blueberry-pie

You had preordered the last one from the cafe near your office. He stood at the counter in sunglasses, throwing money at the problem while the cashier kept saying, very politely, that the box belonged to someone else.

Then his hand slid toward it.

You’d caught his wrist.

“Since when do rich pretty boys need to shoplift?”

He stared at you as if being caught had hurt his feelings. He didn’t look guilty, just tired under the designer clothes. He was beautiful in an infuriating way, with an iced coffee full of cream and rainbow sprinkles cooling near his elbow.

You split the pastries with him because he looked seconds from crying if he didn’t get them. Or maybe he’d had a shitty day. You had thought that too.

Thought he had watched the box more than he watched you until you started asking him dumb questions on purpose.

By the end, he was laughing into his coffee.

You gave him the whole box for his number.

Next week, when the cafe had the same pastry again, it reminded you of him, so you called.

The greeting that came from the other end was, “Strongest here.”

What a childish thing to say.

You snorted, and your assistant knocked on the glass wall for you to shut up.

That time was different. He seemed to be in a better mood. Made you laugh, flirted back, showed up with flowers too large for your arms.

A few weeks after that, he let you buy him a bracelet that he wore every day.

Sex was good from the start.

Then one night you offered the strap and he got pink before swearing he would hate it.

He did, for about ten minutes.

After that, your life became management: lube in the bedside drawer, charger in the wall, meetings moved because Satoru had texted, “Baby, come home,” and you had.

At first, he ate you out first, then fucked you properly, making it filthy enough that you forgot the imbalance, then enjoyed whatever you gave him with half-shaking knees.

Then he learned your softness had no boundaries. Meaning, you’d do anything to please others—even ignore your own needs and wants.

The first time had been after a bad day.

Satoru had come home and hadn’t even joked at the door. His sunglasses were in his hand, his shirt collar had been crooked, and there was a dark smear of red on his cuff he had already tried to rinse out. He stood in your kitchen, staring at the expensive cake he had bought you on the way home as if he had forgotten why he was holding it.

You took the box from him and set it on the counter. “Come here.”

He gave you a look, tired pride still trying to stand up straight. “You ordering me around now?”

“For tonight, yes.”

You slow-kissed his lips first, then his cheek, his jaw, the hinge of his hand where his fingers had gone cold. You told him he did not have to take care of you back. He made some weak noise about being the strongest, then let you guide him to bed like a man who wanted the comfort of being taken care of but needed the offer dressed up nice enough for his ego.

That night, he asked you more than once if you were sure.

After, he kissed your shoulder and said, “Thank you,” with his face turned away.

So you forgave how much of yourself it took.

The second time, he had a headache.

The third, he had a family meeting and came back mean looking.

Then he stopped asking if you had eaten before he asked if you could come home. He stopped finding the lube, though it sat in the same drawer every time. He sent photos of the harness laid out on the sheets like he had done half the work. If you said you had a call, he said he could be quick, as if the speed gave the commute time back and pleased every client waiting in the office with complaints. If you came home irritated, he acted wounded until you apologized for the mood he had caused.

Now it was a long job, then boredom, then a pretty pout from your bed while you were still in work clothes and hungry.

Your attention snapped back when Satoru made a small, offended sound beneath you because your pace had gone monotonous and void of worship.

“Baby,” he whined, cheek pressed to the pillow. “Don’t drift off on me.”

Your hand tightened on his hip.

There were words somewhere inside you to explain this. You knew there were. Words for I’m human and alive. Words for I need something too. Words for stop making me into the place you only put everything you don’t want to carry, then forget I exist as a mere mortal.

By the time they reached your mouth, all of them felt shameful.

Selfish. Cruel. Ungrateful. Mean.

So you bent over him and kissed his shoulder.

“I’m here,” you whispered, because it was the selfless thing to do. “I’ve got you. You wanted attention, pretty baby? Take it.”

He melted for you and came hard.

You still did the aftercare right—loosened the harness, wiped him down with the warm cloth, got him water, opened the mango pudding he liked from the fridge because Satoru got cranky after sex if his blood sugar dropped. He lay there pink-cheeked and boneless, one arm flung over his face, smiling into the pillow while you checked his hips and asked if anything hurt.

“Mm. You’re so good to me,” he mumbled.

“I know, baby.”

He laughed, sleepy and pleased, missing the customer-service way you said it—warm from habit instead of feeling. Then he tugged at your wrist until you sat beside him, cheek pressing into your thigh with the effortless trust of someone who had been handled with care and gotten too used to receiving it.

Your own body still ached, unfinished and irritating. Your vibrator stayed in the drawer. Your phone buzzed on the nightstand with a client email, then another, then your assistant asking if tomorrow’s lunch meeting should be moved because she felt like you’d vanish again.

Satoru kissed your knee. “Stay.”

So you stayed until he fell asleep.

In the morning, you woke under his arm with dried lube on your stomach, a dead phone, and a calendar full of apologies.

Luckily, Satoru had school to get to, or work, or whatever vague thing he mumbled about while kissing your cheek before leaving with your spare key in his pocket. You still didn’t know what he did for a living—still hadn’t met anyone from his life.

He, of course, knew your secretary because she had come by more than once with office stationery, documents to be signed, and the stupidly expensive gifts you kept ordering for him like an idiot with a credit card and poor self-preservation.

When you arrived at work, three clients had been ready to quit working with you.

By late morning, you had been only able to retain one, and that one had also given their final warning.

Then Higuruma Hiromi stopped beside your desk with a file in one hand and a vending machine coffee in the other. “Have you eaten?”

You looked up at him.

He set the coffee down. “That answers it.”

Then Higuruma’s assistant, Shimizu, dragged both of you to lunch.

Lunch became staying late.

Staying late became yakiniku, cheap beer, and Higuruma telling you about a client who tried to pay his legal fee with rare beetles. You laughed until your ribs hurt.

Satoru saw you through the restaurant window.

He had been out with Shoko, Nanami, and Ijichi, three names he tossed around while still giving you nothing solid enough about them. Some weekend nonsense, he had called it.

Though you didn’t see him until Higuruma dropped you home.

You were still chuckling softly when you unlocked the door and walked inside, heels hooked in one hand, bag slipping off your shoulder. Then the lamp clicked on.

Satoru sat on your couch in the dark, sunglasses off, one ankle over his knee, looking like he had been hired to kill you.

“Where were you?”

Your heels hit the floor with a heavy clatter, and one hand flew to your chest, bracing for the heart attack.

“Jesus Christ, Satoru. Don’t do that.”

“Tell me.”

“Dinner with coworkers. Ran late.”

“With him?”

“With who?”

“The guy in the suit.”

“You were following me?”

“I saw you.”

You went to your bedroom. He followed.

“Satoru, I want to pee without an interrogation. Please stop acting like I’m preparing to cheat just by having dinner with a coworker when I don’t even know what you did all day.”

“What meeting runs that late?”

You unzipped your skirt. He stood there waiting for an answer.

“The kind where people eat meat and complain about clients.”

You went to pee. He stood in the doorway.

“Was he flirting?”

You flushed the toilet and washed your hands. “Weren't you supposed to be with your boys or something?”

“I left.”

“Congratulations.”

He followed you into the bathroom while you turned on the shower. “Do you want him?”

“You think I want him?” You laughed once, rubbing water out of your eyes. “Satoru, I don’t even know where you go in the mornings. You sleep in my bed, use my shower, know my assistant by name, and I couldn’t pick one person from your life out of a police lineup.”

“That’s different. Don’t deflect.”

“Oh, that’s deflecting!” You wiped the steam from the glass and glared. “Rich coming from you.”

He looked stricken for a split second, and then his gaze hardened again. “You are still not answering my question.”

“You are asking me that while standing in my bathroom with my spare key in your pocket.” You looked at him through steam, alcohol, and months of swallowed irritation. “I let you bat your lashes at half the city because you get bored and I never say a word. I haven’t met any of your people, and yet you moved yourself in because, quote, my sheets were nicer, unquote, and I let it happen.”

His mouth tightened. “So you want me gone?”

“I wanted you to act like my boyfriend.”

“I am your boyfriend.”

“You are my princess with a corporate card.”

He huffed a sarcastic laugh. “So what, now you’re bored of me?”

“You’re jealous of a man who bought me grilled meat and asked if I slept.” You looked at him then and watched his jaw move. “That is how low the bar is right now.”

“So you do want him.”

“Do you even hear yourself?” You laughed, ugly and tired. “You want me available every hour, every day, ready to come home and fuck you because you got needy between errands. I am losing contracts because you text me like a dying harlot with a butt plug.”

His ears went red. “I didn’t ask. You offered.”

“And you loved it. You even beg for it.” You stepped out, wrapped in a towel, and copied his voice with cruel accuracy. “‘Baby, please, I can’t think, just a little, I’ll make it up to you.’ Then you pass out on my pillows, and I lie there wide awake, feeling like a fucking robot. When will you take care of me, Satoru? When will my time come? When will I have my bad day, huh?”

He stared at you like he’d never seen you before.

Your voice softened before you could stop it. “My family raised me into free labor. I’m good at guessing needs. Even better at neglecting myself while giving care. You used that angle well.”

The color drained from his face like you had slapped him.

For one stupid second, you wanted to take it back. You wanted to apologize and say you were drunk, tired, dramatic, and mean. Then invite him in the shower and touch his face, fixing the wounded look on him before it became another thing you had to manage.

Satoru beat you to it. “That’s what you think I’m doing?”

Your throat tightened, but you tried to stick to your boundary. “That is what you are doing.”

“So I’m using you.”

“You’re letting yourself use me because it works for you.”

He looked away first.

Water ran behind you, hitting tile, wasting money while both of you stood there half-dressed and angry in a bathroom that smelled like your body wash. Satoru’s jaw moved, but nothing came out. Not even a joke, soft baby, or dramatic threat about the lawyer.

His hand went to his hair, fingers pushing through it hard.

“You could’ve said something.”

The drunk words ran before you could think them over. “I’m not your mother. I shouldn’t have to tell you everything. You are a grown man.”

His eyes cut back to yours, bright with humiliation now. “Right.”

“Satoru—”

“No, I got it.” He nodded too fast. “Princess with a corporate card. Dying harlot. Robot. Free labor.”

You hated hearing it back.

“That isn’t—”

“It is.” He laughed, a thin sound. “You said it pretty clearly.”

He walked out before you could follow. You heard him moving through your bedroom, drawers opening, one closing too hard. A minute later, your spare key landed on the kitchen counter with a small sound.

The front door shut.

You stood in the bathroom until the steam thinned and the water ran cold.

Then you turned the shower off, wrapped the towel tighter, and picked his shirt off the floor because you hated yourself enough to fold it.

The next three days passed in the meanest way possible.

On the first day, you checked your phone every time it buzzed and felt angry when it was a client. On the second, you ordered dinner and left half of it untouched because the mango pudding in your fridge made your stomach twist. On the third, your secretary asked if you wanted the new bracelet invoice filed under personal expenses or gifts, and you stared at the email until the words blurred.

Satoru did not call.

You wrote one text, deleted it, wrote another, then deleted that too.

At 10:48 PM, with your laptop open and nothing done, you sent the worst one.

come home. i’ll buy you whatever stupid sunglasses you want.

He called after eight minutes. “They aren’t stupid.”

“You coming or shopping?”

He came over with a box and a face full of wounded pride.

“I took advantage,” he said at your door, voice rough. “I liked being taken care of, but I let you do all of it.”

You looked down at the cake inside the translucent box. “Is that my apology?”

“It’s cake and an apology. I panicked.”

You stepped aside.

Inside, he put the cake on the counter. The spare key still lay there from the night he left. Satoru looked at it and didn’t touch it.

Then he knelt in front of you before you could make a joke. His hands rested on your waist, careful for once.

“I’ll take care of you too,” he murmured. “Actually. Food, sleep, sex, work—all of it. You shouldn’t have to beg.”

Your throat closed a little.

His thumb rubbed the exposed skin at your waist. “And I’ll still be pretty.”

You huffed.

He smiled then, small and relieved. “That part feels important.”

You pulled him up by his collar. “Shut up and feed me cake.”

He kissed your cheek, grabbed two forks, and gave you the bigger piece.

A/N: What would you have done? Didn't mind, forgave him, or moved on?

Masterlist

Megumi’s eye twitched. “People call you the Tiger of West Junior High. I don’t see it.”

“Tigers mate around. I’m loyal.”

Megumi shut his eyes. “No.”

Before Megumi could reply, Todo’s voice cracked across the space. “Brother!”

Todo clapped Yuji’s back hard enough to rattle the table. “My brother prepares to confess.”

Yuji coughed. “It’s more like… expressing general positive regard—”

Todo cut him off with a shout. “Let your soul slide into her heart!”

You tensed at the vending machine, catching enough of this to regret having ears.

Megumi leaned away as if Yuji’s embarrassment might be contagious. “Don’t say any of that. Or be like that.”

Yuji waved frantically. “No sliding. No soul searching. Normal talking. Easy.”

Choso stepped out of a shadow like he’d been listening the whole time. “Confession should be inevitable. Like decay.”

Megumi looked up at the ceiling like he wanted divine intervention.

Yuji paled. “Stop with the death analogies.”

“You’re a sorcerer,” Megumi muttered. “Your life is a death analogy.”

You kicked the vending machine. It spat out a drink with a metallic clatter. You caught it and turned, meeting Yuji’s stare.

Megumi shoved him. “Go.”

“I’m sweating.”

“You always sweat.”

“This is emotional sweat.”

Megumi stood. “Fine. I’ll escort you.”

Choso followed for no reason. Todo walked ahead like a self-appointed officiant.

Yuji hissed, “That’ll make it worse.”

No one listened.

Halfway across the room, Yuji froze.

Megumi snapped his fingers. “One normal sentence. That’s it.”

Yuji nodded. “I’m normal. Cool and calm.”

“You’re not,” Megumi and Choso semi-yelled, unsynchronized.

Todo gripped Yuji’s shoulders. “Look at her. Look at your destiny.”

Yuji dared to glance at you.

You lifted a brow over your drink, watching the whole group like you’d been waiting for them to do something stupid.

Yuji made a sound that didn’t match any known mammal.

Megumi pinched his nose. “Just say hi.”

Yuji stepped forward.

Stopped.

Stepped again.

Stopped again.

Then blurted, “Ah…Hi.”

You nodded once, staring at his lips and then back into his eyes. “Hi, ji.”

Yuji lifted both fists in triumph and hissed, “She said hi back.”

Megumi stared at the floor. Yuji was beyond stupid at this point.

Choso stepped closer, expression unreadable. “Yuji seeks connection.”

Yuji slapped a hand over his face. “Don’t translate it like that. She’s not a Bluetooth device.”

Todo leaned toward you. “His passion burns—”

You couldn’t hide the smirk, but you did anyway behind the energy drink. “Ohh…”

Megumi shoved him back. “Stop sounding like a POSCO meeting.”

Yuji groaned into his palms. “I’m ruining it.”

“That’s accurate,” Megumi grumbled.

You studied him: the freeze, the panic, and the earnest collapse of composure. “Yuuji?”

He looked down at you too fast.

“Y—” he cleared his throat and tried again, “Yes.”

“Do you need something?”

Yuji inhaled like he needed backup oxygen, then blurted. “I like you.”

The table behind you buzzed as the vending machine reset. Todo clenched his fists in victory. Choso sighed once. Megumi braced his hands on his knees, waiting for something to happen.

You hid your smile behind the energy drink, sweet as honey. “I thought you hated me.”

Yuji’s consciousness might as well have left his body.

“What! No. You’re cool. Super cool. Like the kind of cool that makes my brain lock up. Not in a bad way, or even in a dangerous way. Unless you want that. Not that I’m into that. Or maybe I could be—no. Ignore that. Wow, I need to stop talking.”

Megumi’s jaw tightened hard enough to creak.

You watched Yuji stammer, then let out a soft laugh. “You’re terrible at this.”

Yuji wilted. “I know.”

“But you’re doing it honestly. It’s kinda sweet.”

He looked up at you again, confused by mercy.

“Do you want ramen sometime?” you asked, sipping.

Yuji nodded so fast his balance shifted. “Yes. Ramen. With you. Just you. Not that you’re ramen. Or noodle-coded. I’m stopping now.”

Megumi jabbed his ribs. “Breathe.”

Yuji sucked in air like it was overdue.

You stepped past him, your shoulder brushing his. His breath hitched.

“No hype squad,” you whispered against his ear, then leaned away.

Yuji’s entire frame rate lagged.

Megumi raised a hand. “Correct.”

Todo tried to object. Megumi blocked him with an elbow. Choso stayed half in the dim light, watching with that steady patience he’d had the whole time.

Yuji kept staring like he’d misplaced every functional thought.

You gave him a short nod. “Seven.”

You turned and walked off.

Todo clapped once. Megumi grabbed his drink with a tired lift of his brow. “If you ruin this, cry alone.”

Yuji stood frozen, lit up like someone had plugged a wire into him.

The lights flickered.

A voice drifted from the hall. “Who confessed?”

Gojo stepped into the corridor, smile too wide.

Yuji squeaked. “How long were you there?”

Megumi backed away. Todo hooked a hand into Yuji’s hoodie. Gojo followed them out, humming wedding bells. Choso remained where he was, arms folded.

The vending machine dropped another drink on its own. Choso caught it before it hit the floor, expression hidden by the angle. The machine never misfired for him.

At seven, you were asleep in your room. You hadn’t gone anywhere.

Much later, when the halls were quiet and the air had that late-night stillness, you felt someone stop in your doorway.

You lifted your head from the pillow.

Yuji’s reflection hovered in the mirror near your bed. 

He stood there, flushed, catching his breath like he’d jogged the whole campus looking for you. His shirt was half-tucked, cheeks warm, and eyes blown so wide he looked almost drunk on adrenaline.

“You didn’t show up,” he said, voice low and frustrated in a way you’d never heard from him.

“Fell asleep.” You stretched slightly before you could stop it, your T-shirt riding up to your navel.

He stepped closer.

Then closer again.

The mattress dipped under his weight when he braced one knee beside your hip, leaning over you like he’d finally run out of patience.

Then he hesitated, letting one hand settle at your waist through the covers, his fingers tightening as if he'd been holding back for too long.

His breath warmed your jaw. “You could’ve texted.”

“You could’ve knocked.”

His fingers tightened at your waist, dragging you completely under him. His breath hot, firm, and shaking just enough for you to know how long he’d been holding this in.

His forehead pressed to your shoulder. “I waited. Megumi asked three times when I was leaving.”

You huffed a laugh. “You could’ve woken me.”

Yuji’s mouth brushed the edge of your jaw, more heat than contact. “And miss this? No chance.”

Your breath hitched when his grip firmed at your waist, letting his weight rest on you. The shift of his body made your pulse jump.

“You’re warm,” he murmured, thumb tracing the line of your hip over the blanket. “You always get like this when you wake up.”

Your fingers slid into his hair, tugging him closer. “I’m surprised you acted so well earlier.”

His hands tightened, his breath stuttering against your neck. “I wasn’t normal. I was trying not to drag you somewhere empty.”

Your reply dissolved when he pulled you fully against him, his mouth hovering just below your ear, waiting for you to decide how far you wanted to take this.

You pulled the blanket away from between the two of you.

“You’re not fair,” he whispered, his mouth brushing the corner of yours without landing. “You make me crazy, and then you go to sleep like nothing happened.”

Your fingers slid back into his hair. His eyes fluttered, his whole body leaning into your touch like he’d been starving for it.

Your teeth tugged on his ear, and he leaned in hard, nearly flattening you into the mattress, but you didn't complain. "Well, I'm glad we don't have to pretend we're not dating. Your brother was getting suspicious."

Yuji swallowed hard. “Tell me I’m allowed,” he said, voice cracking slightly. “I’ve been thinking about you all day. Tell me I’m allowed.”

“ji,” you whispered, “you’re already in my bed.”

His breath hitched—loud, desperate, unfiltered.

Then he pressed his forehead to yours and laughed once, shaky and wrecked.

“I knew,” he said, “the second you used the nickname… I wasn’t walking out of here innocent.”

“You know what?” Your smile tilted. “Seven would've been fun. Five minutes after this might be better.”

Yuji straightened slightly and removed his shirt, then leaned back down, and lips met heat.

And the way he whispered your name after that wasn’t innocent at all.

A/N: Yes, I stole Toji's fandom nickname. Yes, it still fits Yuji. Yes, I also have a Keji (orange cat) at home.

Hygiene: Don’t repost without permission, lift, or 'AI remix' my works.

Masterlist

Completely thrown off, you blink a few times, clear your throat, and force a light tone because you’re sure he just missed it somehow. You turn slightly, letting the silk catch the light. 

“…So?” You ask, fishing for that slow, lazy once-over that always makes your knees weak and your mouth dry. “What do you think?”

He shrugs, and it immediately sets something off in your chest. “It’s fine.”

The word hits you like a cold splash of water. It’s so dismissive and so wrong; it doesn’t even belong in his mouth and, honestly, it shouldn’t even be in his vocabulary when you’re looking like… that. The smile vanishes before you can stop it, and you can't stop yourself from frowning.

“…Fine?” you quietly repeat, desperate to find a crack in that blank expression, a lie, the slightest tell, anything.

“Yeah,” he says flatly, not bothering to look up again. “It’s fine.”

Your stomach drops. Heat, prickling and hot, starts crawling up your neck, and suddenly, you’re hyper-aware of every inch of the fabric, every seam, every place the dress might be sitting wrong. This is the man who once had to excuse himself from a crowded restaurant just because your skirt rode up too high when you crossed your legs. Now he’s acting like you’re wearing a garbage bag and calling it high fashion.

“…You don’t like it?” you ask carefully, trying to keep your voice steady, refusing to let the hurt leak into your tone.

He lets out a slow breath through his nose, eyes glued to the glass in his hand. “Didn’t say that. It’s just a dress. Doesn’t really matter.”

That’s even worse. Your brain latches onto that sentence, tearing it apart, turning it over until it’s raw and you can’t think about anything else. Since when does it not matter to him? A sharp spike of panic hits your chest as you nod, maybe a little too fast, already backing toward the bedroom.

“Okay,” you mutter, your pride stinging. “I’ll… I’ll try something else.”

That word, fine, echoes in the silence as you stare at your reflection, trying to figure out what is wrong and where the man who usually can’t keep his eyes off you is.

The second dress is softer, less revealing. It’s still black, but looser at the waist and lower in the back. He’s loved this one before. You smooth it down, adjust the straps, check your makeup again, even though it’s perfect, and walk back out.

He looks up for a split second, and his eyes flick from your shoulders to your legs, then immediately away.

"This one?" you ask hopefully, keeping your voice light, turning so the material flows.

He hums. “Yeah. It’s fine too.”

“Too?”

He nods, rolling his shoulders like he’s just distracted or bored, as if you aren’t standing there looking like you’re about to ruin lives. Before he can offer another soul-crushing word, you duck back into the room. If you stay there any longer, you’re going to ask a question you don’t actually want answered, or the anger or the tears hit. And you’re not crying tonight. Not with this makeup.

Has something changed in the way he sees you? 

The thought sticks in your throat like a thorn as you slip into the third dress—a navy blue halter that ties in a bow at the nape, that’s just begging to be untied. This time, you stay silent, giving him a chance to react on his own, and your heart hammers so hard you’re sure he can hear it.

Sukuna gives another indifferent shrug.

“Sure,” he says. “That works.”

Works.

Your fingers curl at your sides as you swallow hard and nod, biting the inside of your cheek to keep your face neutral. Something is seriously wrong, and you still don't know what it is.

By the fourth dress, your movements are rushed and almost frantic. The zipper snags because your hands are shaking, and your thoughts are a messy, ugly loop you can’t seem to break.

Too much. Not enough. Too tight. Too plain. Maybe you misread the whole night. Maybe he’s just tired. Maybe you’re overthinking everything. Maybe you aren’t.

This one is something you pick when you don’t want to stand out. Still beautiful, but safe. Maroon, fitted at the waist, long sleeves, high neckline, flaring into a full skirt that falls to mid-ankle. It’s elegant and classy, subtly showing off how good your body looks without screaming for attention.

“How about this one?"

He finally looks at you, leaning a shoulder against the wall, folding his arms. But it’s still that flat, distant expression, and not the one you’re yearning for.

"Doesn't matter—they’re all fine.”

Something inside you snaps. “Okay,” you murmur, barely audible. “Let’s just go then.”

This time, you don’t even glance at him as you head for the front door, because if you do, you might not be able to hold it together. Putting on your heels, you feel hollow and resigned to the idea that something has changed. Whatever this is, you’ll deal with it later. For now, surviving the night while pretending you don’t feel it is the only goal left.

Just as you reach for the handle, Sukuna moves in right behind you, so close you feel his breath. A hand lifts, hovering near your hip like a threat he’s been holding back all evening. He leans down, and while his mouth brushes your ear, his voice drops into a rough, hoarse rasp that makes your skin flush.

“Go put the first one back on,” he rasps, all that careful indifference stripped away. His chest presses against your back, and you can feel the unmistakable, hard line of him against your spine—undeniable proof that everything you’ve been spiraling over was a total lie. “That one made me want to bend you over the table and ruin you before we ever made it out the door.”

He’s been silently suffering for the past twenty minutes, with his cock straining against his suit pants, fighting not to walk over and prove exactly how far from fine he really was.

Relief is sharp and dizzying, but it’s immediately shoved aside by a surge of pure, unadulterated fury and the overwhelming need to either scream or slap that stupid smirk off his face. You spin around, gasping, already raising your hand with murder in mind.

“You absolute asshole,” you hiss, voice shaking now that you know you aren’t crazy. “I almost cried.”

His mouth curves, slow and utterly unapologetic; his eyes darken, finally drinking you in the way you both needed all along. 

“I know,” he says, raising one brow as the thick length of him presses firmly into your stomach. “Consider us even, brat.”

And if the nearest object you can grab and throw at him survives the next five seconds, it’s honestly just luck.

a/n: this was his payback for the prank reader had played on him before. and i just very much need it to lay some ground work for a different drabble i'm very excited about lol

But no matter how many times you swore you weren’t secretly obsessed with her and that there was no fucking shrine hidden in your closet or under your bed, she’d been saying the same shit long enough that no one believed you. 

“Can you just leave me alone?” You frowned, forcing your way through the crowd to get past her as she called out some other teasing remark about you going to rub one out. 

Loathing couldn’t quite suffice for just how much you couldn’t stand her.

Hate boiling and burning beneath your skin every time she hurled a new taunt your way, when she’d find you eating lunch in a single bathroom stall just to make your meals hell too, mocking you with glossy lips and a glittering smile while the rest of your class treated her like an angel even when her antics annoyed them. 

And when the girl that could do no wrong wished the worst for you, well, it seemed the worst was all you got. 

The rest of the student body had started treating you like shit too. Sneering and scolding you for staring, everyone convinced you had to be some sort of predator just because she said you liked girls. 

People didn’t grin at you in the hallways. 

Just glared. 

Your room had been ransacked a few times, clothes tattered and wrecked with staff that didn’t care to scold them. Your lunches knocked out of your hand. Stupid notes stuck to your back during class. 

There wasn’t a single person in this fucking place that wanted to be your friend. 

But you guessed it didn’t matter. 

You didn’t have that much longer left stuck here. 

Graduation was coming up soon – and despite the hell boarding school had been, the scholarship you’d been granted to attend had set you up for a pretty nice looking future. One without Toru. 

You locked the door to your room behind you, dropping your bag to the ground before collapsing onto your bed. Exhaling as your eyes shut, a migraine budding behind them from spending another day attempting to avoid her and failing miserably. 

Rolling over to pluck your phone from your pocket, your mouth reflexively curled up into a smile at the name on the screen. The one bright light in the midst of this pit of misery filled with pretty girls who thought you were pining after them and tried to punish you for it. 

All of them absolutely clueless that you were already taken. 

By a man they would definitely be desperate to call theirs too. 

You’d been seeing Satoshi for two years. 

Sorta. 

You hadn’t officially met him yet. Not when you started talking through a dating app. Back then, you’d been craving any company so much you had caved and downloaded a bunch. And you had lucked out to land an equally lonely person. 

Your relationship had been fairly casual at first, late night conversations where you stayed up until your eyes were sore and you nearly fell asleep sitting up in half your classes. Things had picked up this past year, the photos that used to be half your face or whatever you were doing escalating to more…intimate images. His questions turned more personal too, picking apart your brain until he knew probably more about you than anyone you’d ever met before. 

Sure, it wasn’t conventional. But he had sent plenty of his own questionable pictures and voice messages to quell any of your suspicions. He never asked for money either, instead showering you with attention and sending you expensive gifts (although everyone on your floor was convinced you were spending what little money you had sending them to yourself). He was wearing a uniform from an all-boys boarding school not all that far away in a lot of them – but between sports and classes and busy schedules, neither of you had been able to arrange a proper meet up. 

Until this weekend. 

Finally, you’d be able to do something other than giggle and grin at the photos of his pretty washboard abs and replay his thick, groggy good morning messages. 

He made reservations at a fancy hotel nearby, promising that he’d be waiting for you there with the biggest bouquet he could buy and wearing his best outfit in blue, sending you sweet messages about how badly he was aching to be yours in person instead of just online. 

Most people would think you made him up. 

And honestly, at first, when you tried to dispel the rumors and whispers about you being a lesbian by protesting and bringing up that you literally had a boyfriend, but when he actually went to another school, no one would believe you. 

Eventually, you gave up. Stopped seeing a point in swearing the truth when everyone else would always prefer the lie. 

It gave them someone lower on the totem pole to push around. 

Kept them safe from Toru’s reign of terror. 

Why would they listen? 

You told yourself that you were almost free. So fucking close to being out of her reach. 

They could all worship at her feet and follow her around like the lost puppies they were. You weren’t going to be a loser lingering in her shadow forever. Not when you still had your support in Satoshi. 

A new notification buzzed on your phone, breath catching in your throat in anticipation as you clicked on it too fast, before you could even read it. 

You should’ve looked. 

An unknown number and a nasty word stared back at you, your fingers automatically moving to block the number and delete it with a frown. 

Immediately re-opening your messages with Satoshi as you sniffled a little, too exhausted to keep the swirling emotions inside you at bay as you sent a short message, biting your lip until you tasted the blood on your tongue. 

Can you talk right now?

ε✿з

“Please, please, please, please-” 

“God, do you ever shut up?” Suguru groaned, rubbing his temple while Toru thrusted the phone in his face. 

“But I need your help,” she whined, pouting harder as he squinted at the messages. 

“You said you’d tell your girlfriend last month,” he annoyingly reminded her, brows knitting together in irritation as he reluctantly took the phone anyway, readjusting on his bed after she unceremoniously burst into his room after getting a ride all the way to their rival boarding school. “Don’t particularly feel like doing this for two more years.” 

God, what good was a best friend if they wouldn’t help in a time of need? Wasn’t he supposed to be a wingman?

“I’m telling her this weekend,” Toru frowned back, folding her arms across her chest as she glanced around his dorm room. It was honestly cleaner than hers, in shades of gray and green instead of the soft blue she was used to. Books actually neatly stacked on his desk instead of scattered haphazardly on every surface. “I wanna make it romantic. Like, book a hotel room and everything.”  

Buy you flowers, maybe an expensive set of lingerie, have them scatter rose petals over the bed and leave champagne on the table. Book a couples massage and take you out to a fancy dinner? Sure, she’d probably have to apologize for being a bit of a bitch to you over the years, but once you saw how serious she was about being in a relationship with you, couldn’t you just let bygones by bygones? 

Suguru arched one of those thin eyebrows, giving her one of those irksome looks that implied he didn’t think it was a good idea. 

But he was a man. 

What did they know? 

“You think she’s going to take it well?” He tentatively asked, and she couldn’t help scoff. 

“She likes Satoshi. Satoshi is me,” she simply said, gesturing with her hands as if it should be obvious. “Besides, shouldn’t she be grateful for my attention? Anyone would be.”

Suguru laughed, like it was a joke. 

But she just scowled back at him, completely serious as she tried to get what he didn’t get about the whole thing. 

Whoever got to be with her was the lucky one. 

Toru was beyond beautiful. Wealthy. Wore the best clothes and went to all the best vacation spots every year. Who wouldn’t want to be hers? 

It was just common sense. 

She’d been worshipped from the day she was born. It wasn’t like she was expecting you to do the same. She just wanted you to see how fortunate you were to have her favor. 

God, any girl would die to be in your shoes. Guys too, actually, beg for her attention and crawl on their knees for the tiniest slice of the attention she gave you. 

Sure, maybe she wasn’t always good at getting it across verbally, but she couldn’t risk someone else sneaking in and stealing your attention! Besides, her mouth seemed to always speak for itself around you, never saying exactly what she intended to when all her brain could think of was the shape of your lips and how your uniform clung to your tits since she’d bribed the office to keep sending you the size down. 

She could admit that she could be a little aggressive, but she just wanted you to finally fucking admit that you wanted her too. Not just play hard to get and avoid her all the damn time.

“She’s probably just going to complain about you,” Suguru warned her, jealousy flaring up in her chest as she ran her fingers through her hair. 

What the hell did he know? 

At least you were talking about her. 

Toru would rather your thoughts revolve around her than to be nothing to you at all. 

“She was definitely checking out my tits today,” she defensively argued, even though Suguru was still making an annoying face at her. So what if he didn’t believe her? 

You had, hadn’t you? This wasn’t just totally in her head? 

Maybe you didn’t even realize you’d done it. Toru had been trying her hardest to get you to see that you were obviously a lesbian like her, that the two of you were clearly compatible.

“Uh-huh,” he mumbled, and she wanted to yank the pillow out from underneath his head and smother him with it. 

“Are you going to call her or not?” She pouted, returning to the point as he slowly scrolled through the messages.

She imagined you back in your own bed, maybe biting your pretty lips until they were swollen, breaking the skin as you waited for a response. Would you let Toru lick the blood off if you knew it was her on the other end? 

“For fifty bucks,” he exhaled, and she once again contemplated suffocating him. 

But she was still shrugging down her purse, digging through its messy contents to pull out a hundred and toss it at him. 

“You’re such a dick,” she derisively huffed, even though she had started this whole arrangement by promising to pay him a couple years ago. Begging him to let her use his photos to catfish you, and despite his initial moral protests that it was wrong, blah blah blah, he eventually caved in. 

It wasn’t ever supposed to last this long. 

She meant to tell you months ago. But there were always pesky little flies buzzing around every time she tried to talk to you at school, and she couldn’t get the correct words to leave her lips when everyone was always watching the two of you together. 

God, even when she tried to talk to you in the bathroom when you ate your lunch in there alone, people still fucking followed her. 

“You better pull your pants down a little and snap a pic if I’m paying you,” she hissed at her only actual friend, just for Suguru to roll his eyes at her again from his lazy position on the bed. 

God, did she have to do everything herself?

She climbed on top, grabbing his slacks by the hips and wiggling it down as low as she could without revealing his disgusting dick. She didn't really understand what you could possibly find appealing about the obviously inferior gender, but maybe it was just because you didn't know better yet. Hadn't seen what her pretty tits looked like without her uniform covering them or properly experienced a woman’s touch. 

“Are you serious-” 

Toru ignored Suguru, tugging his shirt up too and snagging the phone back, carefully angling it to snap a photo that captured his dark happy trail, the defined muscles and ridges of his abs and hitting send. 

It was almost instantly marked as seen. 

She stared at the screen, willing your response, wishing for something in return and grinning wildly when you sent an image back. 

Your uniform removed to reveal your gorgeous tits pressed together in a pretty white bra. Had you picked it out for her? Or well, Satoshi? Your face wasn’t in it, but she could imagine what expression you were making. How your lashes might flutter, how your bottom lip might push out. 

Were you touching yourself? 

“Do you still want me to call her or do you wanna go rub one out?” Suguru sarcastically asked, his voice thick with sleep from the nap she ‘rudely’ interrupted. 

“Ask her to send a video of her doing that,” she demanded, holding the phone back out while he let out a low exhale, shutting his eyes like he hadn’t meant to sign up for that.

“Do I at least get to watch the video if she sends it?” He grumbled, and Toru glared back at him, folding her arms across her chest as she gritted her teeth. 

“Fine,” she begrudgingly accepted. 

It was only natural, she supposed. She spent almost every day bragging to him about how gorgeous you were, rambling about all the cute faces you made and funny things you’d said. Of course, he’d want to experience the little pieces of you Toru was generous enough to share. 

He took the phone, hitting the call button as Toru gestured for him to put in on speaker while it rang. He did, and you only took a second to answer. 

“Hi,” your soft voice breathed on the other end, and a jolt of excitement shot through Toru. 

You sounded so adorable. She just wanted to take a bite. Sink her teeth into you so deep you’d be stuck with the bite marks for the rest of your life. 

“Hey, pretty girl,” Suguru greeted, keeping a straight face while Toru suppressed actually giggling at the light sound of your pretty laughter through the phone. 

“What are you doing?” You asked, all sweet and sincere. 

“Just thinkin’ about you,” Suguru smoothly replied. Toru couldn’t help rolling her eyes at him, having a hard time believing any girl could actually be stupid enough to-

“Really?” 

Nevermind. 

This was exactly why you needed Toru. Sure, Suguru was her best friend, but moronic men like him would never be able to take care of you like she could! 

“I liked that photo you sent me,” he murmured into the phone, pitching his voice down while Toru’s nails bit into her palm, imprinting half-circles into them as she heard your breathing hitch on the other end. 

“Y-yeah?” You stuttered a little bit, as precious as always. A little awkward, too, but that was part of what made you so addicting. What made Toru so desperate to be the one you were stammering and stumbling over your words for. “I liked yours.” 

“You wanna show me just how much?” Suguru spoke slowly, leaving the implication up in the air for you to jump to your own conclusion. 

To decide just how badly you wanted to please Satoshi. 

“You want another photo?” You asked after a moment, temptation teetering there. Toru was dying to touch you. Be there in your bed as she heard your sheets rustling underneath your body through the grainy line. Replaying all the pretty expressions you’d worn in the hall earlier, imagining how different the one you had on now was. 

“I want more, angel,” Suguru replied, immediately reminding Toru that you still didn’t know you were hers yet, still enveloped in this boy version of her that she and Suguru fabricated. “Are you touching yourself for me?” 

“Maybe,” you shyly said, close enough to a confession. 

“Think you could record it for me, sweetheart?” He hummed, careful not to sound demanding, just issuing a little dare she knew you would take out of fear of disappointing him.

“If you really want me to,” you hesitantly replied, all light and airy. Barely needing to be nudged to agree to send a video of your breathy moans, one where your fingers would slip underneath your matching panties as you cried out after someone that never really existed. 

“Good girl.” 

You didn’t even ask him not to show anyone else. 

Just blindly trusted him. 

Would you still feel the same when you knew it was really her? Follow her lead and stay on her leash? 

Sometimes, you sorta reminded Toru of a lost little lamb. One she had to shepherd back into place. It wasn’t like she was trying to put the crook around your neck, to pull you close, but she’d do what she had to just to have you. 

ε✿з

Be there in five. Can’t wait for you to finally be mine.  

“Can I help you, miss?” A hotel employee startled you, blinking hard a few times in surprise as you swallowed hard and shook your head.

“I’m, um, just waiting on someone,” you answered with a tight smile, grateful when they seemed to accept that answer, nodding politely and walking away as you rested against the wall rather than taking a seat on one of the stiff couches clustered together by coffee tables nearby. 

You were too anxious to sit. 

Nerves racing under your skin as you continuously checked the time, smoothing out the skirt you picked out and glancing down at the revealing shirt you’d chosen after he made a comment about how much he was looking forward to burying his face against your breasts. 

But as minute five came and passed, you still hadn’t spotted a single sign of him. 

You felt like an idiot, chewing on the inside of your cheek as you kept scanning the lobby for a glimpse of blue like he promised. Pulling up your phone to read and reread his latest message for comfort. 

Fingers tapping the keyboard, typing out a message to ask if he was close only to delete it and try to reword it, wasting another few minutes struggling to come up with something not totally desperate to say only to come up empty. 

A familiar giggle made your blood run cold. 

In a single instant, your mood was spoiled, rotten, head snapping in trepidation as you saw the blue you were searching for at the receptionist’s desk. Just on the wrong person. 

A tight blue dress clinging to the hips of your least favorite person, pushing her boobs up and riding high on her thighs as she turned towards you, eyes locking onto yours like she already knew you’d be here. 

The receptionist passed her two keycards, and she had to readjust the huge bouquet of flowers in her hand to grab it before she started walking towards you, her tall heels clicking against the tiled lobby. 

“Don’t you look adorable?” She smiled at you. Smiled. You were pretty sure your brain short-circuited. Overwhelmed by the fact a compliment had left her lips with not a hint of cruelty. Perhaps a sliver of condescension, but unless your stare was suddenly deceiving you (and you so badly wished it was) she actually appeared genuine. 

“W-what are you-” You started stammering, heat rushing up to your face as she stepped even closer, looking down at you with amusement glittering in her pretty eyes as she pushed the flowers into your arms.

“I'm Satoshi, silly,” she hummed, her mouth curling up in a smirk that just screamed she was proud of her scheme. 

“No, no,” you bluntly said, struggling to breathe when her words threatened to unravel years of a relationship you’d been clinging to, counting on to keep your sanity intact. “He called me. Sent me voice messages, photos-” 

“I had to get my friend Suguru to help,” she admitted, fake sympathy in her practiced smile as she reached out and touched your cheek. Caressed it with her soft fingers while you stood there in too much shock to recoil. “But all the conversations were me, sweetheart.” 

Sweetheart. 

The word had never made you feel so fucking sick before. 

Satoshi had called you that all the time. But he was apparently her, and the realization that all your raw vulnerabilities, all the times you poured your heart and soul out just for Toru to be on the receiving end. All those reassurances you’d hung onto, the pretty words you copied down into diaries and woven into your brain, they all belonged to her. 

Betrayal burning through you as you tried to process the depth of their deception. How many layers to it were there? How much time had she spent just to keep up this charade? Pretending to be a fucking man to what?  

Humiliate you even more than she did on a daily basis? 

“Am I just a sick joke to you?” You asked, voice thick with hurt you couldn't hide anymore. She tormented you for years. What the hell else were you supposed to think? 

“You're my girlfriend?” She retorted, tilting her head to the side as if she couldn't understand what you were confused about. 

“You hate me,” you pointed out, mentally replaying every mean word out of her mouth from the day you met. All the times she accused you of wanting to have sex with her and basically being a lovesick loser. 

“I like you,” she corrected you, and you got the distinct impression this wasn't exactly the reaction she'd been expecting from you. 

And in the next thick pause, the silence where you stared at her with an open mouth, you realized that perhaps she'd been projecting. 

That maybe the obsessed one had been her all along. 

You stepped back, shaking your head as you heard yourself scoff. 

“Do you just want me to say sorry?” Toru asked, her glittery lip gloss catching the light as she dramatically pouted. “I am, you know, I just get so excited when I see you, it’s hard to hold it in.” 

You blinked. 

Her eyes shifted down to your chest, openly ogling you as pink bloomed against her pretty cheeks, her fingers slipping back into your hair like you were a couple. 

As if, in any universe, this could be considered normal. 

You wanted to scream. 

To storm off and slam the glass door behind you. 

Go back to your room and cry into the pillow after you scrubbed every stupid photo and video you ever saved of Satoshi from your phone. 

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You were supposed to graduate and get as far from Toru as possible, find a place with your boyfriend and start a new life where you could forget about the past few years you’d spent here. 

“What did I do to ever deserve you doing this to me?” You breathed, a hot lump forming in your throat as you tried to hold back the sob that wanted to break out. Hyper aware of how hard you tried on your makeup this morning, how much time you’d spent picking out what to wear and how to style your hair, desperate to impress someone who apparently didn’t even exist. 

The tears were welling up anyway, heavy in your lashes and collecting in the corners of your eyes as you felt the stares of people passing by. The whispering you’d gotten used to whenever you were around Toru. 

Her face scrunched up, her annoyingly pretty mouth parting as she moved her hand to drag her thumb underneath your eyes. Wiping away your tears while she tilted her head to the side, loose waves bouncing in time with her huff, “Are you seriously crying?” 

“You catfished me,” you said, hating how crushed you sounded. But you were. In a handful of seconds, she had decimated any ounce of your confidence you had left. Reduced you to rubble under her stupid red-bottomed heels and then rubbed it into the glossy tiles you were standing on. “You’ve been calling me a lesbian for years, but you-” 

“That’s because you are one,” she said, perfectly plucked brows knitting together tightly as she took a small step closer. Almost enough for both your chests to touch, her eyes drifting back down for what felt like the twentieth time at your shirt. “I mean, I am too, was it not obvious?” 

No, it absolutely wasn’t fucking obvious, but the way she said it was enough to make you freeze. 

Honestly, if anything, you thought she was a little homophobic before this, but you didn’t know how she’d take that. 

“Come on, you can just admit that you were crushing on me, you don’t have to keep-” You made some sound at her insane statement, pure disgust mixing with the scoff that escaped. 

“I hate you,” you half-whispered. Loathing burning in those three short words as you tried to find the strength to move. But she didn’t flinch. Just pursed her lips together as she batted her soft, white lashes at you. 

“You told Satoshi you loved him last night,” she so unhelpfully reminded you, speaking slowly as if she was giving you time to think between her words. “That means you love me.” 

“I-” 

You couldn’t even get out what you wanted to say when she started twirling a loose strand of your hair around one of her long fingers. 

Was she actually trying to seduce you? 

Her chest pressed against yours, not sparing so much as a glance to anyone else in the lobby despite how much attention she had to know she was drawing as you felt her tits through her thin dress rubbing against yours like you were playing the starring role in a cheap porno. 

“Think about all those late nights we stayed up together,” she purred, looking down at you the same way she always did, and you wondered how you ever could have missed the hunger in them before. 

Well, that wasn’t quite true. You’d seen it. 

You just hadn’t realized what she was starving for. 

“All those times we talked about our families and our lives and what we wanted to do with them. All the stuff we wanted to do together,” Toru hummed, her nose nearly brushing against yours now too. You were struggling to wrap your head around the idea of her being the one you spilled everything too. Fuck, how many times had you complained to her about her? 

“I didn’t know-” You started, but she made a soft shushing sound that somehow shut you up. 

“We can still do all of it,” she promised, like you had any interest in any of it now that you knew what a fool you’d been for putting your trust in someone you never actually knew. In her. “Me and you.” 

You got the impression in your already flustered brain that she was trying to be romantic. 

That this was all supposed to be some grand gesture to show you that her feelings were genuine. 

But it just felt like fresh embarrassment. 

Your heart slamming against your rib cage while your thoughts ran in the same panicked circles, falling apart in front of a room full of strangers.

It sort of felt like you were being proposed to in public. Forced to say yes to not seem like a total asshole when everyone else was probably convinced she was earnestly confessing to you. 

And after years of being around her, you already had the experience to know the universe would always side with her. 

“What do you expect me to say?” You finally spoke, flat-out dumbfounded as your voice trembled. Her treachery was already twisting into something else in your stomach, your body attempting to turn it into something flattering just so you could cope with it. The intoxicating scent of her perfume stuffing your nostrils and clouding your thinking as you struggled to sort out all the different emotions rattling around inside you. 

The hurt and the heartache and the conflicting feelings of loss and longing for someone that wasn’t there. The scariest part was that some sliver of you was starting to consider Toru. 

Starting to want her. 

Acknowledging that you couldn’t actually have Satoshi, and coming to the conclusion that she was the closest fucking thing you had. 

The thought itself was incredibly depressing. 

“I love you, Toru?” She offered, doing her own impression of your voice. 

“I don’t,” you argued, although you weren’t sure how convincing it actually came out when her proximity left your voice quivering. 

“What? You only loved me as a boy then?” She grinded her sharp canines, not quite glaring, but clearly unhappy as her blue eyes bored into yours. 

“How was I supposed to know my boyfriend was you?” 

Other than the fact he was obviously too good to be true. A guy like that would never be interested in you. No, the only person who was, apparently, was your insane classmate who’d been pretending to be a man for two years just to get you to fall for her.  

You almost wished this was simply blackmail. That she just wanted to hold your humiliation over your head.

This felt so much worse. So much ickier. 

Especially when your body was beginning to betray your mind just with her touch, her scent, warping what your senses with her cruel fingers and soft skin. 

“A girlfriend is way better than a boyfriend,” she huffed at you, rolling her eyes like you should already know that. 

“You want to be my girlfriend?” You asked, meant to be rhetorical rather than serious. But her eyes lit up, lips lifting up into a blinding smile as she nodded. 

“Duh.” 

No. No. No. 

This could not be-

“Let’s go check out our room,” she hummed, effortlessly changing the subject as she backed off only to grab your wrist. Throwing an annoyed look over her shoulder at all the passerbys who had not-so-subtly paused to watch whatever was happening between both of you. “So annoying how people are always obsessed with me.” 

Too blind to see how much of a hypocrite she was being.

You were too stunned to stop her. Feet uselessly following after her as her pale fingertips dug deeper into your skin, dragging you around like you were just an accessory on her arm. 

Feeling almost like you were floating along, trying to tell yourself that this was all just some fucked-up dream you’d wake up from before you got there. 

But you didn’t. 

Just standing there like an idiot when she was holding the keycard up to the door, glancing down to realize you were still holding the flowers in your other limp hand. 

The saddest part was you were pretty sure no one else would give you anything as remotely nice as these. 

“I wasn’t trying to ask you to be-” You tried one more time, but she was already opening the door and pulling you in. 

“You know, you’re kinda being ungrateful,” she huffed, shutting the door with a heavy thud as she dropped her designer purse on the floor. You didn’t even think she knew how much it cost. Probably just purchased it without considering how many meals that much money could’ve bought someone else. 

“I’m ungrateful?” You echoed, hurt coiling hot in your core as you stared in disbelief at her in front of you. You wanted it to be hurt, at least, forcing yourself to look away only to find rose petals all over the floor. 

She reached around to start pulling down the zipper of her dress, stepping out of her heels without pausing before shimmying her clothes off. 

Shit. 

She wasn’t wearing a fucking shred underneath. 

You weren’t a lesbian. At least, you were pretty sure you weren’t a lesbian. But something was fluttering inside you against your will at the subtle bounce of her breasts when she bent over to pick up a rose petal and pinch it between her fingers, pouting like she was disappointed by the color of them. 

“I mean, you have me in front of you, and you’re not even appreciating it,” she complained. 

“If you’re expecting me to beg for you-” you started, awkwardly turning to place the flowers on the closest table, but that only gave her the opportunity to move closer. To bridge the gap between you. 

“I’m not,” she argued back, but the mischievous little grin on her face was enough to cast doubt. “But you will anyway.” 

Your mouth fell open, and it felt like she had your heart in her fist, squeezing it to watch the blood slowly drip out. 

“I’ve seen how pretty you look begging,” she murmured, and that heat simmering inside you just creeped higher, flooding your face as you realized what she meant. Remembered all those videos you’d sent her thinking Satoshi was seeing them. “Wanna hear it for myself.” 

And before you could even deal with the notion that Toru had a plethora of videos of you masturbating stashed away, that she probably had fingered herself to you, she was kissing you. 

She tasted like candy. 

Sugary sweet gloss melting onto your lips as her mouth messily collided with yours. You froze for a few moments, but your lips started to kiss her back. Parting to let her tongue slip in as you were torn between telling her to stop and letting this continue. 

What could you do? 

What should you do? 

If she sent those videos to anyone, your life would be fucking ruined. But you didn’t want to just be Toru’s pet, something she doted on in secret and embarrassed in public. 

And at the same time, your body was reacting to hers almost instinctively, leaning forward instead of pulling away, despite your arms falling to your side, unsure if you could even touch her back. 

Toru, on the other hand, was grabbing a handful of your ass – and one of your tits too. Groping and squeezing while her tongue explored your mouth like she owned it all. 

Maybe if you gave into her now, if you let her have this, have you this once, you could still just leave anyway after graduation. Change your number when you changed cities, fuck, maybe changed countries if it meant getting away from the war she was waging between your head and heart. 

“You’re such a bitch,” you breathed when she broke the kiss, knowing that if she kissed you again, you weren’t going to stop her either. 

She laughed. At that, or maybe just at you. 

And then she was grabbing your hips, twisting you around and guiding you back to the bed, pushing you down on it hard enough to knock the air from your chest. 

“Don’t be a brat,” she pouted, pushing her glossy lips out as she easily rolled up your little skirt around your hips. Grinning at the sight of your lacy little panties, the pure white shade that came a little too close to her hair that she quickly pulled down around your thighs next.

“I’m not a-” 

Your words died in your throat as she slipped a delicate finger inside your warmth before you could protest what exactly you were. No better than a bitch in heat when just an experimental circle had a broken gasp escaping your mouth. 

She smiled at you again, pride and amusement shining like stars in her blue stare. You supposed she’d just found a new way to play with her favorite toy. 

“You’re so cute,” she complimented, climbing on top of you, her knee nudging your thighs further apart as her other hand trailed underneath your shirt. 

You swallowed hard. You knew you should say something else. 

Tell her to fuck off. 

But nothing came out. 

All the words dried up as she dragged her finger even deeper inside you. 

And then added another digit. Slowly getting to work stretching you open, feeling the way your walls started to squeeze down reflexively as she held your stare hostage. 

“You wanna tell me just how much you don’t like me?” She condescendingly hummed, daring you to disagree with her. 

“Do you hate me?” You asked instead, still struggling to wrap your head around the fact this was happening, no longer confident in something you had been certain of an hour ago. That somehow, you were proving her right. That just by being underneath her like this, with the taste of her candied lip gloss on your mouth and her fingers stuffing you full, you had become exactly what she said you were. 

A loser in love with her. 

You tried to tell yourself again that you weren’t. 

“I’m literally, like, in love with you,” she pouted, a hint of a familiar whine in it like she was sick of saying the same thing in different ways. “What do I have to do to make you see that, hm, pretty?” 

Probably erase the past few years from your memory, but you had a feeling she might engineer something like a car accident if it had the chance to cause retrograde amnesia – and force you to let her take care of you. 

And then her thumb drifted over your clit, and you forgot what you were thinking anyway with the soft pressure she applied. 

“Doesn’t it feel good?” She hummed, begging to rub careful circles over it, your body tensing as your chest tightened at the sensation. Your overheating core threatened to send shivers down your spine as her fingertips prodded deeper, faster. 

“T-Toru-” You didn’t know what you were even trying to say, brows knitting together as sweat started to drip down your forehead, everything inside you quickly grew all fuzzy. 

“You know, no one else could make you feel this good, sweetheart,” she said, teasing you as her thumb pressed that sensitive bud between your thighs like it was a goddamn button. 

Activating an embarrassingly primal part of your brain as you felt the pleasure build closer towards a climax you couldn’t believe you might be having. 

“No one else will ever know you like I do,” Toru continued, and you loathed that she might be correct. You told her everything. Every thought. Every secret. Every dream. You didn’t think you’d ever be able to trust anyone else like that again. “Love you like I do.” 

You wanted to hate this as much as you hated her. 

But her fingers were longer than yours, hitting spots you couldn't on your own as she slipped a third one in, swirling it around to tease you with that pretty, lilting laugh of hers. 

“Look at you,” she cooed, still mocking you even when you were in her hotel bed. “Soaked on my fingers like a slut.” 

You were.

Shaking and squirming as her fingers pumped in and out of you, whimpering weakly as she played you like a goddamn instrument. You knew you were going to cum. 

Knew that she’d won. 

Toru had made a mess of you. Unravelled you into a million little pieces that probably would never be put back together again. 

“That’s it, my pretty little lamb,” she cooed, and you wished your head was a little clearer to understand what she giggled about next. Your thighs trembling when she finally crooked her fingers just right, her thumb dragging over your clit with the perfect amount of pressure to finally make you cum for her. 

Your eyes drifting down to her bare body over you, her perfect tits, her flawless skin, the shape of her hips and thighs as her fingers worked in and out of you, her thumb working you through your orgasm as you broke. 

Bent into something unrecognizable under her pressure, her presence, blinking as your brain basically stopped functioning when she filled it with just thoughts of her. 

Watching numbly when she stood up and walked to her bag and back, white hair spilling over her shoulder as she tilted her head to the side to look at the phone in her hand, squinting at the screen as she angled it to capture where you were splayed out in the bleached white sheets. 

“Say cheese.” 

reblogs + comments always appreciated angels <3

It was't like it used to be. Hybrids had all the same rights, worked and lived in all the same spaces, no longer made normal humans stop and stare when they were out on the street. And despite some of the, uh, anatomical differences, people still had sex and found partners regardless of their hybrid status.

But he couldn't convince himself to come clean and risk ruining your relationship when he didn't know if you'd ever be interested in being with someone like him. Who wasn't just burdened by the weight of the sorcery world but heat cycles and knotting too.

Especially when he didn't even have experience in, uh, relationships in general.

"Not sure yet," you hummed, shrugging your shoulders without a single clue what was rattling around in his head. "Hope it's good though."

His mouth opened and words he wasn't even fully aware of started spilling out, talking just to fill the air, his brain scrambling to come up with some excuse to get you to cancel no matter unfair he knew he was. Babbling some nonsense about how boring his day was without you, mumbling something about a late-night café that just opened nearby you would like, earning one of those smiles that stole his breath as you teasingly rolled your eyes.

"You don't have to pretend like you'll miss me," you lightly scoffed, reaching one finger out and pausing just before you could poke his cheek. You probably thought he had infinity on, didn't bother testing his technique, although if you had, you'd see that he turned it off just for these private moments with you. "You just don't want to be alone to fill all this stuff out."

"That's not-" He protested, but his sentence died in his throat when you turned away from him, teetering a little on your heels as you bent over to pick up your purse from the floor.

"I'll come in early tomorrow morning if you wanna call it a night too," you suggested, pulling out your phone without looking at him. His chest straining as he pulled his blindfold back over his eyes. Sensitive ears perking up at the vibrations of your phone, maybe your stupid date sending you something, his chest tight and stiff as your lips curled up higher at whatever was on screen.

"Yeah, sure," he heard himself say, like it didn't hurt at all.

You glanced back at him, grinning as you lifted your hand up in a little wave. "Wish me luck, okay?"

He wished your date would break his fucking legs, actually.

ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ

The man sitting across from you was no Satoru Gojo.

Didn't have his flawless complexion, the creamy skin or the sharp edges, his blue eyes dull, boring in comparison to the brilliant shade that seared through you, his lips not glossy or remotely close to the same shade of pink when he opened his mouth to say something about stocks you couldn't really care less about as you contemplated how far he was from his profile.

But the biggest difference was the pointy ears you could make out underneath his hair you spotted when you climbed in his car earlier, the tail that stuck out of his clothes.

You didn't care if he was a dog hybrid, couldn't give less of a shit what breed he was - but it was a little off-putting that he didn't disclose it at all online, went as far as to hide it in his photos.

The first day you met Gojo, he'd let his tail wrap around your leg, throwing you a cheeky smile as he cracked an awful joke about not using a litter box to lighten the mood.

"I mean, it might be a little too advanced for you-" He continued, and you nodded without really paying attention to what he was even referring to. You hadn't even gotten your drink order yet, but your foot was already anxiously tapping the ground, attention drifting towards the exit as your brain suggested that maybe your night would've been better spent doing paperwork with Satoru.

He was still cute, you supposed, but something else about him was off-putting, his gaze making your skin crawl when he openly stared at your cleavage before dragging it over the rest of you like you were something to assess. You felt more like a piece of meat he was only interested in devouring, something to chew up and spit out instead of savor.

"Huh," he muttered at the end of his spiel, your pride taking a hit at the hint of disappointment in his voice, like you hadn't lived up to his expectations as he practically squinted at your tits.

"What?" You defensively pressed, daring him to say it and give you an excuse to go.

"Were you wearing a push-up bra in your pictures?" He accused, your jaw dropping at his audacity.

"No," you quickly answered, bristling as you felt the heat crawling up your cheeks in embarrassment.

He didn't say anything back immediately, still obviously looking, and part of you wondered for a second if it was just his excuse to be sleazy, trying to neg you instead of just giving you a goddamn compliment.

"Are you actually 6'3'?" You curtly asked in return, stiffly squirming in your chair as your anger frosted over into something hard and thick lodged in the pit of your stomach. You knew the answer was no, considering you spent all day every day chasing after a man who was. But even with the lifts you had suspected were in his loafers, you didn't think your date came close.

"Of course I am," he disdainfully scoffed back at you, his brows pinching together dramatically.

Only one of you was lying, and you knew it wasn't you.

But before you could tell him to trick the next girl, an unsuspecting waitress approached, notepad in hand as she beamed at both of you.

And while she introduced herself, rattling off memorized specials, you caught the way he appraised her too, your annoyance reaching a new peak as you suffered this fresh humiliation.

"What can I get started for you guys?" She innocently asked, looking at you first, pen ready to write down whatever you wanted.

"She'll have a salad," he answered before you could, condescending and sharp, and your eye twitched.

Satoru would have suggested ordering dessert for an appetizer. Probably would have maimed the poor excuse of a man at the table with you for having the audacity to speak for you.

You wished you said no.

Swiped fucking left on his stupid smirk.

God, you were starting to consider the chance he used fucking AI to write all those seemingly sincere messages to you when he obviously lacked the basic manners to let you order your own meal.

"You know what, I'll actually be leaving now," you coldly cut him off, pushing back the chair before you snapped and threw your water in his face. Pretending not to feel the sudden stares and attention all directed your way as you snapped at your date. "Clearly, we're not compatible."

"It's because I'm a hybrid, isn't it?" He glared at you, as if it wasn't because he was a ginormous asshole.

"It's because you're a fucking dick," you hissed back at him, snagging your purse while he spat out more accusations that you were discriminating against him.

You didn't indulge him with responding.

Storming past tables of gawking couples and curious strangers, trying to make it out before anyone pulled out their phone to record it and your face was plastered on social media.

Of course, because tonight couldn't get worse, it was pouring outside, rain pelting your skin and plastering your dress to you as you stomped down the sidewalk in your teetering heels.

Murmuring under your breath about what a dumb mistake you made letting that prick pick you up and not driving yourself, teeth chattering as you folded your arms across your chest to try and stop shivering. You debated on calling Satoru, asking him to come get you at the risk of looking absolutely pathetic as you avoided the puddles in the cracked concrete.

You only looked back once, just to make sure that you weren't followed, although you were convinced your date was definitely busy hitting on the waitress by now before you slipped out your own phone. Quickly unlocking it, thumb tapping away at the screen with muscle memory before you nestled it between your ear and your shoulder at the first ring, sniffling in the chill.

For a man who did more stuff in a day than most people did in a year, it only took him two seconds to pick up.

"Hey, sweetheart, are you-"

"Um, a-are you busy?" You tentatively asked, cringing at the fact you were basically calling your boss just because you went on a bad date.

But then again, he'd always been more like a-

Well, you weren't sure what category to put him in, but you'd like to think you meant more than just a glorified secretary.

"You want me to come get you?" He preemptively asked without even answering your own question.

"I mean, if you wouldn't mind," you sighed, looking around for the nearest street sign, mumbling your location into the phone as you massaged the tension from your shoulders.

Too distracted to even sense the curse until it slithered out of the shadows, a tentacle wrapping around your ankle and sending you stumbling to the wet concrete, phone clattering the ground as you gasped in surprise.

The ache of the impact was quickly dulled by panic when you propped yourself off and saw the absurd-looking thing. A dark mass of movement, your eyes struggling to focus as you scrambled back on clumsy limbs, only for it to drag you closer with a harsh tug.

You weren't like Satoru.

Barely had enough cursed energy to be considered a sorcerer.

That was the entire fucking reason you stayed out of the field when you weren't by his side, sticking to paperwork and putting up veils rather than fighting yourself.

A sharp sting struck your ankle, white-hot pain racing up your calf as you realized the fucking thing bit you.

Something sickly sweet suddenly flooded your senses, fire burning underneath your skin like someone had fried every goddamn nerve ending as your chest strained and threatened to seize, a hundred little stars floating across your vision as you reached for your phone, desperate to tell Satoru that he needed to get here now.

Was it pheromones? Some kind of strange poison filtering in through

The curse was doing something to you, the tentacle curling tight as the world swam and swirled, unable to focus when you couldn't so much as move.

Was this it?

Did you have to get some dick so badly you were about to die for it?

Before another tentacle could wrap around your throat, suffocate you or condemn you to a fate of being splattered on the sidewalk, its grip on your ankle disappeared, releasing you as a horrifying squish resonated in your eardrums.

"Date sucked?" A warm voice chuckled, strong arms scooping you up as you faintly detected a hint of concern in his usually carefree voice.

"I'm, ah, more of a cat person," you breathed, but it hurt, lungs aching as your fingers clumsily clutched at his uniform.

You started to turn your head, but he blocked your vision before you could catch so much as a glimpse at what happened to the curse.

"Nuh-uh," he softly scolded. "No looking."

You made some sound, meant to be a laugh, or a huff, but it came out more like a whimper, the world all fuzzy as you curled up in his arms.

"It bit me," you breathed, wincing as he hummed appraisingly.

"Let's get you to Shoko, then, hm?" He asked, like everything was alright now, like it would all be okay now that he was holding you.

It was the easiest thing in the world to believe that.

He just had that sort of effect on you - made everything softer, sweeter when you existed in his space.

Even if your body still felt like it was on fire half an hour later, tossing and turning on Shoko's couch while she shined a light in your eyes to test their reaction, unable to understand anything that left her mouth until Satoru gently held your body down so she could put an IV in your arm without you moving around to mess it up.

Somewhere in the haze, you guessed you must have fallen asleep, exhausted yourself enough that you dozed off, waking up to the curtains pulled in her dim apartment, squinting as you sat up and realized Satoru had fallen asleep sitting next to you, head propped up on the cushion as he drooled onto the couch.

"Satoru," you murmured, throat itchy and dry as you blinked, vaguely aware that something was different as you shifted uncomfortably.

"Mm?" He yawned, sleepily sitting up and stretching as he wiped the spit from his mouth. Satoru glanced up at you, and in a single instant, he was wide awake, blue eyes locking onto you with shock. He reached out, fingers trembling in front of your face before he abruptly stopped, standing up and starting down towards the hall. "Um, Shoko?"

Maybe you should've known then.

Figured out that maybe more was wrong than you realized. Especially when she walked back out of her bedroom and froze when she saw you the same way Satoru did.

"Looks like whatever it put in your system turned you into a hybrid," she wryly assessed when she started walking back over, bending down to get a better look while your jaw dropped open, ready to protest until she pinched one of your now fuzzy ears. "It might be temporary."

Might.

You felt like an idiot stumbling up and starting for the bathroom in her hallway, pushing open the door and flicking on the suddenly too-bright lights only to see what they did.

Turning around only to find a pretty gray tail, discomfort swirling in your stomach as the idea of fate pulling a prank on you started to set in once you realized you'd been turned into a cat hybrid in particular.

"Oh," you murmured, unsure what to do or say when you stared at yourself in the reflection, fingers reaching around to feel how fluffy your new tail was, sticking awkwardly out from underneath your tight dress.

"Suits you," Satoru snapped you out of it, his voice low and soft, your eyes flicking over to find him leaning against the doorframe, his own tail lazily swishing back-and-forth as he studied your own. "Cute."

"You think so?" You hesitantly asked.

"Pinky promise," he winked, mouth curling up in a small smile as he nodded back towards the living room. "You should go back to sleep. Shoko says you need more rest."

"Okay," you agreed, mostly because you halfway thought that this might be some dream, or that whatever weird side effects you were going through would be gone when you woke back up.

But you were wrong, once again.

Blearily blinking just to feel for your ears through your hair to confirm that you were still stuck like this. For now. Maybe forever.

Shoko let both of you crash for the night, and despite you insisting to Satoru that you were fine, he insisted on sleeping on the floor, refusing to leave your side.

You rolled off Shoko's couch, creeping past Satoru's dozing body just to find her making coffee in her kitchen, sipping it with a borderline bored expression as you tried to ignore your tail moving while you walked.

"Mind giving me a ride back today?" You yawned, covering your mouth as you glanced at the pretty sleeping man sprawled out with a loose blanket tangled around his long legs. "Have a few things to catch up on."

You kept a change of clothes in the office anyway. Could shower and refresh yourself in the locker rooms by the gym too.

"Uh-huh," she hummed, snagging a mug on the shelf to pour you coffee too.

Although, it only took you an hour and a half to regret the caffeine, leg bouncing anxiously as you sorted through the stack of files in front of you in Satoru's office, heart beating too fast as you re-read the same line for the fifteenth time.

Struggling trying to clear the haze from your head by burying it in paperwork, staring at the still mostly full to-go cup Shoko dropped you off with despite how much pent-up energy was already pulsing in your chest.

You tail felt weird, hanging out of a skirt that hadn't been designed for it, your ears picking up more noises that you never noticed before, fingers tapping the desk in an unsteady rhythm.

And when your phone buzzed, you practically jumped, sucking in a sharp inhale as your hand shot out to check it just to see a message from Satoru complaining about you leaving without waking him.

It was completely normal.

The same sort of thing he'd sent you a thousand times before.

But why the fuck did the idea of him sitting there and typing it out for you with those long, thick fingers of his, a cute little pout pushed out on his pretty lips make you so goddamn horny now?

You'd always found him attractive. Who didn't?

But he always existed in a different league. Sitting pretty on top of a pedestal you'd never be able to climb up to. He could have anything he wanted. Anyone.

Untouchable.

But all your inhibitions, all the rules and regulations you'd set in stone and stuck to since he hired you, were suddenly slippery, failing you when you needed to cling to them the most.

Your brain conjuring up the world's most unhelpful images of how hot he'd look between your thighs, how sweet his lips would taste if they were pressed against yours, how he'd surely fill up the irritating emptiness you were now acutely aware of.

As if he'd even be interested in you.

You squirmed, thighs pressing together as you swallowed the thick spit that just seemed to keep pooling in the back of your mouth. Tail twitching and curling behind your seat as you struggled for some comfort.

Everything was too warm, sweat pricking at your brow as your breathing slowed, searching for some part of your body still in your control.

Maybe you should've just gone home.

At least there, you'd be able to rub one out and torture yourself over how wrong it was to want him in private.

Was this a part of your, ah, transformation?

Or was this all you?

The door swung open to Satoru's laughter, his white hair messy as he readjusted his blindfold, a second set of footsteps following him as you realized Nanami had accompanied him to argue about one of his students, your face heating up hotter at both of them about to catch you in this...state.

"Satoru," you murmured, your voice cracking as it came out uncertain, glancing up at him with wide, wavering eyes. Trying to choose your words carefully as you chewed on the inside of your cheek, "Something is happening to me."

He pulled down his blindfold, blue stare piercing straight through you with an expression you didn't recognize, jaw locking hard and tight.

You thought you knew him better than almost anyone. Cheeky and carefree. Cold and calculated. From clan meetings he sat at the head of to complaining about curses over ice cream, you sort of thought there wasn't a single side of him you hadn't seen.

But you had never seen him make that face before.

And honestly?

You never wanted him more.

"Nanami," he bluntly said, a harsh edge to his voice that sent an electric tingle down your spine. "Get the fuck out."

ʚ₍ᐢ. .ᐢ₎ɞ

The only thing scarier than admitting he was an idiot obsessed with you was admitting he must have trigged your heat.

That in his desperation to stay by your side despite the fact you were like him, he forgot what all that meant. That just his presence could trigger a certain biological reaction for, ah, breeding purposes.

It wasn't like he ever had to do it before.

He'd never been through one of his own ruts with anyone. He'd never been with anyone at all.

Sure, he'd seen porn. Knew the mechanics of sex, what he was supposed to do.

"You should go home," he murmured, no matter how all his instincts were begging him to bury his cock inside you right here, right now.

"I-" You hesitated, squirming all cute in your seat, blinking and silently begging him to be the one to crack and do something first.

He didn't even know if you knew what was happening. What your body wanted - and if it was even him it wanted it from.

"You're about to go into heat. Take a few days off, and don't leave your place," he muttered, his throat constricting as he picked up on your scent, nails digging into his fist as he bottled up all his own cravings. Knowing every second he stayed, he risked his composure cracking.

He tried to put some space between you, forcing himself to stare at the ground as he walked over to his desk, half-collapsing into his seat and hiding his face in his hands so he wouldn't be tempted to peek thorough them.

"Heat," you echoed, all light and airy, his resolve crumbling with one soft syllable. "Can't you help me?"

God.

HIs cock throbbed in his slacks, a familiar ache blooming in his core as he heard the creak of your chair.

"Sweetheart," he started, the lump in his throat bobbing as he spoke. Could he? "You don't know what-"

"I don't know what?" You teased him, too fucking close, delicate fingers wrapping around his wrists and pulled his hands down so he had to look at you.

"If I-" He paused, swallowing hard as you rendered him as close to speechless as he'd ever come when you tilted your head all cute when you got down on your goddamn knees in front him. "I won't be able to stop myself."

Your palms slid over his muscled thighs, squeezing softly as he let out a low grunt he hardly recognized, gritting his teeth as he held back the urge to growl, to push his cock between your parted lips until it was bumping into the back of your throat.

"Do you want to?" You asked, morning light streaming in through the window and bathing your pretty face in the warm light.

You needed him. Fuck, you needed him, and he was desperately trying to not show how much he needed you too.

"What?" He asked, feeling like a fucking idiot as he blinked down at you right as you started toying with his zipper. Flicking it slowly, like you were waiting for him to grant you permission.

"Do you want to stop?" You asked, brow arching up, ears twitching. "Or do you want me?"

"You know I want you," he heard himself say, nearly trembling as he finally came clean, the words hanging in the air as your mouth turned up in his favorite smile.

"Yeah?"

And funnily enough, now that it was out, he felt like he could tell you a million more times without getting sick of it. Caving into the part of him that knew you were meant to be his from the first day he met you.

"Yeah," he murmured. "With or without the tail."

It was all you needed to hear, pulling down his zipper as he hurried to tug down his pants enough to tug his cock free, his heart slamming into his ribcage as he watched you bring the swollen tip of it to your mouth, offering little kitten licks like you were trying to drive him fucking crazy.

But it didn't take long for your own need to start getting to you too, your nails digging into his thighs like little claws as you took him deeper, tongue pressed against his pulsing vein as you fit inch after thick inch in, one hand readjusting to start stroking what you couldn't fit.

Your mouth was warm, but it was just the sight of you sucking, cheeks flushed and hollowed out, six eyes searching and studying every gorgeous detail of your face as you bobbed up-and-down on his cock that nearly had him cumming down your throat when you barely began.

It was a billion times better than his own hand.

His pride swelling at how eagerly you worked, your fingers looking so much fucking better than his own wrapped around the base of his shaft, drool dribbling at the corner of your mouth. Letting him tangle his fingers in your hair, gripping hard as he started guiding you faster, tempted to throw his head back and groan, but too enraptured by how pretty you looked like to move a single muscle.

"F-fuck, baby," he hissed, a fever building in his chest that he knew would bubble over soon, sweat he hadn't noticed before starting to get stuck in his own hair as he spread his legs further apart to let you scoot closer, acutely aware of how hard you were squeezing your own thighs. "Feel so fuckin' good, y'know that?"

You couldn't reply with a mouthful of cock, but your lashes fluttered, eyes darting up to him, nose crinkling up like you felt the same.

"Probably fucked my fist to the idea of us doing this a thousand times," he babbled, moaning loudly as his girth got pressed up against the roof of your mouth, hardly-aware of what he was saying until you pulled back, still pumping his cock when you popped off. Saliva connecting the two of you together until you wiped your lips off, an adorable smirk curling up on them now.

"You jerked off to me?" You asked, and he knew he should be embarrassed.

But he'd never been good at embarrassment. And really, he was so sick of playing it cool around you.

"A lot," he admitted, knowing he was grinning like an idiot just for you to giggle too. "Did you ever-"

"Maybe," you murmured, your fingers pausing mid-stroke to slip up high, tracing over his sensitive slit to collect where your spit and his pre-cum had mixed together.

He caught your wrist before you could test the limits of his patience, see how much teasing he'd let you get away with, pulling you up in one mean tug. In half a second, he had shoved everything off his desk, papers scattering to the ground as he twisted you around and pinned you flat against the wood.

Gasping as your cheek got squished against the cool surface, wrist flexing in his firm hold as he clicked his tongue. And then he was shoving your skirt up, bunching it around your hips and letting your tail hang free, already eagerly swishing in anticipation as he ripped your panties clean off.

You were drenched.

Slick sticking to your thighs as he nudged them further apart, his throat nearly closing as your scent flooded his nostrils, sweet and strong and all his.

He wanted to bite. Sink his teeth into your throat and claim you. Make sure you didn't go on any other stupid dates or give anyone else the chance to see how gorgeous you looked like this.

Squirming and shivering, pretty pussy exposed and waiting for him to put a cute little hybrid in your womb, roll the dice and see who it took after.

"Last chance," he warned, his fingers digging into your wrist as he expended a ridiculous amount of energy just to cling to his restraint.

You threw a dramatic pout over your shoulder at him, pushing out your bottom lip, clueless how badly he wanted to suck on it. "What else do I have to do to get you to finally fuck me?"

How the fuck could he hold back when you were here, waiting on him, wet and wiggling your ass?

"It hurts," you added in a soft whimper, like you knew it would make him break.

His cock bobbed up as he wrapped his sturdy fingers around it, gliding over your entrance just to make you whine before he started edging it in.

And fuck, it only took him a few seconds to hate himself for not having you far sooner.

Feeling you squeeze around his fat girth and suck him in so sinfully as he fucked you right there on his desk, watching himself disappear inside your pussy as he shoved himself deeper. Listening to the cute little noises currently being ripped from your throat as you clawed at the smooth surface, having a hard time staying in one place when he was doing his damndest to split you wide open.

Operating on pure reflexes, doing what his brain was programmed to do no matter how much his body was unaccustomed to these actions.

"It's-" You whimpered, cutting yourself off like you were trying not to feed his ego.

Which had never been bigger than it was right now, inflating by the second at seeing your face scrunched up in pleasure because of him.

"Just relax for me," he purred, putting more pressure on your wrist and keeping you pinned there as he pushed the last few inches in, your ragged little breaths ringing in his ears as he tried not to get lost in your scent. "Let me make it better."

He could feel himself nudging against your womb, his abs tensing as he ached to fill it with his sperm, to fuck you until it took, until he knew you'd be waddling around in seven months carrying the next Gojo heir.

"S-Satoru," you stammered his name, and his first thought was how long would it take to convince you to take his last name too. To wake up to hearing your pretty little whisper in his ear as his wife, pump you full and press your face into his pillow next.

"Mhm, sweetheart?" He asked, eyes nearly rolling to the back of his brain as he forced himself to slip out to fuck back into you, slow strokes at first, building up to a faster rhythm in response to your greedy cunt clamping down on him hard.

"M'full," you whimpered right as he grinded against that spongy little sweet spot to drag another moan out, lewd squelches echoing in the office as he pumped in-and-out.

Rutting into you with the faint fear that he really might never stop, not when it felt so fucking good, when it felt like home in your warmth.

Gojo laughed, high and airy, a crooked smile finding its way on his face when he thought about full you were about to be.

"If you want me to pull out, gotta do it now, baby," he murmured, hoping to whatever was out there that you'd tell him to cum inside you. To fill you up until you were dripping him all day long.

"Don't."

He nearly came on the spot.

Fucking into you faster, feeling more animal than human when his hips kept smacking into your ass, pressing his chest to your back as he wrapped his free hand around to fumble for your clit.

He knew it was clumsy, fingers twitching as he tried to massage it, reading your body language for some sign that you liked it, your body shuddering at the contact.

"I'm gonna fuckin' knock you up," he started rambling, leaning down even closer, sniffing your skin before dragging his tongue up your throat. "Put a litter in you."

Did that sound stupid?

He felt stupid saying it, self-conscious as a brief stab of anxiety struck his heart until you started nodding.

"P-please," you whined, like you might die if he didn't do precisely that. Thighs trembling as you tilted your head to the side to give him better access to your neck.

He couldn't help himself.

Not when it came to you.

The base of his cock swelling before he could so much as warn you, his mouth latching hard just above your collarbone as your body went stiff and rigid beneath him as the first spurts of warm cum started coming out in thick ropes, painting your insides while he claimed them for himself.

Would you consider being his mate an upgrade to his assistant?

Gojo sure fucking hoped so.

Biting harder as you moaned, toying with your clit as you twitched underneath him, some strangled sound that sort of resembled his name escaping right as the knot forced its way in, making sure no cum could leak out.

He hadn't even kissed you yet, but somehow managed to lose his virginity and possibly get you pregnant at the same time. You'd definitely say yes if he asked you on a date, right? To be his fiancé girlfriend?

"Am I living up to your fantasy?" You panted, and he was sure he was blushing, heat going straight to his head as he helplessly nodded.

"Better than my wildest dreams, baby," he promised when he finally broke the bite, voice painfully tight as his knot kept you locked together.

He kept painting circles over your sensitive bundle, picking up the pace as he tried to coax you through the tight fit, your walls squeezing him just right while he desperately tried to make you cum too.

"A-are you close?" He stammered, hating how lame he sounded, unlike the great Gojo he tried to make you think he was, swallowing hard as your head bobbed.

"Mm, harder," you half-whimpered, drool leaking out of your lips and collecting on your desk as your muscles tensed.

He might be part snow leopard, but he could listen to you like a dog. Wag his tail and obey, rubbing harder, applying just enough pressure to make you unravel for him.

His knot held tight while you came, bracing you through it as your body gave into him. He licked over the bruise blooming on your throat, soothing the sore spot as he murmured sweet nothings into your skin.

You were babbling now too, crying out his name as real tears rolled down your cheeks, ones he wanted to lap up too. You looked so beautiful like this, furry ears pinned back as his cock split you open, his swollen base preventing you from doing anything other than squirming as you came back down from your own climax.

Gojo already knew one round wouldn't be enough.

That he needed at least two more to satisfy the heat coiling tight in his own stomach, that he'd only feel better if he spent all day fucking you into overstimulation and he burned every little expression and moan of yours into his brain to replay whenever he wanted.

"Satoru," you breathed his name like it was all the air you needed, and he snapped from the spell your pussy had casted on him.

"Y-yeah, sweetheart?" He stuttered, hoping you didn't notice.

"Does this, um, mean we're like, dating now?" You asked, blinking fast as you managed to glance back at him with glossy eyes.

"This," he hummed, poking at the bite mark on your throat. "Means you're mine forever."

reblogs + comments are always appreciated adore you all :3