#both for the reader and for the ex :)

[gfguren]

pro hero!kirishima x reader | angst?, fluff, childhood friends→lovers, best friend!kiri my beloved, 2.8k (apparently??) | cw: cursing, reader wears a dress

-eighteen, and heartbroken, you ghost your best friend. years pass, as do old feelings; coincidence brings you back together again-

They say old habits die hard, your heartbeat rings true.

It's been years—six, at least. Since you've seen Kirishima. And he's still there, in the library of things you've loved, thumbed and beloved, worn at the spine where you once folded the pages, one over the other, carelessly. Always carelessly. As if they'd stay the same through all the wear and tear. You were—careless—after all, eighteen, and foolish, feelings too big for your heart.

But that was okay. It always was, with him. Wherever you wanted to go, whatever you wanted to do. He was happy as long as you were—and so, so good to you; it was childish of you, but you almost wished that he wasn't.

Maybe it was some kind of teenage rebellion that you pushed it too far. Some kind of lashing out, 'getting even', that you kissed other boys, pretended be head over heels in love with anyone, everyone, but Kirishima. Because you did—love him—and not in the way he loved you, you were sure.

Because if he had—really had—he would have hesitated, would have hurt. Wouldn't have vetted your dresses, or wiped the smudge from beneath your eyes. Wouldn't have told you how pretty you looked without really looking at you at all. Wouldn't have drove you to meet other boys, or dried your tears when they made you cry, like all of your other friends did. The kinds you didn't want to kiss. The kinds you imagined a future with, but not with kids and a dog and a white picket fence.

It was obvious for you, came natural as breathing, you'd known him your whole life. Skinned knees, and awkward school dances. Your very first kiss, though it meant nothing at the time. Just kids—curious, and reckless, and definitely not in love. You thought it'd be like that forever, made sense that he'd always be at your side; maybe that's why it hurt the way it did when, suddenly, he just wasn't.

That awkward boy—indecisive and boisterous, good natured and yours—Kirishima. Eijirou. Who earned his first bloody nose at the age of ten, defending your honor over something juvenile and stupid, who walked you home every day after school, hand in yours, always; (for safety, of course), who left half of his belongings on your bedroom floor, in your closet, atop your dresser—hoodies and gadgets and pens, chewed at the cap. That Eijirou—your Eijirou—would always, surely, make his way back to you, right?

But he doesn't.

When summer ends, he leaves—your school, the little town you both grew up in,

—and you.

To do something good, to be something more. And he was. And you were proud of him, so proud, to see him grow and become the hero he always dreamed of being. But maybe that scared you too, because suddenly your Eijirou didn't feel so much like yours anymore.

He's gone with hardly a notice, returns with all the confidence in the world—a completely new person in a matter of months. Red hair and a smile like summertime sunshine; your heart skips, cheeks flush, a name is put to the feelings you've felt for as long as you can remember, for the very first time.

But nothing's changed, not for Eijirou, at least, who still spends his vacations beneath your parents' roof, within the four borders of your bedroom, crisscrossed legs and laughter that sounds just like it always has. But it hits you—when he speaks—how much things have changed for you. The stories he tells, the friends he's made and the things he's experienced. They're his. Just his.

And it shouldn't bother you. That you don't know the name of his homeroom teacher, or what he packed for lunch last week. That he doesn't know about all the evenings you've spent alone, or how you broke into tears when that cute senior boy asked you to the yearly formal, because Eijirou had promised—pinky promised—all those years ago, that he'd be the one to take you.

But that was before he had training, and internships, and hero obligations; things far, far more important than you were, you suppose.

But it shouldn't bother you, right? Shouldn't hurt the way it does when he packs his things from your room at the end of summer. You lose him bit by bit; pens and gadgets, and comic books you bought for him every single birthday, without missing a year. He takes your ("his") very favorite hoodie—red and worn at the cuffs, a tear up the side where you wrestled him to the ground, at age twelve. Some petty fight you don't even remember, and how you didn't speak to him for a week; that felt like a lifetime, then.

You've half a mind to ask for it, know for sure he'd offer it happily, though you're not sure you have that right anymore. You no longer share his life, after all, and he doesn't share yours; it's not until you're older, much older that you realize just how hard he tried to make it work anyway.

The weekly calls and the long drives back home to just see you for a month, a week, a day. How he gets his license, at eighteen. Rushes home from an internship to drive you to the little ice cream parlor at the edge of town.

You're crying, over a boy—though your heart wasn't really in it. How could it be, when it's been checked out since the age of six? When the more years that pass, the more you fall for your very best friend, the stronger his absence becomes, the more bitter your heart grows. You're crying, over a boy—but not the one who stood you up.

You're just, frustrated, that he's oblivious to it all. Still. And so damn nice about it—always. That's he's perfectly content to dry your tears, has the audacity to tell you that guy was an idiot, totally unmanly, that 'any man would be lucky to have you'.

But not Eijirou. Never Eijirou.

And for the first time, you think you hate him. For missing the hearts in your eyes, and growing up just fine, without you. For talking like it's totally fine if you end up with someone that isn't him. And vice versa.

That he reaches for your hand on the way back to his car, like you're still just kids, and it means nothing at all.

—and that you let him; as if it means nothing to you either.

But fuck, it does. Always has. And maybe that's why you justify it, when you disappear after graduation—a new phone and town, and a future that doesn't include Eijirou. Kirishima. The way you're convinced he wanted; he's always been fine without you, after all.

It's petty and it's childish. And it's hard—like turning a page you've been stuck on your entire life—but you do, and the world doesn't end without him, like you thought that it might. You're fine, not even all that sad. Just a little empty for a while.

The years pass easily, as do old feelings and the ache in your chest. You get busy. With work, and hobbies, your dreams and hopes and aspirations. You don't have the time to dwell about what could have been.

At twenty-two, you fall in love, and it doesn't last. But not because there's someone stuck in your heart, like a thorn that just burrows deeper. Life happens, and you pull apart, naturally—like adults do—communication, and mutual agreement; the way you wish you'd been mature enough to handle your feelings all those years ago.

Maybe you'd still have your oldest friend by your side, then.

Somehow summer sneaks up on you, everytime—the third week of June, when you visit your parents in the same little town that's always changing. Streets busier than ever and pavement redone, ice cream parlor on the edge of town gone and replaced with a brick and mortar grocery. It makes it easier, you think, to not be reminded of Kirishima—and the way you left without so much as a goodbye.

You haven't forgotten him, far from it. Somehow you still find yourself in the comic section of the bookstore every October. But at some point, you forget his favorite foods and the way his hand felt in yours. When you see his house across the street, you think of his mother instead, and the way she greets you every time, like you're her second child. Her 'favorite', you used to joke.

It's bittersweet.

Six summers, and you manage to avoid him. Six summers and you come to terms with never seeing him again. Six summers, and he's there, suddenly—beneath your parents' roof, within the four borders of your childhood bedroom. Your heart beats like it might burst.

"Kirishima," you say, choking down your surprise with deep, careful breaths.

He turns to you then; four wooden borders squeezed carefully between two strong hands. The scar above his brow is baby pink, barely there, and he stands a little taller, you think, feels a little broader at the chest, and around his shoulders. You've seen him on tv, of course, in the news, in pictures, occasionally, but it's different—seeing him in person, after so long.

A true proper hero, standing there in your childhood bedroom, holding an old photo you'd all but forgotten about; two kids, faded ink and scuffed glass—hearts in your eyes, if he happened to look closer.

"Hi." His voice is a little deeper, smile a little softer when your eyes meet.

"Hi."

You feel a little helpless, truth be told. You'd spent so long avoiding him, so many years forgetting the casual conversation you'd once carried. You never considered what to say, if you were to meet again, never thought that you might. But here you are, after all this time.

You want to tell him you're proud, you think. The way you couldn't bring yourself to all those years ago. Want to tell him that you're sorry, for more reasons than one. Want to tell him he looks good, that you got the job he always said you would, that you worried about him, from time to time.

Instead, there's a tentative—"What are you doing here?"—that sticks in your throat.

As if it matters.

"Ran into your parents at the grocery," he answers, casually, "they asked me to stay for dinner."

And yet.

He sets the picture face up—where it once lied face down, forgotten in the eaves of your bookcase.

He's here; in your bedroom. Looking through your things, like he missed you.

You wring your hands together. Return the feelings you start to reach for, instinctively. A little book in the library of things you're predisposed to, catalogued under: Getting Ahead of Yourself.

"Are you?" the words are eager, the pages fall loose. You catch them, before he does. "Staying for dinner?"

It takes all of three steps, (you think it might have been five, once), for him to make his way from the bookcase to your bed. It creaks woefully when he sits, "Would that be okay with you?"

"Yeah," your voice nearly betrays you, "yeah, it would."

His shoulders unwind, chest falls. He breathes—easy. And then he laughs, boyish and yours.

"What's so funny," you gravitate towards him, naturally, suitcase forgotten at the door. The bed dips at his side and your shoulder playfully bumps his, "huh?"

The corners of his mouth crease at the edges, aged deep just like yours. "When did we become so boring?"

You hum—almost melancholy, picking at the splotches of red that still stain your comforter. "It's been six years, Kirishima."

"Yeah," he says, a little more pensive, "you look good."

Your heart skips, cheeks flush. Suddenly you're sixteen again, and pawing at the hem of your sundress, searching for his approval from the corner of your eye.

He's not looking at you, but it's different this time; or maybe it's exactly the same, and he's always been this way. Maybe you were just blind to it, sixteen and oblivious to the hand that wrings itself around the back of his neck, the red tinge that burns his ears.

But honestly, probably, you're searching for subtext that doesn't exist. Still, "So do you," the words come easy, "saw you at that award ceremony—on tv, I mean. Couldn't believe that was my Eijirou."

His head dips, eyes shimmer red; sweeter than wild strawberries. "Your Eijirou?"

'Yeah." You feel a bit self conscious, truth be told, though you've said it a hundred times. "Aren't you?"

His smile spreads like a yawn, from the depths of his chest, suddenly there and unshakable. Contagious—what was his, now yours as well. "Always have been."

Your chest tightens, every beat of your heart hammering at your ribcage. You still love him, after all this time. "How long will you stay?"

"Until dinner, at least."

"No, I mean," you sigh, heart spilling to your sleeves, "how long will you be in town?"

"I,-" It's lethargic, the way he blinks, throat bobs, smile falls, slow and pensive and so unlike him, "I moved back a while ago." Surprise washes over your face, rests in your brow, and he answers, before you have the chance to ask, "it's been two summers now."

You're not sure what that feeling is, gnawing at your heart and making you sick to your stomach—

"I'm sure you knew I came to visit," your voice is a murmur, eyes misty and searching for an excuse to meet everything but his, "you could have said 'hi'."

He hums, an almost sigh, "Wasn't sure you wanted me to."

—Guilt, that's what it is. It plummets, and swells, until you can feel it in your throat.

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." A warm hand falls over yours, fingers curling—friendly, reassuring. You appreciate it for what it is. "I get it."

You've loved him for so long, known him for even longer, turned every page until the ink began to wear. But for the first time, you think you can see his heart bleeding between the lines.

"You're not doing that, don't you dare blame yourself, Kirishima Eijirou."

"You were lonely, weren't you? After I left for UA," his jaw goes rigid, every bit of shame clenched between his teeth, "should've tried harder to make it work, could've visited more often, could've taken an internship closer to home, could've,"

"—said," you click your tongue, stern as can be, "you're not doing that."

You pinch the corner of his sleeve, rolled red fabric over strong arms; he doesn't flinch at the coaxing, instead he turns to take your shoulders between his hands, "'m sorry."

You wrangle them from you, lying his palms at your lap, squeezed in between your own. "Damnit Ei, you didn't do anything wrong," you know for certain that he would've packed you in his suitcase if he could, would've dragged you along to every course and internship and oh-so-important hero happening, but you had your own life to live—and so did he. "You were following your dreams, who am I to get in the way of that?"

"My best friend, my other half, besides," his shoulders square, chest puffs, all brawn and ego and Eijirou; but his hands tremble unsurely, "I liked you," his wavering voice is still confident, somehow, confession long overdue, "and I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear from me after so long, but," his hands leave yours to worry his hair, all finely gelled and pushed back, now tousled and falling softly at his forehead, "I didn't want to regret it for another six years."

You feel like you're drowning, pulled under a tide of feelings new and old. Confused, and euphoric, and so, so stupid. He liked you. He liked you and you never had a clue. The irony makes you dizzy.

Your head breaches the surface, and finally you can breathe, deep and burning lungs expanding, expanding, and trembling—a stream of salt and water hits your cheeks and falls past your lips. Eijirou is quick wipe away the tears, a palm at each cheek, wide eyed and worried. "Hey, hey, I'm sorry. Please don't cry, okay?"

You laugh and his expression eases, shoulders falling and fingertips thumbing softly at your skin. "Don't worry, Ei. I'm happy," you sniffle, fingers wrapping 'round his wrists; his pulse stutters at your index and you smile, "I liked you too, a lot," at age six, at eighteen, the year before last, and the year after that, and, and, "I still like you, I think."

His smile blooms, face brightens like sunlight in the peak of summer, warm against the tips of your fingers.

"Can I take you on a date sometime?" he asks, like it's the easiest thing in the world; maybe it always has been.

"Yeah." Your heart beats, a page turns. "I'd like that."

[mrsoharaa]

"Do I LOOK like a damn trophy wife to you, Shoei?!"

"Actually, yeah, you do...a pretty one at that too"

"...FUCK OFF"

"M' Tryin' but you're being difficult here, sweetheart"

[softspiderling]

illicit affairs pt. 3 or so obsessed with your ex sequel?

[twentyfivemiceinatrenchcoat]

Oh em gee :,( ari :,( thank you for yapping at me…………. My brain juices started flowing…….. I knew all I needed was some of your ideas…,,, and the little hamsters in my brain started running around again!!!!!!!!!!! Ik u said don’t feel bad for sending asks but…. I feel a little guilty sending another one….. but the brain hamsters started working and I can’t deprive them of spreading their little hamster ideas 😔😔 BUT ALSO??? I NEED TO TALK ABT HOW U REPLIED TO MY PREV ASK. THEM TALKING WHEN UR SLEEPING??? AND MAYBE?? YOU SECRETLY HEARING??? IM GOING INSANEEEEEEE IM LITERALLY DISINTEGRATING AS WE SPEAK :((( satoru wanting to confess bc he doesn’t want u sad over ur ex……… sugu convincing him they shouldn’t rush u…….. :( sobs… they r so special to me. imagine what would happen if u just sat up in the middle of them talking like “🤨🤨I heard all of that btw.” but like. What do you think they’d do if your ex did try getting back together with you? Either that or just trying to get back into contact ……. Just an idea :3 giggles…. N E WAYS I HOPE UR HAVING A WONDERFUL DAY SLASH NIGHT!!! MWUA MWUA TAKE CARE AND DRINK UR WATER !!!! ^_^ — stsg anon 💐 < with bouquet. For u!!! :3

STSG ANON !!!!!! i’m telling you our brains are synced…… every time ur brain juices flow mine do too……… i’m so happy your little brain hamsters r running around 🐹🐹🐹

okok first of all ….. NEVERRRRR feel guilty for sending me asks 🔫🔫🔫🔫🔫 never ever ever!!!! i love them so much!!!!! even if i’m slow at replying sometimes i promise i read them instantly and they always feed me so good!!!!!!! i should literally be paying you for these that’s how much i love them. if i catch u feeling guilty again there Will be consequences so watch out …. (ominous)…..

BUTTTT ok :3 YES . THE STSG IDEAS. i’m so happy you liked my little brainworms phdkdjj i just!!!! think it’s a tasty concept!!!!!! and PLSSS reader just sitting up and calling them out 😭😭 i KNOW they’d scream . even sugu does a little squeak bc he was so convinced you were asleep…… but goddd i think they’d actually be a little flustered <//3 our babies. once they recover satoru would be so smug tho. bc now you finally know!!! he doesn’t have to wait!!!!! and sugu is obv very happy too….

but… gahhh…… STSG ANON ………. if your ex tried getting back with you………….. ohhhh gosh. they’d be very offended . on your behalf . in a ”can you believe the audacity” way ….. but ofc they’d also be very furious and protective . like. maybe you tell them that your ex texted you wanting to meet up and they’re both INSTANTLY on guard…. ideally you’d block them ofc but if you insist on meeting them just for the sake of closure then they’re immediately convincing you to let them go with you!!!!! for scary dog priviliege . i’ll be honest i don’t think there’s much your ex could do 😭😭 bc stsg WILL be glaring at them. behind you. and if they even try to lovebomb you or blame you in any way they’re . Stopping Them . in one way or another. i think they get very very scary LMAO sugu stops smiling entirely and satoru smiles in a distinctly furious way 😭😭 ..

but ohhhh ……. if . you were the one who wanted to get back with them ….. then i think stsg would feel so helpless :’3 bc like . they can’t control you. they don’t want to. but i also think they’d rather die than have to watch you be with someone so undeserving…… so i feel like That’s when they’d confess. bc they’re so desperate . and let’s be honest who would choose a cheating ex over stsg????? no one <33333 problem solved. they’d be really terrified though…..

MWAHHHH one big kiss for you my lovely little stsg anon <33333 i’m putting the bouquet in a big beautiful vase <33333333 here r some handpicked flowers just for you :33 🌷🪻🌻🌷🪻🌻 i hope you’re taking good care of yourself too!!!! eating and drinking and sleeping lots . it’s what me and stsg want for you!!!!!! thank you as always for the food i hope u know how much i adore you <333

[petrichorium]

General question how normal is it to y’all to like. Share ur location w ur partner? What abt someone ur talking to but haven’t hit the exclusive phase yet 🤔

[shinygemstone]

When the lady at the restaurant thinks you and your friend are dating so she gives you a free cookie, having mistaken you for a guy and your friend for a girl despite the fact that your friend is just femme while you're androgynous and her brief witnessing of your interaction showed that you study and save money while your friend is actively ditching class, which plays into the men-are-responsible and women-are-thoughtless stereotype, which probably subconsciously made her assume that your hugging your friend was romantic instead of platonic affection

Anyways today was a win for the queers

[screampied]

#THE GRUDGE! g. satoru

☆ sum. perhaps screwing your ex-husband while the kids are out trick-or-treating wasn’t the best idea. but with him, the only treat he wants to trick is not in a basket—it’s right between your legs.. boo!

wc. 6.6k

warnings. fem! reader, ex-husband gojo, mentions of (2) kids, unprotected, pwp, mild hatefùcking, kakashi references eheh, gojo's still whipped, filthy dirty talk, prone bone, praise, implied bréeding, cunnīlingus / face sītting, bóob fondling, possessive themes, size kink, overstim, brat taming, fıngering, squırting, petnames.

➤ kinktober mlist

at the gojo’s, you mentally smack yourself as your feet step onto the scream-themed door mat that reads ‘step if you dare.’ part of you wished no one would answer the doorbell, but part of you solely wished he didn’t answer. it was about seven thirty at night, and with it being saturday, you had the kids for a few days. after that, you’d switch with satoru—your jeering hot-headed ex-husband. you decided since you got off early you’d take them trick-or-treating for a bit. but it’s to your utmost ‘surprise’ that satoru opens the door.

“oh! and who are you supposed to be pretty lady?” he’d hum, digging his hands into his pockets. satoru purposely tilts his head down, getting a good look at you while raising a brow. of course, he always went out for his costumes. this year, he’s wearing some sort of green flak jacket, a mask, and a long-sleeved shirt underneath with dark blue pants.

with a grump, you tuck your arms underneath your pits with your purse clinging onto your shoulder. “myself,” and your eyes flicker toward his messy frosted hair that’s spikier than usual. satoru’s wide headband partially droops below his left eye before you finish mumbling, “who are you even supposed to be.”

“uh, kakashi hatake. the man, the myth, the legend,” and satoru leans back against the front door, pulling out a fake kunai. a hand runs through his hair before he snickers at your unamused expression. tough crowd. “aw, you must be here for the kids, yeah? well, they’re out with nanami ‘n suguru trick-or-treatin’. just some blocks down,” and satoru stepped a few feet back once you trod your way inside, mutely cursing yourself that you’d probably have to wait until they got back. as long as they were with nanami and suguru—you didn’t have a problem. satoru shuts the timber wooden-made door behind him before speaking smugly. “oh. sure.. sure, just make yourself right at home, wifey.”

“don’t call me that.”

“just did.”

oh, brother.

the moment you stepped foot into your old spacey luxurious townhome satoru had built personally for you and your kids—the memories all came crawling back. the two of you didn’t end off on a bad note—divorces happen, and you both maintained a healthy relationship with the kids. you each agreed to co-parent, you’d get the week and he’d get the weekend - sometimes switching and vice versa.

“excuse the mess,” satoru hums, grabbing your coat. he tosses it over his shoulder before giving you another up-down glance. “if i knew you were comin’ over around this hour i’d clean a bit,” and he watches you struggle to keep eye contact. “hey. sweetheart, you’re lookin’ down again.”

with a scoff, you meet his gaze again. and fuck, does he look like he’s gotten even more handsome.

satoru gojo was always attractive—there was no doubt about it.

he was in his mid-thirties now, the two of you had settled down after college before having two kids of your own.

again, there wasn’t a reason for your divorce that was relatively a bad thing. you two just both decided to part ways - but of course, it was lots of unprovoked tension.

the costume that he wore was apparently based on some character named ‘kakashi’ whatever, and like always, he dressed the part. every year once the end of october would come around, satoru would wear an outfit just ‘cause. he stood tall, with serrated white hair that was jagged from all angles with the headband hanging off a side of his eye. in the middle part, the symbol was some kind of swirl that was never-ending.

satoru rambled to you that it was something . . something, a hidden leaf—honestly, you tuned out.

he wore the mask part too, covering up a good portion of his face from the nose down, and even had the red slanting scar that kakashi had near the left side of his eye that was probably makeup.

“i don’t wanna fight, gojo.”

“hmph. so it’s ‘gojo’ now,” he rolls his eyes, hanging your coat up near the rack. you take a quick peer around the room, seeing a plethora of toys and multicolored legos everywhere. it nearly makes you smile, remembering when satoru stepped on one of his youngest daughter’s legos. satoru leans against the glassy kitchen island, watching you take a seat near the crimson-red stool before humming. “and i don’t wanna fight either. in fact, i jus’ wanna talk.”

“so . . talk then,” you murmur, shifting your weight in your feet.

a brief smile creases against both sides of his lips before he grins. “soooo,” and it’s an awkward pause. you eye your ex-husband and he’s got somewhat of a bashful expression. rimy eyes of his dart toward your hand—your fingers specifically before he slyly coos. “i see you’re still wearin’ your wedding ring.”

shit.

he had a point.

after all this time, you still had your ring on. satoru did too—he also kept his ring on all the time, happily flashing it in front of countless numbers of women who’d try to hit on him.

you honestly don’t know why you still held on to it, let alone wear it, and to your surprise—you thought he’d stop wearing his those long seven months ago when the two of you officially split.

you bit the inside of your cheek before letting off a snarky, “shut up.”

satoru nearly snickers before he leans up close to you, only a few inches away. he’s so close that you get a loud wafting whiff of his citrusy cologne.

you remember the exact brand too, and it wasn’t exactly cheap either. he’d buy at least a dozen whenever the two of you went out shopping together - well, used to.

there’s so much tension between you both that you could cut it with a knife - the tension was thick, and the awkward dull pauses only made it even more intense.

there’s an annoying voice in your brain that’s screaming at you to just screw it - screw him, make up for lost time, and just . . . kiss him.

you did want to kiss satoru, and your eyes found themselves glancing toward his pearly pink lips that were almost always naturally glossed.

satoru’s eyes intently lock against yours for a few seconds before he casually brings a thumb up to the corner of your mouth, wiping away a bit of your lip gloss before cooing huskily. he expects you to pull away, but you don’t— in fact, you lean into his touch. once he notices, the only thing he replies with is a playful curt utter of,

“make me.”

so you do, but . . not in the way he expected.

not that satoru gojo was ever a man to complain though, especially with you.

and that’s when he found himself in quite a lewd predicament. satoru’s laid back against his cushiony padded mattress with you straddling his perfectly sculptured chin. a gloved hand of his grip near your right hip before he strums a thumb down your sopping wet entrance.

glossy - it’s prettier like he’s never seen it, and he can’t help but lick his lips like an animal preparing to feast the second you start to smear yourself against his chin.

“y’knowww baby, when you told me to shut up i didn’t think you meant sitting on my f—mmph,” and you cut him off mid-sentence by softly planting your cunt back on his mouth.

satoru grunts, bringing his free hand to wrap around the other unoccupied corner of your waist. he grunts, dipping his tongue inside before the familiar taste comes crawling back to his spiraling tastebuds. your taste, he missed your sweetness . . almost as much as he missed you.

as you sweetly moan within each dragging second, you glance down at him with hazed-blown pupils. shifting your wobbly weight and knees against his face, you start to feel his stubble rub on your skin. it almost tickles - but oh, you weren’t laughing.

his tongue had you doing quite the opposite.

“f- fuck,” you huff out, already starting to feel the plunging heaves of your stomach commence. sure, this was probably a bad idea, and sure, you and him probably needed to have an actual conversation at some point but now - you didn’t care about words.

you didn’t care about anything, and part of you kind of missed him.

perhaps his tongue was a majority reason for that part, and each time he rummages inside the deep secluded parts of your pussy, you let off cute individual mewling whimpers. satoru’s always been skilled, and he knew just how to please you.

his tongue always knew how to remind you of how much it’s missed its favorite meal.

curl after fucking curl, he’s leisurely spelling out letters and shapes and symbols with his tongue, taking every few seconds to swallow. satoru groans against your slobbering cunt, feeling you briefly thrust up against his nose and he can’t help but smell your tangy glacé coated sex.

it’s pleasantly sweet, and for a moment, scintillating blue eyes meet back up toward you. “h- heh, ‘s this why you came over? to shut me up ‘n use my fuckin’ mouth, sweetheart?”

“god, you talk t.. too much,” you moan, grabbing a fistful of his hair. in a way - that was true.

satoru was the definition of a blabbermouth.

he’d just talk and talk and talk . . yapping your ear off until you shut him right up in the best (and his personal favorite) way possible - sitting on his pretty face.

a pompous grin stretches across each corner of his lips whilst his jaw’s already dripping due to your slick that paints near the outer crevices of his thin lips. slow, it starts to slowly trickle down his chin at a snail-like pace, creating a shimmery coat of gloss that dribbles underneath his slack mandible.

satoru lays his long pointed tongue flat - savoring every single drop before he’s starting to suck against your clit.

“oh! fuck, right there ‘toru, riiiight there,” and he’s just sloppy. the mask part of his costume was pulled down to his neck as he was using his upper and bottom lip to munch against your sobbing pussy at irregularly paced intervals. your legs failed to stay still and you could already feel the carnal slope of your back starting to form an obtuse-like arch. “fuck, fuckin’ spit on it, ‘toru. pleasepleaseee.”

cute.

you’re calling him ‘toru again, and it makes him cockily grin knowing it was his tongue’s doing.

“wifey’s still as nasty as ever,” satoru whispers against your leaky folds, sliding a thin middle finger near your wet entrance. with a loud ‘psh’ you end up gushing out a bit abruptly and you whine loudly. your thighs rapidly snap together as you blink thrice, feeling his swollen lips glue against your pussy. “mmh, still a wet girl too. my wet girl.” you peek down at satoru who’s the literal epitome of the word smug.

he’s smearing his entire face against your teary slabbering cunt, spitting on it before lapping it right back up again.

you missed his nasty mouth - badly, and it makes your eyes shamelessly roll backward as you start to frailly rut your rickety hips into his mouth.

satoru brings two willowy fingers toward your slit before sliding the icy jewel rock of his wedding ring against your dribbling cunt.

wet, you were soaked and you let off shivering labored breaths once he started to toy with your saturated slick entrance.

with widened doe eyes, you meet his esurient-filled gaze and he hums at you. “listen to how damn wet she is,” he huffs, and you moan at the ridiculously drenching sounds of your pussy. he’s playing with you from between your thighs, chin still dripping with insane amounts of your syrupy juices. “mhm, i know, i know,” and you feel the feeble weight of your thighs quiver the second he’s focusing his attention primarily on your cunt now and not you.

all six eyes were fixated between your legs—

satoru strums the pad of his thumb down your drooling slit before gradually rolling his tongue from top-to-fucking-bottom.

he’s nasty, slithering the tip of his tongue everywhere until your toes curl and you’re letting off the cutest shrilling sounds. satoru even starts to spell out ‘m-a-r-r-y m-e’ and as lewd as it was, he’s proposing to your pussy. he needed you, and satoru knew the both of you divorcing was nearly inevitable, but he missed you.

he especially missed the way you tasted - so sweet, he could eat you out for hours even with his jaw sore ‘n locked. satoru’s a pussy pleaser, making you draw out sweet cries of more as he slurps you clean, his tongue occasionally sliding toward your puckering hole.

“satoru… ngh,” you whimper, the grip of your hand against his hair getting stronger. you’re fucking his face, grinding your slick against his mouth while watching his pretty frosty lashes flap. you’re squelching profusely, and each sloshing slosh of your pussy makes his dick twitch in his pants. “goddd, ‘m gonna cum. make me cum, fuck.”

“let’s see what she thinks,” he purrs, lustrous polished lips flushing into a pearly coat of clear once he licks them. satoru’s entirely pussy drunk, and you shudder once he slowly inserts a lanky middle finger. with a loud ‘pop!’ sound, it dexterously slides itself in, rummaging past the tight ring of your entrance.

fuck, he had such long fingers.

you almost forgot - satoru always joked with you how being ‘the strongest’ came with having six-inch fingers and he wasn’t fucking kidding . .

“hm, should my baby cum? does she deserve it?” and your lips curl up into a pout. he’s serious, having an entire conversation with your pussy. you moaned, maintaining a stiff grip on his hair before satoru started to smear circles against your cunt.

again, you’re just wet. your slickness amused him and satoru can’t help but playfully pat your pretty soddened pussy with the center of his palm once he doesn’t get a reply. the only reply he does get is the cute sloshing sounds that repeatedly gush between your poor quivery thighs.

you’re slowing yourself against his mouth as you straddle him, whimpering at the feeling of his thin digit piercing its way inside of you. you’re close, and you can feel yourself glitching and spasming the second the tip of his finger grazes past your g-spot.

already, he’s located it like ‘x’ marks the spot. your jaw was dropped, and you were on the verge of euphoric death.

satoru stretched your cunt out perfectly with just one finger, and sure . . you’ve had your fair share of intimacy with your ex-husband, but fuck did it always feel like the first time.

you couldn’t help but start to drool a bit, weakly rutting your hips against his face as you’re leisurely getting closer to the brink of your edge.

it’s carnal, you’re stupidly crisscrossed with your eyes flickering back and forth like turning signals before satoru starts to playfully nibble against your cunt again. this time though, he’s adding in another finger and the spongy pressure that’s being played with inside of you earns out a sweet honeyed gasp that sounds like a breathy shriek!

“toru, sato—fuck, ‘m cumming, ‘m gonna cum,” and your words repeated themselves over and over. you’re like a broken recurrent record on a looping vinyl. your cunt continues to sloppily rest against his perfect crooked lips the entire time as you’re blissfully coming undone.

satoru’s staring at you the entire time, practically undressing you with his eyes. he grunts, spotting how your perked nipples noticeably prodded through your silvery blouse. “ugh, fuuuck.” and it hits you like a crashing wave that slams its way into shore.

satoru’s still heartily pumping two slender digits in and out of your splashing cunt whilst you gush right on him, weak defeated hips losing their stability.

you were whimpering, tasting your candied orgasm on your tongue—it felt that good to where it’s like you could taste every nerve against your salivated tastebuds.

only satoru could make you cum on his tongue like this. you were speechless - frantically panting as you released your hand from his ghostly white strands. he’s still leaking your juices from the crannies of his lips before he exhales deeply.

“yeaaah, atta girl. lay it on me,” and you moan as he’s still sliding his long tongue in between the sopping folds of your sensitive cunt, gradually pulling out his lengthy digit pillars of fingers. “fuck, y’r so hot when you try ‘ta put me in my place, sweetheart.”

“stop talking,” you pant, getting off of him. satoru raises a pallid brow, and he grows amused once you suddenly push him to lie flat against his back. with a raspy ‘ugh’ he lands back against the velvet-colored pillows, a sly smirk marinating against his complacent features.

like a slut - he merrily manspreads just for you, long legs spread wide apart with a huge bulge sticking out of his pants.

he’s still got the shinobi headband on, part of it slumping down his left eye. “oh, what’s this?” he lowly gruffs, eyeing you from head to toe again.

this time though, it’s more sensual. satoru’s taking in every piece of fabric that’s protecting your skin, watching as you slowly undress yourself.

he could feel his boner excruciatingly rubbing against his pants the more he watched. he’s taking in your appetizing presented curves . . so pretty. especially after having two kids - his kids.

“gonna ride me, yeah?” he jibes, continuing once you were now left in nothing but a matching set of panties and bra.

coincidentally - the colors matched his exact eye color, and satoru always had a thing for you wearing clothes that matched his eyes. but like always, he just kept on talking. he was too cocky for his good, and maybe one more fuck was just what you needed. what you both needed.

just . . one . . more,

right?

well, that’s what you told yourself.

but all that went out the window the second you’re aligning yourself on his cock. satoru takes a sharp three-second breath, ogling at your every move. it’s like a game of chess. he’s waiting for you - for your cunt to make its move against his throbbing mushroomy tip.

two big hands of his wrap around your waist and he grunts lowly. feeling your slick cunt maneuver itself against his angry reddened tip makes his head slightly toss back in feral rapture.

his tip—it’s got a coral blush, and you let off a moan at feeling his hooked fat plump crownhead try to plummet its way in.

it’s rude, not caring to introduce itself to your cunt but slam its way in instead, asking if your insides remember him.

and it does - it definitely does.

“ohhh fuck,” you sob out a needy moan, your hips eagerly making two solid taut bucks against him.

satoru groans against your ear, swollen sack peeling back as you’re still straddling him. your body, it was in his arms again and he couldn’t help but feel you everywhere.

starting at your hips, he holds them tight, tracing the callused scarred tips of fingers all around the curvature of your body before trailing down toward the juncture of your rear. “god, don’t know how much i missed you ‘n your smart mouth,” and as you let off a surprised gasp, satoru grabs a nice chunk of your ass. “missed this ass just as much.”

“bet you did,” you puff, full lungs already on the verge of collapsing. he’s huge - and barely the tip was in and you could already feel your pussy starting to throw a fit of tantrums. satoru’s girth made him stretch more, and for a second you let off another sweet moan before meeting his gaze.

he’s got a delicious curve to him that always makes your insides twist and churn. it’s a feeling you’ll probably never get used to.

“what’s with the smirk? somethin’ funny?”

“you, baby,” satoru titters, giving you a haughty head nod. you feel your cunt throb as you’re trying to continue to lower yourself down on his cock but the stretch - fuck, pretty soon your poor cunt was about to be met with max fucking capacity.

satoru’s sparkly heavy-lidded eyes linger on you before he cups your chin, swiping a thumb across your wet quavering lips. “all that talk ‘n you still can’t take me. thought i trained my wife’s pussy good,” and with a teasing pout, he shrugs. “guessss not!”

“fuck you.” you moan, mentally groaning the second you felt yourself getting more soaked, just from his words alone.

pathetic - and yet, you wanted more.

satoru clicks his tongue, and with a blink of an eye, he now has you flipped over. you gasp, landing flat on your chest as he’s got your wrists restrained against your back.

satoru rolls his eyes, sprawling out your weak-kneed legs all the way apart to get a good glimpse of your sopping pussy from the back.

god, in his mind - it should have been a crime to be this wet. your sopping, pearly translucent molasses of your slick stream down your pulsing entrance and he grunts.

“fuck you,” he repeats, although he says it cheekily. even though you weren’t even facing him anymore you could almost visibly see the annoying shit-eating grin plastering on his face.

from ear to ear with each of his dimples piercing each wry crevice of his mouth, he's so smug--bastard.

your back arches and you moan the second he starts to smack his rotund tip against your pussy. “myyy, what a fuckin’ mess,” and you suck your teeth, feeling satoru’s loud spanks hit louder. each time his fat cockhead thumps itself against your wet outer folds, the vibrations make you shiver from the waist down.

the tingly tenderness makes your toes immediately curl up once more and your canorous-like moans start to become muffled once you dig your teeth into the edge of a nearby pillow. “still wet after alllll this time like a good messy girl,” he grits. with another smack of his tip, your leg twitches in response. “ooh, she likes that,” and satoru softly spreads your saturated cunt lips apart with two fingers just to see your pulse throb in full filthy action. “fuuck, she’s achin’ for it. look at that pretty ‘lil throb. so cute.”

“are you gonna fuck me or n—”

“listen, honey,” and you moan at the sudden husky drop of his voice. satoru softly wraps a few fingers around your throat, pressing his slim body right against your own. he drops your wrist, watching you sink into the mattress as limp-like. he’s so close that you could feel the outline of his abs prods against his shirt.

inching his lips near the shell of your earlobe, he starts to pant. heavy, sinister breath that ends up making you throb ten times harder. “i’m gonna fuck you,” he grunts, feeling your ass cutely try to jerk its way against him. the costume part of his pants was lazily pulled down, reaching the low area of his ankles. with a husky sigh, satoru brings his tip near the dripping entrance of your sloppy doused cunt. “might as well fuck that bratitude out of ya too while ‘m at it,” and you moan once he’s slowly starting to sink his way in.

satoru grabs ahold of your torso, lifting you slightly to a certain degree. your ass was raised just a few meters with your face smushed against the satiny made bedsheets.

his eyes dart down your body for another time and now, he’s just openly gawking at your exposed skin - your gorgeous physique.

satoru could stare at you all day if he could. “f- fuh—fuck,” you croak, plump lips forming into a hoop-like ‘o’ the moment he’s easing his way inside. there goes his ridiculous girth again, there goes his fat length that never fails to rearrange your clingy needy insides.

your tummy dips from each inch that’s gradually disappearing inside of you like a never-before-seen magic trick until he’s starting to gruffly groan. satoru’s already breaking a frigidly cold sweat.

it was just him feeling your covetous wet cunt voluntarily swallow him up - squeezing him tightly like a vice until you wring him dry. your pussy’s holding him hostage, and with the tight firm grasp you had against him, you never wanted to let go. “ ‘toruuu, ‘s fuckin’ big.”

“allll for you,” he drags out his words through raspy breathy sentences. chalky white brows of his compress together as he’s starting to feel the brief twinge of pleasure that courses through his beefy clenched thighs. with hooded cunt-drunk eyes, satoru already heard your gargling pussy trying to get more bratty words in. “all. for. you,”

and he punctuated his words just like he punctuated his merciless, sloppy thrusts.

the first thrust was rigid, the second thrust was sensual, and the third was damn near powerful. .

you moan loudly, feeling him caress tender circles near the exposed nape of your neck with his thumb as he tries to start up a sufficient pace. it took him a moment before he was fully in, making sure you felt and remembered every single inch.

satoru expands through your cunt like a domain.. the more carnal lewd way though.

it makes you shiver, and with his weight pressing into your ass that was your last fucking straw.

satoru’s got you in prone bone - a position like doggy but better, and he’s got his chiseled hips just barely hovering over your ass. with pounds and pounds of skin against skin—each smack against flesh had your mind going for a whirl ride.

you were already surrounded by his sweltering warmth from the inside and the feeling alone was enough to make your mouth water.

heavy airy pants drew out from your full lungs like you were some sort of animal, then again—it’s satoru gojo, and his dick was just one of a fuckin’ kind..

his cock was heavy, driving through your cunt like it’s been ages, and it kinda has.

with a hypnotic pivot of his askew hips, satoru makes you arch just a bit further. it’s a pretty arch, and he skips a few fingers down your curling spine. he watches you trying to wriggle away but with a cocky, “ah ah. where ya goin'?” he reels you right back into him. he’s so thick, and he only imagined how pretty you looked with your eyes lulling toward the back of your skull. “aw, don’t get shy on me now, sweetheart,” he purrs lowly, and you moan once he gives your ass a rude spank. “wanna hear my wife’s pretty voice. y’r sloppy pussy’s nice but i wanna—ngh, hear you.”

“ex-wife,” you correct him again, and you know he’s just addressing you as that just to tease you. you start to whimper as his rhythm starts to pick up, ploddingly dragging his keen hips further and further into you. “hnghh. stupid-,” you blurb out another weak squalling whimper, gluey lips starting to stick together.

you almost forgot how mean his dick game was, and satoru knew how to fuck.

he had the type of dick where it’d make you question your life choices���so good, each curve of his hips had you getting more and more stupid.

you’re pronounced cock drunk within milliseconds, and it doesn’t even take you long before your eyes were as wide as saucers, tongue lolled, and your back arches to its very limit.

and his stamina . . oh,

it never changed once he aged—he had the stamina of a fucking stallion, and his hips proved the horsepower to back it up.

“whaaat’s that?” satoru chirps, adding a bit more pressure around your throat. it’s safe - but you let off a tiny crooning moan once his strokes become deeper. you feel him reach at unimaginable angles, and your eyes start to roll back again.

satoru’s got you right where he wants, in his bed, the bed that used to be shared between you both.

he’s amping up his delirious pace, striking his feral hips into you quicker before groaning against your ear. in a hoarse tone, he licks a stripe down your neck. “such a brat, bet you don’t slut this pretty pussy out for anyone else, huh?”

you moan, feeling him breathe down your neck. cloudy hot puffs of air aerate against your skin before satoru starts to suck against your shoulder. “mmh. maybe i do. ‘s none of your business.”

“oh girl, please,” satoru replies, and his sass was enough to make your thighs quake.

you still couldn’t get used to his size - the fat fucking size of his cock that nearly makes both of your thighs clamp shut.

the shirt part of his costume snags against your skin as he’s still fucking you raw, buried balls fuckin’ deep before satoru starts to slow down.

with a wet ‘plop!’ he grunts, feeling his dick slip right out of you. “fuuck,” and he takes a moment to stare at the sight underneath him.

you, his pretty ex-wife all arched and hunched over.

your pussy’s pitifully drooling for more - sniveling wetly from the sheeny flaps as you clench around the air for a few seconds.

as a soft needy moan leaves you, you whine out an inaudible noise that sounds almost like you’re saying ‘what happened?’

“so . . fuckin’ hot,” satoru groans, re-aligning himself back against your slick-flooded entrance.

he heard your melodic ‘oooh’ leave from your lips as he was back inside, a content sigh departing from his chest. satoru can’t help but lean himself against you, bringing his hands toward your bouncy tits. “ah, can’t forget about my favorite girls,” and you let off a plethora of whiney whimpers, feeling him drag his thumbs over your sensitive nipples. satoru’s hips start to get sloppy and his cock’s just lazily swerving its way through every filthy orifice. “so pretty ‘n plump. . all mine.”

satoru continues to fondle your breasts as he’s ruthlessly pounding into you, swinish hands desperate to feel every part of your round soft tits. he’s moaning against your ear right with you, and satoru’s starting to feel himself steadily reach toward his vulgar demise.

his cock’s rude, repeatedly hitting itself against your precious beloved g-spot. it’s smothering it with a multitude of sloppy kisses with his tip, making sure it savors every wet smooch. “fuck, fuck me,” you moan, lying in a puddle of your drool that starts to dampen the pillow that rests underneath your chin.

“greedy ‘lil thing,” satoru huffs, and as he’s still playing with your tits, his pumps start to slow down. satoru’s massaging your walls so good that it’s like he’s putting a wicked spell on your pussy.

you could barely even sit up anymore, and he’s holding your hips firmly. “mmhhh, gettin’ me all soaked, baby. should make you lick me right up.”

“how about you stop talking-”

“how about i edge you ‘n let you finish this sloppy pussy yourself, huh?”

radio silence.

you moaned in response and satoru shook his head with another smarmy sneer squeezing across both corners of his pink lips.

“uh huh. ‘s what i thought,” and satoru groans the moment he feels himself starting to shrink up from the inside.

his testes were nothing but wrung out, plump, and swollen underneath you, pap papping against your ass - preparing to be milked full.

the lewd imagery alone makes him grunt, feeling a vein prod down his shaft. satoru’s abs flex through his shirt before he sighs, bringing a kiss near the back of your neck. “hah, tell me where sweetheart. where do you want it, tell me.”

“fuck,” you moan, losing count of each time his pointed tip thrashes itself against the gummy barrier of your cervix.

satoru lowly chortles, panting heavily before making you lie straight down against the bed. “heh, fuck? that’s not an answer, silly.”

“inside, fuckin’ finish inside, ‘toru,” you blurt out, hearing your voice start to strain.

you’ve been moaning your head off, and your chords were starting to sound like they’ve had just about enough.

“nuh uh, manners sweetheart. don’t act brand new,” he teases, tracing a palm over the curved shape of your perked ass. he was in so deep, you felt the pressure press down on your tummy and it gave birth to an entire school of butterflies. you slip out another moan once satoru’s slowing his impactful thrusts down, still filling you to the brim before bringing his hips to a sudden halt. he’s back up against your ear before he whispers hoarsely, “ ‘pretty pleaseee’, c’mon baby. talk to me nice.”

with a guttural whine desperately trying to rip out the back of your throat, you grumble out a bratty, “fuck you.”

“hah, you’re a trip, y’know that?” and you gasp, feeling satoru snake a hand in between your thighs.

as he drags it down to where it stops near your stuffed pussy, he starts to rub his open palm against you. you moan, arching ever further as your ass presses into him. “it’s ‘fuck me’ ‘n yet you’re bent over for me, wet for me, sloppy for fuckin’ me,” and you felt yourself starting to throb quicker the more he spoke.

within each filthy sentence, his words drip with more erotic bass in his voice—

it’s sexy, and satoru’s feeling you trying to weakly grind your ass back against him so he could finish. it’s cute, the way how you’re so impatient but such a brat.

the woman he always knew - his wife.

“sato—satoruuu,” you mewl out, another whimper flying past your spit-slick lips. the gradual sounds of skin slapping resound against the walls of the spacious bedroom before it echoes. you moan once his cock stills itself inside - waiting for you, and with a defeated moan, you huff, “fine, pretty please.”

“pretty please what, sweetheart?”

he’s annoying, and yet here you were shamefully pulsating for him, arched over for him, and babbling his name over and over again like it’s some repetitive sacred mantra.

with a pouty scoff, you grumble out a subtle, “pretty please . . cum inside, ‘toru. please.”

“atta girl, use those words,” he purrs, and you moan once he gently grabs both of your unsteady hips. satoru braces your body underneath him and he grunts once he focuses back on his release. “god, this tummy,” he rasps, and you whimper once you feel his bare hands creep underneath your warm flat body.

satoru’s body remains on top of you - pounding you ruthlessly, and that’s when he softly presses a hand against your stomach. right there, he feels a tiny bulge of himself and it makes him grunt.

you were squeezing around his cock tight, slathering the entirety of his fat cock with your slimy slick before he groans. “mhm, you’d look so pretty plump ‘n round again for me, baby,” and satoru’s starting to feel it. his body - it shakes, damn near erupting as his high’s approaching at a hasty speed. “prettiest fuckin’ mommy. fuck, ‘m gonna give you so much.”

white lashes of his snap shut as he whines into your shoulder, still pumping thick inches into you from behind—skin slapping meanly and resounding off the walls of the room before he groans out a growling, “fuck!” you’re moaning right with him, his heat radiating against your skin. satoru’s strokes were hypnotic, his hips jerk against your ass as you’re barely keeping up. your insides felt churned all the way out as he still had a hand lying on the center of your tummy, drooling at the thought of filling you up again.

when it arrives, it’s quick - it takes him only a few long drawn-out seconds before he finally lets go. white brows of his twist together as he’s slowly pumping you full of ribbons ‘n ribbons of cum.

pearly slimy globs shoot into you, and you moan out a content sigh of your own as the muscles in your shoulders relax. “fuuuck,” you breathe, hearing satoru’s groans overshadow your noises. he’s always been far louder than you, especially whenever he was finishing.

he sounded pretty, angelic almost. satoru’s eyes flicker down toward the mess that’s being made, hearing the sloppy sounds of your pussy gargle and all.

bubbles of ivory-colored seed coat the outer folds of your entrance and you feel his warmth.

gristly silky ropes dribble into you all at once, creating a milky white ring that starts to form around his base. he’s missed filling you up like this - so so bad.

satoru nearly slips out a whine as he’s dumping his all into you—casually filling you to the brim, and that’s when his hips start to get even sloppier.

he was a mess, and you’ve milked him dry. he watches as your pretty pussy’s all filled and glossed - oozing with such amounts of cum.

a bit of stringy strands started to stick and glue against your thighs like adhesive, and he couldn’t help but pull out. it’s a squishy lewd ‘pop’ that sounds the second he drags his weighty cock out from between your creamy flaps. “god, look at how pretty she is after a good fillin’,” he huffs, and you’re still catching your breath once satoru flips you over. you’re lying on your back, meeting his gaze.

you’ve never seen him more in love - oh, he was whipped.

he didn’t even have to tell you those known words because his eyes already spoke for him. satoru rubs his leaky white-coated tip against your cunt, smearing his cum all over your entrance before sighing. after he does that, satoru licks his lips and that’s when you watch his head starting to disappear, going lower.

“can’t . . let it go to waste,” he grumbles, and you moan the second you feel the tip of his tongue starting to create a slope up your right thigh.

slowly, he’s lapping up the remnants of his cum that’s spilling down your skin. you almost forgot just how filthy he was. satoru had no shame, and he even moaned once the taste of his mess met against his tastebuds. “mmh.”

“s- satoru,” you heave, a hand finding its way through his strands again. his lips were soft, and he then started to create sloppy kisses. you moan, writhing against the stained sheets before gingerly bringing his head back up.

with a sleazy grin, his eyebrows raised before you finish your sentence, tangled fingers still fishing through his snowy unkempt tresses. “kiss me.”

“heh, that’s my girl,” he hoarsely, gradually closing the distance between you both. he’s been longing to kiss you, to plant his lips against yours. satoru groans in your mouth, feeling your arms wrap around his slim waist.

he starts grinding his hips against yours, his angered reddened tip blushing the more cold air sets against it. you’ve never felt more hot, and you could feel a smirk carve against satoru’s lips as he’s making out with you.

it’s intense - his tongue explores throughout your mouth, demanding entry as you moan.

satoru’s sweating pinballs, and he presses his forehead against yours. “fuckin’ woman,” he whispers, his voice getting more and more raspy.

you could taste himself on his tongue and so could he.

it was lewd - and yet, he only wanted more. more of you and so much of it..

satoru leans into your touch, sucking on your tongue as pairs of teeth occasionally clash and smash together before that’s when you abruptly pull away.

“h..hey,” he huffs, and he’s entirely flustered. satoru’s got heart eyes in his pupils, and he’s very much whipped. of course, though, he tries not to show it by keeping up his smug, arrogant façade. “what’s— ah.”

like earlier, you switch positions and push him lightly to where he lands on his back. pretty soon, you were sure trick-or-treating was gonna be over soon for the kids—satoru mentioned earlier how they were staying out for about maybe two hours.

as you straddle his lap again, finally listening to that annoying voice in your head, you made up your mind.

fuck it.

fuck him - literally.

“lie back,” you murmur, and you watch as satoru grows sheepish. you’re getting under his skin, and your sudden change in demeanor makes him hard for what was probably the umpteenth time of the night.

like a dog – he’s obedient, going manspread again before a groan escapes out of him. as your drenched flooded cunt hovers over his tip again, you lean in to pepper chaste kisses near his neck.

“oh, finally gonna ride me now, yeah?” satoru raises a brow, though you could tell how his cockiness was fading. he was sensitive - very.

it was almost painful, and now you were just teasingly grinding the entrance of your cock back ‘n forth against his flaccid length that rests against his tummy. “shit,” he swallows, idly bringing a hand toward your waist. he sees the look in your eyes before dryly chuckling. “f- fine. but this means . . you’ll give me another chance?”

you deadpan, playfully flicking his chest back before humming. “we’ll see.”

“i’ll take it,” satoru pants, trying to flash a smile but he ends up moaning the second you’re starting to align himself against his throbbing tip.

he’s still leaking gleaming white droplets from the sides of his dick, his veiny shaft being decorated with globs and globs of pre. with a guttural groan, satoru’s abs flex through his costume before he grabs your ass, giving your left rear cheek its nth spank.

“do your worst fuckin’ then,” satoru stares up at you, a whine desperately trying to leave his slick-spit lips before he squeezes your ass. as you moan, watching his swollen tip gradually disappear between your sappy folds, gojo sighs.

as your unstable hips try to steady themselves against him, you feel satoru rub the front jeweled part of his wedding ring on your sopping cunt one more time right as you prepare to ride him.

“m- make your husband proud, wifey.”

[nyancrimew]

confession: two weeks ago my friends got sick of me slowly cooking to death in my self-pitying emotional soup of heartbreak, took me out for drinks, and installed a dating app on my phone. we are all in the same degree at uni (i'm 25 + i promise this is relevant), in a faculty that is extremely quaint and mostly comprised of academics married to people with normal jobs. two years ago a teacher-couple joined our program's faculty, a fact that caused a minor riot within the teaching staff, who thought it was unfair to give two of four tenured jobs to a couple... unfortunately for them both of these profs are extremely beloved among the students and very good teachers at that. even if you've never taken classes from either of them, you know about this couple and probably whatever rumors are going around about them too. i've taken classes w/ both.

anyway. back to me on the dating app in the bar with my friends, pretty drunk, swiping though my bumble suggestions. for extra fun, we have set the minimum age to 30 and the gender to include "both" even though i am a lesbian. the whole table is viciously tearing down dating profiles, investigating their pictures, etc. i go to the bar to get another round for the group, am about to pay for our drinks when i hear a virtual SHRIEK from our corner. i get back, dish our drinks out. my phone is in the middle of the table, untouched by anyone like it's a cursed object. i look at the screen. it's them, our teacher couple. they have a shared dating profile, stating that they are "looking for someone to explore her bisexuality with". lesbian readers will know that this is not exactly an uncommon profile type to find, but still, seeing it from people who have taught basically everything you know about 19th century literature is... quite something. so naturally i decide to swipe right before anyone can stop me.

maia, i am so proud to report: i fucked that man's wife, she was absolutely lovely, and we will see each other again, and i am currently taking another class from her husband where the vibe is more than chill. my friends have been sworn to secrecy, but i know it's only a matter of time before someone slips up and the rumor mill starts churning... but who cares? i haven't thought about my ex since!

OH MY GOD HOLY SHIT

[tonycries]

You'll Taste Me Too! - G.S.

Synopsis. How do you last three days on a work trip with the man you hate the most in the office? You don’t - you end up pinned underneath him, instead.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! reader, office AU, enemies to lovers, jealousy (Gojo’s side), FAKE DATING, PAST Naoya x reader, creampíes, breéding, oraI (fem receiving), spítting, hot springs, cúmplay, DOWN BAD Satoru, tensíon, he’s a bit mean, revenge on your ex, ambiguous office work, exhíbitionísm, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 11.9k (this was supposed to be HALF that)

A/N. This type of annoying Gojo is always so fun to write, hope y’all have a great week <3

In all your three years as head of the marketing department, it wasn’t any of the tight deadlines or the nervous interns that drove you crazy. Hell, it wasn’t even the fact that the coffee maker in the break room only made tea. 

No, the one thing you couldn’t stand - the one thing that had you contemplating whether your transfer was really worth it - came in the form of the 6’3, cloudy-haired manchild who headed the sales department. 

The one person who’d made it his personal mission to toy with your sanity as soon as you’d stepped foot into the cleancut office of Jujutsu Enterprises. 

The bane of your existence. 

“Gojo Satoru.”

“Huh?” you gape stupidly, and if this was any other time you’d have smacked yourself for the unprofessionalism. 

Yaga nods gravely - almost sympathetic - as if he honestly couldn’t fault you for your reaction. “Yes, since this upcoming contract relies heavily on collaboration between the marketing and sales departments, Satoru here-” He nods at the tangle of long limbs that’d been draped dramatically over the seat right next to you. “-will be accompanying you on your trip to Kyoto…unfortunately.”

“What do you mean ‘accompanying’-”

“The fuck do you mean ‘unfortunately’-”

Your supervisor heaves out a tired sigh over your flurry of protests, rubbing his temples, “Look, I wouldn’t have picked out your ah- duo either. But as heads of department, you two are the best and brightest we have. And the board believes we can snag the infamous Gakuganji and his protegé easily as clients with the combination of you both.” 

“But-” you sputter out. “Can’t I go with Nanami like I usually do? Surely he’s a better option than a pompous, no-good nepo-”

“And I’d rather go alone.” Gojo cuts through smoothly, flashing a cocky wink your way. “Sorry, sweetheart, but even my charm won’t be enough to stop you from scaring that client off.”

Fuck unprofessionalism. If looks could kill, the leveled glare you shoot the man at your side is enough to bury him six feet and have you dancing on his grave already. 

You scowl, crossing your arms over your chest. Now fully facing Gojo for the first time since you’d first entered Yaga’s stuffy office, “Oh yeah, and aren’t you the one that got reprimanded for sleeping through the last company meeting we had?”

“D-did not.” his cheeks tinge with a delicate strawberry pink.

“Did too.”

“Did not.”

“Did too.” you scoff, brows furrowing when you realize you’ve inched just a bit closer than appropriate. Your knees knocking against his, yet you don’t pull away out of stubborness. “What? Too embarrassed to admit your oh-so-great ‘charm’ was in the pillows?”

Almost mockingly, he’s copying your posture, tight white shirt straining over those biceps he didn’t hesitate to infuriatingly flex any time you came around. Minty breath wafting over your cheeks when he leans in to murmur lowly - just loud enough that Yaga won’t question, “No, but you would be happy to know that it is in the sheets.”

You blink, though, you can’t really be too surprised - of course, Gojo turns the conversation into something so filthy. He always does.

But before you can spit out a few venomous expletives you really would regret saying in front of Yaga, the man himself interrupts your argument with a pointed cough. “Since the chemistry is as lively as ever,” he’s deadpanning dryly. “I take it you both will be on your best behavior for these three days, and come back with a signed contract.”

Chemistry your ass. 

And though he’s addressing you both, you feel a stab of smug satisfaction when Yaga’s gaze lock with an amused Gojo’s. 

“Mhm, of course we’ll come back successful - how could you not with the star employee on this trip.” he motions airily in your direction. You stiffen, not expecting the compliment when- “And of course our cute resident hardass will be there, too.”

“You little fu-”

“Great!” Yaga claps his hands, a signal you knew meant to get the hell out of his office before he assigns more overtime. “It’s settled then, your tickets have been booked for tomorrow and I assume you both have been emailed the appropriate information?”

Nodding, you make your way to leave - and find that Gojo is waiting, glass door to the office held open for you. With a sharp click of your tongue, you bite down on whatever words come to your throat, barely out of the office before you hear a tired warning behind you, “And please don’t try to kill each other, our insurance doesn’t cover it.” 

When you’re both out in the hallway, Gojo flashes you a cocky smirk and an even cockier “You heard the man.” Pointing at his unfairly pretty features - not that you’d admit that in a million years. “After all, my face is insured but who’d want to hurt this handsome-”

“I could.” You interrupt, rolling your eyes. “Easily. And I would, too, if it wasn’t for the fact that this job pays well.” Something you say every time he prances around in your department during breaks, bragging about how you’re “all bark but no bite.”

Satoru only chuckles, raising his hands up in surrender when you continue, “Let’s just get through these three days, ace the contract, and never speak of this again. Okay?”

To your surprise, he’s grabbing one of your hands with his much larger ones - soft, you gulp, noting involuntarily. “I like what goes on in that pretty lil’ brain of yours, silly girl. Then, let’s charm the asses off that dumbass client and the board of elders~”

Everyone in the office knew of the strange little dynamic between you two - found it to be the utmost entertainment they got in the workday. But you were damned if you let it mess up this contract. 

If you two survived the entire three days, that is. 

---

You two were not surviving the entire three days - or the contract deal, for that matter. Hell, you couldn’t even survive this first day. 

“Gojo I told you.” you squint at the glossy paper. “It says platform eight. I know you can’t see without those ugly sunglasses of yours but-”

A big arm comes up suddenly behind your shoulders, snatching the train ticket clean out of your hands. Gojo lets it rest there as he exclaims, “Let me see. Now, y’know if this was me, I’d have chosen Gran class. Ichiji in finances really skimped out buying these second class seats, gonna hafta have a word with him when we get back…”

You narrow your eyes, frantically trying to push back that strange part of you that almost wanted to lean in closer to the hit of his piney, expensive cologne. “Have fun bullying him, you leech.”

To which he only responds with a syrupy giggle, “Oh, don’t worry.” And you let out a tiny gasp when he flicks your forehead softly. “You’ll be right there in first class with me. Even with that bratty attitude of yours, the ladies love those Gojo perks.”

“Mhm explains why you’ve been single for all three years I've had the misfortune of knowing you.” you hiss, eyes desperately darting about for directions to platform eight. You were going to get on this train - with or without him. Preferably without him.

So absorbed in your mission that if you didn’t know any better, you’d have said that Gojo’s words were a pitch higher than normal when he retorts with a strangled, “S-so what? Keepin’ an eye on me, sweetheart?”

And you knew the two of you definitely looked like a peculiar sight - Gojo’s dangling off of you like a ragdoll, surrounded by the few comically large suitcases that were mainly his. So much for a three-day work trip. Your face burns at the few weary salary workers that gave the two of you a very wide berth while going about their daily commutes. Fuck, you couldn’t even ask anyone for help at this point if you both looked at like some safety hazard. 

“Did you find it?” You huff when the silence lingers a bit too long - jumping when you raise your head up to find his burning stare already inches away from you. “God- I take it back, please keep those glasses on.”

“Hey!”

You’re digging your elbow into his side now, words stumbling over the other in a heated hurry, “And get- get off we’re gonna miss this-”

“It really is you, huh?”

All at once, you’re reminded that strangely it isn’t just the two of you causing ruckus in the middle of the Shinjuku station. Unfortunately. 

Any and all previous irritation at Gojo wipes away, flooding back as full, unbridled rage when you’re tearing your eyes away from the nuisance beside you to look up and-

Oh. 

Dammit, you knew you’d recognize that grating voice anywhere - and for the first time, it wasn’t Gojo’s.

“Naoya.”

“You.” 

Still didn’t even have the decency to address you properly, huh? You bite your lower lip, unaware what to say next. But luckily you didn’t have to - because Gojo is standing up straighter, features smoothing into a mask of cool appraisal when he sweeps his eyes down at the other man. 

Finally, Naoya seems to notice him. Flickering quickly between the arm still firmly around your shoulder and his darkened stare. “And who are you?”

“Could ask ya the same thing, two-tone.” he smiles, though it doesn’t reach his eyes. And you swear you could feel the soft pads of his fingers tightening, digging in through your silky work shirt. “What business do you have with us?”

Us - you didn’t miss the emphasis. 

Evidently, Naoya didn’t either, because his tone turns into a low, dangerous simper as he continues. “What? Can’t a man come up just to catch up with a fling?”

Gojo’s jaw clenches as he watches you register the word. Fling. Sure, after about a year of dating, the two of you didn’t have the cleanest break up - with the constant fights and him wanting to uproot your life and dream career with his new job transfer. But still. 

“Of course, he can.” Gojo raises a snowy brow, buttons on his shirt straining when he puffs his chest out ever-so-slightly. You can’t help but notice that he has much more than a few inches on your ex. Gruffing out, “But not when she’s with her new boyfriend.”

Boyfriend?

You freeze the word running around over and over in your hazy mind - boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend-

“And trust me, she’s long forgotten your sorry ass.” You’re jolting back to reality only when you feel the slow, soothing glide of Gojo’s thumb at the exposed skin of your shoulder. He looks down at you with that familiar mirthful smile to say, “Isn’t that right, my girl?”

“Ah uh-” you’re mentally kicking yourself for not choosing to attend those acting lessons in college for extra credit. Coughing out what you hope to be a believable, “Yeah, this is G-Satoru, my- my boyfriend.”

But your coworker takes it all in concerning stride, pulling you flush against his toned chest, rumbling with the muse of “Mhm, and we’re very happy together.” You honestly feel like you’re about to fall weakly to your knees right then and there in the station when you feel the distinct pressure of two soft, plump lips grazing fleetingly at your forehead. Murmuring into your hairline, “Going on a couples’ trip to Kyoto this very moment, in fact.”

“I see.” Naoya levels out, and by the sharp glint in his eyes you already knew the gears on his head were turning. But before you could question him any further, the melodic voice of the railway announcer cuts through the tense air. “Ah- that’s me. And as pleasant as this reunion was, Kurama onsen doesn’t wait.” Before clapping a hand on the shoulder of the uncharacteristically silent Gojo stood by your side, “I wish you the best with your relationship, she’s only good the first few times after all.” His next words are cold and directed at you. “I’ll text ya, if you still don’t have me blocked, that is.” 

Saved by the train - and your fist gripping onto Gojo’s button-up, Naoya saunters to climb aboard the train currently entering the nearby platform. 

Leaving the both of you in that whirling, unfamiliar silence. Gojo’s arm is still burning around your shoulder, your muscles still aching from stopping him from powerfully lunging after the other man.

You break first. 

“Why…why did you do that.” you mutter over the bustling crowds - more to yourself than him, so you’re surprised when he responds just as hastily. 

“It’s just- Because he was a dick.” Gojo’s lips form a petulant pout. He decidedly avoids your probing eyes while he plows on, “And I should be the only one allowed to be a dick to you so don’t get it twisted, silly girl.”

You scoff, before your eyes widen at where Noaya was boarding through the doors of the sleek bullet train, “Wait- Gojo-”

“Satoru, think I deserve to be called ‘Satoru’ after that.” he grins irritatingly. “Consider it a payment since it’ll kill ya to say it every time.”

“Yes yes, S-Satoru-” you wave off, but you can’t deny how easily the name rolls off your tongue. And distinctly, you wondered why you called most of your coworkers by first name, but never him before. “He’s going to Kurama onsen.”

Gojo tilts his head, nose scrunching in confusion. “And?”

“We’re going to Kurama onsen.”

---

For all the disaster the first day had wrecked upon your sanity, you were thankful enough that neither of you were sat in the same area as Naoya. Barely even settling into your cushioned seat before putting on your headphones - and a sleeping mask for good measure so you couldn’t be riled up by your coworker again. 

Surprisingly he didn’t try either. Only bothering you to share his snacks occasionally, and hog the arm space on your chair, electricity running down your skin every time he brushed up against you. 

It was quiet, somehow neither of you minded. 

“Hah- are we- woah.” you gasp out after the short walk from the Kyoto station to your destination, an intricate wooden sign coming into view. Lugging your baggage with you - Gojo had insisted he carry it too as a show of strength, but you were sure it’s because he just wanted to give up halfway through and take a taxi instead. “It’s beautiful.”

“Yeah yeah I get that a lot.” Gojo comes up behind you without warning, a sultry trickle of sweat trailing down his forehead to the forbidden depths of where he’d unbuttoned his shirt a few times. “But usually it’s ‘gorgeous’ or ‘hot as hell’ or-”

“Oh, shut up.” you breathe, ripping your eyes away and towards the reception. “Get your ass moving now, we’ve gotta get checked in and form a game plan for the meeting.”

“That eager to get me in a bed? Always knew ya had it in you, sweetheart.” Oh, he lets out a shiver at your blazingly dirty look. “I mean- yes, ma’am.”

There aren’t too many visitors, and you choose to do the talking when you walk up to the sweet older lady at the reception, having decided that Gojo has done way too much of that for today. Humming, “Hi there, we’re here for two rooms reserved under the name ‘Yaga’?”

A few taps of her keyboard and she’s flashing you a megawatt smile, “Oh yes, you’re right on time!” Before getting up from her seat, “I’ll be the one escorting the young couple to their honeymoon suite. Just this way-”

And while Gojo breezes past you without a single complaint, you stand frozen in the middle of the cozy wooden room. Reaching out a hand to sputter, “W-wait, surely there must be some mistake? Honeymoon suite?”

Gojo is close enough that he whispers something in her ear, and you already know it doesn’t bode well for you at all. 

“Oh honey don’t worry.” she flutters a flustered hand at you. “There’s absolutely nothing wrong with having your dear boyfriend here spend a bit extra on a comfy suite. Either way, it has been booked for a while now and unfortunately nothing can be changed…”

Forgetting yourself, you sneak a glance over at where she had left her desktop on. The tiny letters on screen confirming that yes, this reservation was under the name Yaga. And no, it wasn’t a mistake that the room you were given was a honeymoon suite. 

“Get your ass movin’ now.” Gojo’s voice snaps you out of your little reverie, sounding as if he was on the verge of bursting into laughter while he mocks your earlier words. He grins, “When life gives you lemons- or when Yaga gives you a honeymoon suite…”

---

“Dibs not on the couch.”

“Dibs not on the- wait, no.” Gojo huffs when you’re finally led to your sprawling room, and for all the scandal of it being a honeymoon suite, you have to admit that Yaga had great taste. “Shouldn’t you treat your boyfriend better?”

You’re splaying yourself out on the plush mattress of the bed - the only bed, because of course the universe doesn’t bestow you with a normal work trip. But god none of those cheap motels at the trips you’d gone on with Nanami or Shoko could ever compare to this. 

Mindfully, you push away the rose petals decorating the silken sheets. “Not my problem.” Jutting a thumb towards the small private hot spring allocated for your room outside, “Sleep in the onsen. Might wanna hurry though, it’s getting dark.”

“Please?” 

“I’m kicking you out of this room altogether.”

“Pretty please.”

You feel a rush of begrudging endearment at the way he’s batting his long lashes at you. Suddenly, you’re wondering whether this is why so many at the office can’t get enough of Gojo - why everyone flocks to him as soon as he waltzes into your department for no apparent reason. Struggling to stand firm. “Hasn’t Nanami told you before that adding ‘pretty’ doesn’t work?”

Grumbling, he sets down the bags, swiftly turning around to call out, “Fine, but m’takin’ a shower first, so you better keep any expensive shampoos away or m’stealing with no regrets.”

Mind dizzy with everything from today, it’s all you can do to shuffle through your bag for your laptop. Trembling fingers deciding that if you weren’t going to think too deeply about this, might as well get some work done. 

It’s what you do for a while - to partial success - until you’re pulled out of your spiels of presentations and trying to keep Gojo’s script on subject by the sound of the running water stopping, and the bathroom door clicking open. 

And lo and behold - there stood Gojo. Shirtless. 

The very same asshole that would throw paper clips at you during meetings, and always finished off the last muffin in the break room he knew you’d been eyeing all day. Here he stood - all sharp hip bones and smooth curves of muscle that were always poorly covered by his work clothes. 

Covering almost all of the bathroom doorway with his broad shoulders, speckled with glistening droplets of water that danced tauntingly down, down, down the sharp planes of his collarbones. Down his abs, and onto a trail of white, hidden by a fluffy white towel you have to force your eyes away from. 

“Put some- put some clothes on. You- you-” you’re scrambling urgently for something near you, which unfortunately happened to be a soft cotton you’d pulled out from your bag earlier. “-you lecher.”

Wordlessly, Gojo’s stunned surprise breaks into a brilliant grin when he unfolds the canon of cloth you’d thrown his way. Humming, “You call me a lecher, but you’re the one that wants to see me in your clothes, huh?”

And sure enough - it was. It was as if the universe was playing a practical joke on you because it was your favorite t-shirt, in fact, that ragged Bleach graphic held gently between Gojo’s long, pale fingers. 

You choke out, hastily getting off the bed. “Wait- I take it back.”

“I don’t know.” Gojo teases, holding the t-shirt well over your head. And all you can do is frantically reach and swerve for it, each attempt dodged with a shit-eating grin. “You get the bed, I get this ratty t-shirt, seems like a fair trade to me, no?”

“No.”

Gojo’s face is hovering so close above yours, though, he still keeps the t-shirt safely away from you. “Then I guess this is f’me, silly girl.”

You groan, appreciating the way his breath catches in his throat when you hook an arm around his neck. Reeling him in so close while you still swipe, “No, but what you are going to get is-”

What Gojo was going to get, he never finds out. Because in your frantic effort to steal back the t-shirt you so desperately didn’t want in the hands of the bastard from sales, you don’t pay attention to that slippery pool of water forming around you two from his half-assed attempts at drying off. 

And before you know it, you’re lurching to the floor - you wince, arms held out to break your fall and-

It never happens.

Blinking your eyes open, the first thing you’re met with is what seems like miles upon miles of milky, smooth skin. Breathing in such a heady scent, it’s probably what makes your mind so melty when the realization hits you - a little too late - that you’re being held against Gojo’s chest. 

His painfully bare chest. 

“Satoru?” you breathe. Pawing at where you could feel his racing heartbeat, thumping so painfully against one of his pecs. “Are- are you okay?”

That gets you a hot laugh into your neck, followed by a long, drawn-out shudder that sends shivers down your spine. Through laughs, he manages to grit out, “You’re asking me that?”

He sounds surprised - relieved almost. Such a tender note in his tone at the lack of usual taunting in your words. 

Gojo lets you go - barely, still keeping two strong arms locked around your waist like he was afraid even the slightest distance could have you in danger all over again. “You can take the t-shirt.” He breathes, picking up the damp fabric now fallen onto the floor and pressing it into your palms. “I’m more of a Naruto guy anyway. And you can take the bed, I was jok-”

“You can take it.” 

“What? No-”

“You can.” you cut him off, giving a sidelong glance at the cramped couch tucked into a corner of your suite. Again, you’re drinking in all of him, how tall he was. How warm. How he’d probably have half his body dangling off the side of the cushions, “We can- I mean we can share. We’re adults, right? Wouldn’t want you complaining about a sore back during the contract talks anyway.”

“Worrying about me, sweetheart?” 

“No.” you scowl, pushing him away. “Now excuse you, but I have to use the bathroom since someone was hogging it earlier.”

And if you’d waited just a moment longer - maybe peaked your head out instead of scurrying inside as fast as your legs carried you - you’d have noticed that Gojo was still standing there. A fist clenched at where his heart was, face as pink as those blooming sakura outside. 

---

You didn’t sleep that night. Not one bit. 

It might partially have to do with the fact that your bed was invaded by one very gangly asshole sprawling himself all over the pillow wall you’d constructed. Or maybe to do with the aching discomfort in your joints after moving to sleep on the hard couch after only a few minutes of him getting knocking out. 

“Good morning~” Gojo’s sing-song voice rings through your verging murderous thoughts on the second day. “The sun is shining, my skin is glowing and-” His bleary eyes lock on your hunched figure across the room, looking genuinely confused as to how you got here. “-you’re on the couch?” 

“Yeah. Considered taking ya out in your sleep but then I realized the contract would be in jeopardy.”

He whines, “I’ve- I’ve never had anyone complain before.”

“They probably ran away before that.” you nod solemnly over his sputtering complaints. Stretching, content with the pop of your bones. “Don’t look at me like that, it wasn’t that bad.”

You look away when Gojo mimics your actions, sleep shirt lifting to reveal a sliver of white tufts at the hem of his boxers. He pouts, sulky eyes still locked on you, “But still, should’ve kicked me out. I would’ve expected you to instead of taking that shitty couch. Seems like something that guy would do.”

Your heart pangs - just a bit - and you let out a sharp laugh, “Fine, I’ll kick you out tonight. Maybe.” It’s genuine, it really is, and in the growing silence all Gojo can manage to do is fall back into your little familiar dance of teasing.

“Going soft on me? Y’know it’s usually the ladies crawling into my bed not out of it-” 

“Oh fuck you. I take it back, I will kick you out of the room itself. Have fun sleeping in the onsen, you smug bastard.”

He squawks in protest when you throw a cushion at him. Several, actually, just for good measure. “Mercy, woman! I’m delicate!”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

When Gojo falls back into the comfort of the silky soft sheets, you heave out a sigh. Making your way to the sliding doors, still fully expecting a flustered employee telling you that this was all a mistake and of course, you two weren’t booked for the honeymoon suite. 

“Yes?” you answer, eyes widening when you spot that familiar man in front of you. “What are you doing here?”

“Oh god, it’s you.” Naoya spits, gaze heating up. “Of course, I should’ve known it’s you and that idiot boyfriend of yours makin’ so much noise next door.”

Great. Perfect. Wonderful. As if this trip couldn’t get any better. 

You pinch your nose, echoing hollowly, “What do you want?”

“Exactly that. Don’t make so much noise, neighbor. I don’t care what limp dick he’s giving you-” 

“Is that all?” you ask dryly, fully knowing there’s more he’s just aching to hurl at you. Before tucking yourself further behind the door, “If that’s all then I hafta go back to that ‘limp dick’.”

“What’s this about limp dick?” Goosebumps run along your arms when you feel something soft - hot - push up from behind you. From the corner of your eye, you spy a long milky hand flex as Gojo - shirtless - cages you in the doorway, “Because it sure can’t be mine then. Won’t you agree, my girl?”

Your face burns at the knowing wink Gojo throws your way, barely managing to hasten, “Uh- yeah.”

“She doesn’t sound very convinced.” Naoya narrows his eyes at your minute expressions, knowing you uncomfortably well after so long. “Guess she’s been missing a real man, huh?”

He scoffs, and you gulp heavily when soft lips kiss a gentle trail up the side of your neck, “Well who’s the one that’s been makin’ her scream all mornin’?” Gojo tilts his head innocently, blatantly showing off a ruddy splotch from where you’d attacked him with a cushion earlier, the zipper leaving a suspicious mark. “Like I said at the train station, she can make her own choices and she’s long forgotten your sorry ass so don’t even try it, you two-toned little bastard.”

Wrapping a possessive arm around your waist, you’re easily tugged back into the safety of your suite - and into Gojo’s sculpted front. You don’t push him away as your immediate thought was to, the feeling was right - too right.

“Satoru?” you hiss once the door is slammed shut.

“Hm?” he whispers hotly into the crook of your neck. 

Still pressed up so close that you can feel the surge and dip of his chest when he breathes you in deeply. “Why are you shirtless?”

“Uh- did I ever tell you I was a method actor, sweetheart?”

---

Unfortunately, despite being in one of the most picturesque hotspots that Kyoto had to offer, a work trip - especially one with such a high profile client and his protegé - meant that the two of you spent most of the day cooped up in your room, typing away on your laptops. 

“Ugh, this sucks.” Gojo groans for about the seventh time this hour. Running a hand tiredly through his hair, “Are you always such a hardass about contracts like this? Honestly, I can’t even feel my legs and it is not in the good way-”

“You pussy.” you grumble as you chug down another can of coffee, eyes flickering to the clock at the end of the room reading 11:00PM. “You don’t see me complaining.” 

He only scoffs, “Of course ya wouldn’t complain, this shit probably gets you off. But unfortunately for those of us that have lives-” 

You click your tongue, rubbing the oncoming headache that always seems to appear when you’re near Gojo. “Yeah, because talkin’ out of your ass and being a public nuisance is such a great life.”

“C’mon now, I see you picking at that blanket - my blanket, by the way - like it insulted your entire bloodline. You’re not slick, you wanna get outta here too.” At your pointed silence, he’s kicking his legs in the air, very much the toddler you knew him to be. “That’s- that’s it I can’t-”

Before you can react, Gojo is barrelling through the sliding doors of your suite. Long legs carrying up the short pathway that led to that private hot spring.

You’re following him before you realize it, “What- what are you- oh!”

You couldn’t cover your eyes fast enough. Being gifted with a brief, obscene eyeful of pale skin - leading all the way down his naked back, and even further when he cannonballs straight into the pool of water. 

Shit, maybe this was why the others at the office loved him so much. 

And it was hard not to understand it when Gojo’s drenched head poked out from under the hot water. White strands plastered to his forehead, a blush creeping down his skin at the head, looking at you with slightly-red, damp eyes that only seemed bluer through the steam.

“Yeah yeah I know I didn’t rinse before and I know I didn’t finish our project yet but-” he grins a grin that you don’t think you could ever forget. And you don’t know whether how hot you feel is from the onsen or him. Reaching out a soaked, strong arm towards you. “-won’t you help me get out?”

You startle, clearly not having expected this request. Narrowing your eyes suspiciously as you inch closer, “Get out?” He nods eagerly, fingers intertwining softly with yours. “Fine but-”

Whatever scream you might’ve let out is swallowed up by water- then air. 

Then more very deserved yelling, of course. “Satoru what the fuck-” Your nails dig into his deltoids, sure to leave some very questionable marks but you didn’t care at this moment. Wiping away the water in your face while he holds you up easily, “I’m gonna kill you.”

“Yeah yeah, can’t kill me when you’re clinging to me like this, sweetheart.” Gojo rolls his eyes, but he makes no move to push you off. In fact, he only tightens the arm around your hips. “You looked like you needed that, the 8 hours of straight working like Yaga was havin’ you act like him.”

Somehow, you don’t feel strange about the fact that you’re being pushed up against a very painfully naked Gojo. Living out what is probably the wet dream for about half the office.

He notices, of course he does. 

“Trynna take a peek?” Gojo wiggles his brows. And when you’re trying to hide away behind your hands, he nuzzles them away, arms a bit too occupied holding you captive. Sighing dramatically, “No need to be shy, many people do. I don’t mind of course, ah the woes of being fucking hot.”

Gasping, “Fuck you.” Unbeknownst as to why, you’re laughing. Contemplating whether you should really give him a good kick down below when you choke out, “You’re an asshole, y’know?”

“I know.” he smiles. “N’ yet you still haven’t drowned me.”

“I really fuckin’ hate you.”

Why could you really fucking kiss him right now? 

“I know.”

The moment is broken only a few seconds later by some ungodly screeching you recognize to be none other than your beloved ex’s from next door. Yelling about “Shut the fuck up, if you’re gonna have onsen sex I’m calling the front lobby.”

“What? Can’t a man fuck his girl in peace?” Gojo shouts back. “Shut up just because your puny dick can’t get some, two-tone.”

That broke whatever magical spell was put on the two of you, obviously. And you were the first to run back to the suite - leaving Gojo and his nakedness alone. Very, very alone. 

He takes a bit longer to follow you, and you’re already freshened up and in bed by the time he makes his way to the bathroom - with clothes this time, fortunately for your sanity. 

Only a few minutes later, he’s nestling right next to you on the bed. You gasp in a sharp inhale at the heat of his proximity, mere millimeters away from you now. 

“Good work today, by the way.” Gojo gruffs out to your turned back, quiet words carrying over that ridiculous extra-vaulted wall of pillows, padded up with ones from the couch, too. Silver tongue stumbling over his words slightly, “For how much I complained I didn’t get to tell ya. You and I - mainly I - are gonna ace that contract tomorrow.”

There’s no taunting in his tone, not one bit. And you surprise the both of you when you murmur out shakily, “I’m worried.”

“Huh?” he chokes in disbelief. “Listen, I know I slept through that meeting one time, but I swear it was only one time. I’m a…somewhat changed man, I promise I won’t-”

“Not that.”

He pauses at your interruption. All is quiet - only the chirping of crickets outside, and the steamy buzz of nearby hot springs. 

And for the first time in the twenty-something years Gojo Satoru has wreaked havoc upon this Earth, he is rendered speechless. Wordlessly picking apart your wall of pillows - one by one, as if to give you more than enough time to stop him - to loop two strong arms around you. 

“Shut up.” he breathes. “You’ll do brilliant, silly girl.”

---

Gojo remembers the exact date he met you - probably the exact time, too. Honestly, even three whole years after that initial meeting, he can’t remember anything but that, if you asked him to recall a single meeting held that week then Gojo honestly wouldn’t have been able to tell you. 

It was a regular day spent driving poor Nanami over in the marketing department dangerously close to his fifth migraine of the day.

“You know I know I’m a valuable asset to this company Nanamin.” he chuckles, looking over where the other man was readying a sparkly Welcome! banner. “But this is all too much even for me~”

“It’s not for you.” Nanami spits, curtly. Barely sparing Gojo a glance before readying the welcome muffins, “It’s for the new head of department arriving soon today.”

And oh that piqued his interest like never before. That had all thoughts of the meeting he was currently missing flying out the window as he wondered what you would be like. Swiping away a few of those tempting muffins right out of Ichiji’s hands, he wonders. Would you be another Ichiji? Would you try and keep him under your thumb like Yaga? Hah, you could try but-

“Look I don’t know if the sales department doesn’t have food but, really?” 

What?

A shudder wracks through the oh-so-great Gojo’s body at the sound of your cool, firm tone turning to meet the source and-

Oh. Oh wow. So that’s what it’s like to have your soul impaled and buried six feet under.

It was sort of addicting.

And if Gojo thought his knees were weak at just a gorgeous glare from you - well, he was completely and utterly unprepared for when he leaned in closer to where you stood firmly. Shielding a pale, trembling Ichiji. And, honestly, with a death stare like that you couldn’t blame a guy for getting nervous! It’s all he could do to hum out a cocky, “What? Want some, sweetheart?”

“Sweetheart? What I want is you out of my department.” you furrow your brows. “Now.”

It’s all that’s said before you’re dragging him by his hand out - and, shit Gojo is so riveted by how soft your hands are that he almost forgets to be offended by the way the entire marketing department just watches and giggles at the scene playing out before them. Traitors.

You push him out of the door, “I better not see you coming back to toy with my new employees-” Heavy gaze flickering down to his name tag. “-Gojo.”

Ah, truly a woman of his dreams. 

And it honestly still felt like a dream even now - especially now - when you’re stood in front of him on the third day in Kyoto. Fingers messing meticulously with your hair as you check your reflection in the mirror, smoothing down your new red dress. “God, I hope it isn’t too much. How do I look?”

Perfect, he wants to say. 

But instead he nudges your shoulder in the booth of your seat, settling for an obnoxious, “Alright, not as good as me, though.” Gojo takes delight in the way you give his arm a punch, smile a lot easier than before now. 

“As if, you can’t even tie this properly. Here-” your fingers fiddle deftly with his slightly crooked tie. “Fixed it, you big baby.”

He grins, “If you wanted to get your hands on me then you should’ve- oh wait you already have, haven’t you? I remember that someone bypassed her own lil’ pillow wall last night.”

“Shut up.” you give him a tight warning. “They’re here.”

Honestly, there was only one thing worse than seeing old Gakuganji - that is, the sight of his sniveling protegé following him right after. Except- 

“Two-tone?” 

“Y-you!”

There’s a tense silence between the three of you in the exquisite onsen dining hall, one that almost makes you want to jump up and bolt back to your room because this can’t be real. Surely, this can’t be-

“I see the three of you are already acquainted?” Gakuganji’s strained, aged voice cuts through your whirlwind of thoughts. “Sit, sit, Naoya. That only makes things easier.”

As a fuming Naoya and an oblivious Gakuganji take their seats in front of the two of you, you feel the undeniable pressure of long, warm fingers squeezing your own. Reassuring. And it makes you flash the two men your best, most polished business smile, “So, about the contract.”

---

“I’m going to throw up.”

“Satoru.”

“No, I will throw up. And that will not be good for my reputation.”

“Satoru, if you throw up I’m beating your ass.”

He narrows his eyes at your heated whisper, matching you with a low, “Damn keep it for the bedroom sweetheart. We still hafta wait till Gakuganji comes back with his decision.” 

“Ahem!”

It’s that annoyed, grating faux cough that drags you and Gojo out of your little world - back to reality in which no, unfortunately while your primary client has gone off to take an important business call regarding your contract, you were left to babysit his protegé.

“Yes, Naoya.” you give him a dry grin. It was nearing well into late night at this point, and most of the other visitors had cleared out except for the reserved table you were sitting in. “Do you want to be beat up, too?”

He only points an accusing finger at the two of you, “Don’t play games with me you hear. I’ve already got you figured out, coming here on a business trip and dating your coworker all the same-” Both you and Gojo raise a brow at this, what an idiot. “-you two will be fired for this.”

You catch Gojo’s eye and try not to burst out laughing, “As if. And trust me, I wouldn’t be here if I knew that you were Gakuganji’s new protegé.”

“Not because the guy you have to be here with is the same one you told me you hated back then?” he spits. “Honestly, you’d have been better off with me than this ‘pompous, no-good nepo baby asshole’ as you loved to put it.”

And you knew that Gojo was aware of your little rivalry - hell, he was an active participant, more than happy to rile you up every time. But that still didn’t stop you from tensing up when you spared a glance at the man beside you. 

Surprised to see that unapologetic smirk on his face, “Of course she did.” Looking down at you with what you swore was such unimaginably deep fondness in his eyes. “I probably imagine she told you all the funny ways she wanted to get back at me, too? Banning me from the marketing department? Holding an anti-Gojo campaign? Strangling?” Gojo takes Naoya’s shocked silence as enough of an answer, “Guess what, she did hate me, probably still can’t stand me. Very understandably so, because she’s hot as fuck when she’s mad.”

Despite his furrowed brow and the angry slash of his mouth, Naoya can’t stop himself from blurting out, “W-well how did you-”

“We fuck it out, of course.”

And perhaps for the one time on this entire trip, the universe smiles down at you. You find yourself sighing in relief at the sight of Gakuganji nearing your table, evidently done with his phone call. Thank fuck, you weren’t ready for a fight to break out and this dress was too expensive to ruin. 

“Seems you three are getting along well.” the old man drones out, and by the tone of his voice you genuinely can’t tell whether he was joking or not. Turning towards you and Gojo, “Well, after that very thorough presentation and careful consideration with the board at our Kyoto branch, we have all come to a unanimous decision.” You wait with bated breath for his next few words, “Where do we sign?”

Naoya stands in his seat, “But- but, sir.” He cringes, as furious as the last time you’d seen him a year ago. “You can’t sign off on this deal- not with these scumming, absolute little shits.”

“Naoya.” Gakuganji’s voice carries a warning. “You are dismissed.”

Ah, Gojo chuckles inwardly, exactly where he wanted him. 

It seemed like a blur after that - a blur of signed contracts and Gojo making faces at an ashen-faced Naoya behind Gakuganji’s back, of being told that the two of you simply “must visit” their offices in Kyoto one day - much to your exes absolute torture. To which Gojo had replied with a smug, “Of course, my girlfriend and I will. Won’t we, sweetheart?” Just loud enough that Naoya - who’d been banned to a nearby table - could fume over. 

And it’s how you found yourself pulling a giggly Gojo by his lapels back to your suite, hasty and desperate. Tripping over one another as you stumble in. 

“Easy there on the merchandise, sweetheart.” he jests, but it sounds so strained even to him. “Can’t break our streak and kill each other on the last day now, can we?”

Your laughter dies down, “Hey, Satoru?”

“Oh no…”

“Why did you call me your girlfriend even at the end back then?”

His brows scrunch up, pleading almost. He chokes out, “Just- you- I just-” Flicking a calculated finger right in the middle of your forehead, “You think too much, did you know that? Hate to see this pretty face like this, did you see his reaction?”

“Oh my god yes did you see his face, Satoru?” you’re pressing him against the wall to steady yourselves. Feeling so drunk off the evening and him. “Naoya looked like he was going to explode right then and there. We did so good.”

“What did I tell, ya? I always know everything, silly girl.” Two big arms wrap around yours in a congratulatory hug - or, at least, what you think is a congratulatory hug. And if his palms dip just a bit lower than your waist - if this was just a bit inappropriate - neither of you say anything. “Mhm. Don’t even know what you dated that fool in the first place, he’s not even in your league.” 

You scoff, “Gee thanks.”

“No no, not in that way, don’t ever think in that way, stupid.” A long index comes up to tilt your chin up to meet his greedy gaze. “You’re too gorgeous for him. Besides, he spoke like a man who couldn’t even find the clit.”

“Well- he did find it.” you relish in that deepening furrow of Gojo’s brow, the way the muscles in his jaw tick just right. “But wanna hear a secret?” Those soft baby hair at the nape of his neck raise when you’re whispering in his ear, barely even waiting for his dazed nod. “He still never made me cum.”

“...Never?”

“Never.”

There’s a beat of silence, one. Two. 

Shit. 

You’d long expected Gojo’s smart mouth to make some kind of insulting joke by now. And you’re halfway through wondering whether you’d overshared too much, untangling your arms from his vice-like embrace before-

“I would.” he rasps, breaths ragged. You’re tilting your head in confusion when he repeats cockily, “I would’ve made you cum, y’know. How could I not?”

There’s a snarky little part of you that makes you quick a brow, a sultry smirk playing on your lips. “Is that an offer?”

Gojo’s arms loop around you tight - almost too tight, you could almost hear your poor bones popping in protest. “It’s a promise.”

Oh that’s all you wanted to hear right about now. And he can fucking see the goosebumps that make their way down your exposed shoulders, he can practically hear that syrupy sweet tone that was really not good for his sanity. 

“Prove it, Satoru.”

His lips are crashing against yours like they’re magnetized - and it’s nothing like what you’d imagine kissing Gojo Satoru would’ve been like. Nothing suave, shallow. It’s sloppy, a mess of teeth and lips and his tongue tasting every inch of your candied lips like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t even want to breathe for fear of losing out on your pretty mouth. 

“Fuck-” Gojo hisses, delicate strings of spit snapping as he pulls away ever-so-slightly to take in the delicious sight of you all glossy eyed with swollen lips. “Fuck you’re so beautiful. You don’t know how long I’ve wanted this.”

Kissing you over and over like he couldn’t get enough. Like he didn’t want to get enough, you’re moaning when Gojo slips his tongue past the seam of your lips. Addicted to the distinct taste of him and those cheap cherry lollipops you always caught him sucking on in the break room.

He’s drawing back in a way that has him drinking in your soft noises, big palms kneading your body over your dress. 

“Sa- Sato-” you’re gasping out when he flips you over to press you up against the wall. Assaulting your bruised lips with heated peck after peck. “What do you- mean-”

He groans, lips moving to kiss down the quivering column of your throat, “Shut up- Just shut up and kiss me. God, for how much I love that mouth of yours, you talk way too much, sweetheart.”

And that was really rich coming from him - but you don’t get to snark back at him. Because no sooner are the words out of your mouth that Gojo decides he’s had enough of playing nice - that is, if he was in the first place. 

Immediately fiddling towards that cold metal zipper in the back, gliding down the red fabric right along with your bra- shit, when did he even unclip it?

“You-” you sputter, the cool chill of the bedroom pebbles your sensitive nipples. The dawning feeling that this absolute thorn at your side might be much more than just talk has your thighs pressing together. Leveling him with a narrow look, “You are such a whore, aren’t you?”

He flashes you a sheepish grin, large palms groping your tits. “Would ya believe me if I told you it was from how many times I’d imagined this before?”

“Absolutely not.”

This earns you a sharp smack! gifted onto the fat of your ass, the five pads of Gojo’s fingers burning onto where your dress was hiking up. 

“Always need to talk back, don’t you?” he spits, shoving a knee between your two legs. Such an innocently handsome grin splashing across his face at the soft moan you let out, grinding purposefully against that damp mound of your needy cunt. “Why won’t you ever hah- believe me?” He has one hand shoving your dress down, down, down. The other dragging your sloppy hips down his muscled thigh, “You wanna hear a secret? Stick your tongue out f’me like a good girl now, sweetheart.” 

And oh you wanted to fight back. To outright refuse to comply so brattily, but it’s all you can do to nod blearily, feeling so fucking dirty with the way you’re letting your tongue loll out. Whining when Gojo smushes your cheeks together into an obscene pucker, into the perfect target for him to spit once. Twice. 

“Yeah, take it- that’s my girl. A secret for a secret, right?” Gojo smiles so darkly, swiping away that thick splatter of syrupy saliva dredged up on the corner of your mouth. Intentional, of course. His words are low but clear, unable to have you mistaking them for anything else when he says, “That time I slept through the whole meeting? Wasn’t sleepin’.”  He bites down on your earlobe, licking lightly. “S’just, I happened to see that cute new skirt you were wearing that day, it was so short- so fuckin’ tight. Couldn’t bear to show my face, not after I’d just spent the past few hours with my hand wrapped around my cock, wondering all the sweet things I could do to you in it.”

You’re gasping, “You’re so fucking filthy.”

“Yeah yeah.” he purrs, toying with the hem of your now dress, the red cloth now dangling somewhere at your thighs. “And don’t pretend you’re not just as dirty, hardass. Actin’ all prudish when ya dress like this underneath.”

As if to prove his point, the back of one of his fingers is gliding across where your lacy black panties were peeking out. Groaning at the sopping wet fabric, “Yeah, just as dirty as I thought.”

With his little hypothesis confirmed, it’s all that Gojo has to do to pick you up with one arm hooking under your already trembly thighs. You’re keening when he plants another solid smack on the fat of your ass, “Satoru!”

“Ohh, I love that. Say it again.” he murmurs, walking slowly to the edge of your shared bed. Savoring that feeling of your drooling cunt seeping through to paint a small dark patch on his suit. “I said, say it again.”

All it takes is another harsh slap against your ass, and a honeyed drag of Gojo’s name for him to splay you out like some slut on the soft silken sheets. You find yourself pulling him back by his broad shoulders when he takes the moment to admire just how gorgeous you looked. Even better than any daydream that mind of his could think of. 

“Sa-toru-” you mewl, and he only licks his lips as if in a daze. Not knowing where to look - at that needy, already-cockdrunk glaze over your eyes, at the way your flimsy dress wrapped around the plush of your thighs, at that glistening little patch on the plump mound of your cunt. So mouthwatering. “Satoru- Sa- Toru!”

That makes him snap out of his little hypnosis. “What did you call me?” he breathes. 

You bat your lashes deceivingly innocently up at him, “Sato-”

“No.” he’s cutting you off, Adam’s apple bobbing with the heavy gulp he takes. Thumbing at your puffy lips as if to drag the same words out of you - have them going straight to his achy cock once more. “That other one. Don’t play stupid with me, silly girl, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” 

Oh, you did. 

And you’re feeling the way your dripping pussy clenches with anticipation when you whine out that little nickname once more. “Toru, please.” Adding a little flair to have Gojo’s rosy lips fall into a soft oh! choking on a ragged low hiss when a hand of his subconsciously goes down to squeeze his bulging erection. 

“Oh yes, m’name sounds so fuckin’ cute on your lips.” he groans. The sheets below you two rustling with movement when he shuffles urgently downwards, “Sounds so fucking good it makes me wanna-” 

RIP!

“-know if she sounds it out just as pretty as you.”

You’re still reeling from the tatters of what remained of your favorite red dress being thrown unapologetically onto the tatami mats below. Huffing in irritation, “Satoru, if you’re ngh- dead if you don’t replace that-”

He’s shutting you up with another quiet smack onto your heated skin - this time at your shamefully spread inner thighs, the edges of his padded fingers just barely touching on your swollen folds. “Yeah yeah, I’ll buy ya the whole fuckin’ store if I have to.” Before hovering so close you could feel every hitch of his hot breath on your beading cunt, “And m’gonna make it so you don’t dare call me that again.”

You don’t have a response to that - and anything you might’ve taunted back is being knocked out of your mouth. The only thing leaving it being slurred little whimpers of Gojo’s name when he licks a long, languid stripe up your puffy slit. 

“Oh, look at that.” he chuckles. Pushing apart your thighs to get a nice greedy look at every drop of your sweet sweet juices glistening in the dim lighting. “Think she’s more mouthy than you, if tha’s even possible, heh.”

His long, eager tongue is slurping up every syrupy drop of your slick. Again. And again. And again and again and-

“Fuck- Toru.” your fingers find their way weaving into his soft strands when the very tip of his soft tongue finds its way just past your folds. Arching your spine off the plush bed needily like some slut, “Need you to- hngh- go deeper.”

The only response you’re getting is a sultry, smug grin being spread across your pussy lips. Feeling everything from the quirk of his cupid’s bow, to that dimple at the edge of Gojo’s smirk, “Knew you were needy, but this- this is fucking amazing.”

“Guess you’re all bark no bite, huh?” you pout, voice teetering into teasingly whiny. And oh how you love the way that wipes all the cockiness from Gojo’s face. “Even Naoya was able to actually eat me out the way I-”

It’s like it killed him to hear those goading words from you - and something snaps before he’s shoving that pretty face of his back nose-deep into your addictive pussy. 

Slotting his tongue up and down your hot slit. Up and down up and down up and-

“F-fuck, oh Toru-” you squeal when he wastes no time pushing past that snug little ring of resistance to reach deep into your gummy walls. Barely even giving you any warning - Gojo’s eyes roll to the back of his head at how sinfully tight you were squeezing him. “Shit how are you in so deep-”

And that petty, petty little part of him doesn’t answer, instead gliding up a determined thumb up to draw methodical circles on your throbbing clit. Fast. So so sloppy with the way he was letting your juices dribble past his knuckles, his wrist, forming a glossy sheen all the way down to the sheets. Matching the ruthless cadence of the way he was fucking your ravaged cunt the way he wished he could do with his rock-hard cock right now. 

“Ah!” you gasp, when one swipe of his tongue sends jolts of pure white-hot pleasure running up your spine. And that’s all Gojo has to hear before he’s attacking your hidden sweet spot over and over. “F-fuck s’too good. Fuckin’ hate how your big mouth is- ngh- so good at this-”

That causes a husky rasp of laughter to bubble its way out of Gojo’s throat, and he’s pinning your wildly bucking hips down with one arm. “Don’t you dare run away now. You’re so cute when you’re cockdrunk and truthful like this, silly girl.”

The vibrations have you moaning out a feverish Toru! Toru! Toru! louder than ever, wrenching out of you with every crash of his soft tongue against your sensitive spots. Every harsh swivel on your clit, just harder on the tip, softer at the curve. 

“Yeah- yeah yeah yeah, say my name like that.” he gasps, spitting out hissy profanities into your velvety walls. You were squeezing him so tight it was almost difficult to bully his tongue into your plushy walls. To keep up his mean staccato - but fuck, it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up, it didn’t matter if his tongue was getting tired. Because Gojo Satoru was one stubborn man. “Louder-”

“T-Toru!”

“No no,” you’re jolting at the feeling of something cool and glossy hitting your cunt in a harsh glob. Gojo barely wastes any time thumbing his spit in to mix with the mess made down below, letting your ears ring with such obscene squelches that have your cheeks burning. “Hear this, sweetheart?” As if there’s anything else you could hear, he’s pulling out those sultry sounds from you. “She’s louder than you, n’ that makes me so sad-” You fuck up further and further into Gojo’s tongue, eyes locked with his down in his favorite position between your legs. “-my girl can be ah- loud f’me, right? Say my name, say it so the whole fuckin’ onsen hears.”

“Toru—”

He’s taunting you in that same honeyed tone, “Louder.” Murmuring even deeper into your cunt, “C’mon, louder. Tell it to me.”

“Toru! Fuck- m-close-” It’s probably the last understandable sentence you’re managing to moan out before you finally cum. Wave after wave of such filthy pleasure hitting you, it’s all you can do to tighten your grip on his hair. Angling and using leverage to grind your hips down deeper, jolting with every flick of his tongue sending stars behind your eyelids. And Gojo, satisfied, shuts up to let you ride his face through your high. Using him, just dragging your sloppy pussy all over his tongue, his mouth. Over and over.

“Jus’ a bit more-” you hear him whisper out so sweetly over your ringing ears. Suddenly, your limp hands fall to the sides of that drenched pool you’ve made. And yet Gojo is still going, still meshing his bruised lips so messily against your own, making out with your cunt in a way that has him so depraved. “Just some more, pretty girl- you taste so addictive.”

Big fat tears of overstimulation prick at your eyes, and you’re sobbing out, “W-wait- fuck m’too sensitive for that.”

“You can handle it, you’re a big- fuck- a big girl, aren’t ya?” he groans, eyes rolling to the back of his head with every taste of your pussy. Surging forwards despite the hold you have on his hair, “Hold on- just want a bit more- you don’t know how long-”

The pout he’s giving you once you have to just drag him away like a man starved, fighting against the grip you have on him. 

But oh Gojo looks so pretty, cloudy bangs pulled back to reveal his delicately blushing face, lips painted in a glossy sheen of your slick. Slobbering down, down, down to glisten across the bottom half of his face. Looking so bruised with how greedy he was, almost the same color as those cherry lollipops he loved so much. And his eyes - fuck, his eyes - glassy and half-lidded, hazy with a sheen that told you he was already completely and utterly pussydrunk out of his sanity. 

“Toru…” you start, unable to tear your eyes away from the way he moans at the mere sound of your voice. “Your turn.”

It’s a long endeavor to get rid of Gojo’s pants - or, at least that’s what it feels like. 

Hooking a still-shaky leg over his toned waist, you’re slamming his muscular frame down onto the mattress. Buttons hitting the floor when you all but tear his overpriced button-up off - because, really, it’s not you two if one of you doesn’t get your revenge somehow.

“These- these damn belts.” you scoff, too-eager fingers fumbling with the metal latches of Gojo’s belt. “Why does it have to have so many-”

“You’re so cute when you’re eager this way, silly girl.” he’s cupping the side of your face. Free hand easily unbuckling his belt, and the heady metallic sounds are enough to have your cunt so needy. “Like this-”

You’re gasping when he finally takes his formal dress pants off - along with those uselessly precum-soaked boxers. Sticky and leaving a lewd trail of glossy down his milky, sculpted thighs. 

And oh if you thought Gojo was pretty before then he was a fucking masterpiece right now. All tall, lean muscle that rippled with every minute movement. Curves and dips of sculpted skin being accentuated so perfectly against the dim lightning in your suite. 

So infuriating at how that couldn’t give you a better look at his massive, swollen length. So long and girthy, hefty where his fat head was leaking silky precum all over his abs. Such a delicate pink matching his lips at the head, dancing down, down his thick, prominent veins to those tufts of soaked white at his sharp pelvis. Fuck, he was so big - could you actually take him?

Wrapping your soft palm around Gojo’s furiously throbbing fast, you’re letting him coat you hand in a sinful sheen. And you can’t help but wonder what he’d taste like, too-

“Hold on right there, my dirty girl.” your slowly dipping head is tilted firmly by Gojo. “As much as hngh- fuck you’re squeezing me so tight- as much as this has been fuck- all I’d dreamt of since that office ice cream party. I just know m’gonna cum as soon as you put that smart mouth on me, sweetheart.” He’s kissing gently at your lips, sucking on your lower lip. “And I just know you’re never gonna fuck– let me live that down.”

You smirk, “Not gonna live that ice cream party thing, either, Toru.”

“He flashes you such a devilish smile, steadying your hips to straddle him messily. Spreading your legs on either side of his weepy tip. “Oh, fuck off.”

You hiss when you’re feeling the hot kiss his head is planting on your sensitive pussy lips, “Fuck you.”

“No.” Gojo chuckles, powerful thighs curling up to plant his feet on the mattress. Waiting. Anticipating. “I’m fucking you-”

It’s barely even a warning - laughable, really - how that’s all he’s gifting you with before bullying the very tip of his fat cock into your snug cunt in a sloppy hit. 

He groans, eyes fighting to roll to the back of his head but caught so so greedily on the way you swollen pussy lips are being spread so obscenely to swallow every single inch after fucking inch. Disappearing down into your gooey walls, Gojo’s breath hitches at the first sign of resistance from your too-tight entrance. 

“C’mon now.” he moans gutturally. Hips fucking up in a jagged, slow grind, trying so desperately to plunge himself in deeper. “C’mon c’mon come- on-” 

“Toru!” you’re gasping when he slides his soaked length even deeper. Feeding in to the way your gummy walls want more more more more- “You’re so fuckin’ hngh- impatient.”

“Me?” he’s asking, voice a few octaves higher and dripping with the audacity to sound so genuinely in disbelief. “You’re- you’re saying that I’m impatient. Oh, sweetheart-” you blink back the lusty haze in your eyes to look down at Gojo fully, spying that upwards curl of his lips that you knew didn’t mean well for you right now. “-look down.”

Your eyes widening as you’re whirling downwards to spy the way he’s not even halfway in yet. But that’s not all, no, your poor pussy is just absolutely bulging around his girthy shaft, struggling, stretched to their limits - yet still quivering with the effort to try and milk something delicious out of him. 

And the moment that tiny, shaky gasp leaves your mouth, his sharp hip bones are just crashing into yours. Toned hips lifting off of the bed to drive his achy cock into your drooling cunt. One hand kneads and gropes the flesh of your ass to steady you down, down, down-

“Toru-” you’re moaning, like a mantra, once his angry tip is gliding across the spongy wall of your cervix. The stretch too much, Gojo’s cock so thick in his girth that you could feel each and every sweet spot of yours being dragged down his length. “F-fuck, Toru!”

He chuckles, gritting out through those long, determined grinds. Having himself now fully stuffed inside your cunt, heavy balls kissing at the curve of your ass, pubic hair scratching up against your needy clit.  “Can’t hah- keep quiet, can you? Fuckin’ love how needy she is- how needy you are.”

“Sh-shut up-” you mewl, narrowing your eyes. 

“Hah- I would.” Gojo grins out so smugly. Tilting you precariously on top of him like some ragdoll to easily give your g-spot a mean crash of his greedy head. “But you can’t.”

And of course, he’s proving his own point by bouncing you in a heady, fast tandem, abs burning with the ache to fuck you so rude. Gojo spits once on two of his long, slender fingers, letting this lewd coating smear down to his knuckles before dipping them down to spread your puffy folds even farther. 

“Fuuuck, jus’ look at you.” he rasps, the deep baritone of his voice having your gummy walls mold even harder onto the shape of his cock. Gojo throws his had back, twitching balls squeezing harder with every increasing smack against your ass. “Shit shit shit- how that bastard had you hngh- all to himself and didn’t make th-this pretty pussy come everyday I’ll never understand.” He’s pulling you down with a hand to the back of your neck, tightening, “So don’t we hah- rub it in his ugly face?”

Shit, the thought has you grinding and stuttering your hips down to meet Gojo’s unforgiving cadence, arching your body into him like you couldn’t get enough. 

“You just got- hngh- so impossibly harder at that.” you push his bucking shoulders down onto the mattress. Now fully riding him just as much as he was fucking you into the mattress so animalistically. “And you call me needy.”

He scoffs, “I’m not the only one.” The fingers still lingering on your cunt moving to toy with your pulsing sensitive nub, teasing and toying your clit between two fingers. “Can you just h-hear how loud this pussy of yours is? Bet he can hear too.”

And it was true, the wet smacks were only getting louder. Sloppier. Squelching with the push and pull of Gojo’s pounding cock in the same maddening staccato. 

But still - you weren’t going to be compliant that easily. Feeling the familiar tingles of your high edging closer, you wanted to break him just one more time. “Nah- I don’t think he can.”

“Oh you’re gonna regret that, silly girl.”

In all of two seconds - maybe even less than - Gojo’s using his immense strength to his advantage. Flipping the two of you over so your back is hitting the soaked sheets, droopy legs thrown over your shoulder to plow into you in such a mean mating press he has you folded into. 

The new change in angle makes it even easier for him to be kissing your g-spot. Bruising. Branding his name onto your sweet spots - your cervix - so you wouldn’t forget. So you can’t forget.

“F-fuck, Toru-” you’re letting out staggered gasps every time he rams his hefty cock into you. Fingers still relentless on your clit - playing around with it as much as he was playing with your sanity. “I’m so-”

“What was that?” he interrupts through sloppy, stuttering thrusts. Free hand cupping his ear so goadingly, ‘Can’t hear you, sweetheart.“

“Toru-” you’re squealing over his rapidly accelerating movements. Fighting to babble out coherently, “Toru m’close-”

“Louder.” he’s grinning meanly. Hips burning with slowly fatiguing effort because he’s so close, your slick walls are massaging him so tight. But where’s the fun if there’s no teasing? “Still can’t hear ya.”

Your voice is shot at this point, “Toru, m’gonna cum-”

“Louder or m’not gonna let you.”

“Toru! Fuck fuck fuck m’cumming.” It hits him before those loud moans are even leaving your mouth, because your velvety walls are clamping down so snug. Molding to the shape of him, your heels digging even deeper on his shoulder, nails raking red red patterns down the pale skin of his biceps. “M’cumming- ngh-”

And fuck each and every slam of his hips sends electricity up your spine, bullying you through your high. Dragging it out till you think you could go insane. 

“God- fuck you’re so-” It’s the only hoarse grunt leaving Gojo’s lips before he’s spilling thick rope after rope of seed into the awaiting channel of your pussy. “So perfect f’me.”

Two hands of his lace above your head, pushing you so impossibly deep down his thick hilt. He’s cumming and cumming so hard like he never has in his life, body out of control with the way he’s stuffing you with every drop of seed. 

He shivers at the overspill, gushing out of the corners of your ravaged cunt, painting a creamy ring around his tired base. Too much. And yet mindlessly thrusting even sloppier, catching your lips in a lazy, passionate kiss. “At least we didn’t fuckin’ kill each other, hm?”

You smile into it, slotting your hips languidly, “Didn’t do hgnh- the neighbors any favors, either.”

“It’s Naoya, who fucking cares? ‘Limp dick’ my ass.” And oh how Gojo loved that sweet sweet smile gracing your lips, the way your eyes light up all because of him. He can’t help but drawl out, “Y’know…since we were locked up in this room for all three days, and have most of the day tomorrow, how about you and I actually do some sightseeing here before we leave?” 

You nod eagerly, tightening your legs around his waist and shit, this might just be heaven. “We need a break after that contract, s’gonna be so fun.”

He’s connecting his sticky forehead with yours, “Of course it will be, I’ll be there.” Babbling deliriously, drunk off the way you’re leveling him with another one of your familiar glares, “And we can use Yaga’s care, too, he never checks-”

“Toru…” you warn when Gojo cuts himself off with a gasp. Quirking an irritated brow - as you usually did when you’re with him, “Don’t tell me you’ve been dipping into Yaga’s card, he’ll kill you if he finds out. That’s if I don’t kill you first.”

“...”

“...Toru…”

“Is this a bad time to tell you that I booked us this suite with it too?”

A/N. My red flag is making Naoya the shitty ex in every piece of writing I do (or is that a green flag hmmm?)

Plagiarism not authorized.

[chuluoyi]

𝐀𝐋𝐋 𝐇𝐀𝐈𝐋 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐄𝐌𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐒 !

- gojo satoru x reader // zen'in naoya x reader

you are an empress perfect in every way... until your husband suddenly casts you aside for his expecting mistress. but you won't be dethroned just like that, because the newly coronated western emperor, gojo satoru, sets his sights on you, and thus your revenge against your ex-husband begins...

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—might be ooc, kinda slowburn, angst to eventual fluff, divorce, marriage of convenience, heavy pining (from gojo's part), childhood friends trope, mentions of infidelity, misogyny, infertility, explicit smut

note: loosely inspired by and taking some elements of manhwa remarried empress (but i promise you, it's different). my god, for the past month this is all i can think about *sobs* wc. 10.5k ! this is the longest thing i've ever posted here, and if you'd give it a chance, then i'll be really, really thankful!

credit header goes to @/gojokko in twitter!

next. the crown of diamonds | long live the empire

general masterlist | series masterlist

“I accept the divorce.”

Your perfect life was done for. Everything you had worked hard towards— it was now in shambles and tatters.

You, an ethereal, revered empress... someone untarnished in the face of public and private, had just agreed to the emperor’s blatant request of separation.

“My god... how can this be!?”

“Your Majesty! Please reconsider!”

Emperor Zen’in Naoya of the Eastern Empire, your husband—and companion for more than ten years—smirked as he looked down at you, paying zero attention to the uproar in this courthouse.

But then you heard that kind, velvety voice from the back of your head:

“If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

This place has turned into a whopping circus ever since you and Naoya stepped inside anyway. And so, having nothing worthy left to lose, you declared, “And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage.”

Your boldness once again stirred a wave of clamor among the crowd, and even Naoya was glaring at you in disbelief now. “A remarriage…? How dare you—!”

“Well... is it the time for my grand entrance?”

Deep from behind the curtains, suddenly he emerged, dressed in the most lavish robes befitting his own throne, outshining everyone in the room as if he was the one owning the place.

“Heh.” His low chuckle stunned even the mass as he took big strides towards where you were.

This would seal your fate. From now onwards, you would no longer be the perfect empress. Your messy divorce and remarriage will relegate that image to history.

“My goodness, that’s…” the woman in the front gasped. “Western Empire’s…”

“Gojo… Satoru?” Naoya's eyes lit with genuine fury as the other man took his place by your side. “You couldn't possibly mean…!”

You interrupted him regally. “Yes, he is the man I wish to remarry.”

This event was going to blow up tomorrow, with scandalous titles no less than The Deposed Empress Remarries! And there was no going back, ever.

How did your pristine life turn into such a shameful debacle? None of these turn of events would be imaginable for you several years prior...

SATORU, THE CROWN PRINCE OF WESTERN EMPIRE

To Satoru, you were more than just the east’s breathtaking empress—you had captured his attention long before you ascended to that role.

Seven years ago, you were the renowned noble lady, the paragon of perfection sought after by many lords and monarchs alike.

You were both cunning and fair, pretty in the face, came from an illustrious family known for birthing famous empresses in either western and eastern empires. You were the quintessential template that mothers advised their sons to seek in a wife.

The fairest in the land—that was how people called you. And Gojo Satoru is always and only interested in the best.

“Suguru... look at her.” His eyes would soften at the sight of you as he nudged at his closest ally and confidant, the duke. “She is so... pretty, isn’t she?”

Unfortunately, you had been promised to the Eastern Empire’s crown prince from a long time ago too. There was little that the outsiders, including himself—even if he was the heir apparent to his own throne—could do to sway your heart.

“There's more to women than their faces, Satoru,” Suguru sighed, thinking that what he had was a mere lust. “Moreover, she’s engaged to the Zen’in... and they have a very good relationship. Nothing you can do about that.”

“Hmph.”

To be honest, he couldn’t fathom what you could possibly like about that murderous Zen’in spawn. He was a pompous human being, no less.

How on earth could you stand someone like that? Satoru had always wondered… especially when it was well-known to the land that you and him were on good terms despite your arranged marriage.

—and once, he thought he knew who you are…

. . .

Satoru swallowed the bitterness rising in his throat as he attended the royal wedding of you and Zen’in Naoya. Despite hating the circumstances, he had to admit it was a fairytale wedding—albeit with the wrong groom.

You were the epitome of picture book princess. In his eyes, and in the eyes of the attendees of your wedding.

Oh, and he made headlines too, that day—

“My princess, may I have this dance?”

Two hours hadn’t even passed by after you swore your vows as Naoya’s bride, and there he was, asking for your first dance, in your own wedding ball, right in front of your newly wedded husband.

Everyone bet on you turning him down and making a fool of himself, but instead, to spare his feelings, you put your delicate hand in his, and with a wide, shy smile, you said, “Yes.”

Satoru thought it was his greatest achievement then. To have made Naoya red-faced, to have made him watch as he put his hands on your waist, twirl you around— and come one breath away from your face.

“Princess, you’re…” his breath caught as he pulled you close, staring straight at your face—and suddenly he felt like life was so unfair to him as the slow melody of waltz was all he could hear.

How could you be this close... and yet so far by being somebody else’s wife?

And yet he forced the words out, with sincerity he had never showed anyone else before, even as his heart bled and shattered. “You’re so incredibly beautiful.”

Your eyes widened, sparkling with wonder, before you thanked him with the loveliest of smiles. “Thank you. You’re too kind.”

Satoru was certain... you had ruined him, because no one else would ever be able to turn his world with just a smile like you did, even as you broke his heart too into a million pieces.

. . .

Ever since that day, everyone had branded him as a prince in search of scandal—coveting the princess married to Zen’in clan.

What everyone didn’t know was that it went beyond that. His obsession of you went beyond your beauty and charms and wits. Rather, it goes a long way back.

YOU, THE CROWN PRINCESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

As inconceivable as it was, once upon a time, you and Naoya were a truly, happy couple.

Handpicked by the late emperor to become his son’s wife, you couldn’t be more proud. With you being the next empress of the Eastern Empire, your clan once again proved itself that it was always worthy of a seat in the monarchy.

But beyond that, you were elated that it was Naoya that you ended up marrying. Your own childhood friend, who often led you around his palace by hand and filled your days with many joy and laughs.

“One day soon, when we are the emperor and the empress—” younger Naoya was always someone who had big dreams about ruling his nation. “We will create a nation in which no one can do anything as they please! We’ll establish order, and anyone who goes against it will be punished! That way, it’ll encourage fairness!”

Not knowing it yourself, you had given your heart wholly to him. You had agreed to all his dreams and visions. You devoted yourself to them all, even more so after your marriage and coronation, as he promised you an ever after.

“From now on, it’s going to be me and you, Empress.”

YOU, THE EMPRESS OF EASTERN EMPIRE

“Your role is to give an heir to the throne, Empress.”

Your title had never sounded so heavy to you before now, especially when Naoya was the one saying it.

You sighed, gathering your wits and scattered feelings before levelling your calm gaze on your husband. “I understand that, Your Majesty. But it is not something that I can do on my own.”

This year would mark the fifth year of your marriage to Naoya. You understood that the fact you still weren’t able to be with his child would raise questions from the court, but still, must you be reminded of this fact over and over?

Your husband—no, the emperor—barked a satire laugh.

“Oh, really? As I understand it, being infertile is not something I can help you with.”

That hurt. It was a searing pain, like being branded with a red-hot iron. And it felt as if he had torn through your chest with his fist alone.

“I’m not infertile.” Your eyes gleamed with pure defiance as you lifted your chin, facing him in his audience chamber.

It dawned on you that lately, one of the few ways you could speak to him was by requesting an audience as opposed to your usual midnight talks in your private chambers.

When did it start to change? Or was Naoya this kind of person right from the very beginning and you were just blinded by love back then?

"Oh? And what would you call being childless for five years then?" Naoya sneered at you from his dais, placing one hand on his jaw. "Bad luck? You must be terribly cursed with misfortune then."

You fisted your dress, summoning all your strength to hold back tears. Don't you dare cry. Not in front of him.

It wasn't as if you didn't want to carry his heir. For many women, holding their baby in their arms is a cherished dream, and when they hold a position of power like yours, it becomes not just a desire but a duty.

You tried everything—calling in the best doctors, consuming horrible potions, even consulting with the oracle. And they all said you were perfectly healthy and fine. You were at your wits end too.

The irony. You were celebrated in public for your competence, while privately, you suffered your husband's cold detachment and cruel remarks.

. . .

"Empress, where should we put the welcome gifts?"

You studied the floor plan of the banquet hall for your annual New Year's ball with a thoughtful hum before pointing at the entrance.

"Place it here. We want our guests to know that we are generous, and it's easily accessible since the parlor is the first area they reach after arriving."

You loved planning festivities. It was therapeutic in a way, and it gave you little time to think of anything else.

"Oh, and I want to have a welcome arch and flowers placed at the entrance too. This is the grandest event of the year, second only to the Emperor's birthday... we must display the grandeur that befits such an occasion."

Your head maidservant, Hanabi, placed a hand on her abdomen and nodded with a warm smile. "That's a very clever suggestion, Your Majesty! I'll ensure they arrange everything just as you wish!"

As she scurried away, you watched her with an assessing gaze. Hanabi had been with you throughout the five years of your marriage, always at your side, assisting with day-to-day matters and serving as your confidant. She was a great aide.

And you were observant by nature... so of course you noticed things.

...and if you were correct, then she was most definitely with a child.

The thing is... she is unmarried. You hesitated to jump to conclusions without evidence, yet the timing struck you as more than coincidental—it nagged at you for weeks now, suggesting a connection you hoped did not exist.

Because if they really did... then...

You didn't dare to think, because it would be more than a nightmare. But you weren't able to let this go either, so you did what was necessary.

You planted a note in Hanabi's chamber, and then you waited in the gardens, the chilly midnight air wrapping around you like a shroud.

You had done everything you could. Five years ago, you let go of everything and had decided to spend your life with your first love—Naoya.

Because you truly and devotedly love him. You give your all for him—for your life together.

"Ooh, Your Majesty~! It's so cold out here, why not in our usual—"

Hanabi's voice faltered as soon as she saw your crimson gown, feeling like the world had collapsed on her. And you rigidly turned towards her, feeling more or less the same.

And yet, what you had received from him is the greatest betrayal.

SATORU, THE EMPEROR OF THE WESTERN EMPIRE

He first realized something was clearly wrong with you during the New Year’s ball that you hosted.

Satoru had just been crowned emperor during this time, and though rulers typically sent envoys to such grand celebrations due to concurrent festivities in their own lands, it had been several months since he last saw you. He wants to see you.

A meritless action, but he wanted to, regardless.

But that day, you were a fantastic actress in this stage called banquet hall and nobody was the wiser… but he would know, because you mattered a lot to him.

"Your Majesty, you don't seem well." He approached you with a glass of champagne, affixing a friendly smile. "Is there anything amiss?"

Taken aback, you didn't expect such close proximity that you took a step back. His smile almost faltered, but he kept it up.

"Emperor Satoru—"

"Ah, none of that, no. Address me just as you usually do, hmm?"

A smile finally tugged at your lips. "How is that fair, when you address me so formally?"

Satoru chuckled. "You, my queen, deserve all the finery and grandeur there is. And I will see to it that you do."

That was his nickname for you ever since you ascended the throne. Both of your countries refer you as “empress”, but he loves addressing you as “queen” instead.

There was a shift in your expression, and he thought you looked melancholic. It bothered him, stirring a desire to erase that somber look from you. Because above anything and everything, you had to be happy and smiling.

"You're still a flirt, I see, Satoru," you remarked, throwing him a soft smile. "It won't do you good if you're seen with me most of the time, you know."

No, I’m doing this just for you. He wanted to tell you that, but he sighed instead. "You've got it wrong. When I'm in the company of the most beautiful woman in the lands, what's there to be ashamed of?"

Perhaps hearing that finally melted you a bit as you freely giggled this time, and Satoru was glad that he made you laugh even a little.

"You would think that, huh..." you fondly mumbled. And then your expression crumbled, and he could've sworn something painful flashed in your eyes—

What happened to you? He so desperately wanted to ask, but then he saw that preying gaze on both of you. Zen’in Naoya. Satoru clicked his tongue as he watched him weave through the crowd, his gaze locked ominously on both of you.

“Seems like we don’t have much time, after all,” he began, urgency sharpening his words. “But rest assured, whenever you want to talk to me, just send a little birdie my way and I shall answer.”

“Huh?” you blinked at him questioningly, totally not getting what he meant.

He winked, then took your hand and placed a kiss on it, eliciting murmurs of surprise from the crowd at his bold gesture. “And chin up, my queen. You have nothing to fear, and if it makes you feel better...”

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “To me, a diamond is most beautiful. And you… are one that sparkles above all.”

“Naoya, unhand me this instant!”

You were tired of this shit, of Naoya always manhandling you—of him always having a total control over you.

After seeing how close you got to Satoru, Naoya practically saw red. Still, in the prying eyes of public, he remained unperturbed, but his vice-like grip on your arm was sure to leave bruise as he unkindly led you out of the ballroom.

"Naoya!" you raised your voice this time, even louder than before, uncaring even when the wandering eyes of the servants curiously followed the two of you.

You were not made an empress just to follow him. And with that conviction, you forcibly pulled your arm away from his grip right after he shut the door to the drawing room close, not even wincing at the stinging feeling.

His eyes shone with anger. “You insolent—!”

“No—” You stood your ground, and suddenly you got very irate and burst out, “How dare you, Zen’in Naoya!”

He looked at you with equal surprise and mortification, clearly unprepared for your righteous tirade.

"You have made a mockery of our marriage! You have insulted me and your own throne by carrying on with— with the help! My maid!" you screamed at his face, pure anger coursing through your veins. "How could you!?"

Naoya took in your outburst with eerie silence, a sneer slowly forming on his lips. "You get riled up over that? Have you forgotten emperors are free to take mistresses, especially when the empress isn't capable to bear any heirs?"

A burning arrow shot straight to your heart at his response but you willed yourself not to show it. "Regardless, you could've done better and not put our throne to shame by fucking a servant."

"I've told you time and time again. A woman's duty is to bear children, and since you've proven yourself beyond barren, I did you a favor."

"A favor...?"

"As soon as Hanabi births that child, you can raise him as your own," Naoya frankly stated unabashedly, as if proud with his idea. "Saves you the trouble and I get my heir, a win-win solution, no?"

Raise him as my own...? Saves the trouble? You could've sworn that throughout your entire life, you had never been so insulted before now, right in this moment.

"What I do, I always have my throne in mind. And yet you..." his eyes narrowed into unsatisfied slits. "What are you trying to achieve by whoring yourself to that rake, Gojo Satoru? Are you telling people of the ton that you're having an affair?"

His voice made you want to throw up. The realization that everything you thought you had together might have meant nothing to him at all made you feel sick.

And so, hiding your trembling hands and swallowing you unshed tears, you responded to him with a clipped tone—

"You're most despicable, Naoya. And you are a complete fool if you think even for a second that I'd want to raise your bastard!"

He seemed taken aback by your rejection, but you didn't falter. "And oh, since you want to make use of that lowly maid so much, feel free to take her back and track her down yourself, because I've sent that wench away."

With that, you turned your back on him, striding out with your head held high, even as your life crumbled into dust.

Days after your full-blown argument with Naoya, your situation only worsened. By now, even the palace servants knew you had incurred his wrath, while Hanabi had won his favor by carrying his child—possibly the heir to the throne.

The child she was carrying was no threat to your position. After all, you were the empress. A child of your blood would trample over any bastard.

However, you'd be damned if you shared a bed with him again, and Naoya made it clear that his mistress would be elevated to the rank of royal consort. Given the current trajectory—and history's tendency to repeat itself—emperors often divorced or banished their empresses in favor of their mistresses.

Bah. You could only scoff at your laughable predicament. You came from a prestigious clan and were revered, yet now you were no more than a scorned woman.

Dark thoughts consumed your mind for a time—you couldn't deny that you had considered leaving the palace for self-imposed exile or even ending your life. However, reason always prevailed.

You wouldn't give Naoya what he wanted most: your compliance. And around the time when you resolved to do that, a finely decorated envelope arrived at your study, with no signature whatsoever.

Intrigued, you opened it to find an intricate dried rose bookmark and a folded letter nestled inside.

Greetings to you, my queen. Yeah, it's me. Hope you won't be too surprised. But if you do, know that I always mean well.

Satoru. You weren't expecting this. A small smile tugged at your lips. How long had it been since you last smiled so freely?

I've heard you love reading, hence the bookmark. Fun fact: I made it myself, with Shoko's help. She is sooo bad at explaining though so if the flower is wrinkled... please blame her.

This time, you giggled. He was an emperor, for god's sake. Should someone of his station write so informally like this?

Now... I'm no oracle, but even I know that you must be having bad days. And so, let me entertain you with several tales from my kingdom. So, the other day, my good friend Suguru, the duke—you must've heard of him surely (they said he is the most handsome bachelor in the West but they must be missing an eye for saying so because clearly I'm more!)—just fired a pair of his servants because he caught them in a thirst! He is so uptight! Why can't he let two people in love be!?

Before you knew it, you found yourself chuckling at the lines upon lines of anecdotes Satoru had penned in the letter. The way he wrote, it was as if he was right here, saying all of this to you in real-time. For a while, you were completely absorbed in the world of the Western Empire he described, and all your worries and anxieties seemed to fade away.

Okay, that's it for now. This is just a teaser actually, so if you want to subscribe to more tales of my humble little country, you can always be my empress reply to this letter! :D Look out for a white cat near your windowsill during the hour of snake—he is my trained pet, and put your message in his little backpack. Don't worry, he's cute and doesn't bite!

You were so giddy by the end. His message warmed your heart so much that your eyes grew misty. In the aftermath of Naoya's betrayal, you were certain your life would be filled with much sadness to come.

Yet, your friendship with Satoru might just be the thing that would save you.

No matter how much his friends Duke Geto and Countess Shoko urged him to see reason—that you were no longer available and occupied with your duties as the empress of your own empire—Satoru couldn't help but still cast an eye your way.

You were clearly unhappy, and to him, someone as radiant as you should be happy.

And so, that was why he took his quill and started writing that letter to be sent to your place, along with a rose strapped inside.

He knew that, being the kind person you were, you would most likely respond, but still, the moment his cat arrived back with your reply, he was elated beyond measure.

Of course I knew it right away! I omitted your name because who knows who might catch your cat on the way. Anyway, I hope Mr. Cat will arrive back to you safe and sound. Firstly, thank you for your letter. I must say I'm so happy to receive it :) I haven't had best days so reading it made me smile. And secondly, of course I'll subscribe to your stories of Western Empire. I've been wanting to visit it myself but just haven't gotten the chance to... so if you will continue it, I shall be happy to read :D

If anything he wrote brought you joy, then Satoru was content. He had achieved his goal then.

And it was his own little secret that... by corresponding with you, it allowed him to savor the feeling of having you as his own, if only through words.

Mr. Cat's name is Sugu-chan after Suguru but you can call him whatever you wish. And don't worry, he is strong and can fight if necessary! And don't be too formal with me, my queen. We have known each other forever. Anyway do tell me, what is your favorite color now? Let me guess, is it still that specific shade of crimson?

You name your cat after your best friend...? And you're making it hard for me to be less formal when you always address me as queen! Hmm, I suppose so. I love burgundy. I've even had my study designed with that exact color scheme. It just gives me the confidence I need, you know.

So you still love burgundy... I'll keep that in mind ;) Frankly, any shade of crimson suits you—you're always a vision in them. Back then and especially during your coronation. I love blue, so I think we're a match? :D

Back then...? Hmm, surprisingly yes, red and blue would make a good match... Anyway, I believe you promised me unusual tales from your 'humble little country', so please indulge me!

You've forgotten it already? Around the time we first met, back when I was still known as "the cursed prince"? It holds such importance for me but sadly it seems like it was just a passing moment to you :( Oh, yeah, I haven't forgotten about it! So, this time let me tell you about the time when Earl Nanami got wasted . . .

Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months. Amidst the turmoil of your marriage, exchanging letters with Satoru became your sole respite. His stories regarding his own empire amused you, and sometimes it got you to wonder what it was like to live there.

However, running away from your problems would never solve them. Writing to Satoru may have helped you to cope, but still, your real issue with Naoya wouldn't vanish simply just by ignoring him.

. . .

"Your Majesty..."

For a good one minute, you stood still. Your lady-in-waiting had delivered an earth-shattering news—but admittedly, a possibility you thought was in the cards the moment you went against Naoya.

"His majesty has summoned the high priest to his study," the elderly woman added, close to tears. "But it is very likely that he has submitted the petition for—" her voice faltered when she caught sight of the emptiness in your eyes, unable to continue.

A divorce. Naoya had been considering a divorce. And by now, he was set on it.

"I'm so, so sorry..." she choked out, her voice breaking with sorrow to mourn you, but you remained expressionless, lost in your thoughts.

The last time an empress of Eastern Empire was divorced was more or less a century ago, because she had committed a grave treachery against a royal consort by poisoning her. She was sentenced to death by hanging afterwards.

The irony. You were in similar situation, only that you weren't vengeful enough to resort to poisoning Hanabi. Speaking of her, her baby was due in another four months, and now she was living happily in Naoya's quarters.

"Don't be. I'm perfectly fine."

To consolidate his illegitimate child's position, Naoya used the most effective way. Since you wouldn't listen to him, and Hanabi must be a far delightful companion rather than you, he was more than willing to cast you aside in favor of making her his empress instead.

You thought it would hurt more, and yet what you felt the most right in this moment was white-hot anger. This is unacceptable. It was the greatest insult to you both as a woman and as the empress.

Now, all you could think of was how to uphold your dignity and plot your exit from this palace with your head still held high.

If I can't be the empress here...

And after a sleepless night, you came to a daring solution. And your plan—

...I'll be one somewhere else.

It was an invitation, Satoru thought, almost in disbelief. Or it sounded a lot like one, didn't it?

Heart beating a little faster and blushing, he reread the latest letter you had sent him.

It's only the beginning of summer, and the heat is sweltering... I'm considering treating myself to a trip to the winery village on the border between the east and west. I think it'll be nice if I have a companion...

Winery village was right in the middle of the western and eastern empires, and it was a safe zone. Vineyards were vast and thick, but it wasn't exactly a popular vacation spot. So, it intrigued him why you would want to go there.

Just as he was about to reply to you that it was a very good coincidence that he too wanted to pay a visit to the said village, suddenly—

"Gojo! Gojoooo!" Shoko suddenly burst into his study, startling him.

"Shoko! What the heck?!"

Lady Shoko might be a countess, but she, Satoru, and Suguru all attended the same royal academy. Despite their prestigious titles now, Satoru insisted that in private, both Suguru and Shoko address him just as they did before he ascended the throne.

Still, she was ruder than Suguru in many ways. Satoru gave her a stink eye, but his confusion grew as she seemed to be delivering momentous news.

"Gojo, have you heard that Naoya will divorce Y/N?!"

"Wha?" it felt like a ton of bricks suddenly fell down on his head. And then his friend proceeded to tell him everything she knew.

"It wasn't made official yet, but even the townsfolk have been talking about it. They also said that Naoya have taken a mistress, and that she was formerly the empress' maid."

Satoru listened to her in silence, but the moment he heard that the Zen'in spawn planned to divorce you, anger flared within him. And to add insult to injury, he two-timed you with a servant?

The fucking bastard. He never deserved you at all. How crushed must you have been, enduring all this shit?

"Now, I wouldn't normally encourage you this," Shoko took out the cigarette she stashed in the folds of her dress and sighed. "But since you never let go of that weird fixation on her, should the royal divorce happen..." she shrugged as she took a seat in front of him.

"No matter how laughable it is, you might have a chance."

She is so right. These long years of longing for your affections and dreaming of having even a minute more of your time... there was now chance to turn it to reality.

When you arrived at the winery village for your vacation to breathe in some fresh air, honestly, everything was still in shambles.

You couldn't forget the horrified looks from the court when Naoya announced the divorce. Most were shocked and pleaded with him to reconsider. Some from your circle of ladies even sobbed, openly stating that you didn't deserve this fate.

“Empress... His Majesty shouldn't be that harsh...” Hanabi had said to you afterwards, seemingly concerned for you. “Your legacy here… I’ll make sure to carry them on.”

Sometimes you didn’t know whether Hanabi was pretending to be dumb or indeed she was. One thing you knew though...

“I wish you luck on that, Hanabi.” You looked down at her with eyes as cold as ice. “Beware, the Emperor is fickle, be sure to not run out of entertainments.”

You knew you deserved a better fate than being the empress of the Eastern Empire, but seeing those who still cared for you made you solemn. Your loyal maids, those who supported you... and what about organizations you've spent time and energy to?

“My queen, ah, there you are.”

Satoru's voice from behind startled you, interrupting your daydreams. He quickly came beside you and extended his hand, asking for yours.

You offered him your right hand, and he promptly pressed a kiss on it, his bright blue eyes gazing up at you.

It wasn't as if you just noticed how pretty his eyes were, but now that there was no ballroom and scrutinizing eyes around you, you couldn't deny that the way his eyes sparkled as he gazed at you—solely and purely on you—made you breathless.

What... would it be like to have this man... to be your husband instead?

"I missed you. I know we talk daily through letters, but seeing your beauty firsthand is always a sight for sore eyes," he cheekily commented as he let go of your hand. "Now, I get to see you without your pesky husband around, and yeah, you never fail to make my silly heart race."

You chuckled. "You always flatter me..."

He only gave you a toothy smile, and you two strolled the vineyard. For a while, you talked about nothing of importance, like where your ladies-in-waiting were, how things were from his side.

"How do you find being the emperor?"

"It's tiring! It's boring too to look through accounts and oversee those trivial state affairs! And not to mention how many people have been nagging me to take a wife soon!"

"Oh? You haven't been on the lookout already?"

"Nah. No one is good enough, I need someone already familiar with state affairs and such," he said, wrinkling his nose sourly at the thought. But then he cast his eyes on you.

"And frankly, you are my standard," he fixed you a meaningful smile. "No one comes close. If you weren't betrothed to the Zen'in back then, I'd have proposed you in a heartbeat."

Thump. Thump. Thump. Your dead heart suddenly came to life. Gojo Satoru had just confessed his affections for you so candidly, and it got you thinking how much easier your life would be with him. He would love you, take care of you...

And beguile you.

His eyes fondly crinkled at you. "You are everything I desire in a woman to be my wife."

He adores you so easily, so fluidly... and yet, Naoya, who has you fully, is throwing you away.

Satoru observed how your face fell once again, just as it had during the New Year's ball. And now he knew, it was because you were facing your impending divorce.

But he wasn't going to tell you that, instead, he would willingly be your confidant and offer you his very being. He was about to crack a joke to lift your spirits, when you blurted—

"What if I said... I want to be your empress?" you kept your pace, not looking at him at all. "What if I said... I'll leave everything and come to you?"

Huh? What…?

That was loaded. Have you entertained the thought too? Satoru had craved the very idea for so long he didn’t even miss a beat—

“Then I’d marry you.” His voice was straight and true, shooting straight to the most tender part of you that Naoya had torn to shreds. “If you become my empress… that will make me the happiest man alive.”

No hesitation. It almost reduced you to tears. You stopped where you stood, willing yourself not to tremble. There is still one person who sees this much value in you.

“Then I’ll be yours,” you breathed out. “I’ll be your empress, Satoru.”

Satoru could've sworn time had stopped. If one moment ago, you looked like you were about to shatter, now you were a vision of the dignified and perfect queen he had always known you were.

“I’ll be your queen— your everything.” You declared, locking eyes with him, the intensity of your gaze not escaping him.

How many years had he dreamed of this moment? How many long nights had he endured, yearning for you, knowing you were beyond his reach?

Finally, finally... Satoru grinned, swearing to all the divine beings out there that he had never known how liberating it was to finally have what he wanted. “That would be my greatest honor.”

He drew you close—you let him—and after one second of taking in your enchanting eyes, he crashed his lips against yours.

His lips started soft and gentle, then became fiery as his tongue met yours. He pulled you closer, one arm around your waist and the other holding the back of your head. You responded eagerly, pressing against him, fingers tracing his neck and feeling the lines of his undercut.

One is finally having the woman he had wanted for so long, and the other was plotting her escape from her misery.

You were using him. He knew it. Yet, he didn't care. Hidden behind bushes and vines, you shared your very first heated kiss, aware that this moment would leave its mark as both the greatest stain and triumph in your lives.

And when he finally pulled away, lips swollen and wet, with a wolfish grin, he promised you once again—

“Give me everything that is yours... and I swear on my life, I will do everything to turn your life into a living dream.”

“Empress, your husband His Majesty the Emperor, has requested a divorce.”

It was how your once pristine life transformed into the scandal of the century inside the courthouse.

"If you accept this petition, then you will no longer be the Empress of Eastern Empire. You will lose all the rights you have as a senior member of the imperial family..."

You donned your finest attire—the intricate crimson and black dress you had designed and commissioned the dressmaker to create. Today, faced with Naoya's divorce decree, it would be the last time you adorned the colors of his empire.

"The ties that bound you together as husband and wife would be severed—"

Good riddance, you thought.

"If this is not what you want, you have the right to—"

"I accept the divorce."

Your voice cut through the heavy solemness of the witnesses and turned them into a mass of disbelief. You disregarded Naoya's smirk and held the priest's gaze. "And I demand an immediate approval for my remarriage."

The crowd was in for a second wave of uproar when you boldly stood your ground, and they erupted into clamors once again when Satoru made his grand entrance and took his place beside you.

"You—!" Naoya was so furious that he roared. "This is my empire!"

"And?" Satoru challenged with a dauntless smile. "I'm here to propose, and since she accepts your divorce request, I believe she has no relations with you any longer and is free to marry someone else."

You remained motionless, until your cold fingers met warmth when Satoru linked his hand with yours reassuringly.

"This is treachery! I won't fucking permit it!" Naoya hollered as he faced the high priest, who had a grim face while observing this three-way headlock between the three of you.

"Emperor Naoya, that matter falls into the jurisdiction of the church." The high priest let out a sigh and then turned to you, assessing your calm gaze.

Regardless, Naoya paid him no mind. "I refuse to grant you any permission to remarry! You will be banished to the cold palace until the rest of your pitiful days! Not only do you fail miserably by being barren beyond help, you also dare to whore yourself—" he was now rambling curses at you before everyone in the court, and it pierced you deeply—

Until Satoru tugged you behind him, so that you wouldn't have to see his face any longer.

"High priest!" Satoru's voice blared as he clenched his jaw, irate at the string of profanities directed at you. "Do you still truly believe that the deposed empress can't remarry? When she has suffered through this man's downright betrayal?"

Your head was spinning. You wanted this whole ordeal to be over already.

And thankfully, even the high priest saw reason, that you were undeserving of this debacle. In the end, his words held more weight than anyone else's, even Naoya's.

"I accept Empress Y/N petition to marry Emperor Satoru!"

In the chaos of the courthouse after the high priest granted your wish, Naoya shook his head in disbelief, looking at both of you with intense disdain.

"You've always wanted that wench, haven't you, Gojo?" Naoya cackled with a malice you would never have expected from someone who had been your husband for ten years.

You had tuned out all the noise. This dumpster fire was too much even for you. But then, you felt a strong arm enveloping you, sealing your fate as the match made in this courtroom—

"I have, yeah," Satoru replied with a smug grin. "And now that she is mine... it's just the beginning of your downfall, Zen'in."

Your wedding banquet in Western Empire lasted a week long.

True to his promise, Satoru spared no effort to make you happy. The moment he brought you to his palace, he ordered immediate plans for wedding celebrations. Make it grand, make it unforgettable... he took charge himself.

And on the final, seventh day, as you were about to be formally crowned as the empress of the western lands, you were stunned.

"This is your coronation dress, Empress," your new lady-in-waiting, Shoko, said with pride. "Gojo— I mean, His Majesty, specifically has his late mother's dress altered to suit you."

You promised yourself that you would no longer wear any shades of crimson. As much as you loved the color, it reminded you too much of your homeland and Naoya. No matter how much you despised him now, once upon a time, he was everything you loved and more.

And you thought you couldn't possibly love another color until you saw the extravagant navy dress in your chamber. Made of luxurious satin and adorned with literal diamonds, it shimmered under the light and flowed gracefully with layers of brocade cascading to the floor.

To give you something so valuable... You had expected to enter into a marriage out of necessity, but your new husband had no intention of ceasing his ways to win your heart.

If it's with him, maybe... just maybe...

Today is the day.

Satoru sat on his throne before his court in the grand hall of his audience chamber. His hair was pulled back, and he was dressed in his official attire, robe of silk and a crown made of pure gold.

Next to him, another resplendent crown adorned with jewels and diamonds shimmered in the light—the empress' crown. Your crown.

Today was the day this empire would truly acknowledge his queen. He stole a glance at you on his other side, and his breath was taken away.

With your hair tucked into an elegant updo, you were the very vision of a fairytale queen. You were incredibly stunning, almost otherworldly— shade of blue suited you as much as crimson did, just as he thought.

This day would go down in history. But before that, he would ensure that the news would reach Zen'in Naoya. He would spite him so hard.

"Today marks a momentous occasion. We gather here to celebrate not only my marriage and my new wife's coronation," Satoru glanced at his audience with a smirk, his expression widening as he spotted his best friends Suguru and Shoko. "But also the start of her reign... and as we know it already, her fame and beauty are second to none."

The crowd burst into giggles, clearly aware of his scandal at the Eastern Empire's courthouse. And even you smiled.

Satoru shrugged, playfully rolling his eyes. "Spare me, I'm a newlywed, after all. Anyway..." His gaze shifted to the intricate crown, a relic of his late mother's, and then back to you. "Come."

You knelt before your new husband, bowing your head. The whirlwind journey from the East, your remarriage to Satoru... It had all felt surreal until this moment. Now, the weight of reality settled upon you, almost shaking your very core—

But just as the thought crossed your mind, Satoru placed the crown upon your head. As the jewels settled into place and you rose to face the crowd, his voice cut through the air:

"And here I present to you, your new empress!"

The room erupted in applause, the cheers echoing around you. Everyone congratulated you without fail, and your breath was taken away.

It was a sight beyond belief, as they chanted your name, over and over again—

“ALL HAIL THE EMPRESS!”

"I have something for you!"

You wouldn't expect that you would ditch your last night of wedding celebrations along with your husband, and yet here you were, led by the hand by a very giddy Satoru.

"Where are we going?" you questioned him, your pretty dress sweeping the halls in a rush.

He turned to you to send you a wink. "Trust me, sweetheart. You'll love it."

Somehow the way he called you made your heart thump a little faster inside your ribcage. This man is really, truly, your husband now.

He was such a refreshing person, it almost made you let go of everything that molded you into the perfect empress in the east, and be just... you.

"Here." Both of you stopped in front of a grand door, and he ushered you inside. "Come, come~"

A study, you realized as you stepped inside, but then a gasp left your lips—

"How do you find it, hmm?" Satoru put an arm around your waist, proud of how the burgundy walls and mats enveloped the entire space, creating a tranquil sight that perfectly matched your taste.

It was so much like your private study in the Eastern Empire's palace. You might now hate that place, but your private study was filled with the memories of smiles while writing back to Satoru's letters and waiting for his cat to come. And to have this now in your new home...

"You remembered..." you looked up to him, almost tearing up.

"Of course I do," he pressed a kiss on your temple. "I said that so long as you're with me, I'll turn your dream into reality, didn't I?"

This man really treasures you, or at least that was what his actions had proven so far.

"You're everything I've ever wanted and more," Satoru said, wrapping his arms around you from behind in a warm embrace. "You might not realize it, but I've been in love with you since you first visited western lands."

"What?" you turned to him with genuine confusion. "How?"

"That blind boy who you led by the hand... he had no friends," Satoru sighed against you. "The first and only person who asked him if he was lost... is you."

Suddenly, you were thrown back in time to your first encounter with Satoru many years ago. He was known as "cursed" for being born with peculiar eyes, had been blind for a period of his childhood, before he awakened the true extent of those brilliant blue eyes and brought his clan to power by wielding them.

Back then, you thought it was wrong for him to be left alone, so you took him by the hand and escorted him back to the palace, unaware that he was the infamously cursed crown prince.

"You made me feel less lonely. And I thought then... someday, somehow... through some sort of miracle in which I regained my eyesight and could see you... I'd immediately ask for your hand."

But you were named the crown princess of the Eastern Empire. The thought of how crushed Satoru must have felt upon hearing the news pricked at your heart.

You felt soft, you felt loved, and most of all, you felt an overwhelming certainty that with this man by your side, you would finally experience the genuine love that had been missing from your life for so long.

"You have me now," you whispered in response.

Unlike your first kiss in the winery village, this time, you were the one who faced him and pulled him into a searing kiss.

Be it impulse, overwhelming feelings or something else... you didn't care. You just want him.

And wouldn't you know, your new husband... is also a wonderful, dashing lover.

"You're so... fucking beautiful..." Satoru's lips were on yours, claiming them with a fierce passion that left you breathless. His hands roamed your body, tracing each curves and lines.

You moaned into his mouth, clutching his robes. He captured your wrists with one hand, using the other to tilt your head back so he could leave bruises on your neck in the process, making you moan.

"Keep making that sound, yeah?" Satoru rasped, his hot breath giving you goosebumps. "Keep me going with your voice."

As he gripped your waist, it dawned to him once again that you were here, with him.

Seeing his colors on you ignited desire straight to his cock. His empress was stunning, more so now than ever, more than any woman Satoru had ever seen.

He led you to the bed, his movements urgent yet tender. The air was thick with desire as you lay back, pulling him down with you. You arched your back, pressing yourself closer to him, craving more.

This wasn't your first time, yet you had never been this excited before. From heated kisses until somehow managing to get rid of your underwear and left you in your dress... your body nearly thrashed in response.

"Look at you... An queen of two empires, yet rendered putty in my hands," Satoru wickedly grinned as he slipped a hand under your dress, rubbing his thumb teasingly over your clit. You let out a soft sigh at the prodding. You were getting wetter by each second... and Satoru felt his cock straining against the tight material of his dress pants.

"More..." you pleaded, arching your hips. "More...!"

Any of your wishes would be his command, so he pushed two fingers inside you at once, and you let out an erotic gasp. Satoru was so close to tearing his pants off by seeing how tight you clenched around his digits.

Breathy moans fell from your lips with each harsh brush of his thumb over your clit, his fingers fucking you fast—

"Satoru...!" you shuddered, gripping his shoulders as you became limp and came into his hands in spurts.

"My queen..." he then captured your lips in a brash kiss, and you reciprocated it. He pulled away only to press his forehead against yours in an attempt to calm his raging heart. "No matter what."

His watery, sparkling eyes was mesmerizing to you, and you took one breath before you crashed your lips into his, tangling your fingers in his hair, pulling him closer.

"As pretty as you look in this, I'm going to take it off," Satoru murmured with a meaningful smirk, slowly undoing the laces of your dress. "I want to see you completely naked... just for me."

Soon, you laid bare, and the cold air made your body shiver. Satoru clenched his jaw tightly at the scrumptious sight.

It was almost difficult for him to take in all of you at once—your flushed cheeks, swollen lips, erect nipples, and legs spread wantonly for him. Satoru had been here so many times in his dreams, and to see it becoming reality...

"If back then, you had chosen me instead—" he sounded almost heartbroken, which startled you. "I would have treated you right from the start—"

You looked up to him. "You would..."

"Don't you know how many years... I've been just there— watching you and that bastard? Knowing I can do even more than him?"

"Mhm..."

You rose, tugging him closer, before you unclasped his robe, letting it fall to the floor. "Satoru... right now... I'm yours."

He allowed you to undress him and soon he too was out of his stuffy royal attire. Your eyes wandered on each part of his body you touched. His chiseled body, snow-like skin, and then the hardened bulge that sprung out the moment you undid his pants—

The sight of his cock alone only turned you on even more. You gently gripped the glistening head, running a thumb over the tip before gliding your hand towards the base of his length. With a gentle rhythm, your hand moved from base to tip in a slow, teasing motion... before pecking his head.

"Yeah... you're right." His eyes never left yours, admiring you as if you were the most precious gemstone, before catching you off guard. While you rubbed him, he snaked a hand around your waist, pulling you so that you tumbled on top of him.

You moaned loudly as his cock—big, both in length and width—entered you, his hands gripping your thighs to spread them apart so he can shove himself deeper.

You felt so, so full, as you pulled Satoru to you tightly, groaning into his shoulder. And he started to set the pace, moving against you.

"Ahh," you moaned out shakily, fingers clawing into his back. To him, the sounds you made drew him in like a siren's song, it made him throb inside you. "Ahh—hngh!"

"Feel good?" he asked, voice sultry and deep, as he thrusted into you particularly harder, causing you to stifle a moan. "Let it out—hah—sweetheart... I want to hear you, hmm?"

And you did. You felt hot. Your unabashed, nasty sounds with each thrust drove him to the edge. With every lift of your hips, you squeezed him so tightly it almost made his head spin. His breaths came in short pants too.

"You fit me so damn well," he groaned, holding your hips hard enough to leave imprints of his fingers. "So fine..."

One woman. It took just one woman—you—to unravel him like this.

"Satoru, harder—" You commanded, wrapping your arms around his neck even as you trembled. "N-not enough... harder!"

He actually had to swallow, because you and your pussy felt so damn tantalizing. "As you wish, Your Majesty."

He slammed his hips against yours twice—no, thrice the previous speed, and you incoherently squealed. The squelching sound of your hips slamming against each other, and the immense wetness coming out where you two were joined... it was clear: you were addicted.

"Did Naoya ever make you feel as good as I do you now?" he drawled, sinking into you impossibly deeper, squeezing your left mound and flicking your right nipple at the same time. "Did he... ever make you ride him like this?" And then he instantly regretted his words.

Because the moment he said that, you felt cold, reminded of nights in which Zen'in Naoya grabbed you just to forcefully breed you. You winced, and Satoru caught it.

"I..." you shifted your gaze away from him, and he could've sworn that it was sorrow he saw flashing in your pretty eyes. "I-I... don't want to talk about him..."

Feeling remorseful, Satoru reached for the back of your neck and pulled you to him, kissing your lips softly. "I'm sorry—"

"You don't have to—"

"Tonight, I'll make you scream my name so hard you'll forget him," he promised as he pulled away from you, his eyes darkening. "Tonight, give me everything and I'll show you how a man truly loves his woman."

And he followed through. He worshipped you meticulously, treating your body with the reverence one might bestow upon delicate glass. He peppered kisses on every inch of your skin he could reach, lips and tongue trailing down, his relentless thrusts so well-paced and brutal at the same time.

"I'm— close!" You whimpered, and yet still grinding your hips against him. He was watching your every move, every wave of pleasure that was evident on your face— committing it to memory for those moments when he couldn't hold you close.

You gasped—as a mind-blowing orgasm then ripped out of your very being, your hips faltering as you surrendered to ecstasy with a cry of his name, coming all over him. "Satoru... Satoru! Ahhh!"

And Satoru kept his gaze on your face as he too busted inside of you hard, feeling himself filling your womb with his essence, his hands kept your waist steady, memorizing the way your lips part and the way your body went limp into him with satisfaction.

Dear heavens, I love you. The sight of you was nothing but perfection, and with everything he had, he was very sincere when he said—

"You're flawless, sweetheart."

2 MONTHS LATER

"If you give me a son, I'll throne you as the empress right on that very day."

The Eastern Empire's palace was bustling as the royal consort's screams echoed through the halls. The day Naoya had been eagerly awaiting had arrived—his mistress was delivering his heir.

Yet unbeknownst to him, whispers in the dark suggested the royal baby was arriving suspiciously early. Many, still mourning the previous empress who had been dethroned so abruptly, were not exactly thrilled with this turn of events.

"My lady, just a little bit more!" the maid encouraged. Hanabi strained once again as the pain peaked and her body spasmed, letting out the loudest wail as the baby finally slid out of her.

"W-what... is it?" on the brink of passing out, Hanabi asked anyone who might hear her. She had to know, for she was so close to obtaining her throne—

"It's a girl, my lady!" the midwife announced.

What?

Her world crumbled at that very moment. A girl? A girl can't be the heir!

She wanted to sob, to utterly mourn, and right at this moment she was full of fear, because if Naoya knew—!

Like a curse, he suddenly made his presence known in the birthing chamber. His face scrunched in distaste at the scent of blood filling the air. He took one look at Hanabi, tearful and frazzled after the ordeal, then turned to the midwife, who was trembling at his presence.

"A baby girl, Your Majesty."

In that instant, fury flashed through him. He shot everyone in the room a glare before his eyes settled on his consort, full of spite.

"You useless tramp."

Your life with Satoru in Western Empire was wonderful.

He was everything Naoya was not. Satoru adored you, prioritized your well-being and happiness, often humored you, and made your days an endless delight.

And dare you say... you had begun to return his affections as well.

How could you not? Everything he did, he did with you in mind. He eased you into your position so seamlessly, and soon you found your place comfortably at court.

"He is mixing pleasure with his kingly duties," Suguru grumbled, watching his best friend order the gardeners to plant more blue roses simply because you mentioned finding them beautiful earlier. "Empress, you have to keep a tight grip on his leash."

"Well, at least he's happy." Shoko shrugged and nudged you. "Can't you see by now? How much of a loser he is for you?"

You did see him—a man who showed you everything he had. He had given you everything you unknowingly needed.

And you just wished... you could return the same for him. It still made you bitter, knowing you might never be able to give him heirs due to your condition.

. . .

"Sweetheart... what's on your mind, hmm?"

You looked up to him as he pressed a kiss on your cheek, an arm securely around you, sweaty and panting after your steamy session.

With his hair down and messy after you yanked him earlier, your lips curved into a genuine smile. "You look hot like this, you know?"

He clicked his tongue. "Hmm, I am, of course. But no use in changing topics, I know you well enough now."

Your bare body was pressed against his chest, fingertips tracing gentle lines on his skin.

"There's a possibility that... I can't give you any children." You almost felt ashamed saying this to him, unable to look at him in the eye. "I-I... I've failed for many years—"

"Hush," he silenced you with a finger to your lips, his expression firm. "No thinking that, yeah? I don't care."

"But—"

"Children are gifts," he said then, caressing your face tenderly. "It's not up to us to control how it'll take or not. And I married you not because I want heirs or such—I love you, you know?"

Your glassy eyes met his, and you willed yourself not to shed a tear.

He grinned cheekily. "Besides, you've felt it yourself—my sexual potency is undeniable. And I don't believe for a second, that you're what that bastard claimed you to be. I bet he's the one who is impotent—"

"Satoru! You're so obscene—!" you giggled freely and poked his chest.

At that time, you were just relieved that he didn't mind. Though it was still weighing in your mind on some days, you felt a newfound sense of liberation compared to when you were still in the Eastern Empire.

But you were in for another plot twist. Perhaps Satoru is correct, and your doubts are unfounded...

"Ugh..."

Your stomach churned in discomfort, a sickening nausea that seemed to twist your insides and threaten to force its way up. This had happened for days now.

You wanted to find a physician before Satoru was aware of your state. You didn't dare to hope or speculate, because you were tired of it by this point. You just wanted clarity.

Yet, the physician's words left you speechless.

"Your Majesty... it seems that you are with child," he remarked in wonder as he assessed your vein. "Yes, definitely. You are with child."

It was a revelation you hadn't expected. For years, you had been convinced that you were unable to conceive, but now...

You were carrying a new life. Yours and Satoru's.

You felt like bursting with joy as you made your way to his study. Your heart swelled with an overwhelming sense of happiness. Above anything else, you were eager to share this news with him—

...until everything you had known turned on its axis once again.

Right before you went past the ajar door, you saw a glimpse of your husband and his most trusted confidant, overhearing snippets of their conversation:

"Satoru, however you look at it, this is tantamount to declaring war," Suguru sighed, clearly at odds with his perspective. "It's not wise."

"We can finally put an end to them this way," Satoru's tone was steely as he moved a chess piece across the map, positioning it on the border between east and west. "No better time than now."

"The Empress will face the greatest backlash from this. They'll accuse her of being vengeful enough to provoke an attack on her home country—"

"On the contrary, her presence will encourage those still loyal to her to defect. That's why I have her here. We need defectors—"

You let out a choked gasp, backing away from the door in shock. For one good minute, you refused to comprehend what Satoru was implying.

. . .

. . .

Did your new husband... marry you for his own hidden agenda?

[gojonanami]

❝ 𝐃𝐎𝐍'𝐓 𝐖𝐀𝐍𝐓 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐋𝐈𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐁𝐄𝐒𝐓 𝐅𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐃 !! ❞

❝ WHEN YOUR CHILDHOOD BEST FRIEND OFFERS TO TEACH YOU HOW TO LOVE, HOW CAN YOU SAY NO ?? ❞

✧ pairing: college student!yuji itadori x f!reader

✧ summary: yuji itadori has been your best friend since you were kids, and when he offers you to teach you how to fuck, you don't expect him to be able to find his way into your heart too.

✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, aged up characters (don't like? don't read), childhood best friends to fwb to lovers, college au! (no curses), reader is the same age as yuji (both 20s), grew up as neighbors, mutual pining, nobara playing cupid, jealous!yuji, yuji is so golden retriever bf, nightmares, mentions of parental death via car crash (yuji), adoptive dad nanamin :), nipple play, oral (f + m), fingering (f! receiving), handjob (m! receiving), semi public sex (under a blanket with sleeping friends nearby), sex (p in v), creampie, swearing, fanart by unknown artist (found on pinterest, pls let me know if you know the og artist so i can credit)

✧ wc: 13,544

✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 5 has been sold to two anons!

“You want me to teach you?” 

The words left your best friend’s lips nonchalantly as if he was asking you if you wanted him to teach you how to ride a bike. 

But that’s not what he was offering to have you ride—

“Yuji,” you say slowly, “what are you saying? Do you even know what you’re saying?” 

Yuji Itadori was dense, but you knew he was far from stupid. You learned that in third grade when he punched a bully that had been picking on you, the final straw being when he had tripped you, causing you to skin your knee. Before you could even well any tears up in your eyes, you heard a thwack and a yelp as Yuji had laid the boy out on the playground. You stared at Yuji, as he offered you his other hand to help you to your feet, as your eyes slid from him to your bully. 

Yuji knelt down, carrying you on his back to the nurse’s office, “but Yuji, what about him? We left him—“ 

And he set you down outside the nurse’s office — and he only smiled that wide smile he had always reserved for you, “Don’t worry — I made sure no one was looking.” 

But now, you were beginning to doubt his sanity, rather than his intelligence — “I know what I’m saying,” he chuckles, trademark smile on his lips, “I’m just offering you the chance to practice,” 

“This isn’t practicing a sport or test—you’re offering,” you shift on your bed, while Yuji lounges on the floor, back against the bottom of your bed, “you’re offering to sleep with me, Yuji,” he leans his head on your bed, looking up at you at way, your face upside in his vision. 

“I know, I know, but it’s not a big deal is it?” he’s acting so nonchalant you wonder if one of his teammates had hit him hard in the head during practice, “we’ve had all our firsts together,” 

You scoff, “That was like our first steps, first day of school, first drink—“ 

“First kiss—“ he interrupts, and your face burns at the memory — a preadolescent game gone wrong that ended up with you and Yuji sharing your first kiss when you were teens. 

“That wasn’t real,” you wave him off, crossing your arms, “and this isn’t just a kiss for a game—this could change our friendship—“ 

“It won’t, if we don’t let it,” his gaze is more serious than you’ve ever seen Yuji be — not when he was usually all wide smiles and enthusiasm, “it’s us, we can get through it, and we don’t have to let it get weird right?” 

You chew on your lip, “Yuji, what do you get out of it?” And he’s tilting his head at your question— “I mean you don’t have to do this — just because I’m insecure because I don’t have experience,” you mumble. 

And that’s how the conversation had started — your complaints about your friends talking about their boyfriends, exes, and hookups, while you just nodded along — far too aware that you hadn’t even had a proper kiss, much less sex. And now you had found yourself here. 

“Look,” he slides up to sit on your bed, a good distance away from you, his eyes finding yours — warm hazel that felt as if it was drizzling over your skin wherever his gaze traveled, “I want your first time to be safe. I don’t want you to just hook up with someone and something bad to happen because you can’t say no — with me,” he clenched his hand into a fist holding his other hand flat as he gently hit his fist against it, “you can tell me to stop and if I somehow don’t or don’t hear you, punch me,” 

You snort, “Yuji,” he’s shaking his head. 

“I’m serious, I want you to be safe,” and you’re fidgeting with your fingers in your lap — this was Yuji, Yuji — you couldn’t say you hadn’t noticed how well he had grown up. Not when all of your friends drooled over him — especially with how liked he was — by everyone. 

“What if I lose you?” And he chuckles, as he breaches your personal space and his hand brushes yours. 

“You won’t, ever. I promise,” and your breath catches — many millions of times had Yuji touched you throughout your lives — an arm over over your shoulder, a hug, even holding your hand through crowds during festivals — but a simple brush of his fingers against yours had your heart rattling against its bony enclosure, begging for you to let it out, “what do ya think?” 

And you’re thinking — this would be the best outcome — you weren’t one to hook up with a stranger and you were burnt out on dead end dating app conversations, and to have your first time with someone close, someone you knew — it would be ideal. 

“Are you sure?” And his lips curl into a soft smile, leaning closer, as his fingers gently brush against your locks. 

“Would I be here like this if I wasn’t?” his breath warms your lips, as his fingers skim your cheek, “is this okay?” 

You nod wordlessly, unable to find the words to even reply — you had never thought of this situation would ever happen — especially like this. You lean against his hand, calloused from his practices, but as gentle as it always was. 

“We can take it as slow as you need,” he murmurs, as he’s even closer now, your eyes fluttering shut, only for his lips to graze your forehead. You pause at the featherlight touch — wondering if it actually happened when your eyes open to find his, “no need to rush, right?�� He smiles, as he gets to his feet, “are we still on for tomorrow’s study session?” 

“Of course,” 

He scratches the back of his head, “Good because I still don’t understand math or why I need it, but unfortunately, I still have to pass,” he grabs his bag, “I’ll see you tomorrow,” he offers a smile before he’s gone. 

And you’re left sitting on your bed, the warmth of his touch still on your skin, wondering what the fuck just even happened. 

“Yuji, you just have to solve for x,” you sigh, explaining the problem for the billionth time, as his pen waves back forth between two fingers, “it’s simple,” 

Your weekly study sessions with Yuji were a constant throughout your life, though more for Yuji than you. Yuji is very intelligent, despite his demeanor in class where it felt as if there was a perpetual question mark over his head — he just learned by seeing and then doing. And the repetition helped you all the same. But you had never felt so conscious sitting next to the boy you called your best friend. 

“Maybe to you, but I don’t why math has to involve letters,” he wrinkled his nose at the problem, sighing, as he twists the pen around his hand, and your eyes catch the movement — you didn’t know how the little boy’s whose hands you used to hold had gotten so big now — calloused from his practices, but so soft against your skin,  “is something interesting about my hands?” 

Your eyes snap up to meet his, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “No, just, uh, impressed that you can twist the pen around your hand like that,” 

“Oh, that?” he’s as unfazed as usual, leaning back a little, “that’s easy. I could show you if you want,” 

“It’s fine,” and you’re trying to focus back on the problem, when you find him still staring, “what is it?” 

“If you wanted to hold my hand, you just had to ask,” his fingers graze yours, with enough time for you to pull away, before his fingers lace with yours, “and we can do more if you want?” 

This was crazy — it was probably a mistake, but — as his touch made your heart flutter, warm rolling in waves that erupted into butterflies in your stomach — why weren’t you pulling away? 

“What does more entail?” and he inches a little closer, his breath warming your lips, “but you still haven’t gotten this problem down, are you just trying to get out of studying?” 

A chuckle on his lips, “Maybe I’m just looking for the right motivation, so how about we make a deal?” He moves over, spreading his legs apart, and pats the floor in front of you — for each question I get right, I get a kiss,”

And why you agreed to this, you really didn’t have words—but now you were sat between his legs, nearly in his lap, as he leaned forward — his chest against your back as his chin brushed your shoulder and his cheek brushed against your own, breath warming your neck — trying to get a better look at the math problem. His arm was wrapped around your side as his pen scratched against the scrap paper, trying to solve the problem. You bit your lip, trying your best not to glance at him, but you spot his wrinkled brow out of the corner of his lip and the tip of his tongue poking ever so slightly out of his mouth— and your lips curled, he still had that habit from when you were kids. 

“There, I think I solved it,” he murmurs, and you have to hold back a shiver at the words rumbled against your ear, “is it right?” 

And god, you could barely think, much less do math, but as you glance over the question and answer — he’s got it right.  

Fuck. 

“It is,” you say softly, “is all you need some motivation? Because I would have just promised I would go to see the next Human Earthworm movie,” 

He chuckles, his lips nearly against your ear, as his hand gently traces your jaw, “I’d like that, but I think i rather have what I was promised, as long as you’re still okay with that,” 

Your breath hitches, as you follow his lead, rough pads still so gentle against your cheek, as your eyes find his, but you don’t find his usual doe eyes — but instead find pools of lust threatening to drag you under. Although from the way your lips part and eyes flutter shut, perhaps he had you underwater for far longer than you even knew. 

His lips graze yours — it’s barely a kiss, a peck maybe — as he does his best to ease you in. You didn’t know lips could be so soft — meeting again and again, stealing logic from your mind and breath from your lungs. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, not even a breath away from your lips. You’re nearly dizzy, mind reeling from his touch, heart jumping at his thumb rubbing lightly against your cheek. 

“I am, just a little strange to be kissing, much less you,” and his brow knits together, “but not bad at all,” you add, and he chuckles, his fingers grazing your cheek firmer, as he leans in again, “we said one kiss—“ 

“Do you really want to stop now?” he’s murmuring, and your noses bump against each other. 

Your lips find his again and now you can taste the sour candy he had stolen from you, but an overwhelming sweetness overrides it, and your hand brushes against his cheek, the other finding purchase on his chest.

“Is that okay?” You murmur, as you lips part, the two of you catching your breath, your shared pants filling the silence, your cheeks burning as your eyes avert from his, “I don’t know—“ 

“You’re fine, don’t worry about it,” a small chuckle on his lips, fingers cupping your chin to guide your gaze back to his — a subtle heat that makes your insides turn to molasses, sticky and sweet and far too warm, “just do what feels right, ok?” 

And his lips find yours again, gently as he did the first time, but more passion behind it, swallowing your quiet murmur of his name with ease. Your lips move against his just as his did — you try to push aside the thoughts of whether you were doing this right. But the slight brush of his teeth against your bottom lip makes you forget too with a gasp. 

He pulls away with a grin on his lips, “Sorry, couldn’t resist,” and his lips are kissed red, your thumb brushed against his swollen lips, “don’t tempt me more,” 

“You’re the one who started this, shouldn’t you take some responsibility, Yu?” your lips graze his cheek, curling as a rosy flush settles over his cheekbones, “nothing to say?” 

“You’re making it hard for me to hold back,” and he’s burying his face in the side of your neck, making you shiver, as he pulls you even closer, arms around your waist, “I don’t want to rush you,” 

Cute, you think before you even think, and yet the way his face is hidden away in your neck, breath warming your neck makes your body flush, and when have you ever thought of Yuji as cute? And yet you couldn’t remember a time that he made your heart race either. 

His lips press a small kiss to your neck, drawing a yelp from your lips, “Yuji—“ he’s nosing the hollow of your throat, “ah, you’re teasing me,” you whine, and he’s lifting his gaze back to yours, heavy with want, a want that leaves you bereft of any semblance of sense. 

“You started it,” he murmurs, before he finds your lips in another kiss — this time it’s a slow heat, languid as it threatens to burn both of you alive, flames licking at the edges of your reason. And his phone goes off — a reminder for practice that he groans at, “I should go. I have to go run laps,” 

“Now?” And he’s slowly disentangling himself from you, the absence of his touch lingers, the heat ebbing, “don’t you usually practice in the mornings?” You get to your feet slowly as well, handing him his math notebook, and it occurs to you when you spot the puddles outside, “it was too wet,” 

And he nods, scratching the back of his head, as the two of you walk out into your apartment’s living space, “and I forgot my protein shake—“ you head over to the kitchen, opening the refrigerator door and pulling out his shake, and he blinks, “how—“ 

“You did the same thing last week, so I just bought a pack for you,” and his lips curl as he walks over and takes the bottle from your hand, fingers brushing — and even that much alight a flutter of nerves through your body. 

“Thanks,” he grins, and you nod. 

“Of course, I thought it just made sense since you come here every week—” you turn to shut the refrigerator, before turning back, only to find him stepping a bit closer, “Yu—“ 

“I almost forgot, one more lesson,” and he’s leaning close, and your breath catches in your throat, as his lips brush yours, fingers tracing the swell of your cheek, “a kiss goodbye,” and he parts, a brush of his fingers against yours, “I’ll text you later,” and he’s gone in a flash. 

Your left, fingertips touching your lips, a questioning lingering as he left — whether these feelings blooming in your chest were just from the kiss, or something more. 

But you glance at your phone — a text from Yuji: 

Golden Retriever Bestie: thanks for the drink again :)

You lock the screen — but you couldn’t hope for more, right? Not when this was started with the intention of stopping. But why—as you laid back into bed, staring up at your ceiling in the same room the two of you had spent the last two years watching movies or studying in, eyes squeezing shut—

Why did you still want more? 

When did Yuji Itadori fall in love with you? It would probably be easier for him to list the moments he hadn’t fallen for you — but the earliest he can remember was when he had hurt himself climbing a tree in the schoolyard, falling from the branch he had made it to. You had been watching him the whole time, telling him to come down, and when he fell, you were at his side. His vision was a little blurry but when it cleared, he saw you knelt above him, big tears leaving your eyes. And when he came to, you hugged him tight, before helping him to the nurse’s. You had even insisted on bandaging his cuts, not letting the nurse do so. 

And that’s when he knew — he knew he always wanted to wake to you beside him. 

“You what?” Nobara scoffed at him, as she held up another of her new purchases in front of her while looking in her full length mirror, “so instead of asking her out and confession this pathetic crush—“ 

“Pathetic is kinda harsh, Kugisaki—“ 

“It’s been over a decade — your one sided feelings is now in secondary school — it’s officially pathetic,” she hangs up the new leather jacket she bought in her closet, before turning to Yuji, “so instead of confessing, you asked her to be your friends with benefits—“ 

“That’s not exactly—“ she cuts him off with a look, “ok that’s kind of what I did,” he shakes his head, “she was venting about how she never had her first kiss and words started coming out of my mouth and wouldn’t stop—“ 

“Not the first time that’s happened to you is it?” And Yuji glares at her through the mirror, “what? You came to me instead of Fushiguro because you wanted a pretty girl’s opinion right?” 

“I said girl, nothing about—“ it was her turn to glare at him, “alright, alright — what do I do now? I want to tell her I like her, but if I do, I might seem like a—“ 

“A creep? A weirdo? A pervert?” 

“I was gonna say liar, but those too,” he rubbed a hand down his face, “what do I do?” 

She sighs, tucking a strand of her dyed hair behind her ear, “the only thing to do in situation like this,” 

“Tell the truth?” And she scoffs. 

“No, of course not, just use this time to make her fall for you, but that means you’ll have to use this agreement to your advantage,” she hums, “she said she wanted more experience right?” And Yuji nods, “who says it has to just be making out and sex?” 

“You want to go on a date? Fuck,” you mutter under your breath as you turn the heat of your burner down, hoping you hadn’t completely burned your omelet now as you flipped it, “I thought this was just supposed to be for the more…physical sides of things,” your cheeks burned. 

God, what the fuck. 

“I mean part of gaining experience is learning how to date, right?” And you’re placing your slightly burned omelet in the plate, as you wipe your hands off with your dishcloth, “we could go to an arcade, maybe catch a movie,” 

“Human Earthworm 4?” And you hear him chuckle over the line, and the sound makes your lips curl — it always felt like an accomplishment making him laugh, but even more so now.  

“We don’t have to—“ 

“I don’t mind,” you cut him off, and you never did — you just loved to tease him, as you always did, “they’ve grown on me,” and you didn’t know there was more room for Yuji to grow on you, you thought his roots had already went far and deep, tangled around every inch of yourself and your mind, even your heart — but now—

“Does 2 PM work? I’ll come by and pick you up from your place,” and you didn’t know where it would go but— 

“Sounds perfect,”  he had found his way into a place you never thought anyone would find themselves in. — and as he hung up, biting your bottom lip—

And it seemed he was here to stay. 

“You’re such a cheater,” you glared at Yuji as he won for the tenth time at the boxing game — hitting the max score every time, “tell me what the trick is,” 

“You know I’m strong,” Yuji gapes,  holding his arm, “how would I cheat?” And you’re pouting, crossing your arms. 

“You’re cheating by being you,” and Yuji has to bite back his smile — you were being so cute — but he knows saying that will earn him a punch in the shoulder harder than you gave the punching bag on the machine, “now you have to buy me an ice cream,” 

“For?” He raises an eyebrow. 

“For being a cheater,” and he can’t help the chuckle that leaves his lips that earns him a bunch of slaps to his arm, before he’s wrapping that same arm around your waist, your complaints chased away by a gasp, “what—“ 

“I was going to buy you anything you wanted anyway, it is a date after all,” he smiles, and you stammer, but you don’t pull away, “what flavor do you want?” After you tell him, he goes off to the concession to buy you both some ice cream, and when he finds you at a table, he sees you’re not alone. His lips are a tight line, as he finds a guy leaning against the booth you sat in, clearly flirting with you, your back to Yuji so he can’t see your face. 

He finds his way back to you, his hand brushes your shoulder gently, “is everything okay?” He asks you, meeting your gaze without regard for the stranger — and he’s glad he did, because he spots your pursed lips and darting eyes that told him everything he needed to know, “you need something?” He asks the guy, a friendly smile on his lips. 

“Not from you,” the guy scoffs, “I was talking to—“ 

“Well, you’re talking to me now, not my date, so—“ and you’re leaning into Yuji, “you need something or not?” And the guy grumbles something under his breath before slinking away, and Yuji’s sliding in beside you when you move over, “you okay?” 

“Yeah, he wouldn’t leave,” you sigh, shaking your head, “sorry—“ 

“You have nothing to be sorry about,” he murmurs, as he hands you your ice cream, “as long as you’re okay,” his arm slides around your shoulder and squeezes you, “i would’ve punched him if it wouldn’t have ruined our date,” 

You snort, as you lick your ice cream, “if you punched him harder than you did the bag, don’t know if this date would have ended with us going home,” and he pouts, as he laps at his ice cream, and he feels you turn to look at him, “Didn’t know you were the jealous type, Yu,” and he chuckles, he wanted to say — only when it came to you. 

But he knew that he couldn’t. Not like this.  

“I didn’t think I was either.” 

“Nope, not gonna admit it,” and Yuji’s grinning still, as the two of you walk out of the theater, his arm still around your shoulder, “no it wasn’t that good,” 

If there was one thing about Yuji is that movies were literally his obsession — one movie marathon when the two of you were teens had turned him into a fanatic. And he often ended up dragging you to all of them he saw in theaters — and you probably had watched the Human Earthworm movies the most amount of times anyone ever has — aside from Yuji. Well, more like you watched him watch it, because while he was smiling and laughing (or crying) at the movie, you were looking at him. 

And right now, he looked far too smug, “So you admit that it was good,” and you cross your arms, shaking your head, “I saw you tearing up at the end — I told you, it’s all about love!” 

You purse your lips, if only to hold back your smile, before sighing, “How would no one tear up at that ending?” And his hand’s grabbing yours, tugging at your arm, as the two of you walk along, “Yu—“ 

“I knew you liked it! C’mon, I knew you would, now what was your favorite part?” And your lips curl into a smile, “what?” 

That was one of the things you loved the most about Yuji, how excited he could get — how he loved everything so wholeheartedly with no reservations, and you knew he was the one person you could always count on to cheer you up. 

“Nothing, nothing,” you chuckle, letting your fingers lace with his, “my favorite part?” And you want to say — watching him enjoy the movie. 

But you can’t. 

“Probably the ending,” you slowly smile, “liked it when the credits rolled,” and he’s mock glaring, as you laugh before his arm tightening around your waist, “Yu-ji—“ 

“Not going to be honest?” He murmurs, before kissing your chin, “then maybe I’ll make you.” 

“Yu—ngh, please,” Yuji could get addicted to your taste, it was never enough, was it? His lips had spent the last twenty minutes kissing every inch of your face and neck, traversing over every nook and cranny as he always wanted to — and yet it was never enough. Any time spent with you was never enough —because you always made anything better, and nothing ever worse. 

And he knew no one else would ever feel this good. 

How many times had he imagined just this scenario? Of you in his bedroom with him alone, as you had been many times before, but never like this. You never looked at him like that before — with that shyness mixed with an undercurrent of want. And it was enough to rip him away and drag him under with you. 

“Please what, baby?” Yuji looks up with a wry smile and soft eyes that burn a path where as it raked down your body like coals across a fire, “want me to stop?” And he’s dragging a thumb down your untouched lips. 

You cover your face with the back of your hand, and he’s gently tugging it away, pressing a kiss to your wrist, your pulse jumping underneath, “I want more,” and fuck if he wasn’t at full mast from the kissing, he was now at your words, “I want you to…kiss me and…touch me,” you mumble, eyes averted, but he’s smiling all the same — you were so cute. 

“Where can I touch?” he asks softly, his nose brushing yours, “need you to tell me. I don’t want to rush—“ 

And your lips crash against his, your fingers finding the back of his neck, threading in his pink locks. He’s pausing a moment before he melts into your kiss, and you’re taking the lead, as you lean further into the kiss, your fingers sliding down from his shoulder to his chest. His tongue flicks against the seam of your lips and you part for him. 

“I want you to touch me,” you murmur as you break the kiss, panting, strings of your spit still connecting your lips, your breathy words nearly enough for him to lose all control, “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it,” 

And he’s more than happy to oblige, his lips find yours in a bruising kiss, his hand toys with the hem of your shirt as permission, and you part from the kiss to nod. His hand slides up your soft flesh, pushing up your shirt along with it — finding your lacy bra underneath. He’s tugging the shirt up and over your head with your help, and god—

He has to stop himself from cumming right then and there at the sight of you. His fingers reach out, toying with the strap of your bra, “Did you wear this for me?” And you biting your bottom lip was all the answer he needed. 

“Yu—“ he’s tweaking your hardened bud through the fabric, “ah, fuck—“ and he leans down to suck the other side through your bra, while sliding down your bra strap. 

“Need to taste you,” and you’re nodding, while he’s reaching around to brush against the clasp of your bra to undo it, and his cock twitches at the sight of your bare skin — you’re so fucking pretty. 

He always thought you were pretty — when you were kids drenched from running around in the rain, when you were just waking up from a nap with your hair askew and dried drool in the corner of your mouth, when your eyes were wide with excitement and nearly jumping up and down to tell him good news; and when you’re smiling—especially when you’re smiling. 

It was his favorite thing. 

“Don’t stare so much,” you’re trying cover yourself, but his hands catch yours, easing them off, “It’s embarrassing—“ 

“You’re perfect,” and your lips part but no words come, but you can’t meet his gaze, “you are—“ 

“You’re just saying that—“ and his fingers pinch your nipple drawing a gasp from your lips, while he leans down and takes the other in his mouth. His eyes find yours, blown into deep, dark pools by his lust — ones you’d be more than willing to drown in. 

“I’d never just say that, especially to you, baby,” and you’re about to make a smart remark about him calling you ‘baby.’ But you forget every word you ever learned when his fingers start to drag down your stomach, fingers playing with the button of your jeans, “can I?” 

And you nod, your back arching ever so slightly as his lips press a sweet kiss to your bellybutton. He’s kissing down your soft legs as he tugs down your jeans — one to your thigh, another to your knee, and another to your ankle —before he’s kissing up the other. 

“How’s that feel?” he murmurs, eyes flitting up to meet yours, and fuck, your lips parted and swollen a pretty red, eyes half lidded with want, and — as his eyes fall between your thighs — a growing wet spot on your panties. 

His fingers toy with the elastic, snapping it lightly against your skin, a slight flinch only, as his eyes gaze at your clothed cunt with near reverence. He looks for permission, before he leans in to press a kiss to your swollen clit, a small yelp escaping your mouth. 

“Yuji,” you whine, lifting your head to meet his gaze again, “please,” 

“Say my name again, please,” he’s kissing your thigh gently, and it feels as if you’ll crumble under his touch any second, wither away in a figment of his imagination, and he won’t ever get the chance to hear you like this again, much less touch you. He was selfish to take advantage like this — and he knew he was — but he couldn’t leave it like this.

“Yuji, just touch me—“ and your head falls back as his fingers graze your clit through your nearly translucent underwear, “ngh, you fucker—“ and he’s chuckling, as he tugs your panties away. 

“Wanted to keep them on since you looked so good, but,” and he’s pocketing them with a grin, “I’ll just keep them instead,” your dripping walls twitch at the thought, “s’good for me. What do you want, my fingers or my tongue?” 

“Fuck, I don’t know, just touch—“ and your head lolls against the pillow as his tongue drags up flat up the length of your weeping pussy. 

“You’re so sweet — I could live here,” he murmurs, as his fingers spread your slick folds, a pretty moan falling from your lips as he does, “can’t wait to feel you cum around my fingers,” he’s easing a finger in — and you’re so tight, you’re tensing as he tries to part your walls, “relax, ok? I’ll be gentle. Don’t worry. I won’t ever hurt you,” his eyes meet yours and you’re nodding, as he pulls his finger away, a shiver at the empty ache, but it falls away into another moan as his tongue replaces it. 

The wet squelch of your folds is enough for him to cum right there — you smell as sweet as you taste, as he kisses your clit, before dragging the length of his tongue over your sopping slit again, “Yuji—fuck—“ your fingers find purchase in his pink locks right when he decides to sink a finger inside you again. 

“That’s it,” he grunts, as he works his finger knuckle deep into you, “so good f’me, so tight,” he’s murmuring, and your syrupy walls wrapped around his finger makes him wonder how good it will feel when his cock is inside you. He’s palming his erection through his pants, desperate for any kind of fucking friction, “g’nna add another,” 

And you’re nodding, “please, I—“ and a second finger joins the first, and the lewd noises grow louder from your slick and his fingers begin to pump faster — teasing and stretching your walls as they begin to flutter around you, “Yuji, Yuji—“ his name leaves your lips like a prayer, but he’s the one who would worship at your feet, if you’d let him, your moans and whimpers were all he needed to survive, and he’d give his very soul if it meant he could be at your side. 

His fingers are fucking you open, the tips of his fingers brushing against the spot that his your mouth falling open in a silent moan, “that’s it, cum for me, pretty girl,” and pleasure rips up your spine, as you cum all over his fingers, thighs shaking as you do. He fucks you slowly through your orgasm, helping you ride it out, until he’s slowing, leaning up to prsss sweet kisses to your face. 

“I’m going to pull them out slowly,” he murmurs, your eyes still fluttered shut, but they slowly open to watch him ease his fingers from you. Soft pants leave your lips as you watch him with lidded eyes lick his fingers sticky with your release clean. 

“Are you okay?” He’s murmuring, as he moves up to lean over your face, and you’re nodding, “let me clean you up and we can sleep, ok?” he’s moving to get off the bed, but you grab his hand, and he tilts his head. 

“What about you?” You mumble, frowning, eyes flickering to the tent in his pants with a shy gaze, “I want to—“ 

“It’s okay, let’s just take it easy today,” he’s smiling, fingers finding yours and squeezing, pressing his lips to your knuckles, “you look like you’re about to pass out,” and you’re pouting all the same, but you seem to relent as the exhaustion sets in once again at your words, “I’ll be right back,” and he retreats to his bathroom to wet a washcloth, only to come back to you fast asleep. 

He chuckles at the sight of you sprawled out on his bed — a sight not uncommon to him on nights you spent over, but never like this before. He leans on the bed carefully, mattress creaking ever so slightly under his weight, as he begins to clean you gently — and luckily, you don’t wake by the time he’s done. He can’t put your jeans or underwear on so he opts to grab a pair of his freshly washed shorts and slides them on you. He adjusts the blanket, draping it over you, running his fingers through your hair to tuck it behind your ear, and the back of his knuckles over your cheek. 

“Yuji,” you mumble in your sleep, and he bites his lip — as he returns to his bathroom, softly shutting the bedroom door and the bathroom door behind him, a glaring problem to deal with, as he is still nearly waddling at this point from the grazing of his boxers against his aching erection. 

He undoes his jeans quickly, eyes fluttering as he pushes both down and strips his shirt off before slipping into the shower. The squeak of the shower faucet and the water running hopefully don’t wake you — but more importantly, he hopes his moans don’t.  

His dick was rock hard and aching still — there were so many times he nearly came in his pants, and by how drenched his boxers were — maybe he had. But fuck, you were so gorgeous, laid back and spread out for him. 

His fingers grazed his weeping cock, smearing the precum up and down his length, thumb tracing his slit, as you would. He could see you thumbing his head experimentally, as your eyes flickered up at him, doe eyes, yet glazed over with lust. It wouldn’t be long until you’re slowly pumping him, as he does now — from base to tip, teasing his balls all the same. You’d flick your tongue over the tip, sucking at the dripping precum — wrinkle your nose at the salty taste, but you’d suck at his tip all the same. 

He’d look down at you as your hand switches to toying with his balls, as you let his cock slap against your tongue, before letting his length slip past your lips. Your lips would feel so much softer than his hand does right now, jerking himself off, your plush lips and tongue wrapped around his dick. A low groan escapes his lips, as he covers his mouth, hoping you couldn’t hear him over the running water. The squelch of his precum and his soft moans would only make him want to repay the favor, making you cum over and over, until you were begging him to stop. 

Fuck, he was close, by the way his cock twitched in his hand — where would he cum with you? He’d cum anywhere you wanted — but to cum on your face or chest, the image made him shudder. Your tongue would flick out to clean up some of the cum, and—

Fuck, he moans your name, as he cums all over his fingers, his release sprayed against the tile of his shower, dripping down and mixing with the water. He’s panting, as he cleans his hand off in the shower, leaning his head back. 

What has he gotten himself into? Was it right for him to do this? You didn’t know how he felt — and he didn’t know if you would ever feel the same. But as he got dressed and crawled into bed beside you, keeping his distance as you slept, he felt you move closer, mumbling his name as you did. He couldn’t help but softly smile, running his fingers through his hair—it didn’t matter if you never ended up loving him, as long as you knew what you deserved—to be with someone who loved you, as much or even more than he did. 

He let himself drift off, a loose arm thrown over your middle—he’d let himself have this, if only for now. 

“Oh come on, you couldn’t get the ad free version, Fushiguro?” Nobara complains as yet another commercial comes on, as she glares at the black haired vet student, who sat on the floor after she stole his armchair. 

He only shrugs, bearing little to no reaction, “If you’re going to complain, then why don’t you pay for it?” 

Nobara and him begin to bicker ever so slightly, and Yuji chuckles in your ear, “are they more fun to watch then the show?” 

The four of you were at your apartment, watching a new season of a TV show you all had started last year. You were sat next to Yuji on the couch, your bodies nearly pressed against each other as you shared the blanket, a little cold from the rain outside. 

“They’re always more entertaining than the show, that’s why we agree to this,” you whisper back, the proximity of your bodies making your cheeks burn. You turn away, hoping he can’t feel or even hear the way your heart was beating down your ribs to burst free. Every time he shifted even slightly, you felt your body react — so conscious of even a twitch of his fingers — you wanted to bury yourself under the blanket. 

It had been like this since that night. 

You had woken up to him asleep beside you. Your eyes fluttered open as consciousness slowly crept into focus, sunlight filtering into sight, a small groan leaving your lips. And it wasn’t until you tried to reach for your phone you realized the thing beside you wasn’t a pillow but a person.  

Your eyes flew open and you found Yuji still sound asleep beside you. It wasn’t unusual for the two of you to sleep on the same bed — especially after a late night where one or the other didn’t want to go home — but it was different to wake up entangled with him, especially after the events of the night before came flooding back. 

And after that, each time you had been around him, you had become more and more conscious of his touch, nervous even, at the simplest of brushes of his fingers. And this? His body pressed against yours, his fingers grazing your thigh nearly, and his soft breath against your ear — god, you were going to lose it. 

“You ok?” he murmurs a half an hour later, and the question itself makes you squirm — because no, your hot best friend was pressed against you and making you want to do nothing more than kiss him— 

Wait, wait, hot? Your mind stutters at your own thoughts, lagging to comprehend yourself — hot? You wanted to kiss him? You always knew Yuji was hot, he was objectively — especially based on how many of your friends had wanted you to hook them up with him — but you had never thought of him that way. Maybe in passing — but to you, that was the one line you could never cross, especially when you had seen so many friendships fall apart because of a relationship. 

You never wanted to risk Yuji like that. 

But then here you were — blurring that line you said you never cross — and letting the ground split underneath the two of you. 

“I’m fine,” you mumble back — and yet here he was, seemingly unfazed by your proximity and as the minutes ticked by, it began to eat away at you. Did he not find it as meaningful as you did? Did he not feel as good as you? Do you need to touch him just to make him feel just as heartsick as you were? 

And now you know what you wanted to do. 

As the show went on, Nobara and Fushiguro fell asleep — Fushiguro asleep with a cushion he had stolen from Nobara’s armchair and Nobara curled up in said armchair, passed out. 

“Should we stop the show and go to bed?” Yuji asks you, albeit innocently — but there was anything but innocent intentions in your mind when you shake your head, a smile on your lips. 

“Let’s keep watching,” your fingers grazes his thigh, as you lean over, lips nearly brushing against his ear, “it’s just getting interesting, right?” 

And his breath hitches, “what’re you—“ and your fingers inches higher, grazing over his already tenting erection, a hiss escapes his lips, as he’s covering his mouth. 

“Shh, don’t wake them,” and your fingers are ghosting and teasing over his cock, the precum already starting to seep through the fabric, as he shifts under your touch. Your thumb flicks over his head, now fully hard, “so big already,” you mumble, and now your lips press sweet kisses to his neck, finding small cuts and bruises from his practices, and a gasp escaped his lips. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this—“ and your lips find his, and he melts so easily into your touch, your fingers toy with the elastic of his shorts, his eyes flickering to the two sleeping. He’s pulling away for a breath, lips utterly ruined — his fingers running through his hair, “please—“ and your lips curl. 

Your fingers finally brush against his leaking cock, and his head falls back, his cheeks flushed a pretty pink, lips parted as soft pants left his lips. And you’re nearly shivering yourself at his want — seeping into your own body, as his pants and moans send a wave of heat between your thighs. 

You rub your thighs together, as you shift even closer somehow, “Gotta be quiet Yu — they can hear us after all,” you murmur, right as your thumb swipes over his slit, a yelp caught in his throat, as his hand flies back to lips, “good boy,” and his dick twitches at the praise, as your finger begins to trace along his veins, “so big, how am I going to fit you inside?” you murmur, biting back a smirk when a muffled groan reaches your ears. 

Your fingers finally curl around his length, you never thought a cock to be pretty — but Yuji’s was. You stared at it under the covers, flushed a lovely red, too dripping pearly beads of precum, and the slight curve it had to it — made the ache in your cunt only grow. 

“Please, baby, I need, please—“ he’s whining, “I need you—“ 

And you oblige him, your hand beginning to spread the pre along his length, beginning to stroke him slowly from base to tip. He’s biting his lip, hard, nearly drawing blood as he chooses to bury his face in the crook of your neck, if only to muffle any moans that fell from his lips. 

“S’good for me, Yu, wanna make you feel as good as I did,” his moan vibrates against your skin, cock twitching in your fingers, “gonna move faster, don’t want our friends to see you like this, do you? You have to be quiet,” and god, why did only seem to get harder at your words? 

Your fingers begin to jerk him off in earnest, the wet squelch of his cock nearly not hidden enough by the volume of the TV, but nearly don’t care at this point — you just want him to fall apart under your touch, need him to. 

And oh, he’s so close. His groans are more frequent, his hips jerking against your fist, and when your other hand finds his balls, squeezing — it’s too much. 

He moans softly, “I’m—“ and that’s all he manages before he spills on your fingers — warm, white spurts splatter against your palm and the blanket, dripping, as he falls back, limp against the sofa. His cock softened in your hand, as you pull it away, before gently wiping him clean with the already drenched blanket. 

He’s panting and fucked out, eyes half lidded as his chest rises and falls, watching you lick your fingers clear of his release, gaze never leaving his. 

“Didn’t know you’d taste this good—“ you barely can manage, before he’s leaning forward to kiss you. Your fingers slide against his cheek to cup it, feeling his hand tangle itself in your hair, “Yuji—“ 

“What was that about?” he murmurs, “not that I’m complaining but—“ but then Megumi starts to move and you both freeze, your breath catching, until Megumi seemingly falls back asleep, “we should head to bed, but—“ 

He looks at the blanket, and the mess you made of him and the couch alike. 

“The blanket I’ll toss in the washer, the cushion I’ll clean up and just turn over—“ and you smile, “and you take a shower before bed,” 

His brow still knits together, “but we haven’t—“ 

“We’ll talk later,” and when later came, Yuji found you fast asleep in bed, with more questions than answers. But he supposed, as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his answers could come later. 

How long has it been? 

You stared at your phone — as if you could will it to receive the message you’ve been waiting for. As if it would grant your one and only wish for a text or a call — but it didn’t. Instead, it only gave you a spam call and a text to let you know you had a discount code for your favorite takeout place. 

Great. 

It had been a week since you had heard from Yuji — and a week since that night. You had woken up to the other three gone — gone off to their own apartments after you had slept in and texts on your phone from them in the groupchat. It was a few days before break — before you and Yuji would be heading back home for a few days together. But you hadn’t seen him at all since — not a chance to talk, much less seeing him. 

Was he upset? Was he done with this? Was his promise to stay empty in the end? Was it your fault — for pushing it, for agreeing to it, and for falling for it all the same? Falling for it or — your eyes trace the screen of your phone as if it’s his cheek — or falling for him. 

No, you rake your fingers through your hair, no, you didn’t love him — not like that. Not the way you shouldn’t, the way you had sworn yourself never to — but maybe all promises between friends were empty, when they were made like this. 

But you weren’t made to let this break apart. 

You found yourself at his door after classes, knocking at his door of his apartment. The door opens, and you find Yuji rubbing his eyes, hair askew, and shoulders drooped. 

“Hey,” he yawned, he’s still shaking off the shackles of sleep, “sorry, what’s up?” 

“Are you okay?” Your furrow your brow, your eyes spot the dark bags under his eyes, large enough to nearly engulf his eyes all together, “you look like you haven’t slept in days,” he steps aside to let you in, you glance around, his apartment wasn’t usually the cleanest — but it wasn’t a wreck like it was now. Clothes scattered, unwashed dishes stacked up, and papers strewn about. 

“I just haven’t…been sleeping—“ and then you remember. 

It wasn’t about you. It was about him. And you were so wrapped up in yourself, you weren’t thinking about him. 

“Yuji, you’re having those nightmares again, aren’t you?” You murmur softly, and the way his gaze falls to the ground tells you everything you need to know, “alright, go lay down,” 

“What?” he’s blinking, but your hand already finds his as you take him to his bedroom, “what are you—“ 

“You lay down. I’m going to make you dinner, and then you’re going to sleep,” and he sits on the bed reluctantly, fingers against his knees, as he bit his lip. 

“I can’t sleep, I told you—“ you cup his cheek, and guide his gaze to yours. 

“Remember what we’d do when you couldn’t sleep after the accident?” 

“This feels ridiculous,” Yuji murmurs into your chest, his head buried there, while your fingers run softly through his pink locks, “we’re not six anymore—“ 

“So what? Doesn’t mean we can’t do this still,” you say, as your fingers pause, “unless you don’t want me to,” 

“I didn’t say that,” he mumbles, and you can hear the blush in his voice that undoubtedly painted his cheeks, “I just meant it feels like I’m bothering—“ 

“Yu, don’t make me pinch you,” you murmur, rubbing his head, “you’re never a bother,” you kiss his head softly without thinking, and soon your cheeks are burning too, “sorry I didn’t—“ 

“Why are you sorry?” He chuckles, “we’ve done a lot more than kiss recently,” and he adds, “especially you,” 

You bite your lip, glad he couldn’t see your face like this, “I thought that’s why you weren’t talking to me, I thought you didn’t like what I did…on the couch, you know—“ 

“I know,” he chuckles this time, “and how could I not like that?” And you swallow the lump in your throat, as the two of you fall into a comfortable silence that you choose to breach. 

“You haven’t had these nightmares in a while,” you murmur quietly, before you add, “we don’t have to talk—“ 

“I know, but it happens from time to time, especially this month,” and your brow furrows, “don’t wrinkle your forehead at me,” and you lean back to gape at him, a smile pulling at his lips, “you always do that when you find out I’m keeping something from you,” 

He moves ever so slightly away, turning to look at the ceiling, “Well I think I have a right because this is a pretty big thing to keep from me, Yu,” you pout, and your fingers begin to absentmindedly trace his jaw, his eyes fluttering shut — you always treated him so gently, like that something that could shatter, but he knew you would always be there to put him back together. Because you did that once already. Over a decade ago, “why didn’t you tell me?” 

Because he didn’t want to worry you. Because he didn’t want you to think of him still as that broken kid you watched after when he had his world fall apart. 

Because he didn’t want you to take that burden — he wanted to handle it himself. 

“I didn’t want to bother you—“ 

“It’s never a bother when it’s you,” and his voice catches in his throat — fuck, how did you always know just what to say? 

He takes a breath, “it’s just the same dream. Of the crash,” he could see something so clearly that he never experienced. He was at home with you when the crash happened — a play date Yuji had insisted on when he had cried and begged his parents to stay with you instead of going to dinner with them. They had relented — and that was the thing that left him alone. 

It was lucky that his grandfather was able to take him in, and stay close by — so he still got to go to school with you. 

“Let’s try to sleep, ok?” You murmur, “you’ll feel better when you sleep,” you cup his cheek, and he’s biting his lip, “what is it?” 

“What if I see it again?” He whispers, as if he’s afraid that his words were any louder he would speak it into existence. 

“Come here,” you say softly, your fingers gently guide his head to face you,  “I’ll keep you safe, I promise,” A sigh leaves his lips as he moves closer, letting you engulf him in your arms, his eyes shutting, and letting himself relax for a moment — the first moment in far too many days. 

When he let himself slip into sleep’s embrace—it was the first night he didn’t dream of the crash — he dreamt of you.  

And when he woke in your arms in the morning, your soft lips parted as you slept, sunlight dappled on your skin through his window, and the way your fingers held onto the fabric of his shirt — he knew, he knew he had to tell you how he felt. 

He needed to end this — his fingers brushing a strand of hair behind your ear — if only to begin something new. 

You had to end it — it hadn’t sunk in until the car drove back home. The quiet morning drive left you both in a comfortable silence, the quiet white noise of his playlist, along with Yuji’s terrible singalongs and your bickering over his music choice. And you found yourself more than once staring at him as he drove, to the point where he had caught you looking. 

“What?” He tilts his head when the light turned red, fingers drumming on the steering, the other poking your side. 

“Nothing,” and you’re playfully slapping his hand away, a smile on your lips — same smile you always had with him. Always—because he’s your best friend. But he was so much more than that. 

You were in love. 

The two of you had returned to the place where you had laid your roots to rest and let your seed scatter to the wind. Only to return as a different flower altogether — but you knew, you couldn’t let it go on. 

It had become painfully clear that morning, you had woken first, the sun had not peaked over the horizon yet, and you found Yuji fast asleep — breaths even and face relaxed. You knew his parents had scarred him deeply — he spoke of them often, but not at all at — he mentioned their presence, but never his own feelings. You knew he had a habit of putting others above himself — but you had missed this — all of this week, you could have been there for him, but you were caught up in your own thoughts and you had made it all about yourself. 

And he deserved more than that. 

He deserved more than you. 

And you couldn’t risk losing him — lose him in a stupid argument or a disagreement and then never be able to comfort him again? Never be able to be by his side? You couldn’t bear to even fathom that. 

“Nanamin was asking about you,” Yuji says as the two of you walk home from the local convenience store — a late night run that produced a familiar bag of treats the two of you always shared when you came back home. 

“Oh really? Are classes over for high school already?” The English literature teacher had taken Yuji in for his last year and half of high school after his grandfather passed, and Yuji always stayed with him on breaks. 

“He asked if you were going to come with us to see my parents tomorrow morning,” it was a tradition to go visit Yuji’s parents graves each year around this time — you always paid your respects whenever you could, “he also said you’re free to stay over, but you have to sleep in a different bedroom,” you snort, “he said and I quote ‘we are past the age of sharing a room,’” You laugh, cheeks burning as you shake your head, “he’s not exactly wrong though,” his fingers graze yours, and there’s nothing more you want than to take his hand, but you know one way or another, you’d drop it in the end. Wouldn’t it be better now? When there isn’t far to fall? 

So you do, letting your hand fall away from his. 

“I’d be happy to see your parents, but I don’t know if staying over is a good idea—“ and he’s shaking his head with a chuckle in his throat. 

“Don’t worry, I won’t do anything you don’t want to—“ 

“We should stop, Yuji,” and his smile slips off his face as if it was slapped off, he blinks, shock settling into confusion. 

“Why?” Only one word and it manages to break you all the same. 

“We just shouldn’t. This was supposed to be about teaching me, but i think I’ve learned enough,” you’re turning away, but his fingers are gently finding your wrist, “Yuji—“ 

“You don’t think I can’t tell when you’re lying?” Yuji asks, and your glass-like facade shatters so easily — why does it always have to break so readily when it comes to him? 

But you pull away all the same, “I can’t do this anymore. Not like this. I don’t want to. I can’t lose you—“ 

“You won’t lose me—“ but you’re already walking off, sparing a glance back. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning when we leave, Yuji,” and he’s opening his mouth to call out, but he stops himself, watching you disappear up the street. 

What just happened? 

The car ride to the cemetery is notably silent. Yuji’s eyes burned when he woke, head aching from the circles he ran around in last night, trying to figure out what happened. Nanami drives in the quiet, his eyes noting when Yuji chooses to sit passenger instead of beside you, only with one glance that’s averted after Yuji refuses to meet it. 

Yuji didn’t know what to make of what you said. After everything, he thought maybe — just maybe, you felt the same as he did. He thought he could tell you tomorrow, tell you when the two of you were alone — and even if it didn’t work out, it would be okay. 

But now — as his eyes stole a look at you in the rear view mirror, he wondered if it ever would be okay again. 

You left the car a moment to go use the bathroom when they stopped to fill gas in the car, and that’s when Nanami speaks. 

“So did you finally ask her out and she said no?” And Yuji’s head snaps to his, but Nanami only stares back, “you aren’t hard to read, Itadori. You’ve liked her for a long time,” 

Yuji scratches the back of his head, “I did something, kinda stupid,” and Nanami tilts his head, “really stupid, ok? And I was going to tell her how I felt, but she broke off what we were doing—“ 

“You weren’t dating?” Yuji’s cheeks burn as he waves off his teacher. 

“That’s not important! But what do I do, Nanamin?” the blond haired teacher raised an eyebrow. 

“It’s not hard to know what to do, Itadori. It’s what you should have done. Tell her how you feel,” and then you’re walking back to the car, “come on, let’s get back. We’re close now.” 

And your gaze avoids his own when Yuji watches you get back in the car, and his lips part as if to stop you — but he doesn’t. 

Not yet. 

You stood with Yuji as he tended to his parents’ graves. Simple stones that he was able to put in with time from his part time jobs, ones he had insisted he would pay for himself — refusing any help from anyone, even you. You knelt down, helping him clear the strewn dead leaves, brushing away dirt and snow — your fingers brushing when you both reach for the same place. 

And your eyes meet, as both of your fingers intertwine slowly — the three of you pay your respects, and Nanami finally stands. 

“I’ll wait for you two at the car,” Nanami says with a nod, leaving the two of you alone. You both already had placed offerings at their graves, arranging them slowly, as the two of you stand, the silence of the cemetery hanging overhead — light streaming in between clouds in the overcast sky, the sounds of the wind rustling the trees the only thing in the quiet. 

“Thank you for coming,” Yuji says softly, and your blink, eyes sliding to his. 

“You never have to thank me for that, Yuji,” you squeeze his hand, “as long as you want me to come, I’ll always be here. And I’ll always pay my respects to your parents, regardless of that,” you say, and that's exactly why you had to stop with him. You couldn’t bear to lose him — lose this, not when he’s lost too much and he was too much for you to lose, “come on, we should get back to the car,” as you pull your hand away from his. 

And maybe things could get back to normal. 

“I know,” and he doesn’t move as you turn to leave, “and that’s why I love you,” 

And you smile, “I love you too—“ 

“I don’t mean it like that,” and you freeze a moment, his words barely processing before he continues to speak, “I mean I do love you in that way too — but that’s not how I meant it now,” he says, as you turn to face him — not finding a hint of humor on his expression. 

“Yuji—“ your brain can barely process your best friend confessing to you — much less next to his parents’ graves— “should we be having this conversation—“ 

“It’s the perfect place to have this conversation,” he glances around at all of the graves, and he’s shaking his head, “maybe not the perfect place, but—“ his gaze softens when he finds yours, “you saved me,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“No, you did. After my parents died,” he stares at the stones side by side — “I could barely function. I barely wanted to do anything but sleep — but you, you pulled me out of bed. You made me go places. You made me smile again,” he says, “but that’s not the reason I fell in love with you,” his lips curl into a soft smile, “it’s because it’s you — your smile, your laugh, your being — it reminded me of happiness existed, and then I realized you were the only person who could make me happy the way you do,” 

“Yuji—“ 

“It’s okay if you don’t feel the same. But I don’t want to lose you, lose this chance to tell you how I feel, to tell you—“ 

“Yuji—“ 

“And I’ve always loved you — there’s never been—“ and you’re hugging him, before you even know you are, your arms are around his middle, face buried in his chest, as he murmurs your name. 

“The only reason I broke it off was,” your voice wavers despite your efforts to force it to stay even, “I didn’t to lose you by not being good enough—“ 

“You just have to be you,” his brow furrowed into the same valleys he teased you for, “you’re all I need,” his hand finds your cheek, guiding your gaze to his, “how could you think you weren’t enough?”

“You don’t tell how you feel sometimes — you don’t tell me what you’re thinking, I didn’t even know you had nightmares—“ you break off, “what if we continued this and you realized you deserved better than me? And it was already too late for me because I love—“ you break off. 

“You what?” he asks, and you’re biting your lip, “I’ll say it again if it will make you—“ 

Fuck it. 

You lean up and press your lips to his, swallowing his words as your hand finds purchase on his shoulder. And it felt right. As it always did with Yuji. 

“I love you too,” you whisper against his lips, “I love you, in the same way you do,” 

“As a friend?” And your brow furrows, “kidding! Kidding—ow!” You’re smacking him playfully, before he catches both of your wrists and pulls you close, “does that mean I can call you mine?” 

“Or baby,” and he flushes, a cute pout on his lips, “what? Isn’t it—“ and he’s kissing you again, your heart leaping as he does, his hands sliding around your hips, “Yu-“ 

“And what’s my pet name? You still haven’t given me one—“ 

“Have some decorum,” a voice cuts through, and the two of you jump apart, as Nanami stands, glaring at the two of you, “come on, if you’re done paying your respects, then we should go home,” he sighs, rubbing his temples, “the dead shouldn’t have to put up with this.” 

Yuji’s cheeks are tomato red at this point — as he covers his face— but you only chuckle, your fingers intertwining with his, squeezing, “c’mon let’s go, and maybe I can give you a pet name when we get home,” and you both turn to face his parents, as you pay your respects and head down the path a little. 

Yuji faces his parents, kneeling down to say goodbye again — and he remembers how it was their idea to set up Yuji to have a playdate with you, all those years ago. And now, here you were — the most important person in his life. 

“Thank you for everything you did for me,” and he glances at you over his shoulder as he gets up, “especially for helping me find her.” 

“Yu-ji—“ you gasp, as he’s tugging you into your bedroom, bumping himself carelessly into the wall as he guides you both to your bedroom. You giggle as he presses you against the wall outside your room, “I text you my parents are going out for dinner and this is how you greet me? What happened to hello—“ 

His lips crash against yours and you forget about ‘hello’ and just about every other word in your head. Your lips curl against his lips, as his body cages you against the wall. It had been a few days since you and Yuji had been able to have a moment alone—Nanami was watching you both cautiously, while your parents had been keeping you busy at home, seeing family or cleaning up around the house. And Yuji was growing increasingly desperate for some time with you — that wasn’t hidden brushes of fingers under the table or stolen kisses out of sight from family or friends. 

“I missed you so much, baby,” he’s murmuring — and you didn’t know it was so possible to look like a kicked puppy so much until you met Yuji, “can’t believe Nanami was so mean and kept making us keep the door open—“ 

“It didn’t help that he walked in us making out on your bed three times—“ and a moan escapes your lips as he kisses your neck, teeth grazing against your racing pulse, “fuck, Yu—“ 

“How do you always taste so good?” he mumbles against you as he leads you inside your bedroom and shuts the door. His eyes glance around your childhood room, as he takes in the childhood posters plastered on the walls, the untouched books, the stuffed animals from a millennium ago that still lined your bed. 

“My family has not changed much here for years,” your cheeks burn, as he only chuckles, walking you backwards into your bed, and you climb into the bed, only grabbing a stuffed animal from behind you, “remember this?” 

He snorts, as he takes the stuffed penguin from your hands, “How could I forget? I tried a million times to win this,” 

You tilt your head, “You said you won it your first try—“ and you gasp as he looks away, cheeks flushed, “you were trying to impress me,” 

“Not that much,” and you’re leaning closer, brushing your lips against his, “maybe just a little,” you kiss him more insistently this time, sliding against his, fingers curling in his soft strands, “maybe too much,” and you smirk, noses bumping as your lips find each other’s again and again. 

And your fingers slide down to drag his shirt up and over, freeing his chest and abs to your sight — and what a sight it is. So toned and tanned from his American football practices in the sun — perfect for your fingers and lips to explore the peaks and valleys of his body, hands already far too eager.

He returns the favor by lifting your own shirt off in an instant, groaning when he finds you wearing nothing underneath — your eyes can’t help but flit down and find his erection already tenting in his sweatpants. 

“Fuck, baby, you’re so perfect,” his eager hands are already teasing and palming you breasts, a whimper drawn out by his precise pinches and touches, “so good for me,” and your hands drag down his chest, leaning down to press kisses to his chest as your fingers trace along his abs, making him groan. 

He’s pouting, after he pulls you into another kiss, “it’s not fair,” he mumbles into the side of your neck, “I feel like I’m always the one who’s more nervous than you are,” 

You chuckle, kissing his jaw, “I felt the same way, why do you think I touched you on our TV marathon that night?” 

And he’s blinking, as you lay back on the bed for him, “you didn’t know—“ you shake your head. 

“You had offered to help get experience, and even when we had done things, you were just so…normal,” he chuckles, before laying beside you. 

“I had some practice acting normal around you, but I really didn’t. I think you nearly gave me a heart attack that night,” and you grin, drawing so close that you even feel the hitch of his breath. 

“That good, huh?” You tease, and it only takes a moment until he’s hovering over you, lust pooled in his gaze that lights a fire on your body wherever it lays. 

And his lips meet yours right after he whispers, “I’ll show you good.” 

“One more, baby,” Yuji tells you, but you barely hear it through the haze of pleasure and heat that fills the room, along with the sounds of the squelch of his fingers in your tight cunt, “just need one more,” 

And how many times had he made you orgasm already? You’d lost count — five or six at least. The first had taken some time, working his finger into your weeping slit, the way your walls stretch around him make you wonder how good it will feel when he fucks you. It’s not long before he’s sinking another finger in, the sounds and feelings of his digits curling is enough to bring you to orgasm. And the rest are a blur — another finger in your tight entrance, fucking you open as he toyed with your walls, until you came again and again. 

And now he bent down, lips around your clit, teasing and sucking at the sensitive bud, as your fingers curled in his pink locks as the lewd moans fell from your mouth with ease. You’re so close — so fucking close, and when his fingertips brush against that spot and it’s all too much. 

You cum around his fingers and mouth, his name on your lips as you do, back arching against him, as he eases his fingers from your cunt. He licks his fingers clean as your eyes flutter open to meet his, “You taste so good, baby — you’re perfect,” and you watch as his tongue flicks out to clean his lips and chin of your sticky release. 

And soon enough he’s kissing you, hand cupping your cheek, letting you taste yourself on his lips, as your fingers drag over his bare chest and follow his happy trail into the elastic of his boxers. A soft moan leaves his kiss ruined lips, as his eyes are lidded with lust, soft pants against your skin. 

“Is this a dream?” Yuji murmurs, his lips ghosting along your jaw, “never thought we would get here,” and you turn your head to meet his lips in another sweet kiss. 

“It isn’t, we’re here. Took us long enough,” your lips curl, your fingers tracing over his cheek, “and nowhere else I rather be — or no one else I rather be with,” 

“You sure?” And you’ve flipped him over, kissing down his body, fingers tugging at the elastic of his boxers until his dick is freed from the fabric, “fuck, baby, you don’t have—“ 

And his words are cut off with a grunt as your fingers grazes his erection, teasing his weeping head. You start to pump up and down, working the thick beads of precum over his length, his head falling back. 

“How’s your cock so pretty, Yu?” you coo, blowing air over his dick, making him twitch in your hand, “never thought one of these would ever be so pretty,” you let his length slap against your tongue, slowly dragging it down your 

He hisses, hands grasping at the sheets, as you bend down to flick his tongue against the head of his cock. Your lips close around it, and suck, raising the back of his hand to cover his mouth, “fuck, s’good, baby, I—“ 

And you’re letting his cock sink past your lips, your tongue flicking against his slit. Your eyes find his own, as you hollow out your cheeks and sucking hard, and his hips buck into your mouth. His tip brushes against your throat, and you’re moaning around him, your fingers cup his balls, nails digging into your scalp. 

“Baby, fuck, I’m close—where—“ and he’s trying to ease you off, but your hands only hold his hips in place. Your nose brushing against his pubes. And when you’re suck hard on his tip, toying with his sack, only for him to moan your name, before cumming down your throat, his hot release painting your insides. 

You’re slowly pulling off his dick, a string of cum and spit connecting your lips to his cock, a smile on your face. You swallow his release, the salty taste still on your lips as you watch him pant, chest rising and falling. 

“Taste so good, Yu,” you murmur, and you’re moving back up to kiss him, “think I’m addicted,” you murmur, as your lips find each other again and again. 

“Now you know how I feel,” he smiles, fingers running through your hair, “been addicted to you for over a decade,” and he’s sitting up, guiding you into his lap slowly, “we can always stop right here, we don’t have—“ 

You kiss him softly, the way he deserved, the way you’ve wanted to for so long, “I want to, Yuji, I really want to,” your fingers intertwine with his, squeezing his hand, his arm slipping around your waist, “because I love you,” 

And your fingers grasp his hardening cock, pressing it to your dripping slit, and god, he’s so fucking big. You knew how big he was, but just feeling him pressed against you makes you ache at how he’ll be stretching you out. He drags his dripping tip against your slit, letting your cum mix together, letting his head catch on your clit. 

Finally, you’re sinking onto him, his thick length parting your walls, inch by inch. Your head falls back, as he leans into your touch, watching you flinch at the stretch, “you okay?” Yuji’s pressing sweet kisses to your lips and cheek, “should I stop—“ 

“No, no, I’m fine, it’s starting to feel good,” your arms wrapping around his neck, burying your face in the crook of his neck, “ and he’s helping you sink into him, until finally your hips are flush to his, “fuck, Yu—you’re so deep—“ his cock twitches against your walls, a shiver up his spine at your words. 

And he’s panting, his lips pressed to your shoulder, “you feel s’good, baby — so wet and warm—“ you smile, cupping his cheek, “can’t believe this is real — can’t believe—“ 

“It’s real, Yuji, it’s real,” your lips curl into a smile, “I’m here, I love you,” 

“I love you too, I love you so much,” he kisses you again and again, as he shifts slowly under you, swallowing a gasp that leaves your lips. 

“Please, Yuji, move—“ and he obliges, beginning to fuck into you, and your head falls back, as his cock rocks into you, a moan falling from your lips as you do. He’s groaning your name again and again, a grunt when you begin to ride him in tandem, both of your thrusts sending him deeper into you. 

“Baby, fuck, you’re perfect. You’re so good f’me,” his lips finding your neck, as his strokes become faster and deeper, the sounds of your skin slapping together rings in your ears as he fucks you harder and harder, “g’nna cum, s’close,“ 

“I’m close too,” you’re panting as his lips find yours in a sloppy, messy kiss that has you losing yourself more and more, as his thrusts become more and more swallow. And when he finds your clit between your bodies, rubbing as he finds that one spot that has you seeing stars, “Yuji- I’m—“ 

And you cum hard around him, soaking his cock and thighs as you do, walls squeezing him tight until he’s spilling his warm seed inside you. You slow as you do, legs quivering, as you nearly slump against him and he holds you impossibly closer. He helps you both detangle, easing his softening cock from inside you, a small groan as he sees your mixed releases leaking from you. He helps you lie back, as he wraps his arms around you, running his fingers through your hair. 

“Are you okay?” he whispers, brow furrowed in slight worry as your eyes flutter open, lips curling as your fingers smooth the wrinkles of his forehead. 

“I’d be better if you’d kiss me,” you whisper and he obliges, a soft kiss to your lips that leaves you warmer than you were before, “now I’m perfect,” 

“You always were,” and you chuckle, rolling your eyes, before shaking your head, burying your face in the crook of his neck. 

“No, that’s because I had an excellent teacher,” and he laughs, before he pulls you even closer, finding your lips in a kiss. 

“And you always will.” 

“Come on, Fushiguro, pay up,” Nobara holds out her hand, as Megumi glares, pulling out his wallet and plucking money from his wallet and handing it to her. 

“You cheated,” he says as she snatches the money, counting it with a grin on her lips, “I don’t know what you did, but I know you did,” 

“You never said we couldn’t give them advice,” she grins, as she pockets his money, “and all I did was give Yuji a nudge, he’s the one who fucked—“ 

“Alright,” Megumi rubs his temples, “I get it, but it’s still unfair — we’ve been waiting for them to get together all these years and all of sudden he gets the idea to become her friends with benefits—“ and Nobara only grins wider, “you didn’t—“ 

She shrugs, “you can wait around for two idiots to figure it out, or you can shove them off the deep end.” 

“I knew you cheated,” Megumi grumbles, “that’s the last time I ever make a bet with you, Kugisaki,” 

And she smirks, “Well now you’ve been taught a lesson too.” 

✧ a/n: another celebration fic done! now just one more and then i can start preparing for the next follower celebration :). i've settled on using wips but i'll pick out a bunch of prompts for you all to request for certain ones. that way, you all have had a hand in them <3. thank you to laney for helping beta <3.

✧ taglist: @adrenova, @nakariabnrb, @skvllknight, @hanlay, @spider-fan72, @anonimusunnoaniswriting, @chososcamgirl, @thenezuko, @catsgomurp, @too-much-snow, @sashaiko, @forest-fruits-jam, @rita-ritarita, @anyaeuh, @dezznuggetsblog, @jayathelostdragon, @newspapergirlmal, @2livelaughlovefictionalmen2, @being-me-is-not-a-sin, @xoocii, @firelordazulaaaa, @cira273, @twosec0nd, @ororomunroro, @sunamatic, @withoutanameyet, @gojorgeous, @masctomboy805, @hantaslittlearsonist, @lemonpoppy-seed, @malmare, @teraine, @boopadoopa333, @jeyughh, @coffeebun17, @faeryli, @katienaps, @tojbitch, @fushitoru, @soulofoz, @yamaguccitadashi

[saetoru]

✩ ‧₊˚ ✩ how long does it take to fuck your brother's best friend? (four whole days)

synopsis. suguru comes home to visit from college at the same time you do—except he brings satoru along. this is going to be a long break

word count. 8.5k (i am tired of this tomfoolery)

contents. college! au, brother's best friend! satoru, fem! reader, minors do not interact, three-year age gap (you're both early twenties), slightly mean satoru (when you’re kids), slight enemies to lovers, jealous! satoru, mentions of reader having an ex-bf, male masturbation, satoru is taller + carries reader, cunnilingus, fingering, handjobs, unprotected sex, brief mentions of alcohol (satoru), creampie, pet names (baby + sweetheart), not proofread i could not be bothered i’m sorry

notes. this was not supposed to be this long bye i am embarrassingly down bad for the blue-eyed freak

everyone knows that where there is satoru, there is suguru—and likewise, where there is suguru, there is satoru.

they’re a bit of a packaged deal, really. satoru befriends your brother in what you think must be some twisted stroke of luck—there is no way suguru would lower his standards for some rich bastard who’s had life made for him since the day he was born. but apparently, he does, and you’re stuck with a white-haired nuisance in your house at least once a week. for years.

you’ve known satoru since he was a whiny, snot-faced, and spoiled little brat. back then, he used to call you toothless—you were six, it’s normal for children at the age of six to lose a few teeth. just because satoru is nine and has grown his teeth back doesn’t mean he escaped the toothless phase himself—but satoru is just a jerk like that, pushes your buttons, and calls out your insecurities to get a good laugh.

you don’t smile with your mouth open even once around him that summer, not until suguru assures you that regardless of how many teeth you have, you have a lovely smile.

when you’re twelve, puberty does its thing, and now you’re stuck with acne-prone skin—also a normal occurrence for people your age, but satoru makes sure to point out the giant pimple on your forehead every time he sees you. you make sure to let him know his haircut is as awful as his sense of style, and suguru tries his best not to choke himself with his charger as you both bicker.

satoru is gone that entire summer for a family cruise that you’re sure costs double your house—he comes back frighteningly taller than you remember him within the span of just a few weeks.

it’s been like that since you were kids. he comes over, finds a new thing to pick on through his smug grins and smooth chuckles, and you fume as you bite back with just as snarky rebuttals. he makes sure to never cross the line of going too far—it’s more for suguru’s sake, you’re fairly sure—but stays right on the dot of getting just under your skin.

he’s annoying. a jerk. a rich snob. a privileged dickhead. he’s rude and disrespectful, with no tact, let alone any semblance of respect. you don’t understand what could possibly make suguru want to hang around such a douchebag, but suguru cares about satoru—and satoru has always been there for your brother.

you don’t understand it, but you respect it. as long as he doesn’t wet your entire bathroom sink and mirror in the mornings after he stays over, you suppose you can coexist.

but you haven’t seen him in ages—not outside of suguru’s instagram stories and posts. it’s been a long few years since the two of them have left for college, and by the time you leave too, life has its funny way of working, and, well…you don’t bump into him anymore. it doesn’t occur to you that satoru is not the same guy you used to know until you come back home to visit after your second year of college.

“suguru,” you call, “i borrowed your hoodie. but you can have it back—”

you cut yourself off when you open the door to your brother’s room, and lo and behold, stands a very shirtless gojo satoru, the white-haired and blue-eyed asshole you’ve had to deal with since childhood. except he’s way taller than you remember him—just how much does this guy grow, exactly? his shoulders are broader and….and since when did he have abs? there’s a small tattoo just under his collarbone—when did he even get that? his hair is also longer, just enough to fall over his forehead and curtain those striking blue eyes of his.

he looks…well, handsome. very handsome, in fact. dangerously handsome that it catches you by surprise as you blink.

he’s still shirtless, holding his t-shirt in his hands as he grins.

“hey, toothless,” he greets, voice deeper than the last time you heard it—but it still sounds relatively the same. you think you’d always recognize satoru’s voice, whether you’d like to or not. and, of course, he just has to still use that ridiculous nickname after all these years. “long time no see.”

“i have all my teeth now—i have for a long time, y’know. and put a shirt on, you freak,” you huff, rolling your eyes, “where’s suguru?”

“what, you don’t enjoy the view?” he motions at his bare torso, like the shameless bastard he is, “most girls love this view—”

“and yet, you’re still single,” you cut him off, staring at him pointedly.

he grins impossibly wider, tugging his shirt over his body swiftly—you have to exercise all ounces of control not to gulp as you watch his biceps flex.

“keepin’ track of my love life?” he wiggles his brows, “i know older men can be appealing but have a little class. your poor brother would lose his shit if you went after his best friend—”

“satoru,” you sigh, pinching your nose, “do you age backward or something? how are you still this obnoxious after so long?”

“i practice in the mirror,” he winks, “it’s my charm.”

“that’s hardly charming,” you roll your eyes, “anyway, whenever suguru comes back, let him know i left his hoodie, yeah?”

“sure,” he chuckles.

and then you close the door as you leave—right before you stop, pause, and open it up again as you’re sticking your head back in when you make a shocking realization.

“wait, how long are you here for?” you ask, eyes wide.

he has the audacity to look smug as he taps his chin and pretends to think—“oh, y’know. just the rest of break. my old man took my mom on some trip, so i’m killing time here,” he shrugs.

great. lovely. wonderful. just what you needed.

you wish he’d drop dead—maybe suguru will finally be forced to go outside of his one-man circle and actually befriend some respectable people.

“you can’t just stay at your place?” you hiss, “it’s certainly big enough.”

“well, why be lonely in an empty home when we can have fun here?” he hums, “consider yourself lucky—you get to be housemates with me for a—”

“keep to yourself,” you warn, cutting him off again through narrowed eyes and a dangerous glare—satoru only looks more amused, raising his hands up in surrender.

with that, you turn again and almost shut the door when he calls for you—“hey, toothless,” he says lowly, making you pause before turning to him with a raised brow. he smiles—it’s so unlike that usual smirk of his…somehow this one is a bit gentler as he murmurs, “you look good. grew up well, y’know.”

you blink. you’re not ready for that…didn’t expect a compliment from gojo satoru himself—especially not after all this time of throwing mediocre insults your way.

you decide he must be messing with you, so you purse your lips as you click your teeth in irritation. “yeah, sure,” you say dryly.

you can hear his chuckles as you close the door again—this is going to be a long break.

—————

just as expected, the house is simply not big enough for you and satoru.

the first time you run into him happens to be first thing after waking up—you’re walking up to the door just as he twists the knob and opens it, walking out shirtless. again.

this time, however, he’s got beads of water rolling down his skin from his shower, right between his pecs, as a towel hangs around his shoulders. you can see his tattoo from up close now, a small infinity sign right under his collarbone that contrasts against his pale skin.

how tacky, you think—just as you’d expect, even his choice of tattoos is questionable.

his hair is wet—it’s sticking to his forehead instead of the multiple directions it usually scatters around in that messy way it always does. you’ve only felt satoru’s hair once—when you were fifteen, and you’d hit him in the back of the head as you walked past him at the breakfast table. he’d made a jab at your dark circles. tests were around the corner, and unlike satoru, your grades actually mattered. you didn’t expect his hair to be so soft, but it is, and you almost itch to twirl the strands around your fingers for a quick feel.

instead, you scowl and stomp off to your room as soon as your dishes are washed.

his hair is probably just as soft now—maybe even softer now that he actually probably cares to look after it. you’ve heard suguru grumble about using two-in-one shampoo too many times when he comes back from spending the night at satoru’s. for a second, your fingers twitch to reach up and brush through a few strands on his forehead—just to feel them because they look soft. nothing else.

the urge is quickly killed as soon as he opens his mouth, however.

“oh, hey there, roomie,” he grins, “you’re really doing all you can to catch me half naked, huh?”

“don’t flatter yourself,” you grumble.

“i’m just sayin’,” he chuckles, “that’s twice now. if you ask nicely, i might walk around like this just for you.”

it’s way too early for this.

by early, it’s actually late noon. now that finals aren’t killing your free time, you stay up until ungodly hours to catch up with your social life—and it doesn’t help that you can hear satoru and suguru stay up playing video games the next room over, either. suguru is probably still sleeping.

that’s a bit of a shocker, in fact—usually, it’s satoru that has to be dragged out of your brother’s room to have breakfast (or brunch, really) before the kitchen is cleared up. why satoru is up first is beyond you.

maybe it’s just a cruel way for the universe to enjoy watching more of your veins pop.

“does that apply to asking you to leave? because then i suppose i can ask rather politely.”

he grins, eyes sparkling with amusement as he shoots you that smile with those pearly whites that irritate you to no end. you’re not sure why, but something about his smile looks so much different nowadays—something about it just seems so….mature.

that’s a word you didn’t think you’d ever use to describe satoru.

“mm, not quite,” he hums, “you’re still stuck with me.”

“whatever,” you mutter, rolling your eyes. “move, i want to shower before suguru wakes up.”

“you have time,” he steps to the side, letting you enter the bathroom, “he’s probably not waking up anytime soon—woah.”

satoru’s shirt is on the floor—why, you may ask? because he’s an annoying idiot who doesn’t have to clean up after himself when people have always been around to do it for him. he never has to care to aim and toss his clothes into the hamper because the maids will pick up after him anyway. old habits die hard, you suppose—you’ve listened to suguru complain about satoru’s messiness not improving even after being his roommate for the last few years. it’s never been your problem, but you don’t appreciate it now that you’re slipping over the fabric on the tiled floor, falling backwards with a squeal.

but satoru’s quick—he catches you with those strong arms of his and wraps them tightly around you, keeping you securely in place as he steadies you against his chest.

his bare chest, in fact.

you can feel the slight dampness seeping into your shirt, and you can feel his hot breath on your neck as he exhales in relief once he makes sure you’re safe. you almost shiver—almost, but you manage to scrape together enough self-control to stay painfully still in his grasp.

“you okay?” he murmurs gently, voice a low whisper against your skin. there’s no bite to his words. no amusement or teasing or even smugness. it’s genuine, the way he checks on you.

this is…new. very, very new.

“yeah,” you breathe, letting out a sharp breath. and then—“maybe keep your clothes in the fucking hamper next time, though.”

“sorry,” the smile in his voice is almost audible—you can’t see it from where you are, but you can hear it in his voice. you roll your eyes, and satoru makes no move to loosen his arms around you. for some reason, you don’t move.

you’re not sure why, but you just don’t.

“you’re still just as messy, huh?” you roll your eyes—he laughs, and it’s a smooth, boyish chuckle that almost makes you wonder for a moment if this is why girls seem to love satoru so much despite his god-awful personality.

it’s a pretty beautiful sound—you hate that you have to admit that to yourself.

“yeah,” he admits, “it drives suguru nuts.”

“yeah, i can’t imagine why,” you snort. it’s like that for a moment—satoru’s muscled arms around you and hard chest pressed against your back. finally, you clear your throat. “you can let go now, you know.”

“right,” he mumbles, slowly pulling away—and when you turn to face him….is that disappointment? on his face? you don’t get a chance to be sure because then he’s bending down to pick up his shirt before he’s standing—he’s already wiped the expression from his features completely by then. “sorry about that, toothless. i’ll keep my shirts off the floor next time.”

“that would be so kind of you,” you smile sarcastically.

and then you shut the door in his face and exhale as you lean against the wall.

this is going to be a longer break than you thought.

—————

the next time you run into him, it’s late at night. everyone is asleep—even your brother and his headache of a best friend, if the silence tells you anything. you can’t sleep, though, so you make your way to the kitchen to hunt for snacks. you’re skimming through the pantry before your eyes land on a surprise—a box of strawberry pocky sits nice and enticingly, right there for you to open and devour.

you grin, reaching over when—

“those are mine,” satoru calls, stepping into the kitchen, “brought them over myself. you should ask before touching people’s things.”

“you literally ate my leftovers the other night,” you say incredulously.

“those were yours? i thought they were suguru’s.” he raises a brow in surprise, making you click your teeth in irritation.

“the principle of asking still applies,” you purse your lips. and then defiantly, you open the box and grab a pack right before his eyes.

he scowls—but you know he doesn’t actually mind because he waits for you to finish grabbing yours before taking the box and grabbing his own pack and a coke from the fridge. you both take a seat at the kitchen table, across from each other, as you open the packaging and silently eat your newfound snack.

it’s satoru who breaks the silence first.

“do you still throw away the ends of these?”

you huff indignantly, not meeting his eyes as you take a bite off the strawberry-covered end, stopping at just where the cookie portion is uncoated. “yes. i’m eating these for the coating—not the bland biscuit part.”

“what’re you, five?” he snickers, earning a glare from you. defiantly, you pop the end of the pocky stick into your mouth just to prove a point—and then the look of distaste makes him cackle louder. 

“shut up,” you hiss, “you talk too much.”

“the ladies love it when i do,” he bats his lashes—you stare at him blankly, unimpressed.

“yeah, as if.”

“hey, my ex-girlfriend totally did,” he defends.

ex-girlfriend? that’s a bit of a shocker—you didn’t know satoru dated anyone in the last few years, you haven’t seen or heard anything of it through suguru’s end. in all realness, you didn’t even think satoru was the boyfriend type…but then again, he’s not really the anything type. he just kind of exists to take up space and be the bane of your existence. 

“i hope the poor girl is recovering well after dating you,” you shake your head, feigning a concerned look on your face that makes him roll his eyes—they’re still disturbingly bright even in the dark kitchen, dimly lit by the slightest bit of moonlight pouring in through the small window.

“i dated her freshman and sophomore year,” he says casually. you also didn’t expect that—that it lasted that long. something about satoru doesn’t strike you as the long-term relationship kind of guy. something about him doesn’t seem like the relationship kind of guy at all. not because he’s the type to mess around casually, but because he seems the type to seem disinterested all around—he’s snobby like that. “she was…alright, i guess.”

yeah. very snobby.

“you are such a sick bastard,” you spit.

he snorts, taking a bite of his pocky as he shakes his head in amusement. you’re as feisty as ever—it’s always fun riling you up, even if unintentionally.

“hey, it’s not like she was bad. she was just…well, she wasn’t interested in me like that either,” he shrugs, “i think it was just the sex. it was good, can’t lie there.”

“you’re so gross,” you roll your eyes, “have some decorum.”

“what, you’re still sixteen?” he raises a brow, lips curling into a smirk as he reaches for another pocky, “can’t say the word s-e-x?”

“i don’t broadcast my sexual activities out in the open,” you shrug.

satoru chuckles, taking a bite that more or less finishes the entire stick in one go before he presses a finger to his lips, “shh. don’t say that too loud—suguru will come chase you from his room if he hears.”

“suguru,” you groan, “he’s such a pain to have around sometimes. y’know i dated this one guy last year. i think suguru might’ve paid him to dump me.”

“i know. he definitely thought about it,” satoru hums, “he used to go off about it all the time. he was right, though—that guy was a total prick.”

something about you is mildly shocked that satoru knows about your private life—sure, it’s not outrageous or even the slightest bit unlikely that suguru mentions you. satoru and suguru are best friends, and you happen to be suguru’s sister—of course, suguru is bound to mention you here and there. it’s just the fact that satoru even pays attention to anything to do with you that surprises you—although you suppose it would be a good way for him to find his next source to push your buttons.

“i’m not surprised you think he’s a prick,” you nod, “it takes one to know one, after all.”

“oh yeah?” he snorts, waving you off, “i do, in fact remember anniversaries, y’know.”

“okay,” you sigh, defeated—your ex-boyfriend is admittedly not at the top of the list of your brightest choices. not even up halfway on the list. in fact, he’s so low on the list of good choices you’ve made, that willingly choosing to interact with satoru feels like an exceptional decision in comparison. and that’s saying something. “he was pretty bad. but he was really hot. when a guy looks like that, his values are the least of my worries.”

it’s a joke—you’re sure he knows that. but satoru takes a long sip from his coke, silent for a moment. you don’t think you’ve ever seen him so serious, especially so suddenly.

“he can’t be that hot,” he mutters.

“oh he was really hot. probably the hottest guy i’ve ever talked to—” satoru bites his pocky a bit aggressively at that, “and he was so tall. maybe taller than you—how tall are you again? anyway, he was pretty enough to overlook his shortcomings.”

“he’s probably not taller than me,” he grumbles, frowning. you snort—men and their fragile little egos, you think in amusement.

“he was,” you tease, “he was so tall, i’d let him do whatever he wanted.”

“that’s a terrible way to look at it,” he scrunches his brows, “you shouldn’t let some guy walk all over you because he’s tall and his face is a bit easy on the eyes—”

“i know you’re not talking—”

“i’m serious,” he cuts you off. something about him reminds you of suguru for a moment—like he cares who you’re with because he has a reason to. as if you mean something to him, as if knowing someone who doesn’t deserve you has you in their palms is upsetting.

but then you shake the thought out of your head—satoru doesn’t care. he’s never had a reason to, and you don’t exactly plan to give him one, either.

“okay, dad,” you roll your eyes, “i learned my lesson. i have standards now.”

“good,” he nods—and then, as if to keep himself in character, he adds, “because i don’t want to help suguru kill someone, and it’s over something lame like forgetting his little sister’s anniversary. i’d like to go to jail for something more badass.”

“you and badass don’t belong in the same sentence,” you raise a brow. “let’s be realistic.”

“oh yeah? that’s rich coming from—”

“guys, it is five in the morning,” suguru grumbles, throwing a water bottle at satoru’s head. you glance at the kitchen entrance, eyeing a half-asleep and very irritable suguru as he crosses his arms, “can’t you idiots fight over who’s more of a loser at reasonable hours? some of us like to sleep.”

“want one?” you offer your pack of pocky, holding it out to him.

suguru blinks, contemplating for a second before sighing and trudging over.

“yeah,” he mutters, flicking your forehead. “gimme that.”

you watch woefully as suguru takes the entirety of your pack, swiftly sitting next to satoru and leaving you empty-handed. satoru snickers obnoxiously at the deflated look on your face—and then he holds out his pack to you.

you look between him and the pack for a moment before giving him a genuine smile. it’s a rare sight—he drinks it in as you carefully take one and bicker over something with suguru.

you’re pretty when you smile, he thinks—pretty enough that if you had horrible values (which you don’t), he might feel inclined to understand your (awful) reasoning for a moment.

and then he blinks and shakes the thoughts out of his head—it’s going to be a long break.

—————

satoru meets you when you’re six. 

he’s nine at the time, and he feels on top of the world knowing he’s three whole years older than you—in hindsight, three years is not a very large gap, but to nine-year-old him, it feels like centuries. he’s remembered you as the fun little drama queen that’s too easy to poke fun at for years—that’s all you’ve always been: suguru’s younger sister who puffs her cheeks out and scowls way too often to be normal, the girl that’s way too easy to tease than should be standard. 

somehow, he wasn’t expecting for you to come back so grown…and so hot. suddenly, it really hits him that you’re not a kid—have not really been for a long time now. he’s always treated you like you’re way younger than he is, way too little to be in his presence and be worthy of it—but you’ve really become a fine young woman.

a magnetizing one, in fact.

it’s now his third night at your house—your parents are as lovely and welcoming as ever, and suguru is always a good time to be around. but somehow, satoru is not satisfied. not anywhere near sated by the few, minimal moments of contact with you. 

when did you get so pretty? although, as much as satoru has always liked to poke fun at you, you’ve never been ugly. not even a little—but you’ve grown into your features better, outgrown the awkward teenage era of your life, and now present yourself with a newfound confidence that just looks…so good. satoru doesn’t see his best friend's kid sister anymore—no, there’s something so alluring about you now.

the nail on the coffin that solidifies he’s officially screwed is when you mention your ex-boyfriend—why would your dating life make him this irrationally angry? why is the thought of someone being on the receiving end of your praise (and shameless heart-eyes) so aggravating for him? 

he doesn’t know—but what he does know is that the raging boner has been killing him all morning ever since he woke up from…well, less than proper dreams about you.

so now he’s here, forehead pressed against your shower wall as the hot water hits his back, swollen cock in his fist as he thumbs at the tip, teasing the slit just the way he likes. he thinks about you—how he’d show you what makes him feel good, how you’d probably learn fast and take care of him just the way he needs. 

your hand would look so much daintier compared to his—smaller, but he’s sure it would still feel infinitely better. 

he bites his lip, fighting back a moan as he strokes himself slowly, pre cum smeared along the length of his hard, aching cock—red and angry at the tip, leaking with more pre cum no matter how many times his thumb collects every drop. 

“f-fuck—” he breathes, and his voice lets out a shaky, breathy little call of your name—he’s screwed if anyone hears it. he’s sure you and suguru will both band together to kill him, but thankfully, the words are lost in the sound of the shower running. “fuck baby,” he says hoarsely, voice cracking ever so slightly as he whines. 

it’s soft and quiet, the noises he makes—careful and deliberately hushed to make sure no one hears the improper way he’s thinking of you right now. but fuck, your tits are so pretty when you walk out of your room in a t-shirt in the mornings—he can just tell you’re not wearing a bra. he can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop trying to picture what they’d look like uncovered and bouncing.

“jus’ like that, baby,” he pants, whimpering softly as he squeezes around his tip, teasing himself with that slow, painful pace of his. 

satoru is sure that if it were you, that if the hand stroking his cock right now was yours, you would never let him cum so easily—you’d drag it out just like this, pump him slowly and twist your hand around him in a pace that’s painfully not enough before ever thinking about letting him come undone. 

it’s just the way that you are—never ready to back down from a challenge, unwilling to go down without a fight. but he loves it, he thinks—lives for the way you keep him on his toes and work for the satisfaction. 

“more,” he gasps, “n-need more—gimme more, sweetheart.”

he imagines it—the way you’d kiss his jaw, maybe even the corner of his mouth, as you hum. say please, toru, you’d probably say—and fuck, he’d kill to hear you say toru. 

“please,” he rasps, “please, baby. d-don’t tease.”

he can practically hear your light giggles, the sweet, okay, baby. no more teasing, that you might whisper. he’d also kill to hear you call him baby—he’s almost nauseous at the idea that some other guy must’ve heard the pet name from your lips before him. and then he lets himself pump his erection faster, squeezing tighter as his thighs quiver while he stands in the shower. 

fuck—you feel so good. you’re not even here, but he’s sure you do, and he’s desperate to envision it. it practically hurts—the way he’s so hard and swollen and ready to release. just for you, he wants to tell you, he’s going to cum all for you. 

“baby,” he whimpers, “‘m so, so close—fuck ‘m gonna cum. ‘s for you—gonna cum for you—ngh, sh-shit.”

and then there’s cum on the tile walls, on his hands, on his abs as they flex with every labored breath. satoru cums—hard. his eyes are squeezed shut, lips parted with a silent cry as he pants and strokes himself through his high. you’d kiss him, he likes to think, on his jaw and cheeks and maybe the tip of his nose as you sit on his lap and work him through his orgasm. you’d watch him closely, take in the way he comes undone for you, maybe even call him your pretty boy as he paints your hand white with his seed.

would you praise him? murmur softly into his ear and seal the gentle words with a kiss to his skin? would you stroke his hair from his face as you admire his blissful, fucked out little expression? maybe he’d ask you then—maybe he’d ask you to admit he’s way more handsome than that douchebag you dated as your hand holds his softening cock, sticky with his release.

god, what he wouldn’t do to see your hands coated with his cum—did you do this for your ex? did he look as hot as you claim he was when he came for you? the thought makes him sour—he grits his teeth and clenches his jaw at the idea, panting and catching his breath as he stares down at the mess he’s made.

he should feel bad—this is wrong. so, so wrong—suguru would kill him if he was aware satoru was lusting over his little sister. but it felt so fucking good—he’s never cum as hard as when he’s pictured cumming for you. 

it can’t be that wrong, if that’s the case—can it?

——

“suguru,” your voice is shrill, deadly—like you’re out for blood. “next time you jack off in the shower, maybe clean the fucking wall? are you joking?”

“wha—i definitely cleaned that,” suguru defends. 

oh, fuck, satoru thinks—he forgot to clean that. so he makes himself very scarce and stays within the confinements of suguru’s bedroom—his messy habits are starting to really catch up to him. if his defense, he really would clean that up…it’s just that he was a bit distracted. 

“so you admit you jack off in our shower? our shower?” you sound inconsolable, downright devastated, and borderline hysterical. having siblings seems like a lot of trouble, he thinks—but then again, sometimes satoru is jealous of your bond with suguru. it’d be nice to have someone in his family he can actually depend on. “keep that shit for your bedroom, you jackass!”

“well, how am i supposed to do that when satoru is there? you tell me.”

“i don’t know! figure it the fuck out—you guys probably jack off together anyway.”

“what?” suguru sounds appalled, “we do not—that’s outrageous.”

“whatever,” you say—you sound almost murderous as you warn, “next time you better clean up your fucking mess, you asshole.”

satoru can’t help but smile a little—your pointer finger is definitely held up as you scold suguru—you’re so cute when you’re mad, he thinks. he almost wants to step out and catch a glimpse, but he decides against it for now.

silently, satoru thanks his best friend for taking one for the team—even if it was unknowingly.

—————

it’s night four. 

satoru has surprisingly kept to himself—he even promptly looked away after meeting your eyes in the kitchen yesterday morning as you walked in for breakfast. that’s…new. a lot about satoru is new. 

he’s taller and more muscular now—at one point, suguru used to tower over his scrawny little form. now he’s seemed to grow into his body, seemed to learn how to style himself better, and actually do his hair a bit. it’s still messy now that he’s just lazing around in your home—but it’s oddly handsome. 

scarily handsome, in fact. 

you don’t enjoy the idea of thinking about the jerk of your childhood like that—but ever since you felt the hard press of his chest against your back, sometimes you wonder what it’s like to know satoru outside of just your older brother’s obnoxious friend. 

maybe, somewhere along the line, had you put your pride aside and actually tried to get to know him, maybe you both could at least be friendly. but then again, there’s never been any real animosity between you two—you can share a lighthearted talk from time to time, like that night in the kitchen. 

you decide not to dwell on it too much, decide that he’s not really worth your thoughts when he’s just a guy who’s always been a bit too spoiled to learn how to be humble. instead, you go down to the kitchen to grab another pack of strawberry pocky—satoru will just have to deal with it. if he doesn’t want his snacks eaten, he shouldn’t keep them in the pantry where anyone could stumble across them.

you walk into the kitchen until—oh. it’s satoru. again.

“oh, hey,” he grins cheekily, taking a sip of his coke—he needs to break the habit of having so much sugar this late at night…but then again, why would it matter to you? “stalkin’ me?”

“for an unwelcomed guest, you sure do talk a lot,” you roll your eyes, making his lips curl into a smug little smirk. 

“i don’t know—your parents seem to love having me over. what if i become their newest son?”

“i doubt my parents are looking to adopt you,” you raise a brow, slightly amused. 

he hums, sipping his coke before blinking at you through those long, perfect lashes of his. “well, there are other ways to blend into a family. marriage, for example, is a great way.”

“you and my brother might as well marry each other,” you snort, “no one else will do it.”

“who said anything about suguru?” he winks, chuckling when your face twists into an exaggerated look of horror—always as dramatic as ever, you are. he can’t help but find an endearing side to it now.

satoru stands, walks over to where you are and stands in front of you as you scoff, shaking your head as you huff out a disbelieving chuckle. 

“that’s pushing it,” you muse, “marrying you would be the last open option i’d have left—and even then i doubt i’d ever take it.”

“yeah?” he raises a brow, leaning in so close, you can practically feel his breath fan over you. he smells like expensive cologne and your shampoo—why is he using yours instead of suguru’s? before you can even ask him what he’s doing, he throws away the empty can of coke in the trash can behind you, eyes bright with amusement as your breath hitches.

it’s like he knows—the fucking asshole.

“yeah,” you breathe, “you don’t deserve me,” you try to say matter-of-factly. it comes off a bit more breathless than you intended—the air feels suffocating. maybe because satoru is so close, maybe because his breath is on your face, maybe because all you can smell and feel and hear is him. 

you can’t find it in yourself to pull away—why aren’t you pulling away? it’s just like that day he caught you, when his arms wrapped around you and all you felt like doing was lean into his chest. what about satoru and you has shifted so quickly to make you want to do that? what makes him so easy to fall into when all you’ve always known was to shove at him?

he hums, leaning in closer and closer until his forehead touches yours. “you know who didn’t deserve you?” he asks, “that shitty ex of yours.”

you look up at him with wide eyes, speechless as his hands find purchase of your hips, grabbing them and pulling you closer—and against better judgment, your hands lay themselves across his chest. it’s as firm as you remember it. 

“how would you know—”

“heard suguru rant about it all the time,” he murmurs, “how he forgot your dates. got you a shitty birthday present. didn’t show up to your anniversary. made you hang out with his friends and didn’t even meet half of yours. you’re tellin’ me he deserves you more than me?”

“he was hot—”

“yeah? and i’m not?”

he’s cocky—you hate that about him. always did. but he’s so close, so intoxicating, so irresistible, and fuck, he is hot—so incredibly hot, you’ve been losing sleep over it the last four nights no matter how hard you try to deny it. 

“satoru, what are you—”

“y’know, i’ve been helping suguru pick your birthday presents since you were twelve. i’d pick you the best gifts,” his nose is brushing against yours now, lips just millimeters away from his as he speaks—“and i never forget an important date. i’m very punctual too, believe it or not. i’d meet your little friends��show ‘em what a catch i am when you introduce me.”

“and what am i supposed to do with this information?” you ask defiantly.

it’s a last-ditch effort—you both know this. you know exactly what he wants you to do with this information. 

“i don’t know, sweetheart,” he chuckles, “what do you think?”

and then you’re kissing him—because fuck, satoru is right there, and how could you not? his chest is under your palms, his lips are right against yours, and you can feel his thumb rub circles into your hips. 

so you kiss him—loop your arms around his neck and tug him closer and press your lips to his. he groans, responds almost instantly as his mouth molds against yours, kissing you deeper as his hand moves to cup your cheek.

your lips are softer than he thought, and his hair is silky against your fingers. you tug at the strands, grab a handful, and feel them against your fingers like you’ve wanted to for so long. and when he nips at your bottom lip, who are you to deny him? your lips part, letting his tongue slide in and taste you with a breathy sigh that makes your knees wobble. 

“s-satoru,” you stutter, whispering between kisses, “suguru might come in like last time—”

“god,” he groans, head burying into your neck, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses against the skin, “don’t fucking talk about your brother right now. please.”

“my room,” you say urgently—it’s all he needs to hear before his hands are on your ass, grabbing you as you wrap your legs around his hips. it’s urgent, the way his mouth is back on yours—he doesn’t pull away even once the entire walk to your room, not even when he lets your back fall onto the mattress as he hovers over you, pressing kisses along your collarbone. 

no bra, he notes happily, his hand sneaking under your shirt to toy with your pert nipples. 

“god, you’ve been driving me fuckin’ crazy,” he mumbles, tugging the hem of your shirt over your arms and tossing it over his shoulder. he stares, takes in the sight of the same tits he’s been fantasizing over for the last few days in awe. “you know that? been thinkin’ about these for days,” he says lowly, cupping your tit and massaging as he presses a kiss to your jaw. 

“you’re shameless,” you mutter, snorting before you cut yourself off with a gasp as he squeezes your nipple, pinching and rolling it between his fingers and pulling a soft whine from you.

“shhh,” he chuckles, tilting his head toward the wall next to you, “don’t want suguru to hear, do you? that wouldn’t be nice, would it?”

“it’ll be worse for you than me,” you grin, tugging at the hem of his own shirt, indicating you want it off. he grins widely, wiggling his brows and making you purse your lips.

“wanna see me shirtless again, huh? third times the charm, as they say,” he winks. you would retort with something as witty, but then your eyes fall on that tattoo again—right under his collarbone, making your hand reach out to trace it with your thumb. 

“what compelled you to get this corny little tattoo of yours,” you grin, giggling as you trace over the small infinity sign. 

for the first time, you think you witness satoru shy, blushing as he rubs the back of his neck and chuckles awkwardly. “that…that was an accident. when i got drunk for the first time.”

“oh,” you snort, “you’re so weak, satoru—”

“do me a favor, sweetheart,” he hums, cutting you off, “as much as i love when you say my name, say toru for me, yeah? i wanna hear it.”

you roll your eyes, huffing as your hand finds the back of his head and pulls him into another kiss, moaning into his mouth as he grinds the throbbing erection in his sweats over your heated core. 

“toru,” you say breathlessly, “more.”

that’s all he needs to hear—satoru doesn’t waste a second before he’s crawling between your legs, sliding your cute little pajama pants down your legs before meeting your dripping pussy.

it’s wet—so wet, he almost wants to chuckle and tease you a bit. just for old-time's sake. but the ache that shoots down to his cock reminds him that he’s in no position to tease you when he’s not faring any better himself. so he spreads your legs, kisses lightly at your clit in a feather-like touch that has you whimpering and clutching the sheets in anticipation.

“how pretty,” he mumbles, “been hiding this pretty little thing all this time. what a perfect pussy.”

“satoru,” you gasp in embarrassment, hands reaching for his hair and tugging him closer to where you need him most—equal parts because you really need his mouth on your cunt and equal parts because you really need him to shut up. 

but he chuckles, takes his time to spread your folds open with his thumbs, and watches in wonder as you flutter around nothing, arousal dripping and leaving a mess. it’s perfect—you’re perfect, and he wants to take his time with you. 

“god, you’re soaked,” he groans, chuckling as he murmurs, “that’s fuckin’ cute.”

before you can even whine at the way his words are shameless, his mouth is back to kissing your clit, lips wrapping around it as he sucks and rolls his tongue along the sensitive bud. his fingers sink deep into you, pushing past your folds and slowly bullying into you until the tips of his fingers curl and brush against a spot that makes you squeal. 

you gasp a breathy, “fuck, toru—” before he hums around your clit, vibrations making you whimper as he thrusts his fingers back in to hit that spot again. it’s sensitive, the way he makes you feel—your nerves are on fire, and your head is light, and fuck, it feels so good you can’t help but sob brokenly and squeeze your thighs around his head. he moans against your cunt, pulling his fingers out before letting his tongue lick a stripe along your slit, tasting you with a sharp inhale. 

“f-feels good,” you whimper, biting your lip as your eyes crinkle at the corners from squeezing shut.

“yeah?” he hums, kissing your inner thigh, leaving a wet little sheen of his spit and your arousal on the skin, “that’s a good girl—just keep telling me how good i make you feel, kay?”

he could stay buried nose-deep into your pussy for as long as you let him—tongue alternating between fucking into you and rolling over your swollen clit, hearing the broken little gasps and whines of his name as you repeat toru over and over again like a prayer. his hand grips at your thigh, sinking his fingertips into the plush skin and rubbing soothingly with his thumb as you rut your hips and grind against his face. 

satoru has half a mind to watch it again—to lick and suck at your core again and again just so he could burn into his mind what you look like when you cum. it’s divine—like he’s halfway to stepping into heaven and has to pause just to admire the sight before him. 

your hips leave the mattress as your back arches, and your fingers tug relentlessly at his roots as your walls quiver, letting satoru taste every drop of your release as you press a palm to your hand and try to keep yourself from squealing at the pleasure.

suguru is right next door. you can’t wake him—can’t let him know this is what you and his best friend get up to in the late hours of the night. 

it’s not until satoru pulls away, catching his breath as he wipes the wet trail on his chin does he realize how hard he is—how badly he’s aching as his cock strains against his sweats. he hisses as he frees himself; ridding his sweats and boxers and wrapping a large hand around the tip of his erection and smearing the leaking pre cum along his length. 

you watch in awe, reaching over and replacing his hand with yours. satoru was right—your hand is infinitely smaller than his, and yet, it feels a great deal better. so much better, in fact, that his arms shake as he hovers over you, burying his head into your neck and groaning as you slowly stroke him, squeezing at the tip and rolling your thumb through the slit.

he didn’t even have to show you what he wanted, what makes him feel good, what makes his mind fog with pleasure and burn through every nerve. no, you figure it all out on your own, pulling strangled moans and hushed gasps from him that make your clit ache once more. 

“fuck, baby,” he pants, “can’t last long like this—c’mon, g-gotta feel you.” gently, he pries your hand from his thick, pulsing cock, laying it against your stomach as he peers down in fascination. “i’ll be right here,” he hums, drawing a line on your skin right where his tip ends, “see that? that’s where you’ll feel me, sweetheart.”

“then let me feel you,” you murmur, cupping his cheeks and brushing a thumb over the skin, “fuck me, toru—wan’ it so bad.”

so he does—drags his tip along your folds and collects the slick pooling at your entrance before pushing his tip past your folds, splitting you in half as he slowly buries himself to the hilt. his jaw is clenched, breath labored as he waits for you to adjust, lets you kiss his cheeks and nose as you murmur how handsome he is, how perfect he feels, how good is to you. 

“that asshole ever make you cum?” he asks lowly, “he ever eat your pussy like that? make you cum hard enough you had to cover your mouth so you’re not screaming his name?”

“no,” you breathe, quivering as his thumb rolls over your clit in slow circles, still painfully still as he stares down at you, “n-no, never. just you—only you—”

“good,” he grins, “that’s what i like to hear. and when i make you cum on my cock, make sure to tell me he’s never done that either, yeah?”

“you’re full of it,” you scoff, “always have been.”

“and you’re full of me,” he says cheekily, chuckling as you glare half-heartedly. “can i move, baby? please? need more, ‘s not enough. n-need more—”

“yeah,” you whimper, pulling him closer, chests brushing against each other as your lips meet in a sloppy kiss, “yeah—need more too, toru.”

satoru, in all his years of knowing you, has never seen the side of you that could be this gentle. the side that glides your hands over his back, feeling every flex and every pull of his muscles, gently caressing the skin like it’s holy, like it’s not worthy of marks—instead to be worshipped and revered with thoughtful touches. your lips sear into every part of him they can find—his lips, his forehead, his nose, his hair as his face digs into your neck. even your voice is a gentle whisper of his name, so soft and careful, it’s like saying it wrong could break him. 

your hips buck up in tandem with his, meeting his rhythm as he slams into you, his balls slapping against your skin as he buries his cock into you as deep as it’ll go with every harsh thrust. you can feel his tip kissing against that sweet spot in the back of your walls, your abused cunt sucking him in and hugging around him as he groans. 

the friction feels sickening, like he’ll pass out any second, like he’s floating between the precipice of pleasure and the edge of consciousness. 

you do that to him—he doesn’t know how or when or why, but you make him feel like he doesn’t have a grip on his own senses. he doesn’t mind it so much, he thinks—doesn’t hate the idea of letting himself fall into your palm and wrap around him. it feels nicer that way, like it’s where he belongs.

“fuck, ‘s so tight,” he rasps, whining into your neck as your hand cups the back of his head, holding him in place. his hips are rutting into you sloppily now, barely maintaining the rhythm from before as he nears his high—but that doesn't stop him from angling into you perfectly, slamming into your sensitive spot every time without fail. “c-cum—’m gonna cum. cum with me, sweetheart.”

“‘m so close, toru,” you sob—and then, just as his thumb finds your clit again, rubbing harsh, desperate little circles to get you over the edge, you cum again—harder than the last time, spasming around his cock and pulling him in as you squeeze around him. “t-toru,” you gasp brokenly, “fuck, ‘s good—so good.”

“baby,” he moans lowly, “fuck, you’re so perfect. prettiest thing ever—prettiest pussy ever. i, sh-shit—” your orgasm quickly has him falling into his own, hot, thick ropes of cum spilling into you with every twitch of his cock, sweet little noises pulled from his throat that he sings into your neck, fucking his load into you. 

it’s messy, the way cum spills out of you and coats his cock—but it’s perfect and feels so, so right. you can’t help but think how perfectly satoru fits against you as his body slumps on top of yours, panting and spent as he cages you in his arms.

your hand doesn’t leave his hair—now that you know how it feels, you don’t think you can stop threading your fingers through it, ever. 

“wow, toothless,” he chuckles after a bit, “you’re seriously obsessed with me, huh? i mean, how long have you been nursing this crush on me, hmm? thinking about your brother’s best friend, you naughty little thing—”

“satoru, would you shut that mouth for once,” you hiss, rolling your eyes—still, there’s an affectionate grin on your lips this time as he chuckles into your skin. 

“oh baby, i’m afraid this mouth never shuts, so you should get used—”

suddenly, you both freeze as you hear suguru’s voice through the door. “you two better not be fucking doing what i think you’re doing,” he seethes, making your jaw drop and satoru’s eyes widen.

fuck—that was never supposed to happen. suguru was never supposed to hear, let alone know.

“hey,” satoru starts, “if suguru kicks me out of our place, i can come be your new permanent housemate, right?”

do not comment about a part 2

but yeah he can come live with me any time and as long as he pays by sucking my tiddies i shall provide all food and utilities and everything

[anantaru]

HSR + HOT THINGS HE DOES WHILE DOING IT

— ꒰ including ꒱ — aventurine, dr ratio, sunday, boothill x fem! reader

— ꒰ warnings ꒱ — [ex]plicit, dom hsr characters, oral (fem! receiving) & fingering, established relationship, hitting it raw, dirty talk, tit play + biting & marking, prone bone ⊹ ‧₊˚ ᰔ

— ꒰ AVENTURINE ꒱ + shamelessly moans into your ears

his moans have that kind of power that attack you with the lightest bit of touch but rumble inside your nerves with an utmost generosity that continued to burn an everlasting need into the rigid twist of your belly. he flips you over to your stomach and kneads the handful of flesh on your ass, greedily as his hands retreat— now, he uses his hand to keep your hips sealed against his aching half, while the other was positioned next to your head to refrain his weight from leaning and crushing against you.

aventurine's mouth was hot against your ear, too hot, in fact, that your body manifests swells of electric jumps on your limbs and muscles, your blood thrumming as you're audibly hissing out petulant sobs through your slacked jaw.

"tell me how it feels, yeah?" he sighs between gritted teeth, savoring the anticipation as his eyes squeeze shut, hips aligned and drawing his oozy tip against your entrance before pressing into your hole.

"ugh, fuck—" he grunts, "you'll mess me up today, hm?" as he moans deeply into your ear, so grateful to you as you shakily exhale through your mouth, your hole melting around his thick shaft before he inches further through your plushy walls.

aventurine was unashamed of gasping out those lecherous noises for you, brazen to the point where he's telling you how you feel as you squeeze him and cloud his mind with your milking compression indulging in him, "aah— you feel so nice, so soft, i'm losing my mind," he cheekily laughs between his whines, feeling elevated.

he kisses your neck as you sob, your walls feeling all of him inside as you exhale between a shaken embrace— but it's telling how much it turned you on when your boyfriend was this vocal with the pleasure you caused on him, his tongue darting across your neck before he loudly groans into the skin, your hole tensing and letting go, tensing and letting go, adding pressure again.

your eyes roll back as he grinds himself in you, always holding against your ass to fondle with the skin as he repeatedly pressures and pulls his cock through your creamy hole, entering all his inches inside an eager cuddle.

the sensation of having him claim your body in such way made your stomach do flips and tumbles, and the hums into your ear only multiplied the ways you responded to him with fizzy tears pulling at your lashes. right there, aventurine spills his brazen moans right against your ear, shamelessly between affectionate words of love, sending your inmost nerves into hard overdrive.

— ꒰ DR RATIO ꒱ + pulls your face to him before you climax

before he advances forward to his original plan, veritas will make you feel like you're mounting off pleasure and ah, your silhouette was charming to look at, no? you're so sweet when you hide your face from him. yet he doesn't understand why you're so embarrassed to show your flustered state? regardless, he loves when you do that, hiding the real taste, doesn't matter if he's suckling on your clit or watching how you suck him off, you're always warding off his enticing gaze.

the tantalizing signs of your embarrassment were enough for dr ratio to focus on all the different regions of your body— not only that, but he inspects your breathing and how it shudders through you, not to mention how it hitches when he grinds into your cunt.

with that, he can determine that you prefer it faster, although mixed in with a couple slow grinds once he's sheathed himself fully inside. a combination of both can do a lot more, and channeling it into one was his speciality. you're making it just that easy for him.

you wonder why? well, it's because you make everything look so sexy that it's so easy to figure you out.

after finding the perfect tempo for the both of you, your warmth clamps around him before losing yourself in each precise, calculated push of his hips overloading from the feeling of being close to you, or ah, being one with you, correct? it's how you're throbbing and creaming his entire base full that he realizes you're right there, feeling an upcoming wave of pleasure making itself visible.

"i'm cumming, i'm, aah, fuck," you moan beneath his hypnotizing pair of eyes as his hips rush through you, spreading your poor, little cunt apart as your hole flexes around his shaft. veritas knew he had to be quick with it, so after hearing you sob and wince, he draws himself off your neck and cups your face roughly, casting his eyes on you.

the man was gorgeous and he knew it, much to your dismay— he could also be a total idiot about how annoyingly handsome he was and that he always knew how to use it to his benefit— although in this moment, his face was soused in his sweat, messed up around his forehead and covered with fizzling lust for you.

a strangled cry rips from your throat and vibrates through his eardrums as your body vividly shakes under him. you're whimpering at the embarrassment of having him look at you while he's forcing the eye contact with his hand bending around the softness of your cheek.

you had no idea how much of a difference it made to look at him and become so, vulnerable.

you squirm under his searing silhouette, crying out the most beautiful sounds as your sore hole twitching around the base, utterly spent as veritas only admires the glow in your eyes, nothing more and nothing else.

the two of you exhale shakily in your afterglow, wet skin clinging to the sheet and relishing in its dirtiness.

— ꒰ SUNDAY ꒱ + kisses your clit before going down on you

he holds himself back, he needs to, because fighting the urge to bury his face where you needed him the most was always worth it— before he latches on your clit, he uses his rough thumbs to push the plushy skin protecting your clit aside to plant his plump lips over it, ghosting his mouth on top as he's almost successful enough to distract you from two digits bumping against your weeping hole.

sunday adjusts his face on your pussy before planting a wet kiss on your clit, his lusting eyes turning dark in the dark light as he roams two fingers inside your cloying hole, "give it to me, i know you can do it," he takes each necessary step to make you arch your back and gush all over him— your bothered silhouette making his cock ache and balls throb in his boxers.

his digits ascend over the slopes of your velvet walls as he presses delirious sensations on your cunt before spitting on your pussy repeatedly, messily grinning against your folds when you wince to every single droplet of his saliva hitting your cunt.

what doesn't come as a surprise is that sunday likes being messy with it— he needs to feel the wetness, the sheer contact of a hot tongue on your throbbing skin that he asks himself, can you feel it too? oh silly, of course you can, there was no room for debate by how you're reacting to it.

he swallows your arousal pooling on his tongue as he laps at your clit while his fingers graze along the sponginess of your walls, your pussy holding and clenching around the two digits. your eyes were half lidded, almost closed, your body so responsive that your cunt pulses at nothing but the tip of his tongue nudging into your clit.

"so obedient you are, my dear," he rasps before your fingers slope around the loose strands of his hair to press him into your heat, your back arching and your cunt spasming as you ride his face.

sunday hums happily, satiated, "what a good girl you are," he praises you enlaced in a wanton voice, thrusting his fingers roughly as you cum inside a silent cry.

— ꒰ BOOTHILL ꒱ + teases you with his teeth

your saccharine alike face prompts a menacing grin from him as he settles you on his lap before tilting your head a little— his eyes drizzling into the space on your neck and how he could feel your heart beat from that precious spot. boothill tests the waters, his insatiable hunger for you being so painful as he sighs out excitedly. he grazes into your neck and drags the sharp edges through your sensitive skin— always holding you on his waist with one hand wrapped around while the other toyed with your soft tits.

boothill has everything under his control, okay? you needn't worry— in fact, he always tells you to not torment yourself when all you had to do was trust him with your pleasure.

a smile stretches across his face as he brazenly flattens his tongue against your neck, feeling your pulse thud on the wet muscle before squeezing your tits to mess up your focus. you cling to his strong shoulders as you arch your back when he rolls a nipple between his digits, "you like that, don't you?" he drawls, your moan bending when he pinches your tit again.

your eyes roll back, and ugh, it feels so good, his rough yet precise touches were capable to induce waves of sparks from your breasts to all the way down, hitting your aching pussy. you're humping against his thigh and drool, more so stain your panties with your slick. the swell of his bulge was heavily pressing against your clothed folds, and boothill knew it wouldn't take long until you'll beg him to fuck you.

alongside those mesmerizing touches that marked up your breasts, the man took his time and acted unhurriedly as he sucks on your neck, shielding his eyes as he dips his head right above your collarbones. your skin mists with drops of his saliva as you find his hair beneath your hands, tugging slightly at his strands.

boothill moans into your neck, the vibrations setting a fire on your wet core, "let me consume you..." you hear him murmur playfully, his sharp fangs tauntingly pressing into your neck as you arch your back, "pretty, mh, you're so good, so lovely, so pretty, and ugh," as he stammers, his tongue blazing wildly across the pulsing spot that he's bitten, a low growl rumbling in his throat as he calls your name.

© 2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[adimilkys]

“Your ex has never made you what?”

Sylus x reader 18+ MDNI

cw : smut, f!reader, overstimulation, p in v, stomach bulge, oral (f receiving), no protection (wrap it before you tap it), petnames, biting and probably more

synopsis : after telling Sylus you "aren't able to orgasm" because you never did with your exes, he proves you very wrong

author's note : wrote this after work, idk how because I'm literally dying so there may be a lot of mistakes lol also english isn't my native so if you find and spelling mistakes whoops

You've been dating Sylus for over a month now, it's been an... interesting ride for sure. You're over the kissing stage and teasing, but you've never talked with him about sex- well until tonight.

"If you're not comfortable we don't have to, kitten" he whispered in your ear, you were both laying in his bed, you on top of him as he scratched your head.

"It's not that I'm not comfortable... it's just embarassing, Sy" You buried your face in his chest, he raised his eyebrow at your statement. "What's embarassing?"

At his question you buried your face deeper in his chest, knowing that you have to tell him either way. "I... just can't..." you mumbled

"You can't what, kitten? Come on, tell me."

"I-I can't orgasm..." he was quiet for a few seconds, before letting out a laugh. You raised yourself up from his chest, a pout on your face. "I'm serious, Sy!"

"And why do you think you can't orgasm?" He asked, gripping your waist. "W-Well everytime I got intimate, I was just never able to come-"

"And you think that's your fault?" He raised his eyebrow, looking into your eyes, making you look away with flushed cheeks. "Well yeah, I mean it's always me who can't cum" he grabbed your chin, making you look at him again.

"Sweetie, it's those pathetic men that couldn't make you cum" He started kissing your face, making you even more flustered "But-"

"Do you want me to prove it to you I can make you come minimum 5 times right now?" You stared at him with wide eyes, Sylus wasn't the one to break his promises, but you decided to play along.

"Hmph... All talk no action-" And with that, he slammed his lips on yours, capturing them in a messy kiss. He swiped his tongue against your bottom lip, asking for access to your mouth. When you smirked, not opening your lips he bit it, making you gasp as he forced his tongue inside, immediately wrapping your tongues together.

You let out a moan, his hand sliding under your (his) shirt, squeezing your breasts. As you pulled your head away to breath, his lips continued assaulting now your neck, sucking, kissing and nipping on it- leaving many marks.

His hands grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head, revealing your tits "So fucking pretty" he whispered before latching onto one of your nipples. "S-Shit... Sylus-" you buried your hands in his hair, slightly pulling at it making him groan.

After being satisfied with the amount of marks he left on your breasts, he kissed down your stomach, lower and lower until he reached your shorts. "Tell me, kitten. Has someone ever eaten you out?" He raised his head up, staring at your face while you shook your head.

"Tsk... you've been messing around with immature boys, not real men sweetie" he said before sliding down your shorts right with your panties. "Such a pretty pussy, s'wet, all mine" with that he immediately dived in, groaning at the taste of your juice.

You moaned out his name loudly, one of your hands leaving his hair and now gripping onto the sheets. Your legs tied around his head. He sucked onto your clit, his tongue doing wonders. His hand moving to grab your thigh, squeezing it (probably leaving marks as well)

"Feels- so good!" You whined, throwing your head back as one of his fingers entered you, his fingers were so much bigger compared to yours (Which they also couldn't make you cum)

He followed that up with his second finger, stretching you out. Your moans were getting louder and your walls clenched around him. "Sylus! I- Ah!" you cried out before arching your back, letting out a silent scream as you came on his fingers and mouth, your eyes rolling back as you saw stars.

All your release ran down his throat, licking his lips before getting up from between your thighs. You were trying to catch your breath, your chest moving up and down.

"What did I tell you, sweetie?" he leaned down to your ear, nipping at it, "Four more to go" you shivered at his words, his hands grabbing your legs and raising them until your knees were touching your chest.

"Now relax f'me..." he grabbed his member, positioning it at your entrance, you didn't even realize he had taken his clothes off and oh

he was huge, thick too. Your eyes widened at his size, which he of course noticed, letting out a chuckle. "Worried I won't fit?" before you could even say anything, he pushed the tip in, knocking your breath out of your lungs.

Your nails digging into his back, he groaned at how tight you are "Sy..." You whined at the stretch, suddenly his fingers pinched your clit, the pain of the stretch and pleasure of his fingers made you scream, once again- making you climax.

As you were panting he continued his torture on your clit, pushing himself in even deeper, not even halfway in but making you feel like he's in your lungs.

"Fuck... Three more, kitten." after a bit more pushing, he finally bottomed out, you were already so cockdrunk, feeling all of him, every twitch and vein. He waited a bit, making sure you adjust before moving.

Starting off slow, making sure you feel comfortable, he looked at your face, sweat rolling down your forehead, hair stuck to your face, tears rolling down your cheeks, eyes closed shut and mouth hanging open as you moaned.

You looked so fucking beautiful, he lowered his head, hand grabbing your chin as he slammed his lips on yours, not wasting any time as his tongue entered and explored your mouth. His thrusts speeding up, your moans getting louder.

Suddenly, his cock hit your sweet spot, making you gasp. He smirked at your reaction, angling toward it, making sure to hit it again, again and again. You sobbed, biting your lip as you felt another ogarsm coming, clenching around his member.

"shit shit shit- Sy-Sylus!" you screamed as you came for the third time, already feeling so overstimulated. "N-No more- I can't-" You begged, whining.

"Shhh... two more sweetie" He wiped your tears away, leaving kisses all over your face. He suddenly pulled out, making you gasp as he flipped you onto your stomach, not wasting any second- slamming right back inside you.

"FUCK-" You gripped the pillow, burying your face in it, muffling your moans. His brows furrowed, groaning as he gripped your hips, pounding into you.

"W-Well, none of that sweetie, I want to hear you-" He chuckled, pulling you up so you were on his lap, his chest pressed against your back as he bounced you up and down on his cock.

Your head was hanging low, that's when you saw the huge bulge in your lower stomach disappearing and reappearing over and over. You were barely holding up with his pace.

His mouth once again started attacking your mouth, hiding his own sounds as he was getting closer himself, the way your pussy was clenching around him felt godly. The way your tits bounced, the way drool was dripping from the corner of your lips.

"C'mon... two more..." it was insane how many times he was able to make you cum. With his fingers back on your clit, you threw your head on his shoulder and with a cry you came once again, the only reason you haven't fallen forward being that Sylus is holding your waist.

Within a few thrusts, he came too with a choked moan- filling you up with his warm cum.

After catching his breath, he pulled out, flipping you on your back once again, you barely lifted your head, looking at him with confusion written on your face.

"One more... or maybe two more?" He smirked, going back to your cunt with his mouth.

requests are open, feel free to send your prompts

[luvgam3]

Summary: You and your ex-husband Nanami have a good relationship. Even after the divorce you remained good friends and even better co-parents. Babysitting for one another isn’t out of the usual, and talking about your newest relationships isn’t strange either— but when you show up at his doorstep after a particularly nasty date it leads you both to wonder if your relationship is really truly over for good.

Cw: MDNI (18+), afab!reader, small mentions of cheating, you and Nanami have a kid together, girl dad Nanami, hair pulling, consent king Nanami, oral (fem receiving), aftercare !!!

“Fine! Fucking leave!” You yell, your voice cracking as cold rain pierces your skin.

That asshole. That shitty excuse of a man your boyfriend of two weeks, left you on the side of the road. Alone. In the middle of a late summer storm.

But what did you really expect to happen? The red flags were all neatly lined up for you. Sure maybe the fact that he smelt like a different woman’s perfume every time you met should’ve set you off, but maybe you were just over thinking it! Maybe he was a little too handsy for a man you just started dating, and maybe he was a little rude to waitresses, and bartenders, and you— but your last straw was calling him out on his empty threats. ‘I’ll leave you-‘ for this ‘I’ll shut your ass up’ for that. God did he ever stop talking. You snapped; telling him that if you pissed him so much then why didn’t he just drop you off on the side of the road. The only time he’d ever followed through… and it had to be now.

Low rumbles of thunder sound in the distance, blending with the pop of his engine as he speeds away. Inside your head is a loud jumbled mess of ‘where the fuck am I?’ and ‘who does he think he fucking is?’ but all of that sound is ultimately drowned out by that heavy pitiful feeling tugging at your heart. Angry tears prickle at the backs of your eyes as you walk, your heels crunching pebbles and walking through puddles, carrying you to the only place you know by heart. To the only man who you know wouldn’t leave you stranded.

If the night were to play out correctly you wouldn’t be showing up till noon the next day, even when dates did go wrong you never made it his problem. You were divorced after all, your love life mishaps stopped being his problem a while ago. Okay that isn’t entirely true… Nanami comes over to your house once a week for family dinner. After your little girl is tucked away in her bed and the dinner dishes have been done do you two sit alone at the table, drinks in hand as you catch up. Talking about your kid wasn’t the only topic of discussion. Friends, gossip, dates, normal adult conversation. The topic of dating other people because less and less embarrassing as the years flew by. Like the amazingly wonderful co-parenting duo you are— you came up with the babysitting agreement. Nanami happily took your daughter for the night so you could relax and bask in the company of anyone you wanted. He cherished every minute he got with his little girl, it was never a disappointment when you texted him asking if he could take her for the night.

Lost in the depths of your own mind you aimlessly walked down the dark and dreary road. Void of people, void of light. The only sound the pattering of rain and the rumbles of thunder.

Static buzzed in your ears as you slid into the empty apartment lobby, your soggy heels clacking against the neat polished floors. Your tears fizzled into a pale anger that burned the back of your throat as you pressed his floor number on the elevator. The only good thing about this entire situation, you think, is that the rain washed away the feeling of his hands on your skin. The scent of him clinging to your clothes. All gone. Washed down the sewage drain with the unpleasant memory of him.

Softly, you knocked on his door. It’s well past eleven, he should be asleep, but you know him better than that.

Nanami slowly opens the door, his brows furrow as his eyes meet yours. Concern painting his face.

You don’t have the energy to answer his unsaid questions, so instead you silently squeeze past him, kicking your wet heels off at the door. The air-conditioned room sends shivers up your soaked spine, littering your skin in goosebumps as you carry yourself to his liquid cabinet. Your fingers find the key he keeps hidden on the top of the rich oak cabinet, quickly pushing it into the lock and twisting. You’re on a mission as you blindly grab a bottle, bumping the door closed with your hip before turning to his rack of expensive drinking glasses, plucking two and setting them onto the counter with a soft clink.

He watches you pop the cork as quietly as you can, pouring the expensive liquid into two glasses, pushing one towards him without a word as you bring the sparklingly clear glass to your gloss smeared lips.

Married for four years, divorced for two, he knows the crinkle of your nose and the subtle twitch in your eye means one thing— you’re fuming. Beyond mad. If there was a word for that level of anger he’d use it to describe you in this moment.

He knows better than to ask what’s wrong, so instead he drinks with you; listening to the wall clock tick, to your nails tap against marble countertop, to the soft melody flowing from his record player. Darkness envelops you both, the only light combing from his little yellow reading lamp. It’s hardly enough to aluminate your faces, but the flicker of amber reflects in your fiery eyes.

“I think I got dumped.” You mutter, swishing the dark liquid around in your glass. You don’t wait for him to respond as you groan, willing the anger to subside and for the chill in your skin to vanish.

The crackle of the record prickles your ears just as much as the cool night air prickles your skin, filling your veins with ice as you continue to drink.

Nanami watches you, your hair drips onto your shoulders, your mascara streaky and your lips smudged. Disheveled and shivering in his kitchen. Filled with that unmistakable blinding anger you hold with such grace. If he was still your husband his hands would be wrapped around your waist, pulling you close to him in a slow lazy sway to the soft music playing. But he isn’t your husband anymore. The word ‘ex’ stopped leaving a bad taste on his tongue a while ago— you’ve both worked around your usual ways to comfort one another and made them more friendly more… pg.

He pushes his glasses up into his hair, putting his glass down softly and disappearing into the dark hall. But you don’t notice. Not when your stomach pulls, not when your head is swimming with so many useless thoughts— thinking of the waisted days, waisted nights. Ugh even waisted money. All on some asshole—

“The bath is running, I left a towel out for you.” Nanami says as he reenters unnoticed, his voice soft and airy as he stops infront of you with a towelette. He tilts your chin to the side, your eyes scanning over his face as he cleans yours; he runs the cool wipe over your cheek, under your eyes and across your lips. He knows you’re more than capable, but still he handles you as delicately as humanly possible, swiping away stray hairs clung to your forehead and cheeks as if you would shatter under his fingers like the glasses you drank from.

He finishes, turning away to clean up the kitchen as you make your way towards the sound of running water.

The smell hits you before you push open the door; lavender scented suds decorate the surface of the water. Steam swirls into the air as you peel off your wet clothes— and for the first time tonight you were excited. Scolding water seeps into your skin as you step in, a tired groan escapes your lips as you sink farther in.

It’s funny how things change, how time passes and people grow apart, you think as you submerge your shoulders. Nanami used to run you baths almost every night, his small way of telling you how much he cherished you. Bubbles of every scent, bath oils and salts, candles and wine. The memory like a blanket as your skin tingles under the scolding water.

A soft knock at the door has your droopy eyes opening, “It’s unlocked.” You say, your voice horse and exhausted. Nanami softly cracks the door open, he walks in and places a small bundle of clothes onto the toilet lid, “You can wear these.” His clothes, a lounge shirt, too old sweatpants and a pair of boxers. You watched as he picked up your pile of sopping clothes, ringing the remaining water into the sink.

You’ve worn his clothes before. On laundry day, the morning after… an eventful night, even when you just missed him. That weird feeling in your stomach probably means nothing.

You watch him in the low light of the bathroom, his muscles rippling under his t-shirt as he works the water from the fabric in a comfortable silence.

“How was your night?” You ask, your fingers swirling through foamy bubbles. Nanami hums as he turns to face you; he rests against the sink, folding his arms across his chest. “Fine.” He says, his tone even as he scans your face.

It’s normal— seeing your ex wife soak in your bathtub, naked in your home for the first time in years. The thought makes Nanami shift slightly, his eyes focusing on the tile behind you. A safer option.

You mold the bubbles into little lumps, feeling his gentle gaze on you as if it’s normal again. Maybe tomorrow this memory will haunt you, make you burn up from the inside out. How oddly vulnerable the entire ordeal is. But for now you just smile softly, “what, you’re not going to ask me about my night?” You hum only half kidding.

Clearing his throat he turns back to the sink, “I assumed you wouldn’t want to talk about it.” Droplets of rainwater trickle down the drain as he squeezes the fabric again.

You don’t want to talk about it, so why did you even bother bringing it up?

You lean back, your eyes still glued to the fizzling bubbles in your palm and clinging to your skin. Where would you even start? Maybe how your date was ogling the waitress as soon as you got there, or maybe how he tried to gaslight you in the car, or how you have him the wicked suggestion to dump you onto the streets.

“Would you?” He asks, cutting through the silence, “Like to talk about it, I mean.”

Maybe you could talk about how your date never asked what you wanted. Or how he never called you gorgeous, just because. Maybe you could bring up how he only ever seemed to want you a little more when other women wouldn’t look his way.

There’s a line, right? Between ex’s and friends? There’s things you shouldn’t talk about past a certain point. Yet you still got excited to tell him about small insignificant things. Like the amazing bagel you had for breakfast, or how you and your daughter watched the most gut wrenching animated movie the night before and cried way more than she did; the small things you never seemed to tell your other partners. But you were friends… right? That’s what this was. A friendship.

You hum, “let me wash my hair first.” Nanami takes his cue, collecting your still wet clothing and leaving the bathroom.

You dip your head under the rapidly cooling water after heating the door click closed. The soft hum and the slight pop as the water envelops you like a liquid blanket, drawing you in as you hold your breath.

✮ ✮ ✮

His clothes seem to always sag on you, no matter your size they always felt so big. The cold hardwood floor sends a shiver up your spine as you step through the quiet hall. Nanami sits in his arm chair, your unfinished glass waiting for you on the coffee table, the record has been changed, joined with the soft hum of the drier now running, the warm yellow light still flickers away.

A time capsule of peace, this was your life. Coming home and reading your respective books on opposite sides of the room, or maybe together on the sofa huddled close together— but why’re you thinking about that now? Ugh it nags at you as you sit down, your body suddenly heavy as the plush couch pulls you in.

“What time is it?” You ask as you give in to exhaustion, your eyes fluttering shut and your head lulling back. You hear Nanami close his book, “2:45am.”

You sigh, digging the heels of your palms into your tired eyes, “Shit.” Despite the pang of unmet hunger in the pit of your stomach, despite the exhaustion gnawing at you, despite everything that’s happened tonight— you giggle. The sound startling another one out of you as you curl in on yourself, “god what a fucking night.”

Nanami gazes at you, drowning in his t-shirt, absolutely hysterical— with what he wonders.

“That asshole—“ you start, your wet hair clinging to your face as you roll your head to face him, “never once asked me what I wanted.”

He nods, and you continue, “not when we went out for dinner, not when we grabbed drinks, not when we fucked—“ your hands fly up on a silent groan, “who does that?” The question far above a whisper.

Nanami was many things— always busy, always working, but he never neglected you or your needs. That’s one thing you could never replace in your newer partners, his attentiveness.

“People are greedy.” He says, pushing his glasses up as he gently places his forgotten book onto the coffee table. “They—“ should he say this? Should he even be thinking it? But you’re friends… friends… comfort each other. “They don’t know how to please you in the ways you want crave— need. They never take the time.” His voice a husky whisper.

You groan, tired and not thinking as you go to continue complaining, “Like you know what I want.” The words come out with an edge you never meant to put there.

“I’m not saying that—“

“You might as well be, I never asked for your input, it was rhetorical.” You snap, the words clawing their way out before you can stop them. Was it pent up anger that made you stand up? Or maybe that simmering unmet lust burning deep in your gut that made you walk in front of him, challenging him, begging him wordlessly. Or maybe it was that deep history, etched into your bones, your body craving his forgotten touch.

He stares up at you, his legs spread wide, his arms gripping the armrests. His breathing slows, his eyes set on yours in a heated stare.

“Do you know what I want?” You ask, voice low, your words crackle with need. “Did you ever know what I wanted?“

Nanami knew you like the back of his hand. You liked when he’d go down on you, legs spread wide by his strong hands. You liked to pull his hair when he’d bite at your neck, so he grew it out. You liked when he’d ruin you with just his tongue while he held your small hand in his much larger one. He knew every freckle on your body, every stretch mark, every hair. He knew what your moods meant, when you were silently begging to be split apart on his cock.

He knew what you wanted more than you did.

The record keeps spinning as he rises, his body towering over you, his voice rumbles deep in his throat, “You know the answer… but tell me—“

You swallow thickly, your body stiffens as he brushes your drying hair from your shoulder, his face lowers, his hot breath fans over the damp shell of your ear sending goosebumps flying across your skin. “As long as we’ve been apart… have you ever wished… it were me between your legs?”

Your eyes flutter, just like your heart as you press your palms into his firm chest. Did you? You stand there, your fingers pressing harder into his clothed skin as you wrack your brain. Maybe you have been comparing your partners to him, maybe that’s by you can’t keep one— fuck maybe that’s why you got yourself kicked out of a car tonight. But his breath is so hot against your skin, you can feel his hands hover above your hips. You both know what you want, you both know what you need.

“If I said no,” your voice breathy, “would you believe me?”

He laughs, the sound brings a slime to your lips as his forehead falls to your shoulder. In this moment it seems so simple, feels so familiar. And maybe that’s all you need tonight.

“Is it… okay if I touch you?” He asks, that sentence hasn’t been heard in years, you’d almost forgotten how wet it makes you. Almost.

You nod, your palms slowly sliding up his chest and around his neck.

That light moment slowly fading before your eyes as he presses his lips to the exposed skin below your ear. “Words.”

“Yes dammit you know I hate when you—“

You choke on your words as he pulls back, his hand threading with your damp locks and craning your head back. Your eyes frantically search his, the reading lamp the only light reflecting off of them.

Nanami’s usual gentleness is gone as he stares you down. “You need to be quiet for me, can you do that?” One hand cradles your cheek, the other tugs at your hand, begging to be held.

Before you can answer he’s pulling you with him, leading you to his bedroom. The darkness of the apartment swallows you both as you enter the room, the music fading, the sounds of your eager breath becomes the only sound ringing in both of your ears.

He doesn’t waste time sliding his warm hands underneath your shirt, pulling you closer to him as his lips crash into yours.

Everything about him invades your senses, the taste of his lips, his touch, the smell of him— all of it makes you clench your thighs together as his fingers press into your soft skin.

“I forgot—“ Nanami’s lips trail a path down your throat, his fingers sliding under the waistband of the boxers you’re wearing, “how incredible you look in my clothes.” His boxers, his shirt, his sweatpants— all of it reeks of him— the overwhelming scent of his cologne makes you dizzy as the pads of his fingers teasingly brush against your clit. The tips of your ears burn as you choke down a moan, your own fingers tangling into his combed blonde hair.

He makes a quiet ‘tsk’ before biting your neck, a soft nip before he’s licking the pain away, “quiet—“ lithe fingers sink slowly into you, “or I stop.”

Lust clouds every rational thought swirling around inside of your brain as you nod frantically, desperate for him to continue.

“Good girl.” Your hips grind down onto his fingers, clit brushing against his palm with an infuriating lightness. Not enough. Never enough. A soft whine of frustration sounds in the back of your throat. His free hand sneaks up your throat, his fingers dancing across your jaw, this thumb pulling at your plump bottom lip. A groan—husky and raw sounds deep in his chest as the diget slips past your lips into your warm wet mouth. Hot and slick as he presses the pad of his thumb down onto your tongue.

Dark eyes meet yours in the inky black of his room, “get on the bed.”

He pulls out of you, turning away from you before you can beg him to continue. Nanami rushes to the door, his feet light as he gently clicks it closed. You’re too busy peeling off his boxers to notice him lick a long stripe up his slick fingers, but you hear the sound he makes. He groans as his tongue licks every last drop of you from his fingers.

You sink onto the bed just as he flicks on a small lamp, your body cast in that familiar pale yellow glow. Nanami however is a silhouette before you, warm light framing his every move. Clenching around nothing you watch him peel his shirt off, the sound of his pants following suit. You crawl backward in search of the headboard, his hands grasp your ankles and in one quick yank you’re back at the edge. You instinctively clamp your thighs together as he sinks to his knees, hands prying your legs apart. “Don’t run from me, show me what I’ve been missing.” He whispers, his gentle voice sending shivers down your spine and to your waiting cunt. And he notices. You’re spread wide with his hands trailing torturously gentle shapes into your skin.

He feels so pathetic. He’s harder than he’s ever been as he gazes at your weeping pussy splayed out for him, leaking down your ass and onto his freshly washed sheets. How long will he just stare at you, mouth watering as you bite down hard on your bottom lip while your legs tremble under his feather light touch.

“Kento-“ you mumble, “this is embarrassing stop teasing m—“ you gasp at the sudden sensation. His lips find your swollen clit without fail, the familiarity slowly rising back to the surface. He mumbles against you, his words muffled and sending shivers straight through you as his fingers prod at your dripping hole.

It’s torture you think. The way he flattens his tongue against your throbbing clit, fingers sliding in with ease as you clasp your hand around your mouth. Lips trembling as you choke down moan after moan.

Nanami’s always been a tender lover, putting your needs above his own— it’s nice to know that hasn’t changed as you dig your heels into his mattress, thighs trembling and back arching ever so slightly as he bullies his fingers into you again and again. The desperate depraved moans you choke down slip out as small squeaks that have Nanami leaking through his boxers.

He can’t take it— how warm you are against his fingers, juices leaking down his arm, his tongue working in ways he’d forgot possible. He moans against you one final time before pulling off, licking his lips clean as you prop yourself up onto your elbows.

“Ken—“

“Turnover” his voice deep and laced with utter desperation as you watch him tuck his thumbs under the electric of his boxers.

It was like a game, waiting to see who will crack first as he peels away that last layer of fabric. He’s throbbing and so painfully hard under your watchful gaze. Your eyes taking in every vein, admiring that upward bend that had to seeing stars countless times— not even a foot away from you now.

“Can I-“ suck you off.

Large hands pull you forward, “Later.” That inhuman strength has you spinning, landing on your stomach with a startled yelp.

You push yourself up, arms trembling as he reaches over you and snatches a pillow. “W-wait, I wanted to—“ you go to stutter in protest only for his palm to press down firmly on your back, right between your shoulder blades. One second your hips are pressed into the soft bedsheets— the next they’re held high in the air only supported by his brutal grasp.

Your senses are on fire. Your cheek is pressed into a pillow that smells so much like his shampoo, your thighs covered in your cooling slick, all you can hear is your own hammering heart and jagged breaths as his hands slide over you. One trailing up the small of your back, sneaking over your shoulder blades and stopping at your nape. The other holds you up by the hips as he slots his cock between your slick folds with a sickeningly low groan.

Nanami presses his chest against your back, you can feel his heart, feel his body heat, you can practically taste the sweat that already adorns his face as his lips hover over the shell of your ear. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop.” He whispers, his voice so husky you can feel the rumble slide down your throat and live in your ribcage. You nod frantically, “Fine, okay you have my word— fuck—hurry up already! Please-please-please—“ you whine, a memory that will have your cheeks the richest shade of red come tomorrow.

“Good girl,” he hums, his tip slowly enters you with an infuriating slowness that has you gripping the sheets under you. “You learned how to use your words, m’proud of you angel.” He moans as he wills himself to go slowly, he wants to savor the way you clench around him again, savor the way you gush at his gentle praise.

One twitch of your hips and you’d be completely split open, and somehow that’s what you need. You press yourself into his sheets, rocking your hips back into him with that impatience that pissed him off and made him even harder.

More.

More.

More.

You groan, your lip bitten and raw as you beg. “Ken—“

His chest still rests against your back as he litters your neck in open mouth kisses, “I know, Angel.” His teeth graze the flesh of your neck to feel you tremble under him. “Be patient for me.”

It’s so hard to obey when he’s moving so deliberately slow— drawing it out so you feel every vein, every twitch, every slight stutter of his hips when you whine into the pillow under you. You don’t know how hard it is for him not to grab a fist full of your hair and press your face into the sheets— how hard it is for him not to snap his hips into yours at such a brutal pace it gives you a lip the next day. He needs to hear you scream his name until your lungs burn and your hands cramp from clinging onto him with the last of your strength.

Next time he thinks. Next time you’ll be all alone, folded in half under him with your pretty little face staring up at him as he fucks you again and again.

“So good for me.” He moans into your ear as his hips finally meet the swell of your ass. “So good.” He bites your neck, stifling a moan as you clench around him.

Nanami kisses the pain away as he pulls out halfway and then slowly entering again. And again. And again.

The feeling of him so deep in your gut has you panting, trembling and clawing at his pillow. Your hands ache from clinging to anything you can reach, but you’re afraid if you didn’t occupy yourself you’d scream, so completely under his control it drives you insane. You’re so focused on breathing and willing yourself not to be too loud that you don’t feel one of his hands leaving your body only to wrap around your wrist, his thumb circling your skin in time with his movements.

Slow and lazy strokes turn into quick sloppy thrusts, the soft squelch of your mixed arousal becoming louder in your ears. All you can hear is Nanami’s low groans next to your ear and the subtle squeak of the bed frame and it has your head spinning.

“Ken—“ you moan, teeth imbedded in your bottom lip.

He reminds that eager little yelp in your tone even when it’s being suppressed. You’re close already. So so close.

He sneaks his other hand under you, trailing it down your stomach as the other tightens around your wrist. 

Even if he can read you, he needs to know. To hear it drip from your lips and into the heated sizzling air. “What do you need? Tell me—fuck— tell me what you need.”

Your stomach flutters, ears burning and legs trembling as you whine. So high pitched and pathetic it has him reeling on top of you, his cock throbbing at the sound of pure desperation.

“M’so close— Kento please I need—fuck fuck fuck—“ you shudder as you feel the heat of his palm hovering over your clit. “Need to cum—“

His fingers hone in on your pulsing bud before the words even finish leaving your lips.

Who is he to deny you that high?

Maybe you’ve been so unknowingly pent up, or maybe you just craved his touch that much— but as soon as the rough pads of his fingers sought you out you felt your back bow, your lips tremble and you’re turning your hand palm up to intertwine your fingers with his as the coil in your gut tightens.

Nanami’s face scrunches as he feels your pussy tighten around him. You squeeze his hand, you tremble under him and moan and drool onto his pillow. His bed might’ve smelt like him this morning but tonight it drips with you. The body he’s craved ever since his eyes met yours for the very first time— his pace quickens.

“Cum for me,” he hooks his chin over your shoulder. “Please— I need you to— fuck— I need it.” He whimpers, words trembling as his fingers quicken, his hand could fall off for all he cared. He needed this. He needed you.

He’s whined before, but now in this moment it sounded so sinful. His face was so close to yours, you could feel his now damp hair touch your cheek, you could feel his breath and if you opened your eyes— see the bead of sweat trickle down the curve of his nose.

His gruff voice sounded so sweet as he begged you, pleaded with you to cum around his cock.

You nodded, frantic.

The only warning your body allows is a shiver that shoots up the base of your spine as you cum. White flashes behind your eyelids as you bite into the pillow, your teeth threaten to pop a seam as you ride our your violent high through choked sobs.

Nanami cums after you, your tight walls spasming around him as he pumps you full with a groan that hangs heavy in the sticky air.

It takes everything he has left not to collapse on top of you as he eases his way out. Leaning back he watches as his cum oozes out of you, and with gentle fingers he pushes it back in, watching the way you writhe as overstimulation knocks on your door.

With a fuzzy head you allow him to carefully lay you on your back. His hand cups your cheek as he presses a parting kiss to your forehead. You hardly register his absence till you feel him part your legs, a warm towel glides up your legs and you hum at the cozy feeling of it. The familiar comfort he brings you is something you’ve missed. Nanami takes his time cleaning you up before he urges you under the covers. You sleepily comply.

Sleepily. Who knew his dick would be your melatonin again, you think to yourself as you tuck yourself farther into his bed with a content sigh. Before sleep can fully grasp you, you feel Nanami’s strong arms pull you to his chest, his nose buried in the crook of your neck once more. It isn’t long before you fall asleep in his arms, in the pitch black of his room, in a bed that smells like black coffee and lavender, just like you used to. It’s so familiar, so inviting and whole.

Maybe your next boyfriend will be better than the last guy. In fact… maybe he’ll be just like your ex-husband.

[discotenny]

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