LOGIC (starring. G.SUGURU)
○ Synopsis. is the only way to stop your husband from killing you to outsmart him?
○ Cw: Geto is quite mean, blowjob, fingering, p in v, virginity loss, profanity, toxic mindset, higher ups meddling,
○ An: my first time writing for jjk. hope ppl enjoy wc: 13.2k
“You are hereby sentenced to two years of imprisonment in the cursed dungeons. Should you survive, your fate shall be discussed.” A man uttered.
They were lucky they sat behind a screen, that they had the privilege of keeping their identity a secret, for Geto Suguru was a vengeful man. And even if he gave up on his ambitions to create out a world without sorcerers, he was still just as hostile and horrible. A sardonic laugh erupts out of him. “What an honour. Only two years?” he knew that for his crimes, death was the only befitting consequence, yet he finds himself carrying out the tamest of sentences in comparison.
The ice around his heart thaws ever slightly as he turns his head towards his lifelong best friend. He realises apologies and gratitude are in order, but the look on Satoru’s face is enough to keep him silent. Guilt ebbs at his soul in a funny way; he thought the emotion was long discarded. But rationality always lost to the pain of betrayal. Its why Satoru negotiated, practically threatened to kill them, if they hadn’t agreed to this. He refused to lose any more people in his life, and certainly not the same person twice. Not when he just got Suguru back.
“I’m sorry.” Suguru whispered as he was hauled away. He didn’t fight back, not when he didn’t have anything to fight for. He remembers why he gave up his ideal world. What’s a world worth living in if it didn’t with the people you love most. His mind flashes back to his daughters, Mimiko and Nanako, as they kneeled before him, begging him to not go through with everything. He always knew he couldn’t deny them anything. This time wasn’t any different.
Satoru didn’t need to reply to him for Suguru to understand what he wanted. Try.
On the other side of Tokyo, somewhere far away from the higher-ups, you sat in a dingy room, waiting patiently for your fate. You knew you weren’t destined for great things. The Zenin clan had no need for a ‘monkey’ like you who didn’t have any cursed energy. You weren’t like Toji-san or Maki-chan, who had a profound ability in wielding weapons. You were bang on average, with nothing but your intelligence to show for you. But what did intelligence matter when you couldn’t find a husband.
Now, with your clan in such a perilous predicament, you feel even more useless than before. Blaming Maki was out of the question. Not when you applauded her with all your might on the inside. She needed to reclaim the parts they took from her. it’s what this godforsaken place did – you knew it first-hand. They took and took and took until you had nothing left to give.
And the only solution to improve their standing and reinstate themselves as one of the great clans was to marry you- the lowly expendable off. You thought to yourself, why me, but the answer became apparent long before you found out who your husband was. They needed a sacrifice. That was the only logical solution to you. There was no way they would entrust you with this unless they believed you wouldn’t make it out alive. Desperation attracts mindless alliances, and there were only a few families in such a position like yours was. Those who would even be willing to fraternise with the Zenin clan.
It was only after you found out who your husband was that you really saw it. You were going to die in that marriage.
Suguru made peace with Satoru’s words. For his sake. He didn’t need to love non-sorcerers to understand Satoru’s point of view. It was a given, why he thought like that. He just couldn’t smile in the face of all the suffering he’s endured at the hands of people who would celebrate at his death.
And so, for the entirety of his confinement, he sparred with his own mind, cultivating arguments and carefully dismantling them in an attempt to rationalise his world view. Did the suffering he endured really constitute a mass genocide? Did the burden of protecting non-sorcerers befall him all because he was endowed with cursed energy?
Ieri was a common visitor. There was no denying how much she missed her friend. And for all the stories she’s heard of how the man before her changed, he seemed pretty much the same to her. He still smiled, still threw out the same jokes.
Satoru was a less common visitor, but one Suguru couldn’t help but wait for. He missed his friend. It was never his intention to blindly hurt him, and he knew Satoru would be able to see that. Through all his flaws, Gojo always had a knack for dissecting his thought process perfectly.
They would talk for hours, and eventually Suguru began to understand. Killing so many people wasn’t feasible. They couldn’t control how he felt on the inside however, and the inferno that burned in his chest at the thought of ‘monkeys’ almost ate him from the inside out.
The only thing that kept him grounded were the constant visit from his daughters. They never relented, always showing him love even if he felt like he never deserved it. he wasn’t proud of himself. What kind of example was the setting for them.
“Geto-Sama,” Mimiko whined. “Give us attention. You’re always in your head.” And again, he tried.
It seemed like trying got him to where he needed to be, and as Geto Suguru stood outside of the chambers he was confined to for the past two years, he promised to never take freedom for granted ever again.
Satoru stood before him, eyeing him like a spectacle. The years aided their friendship. It’s not what it used to be, and it never will be, but it was nice, and that was enough. Suguru’s unsure of whether he reached in first, but suddenly, the bone crushing hug he was held in became less of a cage and more of a shield.
He needed to learn to cherish the better things in life, to have a more … positive outlook. Well, if you discount his hatred for non-sorcerers.
And now, standing in front of the higher ups once again, the dreadful feeling never gets old, he doesn’t know what to expect.
“You’ve completed your sentence partially.” The words make his ears twitch up. Anger flares in his veins. Satoru stiffens next to him, and immediately Suguru feels like he’s in a trap. Sheepishly, Gojo takes his hands out of his pocket, holding a pair of black manacles in his hands.
“I’ve imbued these with cursed energy. They prevent you from using your cursed energy beyond the level of a grade four sorcerer.” Satoru attempts to rationally explain everything, annoyed that the higher ups are interfering.
“Be thankful to the boy next to you, traitor. If it was up to us, you would have no cursed energy at all. He insisted that should you need to defend yourself; you should be allowed to.” Suguru can feel his jaw clench with each word.
“How long” he supposes he should have seen this coming. Why would they let him use his power freely, not knowing what he could do. He wouldn’t, but the darker parts of him yield to how dangerous they consider him.
“For the foreseeable future. When you’re no longer deemed a threat, you can remove them. You should also know, anytime you activate your technique, I’ll feel it.”
“And lastly, you’ve left your clan in absolute disarray. They’re ever so eager to return to their standing, taking radical approaches.” One of the men goads.
Suguru’s confused. “I’m sure you’ve heard of the fate of the Zenin clan” at the mention of it, he remembers the monkey girl Maki. He smiles to himself, cavalier and condescending, surprised that she was ever capable of doing something like that.
“Well, they’ve agreed to marry you off to one of their own.” Marriage? He whips his head around to Satoru who looks at him with one of helplessness. There’s nothing he could do here, not when he’s already stuck his neck so far out for him.
“To whom?” Suguru’s patience is wearing very thin. He won’t take another condition, the pressure of everything else already making him suffocate. And it’s like the final nail in the coffin when they utter your name. He’s heard of you faintly, lumped in with the likes of Toji and Maki, but somehow, you’re even worse.
While they’ve obtained a semblance of physical prowess, you’re determined to lie in the shit you were born into, and Suguru’s unsure what disgusts him more. The fact that you have no cursed energy, or no intelligence.
The reality sets in like one hundred weights and he can almost feel himself becoming violently ill at the mere thought of being in the same room as you. he’s developed some sort of Pavlovian reaction to non-sorcerers. The thought of them making him viscerally sick.
Satoru can’t help but laugh at him in the car. it almost feels like the old days – he just really hopes Suguru doesn’t kill you.
The first time you meet your husband-to-be is on your wedding day. You’d heard enough monstrous stories to know you weren’t safe. But you couldn’t run. If death was your fate, then you’ll walk towards it with your head held high.
You didn’t believe the stories of his reformation for even one second. Nobody rids themselves of that much enmity in two years. You were everything he couldn’t stand for, and you were going to be his wife.
You stood in your kimono in front of him, and he couldn’t even muster the courage to glance at you. You looked beautiful in your white dress, it’s a shame he wouldn’t spare a glance. But you were free to look at him. the infamous Geto Suguru was a gorgeous man. Inky black hair, half of it tucked into a bun with the other rests down his back.
He was massive, you had to crane your head just to get a good look at him. he could feel your eyes on him, and he kept his gaze ahead. He was in an impossible situation. You brushed past him, and he wanted to spray himself with disinfectant. Rationally, he knew it wasn’t your fault, but he simply couldn’t help himself.
His entire life went to shit because of your kind.
“Is this how it’s always going to be” you asked him. his gaze remained forward- as did yours. You couldn’t bear to look at him. not when you were certain he was going to ruin your life.
“I won’t be good to you.”
“I don’t want to be anything to you. I want you as far away from me as possible.” And good God, the joy in your heart was immeasurable. He didn’t want to hurt you, he wanted to not be near you. happiness bloomed inside you. Moments ago, you made peace with the fact that you’d probably be laying on the cold slab of your new home with your throat slit open.
You would gladly resign yourself to a life of solitude if it meant you could still live.
“You’ll have your wish. Let us try and put on an act for now.” You stifled your emotions, both of your trying your best to not show mutual horror when they mentioned an heir.
Geto Suguru was the worst husband on the planet, and he could not give less of a fuck. He refused to dedicate even a millisecond of his time towards someone like you. it’s like the small understanding you built withered away right in front of both of your eyes.
Three months later, he’s at your throat and you’re blissfully unaware. You wish you could say what soured your relationship, or what little of it you both had, but that’s a losing game.
Geto was livid. When he saw the life you lived, how much of a simpleton you were, he couldn’t believe it. other people, his friends, were dying all to sustain this lifestyle. You needed to die, and it was a damn shame the cuffs bound to his wrists stopped him.
Control yourself. He willed his mind. he’s come too far for his silly wife to get him right back to where he started. He didn’t really want to kill you, he just needed out of your vicinity.
But you were everywhere, your hair, your tools, your fucking perfume. It rotted Geto from the inside out to the point where simple tasks became verbal sparrings.
“Would you want anything for dinner, Suguru?” you were on a first name basis now. You didn’t even consult him. He nitpicked at each and every thing you did. He was your husband. Of course you were going to call him by his name.
“I can’t eat anything you touch. You know this.” you should really stop trying. But you resolved to do everything that’s required of a wife, and if that’s making dinner every night, then so be it. if it were up to you, he would fucking starve. But there was no point in making a slippery slope steeper now was there.
“Asshole” still, you couldn’t stop yourself from muttering the words, it’s like you were on autopilot. And it must have been your unlucky day, because your husband heard you. whipping his head around, he stared you, astounded by your audacity.
You dare insult him? You’re lucky he’s not tearing apart every single inch of you right now. But Suguru’s never claimed to be a nice man, and if you needed a reminder, he was more than willing to give it to you. Standing up, he inched his way towards you. This was one of the first times he’s looked your directly in the eyes, violet hues boring holes into your own.
You’ve never been one for close contact, naturally, you turn your head away from him, but your husband doesn’t like it when people don’t listen to him. grabbing a hold of the paper he was reading, he tucks in under your chin, lifting your gaze back up to his.
You wore a defiant look and if it were up to him, he would wipe it off you in a heartbeat. “Repeat that.” it wasn’t a request. Suguru doesn’t request for things. It was a demand, one that went straight to your core. His authoritative nature spoke to you in a way you couldn’t understand.
But you were never one to back down. “I said you’re an ass-“ you felt the familiar pressure of cursed energy before you saw his eyes begin to glint. It was barely a flicker, if anything a testament to how well controlled his cursed energy was, but for someone like you, it felt like the weight of a thousand tonnes.
He had your back to wall, and it was this moment when Suguru really saw you. You were so gorgeous, it only pissed him off more. How dare you look like that and be one of those. Your eyes looked up at him with such a helpless glance , he almost lost control of himself.
“Apologise.” If you thought he was ever going to let you go without stripping you of your dignity, you were sorely mistaken. But you knew when to accept defeat. You weren’t going to provoke him.
“I’m sorry, Suguru.” He regards you once, up and down in such disgust. If only you knew its self-hatred for how much he liked hearing the apology slip from your lips.
“Your kind never knows how to behave. Go wash your hands – twice, and wear gloves.” Every single bone in your body was telling you to slap him across the face, but you had your wits about you. You can’t lose control with someone so volatile.
So, you made him a meal, washed your hands thrice for good measure and presented it to him an hour later. The man before you was an enigma, and as you were preparing his meal, you realised. No book you buried your nose in could be half as interesting as Geto Suguru.
You offered him the plate, watched him reluctantly take a bite, almost like you poisoned it. That’s when you decided to drop your first invitation. “Being able to practice jujutsu doesn’t mean your life has an intrinsic value over mine, Suguru.” He watched you peculiarly, wondering why you were saying this.
Were you looking for another argument? “Have a good night. I hope you’re sleeping better than I am here.” with that, you turned on your heels and walked up the stairs towards your bedroom.
Of course you had separate bedrooms. Of course he hasn’t touched you with a ten-foot pole. Your fingers have had to do the trick for all these years of your life, and you presume it’s going to stay that way. You assumed you were quite younger than him. He was around twenty-nine. Surely he wasn’t a virgin like you were.
It didn’t matter anyways. He wouldn’t fuck you if he was getting paid to. In the back of your mind, you were hoping he would come after you and offer a profound rebuttal. You really weren’t goading him – you wanted to understand your husband. Maybe you were more depraved than you like to admit. The thought that he massacred a village in his youth doesn’t scare you in the slightest. On the contrary, the macabre nature of it all intrigued you.
You were certain you could dismantle and deconstruct each of his arguments. This wasn’t a noble act from you. You didn’t care for making your husband ‘see the light’. You just wanted to win this argument you started in your head. Mind you, Suguru hadn’t even consented to joining in.
Geto is, as much as he hates to admit it, interested in you. He pegged you as the brainless type, but your far from it. Even if your ideology is completely wrong, at least you were open to logical arguments. He didn’t sleep any better than you that night, tossing and turning to try and figure out his wife.
Eventually he came to the simplest conclusion he could. If he could make you see that you were indeed a brainless monkey, maybe you would behave yourself and not step out of line. The thought had him so relaxed, he drifted right off to bed.
It was decided then, your ever so benevolent husband was going to help you understand, since you clearly didn’t get it yourself.
The first repartee emerged just as you tended to a wound after you cut yourself. He watched you in awe, how could you be rendered useless from such a small cut. In your defence, it was quite large, but to Suguru, it may as well have been a papercut.
“This is the life you think has as much value as mine?” His voice, serpentine, creeps up from behind you and coils around your spine. Excitement almost has you spinning around in a frenzy, but you calm yourself. You’ve been biding your time for a while now.
Turning around slowly, you level him with a pensive look, stunned at the sight of him lazily leaning on the countertop. The kitchen island separates the two of you, and the tension between you two could pierce your skin. Your husband is a gorgeous man, glasses perched low on the strong bridge of his nose. He wears a simple shirt, starkly different from his usual attire.
“Good afternoon to you too.” you utter as you take a seat opposite him, holding a tissue to your wound. Holding up the wound, you both watch as a glob of blood trickles down your thumb. The action is strangely hedonistic to Suguru, he thinks as he forces himself to look away.
“You bleed the same colour as me Suguru. At the end of the day, we’re both just humans.”
“You don’t get it.” he scoffs “You could never survive the things I could.” You heed his words, nodding along.
“You’re absolutely right. But is that a sin worth death?” your words are earnest, intending to make him understand, but all he does is shake his head. It’s sad, you can see something deeper here, some type of pain he holds close to his chest.
“I’m fucking tired of the burden.” He says your name, conveying the frustrations he’s kept inside for so long. The conversation takes him back to ten years ago, in throes of his depression. It felt like the weight of the world on his shoulders then, and it doesn’t feel any different now.
You watch his back as he walks away from you, up the stairs until he’s out of your line of sight, and all you can focus on is the ache in your heart. How could you kid yourself into thinking you’d come out of this unscathed. Saving your husband might take every inch of your soul as penance.
A cloud surrounds Suguru for the coming days, times where he struggles to even get out of bed, and it feels like your fault. Every time he emerges from his room, your eyes, wallowing in pity, trails him all the way until he returns to it.
Suguru’s mind is war. How dare you make sense to him? And why are you looking at them with those eyes. Full of pity. Its fucking disgusting. You, a filthy monkey who can’t even use jujutsu, feels sorry for him? The manacles around his wrist burn against his cursed energy, and he feels like he’s going insane.
There’s no way around it. The years in the institution did little to dispel his hatred, and the time spent in your presence has somehow reinforced it tenfold. He doesn’t understand. He could pick up a knife off the shelf this second, ram it into your neck and let the life drain out of your eyes.
And he can’t understand why. He feels like a slave. To whom or what, he can’t discern, but if there’s one thing he can’t stand, it’s the feeling of being controlled. Not when the taste of liberation sat so sweetly on his tongue. It has him irate, unnerved. Its why in the dead of night he’s flinging open his door, grabbing hold of a knife and storming into your room without abandon.
He could use his cursed energy, crush you between the wall, but Satoru would know, and that wasn’t something he was willing to do.
Shock has you rooted to your spot. In an instant, he has you pressed against the wall, blade to your throat while one hand comes up to grip your hair to give him better access. The angle has your head bent awkwardly, the position so precarious embarrassment coats your features. You’re wearing nothing but a long-sleeved shirt and panties, while he’s shirtless. His body presses against yours and the heat emanating off him has you sick.
This is the first time he’s touched you and he’s set you alight. Suguru’s heaving, barely able to control himself. But something ebbs at him from the confines of his mind. It tells him to give you a chance. Your breaths mix as one, the air around you becoming more charged with each exhale.
“Give me a reason to let you live.” He speaks softly, lowly. His cursed energy is active, you can feel it. its barely anything, the manacles probably wouldn’t detect it, but to you, it knocks the air out of your lungs. You’ve always been pragmatic, problem solving in the face of something difficult.
The man before you was no different. If he was going to keep you alive, you were going to have to keep him interested.
“Non-sorcerers don’t actively choose to create cursed spirits. I-it’s a by-product of a feeling you’ve experienced many times.” You wheeze out, and his eyes gloss over with something akin to desire. It’s like the air between you shifts. Suguru hates that you understood exactly what he wanted from you.
“I don’t hate your kind for the pain they face. I hate that my blood is spilt to enable this cycle of endless suffering.” It’s a struggle to keep your thoughts coherent amidst his violence. It’s so loud, all the anger and hurt, it speaks to you, coils around your spine turning you cold. You want to fix him. You want to see him.
“You talk of endless suffering like your cause was a noble one. How many children would be suffering endlessly through the pain of death because you chose to kill them.” your heart is racing with all the hypotheticals. Your hand, tentative and experimental, comes over his one closed over the handle. He jolts at the contact of your skin, the blade nicking at your skin.
Anger shrouds his features at your words, and he finds himself lowering the blade yet tugging on your hair to see the singular droplet of blood drip down your neck. He mulls over your words, and all it seems like is that he was angrier than before. Were you making sense or not?
“My wife believes my suffering is acceptable so long as its invisible.” His words are pure venom, and he spits it out like his tongue is on fire. “Where was the care when it was me?” you can help but laugh haughtily at his response. You look Suguru in the eyes, truly trying to dissect him.
“They never should have let a genocidal man like you out.” you whisper in awe, staring up at him like he plucked the moon for you, like a case study. It was revolting.
“And you never should have married me, wife.” His words are a promise of retribution, perhaps something far more sinister, and the air leaves your lungs in one fell swoop when he dips his head down and flattens his tongue against your neck to collect your blood. The metallic taste awakens something primal he never knew he had.
The action goes straight to your core as your legs close together to keep you grounded. He doesn’t speak, reaching back up and holding his open mouth over your face. The first droplet hits the bridge of your nose, creating a pathway down to your chin. His next words are enunciated by his iron grip on your hair.
“You taste as disgusting as you look.” Suguru wipes his mouth with his hand as he walks out of the door, and you don’t snap out of your trance until the slam of his door brings you back to reality.
Blindsided is the only word that could describe how you’ve been feeling these next few weeks. Maybe it was silly of you, but it never even occurred to you that Suguru had that much vitriol in his heart. You’d heard distant stories, but you guess you’d compartmentalised them, discarded them after seeing the tame-ish man in front of you.
That was a mistake. One that you won’t make again. Reducing him to genocidal man with radical ideologies wasn’t enough. Not when he embodied them, lived by them and internalised it. Your husband was a man blinded by hatred.
The atmosphere between you weighs differently. Its heavier. With what- you can’t understand, but you’re sure he feels it too. Suguru would be lying if he said you had no effect on him. To be truthful, ever since he tasted your blood, he’s different. He’s never had an uncontrollable libido, surprisingly enough. Recently, in your presence, he feels insatiable.
Watching you walk by him, provoking him even if you don’t mean to festers nothing but anger inside his jagged heart. Because he can’t get himself to look away from you. The thought that you’ve managed to entice him is something entirely foreign, and completely unwelcomed.
One day has him irate, needing to do something. Even when he’s out, taking a walk to clear his head, you’re at the forefront of his mind. Its suffocating. He bursts through the door with a scowl, ready to spew some type of filth that would put him in a position like last time when he finds you sitting on the couch, smiling.
Not at anyone. At Satoru.
You look like he hung the fucking moon up for you with the stars in your eyes. And he was right. You seriously were enjoying yourself. For all the stories you’d heard about Gojo being the strongest, you thought you’d be bowing your head in subservience. His cursed energy was off the charts, you felt him before he even knocked. But he was nice. A smiling kind face amidst all the negativity you’ve been surrounded by.
Satoru’s intrigued. He understood this was never going to be a love match, but he was still surprised that Suguru hasn’t killed you yet. Maybe you were more interesting than you let on. And the second you opened your mouth; you proved him right. you were beyond wise, kind and beautiful. How on earth have you not lulled him to your bed.
He almost bursts out laughing at the messages Suguru would send, begging him for a way out. They’ve subsided for now, but from the angry look on his friend’s face, Satoru’s expecting one tonight.
“Welcome home.” the tension in the room is broken by you, even though you wondered why you even tried. The two men are in some sort of showdown it appears, and you’re not slightly interested.
“Suguru, how come you’ve never invited me over before? Your wife’s cooking is amazing.” And Suguru feels like he’s been stabbed. Why should he care that you’re feeding another man. He tries to explain it to himself immediately. He’s angry the same way he would be if someone went into his room and meddled things about. It’s his property.
“She doesn’t cook much.” You catch on immediately. You can understand the game Gojo’s playing, and it’s not going to hurt you to play along.
“We just had dinner together, I left your portion in the fridge.” In the time you’ve known your husband you’ve come to understand at least one thing ; he hates feeling discarded. You’d be stupid to not capitalise off that. You watch the way his clenches in anger, and something akin to arousal flares in your veins.
“Thank you” the enigma, always keeping you on your toes. When has he ever thanked you for cooking for him? And now, he decides is the perfect time to throw you. Suguru walks towards the kitchen, promising to make you pay for allowing someone other than him to invade your space.
Satoru’s not far behind him, walking in after excusing himself from you. You decide to retire to your room, content with the temporary chaos you’ve caused.
“Don’t tell me you’re jealous” his best friend goads, and Suguru grits his teeth. Why the fuck would he be jealous?
“I’m not. I don’t want her. I’m annoyed that you have no fucking respect.” Satoru makes a nonsensical snort, leaning on the island and crossing his arms.
“Seems like she’s managed to speak some sense into you then, huh? You never had a care in the world for non-sorcerers. Not when she’s your wife though.”
“it’s because she’s my wife that I’m not ripping her head clean off. Don’t push me.”
“Well, you’ll hate hearing what I have to say then.” The manacles glint at his words and Suguru barely even realises it. Satoru’s voice is serious, too serious. It makes the hairs on his friends back stand up.
“They want an heir from you.” and Suguru’s truly confused. This whole plan, it’s preposterous, downright delusional. It was all meant to be a show, and in the back of his head he figured he’d be able to find a way out this sham of a marriage. But he can’t decipher where the feeling of desire emanates from as he imagines pumping you full of his seed and seeing you bare his children.
They would likely inherit his cursed technique, and your wits weren’t… unacceptable. That was if he was being forced.
In a sense, he’s almost grateful the excuse came from the higher-ups. He doesn’t think he could stomach touching you otherwise. But the true thought of having you so pliant, underneath him, writhing for everything he has to give you has him delirious.
Is he really changing? Your words make logical sense, but so do his. He doesn’t like you, in fact he fucking hates you, but he’s starting to want you just the same. The realisation knocks the breath out of his lungs. He’s attracted to a non-sorcerer.
“What’s going to happen if I refuse.”
“I’ll do it.” Satoru’s eyes widen of their own accord, and it doesn’t take him long to burst out laughing. Suguru thinks he’s doing a good job of playing off what he wants, but desire is tangible. Palpable. It soaks the air until it sinks into your skin, clawing its ways into your veins.
He could feel it in the other room. Suguru wants you just as much as you want him. it’s just a matter of how he was going to go about it. The epiphany comes to him long after Satoru’s left. He sits quietly, eating while you’re locked away in your room. You have no idea about this. He could make you a desperate bitch in heat all because you want him. This was about necessity for him, he convinced himself. But it was wanton need for you, and he’ll make sure you felt every inch as humiliated as you made him feel today before he ever lets you have his dick.
The first time he touches you, you’re unsuspecting. Tension and desire had intertwined so thoroughly as the days dredged on it was hard to tell who wanted who more. You were certain it was you, Suguru still so caught up in his hatred. You figured he’d never desire you the way you did him, but he was still just a man. It all felt very surface level to you, at least from his side.
You couldn’t understand what attracted you more, his mind or his body. If you’d met under more organic circumstances, you were sure you’d end up beneath him within the night. Its thoughts like these, wondering what he’d do to you when you’re confined in a room and the pretences are dropped that has you writhing. Clamping a hand over your mouth while you furiously rub at your clit in the shower.
You’re grateful the water runs loud, the moans threatening to slip past would most definitely be heard by him. Obscene ideas flood your mind, how he’d spread you, what kind of face he’d make when he sunk himself into you for the first time. You were sure he was massive; you could see his print when he’d walk around the house in joggers. it’s like he knew what he was doing, knew that he had an effect on you.
The hand around your naked waist drags you out of your mind with gasp. Instantly, it’s like your body’s alight, and you whip around. Or try to. Your husband’s firm grip pulling your back towards his chest has you rooted to your spot.
“Keep your eyes and hands on the wall.” It’s a quiet order, reeking of dominance. He’s not asking. You can feel every single ridge of his hard spine as his cock settles in the curve of your back. You can feel how big and hard he is already. It has you buzzing in excitement, you do as your told.
It’s like your submission calls directly to Suguru’s sadistic nature. He wants to bruise each inch of your flawless skin. One of his hands move to wrap to around your throat as his other dips lower.
“Who were you thinking of when you’re touching yourself?” a balloon of embarrassment inflates in your chest as you hold your breath, refusing to answer. This is so unlike you. You’re usually so quick witted, always pushing out a snarky remark. But he has you speechless, and the only thing that can seem to leave your lips is the truth.
“You.” he chuckles, and it reverberates against your back. The hand on your waist dips down to cup your dripping pussy, eliciting a moan out of you. Its almost like it makes him angrier, more aggressive. Suguru can’t bear to look at your face. He doesn’t want to see the way your face contorts in pleasure – it would make him break. Give in to every sick and twisted thought in his mind.
That wasn’t a liberty he could afford right now.
But still, he can’t stop the two fingers spreading your lips open as the hold on your throat makes you delirious. A low whine escapes as you realise you’re losing yourself in the pleasure, when he hasn’t done anything. He rubs lazy circles against your clit as he speaks.
“You’re a dirty girl” His tone is so much lighter than the weight of his words. “Dripping all over my hand when you’re supposed to hate me.” It’s like he’s appalled that you don’t hate him as much as you should. Its humiliating. Giving yourself up to someone who knows he doesn’t deserve it, but you can’t stop the honest truth spilling out.
“i’ve never hated you. You hated me, yet you can’t stop yourself from barging into my shower and fingering my pussy.” He doesn’t even realise it, subconsciously his hands dipped to your entrance, pushing in two fingers slowly.
“I’ll always hate you.” he doesn’t give you a second to breathe before pumping his fingers to the hilt, curling them against that familiar bundle of nerves. The sensation has you lifting onto your tiptoes in a frenzy, moaning out loud. “Fuck!” Nobody has ever had you like this, ever been this deep in you before.
The hand around your neck moves to press against your back, pushing you into an arch. He doesn’t let you breathe before slapping the flesh of your ass. For someone who hates you, Suguru can’t keep his hands off of your body. Not when you’re so receptive, so sensitive to his touch. he doesn’t relent, lazily dipping his fingers in and out of you tantalisingly slow. It has you keeling, arching your ass out to beg him for more.
Dignity be damned, you wanted him to feel you, in every way. “Suguru, please” you whine for him. But he can’t help himself. He would never be satisfied unless you calmed the sizzling feeling of betrayal in his heart. The feeling that convinces him that touching you like this is wrong. A small part of him acknowledges the irrationality of it, but he needs to hear it from your lips.
He wants to keep touching you, “Tell me what I want to hear” it leaves his lips almost pleadingly. The words make your heart drop. You can barely think clearly in the heat of it all. You wish he would have asked when you weren’t so drunk on his fingers, the pleasure fogging your mind so deliciously. You wrack your brain regardless, eager to keep him where he is.
“I-I fuck! I can’t” his slow movements draw to a stop despite your begging. Suguru needs this. Needs you to prove you’re better than the rest of your kind. That you can understand him, but still formulate your own arguments. He’s knuckle deep, unmoving as he waits for you.
“Y-you’ve let yourself be directed by grief all these years, but the existence of Gojo places you in a contradiction” he digests your words as you catch your breath, and again you’ve pulled him into your orbit too easily. Your words have him pondering, mindlessly working you again, but not missing how the tension in your spine dissipates. Your pleasure speaks to his soul, and he wants to control it, to deconstruct it and mould it so that it only belongs to him, but he chooses to mull your words over instead.
“Keep speaking.” He orders over your moans, and you struggle to keep your words coherent.
“Having someone-ahh! Having someone stronger than you reject your plans shatters your philosophy.” You’re a mess, opening your mouth to finish your sentence when he does it for you.
“Because power grants moral authority” he whispers, astounded by how cleanly you’ve opposed where he’s coming from. Satoru’s the strongest, yet he uses his power to help people which ultimately deconstructs his own world view. The air leaves his chest in one fell swoop. His thoughts run rampant, struggling to form a cohesive rebuttal, but it no longer makes sense to him. Even worse, you’re making sense.
Has he really been harbouring such a narrow-minded view? Equal parts desire and anger flurries through him at how easy it was for you. But even if you can dismantle his logic, you’ll never be able to dispel the hatred in his heart.
He’ll cling to it, make it so that it’s all he has left. Because what have all these years been for otherwise. It had to have meant something.
The way your cunt squeezes around his fingers pulls him back into your and he speeds up his pace, wishing he could see the way your face contorts at the feel of him.
You moan without abandon, relishing in the fact that he must have understood you. You didn’t care about how loud you were, and each sound went straight to Suguru’s head. A carnal urge of possession runs through him. It has him asking questions he never would, questions he never cared about when he fucked other women.
“Who’s had you like this?” You must be making him go mad. It’s a primitive side of him he lets out, allowing the most egregious of words to filter through. He wants to be the only one to hear you moan, feel you come on his fingers.
“Too many to count” you scoff at just how ridiculous it all is. Why would he care about this?. He doesn’t get to ask you that. Not when you’ve been invisible for the past five months. But the coil in your stomach is about to snap, and you’d do just about anything to not have him edge you again.
“I’m not asking again.” you try to keep your mouth shut, the truth honestly feeling a bit embarrassing, but nothing ever stays buried with the man in front of you, especially when he yanks your orgasm away from you. Right when you’re on the brink of it for the second time, your lips move of their own accord.
“Just you.” hunger, raw and unabashed courses through his veins at your words and he loathes every second of it. It shouldn’t make his chest bloom, his ego intensify. But it does. So he gives into wanting you wholly.
“How have you had yourself?” he asks. Your breaths come out fast, the hot water of the shower head soaking the both of you. You want to touch him, but the last thing you want is your orgasm taken away from your again, so you keep your hands plastered against the wall.
“My fingers don’t reach as deep as yours.” Its like you’re trying to make him cum in his pants with your filthy mouth. He can’t say he doesn’t love it either. A condescending laugh envelops you, cold and prideful. You might have given enough ammo to talk down to you for the rest of your life.
You’re so wet, dripping down his wrist and your thighs when he decides to keep going. His fingers are fast, deftly brushing against your g-spot with each of his thrusts. “Fuck, Suguru!”
“Don’t ever try lie to me, not when you’re coming on my fingers like this” it’s so patronising, so supercilious it has your limbs locking, the high rushing over you in a frenzy. You’re practically clawing at the walls as he laughs at you. it doesn’t go unnoticed by him. You love it just as much as he does. Twitching, you attempt to come down from your high as he watches your every move.
He removes his fingers, taken over with the urge to taste you, and despite the better part of him, he tentatively places his fingers in his mouth, wrapping his tongue around you. The fire in his veins is takes over him, and he feels insatiable. He’s just had you like this, and it’s not enough for him.
You’re heaving as you turn around, the heat of the water making you look freshly fucked out. “I want to return the favour.” You whisper to him, certain he’s heard you, and he looks like his last thread of control is about to snap.
“I don’t want you to touch me.” you scoff at his words, rolling your eyes.
“But you can touch me? Taste me?” you thought he’d be embarrassed with your words, if anything it has the opposite effect. Taking initiative, you move to step towards him, wondering to see how far you can push him.
Your touch starts featherlight, skimming against his navel with your fingernails, dipping lower. You watch each treacherous expression on his face, how he’s leaking arousal and desire, despite how much he tells himself he doesn’t want it.
Your hand wrapped around the base of his dick has him feral, a groan erupting out of him as he slams his forearms on the tiles you’re braced against, effectively caging you in. the distance between you and him shortens with each exhale, until you’re sharing air.
You stroke him base to tip, thumbing his slit as he stares at you in hunger. No words are exchanged, the simple shlick! shlick! of his cock resonating in the room. Wanton need coils in your spine as his breath fans in your face.
“Tell me to stop touching you.” You goad him, heart soaring to new heights when you’re met with silence. He can’t tell you to stop when all he wishes is for you to keep going. His cock twitches at the way you eye it with need, your thighs squeezing together.
“You want me in you.” he speaks against your mouth as you pick up your pace, stroking him faster. You nod at his words, the weight of him suddenly a thousand times heavier in your hand.
“Use your words.” He watches you, ever so eager to please him and he feels every sick and twisted desire that you feel.
“I want your cock inside me, Suguru.” The candour of your admission has him releasing a breath he didn’t know he was holding. “Keep stroking me.” his mouth moves in time with yours, so close you can almost taste him. You could tell he was close, the groans leaving him growing throatier with each passing second.
“Cum on me.” you must have lost your sense, or the hot steams made you delusional. But right now, you want nothing more than for him to cum on your skin. Your words have him releasing spurts of hot cum across your stomach, some reaching your breasts.
The water washes away most of it, and you curse yourself internally. You don’t miss the way he uses his thumb to collect a rivulet dripping down your chest. He brings it up to your mouth, but he doesn’t need to ask you for you to understand. Your lips wrap around his digit without reserve, tasting him thoroughly. A heinous moan erupts from your throat as you savour the taste of him, and he watches you devour him whole.
The clarity hits the both of you at the same time, the shower water turning off as he takes a step back. He steps out without a second thought and all you can do is feel. The weight of his presence leaves an impression that lingers, one that the heat of the shower won’t rid you of. It wasn’t like you to get so lost in something, to submit entirely to desire, and you didn’t want to let it happen again.
Well, you did want him in your bed, but you didn’t want to be senselessly babbling at his whim, but the feeling of his fingers rubbing against your most sensitive spot has you reeling, aching for more.
You reach an impasse over the coming days, the tension between the two of you so noticeable, it has Satoru almost cackling when you invite him over. They converse as you prepare the food, and he’d be stupid to not notice how frustrated, how not taken care of you look.
Suguru’s doing no better, his balls feel so heavy against his pants yet you both avoid each other like the plague. “How’s heir-making coming along?” Gojo asks, watching you stiffen. Suguru rolls his eyes as Gojo bursts out laughing in his face. he doesn’t get it at all. You both want each other, so what’s wrong in indulging in the pleasure of it all.
“Well, I guess nothing’s coming then” he fills in the blanks himself, giggling at every word. “I mean, I can always take care of her for you, she’s beautiful.” At that, Suguru whips his head around to his best friend. Rage settles in his chest, some of it seeping to the surface.
“You wanna fuck my wife?”
“I mean if you ain’t-“ He knows Gojo’s fucking around, but it doesn’t feel like that. he curses lowly, looking away into the distance.
“I just hate her kind, and it’s not something that’s going to go away. But I want her anyways, and I can’t navigate that.” Satoru laughs, again and Suguru’s over it. he’s asking for genuine advice, and he gets left in the dark in return.
“I’m sorry, I don’t wanna piss you off, but it’s just so weird.” He tilts his head, studying Geto like he’s a circus act.
“Do you think you need to make sweet love to her? Kiss her softly and dry her tears? That’s the last thing she wants from someone like you. The fact that she even wants you is astonishing. You know her, you know she’s not stupid. She knows what kind of man you are. She wants your anger.”
“She’d fucking break if she felt all my anger. It feels like a harsh wind would even kill her.” Satoru leans back, smirking to himself and it pisses Suguru off. It’s like he knows something Suguru doesn’t. Satoru doesn’t say much the rest of the evening, quietly eating his food and seeing himself out.
He turns to Suguru in the doorway, taking in his best friend. He wore a simple black shirt and sweatpants, but he remembers a time where he wouldn’t change out of his robes. You’ve made him more comfortable.
“I bet she’ll have you in her bed by the end of the week.” is all Suguru is left with. The idea of being in your bed, sinking into you for the first, being the only person to have you calls to him.
But he doesn’t know how to give in. so he doesn’t. the silent treatment between the two of you continues, the both of you moving on with your daily lives. You weren’t necessarily taking jabs at each other any longer, but you didn’t seek him out and neither him, you.
It didn’t do anything to change the way you wanted him though, if anything, watching him from afar allowed you to appreciate all the small things about him. How clean he was, how he forced himself to go out of his way to be inconsiderate towards you, even when it was clearly embedded in his nature.
It was cute really, how far he was going to sell to himself that he hated you. But it wasn’t working, not when he was searching for you every time you left his line of sight, and not when he traced the outline of your figure in your pyjamas.
But he was going to have to settle without your presence for tonight as you made your way out the door. You needed some time to unwind. Go out, have some fun because it was getting suffocating. The air was tantalisingly thick a gust of wind could make you cum.
Usually, he never gave a shit about where you ended up, but tonight was different. Tonight, he wanted you to stay. But you couldn’t see into his mind to know this, and you were going to waste your time deciphering the looks he gave you, so you walked out the door.
Suguru couldn’t stop glaring at you. Why were you wearing that and why hasn’t he seen it on you before this. the dress you wore fitted you perfectly, accentuating all the right features and all he could think about was all the other people who’d be able to admire it all.
Its times like these where the frustration coils into his veins. The logical part of him acknowledges it’s his fault for not making a move, but the louder, more unhinged side harbours anger at the fact that you’re holding out on him so well.
You’re supposed to want him like he wants you, so why can’t he feel like that. The hours fly by as he sits on the couch and thinks about all the decisions that lead here. It’s clear to him now, just how much he needs whatever you do to him. You need to be punished for your audacity. And he needs to give in.
The resolution is liberating, easing the burden on his shoulders. He can finally let go of the breath he didn’t know he was holding. He was going to have you. In every way he wanted.
Your night was fun enough, but nothing is going to lift your spirits the way you know he could. It’s annoying, the way you’ve gone your whole life without it, but the second he showed you how sweet it could taste you’re unable to think about anyone other than him.
The way his fingers felt inside of you, how they moulded to you perfectly, it’s almost like he was made for you. But you were more than willing to wait. You knew the best things took time. you were going to let him come to you.
You walk through the door resolved, ready to not let him break you down again, to reduce you to your needs when the vision of him sitting on the couch has you stilling. He’s never up this late usually, and you can’t help but feel the hairs on your body stand up. Something’s … different.
“Why are you still awake?” you curse yourself internally as your breath comes out choppy. He doesn’t give you the opportunity to dwell on it with his response.
“I want to ruin you.” the admission almost has you buckling at the knees. Its everything you’ve been waiting for. But you can’t lose control right now, taking a deep breath and ignoring the way you throb at his words.
“How do you want me, Suguru” you exhale, watching him.
“On my lap.” Your eyes instinctively move to his bulge, and you see he’s already half-hard. You don’t waste time, calmy walking over towards him. You try to paint the illusion that you’re in control here when you both know that’s further from the truth.
Hands come up to Suguru’s shoulders as you straddle his thick thighs, settling yourself down on his clothed cock. You don’t move, and he wouldn’t let you. His hands come up to the junction of your ass and thighs, feeling you, not moving quite yet.
His eyes roam every inch of your body, and he pulls you impossibly closer to him, grinding you. Your hands find expanse in his hair as you exchange breaths.
“You want this?” you ask through a moment of doubt.
“You feel me?” you nod against him. “My pain?” he asks. “I want to make you hurt.” it’s an honest confession, one that he uses to give you the option out right now, because there’s no going back after this.
Maybe you’re sick; all it does is awaken a hunger in you that you didn’t know existed. “I want your wrath on my skin.”Heat blossoms in his chest at your words as he regards you. You really want what he can give. And he’ll make sure to give to you.
“On your knees.” His order goes straight to your core, and you move to obey him. it wasn’t in your nature to listen without objection, but tonight, you want him to have it. You need him to feel your skin on his and enjoy it for what it really is.
You sit between his legs, level with his cock as you look up at him. this is how he likes you most. He thinks to himself. sitting there, waiting for him. His hand comes up to caress your cheek, watching the way you lean into it like a calico cat.
“Smell me” its depraved and he doesn’t know where it comes from, but when your lidded eyes hold his gaze as you lean in and inhale deeply, Suguru thinks he might cum right there. He needs your mouth now.
He moves the waistband of his pants down, unveiling himself to you again. His dick flings against his stomach, and the sight of it was enough to make your mouth water. The closer inspection almost has you moaning out loud, the sheer hunger overtaking you.
Thick with veins weaved around his length. His balls lie heavy against the seat, full of his seed. His tip, crimson and angry was leaking precum. You watch the precum gather at his mushroom tip, a thin milky glob travelling down him. The hand that stroked your cheek moved to weave its way into your hair, his other one stroking himself.
“Open” he doesn’t tell you twice, and you don’t need him to, listening to his words entirely. He moves slowly, letting you eat inch by inch but not stopping when you gag around him. He said he wanted you to feel him, so he keeps going. “Breathe through your nose.” He lets out as he slowly eases in. your eyes water as you struggle to keep him in your vision.
Listening to his words, you breathe through your nose, watching him continue until your nose was flush against his pubic bone. “This is what you wanted, right?” your hands come up his thighs, holding onto him as he speaks to you. His honey voice is sickeningly sweet as he speaks down to you, watching you humiliate yourself as you try to not gag.
He watched you through hooded eyes, promising to train your throat another time as he slowly let your head move back, watching the drool drip all over your mouth. the idea that he’s the only person who’ll ever have you choking on him, he’s the first and the last man you’ll ever feel like this has him so hard. He needs to have his cum down your throat. He wants to watch you swallow all of him and beg for more.
Raising yourself again, you take a hold of his cock, putting the head into your mouth, licking his tip while stroking him. You took him deeper and deeper, eager to please him. He watched as you worked him, a light blush dusting his cheeks. A moan slipped through his lips, going straight to your pussy.
His sounds were doing something to you, casting a spell and lulling you into his trap. You couldn’t hold yourself anymore, and your hand slipped between your legs to rub your clit through your panties. You try to work him, but he doesn’t let you, pulling out and slapping his cock on your face lightly. “You feel good when I say so.”
“Sugu, please” you drag out the words, and the nickname rolling off your lips has him feral. He wants to be the one to give you everything you need. It wasn’t your pleasure anymore and he wasn’t doing it for you, he was doing it for himself.
“Suck” your pleas quieted, focusing on him instead as you took him in, tears slipping freely as he hit the back of your throat. Just like he did, you worked past the resistance, not stopping until you could your nose was against his pubic bone. “You ready for me?” you knew what he was asking as you nodded, letting his grip on your hair tighten.
He held on to you like an anchor, pistoning his hips upwards into your throat as you gagged around him. You let him use you, took everything he gave you with delight. You watched in pleasure as his brows creased in concentration as he worked himself. Knowing you’re the one to make him feel like this – the woman who he refused to touch – has you reeling.
Suguru’s close, and he doesn’t need to tell you to swallow him for you to understand what he wants from you. you stick your tongue out, allowing him to shoot ribbons of his cum along it, painting you his. You worked dutifully waiting to swallow everything he could give you.
Your chest heaves as you attempt to catch your breath, but Suguru doesn’t plan on leaving you like this. pulling up his pants, he doesn’t ask for permission, lifting your over his shoulder to make way to your room. Anticipation has your heart racing. You’ve been waiting for this day for so long.
He throws you on your bed, using a stool from your vanity to sit down and rake you in. Your husband’s legs are spread, giving him space to stretch out as his elbows rest on his thighs.
Craning your head towards him, you watch as he assesses you taking in every pretty feature.
“Strip.” The one word that comes out of his lips has you cold. He’s gonna rip you apart, you think. But aren’t you worse off for wanting it all and more? The thought of it sets you alight, and you welcome your destiny with open arms.
Suguru juts his chin towards the spot in front of him, watching you intently, waiting for you to put on a show. He watches you give yourself to him, reaching up to slip your dress off, letting it hit the floor softly. You stand before him, dressed simply in your bra and panties, letting him admire you.
You want the attention; you want the reaction. And he knows that, its why he doesn’t let you meet the heavy silence enshrouding the room. “All mine, yeah?” he says, eyes honed in on your boobs and the way they move as you catch your breath.
“Make it all yours.” You don’t know what comes over you, speaking like that. But you want to feel like you’re his through the actions, not just the words. Unclasping your bra, you watch him as it hits the floor, your nipples rising to stiffened peaks under the cold air.
He’s a true pervert, tutting when you move to grab the waistband of your panties.“ Make it good for me” taking the initiative, you slowly turn around, bending over and slipping the fabric off you letting your ass come into view.
Geto adjusts himself, spreading his legs as he follows your ass like a man entranced, absentmindedly holding his hand out for your panties. Humiliation coats your features when you hand them over, watching the way your husband thumbs the damp spot before he shoves it into his pocket. He wants to keep this version of you even in the future. The way you smell, the way you feel. The you that wants him so loudly, the you who welcomes his pain.
It’s like he can’t hold himself anymore, abruptly standing from his seat and stalking towards you. You stand your ground, unwilling to waver until your feet hit the bed frame but still you refuse to fall over. His chest moulds with yours as featherlight touches grace your hips.
You shudder, leaning into him. you don’t know what to do with yourself, so you let him touch you however he wants. The hands on your hips move towards your ass, light squeezing the subtle flesh as you gasp out in his arms. he doesn’t say a word, simply assessing each expression on your face.
The rings on his fingers are cold, in dichotomy with his warm touch that burns from within, and you feel him everywhere when his hand comes to wrap around your throat perfectly. You’ve never felt more alive than in his hands.
He uses his grip to tilt your head upward, so you can stare into his violet hues. He peers intensely, the sweet timbre of his voice making you weak. ”Open your mouth” you listen immediately, sticking your tongue out in anticipation as he leans over you and spits onto your wet muscle.
You watch as it trails down his lips, noticing how his eyes gloss over as you swallow what he gives you. Suguru can’t handle himself, his dick is rock hard, and you’re making it worse. Your complete submission, your desire. He can smell you from here.
He spins you around, the soft flesh of your ass digging into his clothed cock and his hand comes to move between your legs. His middle finger dips slightly through your slip, feeling your wetness and the touch has you arching your back against him .
Your arm comes to wrap around his neck, dragging you closer to him until you feel his breath hot on your neck. His lips ghost your ear, tongue teasingly slipping past to lick you. “Suguru” you whine, needing him now more than ever, but he doesn’t bite. He doesn’t give in.
He takes his time with you, moving his massive hands to cup your pussy, squeezing slightly. You moan, head falling against him as he lets you feel the weight of him. He wants you to know its him who has you like this, that is him who owns you.
“Whose pussy is this?” he lets out against your ear, sucking your earlobe into his mouth. He doesn’t know what’s come over him, but he’s obsessed. He wants every single inch of you to devour.
“Yours” it’s like your accustomed to it. Like you came to terms with a long time ago the way you say it. He loves it.
“You gonna let me use you, huh?” You don’t wait to nod against him, and he can’t stop the condescending smile on his lips. “My smart, silly wife. So eager to give herself to me.” his ramblings have you hot and embarrassed, but you don’t want his grip to leave you.
You were made for it, the way you fit into him. but you have the same effect on him. reaching behind you, you cup him through his panths, feeling the weight of him again. “I want this in me” you whisper, breathlessly stepping into the lion’s den “please”.
You’re met with silence, and its wholly unnerving. You’re about to spin around to see the expression on your husband’s face when he puts you on your knees on the bed. He stands at the edge of the bed, your ass grinding into him, and he can’t help himself with the way he ruts into you.
“My wife wants her dick, huh? You need me in you?” he’s an asshole mocking you, but you don’t care, too far gone to do anything other than nod and scoot back into him.
A sharp slap lands on your ass as he pulls at your flesh, spreading you to look at your holes. Its filthy, he thinks. How wet you are for him. and he loves every second of it. You hear him rid himself of his clothes as your heart hammers in your chest.
“I’m not going to be gentle” he tells you. he’s being selfish, he knows. But it’s all he can afford to give you right now. He can’t open his heart up to the true intimacy you should have. He doesn’t deserve you, but it doesn’t mean he won’t have you, nonetheless.
“I want your pain” you admit to him. its true. Usually, first times are meant to be a loving gentle experience. But you yearned for all the jagged prickly things in life. You weren’t young and in love, and this wasn’t a sacrifice for him either. You knew it was going to hurt. But you didn’t want the soft life; you wanted the anger. “Make it hurt.”
If Geto was a better man, he would stop right here and leave. But he wasn’t. He wanted this. He needed this more than you did. You want him to make it hurt for you. It makes it all the more real. You want everything he has to offer, and he wants to convey all his uninhibited rage. You were perfect.
“Arch for me” you feel the mattress dip with his presence as he comes up behind you and you arch your back for him. You rest on your forearms, allowing him to him to grip onto your hip tightly. His cock moves through your folds slowly, gathering all your wetness, and he pushes into you.
“Fuck!” you squeal, ending out on a moan at the slight burn of the intrusion. His tip nudges against the ridges of your inside as you feel him push past and change you from the inside out. The sharp pain subsides as he moves deeper and deeper, holding himself there and Suguru is a man changed.
You’re impossibly tight, and he tries to focus, burying his head in your neck to steady himself to not cum already. Your wet hole spasms to the sheer size of him as you try to adjust. He bottoms out treacherously slow, suffocating you with his body weight before he starts thrusting.
Pulling back, he sets a harsh pace, delivering harsh thrusts and grinding himself into you. “Sugu- ugh! Y-you feel so good!” you’re a hot mess, high off his cock as your eyes roll when he bumps through your sweetest spots. His hand comes to grip on your hair as he lifts himself off you to watch the way you fuck yourself back onto him.
Pain and pleasure intertwine to make you see stars when he pulls you flush against him to shove his index and middle finger into your mouth. Instinctively, you suck his digits, drool escaping the sides of your lips. Your husband’s losing his mind in you. You hug him so tight, so warm he wants to bury himself in your forever. His thrusts turn wanton, unable to control himself while his fingers push deeper into your throat making you gag on him. Good. It’s what he wants. He wants to overwhelm you so thoroughly your fucked out brain can’t think of anything but him.
The sounds coming your pussy were pornographic, loud squelches filling the room as he looked down to see his cock covered in your blood and a thin ring of your arousal. You were so sloppy; your cunt gushing at the feel of him.
“Fuck, listen to my pussy talk,” he groans, downright feral “you hear how she’s begging me to fuck her?” But he doesn’t really want an answer from you, and it’s not like you could give one with your mindless moans around his fingers.
It was all too much, and you weren’t going to last like this, the coil in your stomach begins to tighten as the sensations overwhelm you. “M cl-mph” you try, really try to get him to slow down so he doesn’t send you flying off the cliff but your husband’s too far gone. He won’t give that to you. He wants you to take it.
Leaning down, he bites at your neck, alternating between licks and sucks to mark you as his. He feels you clamping down on him, trying to hold you to him. His breath is hot on your ear, his saliva all over neck as he orders you.
“Break for me” he doesn’t leave room for discussion, and you couldn’t refuse even if you wanted to. You do exactly as he wants from you, you soar to new heights, limbs locking as you arch your back in a soundless cry. Your orgasm rips you from your tether, your legs shaking as you spasm around Suguru.
The asshole doesn’t relent, not for a second, jackhammering into you and forcibly dragging you back down to his reach. His thrusts never falter, his pace never wavers as he gives himself to you. Bite marks are littered all across the expanse of your neck, your hips bruised from his iron grip and your ass red from the stings of his palms.
And he’s still not done with you.
“That fucked out already?” he asks as he flips you over by your shaking legs. You struggle to orient yourself, the loss of him making your hole squeeze around the empty air. He’s above you now, even though you can barely focus on him, and you let him toss you around like a ragdoll.
Suguru spreads your legs, pushing them back until you’re in the meanest mating press. The new position exposes you to him entirely. Every sexy inch of you. It’s like he’s on autopilot when he puts himself inside of you again, like that’s where he belongs.
Your eyes fly open when he reaches deeper than before, you can almost feel him in your stomach. It knocks the air out of you, whines and moans of protest leaving of their own volition. “Sugu, p-please. Too much!”
His grip on your ankles is so tight as he instinctively drives his hips into you. “I want you to feel me” he’s honest, choosing to tell you exactly what’s on his mind. He changes this temp this time, delivering slow, deep thrusts that make your toes curl and your stomach flip.
Its passionate, wholly foreign and entirely too much. You feel him everywhere beneath your skin, mixing himself with you. It’s so overstimulating all you can do is dig your nails into his back and let him ravage you.
“You’re too deep,” you whine into his mouth, stealing his air from him.
“Take it. you’ve handled worse.” Leaning down, he places kisses down your chest, picking at the freshly forming love bites he left and giving you new ones. Again, your vision escapes as you succumb to the growing pressure in your stomach.
“Fuuuuuck!” you lean into it, letting him dig into you until you’re nothing but a blabbering mess for him. Suguru only has one mission. To pump you full and leave you dripping with him. And he won’t stop until he gets it.
“Eyes on me” he wants to see every twisted, depraved thought in your mind. You can’t run from him. Not when you invited yourself into his arms. He’ll make you watch him use and ruin you, and you’re going to thank him for it.
A low whine escapes you as your eyes open and he watches your face change to the way he fucks you. Heavy intense thrusts as his balls slap against your skin. Your plight to keep your eyes open calls to him, speaks to his sick side when he knows you’re going against your nature to obey his wishes.
“Keep them open, that’s it, good girl” You wouldn’t be able to control your moan even if you tried. His words have you writhing, spasming around him, so eager to please , and your reaction isn’t lost on him. He picks it at the seams until you unravel.
“You want my praise?” Sick, hedonistic desire coils around his spine at how pathetic you are for him. Its everything he needs from you. He leans into you, impossibly closer and rests your forehead on yours. “Earn it.”
It’s like a flip switches in you, your once experimental hands turn tactical, expertly weaving your way into his locks and pulling slightly. A low groan leaves as he ruts into you, but you don’t give him a second to think about it when you moan into his mouth.
“You fuck me soooo good, Sugu. I love this dick.” You watch the way his spine locks at the praise, but you continue pulling out more surprises, not letting him stop to think before crushing your lips against his.
Suguru’s eyes widen a fraction, the dusty pink hue returning to his cheek at the feeling of your tongue against the seam of his lips. He groans into your mouth, grinding his cock into your spongy insides. You take what he gives with pleasure, kissing him like you’ll never have him again.
Your husband returns your fire, wanting you as bad as you want him. His tongue meets yours in a frenzy as you taste each other for the first time. He’s punishing, searingly hot as he burns you from within, biting and sucking at your lips.
“I’m close, wanna cum on your cock again.” you squeal as his tip knocks against the bundle of nerves that has your limbs locking as your orgasm overtakes you again. Your hips buck as he picks up his speed, seemingly close too and all you want is for him to paint your walls his.
Using a hold on your neck, Suguru pulls you up, forcing your head into an awkward position where all you can see is how your blood and arousal mix to stain his dick as he pumps into you. The loud shlick! noises are so lewd it has you writhing. “See your blood on my cock, wife?” the way he says it, like its derogatory “nobody is ever gonna have you this way again.”
He’s never been overly possessive, but something about you… its different. He needs to claim you, own you, your pleasure and your pain entirely. Electricity zaps down his spine as he feels his balls tighten as he works faster, gaping your hole to the shape of him.
“Fuck, keep your legs spread” he’s animalistic, so unhinged as your squirm at the overstimulation as your orgasms overtake you both together. He swallows your unearthly scream, groaning into your mouth as he forces you to spread open and releases his cum deep inside of you.
Shamelessly, your husband grinds and humps into you, using your screams of pleasure as fuel, and making you stay still until his balls twitch with the last of his seed. You take it all, clawing at his back as you scramble to adjust and take in everything he’s giving you. You feel impossibly full, but he doesn’t pull out, instead keeping you plugged and full of him.
You’re spent, utterly exhausted as you try to move him off you, your legs uncontrollably shaking, but your husband's like a rock, refusing to pull out of you. The hand around your waist pulls you flush against his chest as you feel his breathing even out.
It’s a struggle to stay awake, your eyes slowly closing of their own accord. You’re spent, trying to fight off sleep as you tremble with the after waves of your orgasm.
“They asked us to make an heir” is the last thing you hear before you both drift off, but who said he had to cuddle you to sleep for you to get pregnant?
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