Helloooo I'm new to tumblr and is still figuring out how things work
I like to end with ~A but you can call me diokz or takahas, anything works for me
All rights of my work are reserved, please don't copy and if anyone is found to copy please let me know!
I write for a bunch of different fandoms? I don't mind requests for certain characters (or any plots) always fun to try something new. I like to write in my free time so there's no definite time when I'd upload
Current stories available :
Geto suguru
Regrets - in which geto remembers your experiences together (slight angst)
Yearning - his two girls realising geto's feelings to you (angst?)
— if you just got into the fandom, you might know switched, yizhan or yizhan through the years, so let’s go through other stuff! we’re gonna take another ride. also, if you care about this, green will be for bjyx dynamic, red will be for zsww and blue will be for lsfy. from my point of view, ofc. orange will be for the not specified, couldn’t grasp. let’s go.
• where else but home, by purplemoster — fluff story where wang yibo accidentally returns home to xiao zhan every time. super sweet read!
• ⭐️ cool boy gets a life, by saezutte — xiao zhan’s a writer and his character, cool buy wang yibo, gains life. it’s wonderful, i want a cool boy for myself. who wrote this did an awesome job.
• ⭐️ i’m not as good as you think (or as bad as they say), by ilyria — aaahh, what a gorgeous story! basically, xiao zhan becomes yibo manager and the idol, well, falls in love. there’s a sequel!
• follow shot, by cataclysms — cameraman wang yibo freaks out about idol xiao zhan. because, come on, it’s xiao zhan! we get you, boy. beautiful.
• xiao zhan’s graphic design playbook, by augmenti — this one’s absolutely gold! fantastic. xiao zhan as graphic designer and yibo as someone who thinks his prices are too small. sexual tension ensues.
• caffeine addictions and brain malfunctions, by little_passions — if you want a coffeeshop yizhan au, here’s your to-go! cute!
• query: cardiac, by iluvnaruto1412 — our radiographer technician wang yibo discovers that doctor xiao’s a hottie. there’s a whole series that’s outstanding, don’t mind the mcd in the last part, you’ll understand as you read.
• an ode to love, by spoonful_of_sugar — sappy reminiscent of their story. truly so fluffy i had toothaches the entire read.
• ⭐️ one feline war for love, by ilyria —a fierce cat becomes a human after xiao zhan saves him, and this human wants xiao zhan all for himself. so very good, i died and resuscitated. worth it.
• chef’s kiss, by jalpari — chef xiao zhan in day day for an episode and becomes enemies with wang yibo. but for a short time. love this development for them!! so well done.
• ⭐️ this is what they say, by xiaoyibao (a_storm_of_frustrations) — yibo thinks xiao zhan’s breaking up when the man’s actually trying to get married to him. comic, lovely, poetic!
• set me into motion, by deinde — backup dancers wang yibo and xiao zhan being whipped towards one another. an angel wrote this.
• ⭐️ finding yibo, by vesna (mrsronweasley) — kidfic where yibo transforms into a young version of himself and xiao zhan takes care of him. i’m losing my head. it’s great!
• ⭐️🎖️never close our eyes, series by thirtysixsavefiles — catboy wang yibo and kinda batman xiao zhan. perfect through every part. i’m flabbergasted.
• 119 my cat is struck, by serendiiii — fireman yibo, cat owner xiao zhan, you can have my heart! adorable!
• a spot of light, by akatsukishin — this is for everyone who loves a drama! delivery boy xiao zhan and successful ceo wang yibo.
• a story of others to tell, by deinde — this author has some seriously good plots. in this one, yibo pines enough to end up in cql world. extra nice!
• cut to the feeling, by vesna (mrsronweasley) — drama pa and the huge star xiao zhan. is there anything better?
• love thy neighbour, by jalpari — single dad xiao zhan and neighbour who becomes babysitter wang yibo. marvellous!
• ‘cos you make me feel electric, by chajatta — fansite xiao zhan loves his inspiration, wang-laoshi from uniq. i love this for them, genuinely.
• ⭐️🎖️ world of cultivation, by eggo — yibo and xiao zhan meet each other through a game; well, not only. hilarious! chaotic! romantic! perfect!
• gravitating towards you, by bittersweetirony — high school au with student council president xiao zhan and sports freak wang yibo, we all know we needed it.
• 181.3 cm high, by eleven14 — wang yibo wakes up high in anaesthesia. you might imagine what comes after. excellent!
• ⭐️ we are made to love, by jalpari — xiao zhan writes columns receives one letter questioning on love. aah, so poetic! definitely worth every second.
• no path better than our own, by athousandfaces — harry potter au! we’re lucky to have this gorgeous story. i had a lot of fun reading it.
• my future in your laugh, by timelykey — doctor xiao zhan falling in love with overworked wang yibo. wow, what a journey, you’re losing it if you haven’t read it yet.
• love in the time of coding, by thevoiryflute — a hacker au for yibo fits him so much, i don’t know why. just know that this perfectly-written story caused butterflies in my stomach.
• summer surf shop, by anonymous — yibo goes to a variety show and gets much more than he imagined. absolutely gold.
• pick me, pick me up, by domeneec — wrong number au for yizhan, we need it. and it’s so well-written too.
• escape velocity, redefined, by thirtysixsavefiles — i have to admit that this au of pirating away together with royalty made me suspicious at first. but after i read it, it’s so goddamn brilliant.
• 缘分 | (yuánfèn), by fyredancer — royalty au, give me more yizhan royalty. good writing, good development, good plot, had a good time reading it.
• signal fire, series by fireflavoredwhiskey — spiderman yibo! spiderman yibo! spiderman yibo! spiderman yibo! if he knew about that, he’d be happy to know that in an universe he gets to be his favorite superhero.
• ⭐️ the magic position, by sophiahelix — just a sweet, short story with yizhan being cute together and it melts my heart away every time.
• ⭐️🎖️ with joy and purpose, by feenwitch — android wang yibo living alone in a planet until xiao zhan crashes his plane there. it’s just perfect. and the writing’s wonderful.
• perfect match, by sandorara — personal ai for xiao zhan turns out to be more than he expected. gorgeous wang yibo affecting xiao-laoshi and changing his course of life. incredible!
• 🎖️ their kindred encounters, by fireflavoredwhiskey — can i have this printed, please? actually, i think there might have. it’s a the age of adeline au, xiao zhan doesn’t get old. melancholic in the ideal dosage. angst. comfort. everything.
• the ruby ox and the golden boy, series by aces_low — a mafia au that attracted me. i’m usually not into these kind of aus but aah this one… it’s unique.
• ⭐️ half is loss, half is gain, by yin_chi — celebrity xiao zhan needs a bodyguard and guess who it is? well, yeah, this story’s a blessing upon us here. i couldn’t stop reading once i began, just warning y’all. addictive, i want more.
• ⭐️🎖️ between holocenes, by fireflavoredwhiskey — this author broke the heart of so many people by just vanishing from the fandom, but ah how greatly they write and how extraordinary their works are. this is a the time traveler’s wife au and it rocks.
• fixtures and fittings, by ella_minnow — interior designer xiao zhan and motorcyclist wang yibo! believe me when i said i screamed during the development of their relationship.
• ⭐️ 为战而爱, series by anonymous — bits of sdc moments with established relationship yizhan, the works are seriously stunning.
• what i could do (if i didn’t love you), by trestle — one-night stand au with architect xiao zhan. seriously really good through and through.
• ⭐️ hand in glove, by pessoa — brat yibo; you have my heart. the development in this work’s crazy, it’s a whole rollercoaster of feelings. neighbours au!
• say you love me (again and again), by lanwuxiann — sweet story of yizhan growing up together and loving each other through every step of the way. hella soft!
• ⭐️ four of hearts (l-o-v-e me zhan-ge), by eleven14 — yibo being silly to win over xiao zhan’s heart, and of course, it works. short, but very funny and lovely.
• a head’s up, by madfilaments — xiao zhan arrives at sdc without giving a head’s up and yibo’s frustrated. a pretty satisfying thing to read. awesome.!
• 7 reasons to support your local cat café, by buttstrife — host wang yibo, cat café owner xiao zhan, a romance for the history books. they’re so very lovable.
• ⭐️ the bravest man i ever knew, by biscuitpoo — another hogwarts au! this time, xiao zhan’s a bit more slytherin-like, and it’s a whole show.
• ⭐️🎖️ so happy you could come; so happy to be here, by alex_mtg — a masterpiece! betrothed yizhan with royalty and the uniq boys and this sweet development of their relationship. just amazing! :)
• ⭐️ threads, by planet_b612 — a sherlock and watson au! it’s phenomenal! in fact, this author has only good works, so it’s definitely worthy to check out.
since i’m doing this already, might as well recommend some of my own stories, so i’ll be adding the ones i favour (sssh):
• half a bottle is enough — yizhan fight and xiao zhan gets home carrying a cardboard wang yibo. just some silly boyfriendos!
• falling; never broken — yibo has bulimia (please, be aware of the trigger warnings) and xiao zhan’s a doctor who helps him.
• a best friend and a lover — xiao zhan goes on different dates with different versions of wang yibo to look for a ‘type’. they’re both stupidly in love, your honour.
• darling you, play it cool — yizhan bodyswap au where only wang yibo’s famous though. i wrote this in 2023 and i’m the most proud of it.
• sleep tight until the moonlight — yizhan enemies to lovers where both of them spend their time being radio hosts in university :)
• whispering through dusty aisles — my au where xiao zhan’s a literary deity and yibo’s still famous, they meet occasionally and sparks fly. it’s my most poetic creation.
everyone, please remember this is my opinion! of course, there a lot of other works — famous or not — who aren’t in here. if you want to check out more recs of mine, see my bookmarks! thank you :)
oh yes, we’re doing this again! here’s a rec of some more recent yizhan fic. there’s been some exchanges, some kink memes, and just some regular good stuff, so the time felt right.
as long as you’re by my side E, 4k, OverthinkingThis, spoonful_of_sugar
“Where are you taking me, gege?” Yibo asks, as if he doesn’t already know. The fingers of his right hand find the collar fastened around his neck and absently caress the tags hanging off a loop at the front. They tinkle softly over the low hum of the car’s engine.
Xiao Zhan smiles, buckling his seatbelt. “Somewhere special, darling.”
Or: Mr. Xiao takes his spoiled puppy out for an evening of food and pampering.
soft, sweet, kinky
*Against All Expectations 6k, M, jiejieaini
It all came to a head in the middle of filming. There was only so much that suppressants could do to control the baser instincts of the alphas working on any project, especially in such close contact as Wang Yibo and Xiao Zhan were. It felt like they had hardly been apart in months.
Xiao Zhan was restless. Frustrated. The takes weren’t going well and he was getting more wound up with each passing moment. This frustration was only accentuated when Wang Yibo teased him for, yet again, screwing up one of his impossibly long and difficult lines. He had finished the take, stalked off and said nothing on the bus back to the hotel. His skin felt tight and itchy and he put it down to the heat of the day and his sweat-soaked costume.
He got back to his room and slammed the door shut, stalking into the shower to scrub off the makeup and wig glue and hoping to take the edge off by jacking off. The frustration only seemed to grow. It wasn’t enough. Nothing felt like enough.
———
Alpha Xiao Zhan goes into his rut. Alpha Wang Yibo is there for him.
we have some hot gaybo going here.
the blue yearning, the summer light 10k, E, planetb612
In the summer of 2026, Xiao Zhan and Wang Yibo swap bodies for the second time.
This would not have been a problem — except for the fact that they have not been in contact since 2020.
bodyswap-au! these are fun and not many to be found. got that good future take as well, the kinda getting back together thing.
draw me like one of your good boys 12k, E, sandorara
“Wow Gege, you’re so good. You should draw me.”
Just the words irritate Xiao Zhan before he even looks up. When he does, the annoyance brewing within him only grows. Right behind his shoulder is a young man who looks like a collection of some of the worst parts of humanity: obviously filthy rich, covered from head to toe in objectively ugly, ‘hip’ streetwear and possessing zero manners. He’s pushed much too far into Xiao Zhan’s personal space, and somehow manages to look entirely nonchalant about it all despite the supposed praise and over-familiarity. Clearly nothing but hollow words. Xiao Zhan grits his teeth.
What he wouldn’t give for some peace and quiet.
very nice! sugar didi with dom xz. a truly great combo.
zoom in, enhance 13k, G, deinde
Your streamer is toxic and slams his own fanbase on stream. My streamer talks philosophy and gives life advice while streaming horror games. We are not the same.
Or: When horror game streamer Xiao Zhan reconnects with his oldest fan, it kicks off a relationship that goes beyond the screen. But what does controversial idol Wang Yibo have to do with it all?
famous/non famous. xz is a game streamer, wyb is… well, famous. but also anonymous.
all I ever needed, you’re the one 17k, M, nikefemme
AU. Xiao Zhan, Emperor of the Nine Kingdoms, is determined to find and marry his zhiji, but it’s proving to be a bit of a challenge, even with magic involved.
Wang Yibo has an important quest involving said Emperor, but Lu Ban locks and the odd customs of this strange land are a bit of a distraction.
Things do not go precisely as planned for either of them.
Featuring: Da-laoshi offering unhelpful advice, bigbro!Han Geng, friends-with-too-much-interest-in-your-love-life Yunlong and Xuan Lu, and Ayunga as a helpful bearer of legends. Special appearance by Wang Han to bring good sense to the party.
CW: a/b/o features but is not the main point. Same with mpreg.
cute fantasy au of a sort. here be dragons.
This Must be the Place 18k, E, airinshaw
Yibo is not a fan of the idea of soulmates, doesn’t really think about his soulmark, and definitely has no time for Xiao Zhan, the ridiculously famous idol who, for some reason, keeps coming to stay at the hotel Yibo bartends at and disrupting everything with his fans and followers.
But all of his cynical opinions are tested when someone leaks a photo of Xiao Zhan’s soulmark. Because it is a perfect match for Yibo’s.
i’m weak for a good soulmark au and this was famous/non-famous as well. read it right now.
*Plain talk 22k, E, brooklinegirl
“It’s this thing,” Xiao Zhan says. “With Yibo. It's—I can’t explain it, not really, but I can’t stop telling the truth when I talk to him.” It sounds absolutely insane as he says it.
“Hm,” Xuan Lu says, not sounding as surprised as he’d expected. “And you think that’s a…curse?” Her tone is carefully neutral.
Or, while filming The Untamed, Xiao Zhan finds he can only tell the truth. It causes some problems.
when this author does a comeback, you gotta rec it. trust in brooklinegirl, her sweaty xz and *that* summer.
How to Rid Your Gym of Fuckboys 25k, E, lyricalfog
Wang Yibo never intended to fake a relationship with his nemesis just so his mother would stop wasting her time trying to find suitable partners for him. Really. It just kind of worked out that way.
this was a treat!!! no but so many great tropes and really hot as well
*wild flower, wild grass E, 30k, islet
Xiao Zhan turns forty, ends his acting career, buys a house by the sea, and falls in love. Wang Yibo is twenty-one, and, uh - just happens to be there. These facts are not unrelated.
now this was a treat!!! i do love older xz, the fic one that has landed and decided to get out. this was very good.
lying in the dark (no sunshine) 34k, M, OverthinkingThis
Wang Yibo has had Xiao Zhan erased from his memory. Please never mention their relationship to him again.
Xiao Zhan furrows his brow, flipping the paper over and over in confusion, but other than the initials “LWJ” at the top of the page and a line of contact information, there’s nothing more to the letter.
It’s been hard enough for Xiao Zhan to move on since the night Wang Yibo walked out, but now someone is fucking with him by sending a prank letter. Erasing someone from one’s memory is not a thing that can be done — is it?
If it is, then Xiao Zhan doesn’t want to be the only one bearing the burden of remembering what they’ve lost.
—–
or: It’s not easy to forget Wang Yibo.
UPDATED WITH NEW EPILOGUE
uhm, i actually haven’t read this yet but was reminded that i’m gonna!
*Kept You Like An Oath 36k, M, stickmarionette
After all his wondering and all the unanswered messages, to see Xiao Zhan standing in front of him all the way out here seems like a miracle.
Xiao Zhan leans back against the railing and tips his head back into the breeze. The cap casts his face in shadow but Yibo can still hear and picture his megawatt smile.
“Here. I’ve been here. Waiting for you,” Xiao Zhan says. Like that’s a normal thing to say. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”
Yibo closed the book on that wild summer long ago. He doesn’t expect to be faced with it again almost ten years later.
another one of these!!! they’ve moved on (xz has left c-ent) but then! ugh so good. this writer does good stuff as well, check their pseud
ON GOING SERIES: A World Apart, sparkly
The one where Wang Yibo joins the Marvel Cinematic Universe, Xiao Zhan does Shakespeare and they end up married and disgustingly in love (again).
i almost did not read this because of the m*rvel factor. but then i did, and i do not regret it! a future fic type of thing where they are successful and also find each other again. power couple yizhan.
*WIP: let’s not try to figure everything out at once E, corianderbunnies 🔒
Xiao Zhan takes up the patient’s admission forms and turns away, washing and sanitising his hands at the small sink in the corner.
Patient Wang Yibo, he reads. His eyes are blurry with tiredness and he wants to rub them, only then he’d have to rewash his hands. Twenty-four. Presents with a sprained ankle. Urgent investigation and treatment.
Twenty-four? Christ, really? He looks like a kid.
A sprained fucking ankle? He could’ve strapped it up himself. The Director must be smoking something.
xz is a doctor wyb is WANG YIBO. this is such an ongoing treat, it’s cute it’s hot it’s heart wrenching when they miss each other. i do really recommend following along. (it’s already over 100k)
જ⁀➴ content warning: pwp, riding, fem!reader, suguru has a big dick<3, reader struggles to ride him at first, he’s sweet and patient, big dick suguru once again<3, hint of a size kink, spanking, very light nipple play.
જ⁀➴ note: consider this an apology for the gut wrenching angst i posted yesterday. it’s 2am rn and i should be asleep but instead im feeding u guys this v self indulgent smut. enjoy<3
suguru loves when you suggest to ride him. you look eager as you straddle his lap, the love bites he littered all over your thighs giving him a sense of pride as he brushes his thumb over them. his free hand reaches for your ass cheek and kneads the skin before slapping it, and there’s a smile on his face when he sees you jolt in surprise.
taking suguru’s dick was a challenge in itself, he always prepped you with his thick fingers and made sure you were a weeping mess before getting to fuck your brains out. but tonight, you were feeling especially confident. despite his cock sitting on his stomach heavy and leaking pre-cum, the sheer size of it didn’t intimidate you. you can take it.
“think you can take it?” his voice sounds playful, and the grin plastered on his face makes your cheeks flush. the way he was staring at you made your heart skip a beat. so full of love and adoration, as though he wasn’t splitting you open on his cock a few moments ago.
but his loving stare doesn’t last long. both of his hands rest on your ass, and they deliver a harsh smack to the skin which makes you jolt forward. suguru captures one of your breasts in his mouth, and you sigh out when his tongue glides over your hardened nipple. he pulls away with a hum, a string of saliva attached to his lips and your thumb wipes it off.
“c’mon pretty girl, show me what you can do.” the praise is enough to make your pussy flutter. your hand reaches down to grab his cock, and your thighs shake a little as you stand up straight to position the tip of him against your folds.
you quietly hiss when the tip goes past your folds, the intrusion a little painful. suguru takes notice of your struggle and presses a sweet kiss to your shoulder, removing a hand from your ass to gently thumb at your clit.
“there you go—easy, eaaasy,” he whispers, his eyes locked on your face while you’re busy staring down at where your pussy and his cock meet. you don’t notice how his eyes are blown out with lust at the sight of you trying to take his cock, his heart fluttering in his chest because fuck—his dick was big for you, but you were giving it your whole mainly for his pleasure.
and when you finally manage to get the rest of him inside you, suguru is almost sure he just saw heaven. his head is thrown back and his eyes roll to the back of his head. you gasp at the same time, your pussy clenching hard around his cock that he hisses and grips your ass.
“shit— baby, you gotta move.” he sounds out of breath, his forehead is sweaty and the dark strands of his hair are sticking to the flushed skin of his face. he looks absolutely mesmerizing, that your pussy flutters again at the sight.
“fuck—“ you listen to him and lift up your hips, before slamming your ass back down. you repeat the same movement a couple of times, but each time is a little more intense as suguru grabs your face and forces you to keep your eyes on him.
he is manspreading on the couch and you ride him within an inch of your life, the fucked out look on both of your faces looks straight up pornographic. your moans are short but loud, eyebrows furrowed in concentration when you see the way his eyes start to unfocus.
you were fucking geto suguru stupid on your couch.
you lean towards him and wrap your arms around his neck, your pace faltering a little when your lips meet his neck. you think you can bring him to an orgasm first, you’re almost convinced that he was about to let go.
until his hands grip your waist, and you pull away from his neck to stare at him. one of his hands rests on the back of your head and pushes it down so that your foreheads meet, and while you’re a panting mess, suguru still manages to mutter a few words.
“eyes on me, yeah?“ you don’t respond immediately. you can’t, because he plants his feet on the ground and starts to thrust up into you at a brutal pace. you are grateful that his arm was holding you in place, otherwise you would’ve lost complete balance on his lap.
the tip of his cock brushes against that one spot over and over again, and suguru watches as your eyes gloss over with tears and your pretty lips purse—you are so close, suguru felt a sense of pride to be able to make you look this fucked out.
it only takes him a couple of thrusts before you are cumming around him with a loud cry, your body shuddering and shaking against him like a leaf. you moan as you come down from your orgasm, your forehead resting against his shoulder as you completely melt on him. you let him fuck into you for a few more seconds before he’s emptying himself inside you with a loud grunt.
your bodies are sweaty and sticky, but you still manage to kiss each other when you finally catch your breath. the kiss is sweet and you giggle as you pull away.
“that was good.” you say, wiggling a little on suguru’s lap until he hisses and lightly smacks your ass.
“behave.” his tone is playful, and his rubs soothing circles on the skin of your bottom. “but yeah, it was so good.”
↴⤷✮ i am so normal about him.
2023 ; all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.
Hi! Would you like to share some of your fav RPFs?
Adding a cut, because this list will continue to grow as I update it.
Disclaimer: My recommendation does not serve as an endorsement of everything that is said in these stories. Rather, it’s simply that I’ve read and enjoyed the stories listed.
Here are my top 10, all worthy of multiple re-reads (updating as I go along so check back):
听候发落; As You Wish by piggycat, translated to English by sunsandships - This story completely blew me away. I can say without hesitation that this is the best GGDD fic I’ve ever read. It’s a very long fic and I read it in one sitting. That should give you an idea of how good it is. I love the realism of it. It doesn’t read like a fairy tale, yet has all the qualities of angst, sweetness, etc. that make those fairy tale-ish ones so enjoyable. The author wrote some excellent companion pieces that really add to the story, which were also translated by sunsandships.
Epiphyte by feenwitch - Beautiful slow burning story where DD has retired somewhat and helps GG who is really burnt out.
Fixtures and Fittings by ella_minnow - DD is a famous motorcycle racer, GG is an interior designer hired to remodel his home. The mood of this one has really stuck with me.
The Scent of Happiness by vesna - Beautifully told. DD is famous in this story, but GG owns a bakery/cafe.
With Joy and Purpose by feenwitch - A heartbreaking space story where DD is an android stranded on a distant planet that GG crashes onto.
forehead kisses, break my knees by kinkywrists. - One of those angsty, sad stories with a lot of emotional depth. Well written, very engaging.
小偷玫瑰 · Voleur de Roses - This is a very angsty, heartbreaking story from the Chinese fandom, by AbyssJIN, translated by Fefedove.
if you would only let you by gdgdbaby - GG and DD take a road trip.
Victorian AU by vesna - Memorable, sweet slow burner set in Victorian London.
Finding Yibo by vesna - Adorable, infectiously charming tale where DD turns into a small child that GG has to care for.
Cut to the Feeling by vesna - DD is a PA and a dance instructor, GG is an idol. Interesting story, different atmosphere from the usual.
Pretty Dead by Verona95 - Detective GG and student DD come together during a murder investigation. Interesting and suspenseful, with a very unique atmosphere. So good.
Others I recommend:
yesterday, tomorrow by sophiahelix - GG and DD are filming a movie on location, and working through relationship issues along the way.
Stripped by vesna - GG is an art student and English tutor, DD is a dance student and part time nude model. Very cute, often humorous story.
you can take my heart by ThirtySixSaveFiles - Another space story where DD is an android and GG is a pilot/mechanic.
a bar at the folies-bergère by Anonymous - GG is a painter and DD is a bartender. Short but very sweet.
A Weekend in Sanya by biscutpoo - Excellent story. Highly recommended.
aubade by ThirtySixSaveFiles - A sweet, mildly angsty space story where GG and DD are on opposite sides of a diplomatic negotiation.
citrus, cypress, sandalwood, sage by ThirtySixSaveFiles - Very sweet story where GG is a witch and DD is a model.
Close Your Pretty Eyes by DeviyudeThoolika - Angsty, heartbreaking story with some truly gutting romantic dialogue.
Satisfaction Brought it Back by feenwitch - DD turns into a cat and is given to GG to care for. Very sweet story.
you, in every world by Deinde - A heartsick DD is hurled into the world of the Untamed, where he meets WWX and LWJ. There is a sequel where both GG and DD return.
Venus by brooklinegirl - Short steamy story on the set of the Bazaar photo shoot.
Mystery Dance by vesna - DD is teased for being a virgin.
Doctor, Doctor by feenwitch - Short, sweet space story where GG is ship’s doctor caring for the flirty, wild DD through his various adventures.
Love In the Afternoon by DeviyudeThoolika - Angsty, lovely story where GG is a therapist helping idol DD deal with insomnia.
Making my loneliness small by becka - A very sweet, at times slightly melancholic, story where DD is an idol and GG is a graphic designer turned farmer.
to love you well by timelykey - One of my absolute favorite tropes; ‘taking care of a sick friend’. GG is sick and DD comes to the rescue. Really enjoyed this one.
I enjoy the skill and care that goes into these stories. They are infused with sweetness and warmth. Some of them are more ‘realistic’, some of them are set in other universes, but they all share an obvious love for GG and DD. None attempt to ‘intrude’ into their actual lives. These are works of fiction.
I think we might all hope to be loved enough that people would want to write this sort of sweetness about us, and that we could be so in love as to inspire it.
More of my thoughts on RPF can be found here.
Also, I’m always happy to get new recommendations!
Here are some of the things I enjoy:
Angst (although not gratuitous angst)
Hurt/comfort, especially grief, or taking care of sick/injured
Enemies to lovers
Stupid, oblivious pining
Hilarious, ridiculous idiots
"But I thought I was straight"
Modern AU preferred, although I'm open to really good fic from any setting
I prefer 'realistic' stories over fantastical ones (vampires, etc), but I'm open to anything well-written
15k - 150k preferred, but open to others
In case you're new here, I don't gaf about top/bottom (my only preference is that people stop making such a big deal about it)
Here are some things I'd like to avoid:
Mpreg
Gender switch
ABO (although Dom/sub is fine)
Incest
Fandom crossover (with anything other than people/characters directly connected to GGDD)
I prefer stories that aren't overly fluffy
I don't read WIP, but if you have a good one to recommend, do so and I'll mark it for when it's complete.
Hi! Would you like to share some of your fav RPFs?
Adding a cut, because this list will continue to grow as I update it.
Disclaimer: My recommendation does not serve as an endorsement of everything that is said in these stories. Rather, it’s simply that I’ve read and enjoyed the stories listed.
Here are my top 10, all worthy of multiple re-reads (updating as I go along so check back):
听候发落; As You Wish by piggycat, translated to English by sunsandships - This story completely blew me away. I can say without hesitation that this is the best GGDD fic I’ve ever read. It’s a very long fic and I read it in one sitting. That should give you an idea of how good it is. I love the realism of it. It doesn’t read like a fairy tale, yet has all the qualities of angst, sweetness, etc. that make those fairy tale-ish ones so enjoyable. The author wrote some excellent companion pieces that really add to the story, which were also translated by sunsandships.
Epiphyte by feenwitch - Beautiful slow burning story where DD has retired somewhat and helps GG who is really burnt out.
Fixtures and Fittings by ella_minnow - DD is a famous motorcycle racer, GG is an interior designer hired to remodel his home. The mood of this one has really stuck with me.
The Scent of Happiness by vesna - Beautifully told. DD is famous in this story, but GG owns a bakery/cafe.
With Joy and Purpose by feenwitch - A heartbreaking space story where DD is an android stranded on a distant planet that GG crashes onto.
forehead kisses, break my knees by kinkywrists. - One of those angsty, sad stories with a lot of emotional depth. Well written, very engaging.
小偷玫瑰 · Voleur de Roses - This is a very angsty, heartbreaking story from the Chinese fandom, by AbyssJIN, translated by Fefedove.
if you would only let you by gdgdbaby - GG and DD take a road trip.
Victorian AU by vesna - Memorable, sweet slow burner set in Victorian London.
Finding Yibo by vesna - Adorable, infectiously charming tale where DD turns into a small child that GG has to care for.
Cut to the Feeling by vesna - DD is a PA and a dance instructor, GG is an idol. Interesting story, different atmosphere from the usual.
Pretty Dead by Verona95 - Detective GG and student DD come together during a murder investigation. Interesting and suspenseful, with a very unique atmosphere. So good.
Others I recommend:
yesterday, tomorrow by sophiahelix - GG and DD are filming a movie on location, and working through relationship issues along the way.
Stripped by vesna - GG is an art student and English tutor, DD is a dance student and part time nude model. Very cute, often humorous story.
you can take my heart by ThirtySixSaveFiles - Another space story where DD is an android and GG is a pilot/mechanic.
a bar at the folies-bergère by Anonymous - GG is a painter and DD is a bartender. Short but very sweet.
A Weekend in Sanya by biscutpoo - Excellent story. Highly recommended.
aubade by ThirtySixSaveFiles - A sweet, mildly angsty space story where GG and DD are on opposite sides of a diplomatic negotiation.
citrus, cypress, sandalwood, sage by ThirtySixSaveFiles - Very sweet story where GG is a witch and DD is a model.
Close Your Pretty Eyes by DeviyudeThoolika - Angsty, heartbreaking story with some truly gutting romantic dialogue.
Satisfaction Brought it Back by feenwitch - DD turns into a cat and is given to GG to care for. Very sweet story.
you, in every world by Deinde - A heartsick DD is hurled into the world of the Untamed, where he meets WWX and LWJ. There is a sequel where both GG and DD return.
Venus by brooklinegirl - Short steamy story on the set of the Bazaar photo shoot.
Mystery Dance by vesna - DD is teased for being a virgin.
Doctor, Doctor by feenwitch - Short, sweet space story where GG is ship’s doctor caring for the flirty, wild DD through his various adventures.
Love In the Afternoon by DeviyudeThoolika - Angsty, lovely story where GG is a therapist helping idol DD deal with insomnia.
Making my loneliness small by becka - A very sweet, at times slightly melancholic, story where DD is an idol and GG is a graphic designer turned farmer.
to love you well by timelykey - One of my absolute favorite tropes; ‘taking care of a sick friend’. GG is sick and DD comes to the rescue. Really enjoyed this one.
I enjoy the skill and care that goes into these stories. They are infused with sweetness and warmth. Some of them are more ‘realistic’, some of them are set in other universes, but they all share an obvious love for GG and DD. None attempt to ‘intrude’ into their actual lives. These are works of fiction.
I think we might all hope to be loved enough that people would want to write this sort of sweetness about us, and that we could be so in love as to inspire it.
More of my thoughts on RPF can be found here.
Also, I’m always happy to get new recommendations!
Here are some of the things I enjoy:
Angst (although not gratuitous angst)
Hurt/comfort, especially grief, or taking care of sick/injured
Enemies to lovers
Stupid, oblivious pining
Hilarious, ridiculous idiots
"But I thought I was straight"
Modern AU preferred, although I'm open to really good fic from any setting
I prefer 'realistic' stories over fantastical ones (vampires, etc), but I'm open to anything well-written
15k - 150k preferred, but open to others
In case you're new here, I don't gaf about top/bottom (my only preference is that people stop making such a big deal about it)
Here are some things I'd like to avoid:
Mpreg
Gender switch
ABO (although Dom/sub is fine)
Incest
Fandom crossover (with anything other than people/characters directly connected to GGDD)
I prefer stories that aren't overly fluffy
I don't read WIP, but if you have a good one to recommend, do so and I'll mark it for when it's complete.
▸ ▸ the longer you keep it up, the harder you’re getting fucked :p - gojo satoru
synopsis: you make a bet, but your boyfriend is the one that needs to fulfill it. catch is, if he succeeds then you'll get half a grand, but if he can manage till his birthday, then you'll get even more. and before he settles on the bet, Satoru warns you with one promise he knows he will fulfill. because the longer the bet goes on, the harder you'll be getting fucked when he succeeds.
content: 11k words (what in the world). afab!/fem!reader, she/her pronouns. minors do not interact. half of gojo's pov mixed with yours, reader calls him baby girl, explicit smut — fingering, cunnilingus, creampie, squirting, unprotected sex but only because reader allows and satoru asks for permission, pet names (sweets, princess, babe), explicit language. Satoru gets morning wood and an erection during his meeting. Megumi and Tsumiki almost catch him in the kitchen, Satoru imagines reader in a dress, mentions of masturbation, satoru has a private album of photos/videos, soft!dom satoru, he cums multiple times — inside and on readers breasts.
happy birthday to my lover boy!!!! 🎉 (i posted this on his actual bday, but it got booted from the tags.... )
Satoru felt his vein pop.
He should’ve known by the way you approached him, called out his name with an unusually cuter ring to his name — the one that left him usually helpless in your palm — to hear it, he’ll sacrifice the world. He should’ve known something was up your sleeves, when you pulled at the bottom of his shirt, playing with the hem as you looked up through your lashes.
Normally, he’ll never reject your advances nor your desires, especially when you were being this cute, but for this?
Sometimes he needs to put his foot down — because you must be out of your mind.
How cruel of you to even ask him. Were the eight years of not being able to fuck each other not enough for you, that you just dared to ask him?
“Absolutely not.” his voice was curt, short of the usual chime whenever he responded to you.
“Why? It’ll make it that much more exciting when December comes around, ‘Toru.” you hugged him tighter, looking up at him in hopes that it’ll get him to give in — it always worked.
He had too, especially when almost half a grand was on the line.
“It’ll perfectly align you know? since it’ll be your birthday then, as well…” you seduced while riding on your toes to have him look at you.
“Do you want me to die?” Satoru cupped your face as he looked straight into your eyes, his large palms pushing your cheeks together, “and we’ve tried it, and guess what happened then?”
“Well no…” your voice muffled through pouted lips, “b-but it’ll be different now! You’re older!” your grip loosened around his shirt, disappointed that he wouldn’t give in.
“If you know, then absolutely not,” he scoffed while letting go of your cheeks, his hands immediately finding your waists, pulling you closer to him, utterly offended you would even dare to pull back from him.
“and no it’s not. I failed then, I’ll fail again now. I’ll probably fail even worse than last time.”
“It’ll be so quick, the month will honestly fly by!” you quickly retorted, leaning your body onto his.
“So you’re a liar now,” he crooked a brow, looking down at you with his jaws clenched from trying to stand his ground. Knowing he didn’t have the guts to really tell you no, especially when you looked so determined to succeed over something that had no means of any health benefits but potentially drive one insane — the experimental group? him — eight years prior when he tried the challenge.
conclusion: no nut november was unapplicable to one named Gojo Satoru.
Groaning into the crook of your neck, his breath gently ticking your skin, “I wanna be inside you all the time.” your boyfriend tended to always such perverse and ludicrous words with ease.
“D-don’t you think you’ll be so proud of yourself? We can do pilates or meditate together instead —” your voice stuttered from the sudden mesh of his lips on your skin and the gentle breeze of his breath coating your neck.
Annoyed that you were continuing with this, Satoru lightly nibbled on your skin, smirking when he felt you jolt in his arms, “I’m perfectly content with who I am now, princess. How much more perfect can I get?” he peppered kisses up your jaws and softly kissed the edge of your lips.
“... we can meditate together, become one soul and mind, through the art of sex. It’s good for you. You know like my cock inside you? How harmonic, how wonderful, how … much more rewarding can that get? Maybe we can finally try some new positions? Like those Kamasutra positions, Suguru sent me. He said that shit works. ”
“But ‘Toru —” you whined, the once animated chirp of your voice dissipated to nothing but disappointment and sadness at your boyfriend’s refusal to comply.
“Why are you pressing this so much?” Satoru furrowed his brows, absolutely confused as to why you would willingly be abstinent for not just one day, nor even a week, but for a goddamn month and a couple of days on top of it?
“B-because…” you lightly bit onto your lips, hesitant to spill the truth.
— flashback to a week prior.
“Say… have you and Satoru ever tried… you know… being abstinent for a bit?” she asked while twirling her straw around the rim of her glass cup.
“Well,” sighing while resting your cheek on the palm of your hand, your body leaning onto the coffee table, “we did try once in college,” humming with a light gleam to your voice, “but he failed within that week.”
“I see…”
“What’s up?” You kindly smiled, questioning her motive of asking, “are you and Suguru okay?”
“Yea, we’re fine! A little too good, I would say,” she laughed, a light glimmer of her eyes sparkling just where the sun radiating above you both, shining down warmth to excite you for the words she was just about to say, “just wanted to fuck with him, a bit you know?”
“How so?” intrigued with her sudden confession, biting your lips in thoughts of maybe – just maybe – you felt the same.
“November is falling soon, wanted to do the classic no nut challenge,” she shrugged before crossing her arms with her elbows resting on the table, “ wanted to see how far he could last…” rolling her eyes with a sigh, “he’s always so… so full of leisure. always teasing me when I know his nuts are about to bust.”
Giggling in response, “Well, if this makes you feel better, I have to get Satoru off me, or else he’ll cry.” Shaking your head, “you know, for being so similar to one another, they are weirdly so different.”
“Hey… do wanna make a bet?” her eyes gleamed, and her face contorted in excitement as she anticipatingly nibbled her lips.
“A bet?”
——
“... I made a bet,” you mumbled while playing with your toes, you couldn’t help but wince at the scoff your boyfriend gave you.
“A bet? Like money? Didn’t know you had a gambling addiction.”
“Satoru, I’m being serious.”
“I am too,” clicking his tongue against his teeth while running his hand over this hair, “So you’re telling me you made a bet… and that has to do with Suguru and his girl because…?
“Well… it was to see who would last the longest,” nervously pursing your lips as you watched his vexed expression.
“...Are you serious?” your boyfriend deadpanned.
“Mhm…” you nodded, “very serious.”
“How much?”
“Five…”
“Five dollars, youre joking —”
“Five hundred for the winner and an extra two hundred if you can last till your birthday…”
“And why is there an extra incentive for me?”
“Because… she didn’t think you’d be able to survive even a week, nor did Suguru when she texted him. Both thought it would be an easy win.”
"that dickhead," deeply sighing with his eyes firmly closed, “did you at least bet that I’ll win?” His fingers wrapped behind your back as he tiredly looked back at you.
“Of course!” you smiled, giggling while snaking your arms around his neck, “I know my boyfriend will win.”
“you're lucky that you're cute,” Satoru crinkled his nose with a smile, “but, do you genuinely want to do this?”
“Mhm, Imma treat my baby girl out,” reciprocating the crinkle while lightly pinching his cheeks, giving him the softest smile as he slowly loses his resolve.
“your baby girl, you say?” Satoru raised a brow while running his fingers against the plush of your lips.
“My own and only,” giggling while lightly prancing on your toes.
Slowly releasing a deep breath before clicking his tongue against his teeth, Satoru accepted your proposal. “Don’t get mad at me when I push you off for being needy,” your boyfriend smirked while pinching your cheeks, “and no more special good morning wake-up calls, even if you beg, I won't give it to —"
Heat immediately radiating to your face, your heart thumping increasingly at the remembrance of Satoru’s cheeky morning relief — in between your thighs, lips kissing your inner skin as he trekked his way to your cunt that looked just so pretty for him.
“I’m the one that always pushes you off, stupid…” you softly murmured, “but yes! I just want us to succeed at least once, and plus… don’t you want to beat Suguru?”
“He’s the least of my worries, princess. Because I’m going to make you regret ever making this bet,” he softly threatened, his smile masked with a hint of depravity in his voice.
“Because the longer I hold on,” giving you a wink as he pushed you towards his room, “the harder you’re getting fucked when I win, angel.”
“W-why are we going to —” your lips were pressed upon his, your voice melting into the dichotomy of urgency but also ease as you drowned in his touch, “ ‘Toru!” moaning his name, chest huffing as you clung onto with your fingers raking his hair as your bodies dropped to the bed, “we s-still have to run errands.”
“Fuck those,” Satoru groaned into your neck, caving his face into the crevice as he pulled down his sweats, the bulge of his cock nodding in his briefs. Kneeling on the edge of his bed, his fingers fastidiously pulled your shorts off, throwing them onto the floor, urgently pulling your cute panties off to the side. Exposing your hardened bud as he placed a tender kiss on your clit, now wet with your juice,
“Your silly bet doesn’t start till tomorrow, so open up, gonna make full use of what’s mine.”
— Day one.
The morning felt oddly nice, a little too nice when the mornings were usually cold and dull. The winter breeze was just right as the leaves swayed by its lead, and Satoru was sleeping soundly following the rhythm of the wind gently blowing outside, with his limbs intertwined with his lover. Without a worry, as he slept with his breath steady, and chest rising and falling in a calm motion, from outside looking in, the view would've simply been a couple soundly sleeping during the early mornings.
But underneath the sheets as both slept peacefully was his cock rudely poking at your inner thigh, his length pressing deeper in as he shifted in his slumber, lips murmuring what he was dreaming.
Usually, it would be routine. Satoru would wake up first, reach over to bring you close as he wrapped his arms around your body, and then he’d take some time to admire you while you peacefully slept in his arms. Ten minutes thereafter, is when the suffocating discomfort of his dick became too unbearable, and the throbbing of his cock would prod him to anticipatingly lick his lips while making his way down the sheets. With his lips pecking small kisses down your body while his hands gently massage your curves, he’ll quickly station himself in between your legs, softly pushing your cotton panties to the side with his index finger.
Hearing you shuffle and innocently moan out in your sleep, he’ll tenderly comfort you with a slight gruff to his morning voice, “shh baby, just sleep… it’ll feel good.” With his vacant finger spreading out your folds, the sticky sounds of your cunt slowly became more viscous the more he played with your pretty clit, the bud hardening with each stroke of his finger in and out of your pulsing hole.
His goal wasn’t to wake you, but for him to taste you just enough so that you’ll wake up in bliss, totally unaware of your boyfriend’s servicing actions. And just before he’ll dive more aggressively to taste your cunt, Satoru always placed a sweet kiss at the base of your pussy before caging your thighs around his arms, softly blowing on your exposed womanhood as he felt you stir in sleep. His voice was soothing as he eagerly licked his lips with a smirk, he cooed, “no need for preworkout if I can eat this every morning.”
But today, despite the morning feeling too nice, Satoru woke up frustrated to the core. He did his usual cuddling session with you in his arms — guess that made him feel better seeing you twitch your nose and softly snore. Cute he thought, would be nice if he could eat —
Instead of anticipation, his cock painfully ached and his mood turned sour the moment he felt the usual nodding of his dick to have some action.
Usually, he was excited to start the day. Not because he was enthusiastic to go to work, slave his life away to his family corporation, attend those god-awful meetings, and sign the mountains of files that his secretary ordered to finish.
No, he woke up solely with the intent of eating you out — end of story, final discussion. If sleeping was the only avenue for him to enjoy having a taste of your morning cunt, he’ll go through mountains and sign those papers if he had to — hell, he’ll even stay overtime if he was guaranteed.
But, he couldn’t. At least for a month, he wouldn’t be able to.
Sex the day before was good — too good. With a balance of carnal urgency as he bullied your abused cunt with his aching length, meshing with some time to wind down in pillow talk or while he sovereigns every ounce of your body with his lips, only to repeat the cycle of fucking like rabbits with the sheets damp and body sore from prolonged sexual intercourse. sex was still so fucking good.
But today? Yea...
“Fuckkk,” Satoru groaned, throwing his head back onto the pillow with his arm thrown over his eyes, his hips mindlessly moving upward in a pensive desire to fuck you.
“ ‘Toru?” your voice softly croaked, totally unaware of the frustration your little bet caused him, “you okay?”
“Mhm,” he immediately swallowed you with his arms, his lips pressing delicate kisses on your naked shoulders but keeping a mental note to not have his dick too close to your ass — that was dangerous territory.
“Are you leaving soon? Stay a little longer, I’m cold,” your voice was slurred, while your consciousness slowly slipped into another stage of sleep.
“I can’t sweets,” Satoru grumbled, his hands mounding your innocent breasts, “not when I’m like this,” his breath tickled the edge of your lobes, just fanning against your jaw while the control of his hips was no longer in his jurisdiction but of a mind of their own as he dry fucked your ass, “fuck baby… Are you sure you wanna do this?
“You p-promised, ‘Toru…” you responded with your back snuggled close to his bare chest, the heat of his body making you feel safe despite the raging thoughts that were blaring in your boyfriend’s mind.
Getting out of bed was hard, but getting himself to work out despite his cock stubbornly staying tortuously erect was even harder. The moment he pulled himself out of the sheets, he knew today’s workout wouldn’t be of his fancy as he drank his preworkout making his way down to his basement gym.
And yes, sure as hell, today’s morning workout was a bust.
— Day two.
“They say starting is always the hardest, ‘Toru,” your voice, innocent yet ignorant of the turmoil he was going through, was soothing as you brushed your fingers through his hair, his face plastered on your breasts as he contemplated the existence of his life, “why don’t you join me for some pilates? A lot of couples come together!”
No, it’s not. And whoever came up with such a quote was a complete fuck, because Satoru could rebuttal it to his grave.
First, starting wasn't always the hardest. Getting over your nerves, or mustering up the courage to start wasn't difficult. Maybe it’ll apply to life circumstances like applying for that dream job or starting out a new hobby. But for Satoru, once you’re hooked, absolutely addicted to something, that’s when it’s the hardest.
Because like a dog conditioned to expect food after a stimulus, the same applies to sex. If he sees you blatantly walking around in those shorts that he just loved to watch you prance around the house in, he'll easily break. Where your cheeks just lightly land outside the rim of the fabric – it was adorable when you reached up the cupboard, exposing a hint of your belly and your ass jiggling when you jumped on your tippy toes. Like a starved animal, his cock would answer with its length pooled with blood, his stomach knotting in flames while his azul eyes dilated at the sight of you.
It was so easy — you made it so easy. Pushing you onto the countertop, getting you when least expected as he smashed his lips with yours while muffling your little yelp — your call of surprise but his invitation for more — was so, so easy. It was exciting, thrilling, utterly fulfilling his primal desires to just swallow you entirely as you clung onto him while crying out his name, your nails scratching against his back while his cock pistoled itself into you, nestling deep inside as he pumped out his seeds, shooting straight to your womb.
It was glorious, so divine when he felt his cum leak outside you. The warm clumps of his ejaculation thudded against the kitchen floor while he huffed out deep breaths with his head resting on your shoulder. It sent shivers down his back when you embraced him in his arms. And when he was lucky, you’ll look at him with desperate eyes, pulling more out from him as you whisper in his ears, a voice that almost strips all air from his burning lungs as you palm his length and swirl your thumb over his leaking head,
“I think you’ve got a little more in you, right ‘Toru?”
But instead, currently, with his head leaning against the shower wall, Satoru stood under the cold shower trying to cool off his cock. It’s almost laughable how his dick nods up and down as if it mocked his misery.
“You think it’s funny bastard,” Satoru groaned, voice spiteful that even his own body seemed to have betrayed him.
— Day three.
Kissing shouldn’t hurt. Right?
He was at least allowed to do that, right?
Maybe not when the kids were around. But an innocent kiss to show just how much he loved you, should be good, right?
Or so, that’s what Satoru’s sex-deprived head concluded when he saw you cleaning the dishes, softly humming an unrecognizable tune.
“I was going to do this, baby…” he lowly groaned into your skin while his hands snaked up your shirt, fingers immediately going to unclasp your bra while his lips trailed up your neck, his hand placed around it for eventual better access to your lips.
Oh how he wished to press you down onto the counter, push your cute little skirt up your waists while he measured the length of his cock to see how far he could fit himself inside you before ramming himself in — how admirable would it be to hear the synchronized moans coming out from you both simultaneously.
But he couldn’t. Even if he didn’t agree to this stupid bet, he wouldn’t — no, you wouldn’t allow it, not even dare let him touch you when the kids were around.
Huh? But to his surprise, he could feel you reciprocating back by pushing your ass onto his cock. Soaking in every touch and affection he gave you; just maybe he wasn’t the only one craving, barely surviving through this absurd bet, despite only being the third day.
It was three days too long.
Treating him out? Fuck, that was his job, not yours — well, occasionally he did allow you to buy him some ice cream, but even in that, too, he would rather buy it for you.
“You know we don’t have to continue —” he tempted, softly whispering into your ear, his bulge pressing against the valley of your ass — erection hard enough for you to feel over your clothes.
“But the bet,” you whimpered when his slender finger pinched your nipples, “it’s o-only been a full two days though,” your voice radiated barely of a whisper.
“Shhh, let's fuck the bet,” Satoru’s hand inched its way down your tummy, gliding to satisfy the aroused coil blooming in between your legs, “this is all so silly, princess. We can be fucking like normal? Enjoying each other, come on, let me make you feel good, yea?” your boyfriend’s voice was laced with an amorous note.
“M-maybe we could just call it qu —”
“What are you doing?” Megumi blankly asked, holding his finished plate of food while standing in the middle of the kitchen, staring at you both with unimpressed eyes, “are you trying to eat her or suffocate her?"
“Ooo Gojo-kun’s in loveeeeee,” Tsumiki chirped, “that’s what Papa does when he’s with his girlfriend!”
“Fuck, we’re never having kids.”
— Day 12.
“So, you still on that bet?” swirling the fizzling drink, Satoru asked before taking a sip of his sugary mocktail — a drink he confidently orders despite the odd stares he gets from the bartender.
“The bet about not fucking?” Suguru sounded nonchalant about it. It was exactly twelve days since starting and why the hell does he look so smug about it? Fucking bastard… always so full of leisure when he was crawling, begging for scraps to simply survive.
“Yea, I guess,” the raven hair smirked, his tone taunting as he questioned Satoru, “surprised you’re even taking it this far, thought you would fail after the first hour with your horny ass.”
“What’s up with you and your girl both thinking that fucking is all I think about,” Satoru rolled his eyes, pursing his lips offended.
Suguru simply just stared back, the look of his eyes alone sending Satoru a million words as to why he knows fucking is all he thinks about.
“Rude, it’s not always…”
Shrugging, Suguru brushed it off, “Sure, whatever you say.”
“Okay… maybe like 90 percent of the time, no — 80 percent.”
“what an addict, I feel sorry for your girl, gotta tell her to run away when she can,” Suguru teased, pulling out his phone to text you, “like, how do you even concentrate at work?”
“It’s called multi-tasking, a trait only the elite have. clearly, its something you wouldn't know about."
“You know what Satoru?”
“What?”
“it still shocks me how so many entrust their careers with you, slaving their lives away to corporate for an elitely dumbass of a boss,” looking at his bestfriend with the kindest smile while tapping his shoulder, “don’t you think?”
There was no fucking way, he was going to lose to this prick of a best friend.
— Day 14.
Satoru wondered how he ever survived without you. Call it sentimental, call it deprivation, but one thing for sure was that he wanted you — and it very badly.
Shaking his leg, annoyingly biting onto the edge of his pen, it frustrated him that there was nothing else that could fathom to take space in his brain besides you. He exercised a hell lot more than his usual regimen and cut off on caffeine so that he could try and knock out when he got off from work.
He even tried doing those meditative breathing techniques that he searched for on the web. Said it was to calm your mind and soul. But god fucking dammit, being in silence made him even more hyperaware of his circumstance.
He can tell you are struggling, as well. He’s felt your touch linger on his body longer, trailing down to areas that you shouldn’t be trying to touch as your voice entranced him out of his free will.
As much as he wanted to throw in the white flag, and dump this shitty little bet over, he was two weeks in. Despite the last two weeks being an absolute shit show, it gave him an incentive to keep going. Why? Because one, you wanted it; second, because he could prove Suguru wrong that sex is, in fact, not the only thing he thinks about.
Gojo-san, hopefully everyth…
But my god, was waking up in the morning a struggle. It’s almost as if he’s forgotten the taste of your cum coating his lips, droplets dripping down his chin on days when he ate you out a little too hard. The pure ecstasy of being in your arms while your pussy fucked him dry.
The painful yet glorious tug of his hair when you screamed out, “‘Toru right there! D-don’t stop! Ngh fuck harder! Go harder!”
Reciprocating your needs, he’ll burrow his face into the crook of your neck, the weight of his body pressing your thighs down to your chest as he caved his member fully into you, the weight of his balls slamming against your puffy folds while your nails painted red along his back, “f-fucking shit… c-can I, princess? can I cum inside?”
Gojo-san?
Despite the years, Satoru always asked for permission. He would rather live dickless than know he spilled his seeds without consent.
Your hot breath stingy his ears covered in sweat, you mewled out, “Yes! Yes! ‘Toru hurry —”
Gojo-san… are you okay?
“What?” quickly waking from his daydream, his pen still in his mouth as a table of his subordinates worriedly looked at him with eyes all rounded from shock.
The infamous Gojo Satoru, the heir to Japan’s richest conglomerate, who has a keen eye for detail and business strategies looked like a deer in headlights in front of his staff.
“They’re waiting for your executive decision, sir,” Ijichi whispered, covering his mouth with a file, “you seem awfully pale, sir. Is everything alright?”
“I’m sorry,” Gojo cleared his throat, closing the folder as he prepared himself to make his way out, “ l-let me just read through the presentation once more, and I’ll relay my decision later. Good work everyone.”
Satoru was never one to get annoyed easily. Frustrated? Yes. Even the clicking of his dress shoes tapping against the graphite floor, a sound that he’d never noticed during his career at this office, irked the hell out of him. Hell, even the obnoxious chime of the elevator ticked him off.
“S-should I clear out your schedule, Gojo-san?” Ijichi broke the ice while he followed behind his boss.
“No need,” Satoru’s answer was curt.
“B-but sir, you don’t seem to look —”
Raising his voice, “Don’t make me repeat myself, Ijichi —” only to catch himself with a deep sigh as he brushed his styled hair back, large palms gripping the edge of his table as he leaned forward, “sorry… didn’t mean to sound harsh, guess i’m just a little tired, that’s all.”
“My apologies sir, I’ll organize your schedule accordingly.” Ijichi stated before taking a bow and making his leave.
“That’ll be nice, thanks.”
Sitting down on his chair, throwing his head back while closing his eyes, Satoru frustratingly moaned out with his thighs spread out, “I must be going crazy, I’m not some horndog teenager…”
But inside his pants was a bulge, a boner that hadn’t gone down ever since the start of his meeting.
— Day 17
“Fuck,” a lowly growl resonated throughout the room — desperate and sinful — the depth of his chest expanding with each staggered breath that he took. Clenching onto his bed sheets and shoving the wad of saliva down his throat, it burned from the tension of lubricating his dry throat.
Licking his lips, and furrowing his brows, Satoru pulled down his sweats, freeing his restrained manhood. When the tip of his head smacked against his lower abdomen, the pain of the cold air encapsulated his poor cock that lay barren on its own, Satoru’s hiss littered his skin with goosebumps when his groans soon turned into desperate whimpers while he vulnerably lay in bed with an erection.
Before all this, it was easy for him to release. Simply envisioning you while he fucked you senseless, or looked through his private album of photos and videos he’s taken of you. It wasn’t a common occurrence for him to fuck his fist, but hey, when push comes to shove, Satoru wasn’t one to deny masturbating — especially, if he could cum to you in mind.
Normally, he’ll rest his back against the backboard, topless and with gray sweats — that you'll argue was your favorite because it accentuates his cock and makes him look sexy. If his girl likes it, why not flaunt what he has?
Getting himself in the mood didn’t require much. When he felt his cock pooling with blood, constrained in the restraints of his brief, Satoru would pull down his sweat with a grunt while his member sprung forth.
Sweetly palming his length, and applying just the right pressure, he’ll start by going through past photos and eventually ending up with videos. Zooming into your sweet lips, hearing your whimpers while he fucked you from behind, watching you play with his fingers on a date, to seeing your breasts giggle with every force of his cock slamming inside you — he loved it all.
Stroking his cock, while bucking his hips forward, desperately moaning while he envisioned just how adorable you would look trying to palm his member. A grip so easy for him to hold with one hand, while you struggled even with two. How soft your tongue would feel around the edge of his leaking head, while your hands carefully fondled his balls, lightly pulling on the sac as you fisted his length, looking up at him through the whisps of your lashes.
It drove him senseless when you would call his name with a little purr, pulling him closer to you as you spread out your legs to invite him in. It drove him mad when he’ll feverishly press his lips on yours, stifling your cries as he pounded into you. The only sounds resonating from the room were erotic slaps of sweaty skin and your muffled cries.
It didn’t take long for him to cum. give and take fifteen to twenty, but it was nonetheless a euphoric expression because every session made him pulse and huff, desperately desiring more.
If you had asked to abstain from sex, maybe that would've been easier to manage. At least he could relieve himself solo.
But, completely stripping himself of the option to simply cum was cruelty on its own.
And no different from a prepubescent boy, Satoru lay in his bed with his cock raging with his tip a fiery red.
But unlike a teenager, that would get boners out of simply nothing, Satoru couldn’t relieve himself of it.
— Day 19.
Surprisingly, Satoru woke up feeling refreshed. He swore he slept agitated and exhausted especially since this past week you’ve told him, “no more sleeping in one bed together, Satoru.”
But this morning, he felt rejuvenated and light. Maybe not nutting did actually work —
… Did he? No, fucking way.
Quickly shredding off the sheets, his eyes barely adjusting to the brightness of the room, Satoru checked his groin and examined his hands for any signs that he might've masturbated in his sleep.
Nothing — spotless. Miraculously, he didn’t even wake up with morning wood.
With another thought springing to his head, Satoru fastidiously reached for his phone — face id unable to recognize his morning face with the white bird’s nest of hair he had on his head.
Google search history:
Can my dick break from not cumming?
What are the symptoms of a broken dick?
Reading that there was no correlation between not nutting and its health benefits, and receiving the assurance that one’s dick cannot simply “break” from not cumming, Satoru felt reassured that he, in fact, did not have a broken dick and that maybe he was finally getting the hang of it.
Surely, there’s always a light at the end of every tunnel.
And maybe he’s finally found his.
— Day 19 - 11:34 pm
Nope.
Wrong. So so wrong. Most utterly wrong.
Satoru was in fact very wrong of the presumption he had in the morning. Because he was not getting the hang of it. Especially not when his cock was bulging in his sweats, while he was frustratingly lying wide awake during the crack of dawn.
If he could just touch his dick, stroke its length with the perfect pressure, he knew he’ll fold.
Only if he could.
It was arguable that he could.
But the look of disappointment you’ll give him, with the cute pout to your lips when he tells you he’s failed, he would rather die than come to you as a lousy prick that just wanted his dick sucked.
So, sighing while trudging off his bed, guess it was time for another cold shower — fourth one of the week.
— Day 24.
“Sir, it seems to me that’s you’ve lost some weight.”
“I’ve been hitting the gym more lately,” Satoru chuckled, the veins of his forearms angrily bulging, clearly visible on his pale skin.
“There’s been talks…” Ijichi stumbled on his words, unsure how to bring it about to Satoru.
“Talks about?” Satoru questioned, barely taking the time to look at his secretary as he was focused on signing his documents.
“That maybe you’ve broken up with…" Ijichi couldn't even dare say your name in the same sentence, " or —”
“Yea?” Satoru put his file down, a smirk growing on his face as he twirled his pen around his slender fingers — guess those flirty good mornings and looks from his staff made sense.
“I’m no expert…” clearing his throat, hoping he wouldn’t offend his boss, “but I’m here to listen if you have any trouble with your relationship.”
“I’m glad I’ve got such a trusted advisor,” the man pushed back on his seat, resting his arms on the sides of his chair, “but don’t mind me, just haven’t been able to let off some steam, that’s all.”
“Okay…”
“And breaking up? Ijichi you’ve been there when she broke up with me.” The man hummed, reminiscent of the days when he was heartbroken and lifeless, “We’re fine… just trying out something new, I guess.”
— Day 29.
It’s been a little over two weeks of sleeping separately. Dates have been cut to sole dinners, and going over to each other’s places was prohibited — at least til the bet, as per his lovely girlfriend.
And weekends were the hardest for Satoru.
Typically before this all occurred, weekends were his golden days. He was able to do whatever he wanted when he wanted it with you. Whether it be going on a shopping spree, or taking you out of the country for a short getaway, you were always involved — his common denominator.
Surely, he was able to still enjoy those with you, but it was rather difficult for him to keep his hands off you.
He still doesn’t quite understand why committed to this stupid bet in the first place. It wasn’t something he placed for himself, but guess… guess he just wanted to prove to not only you but also himself that sex, carnal lust, wasn’t the only thing that kept him in this relationship. That even though he’s been waking up with blue balls, and his mind driving him insane, you were worth more than that — not that you would ever get disappointed with him for failing, in the first place, but still.
If he’s made it till now, he can survive till the end.
But times like these... damn it was fucking hard.
“You want to come in?” you softly asked, playing with his fingers that were rested on your thighs throughout the drive home.
“You tempting me?” Satoru glanced over at you, cheekily smiling as he pulled towards you to place a tender kiss on your lips.
His lips felt mildly chapped, unusual when normally they were soft and slightly glossy. The warmth of his mouth and the gentle strokes of his thumb rubbing against your jaw eased you into the kiss as he pulled you over to the driver’s side to saddle his lap.
But that was the extent to where his hands would be: cupping your face.
With his car parked on the streets of your apartment complex, and his windows tinted, it wasn’t an unusual rendezvous for him to shamelessly fuck you in it. And that’s what you presumed this make-out session would slowly turn into.
Because fuck it. You’ve missed him.
Missed the way he touched you.
Missed the way he held you in his arms.
Missed the way he just knew the parts of your body that made you squirm, right before pinning you in place with his strength.
Missed the teases and affirmations he gave when he prepped you.
And my fucking god did you miss the way he rammed his cock into you, pistoling his cock inside as he held you down with his weight. Having him cum inside you? That was a bonus.
“Satoru… let’s go inside,” you moaned out in the split second your lips disconnected, only for him to crash his mouth onto yours once more with a deep groan.
Before he wouldn’t hesitate to strip you off your clothes, many times even ripping out the buttons when he was in the rush. He’ll smirk while not meaning his apologizing, “sorry, but i’ll buy you it, focus on me right now.”
It felt unusual to only be making out. You’ve craved him, utterly wanted to devour him. Wanted something more than just his tongue inside your mouth and stagnant touches of his fingers on your face. it felt suffocating to be unable to touch his bare body that was rudely still covered with his clothes.
So without much thought, the burning knot burrowing inside, flaring in the pits of your stomach, had a mind of its own. your hands slowly made their way down his torso, gliding past his stomach. you've noticed he was much more muscularly defined than the last time you touched him.
“H-have you’ve been working out mor — ahhh,” his hands pushed your face slightly to the side so that his tongue could easily access your neck. The padding of his tongue sliding along the valley of your neckline, and his hot breath sticking to your skin.
“Mhm, can you tell?” he whispered in between kisses, mindlessly running his lips to wherever they landed.
“Yeah, I can feel it through your shirt,” your fingers wrap around his belt, slowly unbuckling the leather, “and your chest feels more squishy,” your slight giggle was no more than a moaning mess when he immediately bucked his hips to cause friction against your throbbing cunt.
“Gotta look hot for my baby,” Satoru breathed, “especially when it’s been so long since we’ve fuck… shit, you don’t know how much I want you right now.”
You finally got your hands to free his belt, unbuttoning his pants while unzipping his fly down, “how bad?” you taunted, your lips sneaky up to his soft spot — just under his ear.
Your needy breaths and the sensual overload always set him off. And you were determined to let him succumb to it.
“So so fucking bad,” gulping down his spit, the viscous wad burning his dry throat, “it’s all I think about, oh fuck —” throwing his head back onto the headrest, allowing you to suck at his skin as his hands now firmly held onto your waist.
And just when you were about to feel his pulsating cock, salivating at how warm and sensitive it would be when you could finally get your hands on his member. To swirl your tongue down just under his frenulum while you lathered his length with your spit. Maybe they’ll be time to suck at his ball while you pumped his meaty cock, and run your tongue along the lines of his pretty veins.
“W-wait baby,” his hands placed on your wrists. With his chest heaving, and hair frazzled, he looked at you with worry.
“Yes?” irritated that he would stop you — never had he stopped you.
“I don’t want you to make any decision that’ll you’ll regret tomorrow,” he confessed, softly looking into your eyes, while a small smile formed at his pretty lips, “I-i can take care of this at home,” slightly looking down at your hands just about to touch his groin, “and we have so much time to do it later,” he reassured while pulling your hands out of his pants, bringing them to your lips to kiss.
“B-but Satoru, I want —”
“I know princess, I know,” his voice mildly trembled, “you don’t know how bad I want you, it’s honestly torturous,” Satoru let out a forced chuckle.
“Let’s just break the bet then,” you pouted, sinking into his embrace with your arms wrapped around his neck, pressing yourself deeper into his body.
“Hey,” he gently tapped your bum, teasingly playing with your mounds when he heard you whine, “didn't I say…”
“What?” you annoyingly spat out.
“that when I win this bet,” his hands pulled you away, leaving you at eye level with him as he rubbed his thumb against the heat of your cheeks, “fucking is all we’ll do,” he reminded with a slight chuckle. It was undeniable that your boyfriend did not mean what he said as a simple joke. The tone of his voice could sound comical, but the underlying incentive of his statement was nothing but that.
It was admirable to see your boyfriend set his boundaries, doing his absolute best to honor the bet despite his pupils being dilated and cheeks rosy. The gruff in his voice when he called out your name and while he took his time to dress you up, were telltale signs that he too was at his wits. His wonton look of desperation was plastered over his face, even the slight tremor of his hands as he cupped your cheeks, one last time, to place a kiss on your forehead before leading you up to your apartment door, was nothing short of love.
— Day 35.
Satoru woke up, took a shower, and had a cup of his pre-workout before heading down to his gym. He felt light on his feet, absolutely flying through his sets. the pebbles of sweat on his forehead felt worthwhile, and the strain of his muscles made him feel alive.
He's been feeling good. his body was shaped just right — not too big but finely cut and carved to perfection. He's been putting more effort into his grind, and been more involved and fastidious at work with precision and strategy. while still being your dutiful boyfriend who sent thirst photos, of himself post workout, with a good morning text.
He goes to work sharply dressed, with his shoes freshly oiled. The slight spark of his watch, peeping out of his cuffs, was the definition of the wealth he assessed. With his thin waists but defined chest, it wasn’t hard for people to know just what he had packed under his clothes.
Satoru signed off on all his charts, attending every repetitive meeting, and joined in on important business deals with partnering companies. He made Ijichi’s life easier by working more thoroughly and leaving promptly.
The last couple of days of this newfound routine will soon come to an end. And the old will come again. Hopefully, he’ll be the victor between Suguru and him. Finally, a time when he could rub it in his best friend’s ego, that he was, in fact, the better of the duo.
Sitting alone in his office, signing off his last document before calling it a day, Satoru felt a sense of pride and satisfaction. In only two days, he’ll be able to touch you again, make love, and comfortably be himself with limbs wrapped together under the sheets.
Soon, he’ll be able to enjoy the goodness of love — sex, being the much-added benefit.
As he closed his final folder, leaning back on his chair, reminiscing about the past couple of weeks, it was no lie, the struggle of trying to keep his dick in his pants was no easy feat. Every morning was a mental battlefield of its own. But he’s grown to succumb to his desires and utilize that frustration in other aspects of his life — career, working out, meditating, daydreaming of his future with you and what he hopes to accomplish.
Sure, not being able to nut was tortuous – painful as his cock throbbed in his briefs every morning and with every thought of you. Not being able to even properly kiss you without being tempted to just have you face down on his whatever surface was near and fuck you good was even worse. Nothing has changed in how his dick reacted on its own, his thoughts still lingered in memories of how you would react when he would touch you at your sweet spots, how your body trembled when he inserted himself in, the warmth of your tight walls enveloping his cock. How good you tasted when you came in his mouth, body tense as he massaged your limbs.
But he’s been good, though he wanted to throw this useless bet out the gutter and selfishly act on his own will, you were proud of him — told him every day when he dropped you off. And that to him was enough.
Closing out his office, and walking to his car. Talking the elevator down while the clacks of his shoes echoed in the empty parking stall, where only his and a couple of other cars were present, Satoru couldn’t wait to get home.
To take a warm bath, and decompress while joining you on a Facetime call. These days, those sweet moments are what he looked forward to.
He felt the light vibration of his phone and immediately smiled when he saw the sender.
From: pumpkin <3
Babe have you by chance seen my favorite panties? I think I’ve lost them or left them at your place ):
To: pumpkin <3
I wish I had them But we haven’t fucked at my place in a while … … you sneaking behind my back? 😭
From: pumpkin <3
Awww I see! Those were my favorites You’re ridiculous -_- It’s probably under your carseat or something.
To: pumpkin <3
I’ll get you the same pair (: Let me know when you get home, i’ll be home soon
From: pumpkin <3
Okie dokie sexy
Chuckling as he rolled his eyes, he mindlessly placed his phone on the dashboard and started his car. The rumble of his engine loudly echoed in the dark basement, and the lights of his dash could almost blind a person. He shifted his car to drive, and while he stepped on the gas pedal, his phone slid off the dash and fell onto the carpeted floor.
Grunting as he reached over to grab his phone, he felt a soft fabric brush against the tip of his finger. That was odd. Satoru liked to keep his car clean. So he grabbed the dainty item and hung it on his finger as he registered what it was.
Truly, god liked to fuck with him. Because on his finger was your missing laced panty. A memory of your last car sex with him before you slammed him with the “let’s not fuck, and you can’t cum till blah blah blah.”
“Fuck…” Satoru hissed, letting out a gluttonous rasp as he spread out his thighs in his seat.
And beneath his slacks was his bulge painfully starting to outline, the size of his cock so obvious despite the dim lighting of his car.
Clenching onto your underwear, he knew he shouldn’t but couldn’t help but unzip his pants and firmly hold his hardened cock, as he unfolded the memory of when he fucked you in his car.
Ten minutes later.
To: pumpkin <3
Ah babe, I think I’m going to get home later than expected. Heavy traffic
traffic was fine. Satoru just has yet to leave the parking lot.
— A couple hours before D-day.
Dinner reservations were set for 7:30 pm, which meant he needed to be at your place by the latest 6:45. There were countless times when you’ve both missed the reserved time because either one, you fucked one too many rounds at home before heading out, or two, you fucked in the car en route to the restaurant.
Satoru hoped he would stay sane tonight. All he had to do was endure a couple more hours and when the clock hit midnight, it was game over.
But when you open your apartment door, it wasn’t a surprise his body moved before his mind could register.
Because when you open the door, giggling while innocently tilting your head to the side as you put on your earrings, the ring on your promised finger sparkling from the backlight, something snapped within him. And despite your lips moving, he couldn’t hear a word you said but the annoying, monotonous ring in his ears as his eyes sharply fixated on you while you made your way to wrap your arms around him.
No, don’t do it. Don’t come.
And in that moment, everything within him exploded.
Before you both even know it, he’s rushing inside your apartment, prying off his shoes while he pushes you onto the wall with his lips desperately smashed on yours. With your wrists caged in one of his larger palms as the other quickly stripped you of your clothes, despite knowing you were on a time crunch, you didn’t necessarily feel compelled to be on time — better, maybe not even make it at all.
“Satoru —” you yelped, only for your voice to morph into wonton moans as his lips suffocated your lungs from the air.
The sound of teeth clashing, hands hunting for more bodily warmth combined with the lewd whines that dissipated from each lips heated your core — just enough to push you onto the edge with your juices pooling in your panties.
His hands expertly slide down your stomach and to the crevice in between your legs. His fingers shove the fabric to the side, exposing your wet cunt that’s just so ready to be played with and touched.
‘Tor —” you barely managed to call his name, his mouth overwhelming with strength as he forced his tongue into yours. With teeth clashing and his hands desperately stripping himself of both your clothes and his, he growled while tugging your lip with his teeth, “I can’t fucking do this anymore.”
“O-our reservation!” you cried out, desperately holding onto him with a leg hooked around his waist, relying on his strength to stand on one foot. With his shirt hanging off his torso, hair now messy and frazzled while he littered your skin with kisses that left you begging for more.
“Fuck that,” he growled, his breath sounding rough as he threw his freshly pressed shirt on the floor — one probably worth more than your rent itself.
“It’s nothing new that we’re always late, princess,” he taunted, with his palm placed at the base of your jaw, cupping your cheeks with his left hand while his right unzipped your dress, smirking when it landed on the floor with a thud.
“I told you, angel,” cocking his head to the side as he swiped his tongue upward on your lips, his eyes piercing straight into yours, “ the longer I kept this up the harder you were getting fucked.”
“It’s not over till tomo — ahhh, ” you moaned when his fingers finally played with your folds, and eventually your clit.
“Sorry, I tried, I really did, baby,” groaning as his lips dragged against your neck, his teeth hungrily nipping at your skin while he rubbed circles against your hardened bud. The erotic sound of your slick swirling against his fingers was a combination of embarrassment but also ease – you shouldn’t so readily give in, but oh you wanted to get fucked so badly.
With his vacant hand quickly unhooking your bra and groping your breasts, Satoru kissed his ways down to harshly suck at your nipples, “ but goddamn, i think you’ll actually kill me with this.”
“From not having sex?” you pulled at his hair, both legs automatically wrapping around his waists as he sloppily kissed your mounds, the slime of his saliva coating your areolas to replicate nature’s greatest gem.
“Yea, because my nut’s seriously about to explode,” unbuckling his pants while shimming them down to his ankles, pulling one of your hands down to stroke his heated member, while he pushed your panties to the side, swirling his finger around your clit.
“Gotta take good care of my future children, you know? This is very dangerous, so so dangerous.”
“You’re being r-ridiculous oh,” you moaned out when he pinched your clit, his darkened eyes watching your every expression as he opened his mouth in unison with wonton looks.
“Shhh pumpkin, aren’t you so cute, ” nibbling on your ears as his sensual breathing made your mind fuzzy and legs wobbly, increasingly more from the soaking sounds of your cunt being played with was ludicrous and naughty, “it’s always over when I say it’s over.”
Humming as he brought his wet fingers up to examine, “god, you’re soaked,” chuckling as he murmurs, “isn’t that fuckin’ cute.” the glimmer of his middle and ring finger enticing him more. “See, you want it too, no? Isn’t my silly girl just ready to be fucked.”
“yes, I want it. want it so, so bad—need it,” you mewled, letting out a soft whimper when he suddenly kissed you, grunting into your mouth.
“but let me release one real quick, ” groaning in between the kiss, "it’s a bit painful," as he palmed at his cock, “where do you want it, sweets?”
“Me…” with cheeks heated, you admitted.
“I asked where,” his words more strained and impatient as the pacing of his palms around his member was getting increasingly faster with more vigor.
And instead of answering, you pointed at the valley of your breasts, pooling your mounds together to catch every drop of his seeds on your skin.
“Fucking god, I love you,” Satoru cock twitches in his hand, “get on your knees for me, princess,” he ordered before slapping his hardened length on your cheek, “ what my girl wants, is what she gets,” hissing while stroking his shaft, looking down at your sweet position — just ready to take his load. It’s not a surprise that Satoru cums fast, and he comes hard.
When he catches you eyes anticipating for his seeds, to cover you with his release, the knot that’s been burning inside him finally starts to snap. The pleasurable, deep coil of his cum shooting through his slit meshed with your desperate desire to have yourself plastered with every essence of him was enough to drive him off the edge.
“Fuck ‘mma cum, gonna cum so hard baby,” Satoru made a sound between a choked whine and sharp gasp, “gonna cum baby… i —i shit shit…”
And he does, straight on your chest, splattering bits to the floor and some to your chin, barely making its way into your mouth — a whole fucking mess.
Panting while he pulled out every ounce of his seeds, thickly splurting out of his sensitive tip, Satoru murmured under his hitched breath, “sorry baby, i—i don’t know what just happened there, fuck.”
“you made a mess,” you chuckle, smiling with a crinkle on your nose.
“Shit… sorry, let me just,” Satoru grabbed his shirt to help clean you off, “but damn such a waste,” you pouted. Annoyed that he didn't get to cum inside you, but also grieving for the loss of his precious seeds going into the trash.
“It’s your fault,” he murmured, concentrating on cleaning every ounce of his cum off you, “if it wasn’t for that stupid bet, we could’ve done this every day, as much as you wanted,” mimicking your voice with a shake to his head, “but nooo, you had to just bet on my demise.”
“then let me feel you,” you murmur, “let me have you,” cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, his soft lips that you’ve missed so much, “fuck me, ‘Toru, I want you just as bad — so so badly.”
—
“Fuck you feel so good,” he groaned when he felt the tightness of your hole firmly wrapping a ring around his member. Rhythmically pulsing his hips, slowly gulping down his spit while he closed his eyes, trying his hardest to concentrate so he didn’t pull another quickie and cum prematurely.
It was a couple hours after he came on your breasts, and a few sessions of sex thereafter that. After multiple positions and fucking in different spaces of your apartment, finally, you’ve made it to the bedroom.
Feeling your soft walls pulsing and warming his length, just so tightly embracing his cock, inviting him further inside as he settled into you — his home, a place of refuge as he’s held so carefully not only in your arms but also by your cunt.
He’s eaten you out. Fuck, you tasted so good. His starved appetite satiated with every sucking of your folds, and slobbering of his tongue against your pussy.
He’s watched you squirm and sprinkle the couch, squirting warm liquid while he fingered your cunt.
He’s seen just how far he can enter when he measured the length of his cock magically disappearing inside you, making you relish in his reign as you shuddered with every impact.
And he’s felt the warm gush of your cum coating his cock, making a white ring around his length every time he pulled himself out, only to slam it back in. Bullying your wet folds while he painfully swirled his fingers around your clit, satisfied that your cum meshed in with his prior ejaculations were stuffed deeply — fully — inside you.
Your hips buck in tandem with his, matching his rhythm but barely following his pace as he slams into you. His heavy balls slap against your swollen cunt with every thrust of his hips, mildly splattering remnants of his cum off your pussy. And as he buries his cock into you, going as deep as he can, with every thrust you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the depths of your caverns. your abused cunt continuously sucking him in and hugging around him, tempting him for more, as he groans into your neck, his lips now swollen and red.
You weren’t entirely sure if he noticed, but you sure did. The throbbing of his cock tightly wrapped by your velvet walls, with every move of his body, made your insides churn into a symphony of pleasure, making you desire more for his cock to bully your cunt — especially when his head brushed against your sweet spot.
The friction of your body meshing with his feels sickening. The thick air of the room makes him feel lightheaded as if he’s being baited in between the realms of reality and another infinite dimension, teasing between the boundaries of possibly falling into an unknown abyss or comfortably landing straight home into your arms.
It’s always been like that for him. Through all the years he’s been with you, he’s been the one that loved more, loved harder, loved desperately. He doesn’t hold it against you nor does he find fault in what type of lover he was. He just — just, doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm, his soul flourishing in your sovereignty.
Heart lasciviously yearning for more.
“Right there ‘Toru,” you sob, “right there, give me more more” — of course it’s right there. He’s studied you front and back, but it wasn’t just right there. Because as his thumb finds your clit again, pressing desperate little circles to get you over the edge, he knows it’s actually right there when you squeeze on his cock, your eyes falling to the back of your head while your breaths start to stagger.
That’s — that’s when you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “S-satoru,” you gasp, “fuck, k-keep going."
But that — that was a shocker.
Normally he’ll ride out his orgasm after he’s seen you finish off. But, strange… when he sees the needy glint in your eyes, the tremble of your lips as you used every ounce of your strength to pull him in while you cupped his face, your legs mercilessly bouncing with every thrust of his hips while your thighs were firmly pressed into your chests.
Murmuring under your breath while you encouraged him to keep going, the invitation has him quickly falling into his own — hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you, shooting in waves with every twitch of his cock, with every groan pulled from his throat that soon formed into sweet whimpers that he harmonies into your neck, while fucking his load into you and as you held him in your arms, purposefully clenching to edge him off.
But still, it’s almost embarrassing how fast he cums. Even more embarrassing is how he’s currently withering in your arms, trembling from the aftermath of pumping his hot seeds into you, desperately holding onto you with his face planted into the crook of your neck.
The way his cum spills out of you and coats his cock, it’s perfect and feels just right. Despite your eyes about to fall shut, you can’t help but think how perfectly he fits intertwined with your body, his slowly softening cock nestled just perfectly inside you as he slumps on top of you, panting from the prior tumultuous rounds of fucking like rabbits as he cages you in his arms.
It’s warm — not only inside you, feeling the clumps spilling out, but love.
Loving him was warm. Loving him was right.
Groaning on top of your body, “Don’t ever ask me to do this again.” You can feel his cock slowly start to take its shape again inside you, it was quick but the viscous lumps of his fluid quickly slipped out to make more space for his cock to fill you again.
More — he wanted more.
“B-but I could’ve treated you out —” your voice was almost gone. You’ll probably get a noise complaint from your neighbors the next morning.
“babe, the best way you can treat out your baby girl,” Satoru rasped as he fully slipped himself inside you again, eyes rolling to the back of his head for a short moment before carnally staring into your eyes, “is letting him fuck you whenever he wants —”
“Wait wait!” you covered his lips with your hands, cheekily looking up as you then cupped his face, amused as you watched the discontent growl plastered on his expression morph into a pout.
Grumbling, Satoru huffed, “That’s all I've been doing this past month —”
“I said wait!" stifling his whine, pulling him closer to your bosom to place a kiss on his forehead, delighted to hear the small ring of your phone jingle in tune.
“happy birthday loser,” you cooed.
“You’re the worst for making me go through this,” he chuckled while caging you in, his arms surrounding your head as he brushed his finger against your cheek, his thumb lingering against your swollen lips that were softly smudged with lipstick, “but thank you, 'm getting older, but i’ll fuck you even harder,” he proposed with a wink.
“Wow…” unbelievable that he still had energy, “even with a month of no sex, you’ll still so horny.”
“Yea, because we gotta make babies now,” Satoru chirped, his lips making its way to your swollen nipples, sucking on the tips.
“Thought you didn’t want kids?”
“Eh, I figured… having a little gremlin like Megumi or Tsumiki-chan wouldn’t be so bad.”
“Just admit it,” running your hands through his sweaty hair, “you like them a lot more than you’ll admit.”
Suddenly propping his head up like a groundhog, with spit trailing down his chin, he corrected, “False, I like them only to an extent because I get tabs on their dad.”
“Tabs about who he’s dating? Why are you going to sell that to the tabloids?”
“Exactly, Tsumiki-chan always spill the tea, and plus that fart needs some action.”
“Even though you’re my boyfriend, you really are something.”
“Eh, i’ve gotten better compliments,” he shrugged, his attention going straight back to your nipples.
“ ‘Toru… d-do you think Suguru made it?” a moan slipped from your lips while you positioned yourself more comfortably under him, getting yourself ready.
Letting go of your nipples with a sharp pop, “That fucker wouldn’t lie to me — oh fuck” your boyfriend released a gluttonous moan as he furrowed his brows, hissing while clenching his stomach from absolutely losing it right then and there, “d-don’t clench so suddenly like that.”
“Gotta keep up with the pace, baby girl,” licking your lips while cocking a brow. “So… are you going to fuck me,” clenching while you tugged his hips down to your pelvis, hearing him hiss on the impact made your guts tighten while you watched him melt from the pressure surrounding his heated length pulsing inside you.
Using all your strength to turn your bodies around, now saddling your legs against his hips as you watched his stunned expression from above, it felt nice being in control. and fully sinking onto his cock as you started rolling your hips in repeated motions, in between wanting breaths, you asked,
“or am I gonna have to fuck you, pretty?”
— next morning.
Ding!
From: Asshole
so did you succeed?
To: Asshole
nah, fucked last night. you?
From: Asshole
nice. but happy birthday, bro.
To: Asshole
thx so, you pulled through?
From: Asshole (5 hours later)
nah, we fucked the day after making the bet. fucked again just now, too :P
author's note: omg... first sooo sorry for the lack of editing on this. holy smokes, it was way too long and i didn't dare to read through all of this. but if you have, thank you! i greatly appreciate you
Tumblr won't allow me to post anything more than 10MB, so I'm splitting it into 2 tracks. And again, this translation may not be 100% correct.
Storyline:
It has the same setting as my previous post, you and your boyfriend are in a long-distance relationship because you're studying in another country. In this track, your boyfriend pays you a surprise visit. He shows up at the cafe where you usually spend hours working on your assignment. It's been so long since you both saw each other, and you're surprised because he looks more masculine now, like an adult, though he says he's still very childish at heart seeing how he missed his sleep last night simply because he got too excited about seeing you.
You were studying before, but now that he's here, you stop to greet him. You sit down together, chatting for a bit. He says you look different too, more mature. Then he pauses, looking at you, and...
00.02
Umm... I can wait until you're finished with your studying, but after that, can I go to your room? Ah, I mean, look, I'm carrying a big suitcase with me. Walking around with this would be troublesome so, umm... Really, I don't have any weird intention.
00.26
Sorry, I lied. I actually... can't hold it anymore...
00.34
I want to be alone with you as soon as possible. I want to hold you...
(You head back to your room with him)
00.58
I'm sorry... I didn't mean to suddenly do things with you like this, but... Seeing you in person really makes me want to hold you right away... Makes me want to kiss you...
01.23
Really, I'm sorry, but... I can't hold back anymore.
(He starts undressing you, rushing)
01.40
I'm gonna touch you...
01.45
You're already wet... I'm glad. So it's just not me who's turned on.
01.59
Have you been waiting for me too?
02.05
I just kissed you but you're already so wet down here...
02.13
Do you want me to touch you here more? Or can I put it in?
02.22
Oh, you're suddenly tightening around my fingers. Are you reacting to my words?
02.29
I guess, you can't hold yourself back too, huh?
02.41
I'll put it in, okay?
(He grabs a condom and put it on)
03.01
*thrusts* Ah, t-this sensation... It's been a while since we did this so... It's bad... (meaning he's too sensitive)
03.07
I think... I won't last long... Sorry...
03.22
D-don't do that... Don't tighten up around me too hard...
03.28
I'm really about to cum...
03.39
Seriously, this is bad... At this rate, I'm gonna cum before I can make you feel good.
(He stops, pulling away)
03.58
Sorry... I'm gonna stop for a bit. Can you move for me?
04.08
I'll pull you up now.
TRACK 02
00.02
Sorry, I had to do this 'cause I feel like I'm gonna cum fast if I don't.
(He places you on his lap)
00.09
Like this, you can move however you like.
(You ask him, "But will you feel good this way?")
00.15
It's okay. Right now, everything feels so good to me. Try to hit the spot that makes you feel good too.
00.36
As I thought, this feels amazing...
00.42
Hey... Can I kiss your chest? Just like this...
(He sucks on your breasts)
00.59
I shouldn't? 'Cause you're feeling too good?
01.05
Look, you've stopped moving your hips. Move for me.
01.28
What's wrong? You're gonna cum?
01.33
Ah, wait... If you do it like that, I'm gonna cum too...
01.44
This is bad...
(you both finish together)
(you pull away)
02.22
That felt so good...
02.31
I'm sorry... Doing this right away after we met... I'm terrible, aren't I?
(You say, "It's okay.")
02.42
Really? But in the end you didn't get to finish your studying...
(You tell him not to worry about it)
02.51
Thank you... But you don't have to be too considerate, okay? I really just wanted to see your face, that's all.
(You comfort him)
03.02
I'm happy to hear you say that... You said you wanted to take me somewhere?
(You tell him that you want him to meet your friends)
03.11
Eh? You want to introduce me to your friends?
(You ask him, "Are you not okay with that?")
03.20
Not at all. Actually, I'm so happy. I want to know more about you and your life here. But... Is it really okay to introduce me? To have a boyfriend who can barely speak English like me, aren't they gonna make fun of you?
(You assure him that it's okay)
03.39
Well then, I'll study hard to prepare for tomorrow.
(You offer to teach him)
03.47
Really? Ah, but... To have you as my english teacher... That's a bit disheartening, but it can't be helped, I guess.
(You ask him why)
03.59
Boys always want to look cool in front of their girlfriends, you know. Well, just wait and see, I'll definitely impress you soon. I'll grow even more matured and manlier than this, then one day I'll come and pick you up, just like a prince!
DESCRIPTION: gojo satoru and geto suguru are the jewels of your university. glued at the hip, you have your eyes set on one of the best friends, but you should already know to expect double the trouble with this packaged deal.
PAIRING: gojo satoru x reader
WC: 3.8k
WARNINGS: 18+ MINORS DNI. fem reader, afab reader, pet names (baby, honey, sweetheart, some derogatory terms like s!ut :c), university!au, frat!au, characters are in their 20s, oral (fem receiving), gojo is a douche (sorry!) with a soft spot for you, gojo and geto are both taller than reader, gojo wants you sooo bad you don’t even know, dubcon if you squint, annoyances to… something else!, implied 3sum but that’s for part 2 ig bc i got tired. enjoy!
A/N: first fic here yayyyy pls support (kiss kiss
they were those boys in your campus. every university had them, or so you’re told. the ones to be proud of, but also weary of. the ones who could show you a good time you’d probably regret the next morning. the ones you’d tell stories about and never really forget.
at your school, that was geto suguru and gojo satoru. you heard they knew each other since high school, best friends back then and best friends now. they were part of the most infamous party house, the most awarded college teams, the most scandalous groupchats, the most torrid bathroom stalls conversations. everybody knew them, every guy wanted to be them, every girl wanted to be with them. you know the drill.
and although this was only your second year, you’d had enough run-ins with them to know exactly what they wanted — and what you wanted, too.
the two were truly inseparable despite not being all that similar, just like brothers. considering the stories you’ve heard, that proximity would be almost weird if they weren’t so hot. but that’s a can of worms you don’t want to open and, most importantly, don’t need to open in order to sit on geto suguru’s dick.
because of course it’s geto.
sure, gojo is hot — in a really fucking annoying way. in a way that makes you want to slap that stupid grin off his face every time he ogles you and your friends at a party. you’d go for it, really, if you didn’t have to live to see the next day. you knew gojo would never let you act like it never happened, and not in a romantic way, but in a disgusting braggy way.
gojo satoru is hot as fuck but you’re not built to handle him, if you’re being honest. not innocent enough, not devoted enough, not googly-eyed and pink-glossy-lips-drooly enough. gojo satoru was complicated like that. he came with a warning label as big as a cvs receipt in which big bold red letters warned DO NOT TRUST. and you knew better, anyway.
but geto? geto was pretty much perfect. his looks were sweet, dark and kind of edgy, like a black kitty with really sharp teeth. he had really cute fuck me eyes and really big veiny hands and a really cool manbun and you wanted to sit your ass on his fat sick. it was simple math.
the only thing that preoccupied you, though, was his reputation. and not his manwhore reputation or his party animal reputation or his fucks-hard-and-doesn’t-cuddle-after reputation — no, who cares about that. what worried you was his reputation with his best friend gojo satoru.
ever since you enrolled at your university you’ve been hearing rumors. apparently, the two of them were so close that they shared everything. everything.
would never let a brother go hungry and all.
so yes, there was the slight possibility (only corroborated by, i don’t know, the hundreds of girls you’ve heard the same story from) that geto would want a threeway.
you, having sex with gojo satoru? you can’t say you’ve never thought about it. you did have that one class together, your freshman year. in retrospect, the fact that he was your senior and taking the same elective as you should’ve been enough of a red flag.
by the end of the first lesson he came up to you and told you to text him if you ever needed any materials for the class, almost sounding sincere before shrugging and saying, “i’m just on top of things. by the way, would you like to be one of them?”
and scene.
that was your first impression of gojo satoru.
if you two fucked a year after that initial offer of his, would it be comical or tragic? he’d never look at you the same way — that is, he’d stop looking at you like he can see your tits through your shirt with x-ray vision and start looking at you like he has seen your tits because he will have. and that sounds annoying.
but whatever. you’ve heard the stories of how gojo fucks, after all. it’s not like it would be a bad time.
and tonight seems like the perfect night to make a stupid decision like that because geto looks so fucking delicious in a hawaiian shirt (how is that even possible?) leaning against his yucky frat’s wall and sipping a beer.
god, you want to bite him. is that weird?
“is that weird?” you turn to shoko, who so kindly accompanied you to another house party with the promise of free, gojo-sponsored liquor. “i want to bite geto.”
shoko looks disgusted, all too acquainted with your ramblings about the guy. her eyes scan around the room before settling towards the kitchen. “i’ll leave you to it, then, and go get a drink. do not abandon me until i’m drunk enough to be by myself in this shithole.”
you nod to her before she’s off to get her fix. and you’re gearing up to get yours, adjusting your skirt and correcting your posture until a too familiar, grating voice yells out from behind you:
“yo!”
you sigh, rolling your eyes before turning around.
“gojo.”
he throws one of his long arms over your shoulders, pressing your sides together. your fingers absentmindedly go back to your skirt, pulling it down.
gojo has to lean down to talk to you, his face hovering over yours. you can feel how hot his torso is against you, his white shirt already completely unbuttoned. it sends a shiver down your spine.
“long time no see, cutie,” gojo’s breath is warm against your ear, his voice high to be heard over the music. he gestures with his solo cup, “how are you finding the facility?”
you look up and give him a tight smile. “gross as always! is there something you want, or…”
he laughs heartily, and you feel his whole body rattle against yours. you huff in annoyance, antsy to get a word in with geto before he’s occupied.
“so mean to me!” he looks down at you and if it weren’t for his sunglasses, that he wears indoors at nighttime like a dick, you’d be able to see his eyes looking right down your cleavage. “just when i was coming here to do you a favor.”
you can’t help but laugh at that.
“what in the world could you possibly do for me?” he lifts an eyebrow and your finger flies up in between your faces. “don’t answer that, actually.”
“i came here to tell you a very interesting secret,” he sing songs right into the shell of your ear, earning another shiver from you. you take the cup from his hand and sip, too distracted to know what it tastes like. nibbling on the plastic rim, you gesture for him to go on.
gojo’s smile grows that much darker, that much more sinister, a dimple appearing on the side of his cheek.
“a little birdie told me suguru’s dying to screw you tonight.”
your demeanor must visibly brighten at that information because gojo lets out another lurching laugh. your eyes instinctively zero in on geto, across from you, who’s either doing a really good job of pretending he doesn’t hear the two you talking in the doorway or is genuinely clueless as to what his best friend is saying about him.
you force yourself to regain your composure, shoving gojo’s solo cup into his bare chest and wiggling out of his hold. “and you care because?”
but you suspect you already know the answer to that. he puts his hands up in mock surrender, and god, your height difference is kind of reeling.
“like i said, ‘s just a favor,” you eye him suspiciously. he continues, “he wants to fuck you, you want to fuck him. i’m just being a nice guy.”
right. nice guy.
“and who says i want to fuck him?” you try to play it cool, even though you probably know as much as satoru knows as much as suguru knows that you’d crawl on your knees towards geto right now if that meant you could put his cock in your mouth.
and who could blame you?
“playing dumb?” gojo pokes your cheek. his voice grows thicker, “cute. look at you,” and he does, hungrily, eyes scanning your entire form and making you feel oddly self conscious.
he snakes a hand around your waist and leans in close again, whispering into your ear, “all dolled up just for him. in class with me you show up in other dudes’ hoodies but for darling suguru you dress slutty. everyone knows.”
you inhale sharply. what is he playing at? is he trying to get into your head or what? people dress up at parties, people want to fuck people, it’s a thing. god, gojo is so unbearable.
you scowl up at him.
“first of all,” you rip his hand from your waist and he lets it fall limply by his side. “second of all, again, how is that any of your business? salty you can’t get laid without the hotter best friend’s help?”
gojo just smirks, huffing out a chuckle through his nostrils. “you don’t have to worry about me, sweetheart. although i have to say, i do worry about you…”
“what? why?” you can’t help sounding sincere at his words. he twirls a piece of your hair with his index finger.
“‘m just saying, what kind of best friend would i be if i handed you off to suguru without taking you for a test drive first?” gojo’s disgusting, he’s audacious and cocky and it’s doing something to you. you find yourself uncharacteristically quiet as he continues, “i mean, for all i know, you just might break once he gets inside.”
“you’re ridiculous,” you manage to utter, feeling too small and too warm. geto is no longer in your line of sight and neither is shoko and you rapidly start to feel like you’ve fallen into the lion’s den without realizing.
“you know i’m right,” and you don’t, really, you don’t think he’s right at all but why do you want to prove him wrong so badly? “c’mon, baby, lemme break ya in a little.”
that seems to snap you out of it. “ew. you’re disgusting, where is—“
“ugh, i love it when you degrade me,” he groans sardonically, hand leaving your waist and grabbing your hand instead. “come on. i’ll take you to him.”
whatever that feeling was just then, you shake it off and relunctantly let gojo guide you through the sea of bodies in his living room, the two of you earning some whistles from his friends. eyes too busy scanning for geto, you’re surprised when you suddenly end up in front of the bathroom.
“quick pit stop!” gojo tries. you roll your eyes.
“you won’t even try to take me to your bed? like, you live here,” you say.
gojo is grinning. “nah, nah. room’s for the main attraction,” he winks and turns the doorknob, letting you go inside first. what a gentleman. “this shouldn’t take long.”
the bathroom door muffles the loud music outside, leaving your ears ringing in the silence. gojo looks like a douchebag, sunglasses pushed up into his hair, shirt unbuttoned and wet with some sort of liquor, and your eyes do not dare scan any lower than that.
you suppose he is a douchebag.
but he sounds so painfully sincere when he whines low in his throat, “wanna kiss you so bad.”
you laugh at his face, pushing yourself up to sit on the counter.
“i’m serious,” he says, taking a step forward. you instinctively open your legs a little to make more room.
“you want to what, ‘break me in’, you said?”
gojo laughs and that doesn’t sound sincere at all. he takes another step towards you, slotting his hips in between your thighs.
“suguru’ll like it sloppy,” and that’s all the explanation he gives you before he’s closing the distance between you two, crashing your lips together.
you should be feeling ill at his words. you should be pushing him away. if you had any self respect, you would.
but his hands on you feel so good, he’s kissing you like, yeah, he wanted to so bad. his grip on your hips is almost bruising, pulling your body closer to his so he can grind against you.
you moan into his mouth and he’s quick to return it, tongue pushing up against yours hungrily. you feel like you’re being devoured, the kiss all encompassing, but it’s not bad, it feels so so good and gojo is so good and—
he breaks your kiss to command, “wrap your legs around me,” and you do so immediately.
his hands push your skirt up, grabbing your ass and pulling you that much closer to him. you tug on his hair, grinding down hard against him, and he lets out the sweetest, most pitiful moan that sends your head reeling.
“gojo…” you say his name but you don’t know what for, don’t know what you want or what to ask or what to say, all you know is yes and good and more. “satoru—“
gojo whines and presses his lips to yours desperately, grinding his hard on against your clothed pussy. he’s big, you can feel him all over your cunt, and you suddenly need all these layers between you gone.
“fuck, let me see,” he swallows hard, pushing your shirt up fully. “lemme see those tits baby, that’s it—”
you puff your chest out when gojo pulls your bra down. you expect him to go for your boobs but instead he goes back in for a kiss, panting into your mouth.
god, it’s too much. for how collected he acts one hundred percent of the time, seeing gojo satoru disheveled is a power trip.
“touch me,” you mumble against his lips.
he gives you a few pecks, nibbling your bottom lip before pulling away.
“fuck, you’re so fucking perfect,” gojo says, one hand grabbing your tit and another pulling your panties to the side. the cool air on your dripping core makes you shudder, and you feel yourself gush at the slightest brush of his fingers against you.
he bends down to pop a nipple into his mouth and you arch your back, gripping his hair hard, ‘cause apparently he likes that. you both let out a unison moan as he sucks, saliva audibly swishing inside his mouth.
you know it’s gonna leave a mark, he’s gonna leave a lot of bruises as he bites and sucks and keeps you distracted while he slips a finger into your wet core.
you suddenly regain conscience and remember the man working your body with nothing more than his hands and mouth probably has a pretty painful big hard cock inside his pants, so you reach out to help him.
“wait,” he says, mouth popping against your breast, “wait, you can suck it, i just wanna—i gotta do this first, lemme—“
that’s all he says before giving you another kiss and dropping to his knees.
you’re obviously not going to complain, you can neglect his dick just fine, nevermind the fact that you want it inside you immediately. but in the meantime, gojo’s got two fingers pumping in and out of you and he’s about to put his face between your legs.
it’s beautiful, it’s a lot, you want it so fucking bad and it shows.
“so fucking wet, all f’me” he lays his tongue flat against your clit and licks a fat stripe up your pussy, making you groan in anticipation for what’s to come. “been thinking of this pretty pussy for so long.”
“yeah?,” you whine, brushing some hair away from his face before coaxing his head closer to where you want it. gojo moans in response and starts working his tongue in tight circles over your clit.
fuck, is gojo satoru in a frat bathroom the best head you’ve ever had? he might be, with the way he expertly rubs his fingers against your walls, instantly finding that spongy patch that makes you jut your hips out.
“fuck, right there,” you grind against his face, delighting yourself in the debauched moans he makes against your cunt. not only does it feel good, it looks so fucking hot and you can’t tear your eyes away. “stay right there, you’re so good.”
the way he eats it like he needs to, like it’ll save your life, like this alone is enough to make the both of you cum, you can’t help the too-honest praise tumbling from your lips.
“yeah? tastes so fucking good” he mumbles, rubbing a thumb over your clit. you nod, bottom lip held tightly between your teeth. “play with your tits, baby, those juicy fucking tits, do it for me.”
you obey, head hanging back in pleasure. you keep one hand anchored firmly in his hair, your fingers gripping so hard they start to tingle.
you shove his face closer, earning a deep groan from him. he noses at your pussy, replacing his fingers in your entrance with his tongue, fucking in and out of you. your breathing has lost all rhythm, your chest feels tight and on fire and a bead of sweat rolls down your back.
you can faintly make out gojo asking do you like this? just like this baby? and all you can say in response is a string of “yeahs” and breathy little moans. they almost sound surprised, and they might be, because every twist of his tongue and every brush of his fingers knocks the breath right out your lungs.
it’s so much pleasure that it doesn’t make sense. you think, suddenly, this is why people do drugs, this is why people develop addictions because you have no fucking clue how you’re supposed to live without gojo satoru between your legs from now on.
“satoru. i wanna cum,” you whine, mind to mouth filter completely obliterated because all you want to do is fucking cum for gojo satoru. message relayed.
“fuck yeah, baby, you wanna cum? i’m gonna make you cum?” he’d sound pathetic if you didn’t know how much of a whore he was. his fingers go back inside you and speed up ever so slightly, his lips wrapping around your clit. gojo’s tongue works you over and over and over and all you can hear is the blood rushing in your ears and the sound of gojo swallowing every few seconds.
he doesn’t stop, mumbles his dirty talk right into your pussy, like fucking cum for me baby cum all over my face yeah do it i’m gonna make you cum so hard god you look so fucking sexy wanna fuck you so bad, and you don’t want to know why but it makes you all the more intent in coming the hardest you ever have.
you grip gojo’s hair and grind into his face mercilessly, revelling in the gurgling sounds coming from between your legs.
“ohhh fuck, fuck, satoru i’m so close, just keep doing that, yeah just like that—“ gojo groans, using his free hand to play with your nipple.
it’s too much, it’s too good, the coil in your belly that’s been building up since you started entertaining the idea of maybe getting laid tonight finally snapping.
you’re sure you’ve never been this loud as you cum, hard, you can feel it gushing out of you and right into gojo’s awaiting mouth. with ringing ears and trembling legs, you find purchase in his hair as you keep cumming for him.
the muscles on your thighs seize up as you ride out your orgasm against gojo’s face, your feet trying to find any sort of balance or solid ground. but you wiggle desperately in his hold, the man below you fulfilling his promise of drinking every last drop of you until the two of you are satisfied.
you’re catching your breath when gojo finally pulls away from you, his face and neck flushed as you’re sure yours are. your back falls against the foggy bathroom mirror, chest rising and falling dramatically as you catch your breath.
he finally stands up, sneaking a very obvious hand down his pants to readjust his erection. once he catches your gaze, he smirks at you.
you try to roll your eyes, you really do, but what comes out is a slow, languid blink. you’re completely fucked out and he loves it, leans in to kiss you so fucking deep you taste yourself all over his mouth.
before you can do anything else, anything more or less than kiss him back, you hear three knocks on the door.
they’re gentle, nothing like the sound of a pissed off college student, murderous because you’re hogging the bathroom.
gojo pushes himself away from you, grinning. “right on time.”
he grabs both your tits in his hands and plants a wet kiss on one, then the other, before pulling your shirt back down.
you’re still dumbfounded, your overworked body slumped against the bathroom counter.
before you have time to react, gojo’s opening the door to let geto suguru in.
your body jolts, legs closing shut in what’s almost abject horror. you nearly forgot he’s what you came to this party for.
it feels like you got caught red handed, and it must show on your face because geto shakes his head and laughs that pretty, sexy laugh, waving a hand around to tell you it’s okay.
“please, don’t stop on my account,” are his first words to you tonight.
you would say something if you weren’t sure your voice would fail you. but like usual, gojo satoru can’t stay quiet for too long.
“all done. she’s too easy” he announces cheerily, but the funny thing is, he doesn’t leave. instead, geto lets the bathroom door close behind him as he crowds in.
you realize this space is far too small for two very tall men, most definitely far too small for whatever is about to go down between the three of you, and your calming heart starts to race again.
“hey, pretty,” geto reaches out and wipes the side of your lip. “having fun?”
you can only nod, looking at gojo satoru of all people for answers.
he looks at you like he hasn’t just eaten your pussy with the intensity of a starving man, like he wants to do it again, right now.
geto is sporting a similar look of hunger, looking between you and gojo and quickly assessing the situation that just happened here.
this is weird. this is so fucking weird and so stupidly hot.
“wanna take her for a ride next?” gojo asks geto like he’s not talking about a person, like you don’t have a say in it, like you belong to the both of them to play with, and it turns your brain to mush.
geto smiles, handsome and dangerous.
“what do you say, honey?” this time he addresses you. you swallow hard, looking between the two men in front of you. gojo grabs the outline of his hard cock through his pants, a reminder that whatever this is, it isn’t over just yet. “down to have double the fun?”
Tags. i want to kiss him so bad help me he's so cute, gn!reader, suggestive, mutual pinning, reader basically spits in his mouth (not really) (I meaan), first kiss.
Notes. I love the idea of teaching choso new things, modern things, including how to kiss and discovering new flavors.
"What's this?" Choso asks next to you, staring blankly at the candy you're holding at mouth level.
"Just eat it," you say, sweetly encouraging him just like someone trying to gain the trust of a wild animal.
"Hm," he mutters.
"Eat it,” you suggest, firmer this time. "How are you going to know you don't like something if you don't try it, hm?" You add the last in the same tone as him.
"Can you tell me what this is again?"
"They're... kind of like surprise candies. You buy them but you're not sure what they taste like inside until you taste it, they can taste really yummy or really weird, it depends on your luck."
"Hm." Choso pouted, still unconvinced.
He looks adorable and you force yourself not to laugh, with two fingers pinching the green-colored candy, you swing it still in front of him from side to side. "Try it."
Choso holds your wrist gently keeping your hand still, contemplates the candy a few seconds longer and leans in to take it, brushing his lips against your fingers in the process.
When he has it in his mouth he lets you go, your hand returns to your lap as you watch him work his jaw chewing, but you can't read him
"Well?"
His face becomes distorted, pure panic enters his eyes and he looks at you with pursed lips.
"Ew. No."
"What is it?"
"Tastes like dirt?" Choso elaborates, confused, but you try to understand his explanation.
You nod in his direction, sympathetic. Giving him a napkin so he can spit. "Try another," you suggest.
"Hm..." Choso grunts, followed by a pout.
"Do it. Don't be a coward, I'll try one with you."
The idea seems not at all unpleasant, so he nods, not entirely sure if he wants to try another earth-flavored candy.
"Okay," he replies. You pull out two more candies, one light pink, one green just like the previous one. Choso immediately takes the pink one and you chuckle under your breath, taking the free candy into your mouth and chewing along with him.
"What's yours?" you ask, with your mouth full.
“It's strawberry, I think... yours?"
"Watermelon," you say contentedly.
“Hm." Pout.
"Do you want to try?" Choso looks at you for a moment, finally nods. "Open your mouth."
Choso freezes, you can slowly see his cheeks fill with blood, the mark that goes from one end of his cheek to the other looks more prominent because of this.
"You mean a kiss?" You smile softly at him, trying to hide your desire to flirt (even though that's all you had done this summer) however you were patient, you didn't want to push him too much and go at his pace.
"Or not," you say, shrugging. "I can find another one for you."
His fingers cling to your forearm, exerting just enough pressure to get your attention. "I want to."
You haven't finished chewing, and you smile sweetly at him. You lean your body seeking his, you leave a brief peck on his lips and Choso shudders.
"Open up," you command, touching his lips with your tongue.
Choso does it shyly, you take the opportunity to slide inside him and leave crumbs of the chewed candy in his tongue that immediately melts on the roof of his mouth, he coo happily. You move away from him, Choso is still red while you feel all your neck and ears burning, he was so cute.
"What do you think of your first k-"
You don't finish speaking when his mouth is once again on yours, you immediately take the initiative of the new kiss, guiding him in a gentle rhythm in which he can follow you. In a moment his large hands caress your forearm, he murmurs about your mouth and you allow him to take the course of what he wants to do now that he knows how to do it.
The door to the nurse's office opens and you suddenly move away, Yuuji returns to the hallway with bandages on his arms and a band aid on his eyebrow looking at you both, Choso stands up suddenly taking you by surprise which causes you to drop a couple of the candies on the floor.
"Brother," Choso looks at him, concerned.
Yuuji clearly knows what's going on, he's smiling and before he can speak you quickly stand up.
"Itadori, I'm glad you are well. I was keeping Choso company while I waited for you but I’ll be leaving now," you say quickly, turning away to trot down the hallway. Though you weren't far enough away to hear Choso whisper/shout in his ear, "They kiss me."
THEMES: office (?) romance au, geto (head empty) suguru, gojo (comedic relief) satoru, a little humour bc its what got me through this. if anything, i hope it makes you chuckle….
SUMMARY: geto makes a startling discovery about you. and worse — about himself.
A/N: this is my first time writing for geto so i’m sorry if he doesn’t read well… don’t boo me please this is just how i see him in my silly lil head :’)
Geto read people well.
It came with the job – being the manager of a team required such skills – but he thinks that he’s had this skill far longer than that.
If you watched a person long enough, they had different tells. Even the people who were good at putting a mask on had them, and it gave their thoughts and next move away.
The tiniest fidget in a finger. The twitch in a smile. The awkward shuffle from foot to foot.
It could mean discomfort, interest, or a request.
And knowing made a huge difference to him. It helped in decreasing the anxiousness he would feel, dealing with the uncertainty that comes with people. He could prepare himself for whoever he was dealing with and be one step ahead.
It was why he treasured his little team so much – given the time (suffering) they’d all been through in the two years together, they were easy to read now. They were so familiar, it didn’t cost him as much effort to accommodate them, and even better, they were just as respectful with his needs too.
It wasn’t always that way, except maybe with Shoko. He wouldn’t say getting to know Gojo was all that difficult either, because he was just so honest sometimes. Utahime was a little difficult, but only because she struggled with asking for help and quite frankly, Geto felt weird taking care of someone older than him.
But perhaps you had been the most difficult – which is odd to think about now, because you were the most transparent with him. You had been hard to read initially, because he simply couldn’t understand you. Never met anyone quite like you, honestly. Where one would take offence, you would simply take it in stride. Where one would falter, you were solid.
Geto had found you intimidating, in a similar way that he used to find Gojo to be, back when they had just met. That amount of enthusiasm in a person made him afraid to come close. He didn’t want to be burned. But all the years had shown Geto that the fear was for nothing, really. If anything, you were inspiring to him now. Made him want to try harder. Pushed him towards dedication over resignation.
Geto admired you, and for some reason, you did too. Not that the others didn’t believe in his capabilities, but none of them were as vocal about it as you.
Maybe that’s why he reacted so strongly when he found out you were in love with Toji Fushiguro.
.
.
.
Yes, that Toji Fushiguro. CEO of their company – the big boss.
While Geto was busy fucking around, doodling stick figures in his maths notebook, Toji Fushiguro was already learning the ins and outs of being a savvy businessman, probably hip thrusting his way through women that he could only dream of.
Actually, if he thought about it, a crush on their CEO wasn’t that surprising. A rich, well-educated, and not to mention extremely good looking man who even found the time to take their team on extravagant lunches when he was buried under mountains of work – shit, even Geto would fall in love if he batted for the other team.
On days you knew he would be in the office, you made sure you wore your extra nice cashmere jumper and read up on the latest articles about the company so you could ask questions. That was the closest thing to admiration you had ever shown anyone (beyond Taylor Swift, but that was a Real Celebrity; Toji was a celebrity in his own way, but Geto knew him, had seen him in the halls of their company building. He was real real.)
And of all the places, he found out during a quick coffee run:
There had been a heatwave in Tokyo, the burning heat in the office threatening to turn everyone into human soup (gross he knows), and Gojo was nothing short of insisting that he was in dire need of an iced latte.
Somehow the topic of dating came up, and it quickly turned into a 20 questions type thing. Geto was always uneasy when personal questions were asked, because was this even right in an office setting? Would he somehow be hurtled into a HR call about appropriate work behaviour? He was the project manager. A supposed role model of sorts.
But if he had to be honest, he did enjoy it. Especially when the questions were saucy.
“Don’t call them saucy,” you complained when Geto raised an eyebrow at one of Utahime’s questions, a smirk lingering on his face.
For all your professionalism, Geto knew you liked it too, because you let the conversation flow rather than quickly changing the subject.
“Y/N-chan, would you ever date one of your seniors?” Gojo quipped.
“How much of a senior are we talking?”
“Let’s start easy. Say ten.”
“Ten years,” Geto whistled. “That’s a pretty big difference.”
“It’s not that big.” you countered. “We’re all adults here and–”
“Yeah, but don’t you think you’d be at different life stages?” Geto raised his hand. “Say you’re 22. That would mean dating someone who is 32, right? You’re still at the beginning of adulthood, while the other person is probably ready to get hitched and settle down. Wouldn’t it be hard to relate to each other?”
You sipped your cappuccino in thought, “I think what matters is your mindset and priorities, right? I mean, think about it – I know people at 22 who have gotten married and settled down to start a family. And I know plenty of people in their mid-30s who wouldn’t even dream of that. Don’t you think connection can exist no matter the age?”
“Yes…” Geto paused as he wondered how to phrase it without sounding harsh, and then deciding to just say it, “but come on, would you date someone ten years older than you–”
Your eyes widened significantly. Geto hurriedly added, “I mean, wouldn’t you feel a little daunted? How can someone leagues ahead of me in life like me?
“I’ve never thought about it that way,” you said as you started walking back to the company building. Your voice had an undercurrent of longing, “I think I would still go for it. You never know what could happen anyway. They could be the one.”
There was something that Geto wanted to prod into further but Gojo quickly cut him off.
“I’ll support you! If you marry a rich, older man then good for you. Just don’t forget my invitation to the wedding.”
He rolled his eyes, but when Utahime and Gojo walked ahead he couldn’t help but ask.
(Side note - he immediately regretted asking.)
On the walk back, Geto lightly poked your side, “So, you got a senior you like? Anybody cute that I know?”
You rubbed your side. “Suguru, please. Don’t do that.”
Geto patted your back, “Sorry. Do you mean the teasing or the light poke? Because if it’s the latter, I’m starting to think your little gym workouts are for nothing. That was a really light poke–”
“Both,” you answered dryly. “You’re a lot stronger than you think. But also, please don’t ask me, I don’t want to talk about it–”
“Why not?” Geto asked, pouting. “I won’t tell anyone. Your secret is safe with me and Gojo won’t even hear a peep–”
You suddenly kicked at his shins, almost causing him to lose his balance. Which would have been absolutely humiliating considering there were witnesses around, and some of them were important (with a capital I). Geto righted himself and found that out when he made eye contact with none other than Toji Fushiguro himself (yes, we are finally getting to the point of the story).
Toji hid his laugh with a small cough. He was too nice. If it was any one in his team, they would have just pulled out their phone and recorded it to send into the group chat. His little flub would be an ongoing joke for weeks. Those absolute savages.
Geto did his best to look normal, bowing to greet him. “Fushiguro-shachou. It’s nice to see you here.”
“Hi Toji-san.” you greeted informally beside him. Geto raised a brow. Since when were you guys on a first name basis?
Fushiguro walked up to them and attempted to bow, despite the fact that both of his hands were full. Geto heard you giggle, which if he could raise his brow further at, he absolutely would.
Question mark emoji, question mark emoji, question fucking mark emoji. Eyebrow raise emoji?
“How have you guys been?” Fushiguro asked. “Heard the first phase of the project ended well.”
“It did, thank you.” Geto answered. “Some minor mishaps here and there, but overall it was good. We even managed to secure more funds for the next phase.”
Fushiguro looked every bit their Superstar CEO as he said, “It happens. There’s always a next thing to do better at. All that matters is your team got it finished within the deadline, and even exceeded the target.”
“Toji-san,” you said shyly, and Fushiguro turned his full attention to you. An itch started somewhere down Geto’s throat. He swallowed. “I just wanted to thank you for the extra advice you gave me. I think it really won the investors over.”
Fushiguro brightened, “Did it really?”
You hummed affirmatively, “It did! If you have any more expertise to share, there were certain aspects of the negotiations I struggled with and–”
“Of course,” Fushiguro said, and then he pulled out his phone, read whatever message he seemed to get, then shot them both an apologetic look. “My apologies, I forgot I had a meeting in a couple of minutes, but please reach out whenever you guys are free. Let me treat you to a meal–”
“Ah, Fushiguro-shachou, there’s no need,” Geto started to say, but he had already started walking past them and yelled, “Congratulations again!”
You waved, which is when Geto side-eyed you and said, “What was all that?”
“What?” you said, not even bothering to look at him. You pulled out your phone from your pocket and from where Geto was standing, he could see that you had opened your messages. “Suguru, can I ask you for a favour?”
Geto supposed he trusted you enough. “Sure?”
“Could you pretend you’re busy whenever he sets up a meal for us?” you asked. Geto’s jaw nearly dropped to the ground. You’re asking him to miss out on not only a free meal, but a free premium meal? What if their CEO had wanted to take him out for some A5 Wagyu steak? The project was making him good money, but not enough money for a casual weekday night meal with A5 Wagyu.
Geto crossed his arms over his chest, “Why?” Because if something was standing in between him and premium beef, it better be a good reason.
“I need to talk to him. Alone,” you insisted, seeming to hit send on your phone on something and then pocketing it. “Will you?”
“What, you don’t want me to hear?” he asked. “What do you guys even have to talk about? I am the project manager after all.”
“He’s someone I admire and respect,” you replied, so matter-of-fact it silenced anything else he had to say. “I think you can easily imagine what we’d talk about,” and then began to walk towards the elevator.
Things began to add up in his head. A senior you admired and respected. The ten year difference question from earlier. You asking for privacy with Toji Fushiguro. Geto barely passed his maths class, but by god, his years of watching old school tv dramas have finally borne fruit.
You liked Toji Fushiguro. And you were going to confess.
“Suguru?” you asked, cocking your head to the side. You were already a few paces away. “Are you coming?”
“Yeah,” he said, feeling a little faint. His body moved on its own, but his mind was stuck on his new discovery. “I’m coming.”
.
.
.
Geto wished he had easier problems, like Gojo for example. Gojo had been looking at his hair in the mirror and talking to himself about on-set baldness. Which, in all fairness, is a terrible struggle to have, but it’s not like he wasn’t vain enough to let himself go bald. There’s surgery to fix that kind of shit now.
Meanwhile, there doesn’t seem to be any amount of money that can fix his problem.
Fuck, he wanted to tear his hair out. It was a fit of dramatics more befitting of his BFF (Gojo, not Shoko), but Sue him. If money cannot fix something in this capitalistic world, then isn’t he truly, deeply fucked?
How was he going to break it to you? Maybe he didn’t have to, he could just let you find out for yourself. At your dinner. Tonight. With Toji Fushiguro.
That Toji Fushiguro wasn’t actually single. That he was, in fact, the very opposite of single. Worse, he was in love. With a person that definitely wasn’t you.
“...Guru?” Shoko asked beside him. “Are you okay?”
“Huh?”
Shoko looked at him with concern. “I just told you I almost broke the spreadsheet, and you didn’t even react. I make fun of you for your lack of brain cells, but you’re not that bad.”
“Sorry, I was thinking,” Geto said, running a hand through his hair.
Innocently, Shoko asked, “You think?”
It is only Shoko’s position as Geto’s favourite team member (a record she’s held far longer than anyone else) and his amazing level of self-restraint that he did not commit an act of foulness against her. Geto gave her a dead-eyed stare, “I hold 50% of this team’s brain cells actually.”
“Suguru,” Shoko said, unserious. She reached out and held Geto’s hand, “Have you been sleeping well? These delusions you have are starting to worry me. Y/N and I actually hold all the brain cells–”
Geto snatched his hand away. He sniffs, “I’m the project manager for a reason. I bet if I take my MBTI now I’d be a Thinker. I think everyday. I am thinking right now.” And then, only because she had mentioned you first, “Hey, I have a question–”
Shoko picked up her phone, “Go ahead.”
“Say you have a friend that likes someone,” he started nonchalantly. Shoko hums– he continues, “And that person your friend likes is already dating someone… would you or would you not tell them?”
Shoko’s eyebrows pinched together, “Why wouldn’t I tell them?”
“Because,” Geto said. Why didn’t he? “I don’t know? Maybe you wouldn’t want to hurt their feelings? Or maybe it’s none of your business?”
Shoko scratched her head, “Isn’t it our duty as friends to warn them of such things? Sounds simple to me. Am I missing something?”
Geto wanted to hit her head. Maybe it was wrong to ask Shoko, who saw solutions easily, because she didn’t think too hard about stupid things. He should’ve talked to Gojo or something. “Maybe,” he dragged out, “you’re a coward and you love minding your own business and–”
Shoko opened her phone and started doing her daily tasks on Duolingo, “Just tell your friend, Suguru–”
Geto gave in and despite that fact that the two of them were the only people left in the office (Gojo and Utahime had left at the exact time they stopped getting paid to work like the anti-capitalists they were), he whispered urgently, “I can’t just fucking tell Y/N–”
“Y/N? Her crush is single though,” Shoko narrowed her eyes at him, then shrugged. “At least, last time I checked.”
“I thought you knew. It’s not really a secret. Pretty much everyone in the company knows Toji Fushiguro is dating someone.”
Shoko’s face twisted in confusion, “Fushiguro-shachou? Our CEO? What’s he got to do with this–”
The door opened, and Geto did his best to look casual as you stepped into the room. “Hey,” he greeted, also casually. God, he should be called King of Casualness with how casual he’s being. “How was your dinner?”
“It was good!” you said, smiling brightly. Geto tried hard not to look at your mouth. To not inspect for evidence of kissing. Not that he thought the big boss would do anything when he already had a girlfriend, but he only slept for four hours last night, which explains the crazy thoughts. “Full. He took me out for Kaiseki.”
“That sounds good,” Geto said. “Wish I had some.”
You rolled your eyes as you took off your coat. You were dressed so lovely. The simple fact was upsetting to him. To his stomach, specifically. “I’m sorry,” you said, walking over to your desk. “I’ll make it up to you.”
“I want to be taken out.” Geto demanded.
You playfully put a finger gun up to his head, “Like this?”
Geto grabbed your wrist and stared up at you, “To dinner.”
“Okay,” you said. You looked at Shoko and asked, “You wanna come too?”
Shoko looked between the two of you before going back to her phone, “Nah. You guys can go by yourselves.
Geto didn’t question it. The entirety of your wallet all to himself. He would not look a gift horse in the mouth, or however that saying went. “Nice. We have to do it soon. Before we get those annual company pictorials for the website. So my face doesn’t swell up–”
“Alright, alright,” you said, rolling your eyes. “He asked about you, by the way. He said to contact him some time. He said he wants to treat all of us next time.”
Shoko piped up, “Zenin Naoya-san said the same thing. He heard about how well the first phase went and wanted to congratulate us. Can you imagine that? Both the CEO and COO want to take us out for a meal. We’re about to be fed good.”
The entirety of your wallet was nice, but now the CEO and COO wallets were in the mix? Geto must have done something good in a past life to be treated like this.
“I know,” you said, sitting back in your chair. “I really admire them. Toji-san isn’t even that much older than us and look at everything he’s achieved.”
Geto bit his lip. The awe in your voice. He really should say something, but who was he to ruin this?
A good friend, the little voice in his head that sounded like Shoko said. You’re a good friend. A good manager even, and you should take care of her because she does her best to take care of you.
He took a deep breath, drawing Shoko’s attention towards him. “Y/N, about Fushiguro-shachou–”
“Actually,” Shoko said, speaking over him pointedly, “He is really cool, huh? Wasn’t he your role model for the longest time?”
You spoke sweetly, “He still is. He’s just… too good.”
It felt like a stone had dropped deep down to the pit of his stomach. Too good? Where has he heard that before? Why did it sound so familiar–
It hit Geto suddenly. That’s exactly how Gojo had sounded like when he was stupid and seventeen and pining over his first girlfriend (albeit, probably not in the same sense as you were thinking). Man. If he was working with deductive conclusions before, he had solid proof now. It was worse than he initially thought, actually.
You were unconditionally and irrevocably in love with Toji Fushiguro.
(Yes, fuck you, he was quoting Twilight. It’s a trauma response.)
.
.
.
Geto wasn’t built to keep secrets. He hated lying. He loved a little gossip. Yes, he loved minding his own business, and yes, he was nosy as hell – these two things can co-exist. Most importantly, he prided himself in being a good friend, and it’s killing him, sitting with the knowledge that could break your heart.
Such things shouldn’t be left up to him. He knows he basically signed up for difficult tasks when he became the project manager, but he didn’t think it would cover stuff like this. It was already painful (read: humiliating) having to sit in at a Human Resources meeting, because Gojo and the team lead from a different project can’t keep their hands off each other in the break room, and you’ve been tasked to follow them as their eternal third wheel so they can’t eye fuck each other when walking around the office (read: Geto is very fucking bitter about this).
But this is a whole other level.
You’re nice, even though your image paints you as someone with a resting bitch face most of the time. You’re sweet, hardworking, loyal, and all these other great things – but most importantly, you are a romantic. And if you’ve supposedly loved Toji Fushiguro for some time now, how was Geto supposed to tell you without feeling like an asshole?
He thought of it every time he saw you. Guilt flooding through him like a tsunami, waves and waves of it. He started to avoid you until he could muster up the courage and the right timing to break it to you. Which has been very hard, because the moment Geto decided to avoid you, you decided to stick to him like glue.
You sat beside him during meetings and lunch, which made it hard to eat because his heart would just be pounding in his chest. The palpitations were upsetting his stomach and made it hard to concentrate on whatever report he was supposed to be reading.
You would also offer to bring in some baked treats for him, to which Geto had to reject pitifully. You baked like Mary Berry, and he had to pretend he wasn’t interested. Wasn’t hungry. It was so out of character for him that you began to ask if he was sick or something. Geto, of course, brushed it off but the next day you brought in daifuku. Fresh and still a little bit warm from a stall down the street. He wasn’t cruel enough to not eat it.
(He also wasn’t selfless enough to not eat it, because damn, all this guilt was making him hungry.)
He even started skipping the weekly team dinners. He was busy, he said. He had to finish an important report, he said. You had only frowned, worry building behind your eyes. Geto thought he was this close to getting called out, but by the grace of project deadlines and difficult clients, he was saved.
The whole team had been asked to visit a client’s main office in Kyoto. They had been given a generous budget for travel and other expenses, and Geto took the opportunity to book them all separate hotel rooms for the three day trip.
He successfully managed to avoid you during the trip planning for the most part, busying himself with other things - but the guilt stayed and worsened, because the night before he was set to go on ahead of everyone else, you had hugged him, nice and tight, on your way out. Whispered quietly to him, don’t work too hard, you’re already doing great.
God, this was depressing him.
.
.
.
Geto had been asked to attend a private meeting with the client and a proposed new investor, so naturally he arrived a day earlier.
That evening, at the hotel, he chose to lie down immediately, happy to not be bothered by anyone else for a while. He resolved not to think about anything– which isn’t that hard, for not thinking anything was his preferred natural state of mind– and just rest. He loved it, the silence, the lack of people constantly asking him for an update, the chance to just breathe without anybody peeking in.
He enjoyed the peace for a good solid five minutes before he heard a knock on the door.
Geto resisted the urge to suffocate himself with a pillow.
He composed himself. He stood up, even though all life wanted to do was for him to stay down. He opened the door and was hit immediately with something hard and cold, square in the chest.
It fell sadly on the carpeted floor.
“You,” Geto said.
“It’s me!” Gojo sing-songed, before picking up the ice cream he threw and shoving it into Geto’s hands. “What’s wrong with you? I leave you alone for a couple days and you’re all sad. What happened? Tell your soulmate.”
Geto rubbed his face with his hands, “Why are you here already? Did you take an earlier train than planned? Are the others here too?”
“We chose to arrive the night before so we would all be fresh as a daisy for tomorrow! Shoko should be arriving in the next hour,” Gojo said, entering the room and making a beeline for his bed. He plopped down, looking around before turning to face him. “Utahime took the same train I think so she should be around the same time as her. Y/N… I think she’ll be a bit later. Apparently, they fucked up her ticket.”
Geto didn’t know if he should be sad or sigh in relief. Oddly enough, he felt both.
Gojo patted the spot next to him, “Come sit with me.”
Geto sighed, closing the door even as he said, “Satoru, I’m tired. I kind of just want to rest before tomorrow happens.”
“Hm,” Gojo hummed, narrowing his eyes. “Something is wrong with you.”
“Thanks,” Geto replied, tiredly sitting down beside him. He opened the ice cream with the same level of energy. “My mother said the same thing when I was born.”
“You’ve been saying that for the past week now. And at first, I let it pass because we were preparing for this trip, but Suguru, you looked burdened. With Something. And I think it’s time for you to talk about it.”
Trust Gojo to get to the heart of the matter. Just like you. No, ugh. Geto hated this. Why did it all come back to him?
He doesn’t want to have this conversation with Gojo, and he says so out loud. “This is weird,” he complained.
Gojo took a small bite of his popsicle and flinched at the cold after, “Why is it weird?”
“Because,” Geto said, shrugging. “I’m usually the one giving advice to you.To everyone, it feels like. It’s weird.”
“It’s not like it’s the first time you’ve ever had a problem,” Gojo said. “Nor is it the first time any of us has offered a hand to help you out. Shoko definitely has and you let her just fine–”
Geto shook his head. “It’s different. That was relating to our work, and we were looking out for the team because–”
“Y/N takes care of you, and you let her,” Gojo cut. The mention of your name sliced at him. And by the way Gojo’s face lit up, it was visceral. “But she’s different… isn’t she?”
You were different. Always have been. Geto likes easy, likes things, even relationships, simple. It’s why his favourite person in the world was Shoko, who has always provided a place of comfort and ease for him, who always understood him without words.
And while he could read you well now, there was this new development that had made it difficult for Geto to be with you. It’s that you’re so honest, so open to him that makes this hard. Why couldn’t he be the same? Why couldn’t he just address the elephant in the room?
And anyone else, he’d just run further from, further than he was running now, but this was you. This was a friend that felt closer to him than anyone else sometimes. He could only run so far, before the red string of fate they tied on each other’s fingers pulled him back.
Geto shrugged, nonchalant seeming as he admitted, “She makes everything quiet.”
Gojo said nothing, waiting for you to expand.
“She makes me forget all the doubts I have about myself, because she’s unflinching in her belief in me,” he said. “She makes me want to try and do better, because she makes failure look like it’s just another step she has to take. I admire her a lot.”
“That’s…” Gojo sucked on his popsicle. “That’s so romantic, dude–”
Geto smacked the side of his head on reflex, “What the fuck, Satoru–”
“OW,” Gojo complained loudly. He gave Geto a betrayed look, “Why would you hit me–”
“Why would you say romantic,” he panicked. “So what if I admire her, huh? So what if I want to impress her? And that I want to earn the image she has of me in her head?”
Gojo stared at him unimpressed and wagged his half-eaten popsicle at him, “This is why you have to start watching the rom-coms I recommend. Maybe if you stopped rejecting my movie invites, you would recognise what a fucking fool of a rom-com male lead you are and be making out with her right now–”
“I cannot be hearing this from a balding man who has spent months pining over the team lead–”
“Well, this balding man has been having regular sex with her, so who’s the real winner here–”
Geto’s head started aching, so he started massaging his temples. Gojo took pity on him and practised volume control, “As your self-proclaimed best friend, it’s my job to hold your hand through these terrible realisations. Look at the bright side, you already attended all of the required Dating in the Workplace meetings because of me. Now, you can happily date your co-worker. I can send you the form you have to fill out–”
“Stop, stop, stop,” Geto said, because his brain just started working again. Worse, it was starting to recognise all the signs of Romantic Feelings. Worse, it just remembered you were in love with someone else. “She doesn’t even like me like that. She’s… in love with somebody else.”
“I know, right,” Gojo nodded furiously. “That girl is like, in love with raisins. Do the cookies really need that much–”
Quite frankly, Geto didn’t think Gojo had any right to be critiquing other’s food choices when he was so picky himself. But he had bigger problems here, “Oh my god, Satoru. I’m in one of those unrequited love situations.”
“You literally don’t know that.”
“No, I do know,” Geto replied, depression hitting him again. “She’s in love with Toji Fushiguro. Dude, how am I supposed to compete with the literal CEO. I have to lie down.”
Gojo looked at him weird, “What? How did you even find that out? Did you hear her say that?
“It’s complicated,” Geto said, not having the energy to explain his amazing deduction skills to him. “But I’ve pretty much confirmed it. Actually, that’s why I’ve been feeling so guilty. You… know he’s dating someone, right?”
Gojo was still looking at him weird but assented, “Yes… everybody knows that.”
“Well, I’ve been trying to find a way to let her down gently, but it’s hard. I don’t want to break her heart.” he finished.
Gojo snorted, covering his mouth with his hand. Geto frowned. He thought that as a fellow romantic, Gojo would understand, so why was he laughing? He suddenly had an idea, “Hey, maybe you can tell her… I’m actually surprised no one has. I think you should tell her.”
Gojo took a deep breath, as if to calm himself. Then he looked at Geto and spoke seriously, “Listen, Suguru. I think you need to remember who you are and tell her yourself. I think you have apologies to make either way–”
“What–”
“Don’t think I haven’t noticed you avoiding her,” Gojo said smugly. He pointed two fingers at his own eyes, then at Geto’s eyes and said, “I’m always watching you.”
“That,” Geto said, standing up and heading towards the door, “is one of the creepiest things you’ve ever told me. Go back to your room and let me rest.”
Gojo left, but not without throwing his popsicle stick in Geto’s trashcan and advice in his face, “Talk to her when she gets here.”
.
.
.
“The journey was awful,” you said in lieu of a greeting. “Thanks for asking.”
You came from behind. Geto had texted you, after seeing the notification from the group chat that you had finally arrived, and asked if you guys could talk. The hotel was nice– private, and a short walk away to a small park with a river running through it.
Geto kept his mouth shut, choosing instead to kick a small pebble further down the path, “I heard from Utahime.”
You made a soft noise; had it come from anyone else, Geto would call the sound wounded, but this was you. Always calm and collected. Always brimming with a positive light. All in a league of your own.
“You could have asked me, though. You always used to tell me that it was different, that hearing from me, personally, was important–”
Geto chanced a glance at you and found himself surprised to find your cheeks flushed, hands strangely curled into fists. “Hey–”
“Are you upset at me?” you asked. “Did I do something to make you mad? Because you can tell me, you know that. I don’t like being left in the dark, second-guessing what every second of your silence means.”
Your eyes flashed to him, watery.
It punched the breath out of him. He’s the stupidest piece of shit in the world. He wanted to march into the river and let it swallow him whole.
Geto sighed, running his hands through his hair, “No, god, I’m not. I couldn’t be, you didn’t do anything wrong–”
“Then,” you burst out, eyes searching, “Then why have you been avoiding me?
“I,” he started before letting out an aggravated groan. He didn’t know how to explain to you what’s been on his mind this entire time; worse, his mouth is impatient, going on ahead before his brain could come up with a plan, “Toji Fushiguro doesn’t deserve you!”
Your eyes widened, “What?”
“Yes,” Geto spit out. “He’s nice, and hardworking, and rich and all that, but he doesn’t deserve you. Y/N, he’s too old for you, and worse, he’s dating someone else. Has been for years now. And it’s killing me to see you in love like this, when you deserve someone better. Someone who will treat you right and honour your dreams and make you properly happy, and he is not it.”
Geto found himself breathing hard. Like, really hard. He’s so heated.
And all you had to say in response was: “Don’t ever say that in the office.”
“Fuck the company!” Geto said, with less heat. He didn’t want to know what would happen if he did. And he didn’t really mean it. “I’m just joking.”
“I know,” you said, smiling now. Geto started smiling now too, a smile that immediately dropped when you continued, “I’m not in love with him though.”
Geto blinked. And then it dawned on him suddenly– that he’d been sulking round, pissy as fuck, stressed as hell, for nothing. Worse, he’d gone and embarrassed himself in front of you. His cheeks heated up, all the blood in his body clearly going there, because the rest of him was turning numb. Worst of all was the relief rushing through him like air.
You didn’t love Toji Fushiguro. Didn’t even like him in that way.
A smile began to spread on his face and it froze when you raised a brow, “Was that why you were avoiding me? You could have just told me from the very beginning.”
Geto’s hands started sweating, “I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”
“You know my feelings don’t get hurt like that,” you said. “I would have appreciated the warning, honestly. If, you know, I was into him like that.”
He felt cornered. The river was starting to look like a great option again. The pull of it was strong. He stuttered, “You were all hurt just now! When you thought I was avoiding you–”
“That’s different,” you said, turning to fully face him. You cocked your head to the side, “I care more about what you think. I thought I’d said something hurtful, like I’ve lost your trust or something–”
And then there was this: the pull of your heart, bare and vulnerable, rare as childish joy, more gravity than the sea. Geto couldn’t– wouldn’t resist it. “You could never–”
“I worried,” you continued, blazing on, “because you said once you were the type to never forgive and to never forget, and once your trust was lost, it was lost forever. And Suguru, I couldn’t bear it, because I worked hard to earn it and–”
Geto has never seen you this distressed, this frazzled, and he couldn’t stand to be the cause of it. He held you tightly by the cheeks and was rewarded once again with your wide-eyed surprise.
“God, I love you,” Geto said, then paused after realising the sudden gravity of his words. In hindsight, he should have continued, should have clarified he meant platonically, like one would love friends, but something in your face smoothed, clear as glass–
“I love you too,” you said, then pulled him down without hesitation for a clumsy kiss.
“Wait–” Geto said, muffled against the cold press of your lips. You frowned as he managed to push you away. “Do you mean love, like love love or like I love you, bro?”
Your eyes narrowed, brows stitching in confusion, “I mean, I love you. What did you mean?
“Oh,” Geto said, sounding like he’d been hit over the head, struck stupid– which is also exactly how he felt right now. “Wow.”
Several emotions flickered across your face, too fast for him to catch, before it shuttered and you announced, “I’m going back to my room.”
His head jumped, as he watched you turn around and walk briskly back to the hotel. Something in his brain clicked; all the pieces came together– the forward touches, the hurt looks thrown his way, the goddamn kiss just now– and propelled his legs forward to catch up to you. “Wait!”
For once, Geto thanked the fact that his legs were long, that yours were much shorter, so he caught up easily. He grabbed your arm and spun you around, “Hey–”
“Can you not manhandle me,” you demanded, the pallor of your cheeks now a bright red. You struggled, “This isn’t funny, let me go–”
He immediately did, raising his hands in surrender, “I’m sorry, just– are you embarrassed?”
“Surprise,” you said sourly. “I have feelings, like everyone else–”
“I know that,” Geto assured. “After all this time, do you think I wouldn’t know that? But it’s just me–”
“Just you,” you muttered under your breath, and Geto grabbed your hands this time and squeezed it. He tried to joke, “It is just me. I know I am incredibly handsome, funny, talented–”
You threw him a glare, “You are those things–”
Geto grinned because a compliment is a compliment, and a compliment from you was worth its weight in gold.
You called him out, “You’re infuriating–”
“You’re starting to sound like Satoru,” he said and laughed when you gave him the most tired expression he had ever seen in his life. “You’re so–”
“If you’re going to reject me, just do it,” you said.
“–cute,” Geto finished.
You stared up at him, expectant. The night breeze sped past your bodies, ruffling your hair. Geto squeezed your hands again and said, “I don’t know if I deserve you either. For a long time, I was baffled even, for how much you believed in me. There are nights, I confess, where I still feel like I don’t deserve it–”
He paused, waited for you to say something, but you just shook your head, made a soft noise that said, keep going.
“The team,” Geto mentioned, because it cannot not be mentioned. “Our work–”
“Comes first,” you finished, but he shook his head, “Actually, I think it should come second–”
You smacked him, “Don’t say that–”
“I’m just joking,” Geto said, but a part of him wasn’t sure what he’d put first if it came to it down the line. Had it been anyone outside of his little circle, it wouldn’t even be a worry, the answer would be easy– Geto was pragmatic; he wouldn’t bring his own problems to them.
“You wouldn’t have to choose,” you said softly. “If that’s what you’re worried about. Because it’s just as important to me, as it is to you.”
Nobody can promise that, he thinks. Not even you, whose talent is performing seven impossible things before he’s even had his first sip of coffee in the morning. But he was touched by the sentiment, his heart grew so big in his chest that it hurt.
“You’re my partner,” Geto said, reaching for your cheek. It was cold. He ached to warm it up as he stroked it, “I trust you the most, you know?”
You closed your eyes briefly as you held his wrist. Quietly, you asked, “Do you love me too?”
“I do love you,” Geto confessed easily.
“Like love love or like I love you, bro?” you asked, looking absolutely serious about it. But there was the slightest tug of a grin in the corners of your lips. Foul.
He rolled his eyes, making you laugh. “Alright, alright,” Geto admitted. “I suppose I deserve that for earlier–”
“Next time, get straight to the point–”
Geto leaned down instead, intending to kiss you, but you blocked him with a hand on your mouth. You stared, “Not here.”
“You literally kissed me earlier, you little ingrate,” he complained but knew better. “Fine, let’s go back to my room instead–”
You gasped as you wrapped your hands around your body protectively. “That’s a little scandalous. I’m not Gojo Satoru. I don’t put out on the first date, not that there’s anything wrong with that sort of behaviour, but I do have standards–”
Geto kissed you this time, swift but sweet. “I’ll protect your virtue,” he said, unbearably fond. “I love you.”
You blushed, burying your face against his chest, “I love you too.”
.
.
.
[Flashback plays]
“Toji-san,” you shyly asked as you both waited for the meal. “Could I ask you for some advice?”
In front of you, Toji sat up straight in his seat. He took his duty seriously. “Yes,” he gestured for you to go on. “I’m happy to answer any question.”
“Well,” you started, “Could you give me advice on how you started dating your fiancée? I know that you used to work with her, so I just thought that you could, you know…”
Toji looked taken aback by the question. You nearly took the question back, but he looked relaxed in his seat, shook his head, and put his hands on his hips, “Y/N, first word of advice. Patience. I waited three years. Do you think you can wait that long?”
You balked before composing yourself, “I think I would lose my mind if I had to wait another year, Toji-san.”
“I nearly did too,” Toji said solemnly. “Here’s what you need to do–”
THEMES: established relationship, time skip au w aged up characters, non-canon compliant bc they deserve happy endings and canon is merely a guideline, implied smut
SUMMARY: you miss your boyfriend. the way to handle it? dissuade him from his stupid game addiction in a thousand silly ways.
A/N: this is very unserious i’m sorry. also this is a repost of another fic i deleted…... yikes !
GAME START
You wouldn’t call yourself a video game hater.
It would be so hypocritical of you, when you’ve played games here and there. When you were a kid, your mom had bought you one of those Nintendo DS consoles, and you’d been just as obsessed with Cooking Mama like every other kid in your neighborhood. Even in recent years, you’d played some popular ones, like Mario Kart, with your friends.
You’re just not in love with it. Not like Itadori, or Inumaki or Fushiguro were.
There were other things you were more interested in, more relaxing things that didn’t involve so much violence at three in the morning. Like watching Netflix. Online shopping. Peaceful, healthy, productive.
But hey, who were you to judge?
Your lives as jujutsu sorcerers were stressful, taking so much of your free time—if your friends felt like killing pixel monsters on their little PC screens until the sun rose was relaxing, they were absolutely valid for it.
You don't think it’s helping Megumi, though.
Megumi needs sleep. Loves it, even. Despite his cold exterior, Megumi’s actually the opposite; he’s cute and cuddly. Like a cute, cuddly bear. And like a bear, he hibernates too. When you guys get rare, well-earned breaks, Megumi often forgoes going out just so he can sleep the time away. He even takes naps in the afternoon after lunch, and you’ve lost count of how many times Kugisaki has attacked him for taking so long to get up in the mornings and making them late to missions.
And yet, he squanders the time he could be sleeping to play video games.
You don't get it. Video games can be super fun, you know from experience, but to lose sleep over it? How relaxing can a game be, when all it does is leave you tired and grumpy in the morning?
Normally, you like to mind your own business when it comes to the things your friends like to do in their personal time, but you find yourself wanting to convince Megumi against his current methods of de-stressing.
But Megumi is a surprisingly complex creature.
(To others, of course. He is simple to you because you’re well-versed in his silly little ways.)
If you want to dissuade Megumi from video games, you have to be smart about it. You have to play it cool, lest Megumi catches on and becomes stubborn about it. You’ll be smooth about this. You’ll be cooler than cool about it. Chill. Yeah.
Yeah.
RESULT:
YOU: 0 VIDEO GAMES: 0
.
.
.
ROUND ONE
The first part of your fool-proof plan (the fool being Megumi) was to straight up annoy your target into giving up on his video games.
You cooly stand by the threshold of Megumi’s room. Your hands are in your pocket. You’re freshly showered, which you want to emphasise for reasons. Reasons: you’re fresh, relaxed, ready to engage and be annoying.
Megumi hasn’t even noticed you. He’s got those large headphones like a real gamer, and his fingers are angrily typing over his keyboard.
Perfect, you think. He’s already agitated.
You smile to yourself, covering your mouth lest anyone accuses you of being evil. You straighten up and begin your move.
You clear your throat.
Megumi doesn’t acknowledge you. Hmm.
You clear your throat again, this time louder, and still—Megumi doesn’t even give you a single glance. Wow.
You feel your hackles rise at being ignored. It’s kind of rude of Megumi to not even acknowledge you. Is his video game really that important?
Maybe you should scare him.
You don't even need to tiptoe your way to where he’s sitting at his computer desk. You walk up to him and even stand behind him for a good moment without being noticed. You shake yourself, getting ready to give Megumi a good scare—
Megumi screams.
The sudden scream sends you jumping in the air and toppling onto the floor. With your heart pounding in your chest and your whole body lying on the floor, you see Megumi throw his headphones in rage, cussing, “That fucking bastard—“
Megumi stops mid-sentence. His brows raise, and he tilts his head to the side in question, “Hey. What are you doing down there?”
You feel absolutely pathetic and try not to show it as you push yourself up from the ground. “I’ve been calling your name all this time and you were ignoring me.”
Megumi blinks before averting his eyes in embarrassment, “Oh. I had noise-cancelling headphones on.” He turned to look back at you, his mouth puckered like the little carat sign on the keyboard. He extends a hand to you, ”Sorry.”
You exaggerate your pout, “What are you sorry to me for?”
Megumi pouts too, and you think that it’s so unfair how affected you are about it. Like your entire world just shifted, moving to focus on Megumi’s pout and do everything you can to alleviate what’s causing it. Megumi flutters his lashes, swaying your joined hands together, and in a cute voice that you swear never used to affect you before: “For not noticing you. You should have tapped me on the shoulder or something. If I had known—“
God, you swear it’s because you’re newly dating. It’s the honeymoon period that has you cooing, utterly swayed, “And if you had known, what? Would you have stopped gaming for me?”
Megumi smiles so sweetly, you can already tell the answer was going to be—
“You wouldn’t, huh?” you say, the smile dropping from your face. You drop his hand in faux disappointment and ask, “What’s more important, Fushiguro Megumi? Video games or your girlfriend?”
Megumi complains, “Why would you ask me this?”
You close your eyes and feel the disappointment for real this time. “I can’t believe this,” you whine, “My boyfriend would choose gaming over me. I understand. I see—“
“Babe, stop sulking, you know you’re important to me—”you keep your eyes closed, but you can feel Megumi’s arms loop around your neck, “Don’t be mad—”
Okay, you're not that disappointed, and you’re definitely not mad. But still, you don’t let up until Megumi’s pressed you against his bed and given you a thousand and one kisses. Your plan failed today, but it doesn’t mean you have to lose completely.
To be yourself, means to never give up (or something like that). You’ll try another day.
RESULT:
YOU: 0 VIDEO GAMES: 1
.
.
.
ROUND TWO
Okay, take two - the first part of your fool-proof plan (the fool being yourself) was to seduce your target into giving up on video games.
You think this plan is better than the OG one. What were you thinking? Megumi wrote the playbook on being stubborn, and for once, you think you can leave being number one to someone else. You have bigger fish to fry, or however the saying goes.
Anyway - so you stand again at the threshold of Megumi’s room. You’re all cool, with your hands in your pockets. You’re freshly showered, which you want to emphasize for new reasons. Reasons being: you’re fresh, relaxed, ready to sex Megumi up.
Like last time, Megumi hasn’t noticed you standing by the door. He’s too busy, once again, being a real gamer, and his fingers, once again are flying angrily over his keyboard.
Perfect, you think. He’s already so heated.
This time, you forgo subtlety. Megumi loves it when you take charge.
You go over and wrap your arms around his tense shoulders, and Megumi ends up jolting so hard in surprise he uppercuts your chin with his hard head.
Once more, you’re on the floor again. This time, clutching your jaw.
“Babe!” Megumi exclaims in worry, throwing his headphones off in a flurry. He crouches down and cradles your jaw in his careful hands, “Are you okay? Why does this keep happening to you? Do you like being on the floor?”
You’re a little teary eyed and trying to hold it back. This isn’t the crying you were imagining when you came to Megumi’s room. You thought it would be a little sexier than this. A little less pathetic. You moan (in pain, you note sadly), “Why are you lecturing me?”
“Because,” Megumi caresses your jaw, “How could you surprise me like that? And now you’re hurt. You know it hurts me when you’re hurt.” Megumi pouts, “My baby. Should I kiss it better?”
You soak the attention up and point at your jaw. You nod, pouting, “Yes. Kiss it here.”
Megumi presses a kiss against your jaw, “Mwah.” When he pulls back, his eyes are crescents, “There. All good now.”
You make a noise and point to another spot, your chin this time, “This part hurts too.”
“I’ll kiss it too,” Megumi says, closing his eyes and pressing a kiss against your chin too. “Mwah. That one should be healed too.”
It’s a little insane, but you literally feel the pain go away with the touch of his lips. Is this the power of love or some shit? You used to be a non-believer, but damn. Maybe that shit truly heals.
It’s kind of addicting. You point to several parts of your face, and Megumi indulges you, pressing kiss after kiss until heat blooms between you two.
Swallowing your own anticipation, you finally point to your lips. “It hurts,” you say, sadly, “Could you kiss it better too?”
“It really hurts?” Megumi says slowly, biting his lip. His eyes focused solely on your mouth. “Or do you just want a kiss?”
“I always want a kiss from you, Megumi,” you bait, though the words are as honest as an admission. Megumi flushes pink at your words, and you feel your want double, triple knowing you’re the cause of it. “But it really does hurt. And I need you to kiss it. To make it all better—”
Megumi kisses you before you can even finish your sentence. You make a pleased noise, as you hook your arm around his shoulders, pulling him down to get him closer. Megumi moans, and you swallow it with a parted mouth. Megumi’s tongue is still shy as it licks into your mouth, meeting your tongue in tentative strokes. It’s cute. Megumi is so cute, it makes you kinda ill with desire.
You hook your leg around his hip and roll your bodies until it’s Megumi on the ground, looking pretty underneath you. You slide your knee in between his legs and feel heat when it presses against his growing bulge, “What about you, babe? Are you hurting anywhere? Is there anywhere I can kiss better?”
Megumi nods.
Because you can’t help it, you tease further, “Could you show me where?”
Megumi juts his bottom lip as he grinds against you, “You always make me say it.”
“I’m not a mind reader,” you say, tracing the swell of his lip. “You need to say what you want, so I know exactly what to do.”
Megumi looks away from you for a moment, as if unable to handle your gaze. His cheeks are a deepening pink, and you decide you love it over the heated flush he had on earlier when he was gaming. When he turns back, he seems to have gathered his courage. His gaze doesn’t waver as he takes your hand and presses it to his stomach, as he carefully slides your hands together underneath the waistband of his pants.
“Here,” Megumi says, voice low in a way that it rarely ever is, “I want you to kiss me here.”
So you do, and then some.
Later, when you’ve both migrated to his bed, sweaty and sated and close to the cliff of sleep, you feel like a winner. Having Megumi makes you a winner all the same, of course, but today, you triumph over your current enemy. Video games.
Your plan is a success. Finally, you can move on to step two, which is to make this into a routine. Sure, it’s going to be tiring, but you think it’s a sacrifice you’ll be very happy to—wait.
You feel Megumi shift carefully from where he was spooning you. Your little backpack, gone. A hand runs through your hair, lips press against your cheek, and then nothing. The heat you were getting accustomed to disappears. The bed shifts—and you realise he’s getting up. Any hope you have that it’s just him getting water or going to the bathroom disappears when you hear the tell-tale sound of a computer booting up.
God, did you not fuck him properly? Should you have gone for Round 2? What kind of stamina does a guy who just got railed within an inch of their life have, for him to not only stay awake after, but also to go back and log on to their computer to game?
You’re missing something here. You’ve seriously misunderstood the hold video games have on your boyfriend. You need to regroup. You need to rethink this.
But first—you must recuperate.
RESULT:
YOU: 0 VIDEO GAMES: 2
.
.
.
ROUND THREE
You have recovered. Somewhat. Your ego is down bad, but it’s okay. Your war against video games in general is not over. You just need a better strategy, but before you can formulate that, you must first gather intel.
And who better to gather intel from than another gamer?
You stand at the threshold of a room. Another room. This time, it’s Itadori’s.
(Okay, you thought about asking Inumaki, but god knows, if given the choice between a brand new PS5 or his girlfriend, he would definitely choose the former. You’re not being mean. You’re just telling the truth.)
Anyway, you clear your throat, and as expected from the most angelic member of your friend group, Itadori turns to address you immediately.
“Oh, it’s you,” Itadori calls out from his bed. He’s laying against a pile of pillows as he plays on his nintendo switch. “What’s up?”
You shrug, putting your hands in your pocket. You know, for the spirit of nonchalance. You walk on over and casually sit on his bed. Or at least, you try to. It’s rather difficult considering the insane amount of pillows. You feel like you’re going to topple over and fall on the ground. Which has been happening quite often lately. Too often, if somebody were to ask you.
You lean over to take a peek at what he’s playing, “Nothing. Just wanted to see what my bestie is up to.”
Itadori hums, “I’m just playing Stardew Valley. It’s a farming game.”
You watches as Itadori’s character murders a bunch of bats in what looks like a cave. “Kind of violent,” you comment. “I thought you were farming. Aren’t you supposed to be toiling the land? Sowing some seeds? Harvesting?”
“I did that earlier,” Itadori says, as his character drops a bomb and kills a mummy. His fingers move like a real expert. A real gamer. You suppose there is something amazing about gamers. There’s a sense of professionalism in the way he plays, you can see that. “You can do a lot of things. It’s really involved. You can just do a day and then quit. I like it. You can really just do what you want.”
“Oh!” you say with interest. “So it’s not addicting at all. And it’s calming?” Itadori nods. “Can you play it on the PC? Or do you have to play it on the Switch?”
“You can play it on the PC,” Itadori explains, before taking a moment to pause the game. He turns to you, giving his full attention with a teasing grin. “Is this for Fushiguro?”
You roll your eyes, “Yes. It’s Valentine’s soon. I was going to buy him clothes, but I always get him that.” Shyly, you continue, “It’s our first Valentine’s together… so I wanted to do something different.”
“He usually likes those shooting games more though,” Itadori says. “Why don’t you ask Inumaki-san instead for advice?”
You grumble, “I always ask him for advice. Also, I don’t think those violent games are good for Megumi.”
Itadori gasps, a move that’s teasing too, “Wow… I didn’t think you were the controlling type.”
“I’m not!” you bristle at the accusation, “I am just a very concerned girlfriend.”
“Mhmm,” he hums, dubious, and you feel the teasing hit a surprisingly sensitive spot. You frown, “Am I being controlling? I just want him to stop playing so many video games so he can sleep properly.”
Itadori coos, and in a loud cutesy voice, he says, “Really? Really? Fushiguro is so lucky to have a caring girlfriend—”
“Really?” Another voice joins in the teasing. When you look, you see that it’s the man of the hour.
Itadori laughs when he sees who it is, “Oh? Who’s here? It’s our cutest—”
“Shut up,” Megumi grumbles, walking over to you, “What are you two yapping about now? I can hear your voice all the way from the bathroom.”
“You can hear us from the bathroom?” you ask, working hard to keep your voice even. “Megumi, are you sure you closed the door?”
Megumi gives you a betrayed look, but he still attempts to join you in bed, leaning his head onto your lap like a little house cat. He wraps an arm around your waist, just as your fingers move to play with his hair.
Itadori looks at you two with a bright, cheeky smile and you already know he has something to say before he even says it, “You guys are so cute. Making me third wheel on my own bed.”
Megumi rolls his eyes, “What are you guys doing? Are you playing that game again?”
“You know Stardew Valley?” you ask.
“Yeah,” Megumi says, “I’ve seen him play it a couple times. Never did get the appeal though. How are you enjoying just farming every day? Isn’t it repetitive?”
Itadori is passionate as he defends it, “No! I think you would really like it if you give it a chance. You get to help people rebuild the town. You make friends with villagers. You give them gifts. You can do missions for them. You can even romance them—”
“Oh?” For some reason, that is what piques Megumi’s attention. “Can you marry them too?”
Itadori affirms, “Yup! You can choose from 8 different people. If you play it, I recommend you romance Alex.”
“Why?” you blurt out, which has Megumi smiling up at you.
“Because,” Itadori says, as he shows Alex’s character on the Switch. “He’s kinda thick. All beefed up. I think he’d be your type, Fushiguro.”
Megumi’s hand is playing with your fingers as he asks, “And how do you know what my type is?”
Itadori smiles, “Well, because I’m confident you have excellent taste—“
And then he promptly puts a hand on your shoulder and flashes you a little wink.
For a moment, you’re all silent as you try to digest the moment. For a moment, you feel kinda objectified but simultaneously very sexy.
The moment ends with Megumi slapping his hand away. If you’re being honest, you’re a little turned on at the show of possessiveness. This is a side Megumi rarely shows, and you’re kind of super into it.
Megumi clears his throat, trying to clear the air. In a light voice, he says, “Send me the link. I’ll go play.”
RESULT:
YOU: 1 VIDEO GAMES: 2
.
.
.
ROUND FOUR
You end up getting Megumi a Nintendo Switch instead for Valentine’s.
You’d spent the extra money to get it properly gift wrapped too. It was worth it for the way Megumi carefully opened it, trying not to ruin the wrapping paper, even as you told him to just tear through it.
You spent money on this, Megumi pouted as he made sure the tape didn't tear the paper.
You pinched his cheek and teased, Baby, I spent more on the gift.
But you were so endeared that you forgot all about the wrapping paper when Megumi gasped as he finally saw what it was.
Y/N! Megumi said, throwing himself at you and pressing kisses all over your face. I love it. I’ll play it well.
Okay, okay—you know you’ve had this imaginary beef with video games, but Megumi really does love playing them. And you cannot resist the idea of making him happy.
Plus you do have a tiny bit of a hidden agenda with the Nintendo Switch. You thought about how Itadori had been playing his in bed versus how Megumi has to sit at his desk, away from bed, to play his games. You think the Nintendo Switch would be better then, because he could play video games in bed, and you could still hold him.
It feels like a compromise. A win-win situation. You want to pat yourself on the back for thinking of such a smart plan. Actually, you know what, you’re patting your back right now. Yeah!
Reality tells a different story though.
When you join Megumi in his bed for a cuddle, you find Megumi playing Stardew Valley on his Switch. Nothing wrong with that. You actually got him that game to play on the Switch instead.
It’s just that… you want a little attention. It’s been one mission after the other, so you’ve been a little stressed. You’ve all been, and you mentioned it before, how you all have your ways of coping. Megumi’s is playing video games. Yours is usually watching Netflix, listening to calming music, or even aromatherapy.
But you already looked through what Netflix had to offer and nothing. You looked through your usual playlists and nothing. You lit a candle and just blew it out. Right then, you knew what you wanted. Him.
You want him to coddle you a little bit. You want your boyfriend to tell you you did a good job today. You want Megumi to put down the Switch (which you know, you know, is kind of ridiculous because you bought that for him) and kiss you, even for just a moment.
You feel a little ridiculous about it. You’re an adult. You shouldn’t feel this needy for a little kiss from your boyfriend.
So, you push down the feeling and settle for wrapping yourself around him instead. Your cheek pressed against his hair. Your arm wrapped around his waist. Your legs tangled together. A little bit of the tension that’s been growing in your chest escapes.
You sigh, choosing to see what Megumi’s doing on screen.
He’s made a character for himself who’s wearing cute red overalls and a straw farmer hat on his little head. His character is walking around the forest, shaking the trees and collecting blackberries. It’s so cute, you feel yourself relaxing as you watch him play.
That is, until you watch him continually give gifts to this one specific character.
“Who’s that?” you mumble against his hair. “Is it a mission to give them flowers or something?”
“That’s Haley,” Megumi says.
“Oh,” you say, “What about the character Yuuji mentioned? Wasn’t that your type?”
Megumi laughs, “Yeah, but then I saw her and decided she was better. She’s a bit dumb, but she gets sweeter the more you get to know her in the game.”
You hum. Megumi continues happily, “I think I’m going to marry her. Earlier, she told me about how she just wants a family, and I just think I could give it to her. She could make me rich and pancakes in the morning, then I could go on with my day and farm.”
“Mhm,” is the only thing you can respond with. You don't exactly know what to say. You’ve known Megumi for a while now and lived with him for the same amount of time. You know Megumi, who was your best friend before anything else. You’re not quite sure you know him as a boyfriend quite yet, which makes you uncertain sometimes in deciding what type of person you need to be for him.
Right now, all you’re thinking is does he want me to be that kind of girl? Is this what he wants? A sweet vulnerable idiot who cooks for him?
And then, you think about how ridiculous it is that you’re outright placing yourself against a video game character. You must be really out of it.
You should just go back to your room and sleep it off.
You kiss Megumi’s cheek and move to get up, which has him frowning, “Are you going already? You just came here.”
You twiddle with a piece of hair, “Yeah, I think I’m just going to sleep in my room tonight.”
“Oh, you don’t want to…” Megumi trails off, his hand twisting around his sheets.
You smile, a little tired, “Maybe tomorrow. We have an early start anyway, remember?”
“Okay,” Megumi visibly deflates, and you resist the urge to come back to his bed. He quickly brightens up, flashing you a small smile, “Good night.”
It makes you smile, and this time, it feels more sincere. “Good night.”
But when you settle into your bed after, the warmth passes. Regret comes over you, and you wish you had just stayed.
You feel like an absolute loser.
RESULT:
YOU: 1 VIDEO GAMES: 3
.
.
.
ROUND FIVE
It’s been a week since you gifted Megumi the Switch and you feel like you’re losing your mind.
You’re literally jealous, because your boyfriend wants to play video games rather than pay attention to you. You’re sulking, because your boyfriend would rather romance some video game character rather than cuddle his #real girlfriend in #real life. You feel insane.
Okay—you know the stress of the recent missions has been piling up. You’ve been dealing with a lot of Grade 1 curses recently and it’s taking a lot out of you. But the added agitation from seeing Megumi play Stardew Valley, knowing he’s talking to his girlfriend there or something… unreal.
You can’t even tell anyone about this. You’re going to seem like such a loser. You already know how judged you’re going to be. You simply have to meditate this problem away.
Except, the problem never goes away. That’s just how problems work, you conclude. If you ignore them, they never get resolved. You can try sinking it as far deep as you can, but it floats back up again and again.
The thing is, you want attention, and you feel like you’re not getting enough. Between missions, and dealing with Gojo in real life— it’s not enough for you to get fleeting kisses here and there. It’s not enough to work together in missions, shoulders briefly touching.
You’re in the goddamn honeymoon period of your relationship, and you want more. It’s mortifying to admit, but you do and you’re at a place where your focus is narrowing to the point where you only care about getting it.
The only problem is that it includes getting Megumi’s attention, even at the worst of times. Even in the middle of training, when you’re supposed to be paying attention to whatever the hell Gojo is saying.
But you don’t. All you can think about is stupid Megumi, and his stupid addiction to video games, and his stupid cuddles you don’t get and his stupid mouth that hasn’t been giving you enough kisses.
You punch a little more aggressively, using more cursed energy than normal which only comes to fruition when you accidentally send Kugisaki flying into a wall. You mumble out a quick sorry, then proceed to go again.
“Woah, easy there.” Megumi teases, hair sticking up in different places. It looks so soft and fluffy. You want to bite him. “You know this is just practice right?” he asks with so much cheek.
You don’t mean to snap. You truly don’t. But there’s something about the way he’s looking at you that makes you snap on the inside. The teasing grin he’s giving you makes you wanna go absolutely batshit insane.
Which are the reasons you’ll cite later when Itadori and Gojo give you flack for asking, point black, in a voice low and serious, “Who would you choose, me or that stupid Haley from the game?”
You think Megumi can tell you weren’t playing around with the question, considering how flustered he gets. Unfortunately, the moment is cut short when Kugisaki nails an uppercut to your face as payback for throwing her against the wall. Talk about unfortunate timing.
The disappointment you feel from the lack of an answer makes you forget about the fact that everyone else is watching.
And then— you do remember and you’re absolutely fucking mortified. You’re supposed to be professional.
At the end, you all go to eat a nice meal together. And you can’t even find anything to really regret at the end of the day. I haven’t even cried about it, you think proudly to yourself.
It’s only when you’re freshly showered and happily under the covers of your bed that you remember the stupid moment. You hope Megumi forgets about it. You’re definitely going to try to tonight.
Except, you don't even get the chance to.
Your door creaks open, and you hear soft, muted footsteps across the wooden floor.
And then, someone’s climbing into your bed, settling in between you and the wall your bed is flushed against. Even in the dark, you know. It’s him.
“Hey,” Megumi says, voice tiny, “You didn’t come to my room.”
“I always come to your room,” you quietly say. You don't know if you’re saying it as an excuse.
Megumi hums, a sound as soft as light in the dark, “But you didn’t and I missed you. I want my girlfriend tonight.”
You snort, slapping whatever part of him you can reach, which lucky for him is his ass. “Stop teasing me about that already.”
“No,” Megumi agrees. You think you can hear a smile through his voice. “But you were sulking all night. Especially when I didn’t answer—”
You groan, “I don’t want to talk about it—”
Megumi makes a displeased noise, “I want to talk about it. You’re acting weird. Did I do something?”
“No!” you answer immediately.
“I don’t believe you,” Megumi stubbornly says, “Is it because I got married to Ha—“
“No.” you say with so much finality, it kills your conversation just like that, like the air has been sucked out, suffocating it. You can feel him falter, restless against you, and god, you really, really don’t want to ruin today. But you can feel his brain turning, thinking of what he did wrong, and you don't think you can end it right here. It feels like a fight that needs to be resolved now, lest it festers overnight.
You sigh, loudly. The sound is harsh in the dark. “It’s just—you always choose video games over me.”
“Huh?”
It’s out of the bag, so you think you might as well get it all out: “Sometimes, I feel like you’d rather play video games than hang out with me. Which is kind of stupid, because we spend almost all our time together. But when I’m stressed, I just want to hang out with you, but you’re busy playing video games. Or like that one time, after we had sex, you left the bed to go play video games instead. And I feel so stupid, but I’m even jealous that you’re romancing some stupid video game character, when I’m right here—”
You cut yourself off, because you sound ridiculous. “Oh my god. What the hell am I saying? Kill me. Kill me—“
“Hey!” Megumi says, grabbing your cheeks. “It’s okay. Calm down. Don’t be embarrassed. Please? Please?”
You’re pretty sure your cheeks are warm in his hands. You’re thankful for the dark, because you’re certain they would look red in the light. “Okay.”
“I hear you,” Megumi says in the most gentle voice. He always manages to take your racing mind and quiet it down. You don't know how he does it. “I hear you. But babe, why didn’t you just tell me?”
You pout, “Because. I hate feeling needy. And I don’t want to seem like some controlling asshole that wants to monopolise your time, when you probably want to relax too. The time we have together feels so small, and I find myself so greedy over it. Megumi, I think I really, really like you.”
He laughs, but it’s gentle too. “Well, I sure hope so.”
“No,” you say, “I mean, I think I like you more than I thought I did before, which is crazy because you know I like you so much already.”
“You’re so cute,” Megumi smiles and then gives you a kiss so sweet, you think the taste of honey won’t even compare to it. When you both pull away, he says, “It’s not greedy to want me. Don’t say it like that. I like that you want me. I like it when you tell me. Because you know I’ve liked you for so long, and I’m trying to do this right and not be so clingy and not be so crazy about you—”
“Be crazy about me,” you say. You’re not even thinking right now. You don't think you can when your heart is pounding so loud against your chest. “Don’t even hold back, babe. I like it so much too.”
Megumi makes a distressed noise, “Okay, don’t call me babe when we’re having a serious conversation. You know how that makes me feel. And I know you’re too tired to have sex—”
“Megumi,” you say, absolutely serious, “I have a separate energy storage for that. It’s like me with food and dessert. I have a second stomach that lets me eat more. It works exactly the same way.”
Megumi laughs, and you feel yourself fully relax. You cuddle him in your arms and sigh happily.
You feel him stroke your hair. In the end, Megumi says, “Promise me. You’ll just tell me next time, okay? Don’t feel weird, okay? I want to be a good boyfriend to you.”
“Okay,” you say, “I promise.”
RESULT:
YOU: 1,000,000 VIDEO GAMES: 3
.
.
.
BONUS ROUND
“Um,” you say, “If it’s your birthday, then how come I’m the one receiving a gift?”
“Because,” Megumi says, handing you your very own Nintendo Switch, “The gift I want from you is to play Stardew Valley with me.”
You scratch your head, “I don’t know how much I’m going to play. Megumi, I feel like this is a waste of money. You should save it and buy something you like instead—”
You shut up immediately when Megumi pouts at you so hard, you feel like you might get sent to hell for causing it. Megumi vehemently disagrees, “It’s not a waste of money! I know you’re going to love Stardew Valley. I’ll explain everything. You’re going to love toiling the land and watering crops—”
“Can’t we just make out when I’m stressed?” you argue.
“No,” Megumi says, glaring at you like an angry baby kitten. “You are not going to seduce me out of this. We are going to have a farm together. And we can even get married on this, isn’t that cute?”
Well. Why didn’t he start with that?
You clear your throat and try not to seem too excited at the idea. Instead, you choose to say, “I thought you were going to marry Haley in your little game.”
Megumi waves his hand, “I dumped her. I only wanted to pursue her anyway, because she was rich. But truly, she had nothing on you.”
Okay, it really doesn’t matter in the overall scheme of things—but you’re both a sore loser and a sore winner.
Everyone will just have to excuse you when you say: Fuck you, video games.
THEMES: office au, unprotected sex, fingering, porn without plot? arguably there is some plot, geto (sick of this shit) suguru — spin off from this fic.
SUMMARY: life is hard when you’re busy at work. life is harder when your boyfriend is not only sexy but also too busy at work to fuck you.
A/N: the amount of times i had to write [redacted] in this almost made me delete the entire doc and run. also no proofreading/editing was done, we’re rawdogging it just like them in this fic — enjoy!
You glance at him standing a few feet away from you.
He’s talking to some of his friends, smug and blatantly avoiding his responsibilities. It’s only 11am and Gojo Satoru is already making quick work of avoiding his responsibilities during company hours.
It’s warm in Tokyo today, and while you’re sheltered from the glare of the sun inside the building, the unrelenting heat is the least of your worries right now. In between busy work schedules, and tight deadlines set by unreasonable clients, it’s been two weeks since the last time you got fucked.
Okay, correction— he had given you dizzyingly wet oral the other week, and it had been enough to take the edge that was building in between the gaps of your spine. But. It’s not the same.
You hate yourself for wanting it. You could go so long, nearly six months without sex after the mess of your last situationship had run its course, and now, you can’t even last two weeks without wanting to get dicked down. It’s sick.
But can anyone blame you?
You glance over at him again from your desk just a few feet away. His hair is styled effortlessly, and he’s dressed casual in some black slacks and a white button up shirt. You swallow as he lifts his arms to stretch and his shirt follows, revealing the tiniest bit of skin. And his arms— you don’t even know what to say. Just press your legs together, squirming as you try to reign in your thoughts.
Your boyfriend is so hot it makes you miserable. If you loved yourself a little bit more, you would leave the room and walk away to perform some self reflection. It would be easier than being this close, but unable to touch until you’re behind closed doors.
(Okay, you understand that decorum is a thing, but the world is working against you right now.)
It’s so miserable.
You let out a little whine as you deflate, and unfortunately, it captures Gojo’s attention.
The bastard cocks his head to the side as he excuses himself and starts walking over to you.
“You okay?”
“Yeah,” you let out and hope it doesn’t sound as needy as you feel. “Just a little hot.”
You even wipe your forehead with the back of your hand for emphasis. The only thing you’re hot for right now is for dick.
God, your brain right now is so awful. You want to cover your face and die.
Gojo coos, reaching over to pat your head, “Do you want some water?”
“It’s okay,” you say. Your eyes are tearing up from how horny you are right now. You blink, a lot, and hope he understands that the blinks are morse code. They’re saying, please fuck me. Thankfully, your mouth doesn’t listen to your brain. You safely say, “I think I just need to take a walk. A small walk outside. It’s just a little hot in here. Might get some ice cream from a nearby shop outside.”
He frowns, and it is the cutest frown you have ever seen in your life. Your misery doubles. “Do you want me to come with? It’d be nice to stretch out my legs too.”
Ugh, your boyfriend is so sweet. You would love it if he came. Literally and figuratively. “No!” you shake your head. “You should get back to your desk. I know you guys are under a tight deadline, and you’ll probably be staying later to–”
“You’re saying that as if you’re going to be gone for an hour or something,” Gojo laughs as he extends a hand. “Come on, I want some ice-cream too.”
“Alright,” you say, weakly. You take his hand, and he tugs you up to a standing position, all with one hand (ugh, so strong) and you crash against his chest. Your face… against his hard chest. This cannot get any worse.
Spoiler alert: it does, indeed, get worse.
For some, god awful reason, Gojo decides to eat an ice cream cone.
Chocolate flavoured, you note, close to tears. Your favourite flavour.
You blindly choose an ice cream stick and only realise after opening it that it’s a flavour you hate. Mint chocolate.
He notices with a sweet smile, “Aw baby, you don’t even like that.”
“I’m,” you try your best to smile. “I’m trying out new things–”
Gojo licks his cone and short circuits your brain without even trying. The way his tongue moves across the dessert. Your eyes glaze over.
The last time you saw that view, it was between your thighs. The memory makes you yearn. You are yearning way too hard right now.
He moves the cone away from his mouth and looks at you with a sudden sharp gaze. It makes your heart race, wondering if maybe he could read your mind and has just been hiding it all this time. That would be so humiliating, if you could actually feel anything beyond how horny you are right now.
The only thing you can think of is how much you want to kiss him right now.
His lips are glossy from the ice cream, and you’re utterly captivated by the sight. You could even say hypnotised, because your body moves on its own and takes a step forward for a closer look– and you only snap out of it when he steadies you by placing a hand around your waist.
“Don’t,” he warns, but there’s something at the edge of it. Something teasing. Maybe even delight. You feel his eyes scan your face, before grinning at full beam, “You are so cute.”
You flush, “Shut up–”
“You’re hot,” Gojo teases, biting his lip. “I have work to do.”
“I know!” you cover your face in embarrassment. “Don’t look at me like that. I can’t help it. We haven’t– um you know –I have needs!”
He nods, amused, “Uhuh.”
You pout so hard. You cannot believe (you absolutely can) that he has the nerve to tease you right now. “You’re so mean to me,” you huff, before beginning to walk away. “I’m going back to my desk, don’t follow me!”
You hear his loud laugh. So annoying. Of all the hot men in the world, your heart decided on this guy. Ugh.
You throw the stupid mint chocolate ice cream in the bin and make your way back into the building, ignoring his calls of your name. You get into the elevator and pettily hit the close button repeatedly so that he couldn’t get in with you.
The elevator, along with everything else in your life, is against you. Gojo slips in just in time with his stupid chocolate cone and heart-shaking grin, and all you can do is stand in the stupid corner and sulk.
“You know…” he trails off.
You refuse to look at him, pulling out your phone to scroll through something instead. Stupidly, you go onto Instagram and the first thing you see is your stupid boyfriend’s latest post. This bastard is everywhere.
You give up. You give up!
You bear the stupid elevator ride with saint levels of patience. Saint levels because Gojo Satoru is noisily eating his ice cream, like he wants you to die from deprivation. Evil! You want to shake the women in the office who have a very obvious crush on him and ask, is this really the guy you want as your partner for the rest of your life?
Thankfully, the elevator dings and you immediately get out. The blast of the AC in the hallway feels fresher than any air you’ve breathed.
You eagerly walk away from the devil, before belatedly realising you’re not on the right floor. Your team is located on the fifth floor and this is–
Gojo suddenly appears beside you, taking your hand and dragging you forward, “Come on, we don’t have much time–”
You’re too disoriented to do anything but let yourself be dragged, “Satoru, where are we going–”
You turn a corner, down a long hallway that you recognise as meeting rooms. You pass one with a glass wall and peer inside, only to make eye contact with a familiar face, his mouth set into a grim line. Geto Suguru.
His eyes dart to your arm currently being dragged by Gojo and he looks every bit the face of disappointment. Your mind briefly flashes to the meeting you had about ‘Dating in the Workplace’ and you try your best to look apologetic before he disappears from view.
You finally stop at a private room at the very end of the hallway. It’s used almost exclusively for important clients as it’s hidden and there are no glass walls in sight. Gojo pulls out his ID and taps it against the card reader. It blinks green, unlocking. He pulls the door open and pushes you in by the small of your back.
You turn around, just in time to see him close the door shut.
“Satoru,” you are so confused. Still horny, but at least there’s another emotion there now. “What–”
Gojo nonchalantly looks at his phone, “I have about… fifteen minutes until Suguru’s meeting ends, and then, if we’re lucky, another ten before Utahime goes looking for me.” He pockets his phone, “Wanna fuck?”
You will deny this later when he teases you, but honest-to-god, you fucking whimper before throwing yourself at him.
He catches you by the waist, just as you loop your arms around his shoulders. You kiss him, passionate, open, and full of tongue.
Gojo chuckles against your mouth, the sound throaty, sexy, and going straight down to your core. You can’t find it in yourself to give a single fuck, you don’t have time for it all– all you want is for him to touch you, skin against skin–
You moan when you feel his warm hands slip underneath your shirt. His touch is searing, lighting you up from the inside out, and you’re so fucking grateful for it, you find yourself pressing kisses to wherever you can reach.
His nose, his cheek, his chin, down his neck. You dip your tongue against the valley of his collarbones and just barely hold yourself back from leaving a mark. You settle for pulling his shirt down, kissing every bit of exposed skin you can.
Eventually, the shirt gets in the way and you pull back with a whine, “‘Toru, take it off already–”
He rolls his eyes, “You only want me for this–” but takes off his shirt, like he strips for a living. He’s so unbearable. You can’t get enough of him.
“Satoru,” you swallow, marvelling at his toned chest like it’s the first time you’ve ever witnessed this view. Sue me, I deserve this. “You are so sexy.”
Gojo, to his credit, turns bashful. “Take your clothes off too,” he says, with reddening cheeks. “And stop staring at me.”
All you wish for is the company to keep the employee’s free gym membership perks.
He whines, “Please, hurry up–” but before you can even take your shirt off, he’s reaching for you and doing it himself. You can’t even complain. You love it when he does all the work.
In no time, Gojo has you half naked, chest bare, skirt off and underwear pushed down to your ankles as his fingers find your core. You have to hold onto him to stay standing, knees ready to buckle against the pleasure of his fingers rubbing against your clit.
A little more, and you think you’ll come just from his touch. But you don’t want that. You can get that easily, any other time. What you want is him inside you.
God, you’re so strong for this: “Satoru,” you pant, grabbing his wrist. “I’m too close. Stop–”
“You can go again, can’t you?” he says, lips against your ear. “Don’t tell me this is all you want.”
Your eyes flutter as he starts rubbing faster, and you have to bite your lip to stop your moan before HR well and truly fire you. “Please, don’t stop, what are you doing, wait fuck–”
Gojo shushes you, then subsequently takes your breath away when he pulls his fingers away to lift you and place you onto the table. “Oh,” you say stupidly.
“Oh,” he copies, laughing. He bends down to remove your panties and properly take off his pants and underwear, all of which lie haphazardly on the floor. “You’re so lucky you’re cute.”
You smile, “And pretty.”
“And pretty,” he affirms, stepping in between your legs.
You happily pull him closer by wrapping your legs around his waist. “What else?”
His hands settle on your hips, thumb stroking against your bare skin. He hums, “And funny, kind, dependable, smart, hardworking, and most important of all…”
You can’t help but smile, though it drops immediately when he says, “Incredibly horny.”
You smack his chest, whining, “Stop. Don’t act like I’m the only one–”
“Can’t keep up with you sometimes,” he teases, hands beginning to massage your thighs. “Starting to regret letting you have your way with me.”
“Ah,” you moan, feeling his fingers skim the inside of your thigh, travelling closer to where you need him most. “You mean when you fucked me the first time? I don’t remember you complaining. You were so hard. Thought you were gonna cum before you were even all the way in–”
Gojo covers your mouth with his hand, “Don’t be annoying.”
He looks so embarrassed at the reminder, you can’t help but grin. You lick the palm of his hand and he hastily pulls it away with the most disgusted expression. “Well, what are you waiting for? We’re gonna run out of time.”
“So demanding,” he huffs but grabs hold of his cock in one hand, stroking himself.
You reach over, placing your hands over his own and squeezing tighter as you jerk him off together. He lets out a moan as his head tilts back slightly, precum leaking from his tip. You want nothing more than to have his length in his mouth, hitting the back of your throat so hard tears form in your eyes– but you don’t have time for that.
Gojo knows too, because he tugs your wrist away from his cock before dropping his own. “You’re annoying.” he grumbles. He looks up at you, watching your expression. “Tell me if it’s too much.”
“I will,” you say, eyes fluttering close as the anticipation builds. He inserts a finger, easily sliding in from how wet you are. He traces small kisses against your jaw, before a torturous in and out begins.
There’s a clock right above the door, and you feel yourself beginning to sweat as you watch the hands slowly make their way around. You’re caught between two conflicting desires: for Gojo to take his sweet time with you, and to end this as quickly as possible before someone (Suguru, against his will) catches the two of you in this compromising situation.
You don’t realise you’re gripping onto his shoulders tightly during this internal struggle until he uses his other hand to rub your back, “Relax, baby.”
You plead, “Kiss me?”
He kisses you simply, without even a hint of a tease.
It’s easier to relax like this, your mind focused on the feel of lips over lips, spit and heat, his tongue rolling against yours over and over. He licks into your mouth, just as he pushes another finger in.
You wrap yourself around him tighter, putting everything into the kiss. Hands tangling into fists around strands of his hair. Bare chests pushed against each other tightly. He’s intoxicating and you feel yourself getting lost into it, the nagging thought of where you’re doing this slowly drifting away.
He’s so good. At everything, you think. To me.
Even though you’re on borrowed time, Gojo is taking the time to stretch you out, fucking you shallowly with two fingers, scissoring as he strokes your insides in just all the right spots. By the time he finds the spot that has you seeing stars, your toes are curling where they’re pressed against his back.
All you can hear is the wet squelch of his fingers moving at a steady rhythm, your breath catching in your throat– this should be embarrassing, but somehow, it makes everything feel hotter somehow. You bite your lip to keep a moan from escaping, moving to kiss his cheek.
“I want to hear how good I make you feel,” he whispers, pulling away until he’s looking into your eyes. His eyes are half lidded with lust, desire swirling around his irises. It makes you feel sexy seeing just how much he wants you. How bad he wants this.
You reach down to pull his fingers out of you. You feel your hole clenching around nothing, and nearly die at the mesmerised look he gives you. “‘Toru,” you say desperately, hoping he gets the hint.
“If we had the fucking time, I’d use my mouth–”
“Satoru, please.” you beg. You don’t even wait for him to make his stupid move, you feel so empty right now, you think you might die if you don’t take matters into your own hands.
You gulp down your desire as you wrap your hand around his cock. He lets out another moan, and it’s music to your ears. Maybe you understand his need to hear you more than you initially thought. “Do you have a condom?”
You half pray he doesn’t.
“Of course,” he says, snorting when he sees your expression. He presses a soft kiss against your nose, “I don’t like it either. If we didn’t have to go back to work after I’d fuck you raw but…”
Life sucks when you’re a corporate slave and have to work for another six hours. Sure, you’re making good money but what about your needs? You’re pretty sure getting creampied is somewhere on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs.
He frowns, “Don’t give me that look–”
You pout even harder, “But it doesn’t feel as nice…”
You give him your best puppy dog eyes, and you see the literal war in his head reflect on his face before he groans, “Don’t get mad at me when you feel it dripping down your thigh later.”
You giggle. Literally hehe out loud. “Thank you,” you pucker your lips and delight when he gives you a peck. “Now, please, please, please fuck me.”
“So bossy,” Gojo complains, half-hearted. The fond fool.
“You know, if we had more time,” you tease, “I’d get you nice and wet with my mouth.”
“Next time,” he replies, sounding wistful. As if a mouth was as good as any other hole.
“Mhmm,” you hum, distracted. You adjust yourself on the desk, leaning back with one hand, while the other guides his cock towards your leaking cunt. You’re both holding your breath as the tip brushes against your entrance.
It’s Gojo who pushes in, gripping you by the hip, as he slowly sinks in.
You let out breath you didn’t know you were holding, hand gripping the edge of desk as he stretches you open. This is nothing compared to his fingers. This is much more than that. This is exactly what you want.
He bottoms out and all you can think is full. You’re so fucking full.
“Satoru,” you pant.
Gojo doesn’t move, “Tell me– if it’s too much…”
“No,” you shake your head, “Just, I’m so full. I’m–”
You feel the slightest bit crazed when it hits you again that you’re doing this at work. That there might be people walking around nearby, or maybe even looking for you right now. You can’t remember what time you got here. You can’t remember how much time you have left, but you can’t find it in yourself to give a damn.
You’re so fucking full.
“Oh my god,” you breathe out. Every inch of your skin feels like a live wire.
Gojo leans down to kiss your neck, then further down your chest. He kisses the area above your pounding heart softly, and it’s almost too tender for you to bear.
And then he’s taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently and lapping at it in short successive strokes– you moan, arching your back, pushing it deeper into his hungry mouth. “‘Toru, ah, you can move.”
“You sure?” he murmurs, moving up again to reach your mouth.
You nod, closing your eyes as you hook an arm around his shoulders, sealing it with a kiss. Gojo starts to shallowly thrust into you, and you sigh right into his mouth.
He sets a steady pace, slow and aching as he savours the feeling. But you’re growing impatient– you need more and soon, your hips are bucking up against his desperately.
You hear him growl softly, before his hands grip your hips and hold them steady. He starts fucking into you deeper, desire evident as his nails start digging into your flesh.
Take it, you think, delirious with pleasure and heat, take me. You fingers find solace in his hair once more as you try to keep up, pulling him closer. Take everything.
A hand moves from your hips, down to your neglected clit and he starts rubbing circles that has your head falling back as your eyes fall shut. You’re starting to lose all sense. Your body is tingling with pleasure all over, his unrelenting pace pushing you closer and closer to the edge while your moans come out as tiny whimpers.
He’s full of praises, “You sound so good just like that. It feels good doesn’t it. You were born for this, right? Taking my cock so well. You’re just so good, you’re so fucking good–”
His words take your breath away and your eyes start to water from just how good it feels. Instead you say, “You taught me well,” a broken moan that he immediately echoes.
“Fuck, baby, don’t say shit like that,” he whines, punctuating it with a hard thrust. “You’re going to make me cum.”
You mewl, unable to say anything else and you’re getting close–
Heat coils in your stomach, and you can feel your orgasm creeping up, the spread of heat along your spine, taking you higher and higher. You just barely gasp out, “Satoru, god, please–”
And all it takes is another swipe of his fingers against your clit and you’re gone.
You cum with a pitiful moan against his ear, and he doesn’t even try to mask it as a hand wraps around your throat instead. You open your eyes to see his lust blown, sweat starting to drip down his forehead as he stares at you and it’s so fucking hot. He’s so fucking hot you clench around him even tighter and his face buries against your neck.
“I’m close– I’m gonna– Fuck.”
You understand immediately. You fist the hair at the nape of his neck and press a kiss to his ear, “Cum in me. Don’t fucking pull out, please. I want it so bad.”
His breath is hot on your shoulder as he fucks you with abandon. His hands move up to your waist, grip so tight that you’re certain you’ll feel it long after this is done. You’re sensitive from your orgasm, already so stimulated but you just don’t care. The Satoru in your arms is all instinct, all animal, chasing what it wants.
You.
It only takes a couple more thrusts before he cums too.
His cum is hot and wet inside of you. You moan softly as a deep seated peace settles in your chest. God, you wanted this. You needed this.
“Thank you,” you whisper, and Gojo weakly laughs, “Stop thanking me for sex. I wanted it too.”
He pulls out slowly, and you’re grateful for it. You hate the sudden emptiness afterwards.
You sit up and push yourself off the table on shaky legs, holding onto his shoulders to ground yourself. You feel cum drip out of you, down your thigh, and feel a loss. What a waste.
You don’t have time to dwell on it though. You look at the clock and realise too much time has passed, and if you don’t hurry you’re going to get an earful from your manager. Worse, Geto is going to take one look at the both of you and know what you’ve been up to.
Gojo is methodical as he grabs a few tissues laid out on the table and starts wiping the cum from your thighs. He kneels down and tells you, “Turn around.” You are the most obedient after sex.
You hear him lament, “God, I shouldn’t have let you convince me to cum inside. We need to go to the bathroom and pray no one is there. Suguru is going to end my life–”
You feel too relaxed to even be affected by his blabbering. You happily pull your clothes back on and wave his concern off, “It’s fine, Satoru. You’ve come in me plenty of times before. Get dressed and then we can walk back separately. To avoid suspicion or whatever. Okay?”
“Ok.” He pulls you in for a much sweeter kiss. “Don’t walk back looking too happy or else they’ll know–”
You swat his chest, “Tell that to yourself. Don’t look too smug like you always do–”
“I do not look smug ever–”
“You do, and I understand because having sex with me is an honour–”
.
.
.
When you get back to your floor, Geto immediately greets you with judgement.
“What?” you say, self consciously. “I just went for some ice-cream.”
He just sighs, defeated. “Yeah, you got some cream alright.”
Gojo walks in a minute later, looking all serious as he makes his way to his desk.
You don’t make eye contact, instead opening up an email chain that you’ve somehow been cc’d into– it doesn’t make any sense so you choose peace and move it to your junk folder.
You also hear the tail end of a whispered conversation:
“I can’t believe you two. Seriously. I am not attending another meeting.”
♱ ── DIRECTOR'S CUT. ahhh, this has been long overdue. happy kinktober my loves!!! i’ve never finished a kinktober event but i’m feeling really good about this year (fingers crossed). however, on the offhand that something isn’t updated to the masterlist by the due date, please be patient—it’ll be posted here before the end of october regardless >.<
♱ ── also, please refrain from asking me about a taglist. i don’t do tags so if you want to be notified, head over to my notif blog and toggle on post notifications :)
▹ OCTOBER 10TH: MAKE ME S(CREAM) ft. gojo x geto
SYNOPSIS: suguru’s best friend has always had a sweet-tooth. and when it comes to you, the sweetest little thing he’s ever met, he has to have you. so when the opportunity to fuck you finally presents itself, he doesn’t miss it.
CONTENTS. college-au (frat party), ghostface!gojo, cucking, public sex, exhibitionism, vaginal penetration, dub-con (alcohol use, marijuana), unconventional form of contraception, blow-jobs, fingering (f!receiving), pussy eating, mating press, back-shots, praise, gojo and geto share (1) kiss
▹ OCTOBER 17TH: HOLD YOUR BREATH ft. eren jaeger
SYNOPSIS: eren usually loathes accompanying you to company parties. that all changes, though, when you surprise him with a little gift of encouragement.
CONTENTS. use of a sex toy (remote controlled vibe), breath play, public sex, exhibitionism, closet sex, full-nelson, unprotected sex, creampie, dacryphilia
▹ OCTOBER 24TH: SWEET LIKE CANDY ft. bakugo katsuki
SYNOPSIS: when teen you fantasized about your first time, you didn’t anticipate that it’d happen in the middle of a haunted corn maze. you also didn’t anticipate for your first time to be with bakugo katsuki.
CONTENTS. college-au, loss of virginity/corruption, public sex, exhibitionism, vaginal penetration, missionary, unconventional method of contraception, slight degradation, mentions of blood
▹ OCTOBER 31ST: DOUBLE FEATURE
⁰¹ HOCUS POCUS ft. midoriya izuku
SYNOPSIS: after a brief encounter with an unassuming old lady, you and izuku suddenly can’t keep your hands off each other.
CONTENTS. magic, breeding, talks of having children, pregnancy mention, mating press, missionary, cowgirl, blowjob, cum eating, fingering (f!receiving), pussy eating
⁰² DON'T FALL ASLEEP ft. fushiguro toji
SYNOPSIS: daily life is put to a halt when the city reports that there’s a serial killer on the loose. thankfully, the house next door that’s been up for sale has finally been purchased — and the owner appears to be a friendly, unassuming man. as time progresses, he makes it clear that he’ll be right by your side — in whatever way you need him. however, what you don’t know, is that he seems to disappear whenever the killer is most active…
CONTENTS. extremely dark context, serial killer!toji, consensual to non-con, toji befriends reader, then pursues a romantic relationship, murder, death, hostage situation + more
need reader to have a confession with priest!geto about how they feel guilty for touching themselves late alone at night and priest!geto helps them by just fucking their brains out as a “penance” for their sins.
yes, i’m okay in the head btw! (lie)
AU REVOIR, O HEAVEN!
wc: 12.2k (HUUUUUHHHHHHHHH?)
warnings: DARK CONTENT, SLOW BUILDUP, CORRUPTION, priest!geto, fem!reader, age gap (reader is in early 20s, geto in late 20s), long descriptive fic that goes in depth of christian lore, lots and lots of christian references / metaphors / analogies, comparison to Satan’s banishment and fall from heaven, religious themes used in inappropriate ways, questions of religion and life, multiple scenes of f! and m! masturbation, fingering, clit stimulation, virginity loss, both f! and m! receiving oral, cumshot, praise, degradation, spitting, sex in a religious place, p -> v sex, unprotected sex, creampie / breeding kink, multiple rounds, n*sfw under the cut
for a small town like yours, it was a no-brainer that everyone knew everyone; and everyone’s drama as well. from the baker’s daughter being a whore to the mayor of the town being sacked for purposes that have since been twisted by word of mouth. that was another thing: word got around fast, and it was particularly suffocating in a conservative town such as yours. people were not outright about the obvious choices they favoured, but there was the older generation who were not shy to turn down progressive ideas.
because of that, the previous priest was kicked out because of the misuse of funds from mass collection and offertory. it was one thing to see a bunch of notes missing from the sack and the money counter but it was another thing to see that money going into funding a new strip club that was opening in the next town over.
it was simply unheard of, and the parishioners basically gave him a free ride to that very strip club by excommunicating him from his own church. it was unbecoming of a priest, especially in such a small congregation that everyone made sure the new priest to transfer here was a God-honouring one.
you hope he was. you’ve always felt the obligated need to serve your god and your parents. always the good girl, following the Ten Commandments, saving yourself for marriage. it was the natural order of a christian, and you could only hope that you’d get even a fraction of the eternal life they preach about in mass. but lately you’ve been having some . . thoughts, and you pray that this new priest could help you immensely, even if you had to do a hundred Hail Mary’s at the pews.
it was peculiar, the first time it occurred to you. the area where your body separates into two and forms two legs — the centre of it all, the middle where Eve had it covered in statues and paintings with a leaf, the middle where you had only learned of it in anatomical drawings. you knew what the vagina, cervix and the ovaries were, but seeing the convergence of pink and maroon between your legs confused you, even scared you.
and the next was when you’d had a guy come up to you whilst doing up your university application, saying something along the lines of how cute you were, would you like to grab a drink some time? and you were left dumbfounded and unable to answer. you let your eyes travel over his features, of the exposed arms of his button up shirt and the thickness of his forearms, you let your eyes skim over his plump thighs before you’re asked “are you okay?”
“n . . no sorry, i already have a boyfriend.” you lie through your teeth and all the guy does is sigh before walking away — but now you’re left with a bigger problem . . why was the thing between your legs throbbing? you swear you can feel your panties getting wet as well, but you aren’t quite sure why.
that night you’re lying in bed with a lewd website shining right in your face, as you’ve laid here for about two hours already, going through in your head whether you really wanted to do this. your hands had been clean, untainted from the moment you were born, but you imagine going to university and knowing not a thing about sex and that makes your whole body burn in embarrassment.
you chicken out and fall asleep.
“honey! come down here, i want you to meet someone.” your mother calls out to you, running about like she usually does. she’s always overworking — caring for the newborn, cooking the meals, cleaning the place. why don’t you ask dad to help sometimes? / nonsense! he works so hard and deserves a break! i don’t mind. / but he just lazes around at home after work . .
you’re pleasantly surprised to find a long-haired man at your front door, clad in a thick and loose turtleneck sweater with a gentle smile on his face. that uncomfortable feeling returns to your core and you land a hand to your stomach to calm the churning that’s happening.
“hello, and you are?”
you’d never think you would see one of God’s angels on earth in actual flesh in front of you. you’re convinced God is looking over you and you think you might see heaven when that silky voice repeats himself again.
“hi, kind miss, are you alright?”
“h . . huh? oh! yeah, uhm— who are you?”
your mother smacks you on your shoulder and sidles up to your side, holding onto your arm a little tightly that it hurts just a bit.
“don’t be rude!” she whisper-shouts to you, “this is geto suguru, and—”
“and i’m the new priest for the church.”
that catches you off-guard. he’s the new priest that was just transferred over? he looks anything but a holy man of God, what with his long hair and gauges in his ears; if you didn’t know any better you would think he was the one paying for the strip club instead. he seems to read your mind.
“i know i look . . a bit of a delinquent, miss, but i promise you the word of God is what i strictly live by. i honour and praise him with all that i can.”
“ah, i’m sorry if you thought i thought that way, father.” you mumble, giving him an awkward smile that he misses because he’s too busy focusing on the way you say father. you’re prepared to close the door on him already; the pulsing sensation between your legs isn’t fading and your whole body feels like it burns in hell. you rub your thighs together for some sort of relief, nothing.
“that’s usually the response i get, so i thought i would preface it first.” a little laugh leaves geto’s lips and if it wasn’t for you holding on for dear life on the door, you definitely would’ve buckled under your knees. “no hard feelings.”
“he’s a charmer, ain’t he?” there’s another sheepish laugh from the pastor at that. “told me he’s been going around giving cakes to all the people as a way to thank them for letting him take over the church.” your heart melts at that — he looked so hot and had a heart of gold, too?
“what cake did you get us, father?” you blurt out and you have no time to take it back, but the preacher doesn’t seem to mind. you also don’t seem to mind that barrier of authority that was established ever since he‘s introduced himself as the new priest of the church. it felt . . friendlier, less intimidating than the previous. it was probably mostly due to him not wearing his cassock or collar, though.
“chocolate.” that one word possibly ignited every nerve in you. the smooth lilt in his voice paired with the slight smirk. it was detrimental. you were going to hell, you were condemned to eternal damnation.
“how’d you know i liked chocolate?”
he shrugs, “lucky guess.” wrong.
he had come around the day before already, but you were too distracted with work and pressured with a deadline that music drained out everything else — one look at your side profile and the hard-working first year university student was all it took for geto to return again today with another cake of your liking. oh! you’re such a sweet one for asking what flavour we like; frankly, my dear boy, my husband and i don’t really eat cake but her . . loves it for some reason. i wonder where she gets the sweet tooth from, honestly.
geto could only thank his saviour that your mother had promised not to tell you he already came around yesterday. and it looks like she didn’t.
“i should get going, miss . .”
“(y/n).”
geto simply nods his head, resisting the urge to call your name pretty and only manages a decent call to your mother. “mrs (l/n), i’m heading off, thank you for having me. (y/n).”
you return his smile, hesitantly, inching the door close with immense difficulty — you wanted to see him walk away with that imposing height of his, of the proper gait he carried himself with and the politeness in which he greets people of the town.
that night you locked yourself in your room, muttering out some dumb excuse of having to study for a test when in reality you were more interested in the feeling between your legs. it both excited and scared you when you first find a comfortable position on your bed, stalling for a good half ’n hour before the clinking cutlery of dinner happening downstairs had brought you to your senses. there were countless articles open in your safari tab, none of which helped your growing dilemma — a tear in the Red Sea between the sin of pleasure and the liberation of acting on it. you felt like Moses, treading in the centre, on the fence.
one last text made you yelp out loud.
[8:03 pm, read]: R u coming down 4 dinner?
it was your mother, as if she knew what was happening behind doors.
[8:03 pm, delivered]: nope, sorry mummy. need to study for this test, its important !
[8:05 pm, read]: Alright, alright. I left out a serving of what we cooked tonite. Heat up if u need to with the microwave O.K.? Don’t sleep so late!
you simply favourited her message, losing all motivation from before; until your mind crosses over dinner and goes straight to that chocolate cake, and then to the person who had brought it.
“Farewell happy fields / Where joy forever dwells: Hail, horrors, hail.”
“geto . . geto suguru.” the name feels foreign. it does sound like a countryside name but it felt like he had come from the city instead. “geto . .” you sigh, letting your hands tremble and move along your body. they brush over your chest, over your nipples and you recoil a little from the strange feeling. they harden under your touch as you continue to repeat his name.
each murmur of his name is a step farther from God, dipping your toes into the waters of hell as your fingers travel lower, lower, lower. you press a finger against your clit unknowingly, and you let out a loud moan; you immediately slap a hand over your mouth.
but the pleasure’s too much, and so you try again. one hand goes back to your nipples, squeezing your tits and playing with them while your fingers rub pathetic circles along your core.
“su . .” you gulp. “geto—”
you pant softly to yourself as you continue to rub your clit, messy, inexperienced circles in whatever shape or form. as long as it felt good to you, you were doing it. you made sure to keep your moans in as your hips bucked into your hands, back arching off the bed in needy movements. your hands were getting tired, clutching at the bedsheets.
long hair, built physique, crucifix on his neck. funny, you never noticed that before, but now you imagine it clearly, dangling over your face. you’re imagining geto fucking you, thrusting his cock into you as he groans out your name.
you’re at the end of your tether, feeling the deep plunge of your body in Satan’s lair the same time you cum for the first time in your life and your body shakes so violently. you flail around on your bed, bite into your shirt, anything to keep you quiet from the immense orgasm you had just felt. your pussy clenches around nothing and your hand aches so much it might fall off, but it just feel so damn good that you only have a minute’s rest before you’re rubbing at your clit again.
scooping up a little of your cum, you marvel at the clear liquid, sucking on your finger to try the thing that’s always drenched your panties. and soon you’re conjuring the image of the long-haired priest yet again, never really studying for that test you made up or even eating dinner — all you do is rest and come again, each time more wrecked than the last time.
you dreaded going to church the next morning.
it had slipped your mind that service was to continue once geto has gotten settled down in the rectory, a small outhouse at the back of the church that had been revamped. you’re not sure on how father geto was able to get it done up so fast but, you’re not one to question.
with the short walk to church, you regret not eating the night before, groaning softly at the discomfort of your growling stomach. what you were more worried of though, was what would happen to you once you stepped foot in the church. was your body going to go up in flames? were you going to get ridiculed by the townspeople? were you going to get called out by father geto in front of everyone?
“what’s gotten you so worked up?” your father was walking behind and smoking, as always, not giving a shit about your mother and the newborn.
“nothing . . just, wondering if i got everything in my head for my test.” your mother coos, and your baby brother in the carrier thinks it’s because of him. he babbles into your mom’s shirt, giggling.
“you’ll do fine, honey,” the reassurance worried you only more. you were lying outright — you had no test, you weren’t even studying, you were busy—!
“i raised a smart girl, didn’t i?” you can only manage a smile, reaching the church within minutes. taking the chance to mutter a short prayer and a plea, you take a deep breath and that light from above Lucifer’s kingdom seem to call out to you again.
stepping into the simple but cozy church, you dip your hands in holy water. Father, Son, Holy Spirit along your forehead, chest and shoulders before you trail behind your mother, suggesting places for you to sit at the back. she only waved your hand away, pointing towards the front. we always sit at the front! why the sudden change? / nothing . . maybe thought we could switch it up a little.
the mass starts after a few minutes of waiting, and you have the luxury of wallowing in your self-pity and guilt for those few minutes, trying to get the very filthy imagery of father geto above you, father geto between your legs, father geto himself out of your head. you fail, it’s only amplified when the bell rings and the congregation stands up.
everyone waits in anticipation for the new priest in this small town, hoping he won’t disappoint them like the last one. but they already seem to be in good spirits as he makes the entrance down the very short church. two altar boys follow behind him in the procession, accompanied by an organist and a duo of choir singers, straining to have their voice heard over the loud instrument. he’s already made some friends, nodding to the excited kid who whispers and the shy girl who waves her hands at him. but while everyone feels anticipation in hopes of a good sermon, dread is only making your legs feel like lead, you feel lightheaded, dizzy even.
because whatever you had imagined last night was him in his sweater get-up, and it just now sinks in what a disgusting thing you were doing as you watch the rich purple of his chasuble sway alongside his stole — the very image of him in his priest robes (in Lent season too, not to mention) — meant to deter you from more thoughts, only fed your desires.
geto suguru made being a pastor look so natural, and attractive, that it was almost criminal.
“good morning, brothers and sisters, how are we all doing this morning?” there’s a few murmurs around, but geto doesn’t falter, instead pressing on with his very convincing, beautiful speech; as does he with the rest of the mass. he conducts himself with as much professionalism as he can, handling the Eucharist with proper hands, giving a sermon whilst giving you too many eyes, distributing Holy Communion with a gentle, accepting smile; your skin burnt when he handed you the body of Christ, a soft inaudible “amen” hanging off your lips.
father geto was all the talk after, some hanging around to catch a minute of geto’s time if they could and you were no different, purposely looping your arm through your mother’s and slowly down your pace.
“goin’ out for a smoke.” your father gruffly tells the three of you, two of which understands better. your newborn simply cuddles deeper into your mother’s breast, humming softly into the nap.
“’kay.” it was opportunistic, now, as your eyes flit around the place to find geto talking to two older ladies. he’s politely bent down to reach their heights better, chasuble now removed and simply in his alb, one patting his shoulder and the other giggling. you think you imagine it but his eyes dart over to you for a moment and then off to the other parishioners.
“how are you two lovely ladies doing?” you hear him before you see him and the voice startles you a little, jumping back from brushing your baby brother’s almost non-existent hair.
“fine.” it comes out kurt and abrupt and you burn when your mother nudges you like yesterday.
“think what she means is that we’re perfectly fine. how was your first mass?”
father geto looks around the church, recalls the altar boys, ingrains each church-goer into his head, “i hope the congregation likes me.”
“oh, nonsense! i’m sure they do,” your mother reassures. she was always good like that, putting others before her and making sure they see the best in themselves, “that was a very riveting sermon you delivered.”
“yeah—! yeah, i . . really enjoyed it, father geto.”
a small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, “did you now?”
you nod, and he continues, “you enjoyed me telling you that sin was revolting?”
when he phrases it like that . . you swallow, “isn’t that what God’s whole schtick is?”
and that makes father geto laugh, because for such an innocent flower like you, you make it sound like you were forced to go to church and made to learn the basis of why God exists and now you just don’t know what to do with it. it’s common for people at their university age where they’re exposed to more views and mindsets, to question the religion you were born in and think about what it meant to be tied to a god you didn’t even really know existed, and when that happens, Christianity turns stagnant and boring.
“yes, pretty much, miss (y/n), but His schtick also involves forgiving anyone who has sinned against Him. after all, that’s what He died on the cross for.”
“y . . yeah, i know, father geto.”
you only realise now his purple chasuble matches his eyes, eyes that swirl with the colours of amethyst. they’re much brighter in the parish lighting, and they hold your stare much longer than yesterday. there’s the tugging feeling at your stomach again that goes right down to your centre and it throbs; your eyes flutter and blink to get you out of your head.
“good that you know . . of course, it’s not an invitation to sin. self-restraint and chastity still exists,” you hate how he puts an emphasis on the latter word, because he could be referring to anything, “but we need not be worried for our lives. we only need to pray and repent in prayer, and God will have mercy on us.”
but well, if God didn’t want you to sin, how then can he explain creating such an attractive person? if God valued his followers’ self control, why did he have to plant such lewd, inappropriate thoughts of his preacher in your head?
father geto could probably see your dilemma with how hard he was staring at you, and he only makes it worse by putting his larger hand on your left shoulder. it descends deeper to your upper arm and the skin there ignites—
“i hope you liked the chocolate cake.”
you manage a small smile, “haven’t had the chance to try it, sorry, father.”
“don’t apologise.” you forget your mother and baby brother is even beside you with how he talks to you. you’d love to be on his chest, hearing the deep rumbling of his voice or even have his hands be somewhere else but your arm. you don’t know how simply talking to you has got him doing everything in his power to restrain himself; not even a prayer from God could help.
“The mind is its own place, and in it self / Can make a Heav'n of Hell, a Hell of Heav'n.”
what you don’t know, either, that the hand on your shoulder was between his legs just last afternoon, trying so hard not to sneak under his cassock. he could barely keep his moans in, palming his bulge from above his robes at the mere thought of you. no touching means less sin, right? he comes to that pathetic conclusion easily, so all he does is bury himself in the outhouse after distributing his cakes, hips positioned over his pillow and he grinds.
the feeling for father geto was so archaic, been so long since he’s given up his life to God right after graduating university. all the carefree times that he’s experienced — drinking in dorms, going to parties, getting some nice quick fucks in between exams — were going to stop for good. but that doesn’t mean he stopped lusting.
lust. one of the seven deadly sins, a weak point for father geto’s journey as a pastor. it’s obvious now too that he hasn’t really left his older ways, bucking his hips into the fabric of his pillow. he thinks of you, your sweet little eyes and your cute outfit at home, he thinks of your face twisted into pleasure as he’s positioned between your legs.
father geto twitches, friction against the underside of his cock feeling so good after years and years of holding back — with a pretty face to think of, too. his hips ruts in short thrusts, desperate for that high and he chokes on a moan imagining your sweet voice begging to cum. and so does he, shooting such a large, hot load into his underwear that even his cassock is stained with his cum. but unlike you, he’s already thinking of his next round — if he’s doomed to die by lust, then might as well go all the way.
father geto spares a glance towards the door just to be safe before flipping over on his back, and pulls his robes above his lower half. the sight is dirty, underwear painted a darker colour and cum sticking to every part of the fabric. once he wraps a hand around his cock, geto is gone, pumping it so fast he might have gotten a burn along his length but it’s all rewarded by the second quick orgasm he reaches — spurting ribbons of cum all over his holy garments.
it’s why he didn’t have time to write a proper sermon for the morning mass. he was up all night, stroking himself — just, from the thought of you.
it was father geto’s turn to have uneven breaths as you asked if he was okay, hand on your shoulder shaking. but the visions of last night is overtaken quickly by his need to impress the other parishioners, and so he gives you a tense smile.
“enjoy the cake.” it sounded like an innuendo if you’ve ever heard one, but you mutter a soft thank you, before heading off back home with your family. that contact with your shoulder is all you can think of, giddy at the warmth of his hand and eyes.
“baby, could you open the door for me?” your mother calls out to you, hastily wiping her hands on her apron and abandoning the kitchen to tend to your crying baby brother.
“ok, mummy!” the doorbell’s been rung twice now, jogging a little to the door to prevent the person from waiting. you didn’t think to look through the peephole, a tight-knit (conservative) community made you trust anyone, opening the door to find father geto standing in front of you.
“o-oh. hi, father . .?”
he was dressed in his roman collar, a black shirt with a white strip around the neck and some black jeans. it wasn’t as casual as the first day, and it still held an ode to God even on a weekday.
“hi, (y/n).”
“ohhh! it’s father geto, come, come!” your mother bellows throughout the house, baby brother on her hip as she bounces him to get him to stop wailing. “are you hungry already?”
geto displays a meek smile, “a little, mrs (l/n), since you mentioned how big of a feast you were cooking.”
your mouth drops in recognition; was that why she was so preoccupied for the whole day? doing the maximum in the kitchen not just because it was for your father’s recent promotion at his job, but also for dinner with father geto.
“you’re having . . dinner with us.” it’s more of a statement to yourself than a question to the priest, but he still catches on and assists you by closing the door himself, and taking off his shoes. already, he looks part of the family, looking like a hard-working husband coming back from his job to you. instead, he’s answered the vocation of priesthood, and not matrimony.
“it looks like i am.” it’s such a sly comment, like he already knew the effect he had on everyone. this sucking up was just to get every church-goer to like him more, and it’s working.
geto is charming at the dinner table as he is at the parish, cracking jokes that make both your parents and you laugh, talking about his university life and telling a myriad of stories that he’s gone through.
“what did you major in in university, father?” it felt such a weird question, especially with an honorific attached to something that you were doing at the moment — it felt out of place that someone so close to your age was already pursuing a lifetime commitment of serving God.
“my studies focused mostly on philosophy and theology. i minored in linguistics.” there’s a chorus of ooh’s that echo throughout the table, cleaning up the last bit of food on his plate before he continued. “i’m currently going more in depth for latin, which is a stunning language, beyond those who say it’s dead and should stay dead.”
that only makes him hotter, and you cross your legs beside him, looking at him from the corner of your eye at you play with the last meatball on your plate. the sauce leaves a trail of red from the tomato, somehow mirroring the murder of your old self — or what you thought it was. it was more of a knife wound, a cowardly stab in the arm.
that dinner with father geto only deepened your sense of guilt.
it was the way the priest was quick to stand just as your mother does, offering to help with cleaning up the dinner table. even when she brushes him off, he insisted, answering for her when he only silently takes the plates to the back. all your mom does is shake her head with a smile, letting you help as well. your father just watches curiously, entertaining the baby with his canned alcohol.
“i’m embarrassed i can’t fight back against you well enough to stop ya from cleaning up at my own house,” your mother confesses, already having used her last breath to tell him to not help with the dishes as well. you scrub at a stain on geto’s plate over and over, a stubborn one at that until you finally are able to get it out. it still leaves a faint red glow, though.
“it’s nothing, really, mrs (l/n), i’m happy to help whenever.” father geto’s eyes rake over your figure as you clean alongside your mother, heel bouncing up and down; to non-existent music or in impatience he wasn’t sure.
she just takes the soapy plate from your hands with a laugh, “c’mon, it’s okay, my dear. go entertain father geto.”
it was the way his courtesy shined through when he doesn’t enter your room until he has gotten verbal confirmation from you, guiding him in with a uneasy hand as he looked around your quaint little space. it was filled with photos, some plants, tons of research papers and a messy table to match, but all he did was reassure you. you take note of his flowing hair and the laid back hairstyle he liked to don when it wasn’t for mass.
“how is university treating you?” you’re stuck on being completely honest and lying with every answer, but father geto has a face that makes it difficult to lie to.
“it’s . . alright, i guess,” you settle on your bed, crossing your legs and hoping he wouldn’t pick up any of your essays. thinking is manifesting, though, and his hands naturally go for the paper with the many red markings on the front page.
“Paradise Lost? by Milton?” ah. that paper. you shoot up from the sheets before he can read it, because frankly your thesis in that paper was weak and wasn’t well supported, but you still believed it deeply. you were just having a little bit of trouble straying from your reverence for God. you only manage to clutch the top of your paper, but geto is adamant on reading it, piqued by genuine curiosity.
“the retelling of Milton’s Paradise Lost humanises the experience of Satan’s (or Lucifer’s) fall from glory . .” he trails off, reading over your evidences and analysis. you feel like you’re being read like an open book, laid out bare for vultures to pick at and for God to enumerate your sins until you felt no shame.
with his head still tilted down, father geto has to look up through his lashes and bangs, seemingly making you cower more and more in your spot as the unsolicited advice for your essay dies down on his tongue. the size of his hands has you hypnotised, and he decides it’s against his own values to give feedback about a text he so childishly brushed off when he was in university, even if he had to read it to complete four years in the seminary. geto places a hand upon yours and the heat is dizzying; you can’t help but think if he was just normal person, instead, holding your hand like this.
it was the way he let you explain yourself a little better through your own words. it was a premature essay, anyway, made to test out your close reading and citation skills. but he found your interpretation of Milton’s poem to be much more insightful than he expected it to be — you think maybe, your understanding of the text grows the more you learn about your body, how you like to be pleasured; you feel like Lucifer.
“i . . don’t necessarily think you are born into evil. it’s multi-faceted and loaded, this question. God our Father would do anything but create evil willingly, it’s just unfortunate that the people that bring up their offspring contribute to the shaping of their identity and outcome.”
“then, how . .” your lips twist as you think of a way to word the question, “how would that justify evil existing? wouldn’t the fact that evil is developed somehow meant that God created evil in some shape or form, in the first place?”
father geto rushes to answer but—
“why did he have to create the serpent that tempted Eve in the first place? couldn’t he have just left them alone in Eden?”
“...there to dwell / In adamantine chains and penal fire / Who durst defy th' Omnipotent to arms.”
you frown, not expecting the other to answer but instead just wallowing in your thoughts. you never thought the talk with father geto would turn into some philosophy lesson, but the more you chatted with him on the bed, the more the conversation seemed to steer that way.
your own faith wavers in the night, a quietness settling over the two of you like a cloak of stars. the mass of each star weighs heavily with your questions up in the air until you faintly hear his answer.
“i don’t . . know, miss (y/n).”
“ah! no no— sorry to dump everything on you, father geto,” you scratch the back of your head, “it was just passing thoughts. i’ve never thought to think of this before.”
it was morbid, it was macabre. it was like looking over and seeing a skeleton in your place instead of flesh and skin and yet each question after question ignites something in him that no one has excited before. he can already feel lust influencing the other six, pumping through his veins at a life void of God, void of religion, a free place to think of the omnipotence of a higher being that no one was sure really existed.
“it’s okay . . it’s natural to ask. it’s natural to inquire. God,” he nods like he was in a trance; the word feels weird on his tongue, “God would want this.”
that night you did anything but sin, clutching the essay between your hands and digging your knees into the floor with elbows on your bed until they ached and you prayed. you wished blessings on your family, you wished blessings on the parishioners, you wished blessings on father geto and you wished eternal damnation on yourself.
there’s a heavy pull on your heart when you go to sleep a few minutes after and the dream you have of your body turning to soot and burning with each feet into flames makes you crave salvation all the more — like all a bad dream, it will be fine as long as you pray, and pray, and pray.
but the flesh desires what the heart denies: the more you ‘hang’ with father geto (by God, he was perfectly okay with that word when you let it slip to your mother. he merely throws up a peace sign in a ‘cool’ way and then immediately cringes, but it makes you laugh), the more you find yourself attracted to his morals, to his ideals, to the natural way in which he exists. he could speak for hours on end, voice sounding like birdsong and a chilling breeze all at the same time.
his voice did wonders in your head, as well, coaxing you into betraying your own code; and you betray it easily. that phantasmic voice leaving you to remove your top and pinching your nipples as soft little moans leave your mouth. the imaginary sway of his crucifix above your face while you harshly abuse your clit and dip a finger into you for the first time. the feeling is so foreign and weird that you shamelessly think of the slight lilt of his voice helping you: “it’ll feel better soon, (y/n). c’mon, finger your pussy for father geto.”
father geto had a natural talent for talking and preaching. that downturn of tone like hitting a dead-end when he holds a point above your head (“but”) and then resolves it into perfect cadence like chords ending a phrase when he proposes a solution (“God will take care of everything”). he does it so much you think he’s rather convincing himself more than he’s convincing you, though.
“perhaps this parable that Jesus uses tells us rather to look within ourselves, to look within the vineyard that is us. the owner have done everything: kept the roots tied so it would not be trampled, making sure they get all the sunlight and water it needs, yet . .” he pauses a little, looking at the almost full parish now that he’s won over the hearts of your town. his eyes flit down to you at the second pew, shooting you a quick smile.
“and yet he yields sour grapes. we pray, we act civil and diplomatic, we are giving, but are you truly doing it for the glory of God? is that maybe why we only get the sour grapes — not satisfied with the ‘thank you’ after doing a favour or silence from God after praying daily?”
geto looks over the last bits of the scribbled sermon, a little more coherent than last week, but still done with thoughts of you. there’s multiple smudges of his words that he has to squint and stutter a bit, caused by the frantic cleaning of his cum upon the paper.
“we all . . naturally expect things back, but to be Christian, to be a follower of Christ, we would have to abandon all thoughts of that.” father geto’s mind wanders to last night as his eyes look for you again. “we would need to be generous, to be kind without needing anything in return.”
father geto integrates into the church easily, shown in how his sermons capture the hearts of many. albeit, they never really take in the true meanings of the preachings he gives, but it’s enough for geto if they nod and mutter amen like fools in mass; whatever they do out of it is out of his hands.
but along the many preachings he does, there is one subject he fears approaching: lust, the one thing that threatens the downfall of his vocation and yet he cannot get enough of it. each walk and meeting with you only heightens his desire, makes his cock throb beneath his robes. each sunday he wishes he could split his soul in half — one as the confessor and one as the confessing — and repent in the confessional box.
“today’s gospel from Mark, chapter 6 talks about lust, briefly.” there’s a shake in his voice, eyes now scrambling over the congregation to find you in a much more revealing top contrasting with the out-of-place cardigan you have on. he’s sure it was mrs (l/n) that had made you put that on before you left the house; the house where he’s memorised the placement of your shoe rack and how your door creaks when it’s opened too quickly. geto is so fucked.
geto clears his throat before continuing, seeing you adjust your body for a moment, “King Herod is tempted by his flesh when he sees one of Herodias’ daughters dancing, so much so that she tempts him to commit murder. a clear beheading, just from giving into her body, and when she asks of him, he delivers like a dog. this calls us to truly think of the desires that we possess. they need not be sexual,” soft whispers emerge, a taboo subject, “they can also be related to money, to power.”
“lust for more things turns into greed when we act on that initial lust,” geto is sweating by now. he pulls lightly on his collar when you press your arms together in retaliation and he has to look away from the way your tits perk up so perfectly.
you had to know what you were doing, surely. partially — you were feeling cold, but you stifle a smile when you realise how geto’s eyes linger a little longer on you, or rather your chest, before he coughs and continues,
“when we are driven so terribly by the feeling that we abandon all morals just to please this person, thing on earth is when we tread into dangerous territory. no earthly possession must make you feel this way,”
the irony settles in his bones after he says it and his dick twitches at the thought of having you under the podium right now, sticking his fat cock down your throat while you struggle to keep the gagging noises to a minimum.
“no matter . .” a gulp, “how rewarding the aftermath must be.”
father geto knows you both are braving the edge of God’s merry kingdom. it is just a matter of who falls first.
“your place is in the kingdom of God, meant to fulfil eternal life with Jesus and the Lord which is what we all should be keeping in mind and working towards, ignoring all the distractions that will soon fade and die off.”
geto coughs again in the mic and breaths shakily, finally tearing his eyes away from you before he concludes the sermon and eases into the Offertory and Eucharist. he buries himself so deep in the procession in order to get you out of his mind, and it’s shown in the haste in which he carries the mass. it feels like he rushes so much that even the day outside follows too, because evening seems to arrive earlier than usual.
the sun sets outside, illuminating the altar. it taunts you like reminding you of the beauty of your faith; it deepens the need developing in your core.
“body of Christ.” you can faintly hear it being repeated over and over at the front, just a few steps away from your turn and you wish you weren’t standing behind your dad’s hulking figure so you could actually prepare yourself for father geto. you’re greeted with his cascading hair tied up into a bun and the cup containing Jesus’ body, gold and shining. you see your stretched reflection before your eyes snap back to the pastor in front and you will your hands not to hail routine.
instead, you stick out your tongue for the father to put the communion on and you take in the little panic of his hands and the choked sentence of body of Christ. his eyes drift down to your pink tongue, to the small twitch it does when he places the host on it and he cannot wait for you to get out of his sight, lest he be overtaken by the sin he particularly preached about just minutes ago.
“any test to study for tonight, darling?” your mother asks after dinner, meaning to ask after seeing you be so fidgety like you needed to be somewhere.
“uh . . no, not exactly, but i do have something i need to do.”
“oh! what is it, sweetie?” she doesn’t read your expressions, you mannerisms, so you were safe from that, but you willed your voice to not break. your body is on fire, you needed to quell your needs, now.
“just— i promised father geto i would meet him later for a confession, since he’s so busy, he could only propose a late timing,” no, you didn’t. either way, you give a reason, explain yourself before she can speculate, works every time.
“oh, okay . .” she trails off, seemingly unaffected, “just don’t get home too late, alright, darling?”
you nod even though she’s too focused on the dishes, pressing a hand to her back in thanks and she carries on, carefree, while you sprint to your room. lock the door, get your phone out.
“ . . ings turns into greed when we act on that initial lust . .” the words recorded just hours ago leave the phone speakers on a low volume, already lighting a flame in your pussy when your hand brushes over the microphone and he stops at the same time, “when we are terribly dri . .”
you sigh loudly when your hand starts to make its way down to your centre, rubbing slightly to the sound of his voice. your clit is just begging to be touched, begging for your inexperienced hands flicking your nub in every which way. impatient, your hands dip into your cunt and your jaw drops open at the intrusion of your fingers, just as your eyes widen and your imagination has never worked as well as it does now.
you can see geto’s amethyst eyes boring into yours, you can see his hips fucking into yours and yet it doesn’t give you the same kick as you think it would — you’re fucking yourself with your fingers even faster, circles on your clit increasing in speed and messiness and you smear your juices all around.
“father— father geto—” it was pathetic, the way you moaned for a man of God, but the feeling of your cunt clenching around what you wished was his dick was too good, the coil in your stomach still feeling rather uncomfortable but welcoming and you’re unravelling with a silent scream soon, back arching off the sheets.
“s . . suguru, f-fuck,” the swear word feels weird on your lips, as with his first name, but the trembling of your virgin body is so delicious that you just keep rubbing and rubbing, taking so long to come down from your high as your pants get heavier and heavier. and then his face starts to fade off, eyes turning into lilac air and you’re glancing towards the crumpled essay on your bed with guilt festering in your chest.
“ . . mptations of the flesh are childish, are temporary. they lead you to do foolish things that have no place in the kingdom of God. we may repent and put it past us but the memories that our tainted bodies possess, they remember the sinful things that you did.” the recording of father geto dies out as with his powerful conclusion, speaking so loudly into the mic that it screeches with feedback, you remember. you don’t even know where the guilt builds up from, in your torso and your heart, despite questioning the faith you were in for all your life.
if God did not want us to sin, why did he create temptations and ask us to pray for forgiveness?
you roll over and remove your fingers with a small whine, taking up your phone and opening up the contact with father geto hesitantly. it was meant to be a strictly professional exchange like the conversations he’d had with many other parishioners: updates on the church, changes in mass timings, but your chat was filled with questions from you and answers from him. you didn’t dare ask him anything out of the faith.
[9:37 pm, delivered]: uhm. father geto? are you there?
oh god, it’s you. the you who on the second walk around the town exchanged numbers with him because he found your thoughts so intriguing.
[9:39 pm, read]: Yes, Miss (Y/N). What is it?
you take a deep breath. better to ask for that confession, you couldn’t risk your mother asking about it tomorrow.
[9:40 pm, delivered]: is it alright to have
[9:41 pm, delivered]: can i come over to the church, for a bit
father geto straights up in the rectory, getting closer to the socket where his phone was charging and hovers over the screen. his hands are clammy when typing a response and he manages it in about three minutes.
[9:44 pm, read]: Of course, my dear. The doors of the church are open for the congregation at any time.
bidding goodbye to your mother, you stay on the lit path to the church and you’re bathing in anticipation, too excited to see father geto that you bump into a dark shadow. almost resembling a hard wall, hands emerge from its sides to clutch at your biceps.
“miss (y/n), what is it? what has gotten you up so late at night?” if he was still in university, he would’ve laughed at how he asked that question. hundreds of texts of u up? that mimic the nature of the question right now.
“i was hoping . .” you ignore the tingly feeling of the way in which his hands leave goosebumps along your biceps and then to your forearms. finally, they clutch your hands between his, meant to be like a warm hug but instead is like fire, licking at your fingers and wrist like you’re at the stake. “i was hoping that i could, request you for a confession?”
the priest across you swallows with a nod, swiftly putting a hand across your back to lead you to the booth. you both could’ve done it perfectly fine in the pews, sitting across each other. “the confessional is where we will feel the strongest compulsion of Christ. come,” he answers your question before you can ask it, “take your place on the kneeler behind the curtains.”
father geto showers in the same sea of anticipation when he makes sure you’re okay before heading over to his side of the confessional. he’s imagined this scene over and over — you on the pew kneeler, breath warming the velvet curtains — he cannot help the bulge that forms.
the first words he speak behind the curtain shock you, voice sounding so close yet so muffled and distant.
“come, now, (y/n), make the Sign of the Cross with me.”
Father, Son and Holy Spirit
upon your head, chest and shoulders you do it, taking a deep breath before you start. “bless me, father, for i have sinned. it has been . . about five years since my last confession.”
geto nods, the soft carry of your voice in the late night having an effect on the priest. the hold he has on the crucifix of the rosary is so tight it makes an indent on his skin, the only thing on mortal flesh to keep him from falling.
“What though the field be lost? All is not lost; the unconquerable will, And study of revenge, immortal hate, And courage never to submit or yield.”
your thighs rub together, hot breath sending chills down your clutched hands and down your arm as you ponder over the things you’ve done — “i’ve . . lied to my mother at times, to my friends when they ask me where i’m from. i have stolen money for my own needs, n-not— that high of an amount but um . . still a fair amount.”
“what did you need to buy, sweetheart?”
the name surprises you, but you simply ignore it. “i wanted new clothes — was all the rave at uni when the girls wore miniskirts and little tops. unfortunately it didn’t suit me.”
geto swears under his breath when the image of you in such skimpy clothing infiltrate his thoughts. his curiosity overtakes him; overwhelmed with emotion, he never had the chance to see what you were wearing before he pulls back the curtains and hopes your eyes are closed and they are: pulled tight with quivering eyebrows. there, like a sinning Christian is you in a thin camisole, cleavage showing beneath your arms. he peers lower, gasps softly to himself when you’re wearing a skirt.
“father? father, what’s wrong?” you think you hear the swift swoosh and the rings of the miniature curtain clatter.
“n—nothing is wrong, miss (y/n). are there any other sins you want to confess?”
you swallow, “i . . i’ve wished misfortune on my father.”
not the sin he was hoping for but he wasn’t surprised; his head moves in understanding. he had seen your father — merely a ghost in the house and hardly contributing to fostering the family. it goes against what Mary and Joseph stands for as the Holy Family, but father geto has seen a lot of absent fathers and incompetency to truly be taken aback anymore.
“i’ve also . . i’m not sure whether to tell you this, father geto.”
your breaths were all you could hear in the silence of the church, an eerie quietness settling as if the critters and animals of the earth strived to listen to your ultimate sin, too. Beelzebub, Asmodeus, possibly even Lucifer himself clawed themselves up from hell to eavesdrop.
“of course you can, my dear.” the wind through the wooden confessional box sounds like the hisses of the three demons, like they have had holy water sprayed on them from the mere sounding of his voice; but they look hopefully for a server of Christ to fall exactly like they did.
“it’s, related to my body, father. i,” gulping, you continue with a prompt from the other, “i’ve had this growing need, like, one has when they’re hungry. they have the need to fill their stomachs. or— or a sudden pain you have to massage yourself through, like a cramp in the arm of sorts.”
“well . . is it your torso or your arm?”
“it’s . .” you spare a glance towards your centre under your very, very short skirt, the familiar pulsing of your clit turning more and more prominent. “it’s related to my pussy, father.”
you hear a choke from the other side, and then you realise your choice of words.
“ah— m-my bad! i meant my . . vagina, father geto.”
“no— no u-uhm, the previous term was fine. could you describe what you did? how far did you go so i c-can . . give you the appropriate penance?”
behind the curtains, geto have already started palming his bulge, massaging the ache in his length that still continues to grow and harden. the way you describe is so terribly innocent and unknowing, a deepening urge to corrupt you running through his veins.
“i played with um— my breasts, first. i pulled up my top and felt around my nipples, but i got impatient and . .” geto hangs on to every word of yours, shifting to get his robes out of the way. it was just like the first night: his underwear stained with so much pre-cum it’s probably changed the colour of the garment. he peels it away and the lack of restraint leaves him sighing softly while you ramble on—
“i tried playing with that . . thing between my legs.” you recall the quick google search from that first night, “i played with my clit, father.”
geto stifles a groan into his hand just as he starts to stroke himself softly. “y . . yeah, and?”
“i tried to um . . fit my finger in. it was uncomfortable, at first,” you cannot ignore the pull of your core; your hand shimmies past the clasped hands and down to your skirt. you have no panties to swipe to the side: you came here without any. your finger rubs gently at the throbbing bundle of nerves, a soft whine leaving your lips before you remember you’re in the midst of a confession.
“but i . . i got it into my pussy soon enough. and then i put in another finger.” there was a more audible grunt from the other side, the confessional weirdly heating up immensely as you follow your confession: two fingers easily glide in from just how wet you were.
“when?” there’s a strain in father geto’s voice when he asks it, maybe because he was trying so hard to keep quiet. his jaw is locked as he pumps his cock slowly because his tip is leaking so much that even a simple movement would give him away.
“w-wha—?”
“w-when did you first start . . touching your pussy, (y/n)?” hearing a priest say such a lewd word makes you clench around your fingers.
“after you came to deliver t-that chocolate cake . . father geto.”
“f-fuck—” geto squeezes his eyes shut and it’s like he’s a university student again losing his virginity for the first time by the hands of some random chick pumping him. the implied confession has him stroking faster; it was after that trip he made to your house, it was after seeing you stand at the door like a good little girl, it was because of him, right? right?
you snap back the curtains and your mouth waters at the scene: father geto hunching over the little window that separates the two of you and his head hung low; his cassock gathers around his hips and his cock— good Lord, his cock was so big, clutched tightly between his left hand. his tip was weeping, an angry red as it continued to push out globs of pre.
“f-father!” geto doesn’t seem to care, giving you a drunk and nonchalant glance as he continues to stroke his shaft. he knows it’s wrong, doing this in the house of the Lord but it feels so fucking good. “y-you—”
you’re at a loss for words, pointing to his exposed bottom, but even though you’re speaking out against him, you can’t help but follow his hand as it moves up and down like a spell. his eyes are simply pleading, hips bucking up and you would think he was a parishioner instead. shaking in the presence of God, in the presence of you—
you stick your hand past the squeezy window, drawing his interest and before you know it you’re blindly bumping into his erection. there, he silently grabs your hand, guiding it to his shaft. he uncomfortably leans down to look at your face, eyebrows still furrowed but your tongue stuck out and his dick twitches in your hand.
“s-shit, baby . .” geto swears under his breath, and again when you pull on his dick to the window. uncomfortably his body lightly slams against the partition, a soft thud coming from the booth as his head collides with the wood, “(y/n) . .”
he can’t see you, but he can hear you. “may i, father geto?”
you don’t wait for his answer, gauging mainly from the heavy breaths coming from above you. they really do need to change the confessional, too, because you can clearly hear every word he mumbles out from the holes in the partition.
“shiiit—” when you kitten lick his tip, collection the pre-cum that continues to leave his tip, and it feels better than his Rite of Ordination and when he finally got to host his first mass. it’s better than that prophetic dream he has of God calling him to serve Him and the churches in the city with church-goers of boring faces and predictable stories.
here was a rural place, a place where he never expected such a pretty girl to practice the Christian faith, only to falter in the presence of a pastor. he’s gotten such a cute little slut to corrupt. you start to bob your head slowly, unsure of what to do apart from putting his cock on your mouth. your teeth grazes his skin a little and he hisses.
“no teeth. suck in your cheeks,” he cannot see you but he wishes he can, and he knows you listen to his advice when he feels only the smooth glide of your mouth and he wishes it was your pussy that you fingered.
“going deeper, darling,” geto grunts when he pushes his cock past your mouth and into your throat, the sweet gag you do making him dig his forehead deeper into the uneven wooden partition. he can hear your struggling sounds, the muffled moans with his cock down your cavern. but he cannot go any longer without seeing you and reluctantly he pushes you off, still holding your hand and you seem to catch his drift soon enough.
you’re as eager as him, bouncing off the kneeler and leaving your side of the booth, and you’re opening the door to his. the reality of the situation fully sinks in, geto standing there with his cock dripping with your saliva and your camisole pulled down under your tits.
“oh . . baby,” geto coaxes you into him, under a little spell of his when you trail in a light as a feather. you don’t resist his hands pushing you down to your knees, and just like earlier, you’re sticking your tongue out and the priest looks at you from under hooded lids.
“did you touch yourself to me, little girl?” it comes out stronger than intended but you seem to like it, even when your answers are cut off by him slapping his tip on your tongue. it’s so heavy, his cock, and thick too that you can help but suckle on it when you get the opportunity.
“ever since that day, father geto.” you look drunk, swirling your tongue around the tip and continuing to talk, “i . . i imagine you above me and sometimes i dangle my crucifix thinkin’ it’s yours.”
a small laugh escapes the priest. “did you now?” it’s reminiscent of the time where you praise his sermon. his laugh is cut off as you continue to suck him off, hands still confused. he helps you by bringing your hands to the places you can’t reach and you follow like second nature. “dirty fucking slut, aren’t you?”
“i promise i didn’t know anything before this . . father.” you look up at him through your lashes, big doe eyes proving every last bit of your innocence. aht, partially. you did watch a video of this chick blowing her boyfriend, cumming with your own fingers in your throat, wishing it was geto’s cock in your mouth instead.
but having a real cock in your mouth? it was divine, better than the body of Christ in melting on your tongue. your ministrations speed up, the obscene noises of you gurgling reverberating in the wooden box late at night. it would be even worse at the altar where it would echo everywhere.
“y—yeah, baby, that’s it, that’s it . .” his eyes are shut tight, intoxicated on the way your warm mouth feels. you whine into his shaft, tears forming at the corners of your eyes from how deep he was in you.
“mmf— mmph!” your moans sends vibrations up his body, interrupted when geto thrusts his hips into your mouth suddenly and your nose meets with his pubes, eyes rolling back from the muskiness of his body. it smells like incense and sweat, filling your senses as he keeps you right up to his hilt.
“ohh . . fuckfuck fuucck—!” the father pulls you off to let you breathe, pleasantly surprised when you start pumping him violently, tongue stuck out again. there’s a hint of light from the outside that highlights the pinkness of your tongue and he’s never wanted to cum this badly before.
“i’m cumming— baby, baby, i’m g’nna c-cum—” there’s a long, drawn out whine from father geto upon feeling the warmth of your hands stroking his cock so obediently, resting his tip on your tongue where you’d willingly drink his cum like wine. geto shoots his load into your mouth and is the loudest he’s ever been; he doesn’t care who hears him, he doesn’t care if he gets transferred out tomorrow, all he wants to think about is you on your knees and your nipples hardened from confessing to him. he’d like to bet that your pussy was drooling too, hips bucking into the soft skin of your hands.
some of his cum gets onto your face and on your lips, and geto almost cums again when you use his tip to smear his seed around your face, sucking lightly on his tip.
“dirty girl . .” he pulls on your biceps to bring you up, and your lips meet instantaneously like you were meant to be separated for eternity, doomed only to meet for one day a year. it’s messy and sloppy, drool drips from your sides of your mouths as your lips merge together.
“was that your first kiss, baby?” father geto can tell by how you don‘t know how to follow his lead, teeth clashing and breathing uneven.
“am i that obvious?” you frown, feeling self-conscious, but geto is quick to reassure you.
“father geto’s going to teach you everything you need to know, alright?” he brings you in with a finger to your chin, hovers over your lips like a tease.
he teaches you everything you want to know and more, like how the front of the church looks like and how cold the marble of the altar feels against your back as he eats you out and the sensations are all too much for you. he teaches you that using God’s name in vain is alright when it comes to moaning out how good he makes you feel and how your penance is whatever he makes it out to be he teaches you how you can take not one, not two, but three fingers up your pussy.
they’re so much thicker than your own, one hand pushing on your shaking thighs to keep them open while his three fingers move in and out of you. you’re leaking so much, your virgin cunt dripping like holy water down the white marble and onto the matching marble floor.
he teaches you his first name and he makes sure you say it.
“su—suguru . . god, r-right there—” he latches his mouth onto your clit, suckling and flicking his tongue impatiently because he just wants to see you cum. your legs stretch out to knock over a candelabra and the clatter of the metal against the ground is enough to wake up a whole village but you. don’t. care.
your hips grind onto his tongue, feeling the borderline painful stretch of his thick fingers in you but they reach all the right spots that you can’t find it in you to care.
“you taste so good—” geto spits onto your cunt and goes back to sucking on your clit, “pussy’s so fuckin’ sweet, holy fuck.” your noises come out of you non-stop as you bury your hands in his hair, finally knowing what you sound like in an unrestrictive space under the apse.
father geto teaches you how to take a cock up your cute, tight pussy, not bothering for a condom when basically all of your clothes have been discarded throughout the night. it’s almost midnight and your mother have fallen asleep on the couch, unaware her sweet, sweet daughter is losing her virginity in the place she was baptised, where she got her first communion.
the first push into your drenched cunt is painful, mushroom tip stretching you out slightly as you clutch tightly onto his forearm, brows knitted together at the girth of his cock.
“been wanting . . to fuck this pussy so bad, baby,” geto grunts it out, obsessed with how his length slowly disappears into you. he can feel each ridge of your gummy walls, hugging him so snugly that there’s several moans that leave his lips, “have you been— thinking ’bout this as much as i h-have?”
your jaw stretches beyond your limit when he eases himself inch by inch into you, thanking the hells below that your vision was finally coming true. above you there’s that same crucifix, sterling silver with amethyst stones embedded into the design, you remember, catching the light of the lone spotlight above the both of you. there’s a similar glint in father geto’s purple eyes.
“all the time, father—” you moan out, pulling him by his necklace to your lips that are more experienced now, each minute that passes is one more atom of your body turning black from the fire that licks at you from below the altar. you kiss the lips of your parish priest, whimpering slightly when his hips buck and you feel the stretch more clearly now.
“is this what Isaac felt when Abraham tried to bind him for a sacrifice on Moriah? helpless, confused, betrayed?”
geto lets out a hum, sucking hickeys into your neck and you think it’s a million times better than questioning a God that never showed himself, who never really had the intentions of the people in mind, who created sin to watch the downfall of men while he enjoys his time in his kingdom.
if this was what was meant by losing yourself to your devils, you would gladly shake hands with Lucifer and hope the warmth of the fire in hell would be a hug warmer than any hug you’ve received by people of the Christian faith.
“well, baby, do you feel helpless?” thrust “confused,” thrust “and betrayed?” thrust
he punctures each word with a snap of his hips and the pain gives way to pleasure and soon he’s already lost in the comfort of your pussy, hips starting a pace easily that emphasises just how wet you are. the echoes of your weeping cunt and the lewd slapping of his balls into your ass is like the bell ringing during mass, loud, resonating, it shakes your whole body.
“mmfuck . . helpless, m-maybe,” you whine out, legs wrapping around his back, “confused, n-not— suguruuu, yesyesyes!”
you try again, “n-not really. betrayed . .”
you feel like a sacrifice, but it was willing, of a confession that has led to this lewd showing of just how much the temptations of the flesh were insanely undeniable. there’s a murmur of i don’t think i can last much longer into your ear, cock driving into your tight pussy so harshly you’re hoping the small altar doesn’t move.
“b-betrayed, i think—” you squeal when father geto angles his hips up and it kisses your cervix just nicely, sending multiple chills down your body. your moans penetrate the holy air, hair splayed out like a painting and geto knows this is better than any Eucharist he’s ever tasted.
you clench around his fat cock, and he twitches, switching to short, pathetic thrusts into your pussy and he cries out your name as he cums deep in you, giving you all of his seed deep in your womb. your breath catches in your throat at the feeling of your first load, the warmth already hooking you in and you pull so hard on his hair he has no choice but to follow your hand.
you let him handle you deep into the night, taking you off the altar and pushing you up against it, entering you again and you brace yourself against the marble.
“s-sorry, sweetheart, you were saying?” he also wants to apologise that he hadn’t made you cum just yet, but your pussy’s so fucking heavenly he just has to be in you again.
“i-i feel a little betrayed,“ you sag over the altar, back arching into his hold. father geto is fixated on the movement of your ass fucking back onto him, “that a priest would break his m-marriage to God for me.”
“i thought they were supposed to be men of God,” you barely manage to form sentences. geto’s laugh at that startles you, as with the hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling. payback. you love it, however, a sweet Christian girl turned into a slut, and the last bits of the thread unravels when father geto reaches around to rub your clit.
“’m gonna— cum, suguru—” you whine out, body turning to mush with how hard he rams into your pussy. by now there’s a ring of white around the base of his cock, your juices slowly starting to coat it, too and Lucifer succeeds at sin yet again.
you cannot blame Eve when the serpent is as beautiful and cunning as geto suguru, nor can you blame her when his thick cock just reaches so deep into you, tip kissing your sweet spots and his hand impatiently drawing messy circles on your bundle of nerves.
“that just makes it the best though, right?” geto breathlessly says, “a holy man fucking a virgin raw in a holy place where prayers are said.” your legs are spreading further and further, his sweaty body engulfs yours, you’re dizzy, “you’re too tempting, sweet girl. tempting enough for me to want to abandon priesthood just so i can be buried in this pussy for fucking eternity.”
and you cum, head and heart going a hundred miles per hour as your body trembles in his hold. “there we go, little slut, thereee we go . .” you can feel the chill of the sterling silver into your back and his smile before he orgasms a second time into your waiting pussy, a second, heavy load let go into your pussy. it’s so warm and filling, and you already want more, more, more.
lust for more things turns into greed when we act on that initial lust.
“aw,” father geto coos at your fucked out face, flipping you around to give you a sloppy kiss and forcing himself to his knees just to watch his cum drip out of you, “does she want more?”
“always, father.” you answer with a drunken smile, putting a leg on his shoulder. again, your finger hooks around his crucifix, and you drag the priest down deeper into hell, somewhere father geto would‘ve always ended up.
somewhere where he would renounce his priesthood and worship something, and someone: you.
“Better to reign in Hell, then serve in Heav'n.”
a/n: LOOOONG MAN WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS. also i put the author’s note at the bottom this time bc i wanted to format of the fic to look the best without my goofy words ruining it! hope you guys liked it :) / tagging @crysugu @omgeto @kazushawty @suguruplsr @hydrovillette @slttygeto @hyomagiri @jabamin
