A Pleasure To Have In Class | Nanami Kento X F!reader
A Pleasure to Have in Class | Nanami Kento x f!reader
Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Sexual Content, Teacher Nanami Kento, Breeding Kink, Daddy Kink, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Oral Sex, Classroom Sex, Desk Sex
Word Count: 6.1K
Summary: You and your son's hot new teacher give a whole new meaning to "parent/teacher conference".
Cross-posted to AO3
You rushed towards the building as quickly as your pumps would allow, and you waved down a faculty member who was exiting, signaling them to hold the door lest you be locked out. A work meeting of yours had lasted longer than anticipated, and you now found yourself hurrying through the halls of the school to catch your son’s teacher for the last parent/teacher conference of the day.
Your frantic search drew to a close when you finally located your son’s classroom – the door was slightly ajar, but regardless, you knocked on the doorframe twice to announce your arrival.
“Good evening, Mr. Nanami,” you said, stepping into the classroom and shutting the door behind you. “I’m sorry for running late – absolutely hectic day at the office! I’m Yuji’s mother.”
Yuji’s teacher, Mr. Nanami, put down the stack of papers he had been grading and stood up from his seat to greet you, taking your hand in his to give you a firm shake. His large hand enveloped your own, and the rolled-up sleeves of his sapphire blue button-down shirt showed off his impressive, veiny forearms.
You had heard whispers amongst the other PTA moms about how attractive the new teacher was, but their gossiping did not do the man justice. Simply put, Mr. Nanami was hot – and not just your run-of-the-mill kind of hot, but absolutely mouthwatering.
His cheekbones and jawline looked as if they had been expertly carved from marble, and the aura he exuded was one of confidence. He seemed like a serious man who had his shit together, and that only added to his appeal.
“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said in his rich, baritone voice. “No need to apologize – from what your son has told me, it seems like your position is quite demanding.”
“I appreciate you being so understanding,” you replied, sitting down in the chair in front of his desk. “My son tells me you’re his favorite teacher, so I’m very happy to finally meet the man he looks up to so much. I’ve heard nothing but good things about you, Mr. Nanami.”
For the next half hour or so, Mr. Nanami updated you on Yuji’s performance in class, going over areas in which he excelled, and areas of opportunity. You were entranced by the manner in which he spoke. He was incredibly eloquent and articulate, and his words made it perfectly clear that he loved his job.
He went into detail about some of the topics Yuji struggled with, and had an answer for every one of your questions, demonstrating that he had given a lot of thought as to how to help your son succeed. For every challenge, Mr. Nanami presented you with a well-thought-out performance improvement plan, and it became increasingly clear why your son loved him so much.
Underneath his stoic exterior, Mr. Nanami was a kind man who cared deeply about his students, and you found your attraction to him grow the more he spoke.
“Yuji is an absolute pleasure to have in class,” he said, drawing your attention back to the conversation at hand. His eyes seemed to narrow and darken as he eyed you. “And now that I’m getting the chance to speak to you, I can see why – he must get his charm from you.”
You raised a brow. Perhaps you were reading too much into his tone, but that didn’t seem like the kind of thing one would just say to a parent during a parent/teacher conference.
Mr. Nanami ran a hand through his blond locks, and you blatantly observed the way his biceps flexed when he raised his arm. He was naturally alluring, and it had been ages since the last time you had felt this attracted to a man, so it was becoming more and more difficult to ignore the ache between your legs.
“I must say, Mr. Nanami, I can see why Yuji speaks so highly of you,” you said. You leaned forward, placed your elbows on his desk, and rested your chin atop your interlaced fingers. “I’m glad he has a man like you to look up to.”
“Well, you’ve raised a wonderful young man, Mrs. Itadori-”
“Miss Itadori,” you said. You flashed him your left hand, showing off your bare ring finger, and smiled. “I never married.”
“Miss Itadori, then.”
“And what about you Mr. Nanami?” you asked, quirking a brow. “Any children?”
“No, no children.”
“Married?”
“No,” he replied. You hummed.
“Really? That’s quite a surprise,” you said. You leaned back into your seat and crossed your legs, causing your skirt to ride up and flash a bit of thigh, the only thing shielding the view of your bare leg being the skin toned pantyhose you were wearing. “I envy the woman who will be lucky enough to snatch you up.”
“What do you mean?” he asked. You smiled at him before biting down on your bottom lip. He was totally oblivious to your flirting – he was so cute.
“Well, you’re obviously great with kids, so you would make a wonderful father, and you have a good head on your shoulders – I find that hard to come by nowadays, especially from a man. Frankly, I find it hard to believe that you’re still on the market.”
A soft shade of pink dusted Nanami’s cheeks, and you couldn’t help but let out a quiet giggle. You didn’t think it would be so easy to get a man as levelheaded as he is so flustered. He tore his gaze from you and loosened his tie as he cleared his throat.
“I appreciate the compliment, Miss Itadori.”
“You know, Mr. Nanami,” you cooed. You stood up from your chair and sat on the edge of his desk before leaning in to reach for his tie. You gently tugged on it, a wordless suggestion that he lean in closer, and he obliged. Nanami’s face was mere inches away from yours, and you could hear his breath hitch as you began to close the distance between the two of you. “I really appreciate everything you’ve done for my son.”
“Miss Itadori, I-I don’t think this is appropriate,” he choked out. You sighed and released your hold on his tie, allowing him to sink back into his seat.
“You’re right – I apologize.” You stood from the desk and smoothed out your skirt, disappointed by the turn of events. “I should head out. I’m sorry this ran so late – I’m almost certain we’re the last ones in the building and I’m sure you’re eager to get out of here after such a long day.”
You started to reach for your coat and bag when you heard Nanami’s chair roll away as he stood up abruptly.
“Miss Itadori – please don’t take my reaction as an insult. This may be improper of me to say, but you’re a beautiful woman and under different circumstances…” Nanami trailed off, and you eyed him curiously as he walked around his desk to stand in front of you. He shoved his hands into his pockets, the innocent gesture a clear sign as to how awkward he felt in that moment. “Yuji is fortunate to have a mother like you who cares so deeply for his success, but please don’t feel obligated to repay me in any way. I’m just doing my job.”
You blinked, bemused, and brought your hand up to your mouth as you laughed.
“Mr. Nanami,” you said, walking towards him until he was within arm’s reach. “I can assure you that I wasn’t flirting with you to… compensate you for your efforts. I was doing so for purely selfish reasons.”
“…ah.”
God, he was cute – he really didn’t get it, did he?
You reached out to fix his tie and allowed your fingers to travel downwards so that your palms rested on his chest, and you were pleasantly surprised by the firmness of his pectorals. What kind of teacher was built like this?
His heartrate raced beneath your touch and you stood on your toes to whisper into his ear.
“You are a very handsome man, Mr. Nanami, and I’m a woman who knows what she wants.” His hands found purchase on your waist, and he steadied you as you lowered yourself back down. “But I understand that you don’t think this is the time nor place for my advances – you have to maintain your professionalism, of course.”
“Miss Itadori…”
You backed away from him and grabbed your purse.
“Under different circumstances, right?” you asked, shooting him a coquettish smile as you repeated his words. “Well, have a good night – and thank you for taking such good care of my son.”
You turned towards the door to make your exit but stopped short when you felt Nanami’s hand wrap around your bicep.
“Wait,” he began. You tilted your head to the side, confused by his actions, and your skin prickled with excitement as his hand released your arm to trace a line up to your cheek. “I apologize if this is too forward but -”
“Mr. Nanami,” you interrupted. You closed the distance between your bodies so your chest was flush against his. “I think I’ve made it perfectly clear that I find you to be sinfully attractive so, please, don’t worry about being too forward because I can assure y-”
It was Nanami’s turn to interrupt you as he brought one of his hands to the back of your head, and crashed his lips against yours. Your arms snaked their way around his neck, and Nanami’s free hand gripped your side, with his thumb brushing the spot just below your breast.
His hands roamed across your body, running the pads of his fingers down the length of your spine and leaving a trail of goosebumps wherever he made contact, while you tangled your fingers in locks, disheveling his once perfectly coiffed hair. A firm grope of your ass caused you to gasp out in surprise, and Nanami took advantage of that moment to deepen the kiss, inserting his tongue into your mouth as he slowly pushed you towards the edge of his desk.
You pulled away for a moment and admired the flushed look of Nanami’s cheeks as the two of you regulated your heavy breathing. It felt as if the temperature of the room had skyrocketed, and your racing heartbeat thrummed in your eardrums, sending pulsations throughout your whole body – including your now wet cunt. All this and you had only kissed the man.
Nanami pressed his forehead against yours as his breaths became steady, and his lips barely grazed yours as he whispered to you.
“Is this alright?” he asked. You titled your head up a fraction of an inch to touch your lips to his and breathed out your affirmation.
“More than alright.”
Taking your words as a sign to keep going, Nanami lifted you up just high enough to seat you on top of his desk and pressed his thigh in between your legs, coaxing a moan out of you. Your damp panties did little to shield your cunt from the rough material of his slacks, and your hips moved of their own accord, grinding down on his thigh and soaking through his pants.
“God,” he hissed in between kisses. “I can already feel how wet you are.”
You merely hummed in response as you started to undo his tie, tossing it aside to God knows where before working on unbuttoning his shirt. Nanami mirrored your actions with urgency and before you had a chance to pull his shirt off of him, he had already rid you of your blouse. His hands immediately found for your tits, and he kneaded them over your lacy, black bra. You groaned into his mouth, spurring him on, and allowed your hands to explore the solid planes of his chest and abdomen. Nanami’s muscles tensed under your touch, and you could feel his quad flex between your legs as you continued to rock yourself against his leg.
Nanami’s mouth parted from yours, leaving you disappointed for only a fraction of a second before his lips started to make their way down your neck. He lightly nipped at your skin, following up with hot, wet kisses to soothe the spots that he had undoubtedly bruised. He brought a hand behind your back and deftly unhooked your bra, separating from you just long enough for you to slip it off before he went back to his ministrations.
You leaned back on the desk to allow him better access to your bare chest, and groaned uncomfortably when you felt something digging into your back. Sensing your discomfort, Nanami swiped his arm across his desk, sending its contents crashing towards the floor. The sound of a mug shattering rang in your ears, but Nanami paid no mind to it, preferring to focus on the task at hand.
Nanami gently pushed you down so you lay flat across his desk, and you moaned with pleasure as one of his hands was replaced by his mouth sucking on your tit. He kissed and licked around your nipple, leaving yet another bitemark on the swell of your breast.
He swiped his tongue across the valley of your breasts as he began to rub one of your nipples between his thumb and index finger. His mouth travelled to your other nipple and you moaned when he began to lightly flick it with his tongue.
You were absolutely breathless, and the only thing on your mind was the nonstop throbbing of your cunt as it rubbed against Nanami’s abdominals and clenched around nothing – your pussy was begging to be filled.
“Fuck,” you moaned. “I need you inside of me.”
“Patience is a virtue, Miss Itadori” Nanami whispered against your skin, switching his mouth over to your other nipple. The hand that had been previously groping at you slid down your side, tracing the contours of your body as he made his way to the zipper of your skirt. You tugged on Nanami’s hair, pulling him up so that his mouth met yours once again. The only sounds filling the room were those of your lips smacking together and the sound of Nanami pulling your zipper down at a torturously slow pace.
Nanami stepped back so that he could fully remove your skirt and you took the brief reprieve from his kisses to admire his flawlessly toned torso. You had suspected that he was built like an Adonis when you saw the way his muscles bulged under his shirt, but now that you had a perfect view of his bare torso, you reflexively licked your lips.
You longed to have your mouth on every single one of the bumps and curves of his body. You wanted to feel his firm chest pressed up against yours. You wanted his rough hands to explore every inch of your skin. You wanted to feel his lips on your plush inner thighs.
Even under the harsh lighting of the fluorescent bulbs overhead, Nanami Kento was, without a doubt, the sexiest man you had ever laid eyes on.
Nanami got down onto his knees and you squealed with surprise and delight when he hooked his arms around your thighs and pulled you towards the edge of the desk so that you could feel his hot breath on your clothed wet cunt.
He had neglected to remove your pantyhose when he rid you of your skirt, but you realized that that had been intentional when Nanami pinched the translucent material, pulled on it, and let it snap back into place against your inner thigh. He was toying with you, and it was driving you crazy.
As if reading your mind, Nanami placed a kiss on your cunt, and dug his nails into your pantyhose to rip a giant hole to expose your crotch. He swiped his tongue over your panties and you whimpered with anticipation as you felt his fingers walk their way over to the lace so he could shove them aside.
Without an ounce of hesitation, he dove in between your legs, burying his face in your folds and rubbing at your clit with his pointed nose while his tongue dipped inside of you.
“Oh god – oh god,” you moaned.
Nanami ate you out with unmatched fervor as if you were the only meal he had had in weeks – a meal he just couldn’t get enough of – and he hummed into your pussy with satisfaction as your slick coated his tongue.
His fingers dug into your thighs to keep you steady in place as your hips bucked upwards almost involuntarily. Your entire body was wracked by your heavy breathing, and the lewd sounds of Nanami sucking on your clit were almost loud enough to drown out the sound of your moaning.
Your hands futilely groped around the desk, desperately searching for something – anything – to grab onto. Unable to find an anchor, your hands ultimately found purchase in Nanami’s tousled locks. You almost didn’t think he could get any closer to you, but when you pressed his head into your pussy, he proved you wrong as his tongue reached a spot even deeper within your cunt.
“You taste amazing,” he breathed, and you found yourself whimpering yet again when he removed his tongue to speak, desperate for more stimulation. You pushed his head back to its rightful place in between your legs, and let out a shrill moan when his tongue was replaced by two of his long, thick fingers delving into your sopping wet cunt. They slid in with ease, thanks to his spit and the juices of your arousal, and the loud squelching of him pumping his fingers in and out of you was, by far, the most lascivious thing you had ever heard.
Your moans grew more and more distressed as you neared your first orgasm. The way Nanami worked at your clit with his tongue made it seem like the two of you had done this thousands of times. He was a fast learner, and quickly picked up on all of your cues indicating whenever you really liked what he was doing. He expertly flicked at the nub with the tip of his tongue, and his skillful, deliberate movements had you seeing stars.
He curled his fingers within you, pressing into a sensitive spot in your cunt at the same time he swiped his tongue over your clit. It elicited a long, squealing moan from your lips, and your grip on his hair tightened as your toes curled.
“Yes, yes, oh god, just like that,” you panted. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck! I’m so close!”
You dared to peer down at Nanami working at your pussy, and the sight alone of him in between your legs almost sent you careening over the edge.
It wasn’t until he peeked up at you through his long lashes with his tongue still deep in your cunt, that the wave of euphoria crashed over you, and you screamed out his name as you found your release. Nanami kept you pressed tightly against his mouth and drank up your essence – eager to have you ride out your orgasm on his tongue.
You could’ve sworn you blacked out for a moment – you had never had an orgasm quite like that.
You released his locks and dropped back onto the desk with one of your arms flying to cover your eyes and protect them from the ceiling lamps. Your legs may have been shaking like leaves in a hurricane, and your breathing may have been irregular, but you had never, ever felt this good.
If he was able to make you cum like that with just his tongue and his fingers, you couldn’t wait to have his cock inside of you.
Nanami took the opportunity to rid you completely of your defiled pantyhose and underwear before getting up from his spot on the floor and wiping your remaining juices from his face with one of his clean fingers. He stared you dead in the eyes as he sucked all of his digits clean and you bit down on your lip lustfully.
You wanted to do unspeakable things to this man.
But, for now, your focus was on making him feel as good as he had made you feel.
Despite your still-trembling limbs, you propped yourself up and managed to stand before him to thank him with a sloppy kiss on his lips. He wrapped his arms around your waist and groaned into the kiss as he pulled your naked body close against him. You could feel the hardness of his erection begging to be released from the confines of his slacks and you were more than eager to help him take care of that.
“Was that okay?” he asked. You gawked at him before pulling him in for another kiss.
“Was that, okay? You just gave me one of the best orgasms of my entire life and you’re asking me if that was okay?” you laughed. “That was more than okay – and I would love to thank you properly.”
“No thanks necessary – I might have enjoyed that even more than you did.”
Your pussy throbbed at his words, and you palmed at the prominent bulge in his pants. He bit down on his tongue to stifle a moan and you tutted at him, rubbing your palm against him in a circular motion and leaning into his ear.
“I want to hear you, Mr. Nanami,” you whispered. “Now be a good boy and have a seat for me.”
You could hear him gulp expectantly as he followed orders and took a seat in his desk chair. You planted your palms on his thighs and ran your hands all over them, teasingly brushing over his erection.
You could feel the corded muscles of his quads flex as you used them to help you lower yourself into a kneeling position in front of him, but before you reached the ground, he stopped you.
“Wait,” he said. You eyed him curiously as he pulled his arms free of his sleeves and removed his button-down shirt. He folded it up and placed it on the ground, right where your knees were set to land. “I want you to be comfortable.”
You had known this man all of one hour, but you could already confidently say that he was perfect.
He spread his legs out wide enough so that you can squeeze yourself in between them, and you leisurely dragged your index finger from his sternum down to the trail of blond hairs directly below his navel. You lightly scratched his skin with your manicured nail, and drew a loaded sigh from Nanami’s lips.
His belt was unbuckled in a matter of seconds, and you could hear the creaking of leather as he gripped onto the arms of his chair, clearly growing excited by the prospect you taking him into your mouth. Next came the button of slacks, followed by the zipper which you pulled down slowly, teasing him just as he had teased you before.
Nanami lifted his hips for you to be able to pull down his pants and boxer briefs, and you couldn’t help but moan when his cock sprung free.
“Jesus Christ,” you breathed.
To say he had a nice cock would be an understatement. It was longer than most of the ones you had seen, and definitely girthier. Most impressive of all was how big his balls were, and you couldn’t wait to feel them slap against your pussy when he inevitably fucked you on his desk.
Precum glistened on the tip of his cock, and you carefully wrapped one of your hands around his length, using the pad of your thumb to spread his precum all over the head. Nanami shuddered and you experimentally swirled your tongue around his swollen tip. He hissed at your actions, and what you wanted more than anything was to hear more of those sweet sounds come out of him.
You allowed saliva to pool in your mouth, and stared up at him as you let it flow from your lips to moisten his cock. A few more pumps of your hand coated him entirely with your makeshift lubricant, and once you were satisfied, you jerked him off with one hand and fondled his balls with the other.
Nanami groaned as your pace quickened and you continued to rub at his tip with your thumb. His cock twitched in your hand, and you took that as your cue to switch over to using your mouth.
“God,” he moaned. “You’re really good at this.”
You stared up at him from your spot in between his legs, and you could tell he loved the view of you on your knees with his fat cock stuffed into your mouth. He threw his head back when you took him deeper into your throat, and you could hear his grip on the leather arms tighten when he heard you gagging on his length.
He was so big that you wondered just how you were even physically able to take his cock bottoming out in your throat, but you were up for the challenge – especially when he rewarded you with those incredibly sexy moans.
Your hand continued to play with those heavy balls of his, while your other hand wrapped around the base of his cock and jerked him off. Whatever couldn’t fit in your fist was taken care of by your mouth, and the sloppiness of your blowjob had spit dripping down his cock and onto the leather seat of his chair.
You wanted to suck the life out of this man but, much to your dismay, he stopped you.
“W-wait,” he stuttered. You pulled your mouth off of his cock with a loud ‘pop’ and glanced up at him through your lashes. He grabbed onto your forearms and helped you stand before bringing you in for a kiss. He started with your lips, and then trailed down your neck, lightly biting on your pulse point. “I don’t want to cum until I’ve properly fucked you.”
“Mr. Nanami, there is nothing proper about what I want you to do to me,” you teased. He growled in your ear and spun you around so your back was against his chest. His hand snaked around you and down in between your legs to rub at your clit, causing you to whimper and grind your ass against his fully erect cock.
While his index and middle fingers alternated between rubbing your clit and dipping into your pussy, he planted his free hand on your upper back and urged you forward so that you were bent over his desk, wet cunt on full display from behind.
Nanami grabbed his cock, spreading your slick coating his fingers down his entire length, and giving it a few solid pumps. He slipped himself between your legs, and rubbed himself along your folds without entering you – it was excruciating.
“Please,” you whined. “I need you inside of me.”
He went out of his way to torture you, and only gave you the satisfaction of him slowly inserting just the tip inside of you. You whimpered and attempted to thrust your hips backwards so that he could sink into you further, but he wouldn’t allow it, instead keeping you firmly in place so he could go at his pace.
“I’m going to go slow, okay?”
He said this out of concern for you, knowing that taking his entire cock might be a bit difficult even though you were more than fully prepped. He pushed into you slowly, and with every inch, you grew more and more impatient and desperate for him to actually fuck you.
The delicious stretch of his cock within your walls had your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your grip on the desk’s lip intensified to the point you were sure your nails were going to leave crescent-shaped marks in the wood.
Nanami let out a sigh of immense satisfaction as he bottomed out and held your ass flush against his pelvis.
“Fuck, Nanami, you feel so fucking good,” you breathed. Your walls clenched around him and he groaned.
“You’re so tight and wet,” he moaned. “Let me know when I can move.”
“Nanami, if you don’t fuck me into this desk right now, I swear to- ah!”
Before you could finish your sentence, Nanami pulled himself almost completely out of your pussy and slammed himself back into you. The few pens that remained on his desk clattered to the floor as Nanami fucked into you so hard the wood started protesting underneath you. Your moans, Nanami’s grunts, and the creaking of the desk were perfectly in sync and you were almost certain the desk was going to give out at any moment.
The two of you were so loud, it was a wonder you could even hear the sound of skin smacking together as he incessantly fucked you from behind and had his balls slapping against your cunt.
“You feel fucking amazing,” he groaned, and he tangled his fingers in your hair to keep your head pressed against the desk, trapping you in your current position and surrendering yourself to him completely.
“Harder – I want you to fuck me harder!” you cried out. Eager to please, Nanami pushed into you so hard that the desk began to scoot across the floor. “God! Yes! Just like that! Oh, God, right there, right there!”
The tip of his cock kissed your cervix and you cried out shamelessly – all worries of someone possibly overhearing you flew out the window. Your walls tightened around him as you felt yourself rapidly approaching your release.
“Don’t,” he said, emphasizing his warning his another hard thrust. “Don’t squeeze my cock like that unless you want me to cum inside you.”
“And what if that is what I want?” you asked teasingly, choking out your words as your legs began to give out. “I want you to cum in me – I want it so bad.”
“Careful,” he cautioned – another thrust.
“I want you to fuck me like you want to put a baby in me,” you said. Nanami groaned and his cock twitched within your walls; you let out a laugh in disbelief. “Oh, you like that, huh?”
You whined with disappointment as he completely pulled out of you, denying you your orgasm, and you squealed in surprise when he flipped you over so that you were lying with your back flat against the desk and your legs hanging over the edge. Nanami grabbed your calves and slung one leg over each of his shoulders.
You had to spread your legs out quite a bit to accommodate his size, and you admired the view of his large, sturdy frame in between your thighs. You hungrily eyed his bulging muscles and, if you weren’t dying for instant gratification, you would love to experiment with him and see what kind of crazy, acrobatic positions he’d be able fuck you in.
Nanami lined his cock up with your entrance and thrust himself back into you without warning.
“Say it again,” he commanded.
“Fuck a baby into me – I want you to fuck a baby into me!”
“Good girl.”
Your cries were rewarded with Nanami relentlessly pounding into you, and his ferocity only spurred you on as you began to mindlessly babble.
“Do you want me to make you a daddy?” you asked. Nanami grunted in time with another hard thrust, and you screamed out in pleasure. “Yeah, I’ll make you a daddy – fuck a baby into me, daddy.”
“You want me to stuff you full of my cum?” he asked, “You’d like that wouldn’t you?”
“Yes, daddy,” you moaned.
Something within him must have snapped, and if you thought he was fucking your brains out before, he was fucking the life out of you now.
There was something about seeing a man like him become totally undone that drove you absolutely mad. He was so well put together and self-actualized that you felt an immense sense of pride in being the cause of his absolutely primal behavior. His baritone voice made your cunt throb with every grunt, because it was just so damn animalistic, and his nostrils flared every time he hit your cervix. His hair had fallen out of place and was plastered against his forehead with sweat from fucking you like his life depended on it – he was the very image of perfection.
Nanami, of course, thought you were an absolute vision. The way your tits bounced every time he pounded into you and the way your voice started to become hoarse from your non-stop moaning and screaming made his cock twitch.
A ring of cream was forming around the base of his cock and he slipped in and out of you so easily it seemed almost unreal.
“You want me to fill you up?” he asked. You moaned your affirmation and he brought his fingers to your clit, rubbing it furiously and drawing another scream out of you. “Use your words.”
“Yes, God, yes!” you cried. “I want you to fucking stuff me full of your cum – wanna make you a daddy!”
He could feel your legs trembling on his shoulders and your pussy spasming from the overstimulation of his cock inside of you and his thumb drawing circles on your clit.
“Are you going to be a good girl and cum for me when I tell you to?”
“Yes, please, I want to cum so bad – please, please, please” you begged. Nanami continued to fuck into you, not granting you even a millisecond of rest, until his thrusts became erratic as he felt himself nearing his orgasm.
“Cum for me,” he finally ordered. Your body obeyed of its own volition, and you released one final, high-pitched scream as you convulsed around him, cumming all over his cock.
It was the final push he needed to find his own release, and you could feel his cock twitch inside of you as he emptied himself into your hot, wet cunt. Amidst the sounds of your screams and his moans, you heard something that sounded suspiciously like wood cracking.
The two of you stayed put for a moment, collecting yourselves and steadying your breathing, before Nanami slipped his soft cock out of you. You groaned at suddenly feeling so empty.
“Jesus Christ,” you panted. There was so much more you wanted to say – this was the best sex you had ever had and you wanted to praise him for it, but you were at a loss for words because of him probably literally fucking your brains out.
A moan escaped you when you felt Nanami shove a finger into your overly-sensitive pussy.
“You’re not going to waste a single drop,” he said, stuffing his cum back into your dripping cunt. You whined and nodded.
“Yes, sir.”
Nanami, ever the gentleman, helped you sit up, and you yelped when one of the desk’s legs snapped, dropping one side to the floor and cracking the wooden frame. The sudden movement made you stumble and almost roll off the desk, but Nanami wrapped his arms around your torso before you could fall over.
The two of you had done it, you had actually broken the desk.
You stared at each other in shock, and the silence was broken when you burst into a fit of laughter. Nanami’s brow furrowed.
“I have no idea how I’m going to explain this,” he said. You ran your fingers through his hair, slicking the stray, damp locks away from his forehead.
“Don’t worry too much about it – I’ll make sure to make a large donation to the school.”
“How generous of you,” he teased.
The two of you quickly got dressed and you turned to check the clock on the wall.
“Oh, it’s late,” you observed. “I need to pick Yuji up from the Fushiguro’s place.”
“Well, I certainly hope I won’t have to wait until the next parent/teacher conference to see you again,” Nanami said. His face was still flushed from your earlier activities, but you imagined that the redness of his cheeks intensified as he expressed his desire to continue whatever relationship the two of you now had.
You reached into your purse to pull out your wallet and plucked one of your business cards from the inner sleeve, handing it over to him with a coy smile.
“Maybe next time we can try this on my desk,” you purred. You grabbed your coat from its spot on the chair and stood on your toes to give him one final peck goodbye. “Have a good night, Kento. I’ll see you again very soon.”
More Posts from Meyuriko and Others
#CNC !
;feat. xiao, scaramouche, itto, zhongli/afab!reader
;cw. consensual non-consent, mentions of safewords being in place, fear play, pain play, squirting, size kink, somnophilia, AFTERCARE INCLUDED <3
— a/n. hehehehe
all characters presumed to be 18+
minors do not interact.
requests open!
! XIAO
cw. fear play, somnophilia, a lil bit of soft!xiao peeks thru
a heavy pressure on your body is what roused you from your comforting sleep. cracking your eyes open, you were greeted with the same pitch blackness as when you first laid down.
the body on top of you moved and you felt warm breath fan over your face and squirmed, trying to turn around to look at your lover but a heavy hand wrapped around the back of your neck, effectively pinning you down.
"x-xiao...?" you whisper, "what're you doing...?"
"shut up," he hisses, making your eyes widen at the gruff, cold tone he so easily spits out.
you squirm some more but he keeps you pinned with his weight. he shifts and in the silence of the room, you can hear his heavy breathing. the shuffling of clothing alerts you to his intentions and you feel a shiver of both excitement and fear rush through your system.
"stay still," he commands, meanly yanking your panties down your thighs, making sure to drag his nails down your skin to make you whimper in pain.
"xiao...wait..." your breathing picks up, both anxiety and anticipation surging when he lewdly spots on his cock, slick sounds alerting you to the way he lives himself up with it. vivid images of your boyfriend stroking his own cock pop into your mind and your cunt clenches pathetically.
then you feel the heat of him pressing against you and cry out, "wait! y-you can't-"
the grip on your neck moves to your hair, grabbing a fistful for leverage before he's stuffing his entire cock into in one harsh thrust.
your entire body locks up and the tears that had been slowly welling in your eyes fall.
it hurts.
a soft hand smooths down the length of your spine and you finally let out the breath you had been holding. xiao remains still, his heavy breathing still prominent as he patiently waits for you to relax and adjust to him.
"xiao..." you whine, reaching behind you to press your hand against his stomach, pushing him away with trembling fingers.
"quit cryin'" he snaps, slapping your hand away before, in the blink of an eye, he begins hammering into you.
you wail, desperately trying to push yourself away from him, squirming and kicking as the pain and pleasure both overwhelm your poor body.
"stop moving!" he snarls, louder than he'd been all night.
the fear you feel in that moment is palpable and you find yourself mindlessly obeying him, going limp.
"just take it," he hisses, "you fight all the time and now you're whining...can't take this little bit of pain? hm? are you that weak, human?"
there's a subtle change in the angle to works his hips and your eyes nearly roll back in your head when he swings his hips down and prods that sweet, gummy spot inside you.
you gush and cream around him, body twitching and your mouth hangs open in pure pleasure as he works your body expertly.
"see?" he coos, "you are weak. right here is where you're weakest," you can practically hear the gleeful grin on his face when he slowly and carefully rolls his hips to prod that spot again.
your body meanly twitches at the feeling and you babble out another nonsensical cry of his name that only makes him laugh.
"now cum," he commands, "let me feel how a little human cums when they're forced,"
your feet kick against the bed and you scramble for something to hold onto, settling on the sheets on either side of your head. he works his hips even faster, forcing you to fly over the edge.
your body, wound taut and high, shakes with the force of it. he finally lets go of your hair and grips your hips, lifting them ever so slightly off the bed so he can fuck you to his own high.
the whole time, you're left cumming and cumming around him until he finally spills into you and you both fall still.
your cunt continues to clench and drool around his softening cock until he can't take it anymore and has to pull out.
he leans over your body again, but this time it's to press a kiss to your temple.
"xiao..." you whimper but he shushes you immediately, shaking his head when you turn your head to peek up at him.
"just take a minute..." he whispers, choosing to lay beside you, rubbing your back to soothe the trembles that still consume you, "it's alright, just breathe..."
! SCARAMOUCHE
cw. choking, degredation, pain play, slapping , threats, tiny blood warning, in front of an audience hehe...who he kills afterwards lmao
the various gazes burned into you, only adding onto the complete shame you felt as scaramouche bullied his cock into you. a firm, cold hand wrapped around your throat, keeping yo upright and completely exposed to the audience watching your humiliation.
"look at them," he spits, "all of them watching you. getting off on this -- watching you get raped. they're loving it. why don't you cry for help? hm? surely someone will..."
you open your mouth, fully ready to take him up on that but the grip on your throat immediately tightens, cutting off any words you were ready to speak. he laughs low in your ear.
"so fucking stupid," he whispers, "i won't let anyone take you away from me, not until i'm finished with you."
tears drip down your cheeks and you gasp when he loosens his grip, grumbling about how he doesn't want you to pass out just yet.
he's completely clothed, only his hat discarded and his cock tugged free. but you, on the other hand, are completely bare.
everyone can see the way you drip down your own thighs and the way your tits bounce with the force of his thrusts. he has your back to his chest, allowing a complete view of your bruised body. bloody little lines are visible in random places from where he would randomly dig his nails into you just to hear you scream and cry.
with his free hand, he reached up and cruelly slapped your breast, grinning when he heard little moans from his audience members at the action.
of course sick freaks like them would enjoy it. enjoy a sweet little thing like you to be hurt and abused. hell, he was enjoying doing it.
your body was warm and smelled so sweet, he couldn't deny how lucky he was to have you there for him to torture.
"why are you so wet?" he hisses, loud enough for everyone to hear. their eyes all move to where your poor little cunt is being stuffed full, watching the way you drool and cream around him, "you like this, huh? like everyone watching you be forced to take cock? repulsive little thing you are."
you sob, twitching in his arms as you grow closer to your high. his grip on your throat tightens, making your head rush.
your orgasm crashes through you, your body twitching and trembling as you do. he holds you against him, teeth gritted while his grip on your throat tightened until you fell completely limp, unconscious.
when you woke back up, you were fully clothed and in bed. sitting up, you looked around, finding scaramouche freshly showered and getting dressed. in front of the mirror.
he glances at you through the reflection and turned to properly look at you, "you're awake. how do you feel?"
"tired..." you answer, laying back when he urges you to with gentle hands, "how are you?"
he hums, shaking his head, sitting on the edge dog the bed. he lets you tug him down so you can wrap your arms around him.
"you did good," he whispers, "i'm going to take care of the witnesses."
he leaves you a fleeting kiss on the lips before he's out the door.
as much as he enjoyed the scene and the rush that came with it -- there was no way he could leave those that enjoyed your torment alive. he wouldn't stand for it.
! ITTO
cw. size kink, orgasm denial, squirting, praise
your boyfriend was big. but what's more he was big and dumb. even more dangerous; big and dumb with a huge cock that he knew exactly how to use.
it was always too much to take but after years of practice, you'd gotten used to it. even though you were still a "big baby" about it, as he would say.
he'd taken to using your gained tolerance and crybaby tendencies to force you upon his cock for his own pure enjoyment.
"stop...!" you cry, reaching forward to press against the dangerous swing hips, "itto! stop! i-i don't want it!"
"yes you do," he coos, "if you didn't, you wouldn't be making this mess..."
you shamefully glance at his length and can't help but moan at the sight -- a creamy ring wrapped around the thickest part of him in the middle. your poor little cunt was spread painfully wide to accommodate the intimidating cock your lover possessed.
"no..." you pitifully whimper, slumping against the bed with a shuddering sigh.
"you know that's not what i want to hear..." he whispers, eyes still glued to where he continued to try to bully his cock into you.
you reminded yourself of the little word you needed to say to make it stop. but when he shifted and another inch slipped into you, it flew right out of your head and all you could think was 'more'.
"stop..." is all that comes out of your mouth and your boyfriend grins, sharp fangs glinting in the dim light from the window.
"that's what i thought..." he says, gritting his teeth as he shifts his grip to under your knees, completely folding you up so your entire lower half lifts off the bed. the change in angle alerts you to what he plans and you find yourself holding your breath.
"now be good," he whispers, voice tender and sweet, "you can do it, take it all. don't run from it, little one...you've done so well....all that cryin' for nothin'..."
he had been working you open for the better half of an hour, stretching your poor, tiny cunt little by little. it was brutal and mind-numbing. he offered no attempts to make you cum no matter how close he knew you got.
despite that, you found yourself cumming around him even when he wasn't moving at all -- the simple, pure stretch he gave you was all you needed to fall over the edge. which is how the creamy, sticky mess that covered his cock got there to begin with.
it was hell.
but now you find yourself bracing for everything to finally come together. little spikes of fear grip you and you tearfully look up at him, eyes wide and glassy while he merely gives you a crooked grin.
he loved that look, the fear and anticipation that filled your gaze. you want him so badly but you know it's going to be too much and you'll be lucky if he doesn't fuck you to the point of unconsciousness.
"p-please..." you sniffle. he cocks his head, wondering if you've finally given up your little act only to shake his head when you utter, "don't..."
he shifts his stance and before you can blink, he swings his hips down, burying his whole length balls deep. he lets out a loud moan, cursing through gritted teeth as he's forced to hold you down when you buck and scream as you're forced to take all of his monstrous length at once.
your eyes roll back and your whole body twitches as you squeal, "no! c-cummin'! i'm cummin'! 's too much! too big! nonono-"
itto's eyes roll back in his head as he feels you gush around him, squirting a complete mess all over him and yourself until it's dripping down his balls. he uses his pure strength to hold you down and force you to cream around him. the sight and feeling is too much for him and he finds himself spilling into you with a surprised grunt.
he finally lets you go and you immediately squirm away, slamming your legs shut as you tremble on the bed. cute little sniffles and sobs come from you as you slowly come down from the intense high.
he shuffles forwards you, flopping down on the bed before hugging you close to him, sweet kisses to the top of your head helping you relax against him.
! ZHONGLI
cw. size kink, mean!zhongli w/ soft!zhongli at the end, riding, slapping, fingering
working your hips, you couldn't help but sob at the burning in your thighs as you slowly rode your boyfriend. he sat spread beneath you, a glare in his eyes as he watched you pathetically hump him cock.
"is this the best you can do, little one?" he asks, voice deep and lacking any warmth. it makes you flinch and hang your head, "humans really are so weak, aren't they?"
"i-i don't wanna anymore," you sniffle, moving to get off him but he quickly grabs your waist and forces you to sit completely. you cry out and go to grab his hands, "t-too deep! ah! it hurts!"
"you're not running away...are you?" he asks, cocking his head to the side, "i got home after a long day, just wanting to rest and relax but i couldn't...because a certain little mortal," he spits to word like he was disgusted, grabbing your cheeks to force you to look at him, "was begging for me to make them feel good. but now that you have to do the work, you plan to leave me here unfulfilled?" he clicks his tongue, shaking his head, "that just won't do, little one."
despite the way you squirm and cry, attempting to pop off of his long cock, you both know you're dripping a complete mess around him.
"now...why don't you continue...before i leave and find another little human who will be more than happy to do the work?" his words drive a stake into your heart and you sniffle.
he waits, watching you weigh your options -- you could do as you're told and continue or you could utter that one word that would end it all. but you decide against it -- despite the ache in your heart and thighs, you want to see how this plays out. and it feels much too good to actually stop.
so you place your trembling hands on his shoulders and slowly lift yourself up before dropping back down. he removes his hands from your hips and drapes them over the back of the couch with a sigh.
despite the tight, wet heat encompassing his cock, he looks completely bored -- unimpressed and like he could go soft at any moment.
"is this the best you can do?" he snaps, "absolutely pathetic. why am i wasting my time giving my cock to someone who doesn't even appreciate it?"
you whimper, resting your forehead against his neck, wanting just a little bit of his warmth and comfort to keep you going. luckily, he easily picks up on your cues and presses a little kiss to your head, allowing you to hear the subtle sigh of pleasure he releases.
you do your best to pick up the pace but you tire out again after a moment and let out a humiliated cry when he laughs at you. he grabs your hair, yanking your face out of his neck to cruelly slap you across the cheek.
"absolutely pathetic," he sighs, despite his cruel words, theyre said in such a lovely way that you can't help but clench around him, "shall i do the work then? since you can't seem to do anything on your own?"
you don't answer and he scoffs, quickly shifting so he's laying on his back with you on top of him. he lifts his legs and grips your waist, glaring at you from beneath you.
"just remember, you did this to yourself..."
before you can properly process his warning, he's hammering up into you. you nearly shriek with the pain of him slamming against your cervix. the force of his thrusts knocking you down.
all you can do is hold onto him, burying your face in his neck as he fucks you with inhuman force.
"i-it hurts!" you wail, "s-stop! please!"
he completely ignores you, grunting and groaning as he gets closer and closer to his high. you continue to babble and cry, begging him to stop and that it hurts but he holds you against him until he finally spills inside you with an almost relieved moan.
you're left trembling and crying into his chest as he pants, petting your hair and kissing the top of your head until you finally look at him.
his gaze is soft and sweet, allowing you to relax against him again. he thumbs away your tears and sighs, sitting up.
you whine when he shifts you in his lap, tapping your chin to make you look at him.
"did you cum?" he asks, smiling when you shake your head, "would you like to?"
you think about it for a moment and finally nod. he shifts you again so your back is to his chest, his hand dipping between your legs to find the gooey mess there.
he avoids your entrance, knowing the soreness is already probably setting in, and settle for soft little circles on your clit.
you sigh in pleasure, relaxing against him as he works you closer and closer.
"it's alright, little one," he whispers, "you can cum for me, i've got you."
at his sweet, loving words and under his tender touches, you twitch and cum with a soundless cry. he works you through the high and lets you relax against him, wrapping his arms around you.
@xiax // do not modify or repost
exhibition w kaku where he's talking on the phone with the haitanis and u suck him off under the table and he's having a hard time forming words bcos your game too good 😭
EYES ON ME — KAKUCHO
cw. oral (m! receiving), blushy bois that turn feral, cucking (ish), dirty talk, daddy kink, mentions of a breeding kink, ran tries to humiliate kakucho but reader is a real one, degradation, voyuerism, tit job, mild exhibitionism, nipple play, cockwarming
“—and we would have to provide the firearms for the—“
kakucho’s face on the screen pauses, and the other executives wait for him to respond. through the small square, ran studies how he bit his lip, shaking his head slightly side to side as if to dispel a harried thought.
“s-sorry,” he clears his throat, a light blush forming on his cheeks.
on the other end of the screen, underneath the luxurious l-shaped desk that housed bonten’s most important documents, you swirl your tongue over his weeping slit and pause in your ministrations.
kakucho makes the mistake of flitting his gorgeous dual-colored eyes down to where you’re kneeling between his spread thighs, and his blush deepens.
“if i didn’t know any better,” ran’s drawl catches his attention from the sinful sight spread beneath him. “i would think you’re getting some good ol’ head underneath that damn desk.”
as much as he wants to sock ran in the face for his sleazy words, he can’t dispute nor confirm them.
in hindsight, if he wasn’t so busy with his work, your poor husband wouldn’t have been punished by your slick mouth or velvet tongue lapping at his balls.
wouldn’t have to endure the sight of you curling your fingers into your warm and wet heat, or the way your tits strain against the see-through blouse you had worn which led him into this mess in the first place.
for the first time in his life, the dark-haired man curses how advanced technology is and wishes this meeting was done face-to-face so he wouldn’t have to be subjected to your torment.
but mikey’s wife had an emergency today and he needed to stay home which resulted in your absolute joy at having him back for the first time in days.
how could he tell you—his sweet, beautiful and patient wife no—when with just one bat of your eyelashes, you had convinced him to let you suck him off under the desk while japan’s most dangerous organization discussed how to take down a prickly firearms dealer?
a fucking witch, that’s what you are. you have him all wrapped up in your pretty french-tipped finger and you weren’t even aware of it.
kakucho narrows his eyes at the older haitani. a second too late in responding to his teasing. “i’m n-not.”
barely even convincing when his voice faltered. ran’s grin widened. below the table, you tongue at his balls, leaving a strip of saliva on his slick length only to nuzzle your cheek on the pulsing red tip, smearing his pre cum all over your teasing grin.
kakucho bit down on a whimper.
mikey blinks. “if you have unfinished business with your wife, i suggest you get it over with and not disrupt this meeting.”
mustering his strength after being called out by the head of bonten himself, kakucho sinks his fingers in your hair, holding you back and nodding firmly into the camera.
“i’m not feeling a little too well today but we can still continue on.” lying through his teeth while your tongue dances over his sticky tip. his grip goes lax and you move back onto his cock with an eagerness that would’ve made him proud if takeomi didn’t start talking about the history of trade wars between two warring gangs in tokyo.
he wasn’t even listening—mesmerized by the sight of your plush lips stretched around his aching length. how they were glossy from the combination of your favorite cherry balm, spit, and his precum. tenderly, he swipes a bit of drool from your chin, and you hum, repaying his kindness by taking him down your whole throat.
kakucho would’ve jumped out of his skin and yelled if he wasn’t quick enough to switch off the camera.
panting, his colleagues become a distant memory; lust warring with common sense to come out on top. the blood rushing through his ears drowns out any last shred of rationale.
that and the soft flesh of your tits bouncing after being released from the confines of your skimpy blouse had something to do with his sudden speechlessness. his jaw goes slack when you wedge his cock in between the valley of your plush fat, jerking him off with your sweet tits. placing a kiss on the flushed and angry red tip whenever it got close to your lips. a whimper slips past his gritted teeth and kakucho lays his head back.
he doesn’t even notice when the call has gone silent.
how could he when he could barely focus only on the slurping sounds of your mouth sinking over and over again on his cock?
you dribble a globe of spit on his aching tip and his cheeks heat up, those beautiful dual-hued eyes at half-mast studying you intently.
kakucho’s head lolls to the side, soft pants escaping his pretty mouth.
“eyes on me, daddy,” you murmur, and his breathing hitch. “want you to watch me taking your cock.”
at your words, you clamber onto his lap, smiling sweetly despite your devious motions of fisting his length and running his tip through your folds. kakucho desperately slams his lips on yours, and you love how he was slowly unraveling under you.
the power it gave you to see your usual stoic husband losing it was heady—leaving you lightheaded.
to finally ease the ache in your cunt, you plant your hands on his shoulders, sinking down onto his throbbing cock.
“ohh ffuccckkk,” kakucho hisses, eyes falling completely close at the sensation of your velvet walls melting around his length. from his attached microphone, someone groans.
his eyes snap wide open, trying to stop you from swiveling your hips, but you were too far gone. sweet whimpers and your needy hands burying in his hair, you push his his face in between your tits and your whines were unmistakable to the men who were listening in.
heavy breaths and the clinking of belts slipping off tented pants; the rest of the men were enjoying your little show.
“daddy, daddy, please,” your whimpers join the cacophony of shuddered breaths coming from his earpiece.
“begging like a bitch in heat.” ran’s voice on the other hand.
“bet she’s creaming, too.” rindou’s observation prompts him to look between your joint bodies. the rings of white on the base of his cock have him immobilized, unable to even stop this from happening. your tongue slips into his mouth, and your hips stutter over his cock.
takeomi clicks his tongue and sanzu jeers. “don’t act like you ain’t enjoying this, old man.”
to his surprise and mortification, mikey chuckles from the other end of the line. “never would’ve pinned kaku-chan for someone who shares his wife.”
at the expense of the youngest bonten member’s pride, the older men made comments on your body; how you would scream under each of them and how they would teach you a lesson to put you back in your place. his anger was igniting, the ugly monster rearing its head and he snarls, lifting you from his lap to slam you down onto the desk.
your squeaks alert the other members, and he doesn’t offer an explanation, taking out one wireless bud and placing it in your left ear for you both to share the mic.
“k-kaku—”
“say hi to the boys, love.”
your eyes widen like saucers, and you don’t have time to voice out your surprise, his cock already ramming into you at a punishing pace.
“fuck!”
a snicker. “damn. bet her little pussy was not prepared for that.”
you could hardly believe this. kakucho was insane. he wasn’t himself, as evident from how he was plowing into you, barely caring that you were scratching his back, a silent reprieve for him to slow down. what could’ve made your taciturn and level-headed husband this unhinged?
you found the reason for his outlandish behavior soon enough.
“don’t pretend like his cock is enough, doll,” ran drawls. “i know you’re keening ‘cause you want us, too.”
your head was pulsing, and you were not in control of your barely concealed anger when you whisper, “you’re wrong.”
silence resounds from the usually cocky executive.
moaning in a way that would make even a pornstar blush, you cry out, “daddy! god—fuck, love your cock, daddy!” panting, you twine your fingers in his midnight blue hair, forcing him to look into your eyes as you swirl your hips. wanting to mean every single word you say to him.
palm on your belly, you hiccup, “can f-feel you so deep in me, s’like your cock was meant for me—you’re so big. so so big i—ah!”
kakucho, emboldened by your responses, grins and leans forward to place a sloppy kiss on your parted lips; his tongue dips into your mouth and samples your sweet whimpers.
“yeah? like my cock? say it,” he growls. “say ‘i love daddy’s big cock’.”
“i love daddy’s big cock,” you wail, watery eyes locking on his glossy ones. “i love my daddy’s big cock!”
the thought of the rest of the executives on the other end completely slips your mind. you rub tight circles on your throbbing clit as your husband pounds into you from above, his delectable deep tones urging you to spill your orgasm for him.
“give it to me, pretty.” you were never one to find begging attractive, but when your husband did it? you creamed even more. “give me your cum and i’ll give you mine. my pretty, pretty baby. my love, my y/n. fuck i know you can give it to me good so do it now, b-baby, oh—fuck...”
“s’all yours,” you whine pathetically, tears dribbling down your face. “pussy all yours, daddy. all yours. made just for you, kakucho.”
he grazes his lips with yours, so lost in the sensation of your sweet cunt clamping down on him. “yeah? all mine, huh? that’s right. this is my pussy, my fucking property—ah, fuck—g-gonna—”
kakucho stutters, watching with rapt zeal as you play with your clit and nipples while he continues to fuck into your creamy mess. that sight alone was worth more than a hundred lame lap dances his comrades received. easily beating out the best porn on the internet because this was you.
his perfect wife. the love of his life. the one whose soul, body, and mind was made for him.
white explodes behind his eyes and he surges into you with one hard thrust, stilling to spill his cum deep in you.
your body twitches; lost in the throes of this shared orgasm. “that’s it daddy, god give me your cum, love it when you paint me all white and pretty with it, want your babies please, please—love you, love you daddy.”
kakucho melts into you, kissing you softly on the cheek and temple.
a cough resounds on the other end and he’s genuinely surprised that the rest of bonten were still on the call.
“that was... interesting,” he could picture kokonoi’s leer.
someone sighs. “god me when?”
sanzu giggles. “maybe in your next life, old man.”
an awkward throat clearing. “so. should we continue on with the meeting?” ran’s surly tone would’ve made him laugh if mikey’s next words didn’t leave him reeling with disbelief.
“you boys go ahead. i have some... stuff... to discuss with my wife.”
the ‘stuff’ is evident when mikey’s call disengages and so does his phone. a tell tale sign he was spending—ahem, quality time—with his own wife.
how easily these women turned the fearsome bonten men into putty.
kakucho gives you a fond smile and brings you into his arms, sinking back into the office chair and grabbing a blanket to wrap around your shoulders. you were already dozing off, content to warm his cock, nestling your face in the crook of his neck.
you flinch slightly when he leans forward to give you a kiss on the forehead, shaky from the overstimulation.
not even caring that you were astride on his lap, he took the stray bud back from you and stuck it into his other ear, pushing back his tousled hair. switching his camera back on, he was met by five incredulous faces, all staring at his reddened cheeks and the half-naked woman asleep in his arms.
kakucho tries hard not to smirk, face perfectly composed. eat your hearts out, you bastards; y/n is mine and mine alone.
as if he didn’t just fuck his wife’s brains out in front of his colleagues, kakucho clears his throat and continues on like nothing has happen.
“as i was saying, we would have to provide the firearms through a secret distribution channel that i managed to hack...”
a/n. COMBUSTING. he’s so sexy when he’s feral i love him so much ;__;
© all works belong to lalunanymph. do not copy, repost or claim as your own.
you ever read a fanfic and just sit back and think…someone wrote something THIS good… and then just….published it on the internet….for free…..
▻ 𝐁𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐌𝐈𝐊𝐄𝐘
CW/ TW. Explicit, Fem!Reader, Implied Gang Bang, Possessive Behavior, Rough Oral Sex, Bath Sex, Exhibitionism, Aftercare, Praise, Reader has a kid, Slightly Yandere Behavior (???)
AN. Hi! This is a repost because my old account broke...SOBS. All comments, likes, and reblogs are appreciated, thank you :)
M. List
Bonten!Mikey who first sees you when you're walking in front of a sweets shop with a little boy holding your hand—a chubby little hand pointing at a lollipop in the window.
Bonten!Mikey who never cared to get involved with anyone, suddenly found interest in your shining smile and bright eyes.
Bonten!Mikey whose chest aches because he wants you to be his.
He watches as you shake your head at the pouting boy, a sad smile on your lips. "Maybe next—"
But you're cut off by a gentle hand on your shoulder and a pair of expressionless eyes looking down at you.
"I can get it for you."
You blush furiously at his kind gesture, eyelashes fluttering in awe. "I can't—"
"It's okay," Mikey insists until you relent with a shaky smile and glance down at your son.
"Baby, what do you say?"
"Thank you," the boy says shyly, his smile just as bright as yours when he takes the lollipop from Mikey's fingers.
Bonten!Mikey who meets you again in a place where he never thought someone as bright as you would end up.
He walks into Bonten's meeting room to find his men passing you around, shoving their dicks in your face and groping you roughly. Tears stream down your face, but you can only mumble out raspy complaints as you're grabbed by a man with wild eyes and scars marring his mouth.
"You're such a nasty slut," the man sneers, guiding your mouth to his leaky cock and pressing the head between your swollen lips.
Nobody seems to pay attention to Mikey who takes his seat at the head of the table, their predatory gazes focused on you getting ruined in the middle of the room. But for a split second, your glassy eyes meet his and they grow round at the sudden realization of who he is—at what he is.
And although his men ignored him at first, they're suddenly aware of his overwhelming presence once you're passed onto Mikey's lap next—the room falling quiet because their boss never got involved with their leisure activities.
He reaches one hand up and wipes your tears from your face, bringing your shiny gaze up to his.
"Hey, pretty," Mikey says, covering you with his jacket. His usual soulless eyes are soft when you smile down at him, his heart beating hard against his ribcage at the breath-taking sight. "There you go."
The Bonten executives watch quietly as their boss picks you up in his arms and carries you to the door, their jaws dropping a bit.
"Find someone else to fuck," is the last thing Mikey says before leaving the room.
Bonten!Mikey who runs both of you a bath once you're in his apartment, usually destructive fingers now delicately stripping you out of your soiled clothes and tossing them somewhere across the floor.
He places you between his legs, washing your hair and body of cum and spit before massaging your sore muscles in his strong hands—paying special attention to your jaw after seeing how rough Sanzu was with you. You relax against him, head on his shoulder while you feed into the warmth and safety of his touch.
"Are you scared?" he asks, now that you know who he really is.
You shake your head. "No."
He hums, pleased with your answer. "Then let me take care of you, hm?"
Soft lips brush against your temple as his hands smooth over your supple breasts and down your stomach until his fingers trace over the soft puffy lips of your cunt.
Mikey's mouth quirks ever so slightly when you slowly nod, arching into his touch with a whimpered "please" bouncing off of the steamy bathroom walls.
You keen when two of his fingers brush through your slippery folds, his other hand coming up to pinch and rub at your nipples.
Every delicious sound you make has blood rushing to his cock, and he can't stop himself from slowly rutting against your ass, grunting into your neck from the friction—not caring about the amount of water and bubbles that splash over the lip of the tub.
Your body trembles a little when he slips a finger into your gummy walls, his pace slow to ease you open before another finger joins the first.
His lips travel up from your shoulder, teeth nipping a sensitive spot behind your ear—putting his mark on your skin—before he asks: "Did they fuck you here?" Slender fingers thrust into your clenching hole with an emphasis on his question.
You take a moment to answer from the amount of pleasure clouding your brain, but you manage to shake your head. "N-no, not ye—"
Mikey's hand firmly clasps around your throat, drawing your head back so you're looking at him. "This cute little pussy is mine now, m'kay?" he tells you, tapping your sensitive clit lightly.
This time you nod with a choked whimper, not completely taking into consideration that you just offered yourself to the devil—too dizzy from the fire burning at the pit of your stomach.
The wide pad of his thumb applies firm pressure against your little nub, his fingers speeding up at the feel of your legs quivering against his.
"Ah," you whine, hands holding onto his arm between your legs. "I-I'm—"
"Come on, cum for me," he rasps into your neck, littering it with more small splotches of blue and purple.
"Oh—"
You break off into a stream of garbled sounds when his fingers rub against a spot inside you that has you twitching in his arms. A series of strained little curses leave your lips, your lungs trying to take in big gulps of air as you tip over the edge.
"You were so good, pretty," Mikey coos into your ear, trying to bring you down while his fingers go back to pumping into you lazily. "Hm, one more time. You deserve it, after all."
Bonten!Mikey who learns you were selling your body to pay for your son's medical bills after he fell very ill the year before.
Bonten!Mikey who insists you let him take care of you and your little family.
"You wouldn't need a job," he tells you when you argue that you'd never be able to pay him back with your current earnings. "I'll give you and your son anything you may need."
Bonten!Mikey who rewards you with his head between your legs for hours when you say yes—not that he'd ever let you say no.
Bonten!Mikey who's possessive of you and refuses to share you with anyone because they can't treat you as good as he can.
Bonten!Mikey who wants to show his men that you're his.
Bonten!Mikey who has you spread out on his lap in the Bonten meeting room, all of his executives watching with envy as their boss's fingers play with your dripping hole.
Bonten!Mikey who knows all the sweet spots that make you pliant in his arms until you're gushing a steady stream of fluid all over the table and his pants.
He hears a few faint groans of his men around the room, their eyes turning greedy when you shy away from how they're staring at you. But Mikey shoots them a cold look, his message clear that none of them were allowed to touch you anymore. You're his and only his, and he'd kill anyone who even tried to look at you the wrong way.
"Now get the fuck out," he tells them before focusing his attention back on you.
battle of wills
Sae wants to act funny, but he doesn’t know you’re about to act hilarious.
wc — 2.7k
tags — romantic mind games, thinking of Sae like a predator that plays with his food, jealousy, possessiveness
“I don’t care who you fuck,” he says with a shrug. “We’re not dating.”
Your hands still on the collar of his shirt that you’re smoothing down. It’s ten minutes before your dinner reservation, which means you’re going to be late, but you know the maître d' so it should be fine. It would be, if Sae didn’t insist on opening his fat mouth once a week to try to break your heart so he can prove to himself that he’s not invested.
He’s not fooling anyone. You know you have him, hook, line, and sinker. When you made that joke about getting Kaiser’s number, it was just a joke. You didn’t even say you wanted to sleep with him! Sae came up with that implication all by himself.
You have three options and only a few seconds to decide. Sweat beads on your forehead. You can practically see the timer run out, like an imaginary game with a big fat red buzzer letting you know you failed.
You can:
a) say “we’re not dating?” in a whiny little broken voice and make it obvious you liked Sae more than he liked you
b) sit in silence and make it awkward like you are currently doing
c) fuck around and find out
So you only have one option, really. You’re not a coward, so it can’t be b, and you’d rather choke on your fancy steak tonight and die then ever let a man think he played you and got away with it.
“Cool,” you say. “I’ll let Kaiser know he has your permission.”
You’re joking, but you don’t think he is.
“Cool,” Sae replies, but he’s so disinterested that you think he didn’t even hear the last half of your sentence.
Dinner is great even though Sae is an asshole because he somehow still makes it fun to be with him. Your friends all ask you why you want him. They don’t see what you see; they think you’re just after the football fame, the fortune, the model like beauty.
You’re a little more twisted than that.
When you press your patent heel up against Sae’s calf, he doesn’t even flinch. He takes a long, slow draught of water - because he doesn’t drink alcohol, which is deliriously sexy to you for some reason - and raises an eyebrow at you. Everything about him is cool and collected, even when you inch higher and higher until you’re practically right between his legs.
His hand slips under the table, grabs your ankle, and repositions it on his lap. He doesn’t spare a thought for how your dirty shoes are on his nice slacks. When you try to retract your foot because this is dangerous, this is not what you expected, his hand locks you in place.
He holds your eye across the table. You wanted this, his eye contact says. Be good and take it.
Sae is hard to read.
He can be so apathetic, so indifferent to your words, and then draw warm, lazy circles on your pulse with his thumb. He looks mildly amused when your brain short circuits in the middle of your sentence, every neuron redirected to the feeling of his hand on your ankle, soaking in heat from his palm.
You want to pull him apart and see what makes him tick. For you, love is almost like dissection. You want to be able to know him so intimately no one else will ever be able to say they come close.
Although he apparently doesn’t feel the same about you.
Knowing Sae is a rare privilege all in itself. You thought you were content. When you first met him, that’s all it was: fun. You liked pulling him apart and putting him back together, figuring out which parts of Sae were real and which were a front. But now, after a few months, you’re hooked. It’s become more than a game. It’s an addiction.
The more he rejects you, the more you want him.
You don’t think you’ve ever been this pathetic in your life. You’ve never chased anyone the way you’ve done for him.
It’s killing you to think about the numbers he’s done on your reputation. Your friends already think you’re whipped.
You’re afraid to admit they’re right, and that’s the real reason you’re upset about what he said earlier. You never thought you were dating but you thought -
Ugh. You don’t know why you expected him to care.
Sae is, if an asshole, also a gentleman, so he pays for dinner and sends you home in an Uber on his card.
You smile pleasantly until you get into the car and then you’re practically tearing your hair out. You need to make him regret this.
So obviously the question now is who would make Sae the sickest to find out you got with? Who would have that man holding his stomach in tears?
Shidou is too obvious and also you doubt that Sae would care. In a funny way, Shidou is the least you can do to him.
Oliver? No, he’s too much of a slut. This needs to be a hit and run, an attack, but targeted. Aiku is just too easy to make Sae feel anything besides mild annoyance that you fucked his captain.
You’d have to butter Kaiser up before you even got near him, and besides, Sae didn’t even react when you brought him up earlier.
Your brain flinches away from Rin’s face when it pops up in your brain like you touched a hot stove, a solid rejection you don’t even have to think about.
No.
It hurts too much. You’re angry but you still care about Sae. This is-
You want to piss him off, not hurt him irrevocably. Dating Rin right after not-dating him would be something the two of you couldn’t come back from.
Even if Sae likes to pretend he’s not sensitive when it comes to his little brother, you know better.
Back to the drawing board.
The most important part is that Sae can’t know you’re trying to make him jealous, so it has to come up organically. You’re aiming for a teammate because you need someone who will talk about it in Sae’s locker room, someone who can get it to Sae without making it too obvious.
All paths lead to Oliver Aiku.
Unfortunately.
You don’t even know if this is going to work.
“Just so you know,” you tell him, “you weren’t my first choice.”
“Aw, why?” He asks. “You don’t think I’ll get Sae mad enough?”
“Are you kidding me? If anything, he’s going to think I’ve lowered my standards! He’s not going to regret losing me, he’s going to think that I’m so pathetic his little rejection sent me off the deep end!”
“But then he’ll be right,” Oliver says. “Considering he did lower your standards and send you off the deep end. You’re standing in my living room right now, aren’t you?”
You squint at him. “And I can walk right back out, so don’t test me.”
“Don’t be like that,” Oliver purrs. “I’m great at making men jealous.”
“I’m not sure that’s something to be proud of.”
"Don't worry, sweetheart. I’m going to take you somewhere your man couldn’t even dream of taking you.”
“Oliver, this is a Wendy’s.”
“Sae would never dream of taking you here,” he shrugs. “Wow, good bite! You’re great at eating.”
“Okay, one, that’s a weird thing to say, and two, I’m going to go find someone else if you can’t help me. I know you can’t help yourself but since I’m your friend, I thought at the very least, you would try not to waste my time.”
“Yeesh, calm down-“
“Don’t tell me to calm down!”
“My bad,” he says cheerfully. “Trust me, I have a plan.”
“I don’t trust you,” you say pointedly, narrowing your eyes at him.
He ignores you. “What makes a man angrier than thinking you moved on?”
“Moving on with his rival?”
“Close. Thinking he never had you. See, Sae takes you on these fancy dates to high end restaurants and museums and what not. But you know how he is. He’s with you but he’s not really with you. You gotta beat him at his own game. Let him think that you were just indulging him when really this is what you want.” He scoots his chair closer to you until you can practically feel the warmth of him radiating through his thin shirt. His cologne smells like jasmine, a strangely delicate scent for him. “Make him feel like he never really knew you, because I’m the one who does.”
You breathe in the scent of his feminine cologne, stalling. It would be so easy to listen to Oliver. It would be so easy to let him in your heart. He knows what to say and when to say it.
In a way, he does know you.
Familiarity is unavoidable with time, and you’ve been friends of circumstance for ages.
“You just wanted an excuse to take me to Wendy’s,” you say with a fake laugh that is so perfected, you can only pick up the stilted quality of it if you really, really listen.
He pulls out of your space a little, a smile playing on his lips. “You know me so well. That too.”
Oliver knows you a little too well. He says the right things at the right times because he’s telling you what you want to hear.
Are you destined to be toyed with by beautiful football players?
In the car on the way back to your house, Oliver texts you. “Get him back for me, playa.”
In the locker room, Oliver doesn’t start the conversation because that would be too obvious. He’s a respectful man, he doesn’t kiss and tell. It would be out of character for him to start bringing up last night’s exploits and Sae would catch on instantaneously.
He waits until Sendou, not subtly, tries to ask him who that pretty girl he posted last night was.
“Are you sure that was a girl? Aiku never posts who he’s with. It was probably his sister.”
Oliver doesn’t see who said that, but he doesn’t take offense. Again, he doesn’t kiss and tell. Whoever he’s with is a secret.
He lets them simmer for a little bit more before he casually drops your name, saying it was just a friendly meal. Out of the corner of his eye, Sae stops putting on his shirt.
“I’ll say,” Sendou says. “You took her to Wendy’s? That’s foul even for you.”
“Maybe she likes Wendy’s,” Aiku says. “You don’t know her.”
Although that last part isn’t really directed at Sendou.
It’s rare for Sae to willingly open social media, but here he is, scrolling through Oliver’s story. Your face is never in any of the pictures, but he can tell. You’re-
His brain stutters to a halt.
You’re wearing the necklace he bought you on a date with another man.
There’s only one picture left in Oliver’s stories from last night, but of course that demon would’ve saved the best for last. It’s a simple shot. You’re sitting outside somewhere, under the stars. His hand is holding yours from across the table, your arm stretched out towards him. It’s the only one with a sliver of your face in it, the edge of a sweet, tender smile.
Sae doesn’t fight. He’s not the type. But over you?
He fights the only way he knows how. Through football.
When Sae calls you after practice, you fumble your phone so hard it drops out of your hands and into the sink. You had fun with Oliver last night, but deep down, you didn’t really think Sae would care, as much as you wanted him to. It’s just the way he is.
By the time you fish your phone out, it’s making strange noises and unable to return Sae’s call. You don’t feel like going out today after your wild night - crying onto Aiku’s shoulder through mouthfuls of French fries - so you resolve to pick a new one up tomorrow.
Sae will wait. He’s very patient.
Sae shows up on your doorstep within thirty minutes of your denied call. He lives twenty minutes away, if he speeds.
Now he’s sitting in your living room, drinking water from your favorite mug while you squirm uncomfortably. He, on the other hand, seems content to sit in silence.
“You hung out with Aiku last night,” he says.
Now that he’s actually in the room, you feel like you did something wrong. It’s insane how much influence Sae has over you. He hurt you, but retaliation somehow feels like getting caught with your hand in a cookie jar.
“Yes,” you mumble.
“Hm? Speak up.”
“So what if I did?”
Sae raises an eyebrow. “Nothing. I don’t mind who you hang out with.”
“Fine,” you say. “Guess I’ll hang out with him again. Since you don’t care.”
His mouth curls into a smile behind his mug. That motherfucker. It’s ticking you off. He’s so in control of himself, so smug and pleased and -
“Do you want to be my girlfriend?”
“You know, since you care so much- huh?”
“Do you want to start dating?” He rephrases patiently.
You stammer for a bit before you’re able to reply coherently. “I thought you didn’t want to.”
“Did I say that?”
“Yes,” you hiss. “You made it very clear.”
“I don’t remember saying that,” he says and sets his mug down. When he stands, terror rises in you. He’s coming over. He’s sitting back on his haunches in front of you on the couch, eye to eye. “I just said that we weren’t dating. But I’d like to.”
“You only want me because I was with another man,” you say faintly. You’re trying to act cute, playful, but you’re not sure it’s working. There’s not enough blood going to your brain.
“You want me to beg, don’t you?”
You can’t deny how excited that makes you. Part of it is the way he says it, his voice slow and measured, deepening near the end. Part of it is just hearing ‘beg’ come out of Sae’s mouth.
“Okay, then. You don’t like Wendy’s.”
God, you hate men. Who cares about Wendy’s? Why do they always argue about this? Oliver and Sae both-
“You like the places we go. You like,” he tugs lightly on your necklace in a way that stops just shy of stinging. “The way I spoil you.” He pushes you back onto the couch and leans over you. “You like the way I know,” his nose brushes over the carotid artery in your neck, “what makes you feel good.”
“So I can beg if you want me to.” He’s all in your space, filling it up. All you can smell and feel and see is Sae. You feel paralyzed by his eyes. Devoured whole. “I can get on my knees for you and let you put a leash around my neck and promise that you can have anything you want from me. But let’s not pretend that you want anyone else but me.”
Okay. So maybe you do care about Wendy’s.
“Aiku thinks he knows you,” Sae says, his voice calm and easy. It’s like he’s laying out a mathematical formula instead of confessing his love, but it’s so Sae. “He doesn’t. I know you.”
You whimper.
Sae laughs dryly.
You don’t sleep in your own bed that night. Sae drives you both back to his apartment, insists on brushing your teeth for you with the toothbrush he bought for you, and does your skincare routine before he tucks you into bed.
You’re half asleep when he says, “You think you’re so clever, don’t you?”
“Huh?” You mumble, facedown in his pillow. It smells like him.
Sae leans over so he can kiss your forehead. When he whispers, it’s directly in your ear. “You think you tied me down, huh?”
You’re wide awake now. “Obviously,” you snap back, annoyed that he’s still trying to play these games. You know he’s not indifferent to you, you just wish he would-
“No, dear,” Sae says. The pet name sends chills down your spine. “I trapped you.”
HOTLINE BL☆NG!
summ. wine nights and free will? a recipe for disaster— such as matching your ex on a corny dating app and having him in your bed within that same hour. . .
cw. eventual smut. 18+. fem!reader. alcohol/substance consumption. ex boyfriend!gojo. mild toxicity. breakup & makeup. girlhood ft jjk girlies. unreliable narrator sorta. sukuna slander. mild impact play. mild asphyxiation. oral (f). fíngering. backshōts. reader is a little questionable. self sabotaging my beloved. lowkey angsty. @/3aem on tumblr for art creds. most of these stories are real shit i’ve heard/experienced LOL. can you tell i’ve never used tinder a day in my life? 16.4k words. . oops.
rena’s note. @yung-notorious and her filthy mind. . .
“you like it when i fuck you like this? yeah you do.”
god, you do.
you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that had you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.
his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.
“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”
how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?
friday nights were meant to decompose after a long week. a cute tradition you followed— sipping on moscato wine and munching on takeout with your homegirls while the lamest horror movie played as background noise. the skincare bit happened every third friday of the month, which fell on this particular night, thin layers of korean products lathering at your skins while fluffy headbands sat atop your hairlines, keeping stray hairs away.
it was an easy way of recapping all of your week’s worth of bullshit and listing each girl’s new lineup of men of the season.
girlhood.
“i’m cool off men for a whileee,” you sigh, placing your third wine glass on the coffee table. you tuck your legs back onto the couch, propping your head into your palm. you watch as shoko, who’s seated on the floor, grabs your glass and fills it with another unsolicited round. you narrow your eyes at her, “after the shit kuna pulled— girl, slow down!”
“don’t watch me,” shoko chews at her unlit blunt tucked in her teeth, lifting an arm above her head to pass you your refill. despite the slight spin of the room, you accept the cup against better judgment, “keep talking. what the fuck did he do now?”
“you mean what didn’t he do,” seated in the pink bean bag rested on the floor, utahime quips. in between her teeth sits a wooden stick, drizzled in the honey-like wax residue she smeared over her shin. “i woulda left his ass the second i found out he— FUCK— lived with his mama at his big age.”
as utahime soothes her smoothened skin, yuki leans over the coffee table to grab at the blunt passed over to her. “y/n baby, you know i love you,” she starts off, taking a deep inhale before ghosting the smoke. you can tell she’s about the cook the shit out of you, “but come on— he lives in his parents’ basement. was that not a red flag in itself? is that seriously the kind of man you see yourself marrying.”
“nevermind the fact he’s pushing thirty and still unemployed,” shoko throws in her two cents, takeout back in her lap as she breaks open a new set of chopsticks, “he’s one more ‘tap in’ away from getting caught by the feds.”
“how much y’all wanna bet he’s at the club right now as we speak?” it’s a rhetorical question, but utahime pauses her waxing to check. with sticky fingers, she taps away at her phone, and with a knowing smile she yelps, tilting her screen towards you three, “aha!— and there goes the infamous money spread.”
“cornballllll.” shoko cringes.
you’re filled with dread and shame at the sight presented. god— every single chance you gave this man, he spun around and somehow does worse. it’s not like the two of you were together— never officially, but the sole fact that you’ve let this man treat you as if you were his girl haunts you. you’ve let countless of bullshit slide all because his stroke game came second within all the men you’ve dealt with.
the only thing you’ll give him besides a being a good lay is that you’ve never had issues concerning other women. he’s a very transparent guy— you’ve yet to receive a “hey girlie. . .” text from anybody. though, it isn’t like either of you have ever dropped any hard launches. it was mostly content that only close friends could catch onto— the interior design of his car, your latest set of nails, subtle shots of his tattoos, your purses and jewelry. nothing evident but pretty obvious to those who know.
if sukuna was still cool with him, however. . . yeah, he’d definitely know, considering the fact he purchased most of the purses you own. that’s excluding the fact your favorite necklace, the one with your name engraved, the one you always wear, was also bought by him.
“move,” you push utahime’s hand away from your peripheral, slumping further into the couch. embarrassment floods you yet again, and you drown it away with more wine. much to your chagrin, they spare no mercy as they giggle at your pout, “not too much on me— shoko, you’re literally the one who put me on!”
“don’t do that,” she rolls her eyes, picking at the orange chicken on her platter. you have half a mind at chucking your drink at her. “all i told you was to fuck him. nobody said anything about keeping him around.”
“instructions: unclear,” utahime giggles, smearing another coat of wax mixture onto her calves. “she’s now a year deep into a situationship with a man who files for disability checks to blow on parlays.”
you spring up in your seat, your wine nearly spilling on shoko in your excitement, “shit, i never told you guys!”
“told us what?” yuki kills the blunt in the ash tray, and stretches an arm to grab at her food. she knocks over a few emptied bottles as they roll on the carpet, and winces when one of them knock at shoko’s knee, “my fault girl.”
shoko clicks her tongue, but you loop your arms around her neck as you proceed, “before you bitches attacked me for literally just being a girl,” you decide ignore the way they all groan, “i was trying to tell you all why i finally ended shit with him.”
“well don’t hold back now!” utahime eggs on.
“guess what i found out,” you set the empty wine glass back onto the table. you’re most likely gonna need your hands in this specific conversation, “he bet thirty thousand dollars on the super bowl game— and lost.”
the room falls quiet. utahime pauses in her ripping, yuki drops her noodles from her chopsticks and shoko nearly chokes on her wine. amidst it all, three pairs of eyes slowly crawl to meet your gaze, in complete disbelief at what you’d told them.
“are you deadass?” shoko speaks first, her facial expression almost incredulous. her eyes are teary from her food slipping through the wrong tube. “you’re playing, right? right?”
“she has to be. . . this is a new level of low even for him.” yuki shakes her head, most likely in attempts to give him the benefit of the doubt. you don’t blame her— no sane person would drop thirty grand on a fucking betting app of all things— and on top of that, lose.
“i wish i was?!” you groan, still upset, “the worst part is that he told me that money was supposed to be deposit money for a condo he’d been,” you raise your fingers in air quotes, “looking into.”
“you know what though? this doesn’t actually surprise me,” utahime laughs, as if she hadn’t been in a daze for a solid minute. she rips at the strip, and winces, “didn’t i just say he was getting checks to place on parlays? frank gallagher looking ass.”
“but thirty thousand?” yuki emphasizes, blinking rapidly in her disbelief, “what the fuck would possess somebody to bet thirty grand on anything?”
“grown ass man, by the way.” shoko mumbles mindlessly, before chowing down some more food. you can’t find it in yourself to disagree.
utahime nods, blowing a puff of air, “on god, bro. don’t he got mortgages to pay off or some shit?”
yuki shoots her a deadpanned look, “girl, with what house.”
and that had been your final straw with him. not the fact he lived in his mother’s basement despite clearly having money to rent out a place, or the fact he was still flexing bands he allegedly has on the gram— but blowing all your money on a fucking football game. and losing. you do respect yourself, as much as these girls believe you don’t. a man with no ambitions and no money? you need to run and far.
“i’ll miss his dick though.” you pout, the alcohol already coursing through your body. being wine drunk always made you horny, that was a known fact, and letting go of one of your greatest eaters was not on your bingo card. naturally, the girls roll their eyes at your antics, “boo me all you want— he horsed me the fuck around in bed.”
“you used to say the same shit about gojo,” utahime points out, rising to her feet as she grabs the used strips in her hold, before circling around the couch, “and look how that ended up.”
technically. . . she wasn’t exactly wrong but that still stung a bit. “hime, seriously?” shoko rolls her eyes, and you feel her hand rubbing at your foot soothingly. her motions are a little stiff but you appreciate the sentiment, “we get you don’t fuck with him but he was still her man. and basically my friend, kinda.”
you hear her wince in the kitchen, followed by footsteps, “right. . . sorry girlie.” she runs back to you after throwing the waste away, and kisses at your temple. she doesn’t comment on the pout on your lips. “i didn’t mean it. . . okay maybe i did, but i’m still sorry!”
your history with gojo was complicated. you’d met him through shoko in your third year of college, at a kickback party hosted by his people. it’d been an invite only thing, but shoko had brought you along as a plus one, and you both instantly connected. as far as you were concerned, it was technically supposed to be a sneaky link vibe, but you soon learned gojo was anything but sneaky. in fact, he was so vocal in him wanting you, that he actually did end up getting you a couple months later.
he’s a year older than you, therefore he’d graduated a year ahead. the separation in itself was something you hadn’t looked forward to at all, but he had found himself a condo downtown, not too far from your residency, therefore seeing each other hadn’t been an issue. he always made it clear he wanted to see you— even after gruelling nine to five shifts in the office. his words matched his actions, driving you up to his place since yours had a stupid curfew policy for visitors.
(you’ve kept him in your dorm numerous times.) (your closet has suffered enough with his lanky ass.)
the first year worked out for the better. he was still welcomed to the parties you invited him to, he made time in his schedule help you with your studies, planned consist dates and even took you out on trips. he was physically, mentally and emotionally present— and you genuinely believed he would be your forever man when you’d introduced him to your parents at your graduation ceremony and he seemed thrilled. they adored him— and that says a lot considering they hated all your other exes. with good reason, but still.
it’d been the honeymoon phase until it wasn’t.
you expected arguments. those are inevitable in relationships, but with every argument he grew distant. you were now both graduated students juggling between jobs, rent and a relationship. it was a lot— your schedules never seemed to align which jumbled into multiple failed dates, which further escalated into more arguments. it hadn’t always been him, you could agree you were at fault too. that post graduation depression spiralled worst than you’d anticipated— the fear of falling behind when your boyfriend had already been successful so early into his career entirely consuming.
he reassured you plenty, but you could see it in his face as he spoke to you— he was exhausted. of work. of life. of you. he had bigger fish to fry than dealing with a workaholic girlfriend with low self esteem. the bigger the promotion, the less your value. you’d seen this play out before— it was less i love you’s and more hours in the office. less dinner dates and more project plannings.
the more time you spent by yourself, the more your mind began overthinking. you had no place in his life anymore. you didn’t resent him for it— you wish nothing but the best for him. he deserves to be successful in life, and he’s already so close to it. your slacking behind is nothing more than dead weight in his rise to the top.
the breakup had been anticipated. you’d broken up with him first. he never asked you to explain why. he nodded, never uttering a word. it’d been the first time you’d seen him in weeks. you kept it simple, “we should break up.” and he kept it even simpler, a curt bounce of the head in agreement. as quick as he’d entered your apartment, he left.
and that’d honestly been it. you’d been together for four years, and broken up for a year and a half. after all this time, you still don’t resent him for it. he made the rational choice in prioritizing himself and his future, and you simply didn’t fit in it. it took you quite some time to work on yourself as well, and you’re honestly satisfied with where you are in life. the breakup clearly worked in favour for you both.
it sucks that he was genuinely the only man you ever cared about. the only man you can confidently say you loved.
“look— now you got her thinking about him!” shoko complains, chucking the nearest thing— a throw pillow, at utahime. it hits her square in the face, to which she lets out a muffled oof! “way to fucking go.”
you blink out of your thoughts. well that’s embarrassing, you got caught up in the past again. you lift yourself from the slumping position you’d unintentionally fallen into the midst of daydreaming, “shit, my bad. got flashbacks to that time he ate me off the bone after his first promotion.”
“yo, what?!” yuki hollers, falling into a fit of laughter. shoko rolls her eyes so much you’re thinking it’ll get stuck at the back of her skull and utahime physically cringed from head to toe. “so fucking unserious— here we are, worried about your ass and here you go, upset you lost your best eater.”
not exactly, though there was some truth to her words. gojo was your best eater, and nobody’s topped him since. he really did tongue fuck you that night like you were the boss who raised his pay. but it wasn’t just the sex you missed— you wholeheartedly missed him. the closest thing to a soul bond you’ve experienced, now gone.
they don’t need to know all that though.
“oh come on,” utahime groans, picking at her nails. trust her to find any reason to slander your ex. for what reason? she’s never told you other than him annoying the fuck out of her, “he could not have been that great. it can’t be anything you can’t find elsewhere— plenty of men eat pussy.”
“okay but do they enjoy eating it or is it more of a duty thing?” yuki points out, rolling her thumb on her lighter mindlessly. she watches the flame arise, casting a soft glow on the sheet stuck to her face, “because you can definitely tell the difference. one eats for foreplay, the other eats for his own pleasure.”
shoko hums in agreement, still poking at her plate, “a man versus a munch,” and with a beat of silence, she takes a deep sigh, throwing her head back, “i should call him.”
“no! no you should not,” utahime laughs, before shooting you a glance. your smile quickly falters and is switched with a look of confusion as she points a nail filer in your direction, “and you,” you cock a brow, “stop thinking about him. we’re supposed to be independent women, y’all need to stand the fuck up.”
“hime, please, you were literally just complaining to your close friends about your latest dry spell.”
“irrelevant!” she dismisses yuki, waving a hand absentmindedly. you don’t see how it’s irrelevant exactly, but you let her proceed. “we are sexy, successful and strong women. stop relying on the past and focus on the future. there are bitches that fought for their lives for the freedom we have! you could literally get dick anywhere— they actually have apps for it, if you didn’t know—”
“so tell us, o’mighty one,” shoko cuts her off, “are you suggesting we download tinder to relieve our stress?”
she remains quiet, and you can see the gears churning in her head. you’re about ninety nine percent positive shoko was fucking around, but the scrunch in your friend’s eyebrows tells you she’s seriously contemplating the idea, “. . yes actually.” she finally decides.
“hime. . .” shoko groans, but is effectively cut off when she springs up to her knees to grab at her phone.
“no, seriously, think about it!” she scrolls through her phone like a maniac, searching through the app store and typing the name in. you all watch her incredulously, her enthusiasm in the matter as if she hadn’t been preaching about feminism half a minute ago, “i’ve met some of my best lays in college through tinder. i haven’t been on this app in years though.”
you don’t see why not. you were pretty tipsy and would never have agreed to this under typical conditions, however it could be regarded as a bonding activity. you also haven’t been on tinder since before your last relationship, and the shit sukuna put you through this past year was enough to make you want to deal with literally anything else.
“i’m down.” you pull out your phone, and shoko may have gotten whiplash with how quick she snaps her head back to eye you. you shrug your shoulders, “we don’t have to take this shit seriously— god knows i’m not entertaining anybody on this app for real.”
“exactly!” utahime nods, walking up to scoot herself beside you. she nudges at shoko with her foot, who flicks at her toes to keep her away, “it’s just for shits and giggles.”
“i’m definitely not doing this shit,” yuki crawls to sit at the couch’s feet, right at shoko’s side, and grabs at the remote sitting uselessly on the table, “but i will be watching you both embarrass yourselves.”
“the only other bitch with common sense here.” shoko sprawls her legs onto yuki’s lap. she receives a slap at the back of her head by utahime, and naturally she slaps the hand right back. “can’t stand that little fucker sometimes.”
“aweee, love you too!” she blows a kiss at her to which she receives a middle finger. you snort, eyes glued on your screen as you redownload that forsaken app back into your phone.
you’d probably regret it in the morning, but that was something saturday you would have to deal with. as of right now, with white wine in your system, logic was not an option. you were learning to live more in the moment, and apparently that starts with the corniest dating app in the world.
it’s not like you’d magically stumble upon your ex on the platform. now wouldn’t that be something? ha!
there’s no fucking way.
this had to be one big, fat cosmic joke. a cruel prank, even. and if it was, then the universe had a twisted sense of humour. you still don’t believe it— were the girls in on this? this kind of shit didn’t just happen to anybody.
it took about a total of twenty minutes between logging back into your old account, updating your password and bio, and swiping left on passing profiles until you landed on it. on. . . him.
you blink slowly. your phone is shaky beneath your unstable hands, and you’re pretty sure you’ve been holding your breath in far longer than recommended for the average human. it’s quiet as fuck in the room— despite the three girls huddled over your shoulders, sticking their noses in all directions to get a clearer view of your illuminating screen— almost as if to confirm if what they were seeing was truly was they were seeing, as if this was all too fucking ironic to be true.
there’s a knot of anxiousness that simmers in the pits of your stomach. you’re pretentiously aware that even the slightest movement— one wrong click or swipe, would ultimately change everything. there was too much at risk here. “oh there’s no fucking way. . .” shoko speaks up first.
utahime leans in impossibly closer, a few centimetres away from fully emerging with your iphone as her nose scrunches, “way too sexy? fuck around and find out? god, he’s still so corny, i swear.”
your eyes trail over his biography, curiously. that “way2sexy” had been an inside joke you both shared years ago— back when drake had dropped one of gojo’s favourite albums, certified loverboy. he overplayed the shit out of that song when it came out, so much that you received multiple complaints from your RA for “public disturbance”, but he swore it worked as daily affirmations for him in the same sense crystals and tarot cards worked for spiritual girlies. you called him corny for it, but before you knew it, it’d shown up in your spotify wrapped the following year.
rapid memories of morning rays of light peeking through blinds, a groggy yet mysteriously clear “alexa, play way 2 sexy” as you fixed your sheets and lit your candles, fighting over who gets to spit toothpaste residue first, hearty laughter to fumbled lyrics, shared minty kisses paired with one “gimme one more” too many.
the ache clenching at your heart is hard to ignore.
“i would give him the benefit of the doubt in believing he hasn’t updated his account,” yuki draws out, eyes narrowing as a finger sticks out to point, “but his age matches. emoticons as a grown man. . . no shade though.”
his age did match. inside joke aside, none of it was adding up. if he already had his account set up years ago, had he willingly changed his bio to one of your most infamous gags after the breakup? if you were to swipe right right now, would it instantly match? you don’t think you want to figure it out— both possible outcomes scaring you shitless.
“should i swipe left?” you speak uncharacteristically softly, torn between the idea of tucking your tail inwards and running away from the opportunity or your typical it is what it is mentality.
“yes! obviously— mmmph?!”
“do you want to?” shoko, with a pillow stuffing an agitated utahime in the face, counters. between all the girls, she seemed to understand you the most, granted her own relationship with the man. you’re sure he had given her his own version of their breakup, how you’d opened the doors to endless opportunities for him, had given him the easy way out. you never bothered asking her, afraid of the illusion you’d created to shield yourself shattering, “only you have the answer to that.”
“i honestly don’t know,” you sigh, joints in your thumb aching from hovering over your screen for too long. swiping left meant completely abandoning any the possibility of the two of you as one. you don’t want that responsibility weighted on your shoulders again, “what if he’s moved on? the shit that’ll do to my ego if i swipe right and he passes on me?”
shoko finally grants her friend the permission of speech, freeing her off the couch decoration, though the look she gives her serves as a warning to tread lightly. with a heavy breath, utahime releases a puff, “i’d crashout, just sayin’.”
“but what if he hasn’t moved on?” yuki poses, and apparently that was all the confirmation you needed to swipe. fuck pride— pride wasn’t going to get your back blown out. pride wasn’t going to help you get the love of your life back. pride can go fuck itself.
“wait—”
utahime is cut off again, however, not by shoko but tinder itself. the notification pings loudly, resonating in depths of your ear cavity and shoots straight to your chest. you can feel your heart pounding wildly against your rib cage. it’s so silent you can hear a pin drop, and the way your gut churns gives away the end result to your spontaneity.
it’s a match.
“well. . . shit.” shoko slumps back into the couch nonchalantly, and you don’t need to see her to know she’s sporting a smirk. you do feel her knee knock into yours. fake ass idgafer.
you’re no better, biting down your bottom in order to suppress the smile itching to spread. a year later and the sole idea that he’d already came across the same mindset as you, willing to give whatever it was that needed a second shot, had you beyond delusional. god, you need help.
“look at youuu, cheesin’ and shit!” yuki pokes at your cheek and you swat her hand away, ultimately caving into the smile. fuck yeah you were geeked— it’s hard carrying a nonchalant attitude when you were an honest to god, soft hearted lovergirl. if you played your cards right, with a few lash bats and glossy lips, you’d be getting dicked down in no time.
“i’m gonna be sick.” utahime deadpans.
“and i’m getting dickkk,” you sing, jumping to your feet as you stood on the couch. you turn around, hands clutching onto the headrest, giving your ass a cute shake as it rotates in circular motions. you feel shoko’s hand tapping it encouragingly, her phone illuminating as it records while she rests her head on your moving thighs. you hear yuki cackle, pulling out her phone to film as well. you giggle, “rip that pussy!”
“ayeeee!” they complete the lyrics, and the vibes are restored yet again, girly giggles filling the room. when your legs begin to feel wobbly, you stop your twerking to plop yourself right back down, leaning your head onto shoko’s shoulder.
you hear her click her tongue as the recording of your ass graces her screen, and she groans, “gojo is one lucky bastard— he can’t handle all that.”
he most definitely can, and has. you’ll opt with shrugging in the meantime.
“with that being said,” utahime jumps in, crossing her legs, “what’s the next move here? you reaching out first?”
your lips straighten as your mind reflects. if you still know him as well as you think you do, he’s definitely going to text you first as soon as he sees the green light. sure, you were anxious for a reply, desperate to check what his temperature was— but you’d already sacrificed a grand amount of dignity just swiping right. he could do take on the role of texting first.
“nah, i’m almost a hundred percent sure he’ll—”
ping!
you all whip your heads to the source of the sound. your phone. the screen shines as it undergoes facial recognition, and exposes the messenger. from tinder. gojo. sending you a message. just as you’d expected.
you can’t help the cocky smile, eyes trailing at their perplexed faces, “—text me first.”
naturally, the girls are impressed. even you are— that timing? would it be insane to genuinely be considering gojo might honest to god be your soulmate? yuki blows a puff of air, followed by a laugh, “your pussy has to be magical cause what the fuck?”
“ladies and gentlemen,” utahime stands to her feet, fisting her hand into an imaginary microphone, and addresses her fake crowd. in the hostiest voice she can muster, she curtsies as she continues in comedic fashion, “miss pussy fairy in thee flesh.”
“put a stamp on it.” shoko shakes her head in acknowledgment, laying her own phone in her lap as she claps. yuki places two fingers in her mouth and whistles at you, to which you rise to your own feet and dramatically place a hand over your chest in faux humility.
“oh please!” you flatter yourself, tucking your hair behind your ear. you smile behind your palm, your improv classes in high school coming in clutch, “this is too much— thank you! thank you deeply.”
“girl, byeee,” utahime breaks character first, giggling as she sits back onto the abandoned bean bag. you mimic her motions, as she pops open a stray water bottle and swallows a big gulp, “open his text! i wanna see what he said!”
you’re in the same boat, thumbing at your phone to unlock it and open the app. naturally the girls hover over you yet again, just as eager to see how he finally broke the no contact phase. it took him less than three minutes to slide in your messages, as the option had finally been granted.
right as your thumb hovers the message, a hum draws out your throat, “how much y’all wanna bet it’s something corny?” you tease, something close to a hunch giving it away. seeing as your assumptions were deemed accurate just a few minutes ago, the only way he’d think of clearing the ice would be with something plausibly lame.
“open itttt!” utahime ushers you, hands clamping at your shoulders. you roll your eyes, letting her dramatics sway your body back and forth before she lets up. you let out a sigh, and open the unanswered message.
and just as you’d predicted. . .
@gsatoru: they say shooters shoot 👀
“oh brotherrrr,” the girls groan in sync, and even you can’t stop the cringe that stiffens your face. if there’s one thing that hasn’t changed, it’s the fact he still doesn’t act his age. he needs to let those college days go.
“now, what’d i tell y’all.” you tut, leaving out the part of nostalgia simmering deep and warmly in your bones at his predictability. ever the goofy he was, gojo satoru. jeez.
“i was really found myself rooting for him too,” shoko sighs, rising to her feet. she dusts at her lap then stretches her limbs lazily, “i’m gonna go pee— hime, i swear to god, don’t take my seat.” she doesn’t look back to flip her off when she hears utahime blow raspberries her way. to which, against shoko’s wishes, leaps over to snatch her seat.
both you and yuki give her a deadpanned look, but yuki voices out your thoughts, “she’s gonna get on your ass and i’m not helping you out.”
“girl, boo.” utahime rolls her eyes, “more importantly, what the fuck do you answer to that?” her nail taps at your phone screen, peering at you expectantly through lashes.
you consider your options. do you reciprocate the same energy or do you call him out on his corniness? matching his vibe would be like starting off a blank slate— a new start, new conversations, something almost superficial. like a fling you meet at the bars for one night of fuckery that you regret the next morning. but calling him out would induce in falling into familiar patterns— calling him a cornball while he attempts to sweet talk you, old conversations brought up, risking broken boundaries for the sake of reminiscing.
decisions, decisions, decisions.
“i’m thinking taking the easy way out.” you nod your head, readying your fingers as you type your response out.
you miss the exchanged glances between utahime and yuki, too busy trying to format how to come off playful but not forgetful. flirty but not desperate. come pull up on me but demurely. well you’ll be damned— in what world had you ever expected second guessing yourself for gojo?
“what’s the easy way out?” yuki asks, and you hit send. where this confidence comes from is beyond you, but any error you make you can blame on the wine (you’re hardly fazed but it’s nice to have something to pin the blame on instead of yourself) (old habits die hard).
you tilt your phone, holding it out as you watch the girls’ brows furrow, eyes scanning over the screen. when their faces contort into a look of amusement mixed with horror, a girly giggle escapes your throat.
@yourstrulyname: sukuna ryomen wsp with you?? 🙈
“you didn’t!” utahime hollers, her laughter so intense she doubled over to clutch at her stomach. yuki sways her body back and forth as she finds herself in a hysterical fit as well. “goddd, i would kill to see the look on his face right now.”
“yooo, that’s evil.” the blonde swipes at a tear. “woulda had me deactivating the whole account.”
“who’s deactivating?” shoko pops back in, not without slapping utahime upside the head. she ignores the way utahime complains in favour to swipe a nearly emptied bottle to pour.
“it’s not even that bad,” you defend yourself, flashing her your screen as she installs herself in the bean bag utahime once occupied. her eyes squint as she reads the conversation, nearly bulging out their sockets when she catches your message, “nahhh, don’t give me that!”
“if he gives you the time of day after that,” shoko swirls the wine in her glass, snorting, “he must really still be in love with you.”
“he should know i’m playing. . .” you’re not sure if you’re trying to convince the girls, him or yourself. you really were just joking around— albeit a terrible joke, but one regardless! sukuna was officially removed from the roster, a financially irresponsible man never standing a chance against you, “right?”
“don’t ask us?” utahime chimes in, uselessly, to which you roll your eyes. well shit, maybe you should double text? let him know you were just fooling around, trying to check temperatures and establish the mood. your phone pings again, and all unnecessary thoughts are thrown out the window.
@gsatoru: oh so you got jokes now?
as you’re about to let him know you’ve been had jokes, but never the goofy type, you see the bubbles pop up, a telltale that he’s got more to tell you. you let him have it, already having possibly fumbled the mission before even starting. it feels like an eternity and a half waiting on his text, the girls having huddled over you yet again, just as curious to see what he had to counter with.
@gsatoru: can’t be a joke if the guy had you outside on valentine’s day tho. stk steakhouse? really girl?
your jaw falls slack. you watch with burning eyes at your screen as your built up suspicions were ultimately confirmed. okay, so those two were still somehow connected. you didn’t like to question male friendships, the lack of loyalty not one you’d ever understand. god forbid you ever started fucking with utahime’s ex of many years.
“wait. .” said girl speaks up, drawing the word out as she processes his answer. her tongue rolls around in her mouth, face cringing as the next words follow, “i can’t lie, he kinda ate you up.”
“just sassy as fuck,” shoko laughs, and it’s one of those giggles reserved to shit she honestly finds hilarious, “really girl is crazy. all comfortably like he’s one of your homegirls.”
“now what’s wrong with stk’s?” yuki grumbles, picking at her nails with a childish pout on her lips, “everybody isn’t born with a silver spoon plugged up our asses. god, i can’t stand rich people.”
you don’t bother answering the girls, already aware he chewed with his response, that he’s as sassy as he was years ago and that he had found that particular steakhouse shabby despite it being a fucking steakhouse. these were things you already knew. your thumbs proceed before your mind can register,
@yourstrulyname: been keeping tabs on me?
“you don’t look too happy,” shoko pokes at your cheek. there’s an ache creasing in your forehead, and you relax the furrow of your brows. you’re not exactly upset, just a bit on edge with his approach— you can’t tell whether he’s on tens or not. whether he’s genuinely joking around or not.
“i’m fine.” you poke back, and she nods. she ushers the other girls to pick a new movie to play, and you clock this is her way of allowing you some privacy between exes. you shoot her a grateful look, and she offers a sly wink. you’ll make sure to update her on whatever happens as soon as it’s over.
you switch your ringer off, and open his new message.
@gsatoru: hard not to when he posts you like he has smth to prove
@yourstrulyname: who said it was me?
you knew it was you. you knew he knew it was you. but still, you wanted to hear it from him yourself, wanted to know if he really was keeping tabs on you ever since the breakup. it’d help ease your mind with unanswered questions.
@gsatoru: you mean besides the bags and jewelry i got you?
@gsatoru: your build was a dead giveaway. could recognize you blindfolded in a room full of women
you bit your lip. you could work with this text, play around with it and see if shit flips. would he fall for the bait? you’ll start off slow, create an opening and see if he decides to indulge.
@yourstrulyname: like what you saw?
he answers instantly and your heart sinks a bit.
@gsatoru: of course
@gsatoru: you’re as a beautiful as the day you left me
is that how he saw it? you assume you did leave him in a practical sense, but there was no way he hadn’t seen it coming miles away. you had both been caught up in your lives, the additional stress of romance an unwanted factor in the rise of your careers. so yeah, you’d given him the opportunity to leave. it’s not as if he fought it anyway, so did you really leave him if he’d closed the door on his merry way out?
this was starting to get personal. toeing between the line of uncharted territory and familiarity. everything you didn’t want— debriefing the logic behind the underwhelming breakup on tinder of all places was out of the fucking question.
@yourstrulyname: you still cool with sukuna?
@gsatoru: something like that
@gsatoru: he’s slimey as fuck for sliding on you tho
you figured as much. you couldn’t imagine a world where gojo wouldn’t feel some type of way at his friend going after his ex girlfriend a couple months fresh off a breakup. he probably felt the same way towards you, the difference being one owes him more loyalty than the other.
@yourstrulyname: and what does that make me?
@gsatoru: did he mean something to you?
he didn’t. you think of the importance of somebody meaning something to you— the fear of losing that person larger than life itself. the joy of waking up in that person’s arms on a rainy morning. the vulnerability in bonding souls with that person. the relief your body undergoes as it melts in that person’s embrace.
he didn’t mean shit to you.
@yourstrulyname: no
@gsatoru: then that makes you someone who made a choice
neutral and impassive. you wondered if he truly meant that. in a sense, you assume he really did mature.
@yourstrulyname: so he’s in the wrong but i’m not?
@gsatoru: who am i to assign right from wrong? you’re both adults at the end of the day
you don’t know what to answer to that. there was a lot of truth to his words— you were both consenting adults with choices made. jeez, just what had gojo gone through all these months that made him none the wiser? you’re considering leaving him on opened for a while, at least until you come up with an answer to that philosophical ass message, when he double texts you.
@gsatoru: this is so backwards lmaoo. what’s good with you? how’ve you been?
so he realized it too. thank fuck— skipping small talk and diving into the nitty gritty this late at night was not how you expected your night to go. the girls had completely forgotten your predicament, invested in the latest reality tv show flashing on your flat screen.
@yourstrulyname: been good. you?
@gsatoru: wow you’re as dry as ever
@gsatoru: life’s been blessed, could be better tho. too much to explain over text
oh? was this what you were thinking it was?
@yourstrulyname: what are you getting at, gojo?
@gsatoru: gojo? so it’s fuck me then
@gsatoru: not getting at anything. ball’s in your court, yn
so it was. you contemplate it for a second— should you invite him over tonight? the girls won’t be upset about kicking them out, and if anything they’d encourage you to call them as soon as it’s over. you suppose your doubts lie within the idea of having your ex boyfriend back into your territory. in the comfort of your home, a home he’d once already graced.
as scary as it sounded, you also desperately craved seeing him. it’d been a solid eighteen months since you’ve broken up, and thirteen since you’ve last seen him entirely. ironically, around the time you started getting involved with sukuna. you weren’t sure if it was your heart or pussy talking, but laying up in bed with this man was not something you were against.
fuck it.
@yourstrulyname: you know where i stay at
and his response comes instantly.
@gsatoru: be there in half an hour.
oh fuck.
“yo. . .” you speak up, for the first time in a few minutes. the girls turn their heads, acknowledging you, as you shut your phone close and chuck it across the sofa. “i love y’all but y’all gotta go, like now.”
shoko shakes her head, but there’s a smirk on her lips. utahime, as lost as ever, gives you a frown. yuki has most likely caught on, rising to her feet, dusting her lap, “say no more.”
the girls do you an immense favour as they excuse themselves. they pick at empty bottles and containers, throw dirty dishes in the dishwasher, rearrange the throw pillows and even light up your candles. you feel bad for kicking them out so late, so you pitch in some money for gas as well as the inconvenience.
as they cleaned out your living room and kitchen, you’d rushed to your shower for a mini cleanse. pulling out your bests, you wash over intimate parts thoroughly, lathering your limbs in scented soap, before rinsing, brushing your teeth and stepping out. you stare at your reflection through the haze of steam, the foggy mirror reminding you of the missing messages he used to leave on mornings you had to get to work.
no point in dwelling on the past when he was on his way over this moment. you swap your silk robe for the skimpiest loungewear you own— matching camisole and shorts, and let your hair cascade back down. you’re about your fifth spritz of body spray when the doorbell rings, and your stomach flutters.
you halt in your step when you notice how fast you’re going. yikes! the last thing he needs is his ego inflating, knowing you were rushing to get him inside, nevermind the fact you washed, pulled out your sexiest pyjamas and even wore a brand new pair of panties. you know. . . just for preparations. better safe than sorry.
after the third mindless lap around your kitchen, you make your way towards the door. you inhale sharply, clenching at your shaky fingers, easing your nerves. you quickly snap out of your daze, pulling the door open.
his eyes, momentarily distracted by the number engraved in the wall next to your door, glaze over your figure curiously. his hands are tucked in the pocket of his sweatpants. he lets out a breath, a sound borderlining a chuckle as it shoots straight to both heartbeats, shoulders drop from its hunch,
“hey.”
he’s thick.
no perverted shit. you’ve noticed he’s put on weight in the right places— not to say he’d been anything less than nicely built in the past, but his biceps are significantly fuller and the material of his compression tee stretched over bulging muscles in a telltale pattern.
somebody’s been at the gym one too many.
“you good with this?” he mumbles, hand running across the smooth skin of your calf. with every stroke of his palm are fleeting memories of the past, burning deep into your limb. you hate the way your stomach sinks st the thought, “me being here and shit.”
“wouldn’t have let you in if i wasn’t.” you answer honestly, back pressed into the arm of the couch. you don’t understand how fast he’d gotten comfortable with being in your personal space just like that— you don’t understand how you’d allowed him in your personal space just like that.
he nods, and the air is eerily quiet. you watch with furrowed brows as he traces shapes into your skin with his fingertip, a frenzy of emotions resembling those of turbulence all in cerulean eyes. he’s torn— you can see it in the way his nose scrunches, as if he’s debating on whether he should voice out his thoughts or not. whether it’s worth debriefing— if this is his last shot or not.
with all this time passed, he’s still so easy to read.
“what is it?” you sigh, albeit irritated. the last thing you’d planned when you got rid of your friends in favour of having your ex over was this weird ass tension roaming. crazy sentence to speak— you know, but you were really hoping it’d be less talking involved and more sexing. it wasn’t that you were against conversing with him, but the way he was choosing to go about it was just so. . . awkward .
he senses the irritation laced in your question and immediately chuckles. his laugh sounds breathless, almost dry, but he shakes his head. his free hand swipes at his nose, a tic of his you noticed years ago whenever he’s feeling bashful or caught, and clears his throat.
“how’d you and sukuna happen?” he rips off the bandaid, and asks you the last question you wanted to hear. the tracing on your leg slows down, and your arms tighten a bit around your torso.
you let out a puff of air. if gojo notices your discomfort, he doesn’t mention it. in fact, he doesn’t pull the question back at all— he stares at you intensely, as if baring into your soul, as if the answer to his question will determine whether the boulder weighted on his shoulders will free him of restraint or not.
as if he still stood a chance or not.
“not much to say,” you shrug, as dismissive as possible. he doesn’t budge, the same intensity in his gaze and you roll your eyes, “honest to god. we broke up, he was there at the right time and shit happened.”
the words simmer into the stillness of the night, and he swipes his tongue over his lips pensively, “were y’all ever official?” he pushes, and you click your tongue against your teeth, offering him a deadpanned look. seriously, as if he didn’t know his own friend— in what world was sukuna anything worthy of official?
“god, no.” you shudder, and he nods again. “you know your friend.”
“i don’t,” gojo counters, momentarily wrapping his hand around your ankle. it fits as perfectly as it did all those years ago, where thumbs at your anklet— another prized possession he’d gotten you. your face heats in embarrassment, and he flicks his eyes to glance at you, a fleeting smirk on his lips, before staring back at the jewelry, “going after my ex girlfriend is not something i expected. i don’t know him at all.”
fair enough, you think to yourself. there has to be some lingering resentment towards you for the same reason. had the tables been turned and he’d gone after one of your closest friends, you would’ve cut him off from your life completely. you were being truthful— it wasn’t anything remotely serious with sukuna, not even close to how it’d been with gojo, but you could see it as a matter of principle. you’d already taken the initiative to break up with him first, and going after his homeboy?
god, you had questionable morals.
“it’s different with you,” he feeds in, as if he could read your thoughts. it was probably written all over your face, the scrunch in your brows never letting up. his index finger slides beneath the band of your anklet, the contrast of the silver shade lining perfectly against his complexion, “‘s hard to explain, but you broke up with me so you technically owe me no loyalty— besides, i get why you ended things. never blamed you.”
now that peaks your interest. he gets why you ended things with him? he never blamed you? you clear your throat, forcing the question out, “you do?”
“of course,” he shrugs naturally, as if it hadn’t taken you eons to conclude. as if it hadn’t broke you apart when you’d realized how unneeded you were, “i honestly expected it. you deserved better than what i was giving. you must’ve been lonely— work had always taken a big part of my time, and that left you behind in the dust.”
you’re waiting for the punchline. he continues, “i can’t lie to you— i was wishing you’d resort to cheating over breaking up. that way you’d still be mine, even if it was temporarily,” he chuckles, a soft shade of pink dusting over his cheekbones, as he sniffs, “corny, i know. but you didn’t deserve putting up with my bullshit, so you left. time is of the essence, and that was the one thing i never seemed to give you. you fell out of it— out of love, so. . . i’m sorry.”
words cannot seem to leave you. you’re left utterly speechless— that had been so far from the reason, the realization sitting bitterly at the pit of your stomach. anything, literally anything, would’ve been better than hearing him lie to you again.
“that. . .” you inhale a sharp breath, steadying yourself, “is nowhere near the reason why we broke up.”
he stops in his caress. you think he got whiplash from how fast his neck snaps, eyeing you incredulously. he genuinely seems so confused, and you hate it. to think he’d show up with some lame ass excuse, so far stretched from the truth of the matter, and expected you to believe that. to believe him.
he blinks slowly, “i don’t understand.”
you try to pull your leg away from his lap, feeling like he was stripping you bare of the last bit of dignity you had left, wanting to rip you open. he presses the weight of his hand lightly, urging you to stay near while simultaneously giving you the option to pull away. the ball was in your court yet again.
“wait— help me understand,” the pad of his thumb rolls over your ankle bone gently— far too intimately. your feet curl away, protectively, and his fingers stroke at the ball of your heel, “please. what drove you away? what was it i did?”
there’s a pang in your chest. does he really plan on keeping this up? right in your face? it was one thing wishing him well despite the obvious, but dragging it out even a year later was a bit much. inviting him over was starting to seem like a terrible idea.
“i fell out of love?” you parrot, unbelieving. “gojo— i’m not the one who fell out of anything. i gave you a way out, and you happily took it,” his face contorts into a deeper state of confusion. you huff, “i’m not blaming you for it or anything, but shit, don’t get up in here with lies to cover your ass.”
“lies?” he whispers, to himself, running his free fingers through tousled white locks. he stares at your anklet hardly, like the gift has all the answers he’s looking for. you don’t think he’s avoiding eye contact, but he seems so distraught, so out of the loop, that broadway ought to sign him to a new movie deal. what an actor.
“time is of the essence and you failed to give it?” you continue regardless, throat restricting as it burns in an emotion you’re far too familiar with. suddenly, you feel like you’re twenty five again, left to your own devices and thoughts in the emptiness of his apartment, dressed in your prettiest outfit and another failed date night. “i never gave a shit about that, i knew how much of a hardworking man you were. i took it to the chest— anything to keep you from leaving. you stopped loving me, gojo.”
his jaw falls slack, mouth gaping and you blink your lashes furiously to prevent tears from appearing. god, this was so humiliating, bearing your heart raw in front of your ex boyfriend, “y/n, i never—”
“spare me,” you scoff, mortified by the rush of emotions coursing through you. you take a deep breath in, calming yourself to avoid further explosive feelings, “this isn’t me saying i was the perfect girlfriend. i know i wasn’t— you know i wasn’t, and piling a spiralling partner on top of all the shit you were dealing with wasn’t an option. that’s fine,” it was fine. it didn’t matter, “doesn’t matter anymore. i broke up with you, you didn’t fight to stay, and we both moved on. shit happens.”
it hurt a lot. the sound of the door clicking shut, followed by the crack splitting in your chest. the run towards your bathroom, emptying your contents from both your stomach and heart. you were undeniably a mess, that period of time it took for you to recover. you would never voice it out loud, but you’d been praying he’d tell you just how wrong you were. how he needed you in his life. how you weren’t a burden to him. how he loved you enough to fight through it all.
he hadn’t.
there’s a soft hum in the silence. the sound of your clock ticking near the entrance door. the pounding of your heart against your rib cage. seconds turn into minutes of quietness, and it does no good to your mind. you’re focusing your gaze on the inanimate objects in your apartment, anything to dismiss the reality of the situation. your leg feels cold as his hand pulls away suddenly.
he rolls his tongue against his cheek. another tic of his— he’s formulating his word choice, carefully. you’d seen a ton of this before, though it usually followed a deep sigh and a you’re good baby, trust me. the more you’d see it, the more anxious you became. and christ, if that anxiety wasn’t forming right back.
it takes a while for him to speak, and every passing breath had your chest tightening. he runs his hand across his face, tiredly. when he pulls it away, there’s a melancholic smile on his face, “i think there’s a lot that needs to be addressed. jesus, i always knew you sucked at communicating but this is something else.”
you glare at him. he doesn’t mind it, continuing, “no, you weren’t the perfect girlfriend. but you were my girlfriend, and that’s all that mattered to me. you wanna talk about spiralling? nothing i’m not familiar with— you’re the only reason i didn’t let myself fall into that rabbit hole. you kept me going after graduation. i worked as hard as i did to make sure you wouldn’t have to lift a finger around me. that was the end goal— you were end goal.”
gagged is what you felt. nothing else pure shock. he doesn’t stop there. he isn’t merciful anymore.
“i know i didn’t go about it the right way,” a regretful puff of air is released, “i canceled on you often. our phone calls were shorter, our texts were vaguer and at some point i’d forgotten what you tasted like. but i never loved you any less. not once, even after we argued. not to say i’ve converted into those spiritual people, but you’re the closest thing to a soulmate i’ve experienced.”
shit, you weren’t tripping. he felt it too. fuck. the weight of his words made it impossible to steer him away. you want to intercept, to call him a liar and turn a blind ear at his confession, to shield yourself but how could you when every word he spoke broke the bricks you’d built down?
“i’m not an asshole— i could feel you slipping away. i did try my damned hardest to reel you back in, as you’d done with me. clearly that hadn’t worked how i was hoping it would,” a bitter laugh, or maybe a resentful one. towards you or himself? you wouldn’t know, “it’s because i loved you so much, i let you go. i knew i was losing you, and when you finally came to me, the right thing to do was agree. why keep you from reaching your fullest potential? you weren’t happy with me, trying to fight the inevitable was cruel.”
the inevitable. letting you go was the right choice to make because fighting the inevitable was cruel. he loved you so much he had to let you go because you deserved more than what he had to offer. you call bullshit— in what right did he have to make that choice for you? what right did you have to make that choice for him?
it’s too much at once. your eyes burn with a remorseful feeling, your heart aches in agony and your mind is clouded with thoughts. there your ex boyfriend sat, wide eyes still as blue as when he’d once been yours, presenting you his heart raw in cupped hands— and you still couldn’t find it in you to believe him fully. everything yet nothing made sense. vulnerability was a scary thing, and you weren’t ready to face it.
so, you kiss him.
his breath is taken out of his chest as you lean forward, sealing his mouth shut. you can’t take any more of his merciless words, and the only way to get your mind off it is by getting on it. he feels stiff against you, pupils dilating as you mould lips with his own. your hand travels to the back of his neck, sitting on your knees as you hold him still.
and with a faint lip smack, he pulls away ever so slightly, hands hovering awkwardly over your waist, his breath warm and fanning your cupid’s bow, “wait—”
“don’t wanna talk,” you interrupt, placing another chaste kiss on his lips. he tastes as good as the day you left him. and with another soft smack, your voice lowers, reduced to a whisper, “you gonna fuck me or not?”
he blinks and you stare back at him, full of conviction. a simple yes or no question— and he could gladly see himself out if his answer didn’t satisfy you. his hands finally rest on your waist, and you take it as an invitation to straddle over his hips. he eases your movements by aiding, lifting you just barely to sit on him. his hands fit just as they did all those times ago. a sour, bittersweet feeling— fingertips caressing the nakedness of your torso beneath your camisole.
your back arches as he finds your sensitive spots with quickness. he’d always been great at that, leaving trails of goosebumps past his teasing touches.
“you’re doing it again,” he mumbles against your lips, ever the hypocrite, fingers gripping at your waist like a vice. he rolls your hips over his own, reeling in the softness of your palms cupping at his face. you ignore him when he continues, still nibbling on his bottom lip the way he loves, “you can’t— mmh, avoid this forever.”
maybe not, but you sure as hell could right now. the tip of your noses bump into one another as you tilt your head, deepening the kiss. you want to rid your mind of these plaguing thoughts, ones that made you doubt everything you thought you knew. losing control was out of the question, so naturally you needed it back into your grasp.
sex was an easy way to do that.
“yes or no, gojo.” you give him one last chance, grinding your hips down on his awakening dick. you feel his bulge through his pair of sweats, the print so evident you wondered why he was trying to fight it. the sight alone had your panties dampening in your arousal, uncomfortably sticky against your loungewear.
he hums in between kisses, a false pretend of debating his options. his fingers slip beneath the waistband of your shorts and past your panties, fondling at the flesh that sat beneath. he could fake it all he wants, but fuck chivalry— he was turning to mush the more you sucked at his tongue, licking at the crevice of the roof of his mouth.
it’s when you sink your teeth into the flesh of pink lips, not hard enough to draw blood but enough to draw a moan from him, he comes to a conclusion. he nods his head, snaking his arms to wrap at your waist tighter as finally kisses you back.
“it’s always a yes.” for you. he doesn’t say it, doesn’t need to, but you hear it and dismiss it. no more lovey doveyness and time to get to the nitty gritty of shit— getting your back blown out. the very thought alone is enough to put a smile on your lips.
bingo.
your bedroom door hardly shuts before he pins you against it. he’s annoyingly big— tall in height and wide in weight. he towers over you comically, hands roaming at every inch of your body as he drinks you up. his lips seek yours desperately, sliding over your glossy ones with practice that suggests hints of comfort.
your arms loop at his neck, and his at your waist. his mouth hardly lets up of yours, mumbling a little jump, as you comply with ease. thighs trapping him in your hold, you then find yourself face to face with him as he lifts you, large palms cupping at your ass. you fit just as perfectly in his hands as you did years ago, flesh so fat he gropes it tenderly.
the walk from the door to your bed passes in the blink of an eye, a timeframe you find pointless to recall as you indulge in the taste of him through his tongue. his presence is so overwhelmingly powerful— every touch and caress at your body reducing your limbs to mush. you cling to him, either out of safety reasons or desire, tilting your head from side to side to deepen the lip-to-lip action.
when he gets to the edge of your bed, he lowers you until your toes reach the floor. due to the difference in height, your lips part, a thin string of saliva connecting from both your mouths as proof of your unison. the blue shade of his orbs darken with desire, eyelids lowering as he drinks up the sight of you— lips plump and swollen, slick in saliva, chest heaving from lack of oxygen.
he raises a hand from your waist to cup at your face, and you detest the way your lean into his touch. your cheek fits in his large palm, and he swipes a thumb at your bottom lip, collecting your shared spit onto the pad of his digit. as he smears the fluid further across your mouth, he prods his thumb a little further— testing out the waters, wanting to see if you’d cave into old habits.
naturally, you allow it, his thumb swallowed by your puckered lips. you roll your tongue over his finger and your eyes never leave his— hoping to convey the rush of emotions you feel through your sultry gaze. your core throbs in want, your stomach erupting in butterflies and your heart pounding unnecessarily. unspoken words you’re positive he understood, if the way he groans when your teeth sink lightly into his digit said anything.
“you’re gonna be the death of me,” he mumbles, popping his finger back out. it’s coated in saliva, and like the freak he is, pops it into his own mouth. once he’s had his fill, he removes his hand from his mouth, and lowers it to your fleshy waist, slipping past the waistband of your panties, “take these off— ‘m hungry, need a taste of that pussy.”
your cheeks nearly split from your excitement, and you comply to his order, gripping at the hem of your shorts to pull them down to your ankle. he assists you despite the previous demand, his own hands atop of yours, a warmth and sense of security so familiar. when your shorts reach past your mid thigh, you allow him to meet you halfway.
he pulls your shorts down to your ankles, lowering himself to a knee. his movements are agonizingly slow, basking in the sight of your thighs in contrast of the shade of your loungewear. he steadies a hand onto your calf, patting it lightly, and you lift your leg just barely, permitting him to slide the shorts off your ankle and tossing it aside.
when the item is discarded, he redirects his focus back to you. he pampers your skin in kisses— delicate but hungry, trails of moisture crawling back up at your inner thighs and shooting right to your core. he looked unexplainably sexy on his knees, littering your body in hushed praises, the tip of his nose nudging at your soft skin. you bit your lip in attempts to cease it from wobbling at the intimacy he was providing.
“god, you smell so good,” he speaks into you, hands snaking to the back of your thighs, pressing you forward into him. your panty covered cunt presents itself right before him, and he plants his nose right into your intimates, your body shuddering as his nose bumps into your clit deliciously. a shaky breath escapes you, and his hands travel upwards to play with your ass. “turn around, wanna eat it from the back.”
the words are taken from you when his hand slaps your ass encouragingly, releasing a mini squeal, “you’re still too freaked out.”
“mhm, something like that,” you don’t see it, as you’re occupied on spinning on your feet to plant your hands on your matters for stability, but you’re positive he’s smirking. your arch your back for him, wanting to properly present the meal he plans on devouring. your cunt oozes slick against your thong just thinking about how he’s going to do you in, “there’s that arch,” a hand slides in the curve of your lower back, before snapping the band of your thong. it recoils against your cheek and you jerk forward at the sting.
“oh? did that hurt?” he taunts, and as you’re about to protest, he does it yet again. the snap is intense but never painful, but the nerve he had to play around like your pussy wasn’t a few centimetres away from his face. you don’t acknowledge how your panties cling even tighter to your folds.
“fuck off,” you curse through gritted teeth, but your hips wiggle backwards in attempt to get him to hurry it up. as if now was any time to tease— you couldn’t stand it when he did it all those years ago, and your feelings haven’t changed since, “get on with it. . . the fuck?”
you hear him sigh, almost disappointedly, and it only aggravates you further. your brows furrow in annoyance and you think you feel a vein tick at your temple.
“still so disrespectful,” gojo tuts, rubbing at your booty tenderly. so he wasn’t exactly wrong, but how was he expecting you to react when he’d just said he was going to eat you out, and proceeds to do anything but that? of course there’s going to be a little pout on your lips, “we gotta work on that attitude of yours.”
your face twists into a look of further aggravation, and you tilt your head back, readying whatever other bratty objections you had— though you’re ultimately interrupted by a sharp sting that spreads across your ass.
the strike of his palm against your cheek sprawls into an intense heat, the pain oddly pleasurable, and the moan that rips out of your chest is impossible to suppress. your eyes nearly jump out of their sockets at the audacity, and right as you’re about to complain, he does it again. and again.
“o-okay, shit!” you attempt to voice out, but he’s relentless, delivering blow after blow onto the same ground. there’s a curve in his palm, and it amplified the sound across the room. despite your protests, you can’t deny every jolt of pain rushes to your clit. you’re positive he knows you’re enjoying this, “gojo— fuck, okayyy!”
to your pleasure, he eases the slaps, opting to smoothen his hand flat across the reddened flesh. he hums pensively, the heat of your skin radiating against his palm in a way that forces a smile on his lips, “ ‘okay?’ what do you mean by that, baby?”
you clench your teeth at his faux ignorance. you know exactly what he wants from you, and you’re not sure if you’re able to give it to him as you are. an apology— he wants you to apologize, that bastard. your left cheek stings like a bitch, even with his now gentle touches, and your core is begging you to cooperate with him, in order for that attention it was neglected of. he is such a dickhead— putting you in a predicament like this one.
you swallow the last bit of dignity you hold, a constant reminder in the back of your mind that this was for the greater good— for the sake of your pussy. with a pained sigh, you tilt your head backwards to meet his playful gaze that stares back at you, right below the plump of your ass, and you muster the cutest look you can give.
doe eyes paired with a little pout, “‘m sorry. . . for the attitude,” you’re not sorry at all, but you desperately want your cunt in his mouth, so you do what you have to do, “can you eat it now? please?”
he flashes you a million dollar smile, all thirty twos on full display, and it takes every ounce of willpower in you not to roll your eyes right then and there. he was so full of shit, his eyes might as well brown. but still, you knew he got off on this kind of thing, and when he presses a quick kiss at the print of your lips, he replies, “of course, sweet girl— only because you asked so nicely.”
there’s no further need to speak, as you feel your thong being pushed to the side, followed by a cold breeze hitting your bare cunt, meshed with warm breathe as he feasts .
gojo eats you out like he has something to prove, and you know what— maybe he does. to prevent you from straying from him, he grounds you with two firm hands gripping at your ass. he spreads the flesh apart, his tongue lapping at your slick greedily. you can’t tell who’s moans are louder— yours or his, the man so engaged in sucking at your clit, nibbling on the bundle of nerves with practiced ease. you hold onto the sheets on your bed with dear life, thighs trembling as you struggle to hold yourself up.
“fuck, don’t stop,” you whine, pushing your hips further back, your mind overcame with utter greediness for more of that insatiable pleasure. you might as well have swallowed him whole into you, just as he’s swallowing you whole into him, his tongue diving deep past your hole and into your folds. he flicks his tongue expertly, licking at every crevice and nook of your cave, his jaw working overtime as his bottom lip never lets up at your clit.
your entire pussy is consumed by him, no area going neglected— drool slips past his mouth and spills onto your floor. a familiar heat licks at the pit of your stomach, a telltale that your dam is bound to burst anytime soon. he remedies your ache with another painful spank at your ass, groaning into your pussy when you clamp down on his tongue.
he was so fucking nasty— fucking into you with his tongue like he needed this more than you did. he makes out with your cunt, like he was a starving man on death row. at a particular cruel angle of his tongue fucking, your body would react with an all consuming tremble, fingers clawing at your duvets, your lungs releasing pathetic mewls. and the further you pushed back into his merciless mouth, the closer his nose nudged at your puckered forbidden hole.
he pulls away with a gasp, subbing his mouth out for his fingers, the pads of three fingers rubbing messily at your sloppy lips. the sound it creates is downright filthy, so painfully loud that it damn near drowns out your own moans.
“pretty fuckin’ pussy,” he spits a wad of saliva at your already soaked cunt, further amplifying the squelching sounds. he drags his fingers down to your clit, pinching at the bud with enough pressure to have your knees buckling, before sliding back upwards to your clenching hole. he slides into your entrance, index and middle fingers twisting in with ease, “bet she missed me, hm?”
“y-yes!” you nod mindlessly, your high creeping up on you as he works himself into you. taking six inches of fingers twice was a task in itself— the average length of a man’s dick serving purpose as fingering was just downright disrespectful. his knuckles poke at your silky walls, stretching you out to the best of his abilities, “shit— oh fuck, ‘m gonna cum!”
to your statement, he latches his lips back to your neglected clit, sucking on the bud as if he were intentionally trying to milk you dry. he hums at your taste, the vibrations shooting right up your alley and into the knot tightening in your guts— and when he curls his fingers upwards, at that spot that has stars dancing beneath your eyelids, the dam breaks. that knot stood no chance.
“oh goddd,” you cry out, spraying your release all over. it dribbles out your pussy and past the lower half of his face, to which his jaw widens as his mouth gapes— greedily aiming to slurp at your juices while simultaneously flicking your bean. the stimulation has your brain going dumb, as you fall flat onto your bed, drool collecting at the corner of your mouth and staining your sheets damp.
he lets you ride out the euphoric bliss, the movements of his fingers and the lapping of his tongue slowing down the more your body reacted to the overstimulation. when he deems you well spent, he lets up, slipping his fingers out and popping them back in his mouth, swirling your taste across his pallets, “as sweet as ever,” rising back to his full height.
you haven’t came that hard in a while, limbs reduced to nothing as you merge into one with your bed. your legs are still trembling, and your chest heaves as you exhale deep breaths. letting your eyelids close shut, you take the time to regroup yourself from that mind shattering orgasm. who the fuck had he been fucking that forced him to keep this skill? granted, you had no right to complain but holy shit, he was no fucking noob.
you feel the weight of his body press on top of you, a well-built chest meeting your moist back. it doesn’t take much to realize he’s hovering over you. his lips litter kisses at the column of your neck, moving up to the shell of your ear, leaving a trail of goosebumps after each embrace, “you tappin’ out already?” gojo snickers at your shell of a body, and you kiss your teeth at his typical mockery, “what happened to my champ while i was gone?”
“fuck off,” you pout, a little embarrassed by the fact that you really were retired from the game. sure, you were getting dicked down real good by your previous partner (question mark), but it never had you as exhausted as you currently were. there was absolutely nothing gojo satoru couldn’t do, and that ticked you off to no end, “nobody said shit about tappin’ out.”
“hm. . .” he hums, nuzzling his nose into your jugular, his hips grinding into the cleft of your ass. it’s impossible to ignore the bulge poking into you, and you doubt he was trying to hide it regardless, his hips rolling against the plushness of your behind, “guess sukuna didn’t do as good of job as he should’ve.”
that has your eyelids opening right back up. talk about an awkward situation— bringing up you and your ex’s (question mark) sex life while having sex with your other ex was a double edged predicament in itself. had you agreed, which lowkey wasn’t entirely wrong, you’d be stroking the fuck out of gojo’s ego and be disrespecting sukuna. but had you disagreed, you could end up on gojo’s wrong side and fumble an entire night worth of dicking.
so, once more, you take the easy way out, at the expense of inflating the white haired man’s ego, much to your dismay, “think you can do better?”
he stays silent for a while. in what you assume is him coming up with an answer to your question, his kisses travel to the dead centre of your shoulder blades, wet and open mouthed, as they crawl lower down your spine. with every kiss, your body caves into a state of relaxation, as if he was undoing every stress clouding at your hazed mind with his mouth alone.
he lands at the middle of your back, before he pulls away abruptly. and just as soon as he started, he was finished— removing himself off your body entirely. panic settles quickly in your stomach, as you turn your head around to see what he was up to. had you unintentionally hurt his feelings? damn, and here you were enjoying the body worship.
“what are you—” your words are cut off as his hands cup at your waist. he slides you back towards the edge of the bed, your feet planted on the floor once more. you feel some residue of your previous orgasm beneath your heels, eugh. you don’t have much time to spend thinking about how gross it feels when a hand holds your shoulders, and lifts you right back up.
your brows jump to your hairline in surprise at the sudden manhandling, though you can’t deny you found just a bit sexy. with his chest pressed into your back once more, you can feel his heartbeat thudding at the blade of your left shoulder, the organ withholding a steady rhythm— the tempo of a lullaby you’d once been accustomed to. and then big arms wrap around your frame, and holds you.
you hate the way your body folds so easily to his touch. it’s been an entire year, and despite your mind shouting at you for the intimacy you’re allowing to gallop right back into your life, your heart craves it. the sense of security his embrace offers you alone makes the least of sense, but you blindly lean into him, allowing yourself to be deluded for the time being. he won’t be yours as soon as this is over, so you might as well take the most advantage of the situation.
it takes a minute for either of you to speak. here you stood— half naked and legs sore, but still happily in his arms. his cologne is still as rich and dominating as it’d been all those times ago. he breaks the silence first, his chin resting above your shoulder, as he mumbles, “you really hurt my feelings, you know.”
to some degree, you know you did. about what exactly? you weren’t sure, but still, you offer him what you believe he wants, the realization leaving a bitter taste in your mouth, “i’m sorry.”
“‘s all good,” he kisses your cheek so tenderly that your neck cranes to the side to meet his gaze. gojo had always been so readable when it came to emotions, as he always wore his heart on his sleeve, but even with all the knowledge you knew about, you weren’t prepared for the look in his eyes. raw, unfiltered emotions. you only notice the close proximity between you both when your noses bump into one another. he shoots you a warm smile, “could never be upset with you. you hold that power over me.”
it’s you who kisses him first, and he returns the favour with more intensity. it’s an awkward positioning for your neck, but you don’t let up regardless of the ache in your joints. his mouth stays on yours as if you were his lifeline, tongues sloshing one over the other, brushing your lips together so gingerly.
in the midst of his tongue down your throat, he slips a hand in between your thighs, cupping at your abandoned pussy. the casual brush of his fingers at your core sent a breathy whine from your throat right into his mouth, and it only motivated him to work harder, rubbing slow patterns into your throbbing clit. your hips chase the feeling, riding the wave of his fingers.
he pulls away from your mouth, just barely, mumbling against your kiss bitten lips, “one of these days you’re gonna let me finish speaking,” followed by a knowing smile. sure, it could be seen as a flaw, but it was the only way you could protect yourself while keeping him within arm’s reach. never ready to have him but never prepared to let him go, “we can do that later— gotta blow your back out first.”
you couldn’t agree more.
it all happens so quickly— he retrieves his hand from between your thighs, having collected your juices at his fingertips, before lubricating his dick. he pumps at the length leisurely, his bottom lip tugged by his top row of teeth, and the groans he lets out are enough to have you squeezing your thighs eagerly, your cunt aching and ready to go. in the midst of your eagerness, you slip your hand behind you and catch his twitching cock, working your wrist right above his own, jerking him off.
a deep groan grumbles from his chest, and he instantly stops your hand from moving any further. you frown at his ceasing, but when you tilt your head to voice out your confusion, he offers a sheepish smile, “don’t wanna cum too soon,” ever the minute man, he was.
though, you soon find yourself regretting your own thoughts the very instant you feel the tip of his dick pushing past your entrance.
there’s a blended harmony of both your moans that bounces off the walls. his fingers dig deep into the flesh of your hips, holding onto you so tightly you’re positive you’ll bruise, and you clamp down on his intruding dick so tightly you’re positive you never want to let him go. the initial stretch is a feeling you’ll never get used to, but the sensation is all but unwanted.
“fuckkk, y/n,” he moans right into your ear, his voice so full of want, you can’t help but understand exactly where he’s coming from. he pulls his hips back, almost entirely, though his tip stays inside. it takes him a second to regroup, mumbling incoherent words under his breath, before he plunges back into your cunt.
and from that point on, it’s wraps. he fucks into you like a madman— as if he’d been punishing you for your crimes. punishing you for sleeping with another man. punishing you for leaving him a year and a half ago. punishing you for punishing him. his pace is ruthless— hips meeting your ass as fast as he’d pull out, pounding into your little hole to mould it into the shape of him.
he’s thick, this time on perverted shit.
you’re so painfully full of him, and despite your arms stretched outwards to grip at the sheets that had suffered more than enough of your abuse on them, your walls never let go of him. you don’t want him to pull out ever, utterly obsessed with the rough pace he set from the jump. it feels impossible keeping the curve of your back when the tip of his length repetitively attacks at your golden spots.
“ohmygoddd,” you words come out slurry, head lolling forward uselessly. if he kept fucking you like this, you weren’t going to let him leave again. stuck in an endless loop of bliss, with every thrust into your folds, his balls would slap at your clit and drive you insane, “y’re d-doing me s’gooddd,”
“yeah?” he eggs on, his voice as breathless as you’d been, though his pacing would never suggest so. there’s a hypnotic recoil of your ass bouncing back onto his pelvis that indulges him into disrupting it, delivering a new spank at your cheeks. you cry out at the feeling, and he strikes again, hips never letting up, “tell me more baby.”
you rise at your tip toes when you feel yourself sinking, legs giving out yet again. you hold yourself up at your elbows, a newfound confidence pushing your hips back to match his pace. when he heaves out a loud moan, you’re encouraged to keep going. the melody of your skins slapping against each other echoes into the stillness of the night, arching your back the further he plunges into your guts. you’re so turned on, the evidence creaming around the perimeter of his cock, easing the slides of his dick inside of you.
“toruuu,” you whine, too fucked out to notice your first mistake— calling him by his favorite nickname. at that given moment, you couldn’t care any less, the intense heat in your guts growing once more. the curve of his dick reaches spots you don’t think anybody could reach, almost as if he was made entirely for you, “you’re so big— can feel you, nghhh, everywhere!”
“that’s cause i am everywhere,” you think you can hear him smirking behind you. though, he has every right to feel entitled, with how much of a mess he’s reduced you to. he rolls his hips deep, a firm bulge forming into your tummy. as if he’s got a sixth sense or eye, he leans forward to rest his chest against your back— your eyes rolling back from the new angle. he slides a hand beneath your stomach and presses at the bulge hard. you can’t help the squeal you let out, “that’s me right there.”
you nod your head feverishly, the applied pressure on your stomach pushing his cock right at your cervix. oh god, he was going to kill you. what a wonderful way to go— all judgements clouded in favour of an eight inched dick penetrating your walls, “‘s all yours— mmh, always been.”
and that’d been your final mistake.
because the chuckle he lets out right into your ear is dark. the sounds shoot right up to your spine, shivers crawling up your back deliciously. he might as well be back stabbing you with how his cock plunged so sloppily out of your gaping cunt, “you always knew how to, fuck, pillowtalk,” he pants into your neck, his additional weight onto your shaking frame nothing short on welcoming. the hand pressing into your stomach lowers to your clit, and pinches meanly at the bud, “you know i’d, mmh, give you the world if you asked— my smart girl, shit.”
he’s so cruel, talking to you so lovingly despite it all. you tighten your eyes, in poor attempts to ignore the tenderness of the words fleeting his lips and focus instead on the stretch of your cunt down his dick. you feel yourself creaming on him, further proof of both your unison through his diabolical thrusts. he pinned you into place like this— unable to do anything but take what he gave you gratefully.
at a particular stroke at your abused golden spot, your body releases another tremor of shudders. it overtakes you from head to toe, a moan so ripe escaping your lips as you claw at ruined sheets. gojo works into aiming at that spot over and over again, each thrust more intense than the previous one. the change of his pace, slowing for a minute, draws you near the end of the line quicker than you’d anticipated.
“oh?” he grunts playfully, swaying his hips back and forth into your poor pussy. mercy is nowhere to be found, however, “you like it when i fuck you like this?” another agonizingly beautiful thrust at the same place, you can’t help but reward him with a cry. he’s fucking you into the damn mattress, and he has the balls to ask this question knowing the answer. still, you nod your head mutely, tears collecting at your lash line, and he nips at the skin on your jaw, “yeahhh you do.”
god, you do.
and suddenly, you can’t bring yourself to remember why you’d ever let go of dick this good. the kind that would have you taking the rubber off and considering finishing inside. the kind that had you babbling apologies for having done absolutely nothing wrong. the kind that made you begin to believe his careless whispers, empty promises to work things out.
in the midst of your delusions, he pulls you both back up from the bed, standing once again. at this new position, he reaches impossibly further into you, the difference in your heights making up for the inches he’s dug into you. his fingers dig in the column of your throat, the weight of his hand wrapped tightly at your neck. he’s everywhere at once, but simultaneously no where to be found. while you can feel his tip prodding at your most sensitive spot, you don’t feel the overwhelming force of love he once bore with open arms for you.
or was it you were feigning you don’t? because as he works himself back into you, at a pace so tender yet cruel, the line of boundaries you’d once set has been entirely deterred. a force so overwhelming, just like his entire being, bringing you right back to him as if you’d never left— nevermind the fact your thighs could barely support themselves, quaking pathetically. it was getting too much— everything was a lot.
“nahhh. . . don’t start running now.” you didn’t realize you were. the sheets are crumpled in your tight hold, while your other hand lightly pushes at his lower abdomen. you were a trooper, but there was only so much pleasurable torture you could handle. naturally, he pins your wrist at your spine to maintain his ruthless pace, and with another gentle yet cruelly empty promise, he coos, “not when i’ve just gotten you back.”
how the fuck did you get yourself in this mess?
oh right. . . tinder. you had a bone to pick with the ceo of that app right after you come back to your senses.
“i— i can’t,” you fumble at your words, the lack of oxygen catching up to you. you’re bound to his mercy— hands tied, breath nearly restricted, pussy obliterated, and yet, there’s nowhere else you’d want to be. the pressure on your throat lolls your head backwards, chin facing the ceiling as your eyes fall onto snowy lashes, “gonna cum again— oh fuckfuckfuck,”
and despite his brutality, he shoots you a sweet smile, the contrast in his words versus his actions grand, “right behind you, baby.”
you cum, and hard . much harder than you had before. you gush your fluids down his piercing cock, your folds squeezing him tight as you release. you think your mind blanks for a minute, an orgasm so powerful, you fear your eyes would stay stuck at the back of your skull. you shiver in his embrace, the insatiable desire racking your body from top to bottom.
when he pulls out, you fall flat yet again onto your stomach, face first. you assume you look like a puddle of nothingness, your limbs spent from the overexhaustion. but still, you find yourself in a similar position to prior, as gojo leans over your body, a hand holding him up as the other works on his jerking him cum out. smart move, not finishing inside, though a weird feeling of disappointment sits in your stomach, swapping the fiery heat from your orgasm.
he sinks his teeth into your shoulders as you wince, emptying himself right onto your lower back. it runs hot and smooth into the dimples of your back, that you can’t help but stretch your limp arm towards the mess to collect the residue on your fingers. you pop them into your mouth, his taste still so familiar as he plops right at your side, face up.
there’s a thick silence that fills the sex scented room. you wonder what is going through his brain now that the lust demon that was half his ego had been taken care of. was he on the same page as you were? had he realized just how messy this could turn out? he’s too quiet for a man of his nature— and that terrified you shitless. no matter the outcome, you’re ready to kick him out. post nut clarity was a scary thing— it revealed the violent truth of how tempting the flesh could be, even with consequences on the line.
you want to beat him to it. the last thing you need on your consciousness is your ex boyfriend who’d you invited into your home a year after you broke up with him, leaving you. he seemed petty enough to do the eye for an eye shtick— it wasn’t too out of character for him.
with a heavy heart and sigh, you turn your head to the side where he lays comfortably. the words want to die in your throat, but your urge them out, the sooner the better, “you should—”
“no.” he interrupts, followed by a yawn.
you frown at that, brows scrunching as you insist that yet again, “you need to—”
“nah.” gojo cuts you off yet again, rolling onto his side. his dick falls limp onto your bed, and you don’t think about the mess it’s making. to be fair, you’d done far worse. and it was proven difficult to care about that mess when he brought a finger to play with your loose hairs, cerulean eyes zeroing in on them, “i’m tired. let’s get you cleaned up and go to bed.”
“you’re not listening to me.” you click your tongue, a little desperate to have him hear you. you’re scared to keep him around longer, because you know you’ll grow attached again and that already ended terribly once, and took you forever and a half to get over. he has to leave and right now, “you have to go.”
gojo hums at that. he stops the twirling of your hair, rather reluctantly, and finally meets your sharp gaze. he still looks at you like you hung the stars in the sky, “why?”
you narrow your eyes, “you know why,” you shouldn’t have to explain why two exes cozying up after indulging into each other was a bad idea. common sense, you figured, but was it common sense to have him over in the first place? a flurry of various emotions coursing over you laced with exhaustion had you overthinking like a motherfucker, “this was a bad idea.”
he trails his finger along the slope of your clenched jaw, and you don’t think about the fact it immediately relaxed at his touch. the longer he traced your skin, the longer he kept looking at you like that, you were wavering in your own logic. you’d both gotten what you wanted in the first place, so why was it he was still here? the rational decision would be to pretend this never happened and part ways again, but why was the thought of him locking the door behind him once again at your expense making you feel sick to your stomach?
when his finger lands at your pouty lips, he taps his index finger twice against the flesh. naturally, your pout deepens. his eyes flick from your mouth to your shying gaze, and his index swaps for his thumb. he runs the pad of his finger across the reddened surface, and his voice falls a few octaves lower, hushed for nobody else but you to hear, “you don’t want me to leave.”
you don’t.
he takes your silence as acceptance, and plants a soft kiss to your lips. it’s enough to rid your mind of its plaguing doubts in the meanwhile. and when his hand slides to cup at the back of your neck, ultimately deepening it, you can’t find it in you to care about the consequences for the time being. not when he was swallowing you whole like he was the one terrified to feel you slip from his fingers. you melt into him far too easily.
well. . . that was something you’d deal with in the morning.
tinder: 1, you: 0.
now can y’all stop calling me a deadbeat 🙎♂️
Cheaters /Cheating! Gojo x Cheating! Reader/
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~ Warnings: TW, dark content, boyfriend! Getou, mentions of verbal and physical abuse, best friend! Gojo, bestfriend! reader, belly bulging, mentions of forced sex/non-con, soft! Gojo, comforting! Gojo, gentle fucking, slight thigh fucking, alcohol, semi-drunk sex, restart first, cheating, quick fingering, squirting, claiming themes, getting caught
~ Reader: Female Reader
~ Plot: You and your best friend, Gojo, both stray from your abusive lovers at a party together..
~ Words: 3.646k
A/n: Loved writing the ending for this. Lost Lamb, Loser, and The Boy Next Door will also be updated as soon as possible! ^^
~~
Thank you for reading this bit! Enjoy!! <3
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Loud booming music filled your ears, a red cup in your hand that was filled halfway with a mix of different drinks. You didn't even know what you were tasting when you took a lazy sip; all you felt was a nice burn as it went down your throat.
The haze of colors streaming from the lights and the smell of weed and other substances filling your dull senses.
You didn't even want to be here, but your boyfriend, Getou Suguru, brought you.
But, right now, he wasn't even next to you, or hanging around you. He was busy grinding against some other girl with his hand on her hip and his other loosely holding his cup in the air.
His foggy eyes were glued to her ass; those same eyes that used to stare at you and make you feel better about everything. Long black hair pulled into a tight bun and a few strands glued to his forehead.
He used to be good; nice, charming, sweet.
At least, that's what you told yourself. Getou slapped you the other day and you made an excuse about it, thinking it was your fault for letting him be annoyed.
In reality, he never loved you, or even liked you. He just fucked you and that's it. Took you to parties when you didn't want to, messed with other girls and fucked them upstairs during it. He even dragged Gojo into it by fucking his girlfriend.
"Hey, are you okay?"
Speak of the devil; Gojo.
"H-Hey, Toru," Your voice sounded so small, frail. "How've you been?"
"Tired.." Gojo's eyes didn't sparkle, hiding behind black lenses as he took a sip of his drink. "But good."
You both had the same problem; your lovers were cheating on you and abusing you. Gojo got slapped and punched whenever he would be himself, it hurt your heart. He didn't tell anyone about it, but you could see the pain.
He was hurting, and so were you.
"Getou's with her again," You said, pointing over at the couple grinding in the middle of the room.
"Noticed. She always flocks Getou until they fuck."
Gojo's girlfriend was entangled in Getou's arms tightly, their sloppy kissing and dry humping was making you sick. But you were with him still, despite all the beating, bad mouthing and cheating, you were still in love.
Gojo, on the other hand, he didn't give a shit.
He was with her for no other reason than her being a bratty princess that he was being forced to take care of. Gojo was her shoulder to lean on after classes and parties; basically a free Uber driver.
"Wanna head upstairs?" He asked, motioning towards the second floor.
"Sure," You took one look at Getou sighed, following your friend towards the stairs.
Passing by groups of other college kids until you both found a free bedroom that didn't look touched. Entering, you were both blessed fresh air that didn't contain booze or weed as Gojo locked the door and sat on the bed, you following suit.
The air was tense for a while, though, as you both talked about school. Gojo though, soon spotted a mark on your neck he assumed was from your boyfriend.
"Has Getou hurt you again?" He asked bluntly, placing his cup on the nightstand and laying down.
You choked back a gasp, turning to him and staring. "No-"
"Don't bullshit me, Y/n." Gojo said, glaring at you. "Did Getou hurt you?"
Silence filled the air, tense and unbreakable for a few moments until Gojo sat up and pulled you into a tight, firm hug. The gesture warmed your heart, and you couldn't help but feel sad for your situation.
"He did. He told me I was worthless.. choked me... I..."
Getou's words echoing in your head all day was finally cleared by a simple hug for your best friend. Strong, but soft arms enveloped you in a tight embrace, one you didn't want to leave.
"I'm sorry, Y/n." Gojo's sore voice croaked hoarsely.
"For what?" You asked, wrapping your arms around Gojo's middle.
Pulling you into his lap, Gojo rocked you in his arms and gave your head soft pets. "For how you're being treated. I'm your best friend and I'm not even protecting you.."
"I hate what we deal with; we're being treated like trash by people who could give less of a rats ass about us. You don't deserve it, Y/n. You deserve none of it."
You didn't know you were crying until Gojo wiped a tear, smiling.
"But, I'll take care of you, okay?"
Nodding, you pressed your head to his chest and started to cry quietly. Gojo joins you with a soft sniff and a gentle squeeze, his tears running down his cheeks and into your hair. Sorrow filled the room quickly as you both cried into each other's arms.
"..Here, lemme see your face," Gojo chuckled, stopping his crying with a smile.
Lifting your head, you took in his reddened nose and rosy cheeks and giggled. He looked cute when he was this way, but you shouldn't say that.
"Let's get you all cleaned up, yeah?"
Cleaning off your cheeks with the back of his sleeve, Gojo chuckled and laughed when you'd squirm from him. But, it was nice. He was teasing you in the cutest way he's ever had before, and you didn't realize what was going to happen until you both took it a little too far.
"Stop teasing, you meanie!" You squealed, Gojo tickling your sides and laughing too.
"Stop crying first, pipsqueak!"
"I hate that nickname, Toru!!"
You pushed him down with all your might, his back hitting the bed with a loud thump. Both of you giggling messes as you both regained control over your breathing. Though, that stopped when you looked down at him.
Gojo's sunglasses had fallen off at some point and were now laying on the floor, exposing his blue eyes to you.
"What?" Gojo smiled, a sparkle in his eyes as he looked up at you.
He looks so happy.. You took a breath and licked your lips, Gojo watching your pink tongue loll out of your mouth. A small silence filled the air again, but it was different.
It had your heart racing, blood pumping through your veins and burning your cheeks. Gojo noticed it too, seeing the difference in your behavior, and rolled you over.
Resting on top of you, he glanced at your lips again.
"Y/n, uhm, can I do something?"
Eyes locked at his words, admiring them again as you considered his question. "Yeah."
He took a breath, the first one since this began and lowered his head down. Your body tensed when he kissed you; feeling his lips gliding against yours gently. Giving soft pecks to long and hard kisses until Gojo swiped his tongue over your lower lip and slipped it inside.
Your hands quickly pressed against Gojo's shoulders, instinctively pushing him away until a pop was heard and Gojo's flustered face appeared.
"Wh-Wha? What's wrong?" He asked, his cheeks blooming red.
"S-Sorry, it's instinct to me," You answered, looking down shamefully as you pressed your legs together.
"Getou, uh, he did stuff. A lot, so I'm scared you'll do the same."
Gojo's face hardened at your words, thinking about what Getou did to you; forcing you to have sex. It made him burn with rage, made him want to beat the living shit out of him for touching you the way he did. Gojo wanted to so badly, but the hurt in your eyes made him stay, to fix it.
To give you the ability to trust someone again.
"You can trust me, right?" Gojo asked, cupping your still damp cheek.
You looked up at Gojo, his blue eyes sincere and loving as they looked in yours. Of course you trusted him, it's just the fear it'd hurt was stuck in your heart.
"Yes," You started. "But, what if it hurts? Getou's done so much.."
Flashes of Getou hovering over you, a drunk sneer on his face as he forced his cock into you. Pining your arms to the bed above your head as pain hit you from below. The memories made you close your eyes and turn your face away, Gojo's brows pressing together as he got pissed at Getou.
"Face me, don't think of that prick, baby," Gojo whispered, leaning down to kiss your neck.
You faced him, eyes still closed as Gojo started kissing you again. Cupping your soft face in his hands and situating his knee between your thighs. Gently pressing his knee to your clit as a whine escaped you.
"Gojo.." You whimpered, your hands finding Gojo's wrists and holding onto them tightly. "Mmph.."
Gojo's tongue worked its way back into your mouth and you melted, tasting the slight sting of liqueur on his tongue. It tasted like cherry pop and vodka, and you loved it. Coming up for air, Gojo lowered his lips to your neck.
Gently sucking and kissing your skin while his hands roamed down your sides and ended at the hip. Squeezing your waist as he continues to make hickeys on your neck. Mewling under his touch, you tried to press your thighs together, but Gojo's knee stopped you.
Grinding into your heated sex until you moaned quietly.
"Are you feeling good? Safe?" Gojo asked between kisses, not leaving your neck.
"M-Mhm," You pressed your lips together to keep the noises at bay.
Gojo chuckled at your reluctance, but he didn't force you. Though, he did snake his fingers under your top, tickling your sides as they made their way up to your bust. Feeling out the soft fabric of your bra, Gojo found the clip in the front and began kissing your quivering lips again.
"You look so cute, Y/n," Gojo teased, your cheeks heating at his words. "Especially when you're a flustered little mess for me."
The emphasis on the last word sent a chill down your spine; his. Gojo's, not Getou's.
Without removing your shirt, Gojo pushed the pads to the sides and thumbed your left nipple. A tingle shot up your spine at the sensation, covering your mouth when a moan left you. Gojo smiled at this, gently tugging on your shirt to signal you.
"Do you mind taking this off for me?"
You nodded slowly, sitting up as Gojo lifted the shirt over your head. The bra fell behind you, so you tossed it onto the ground while Gojo's eyes darted down to your chest. He gave a small gasp, seeing your tits finally after waiting for so long.
He had dreams of them recently, but he didn't know they'd be perfect for him.
The perfect shape, the different marks. Your little nipples that almost seemed to gleam from the light of the lamp; so perky and full but small and enough to grab. Gojo didn't have the words, but if this is what your chest looked like, he couldn't even begin to imagine what your climax will be like.
"Jesus," He muttered, cupping one in each hand and traced a thumb over each areola. "They look so good, Y/n. Damn.."
"They do?" You asked, looking down at Gojo's hands. "Never noticed."
"Well they are, so you better believe it."
Gojo pushed you into the bed again, sucking on your right nipple and tweaking the other with his thumb and pointer. A sharp breath was taken by you as Gojo fiddled with your nipples. His lips sucking on your bud and swirled his tongue around the erect point.
"A-Aah!" You whimpered, your knuckles turning white as you clutched the bed sheets with all your might. "I-I.. mmph~!"
"Oh? You like this, yeah?"
"M-Mhm!"
Gojo snickered, in a teasing way yet again, and continued to suck your nipples greedily. Like a hungry baby, he stimulated your pert breasts, alternating his mouth from bud to bud until you started to twitch violently.
"Is it too much, baby?" He asked, releasing your nipple with a pop.
"N-No, please.." Your voice came out in a hoarse whine. "Don't stop, it felt so good.. please."
"Oh? But don't you want to see my cock? In all honesty, it's nothing fancy, but I think you'd take quite a liking to it..~"
And he was right; you found it rather.. nice, to look at.
Nicely trimmed pubic hair and the size was a little about average, but holding it in your hand wasn't as easy as you thought. Fingertips barely touching as you squeezed and lifted your hand. Deep groans left Gojo as you did this, though he stopped you after a few moments.
"You don't have to d-do that, baby," Gojo chuckled weakly, lifting your hand up and kissing your fingers and knuckles. "I'm not going to make you do that, it's too vulgar for a pretty thing like you."
Your cheeks flushed a bright red, avoiding his gaze and moments passed before Gojo lifted your eyes back to him and kissed you.
"Don't look away from me, baby. Just look at me and tell me when anything hurts or doesn't feel good, it's all about you right now."
Giving a firm nod as a signal to continue, Gojo dipped his head down and slicked up your entrance quickly. In moments, Gojo had two digits knuckle deep inside your pussy. Pumping them and curling them into your spongy heat, working your puffy walls for all their worth until you let out a cry and squirted on his palm.
The clear liquid ran down his hand and down onto his pumping fingers, slicking them up before an orgasm was ripped from your lungs and your back arched into the soft mattress.
With your damp hair stuck to your forehead, you looked up at Gojo with clouded eyes and gave a soft smile. "Th-Thank you, S-Satoru.."
Gojo didn't know if he got harder, or nutted, but he didn't fucking care. He wanted to go balls deep inside your clenching pussy and wreck it like it was his. And it was, it was his pussy now; he was going to fuck it and he was going to make you scream his name. Without a moment of hesitation, Gojo situated himself and rubbed his engorged tip against your puffy lips.
Watching your expression until he pushed past your soft walls, only then did he let out a deep groan. You felt so well wrapped around his shaft, warm and gushing like a faucet. Wet and lewd noises were made as Gojo pushed deeper, his long cock stretching your pussy lips with a new ache that made you see stars.
You let out a soft gasp when you felt the head hit your womb, completely sheathed inside your hole. Circling his hips, Gojo rested his hands on either side of your head and glanced up at you, almost letting out a sob when he saw you.
Flushed cheeks and teary eyes, dewy tears that fell from the corners and down your cheeks. Wiping them away, Gojo bent down and pressed a gentle kiss to each warm check and fanned a cold breath to your ear. Giving your hip a gentle squeeze, Gojo kissed down your neck and started to rock his hips.
Pulling his aching cock from your soft mound, his let out a sound that almost sounded like a quiet sob before pushing back into your cunt. Repeating this until you were both crying for more of this.
This new pleasure that felt so much better together rather than with Getou or that whore of a girlfriend.
"You sound so good, baby." Gojo moaned, an almost high pitch to them as he bent down to pepper your lips with kisses. "Such a good girl you are for me, so cute and pretty with those cute lips.."
Kiss after kiss he spilled praise, making your feel full beyond sex. Full of love and being love, the feeling of being wanted past your body and looks. It felt so good, having Gojo inside you, but also let you feel more rather than be used. Even your moans and cries were louder than the sobs that Getou would force out of you.
These feelings in your heart were pooling out of you like your slick, feverishly kissing Gojo's lips. Saliva and tongue molding in your mouths perfectly, moans and whimpers being shared that you'd never let Getou hear. Wrapping your legs around Gojo's hips, he lifted your waist and hit your insides with a new angle.
"U-Uuhn! G-Gojo, 'm gonna cum!" You cried, reaching down and circling your swollen clit with your finger. "Gonna cum so hard, please fill me up! Please!"
"Do it," Satoru whispered in your ear, sending a shiver down your spine as he rocked his hips. "Do it. Cum on my cock and scream my name."
Choking on a moan, your back arched and your fingers dug into Gojo's flexing bicep, crying out his name like a mantra with the lewdest and most wanton moans that you could muster. Gojo came shortly after, filling your gushing cunny to the brim with his seed and marking you as his. Cupping your face in his large hands, Gojo and you shared some sloppy kisses until there was loud banging on the door.
"Gojo, get the fuck out here!" The voice of Getou Suguru rang from the other side of the locked door. "I know your fucking that slut in there, so get the fuck out here!"
Gojo rolled his eyes, kissing you a few more times before pulling from your nethers and kissing down your happy trail. Kissing your abdomen, Getou's ordering didn't stop as Gojo locked lips with your clit. A weak moan left you at this, covering your mouth quickly and looking at the door. Gojo sucked and licked your clit and soppy cunny with a feral vigor.
Knowing that Getou could hear your moans from inside your locked room, it made a fire burn in his gut. Wanting to prove to him that you didn't belong to Getou anymore; but to him. The one that actually cared, the one that wanted to treat you like the queen you were.
"Go ahead, baby," Gojo muttered from his place between your thighs. "Moan my name, it's okay. I won't let him hurt you anymore. I'll make you feel like a goddess everyday, just moan my name forever."
Your eyes widened at this, pressing your thighs against Gojo's face and cage him. A groan left him when he felt your soft skin against him, even closing his pretty blue eyes as a submissive look overcame him. He looked so hot, delving his tongue deep into your cunt and swirling the sloppy muscle around. Tasting his semen on his tongue and moaning, sucking out every drop and making you cum.
"Yes, baby! Yes, keep coming for me!" Gojo cried, who had started stroking himself.
So lewd. You thought to yourself, grinding down onto Gojo's lips and sobbing. The headboard slammed against the wall hard, almost canceling out Getou's loud banging on the door.
Gojo didn't last much longer than a few moments as he sprayed his cum all over the bed. Soft moans and groans spilled from his glossy pink lips as he sat up and pumped his hand, squeezing his base and letting a cum-shot hit your tummy. Whimpering, Gojo finally released his trembling cock and rested his body weight on top of you.
Kissing and sucking on your lower lip and making the cutest moans you've ever heard a man make. Once Gojo was done with that, he reached down and grabbed his T-shirt, balled it up, and started wiping off the cum that had landed on your tummy.
"Oh, Gojo, you don't need to use that-" You started, but were silenced with a kiss.
"Yes, I do. I need to clean you up. It's called aftercare."
"Oh."
Spreading your legs, Gojo worked his shirt over your creamy cunt. Finally, Getou left, probably taking Gojo's girl with him, and left the party. After cleaning you off and getting you dressed, Gojo got himself cleaned off and clothed before picking you up bridal style and unlocking the door.
"I'm taking you home to my place for the night." Gojo grinned ear to ear at the thought, seeing your cheeks flush an adorable pink as he took you down the stairs. "Thankfully, my ex doesn't have a key so she can't come in."
You nodded, nibbling on your lower lip as you and Gojo exited the party. Heading towards his car, he placed you down next to the passengers side and unlocked the door. Opening it and making sure you were buckled in and ready to go and closed the door.
Gojo fixed his pants and hair for a moment before getting into his side of the car and starting it up. Getou appeared, of course, and started yelling at Gojo through the window. Only for Gojo's engine to roar to life and block him out.
"Let's get going, cutie." Gojo smiled, leaning over his arm and pressing a sweet kiss to your cheek.
Ending the night off with another round or two at his house, Gojo had pulled you into his arms and cuddled you to sleep. Waking up that next morning and having Getou and Gojo's ex arrested while you were sleeping and telling you in the morning.
"They're both gone," He smiled, wrapping his strong arms around you and rocking you both side to side. "They're not hurting you or me anymore.."
"Gojo, I don't know what to say.."
"Just say 'yes', please?"
"Yes to what?"
Gojo smirked, turning to you and holding your hands in his, leaning forward and kissing your lips softly like it was your first.
"Say yes to being mine."
-----
A/n:: I hope you enjoyed the drabble (honestly it was longer than hoped, but I enjoyed writing the ending and having it on a happy note.) Hope you enjoyed it, and I'm sorry for such slow updates!
[Posted: May 4, 2022]
~Property of sakuraryomen01™ Please do not steal, copy or repost onto any other platform
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𝙣𝙨𝙛𝙬<3
watching a movie with gojo & a sex scene comes on, he’s talking so much shit about how “the guy isn’t fucking her right”, “her moans are so fake” n you tell him to shut up, as if he could do any better.. “wanna find out?” he says with his big dumb mouth adorned with his usual annoying smirk and and you tell him absolutely 𝙣𝙤𝙩. not even his wildest dreams-
so he must be dreaming right now because he swears you just came for the 4th time all over his dick with him barely grazing your clit???
he 𝒎𝒖𝒔𝒕 be dreaming right? because there’s so way you just moaned out his name “s-torr-uuu” while you leave angry red marks all over his toned shoulders
he must be dreaming because there’s absolutely no way you’re under him right now folded in a mating press, squirting all over his abdomen while he fucks his cum into you right?? telling you, “‘s fucking messy for me pretty baby haha, look at the mess we made!!”
leaning down to ur ear and sucking your earlobe into his mouth as he whispers “still think i don’t know how to fuck?”
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ AND THEY WERE ROOMMATES… TOJI. F
˚ ༘♡ SUMMARY OF SERIES - just a variety of different moments with your older roommate, Toji :3 (NOT IN ORDER)
MAY CONTAIN - Fluff, angst, suggestive, Father figure Toji, AGE GAP (20, 40), no plans for smut at the moment!!! But there will be
MORE INFO & DETAILS
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ITS OKAY, YOU'RE GOOD
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ RANDOMLY SITTING ON ROOMMATE TOJI’S LAP
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ HAVING A NIGHTMARE AND ASKING ROOMMATE TOJI IF YOU CAN SLEEP WITH HIM
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PRANKING ROOMMATE TOJI THAT YOU’RE MOVING OUT FOR APRIL FOOLS
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ASKING ROOMMATE TOJI, "CAN YOU NOT GET A GIRLFRIEND?"
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ROOMMATE TOJI’S WEIRD HABIT???
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PARK KID ASKING IF YOU AND ROOMMATE TOJI ARE MARRIED
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ TOJI LOVES PETTING YOU
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ RANDOMLY HUGGING ROOMMATE TOJI
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ACCIDENTALLY MAKING ROOMMATE TOJI HARD
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ “PLAYFIGHTING” WITH ROOMMATE TOJI
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ PUTTING FACE MASK ON ROOMMATE TOJI
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ ACCIDENTALLY CALLS ROOMMATE TOJI DAD
𝜗𝜚˚⋆ WATCHING A HORROR MOVIE WITH ROOMMATE TOJI
Knight of Roses - G.S.
Synopsis. You, heir to the throne and fated to be married off to a royal you’ve never even met. Gojo Satoru, your personal knight and the one man that will not let this happen. He will not.
Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader
Content. MDNI, fem! princess! reader, knight! Gojo, childhood-friends-to-Iovers, PINING, arranged marriages, Naoya is awful, Gojo YEARNS, flower language, politics, slight víolence, slight angst, matíng presses, cervíx kíssing, creampíes, cúmplay, PÚSSYDRÚNK GOJO, oraI (fem rec), he goes FÉRAL, cúmming in his pants, manhandIing, spítting, biiig stretches, dúmbifícation, cúmflation, p talking, p sIapping, overstím, proposals, happy ending, pet names, swéaring.
Word count. 12.7k
A/N. What happens when ya let a girl listen to Golden Brown by The StrangIers.
“You are not to speak, you are not to look.” The king intertwines his decadently ringed fingers on his lap, the royal signet glinting pointedly amongst them. “You are not to so much as breathe in the princess’s way from tomorrow onwards.”
And it’s only with his hard-earned years as your knight that Gojo stops himself from shuddering where he knelt, head bowing to hide the clench in his jaw.
Though, surely something must have flashed across his features - because the next few words have a familiar warmth that twisted Gojo’s heart much more than his royal timbre, “Satoru, my boy, you understand that this is your duty? Yes?”
“I understand.” The answer is instant, as is the raise of the other man’s brows.
“And do you understand that this marriage is my daughter’s duty?” Your father barks out a disbelieving laugh into the barren throne room. “We wouldn’t want Prince Naoya getting the wrong idea between the princess and a- a knight.”
The words make his eyes prick wetly, and Gojo can’t help but bend even lower as he whispers. “I…I understand, sir.”
After all, it was the second thing that Gojo Satoru had drilled into his mind from the very moment he first met you.
The first being that he’s loved you ever since.
Which - retrospectively speaking - might’ve been an incredibly bold declaration coming from the scrawny, fidgeting six-year-old you happened to catch sneaking in and stealing lilac blooms from the royal garden all those years ago.
He remembers how you’d giggled, looking positively like a little blossom in all those gauzy layers of gown. Piping up from under the lilac tree he was latched onto, “My father says that’s not allowed.”
Gojo had fallen then - literally, startling about six feet from the branch he’d been straddling and straight into a scratchy pile of leaves with a dull thud! Back hurting, head spinning, it was a wonder that he hadn’t sprained anything, but right then and there he remembers thinking he was in heaven.
Because here was a pretty lil’ angel his age ogling down at him, speaking in a regal accent so different from his. “My father says that’s not allowed either.”
Your grin beamed down on him and warmed his skin even more scorchingly than the balmy rays of sunlight filtering in through the leaves. And for the first time ever in his life, Gojo Satoru had stuttered.
“Yer- yer father sounds stupid.” He had spit out, chubby cheeks puffing out the more you stared at him. What? He was sure he looked ridiculous with all those stray sticks and leaves stuck in his cloudy locks, but did you really have to look at him like…that?
“My father…” Your lips curled even further, as if you knew something he didn’t. “-the king.”
Oh.
Oh.
And it’s only then that Gojo notices the thin, silver tiara on your head, a delicate wreath of jeweled flowers that twinkled almost as bright as your eyes. It reflected specks of light into his gaze almost mockingly.
Idiot- it felt like someone had thrown a bucket of icy water over him that chilled him to the very bone.
Even at the tender- well, wise and sensible age of six, Gojo had heard from the adults in town all about the torture chambers and p-prisons that the royal palace was home to.
Just why did he feel the need to escape from his mother at the market to bring her a batch of those wispy, amethyst flowers anyway?
Sure, they were her favorite but- the royal family would have his head before even she did. And he didn’t even get to butter her up with the lilacs!
“Forgive me!” Gojo had squeaked out in a cry so shrill that you hurriedly took a step back, eyes widening once the interesting boy in front of you dropped to his hands and knees. “Ah- I mean uh- forgive me, your highness- your princessness.” Drooping into a bow so low that his soft tufts of hair brushed the warm ground. Words tumbling out a mile a minute, “It was an accident- I must’ve been um sleepwalking and I pinky-promise won’t do it again-”
“Those lilacs haven’t bloomed yet, y’know?” You’re cutting him off smoothly, and Gojo remembers feeling a pang of irritation- let him recite his apologies before you throw him in a cell, dammit! Right before flooding with confusion, eyes snapping up to meet yours hesitantly.
Pointing at a pretty white gazebo, overlooking the lake only a few meters away, you’d shrugged your shoulders. “The garden staff puts the best ones in a bouquet over there.”
At which, he’d replied with an exceptionally eloquent, “Huh?”
“Well, what my father doesn’t know won’t hurt him.”
It’s only after hours upon hours of picking every lilac flower in sight and chatting about all the worldly topics a pair of six-year-olds knew that you were dragged away by one of your worried attendants.
And he almost felt…sad about it. Weird.
The yolky setting sun that day cast shadows for Gojo to hide himself in behind one of the gazebo pillars as he peeked at your retreating back. In-step with an older woman muttering about “losing her job oh- the king will banish her.”
And if there was one thing that he would never forget - well, amongst everything else - it was the way his heart banged selfishly against his ribcage with a repeated turn around turn around turn around-
You did. And you’d smiled, and Gojo hasn’t been able to step away from your side since.
Well, he had to - to go home that evening and proudly proclaim to his thoroughly cross mother how he’ll become a knight, that is.
Honestly, even the colossal lilac bouquet did little to deter her scoldings about running off. But despite how bad it was - and the fact that he was sentenced to be confined to his room for a whole month - it didn’t matter.
Gojo visited you the next day, too.
And the day after that, and the day after that- and again and again no matter how many times you’d teased him about coming so often to see you. Because you were right there no matter what royal duties or lessons dictated, waiting in the lilac garden for him.
Every day.
When Gojo was eighteen he’d applied for a position in the royal guard, breezing through the demonstrations of physical strength because of course, he did. He’d been training for his very day for years.
And it showed - oh, how it showed.
It showed in the way he stood almost a head above every other man lined up there, veering numerous inches above six feet. All sculptured, Herculean muscles and arms toned from years spent climbing the palace orchards with you. The strongest.
He considered himself exceedingly humble, too, of course.
Humble enough to not brag outright in your face once Gojo had climbed the treacherous way into being your personal knight before the age of twenty.
“Hah, I can tell your father- erm, his majesty all about where you sneak off to now.” Gojo snickered, flicking your forehead in a way that a princess simply shouldn’t be treated. “Perhaps I’ll bargain titles with him- tell the courts about the way you climb trees, and ride horses and-”
“Snitch”
“Harlot.”
“Knave.”
“Hobgoblin.”
“Satoru.” You’d deadpanned up at as six foot four inches of white-haired nuisance clinging onto whimpers out a dramatic ouch, that one hurt. Desperately trying to keep the smile off of your face, “You’re with me each and every single time.”
Well, was.
It seemed like the king was to be putting a stop to that very, very soon. With your looming- he gulps to keep the leaden ball of tears away from his throat, your engagement.
“Toru—” Your voice snaps him out of his hazy little reverie, and he finds himself straightening his back into a respectful posture outside of the throne room. Warily eyeing the way you bound up to him, “What did my father want to talk to you about so suddenly?”
“Ah…” Gojo’s throat feels hoarse. Parched. The smile plastering onto his face wobbly, “Just- just security measures for the visitor we’re going to have, your royal highness.”
Your brows quirk upwards, pretty lips falling open just enough for him to realize you were about to comment on his use of that. That title.
“Now if you pardon this knight, ma’am-” Gojo pipes up before you can bludgeon him with questions, striding down the luxurious hallway to his newly-assigned post at the royal treasury. Far, far away from your chambers. “-I have been called by Knight Commander Yaga to my-”
“Satoru- wait.”
He should’ve known better than to have thought he could escape you - not when even his own heart didn’t want to.
Lurching up in an almost-nauseating swoop the moment your voice echoes from behind, hitting his glinting armor. “You…are you okay—? You haven’t called me any of those silly formal titles since we first met.” Words practically dripping with concern, fuck- he was sure your face was furrowing. And if it was up to him he would kiss away every tense crevice.
But no, that was not his place.
His place was to stand rooted to the spot, face turning only a half-degree to grace you with a soft bow. Gojo knew it wasn’t the epitome of respect, but a singular look in your face right now and he would break.
“I am in perfect condition to carry out my duties, ma’am.” He’s nodding, voice oh-so-brittle in his throat for how hardened it thundered.
“That’s not what I mean.” Stubborn.
Gojo turns back to the winding corridor in front of him, “Then if that is all, I shall be on my way. I hope you have a good day, ma’am.”
“Satoru.”
And if his cheeks were cold and encrusted with a few streaks of salty tears when he reached the treasury, Gojo was only grateful that his fellow knight Ijichi was too afraid of him to say anything.
.
.
.
Gojo Satoru was avoiding you - marching the other way if he glimpsed you, running around the palace for menial tasks, he wasn’t even your personal guard anymore, for goodness’ sake! Your best friend was ignoring you and you weren’t sure why.
Was it because you had to skip out on your daily walks in the lilac garden to greet the visiting Zenin royals?
No, he was always so understanding of the royal responsibilities that you couldn’t skive off. Besides, his strange attitude had sparked up even before Prince Naoya and his family arrived at your kingdom - ever since that meeting with your father.
You were dying to ask the king what exactly was talked about that day, a meeting so confidential that he didn’t even have the royal advisor transcripting it. But your father was always so busy with the older Zenin couple these days, cooped up in office rooms surrounded to the brim with official documents.
And that left you with…him.
Naoya Zenin. A prince if there was ever any, who couldn’t talk about anything but that.
“So…um.” Your eyes dart around the palace gardens, you always did love it here - that comforting smell of flowers wafting in clouds around you. But right now you felt anything but comforted. “How are you liking the garden, Prince Naoya?”
He shakes his brown-tipped locks, eyes narrowing. “Rather plebian for a royal palace, if I do say so myself.”
“R-right…” You’re sputtering in an unlady-like fashion, “We do have orchards too if you wanted to-”
“Of course, the gardens in my palace are much bigger-” He’s waving a gloved hand loftily, nose crinkling into a sneer at the bustling gardeners planting beautiful white blossoms everywhere. Honestly, you were informed there was a grand ball soon - but wasn’t this a bit much? “And we teach the help to stay out of sight.”
“Well, I think they’re really nice.” You’re huffing, brows marrying together.
He scoffs, “Nice- or useful?”
“Both.”You fight the urge to just storm off then and there - it wouldn’t do good to start a war between the two most powerful kingdoms right now.
“Ah yes yes- nice.” Naoya repeats airily, words warbling as if he was biting back a laugh. “Suppose the low-borns are tolerable if they’re nice.”
A vision of Gojo - tiny and trembling into a bow in front of you - flashed through your mind, and you find your pretty heels digging hard into the dark soil. That was it.
“Perhaps.” Your voice comes out dangerously even, dangerously. Naoya only raises his brows in faint interest, “Yet, even the least tolerable tch- ‘low-born’ would be more tolerable than a pompous, arrogant-”
“There you are, your highnesses!”
Satoru.
You would recognize that low, lilting baritone amongst a thousand others. And before you can turn around to face your best friend that had been missing for days, he plows on, “A little gift- from this lowborn.”
Thud!
Before you can even blink, pale hands reach out to unceremoniously dump a radiant yellow flower crown on Naoya’s blond bangs. And you swear Gojo pushed down on his head harder than necessary.
The first thing you register is the warm wall of muscles pushing up against your back, lecherously counting every ladder of washboard abs and Gojo’s plush pecs in your mind. Mindlessly, you’re leaning back even closer, savoring the way his breath hitches. Harlot.
The second thing you’re realizing is that Naoya Zenin - for the first time in twenty-something years - had gone quiet. Very, very quiet. Suspiciously so.
You force your words into some semblance of levelness, “Are you…are you alright, Prince Naoya?”
But Naoya didn’t speak - you didn’t know if he was even breathing. Long face growing greyer and greyer by the second, he doesn’t answer you.
No, instead he’s pointing a trembling finger behind you. “You there…you- what shrub have you placed upon my royal head?”
“Laburnum.” Comes the answer - and just as soon comes a drawling, strangled squawk.
Your first instinct is to look towards the shimmering lake not too far away from you, eyes searching for any trace of those familiar ducks- before gasping in surprise and looking back to the prince. Mouth ajar, still making those undignified noises.
Him?
“You- you will-” He hisses, so furious that you have to take a step back - right into Gojo’s waiting arms - to avoid his flecks of spit. “-you will pay for this.”
In only a split-second, Naoya had thrown the flower crown onto the ground and wheezed his way up the flowery pathway back to the castle. What a sight it was.
But nothing compared to the way that Gojo comes into your line of sight and preens. One hand tapping at his cheek in thought, the other held behind his back. “Whoops- I forgot that the king specifically informed me that our honored guest was allergic to laburnum flowers. Guess, low-borns aren’t of good memory. Right, my princess?”
“Satoru- you- you ass.” You’re yelping through fits of laughter, not caring for the way the rest of the gardening staff smiles knowingly. “What if that bastard gets deathly sick? The blame would be on you.”
He rolls his summer blue eyes, “Proudly.”
“I should send you to the gallows for this.”
Gasping in faux shock, “Most salacious indeed!”
And for the first time in so long, it feels normal.
The breezing heat of Gojo’s body against yours feels normal, and you couldn’t bring yourself to think too deeply about it. Too enchanted by the sheer lack of armor - all billowy white poet shirt and flattering cotton pants.
“Y-yeah well-” Shit- why was your skin burning this way? The sun wasn’t even at peak temperature for today. Absentmindedly, you’re playing with one of his silk lapels, “Thank goodness we’re losing him in a few days, I asked mother and she said the Zenin’s are only visiting until the fast-approaching ball.”
“Princess-” It all comes out in a rush, “-that ball. The reason for it is actually-”
“Your highness! The queen is asking for a conference with you!” The curious voices of your maidservants drag you away from Gojo’s arms, into a much less scandalous position.
And yet, with only a nod behind - you still stay standing in front of him. You stay.
“Right…” Gojo’s prominent Adam’s apple bobs as he takes a deep gulp. Shadowy gaze darting away, “I should get back to my duties, ma’am. Suguru has been abusing his position as head gardener to work me like a mule.”
The way your face crumples with disappointment makes Gojo’s heart feel sliced open. And raw. “Of course. I’ll see you around, Gojo.”
Gojo. Gojo.
And of course he couldn’t let you walk away - of course he couldn’t let you leave his life just yet.
So without thinking, without even realizing, he’s clasping a slender hand around your wrist to pull you back. To reel you in. To him.
Velvety strands of snow-white curtain Gojo’s eyes, and the doughy fingerpads on your skin shiver. Mumbling, “Before- Before you go, my prin- ma’am. I just wanted to give you-” And you don’t know what makes your heart race more - the cherry-red blush painting all over Gojo’s cheeks and up to the very tips of his ears, or the sunny flower crown clasped in a hand pulled from behind his back. “-this.”
Your mouth drops into an awe-struck oh! It was beautiful - trickling blossoms of every shade of yellow entwined gently together. Embedded with celestially dainty buds of an amber so pale it looked almost white, diamonds on a tiara fit for a princess.
You had a feeling it would be your favorite one.
All you could think of was Gojo with his staggering hands, and his battle-worn fingers, making something so delicate for you.
“Is…is this one just as allergy-inducing as the other, Satoru?” You’re breathing, rustled by a breeze so gentle that it almost hurts.
“No.” Gojo whispers, just as quiet. As if the slightest sign of a raised voice would break whatever saccharinely thick moment this was, “Yellow acacia and yellow carnation. For you, my princess.”
For the way he’d be losing you just as soon as he loses that asshat.
And even once you’d adorned his crown and been hurried off by a few palace staff, Gojo stared. Even once you were nothing but a speck of royal satin and yellow crowns, he stared. Even once you were gone, and he was left so very alone, he stared.
Only thanking the heavens above that you always slept through your flower language lessons.
.
.
.
Over the next few days; wherever you were, Naoya Zenin was to follow.
And Gojo was sure that it was pushing the young royal closer and closer to a spectacular aneurysm any time that you called specifically for him to accompany you. Blatantly refusing any other knight that came your way.
The pointed third during “romantic” boat rides on the lake, always the guard overseeing dinners, the one to step in with a blunder if your future fiancé got too…opinionated. Gojo was always there.
It was more like you spent your time trying to make his dutiful façade crack than supposedly entertaining your guest.
Sneaky princess.
After all - Gojo found himself pacing and arguing out loud with himself any time you did - he was simply doing his job, right? Even if the aforementioned job went against just a few direct orders from the king himself.
But these were a direct order from the princess. His princess. And Gojo had stopped his procedural traversing and ranting since realizing this.
Although- the head chef, Nanami’s, veiled threat about turning him into pig feed the next time he heard stomping may have played a slight part in this, as well.
And it was on such a day that Gojo found himself stationed to guard the inside of the royal drawing room. Spine ramrod straight, eyes flooded with steel while he took in the sight of you and that bastard- Naoya sketching the other in silence.
It was a dainty, sunlit room, and the hours might have almost been peaceful - if it wasn’t for the split-haired bastard, that is.
After that flower fiasco and a thorough telling off for misremembering the prince’s allergies, this was meant to make up for a “bonding activity” according to the king; which to him read more like a desperate attempt to push the two of you together before the grand ball tomorrow night.
Gojo’s chest caves in with a sudden spike of pain, tomorrow night. Your engagement ball, where you will surely be handed off to a man who wouldn’t be worthy of you in a thousand different lives.
Fuck, had it really been days since already?
It hurt too much, and so he looks towards the prince’s parchment- how insulting. Hundreds of royal art lessons, yet Naoya still couldn’t capture the exact curve of your smile. And those pretty crinkles by your eyes- they were entirely the wrong number! And Gojo’s sure that any fool could see the way your lips-
He was getting ahead of himself. And reminded embarrassingly of the hundreds of sketches of you over the years stowed away underneath his bed alongside a stubby piece of charcoal.
And he was leaning over the prince in a way that he was sure would get him strung and quartered in the Zenin palace. Or, at least, that’s what Naoya’s daggered glare was telling him.
With a sheepish smirk, Gojo snatches a glimpse at your artwork. Stifling a laugh at the way you’ve given up on drawing the other man and started engaging in idle scribblings of weasels and hollies.
“That one looks like him, don’t you think?” He can’t help but whisper from the corner of his mouth, stomach swooping in delight as soon as your eyes light up.
Tacking on a familiar hairstyle and sneer onto a particularly shoddy caricature of one of the weasels, giggling. “He does.”
Gojo points at another drawing - this time of a bullfrog- honestly, what interests for a princess. “And that’s-”
“That Jinichi.” You’re finishing off for him, carelessly drawing away a few more - quite frankly, Gojo finds everything you do beautiful, but these were appallingly ugly - scribbles of foxes and goats. “That one’s Oji Zenin, and that’s Gakuganji and that’s-”
“Ahem.”
There was only one person who could make the clearing of a throat sound so snobbish. And that was Naoya Zenin.
Brows raised, feet tapping impatiently on polished marble as he snatches the parchment from your grip.
Schwing–!
“Toru- no.”
Gojo doesn’t even realize he’s pulling out his famed, silver sword until you’re stopping him with a hand to his tense bicep. Shit.
Growling through clenched teeth once more at Naoya while he nestles it back into its scabbard with unsteady fingers - only because you asked.
But the other man doesn’t even flinch - wearing that perfect mask of regal stoicity, though Gojo manages to catch the way his eyes flicker nervously down at the hilt of his sword. Doesn’t show anything other than the tightening of his thin lips as he gazes upon your humorous drawings.
The impatient tap! tap! tap! of his feet slowing down, stopping - before Naoya throws your paper down onto the floor and stomps. Gojo would’ve almost found it comedic if it hadn’t been for your startled demeanour.
“Excuse me-” He’s hissing, angling his broad body between you and this unseemly sight. Gojo looks dead-on into Naoya’s spit-fire red face, “-but I would have to hope not to remind a young prince of royal etiquette.”
“Excuse me, sir.”
“No need to call me ‘sir’, your highness.”
Naoya looks up, death in his eyes.
Gojo thought this might be the end. The missed trip to the dungeons all those years ago was finally catching up to him, and he would be thrown in today for drawing his weapon on a royal but goddammit- if he wasn’t going to keep you safe from his ire for as long as he breathes and then some.
But - to both you and Gojo’s surprise, and perhaps even Naoya himself - he simply turns swiftly on his heels and walks out of the room. Letting the heavy double-doors SLAM! deafeningly behind him.
It takes a beat. One. Two.
He counts every raging ba-dump–! of his heart against this ribcage- before the terse silence shatters with laughter.
“Toru- To- Satoru—!” You’re wiping away genuine tears, “‘No need to call me sir-’ where did you even come up with that-”
“Fuck! You can laugh but I thought I was headed to the gallows.” He’s exclaiming, and it was quite difficult to act as if your laugh wasn’t the most beautiful thing he’d heard in his entire life. “Although- it would have been a killer last line. Wouldn’t it, my princess?”
The two of you stare at each other for one singular ba-dump–! Before bursting into peels of undignified cackles that could make an entire court shiver in scandal.
“Killer- killer alright-” You’re rolling your watery eyes, “This is just as bad as the time you caught Yaga in his interpretive rain dance routine- I thought you were surely dead then.”
Please, Gojo’s stomach and his heart were hurting - though, for very different reasons. “Not as bad as when you wanted to play dress-up with the sacred royal crown and lost it.”
“Don’t remind me, my father was-” That’s when your tear-lathered lashes flutter, a hand coming up to swat softly against your cheek as if to jolt back your senses. You’re groaning over Gojo’s whine, “-my father. Oh no! What will he say about this?” You almost knock your cushy stool over with how fast you’re teetering into a stand, “I must go apologize to weasel- Naoya right away lest relations with the Zenins-”
“Let me.”
Your brows raise, “What?”
“Let me.” Gojo’s repeating, more firmly this time. Thumb grazing briefly down your knuckles as he pulls you back into your seat.
Just for a split-second - like he couldn’t even think of letting himself touch such a precious treasure.
He knows you will argue this, he knows your stupidly selfless self will fight to apologize; which is why before you can say a word, he’s marching hastily out of those same doors and towards the luxurious guest chambers.
Truthfully, Gojo Satoru didn’t give a fuck about Naoya Zenin - but he’ll be damned if you, his beloved, was cast in a hameful light because of his childish actions.
He has to do something for you, while he still can. While he still has you. While he can still love you.
The corridors are winding, decadent. He takes a deep breath when nearing the slightly-open gilded door of the Zenin suite, that distinctly nasally tone of Naoya drifting in conversation from within. Shuddering in a deep breath, “Pardon m-”
“-drew me as a weasel!” The prince bursts, fury seeping into every hard syllable of his. Gojo stills where he stands outside, hand on the cool metallic doorknob. “I have never met such a vulgar, unrefined-”
“Oh, do bear it until the engagement Naoya.” The gruff voice of a man responds - and he recognizes it from all the recent chiding at palace staff to be the prince’s cousin, Jinichi Zenin. “After that ya can take your time breaking ‘er in.”
What?
“A boor telling me to break in a wench.” The younger man scoffs, though he sounds much calmer than just moments before.
Gojo thinks he could throw up all over the gleaming floors, he thinks he wants to keel over and beg at the king’s feet to keep this from happening to you. He thinks he just might.
But right now, he can’t bring his feet to move a single inch. Pressing himself up closer against the adjacent patterned wall, sharp ear yearning for more shards of the conversation.
“They’re all the same anyways.” Says Jinichi, “Just give ‘er something sparkly or flowery and keep her sated. Don’t want another one running off before you can dig your claws into the crown, now, do we?”
And perhaps he’s a hopeless fool for praying that Naoya might say something - anything - else. Wishing for the non-existent good in your soon-to-be fiancé, who only grits out a displeased, “Fine. Only because I want to see her pretty lil’ face when I break her to my will.” There’s the sound of urgent footsteps, “But if father doesn’t give me the throne for my efforts then I’m killing her and you, you brute.”
Stood stock still.
Gojo doesn’t think he could move even if he wanted to - and right now, ice-cold spikes of anger were the only thing latching him rooted to the spot, not even flinching once Naoya closes the door behind him and walks- seeing him.
His jaw clenches, eyes harrowing. “You.”
And Naoya had very clearly taken the opportunity to arm himself in his family chamber, because his spindly fingers itch towards the hilt of his dangerously glinting sword. Just seconds away from-
“Please.”
Gojo drops onto one knee, the tendons of his neck aching with how far downwards he had it bent into a pitiful bow. “I ask his highness to please let the princess go- to call off this impending engagement. I- I will bear the brunt of committing an offense, and will gladly take any punishment that is bestowed upon me. I just please beg of you to-”
“The same hand.”
“What?” Gojo forces himself to look up with tear-filled eyes, to face the prince squarely in his chestnut gaze. His delighted chestnut gaze.
Pointing towards his right hand, “The same hand you were to raise your sword at me, the same hand you used to put that wretched toxic flower crown on me-” And then his blade, “-I order you to repent.”
The other man breathes, “Repent…”
“Repent.” Naoya stands up taller, perhaps the most self-confident that Gojo has ever seen him. A barbarous curl of his lips starting to form, “Repent, and I shall consider ending my engagement with the princ-”
CRUNCH!
Pain. Blinding pain was all that Gojo could feel, and…relief.
He couldn’t even register the steady trickle of warm crimson on his skin and onto the floor in rose-like splotches - even though he could see it through bleary eyes. Head still spinning to catch up with the nanosecond events of drawing his sword and slicing a wide gash down his forearm.
Through half-lidded eyes, he puts back his bloodied blade into the scabbard and looks up at the stricken prince.
Repentance.
“So you love her.” Is all that Naoya hisses. And Gojo can’t lie, nor can he muddy your name.
So he simply waits quietly, silence speaking enough for eons. Waiting for you to be set free. And if he tried, he could even manage a smile-
Sniffing insolently - though, it sounded more like a snicker. “How valiant, for a low-born.” All that is said before he spits furiously at Gojo’s feet and breezes past in a swish of capes - as if nothing ever happened. “I might even invite you to the princess and I’s wedding ceremony.”
.
.
.
In a palace of thousands, it was only Gojo Satoru that could manage to stand out.
None of the royal jesters could make the court laugh quite as loud. None of the other knights - no matter how muscled, or chivalrous - could make the ladies-in-waiting swoon just as much. And none of the other reputable men could make you seek him out in every chamber, state room, or training ground just like this.
It was strange not to see even the barest glimpse of Gojo for an entire day, and the palace didn’t quite feel like a home without him.
“I’m telling you, Nobara–” You’re wheezing out in condensed puffs as your eager right-hand attendant continues mercilessly tightening away the undergarments of your ballgown. “Something’s probably happened to him or-”
“-or he’s being locked up for offending some uppity duke.” She’s rolling her honeypool eyes, one of the few who wasn’t afraid to express themselves this way in front of you. Flitting about the opulent dressing room you rarely liked to use, “You know how that eugh- Gojo is.”
“Which is precisely why I’m worried.”
Honestly, you didn’t even care for a grand ball when you didn’t know where your best friend was. Whether he was in the dungeons or…worse.
But Nobara wasn’t here to hear you ramble about Gojo Satoru - you oftentimes got the impression that he irritated her too much for her own liking - she was here to doll you up in costly pale blue silks and muslins that draped off of you prettier than a painting.
And you felt dizzy by the time she let you be escorted off towards the emanating music of the ballroom - with an excited goodbye and a reluctant promise to keep an eye out for Gojo.
Hair done more intricately than you could’ve even imagined, your jewelry caught every light in the room, a bejeweled flower tiara weighing heavily on your head. Adorning your face in a crown that reminded you of the one Gojo had made you only a few days ago.
It was almost a struggle to keep your face held high as you took the first few steps down the winding imperial staircase. To the ball.
You have to stop yourself from tilting your head down at the thrumming masses of decadently dressed-up nobles and clinking champagne to check whether Gojo was hidden away somewhere down there.
Manners. Posture. Eye contact.
It was all painfully practised, and so was the tightening of your features as your own father started reading off your introduction. He never took on this task - what was happening?
“And now, for the most important guest of all-” Booming voice thundering in your ears almost as loud as your heartbeat was. The king addresses the congregation in the middle of the dancefloor, more ruler than father at this point. “-my daughter, princess of our beloved kingdom. And the queen of the next!”
Your hand stills where it had been helping you balance in your heels down the stairway- what?
Thankfully, your father carries on - or rather, not thankfully, considering what his next words are.
“Yes, my people, this may come as a surprise to you all.” He chuckles above the deafening murmurs, and you slowly find yourself scurrying onto the raised platform your father’s throne was seated on. “But tonight is not only a simple celebration of our nation, it’s a celebration of love. Of two nations.”
There’s a beat of silence as he reaches out a withered hand to you, and you find yourself wordlessly taking it.
“F-father, what-” you whisper, but there’s no response. Your skin bristles with goosebumps, and you’re not sure whether it’s from the summer breeze wafting from the gardens, or from the speech’s implications.
Letting yourself be pulled right into the middle of the stage,right into the spotlight - where Naoya Zenin was waiting for you. Dressed in his finest suit of white silk, adorned with layers upon layers of military accolades and velvety medals.
The bright, blazing light of the chandelier was scorching, and your hands clench in unease. What was happening?
“That is right, my people.” The king drags your hand up to mesh in an entwinement with Naoya’s clammy ones, holding it up for the eager public to see. “After much consideration and forethought, our royal families have decided that today my daughter is the beloved princess of our nation. But tomorrow, she will be the future queen of the Zenin kingdom.”
There’s cheering - but you can’t hear any of it. In fact, the entire world could be falling upon you and you don’t think you would have noticed.
All you can feel is the queasy churning of your stomach, and the stern whisper of Naoya’s voice against your ear. Fingers tightening around your own, bruisingly. “Dance with me before I break this pretty hand, princess.”
You’re like a ragdoll, being puppeteered in a rigid beeline onto the dance floor.
If it wasn’t for one of Naoya’s hands bracing onto your waist, you wouldn’t even have realized that the royal orchestra had started up a gorgeous waltz. A slow, romantic melody that you might’ve otherwise loved if you weren’t trapped in the arms of a fiancé you never asked for.
“Looking pretty out of it there, princess.” The prince sneers after a few practised motions of your dance, making your dazed eyes stray from the swooning crowd and onto his pointed features.
And despite it all, you can’t help but feel betrayed. You thought that the two of you might have rapport at your obligation, if nothing else. “You- you didn’t even tell me. An entire engagement and you didn’t even bother to-”
“As a husband, I don’t owe my tch- wife anything.” His nose crinkles at your wandering eyes, the way your feet itched ever-closer to the surrounding people rather than the dancefloor. “Wishing it was someone else dancing with you?”
“Yes.” You’re spitting out before you can stop, trying oh-so-hard not to let your face twist into even a semblance of the fury steeped inside of you. “Anyone but a husband that I never wanted and never will want.”
“As if you deserve any bett-”
Your nails dig into one set of his fingers enough to engrave deep craters, almost enough to make him bleed. “I wouldn’t marry you if you were the last man on Earth.”
Naoya seems stunned for a few seconds - but, alas, just when you’re hoping that you’ve shut him up for good, you’re faced with the fact that the universe isn’t that kind to you.
“You mean you would marry the tch- low-born.” He pulls you into an incredibly rough twirl when the music crescendos, pulling you even closer. It’s all you can do to not fight his grip- “I’m not below finishing off his other hand if that’s what it takes to break you.”
“What are you even talking about?”
Each word jagged. “The knight. You love him, don’t act stupid.”
Raising your chin in defiance, “So what?” And just as much as confusion filled you, as did panic. Because Naoya’s grip was only getting firmer, his moves much harsher. Opening his mouth to spit out-
“Pardon me, your highnesses.” A deep bass cuts in, startled- you almost give yourself whiplash peering up into those fathomless mahogany eyes. Yaga’s thin brows furrowing into something heavily-set, “May I cut in for a dance with the princess?”
You don’t wait for an answer from Naoya - and neither does Commander Yaga. Swiftly sweeping you into his engulfing embrace as the orchestra changes into something slightly more upbeat.
Dressed in a thick suit adorned with even more medals than Naoya - ones you knew for sure were real, unlike his. And you couldn’t help but wonder just how good Gojo would look with his own.
“So…” Yaga starts, once more couples join the floor and his words can’t be heard over the shuffling of feet by anyone other than you. His calloused hands let you lead him through a waltz much more mellow than what Naoya had with you. You always did think that the leader of your knights was a gentle giant. “Begging you to forgive my indiscretion, ma’am but ah- trouble in paradise?”
“Trouble in hell, as expected.” You’re shuddering, gaze bouncing off of any flash of sapphire blue around the room.
The man in front of you nods gravely, “Right right. I might not be a married man, but even I know that times like these often call for a walk in the lilac garden. You know, to- ah, clear your head.”
Quirking a brow, you stare at him. “What?”
And oh, Yaga simply looked like all the gold in the world couldn’t pay him enough for this.
“Times like these-” He’s emphasizing, boring deeply into your eyes as if to mean every syllable to strike your very core. And it does. You don’t know why, but it does. “-call for a walk in the lilac garden.”
Oh.
“Oh.”
Yaga’s lips twitch upwards into an almost-smile, and his rumbling voice is soft for the next few words. “Go, your highness.”
So you do.
You’re realizing, with an ache of such gentle appreciation, that the commander had danced you two until you were practically teetering on the massive veranda. Open to the garden; where every prim hedge, bush, and tree was gorgeously decorated until your eyes sparkled.
Your breath bates…a choice. Head turning back to the luxuries of a royal ball that was none-the-wiser.
Then, with a brief hug you bully Yaga into, you run - as much as the delicate heels digging into your feet would allow. Faster.
If this was any other time, you might’ve felt disappointed at how you weren’t even stopping to admire the beauty of the moonlight-bathed garden. But right now, your heart was only pounding to go faster and faster.
Nothing else mattered.
Gojo was leaning on one pillar of the same white gazebo - and he was beautiful. If you didn’t know any better, you would have thought he was a faerie of the night.
Just a lone, tall silhouette that you could recognize so well; azure eyes twinkling, ivory strands of his hair shimmering with the silvery blue of the moon swimming amongst a dark sky. One he couldn’t seem to take his eyes off of until he jolts his head towards the sharp snap! of a twig underneath your rapid feet.
“My…my princess.” He falls onto one knee.
It all comes out in a whisper - as if Gojo had dreamed of this moment so many repeated times before and wasn’t sure if this was a dream, too.
“Satoru-!”
It wasn’t.
Gojo stands up to embrace you like it’d be the last time he ever would, like you were the one thing connecting him to this life and he was a dying man desperate to breathe.
Strong arms winding around your waist, you’re pushed against one of the closed-off walls of the gazebo before you can even realize it. Arching off of the cool wooden surface and into his blistering heat. Into every ravenous, panted-out cloud of breath against your ear, “You came.”
He sounded pained. And you were sure you did just as much when you’re whimpering, “You disappeared.”
Gojo lets off a choked-up noise that could’ve been anything from affirmation to blatant shock. Half-lidded eyes boring deeply into yours, he shrugs off the jacket on his non-dominant arm to you with a low bow.
“May I have this dance, my princess?”
You’re gasping at the sight of starchy white bandages around his other hand, fingers hesitantly falling into Gojo’s heated flesh. “S-Satoru, what happened ah-”
But he drifts you gently into a soundless dance, the distant crickets and swish! of lilac branches your only tune.
And you never even understood just how much Gojo was a part of your life until he was moving through the exact same steps of waltzing that you’d learned growing up. The exact same once that you used to force him to sit through.
“I thought you were here because you read my letter.” Gojo mutters, lips so close now that they grazed the sensitive shell of your ear.
You’re having trouble finding your voice, “What letter?”
“The- the one that I left-” Just for you. His long lashes flutter open in shock, features contorted into something almost devastated. You wonder what made him feel this way. “-the one that I left in your chambers- about the- the prince, and the engagement and-”
“I got prepared for the ball in the dressing room today, I didn’t go to my room.” You’re continuing, voice small. Scared. “Satoru…you knew about the engagement?”
And Gojo’s voice told you everything you needed to know.
You feel your angry flare up hot and red, fists curling into Gojo’s delicate lapels. But that only proves to inch him even closer and make you sound much more breathless than you intended, “You knew about it and- and you didn’t even think to give me a hint that I was being carted off like a prize for some pompous asshat?”
He looked like he didn’t know whether to laugh or cry, lips still so pink in the night, wobbling. “I…I couldn’t let you be married, I just couldn’t. I would give my life if it meant you get the freedom to choose who you wanted.” Your dance had stalled, and you almost feel disappointed. “But I’m a coward, and this-” Gojo throws his hands across, voice hitching, “-sneaking around, hiding, running away is the only way I could ever-”
“You should have told me. Not just in the letter.” You’re insisting, running your hands through your hair. Suddenly, something strikes you, “That arm- it’s because of Naoya, isn’t it?”
He doesn’t even have the energy to protest, and that only spurs you on even more. “I-I could have talked to my father- maybe the council and we could have made it so that…”
“So that what?” Gojo’s voice hardens as much as it could with you, which wasn’t very much at all. His fists clench and unclench at his sides like it was taking everything in him to not just…“So that you can be the laughingstock of the kingdom when you marry a low-born knight?”
He was right. They would never accept him, no matter how much you did.
You’re rendered speechless, shivering at the way he rubs his wet eyes with the back of his hand. “Oh, I don’t want you- I need you.” And he was so beautiful like this, just centimeters away from you in the escape of the night. “I need you. I need you, I need you- I need you more than the sun above my head, and the air that I breathe, my princess. You have bewitched me, and I am yours. But you cannot be mine-”
You breathe out, “Satoru…”
“-and maybe in another life-”
“Maybe in this one.”
Soft hands rover their way onto the sides of your arms, and Gojo shakes you feebly as if to snap you out of this hypnosis and urge you to run. Eyes wide, yearning. “I have always been yours, body and soul.”
You always have wondered whether there was a method to shut Gojo Satoru up. And, right now, you think you may have found the perfect answer.
Because his entire towering figure just melts into your touch the very second you press your lips onto Gojo’s plump ones. Soft. Velvety.
His nostrils flare through a breathy sigh when you tilt your head mere sultry degrees to deepen the kiss. You were addicted to the honey-coated taste of him, the flat drag of his scratchy tastebuds rolling over your loosening maw.
“Ngh- my princess…” He’s puncturing your kisses with kiss after sloppy kiss, heavy hands wrapping around your body to wrangle you flush against his hardened ones. And you could count every glissade of his washboard abs through that thin poet’s blouse, “I love you.”
You’re not sure if it’s a fragment of your imagination, or- it’s not.
Gojo manhandles you - and himself - to sit on the opulent gazebo bench with you plopped into his manspread lap, without breaking the kiss for a split-second. Because it hurt to part from your pretty, candied lips, to let those slippery strings of saliva break in the clouded air between you two.
Even if it was to purr out—
“I love you I love you I love you-” The straight edges of his pearly white teeth sinking into your lower lip, groaning from the back of his throat. And your jittery legs shift needily on his warm, meaty thighs, “-I love you.”
“Satoru—” Just about the only thing that you can say right about now, your tone resounds in Gojo’s ears and makes him grunt. Your fingers tangle into his cushy locks, “T-touch me.”
He snickers, one hand clawing onto the crown of your sweat-dampened scalp and wrenching your face away until you’re huffing and puffing cutely for more. “Mmm, how about we use those princess-y manners of yours, hm?”
“Please-”
“Louder.”
“Please.”
“Harlot.” Gojo slides in a looong few digits past those impossibly endless skirts of yours, making your thighs dampen with treacly webs of needy slick. Letting those doughy fingerpads fringe over the covered mound of your pussy, just the very edges. “That was my f-first kiss, y’know?”
He had been hopelessly saving it for you, after all.
Your eyes roll all the way to the back of your weighted lids as soon as he teases you, mewling. “Was mine too, so we’re even-” Your hips shift in a lazy back n’ forth on top of his heated core, “-just- just want you to touch me.”
“I dunno…” Gojo drawls - drunken. And you feel the edges of his kiss-bitten lips warp around the very tip of your plummy tongue to suck on like his favorite gummy candy, “Wanna kiss my princess just a lil’ bit more.”
Panting, “K-kiss?”
“Mhm.”
Your eyes shutter in a heady blink, oh-so-cutely ready to crash back into a filthy, filthy French kiss once more, Gojo pulls away-
A noise of disappointment fresh on your lips and just about to spill out, before he lifts you up easily with only a single beefy hand underneath your body. Splaying you out on the sprawling wooden table right beside you, your back hits the ice-cold surface and makes you gasp into the crisp night air.
The lecherous sound of it almost as loud as the sudden clack! of Gojo’s knees collapsing down onto the floor. Your face contorts into a wince because surely it sent a stinging pain up his legs?
“M’quite used to being on my knees for you, my princess.”
But he didn’t seem to care - didn’t even seem to notice when he was much more enamored with the heavenly sight down there.
“These lips-” He smears away your lacy layers upon layers, budging up to nuzzle the soft skin of your inner thighs. And shit- the filmy glaze over his eyes told you that Gojo doesn’t even realize the way his bubblegum pink tongue lolls out over the splotchy spatters of your juices. “-were tellin’ me they feel a little…left out.”
Your mouth waters with a syrupy lamination of saliva as soon as his murked breath strikes your cunt. And the drag of his rumbling bass is so delicious – you couldn’t help but imagine just how it would feel on you.
“Just- just get it on with it-” you’re hissing, fingers latching onto a few thick locks of ivory to drudge him ever-closer.
“Impatient.”
As if Gojo himself wasn’t impatient.
As if he wasn’t just leaking out thick wads of drool from the parted sides of his twisted grin at just the thought of tasting you. Sliding the pointed tip of his button nose languidly up the crevice of your puffed-up slit, he breathes you in and feels his cock twitch-
“Oh, princess.” Gojo can’t move, he can’t breathe if it wasn’t around your needy cunt right now. He’s ignoring those shooting bites of pain up the sides of his arm to tug on your useless garments.
Pulling- shit, he always did fucking hate how many layers you royalty had to wear.
Pulling and pulling until the slow trawl of your undergarments by his nimble fingers wasn’t enough, and he just had to lunge his cottony head over to plummet his pearly whites into your panties and rip—!
A proper, gaping hole where your teary pussy was- and you looked even more gorgeous down there than he could’ve imagined.
Gojo’s face was blank, eyes wide and locked right at your geysering orifice like a man starved. For eons it felt like, until you were bucking up with pure need.
You’re humming in concern, struggling up onto your elbows to stare down at him. “Sa…Toru?”
And at your pretty voice, Gojo twitches. He gasps - full-bodied, like you’d just sent a zillion volts of shock down his sloped spine just by speaking to him. And he was well and fully intent on acting on it-
“Princess…princess princess princess—” Leaking from between his lips like he couldn’t stop, he hits the cute target of your cunt instantaneously with a fat thud of spittle, one. Two. Three, until your entrance was overflooding. He’s drawling the plummy end of his spit-glossed maw across your folds, “Oh, my princess. Just look at you.”
You feel his mess drool off the side of your plumpened pussylips and smear all across your peaked clit with only a simple touch of Gojo’s round-ended thumb.
Just down-right filthy when he crashes forward to slot the curvaceous nub of his sweltering hot tongue over the brim of your hole. Drawing all over that snug orifice with slow patterns round n’ round-
“Toru–!” It’s the only thing you know at this point. “Toru.”
“Whaaat? Jealous, my princess?” The words clang in your head- and the realization hits you at the same moment Gojo’s thickly viscous swab of spit does on your own tongue. A soft nudge at your slackened chin urging you to swallow-
And he can’t waste a second, can’t spend even a mere moment away from his favorite spot between your legs. Because now that Gojo got a taste, he wants alllll of it.
Stumbling back down in haste to plant so many uncountable smooches on your bawling pussy folds. Skimming his tastebuds just along your quivering hole.
“Shit- shiiiit–” When you’d heard court ladies giggling about this, you didn’t think it would feel this good. Or maybe that’s just because it was Gojo stuffing himself impossibly deeper between your legs. “M-more, Toru–”
Your voice was cracking just as much as his fucking sanity was.
Trilling out into frenzied shrills when Gojo swerves his eager thumb to pry open your gluey folds even further and give your fattened clit a flick!
You swear you feel Gojo depart his jaw with a giggle when your hips are bucking up pliably off the splintered table and into the bustling hot cavern of his mouth. More. “Easy there, your royal highness-”
“D-don’t call me that–” You’re whimpering, fingers tugging on Gojo’s bangs in some form of retaliation. But, of course it backfires on you just as soon as the force makes your knight moan.
“Wasn’t calling you that.” Gojo rolls his eyes, and your heart races in anticipation when the pointed edge of his chin strikes the drowned ends of your cunt. Lathering his pretty features in all the collective beads of slick raining fountaining out of you. His summer blue eyes flick downwards - and you can’t help but follow. “Was talking to her. Isn’t that right?”
Fuck.
You were fucked.
And you were losing your mind when Gojo drags you roughly towards the edge of the table with only an ounce of his strength. Mouth making out greedily, heels digging into the fleshy mounds of his back, you can only sob and beg for more more more-
“S’fuckin’ chattier than my girl.” He’s nodding along with every saturated squelch after squelch! resonating in his eardrums - as if it was a full-on conversation with your noisy pussy. “Let’s hope that fiancé of yours doesn’t hah- f-fucking hear.”
But Gojo was acting like he wanted him to.
“Hope the- the king doesn’t find his princess bein’ eaten out by- ngh- a knight.” Barrelling long, slender inches of his index and pointer past your tight ring of mushy muscle.
Your head throws back when he digs into the velvety depths of your pussy with just a single quirk-
“O-oh my god, Satoru–” You’re gasping in the flowery night air, tummy aching with every pump deeper because he was just so close to where you wanted him. “More- j-just a bit more.”
And yet, he acts like he doesn’t even hear you right now.
Cupping over one massive palm over his ear and drifting ever-closer, “Wha’s that? C-can’t hear ya, girl- ngh ya gotta be- louder.”
Louder and louder he was getting with the vulgarly fast thrust graced upon your gummy walls. The sound only makes him giggle all drunk on you, “What’s that? Here? That turn you on? Hmmm…”
And just when you’re letting your vision blur with stars- just when you think it couldn’t get any better-
“Mmmm– wan’ another taste-”
It’s the last thing your ringing ears hear before Gojo’s lurching forwards and burying his nose into your sensitive clit to give your overstuffed entrance a leeengthy lick. Right at the very split-second the globular edges of his digits scratch at that magical spot.
“W-woah.” Your head snaps up blearily to steal a glimpse at what had Gojo Satoru’s voice so airy n’ cracking in awe.
Only to see him fluttering his lathered lashes, the slick-gleaming apples of his cheeks blushing. Like some maiden in love. “Got even wetter f’me, your highness.” He’s breathing out, spitting out another voluminous cobweb of drivel and watching the way it sliiides across with the ribbons of slick pouring out of you. “Ohhhh, even b-better than any candy- better than a-any dessert.”
You yelp when one rugged and grabs a rough handful of your ass and latches his lips even sloppier against your hole. “T-Toru your arm!”
“Oh? This?” He’s glancing down at the bandages as if he’d forgotten they were ever there. “S’nothing for your- hah- personal knight. Doesn’t even hurt, I’d- I’d rather die than let a stupid injury get in the way of what I’ve been dreaming of for aaaages.”
The dual points of pleasure make your toes curl, every part of your body shaking-
Gojo was out of control now. Crazed.
High-pitched bouts of giggles escaping him, muffling around where his candy-glazed cerise lips were latched around your clit and sucking. He makes sure to hold fatal eye contact while he hollows out his scorching cheeks and drags the fleshy nub.
“M-making out with your pussy- your pretty, pretty pussy, my princess.” Your heartbeat echoes in rapid staccato with the vicious thud! thud! thud! of his neatly crowned fingertips pecking your g-spot. Each of his puffed-out gruffs making your tongue loosen in a please, “Making you s-so loud, making you feel so good.”
And without even realizing it, he’s rovering the papping brims of his fingers to give your clit a spank. Letting the syrupy beads slide allll the way down his tongue - letting you watch.
“S’all me.” Gojo slurs out. “Me- me me me me–” Steady rivulets of slick bubbling from the edges of his tongue when his sinful motions get faster. Harder. “Gonna ask who m-made you feel this way n’ it’s me. Your Satoru.”
More ravenous.
Swirling around slow probes of his sensory tips, it glazes his skin all the way down to his knobbly wrist in a thick coat of sap. Memorizing every gooey ridge and crevice inside your tight channel - shit, Gojo feels his ruddied tip spurt out a jetstream of buttery pre in his pants.
He thinks he might just burst in his pants if you don’t finish right this second.
But luckily - or unluckily - for him, you do. Right this very second, after being wrung dry underneath only a few more lapping slashes of his ferocious tongue, tweaking your buttony clit until you cum.
And oh, you’re so pretty when you do.
Your head throwing back with a broken moan of Toru–! It takes every ounce of trained will in his drunken body to not break off from your gooey pussy and watch the way your beautiful face twists.
Fucked out.
“O-oh, shit–” You’re practically sobbing at this point, wrist aching with just how hard you were pushing Gojo’s readily used face into your fluttering core. Your vision blurs with sparks n’ stars, “-H-how are you so good. Unfair, unfair—”
Babbling away such nonsense with that smart mouth of yours, Gojo thinks he sees utter heaven when your hot juices flood inside his mouth in generous heaps.
Lugging down an open palm underneath his chin to greedily collect the leaking beads that sprinkly in a shiny sheen off of his chin, he finds himself moaning. “Shhh, your knight’s here. Give it t’me– use me, my princess.”
And use him you were.
Riding out each white-hot peak of your high with slobbering grinds all across Gojo’s beautiful features. Your clit catches on the poking ridges of his mouth and nose and you squeal- “Ngh- b-better when you’re shut up like th-this, Satoru–”
Just for that, he’s spanking your goopy pussy thoroughly.
All the way until those shots of electricity down your bowed spine are nothing more but prickly tingles, all the way until your thundering ears calm down and you can hear each damp thwack!
All the way until your high has bated and yet, Gojo is still snogging each swollen fold of your pussy like a feast. “M’sensitive–” You sniffle, and he doesn’t even seem to hear you. “Fuh-fuck, Toru, keep doing that n’ m’not gonna let you ngh fuck me.”
That’s what finally gets his attention.
You can feel your lips burst with a slight giggle when all it takes is a quick nanosecond for Gojo’s plumpened mouth to jerk away from your cunt with the snap! of wiry slick.
Scrambling onto unsteady feet, he’s teetering over the edge of the wood ever-so-slightly. Muscular body casting a shadow on yours, and you think he’s never looked sexier.
Fawny strands of frosty white curtaining Gojo’s half-lidded eyes, thick thighs pressing against yours shivering; and even from your position homed towards the end of the table, your eyes catch sight of such a massively outlined bulge.
Staggering.
One that made your hands ghost down Gojo’s tensed abs, and he’s throwing his perspiration-dampened head with a whine.
“Need you, Satoru–” You’re managing out, strangled and messy. You’re sure you sound just as yearning as you feel. Fingers tug-tug-tugging impatiently on his gauzy clothes, “Want- you- out of these-”
And whatever the princess wants, the princess gets.
It’s as if on command - Gojo’s shedding his billowy shirt like it burned him. And very, very soon were his snug pants to follow, your layers, his sanity-
“Hngh- please.” He’s gruffing out, flinching just as soon as you cup his cheeks to smear away the remaining traces of slick glimmering on top of his blushing skin. Your touch was electric. Tonality painfully hoarse, “Let me fuck you- wanted it for so long. Let me fuck you please.”
Your drenched pussylips stream out a damp spot right across where you could feel his inflated vein poke between your folds. And he felt so…long. “Yes- yes, please.”
Getting the princess to say please?
He’s nodding his head shakily - Gojo could pass out, he could cu-
Oh, just a few taps of his mushroom tip on the outer edges of your pussy and he spots something creamy topping over your mound like icing. Sweat-slicked brows furrowing, Gojo nudges in even closer to where pooling splotches of cum pours from the strawberry pink divot right in the middle of his head.
He’s cumming and he couldn’t stop.
Couldn’t do anything but whine at the tender bolts of bliss aching all the way from his toes to his fuzzy head.
“S-Satoru did you just-”
“Shut up.” Oh, you would have his head later for this. “Shut up- shut up and just…”
N’ so he curls a hand at his bulky base and draws out a thick swab at the torrents of seed decorating your cute cunt. Making sure the milky sap formulated a glossy cap on his crownhead, before pushing rigorously in-
“F-f-fuuuuck–” he keens out, a thin line of sweat trekking down the side of his temples. And if he pushed just an inch further, Gojo could feel his hooded eyes well up with fucking tears- “Tight so tight s-sooo hot- so…”
You’re mewling, “Deeper- c-c’mon.”
He was fucking you like he didn’t even realize it - like he was enchanted by each mindless rut pulled from the carnal depths of his hips.
Two warm hands latch on in a vice-like grip on the delicious curve of your hips, and he’s holding your body still and pushing and pushing and pushing-
“Sh-shit!” Gojo’s voice pitches up embarrassingly high at the end of his slew of swears, buttering up your insides in a muggy few ribbons of pre in response. “But s-so tight- dunno if it’ll even…even fit.”
He sounded hypnotized.
“Are you- ngh! are you alright, Satoru?” You’re musing out, eyes glassy with a solid combination of lust and utter concern. Before you know it, your hand is reaching out to stroke the ba-dump–! thudding against his pecs.
“No.”
And it takes only the slightest graze of your doughy fingerpads against his flaming hot skin, the slightest touch from you before Gojo rudely swats your hand away and bottoms out-
You don’t even know what you were mad at- were you mad?
You really can’t even remember. Not when the crowned tip of Gojo’s incredible length was planting a sweet peck right into the sponged ends of your cervix, the entirety of his shaft spearheading you so deep that you think he might just be fucking into your lungs.
So big that he didn’t even have to try to rub the puffy zig-zag of his veins along your sweetest spots, even the most minute gyrations made your toes curl.
Splitting you apart. Stroking the weepy base of your slit with the hot, rounded sack of his breeder balls so right that it made you putty in his hands.
“Don’t t-touch me, my princess.” Gojo’s nuzzling his tear-stuck cheek against your own, you could feel the warble of his unsteady confessions. “Don’t touch me or I’ll…I’ll cum.”
And when has Gojo Satoru ever lied to you? Well, the upturned jolt of his split-ended tip right into the target of your mushy cervix told you that he wasn’t.
Gojo’s sinking down the edges of his teeth into his wobbly lower lip, he’s forcing his eyes to narrow down n’ obscure his crystal clear image of you to stop himself from cumming.
“So beautiful, can’t help it–” His breath hitches once he’s pushing apart your trembly thighs and stretching them over the two ends of his broad shoulders. Your ankles pitching down onto the rippling plush of his toned deltoids. “So perfect.”
“S-sweet-talker.” You whisper, mouth as dry as the Sahara with how his thick circumference was stretching out your rubbery walls until they were seering.
But if Gojo heard then he didn’t snap back - he was too pussydrunken to.
Moving on instinct, on that carnal twinge inside his brain that forced his powerful limbs to lock your ankles with one hand behind his head. To brace an engulfing palm right beside your head and lower himself down, down, down into a-
A mating press.
Gojo Satoru had you in a fucking mating press.
“So mine.”
And he was pounding all his aching inches into you like it would be the last time. Like he was mazing through your adhesive-like walls and plummeting the leaky end of his cock to knock against your very womb.
Gojo’s nose crinkles at the sheer warmth you were coating him in, dripping fresh slathers of slick in rings ‘round his hilt. He shivers as it drools down his tight balls, “I’m…I’m really fucking you- ngh! I’m fucking you, my princess.”
“Yes- yes yes yes—” Your mouth parts ajar, and you don’t know what it floods more with - your pathetic whines, or saliva. Coating a treacly river from each curl of your lips, “More. More, Toru.”
Oh.
You might have just broken him with that.
Even through your fucked-out stupor, you’re gaping at the way that the hand beside your head curls into an unyielding fist. It has to.
Otherwise, Gojo’s plump cockhead would be sugarcoating your sloppy hole in much more than just copious amounts of sticky precum. He would’ve cum.
“M-more?” You hear from above you, your knight’s bulging pecs vibrating with the plea. Oh, was it a plea - strained, shaking. Gojo sounded as if he was two seconds away from simply bursting into crazed laughter, “More…more. My princess wants- fuck! More?”
Fat ends of his fingers lock around the sides of your cheeks and force you into such an unladylike pout. “Say it- say it, little royal.”
“Shit!” Your core arches up into his hardened one, just as Gojo knew it would when angling his hips juuust right to give your bulging g-spot a long, hard swipe. Your throbbing clit scratching against his pale happy trail. “Yes- ngh yes I want more. Want more, Satoru!”
More.
And more was exactly what you were going to get. More than you could handle.
Your thighs ache with the struggle to stay open when Gojo tightens his lock around your ankles. Gruffing out a tight, “Take it then.”
He was so sexy, the swelling flex of his biceps enough to make your pussy drool and him slip n’ slide pliantly. Jackhammering away rugged pumps that you feel all the way in your leaden throat.
Your most favorite spots are so bruised that they’re almost tender, curling the base of your spine with tendrils of bliss that make you yelp.
“O-ohhh my god—” The side of his neck dampens as you’re leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses that make the man pinning you down shiver. His sculpted abs twinging with every massage down your front, “Just like that, a-always wanted to fuck you, Toru–”
“Do you even hear yourself?” Gojo hiccups, the expression upon his features plain pained. Voice dipping into a whine, “Don’t know what y-you’re doing t’me.”
But now that you were babbling away, you couldn’t stop. Not even when he’s speeding up his vigorous cadence until the globes of your ass are left stinging, “M’serious– I always wanted-”
“Shut up shut up- shut up- my princess.” You don’t think that either of you were even lucid at this point, and every pap! of skin-on-skin is followed by the screeching creak of the table below you. Gojo rolls his eyes down at you fondly, “Gotta m-make you cum so you can shut up.”
Otherwise you were going to drive him wild until there’s no turning back.
Before you can let off a moan - or fervently agree - he thumbs over the perked hood of your clit. Drawing- circles? Hearts? No, his own name.
A tedious little S-A-T-O-R-U that makes your gushing walls clench oh-so-tightly around his sweltering length. Tummy tightening into something so close to shattering.
And Gojo was rough. Snickering at the way you whine, spilling out wadded volumes of spittle between your parted lips. He breathes, “Gonna make you cum- g-gonna make my princess cum.” You swear he nods down at your pussy and grins, “G-gotta be a good girl f’me, m’kay? Gonna be a good- girl- and…”
His hips slap sloppily against yours, overworked thumb stuttering on a swooping U over your sensitive nub. And the tension in the air pulls tight, tight, tight like the most delicate of strings, before crashing- “-cum.”
You don’t know who cums first - you or Gojo.
All you know is that as soon as your mind explodes with bursts of bliss - his poor cock does, as well.
Head toppling backwards, overfilled pussy slopping out waterfalls of sweet, sweet juices, it’s all you can do not to sob.
“Fuck- fuck fuck fuck fuck-” Your nails rake red, red lines all down his expansive back. Pulling him in even closer until all he can manage are dirty lil’ half-thrusts to pound you through your high. “M’cumming, Toru-”
“Y-yeah?” Gojo’s stuttering wetly, sloppily. Pushing the fat battering of his fountaining orifice into the groove of your g-spot over n’ over n’ over. You didn’t know how anything could feel so good. “N’ who made you cum, hm? Who’s f-fucking this pretty pussy, hm?”
“You-” You’re prattling, “You, Satoru.”
“Fuck.” Gojo gapes in wide-eyed craze, breath hitching when you lean over to drag your tongue over the sappy trickle of drool escaping his rose-red lips. “G-gonna make me cum again, swear-”
And he does.
“Can- can we hold hands while I hck! fuck you through your high, my princess?” He bats his lashes, a delicate blush taking over the tips of Gojo’s ears when you lace your fingers together.
You can feel the splat! of even more heavy seed hitting the bottom of your pussy, swashing a warm second coating to your elastic walls every time Gojo thrusts. He was so solidly inside. Pinpointing specks of pure white with each swab.
So full. So much of his voluminous ounces that it’s taken to tipping over from between your pussylips and forming a creamy puddle below you. You’re slipping all over it with every slither of Gojo’s cock.
But neither of you can even think to bring yourselves to be disgusted. To care for etiquette.
Because Gojo drifts his hand over an invisible line where your tummy was being bloated with his length and his cum- and you find yourself aching for more all over again.
“This looks…” Gojo starts, syllables scratchy and jagged. He’s practically whimpering - whimpering - at the sight of that lecherous cylindrical bulge being fucked into you.
You’re dripping with him, and his cock twitches ferally at the thought of you all round and glowing. What a pretty mama you’d make. “...looks like the n-next heir to the throne will be a Gojo, my princess.”
Oh, you liked the thought of that.
And looking at Gojo Satoru now - eyes still not fully focused with how ruined he was, skin blushed the same maidenly shade of red that his slobbering mushroom tip was, pretty smile directed at you and only you in this lilac-scented haze - you didn’t think you wanted it any other way.
But, of course, Gojo would never want it any other way, either. Never.
He clears his throat, sapphire gaze hardening; the intensity of it sending chills sprinting down your spine. Burning with a fervent I love you I love you I love you.
Massive hands intertwined with yours pull into your line of vision, and Gojo takes his dear time pressing a lingering peck onto each n’ every single one of your knuckles. But particularly on the one above your left ring finger.
This was it.
“My princess…run away with me?”
.
.
.
“Didya hear ‘bout that Prince Naoya?”
“Oh yes- had his bride stolen away by a knight, I hear. Put a knife to his throat n’ took her away in the dead of night!”
“Hogwash! The boy was a looker, she went quite willingly, see- I always did think that Naoya wasn’t good ‘nough for our princess.”
“Wonder what happened after? That Zenin bunch was quite furious I hear, that bratty prince is still out for blood. But ol’ Naobito and some commander came to the rescue- Somethin’ about corruption and Jinichi…”
“Bah! Who cares about that? S’the biggest royal affair of the century- a handsome knight sweeping away the beloved princess? They’re swoonin’ n’ calling him the Knight of Roses already. All I wanna know is how the young couple is doing!”
Yaga rolls his eyes at other rambunctious customers churning gossip-mill, a pint clutched tightly in one hand and a scrap of paper in the other.
Honestly, he comes to the pub for once to escape from palace duties - and the palace duties seem to want to escape with him!
And even after so many months since that engagement party fiasco? News really did trickle down slowly when royal scandals were so often covered.
Oh, whatever. He muses, thumb gliding over the glossy parchment- some new innovation from kingdoms beyond the sea, according to what the eagerly-accompanied writing had said. A…a photograph, you had called it.
And Gojo’s surprisingly intricate drawing of you fiddling with the ah- camera gave him an idea of the machinery, though- most of the sketches were of you. All of them, actually.
Yaga gazes on in slight wonderment at the perfect black and white depiction of your smile, rivalling the one of Gojo Satoru’s beside yours. Beaming, sleeves rolled up and fatigued with a day of hard work, so in love.
It was oh-so-positively sweet.
The cherry on top? Well, Yaga couldn’t quite decide between the matching bands glinting on each of your left ring-fingers, the glimpse of a pretty lil’ cottage behind you two, and the massive bouquet of undoubtedly deep red roses Gojo was presenting you with.
Or perhaps it was the hand you were resting absent-mindedly on the obviously rounded curve of your tummy.
How fortunate, he tucks away the photograph into his coat with a smile and orders another pint. Knight of Roses, indeed.
A/N. Yearning is my kink mhm. Hope you have a lovely week <3
Plagiarism not authorized.
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