!gojo x f!reader

notes: I have seen sooooo many ideas and tiktoks about the trope of reader being a bet & it always hurts so good! wanted to try it out and ofc it had to be with fratboy gojo >:)))

warnings: angst obvi hehehe, drinking, cursing, reader is super sweet and a bet obvi, no comfort or happy ending (yet? who knows), mentions of vomiting but doesn’t, mentions of blood, reader is never someone’s first choice:(( ummmm, gojo is an asshole ofc

Credit to @uzmacchiato for the divider!!

Satoru knew he should've said no in the beginning, knew it wasn't worth it just to impress his friends- his stupid frat brothers who never took anything seriously. Never thought about the consequences of their actions.

Buuut the idea of the bet was just too good to turn down.

The effort, the build up, the dedication- it would all come together so perfectly, especially with you as the main star. With you being you, you were doomed from the start before the bet could even fully take shape.

Sweet little you. Shouldn't you have known better?

Going around, shamelessly wearing your heart on your sleeve, always spreading kindness on the darkest of days, looking and talking to people as if they genuinely mattered- and maybe to you, they actually did, even when they couldn't have cared less about returning the favor. Not that you ever expected anything in return.

And most importantly of it all? You were so understanding. Far too understanding for your own good. The debilitating type that had rooted itself early on as some sort of lousy defense mechanism and eventually morphed into something self destructive. Had you subconsciously constructing and molding subpar excuses to justify someone's behavior, especially when it was directed towards you.

Always being an overly empathetic thing, so willing to sacrifice and minimize your own feelings when it came to others, always softening their blow.

Were you desperate or something to get people to stay? So desperate that you had unintentionally turned yourself into a doormat that people could stomp all over?

Anybody could've told you that it was idiotic to try and see everyone at face value, to so naively believe the words people told you. But you could've argued the opposite.

It wasn't naivety. It was you, sweet and trusting you, determined to not let your past heartbreak change the way you viewed others, to not let it bias you, scare you, or haunt you. Despite having been constantly hurt, you refused to allow your past experiences make you question and doubt every. single. new. relationship.

Always trying to see the good in people.

It would have turned out great, perfectly actually. You had played your part with flying colors, just as expected, putting on the most spectacular, albeit unknown, performance. And Satoru? Well.

Things would have turned out great.

If he hadn't started falling in love with you.

But the show must go on.

“H-Hey, Satoru! Wait-wait a sec!” The words spilled from your lips in an unintentional desperate plea, the halls fully swarmed and packed with students squeezing past one another. Dozens of conversations mulled around you, voices mindlessly buzzing and bouncing off the walls as you paced towards the white haired man.

Satoru had been anything but clear as of recently, a new push pull dynamic he’d adopted that had you more confused and thrown off than ever. You thought you were going crazy.

One night he was taking you out, looking at you like you were his dream girl who hung the moon in his sky, and the next he was treating you like some clingy puppy that he had never even asked for in the first place. The hot and coldness of it all had given you whiplash trying to keep up with him.

But of course, of couuurrrse, you believed him when he said it was stress. That finals and exams had him so busy, but of course he liked you! He was just new at this whole communication thing and needed time but please Y/N, I like you so much please im trying.

You believed it all.

After all, why would you not? Especially when Satoru was Satoru and you were you.

Sure, you knew you could be a lot, knew you could have more than afforded to shut up every now and then and not chimed in with your over the top unnecessary eager commentary, but regardless, the point still stood. Satrou Gojo, one of the hottest most pined after frat boys on campus that everyone treated like a myth, like an untouchable legend, talked to you, was nice to you, even took you out and seemed happy to do so.

Maybe for once, the rumors could have been just rumors!

Plus, the last few times you remembered being taken out was high school, and they never showed you much interest past the first date once they learned they couldn't get in your pants. Gojo hadn't even tried!

“Sorry-excuse me,’cuse me, sorr- oops, my bad, imsosorry- Satoru!”

He'd been oddly silent the past few days, completely unresponsive to your texts. But with finals coming up, surely he must've been cramming and just far too busy to respond.

He hadn't sat next to you like usual in lecture, but he showed up late, so maybe he didn't want to bother you?

But he didn't wait for you after either, gone before you could even leave your seat. You couldn't deny how it stung, but always chalked it up to him being too busy or in a rush.

You could visibly see his shoulders tense from behind, the slight tilt of his head as it hung forward in what you could only assume was annoyance, a brief mental preparation to deal with you. A pang bloomed in your chest, unease pulsing through you.

He slowed down just enough for you to catch up, but didn't stop. Slightly out of breath, you fell into step next to him, cheeks flushing and heat creeping up your neck from his clear uneagerness to see or talk to you. You nervously swallowed. He could be intimidating when he wanted to be.

He didn't greet you, didn't look at you, just waited for you to speak.

You awkwardly cleared your throat to speak, a small and meek “hi,” being the only word to squeeze out.

“I’ve got class.” Short, quick, dismissive.

His blunt uninterested response sent doubt pummeling through you, the gifts in your pocket weighing heavier and heavier with the possibility of rejection more realistic than you initially thought.

He would draw you in, perfect words to butter you up and make you feel foolish for ever questioning him, and then he'd get like this. Not mean per se, but just so uninterested in you that you wondered if you had made it all up. You weren't dating (yet? So you were hoping) but he had kissed you on the most recent date. Didn't that mean something?

You'd been so ecstatic afterwards, but with no solid friends on campus, you had no one to tell or squeal to. You carried everything alone, both good and bad. Gojo knew that, the whole frat knew that. It's what made you the perfect choice.

“R-right, yeah! Um- can you stop just for a second- i wanted to-” and he loudly sighed, piercing blue eyes rolling into his head as he stopped to turn to you. He didn't say anything, just stared expectantly at you like you were completely wasting his time. His gaze on you was irritated.

The eye contact had you jittery. Not the usual nerves you'd get when you turned your head just to find him already looking at you, so anxious you’d somehow mess things up with the hottest guy ever, so desperate to be good enough for him. No. It was the on edge, antsy type that had you replaying every dumb thing you've ever said to him, the doubt pooling at the very bottom of your stomach that felt like a heavy black tar. It felt like a test you knew you’d fail when you had studied so hard to do good. You just wanted him to like you the way you liked him, and god, did you fucking like him.

Don't fuck this up, y/n, this is the best thing that has ever happened to you.

Nervously swallowing and cheeks blazing, you gave an uneasy awkward smile before rummaging through your tote bag and pocket, muttering a tiny but sincere “sorry,” when his foot started to impatiently tap against the floor.

A small pit formed in your stomach, feeling slightly mortified and very embarrassed. The feeling was similar to a child showing off their very mediocre work to an overly critical parent.

“Sorry,” you huffed a fake laugh, pulling out the small container from your bag and the keychain from your pocket.

“I-um, I made these for you, since you know, you said you loved cookies, uh on the date, they're um your favorite..” and your words trailed off as you held out the tin, slowly beginning to feel smaller and smaller as he kept his hands by his side, no show of trying to take it from you. A small sticky note on the top read, “Hope you like them! :D <3”

“Oh! A-and, hah, I saw this and, and I thought of you, especially since you said you really, um, really liked that show.” nothing. “J-Just as a um, thank you, for the other night. W-Was a lot, o-of fun.”

You held both hands out, praying he didn't see the slight tremble of your clammy hands holding the items as you stood there feeling like an idiot. The thumping of your heart picked up, eyes looking anywhere but at him, bowing your head just slightly so you wouldn't have to see him look so repulsed by you.

Had you somehow misread everything? Like actually? This entire interaction felt like some humiliation ritual.

“Um, if, if you want, o-of course, no.. no pressure,” You pathetically added, already trying to lessen his blow, already trying to minimize and justify his cold reaction towards you.

He let out a small snicker, hands finally coming up to grab the items from your unsteady hands. You hid the sigh of relief that you wanted to let out, so easy to please and already feeling happy again that he accepted your gifts, as if it was a nuisance for him to do so.

“Wow, thanks. You do too much,” he dully noted, a small closed lip smile gracing his pretty features before he turned on his feet to continue his trek to class.

The comment made you freeze, staring at the spot he stood in, a “thank you?” not even having the chance to leave your tongue. You didn't think he said it with mal intent, but the words ‘too much’ always seemed to find its way back to you.

“Oh wait!” Gojo's voice broke you from your thoughts, and you immediately turned to face him, eyes wide and excited like a dog hearing the word ‘walk.’ Maybe he'd talk to you some more, or want you to walk with him! Or maybe-

“Party this Friday night at the house. You should come by, all my friends will be there.” The words made you deflate. A party… at his frat house… the idea made your stomach twist with nerves. You knew no one, had no friends to go with, and you were absolutely horrified of embarrassing yourself around him- even more- than what you felt like you had already done.

“Oh! Um, haha, I don't think your friends like me- um- very much, haha,” you stated, hand coming up to push your fallen hair behind your ear, a small wince on your face as to not make it a big deal.

His friends, and Gojo at first too, had been relatively mean to you starting off, relentless teasing about your looks, your interests, hobbies, lack of knowledge you had despite trying so hard. You had been so caught off guard when he told you he liked you.

“Psh, they're just playing! See you at 10pm,” he yelled back, already walking away, arm coming up to carelessly wave. You sighed to yourself. You knew you would go. You really wanted to see gojo.

Friday night was a mess. A good mess at first, at least. Cars parked up and down the street, people packed in like sardines in and outside the house, music so loud all the neighboring dorms and frats could hear, and god did it reek like sweat and musk.

The two shots - okay maybe three - you took right before for liquid courage seemed to do the exact opposite as you maneuvered around a couple making out, small “excuse me’s” falling from your lips every second in a measly attempt to find gojo.

The small revealing outfit you had on, at least, seemed to match the vibe, relieved when you saw girls wearing far less. The only con was that your favorite knee high boots would most definitely get stepped on, but at least you were taller now as you searched for the stark white tufts of hair.

The house thrummed from the vibration of the speakers, bass so heavy your teeth rattled. It was dark, the only light illuminating the rooms were colorful shades of blues, purples, reds, and greens shining and flashing everywhere. The party felt like everything you weren't, but for a split second you were almost proud of yourself, going so far out of your comfort zone it felt like you were on a whole other planet. You imagined how fun these parties could be if you had any friends, and before you could let the thought get you down, you let your tipsy self imagine what it would be like to experience these with gojo by your side, excited that you were about to.

Like the rest of the house, the kitchen was packed. Unable to find Gojo had you seeking out another drink and the multitude of bottles of liquor that covered the surfaces were calling your name. You felt confident, wanting another drink to keep your courage and vibes up, grabbing a red solo cup and creating a concoction that would be far too strong, but you were here to let loose right? You were at a party!

Further encouraged and emboldened when a girl passing by stopped to compliment you, you smiled to yourself, feeling the tension roll off your back and a new found self-assurance bloom within you.

Bodies flowed and worked around you, not shoving into you or looking at you like you didn't belong, but moved in rhythm near you, like you had every right to be there and fit just fine. You relaxed into the music, earlier shots of vodka giving you a nice buzz that warmed your skin, made your cheeks tingle, and more importantly a soft happiness that weighed in your chest that comforted you like a safety blanket. Pouring the liquor into the cup with a mixer that admittedly was way too little, you knocked over a different cup, relieved there was barely any liquid that spilled over.

Quietly giggling to yourself, you spun to grab a roll of paper towels, quickly drying up the small mess you made, already sipping on your drink that made you wince in disgust. It was perfect. You hummed along to the music, hips swaying while lights blinded you, walking over to the metal garbage can to toss the wet material. Looking inside, you couldn't help but notice the tupperware that looked exactly like yours.

Furrowing your eyebrows, you leaned in a little closer, tiny fractures cutting into your heart as you realized it was yours, still packed to the brim with your cookies, sticky note still stuck to the top. Next to the cookies, the keychain you had bought him.

You froze, just a moment before scooting back, not wanting to get caught staring into the trashcan as you processed everything. There was a dull ache in your chest, energy immediately depleting and inklings of shame and embarrassment circulating through you. Your mind worked through the different possibilities, seeking out any excuse or reason as to why your items now lay forgotten in the trash.

You felt the build up of tears, blinking them back with a shaky breath as you chugged your mixture that was mainly liquor, a hopeless attempt at suppressing the sadness you felt. You shivered, turning your head to gag at the disgusting taste. Surely all the alcohol would calm your nerves.

Maybe one of the guys had done it? And not Gojo? You were positive this was all some sort of misunderstanding, no way he would just do that right? He told you he liked you- it wouldn't make any sense.

You began your trek around the sea of people, legs a little more unsteady now, eyes slightly glassy, contents of your stomach filled with a majority of alcohol and barely any food from your earlier nerves. All you wanted to do was find him, figure out an explanation that you were positive you'd be more than willing to accept, and spend the rest of the night by his side having a good time. The cookies weren't hard to bake and it's not like the keychain cost that much- it was fine, you were fine.

A little more intense this time, you made your way through the frat house, a sigh of relief when a glimpse of that notorious white fluffy hair came into view, a black backwards baseball cap sitting perfectly on his head. When your eyes finally landed on gojo, albeit still a little wobbly and throat tight, you couldn't help the smile that automatically formed on your face, hoping he'd feel the same. Why wouldn't he? He did invite you after all.

He was surrounded by his friends and then some, everyone dialed in on what he was saying. You anxiously stepped forward, waiting for the right time to get close to him and say hello. You wondered if he'd hug you and say ‘hi baby,’ like he sometimes did. The thought made your heart flutter inside its ribs like a bird in a cage.

Maybe he'd even compliment your outfit, or your hair and makeup. You eagerly bit your lip, too excited to be embarrassed at your spiraling thoughts of being somewhat wanted by him.

“Bro and then she gave me a fuck ass keychain, dude!!” he broke up his commentary with a laugh, a little too forced for it to be genuine, but a laugh nonetheless. “Said it reminded her of me, like, she just can't get any weirder bro. God and don't get me started on the cookies. She said it was her thanks for taking her out, but she doesnt know its all a bet to get into her pants- shes a fucking virgin for sureeee, threw that shit out as soon as i got back,” and he snickered and grinned like he had won the best prize. Like he had formed the best, most elaborate plan and you had played your part perfectly. You really, really had.

His friends, who you recognized as toji and maybe sukuna, chuckled, all chiming in with terms of agreement and encouragement, adding on all sorts of lies and theories about you, like maybe you were secretly a whore putting out, your innocent act a devious little facade. Geto, who had always been kind to you, was there too, perched against the side of a couch, not joining in, but silent and accepting.

You flinched, physically recoiling back when you heard them laugh about how you were too much, too pathetic to see right through anything at all, a fucking stupid girl for thinking someone like you could have a chance at him. Everything you had told yourself, every insecurity that had coursed through you, all confirmed. Others really did view you the way you saw yourself.

“Bro and when I kissed her, swear i almost gagged-”

You drowned his voice out, the music. There was a ringing in your ears that wasn't there before. Frozen in your spot, fingers beginning to shake, throat burning so badly you weren't sure if the alcohol you had downed was about to make a surprise appearance or not.

The bodies around you blurred as the pit in your stomach grew, humiliation washing over you as if you’d just been doused with a bucket full of ice water. You didn't run, couldn't, feet glued to the floor as you were forced to listen to the group of the hottest guys on campus who didn't even know you as a person, didn't take the time to learn you, ridicule you and make fun of you. You guessed it didn't matter, because Gojo had.

Each breath was labored and jagged, chest tightening and skin prickling with such an intense heat that you felt constricted in the already sparse clothes you wore. The way the fabric dug into you, a certain stitch that scratched you, the zipper that rubbed against your skin - it felt like you were suddenly aware of every unpleasant feeling in addition to the shattering of your heart.

You wanted to go home, wanted the floor to swallow you whole- felt so unbelievably silly standing there watching the guy you liked- fuck, the guy you had fallen in love with- paint you out to be some weird nasty creature who was undeserving of his attention. Sure, you had felt that way initially, but he had been so kind to you that you had been so blindsided, unknowingly setting yourself up to fall right back into your constant cycle of heartbreak and misery.

Built up tears finally broke the surface, some beginning to stream down your face and others just dropping from the sheer amount that had welled up. It wasn't until gojo turned his head, eyes landing directly on you and smile completely dropping that your legs became unstuck.

Your breath hitched, crackling sob breaking through as your saliva grew sticky. The extra drinks sure to make you vomit after this. You spun so fast you lost balance for a split second on your heels, immediately righting yourself and pushing through the sweaty bodies blocking you in. You didn't say sorry or excuse me, just pummeled through, desperate to get outside so that maybe you could finally breathe. You felt like a pig in makeup, and the thought made you cry harder. So beyond embarrassed, having dressed up and done your hair and makeup, mortified that everyone else thought you looked just as ugly and silly. You had to get out of here, the air was too thick and stuffy as the walls closed in on you.

Your name fell on deaf ears, sprinting out the front door and down the porch steps, surroundings a blur from not only how fast you were moving, but the alcohol that coursed through you. You knew the gifts were stupid, sure, but everything else? The kiss? He wanted to gag? All the times he called you pretty, beautiful, yes, it was more than plausible that it was a lie, but why did he say it all then? That's right, because you were supposedly just a fucking bet.

Who would willingly want to be with you?

Gojo called your name again, louder. You weren't the only one sick to your stomach. He cursed, heart dropping to his ass as the overwhelming suffocating feeling of guilt bloomed inside of his chest, heart quite literally constricting at how shitty, how fucking disgusting, he felt. It spread throughout him and he would've thought it was dramatic if it didn't feel like he could currently drop to his knees and heave. The entire situation was beyond fucked up, everything a misunderstanding and completely not at the same time.

“Fuck fuck fuck,” he repeated, hoarse and panicked as he immediately trailed after you, abruptly leaving the conversation mid sentence, not caring how he looked when all the guys stared at him in confusion. He lost sight of you for a moment but knew you'd only try to leave, escape the perfect hell he had just created for you.

Why the fuck did he do this? How the fuck was he gonna make this up to you, and why had he let himself get involved in this shitty idea anyway? He knew he should've called it off, he knew he had fallen for you.

Muttering insults as hands came out to grab at him, others trying to talk and some pulling him in for a dance. He didn't look, didn't care who they were, practically throwing and shoving their hands off him with only you in mind. He would explain everything to you, lay himself bare and expose the ugliness and insecurities that festered inside of him.

He had been projecting this entire time, exhausted from maintaining such an ugly facade of the frat fuckboy, desperately trying to fit in with everyone else that he stupidly agreed to the bet just to feel some type of belonging and companionship. All at the expense of you.

He didn't think, that was his issue. So caught up in this fake lifestyle that he knew the act wasn't just pretend anymore, his morals slipping by the day as he settled into this new once foreign character. They were all fucking assholes. All of them.

Fingers tightly clenching your almost dead phone, you bawled, frustration making you grit your teeth in additional annoyance when the sidewalk wouldn't stay straight. Accidentally stepping off the concrete, your heel caught on the edge, sending you falling onto all fours on the pavement, too drunk to care about the pain that shot up your wrists and knees. You let out a guttural infuriated noise, a mix between a squeal and growl, feeling so much more than just pissed and heartbroken. You furiously smashed your palm against the concrete as if it held the blame.

“Fuck, hey, shit, are you okay??”

Gojo's palm rested on your back and in the blink of an eye you stumbled up, whipping around to face him seething and disgusted as tears continued to stream down your cheeks.

“Don't fucking touch me,” you spat backing away from him as if he had physically struck you, and at this point you thought you would’ve almost preferred that over the gut wrenching feeling in your chest. There was a physical pain that tore throughout you, your heart feeling like sharp talons had ripped it out and stomped on it like an attempt at snuffing out a flame.

If you had it in you, you would’ve laughed at his expression, so devastated and hurt and torn as if he wasn't the one who caused all this, as if he wasn't the one who could've prevented everything. He had the audacity to stare at you like he was scared of losing you.

“Please, please y/n, i can explain, I am so sorry, please,” and it was as equally pathetic as it was infuriating. gojo pathetically begged, arms awkwardly reaching towards you as if you were the solution.

You paused, tongue loose and words slurred, staring at him bewildered as you threw your palms up. He wasn't who you thought he was. Or maybe he was exactly who everybody said he was and it was your fault for thinking otherwise.

“I thought you liked digimon??”

He swore, hands coming up to drag down his face. You saw. Saw your cookies and the keychain you bought him in the garbage.

“That wasn't me, I swear, please believe me, I swear- I-I got back from class, one of the guys saw and- and started laughing, they took it from me before I could even say anything. They tossed it, and I swear, please believe me, I was gonna grab it after, I-I love Digimon, I loved your gifts, please.”

He was breathless now, a fruitless panicked attempt at defending himself.

You scoffed. “Sure it wasn't too much?”

Gojo winced, hands curling. “I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it like that-” You cut him off, angrily sniffing and wiping your bloody gravel pricked hands against your black mini skirt. God you felt ridiculous.

“Yeah?? Which fucking part??” Your voice raised an octave, almost yelling but you didn't care as passerbyers turned their heads. You spewed the words, moving forward just to angrily shove at his chest, blood smearing his white shirt. Good, you wanted to stain his shit, wipe your blood all over it.

He took advantage of the proximity, quickly but lightly wrapping his large hands around your wrists to keep you close. You screeched, thrashing in his hold, weakly trying to hit him, shove him, and with his loose grip, he let you, your small fists pounding against his hard chest

“Im sorry, Im sorry, Im so fucking sorry, I like you- I like you so fucking much-”

A broken sob escaped you, a mix between a snarl and cry getting stuck in your throat.

“I didn't mean anything I said in there, I loved kissing you, you’re beautiful - fuck, you’re perfect, you’re so fucking perfect and- and you know me, the real me, I feel like I can be myself with you, please please please, im begging you, let me explain everything- from the start.” He was frantic, words rushing out so fast they blended into one. His eyes were glossy and rimmed red and you knew it wasn’t from whatever drugs he had done.

You stilled your hits, pausing in his hold. Rapid breaths mingling, chests quickly falling and rising, faded background music from the frat echoing into the night.

“Please.”

Gojo spoke it like a prayer, voiced with despair and a frenzied anguish that he knew deep down would do nothing. He would continue to beg, to plead with you, to reason, but deep down, he knew. Your chin dropped to your chest helplessly, a small hiccup squeezing itself out as you tried to catch your breath. Your eyes felt swollen from how much you had cried, but you had plenty left.

You could feel gojo guide your palms to rest against his chest, a new set of bloody hand prints against the stark white, heart thumping like he'd just ran a marathon. You slammed your eyes shut, new sobs threatening to break loose, the feeling of wanting to curl up and die had never been more prominent.

“y/n, I'll do anything, please- please, I don't-” and his voice cracked, fingers tightening around your wrists. “I don't want to lose you- Im so, Im so sorry, baby.”

Your breath hitched, lips curling and fingers twisting into his shirt to bunch the fabric beneath your fingers. The agony and discomfort in your chest was painfully overwhelming, silently wishing you'd wake up from this nightmare, wishing you never heard him, trying to wrap your mind around how and why he would do this to you. You’d never understand, would never gain pleasure from hurting anyone, let alone, him.

“What did I ever do to you?”

The words came out small, so small and fractured and so confused, seeking an explanation or reason that could maybe get the two of you past this- that maybe you must've done something to deserve it and the two of you could come back from this, but you knew it was all for nothing. For no reason at all.

Gojo's eyes flashed with guilt, anger, and shame. He wanted to recoil, wanted to throw his head into his hands and sob, but he didn't want to let you go. He knew it would be the last time. Your gaze didn't meet his.

He swallowed, throat stinging and eyes burning. He regretted everything, internally begging to take it all back like some upper power would hear him and turn back time.

“Nothing, you didn't deserve this- you did- did nothing.” The words caught as his voice wavered and you wondered if he was crying. You refused to look at those eyes. His fucking blue perfect eyes that bore into you like you mattered- it was all lies- he had lied to you for months- almost an entire semester. You dug your teeth into your bottom lip, attempting to stifle the wail you wanted to blubber out. It had been months.

Months of getting to know one another, of a build up, of a hope for something more. The silliest stupidest notion that for once someone found you valuable too and it wasn’t one sided.

A shallow gasp, an unintentional whimper, your shoulders shook as you wept.

“I wish I never met you, g-gojo. I would never-” a cry broke your words, tensing up as you angled your head down to hide your uncontrollable tears. He wanted to correct you and tell you to call him satoru or toru, but he stayed silent, let the sting burn. “Never hurt you like this.”

You shakily exhaled, not paying attention to his mindless small whimpers of “I know, I'm so sorry, I know, please.”

You gripped the fabric tighter, lifting your head to finally meet his eyes, hating how he was crying, how he genuinely looked heartbroken at hurting you, how you hated seeing him like this. His chin wobbled, breath coming out in unsteady pants and for once, he didn't look like the notorious frat boy who could conquer anything. He looked small, like a scared little boy.

Unsteady shaky hands lifted to gently cup your cheeks, gojo preparing himself for you to yank away from his touch like it burned. He sniffled when you didn’t, perfect lips shiny and slightly parted as he fully rested them against your soft skin.

“I never want to see you again.”

His composure shattered, immediately shaking his head murmuring “no’s”, thumbs rubbing back and forth over your skin and under your eyes as he repeated the same words over and over again. You pushed him back roughly with all your drunken force, which wasn't much, but enough to send him stumbling backwards to create distance.

He was alarmed, not at what you had done, but at watching you walk away, brain filling with nothing but no no no no no please, please stay, stay with me stay.

“Y/n, no please, baby, baby, y/n, please hear me out- please-” his voice was shredded, raw from drinking and yelling and begging, but he didn’t care. He’d beg and beg until he had no voice left, and when it was gone, he would find another way.

For a moment, you paused, and he thought that maybe, just maybe you would listen. But when you slowly turned to him, looking so fucking beautiful still as street lamps glistened in the reflection of your eyes, cheeks shiny and tinted pink from the tears that painted your cheeks, it all clicked. It was torturous.

“Fuck y/n, please, I-I love you. I’m so,” he swallowed to ease the scratchiness of his throat. It did nothing. “I’m so in love with you,” and he whispered the words, loud enough so you’d hear, but almost as if they weren’t meant for you, as if he was just talking to himself and unintentionally said the realization aloud.

He watched as a lone tear dropped down your cheek and it was cruel. He was cruel, you were cruel. Standing there so perfect and so beautiful while you broke his heart, and it was all his fault since he had done it first. The silence was thick as the two of you stood feet apart, wordlessly staring at each other, letting his words hang in the air. You opened your mouth and shut it, letting the process repeat as you mulled over the words in your head, wishing more than ever he hadn’t said them. Wishing more than ever you didn’t feel the same.

“I’d pick you, over and over again Satoru, every time, in a room full of people. Everyone would,” you huffed a fake laugh, blinking away your tears as you stared into his dumb perfect eyes. “I thought-” your lips quivered, chin wobbling at the humiliating admission. “I thought for once, someone had finally picked me.” The words slowly fell from your lips, laced with what one could only describe as pure heartbreak.

Gojo felt the final blow split his heart, not a clean cut, but a jagged uneven slash that cleaved it in two. He called your name, desperate and all, watching you spin on your heel and angrily walk away, your perfume hitting him as the wind blew.

He stepped forward- yelled your name again. But you didn't turn, didn't peek, didn't flinch as you sobbed, fingers constantly wiping your eyes to see where you were going as you drunkenly walked back to your apartment. Cried for yourself, mourned who you were becoming, who you were becoming with him. You had fallen in love with him too, of course you had. He was so easy to love.

And so, so stupid.

[siennayaps]

Heaven Forbid (Bff Satoru x Reader)

Synopsis: You’ve spent years convincing yourself that being Satoru Gojo’s best friend is enough.

Then he gets a girlfriend.

And suddenly, you’re forced to learn the difference between having someone’s heart and simply having a place in it.

Tags: Angst, jealousy, fluff, yearning, emotionally constipated reader, best friend Satoru, friends to lovers, childhood friends, suggestive content, more tags will be added…

Masterlist

1. Heartache

2. Hollow

3. Hindsight

4. Hurricane

5. Hallucination

6. Haunted

7. Harmony

8. Homecoming

Taglist is open! 🏷️

Dividers for this fic by @/muerdida

[siennayaps]

New chapter will be out by Sunday!

[gojosconsort]

︵ ೀ mdni. satoru is undoubtedly attractive but you still see him as the annoying little kid you babysat every weekend to earn some extra money during high school. little do you know that he wants to rail you bad ( pervert!satoru / reverse age-gap )

satoru gojo used to be the annoying little kid you babysat every weekend to make extra money during high school.

he was your neighbor’s son—loud, spoiled, with those striking blue eyes that always followed you around the house like you hung the stars. you’d tuck him in, read him stories, and laugh when he threw tantrums about bedtime. “you’re like my big sister,” he used to say, clinging to your leg. you found it cute back then.

now he’s nineteen, tall, ridiculously handsome, and somehow even more trouble.

you still live next door, working part-time while finishing your degree. satoru has grown into something dangerous. six-foot-three of muscle, messy white hair, and that infuriating smirk that makes girls on campus lose their minds. but to you, he’s still little satoru. the kid you used to scold for eating too much sugar.

he wishes you’d stop seeing him that way. because every night when he’s alone in his room, it’s your face he sees. your soft smile, the way your hips sway when you walk, the curve of your breasts under those old t-shirts you wear when you come over to help his mom. he wraps his hand around his cock and strokes himself slow and desperate, imagining bending you over the same couch you used to read him stories on.

he cums hard every time, biting his lip to stay quiet.

seeing you now drives him insane.

you’re in his kitchen again, helping his mom with groceries like you always do. satoru leans against the doorway, arms crossed, watching you laugh at something his mother says. you’re wearing shorts that hug your thighs and a loose top that slips off one shoulder. he wants to rail you so badly it hurts. wants to push you against the counter, shove those shorts down, and fuck you until you finally see him as a man.

“hey,” he says, voice low and smooth as he walks in. he’s learned how to turn on the charm. “you look good today. new shorts?”

you glance down, then smile like he’s still ten years old. “these old things? thanks, satoru. you’re sweet.”

sweet. the word burns.

he steps closer, towering over you now. “i’m not a kid anymore, you know.”

you laugh softly, patting his arm like you used to when he threw tantrums. “of course you’re not. you’re all grown up. my little troublemaker became a heartthrob, huh?”

satoru’s jaw tightens. he wants to grab you, pin you to the wall, and show you exactly how grown up he is. instead he flashes that signature gojo grin, leaning in so his breath brushes your ear.

“you should let me take you out sometime. dinner. drinks. whatever you want.”

you blink, tilting your head with that innocent confusion that drives him crazy. “aww, that’s so nice of you! are you practicing your lines for the girls at school? you’re gonna break so many hearts.”

he nearly groans. “i’m not practicing. i mean it. i want to take you out. just us.”

you wave him off with a smile, completely missing the heat in his eyes. “you’re adorable. but i’m way too old for you, satoru. focus on college girls your age.”

adorable.

the word makes something snap inside him. he’s imagined you on your knees, lips wrapped around his cock. imagined folding you in half and pounding you until you scream his name. imagined filling you up while you moan about how big he is.

and you still call him adorable.

he steps even closer, backing you against the counter. his height makes it impossible for you to ignore how much he’s grown. “i’m not a little kid anymore,” he says, voice dropping. “i know what i want. and i want you.”

you laugh again, reaching up to ruffle his hair like you did when he was eight. “you’re so funny. always teasing your old babysitter.”

satoru catches your wrist gently but firmly, holding it against his chest so you can feel how fast his heart is racing. his blue eyes burn into yours.

“i’m not teasing.”

for a second you pause. but then you smile again. “you’ll find a nice girl soon. i promise.”

he lets you go, watching you walk away to help his mom again. his cock is half-hard in his pants just from being close to you. the frustration is driving him insane.

every time you treat him like the child he used to be, it only makes him want to ruin you more. to prove how much of a man he is by fucking you so deep you forget you ever saw him as anything but yours.

satoru leans against the counter, eyes dark and hungry as he watches you move around the kitchen. he stays there until he can’t take it anymore, then pushes off the counter and heads upstairs to his room without a word.

the second his door clicks shut, he’s already palming himself through his pants. he frees his aching cock and starts stroking, hoping that you’ll take the garden path home like you usually do so you’ll walk right past his window and hear the wet sound of his hand pumping his cock and the moans he doesn’t even try to hide because he wants you to know. he wants you to hear exactly what you do to him.

a few days later, satoru comes back from a late training session when he cuts through the side yard like he always does. your bedroom curtain is pulled mostly closed, but there’s a gap—just enough, and he stops dead. through the narrow opening he sees you.

you’re on top, completely naked, riding your stupid boyfriend with slow rolls of your hips. your head is tilted back, lips parted, hands braced on his chest. the moonlight catches the curve of your breasts, the way they bounce every time you sink down. your boyfriend’s hands are on your waist, guiding you, but his thrusts look lazy.

satoru’s mouth goes dry.

he should look away. he knows he should. but he can’t. his cock hardens instantly, straining against his pants as he watches you move. you look so pretty like this—flushed, glowing, lost in pleasure. but something ugly twists in his chest because it’s not him underneath you. he wants to be him so fucking bad.

before he can think, satoru slips behind the bushes, hidden in the shadows. his hand shoves into his pants, wrapping around his aching cock. he strokes himself in time with your movements, eyes locked on the way your body rises and falls. every soft moan that drifts through the cracked window makes him leak.

“fuck… you should be riding me,” he whispers. his fist moves faster, thumb swiping over the head as he imagines it’s your tight, wet heat instead. he pictures grabbing your hips, slamming you down on his much bigger cock, making you scream his name instead of whatever soft sounds you’re making now.

he cums hard, biting his lip to stay quiet, painting his hand while watching you chase your own pleasure. the sight of you cumming—back arching, mouth open in a silent cry—pushes him over the edge again. he milks himself through it, thick, messy spurts flooding into his boxers and soaking through his pants. after the orgasm fades and reality came back he stares down at the dark wet patch on the front of his sweatpants.

later that night he lies in bed, staring at the ceiling, still half-hard while his damp pants he cleaned in a hurry so his mom wouldn’t notice, dry on the back of his chair in his room. that loser didn’t even make you cum properly. satoru could tell.

your moans were pretty, but not desperate enough. your body moved like you were doing most of the work. he knows he would be so much better for you. he would flip you over, pin you down, and fuck you so deep and so good you’d forget any other man existed. he’d make you cum until you cried, until your legs shook, until you begged him to fill you up. he’d treat you like the goddess you are instead of some half-assed ride.

the jealousy burns hotter than the lust now. you still see him as the little kid you babysat. you have a boyfriend who can’t even make you cum right, and you smile at satoru like he’s harmless.

it makes him insane.

the next afternoon he sees you working in the garden.

you’re kneeling in the flowerbed next door, wearing those same old shorts that ride up your thighs and a loose tank top, hair tied back messily as you dig around the roses. the sun makes your skin glow. satoru leans against the wooden fence that separates your yards, arms crossed over his chest, watching you in silence for a long moment. his eyes trace the curve of your back, the way your shorts cling when you shift, the soft bounce of your breasts every time you reach forward.

his cock twitches at the memory of last night—you riding that loser, the way your body moved, the sounds you made. he still feels a little ashamed about cumming in his pants like a desperate pervert, but the hunger is stronger.

finally he speaks, voice casual but laced with something darker.

“had a good night?”

you look up, brushing dirt off your hands, and give him that same bright, innocent smile you always do. “oh, hey satoru. yeah, it was alright. why do you ask?”

he shrugs, but his blue eyes are intense behind his sunglasses. “just curious. you seemed… busy.”

you laugh softly, standing up and stretching. the hem of your tank top rides up, showing a sliver of skin, and satoru’s gaze drops there instantly.

“nothing special,” you say. “just hung out with my boyfriend. watched a movie, you know how it is.”

satoru’s jaw tightens. he wants to tell you that “hung out” clearly wasn’t enough if you weren’t even satisfied. instead he flashes his usual grin and leans further over the fence.

“movie, huh? sounds boring. you deserve better than boring.”

you tilt your head, amused. “are you offering to entertain me now, little satoru?”

there it is again. little satoru.

the nickname stings worse than usual after what he saw last night. he wants to vault over the fence, push you down into the dirt, and fuck you right there in the garden until you scream his name instead of calling him little anything.

“i could entertain you way better than a movie,” he says. “just say the word.”

you chuckle and wave him off, going back to your flowers like he’s still the kid you used to babysit. “you’re such a flirt these days. go find a girl your own age.”

satoru stays leaning against the fence, watching you work, heart pounding and cock half-hard again. the frustration coils tighter in his chest. one day you’ll stop seeing him as the little boy next door. one day he’ll make you see exactly how much he’s grown—preferably while he’s buried nine inches deep inside you.

as you lean down deeper to reach a stubborn weed, your loose tank top slips forward. satoru catches a clear view of your tits—soft, full, and perfect, nipples just barely hidden by the thin fabric. the sight hits him like a punch to the gut.

his cock instantly swells, painfully hard again in seconds.

he can’t tear his eyes away. he imagines pulling your top down completely, watching those pretty tits spill out into his hands. he wants to grope them, squeeze them, bury his face between them while he fucks you. he wants to suck on your nipples until they’re swollen and sensitive, until you’re whimpering and arching into his mouth.

the urge to take a picture is so strong it almost hurts. he wants to save this view forever—the way your tits hang and sway as you work, the soft curve of them, the way they move when you shift. his fingers twitch at his side, desperate to grab his phone, but he forces himself to stay still.

he can’t. not without risking everything.

instead, he just stares, breathing hard through his nose, cock throbbing angrily in his pants as fantasies flood his mind. he wants to cover them in his cum. he wants to watch them bounce while you ride him. he wants to mark them as his.

he can’t take it anymore. muttering a quick excuse, he turns and practically runs inside his house. he doesn’t even make it up the stairs to his bedroom this time. the second he’s inside the downstairs bathroom, he locks the door, yanks his pants down, and wraps his hand around his throbbing cock.

he strokes himself furiously, leaning against the sink, replaying the image of your tits spilling out of your top and the memory of you riding your boyfriend. it only takes him a minute before he cums hard again, biting his arm to stay quiet as thick ropes paint the sink.

panting, flushed, and still half-hard, satoru stares at his reflection. he knows he’s completely fucked. but he also knows he won’t stop until you finally see him the way he sees you. lucky him, it didn’t take long for the next opportunity to arise.

the next time you come over, it’s to help with groceries like always.

satoru’s mom is out running errands, leaving the two of you alone in the kitchen. you’re putting things away, humming softly, completely unaware of the way satoru is watching you. he’s done playing nice. the images from the garden and that night through the window have been burning in his brain for days. he’s tired of being “cute little satoru.”

you reach for the top shelf, standing on your tiptoes, trying to slide a heavy bag of rice into place and your shorts pull tight across your ass.

“here, let me help,” satoru says.

he steps right behind you before you can protest. his tall frame cages you against the counter, one arm reaching easily over your head to push the bag into place. but he doesn’t step back. instead, he presses forward, letting you feel every inch of his hard cock against your ass through his sweatpants.

you freeze. “satoru…?”

he doesn’t move away. if anything, he presses closer, rolling his hips just enough for you to feel how thick and heavy he is. his breath is hot against your ear.

“you feel that?” he murmurs. “that’s what you do to me. every time i see you. every time you smile at me like i’m still that little kid.”

his hands slide down to grip your waist, holding you in place as he grinds slowly against you. the hard line of his cock nestles perfectly between your cheeks, and he lets out a shaky breath.

“i’m not a kid anymore,” he continues, lips brushing your ear. “i’ve been jerking off to you for months. thinking about bending you over this counter and fucking you. thinking about how much better i’d be than that useless boyfriend of yours.”

you try to turn around, but he keeps you pinned, chest pressed to your back.

“satoru, this isn’t funny—”

“i’m not joking.” his voice drops even lower, more aggressive. one hand slides up your side, thumb brushing the underside of your breast. “i saw you riding him the other night. through your window. he couldn’t even make you cum properly, could he? i would. i’d fuck you so good.”

he rolls his hips again, letting you feel how hard he is, how big. his cock twitches against you, desperate and leaking.

“tell me to stop and i will,” he whispers, even as his grip tightens possessively. “but i think you feel it too. how much i want you. how much better i can make you feel.”

you’re breathing faster now, trapped between the counter and his tall, muscular body. satoru leans down, lips grazing your neck. “let me show you. just once. i’ll make you cum so many times you’ll be begging for more.”

you’re breathing faster now, trapped between the counter and his tall, muscular body. satoru doesn’t wait for a clear answer. he rolls his hips forward again, slower this time, deliberately dragging the thick ridge of his cock against your ass through your thin shorts.

a shaky breath escapes you and he feels it—the way your body tenses then softens just a little. encouraged, he does it again, pressing harder, grinding his clothed cock between your cheeks in slow rolls. the friction is maddening. even through two layers of fabric, you can feel how hot and heavy he is, how big.

“satoru…” your voice comes out breathless.

“shh,” he murmurs against your ear, lips brushing the sensitive skin. “just feel me.”

his hands tighten on your waist, holding you still as he starts dry humping you properly. long, deliberate thrusts that slide his hard length up and down between your ass cheeks. every roll makes your shorts ride up further, the fabric catching and pulling against your pussy. you can feel yourself getting wet, your body reacting even though your mind is still spinning.

satoru groans softly, forehead pressed to the back of your head. “fuck… you feel so good. been dreaming about this for so long.”

he picks up the pace a little, hips snapping forward with more urgency. the kitchen is quiet except for your shared heavy breathing and the faint rustle of clothes. you grip the edge of the counter, knuckles turning white, trying to steady yourself as heat pools low in your belly.

“you’re getting wet, aren’t you?” he whispers. one of his hands slides down your stomach, stopping just above the waistband of your shorts. “i can feel how warm you are. your body knows i’d be better.”

you bite your lip, a soft, involuntary whimper slipping out as he grinds particularly hard against you. the pressure on your clit through the fabric is driving you crazy. your breathing is turning faster, chest rising and falling quickly.

satoru notices immediately. a pleased sound rumbles in his chest.

“that’s it… getting breathless for me already?” he teases, but his voice is strained. he rolls his hips in a slow circle, pressing his cock right against your clothed entrance. “good girl. let me hear those pretty sounds.”

he keeps grinding harder, faster, like he’s trying to fuck you through your clothes. every thrust makes your tits bounce slightly and pulls another shaky breath from your lips. you’re starting to push back against him without thinking, chasing the friction.

satoru’s hand finally slips under your tank top, palm hot against your bare stomach.

“tell me to stop,” he rasps, lips against your neck, “or tell me to keep going. because if you don’t… i’m not gonna be able to hold back much longer.”

you’re panting now, head spinning, body burning under his aggressive touch. satoru keeps grinding against you like he’s possessed, cock throbbing against your ass, waiting for you to decide how far this is going to go.

“satoru… we can’t.” your fingers dig harder into the counter, knees feeling weak. “this is wrong… you’re—you’re basically still my—”

“we can,” he cuts you off. “we definitely can. and we’re going to.”

before you can protest again, his hand leaves your waist. you hear the metallic clink of his belt buckle, the sound of his zipper being dragged down. your heart hammers wildly as he frees his cock. it’s heavy and hot as it springs out, slapping against your ass cheek. he’s so hard it looks painful, the tip already leaking.

“feel what you do to me,” he murmurs, pressing the thick length against you again, this time with nothing but your thin shorts and panties between you.

his fingers hook into the side of your shorts and panties, tugging them just enough to the side. cool air hits your soaked pussy for a second before he slides his bare cock along your drenched folds. the hot, velvety length glides up and down your slick lips, parting them slightly with every slow stroke but never pushing inside.

you let out a broken whimper, forehead dropping against the cabinet door.

“fuck… you’re soaked,” satoru groans. he rocks his hips, sliding his cock repeatedly between your folds, coating himself in your wetness. the head catches on your clit with every pass, sending sparks shooting through you. “all this for me? and you still tried to say we can’t?”

he keeps the teasing motion going—long, deliberate slides from your entrance up to your clit and back down. every time the thick head nudges against your hole, you clench around nothing, aching to be filled. your breathing is ragged, little gasps and moans slipping out despite yourself.

satoru’s free hand comes back to your hip, holding you steady as he grinds his bare cock against your dripping pussy.

“see? we can. and it feels so fucking good, doesn’t it? just imagine how much better it’ll feel when i finally slide inside you.”

he presses forward a little harder, the head of his cock dipping just slightly against your entrance before sliding back up, teasing mercilessly. you’re trembling, breathless, torn between pushing him away and pushing back for more.

“tell me to stop… or tell me you want it. because i’m this close to bending you over and fucking you right here on the counter.”

finally, you break.

“…just the tip,” you whisper. “okay? just the tip, satoru. and don’t come inside me.”

the words barely leave your mouth before satoru groans like he’s been granted heaven. “fuck, yes. just the tip, baby. i promise.”

he lines himself up, the fat head of his cock pressing against your dripping entrance. he pushes forward slowly, and the stretch is immediate. only the tip slips inside you—just the swollen head breaching your tight walls. it’s enough to make both of you lose your minds.

“oh my god…” you gasp, fingers scrabbling against the counter. the feeling of him inside you, even just that little bit, is overwhelming. he’s so thick.

satoru’s forehead drops to your shoulder. “fuck… you’re so tight. so fucking warm. just the tip feels this good?”

he rocks his hips in tiny, shallow movements, fucking just the head in and out of you. every shallow thrust makes wet, obscene sounds echo in the quiet kitchen. he doesn’t push any deeper, but the way he’s teasing your entrance is driving you insane. the constant stretch and release has your walls fluttering around his tip, trying to pull him in further.

“satoru…” you whimper, pushing back against him despite yourself.

“i know, i know,” he pants. “just the tip. i’m being good. but fuck, baby… you’re sucking me in. your pussy wants more, doesn’t it?”

he keeps it like this—shallow little thrusts that only give you the head, never more. it’s torture. for both of you. satoru’s hands grip your hips so tightly you know you’ll have bruises. his breathing is harsh against your neck as he fights every instinct to slam all the way in.

“you feel so perfect,” he groans, circling his hips so the head rubs against that sensitive spot inside you. “i could cum just like this.”

you’re moaning softly now, completely breathless, knees shaking. the denial is making everything more intense. every shallow thrust sends sparks through your body, but it’s not enough. you need more, but you’re scared to ask.

satoru’s control is hanging by a thread. his cock twitches inside you, leaking precum, and he has to bite back a whine. then his hands slide up under your tank top, pushing it up until your breasts spill free. he immediately gropes them, one large hand squeezing and kneading your soft tits while his thumbs flick over your hardened nipples.

“mmh— satoru…” you moan, pushing back against him desperately.

he chuckles against your neck, pinching your nipples hard enough to make you gasp. “what’s wrong, baby? your loser boyfriend doesn’t play with these pretty tits like this? doesn’t know how sensitive you are here?” he rolls your nipples between his fingers, tugging them while still fucking you with only the tip of his cock. every shallow thrust makes you clench greedily around his head, but it’s never enough.

“bet he doesn’t even make you wet like this,” satoru says, voice dripping with arrogance as he squeezes your breasts harder. “bet he fucks you like a pathetic little boy and still can’t make you cum. that’s why you’re dripping down my cock right now, isn’t it?”

you whimper helplessly, forehead pressed against the cabinet, hips trying to push back to take more of him. but satoru keeps perfect control—only giving you the tip, no matter how much you beg with your body.

“say it,” he murmurs, biting your shoulder lightly while still playing with your tits. “tell me his dick isn’t enough for you. tell me you need mine.”

he punctuates his words with another shallow thrust, the head of his cock catching perfectly against that spot right at your entrance. your moan comes out broken and needy.

“satoru… please—”

“please what? please fuck you properly? or please keep teasing this desperate little pussy until you’re crying for me?” then, just to torture you more, satoru pushes in a little deeper—only an extra inch, but it’s enough.

you cry out sharply, the sudden stretch pulling a broken, needy sound from your throat. your body reacts on instinct, pushing back against him desperately, trying to take more of his thick cock.

“greedy girl… you said just the tip, but look at you pushing back like you want me to ruin you.”

he gives you another shallow thrust, still not going all the way in, but deeper than before. you whimper pathetically, hips rocking back against him again, chasing the feeling. your pussy clenches hard around him, dripping down his length.

“fuck, you really want it, don’t you?” he laughs breathlessly against your ear “you want your former babysitting kid to fuck you stupid—”

the front door suddenly swings open.

“satoru? i’m back early—”

his mom’s voice cuts through the air like ice water.

you both freeze.

satoru reacts instantly, pulling out of you and yanking your tank top back down to cover your chest. he quickly tucks himself back into his pants, heart hammering. you’re still pressed against the counter, legs shaking, face burning with embarrassment as you try to fix your shorts.

his mom stands in the doorway only seconds later, holding grocery bags, blinking at the two of you.

satoru clears his throat, somehow managing to sound almost normal. “hey mom. we were just… putting the groceries away.”

you nod quickly, too mortified to speak, cheeks flaming red. your thighs are still trembling, pussy aching from being left empty and dripping.

his mom narrows her eyes slightly, suspicious. “hm. well, don’t make a mess in here.”

she sets the bags down and walks further into the kitchen, completely unaware of how close she came to catching her son balls-deep inside you.

satoru glances at you, eyes still dark. he leans in close while his mom’s back is turned, whispering hotly against your ear: “this isn’t over. next time i’m not stopping until you’re creaming all over my cock.”

you shiver, pressing your thighs together as you try to calm your racing heart.

[purrtoru]

satoru being the lightweight he is, can’t help drunkenly confessing to you ( ,,>︿ \ )

the night starts easy, your little friend group decided to crash at your place for a few drinks, so now it’s just the four of you sprawled around your floor, drinks in hand.

shoko is already half-lidded, watching everything like it’s mildly entertaining at best, while suguru seems to be holding his liquor the best.

you barely touched your drink, and satoru— yeah, he’s gone.

not completely, but enough that his words are starting to blur together.

“y’know what,” suguru starts, voice smooth. “it’s kinda weird, satoru. you’re so popular, and still no girlfriend.”

shoko snorts.

satoru frowns immediately, blinking a little too slow.

“i— i could have one,” he insists, words already slipping. “i jus’ don’t wanna.”

you tilt your head, teasing, “oh? so it’s a choice now?”

“yeah,” he says, nodding too hard. “my choice. mine. totally.”

“convincing,” you mumble into your drink.

“i’m busy,” satoru adds quickly, like he needs to prove something. “m’too busy for that… that stuff. relationships and— and whatever.”

“riight,” you say lightly, though your eyes linger on him a second longer.

he should’ve stopped there, but being as drunk as he currently is, he doesn’t.

because his head tips back, and he laughs under his breath, all loose and unguarded, and then—

“there is someone,” he mutters.

suguru’s interest sharpens instantly. “oh?”

“wait— seriously?” you glance at satoru.

“but it’s— it’s not like that,” he says, waving his drink a little carelessly. “can’t be. i can’t— i can’t give her… all that. the… the things she needs. ‘s too much.”

your teasing fades just a little. “that’s… kind of a lot to assume for her, don’t you think?”

he shakes his head, slower now.

“no, no— you don’ get it,” he mumbles. “she’s jus’… she’s real pretty. like— annoyin’ pretty. makes it hard t’think. keeps— keeps showin’ up in my head all the time, ‘s so stupid…”

you look down at your glass, hiding a small smile. “wow. she sounds special.”

“she is,” he agrees immediately, too serious for it to be a joke. “won’t leave me ‘lone. jus’— there, all the time…”

he lets out a quiet, breathy laugh.

“i’ll be doin’ stuff, and then— boom— her. jus’ there. smilin’ or talkin’ or— or lookin’ at me like that…” he trails off, shaking his head a little. “can’t get rid of it. don’ wanna, either.”

shoko glances at you, and you can’t help but shift slightly under it.

“so what’s stopping you?” you ask, softer now. “if you like her that much.”

satoru groans, dragging a hand over his face.

“i said— i’m busy,” he mutters, slurring worse now. “this job, this life, it’s… it’s not fair. can’t jus’ pull someone into that. not her. she deserves… more. better. someone who’s actually there.”

you frown a little. “you don’t get to decide what she wants.”

and then suguru leans forward slightly, resting his chin in his hand, watching him carefully.

“so who is she?” he asks. “do we know her?”

you glance at suguru. “you’re really not letting that go, huh?”

“not a chance.”

satoru blinks, slow, confused. “…who?”

“the girl,” suguru repeats, smiling faintly. “the one you can’t stop thinking about.”

you feel your chest tighten for no good reason.

“yeah,” you add, trying to sound light. “who is she?”

satoru looks down at his drink like the answer’s floating in it.

“‘s obvious,” he mumbles.

“doesn’t seem like it,” you say, a little breathless.

and then, he lifts his head, his gaze drifts and lands on you.

“‘s you,” he says, voice soft and slurred, but clear enough to hit. “been you the whole time.”

your breath catches. “satoru—”

“i love you,” he adds, like it slips out without permission. “like— really love you. ‘s bad. ‘s really bad.”

you stare at him, heart pounding. “…you’re drunk.”

“yeah,” he nods. “but not about that.”

“if that’s the truth.. then you don’t get to decide what i deserve.”

“i know… that’s the problem.”

you shake your head faintly. “no. the problem is you think you have to be everything all at once.”

“…i’m still always busy,” he mumbles weakly. “can’t be there for you like you deserve.”

“i know that,” you huff a quiet laugh. “but you’re still here right now, aren’t you?”

he exhales slowly. “…yeah.”

“wow,” suguru cuts in, leaning back with a grin, “this is disgustingly sweet.”

you blink, suddenly aware again.

shoko groans, dragging a hand down her face. “i knew this was coming and i still hate it.”

“what?” you mumble, a little flustered now.

“you,” suguru gestures lazily between you and satoru, “and him. this whole… thing. painful to watch.”

“shuddup,” satoru slurs, frowning slightly.

shoko sits up just enough to wave her hand dismissively.

“no, seriously. if you’re going to confess your undying love, at least have the decency to not do it in front of us.”

you cover your face for a second, laughing under your breath. “oh my god—”

suguru snorts. “i give it five minutes before he tries to hold your hand and passes out.”

“i can— i can hold hands,” satoru mutters, already reaching vaguely in your direction.

shoko makes a face.

“gross, guys. get a room.”

shh we’re ignoring that he doesn’t drink for this, ok?

[purrtoru]

satoru likes when you need his help (⸝⸝> ⌓ <⸝⸝)

satoru likes when you depend on him. not in the controlling kind of way, he just likes being needed in all the tiny spaces of your day.

so he twists bottle caps just a little too tight before handing them to you with an innocent smile.

“satoru,” you complain, standing in the kitchen trying to open the bottle, “you sealed this thing shut!”

“hm?” he glances over from where he’s leaning against the counter. “did i?”

“you did!”

“wow, sounds serious. better let me handle it.”

he takes the bottle from your hands, making a dramatic show of opening it effortlessly, and his grin is unbearably smug when he gives it back.

“there you go, sweetheart.”

it’s the same with things placed on high shelves. you’re almost certain he moves them when you aren’t looking.

your favorite mug somehow ends up just out of reach, the snacks you bought disappear onto the top shelf— even your hoodie once ended up in the highest wardrobe compartment he knows you can’t comfortably reach.

and he absolutely refuses to let you lead when going out.

every time you go somewhere together, he’s the one leading. hand wrapped around yours while you trail beside him through crowded streets.

“you know where we’re going, right?” you ask, barely paying attention to where you’re headed.

“obviously.”

“then why won’t you just tell me?”

he shrugs. “because then you won’t need me next time.”

“toru...”

“baby.”

“one day i’m gonna get lost on purpose.”

“that’s fine,” he hums. “i’ll always come find you anyway.”

he also laughs when you roll your eyes, walking over before effortlessly plucking another item down from a shelf. except instead of handing it over immediately, he lifts it just out of reach.

“what do i get for my excellent service?”

“nothing, because you’re literally the one doing this!”

he kisses your forehead before giving it back.

because the truth is, satoru adores taking care of you. carrying your bags before you can complain that they’re heavy. zipping up your jacket when your fingers are cold. plugging your phone in after you fall asleep.

and maybe he just likes hearing you call his name, likes the way your voice softens when you ask, “can you help me?”

so yes, maybe he tightens jars too much on purpose, maybe he keeps your favorite things just barely out of reach, but only because he loves the little pout you give him before letting him swoop in and save the day.

[xoslutty]

✮ getting stuck in an elevator with two hot bosses who want you cannot be that bad, right? *pwp

"shit, we're gonna be here a while," nanami breathed out annoyed and loosened his tie after the dispatcher didn't answer again and the call button totally stopped working. your shift ended like three hours ago, but you were still there, typical you, obsessing over some report. the office was totally empty.

well, except for two department heads you were lucky enough to get stuck with in one cramped elevator.

the elevator felt way too small for three adults. you were basically squeezed between them and could feel the heat coming off their bodies. behind you was nanami's tall figure, and right in front of you — higuruma. both were a head taller than you, wider in the shoulders, and fucking hot.

i mean, it wasn't for nothing that you always wore short skirts even though the dress code said no, that you accidentally spilled coffee on higuruma's pants so you could apologize with bambi eyes and wipe a napkin near his cock. for months you played a dangerous game: you leaned over a little more than you should, showed off your chest when you sat across from him, brushed your shoulder against nanami's in the narrow hallway, and left documents on hiromi's desk that were soaked in your boldest perfume. you teased both of them at the same time, gave them hope, but always slipped away the second their stares got too heavy. a little flirting is fun, alright?

but right now you weren't having fun at all.

nanami slowly leaned in. his hot breath hit your ear, making you shiver. "you look spooked, sweetheart. you okay?" he said, and he sounded dangerously protective. "y-yeah, i'm fine," you gulped, trying not to look at him. "it's just super hot in here."

you noticed nanami lookedup at higuruma. for a while they just stared at each other in silence, and then this slow, knowing grin spread across both their faces. that look made your knees go weak. higuruma took his time taking off his jacket. he did it slow, eyes locked on yours, and tossed the expensive thing right on the dirty floor.

"what a shame," he said, rolling up his sleeves and showing off those strong forearms. "maybe we should talk about your behavior."

before you could get a single word out, nanami's heavy hands landed on your waist. he pulled you back, pressing you into his hard chest. "you've been waiting for this the whole time, haven't you?" he whispered into your hair. "teasing us so much."

"i... i have no idea what you're talking about," your voice shook, and your heart was thumping so loud they both definitely heard it. hiromi stepped even closer. his hands hit your thighs, bunching up your skirt. "oh, trust me, you know exactly what we're talking about."

they literally crushed you between them, and you felt the burning heat of their bodies. nanami grabbed your chin and pulled it up, forcing you to look at him. "i think it's time to teach you a lesson."

he didn't let you scream — his mouth covered yours in a demanding kiss. he kissed you deep, filling you up with himself, while hiromi went for your neck at the same time, leaving wet, open-mouthed kisses on your skin. your head started spinning and reality started to blur.

nanami pulled back from your lips for a second and then with one sharp, confident move he grabbed you by the waist. before you could even gasp, you were up in the air. he held you there, making your legs spread wide and hooking your knees over his arms. now you were basically hanging on him — your back pressed against his chest, and you were completely open in front of both of them.

your short skirt rode up to your waist, leaving you in just thin panties. nanami went back to your ear, nibbling on your lobe and cheek before sliding down to your neck. meanwhile, higuruma slowly unbuttoned your blouse, button by button, and as the fabric parted, he started biting your chest, making you arch in kento’s arms.

"wait— mmnh! hiromi..." you gasped, "there're cameras in the elevator... maybe we should go..."

"don't worry 'bout that, darling," nanami laughed low and soft, pressing his lips to your shoulder. "don't you worry your pretty little head."

hiromi finally threw your shirt open and slowly moved down with kisses toward your stomach. "just enjoy what we're gonna do now, okay?"

he got down on his knees, and you felt his hot breath scorch your delicate skin. he didn't rush. first, his lips barely brushed the inside of your thighs, leaving light, almost weightless kisses that sent an electric charge through your body. you felt nanami tighten his grip on your knees from behind, locking you in the air; you literally couldn't move.

"look how wet she is. perfect," hiromi rasped, looking at how the slick glistened on your already damp pussy. "you wanted this, didn't you? for us to see how much this little pussy leaks when it's needy?"

"n-nngh!... hiromi…" your moan drowned in the quiet hum of the elevator as he lifted two fingers and unceremoniously stretched your folds apart to fully expose you. at first, he just teased you with the tip of his tongue, short and wet strokes. you felt him lick away the drops, smacking his lips, savoring your taste.

"mmngh! haah! please…" you jerked in nanami’s arms, but he just held you tighter against his chest. "hold on, sweetie, we're just gettin' started," he whispered in your ear, and at that moment, he started to slowly rotate your hips in circular motions.

those circles made you literally rub against hiromi’s face. you felt the stubble on his chin, his nose pressing into your already swollen clit, and his tongue going right into your soaking pussy. wet, obscene sounds echoed in the cramped elevator.

"haah! more… nngh!" you weren't in control of your sounds anymore, gasping with pleasure. "oh yeah," hiromi growled, not pulling away for a second, "you're so sweet. i'm gonna lick you dry 'til you start beggin' us to stop."

his pace picked up. he went rougher now. hiromi didn't tease anymore. he took your clit between his lips and started sucking on it hungrily like he’d fuckin' die if he didn't.

"a-ah! hiromi! nngh-aa!" you screamed, throwing your head back on nanami’s shoulder while he kissed your cheek, holding you in place, and your cry echoed through the tight cabin.

hiromi’s tongue went deep between your stretched folds, licking everything inside, while the two fingers he’d managed to shove in kept roughly stretching you, opening every millimeter of your tender flesh for his mouth. loud, squelching sounds of your pussy and the wet sounds of his mouth filled the elevator.

"mmm, look what you're doin' to us," nanami kept rotating your pelvis, forcing you to grind even harder onto hiromi’s tongue. "you wanted this, didn't you? walkin' 'round in front of us in those skirts that show off your ass?"

"haah! mmngh… ahh! more… more!" you didn't even know what you were saying anymore. the man behind you didn't give you a second's break — his palm covered your mouth, muffling your next moan. "hiromi, please… mmmngh-ah!" you broke free from nanami’s hand, and your moans got louder. "yes! right there! ahh-h!"

nanami pulled his hand away from your face only to sink into your lips, catching your next whimper. "stick out your tongue, baby," he whispered, and you obeyed before you could even think. "come on."

as soon as you parted your mouth and the tip of your tongue peeked out, nanami let out a low growl and bit into your lips. he captured your tongue with his lips and started sucking on it, slow and greedy. "mmmmmfff!.. kento!... " you moaned right into his mouth, feeling your whole body tighten like a string.

nanami sucked your tongue rhythmically, like he owned it, making you gasp for air. meanwhile, higuruma, feeling your reaction, stretched your folds even wider and sucked on your clit with twice the force. "mmmngh... most perfect sweet pussy. gonna eat this little swollen clit up."

your sounds turned totally incoherent, becoming a solid stream of moans and ragged breaths mixed with whimpers. nanami pulled away from your tongue for a second, his whisper brushing right against your lips. "good girl. hear how loud you're bein' for us?"

your body was stretched to the limit, like a wire about to snap. nanami kept dominantly sucking your tongue, cutting off your oxygen and making you choke on your own moans while his hips rhythmically rotated your pelvis, grinding you into hiromi’s face. you thrashed convulsively in kento’s arms, feeling everything inside tighten into an unbearably hard, hot knot.

higuruma, feeling your orgasm coming, stretched your already swollen folds with his fingers until it almost hurt, and for the last time, sucked your clit in as deep as possible, licking it frantically. a loud, dominant squelching filled the cramped elevator.

"a-a-ah! kent— oh god, i'm gonna... mmmngh-a-a-a!" your scream broke into a rasp as the first wave of orgasm literally ripped through you.

you felt your muscles inside start to contract uncontrollably, pulsing hot wetness right onto hiromi’s face. you shuddered all over, your legs on nanami’s shoulders shaking with a fine tremor. kento pulled away from your tongue at that moment just to catch your wide-open mouth in a silent scream and greedily breathe in your orgasmic moan.

you gasped, your head falling onto nanami’s shoulder as white spots swam before your eyes. hiromi didn't stop even when you started twitching in convulsions. he kept greedily licking and sucking up your slick, which was now dripping down his chin and lips.

"hiromi, stop... ah... i can't anymore..." you went limp in kento’s arms, feelin' a heavy, leaden weakness spread through your body. you barely breathed, pressing your forehead against nanami’s shoulder. your body still shook with small, lingerin' tremors, and your head was a total vacuum. you were literally floating in the clouds after such a crushing orgasm, feeling like soft, pliable clay in their hands.

but the blissful silence didn't last long. nanami pulled back a bit to look at your face and took you by the chin, forcing your blurred gaze to focus on him.

"you think that’s it, darling?" his voice sounded scary calm and low. "you really think we're gonna let you come just once?"

your eyes widened. you tried to say something, but only a weak, ragged exhale escaped your throat. "what're you..."

hiromi slowly pulled away and got up from his knees. his lips glistened wetly, and there was a streak of your juices on his chin that he didn't even think about wipin' off. he looked down at you, fixing his shirt cuffs.

"that was just the start," he tossed out, and his voice vibrated in the tight cabin. you were still hangin' in nanami’s arms, legs shaking, and your mind was fading. "n-no... wait..." you tried to pull your thoughts together, "someone could walk in right now... the dispatcher... he might hear through the intercom..."

nanami just laughed low against your neck, and that sound made you shrink. he didn't let you go. instead, he shifted his grip to get comfortable and started to slowly, intentionally rub your aching, oversensitive cunt against his huge, rock-hard cock through the fabric of his pants.

"ah!" you sobbed, whimpering from the unbearable pleasure that bordered on torture. "nanami..." "we could just call the dispatcher again so help comes right now," kento whispered, keepin' up the methodical grind against you, squeezin' out new portions of wetness that now fell in heavy drops and dripped onto the elevator floor. your heels had been lyin' in the corner for a while now. "is that what you want? you want us to get pulled out of here right now?"

he didn't stop, and you felt his hardness throb, promisin' somethin' way bigger. at that moment, hiromi stepped in close. he cupped your face in his palms and sank into your lips with a deep, greedy kiss. you tasted yourself mixed with his hot spit — intimate, and crazy turning you on.

"m-m-m," he hummed into your mouth, pulling back only a millimeter. "is this what you want?" you should've said "yes." you should've screamed 'bout how they broke all the rules, how hierarchy was trashed, and how you're all gonna get fired in disgrace. you should've stopped this.

but you didn't. your first orgasm was so mind-blowing that all you could think about was the throbbing weight you felt with your ass through nanami’s clothes. you couldn't even dream of just one of them in your wildest fantasies, but getting both at once? that was the kind of extreme greed they write about in books.

“n-no…” you aggressively shook your head, completely forgetting you were in the damn elevator of an office building. your hands dug into higuruma’s shoulders on their own, and you started desperately, almost insanely grinding against the man behind you in every way possible, begging for more with your body alone.

hiromi gave a faint, barely noticeable smile without taking his eyes off you, watching the way you writhed in kento’s hands. “that’s what we thought. dirty girl… you spent months tempting your bosses just so they’d fuck you at the same time?”

you barely heard him. his words drowned in the rush of blood pounding in your ears, and you only nodded quickly, feverishly, agreeing with every word he said. “c’mon, baby,” nanami caught you with one hand, giving you more space, “use your hands. take my pants off.”

with trembling fingers, you reached behind you as much as the cramped space allowed and touched his cock through the fabric for the first time. nanami let out a low, rough groan and pushed himself into your palm, rolling his hips forward. you tried to feel more of him, but kento only tightened his grip on your waist.

“baby, i just had to sit there without getting to taste you. you’d better hurry up.” you frantically searched for his belt buckle, but your fingers wouldn’t cooperate. you couldn’t see what you were doing behind your back, and helpless little whines started slipping out of you.

“i-i can’t do it… kento, i can’t…” you sobbed, tears blurring your vision. nanami laughed quietly, enjoying your desperation. “what an impatient girl, huh?”

he jerked his hips sharply to help you, and finally you managed to undo the belt. then the button and zipper gave in too. his pants slipped down, and immediately, without waiting, you covered his cock with your hand over his boxers. nanami threw his head back, sucking in air through his teeth with a hiss. you moaned too — just the thought of him being inside you turned you into a melted, shapeless mess.

by then, hiromi already pulled his pants down slightly. you froze as you looked at him. his cock looked intimidating: long, heavy, veins standing out clearly along it, the tip already wet. exactly the one you imagined whenever you touched yourself.

you breathed heavily, your pussy still pulsing after your orgasm while your hands already pulled down the blond man’s boxers behind you. the second his cock came free, it pressed against your ass with a dull thud. you felt the heat of it against your skin.

nanami wrapped a hand around himself and slowly dragged the tip over your untouched back hole first. panic shot through you instantly, your voice turning high and almost frightened. “kento!.. please, kento…”

he immediately buried himself against your neck, kissing you greedily with his mouth open, leaving your skin wet and burning. “relax,” he whispered, his voice vibrating through your body. “we’re not going there… for now.”

you relaxed a little, but the realization crashed over you in another wave: that meant they were both going to fuck you. at the same time.

your thoughts didn’t even have time to form into words before higuruma stepped closer. he cupped your face, gently but firmly sucking on your lower lip before pulling away and looking directly into your eyes.

“if it hurts, just tell us, okay?” his voice sounded serious, almost gentle. “we won’t do anything that’ll hurt you. we’re here to give you what you’ve been begging for all this time. tell me you understand.”

you only nodded shakily, unable to force out a single word. “use your words, sweetheart,” nanami insisted, pressing his cock against your lower back. you swallowed hard, your voice rough from all the screaming and moaning. “i… i understand. yeah. please…”

nanami adjusted his grip on you more comfortably, one arm still holding your weight while the other slowly, carefully guided his cock. at first, he only teased you with it, dragging the tip through your folds, coating himself in all your slickness, practically soaking himself in your juices before finally giving one decisive thrust.

he pushed in slowly, giving you time to feel every inch of his impossible thickness. you cried out instantly and grabbed onto higuruma’s shoulders with a death grip. meanwhile, hiromi pressed himself flush against you, holding your hips steady and helping you keep your balance while his eyes tracked every shaky breath you took.

he really was huge. you felt him literally forcing your insides apart, pushing so deep that every experience you’d ever had before suddenly felt like some pathetic joke. your head fell back, your moans breaking apart into weak little whines.

“mmmngh! kento… haa-ah… hurts… no, feels good… god—!” you choked on the words as he filled you completely. “that’s it, sweetheart, take all of me,” nanami rasped, his voice vibrating through your body.

“you’re too big… kento, you’re too big…” “i know, baby,” he started moving inside you slowly, deeply, “it’ll feel better soon. just relax for me.”

while that happened, higuruma kissed his way down your neck to your chest, which already spilled out of your bra cups. he wrapped his lips around your nipple, sucking greedily while nanami kept thrusting into you from behind.

“fuck…” kento growled, picking up the pace. “knew you’d have a fucking heavenly pussy… she’s squeezing me so tight.” all you could do was whine and sob. “ah! mmngh!! feels so good… more… haaah!”

“yeah?” higuruma pulled away from your chest, his gaze turning sharp and hungry. “it’s about to feel even better.” nanami cupped your face with both hands, turned you toward him, and crashed his mouth against yours in a deep kiss. “take a breath,” he ordered right against your lips.

you were already completely fucked stupid from his cock and the heat of their bodies. the second you gasped for air, you felt another huge, hard shape starting to push into you. hiromi entered you from the front, and you practically whimpered into nanami’s kiss while your fingers dug into higuruma’s shirt hard enough to make the fabric strain.

the moment he fully pushed inside, stretching you beyond anything imaginable, you screamed so loudly it felt like your voice tore through the entire building. “oh god! god! fuck… fuck! a-ah-ahh!”

tears spilled from your eyes automatically from the shock and overwhelming fullness. nanami laughed low against your lips, licking away the salty wetness. “no god here, sweetheart. we’re the ones making you scream like that.”

both of them stayed still for a moment, letting your body adjust to the unbearable stretch. hiromi’s hand squeezed your breast possessively while nanami bit at your shoulder and every patch of exposed skin he could reach.

it felt like forever or maybe only a few seconds — you had no idea anymore. the only thing you knew was that you needed them. “more… want more… please…”

“our girl’s getting greedy, huh?” higuruma smirked while looking at your flushed face. “one cock isn’t enough anymore? now you always want two?” then they started moving. together. hard. rhythmic.

it felt like your pussy was about to split apart, your whole body turning into one shaking, dripping mess. you moaned and whimpered while they kept taking turns kissing you, your chin already soaked with spit, your face damp with sweat and their touches. saliva and slick ran down your neck and chest, and you were pretty sure there was already a puddle forming on the elevator floor beneath you.

their movements turned sharp and perfectly synchronized, and you felt them practically pounding you into the narrow space between them. nanami set a deep, animalistic pace from behind while hiromi matched every thrust from the front, forcing your body to stretch to its absolute limit. the cramped elevator filled with unbearable wet sounds: skin slapping against skin, heavy male growls, and your endless, choking moans mixed with the smell of all your arousal.

“ah! haaah… nngh! fuck, kento… romi… a-ahh!” you cried out when they bumped against each other inside you, trapping your womb between them.

“look at this fucking mess,” hiromi rasped without taking his eyes off the place where your bodies merged together. “you’re sucking us in so greedily. such a needy little hole for your bosses.”

nanami grabbed your hair, pulling your head back slightly so he could see your face twisted with pleasure. “hear those sounds, baby?” he slammed into you hard, and the elevator filled with a loud, filthy squelch. “that’s all you. you’re so fucking wet we’re practically drowning in you.”

“mmmngh! yes… more… ” you couldn’t even control the saliva dripping down your chin anymore, mixing with their sweat. your face stayed damp, your hair stuck to your forehead, and your eyes rolled back.

higuruma leaned forward and crashed his mouth against yours, swallowing your moan with his lips. his tongue moved just as aggressively as his cock while his hand kept squeezing your breast hard enough to hurt. when he finally pulled away, a thin string of saliva stretched between you before breaking against your neck.

hiromi tightened his grip on your thighs even more, lifting your hips so you stayed completely open for both of them. the elevator smelled heavy with sweat, bodies, and slick, and the only thing breaking the silence were the filthy sounds of their bodies slamming against your ass.

nanami slowly moved his hand down the front of your body. his fingers, soaked with your slick, found your clit. “look at this little thing,” he rasped, his voice vibrating through your spine. “look how swollen it is. you’re pulsing so much, sweetheart.”

he started playing with you, and the elevator filled with another wet, messy sound from his fingers moving against you. every touch sent a shock through your body.

“mmmngh! kento… ah!” you sobbed shakily as your thighs started trembling uncontrollably. “please… i wanna come… i’m gonna… mmhnm!!" “no,” he cut you off. he gave one deep, crushing thrust. “don’t even think about coming without permission.”

their pace grew even faster, turning into something raw and primal. nanami’s heavy thrusts from behind crashed against hiromi’s from the front. the mirror in the elevator completely fogged over now, thick drops of condensation sliding down it just like the sweat running along your back. you could barely breathe anymore, your moans dissolving into broken little whimpers.

“tell me,” nanami suddenly pinched your clit hard between his fingers, making your back arch violently as you screamed. “who does this sweet, greedy pussy belong to?”

“a-ahh! yours! only yours! always only yours!” you practically sobbed the words out, losing the last of your sanity from the overwhelming pleasure. “good girl,” hiromi whispered smoothly against your damp shoulder before kissing it. “such a good girl. keep taking us, baby.”

your pussy pulsed violently, burning from the friction and impossible fullness. every thrust from nanami and hiromi forced more slick out of you, thick drops falling onto the floor and adding to the puddle already spreading beneath your feet. you felt completely used, ruined, and unbelievably happy in exactly that role.

the tension inside you coiled into a tight, unbearable knot that was about to snap. from behind, nanami made one last, crushing thrust, driving into you to the very hilt with a loud, wet sound, while hiromi made a powerful lunge forward at the same time, pinning your uterus in a vise between the two of them.

at that moment, nanami pressed hard against your pulsing clit, and that was the final straw. you literally buckled in their arms. the elevator walls started to swim before your eyes, and a series of choking, ragged sobs ripped from your throat.

"mmmngh-a-a-a! god! god! i— aah!" you gasped, feeling the first wave of orgasm paralyze your legs. your pussy started to contract convulsively and rhythmically around them, trying to squeeze every last drop out. you felt every vein on their members, every movement that now felt a hundred times sharper. a frantic, wet squelching filled the tight cabin — it was your juices, forced out by their pressure, literally splashing onto the floor and mixing with sweat.

you felt everything inside flip. your stomach muscles cramped, you threw your head back aggressively, pressing the back of your skull into nanami’s shoulder, and you just stopped breathing for several long seconds. you were shaking so hard that hiromi had to grip your thighs in a death lock to keep you from sliding to the floor.

"yes, just like that," nanami growled, feeling your pussy literally suck him in. "cum on our cocks, our pretty girl." you could not answer. you only whimpered and shuddered in a long, agonizingly beautiful ecstasy. tears of happiness and shock rolled down your wet cheeks.

you were still shaking from the lingering waves when you felt the blonde’s breath grow heavy, turning into a muffled growl. "fuck, you are so tight...so perfect baby..." he rasped, driving into you one last time with such force that you felt his pulse at your very center.

hiromi, feeling your tremors and kento’s frantic rhythm, also stopped holding back. his movements became sharp, almost rough; he literally slammed you into nanami, wringing the last moans out of you.

for a moment, everything froze. you felt nanami shudder through his whole body, his fingers digging into your thighs until it hurt, and he poured into you in a hot, pulsing stream. almost at the same time, hiromi let out a low, guttural sound and also went still, pressing his forehead against your shoulder, giving all his tension to you.

"so good mmm..." you went totally limp in their arms, feeling the scalding heat of their seed spread inside you. a sharp, mechanical sound and a sudden jolt of the elevator under your feet made you all freeze.

"hello, elevator number four? we have recorded a stop; we are restarting the system now. is everything alright with you?"

more of freaky shit ? fanart cr — @ yunonoai on X

[pillbaby]

satoru's obsessed with your glasses (˶ˆ꒳ˆ˵) ୨୧ dryhumping softdom!toru

satoru has a thing for your glasses. you're not sure what it is... or why it is. they're just lenses—you keep them on so that you don't run into walls or break traffic laws. they're practical, that's all. for you, at least.

for him? they drive satoru fucking crazy. his current obsession is the way they fog up when you're kissing and how they slide down the bridge of your nose when his teeth clash frantically against yours, spit mixing.

you'll be sitting on his lap, in nothing but one of his old shirts and panties, arousal soaking through the fabric of them, and right onto his boxers.

like now.

"fuck, you're so pretty, doll," satoru breathes, looking at you through his lashes. his hands sit firmly on your hips, keeping you close to him.

he watches with a grin as you huff in frustration, pushing your glasses back up. again. all because he won't let you take them off. despite that, your hips don't stop rolling against his, your clit catching on his budge with every motion.

soft moans slip past your lips, and he presses his mouth to yours, drinking them all up. he trails down to your neck, leaving wet kisses, occasionally stopping to suck softly on your skin.

"sato—i think m'close," you whine, gripping the fabric of his shirt tighter. your hips stutter against his, and he hums.

his voice is smooth, and he clicks his tongue, "yeah, baby? i can tell. go on, then."

that's really all it takes to push you over the edge, a broken gasp leaving your mouth. you struggle to keep moving against him, but satoru's hands guide you, hips bucking slightly up. he helps you ride your high out, murmuring sweet nothings.

"fuck me, 'toru?" you ask, breathy and dazed, but still needy. he responds by pulling you into another kiss. when your glasses knock against the bridge of his nose again, you pull back, wanting to toss them aside—

"wait... keep them on? please?"

[duxtch]

warning ladies !! do not spit in gojo’s mouth unless you’re ready for him to nut instantly!

“c’mon baby,” he whines, voice all breathy and cocky, his blue eyes sparkling looking greedy. “i’ve been good. spit in my mouth, please?”

you laugh, because this six-foot-whatever menace who can literally warp reality is pouting like a brat because he wants your spit.

“you’re so fucking weird, toru.”

“you are weird,” he corrects instantly, tongue already poking out a little. “now c’mon.... i’m dying here. my dick’s so hard it’s bout to file a complaint.”

you roll your eyes but lean in anyway, gripping his jaw with one hand, thumb pressing into the soft skin just under his bottom lip. he opens wider, eyes half-lidded, that signature gojo smirk twitching at the corners because he knows exactly how nasty this is.

you gather it slow on purpose, letting him watch, then spit directly onto his waiting tongue. thick, warm, right in the center.

the sound he makes is downright criminal. a broken little moan-groan that vibrates straight through his chest and into yours.

“fuck— again,” he gasps, “do it again. spit like you mean it.”

you do it again, messier this time, letting some of it miss and drip down his chin. he doesn’t even wipe it. just lets it slide while his eyes roll back.

“you’re actually getting off on this, huh?” you tease, grinding down slow on the massive bulge straining against the fabric. “big bad strongest and all it takes is a little spit to make you stupid?”

“shut up and degrade me properly,” he whines, but he’s grinning like an idiot, tongue still out. “call me a nasty little slut or sum. i’m literally leaking for you right now.”

you laugh again, i mean you can’t help it. before you do the request, you reach down and shove his sweats just low enough to free him. he’s flushed dark at the tip, already dripping down the shaft.

“open wider, pretty boy.”

he obeys instantly, loving every second of being absolutely humiliated by you.

you spit again, then lean down and lick into his mouth, tasting yourself on his tongue while you sink down onto his cock.

satoru’s whole body shudders. he moans into your mouth, hands scrambling on your hips, already babbling.

“more!! fuck— spit on me while you ride me. please baby i’ll do anything. i’ll buy you a country. i’ll cancel infinity for the rest of the night. just keep spitting in my fucking mouth—”

“shush it toru ~~~”

more subby!gojo?

[sweethearticism]

It's been five years since your husband passed.

"I can be him."

One year since you returned to the jujutsu world.

"If you just let me. I can be him. You can call his name. Pretend he's touching you."

Six months since 𝓨𝒖𝒕𝒂 started pursuing you.

The setting sun over jujutsu tech glared you down as your back pressed into the bridge's wooden beams. Was Satoru's glare in the horizon? Was his judgement in the sky? Were his chastises whispered in the wind that kissed your cheek?

His eyes were above you.

His hair tickling your forehead.

His hands on you.

His. But not his. Not your husband. Not Satoru.

Just the man who wore his skin.

Yuta shedded his a long time ago. A miscalculation. A medical horror. Returning to his body became impossible and so, he remained in the man who was once yours. Now twenty three, and all he wanted?

You.

Before you, he stood. Looming over you the way that Satoru did. Caressing your cheek the way that Satoru did.

Whispering to you the way that Satoru did.

"I have his memories," he said, thumb tracing a familiar line on your cheekbone. "I know how he touched you. I know how he loved you. I can love you the same."

He leaned closer. Diminishing both the space between you and your shame.

"We can play pretend," he promised.

The same way Satoru had promised that he would come home.

The same way you had promised him that no one else would ever hold your heart, your body, your soul.

You broke your promise.

All it took was a kiss. From lips you remembered. From a mouth that worshipped you every day of your short marriage.

Your downfall were his hands. Familiar. Once yours. The wedding ring he still wore out of reverence for his sensei.

A kiss. A touch. A memory. That's all it took.

All it took for the sheets to welcome your back. For your thighs to welcome his head. Your hands greeting white hair that you once stroked so tenderly when the world caved in on him.

Your Satoru.

Not your Satoru.

Satoru's body.

Your Satoru's body.

Between your legs. Worshipping you. As he always did. With big, scarred hands spreading you apart. With a tongue that knew every inch of you. A voice that praised you.

The same way your husband would.

"So sweet, taste so so good, sweet girl," the groan soaked into your slick. An aphrodisiac of its own. Seeping into your veins. Dizzying your mind.

"Toru," you whimpered.

Toru.

Satoru.

Your Satoru.

He's not your Satoru.

But you moaned for him as if he was.

Tugged onto his hair. Ground into his face. Whimpered his name— as if he was.

Two orgasms on his tongue alone. Yuta proved that he had committed to his sensei's memories. He knew exactly how to fuck you on the pink muscle. Where to touch. What pressure.

His thumb stroked along your slit. Tracing the quivers as his lips occupied your clit. Sucking on its pulses and worming out another devastating orgasm out of you.

Three. You came three times.

The same number Satoru worked you up to before he kissed you. Held you. Fucked you.

Yuta committed to the routine. Kissed you. Spread your thighs.

Pressed his dick to your twitching cunt.

Shushed your cries.

Held you.

Fucked you.

Your body forgot, but your mind didn't. The stretch burned and tears pricked at your eyes— but your mind keened. Slipped. Soaked in the memory of him.

Of your husband.

Of Satoru.

As Yuta's hips engraved new memories into your thighs.

As his fingers blossomed new bruises.

As his mouth kissed you with a new hunger.

Your arms hugged around his neck. Breath stuttering. Voice breaking. Every plunge of his cock stroked the fire deeper into you. Unravelling your mind into a messy heap of tears and needy.

Rough pants fanned above you. His brows pinched at the centre. One hand gripping your thigh and the other cupped beneath your head. Yuta's thrusts were as nasty as Satoru's. Deep, fast, taking you apart from the inside out.

"That's it. There you go," he huffed, white lashes fluttering. "There's my girl."

"Sat— toru," you sobbed. Because maybe crying would make it real.

Maybe it'd wake you up from this terrible nightmare.

"You're doing so well, sweetheart." His voice slipped into your ear. Clenched your heart. Squeezed your cunt as your nails raked down his back.

"Toru," you whimpered. "T-Toru, toru please. I need— I need you. I need you."

His thumb found your clit, your back bowed into the pleasure. Another sob shook from your lungs. Reaching out for him. Not Yuta. Not his body. Him.

But it was Yuta who cupped your face. With Satoru's hand.

Yuta who bottomed out. Fucked you deeper. With Satoru's cock.

Yuta who whispered to you. With Satoru's voice.

"I'm here." He lied, so sweetly.

As his hips drove faster— and faster. Grinding into all of the sweetspots that Satoru knew. That were now at his disposal.

"I'm here, I'm right here, sweetheart." He lied, so gently.

As he hugged you close. Took you higher— and higher. Perfectly choreographed to the memory he committed to.

Playing with your clit, with Satoru's fingers.

Praising you, with Satoru's words.

Kissing you, with Satoru's lips.

"I'm gonna cum," you cried, and he licked your tears away. Cradled your face. Whispered tenderly.

"Cum," eyes so blue, eyes once yours, stared deep into your soul. Deceived you with promises that had already been broken. "Cum for me. Cum for 'toru, baby. C'mon."

The heat, the need, the memories— they all rushed into a knot that snapped in the pit of your stomach. Your eyes rolled back. Body arched. Tensed.

"Satoru— t-toru. Toru, miss you. I miss you."

You sobbed his name when you came.

Clung to his shoulders.

Squeezed his cock.

But you knew.

That it wasn't him that held you.

Wasn't him that smacked his hips into yours.

Wasn't him that groaned deep, even if it was his voice.

Wasn't him that stilled, that moaned your name, that filled you to the brim and kept pumping as you shook with whimpers.

Eyes so blue. Eyes once yours.

But in your heart, you knew. Satoru was dead.

Knew that the thing wearing his skin wasn't him.

And that the only one who caressed your face, kissed you, told you that he loved you— wasn't your husband.

But Okkotsu Yuta.

© 𝒔𝒘𝒆𝒆𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒊𝒔𝒎. no plagiarism or ai training authorised.

[purrtoru]

to satoru personal space does not exist ∘ ∘ ∘ (⸝⸝╸-╺⸝⸝)

it’s ironic, really.

for someone known as the strongest— untouchable, infinite space between him and everything else— satoru just cannot keep his hands off you.

at all.

you’re sitting on the couch? his arm is already around your shoulders. he’ll grab a handful of boob while he’s at it, not even in a sexual manner, he simply treats it like a fidget toy.

walking somewhere? fingers laced with yours like it’s a life-or-death requirement. he’s pulling you away from anyone walking too closely, which ends up with your entire arm in his grasp.

standing perfectly still? his hand finds its way into your pocket. does he have his own? sure. does he care? absolutely not.

trying to cook? he’s behind you, chin resting on your head, fully convinced he’s helping while absolutely not helping. occasionally, he’ll have his hand directly on yours.

“toru,” you say, attempting to stir something without elbowing him, “you are literally making this harder.”

“i’m helping,” he corrects, tightening his hold just a little. “just making sure you don’t accidentally burn yourself.”

it gets worse in public.

for a man who used to keep the entire world at a distance, he now treats you like a built-in accessory. hand on your waist, fingers brushing yours, casually leaning on you like you’re the only solid thing in existence.

at one point, you stop walking entirely.

he takes three more steps before the invisible leash snaps him back, looking back at you like a puppy waiting for his owner.

“hey— why’d you stop?”

you cross your arms. “can you go five minutes without touching me?”

he stares at you. actually stares.

like you’ve just asked him to breathe underwater.

“…why would i do that?”

“because normal people have boundaries.”

“you don’t like it?” he pouts, very seriously. “what’s so wrong with me showing affection?”

you have to stifle a laugh.

he takes advantage immediately— hands on your cheeks, squishing your face a little. “see? you like it just as much as i do.”

“you’re impossible.”

“and yet,” he leans in, forehead bumping yours, smug and soft all at once, “you’re always within arm’s reach.”

which is true. you don’t move away, you never do.

which, (un)fortunately, only encourages him more.

[torubeetle]

⟡ ⌢ getting his baby's ears pierced somehow hurt satoru more than it hurt her.

he was apprehensive to begin with, but he let himself be swayed by his wife’s reassuring smile and her steady hand on his face, telling him — promising him — it would be over and done with in seconds and that she wouldn’t even be in much pain.

“i got my ears pierced as a baby,” you’d explained, rocking the topic of conversation back and forth on your chest at the time. “i don’t even remember it! she’ll be okay, honey.”

“she cries when i leave the room!” he had whined back, his hand gently rubbing up and down his daughter's back as the 6-month-old had begun to fall asleep on you, “how is she gonna be “okay” with a needle through her ears??” satoru seriously needed to learn how to say no, though, because you’d convinced him in the end.

bouncing the pudgy infant on his knee and making faces to keep her entertained, he looked around nervously, watching you talk to the piercer with a polite smile. he just sighed, still a little bitter he’d been so easily talked into letting this happen to his sweet baby girl.

“daddy’s sorry for letting mommy talk me into this,” he mumbled in dramatic defeat, like he’d failed her and didn’t deserve to live. his daughter was oblivious and too preoccupied trying to shove her fingers into her mouth to try and make sense of whatever he was saying, and all he got was a garbled “baah!” in return.

“okaaayy, pumpkin, are we ready?” you came back over cooing. her small body wriggled as satoru begrudgingly repositioned her in front of the young woman about to shove holes through his poor princess’s ears. making a point to ignore your husband’s glare, you helped hold her still. the young woman, also nervously avoiding your husband’s hole-dwelling stare, cleared her throat awkwardly and gave the 3-second countdown, holding the piercing gun to her tiny left ear before it clamped down with a sharp clack.

you and satoru held your breath and checked her over. it took a long moment, long enough to give you the false hope that maybe your baby was one of the ones that didn’t cry, but eventually, inevitably, her doughy cheeks began to puff up and redden, her nose scrunched and her big eyes spilled over with tears. then came that gut-wrenching wail.

“daddy’s sooorrryyy.” satoru immediately coddled her, looking ready to start crying himself. “ohh, daddy’s sorry, princess, i know, i know…” his lip jutted out in a sympathetic pout. “mean mommy for making you do this.” he swatted at your hand when you reached to comfort your baby, glaring through his own glossy eyes as he had to hold her still again so she could get her second one over and done with. he knew he had to let it happen, but the tears and the pouty lip felt like they could cleave his heart in two.

another sharp clack!, and her wailing turned into the screams of a banshee. satoru cuddled her closer onto his shoulder, as if he could just smother the crying away, and rubbed her back, 1.) so his daughter wouldn’t see him crying, because he WAS crying, and 2.) so he could attempt to take her mind off of what he could only assume was the worst pain she'd ever felt since birth. he quickly shooed the poor woman away from his daughter, his eyes visibly wet with tears. you couldn't resist a quiet, sympathetic laugh, but he ignored you.

“oh, i knowww, i know,” he sniffled, rocking the wailing infant back and forth. “‘m so sorry, baby girl, daddy’s sorryyy…” he didn't put his daughter down at all that night. he massaged her tiny ears whenever she started to cry, distracted her with toys and kisses.

“she’s literally never doing that again,” he told you later that night, watching her sleep on the monitor. he shook his head when you chuckled. “i’m serious, my heart can’t go through any more of that. she can get them pierced again when i’m dead.”

𐔌 ۪ ઈઉ ᩙ a/n:: i feel like those people who feed birds like when they sprinkle the seeds on the ground except i only feed you guys every 6 months or so lmao

[satoruined]

18+ mdni

best friend! suguru, who—intentionally or not—ruined you for anyone else through the way he treats you.

always attuned to the infinitesimal details of your preferences, indulges every fleeting whim, and never negotiates your needs; he meets them as though doing so is the absolute baseline.

after a string of short-lived romances that were nonstarters by definition, you begin to suspect the common denominator is you. because more often than not, mid-date (pun intended), the same nagging thought surfaces, unbidden: suguru would’ve…

no. he’s your best friend. that alone should disqualify him. the comparison feels unfair to everyone involved—but it happens anyway. his game has raised the bar so high that no one else seems capable of measuring up. what feels normal to you comes off excessive to others. maybe you’ve grown too accustomed to being doted on. maybe what you consider as bare minimum is, to everyone else, high maintenance.

when you bring it up, suguru dismisses the notion almost immediately. it’s them, not you.

and then he goes right back to proving his point, with his pretty face nestled between your thighs, muscular arms hooking under your legs. you’re lost between staring at his ceiling and stealing glances down, heat creeping up your face for reasons you refuse to examine too closely. the princess treatment he established wasn’t confined outside the bedroom.

“if this is what you call ‘high maintenance,’” suguru hums, nuzzling against your mound with mock contemplation, “then maybe they were never equipped to begin with.” he presses a tender kiss to your swollen, overstimulated clit, a sly smirk tugging at his lips as you keen. halfheartedly, you scrape your brain for a witty comeback—but there’s nothing. it’s not like he’s wrong, and it’s not like you disagree.

the light blots out as suguru’s face obscures your view of his interesting ceiling, and your legs spread instinctively, all muscle memory. the dopey, dare-you-say lovestruck expression never leaves his face as he guides his hard cock to your entrance.

best friend! suguru, who has ruined sex for you too.

[zukunyy]

18+ Grinding against Satoru’s cock during ovulation ✧.*

You need him so incredibly badly.

It’s painfully obvious that you’re ovulating. Your eyes glow whenever Satoru walks around the apartment with his shirt off, and he can see the faintest glimmer of drool on the edges of your mouth when he’s wearing those grey sweatpants that show off exactly what you’re craving.

You need him, and you need him inside of you with no barriers in between.

“Baby, we’ve been over this. We’re not ready for kids yet and I’m not risking it-“

“Please, Toru. I need you inside of me.”, you almost cry out. You’ve been begging him to fill you up for the past 10 minutes to no avail.

You’re straddling his hips, hands tugging at the hem of his joggers and your pretty, big eyes giving him your best doe eyes. Satoru lets out a long sigh. He won’t lie, he’d love to take you up on the offer, and his cock is already painfully hard against you, but the risk is far too big right now.

“Just- just let me feel you.”, you plead with him, one hand slowly dipping beneath the hem of his pants. “Really can’t do with responsible sex? You need me raw that bad?” His hand catches your wrist, holding it firm before you can dip any lower. Satoru gives you a proud little smirk. Who’d he be to not feel at least a little turned on by the way you’re willing to risk it all just to feel his cock inside of you without a rubber on?

Your bottom lip gets caught between your teeth as you give him the neediest nod he’s ever seen. “As tempting as that is…”, he trails off, his own hands now on the hem of his pants and pulling them down slowly, until you could see his already leaky, thick tip peaking out. You almost moan at the sight of it. “…I’m afraid I can’t be inside of you like this, baby.”, Satoru continues, pulling his pants further down until his entire cock is free.

“How about a compromise? Take your pretty panties off and you can rub that needy pussy of yours against my cock like that, hmm?”

You don’t waste a second to get up and take them off, straddling him not too long after. And fuck, once you settle your bare cunt onto his cock, he could feel how incredibly soaked you already were. Your hands grab at his shoulders, hips rolling up once experimentally.

The moan that rips through you is louder than you want it to be, the feeling of his cock gliding through your folds already blissful. “Poor you, so needy. And I can’t even fuck you like this. Harder for me than you might think.”, his voice comes out strained, hands resting on you hips as you start grinding your cunt against his cock. A soft sigh leaves his lips, hips grinding up against yours now too. He’d love to make your wish come true, to bend you over and fill you to the brim. But he knows better than to let himself risk that just yet.

Each time your clit rubs against the ridges of his tip and veins, you let out a needy whine. You could feel your more than neglected hole clenching around nothing.

Satoru grabs a hand full of your ass, helping your grind against him a little harder. “C’mon, you needed me so badly. Put some work into it.”, he purrs, his blue eyes never leaving your face to take in every little scrunch of your nose, every furrow of your brows and every little sound you make.

“Want you inside, Toruuu.” Your hips roll with more fervor, hoping that maybe he will let up and fuck you stupid on his cock. He lets out a quiet chuckle, landing a soft smack against your ass. You yelp, hips stuttering for just a second.

“You’re so cute when you beg. I almost feel bad for you. But no can do. So just make yourself cum on me like that, yeah?”

───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────────

an | I’ve been working on a longer Megumi fic lately and I haven’t gotten far AT ALL so I hope this little Drabble makes up for my absence </3 stay gooning guys, I’ll be back soon with something longer

[sakuami-deactivated20260602]

satoru respects your celibacy, differently. 18+

you were a virgin. well, for a reason. it was rooted in puritan traditions as well as an idealistic personal choice of wanting your first to be with someone you marry.

“this isn’t sex. so don’t worry” satoru flashed a puerile smile, showcasing his milk white canine teeth which dug in to his spit glossed lips.

his cock, colored in a deeper shade of wisteria with protruding veins woven around, slid on the thin layer of your dampened panties. your thighs were parted with his obstinate hands, both knees pressed right on the mattress; having you in full view.

your cotton panties, were too wet, clinging on to you—even more so, due to him caressing and pressing it on your skin with the help of his shaft to vividly showcase the lining of your pussy.

“relax cutie, this is within the rules” albeit, it actually wasn’t.

clearly not at all. but all you could do was let out indecent whimpers of bittersweet pleasure. satoru’s idea of celibacy was simple. anything but the intercourse—which was totally wrong but oh well. “come on, baby. don’t be shy”. his cheeky cadence trapped you in a profane dichotomy; left you teetering between a rebuke or an allowing of him to continue his orgasmic torture.

“’toru, mhm, n–no..” puny protests scrambled from your mouth earning a teasing chuckle from him. “haah—please” but it all simply met with complete disregard.

satoru’s bulky tip, a muted smudge of a pastel pink, was already salivating. a string of thick pre-cum on his slit, dispersed itself on the wetness of your panties. “hm, you sure say no but you are dripping for me” he uttered through clenched teeth, rubbing the underside of his length on to your clothed folds. “yeah, feel this huh?”.

a hedonistic smiled etched on to his porcelain face, the corner of his lips formed a torpid crescent. mischievously, his pale fingers guided himself in between your folds, his dick grinding itself between your puffed labia. “fuck, you seriously do grip like a damn virgin”.

he squeezed the bulbous head of his cock, his speed increasing with needy pantings. sweat beads laid artistry of webs on his forehead, temple and neck. his pearl luminescent face was flush with a spread of crimson from pure need and want.

his eyes had drooped, jaw tightened as he stretched the hem of your panties upwards till your naval. the movement caused the fabric to thin out—you could feel him. clearly. tangible even with the barrier of your soaked panties.

you let out a visceral moan when his tip nudged your clit with a soft, slow kiss. his cockhead traced the outline of your cunt, palpating red to stuff you full with his cum soiled dick.

“fuck, wonder what it’d be like inside this tight virgin pussy.” his lilt slowed, sensual as if aching with yearn. his blue-flamed orbs darkened in to a softer grey, half-lid, staring directly at you. “you ever wonder that, sweetie? this huuuge dick slowly filling you up, right inside this sweet little spot. would go all the way in yeah. mhm… ever think of so?”

“thinking about me bottoming out. you know what that is baby? every inch of me inside of you. inside your wet cunt. hmm, takin’ your virginity, corruptin’ every bit of your innocence.”

and there it was. with a few more incessant rubs against your outline, he spurted out thick loads of pasty-like cum on to you. his hand made sure milk all of it out, whorishly rubbing the cream all over your covered hole, giving your wet pussy a few slaps. “see, kept my word. didn’t i? no sex” an audacious statement formed with a complacent grin.

this wasn’t supposed to be.

the deal was simply to see what a penis looked like. not to have your best friend fuck you through your panties.

heavily inspired by a porn vid i saw ages ago on a sketchy website but oh boy—pantyfucking is so underrated

[queenrojpag]

What are you doing? Holding you so your tao will recover. This isn't the time. Girls should be more cautious about who they hold. You shouldn't be doing that for all kinds of reasons.

[pillsatoru]

you're upset.

more than upset, actually. you're furious. satoru has taken notice of your attitude change. how you went from all giddy to giving him the cold shoulder.

"you're acting weird, what's going on?" he asked, drying off his freshly wet hair with the towel, walking into your room.

it wasn't unusual for you two to have sleepovers. you've been close friends since grade school. and somewhere along the way have you gained feelings for him.

ones that you refused to admit.

today, they were showing evidently when he decided to partner up with another girl in class instead of you.

you ignored his question, bringing the blanket up to your chest before laying down.

"hey," he threw the towel to the side, kneeling over the bed. his weight causing the mattress to dip and forcing you to slide down closer to him. "asked why you're being weird."

you could feel your throat closing in, despite wanting to voice how you felt. how it hurt seeing him walk towards her with a smile you thought was only reserved for you.

"s'nothing."

"don't lie to me. you really gonna lie to your best friend right now?"

you frowned.

"best friends don't leave each other standing like idiots in the middle of class." you snapped.

satoru cocked an eyebrow, reaching to move the blanket off of you.

"what are you talking about."

you finally sat up, frustrated that he wasn't getting what you were saying.

"you partnered up with someone else today. we always do the projects together."

it was as if a lightbulb finally turned on in his head, letting out a "ohhhh"

"is that what this is? you jealous?" he snickered as if this was the funniest shit he's heard all night.

"yes actually!"

he coo'ed, placing his hands gently on your shoulders, pushing you down onto your back.

"don't be like that, pretty. fuck, jealousy looks so sexy on you."

your eyes widened, wondering if your ears were failing you.

"I only got with her because she's the girl I'm tutoring right now, she needs the extra help. m'sorry for making ya feel hurt. let me apologize properly?"

you know, normal friends apologize to each other with their words.

not their dicks.

"atta girl, knew you had it in ya." satoru whistled. the sight of your pussy fully stretched over his cock as it slid in was enough to make him finish. "poor baby was all jealous, huh?"

your mouth fell agape when he began thrusting in and out, eyes flickering down to watch how the thick shaft plummeted. it was concerning how addictive the sight was.

"that's it, baby, just like that. damn."

you weren't a virgin by all means. you've had your fair share of hook ups in the past. all boys with similar features of personality traits as satoru.

and every time you'd quietly moan out his name instead and imagine it was him who was fucking you stupid.

guess manifestation does work.

satoru feels your walls flutter around him. his thumb placed itself on your clit, rubbing at the bundle of nerves violently.

"been wanting this for agessss." he mutters, leaning down to kiss you, soon pulling away to see how dazed you looked.

"satoru!" you whimpered out. that only encouraged him to pick up his pace. you legs were hanging in the air, bouncing with every movement. "satoru!" you cried out again when his tip began abusing your g-spot.

his eyes fluttered shut, feeling himself slowly becoming pussy drunk.

he was fucking you like there was no tomorrow, biting his lower lip to stop any drool from spilling out.

"know you've been wanting this too.." he gasped out when you tightened around him. "think I don't, fuck- see the way you look at me?"

a large had wrapped around your throat, squeezing lightly at it.

"gonna pound this pussy till you realize I'm all yours."

© all works belong to pillsatoru. reposting, translation, copying, and feeding stories to ai is not permitted.