cai's café

The Tokyo streets glow with sodium lamps and neon signs that are blinking overhead. The streets are mostly empty, aside from a few stragglers and drunks passed out along the sidewalk.

It isn’t until ten minutes into your walk that you feel it—eyes. You glance around, confused. There’s no one you can see, just a small cat on the other side of the street that isn’t even watching you, finding more interest in it’s own paw. Shrugging you keep walking.

Five minutes later you cut into a narrow alley. A shortcut home you normally take after a night out with the girls, granted they are with you—safety in numbers or something. Your drunken mind isn’t really concerned with that right now, though. Your feet are cold, small stones digging into your toes where you’re walking, and you’re lucky you haven’t encountered something sharp yet.

A little bit further into the dark alley you feel it again, that heavy sense of being watched. Whipping your head around you see someone stand at the end of the alleyway. The person’s silhouette completely black, except for the stark white hair that’s illuminated by the streetlight from above. The second thing you note is how tall they are. And the third thing you notice is the eyes—they’re glowing. Piercing blue looking over at you.

He’s just… staring at you. But when he sees you looking at him, he takes a step towards you. Then another. And another. You back up, pointing a finger at him.

“Stay there!” you bark out, finger trembling slightly. “Stay,” you repeat, firmer. The man halts, one pale eyebrow lifting in amusement.

“That’s right. Good boy.” If you were sober, you’d cringe at calling a stranger good boy, but right now all you can think of is that you’re drunk, barefoot, in an alley, and this guy is, what—seven feet tall?

His face becomes clearer now, a bit of moonlight illuminating some of the planes of his face. His skin is porcelain-like, eyes like a kaleidoscope of every blue imaginable, and a smirk is on his face, clearly enjoying this entire interaction.

Right, you’re staring. You clear your throat. “I-I’m going now. You just… stay there.”

He only crosses his arms and leans against the wall, still watching. You slowly nod your head, taking a small step back. Okay, good, he’s staying right where he is. Where you told him to stay. Turning around you nearly scream bloody murder.

He’s right there.

A gasp slips from your lips, mouth dropping open while your eyes bug out of your skull. Did the alcohol in your system fuck you up so bad you somehow turned around slow enough for him to walk in front of you without you noticing it?

You crane your neck up to look at him, stumbling back slightly with the change of your head, before you steady yourself again. He’s smiling down at you, and it’s a nice smile, honestly. It would’ve been charming, if not for the fangs. They’re long, sharp, and very obvious.

Alarm bells blare in your head, muffled slightly by the badum badum badum of your heart in your ears. Impossibly blue eyes, inhuman speed, and now fangs.

“Vampire,” you whisper, voice barely audible.

The stranger’s smile widens. “Ding, ding, ding, sweetheart.”

You swallow hard, of course this would happen to you today out of all days, after being told your friend is fucking your ex and leaving you stranded, alone, in the club.

Your hand slips into your bag, fingers fumbling, digging, trying to search for the bag you had touched earlier that night. But the more you keep fumbling, the harder your heart is starting to beat. Did you make up the fact that you had the bag with you? He notices the motion, of course he does.

“Oh? Gonna pepper spray me? Call a friend?” there’s clear amusement in his voice, “Newsflash, sweetheart, I’m way too fast for that.”

Your fingers keep searching. Come on, come on, come on— There. The pads of your fingers skim over the plastic bag, and it crinkles under the motion. Bingo.

Your heart slams against your ribcage. God, please let that dumb folklore be right. You grab the bag an dump it onto the ground, a soft thud sounds through the alley as thousands of rice grains scatter across the tiles.

The vampire’s head snaps down. He stares for a few seconds, blinks, then crouches. He mutters something under his breath and begins to count, fast—really fucking fast.

You stare at this seven-foot, hulking creature for a few more seconds. Then you take one step back, and another, and another. Then you run, feet pounding against the floor down the alley.

You risk a glance over your shoulder, just hoping he isn’t fast enough to count all of that within seconds. Big mistake. He’s still counting, luckily. But… he looks kind of cute doing it, nevermind the part where he’s a seven-foot vampire.

You slow down, feet coming to a halt, before you turn back and walk up just enough to grab your phone from where it fell onto the ground.

Click.

He doesn’t look up, but the twitch of his fingers tell you he heard it. “Cute.”

Gojo has never seen something like this before. He didn’t expect to be pelted with grains of rice by a cute drunk girl he’d set his sights on the moment she stumbled out of the club. Worse, he has the compelling urge to count them all. He isn’t sure why, all he knows is that he has to count them.

It’s something he’ll look into when he gets home.

It was a smart move on your part, clearly having read some sort of vampire lore before—unless you throw rice at every creep you encounter. However you came back, feet still bare, one of your heels lay abandoned further down the alleyway.

Then you whispered something about how cute he was, as if he isn’t a whole seven feet of vampire.

Now? Now you’re sitting across from him, feet still bare and dirty with grime and small pebbles stuck to your toes—how you haven’t noticed is beyond him—heel danling from your fingers, and your dress is riding up your thighs.

You’re mumbling incoherently about your ex and your friend, not that he’s paying attention to it, all his focus is on the stupid grains of rice.

He isn’t sure why you aren’t running. You know he’s a vampire, having seen his speed, his fangs, his eyes—hell, you even whispered it, vampire. Yet you’re still sitting here, in front of him, as if you’re keeping him company.

He knows you’re drunk, he can smell it on your breath, and if that wasn’t the dead giveaway then the stumbling and walking back to a fucking vampire would be. No one would do that shit when they’re sober.

You’re recounting a story about your ex now, gesturing wildly into the cool night-air. He’s had to restart his count a total of three times already because you keep distracting him. The first time you accidentally kicked the pile when you went to sit down, apologising to him for fucking it up.

The second time you ‘accidentally’ smacked his arm when telling him something. You’d said it was accidental because you were gesturing, but he thinks it’s because he wasn’t paying attention to your story.

He can only hope that the third time just works out for him, because he really wants to sink his fangs into your glistening skin—apart from the sweat you’d certainly built up in the club there’s something else to it, maybe a shimmer you’d applied before leaving for the club earlier today.

He only has a few hundred grains of rice left when your phone rings. And just like anything else tonight, you pick it up without any hesitation.

Gojo can hear a man on the other side of the line, saying something snarky. He isn’t tuned into the conversation, but his ears could hear everything if he wanted to, but he’s still counting, and he’d rather focus on that and finally feed himself than listen to whatever is being said by you or the man.

3124 3125 3126 3127… He’s about to count the last grain of rice when you suddenly flip the phone to him, screen illuminating his skin in a mix of blue and green. 3159 grains of rice, all counted.

He finally looks up and sees a guy filling your screen. Faux blond hair with green roots, brown eyes, and a smirk on his face that quickly morphs into something else. Then you turn your phone back to yourself, slurring out a, “See, ‘m with someone. Now leave m’ alone, asshole.”

Gojo hears the call disconnect, sees the way your screen goes dark. The only light illuminating your skin now is the pale moonlight. Then you take a deep breath and promptly fling yourself backward onto the ground.

“See what I have to deal with?” your eyes find his, a small pout formed on your face while your brows furrow. Gojo doesn’t say anything, just looks at you with those piercing blue eyes. He crosses his arms over his chest and clears his throat. “I’m gonna give you a twenty-second head start, sweetheart. If I were you I’d take it.”

Your brows furrow in confusion this time, nose crinkling slightly. God, you really forgot, didn’t you?

He heaves a sigh and opens his mouth just enough to show his fangs. They glint in the moonlight, showing of just how sharp they are. You squint your eyes a bit, then they open wide again.

“Vampire,” you whisper again, voice fully trembling. But then you groan, it rumbles through your chest a bit, and kick your feet a little. “I don’ wanna runnnn.”

Gojo has to close his eyes for a second and take a deep breath. He likes the chase that comes from when people are afraid of him. Likes it even more when his prey think they can outrun him. They can’t, but he sure does like having them believe they can. Blood always tastes sweeter when there’s a hint of fear involved, after all.

He opens his eyes again and looks straight at you. Then he leans in a little, breath just shy of ghosting the shell of your ear.

“Run,” he whispers, voice sticky sweet as honey. He can see the way your eyes gloss over a bit. Then you’re scrambling upward, and dart out of the alley—your other heel clattering to the ground.

Gojo, true to his word, waits a full twenty seconds. Then he’s in front of you again, making you yelp and dash away again, stumbling over your own feet a little, crashing into the wall, scraping your hand on the rough stones.

The cat and mouse game continues for what he thinks is a full ten minutes. He can hear your heart pounding, blood rushing through your body, and your whispers of ‘Please don’t kill me, I’m way too hot’ and ‘I should’ve stayed home’ and ‘He is kinda cute, though.’

He ignores that last one.

It isn’t until you stumble up the steps of a house where he catches you. His broad chest pressed to your back, one arm wrapped tightly around your waist, fingers dipping into your sides,, while the other is planted next to your head on the door.

“Gotcha,” he whispers into your hair. You’re trembling in his grip, knees almost buckling out form under you. You’re pressed flat against the front door of your house.

You were so close, all you had to do was open it and you would’ve been fine.

You can feel the way his pecs are squished against your back. He’s hunched over you, entire frame leaning down so he can nose against your hair. His muscles are bulging out of his shirt, making you press your thighs together.

It’s a weird mixture of fear and arousal that’s shooting through you. You know he’s a vampire, know he can kill you in an instant—and maybe he will drain you of all your blood—but he’s also so tall. His entire hand splayed out over your tummy now.

He chuckles when he notices the way you’re pressing your thighs together. His cold breath fanning over your skin, almost like a night breeze caressing your face. “You gonna let me in, sweets?”

You know you shouldn’t. Know you should try to get out of his cold, undead grip as fast as you can. The door is right there, one step and you’d be free of him. One big step, you’d just have to get out of his grasp. Sure he has bulging muscles and probably inhuman strength, but you can twist your way out of this, can’t you? Just do a little shimmy and free yourself.

The big hand that’s on your stomach can’t possibly keep you right there, pressed against him, can it? Nevermind the fact that he has such thick forearms and biceps and triceps even Greek Gods would be jealous of.

Turning a bit to the left, you try to see if you have any wiggle room, only for him to chuckle once more. His fingers dig into your flesh a bit harder now, indenting the skin where he touches you. Welp, there goes your plan, straight out the window.

“Promise not to kill me?” You don’t dare to look at him, afraid his eyes will put you under a spell yet again. You know you should’ve ran the first time he told you to, but you were too out of your mind to fully grasp the situation. “Mhmm, just want some of your blood.”

That seems… reasonable enough. You fumble with your keys slightly, still trembling in your grip, the keys and keychains clinking against each other. It’s the only sound in the entire street, everyone else already being in bed—which is no surprise, considering you left the club at… three or something like that.

When you finally slot your keys into the hole, you twist it open, pushing the door open to your dark hallway.

You’re about to set a foot into your house when the guy tugs you back against his chest. “Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Right, he’s a vampire and not just some random hookup you dragged home. A very handsome vampire, though. If you’re going out, at least it’s by a hottie. Oh fuck, he really can just kill you. I mean, he just said he wouldn’t, but he can lie about it. Then again, he could’ve killed you ten times over already.

“What’s your name?” That seems to catch him off-guard. Blinking a few times, those baby blues looking you over in wonder a few times, and you can’t help but melt into him a bit—only for you to stand up straight again when you feel how fucking cold he is.

“Satoru,” is all he mumbles out, fangs poking out slightly. He really is cute for a terrifying creature.

Nodding your head you nudge the door open even further, extending your hand into your house with a flourish. “Come in, Satoru.”

The next second you’re picked up before he all but throws you onto your couch, your body bouncing a bit before he’s on you. A yelp leaves your lips, heart pounding out of your ribs, fingers shaking slightly, breaths heavy.

Right, he is a vampire with inhuman speed and strength. Your pupils dilate a bit, hairs standing on edge when he grins down at you with those too-sharp canines. His eyes almost seem to glow in this moment, face shadowed completely.

You’re frozen in place, reality settling in like someone poured a cold cup of water over your head to sober you up.

You just invited a vampire into your house. To drink your blood. Way to fucking go.

“Ready, sweets?” He murmurs down at you, picking up your hand where it lies limp beside you on the couch, pulse hammering in your ears. He brings your fingers up to his mouth, before wrapping his lips around the bloodied appendages, tongue laving over the wounds there. You’d honestly forgotten you even had them—too busy running away from him to notice just how scratched up your clammy palms were.

His saliva stings your skin, making you pull away, only for him to hold your wrist in place. He licks a broad stripe from your palms up to your fingers, leaving behind a red trail—blood and saliva mixed together.

When you don’t answer he grins a bit wider, lips slightly red by your blood. “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

With that he surges forward, one strong arm wrapping around your waist to keep you from squirming while the other quickly brushes away the hairs that are falling over your shoulder. His fangs puncture your skin just above your collarbone, and it feels like your nerves are on fire.

Your mouth opens in a scream, only to have it clamped shut by a big palm. Tears spring to your eyes, fat drops falling down the apples of your cheeks before they drip from your jawline onto the couch below.

You can feel the way your blood is leaving you. Satoru is sucking on the wound hard enough to make your eyes roll to the back of your skull—not in pleasure, but in pain. Pure agony running through your veins now.

From all the vampire lore, you whished the aphrodisiac bite was at least true. But instead of pleasure surging through you, it’s pain. Pure pain. You can feel the way your body jerks from the sensation, but Satoru just tightens his hold onto you, pushing you further into the couch.

The last thing you see before the dark takes ahold of you is the blue glow emitting from his eyes, casting the two of you in a soft, blue glare, making his pale hair stand out against the darkness of the room.

You wake up surrounded by softness. Blinking a few times you register just where you are—your own bed. Your pillow is soft and fluffy under your head, and your blanket is keeping you warm. Your head is absolutely pounding, a dull thud behind your eyes making you groan.

Just how much did you have to drink last night?

Thinking back on the night before, you can remember bits and pieces. You went out with your friend to celebrate… something, only for her to leave you alone at the club later that night.

Why did she leave you alone again?

Racking your brain, you try to fill in the gaps as good as you can. You remember drinking and dancing. Hips moving to the beat—well you tried to, but you probably were off-beat if you’re going to be honest—while your friend was laughing with you.

Then she leaned forward with a smile on her face and murmured something in your ear. What the fuck did she say that she had to leave?

You furrow your brows, closing your eyes once more. Right, right, it’s coming all back to you now. She told you she was dating Naoya out of all people. Even after you’d told her every minute detail about that scumbag, she still chose to be with him, destroying your trust in the process.

Fucking bitch. And then she just up and left you there to get home by yourself.

Okay, now you know why your head is pounding—having drank waayyy too much alcohol to at least have a good night by yourself. But how did you get home?

You pat around your bed to search for your phone, twisting your neck to look to your left side, only for a hiss to leave your lips when you feel just how much your neck hurts. Your hand shoots to the spot, only to find gauze under your fingertips.

Gauze? Why is there gauze on your neck out of all places.

You rub your head with your other hand, only to feel small scabs on your fingertips. Opening your eyes you look at your hand, only to see it being scabbed over at some places.

Right, you scratched your hand on the wall when running away from that cute vampire. …Wait, what??

Sitting up you look around your room, to hopefully see said vampire, but he’s nowhere to be found. A laugh bubbles up in your chest and leaves your lips. A vampire, how stupid is that. Your drunken mind probably made all of that up.

Seeing a weird silhouette in an alleyway sure is scary, so you just began to run back home. Yeah, yeah that must be it. Your drunken mind having conjured up a whole story about a guy that doesn’t exist. Vampires aren’t real; they’re just myths made up to scare children.

So why is there gauze on your collarbone?

Your head is pounding all the same, these silly questions surely can wait until after you had some water, or coffee.

Standing up you’re about to walk downstairs when you hear someone… humming? Your shoulders immediately tense up, feet planting themselves in their place. Why is there someone in your house?

Grabbing the nearest object—a vase with fake flowers, because nowadays it’s too much to ask guys to get you some flowers—you tiptoe down the stairs, careful to not make a sound. It’s one thing if there’s someone in your house, it’s another when they know you’re there.

On the last step you hear someone call out to you. “Oh, you’re awake. That’s good!”

You nearly drop the vase in shock, fingers slipping slightly, before you tighten your grip again. Your heart hammering out of your chest, goosebumps littering your skin, and before you can even do anything, a tall, white-haired man walks into view.

And suddenly everything from last night slams back into you. No, your mind hadn’t simply made up Satoru, it’s real. The gauze on your throat a bitter reminder that there are, in fact, vampires roaming the earth.

“What the fuck are you still doing in my house?” you ask him, setting the vase down onto your kitchen counter before walking up to him. You poke your finger against his arm, testing to see if he really is real, or if you might still be drunk. “You’re real, right?”

Gojo just chuckles at you, his fangs poking through his lips at your question. His fingers wrap themselves around your wrist—ice cold to the touch, making you tremble slightly from just how cold they are—stopping you from poking him any further.

“Duh, you can’t make up a face this pretty.” He gestures to his face with a small pout on his face. Okay, conceited much. You scrunch your nose up at that, looking him dead in the eye—the same eyes that glowed last night while he was feasting on you - is that the correct term? You’re not sure, but you don’t really care, either.

“As for your question, I stayed because I might’ve drained you a bit too much. The alcohol in your system made your blood thinner, so I had a harder time gauging just how much I drank. So I stayed to be certain you wouldn’t pass awa— anyway. Alcohol makes your blood taste bitter, by the way, Certainly didn’t help you weren’t as afraid as I wanted you to be,” he mumbles that last part under his breath.

“Not as afraid as you wanted me to be? I thought my heart was gonna crawl out of my mouth— can you let go of me? You’re cold as fuck,” you try to tug your wrist out of his grasp, only for him to tighten it just slightly, slender fingers enclosing around your wrist.

Grinning he leans down slightly, back hunched just slightly as he looks you in the eye. “Why? You didn’t seem to mind me touching you last night.”

You inhale sharply, the memory of him pressed against your back flooding your mind. His strong chest pressed against your back while his hand was splayed out over your tummy making you all hot and bothered— no, you can’t think like this, fucking stop it.

“Yeah, well, that was just me being drunk,” you mumble out.

He takes a step forward, and another, while you walk backwards, until your back hits the wall. The wall scratching your back slightly, straightening your spine. His hand plants itself next to your head, leaning forward until his nose is almost brushing yours. “You sure that’s all it was? I’m hurt, sweets. You’re saying you don’t find me cute anymore?”

Gulping you press your thighs together, your panties damp under your sleeping shorts, core hot and achy. There’s no denying he’s hot—not quite cute as you called him last night—but should you really do this? He’s a vampire, hot, sure, but still a bloodsucking creature. His grin widens when his eyes flick down to your thighs.

You know you shouldn’t do this. It’s irresponsible, downright stupid, but you can’t deny to yourself that he’s making you horny by just existing.

And suddenly a thought enters your mind, like someone whispered in your ear. Your friend—now ex-friend—is dating your ex. It makes your stomach flip a few times, trying to make sense of the situation you’re in right now.

Fuck it.

Your hands find his pecs that are flexed with the way he’s standing, fabric doing little to hide them. Your finger trails down to his abdomen where you can feel the clearly built muscles. You bat your lashes at him, tilting your head just slightly. “And what if I said I thought you were hot?”

“Then I’d ask to have another taste— a different taste this time,” he murmurs down at you. That’s all you needed, fisting the fabric of his shirt and pulling him down to meet you. Lips crashing against each other in a messy battle of teeth and tongue.

He groans into your mouth, carefully nipping at your lower lip, puncturing it slightly. He sucks on the little droplets of blood before he claims your mouth once more. Copper filling your taste buds, making you moan out slightly.

Then he suddenly picks you up, hands under your thighs while yours find purchase at his broad shoulders, clutching onto them, nails digging into his skin just slightly. He chuckles against your mouth, “I’m not going to drop you.”

And true to his word, he doesn’t drop you, but he does bring you upstairs at speeds you’ve never dreamed of having. He carefully lays you down onto the bed, matrass groaning under both your weight just slightly.

His lips disconnect from yours, and he has to keep himself from groaning out at the sight of your bloodied, kiss-bitten lips. All swollen for him. Gojo peppers featherlight kisses down your throat, until they find the gauze just above your collarbone.

Yelping you look down at him. He’s grinning up at you, blue eyes crinkling slightly while he carefully places another kiss onto the gauze. “That hurts, dickhead.”

“Hmmm, just showing my little blood bag some appreciation,” he purrs before his lips trail further down, all the way until he’s seated onto the floor, cold breath ghosting on your thighs, leaving behind slight goosebumps. “I’m not your personal blood bag.”

He just winks up at you before pressing a kiss to the fat of your thigh. Then one a little higher, another one to the apex of your thigh, and one on your hipbone. You’re squirming out at the feeling of his lips—cold to the touch, but oh so careful.

His fingers hook around your pajama shorts, looking up at you for permission. When you nod he pulls them off you, leaving you in your panties. His pupils dilate when they see the wet spot, “You’re soaked. All this for me?”

Rolling your eyes you look down at him, leaning on your elbows. “How about you touch me instead of being such a conc— oh fuck,” your head lolls back onto your shoulderblades, eyes fluttering shut slightly. His thumb presses onto your clit.

“What was that, sweetheart?” he chuckles when you moan out at the pressure he applies through your panties, thumb circling your twitchy clit. “That’s what I thought.”

He leans down to lick a broad stripe over your panties, moaning out at the taste of you—so sweet, and oh, how he wishes you weren’t drunk last night so he could’ve had a taste of this pussy earlier—lips wrapping around your nub and sucking on it slightly.

“Shit. Fuck— Satoru, right there,” your hand finds his head, fingers threading through his silky locks, pulling on them slightly when he sucks even harder, cheeks hollowing out. Pleasure shoots right through your core, thighs threatening to snap shut. Something that doesn’t go unnoticed by the white-haired man under you, big palms clasping your thighs and keeping them spread riiight open for him. “Just get those panties out of the way already!”

He releases his lips with a pop, making you sigh out. Grinning up at you, one of his fingers comes up to your swollen folds, rubbing them slightly—still with that damn fabric in the way.

“Someone’s eager. You want me to get rid of these cute panties?” He tilts his head slightly before his fingers creep further upwards,, until they hook into them, making you think he’s finally going to get them off you. Instead he pulls the fabric upward, stretching it over your poor twitchy cunt, “But they look so good on you— yeahhh look at that.”

His eyes are zeroed in on where the fabric disappears between your pussy lips slightly, stretching the fabric even further until you’re pushing at his head, whining out.

“Please, please just get them off,” you whine out, tears gathering in your eyes from the way he’s just playing with you, taking his sweet time while your hole is pulsing around nothing. He chuckles once more before letting the fabric snap! against your skin, having you gasp out.

“Guess I should give this pretty pussy what she deserves, huh?” He gives a few taps to your clit, thighs twitching with each pass of his fingers, before he finally hooks a finger around the gusset and pulls it aside, revealing your cunt to the open air.

Without any preamble he dives in, tongue flat against your twitchy clit. Your back immediately arches with the swipe of his tongue—this time without any fabric between the muscle and your aching clit.

One of his slender, cold fingers plunges itself into your soppy hole. Your fingers tighten in his hair, tugging on it slightly, moaning out at the intrusion. “Fuck— right there.”

He thrusts his finger in and out of you before adding another one. The cold touch such a stark contrast to your hot, needy core it has you keen out. Your legs are trembling in his hold, one of them still spread open by his other hand, while your own creeps down to hold your other leg open for him.

“Such a good girl,” he mumbles out against your core, pleasure shooting through you. He curls those long digits inside of you, trying to find that one spot inside of you while he very lightly nips on your clit, your walls clamping down on his digits. His fingers keep thrusting and curling inside of you, finding finding findi— you loudly moan into the air, head thrown back. Found it.

“F-fuck, Satoru, keep them there ‘m so close,” you sob out, thighs tensing up slightly while he continuously hits your g-spot with perfect precision. Your orgasm crashes over you, tiny fireworks exploding in your tummy. “Cumming— cumming.”

He stays down there, lapping up the slick that’s gushing out of you. Cold tongue dipping into your hole alongside his fingers, opening you up even further for him.

You go limp in his hold a minute later, and he finally detaches himself from your mound—lips shiny with spit and your arousal. Then he pulls his fingers from your hole, stringy juices webbing between his fingers when he spreads them, looking at them in wonder, before putting them in his mouth and moaning out at the sweet, sweet taste that’s you.

“Think you’re ready for me, baby?” He stands up already unbuckling his belt, and you have to swallow once you see his bulge. Fuck. He’s ginormous. You shouldn’t be surprised, this guy is seven-feet tall, everything about him is enormous compared to you, but still you can’t help the way your eyes are almost bulging out of your skull.

He pulls out his cock—angry, red tip swollen and glistening with pre—and wraps his fist around it, giving it a few tugs.

“That’s not gonna fit inside of me,” you blurt out, eyes transfixed on where his hand is still wrapped around his dick. He smirks at that, of course he does. He’s probably heard it a million times before, but of course you had to say it.

He leans forward, tip nudging your clit, coating himself in your arousal. “Relax, it’s gonna fit.”

Gulping you lay back slightly, opening your legs even further to accommodate him. He smiles at that, one hand clamping around your waist while the other guides his member towards your entrance. Taking a deep breath in, he pushes inside your fluttering walls.

A high-pitched moan leaves your lips, sweat breaking on your skin. The stretch is unbelievable—your walls fluttering uselessly around him, and this was just the tip. He hisses at the feeling of your walls clamping down on him—yes, actually hisses, fangs on full display. “Fuck, loosen up baby.”

His fingers come down to your sensitive clit, rubbing on it to keep you distracted from the intrusion—not that it helps. He pushes another inch inside of you, and tears are starting to spill down from your eyes, disappearing into your hairline.

Gojo looks at you, blue eyes almost completely black now. He can feel the way his dick twitches when he sees your tears. Leaning forward he balances on one forearm, tongue lapping up your tears, groaning at the salty taste of your tears.

“You’re too big,” you squeal, hand uselessly pushing against his abdomen. He merely presses a kiss to your cheek, then to the corner of your mouth, and finally his lips claim yours, tongue tracing the seam of your sealed lips.

He stays still like that for a little while, letting you get used to the way he’s stretching you out. When he feels you loosen up slightly he pulls his hips back until just his tip remains and pushes back in again, a bit further this time.

You moan out into his mouth, legs wrapping themselves around his waist, and your hands entangle themselves in his hair. “That’s it, knew you could do it.”

With a few more thrusts he finally bottoms out, his hips meeting yours. Tears are flowing free down your face and he has to resist the urge to just bite you with how cute you looked. Fuck, what he wouldn’t do to get a taste of you again—your blood surely much sweeter now.

He looks down, only to grin. Would you look at that. “Look down, sweetheart. See how well you’re taking me?” he grips your chin between his thumb and forefinger and angles your head down. Blinking a few times you look down and—oh! The print of his cock fully visible, bulging your tummy where he’s buried.

“You’re so deep,” you mumble out, slight awe in your voice, only for a broken moan to leave your lips seconds later. Gojo pulls out and thrusts back in, tip smooching your cervix. Again. And again. And again.

A creamy ring starting to circle around his base, balls slapping against your ass with each harsh thrust. Your fingers dig into his shoulders, leaving behind crescent shaped marks. You’re sobbing out into his neck, vision blurring slightly.

“Mhmm, I know.” He presses down onto your stomach where he can feel his own cock through your womb, and it has you keen out even more. Moans and groans and the lewd plap plap plap! of his hips fill the room.

Your legs begin to tremble, cock plummeting in and out of your soppy hole, the squelch it makes has your face heat up, a pretty blush forming on your face as you feel yourself near your second orgasm. After a few more thrusts, you come around him, clear liquid gushing out of you, spraying onto his abdomen, thighs and the sheets below you. Your vision whites out completely while your back arches, mouth forming an ‘o’ that you can’t seem to close.

Satoru hisses when he feels your walls clamp down onto his girth, speeding up his thrusts slightly. “Fuck, lemme cum inside, please.”

Your mind doesn’t register his request at first, too busy trembling around him. It’s only when he starts whining that you take note of his request. “Yes, yes ‘toru. ‘S okay.”

“Shit- need you to say it. Say it out loud for me, pretty,” he pleads with you, his own thighs tensing up slightly. “Y-you can cum inside, S’toru.”

That’s all it takes. He thrusts once more before stilling, his fat tip snug against your cervix while he spills inside of you. Ropes of cum keep coming, emptying his balls inside your greedy cunt completely. His forehead dropping down to yours.

The two of you lay there for a few moments, trying to catch your breath—well, it’s just you who has to catch their breath, but Satoru stays there for you—and calm down slightly.

“Soooo, you need permission to cum inside too, huh?” you giggle at the seven-foot vampire. He just groans, eyes fluttering shut. “Shut up.”

Perm tags: @tojiscreampie @etheralpanic @yoonsucks @liliklei

JJK tags: @mousedit @sugurusbadhabit @cactusvolumes @satorusdollie @kcandy-flosz

©CursedKisss do not copy, steal, plagiarize, or feed my works into AI. I will send Mahito after you if you do.

You’re pumping your fingers in your needy cunt just thinking about it after every damn date with this boy. Whining out in your bed with your hips bucking up, gasps escaping your lips desperately in your empty room. Pumping faster and faster until you’ve got that sticky release all over your hand.

It’s almost as if you have this sort of ritual now, before you see your boyfriend and right after/.

Your rose toy is probably fucking tired of you.

As if you don’t you ache so damn bad around him it’s painful, hard not to shamelessly hump his thigh till you cum. No, the toy? This takes the edge off just a bit, but even the way you moan his name in your sleep is endlessly hilarious to your poor roommates that have to hear you between the walls of your off campus apartment.

“Still a virgin?” Utahime asked with a laugh when you had woken up this morning, getting ready to see Satoru.

“Not by choice,” you grumble, shaking your head and grabbing a coffee pod from the little rack, popping your favorite inside and pressing the on button. The aroma hits immediately, waking your tired brain.

You’d had the filthiest damn dream of him fucking your tits, cock sliding up and down in messy strokes that had you needing a damn shower right now.

You’re just perpetually ovulating.

Satoru is the perfect boyfriend, truly he is. He’s sweet, he’s a gentleman despite his blue eyes and where they glance too long. Mostly, he cares. You’ve fallen so in love with him so quickly over these past few months, but every time you think that things might progress, Satoru stops it. Gently lifting you up off his lap and sighing, kissing his way up your jaw, his snowy lashes tickling your cheek.

‘Sweetheart, let’s pause this,’ he would murmur those words all sweet and sultry against your skin after almost sucking on those nipples that just stay hard around this man, instead hovering a breath away so it ghosts your tits. Those huge hands brushing just underneath them.

It’s torture, really.

‘Oh, okay Toru,’ you’d whisper back, he’d moan and kiss up your neck, breaths tickling your skin. ‘Mnh…’

‘You’re so beautiful, god look at you.’

It was just wrong to talk to you like that!

“You poor baby. At least you have your toy collection,” Shoko teases, sneaking in and brushing your hair back. “Extensive, too.”

You flip her off, peeking at the phone then and seeing Satoru's name pop up.

Study session?

“Dick session?” She asks, you gasp, as if affronted at such a suggestion.

“I would never assume such a thing!”

You hope so.

*****

It’s not.

No, it’s not a dick session at all.

It really is an actual goddamn study session – both of you were sitting there in Satoru’s living room, his place was far fancier than anywhere, but that came from him being the Dean’s very son. It intimidated you a little at first, but now you’ve grown comfortable, as he made you feel so special.

Today though?

Well, you can’t focus on anything but how badly you’d love to kneel and suck your nerdy boyfriend, his thighs spread wide all slutty.

God his legs are long.

You bet his cock is-

“And this equation?” Satoru teasingly asks you, distracting you from your slutty freaking brain.

You're not even sure what stumbles out of your mouth for an answer, without saying how thick you think the circumference of his cock must be.

That is something you’ve done with your past experiences, and you know you’re good at it. You could easily deep throat a man and you wanted to see his cock so damn bad – could he be a challenge, though?

Your eyes drift down his chest, he peeks at you curiously.

“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” He asks casually, spinning his pen between his fingers and studying you. “Hard question?”

“Um… yeah, a very hard time…”

Stop that! Stop looking at his dick print!

“The question is hard?”

“Uh… the question… yes.” You feel like a damn pervert every time you’re around him, can’t you chill and let things happen when they happen?

He sighs and stands up, stretching his arms up over his head, his abdomen revealed when his dress shirt rides up, showing those little v cuts that make your ovulating brain just a million times worse. It’s like you’re in heat. It's so pathetic right now – maybe you should avoid him till it stops.

“Let’s take a break then.”

“Yeah?”

He chuckles at how eager you are at the thought and comes up to you, leaning down with a hand on each arm of your chair, tilting his head so some of that soft white hair falls over his forehead. You brush a bit of it back and he kisses your palm, lips warm and sweet.

“You’ve been such a good girl, how can I not treat you a bit?” Your heart hammers in your chest, until those next words spill from his lips. “Boba?”

“What? Huh?” You blink as he eases back, pulling up his phone and leaning against the desk. “Boba??”

“Yeah, Boba, I’ll buy you some, I know you love it,” he smiles curiously as you bury your face in your hands. “No Boba? Matcha then?”

“I’m um…” About to cum if he touches you once even. “No, I guess Boba is fine. Thanks Toru.” you manage to say, thighs pressing together, Satoru frowns, kneeling now and gently taking your hands off your face, seeing your blush.

“Are you sick!? You’re all flushed!”

“I’m not-”

“You’re burning,” he touches your cheek in concern, and you almost fucking feel bad – you’re not sick, you’re ovulating. “Baby girl, let’s get you to a doctor right now!"

“No, no I feel fine, I’m not warm because of that,” you shift in your seat and whine out at just that friction. “Promise.”

He frowns and watches you carefully. “You’re hurting, it could be the start of something!”

“Well yeah I hurt,” you sigh as he spreads your thighs and kneels between them, shoving at him. “You’ll make it even worse down there.”

“I’ll make what worse, exactly? Your…” He trails off then, seeing your panties and blushing himself, pink dancing across his high cheekbones and dusting them in that rose. “Y-your… your panties are so… uh… s-soaked and…”

You should freak out at this proximity, at just how much he can finally see of you, but all you can do is whine again, as his eyes shoot back up to yours. “I’m okay, promise.”

“Am I neglecting my pretty girlfriend?” He asks softly, just a little nervous. Satoru has never touched anyone but you, but he’s extensively studied the female anatomy, and how to make you cum.

He just wanted your first time to be perfect.

That’s why he was waiting – the last thing he needed was for you to not enjoy your first time, though he knows you’re a little more experienced than he is – Satoru’s hardly kissed anyone before you. Not because he couldn’t – he just had no interest in that sort of thing until he met you – and even then, he really couldn’t find the damn courage to ask you out forever.

“No I’m being a damn pervert,” you cover your face and he chuckles at that.

“You’re being a what, now?”

You sink into the seat, mumbling. “You heard me.”

He’d been your best friend for so long, thinking there was no chance in the world – always jerking his cock with any article of clothing you’d leave in his room, like a filthy depraved pervert – and you think you were one perverted here?

Does him wanting the timing to be just right making you think that?

Satoru exhales softly, just a hint of what he wants to say slipping from his plump lips.

“What, do you touch your little pussy thinking of me?”

His voice has you lowering your hands, he spreads those thighs and slides up your skirt, making you moan out, head falling back, your hands gripping the arms of the chair even tighter.

“Wha-?” You can’t even finish your damn word.

“Asked you a question, baby.”

“God,” he’s diabolical without knowing – or maybe he does know. You’re trembling as you lean back, letting his thumb brush on your clit and gasping at the touch, already getting slick from a brush on your skin. “What question?”

“Not paying attention, tsk,” he clicks his tongue and his teeth nip your inner thigh, sinking in and making you whine out. “Do you touch her?”

“Y-yes,” he hums a bit, tugging your panties up until your lips are visible, that dark spot growing as slick starts pouring. “Please…”

“Be patient, baby,” he leans back now, smirking at you. “Show me?”

“Are you sure you…”

“Please? I wanna see so bad,” you blush now, you masturbate sure – but not in front of people! “I’ll show you?”

“Show me you um… jerking off?”

“Yeah, I mean… yeah?” You sigh a bit.

“Toru…”

“Mmm?”

“Why don’t I um… suck you?” He is bright red now, he’s almost busting just thinking of your mouth – that won’t do. His first blow job and he busts in one go!? No, Satoru has to jerk it three times before he gets the privilege of fucking your pretty little mouth, of feeling your pink tongue on him.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet? But you’re so hard,” you giggle and tease him with your foot nudging his thigh, he glares and catches it, shoving it wide. “Not yet, then. So you just wanna see me touch myself?”

“God yes, dreamed of that since…” He trails off then, he doesn’t want to admit just how long he’s jerked off to you, because it was before you even knew who Satoru Gojo was. “Lemme see.”

“Okay…” you lean back, running your fingertips over your panties, slipping underneath and leaning your head back, eyes fluttering shut, hearing Satoru’s soft little whine. “Toru…”

“Fuck,” he thought he could handle this, but he’s utterly failing, he can’t even see your pretty pussy and he’s already throbbing, leaking so much pre it hurts, sticking to his brand new digimon boxers. “You’re s’pretty, sweetheart.”

You blush as you look at him with dazed eyes, running little circles right around your puffy clit, coated in hot slick as it dribbles out of your panties. He swipes some of it on his fingers, studying it carefully, his tongue going to lap at it, moaning as the sweetness coats his tongue.

“Oh you’re t-tasting me,” it makes you needier, until you have to plunge two fingers inside your messy, quivering hole, that loud squelch echoing in your ears. He’s gripping your thigh with one hand bruising until you cry out.

“Fuck, so s-sorry… baby I hurt… y-you…”

“No, no, like it,” he moans and puts his hand back on your thigh, squeezing again so hard it aches. He's jerking his cock faster, whining out when he sees your slick fingers pull out of your panties. You press your cum soaked fingers to his lips and he eagerly wraps them around, sucking them off. “Toru…”

“So sweet, my pretty girlfriend,” his glasses fog up when he leans down, licking your inner thigh that is trembling, sliding higher until his tongue is on you – but it's not on your skin, it's on the soaked cotton of your panties.

“Fuck…” he moans as he gets those juices that are spilling through the fabric, his and squeezing his own cock as your thighs sit over his shoulders. 

“More, please,” you're tugging at his hair so hard it hurts, bucking up your hips for more. “I need you, please.”

“Such a needy girlfriend,” he murmurs, thumb circling his drooling tip, looking up at you with desperation in his pretty blue eyes. “You want me to lick it more for you?”

Your answer is a little nod, even having him lick you over your panties is more than you've ever had done, and fuck it feels good. Sinful as he trails a long, slow stripe over the fabric, the tip stopping right over your twitchy clit, his moan is muffled against the damp cotton.

“Toru!” He's lost in your scent, in that taste, the little hints of lace decorating your panties rough against his tongue, the sound is fucking filthy.

Satoru tugs those panties up more firmly, strings of gossamer saliva dripping and dissolving, peering up at you with flushed cheeks. “Like that, baby? Is this what you were thinking about instead of studying?”

Your only answer is to nod quickly, a jerky little motion as he sees those puffy lips just swallowing the damp material. He swipes his tongue over and over, the heat and wetness of his mouth making your entire body tremble. You feel it heating up, hearing the messy sounds of his own cock fucking his fist, wishing it were your throat instead.

"Oh god, Toru," you whimper out it so pathetically, your hands tangling in his soft white hair, fluffy and silky underneath your touch, trying to pull him closer, to shove his face where you need it. “Not enough, mnh!”

He chuckles against your puffy cunt, the vibration and the quick lave of his tongue have you on edge. Pulse racing as he had the audacity to tease you, landing a wet smack on your cunt that had you pathetic.

"Ah - ah," he clicks his tongue, catching your wrists in one of his stupidly large hands and pinning them against your waist, smirking at you in a way that's utterly not dirty at all. "No touching yet, sweetheart. I'm taking my time with you."

“Meanie,” he chuckles again, but you love it – feeling that strength as he grips you so tight. “My panties are ruined, Toru.”

“Mmm. Yes they are,” he tugs them again, looking at how wet the material is, just a pathetic little scrap of fabric with your juices pouring.

Instead of showing you mercy and moving them, he just presses them further against you again, tongue shoving that fabric until it's flush with your needy clit, you swear you can feel his tastebuds as that tongue drags through the fabric, pausing everywhere that has you jerking and honing in.

Like this nerdy boy is studying you.

Oh. He is.

He's methodical, almost clinical with his research of your needy, clothed cunt just separated by this pathetic little piece of fabric, his tongue pressing more firmly against your soppy lil hole. She is pulsing around nothing, torturous strokes, pressing his fingers up and down, you're hot and sticky underneath his touch.

“Toru!” Your wrists are still pinned, his cock forgotten even though it's dripping down onto the soft, plush rug below his knees. Satoru finds your clit again and looks up under snowy lashes, you watch the drips of slick connect with that wickedly long tongue.

“Mmm. I bet I could see myself inside you,” he whispers, you suck in a breath at that, as if he is measuring the distance of your entrance to your belly button, easing your wrists to tug up your top, nipping your puffy lips over the fabric. “Scientifically.”

“Then experiment, scientifically.” He chuckles like the little shit he is, finding your clit once more, a hand pressing where he imagines his cock would bulge out.

“You are so needy f'me, s'pretty like this,” his words slur as he wraps his plump lips around your twitchy clit, barely concealed and swollen underneath the cotton material that is dripping wet. He pulls it in his mouth and sucks it hard through your panties, humming against you.

You're aching, cunt filling his hungry mouth as your hands land back on his hair, his movements making you cry out and buck your hips against his mouth for more.

“So sweet right now, god, look at that…”

Satoru is so close to cumming when he grabs his cock at the base again, squeezing so goddamn hard – he could almost bet that if he felt your cunt without the fabric, he'd spurt his white ropes everywhere.

Make a mess of you.

“Mnh. You close, sweetheart?”

Your answer is a jerky little nod, as he keeps torturing you with this fucking barrier, his teeth grazing that tiny clit ever so lightly through the fabric, making you scream out, your head falling back. Your panties are absolutely ruined now, utterly transparent with your slick and his spit coating them, your sweet little cries rushing through his ears.

Satoru? Well, he laps at the mess he's making happily, his tongue coating the entire area in circles that deliberately avoid that spot until you're twitching, tears falling down your cheeks.

"Such a messy girl," he moans out those words, eyes black when they peek up at you, his voice husky as your slick clings to his lips. "Soaking these pretty little panties f’me.”

“Please, Toru… move ‘em please,” he smirks and decides to have mercy on you, tugging them to the side of one of your lips and exhaling, watching the slick drool and spill down. You gasp as the air hits your cunt, already aching and needy, the dampness making it a cool shock.

“Fuck, you're so pretty,” he murmurs, his cock just about to bust without his touch, he glides his tongue from your ass all the way to your clit, looking right up at you. “Is this what you were thinking of, hmm? My tongue inside you?”

“Your cock, too,” he chuckles against you, but just a couple more flicks has you close, as he spreads your cunt wide, studying your every expression.

“Look at that. My slutty little girlfriend.”

Satoru is trying his best to hold it together, but when his tongue glides into your gummy walls and they grip him, he's too far gone, slurping up every bit of the cum that just pours out. You shatter so damn pretty, squirting all over his face, dripping down his chin until it's glossy, his cock starts pulsing right with your hole, imagining her milking him.

“F-fuckk….”

“Toru, mnh! S'good I… please…” You’re overheated, body sensitive, it’s just not enough, even with his tongue lavishing every bit of your pussy.

Not enough.

“Please what, baby? Mnh,” he grips his veiny cock as he cums with his tongue on your clit, more of your mess drenching his throat, his face, his shirt. His white ropes coat his hand, lashes fluttering shut as he savors your jumping clit in his mouth, whining against you.

“Want your cock in my mouth, Toru please…” he exhales, breath making you jolt, looking up at you with a blush.

“I um…” he leans back on his knees and you see the mess, blushing at it. 

“I didn't touch you though…”

“Didn't need to,” he's clearly a little embarrassed, you take his cum soaked hand then – dripping white – and wrap your mouth around one of his thick fingers. “Oh fuck…”

You suck him right off, tasting that salty white substance and moaning as it hits your taste buds. Satoru pulls back and laps it off his own fingers, before kissing you right with it, the mess spilling between your mouths and dripping down.

Satoru Gojo – your nerdy boyfriend with an insane Digimon collection was a fucking freak, greedily drinking his own cum off your mouth.

You’re trembling when the door knocks, and you faintly remember that he has ordered you boba. He’s the epitome of a perfect boyfriend after that, considerate, caring, cleaning the little rivulets of your own release from your inner thighs – you’re stuck back on the opposite side of the bed, cuddling him and watching a movie.

Satoru even has the audacity to snore after, heavy body wrapping as you ache to get filled by him – at least the movie was so damn boring you drift off right next to him.

****

“I’m gonna die a virgin,” you mumble to Shoko and Utahime the next weekend, aside from more heated kisses and grinding on Satoru’s thigh after your well planned out dates – nothing.

You’re aching.

How much use could your rose toy really see!? And now you even have two more toys going along with it, though you doubt any of them are getting close to Satoru and how good he must feel. No ‘clit sucker’ could come close to what that nerdy little mouth could do.

“You look like you’re dying, girl, damn…” Utahime earns your glare. “Is it that bad?”

“He finally got me off and…” You blush now, unable to finish your sentence, remembering his tongue drinking up your juices.

“Does he know what a clit is?”

“Very much so, it was so good.”

They look surprised.

“You all have no clue, he really was,” Shoko laughs at that, leaning back and hitting the vape, handing it over to you. “No, no.”

“You need a smoke, sweets,” you grimace, brushing your hair back, pacing back and forth as the two girls watch you, snuggling with each other. “You’re pacing holes in the carpet.”

“I can’t handle this, I just… god I wanna suck his dick, is it so terrible? He hasn’t even let me touch it. I sound like a horny ass man, I hate it. I wanna respect him, I really do.”

“You wanna respect him with his cock in your throat?” Shoko finishes.

“Yes. I mean!? I will respect him without the cock in my mouth! You two are menaces.”

They’re laughing like the brats they are, blowing smoke in each other’s mouths, you damn near moan in frustration. Satoru’s gotten you off that one time, then since then he has gone right back to worshipping you in the sweet way he always did, as if you’ll what – forget about his tongue?

His stupidly long fingers…

The cum on your tongue that you lapped right off!?

The taste.

“Ugh -” you lean back and sink further into the couch. “I really am gonna die.”

“Can’t die, we’ve got that party tonight,” Utahime teases, kissing Shoko’s lips and giggling just a bit, you pout at the two of them.

In public Satoru would kiss your hand at best.

Where on earth even had that freak come from that spit his cum in your mouth last week!? He’s all gone again – the pocket protector wearing Nerd Gojo in his place, like some twin fucking took over for a minute.

“I can’t go to a party and get drunk, I’ll make a fool of myself around him, one drink and my pussy has a mind of its own…” You finally sit down, plopping back into the seat. “I feel like a pervert.”

“You are! Let’s just call you fucking pervy Sage.”

“Hey!” You glare at Utahime, Shoko is inhaling another puff of smoke, you cough just a bit. 

“Hah – Sanji from One-”

“Don’t even!? I’m not that bad,” you huff at her, frowning now. “I swear I'm not trying to be pervy. God, what is in this weed?”

“Hmm,” Shoko tugs Utahime on her lap. “I wonder if he's scared you'll like … bite his dick.”

“You're so fucking mean,” you cough a little more, eyes watering as you scowl at the two of them.

“Look slutty, like really slutty,” Shoko walks up now, tilting your chin up and crooking her lips up at the corner. “Something that screams – fuck me.”

“He licked my panties and didn’t even…”

“Really slutty,” Utahime agrees, tapping her chin. “Ooh! I know, I have the perfect outfit in mind, that little black dress of yours.”

“But it’s too small for me now! It’s from like high school, and thanks to you two cooking all the time, my hips-”

“Exactly.”

“Exactly what? Oh…”

You trail off now, realizing what everyone knew – that Satoru loves your hips, he grabbed on to them every chance he got, even when he was just a little bit shy.

“Okay…”

They kiss again in front of you, laughing a bit, making you lovesick for your man – your nerdy man who you wish would kiss you in that way, tongues all dripping. It’s not even fair.

“All lovey dovey, fuck you both.”

They’re so hot and rude laughing at you – you decide to just disappear, you don’t need your hot ass best friends making out in front of you when you’re already in pain from the constant edging from Satoru. You are rushing to your room and trying on outfit after outfit, before finally deciding on the exact fucking one they brought up.

You would look as sexy as you could and hopefully get your boyfriend to not be able to resist you.

But also you’ll respect his decision, dammit! You can wait as long as he wants to, even if you were absolutely gonna put your tits and ass out there for him. Looking in the mirror and touching up your lipstick, swiping a finger across your lower lip to smudge it just a tad.

“Oh damn you look hot, Sanji,” Utahime says when you come out.

“I am not Sanji.”

“You are.”

“Fuck you both!”

*****

Satoru can’t keep his damn eyes off you.

Fuck you’re pretty tonight.

That damn little black dress clinging to your skin is fucking ruining Satoru’s mind, brain short circuiting as the two of you navigate the insanely packed frat house, one of his hands on the small of your back protectively. People are all bumping into everyone, stumbling around, absolutely no chance he lets someone hurt you by accident.

Moreso, Satoru Gojo can’t get his fucking hands off you, no, he can feel your warmth right through the thin layer of cotton material, fingers splaying across it. He reminds himself in his head over and over just what a horrible thing it would be to fucking take your first time at a frat party, even as he has to adjust his cock, turning from you to face the wall for a moment.

“Everything okay, Toru?” You ask softly, hand on his back, he laughs, a fake and terrible attempt at being normal, turning right back around to you.

“Me!? Yes, yes. Do you need a drink, babydoll?” He asks.

The music kicks on as he speaks, and all you can see are his plump lips forming words, ringing from how damn loud they’re blaring the worst dance music known to man. “What!!”

“A drink!!”

“Huh?”

“A DRINK-”

The music pauses for just a minute, switching to something else but leaving multiple people to stare at Nerdy Gojo shouting.

You blink a bit at his shouting, he swears he’ll kill Suguru and Nanami for having the audacity to fucking laugh at him and his pain. Them smoking weed earlier and trying to give him every tip known to man on how to bury said tip right against that surely cute little cervix.

As if Satoru hadn’t studied extensively.

“Yes, please,” you smile all pretty, letting him guide you through, he just about loses it from the sheer amount of eyes locked onto you, gripping you just a little too tight, feeling the curve of those breedable hips underneath his fingertips.

Imagine having them bent over, his hands fit so perfect-

No, he can make it another night, a dumb frat party was not the time or place for something so precious as your first time. Even if you smell that good, and you’re dancing all over him, giggling, your ass brushing right against where his cock has tented his dark jeans.

Your drink in one hand, the other in his as he pulls you against him, for a nerdy boy, Gojo can absolutely move his body. You feel so goddamn good against him, with your waist in his grip now, his lips pressed against your ear – he can inhale that sweet scent you just naturally fucking have.

That’s when he realizes he’s about to cum if your ass rubs up on his cock one more damn time with those heels making you tall enough, he could bend you over and slide it right in. God he bets you’re so wet too.

Satoru has to pull back, making you blink just a bit in confusion, he downs the rest of his drink, smiling apologetically.

“Bathroom, sweetheart.”

“Oh, um… okay, want me to-”

Satoru runs the fuck off.

Maybe you’re doing too much, shit… you were absolutely grinding all up on Satoru because you were craving him so bad. You needed to give him more time! If the roles were reversed, you know he would, even if he may want to as badly as you do. Going to pour yourself a shot, you throw it back and let your eyes shut, sighing just a bit as it burns your throat.

You need to ease up and let Satoru take his time, even if you have to press your thighs together to resist the needy urge of rubbing your cunt on anything right now.

Maybe you are fucking Sanji.

*****

Satoru’s leaned back on the door, unzipping his pants and seeing his reddened cockhead, and just how fucking swollen it is. He’s jerking his cock desperately, whimpering out as the door gets knocked on, banged on in fact by fucking Sukuna of all people.

“Gotta take a piss man, stop jerking it.”

“I’m not!? I’m pissing right now – w-wait,” Satoru is jerking it of course, but how dare Sukuna call him out on it. Dickhead fratboy that he is, he’s chuckling outside of the door, but none of it is getting rid of Satoru’s throbbing erection.

He’s just way too needy, too sensitive, he can see his reflection in the mirror – those flushed pink cheeks. Sukuna thankfully fucks off, but Satoru can't even cum with just his hand, not when he knows your little fist would feel so much better, when your mouth and pussy would grip him.

No, Satoru is left tortured.

*****

You are alone for some time, concerned if he was somehow drunk or sick when the leader of the frat – the slutty ass, pink haired jock named Sukuna comes up to you, sipping his cup and flickering his red eyes up and down your face.

“Hmm, Gojo left you all alone?”

“And?” You scoff, rolling your eyes at him now, he smirks just a bit, leaning close. “He’s busy. Okay?”

“Mmm… yeah,” he peeks over his shoulder now, then looks right back down at you. “So.”

“So, what?”

He grins all big. “Wanna play beer pong?”

“Beer pong?”

“Mhm,” he tugs at a little lock of your hair. “Bet I stomp your ass at it. Look like such a good girl.”

“Hah you think I've never been to a party!?”

“Never seen you before aside from with your nerdy lover boy,” he pours you a drink now and inclines his head.

“I've partied, just… usually me and Toru are busy.”

He snorts at that.

So busy your boyfriend is jerking his cock in the bathroom.

“I see, so busy, huh?”

“Yes but…” you curse now, shaking your head. Satoru has been gone fifteen minutes and won't answer a text, a game of beer pong wouldn't hurt. “Fine then.”

It doesn’t take long until there is an entire gathering of people to watch you absolutely annihilate Ryomen Sukuna in beer pong, to the point he is fucking furious. You're landing the pong ball in every cup, decimating the entire frat at a certain point, giggling as you study them, down to the last shot, against Sukuna again.

“Beginners luck or some shit,” he’s fucking furious – you swear you see his vein ticking underneath his jaw.

Satoru is still not here.

You’re worried but you’re also enjoying the cheers, especially when you land that last one, giggling as the frat brothers who were talking all that shit about the nerdy girlfriend of Satoru moments before are now staring in disbelief. With one final, perfect arc, the ball splashes into the last cup. 

It really is beginner's luck.

But.

Also, fuck Sukuna.

"Damn, girl!" someone yells, and you take a little bow, rubbing it right in Sukuna’s face now, who is slamming down the rest of his beer.

Surely he drank enough to get annihilated – but somehow still standing just normal, big ass man has some insane tolerance because those eyes look completely aware.

"Guess I'm not such a good girl after all, huh?" you tease Sukuna, who's standing there looking down at you, setting the cup down and crushing it.

“Hmmm,” his red eyes dilate just a bit as he steps closer to you, suddenly making you feel just a bit nervous.

Satoru hates Sukuna.

It’s well known, since high school the two of them have been overcompetitive and absolutely insane against each other. He’d be fucking furious if he saw you anywhere near him at all. You peek and see him across the crowd then, getting a text from Shoko blinging on your phone.

He’s really mad.

He is.

You get another text now from Utahime, biting down on your lower lip.

Make him jealous and maybe you’ll get dicked down, Sanji.

“I’m not Sanji,” Sukuna raises a brow, lips twitching. “I’m not.”

“Sanji? Who the fuck is that?”

“One piece?”

“Nerd – hey, wait,” you’re turning and he grabs your wrist for just a moment. “Shit, I mean… you’re right, you’re not a good girl, huh?”

“I sure beat your ass,” you say, pausing when he reaches out, his fingers surprisingly gentle as they brush a stray piece of hair back from your face, rough knuckles brushing against your cheek for a second too long.

"You did, you're full of surprises, brat.”

“Brat? Whatever…”

You can feel Satoru’s eyes on you – you’d pull back, but part of you wonders if making him jealous would bring that freak out that spit cum in your mouth – maybe you are a brat. You sip your drink, remaining normal.

“I’m dating Satoru, you’re too close.”

“Would nerdy ass Satoru know what to do, how to handle your ass?” He taunts, your eyes narrow, his laugh echoing despite the music as your boyfriend starts shoving his way through. “Show you that digimon collection?”

“I’m very pleased, thank you.”

“You look like you need to get your attitude fucked right out of you,” your fingers itch to slap him now. “If he fucks up, you know where to find me.”

“No thank you, I- Toru!”

Satoru is between you and Sukuna, shoving him off and glaring right at him – perhaps the two tallest men at the party right face to face, Sukuna’s smirk making Satoru want to punch him.

“Why are you so close to my future wife?”

“Wife?” You blush and he glares at you.

“Yes, and baby momma – but you’re being a brat,” he whispers, Sukuna snorts at that.

“She is a brat.”

“You can’t call her that,” he shoves the big ass man and takes your hand now. “She has better shit to do than talk to you.”

“Aw, but we were having fun,” Satoru is dragging you away, you blink just a bit, almost scowling at Sukuna who blows you a kiss.

What a dick.

BUT.

Satoru is fuming, and he’s hot.

You’re so toxic!

“What’s wrong, Toru? I was just playing some beer pong,” you say all innocently, as he drags you past everyone, you’re struggling to keep up with his long strides. “Um… what’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong!? Hah,” he’s laughing, psychotic and feral like you turned on a switch in his brain, when he finally starts getting some privacy. “Everything.”

“I don’t get it…”

“He was hitting on you,” Satoru yanks you away in the center of the party, you barely bite back your giggle at how excited you are to see him this way, looking ever so serious when he glares down at you.

Maybe you are evil, loving how mad he is, how jealous he is when he presses you against the hallway wall on the other side of the party, you can feel the music humming through the walls, but not as fast as your heart is racing looking up at your blue eyed boyfriend. Blue eyed angry boyfriend.

This isn't sweet Satoru at all, no – he's completely fucking unhinged, his chest rising and falling with his quickened breaths, cupping your face and jerking your chin to look up at him.

“You think he was?” You ask softly, making him raise a brow. “I thought he was just… being nice?”

You make him laugh without humor now, thumb brushing across your lip. “Are you being bratty, sweetheart? Teasing me, making me jealous?”

“What? No,” you straight up fucking lie to his face, batting your lashes all innocent and cute, but you can tell my that little smirk he doesn’t buy any of it for shit right now.

“No?”

“No, I was just talking, Toru. Isn't that fine?” You trail your hands up his chest, wrapping your fingers around to hook behind his neck, tugging him down to face you. “It’s fine for me to make friends, isn’t it?”

“Not when he's looking at these pretty tits,” he cups one, making you suck in a breath – your needy boyfriend is never this bold. “They're not his to look at.”

“Oh?” You lean forward now, tip toeing as he leans low, thumb brushing over a nipple, making it perk up for his touch. “Are they yours? Yours to look at?”

He’s losing it, his pulse hammering behind his ears, in his wrists, everywhere was hammering, his mouth practically salivating as he cups that tit right where anyone can see, big hand squishing it. You gasp out at the sensation, your lashes fluttering closed, little whines mingling against his lips.

“Yes, mine, every inch of you is mine,” Satoru shakes his head now with a soft laugh. “He thought he could dance with you. Kiss your lips? Lips that are mine.”

“All yours,” you open your eyes and giggle again, earning his scowl. “Sorry you're just so cute like this.”

Satoru blinks.

“Oh, I’m cute?”

You go to press a kiss when he snatches you up in one swoop, you gasp and wrap your arms around his neck now. Thighs trembling as he carries you to some room he finds, stumbling you in and shoving you right against the door.

“You think I'm cute,” he presses his cock against your slick heat, slutty little panties practically ruined for him, grinding his cock until you're gasping out. “Well I think that you're a brat.”

You gasp. “Me?”

Two people calling you that.

Well… maybe you are.

“You are bratty, with those pretty fucking lips,” he's kissing you filthy, tongues dancing, saliva dripping between you both, easing you down so that you slide against his body achingly slow. “Maybe I should shut your bratty mouth up.”

Oh fuck.

“Yes please?” He glares at your big fucking grin. 

“On your knees then, sweetheart,” you so eagerly obey, he laughs softly, his heart hammering in his chest, a mix of being utterly furious, nervous about his first time, and dumbstruck by the sight of your heart eyes. “Look at you, bein’ such a good girl – but are you really that desperate to suck me?”

“Please yes,” you have no shame – all you want is Satoru’s cock deep and buried in the back of your throat. “If you want though! C-consent.”

“As if I haven’t wanted this for years,” he shakes his head and tilts your chin up, sighing. “I wanted to do it all perfect, to lick and kiss every inch, worship your body until you were writhing, so fucking needy for it.”

Satoru unclicks his belt, the metallic click hitting your ears. “Mnh… years?”

"Years," he repeats softly, unbuttoning his jeans entirely too slow for you, you go to move your hands and he halts them with a little smack, you bite down on your lip, aching. “Hands on your thighs, you’ll listen to me for once, since you’ve been driving me so fucking crazy.”

“Me, making you crazy, really,” you do as he says though – eagerly – palms on your thighs, he laughs a bit, the sound of his zipper lowering echoing in the room even with the reverberating walls.

“You know every time you drag that messy cunt on me it ruins me, right?” He draws out that word, sighing now. "Every time you wore those little skirts and bent over, every time you'd bite your lip while concentrating…”

Satoru drags a thumb down your lip now, achingly slow against the plumpness that moves underneath it, your teeth nip on his thumb teasingly, and then you let him push your mouth open.

“Open real wide, sweetheart,” you do just that, and he can’t help but whimper as he presses down on your tongue, as if he’s studying the recesses of your open, eager mouth. “Wider, can’t you? For me?”

You listen eagerly, opening wide and fucking obscene, your tongue out for any bit of him he wants to give you, core just aching.

“Fuck, I've imagined this exact moment."

Satoru won’t tell you just how long he has, either, he swallows – just a bit nervous now.

“Suck,” you suck his digits, slurping them and moaning around them, imagining his cock instead, loving how dominant he’s being. “Stop.”

You obey, making him raise a brow.

“You like me tellin’ you what to do? Is that why you got me so fucking mad, so jealous, to have you listen?”

“Yeah,” you whisper, as he shoves his jeans down, and the hard, thick length of his bugle strains against the thin fabric of his boxers. “Pokemon? You traitor!”

“I can’t wait to shut your mouth up tonight,” you giggle at that, Satoru sighs and frowns at them, brushing your hair back a bit. “They were a gift, okay?”

“I’ll buy you digimon ones.”

“God, you’re so perfect,” you’re still giggling, when he gently smacks your face – the lightest little touch that has you almost moaning. “Open up again, yeah? Be a good girl, baby.”

“Mmm, yes,” you nod your head, doing just as he says – the side of freaky Satoru you only saw hints of last week when he’d lavished your panties with his long tongue.

“You got me jealous on purpose, yeah? Wore that slutty outfit to fucking ruin me, wanted cock in your throat that bad? Got me fucking leaking so much… fuck…”

Your answer is to keep that mouth open, leaning forward as you lap your tongue along the damp spot where his pre cum has already soaked through, right over a traitorous yellow pikachu. You’ll make more fun of that later, right now he’s jerking his hips, hissing at the drag of your cute lil tongue on him.

“Fuck…” You’re teasing him just like he did you – licking and sucking his tip over the damp cotton of his boxers. “Act so sweet and you’re evil, shouldn’t feel that good through that… mmm…”

Satoru’s letting you suck around his fat cockhead, slurping every bit of his white cum from it, tongue lolling right along that slit over and over.

“Torturing me back?”

“Yep,” you lick your lips, making him sigh, shaking his head now.

“Go on then, take what’s all yours…" his voice is low, hoarse damn near as he for the very first time pulls his cock out, letting it spring free, slapping against his lower abdomen with a loud, wet smack. “Can you fit all of it?”

You knew he’d be big.

You didn’t know he’d be that big, with his jeans undone all slutty, his pokemon boxers shoved down – his cock is perfect, just the right amount of thick and entirely too fucking long, with a prominent pale blue vein running along the underside. You’re literally drooling as he strokes it right in front of you, the head flushed a deep, pretty pink as it leaks white.

You’re soaked, fucking ruined.

“I can.”

You cannot.

Maybe?

You will try!

“Go on then, sweetheart, lemme see how good you can take all of me,” he chuckles as you lean forward without hesitation, pressing a soft, open-mouthed kiss to the tip. “Teasin’ me more?”

You lap your tongue up, keeping your hands right where he asked you too, sliding underneath so you hit that frenum. His sharp inhale is met with his huge hand tugging in your hair so hard it hurts, pulling at the hairs on the nape of your neck.

“Fuck… greedy lil mouth,” he’s damn near slurring his words when you swirl your little tongue around the head, lapping up the salty taste of his cock underneath, brushing along that vein. He whimpers out when you wrap your lips around it and suck. “Oh my… f-fuck…”

Satoru loses it the first time you really suck his cock, his hand coming to rest on the back of your head, pushing you down further as his other hand rests on the doorway, beginning to move so that he’s choking you. You’re whining out, aching to touch your cunt so bad you slide your fingers down.

“So desperate,” he tuts his tongue, fucking your throat now, his cock slamming the back of it as tears spill. “B-baby, is this s’okay?”

You pull back as he does, with a wet, filthy pop, grinning. “I want it, all the way deep in my throat, Toru, I can take it.”

“You can take all of it in that tiny lil’ throat? When she’s this tight?” He whispers, your nod makes him glare now. “Have you done this?”

You blink a bit. “Yes?”

“Then I’ll fuck your throat so hard you’ll forget anything but me,” he takes you over now, slamming deep inside, you’re whimpering as one of his feet spread your thighs, and you’re soaking his black boot. “That’s it, rutting on my boot and taking cock like a little slut, hmm?”

“Mnhgh…” you’re done for, this is exactly what you needed, him railing your throat until you can’t think, until you’re gagging and tears are spilling.

“Look at me,” he orders softly, you do just that as he presses deep, sniffling as you try to take all of him, he hisses as he feels his tip stretching that tight throat, his Adam's apple bobbing. “You know I fucking love you? And respect you?”

You giggle around him and he glares.

“You have to know if I’m gonna say all this,” you pull back again, fingers all coated in your slick, gliding it along his sticky tip.

“I know you love me, Toru. I love you…” He sighs, touching your cheek. “I love you talking to me this way, you could be meaner.”

“Oh? Fuck my frustration on your throat?”

“Please?”

“You’re ruining me,” he mumbles, slamming right back inside, now that he knows you’re okay, he can lose control, see how much you can take, as you grind on that shoe, nails now pressing in the muscles of his thighs, jeans slipping down. “Want our first time to really be right against this door? Shove your slutty skirt up and ruin your cunt for fuckin’ anyone?”

God, Satoru’s sexy like this, fogged glasses and all.

Your answer is to take him all the way, your nose brushing against the white hair, the tufts of it tickling your nose, he’s stuttering now, unable to stop himself from fucking faster, harder, the wet sounds mixing with his whines. He doesn’t hold them back, either, every time he does he feels a fresh gush of wetness even over that leather, he can see it shimmering as he pulls back and slaps his cock on your mouth.

“Slutty girl, this all f’me, huh? Not that fucking loser downstairs?”

“All you.”

“Hold that tongue out,” you do just that, and Satoru slaps his tip on your tongue over and over, as you keep grinding on him. “Can’t believe you’re this much of a pretty little whore, god I thought you were a good girl?”

“Toru… please…”

“Please what?” You just keep rubbing. “Desperate, fuck… stand up.”

You can hardly do that when he helps you by tugging you up, spitting directly in your mouth, you swallow it greedily, earning his pathetic moan as he turns you, shoving you against that door. “Mnh!”

“Stop me before I fill all your fucking holes with cum,” he’s kissing down your neck, his glasses cool against your neck, whines escaping his lips as he shoves that slutty lil dress up the gentle curve of your hip. “All of them, I’ll have your cunt drippin’, your throat full, fuck that ass while I’m at it.”

“Mngh, please, please,” it’s all you can do but to arch.

“That needy?” He’s tugging your panties to the side, dragging his tip up and down over and over, moans escaping his lips when he bends down, turning your face to him. “First time in a frat house against a door? You’re so wet do I even need to finger you right now?”

“Already did,” you answered, he laughs, shaking his head and kissing you, rubbing even more, teasing your slit with the fat head of his cock until you’re weak, your thighs shaking. “Please, please….”

“Please what, fuck your cunt for the first time? That’s what you’ve been wanting, me to lose it, huh?”

“Yeah,” he scoffs, teasing even more, mouth messy and mean as he bumps your clit, until you squirt right down his length, dripping all down the carpet.

Sukuna’s carpet – it’s his room you faintly notice, as you see the little pictures on the walls.

You wonder if Satoru meant that.

“Squirting already, haven’t even fucked you yet,” he pulls back and bends down, slamming his cock so deep you scream out, head falling back as he tugs your hair, making your ass arch out as he fills you. “Oh my g-god… baby…”

“Toru,” he lets you adjust to his thickness, the very first time your cunt has ever been filled – and this wasn’t how he wanted to do it.

He wanted to stretch you out – one finger, two, then three – but you’re so soaked you suck him right in. Such a tight, perfect fit he can hardly take it, bending down to press sweet kisses on your bare shoulders, easing back and shoving in again, taking your hand and placing it on your tummy, pressing so you feel it all.

“Feel me here?” He asks softly, desperately – worried for a moment with how tight you are that he’s hurt you, but your answer is to look back at him with those slutty, parted lips and dilated eyes, nodding. “Who’s inside you?”

“You, Toru.” you answer, cunt spasming as she’s already close, his body overtaking you, wrapping and tugging, shoving even deeper.

“Who’s first?”

“You.”

“Who’s gonna make this cunt stretch out?”

“Y-you and… ah!”

“Mine, mine… fuck you’re all mine,” Satoru gave you that minute to adjust, a last mercy before your nerdy boyfriend fucking loses his mind. “Mine, this pretty body, this perfect pussy… you… mine…”

“Yours,” you whisper it over and over as Satoru fucks your messy cunt, even though it’s hard to take, you’re so full it feels perfect, letting his hand wrap your throat, fingers pressing on either side of your windpipe. “Ah!”

“Hah – such a perfect fit, made f’me,” he’s fucking you so deep you feel him everywhere, cock gliding in and out of your sticky, gummy walls, fucking you so goddamn messy it's dripping down between your thighs. “B-babyyy…”

You arch for more when he pulls out of your cunt with a filthy squelch and you whine from the loss. “Back in, please…”

He lifts and carries you to the bed, thighs shoved wide, feral now as he shoves back inside and sees himself moving inside you. Every slick glide smoothing your puffy cervix, until she is bruised and aching, that dress shoved higher, panties tugged firmly to the side. He uses both to move in you, laughing as you gasp out, as your thighs tremble.

“Aw, is it too much, sweetheart? Too deep?”

Feral Satoru is here, mixed with sweet Toru, but his cock is anything but sweet – the way it stretches you out, fucking ruins you, pummels your cunt so deep you’re about to cum all over his length, already sensitive.

“Mhm!”

“Full of me?”

“Nghhhh…”

You don't know how the fuck else to answer, it all is entirely too much, the way he can see his cock print, his insane laugh, those blue eyes glittering with the frames fallen off. So blue it hurts to look at, eyes almost threatening to close.

“Nuh-uh, eyes on me, that's it,” Satoru keeps pumping into your cunt, leaning up to shove your thighs against your tits, smushing them as he fucks you dumb.

He knows it too.

“Can't think?”

“mmm, nnnhhh,” your answer is pathetic and just a babble really, as your nerdy, once virgin boyfriend pummels your messy, needy cunt until she's stuffed so full it hurts. Your nails pressing into biceps, digging in as he stretches your puffy lips on it.

“Can’t even fucking talk – already?” Your eyes roll back in your skull as his cock ruins your pussy, so deep you do feel him all over.

“Gonna pump you so full, hah will you finish college without me breeding your cunt?” Satoru Gojo is batshit insane, as he leans over you, bending you so that you're folded in half under his heavy weight. “What would you do then, hmm? If I breed your slutty cunt? Make you mine.”

“Want it, mmm,” you’re utterly fucking shameless about it, feeling his bruising grip, his cock getting creamy at the base as his heavy balls slap.

“Jerked it in the bathroom, had me so hard,” you bite down on your lip, gasps escaping your throat, eyes locked. “You love that, huh? Driving me insane, slutty dress, pretty body… god…”

He presses your thighs down enough to tug your tits out, gripping them and exhaling, thumbs brushing your nipples until they’re peaks.

"Look at you," he pants, "taking my cock so well, pretty girl. You’re just such a good little slut for me, aren't you?"

You can only moan in response, your body trembling as he hits that spot inside you that makes your vision go white, your answer is to grip his hips with your thighs, letting him cup your face, pumping you so full that you can feel it all over. Warm and hot when he whines out so pathetically in your ringing ears, slutty little moans falling from your lips.

“Takin’ all of it, god…” He kisses you even as you shatter, your cunt spasming all around his veiny length, milking him for every drop. “So fucking greedy. So needy.”

He leans down and captures your lips, spurts of cum still pouring, you can feel him twitching, nails pressing into the strong muscles of his back. “Toru… l-love… toru y-you…”

“Cock drunk, sweetheart?” He teases, like the menace he really is – but he also lovingly caresses your cheek. “You took me like you were made for me.”

“I did?” You’re so damn drunk off him you’re slurring your words, pussy achingly empty, feeling his cum slipping out.

“You did a very good job. Such a good girl.”

“Yay!”

Satoru snorts at you, shaking his head and peppering kisses, leaned up on an arm, his shirt half open, revealing the hard planes of his chest. “You’re s’cute… I wanted to take it easy your first time.”

“I loved it,” you admit, yawning now, peeking around the room. “Mmm, can we go home though?”

“Of course we will,” he kisses down your body though, breath ghosting your thighs, spreading them to watch the filthy mess of his cum pour out, groaning. “You’re wasting it all, baby.”

“Hmm? Ah!” Satoru scoops some of that mess up against his fingertips, shoving it right back inside your quivering hole. You’re gripping him tight, thighs clamping down on his hand, as he smirks. “Toru you’re… crazy…”

“Mmm, you really have no idea what I have wanted to do,” he clicks his tongue, pushing that cum deep again, watching your every expression. “Gonna keep you so full of cum it’ll drip everywhere.”

Satoru does not just fuck you once, no – he makes sure to bend you over in the backseat of his car, fucking cum back inside. Once you're at his house he is pumping ropes of cum on your tits, laughing at how messy you get coated in white, before spreading it all over your body.

Satoru fingers and fucks all that cum inside until you're a trembling mess in his arms, passing out and snoring.

“So funny you started all this but then couldn't keep up, hmm?” He teases softly, cleaning you up, cock sore from how you gripped him, how much he came. But even the sight of milky drops escaping your hole had him damn near twitching back to life, groaning against your skin.

*****

“Good morning,” your nerdy boyfriend is littered in pretty kiss marks, indentions of your teeth all down his neck, a loopy smile on his face as he stands there shirtless, glasses firmly back on.

“Oh! Good morning…” you thought you'd be the one to ruin Satoru Gojo, ride his cock till he whimpered and cried from overstimulation.

You had no clue he'd fuck you so good you couldn't sit up right without his help, cupping your face and leaning down to kiss your lips, tilting your chin up and smirking. You're a mess.

A pretty mess.

Hair fucked up, covered in fingerprints and hickies, taking the coffee he brings and sipping it, sighing as it hits your tongue. “Mmm… good morning.”

“Don't you look pretty in my bed?” He muses, smirking on his features. “I wonder what Sukuna thought of his bed covered in your squirt.”

A blush heats up your cheeks. “I didn't squirt that much!?!?!”

“You really did,” you shove him playfully, giggling then. “My cum too though.”

“You did it on purpose, his room!”

“Me? Never.”

Satoru absolutely did.

That's what Sukuna gets for hitting on his girlfriend, dried up cum all on his blankets – as if he could handle you ❤️

heheh i hope ya'll liked horny reader for a change!!!

I.

The town knows.

Towns like this always know.

Information spreads through gossip networks faster than disease, mutating with each retelling.

The girl who got herself gang-raped.

The prostitute who finally got what was coming.

The whore who climbed into the wrong car.

They don’t say it to her face but Emi can feel it when she walks through the store reaching for bread.

Poor little whore.

Their thoughts press against her skin, sticky and suffocating, a second skin she can’t peel off no matter how hard she scrubs in the shower.

She scrubs until her skin is raw and red but the feeling doesn’t leave, clinging like oil.

This is what happens to girls like this.

She can feel the judgment radiating from the church ladies who clutch their purses tighter when she passes, from the men who look at her with disgust and desire that means they’d fuck her if they thought they could get away with it but would never acknowledge her in daylight.

She’s been marked now, branded.

The stares cut into her like daggers, reopening wounds that haven’t even begun to scar.

They remind her that what happened in that house with those ten men isn’t over, will never be over, will follow her through every aisle of every store for the rest of her existence.

She wants to scream at them.

She wants to grab their pressed collars and shake them.

She wants to ask them what makes them so different, what makes their fucking so holy when they’re spreading their legs for husbands who beat them and cheat on them.

Women have sex with their cheating husbands for free, she thinks, so what’s so bad about getting paid for it?

Men are going to use women’s bodies regardless.

She was just unlucky, that’s all.

Wrong place, wrong car, wrong men.

Everyone is a coward, she decides, everyone who looks at her with judgment, everyone who pretends that what happened to her is different from what happens behind closed doors in houses with white picket fences and families who pray together on Sundays.

And yet.

Even though she tries lying to herself, and tells herself that she’s the brave one, there’s something growing inside her that wasn’t there before, something that started that night in that house and has been spreading through her bloodstream like poison, slow and inexorable, turning her organs black from the inside out.

The poison of death.

The knowledge that she doesn’t want to be alive anymore, that being alive requires too much effort, too many moments like this where she has to walk through stores while people think their daggers at her.

Where she has to wake up every morning and remember that she has a body and that body has been used in ways that can’t be undone, can’t be washed off, no matter how many showers she takes or how many times she tells herself it doesn’t matter.

Kill yourself kill yourself kill yourself whispers through her thoughts, the voice of someone who loves her enough to offer mercy, and she’s starting to listen.

Emi’s starting to believe that maybe the sweet arms of Mother Death are kinder than this, more honest about what they want from her which is nothing except the end of being a body that generates sensations she doesn’t want to feel.

In her dreams Death is the final fuck you to everyone who ever thought they owned pieces of her.

Death is the warm cloud she imagines when she’s high enough, where God and the angels exist as a family that actually wanted her, voices that say it’s going to be okay sweet child of God instead of this is what happens to girls like you.

II.

The drugs start again

Ones that require veins and faith and the absolute certainty that you’d rather be anywhere except here, including the chemical wasteland of altered consciousness and the risk of never coming back.

She finds a dealer two towns over and the first time she shoots up she’s alone in a gas station bathroom that smells like piss and industrial cleaner, her belt around her arm, the needle finding the vein on the second try.

Then, she’s not there anymore.

She’s somewhere warm and weightless, floating on clouds that feel like a mother’s arms.

The angels are there and they’re beautiful, incandescent, made of light and unconditional love.

They tell her she’s forgiven, she’s clean, she’s worthy, she’s safe.

Sweet child of God, they say, and she believes them because the high has burned away her ability to doubt, has rewritten her neurochemistry into something that can believe in mercy and imagine a universe where she matters for reasons beyond what men can extract from her body.

When she comes down the bathroom is the same, the smell is the same, her life is the same.

But now she knows she has a place to go when the poison of wanting to die becomes unbearable and she needs temporary relief before the final kind.

III.

She stops talking as much.

The Emi who used to fill silences with jokes and provocations and her dark humor has gone quiet, has started sitting by the lake for hours just staring at the water.

Her spark is gone.

It has been replaced by something that looks like Emi but isn’t Emi anymore, a shell going through the motions of existing without its animating force.

She knows Satoru’s drinking again, she can smell it on him.

And it’s her fault.

That’s what she thinks sitting by the lake with her knees pulled to her chest, arms wrapped around her shins.

It’s her fault Satoru’s drinking, her fault he’s backsliding, her fault his eyes have gone dead again.

If she had never let those men beat her up.

If she had lied about it, kept her mouth shut, suffered in silence the way women are supposed to suffer, then maybe Satoru would still be okay, would still have that fragile hope that was starting to grow before she crushed it with her trauma.

Everything she touches turns to poison.

Everyone who tries to care about her gets contaminated.

She’s a disease vector, proof that some people are fundamentally toxic and the kindest thing they can do is remove themselves from proximity to anyone who might still be salvageable.

IV.

Satoru comes to her on a Tuesday night when the mosquitoes are out.

He sits down next to her on the dock without asking, and you're there too.

You've been there, watching Emi watch the water as usual, feeling useless and voyeuristic.

Satoru pulls cash from his pocket—folded bills, more than Emi would make in a week.

"Here," he says, pressing the money into her hand, his fingers lingering on hers for a moment longer than necessary.

"So you don't have to go to work tonight. Take a rest, okay?"

Emi looks at the money in her hand and rage shocks her back into her body, defibrillator restarting her pulse.

She knows.

She knows before the thought has fully formed in your mind, before you've connected the dots.

You've just realized what this money means and where it came from and what Satoru had to do to get it.

"Where did you get this?"

"Emi, don't—" Satoru starts.

"Where did you get this?"

She’s standing, the money crumpled in her fist, and there’s heartbreak and fury in her eyes as she's looking at him.

"Emi—"

"Oh, you fuckin’ didn't."

But she knows he did, can see it in the way he won't meet her eyes.

"You fuckin’ idiot, you said you were done"

"Well, I needed the money"

"For what?"

She's screaming now, disturbing the fake peace surrounding them. "For me? You think I want this? You think I want your fuckin’ dirty money?"

"It's not—"

"It is."

She throws the money at him, bills scattering, floating on the breeze, landing in the dirt.

"You went back to being’ a whore" Her voice breaks. "How could you go back to that?"

"How can you?" Satoru's voice rises to match hers, angry and hurt. "You're out there doin’ god knows what with god knows who, and I'm supposed to just watch?"

"That's different"

"It’s not."

He stands now too, and they're facing each other.

"We're the same, Emi, we're the exact fucking same. So don't—don't act like you're better than this."

Emi grabs his vodka bottle—the one he's been nursing since he arrived,—and smashes it on the dock, glass exploding, alcohol soaking into the wood, the smell sharp in the summer air.

The sound of breaking stops them both.

Silence except for the lake, the cicadas, your own breathing.

Emi's hands are shaking. "We're both gonna die doin’ this, you know that, yeah?"

Satoru doesn't answer.

"We're both going to fuckin’ die and there's nothin’ anyone can do about it because this is who we are, Satoru.”

V.

You watch this happen, watching through glass.

A barrier you can't name but can feel with absolute certainty: the distance between you and them, the void that separates your understanding from theirs, the canyon that can't be crossed no matter how much you love them.

Twin lotuses in the mud.

Two flowers growing from the same filth, roots tangled together underground where you can't see, feeding from the same contaminated soil, identical in their beauty and their rot, in their bloom and their decay, in their will to grow toward light and their inability to escape the mud that birthed them.

You've never understood them.

You've loved Satoru, or convinced yourself that was was what you felt when really it was fascination, maybe, or the narcissism of thinking you could fix someone by wanting them enough.

But you don't know what it's like.

The closest you've come to it was that guy putting his hand up your shirt at a party junior year and you saying no and him stopping, being embarrassed, apologizing.

Your first time was in your high school boyfriend's bed with rose petals he'd scattered because he'd seen it in a movie, with a boy who loved you, who asked if you were okay, who held you after, who told you you were beautiful.

There's a void between you and them, a crater, a chasm so wide and deep that you could spend your whole life trying to cross it and never make it halfway.

You live in different countries, speak different languages, operate under different laws of physics where gravity works differently.

What are you supposed to say? What words exist in your language that translate to theirs?

How do you comfort people whose wounds you've never suffered, whose pain you can't imagine except in the abstract, whose choices make sense in their context but seem like pure madness in yours?

Don't do this to yourself, you could say, but that's meaningless because they're not doing it to themselves, it's being done to them and has always been done to them.

You deserve better, you could offer, but that's worse because deserving has nothing to do with getting, because the universe doesn't operate on merit, because good things don't happen to good people and bad things aren't punishment for moral failing.

I love you, but they already know that, and your love doesn't fix anything, just adds another weight to carry and another person to worry about disappointing.

You're an intruder here. An outsider. A tourist.

The lotus flowers grow in mud but you've never touched mud, not the kind that grows things and rots things in equal measure, not the kind that births beauty and death.

You live in clean water, in chlorinated pools, in sanitized spaces where pain is theoretical and trauma is something that happens to other people, to people in stories, to people like Emi and Satoru who you can observe from safe distance and tell yourself you understand even though you don’t understand.

You stand on your side with your clean hands and body and your rose petals and teenage romance, and you watch them love each other violently, with the absolute certainty that love won't save them but at least they won't die alone.

The money lies in the dirt, scattered, worthless now, bills getting damp.

Emi's hands are bleeding from the broken glass and she doesn't seem to notice.

Satoru's crying and trying not to let anyone notice.

You're standing there with nothing to offer except noticing, which isn't enough.

Twin lotuses bloom in the mud.

And you stand in your clean water wondering why they won't just climb out, why they won't just leave the filth behind.

The mud is home, the filth is familiar, trying to transplant them to clean water would kill them faster than letting them rot in the soil they know.

Some flowers only grow in dirt.

i have yet to find out who the fic ‘midnight cravings’ is from / if they actually wrote it themselves bcs im sceptical of everything. if anyone has read it before and knows who she copied that from, if she did, let me know.

UPDATE REGARDING HER ‘APOLOGY’:

this is funny because i literally had been urging her to make an apology/statement on her own through our dms. i have been the person to suggest it to her, she couldn’t come up with it on her own. which, again, is sad.

she’s still trying to victimise herself and downplay her failed plagiarism. she kept trying to convince me she had apologised multiple times before in her dms with me, but she really hasn’t, until i basically forced it out of her with my own messages. again, she can’t do shit herself.

also, about homophobic/racial slurs being sent to her, i clearly have told her three times i haven’t put up anyone to do this. i even told my mutuals to just block her and not send her hate, and she knows of this, but is trying to pin it on me. what my thousands of followers and the people of different fandoms who’ve seen this post, is not my responsibility as i have never put them up to it. i do not condone using any bigoted language either, which i have told her multiple times, but she’s still trying to villainise me badddd.

i would have loved some evidence on that part of the hate, but she never sent it. her asks, comments, reblogs and dms were quickly all off so i have no idea how she received ‘such hate’ either. she might be lying to get sympathy point lol

anyway, she is trying to sound like she did no wrong. i had to be the adult and stop the convo at one point bcs she kept being more heated about it and trying to downplay everything, so that i did.

i told her, if she makes a new account let it be her own writing. if she plagiarises again, i will not hesitate to use my platform to get her new account too.

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