— JUPITER

kinktober masterlist

synopsis: you’re stuck tutoring the campus whore, what happens when his grades start coming back up? he’ll expect a reward.. duh.

pairings: frat!gojo x reader

content: HEAVY SMUT, loss of virginity, obsessive traits, (un)protected sex, fingering, making out, pet names, spitting, big dick warning, corruption kink, virgin!reader, mentions of smoking

a/n: this is a day late sorry!! hope u enjoy lol

you were the prettiest thing that satoru had seen in all eighteen years of his life.

he had to have you, right? he was going to.

the library lights flicker above your head, as you bury your nose into a book. satoru hadn’t even bothered glancing at the title, or the cover. his teeth sink into the pen, fingers drumming against the table as his blue eyes stare at you.

it’s empty tonight, as it is almost every friday night because everyone’s too busy drinking and having sex. that’d typically be satoru, but he’s failing calculus so he’s stuck in the library. and instead of studying, he’s staring directly at you, how your eyelashes flutter against your cheek, and how you chew into your lower lip while you read.

he’s been watching for awhile. it’s become a habit. he watches the way the fluorescent lights overhead dance across your skin, highlighting the soft dip of your collarbones, the smooth expanse of your neck. his eyes track the subtle way your mouth moves as you read, how you sometimes hum a little under your breath - so soft he wouldn’t catch it unless he was right beside you.

you just look so… innocent.

and that makes him want you even more.

your brain short-circuits, and you’ve been rereading the same paragraph for the last ten minutes. you feel that heavy gaze on you, but it doesn’t make you uncomfortable. you glance at the clock, and shut the book before stuffing it in your bag.

satoru adjusts his posture, eyebrows furrowing at your sudden movement. he watches you stand, slinging the strap of your bag over your shoulder. he tries to play it cool, slouching in his seat, acting like he hasn’t been staring at you for what feels like an eternity.

he clears his throat, “leaving early?”

his voice is a little too casual, a little too forced. he’s trying to sound natural, but he’s not fooling anyone - least of all you. satoru wants to bang his head into the table, he’s never had any problem talking to girls before, so why is he so nervous?

“early? you do know it’s eleven o’clock, right?” you reply, knitting your eyebrows together at his words. he glances up at the clock, and shit.. he’s been sitting here for hours, and yet his paper is empty besides his doodles at the corner. satoru chews on his lower lip, standing up from his own seat. “right.. studying just makes me lose my track of time.”

your eyebrows raise in amusement, and you glance down at his empty paper. “i’m sure it does.” you retort, turning on your heels to leave. satoru doesn’t say anything else, but his face burns red maybe with embarrassment, or he’s just.. flustered? he’s never had any trouble picking girls up no matter where he’s at; campus, the cafe, on the street.

he’s quick to pack his own things up, sighing at his failure at flirting with you.

but satoru doesn’t give up.

class ends at twelve pm, and you’re packing your bag when your professor calls satoru over to her desk. “three zero’s, you know that, right?” satoru’s shoulder slump, “you need to fix this.” she says, referring to the unfinished papers she’s shoving in satoru’s hands.

you don’t look up, it’s not your business anyway. math isn’t for everyone. you pack your bag, zipping it shut before slinging it over your shoulder.

satoru feels the sting as the professor reprimands him, and he can’t help but sneak a glance over to you. he grumbles under his breath about “useless classes” and “pointless tests,” but really, he knows it’s his own fault. his mind has been everywhere else this semester. mostly, one of the library’s prettiest regulars.

“y/n!” your professor calls out, and you flinch at her voice before slowly turning on your heel to face her. “..yeah?”

“come here.” you chew on the inside of your cheek, your feet dragging you like each step you take is painful. “your grades are great, always have been, so why don’t you help out your good friend satoru?”

good friend? what the hell is she talking about?

your eyes widen in surprise, “what?”

“yeah, just give him some.. tutoring lessons at the library. lord knows he needs them.”

“i’m still here, you know.” satoru grumbles, rolling his eyes at her words. “so are your zeroes, clear your schedule.. you better be sleeping, eating, and breathing in the library every day.”

“just bring his grade up by two letters, or so help me—“ satoru waves his hand, rolling his eyes. “yeah, yeah. fine. see you tomorrow.”

you begin walking away, when satoru jogs up to your side. you barely spare him a glance, too busy chewing on the inside of your cheek. “meet me in the library every tuesday and thursday at four pm, okay?”

oh, this is gonna be fun.

satoru grins, all sharp and lazy, like a cat that just spotted a mouse it wants to play with. he leans in just a little too close, his breath warm against your ear as he murmurs, “tuesdays and thursdays, huh? guess i’ll be seeing a lot more of you then, sweets.”

his voice is low, teasing, dripping with that signature gojo confidence—like he already knows exactly how this is gonna go. and honestly? he kinda does.

you huff, adjusting the strap of your bag, trying to ignore the way his proximity makes your skin prickle. “don’t get any ideas. this is strictly academic.”

satoru barks out a laugh, loud enough that a few stragglers in the hallway turn to look. “uh-huh. sure it is.” he winks, slow and deliberate, before sauntering off, hands shoved in his pockets. “see you tomorrow, tutor~”

and just like that, he’s gone—leaving you standing there, flustered, annoyed, and way too aware of the fact that this arrangement is about to be anything but simple.

oh, and he definitely doesn’t plan on doing much studying.

that night, satoru’s at the frat house lounging on the couch next to suguru. satoru exhales a thick cloud of smoke, his head lolling back against the couch as he grins lazily at suguru. “bro,” he starts, voice already a little hazy, “you’re not gonna believe the shit that happened today.”

suguru takes the blunt from him, raising an eyebrow. “oh yeah? did you finally pass a test or something?”

satoru scoffs, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table. “fuck no. but guess who got assigned a tutor?” his grin widens, sharp and predatory. “the cutest fucking nerd in the whole library.”

suguru rolls his eyes, exhaling smoke through his nose. “jesus, satoru. you’re failing calculus and your first thought is how hot your tutor is?”

“—is it y/n?” satoru nods his head enthusiastically, before leaning his head back against the couch. “no fuckin’ shot. if you think she’s letting you hit, you definitely aren’t.”

satoru snatches the blunt back, taking another deep drag before passing it off again. “dude, you don’t get it. she’s got this whole—“ he gestures vaguely with his hands, “—vibe. like, all quiet and studious, but the second i get close? she blushes.” he lets out a dreamy sigh, sinking further into the couch. “it’s adorable.”

“and no, i’m not trying to bang her! i’m thinking more.. swoon her off her feet and marry her.”

suguru shakes his head, laughing. “you’re hopeless, man.” satoru just grins, stretching his arms behind his head. “nah, i’m winning. two hours alone with her twice a week? please.” his voice drops, low and amused. “she’s so not ready for me.”

the next day, satoru strolls into the library fashionably late—because of course he does—his usual cocky smirk plastered across his face. he spots you already seated at a table, textbooks spread out, pen tapping impatiently against the paper.

“miss me?” he purrs, sliding into the chair way too close to you, his knee brushing against yours under the table.

you shoot him a glare, but the way your breath hitches when his fingers accidentally graze your wrist? yeah, he definitely notices.

“let’s just get this over with,” you mutter, flipping open the textbook.

satoru leans in, resting his chin on his palm, his other hand lazily tracing circles on the table—way too close to your notes. “aw, don’t be like that, tutor.” his voice is all honey and mischief. “i promise i’ll be very attentive.”

you huff, trying to ignore the way his scent—something stupidly expensive and way too intoxicating—fills your space. “you’re not even looking at the book.” his grin widens. “who needs a book when i’ve got you?”

you groan, rubbing your temples. “this is gonna be a long semester.”

for two whole hours, the library is dead silent besides you speaking to satoru and him just nodding along.

satoru’s pen taps against the table, his leg bounces restlessly under it.

“you’re not even trying,” you hiss, pointing at the half-assed scribbles he’s pretending are calculus equations.

satoru leans back in his chair, stretching his arms above his head, the fabric of his shirt riding up just enough to reveal a sliver of toned stomach. “maybe i just need a different kind of motivation,” he muses, eyes flicking down to your lips.

your face burns. “this isn’t a game, satoru. you’re gonna fail.”

he hums, propping his chin on his hand again, his knee pressing firmly against yours now. “bet i could make you fail first.” you choke on air, and satoru’s grin is wicked.

“focus,” you snap, shoving the textbook toward him. he does—for about three seconds—before his fingers are ghosting over yours on the page, his voice dropping to a whisper. “y’know, i could focus better if you sat closer.”

you roll your eyes before standing up and taking a seat right next to satoru, you look at him with an irritated smile. “anything else i can do for you?”

“mhm.. yeah, let’s make studying fun.” satoru hums, tapping his pen against his chin. “for each correct answer i get, you tell me something about yourself. for each i get wrong, i’ll tell you something about me.”

satoru’s grin turns downright feral as you slide into the seat beside him, your thigh pressing flush against his. the warmth of his body radiates through his jeans, and you can feel the way his muscles tense—just slightly—when you shift.

“fun, huh?” you mutter, side-eyeing him. he leans in, his breath hot against your ear. “so much fun.”

you huff, flipping the textbook open again. “fine. first question—“

satoru interrupts by snatching the pen right out of your hand, his fingers lingering just a second too long against yours. “ah-ah, tutor. i pick the first one.”

you blink. “what?”

he’s already scanning the page, that infuriating smirk playing on his lips. “here. this one.” he taps a problem near the bottom—something way too easy for a college-level course.

you narrow your eyes. “you’re joking.”

satoru just shrugs, scribbling down the answer in messy, lazy handwriting. “boom. done.” he tosses the pen back onto the table, leaning in so close his nose almost brushes your cheek. “now—tell me something juicy.”

your pulse spikes. this was a mistake. but you can’t back down now.

“...i have a cat,” you mumble. satoru gasps, clutching his chest like you just revealed state secrets. “no way. a cat? that’s scandalous.”

you shove him with a giggle, but he doesn’t budge—just laughs, low and warm, his knee nudging yours again. “okay, my turn.”

you pick the hardest problem on the page. satoru whistles, glancing at it. “damn, tutor. playing dirty.”

you smirk. “payback.”

he leans back, stretching his arms behind his head, that stupid shirt riding up again. “yeah, yeah. gimme a sec.”

he doesn’t even try to solve it. just stares at you, blue eyes glinting.

“...you lost,” you point out. satoru grins, “guess that means i owe you a secret.”

you groan loudly, this is not how tutoring is supposed to go.

“..i have a dog.” you roll your eyes playfully, “oh haha, you’re so funny.”

“my turn!” satoru beams, looking for another question. satoru’s fingers drum against the textbook as he scans the page, that cocky smirk never leaving his lips. “oh, this one’s perfect,” he purrs, tapping a medium-difficulty problem.

you raise an eyebrow. “finally taking this seriously?” he just winks, scribbling down an answer that’s actually correct this time. “boom. nailed it.” leaning in, his breath ghosts over your neck. “now... tell me something really good.”

your stomach flips, and you tap your chin in thought. “i’ve never had my first kiss.”

“seriously?” the pen clatters against the table, and satoru’s mouth falls open in utter shock. “don’t make it a thing. it’s so embarrassing,” you groan, burying your face in your hands.

“i’m not! just.. surprised.” satoru murmurs, looking back at the textbook. “whatever! it’s my turn to pick your question.”

the game goes on for another hour, and surprisingly you’re both cooperating in perfect sync. you check the clock, and it reads seven pm before you’re packing your bag.

“the studying method seemed affective, let’s just hope you pass your test.” you murmur, and satoru smiles softly before stuffing his own bag. “trust me, i have the best tutor on campus.”

“don’t flatter me.” you tease, standing up from your seat. “see you on thursday?”

“oh, definitely.”

as you turn to leave, satoru’s fingers suddenly catch your wrist, pulling you back with just enough force to make you stumble slightly—right into his chest. his other hand comes up to steady you, fingers splaying across your lower back, pressing you flush against him.

“almost forgot something,” he murmurs, voice low and rough, his breath warm against your lips.

you look up into those blue eyes, “can i?” he murmurs, before you part your lips and nod slowly at his words.

then he kisses you.

not teasing, not playful. this is slow, deep, deliberate. his lips move against yours with a kind of hunger that makes your knees weak, his tongue sliding against yours in a way that has your fingers clutching at his shirt for balance.

when he finally pulls away, his pupils are blown, his lips swollen and wet.

“now,” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your kiss-bruised mouth, “that’s how you say goodbye.” your face burns, your heart hammering against your ribs. satoru just grins, sharp and smug, before releasing you with a wink.

“thursday,” he reminds you, voice dripping with promise.

and as you walk away, legs shaky and lips tingling, one thing is painfully clear—

this tutoring arrangement? it’s about to get a lot more complicated.

you have a few more tutor sessions at the library, before satoru complains about wanting a different environment. he claims it’ll help his studying progress. you don’t deny him when he asks to come over to your apartment for studying, what’s the harm? it’s been six weeks of tutoring, so it is about time you change environments.

but if anyone’s wondering, no it hasn’t gone further than just kissing. for each correct answer, he gets a kiss and that seemingly has helped his grades a lot.

satoru’s sprawled out on your bed, blue eyes staring holes into the ceiling as you flip through the textbook. the room is silent, and his curious thoughts are eating him up.

“have you ever done anything?” he asks, rolling over onto his stomach. you look down at him, “no, and we’re supposed to be studying!”

satoru pouts, flopping onto his back again dramatically. “studying is boring,” he whines, stretching his arms above his head—his shirt riding up just enough to reveal that stupidly toned stomach again. “and my grades are doing better, don’t i deserve a reward?”

you roll your eyes, snapping the textbook shut. “fine, fine. what do you want, satoru?”

his grin is instant, sharp and wicked as he pushes himself up on his elbows. “you,” he purrs, blue eyes darkening with intent.

“satoru—“

he cuts you off, pulling you down onto the bed with him. his hands grip your hips, pulling you flush against him—and god, you can feel how hard he is already.

“c’mon, tutor,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours. “reward me for all my hard work.”

and fuck—

you should say no, but the way his fingers dig into your skin? the way his cock throbs against your thigh? the way his breath hitches when you grind down just right?

yeah. studying’s over.

your lips find his, and your fingers tighten in his shirt shirt. you’re on top of him, legs straddling him. satoru’s hands roam up your thighs, fingers digging into the soft flesh as he groans into your mouth. his hips buck up against you, the thick outline of his cock pressing insistently against your core through the layers of fabric.

“fuck,” he rasps, breaking the kiss to nip at your jaw. “you feel so good on top of me.”

his hands slide under your shirt, calloused palms scorching against your bare skin as they inch higher. you gasp when his thumbs brush over the lace of your bralette—just like he’d imagined—and his grin is filthy against your neck.

“knew you’d be wearing something pretty,” he growls, fingers hooking into the fabric and yanking it down to expose your breasts. his mouth is on you instantly, tongue laving over your nipple before sucking it between his teeth.

you moan, fingers tangling in his white hair as he worships your tits, switching between them with hungry little noises. his free hand slides down your stomach, pushing past the waistband of your pants to cup you through your panties.

“so fucking wet,” he murmurs, fingers rubbing slow circles over the soaked fabric. “all for me?”

you nod, whimpering when he tears the panties aside and looks back up at you. “no one’s ever played with this pretty little pussy before?”

“n-no,” you murmur, and satoru smirks before helping you slide out your pants. “so i’ll be the first one.” satoru replies, mainly talking to himself.

his blue eyes are piercing through you, as his hands still cup your breasts. “sit on my face.”

“satoru—!”

satoru doesn’t give you time to protest. his hands grip your hips hard, yanking you forward until your thighs are bracketing his face. his breath is scorching against your bare cunt, his tongue darting out to lick a slow, teasing stripe up your slit.

“fuck,” he groans, voice already wrecked. “taste even better than i imagined.”

his hands dig into your ass, pulling you down harder against his mouth as his tongue flicks over your clit. you gasp, fingers fisting in his white hair as he devours you like a man starved.

“s-satoru—!”

he grins against you, the vibrations making your thighs tremble, “louder,” he orders, tongue plunging inside you before sucking your clit between his lips.

you cry, back arching as pleasure wrecks you. his fingers dig into your hips, holding you in place as he licks

and sucks you deeper.

“oh, satoru.”

satoru’s grip tightens as your thighs begin to tremble harder, his tongue relentless against your clit.

“that’s it, fuck.” he growls, voice muffled against your slick heat. “come for me, tutor.”

and holy shit, you shatter completely

your orgasm rips through you with a broken cry, back arching up as white-hot pleasure floods your veins. satoru doesn’t let up, lapping at your oversensitive cunt until you’re whimpering, fingers tugging weakly at his hair.

he finally pulls back with a filthy grin, lips glossy with your arousal. “fuck,” he rasps, pupils blown black with lust. “you taste so fucking good.” he groans, flipping you down on your back, his hard cock pressing against your thigh. the thought of you being so inexperienced made his dick twitch in his pants.

satoru’s fingers dig into your thighs as he looms over you, his features twisting into something darkly possessive. his blue eyes burn with unnatural intensity, as he takes in your wrecked expression.

he growls, voice rough with hunger, “look at you—all mine. never even been touched before, and now you’re dripping for me.”

his cock throbs against your thigh, precum staining his boxers as he grinds against you, deliberately letting you feel every inch of him.

“bet you didn’t know you could feel this good, huh?” his fingers trail down your stomach, digging in just enough to leave marks. “bet you didn’t know your body could shake like this.”

“n–no.” you muster out, eyes looking up to meet with his.

he leans down, his breath hot against your ear, his voice dropping to a sinful whisper. “the best part?” his teeth graze your earlobe. “i’m just getting started.”

“gonna fucking ruin you,” he promises, “gonna make sure no one else can ever make you feel like this.”

and you believe him.

because the way he looks at you—like he wants to consume you, corrupt you, own you—

it terrifies you.

and it excites you more than anything.

his hand slides between your legs, his slender fingers rubbing up and down your slit.

satoru’s fingers glide through your slick with a filthy, wet sound, his eyes glowing brighter as he watches your every reaction.

“look at you,” he murmurs, voice dripping with dark amusement, “already soaked just from my fingers. what happens when i finally fuck you?”

his index finger circles your clit with maddening precision, applying just enough pressure to make your hips jerk.

“gonna make you scream,” he promises, his free hand gripping your throat enough to make your pulse rabbit against his palm. “‘m gonna ruin this tight little cunt.”

his finger plunges inside you without warning, curling against that sweet spot that makes you see stars.

“f-fuck—!”

satoru laughs, low and cruel, his thumb pressing down on your clit as he fucks you with his fingers.

satoru’s grip on your throat tightens just slightly as his fingers pump deeper, curling ruthlessly against that spot that makes your vision blur.

“that’s it,” he murmurs, his thumb grinding against your clit in rough circles, “take it. just wait until my cock’s stretching you open.”

his hand squeezes your breast, pinching your nipple hard between his fingers, the pain-pleasure making you whimper against his palm.

“mmm, fuck—” his hips jerk against the bed, his cock straining against his pants, “wanna ruin you so good, tutor. ‘m gonna breed this tight little pussy until you forget how to think.”

his fingers speed up, scissoring inside you, stretching you wider as his thumb rubs your clit raw.

you can’t stop yourself.

you shatter with a broken cry, your cunt clamping down on his fingers as your orgasm wrecks you.

satoru watches, rapt, as you fall apart beneath him, his lips curling into a predatory grin.

“fuck,” he rasps, pulling his glistening fingers free and sucking them clean with a filthy moan, “i’ll never get tired of that taste.”

his hands yank your thighs apart, his cock springing free from his pants, thick and aching, precum dripping from the hot, angry tip.

he pulls his own shirt over his head before leaning forward to the drawer beside your bed. he pulls a condom out, ripping the package between his teeth.

“how’d you know—“ he cuts you off with a shrug, “i went snooping around your room earlier.. duh.”

your mouth falls open, and you roll your eyes at him. “no one’s ever fucked you, huh?”

satoru’s cock twitches against your thigh as he rolls the condom on, his eyes glowing with dark amusement at your surprised expression. “obviously not, you idiot!”

“what?” he taunts, spitting the torn wrapper onto the floor, “i had to make sure!”

his hands grip your hips hard, yanking you to the very edge of the bed as he lines himself up, the blunt head of his cock pressing against your dripping entrance.

“make sure you remember exactly who fucked you first.”

as if you could ever forget— he wouldn’t dare let you.

satoru pushes into you inch by dreadful inch, until he’s halfway in. your lips part to let out a strangled moan, but no sound comes out.

“nope,” satoru shakes his head, pulling his hips back. “what?” you look up at him, and he’s pouting at you.

“i can’t fuck you with the condom on, i can’t. i’m missing out on the true experience if i do.”

you fight the urge to roll your eyes at him, “the true experience? are you serious?” satoru rips the condom off with a filthy grin, tossing it aside as his cock twitches against your stomach.

“i’m dead serious!” he says, his hands slamming your thighs wider, his blue eyes burning with possessive hunger. “i wanna feel you clenching around me.“

“okay, no condom.” he smiles at your words, his fingers digging into your hips as he lines himself up again, the blunt head of his bare cock pressing against your slick entrance.

*”you’re gonna take it,” he hisses, “every fucking inch.”

slowly, but surely enough, satoru sinks into you with a guttural groan escaping his swollen lips.

no condom, just pure ecstasy.

your back bows off the bed, a broken scream tearing from your throat as he stretches you out, his thick cock filling you completely.

“f-fuck—! satoru—!”

he groans, head falling back as your cunt clamps down on him, hot and tight and perfect.

“shit— fuck,” he blubbers, his hips jerking forward, “you feel even better bare—“

his thrusts are brutal, deep, pounding into you with no restraint, his cock hitting that spot inside you with every snap of his hips.

and fuck, you can’t think.

can’t breathe.

can’t do anything but take it as he fucks you senseless, his groans filthy in your ear. “you okay, pretty?” he murmurs, lips ghosting over your ear as you nod your head eagerly at his words.

satoru’s fingers dig into your hips harder, his cock twitching inside you as he watches your dazed expression, lips curling into a filthy grin.

“yeah? good.” he groans, voice rough with desperation.

his thrusts become even harder, even deeper, his balls slapping against your ass with every brutal snap of his hips.

“f-fuck— so tight,” he blubbers, drool dripping from his lips as he fucks into you with reckless abandon, “gonna stuff you so full—gonna pump you dumb on my cock—“

his hands clamp around your throat, your cunt clenching around him desperately.

“that’s it— squeeze me just like that,” he moans, hips stuttering, “‘m gonna cum—gonna fill you up so good—“

he’s losing himself inside of your pussy. satoru never found himself so desperate to fuck someone, up until he met pretty little y/n. he wanted to fucking ruin you.

satoru’s cock throbs violently inside you, his hips jerking erratically as he loses it, his eyes glowing unnaturally bright with corrupt desire.

“sh– shit— gonna cum—gonna paint your fucking walls—“ he slurs, drool dripping onto your collarbone as his thrusts turn frantic, desperate, his balls slapping against your ass with filthy wet sounds.

his fingers tighten around your throat, choking you as your cunt flutters around him.

“that’s it— take it—take every drop—“ he growls, his cock pulsing as he pumps thick ropes of his hot cum deep into your clenching pussy, his body shaking with the force of his orgasm.

he doesn’t stop, though, not until you finish next. he doesn’t plan on stopping anytime soon.

“shiiiit— gonna make you squirt all over my cock,” satoru murmurs, his fingers finding your swollen clit as he fucks his cum into you with brutal, deep strokes. his thumb presses down in rough circles, the pressure just shy of painful.

“c’mon, pretty girl—let go,” he rasps, his voice wrecked, “gonna feel so fucking good—gonna ruin these sheets, huh?”

his cock drags against that sweet spot inside you, his thrusts becoming erratic. the combination of his fingers on your clit and his thick length stretching you open has your thighs trembling, your back arching off the bed.

“s-satoru—!” you choke out, nails digging into his shoulders.

“that’s it—fucking do it,” he demands, his grip on your hip bruising. “squirt for me—wanna feel you come all over my cock.”

a loud scream tears from your throat as your third orgasm hits, your cunt clenching around him as you squirt, soaking his cock, his thighs, the sheets beneath you.

satoru groans, his cock pulsing as he fills you up again.

“fuck—fuck, that’s so hot,” he slurs, his fingers digging into your hips as he rides out his high. “gonna make you do that every fucking time.”

satoru collapses on top of you, his cock still buried inside you, his breath hot against your neck.

“told you,” he murmurs, voice hoarse with satisfaction, “way better without the condom.”

you whimper, too wrecked to argue.

he just grins, kissing your bruised lips with a dark chuckle. “don’t worry, tutor,” he whispers, “we’ve got plenty more lessons to go.”

the next day, satoru finds you in your usual spot at the library. your nose is buried in a book, just like it always is, when he slides into the seat across from you. wordlessly, satoru slides a paper in front of you. “what is this?”

“just look.” he leans back in his chair, watching as you lift the paper up to get a better look at it. it was his test with a big fat 100 written on top.

your eyes widen as you stare at the perfect score, then flick up to meet his smug grin. “you—you actually studied?”

satoru kicks his feet up on the table, lacing his fingers behind his head with a cocky smirk. “nah,” he drawls, “just had some really motivating study sessions.”

the way his blue eyes rake over you—hungry, knowing, like he can still see the bruises hidden under your sweater—makes your thighs clench.

“so,” he purrs, leaning forward to snatch the paper back, his fingers brushing yours deliberately, “what’s my reward this time, tutor?”

your face flames, the memory of last night—his cock stretching you open, his cum dripping out of you—flooding your mind.

satoru grins, wicked and unrepentant, as he drops his voice to a whisper.

“i’m thinking something hands-on.”

and fuck—

you’re doomed.

hope u enjoyed!!

synopsis: your whole life all you’ve known is tending to gojo satoru, all you know is him. you wash his body, tend to his needs without a doubt. what happens when someone offers you a way out of it? do you take it, or stick to all you’ve known?

pairings: prince!gojo x peasant!reader x slight!getou

content: HEAVY SMUT MDNI, breeding kink, oral!m receiving, rough sex, degradation, vaginal sex, pet names, creampies, (un)protected sex, obsessive traits, mentions of blood, name calling, mentions of weapons, slut shaming, possessive!satoru, gojo’s kinda crazy lol

wc: 8.5k

gojo satoru was destined to ascend the throne, a crown already perched upon his silken white locks. and you? you were naught but a humble peasant, a mere pet. anger had no recipient, for your station was bestowed upon you at birth. your realms lay divided by an unconquerable gulf of rank and expectation, yet fate conspired to entwine your paths, even beyond the bloom of youth. to love satoru was to anchor your very existence.

his blue irises watched over you, making sure you scrubbed every spec of dirt off the chiseled gravel. he’d stare as you made his bed, or prepared his food. he was waiting for you to make a mistake, yet you fulfilled your duties, perfect as ever. the weight of disappointing him heavier than any other consequence. to the outside, he was cold, calculated, and an arrogant heir to the throne. inside the four walls of his chamber, he was a different kind of arrogant, and you assumed to be the only one who knew it.

it was no surprise to the kingdom; you sleeping with gojo satoru, of course. all eyes watched you cling to his side, always at his beck and call. after all, you’re the prettiest little thing. why wouldn’t satoru make better use for you? whispers, stares, and disapproval were loud to you. some servant you were, when in reality you were gojo satoru’s pet, his concubine. and a sick part of you reveled in that fact.

your dress was now a patchwork of grime and faded hues, a testament to your daily toil and humiliation. the coarse fabric, never meant for comfort, scratched against your skin, chafing with each movement as your rag scrubs against the floor of gojo’s chamber. patches of dirt clung stubbornly to the hem, souvenirs of the countless hours you spent tending the prince.

the door slams open at six pm sharp, and enters a tall male, the build of a warrior looming over you from the entrance of the bedroom, as you were settled on your knees, bucket beside you. gojo’s scowl stains his pretty face, his hands clenching by his side, and his eyes trailing down to you. that godforsaken dress barely even fit you anymore, it was a disgusting piece of trash.

“take it off.” the prince demands, causing your eyes to widen at his sudden command. “w— what?”

“i said take it off, correct or incorrect?” you fumble with the buttons, fingers slipping through each loophole before you stand up, allowing the gown to pool at your ankles. gojo satoru is arrogant, hence the whispers on why he shouldn’t be king float around the kingdom like no other. you’re pathetic to him, a good dog.

“run my bath.” and that’s exactly what you do. reaching to pull your gown back up, satoru sucks his teeth at the sight, waving his finger at you. “leave it there.” you nod your head slowly, on your way to the large golden bathtub.

you set the water just how he likes it; warm enough to heat him up, but not enough to burn his delicate skin. with doing so, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the mirror. lace was what rested underneath the gown, and that’s the only thing that covered you. you tried to look deep down, tried to feel pathetic or disappointed at the sight of yourself but you didn’t. you reminded yourself that your only purpose was to make sure satoru was content, even if it meant betraying yourself.

your feet move quicker than your brain, and before you realize it, you’re standing before the prince. “your bath is ready, goj— master.” you correct yourself, flustering at the slip up. the corners of his lips curl up at the sight of your panicked expression, his slender finger finding your lips. “have you prepared it properly?”

“yes,” you reply eagerly, guiding satoru to the golden bathtub. water rests in the middle, flowing through the tub. the prince undresses himself, and you shield your eyes, even if you’ve been exposed to the sight multiple times before. it was out of respect, and you respected him more than you yearned for him. the prince steps into his bath, leaning his head back as he settles down into the water. perfect, as always.

“you’ll have a new gown by sunrise, let that forsaken one rot in a trashcan. a peasant as pretty as you shouldn’t be covered in dirt and grime.” the prince glances at you, like he was waiting for something. gratitude? oh right, “what’re you waiting for, dumb pet?” his voice erupts you out of your time-consuming thoughts. you’ve undressed yourself down, exposing yourself fully to the white-haired heir. with a careful step, you’ve entered the large tub across from him.

despite the hardships, your hands remain softer than his calloused ones. everything about you is in contrast to satoru; he was born lucky, you were born unlucky. from birth, your purpose was to scrub his shoes, and his was to look down at you. you weren’t a princess or a soon-to-be bride, you were a peasant and nothing more than that.

your soft hands trail soap up his arms and down his chest; bathing him began a daily ritual. it wasn’t sweet, or romantic, yet a task. a task to remind you that you were his pet, before you were his concubine. his pink lips press together and his eyes shut closed once your hands touch his body. a moment like this signified trust, his trust in you. trust that you’d always be by his side, throne or no throne.

the sun sets through the large window, causing the curtains to dim. the bathroom was silent, it typically always is after a bad day for the prince. another day of his parents trying to force a bride onto him, reminding him that he needs an heir to the throne. or maybe the townspeople whispered too loud for him to hear about how he isn’t fit to be a ruler, that he’s still a child. his jaw ticks, and your hands slow down, trailing up his chest. the water ripples, and his eyes bore into yours. “what’s on your mind, princess?” wrong. you weren’t a princess, but you couldn’t control the smile on your lips when he referred to you, using that pet name.

the water lapped softly between your bodies, the scent of sandalwood soap clinging to your skin. his arms around your waist were possessive, his breath warm against the hollow of your throat. the anger in his voice from moments before had softened, banked into something low and heated, something meant only for you.

“so jealous,” he murmured, the words a lazy vibration against your skin. his fingers traced idle patterns on your hip, calloused pads dragging slowly. “thinking of some… noble lady in a distant court? with her perfect posture and her perfect pedigree?” a low, unamused chuckle. “boring. all of them. they wouldn’t know what to do with their hands if it wasn’t holding a fan or a dagger.”

he pulled back just enough to look at your face, his blue eyes catching the fading sunset light. they were sharp, calculating, even now. but the freeze-thaw of his temper had melted the ice from them, leaving something warmer, something dangerously devoted.

“they’d see you tending your garden,” he continued, his thumb circling your navel. “and they’d see dirt. they’d see a servant. they wouldn’t see this.” his gaze swept over you, openly claiming every inch. “they wouldn’t see how you hold your breath when i kiss you here—perfect, every time. they wouldn’t see how your hands know my body better than any sword knows its hilt.”

he leaned in again, his lips finding your jaw this time, a series of slow, open-mouthed kisses. “they’d want a queen. a politically useful ornament.” his teeth grazed your skin, making you shiver. “i want my pet. my perfect, filthy little peasant who scrubs my floors and knows my bath temperature without being asked.”

one hand slid down, cupping you between your thighs, his touch firm and claiming. “my concubine. my secret.” his voice dropped to a whisper meant only for you, laced with that familiar, arrogant sweetness. “and i’ll have a wife, yes. someone to sit beside me on the throne and smile for the court. but you?” he applied pressure, a quiet command. “you get this. you get me. the real one. the one who gets so fucking angry at the council he could burn the castle down, and the only thing that stops him is remembering he has to come home to you.”

he kissed you then, finally, his mouth hungry and deep. it tasted of wine and authority and a desperation he’d never admit to. his tongue swept against yours, and for a moment, the crown, the kingdom, the whispers—it all fell away. there was only the slick heat of the water, the tight circle of his arms, and the dizzying, sickening truth he was branding into you with every touch:

they could have his name, his title, his future heir.

but they would never have this; this frantic, worshipful, needy piece of him that belonged to the peasant girl in his arms.

when he broke the kiss, his forehead rested against yours, his breathing unsteady. the prince was gone. just satoru , raw and wanting.

for a moment, even if just a split second, you feel at ease. like you’re on the same status as him. “i haven’t finished picking the berries out of the garden.” you respond softly, and the prince lolls his head back, laughing at you. you’re unsure of whether you should laugh too, or not, so you simply smile. “you can finish picking the berries when i’m gone tomorrow, i’m off to scout a potential wife in a rivaling kingdom.”

“the higher up’s orders,” the male scowls, his eyes following the tiles on the ceiling. “who are they to order me? i’m stronger than every one of them in this kingdom, i don’t need to listen to their disgusting words. they talk to me as if i’m a child, as if i’m not worthy for the throne.”

you listen to each of his words, your fingers trailing down his biceps as the prince speaks his familiar anger towards the higher ups, including his parents. the ones he despised. you know better than to speak at a time like this, all you can do is offer your ear. “i am no child, i am heir to the throne. the crown will be mine, wife or no wife.” the hint of jealousy flowing through your veins, halted ever so slightly at his reassuring words.

but why would gojo satoru need a wife, when he had a sweet peasant like yourself?

the prince leans in closer, his arms extending to wrap around your waist, pressing your skin flush against his. his anger is often fuel for something else, he uses it as a weapon against you. his lips press against the soft skin of your neck, kissing lightly. his kisses were often lazy, like he was never bound to lose you. why rush when you were destined to be at his side for all eternity?

who would tend to him, if not you?

at sunrise, your new gown sat at the edge of the bed, where satoru once lingered before he was on his way to scout a wife. not by choice.

the gown was a vision of pristine beauty, its silk shimmering with a soft, ethereal glow. delicate embroidery adorned the bodice, with tiny pearls catching the light like dewdrops on a spiderweb. the color was a gentle lavender, reminiscent of a twilight sky, and the fabric cascaded in graceful folds to the floor, whispering with every movement. it was a masterpiece of elegance and refinement, a garment fit for a queen, yet possessing a quiet charm that spoke of understated grace.

your mouth falls agape at the sight, the gown was worth more than you ever were. words couldn’t express gratitude, or the emotions coursing through your body. maybe this meant something, or it could’ve meant nothing at all. he had nothing but money to spare, a gown like this didn’t even leave so much as a hole in his pockets. you purse your lips together, taking a glance at yourself in the mirror. were you worthy of a gown like this? right now, that didn’t matter because you fell in love with how the beautiful piece of art fit over your body.

your eyes widen in shock when you hear the sound of a ticking clock above your head, you were supposed to be tending the garden, not gazing at yourself in satoru’s bedroom.

your feet lead you down the large staircase, eyes staring down at the embroidery designs covering your body. you don’t even notice when you run into someone at the bottom of the staircase. you’re a nervous wreck, instantly dropping your face towards the ground, muttering apologies only to meet with the sound of unfamiliar laughter. “dust yourself off, why don’t you?” eyebrows furrowing in confusion, you’ve never heard this voice before. it was different; lighthearted, and a silver of kindness was underlying the male’s tone.

you stand to your feet, eyes meeting with a tall male, he was around the same height as satoru, long black hair, and a smile on his pretty face.

“i beg your pardon,” you stammer, “the fault is mine entirely. i was remiss in my attention, and now i am late.” he waves off your concerns with a gentle hand. “the fault is mine, for i am unfamiliar with the customs of this place. i am but here for a meeting with your king.”

you study his features, noting the absence of satoru’s arrogance, and the lack of mockery that usually colored the voices of those within the castle. “are you acquainted with the king’s solar? you have wandered far past the main entrance.” you inquire.

a chuckle escapes him, and he shakes his head. “alas, i am not. would you be so kind as to guide me? i apologize for the imposition.” your teeth worry your lower lip, and your fingers twist in the fabric of your gown. to assist him would surely make you even later for the tasks satoru had set, yet to refuse would reflect poorly upon you.

“follow me,” you concede, leading him through the echoing halls, your feet padding softly against the cold stone. sunlight streams through the towering arched windows, illuminating swirling motes of dust and casting long shadows from the ornate tapestries. suits of armor stood guard in alcoves, their polished metal gleaming.

“i have not yet had the pleasure of knowing your name,” the gentleman remarked, his gaze fixed upon your back. you turn, a soft smile gracing your lips — a rare occurrence, for few had ever bothered to ask or even acknowledge your presence. “i am y/n l/n. are you perhaps a jester or some such?”

he laughs heartily, waving a dismissive hand. “getou suguru, at your service. not a jester, though i appreciate the jest and the lack of formality.” you halt, turning to study him more closely. he was the prince of the rival kingdom, the one satoru was visiting — the very prince satoru held in such disdain. a wave of embarrassment washed over you, the tips of your ears flushing a faint pink.

“oh, forgive me, for i am heavily lost in thought.” you murmur, trying to further push down the embarrassment.

you gesture towards a grand, oak door, its surface intricately carved with scenes of mythical beasts and valiant knights. “he resides in the solar, just beyond this door.” suguru turns to get a better look at your face, simply bowing his head. “thank you for allowing me a piece of your time,” you give a curt nod, keeping a polite smile on your face before scurrying out into the garden.

hours pass by, and you’re leaning forward, your knees pressing into the sharp grass as you pick the strawberries and toss them into the basket. your fingers move delicately, plucking the berries from the thorns. “quite the work you do around here,” suguru says from behind you, pulling your attention from your tasks once again.

“it’s simply my duty here, your highness.” you turn to get a better look at suguru, the wooden basket pressing into your lap. “please call me suguru, no need for the formalities now. we’re out the prying eye of others.”

you smile softly, shaking your head. “very well, suguru, what brings you out here into the garden? the meeting fared well, i presume.”

“oh, please, it was a simple meeting about our kingdoms coming to a ceasefire. no need for either one of us to be overtaking the other.” suguru responds calmly, plucking blueberries from the bush beside the strawberries. the berries fall into the basket gracefully and the sun is haloing around the long-haired male, casting out his features. you listen to him, your ears perking up at his words. at the sound of the proposal, you can only imagine satoru’s distaste for this outcome when all he wanted was to overthrow suguru’s father, dethrone him, and all.

you press your lips together, nodding your head along with his words before standing on your two feet and dusting your fresh gown. “a solution to all the problems, huh?” suguru’s lips curl up into a dangerous smile, his eyes following your every movement. “a solution to all the problems. i’ll be on my way now, i hope to see you again. maybe the next time will be around my kingdom, hm?”

you return the smile, yours seeming to be softer than his. your eyes watch as he travels to his carriage, your focus returning to the berries before you carry your basket into the castle.

your ears recognize the sound of satoru’s voice, his frustration evident as him and his father, the king, argue through the long halls. “like hell, i’d ever marry her or anyone else for that matter. soon, the throne will be mine so your words mean less, if not nothing to me.”

“with that attitude, this throne will be getou suguru’s and you’ll be kissing his feet.” the king remarks, resulting in gojo’s flared anger. you’re on your way to the kitchen to wash the fresh berries when satoru stops you in your tracks, eyes gleaming with fury. “my chamber. find yourself there laying on the bed before i get there.” you almost squeal, quickly nodding your head. “yes, master.” somewhere along your frenzy, the berries end up in the hands of another peasant.

it takes no less than sixty seconds for you to reach satoru’s chamber, gown pooling on the ground beside the large mattress. the only thing covering your body being lace as you lay still, awaiting the prince’s return.

the door slams open, and you gaze down to see satoru undressing, a scowl etched upon his face. this marks the second day he has approached you with such a grim expression.

the chamber felt smaller than usual, the air thick with the scent of him—ozone and worn leather and the sharp tang of his fury. you lay perfectly still, the cool silk of thegown pooled beside you a stark contrast to the heat of his gaze on your bare skin. he didn’t look at your face as he shed his clothes, his movements jerky, violent. the thwack of his belt hitting the floor made you jump.

then he was over you, a shadow blotting out the late afternoon sun streaming through the window. there was no soft exploration, no whispered “princess” to ease you into it. just the blunt, insistent pressure of him, the sharp intake of his breath as he buried himself to the hilt inside you in one hard, claiming stroke. a choked sound escaped you—part relief, part shock—and his hand clamped over your mouth, his thumb pressing down on your lower lip.

“quiet.” the word was a brutal puff of air against your ear. his rhythm was punishing, relentless. each thrust was a punctuation to the argument he’d just left, a way to hammer his frustration into something tangible, something he could control. you were his control. his hips snapped against yours, the slap-slap-slap of skin against skin the only answer to the king’s words, the council’s words, suguru’s words.

your hands came up to grip his forearms, your nails biting into his skin. you needed an anchor, something to hold onto as he used you, as he poured the roiling chaos of his soul into your body. your eyes found his, but he wasn’t seeing you. he was seeing the sneering faces of his advisors, imagining the cold, pretty features of some foreign princess he was supposed to wed. he was seeing suguru smiling that calm, infuriating smile across a negotiating table.

his pace faltered for a second, his forehead dropping to rest between your shoulders. a tremor ran through him. “his… peace… ceasefire…” he growled into your skin, the words garbled by the rhythm he forced himself back into. “he talks… like he knows…”

your own breath was coming in short, ragged pants. you remembered suguru’s voice, smooth as river stone. “a solution to all the problems.” you remembered the way his eyes had tracked the movement of your hands in the garden, observant, assessing. suguru saw the dirt on your gown, the labor in your fingers. satoru saw through the gown, saw the pet underneath. one saw a servant. the other saw a secret.

and now satoru was inside you, his body a confessional for his rage. this wasn’t making love. this was a siege. he was storming the fortress of his own helplessness, and you were the willing, aching battleground.

“look at me,” he suddenly commanded, his voice raw. his hand left your mouth and fisted in your hair, forcing your head up, forcing your eyes to lock with his. the blue was a hurricane. “this… this is mine.” he punctuated each word with a deep, rolling thrust that stole your next thought. “my… my fury. my… peace.” a humorless, broken laugh. “he can have the damned treaty. he can have the bored nobles and the empty throne.. but this?”

he leaned down, his lips a hairsbreadth from yours, his body still moving within you, a steady, pounding drumbeat.

“this is the only thing… that’s mine by right.” his kiss was desperate, swallowing the moan you couldn’t hold back. it tasted of tears—his, or maybe yours—and salt and a profound, terrifying loneliness. when he broke away, his climax was a shattering thing, his body locking taut above you as he spilled himself inside you with a groan that sounded like a surrender.

for a long moment, the only sound was your combined, heaving breaths. the anger had bled out of him, leaving behind a hollowed, vulnerable exhaustion. he didn’t roll off you. he just collapsed, his full weight pinning you to the bed, his face buried in the curve of your neck.

you didn’t move. you could feel the rapid, slowing beat of his heart against your chest, the wetness of his tears mingling with the sweat on your collarbone. the silence was different now—not angry, but profoundly sad.

you wanted to soothe him. to whisper that he was worthy, that he was more than their whispers, that you were his and his alone. but the words died in your throat, because the truth was a double-edged sword.

he was yours.

and that, more than any crown or treaty, was the most dangerous thing of all.

even in this intimate embrace, your thoughts wander beyond satoru, drifting to suguru. you should feel guilt for entertaining thoughts of another man while the one you love expresses his anger through you. his slender fingers intertwine with yours, and his gaze pierces into your soul — you sense that he can read your mind, aware that your thoughts stray from him.

his eyes narrow slightly, a flicker of hurt passing through them before being replaced by a determined glint. satoru pulls back just enough to look at you fully, his hands framing your face. “are you even here with me?” he whispers, his voice rough with a mixture of anger and vulnerability.

you try to focus on satoru, to push suguru’s image from your mind, but it's like trying to grasp smoke. “satoru,” you begin, but he cuts you off with a shake of his head.

“no,” he says, his grip tightening slightly. “don’t say my name if you’re not thinking of me. don’t pretend like i’m the only one in this room.” he pushes deeper inside of you, a possessive move that’s almost punishing, and you gasp. the pleasure is still there, but it’s tainted with a sharp edge of guilt and a growing sense of unease.

“tell me, pet.” he murmurs, his voice barely audible. “tell me what you’re thinking, tell me what’s overtaking your mind whilst i’m right here.”

you press your lips together, pulling the woven sheet over your bare chest. could you say you’re worried about the kingdom? no, satoru’s not an idiot, he wouldn’t fall for that lie.

“i’ve heard talk, whispers and such about your father decrowning you for getou suguru, the thought worries me deeply, master.” the lie comes out faster than your brain can process it, but you can only bite your tongue, praying that satoru will believe you.

his eyebrows crinkle and his chest is exposed to you, “the crown will stay mine, as will the throne. over my dead body, i’d allow my idiotic father the will to restrict me from the throne i was born to have.”

with those words, satoru arises from the soft mattress and trudges to the restroom. he didn’t mention anything about setting his bath, he just walked away from you. clearly, the matter affected him more than he would like to admit. the thought of suguru taking his crown, his throne made his jaw clench with an anger you’ve never seen before.

you contemplate on the best possible solution, given the fact that you would consider him your friend before becoming his servant. he wasn’t always this way, not in adolescence, despite being heir to the throne, even at seven years old. his fate never changed, as did yours. the words of seven year old satoru swim around in your mind, “when i’m king, you’ll never be a servant again.” it was a stupid promise, but that promise was the reason you had so much hope in anything. part of the reason why you eagerly kept satoru content, disregarding your self respect.

your eyes flicker to the cracked door, uneasy floating around in your stomach before satoru walked out of the restroom. his hair fell on his forehead, and his eyes held a hunger behind them. “turn around,” the prince commands, and you do so. a humiliating state for you to be in, face burying into the pillow with your ass in the air.

you can hear the faint shuffling behind you, the quiet breathing that escapes satoru. you don’t say anything, what could you say to help soothe his problems? nothing. there was nothing for you to say, so to help him, you could offer yourself up to him.

the air in the room grew taut, electric with the hum of his unchecked agitation. you obeyed, turning onto your stomach, the cool pillow pressing into your cheek. your body was a open, trembling invitation, ass high, back arched—a offering born not of desire, but of desperate penance. you could feel his gaze, a physical weight scorching the skin of your back, traveling down the curve of your spine to the place where you were most exposed, most his.

he didn’t touch you at first. the silence was a slow, deliberate torture. you heard the soft shush of his own skin as he moved, the hitch in his breath. then his knee pressed into the bed beside your hip, and his hand—that powerful, calloused hand—came down on the back of your thigh. not a caress. a brand. a possession. he slid his palm down, over the swell of your ass, fingers splaying wide, possessively claiming every inch.

“such a good little pet,” he murmured, the words slick with a poisonous sweetness. “presenting yourself so nicely. is this what you want? to be used? to forget?” his fingers dug in, pulling your cheeks apart, the cool air of the room kissing the wet, aching heat he’d left behind. a low, depraved groan vibrated in his chest. “so loose from me already. greedy. you take everything i give, don’t you?”

you whimpered, the sound muffled by the pillow. it was true. you did. you took his anger, his seed, everything. you took it all and begged for more, because it was all you had of him.

then his other hand fisted in your hair, not to hurt, but to hold, to anchor you as he guided his swollen cock back to your entrance. he didn’t thrust. he just pushed, inexorably, filling you again, stretching you wide on a slow, relentless invasion. a full, broken gasp tore from your throat. he was everywhere.

“this is mine,” he growled, his voice a raw scrape against your ear as he bent over you, his chest heating your back, his hips not moving yet. “this hole. this body. this mind.” he punctuated each claim with a tiny, torturous roll of his hips, making you feel every ridge, every vein. “when i fill you, there should be no room for anything else. no other face. no other voice.”

finally, he began to move. not the frantic punishing pace from before, but a deep, purposeful grind. each stroke was a statement, a verdict. he was re-marking his territory, overwriting the ghost of another prince’s smile with the brutal, beautiful reality of his own possession. the sound was different now—less of a slap, more of a deep, wet shluck as he pulled out and pushed back in, steadily, relentlessly.

your fingers scrabbled at the sheets, your knuckles white. the pleasure was there, a insistent, coiling heat in your belly, but it was tangled with a shame so thick it was almost a flavor in your mouth. you were his instrument, his confessional, his canvas for rage. and you were loving it. the degrading angle, the total loss of control, the way he owned you from the inside out—it was a perverse kind of worship.

“look at you,” he breathed, his thrusts gaining a punishing rhythm, his hand still tangled in your hair, forcing your head up. “my beautiful, filthy pet. taking my cock like you were made for it. because you were.” his other hand came around, sliding between your thighs, his fingers finding your clit—not teasing, not playing, but claiming.

he circled it with a firm, unyielding pressure, a direct command to your traitorous body. “come for me now. let me feel it. prove you’re here with me.”

his words were the match. the tension in your core shattered. your release was a silent, shuddering thing, your walls clamping down around him in waves that made his thrusts hitch. he rode it out, his own control a fraying thread. with a final, guttural cry that was more pain than pleasure, he buried himself to the hilt and came again, his seed flooding you, his body locking you in place, his forehead dropping between your shoulder blades.

he stayed there, inside you, connected to you in the most fundamental way. the furious tempo of his breathing slowly synced with yours. his hand in your hair loosened, his fingers now just resting there. the hand on your clit slid up, over your stomach, and splayed flat, possessively covering your lower belly, as if he could physically hold his seed inside.

for a long, long minute, there was only the sound of breathing and the distant chirp of a night bird outside. the anger had bled away, leaving behind a devastating, quiet. a quiet more frightening than his fury.

he finally pulled out, the loss of him feeling like an amputation, and collapsed beside you, not touching, just lying in the same pool of spilled intimacy. his voice, when it came, was hollow. defeated.

“he has a peace treaty,” satoru whispered to the ceiling, the words hanging in the dark. “he gets to play the benevolent prince. the reasonable one.” a dry, humorless swallow. “and i get… this.”

he gestured vaguely between your two bodies, at the mess on your stomach, the still-quivering aftermath of your shared violence.

“he gets the kingdom’s admiration. i get… you.” the words were an accusation, a prayer, a dirge all at once. “and you’re thinking of him.”

you closed your eyes, the lavender gown a forgotten ghost on the floor. the lie had been cowardly. the truth was a death sentence. you were thinking of suguru’s calm smile, his easy laughter, the way he’d called you y/n instead of servant or pet. you were thinking of a peace that didn’t require blood or submission to achieve.

and satoru, the strongest sorcerer in the kingdom, the furious, glittering heir, was lying broken beside you, knowing it.

from behind, satoru’s slender fingers zip your gown slowly, and he looks at you from the mirror, his body pressing into your back. you look into the reflection of yourself and him, the corners of your lips curling ever so slightly. “today, we will go to the village. find me a stone, the sunstone would be nice, in particular. don’t fret regarding the price. complete that task, while i complete a task of my own.” you turn around to look at the prince, nodding your head at his words.

the carriage ride to the nearing village was quiet, eyes following your movement. the people of the palace were confused as to why satoru was bringing you out into the village — why couldn’t he go alone? your fingers twist the fabric of your gown, and his hand hovers over top of yours. “stop the worrying, won’t you?”

you can’t help but worry, what were the townspeople going to see when they caught sight of you and satoru together? it wasn’t glorified, nor a public relationship. more of you playing your role as a pretty pet for the prince. “you’ll ruin the gown, is that what you want?”

“of course not,” you respond, voice coming out softer than usual. “stop the carriage here.” the prince voices out, his eyes not peeling from yours.

“then twist something else.” he retorts, before the carriage doors open, allowing you a better view of the village.

as you step onto the cobbled streets, all eyes turn towards you — or rather gojo satoru. the villagers, a mix of weathered farmers and sturdy craftsmen, pause in their tasks to scrutinize the prince, and you. your teeth worry at your lower lip before satoru’s lips find the crest of your ear. “don’t be late finding your way back to me.” his hand rests on the small of your back.

the hand on your back wasn't comfort. it was a brand. a slow, searing pressure that followed the line of your spine as you walked away, a silent, possessive mine radiating from his palm into your bones. the marketplace noise—the haggling, the clatter of carts, the laughter—faded into a dull roar. your mind was a frantic bird trapped in your chest, beating against the cage of your ribs.

he knows.

satoru always knew. it was in the way his eyes had narrowed when you’d flinched at his touch, in the hollow, defeated quiet after. he’d felt the shift in you, the mental withdrawal. and now he was sending you here, into the open, with a simple, impossible task. find me a sunstone. it wasn’t about the jewel. it was about the village. about him.

your feet carried you on autopilot, the lavender gown whispering against your legs a constant, guilty reminder of the gulf between what you were wearing and what you were. a queen’s dress on a traitor’s back.

“ah, forgive me.” a deep voice exclaims. a hand, strong yet gentle, reaches down to help you up. you look up into the face of the man you bumped into, and your breath gets caught in your throat. suguru was strikingly handsome, with kind eyes and a warm smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes. “and so, we meet again, huh?”

suguru helps you to your feet, his fingers brushing yours. “we meet again, and i’m somehow on the ground once more.” you tease, a small smile finding your lips. his voice is laced with genuine concern. “are you hurt?” you, flustered by his presence and the knowledge of who he was, stammer a reply, assuring him that you were fine. “not hurt, just embarrassed. i always seem to not be paying good attention when we meet.”

you can’t help but notice the genuine warmth in his eyes, so different from the cold animosity that resided inside gojo satoru. “what brings you to the village today?”

“i’m in search of a large jewel, no further information on that matter.” you reply, dusting your gown off. “and you? this village seems to be far, in terms of where your kingdom lies.”

“ah, i’m searching for herbs. i decided upon myself that i was in quite the mood for traveling, so why send others to a task that i can easily handle myself?” you purse your lips together, your feet picking themselves up to walk alongside the prince. it would be far from well if satoru caught sight of you with suguru, but that thought lingered far in the back of your mind.

“very well, not everyone has the mindset of you.” you reply, half-jokingly. “i know, sending a pretty girl like you out of your way frequently is the move of an idiot.” that idiot being gojo satoru. your lips pull together to let out a soft chuckle, while you shake your head at suguru’s words. “and what makes you think i don’t like going out of my way?”

“stepping away is a breath of fresh air, sometimes it’s needed.”

suguru looks at you, his eyebrows creasing together. “fresh air? that’s exactly what this village lacks. look around, take in the judgmental stares, the whispers. doesn’t this remind you of the palace you reside in?”

his words sink into your mind, playing over and over — and he’s right. this village isn’t much different from the palace, because you’re still judged, even if the people aren’t the same. you’re still seen as the peasant that satoru fucks into his bed every night, that’s all people will see when their eyes are boring into you. “take it upon yourself to stop by my palace, at least once. at dusk, at dawn, time doesn’t matter.”

you come to a halt, the stall that withholds the jewels, standing beside you. “nonetheless, i’ll be on my way.”

“i’ll hope to see you again, y/n.” you had almost forgotten your name after all these years. no one ever referred to you as yourself, you were just gojo satoru’s pet — the palace keeper, the servant.

this chance encounter had complicated everything, blurring the lines between loyalty and curiosity, and suguru left you wondering if everything you thought you knew about the rivalry between your kingdoms was a lie.

is that really the prince satoru had such a distaste for? was there something underneath the mask of kindness? or was his kindness just something satoru lacked, feeding into his misplaced anger?

you approach ryomen sukuna’s stall with a mix of trepidation and determination. the jewel seller’s reputation preceded him — a shadowy figure known for his crooked dealings and an unsettling aura that made even the bravest think twice. his stall was tucked away in the darkest corner of the marketplace, flickering lamplight casting eerie shadows on the strange assortment of gems and trinkets displayed.

sukuna himself was a striking figure, his crimson eyes gleaming with an almost predatory intensity. a cruel smirk playing on his lips as he watches you approach, his gaze sharp and assessing. his voice like gravel, “what brings such a delicate creature to my humble abode?”

“i seek a jewel,” you speak, your voice clear despite the knot of anxiety in your stomach. “a large one, fit for prince satoru.”

sukuna’s smirk widens, revealing a hint of sharp teeth. “satoru, you say? i have many jewels, each with its own unique… properties.” he gestures towards a velvet-lined case, where a dazzling array of gems glitter under the lamplight. “tell me, little bird, what kind of jewel does your prince desire?” his eyes bore into yours, as if trying to unravel your very thoughts. you knew you had to tread carefully; sukuna was not a man to be trifled with, and the fate of your task — and perhaps more — hung in the balance.

you take a deep breath, trying to ignore the unsettling feeling that sukuna’s gaze evokes. “prince satoru seeks a jewel of exceptional beauty and power,” you say, choosing your words carefully. “one that reflects his own brilliance and strength to become king.”

sukuna chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that seemed to caress your senses. “brilliance and strength, you say? such qualities are indeed alluring.” he leans closer, his crimson eyes sparkling with mischief. “but perhaps, for the right kind of enticement, i can find something that matches not only your prince’s extravagant tastes, but also your own exquisite charm.”

he gestures towards the case, his long, slender fingers lingering near a gem of deep, swirling blues. “this ‘eye of the abyss’ holds the power to control fate itself,” sukuna whispers, his voice a seductive murmur. “but i sense you desire something… brighter. something that mirrors the light in your eyes.”

your heart flutters. the jewel was magnificent, yet sukuna’s attention felt far more captivating. “it is intriguing,” you admit, your voice a bit breathless. “but i seek something more… pure, more akin to the warmth you exude.”

sukuna’s smirk deepens, his gaze intensifying. “pure, you say? in this world, little bird, true purity is a myth. but perhaps… perhaps i have something that resonates with the hidden depths of your soul.”

he retrieves the sunstone, its golden light bathing his features in a seductive glow. “this is the sunstone.” sukuna purrs, his eyes never leaving yours. “it brings joy and prosperity, but its true magic lies in revealing one’s deepest desires. tell me, little bird, what does it reveal to you?”

your breath gets caught in your throat. the sunstone was perfect, but sukuna’s words hinted at something far more intimate. “how much?” you manage to ask, you voice barely audible.

sukuna’s smirk widens, his eyes gleaming with playful anticipation. “ah, the price,” he starts, his voice lacing with amusement. “let’s just say, it involves a secret, a memory, or perhaps… a favor.” he pauses, his gaze lingering on your lips. “but who knows? maybe we can negotiate something even more… personal.”

your bottom lip gets caught in your teeth, and dread fills your body. what exactly were you signing up for, talking to sukuna this way? you press your lips together, eyes following the black ink that paints sukuna’s skin. “i’ll return once more, with something of value for you.” you speak lightly, your posture sharp and your eyes up.

“very well, i hope to see you soon, little bird.”

the same words that left sukuna’s mouth, also left suguru’s mouth just a few moments prior.

the walk back to the meeting point was a blur. all you could hear was the echo of his words: “take it upon yourself to stop by my palace.”

you were a live wire, humming with a terror that had nothing to do with satoru’s anger and everything to do with the terrifying, traitorous hope suguru had somehow planted in the barren soil of your soul.

satoru was waiting exactly where you’d left him, leaning against a stone well, a picture of idle grace. his eyes were on the approaching crowd, but they snapped to you the moment you entered his radius. they swept over you, the gown, your face. no smile. just that terrifying, placid calm that came before the storm.

then his hand was on your back again, guiding you firmly toward the carriage. the ride was a silent torture. his thigh pressed against yours, a solid, unyielding bar of muscle and menace. you could feel the tremor in him, a caged thing vibrating just beneath the surface of his stillness.

at the palace gates, as the carriage slowed, he leaned in. his lips were at your ear, his breath a icy wisp that made you shudder. “you were late.”

you hadn’t been. you’d been exactly on time. but the accusation was a formality. the real trial was coming.

“the crowd was thick,” you whispered, the lie tasting like ash.

he didn’t respond. just helped you out, his hand at the small of your back, guiding you through the corridors. servants bowed, their eyes darting between your disheveled hair (from the collision) and satoru’s thunderous expression. they saw a prince returning with his pet. they saw nothing of the war inside the carriage.

in his chamber, he shut the door with a final, definitive click. he didn’t look at you. he walked to the wardrobe and pulled out a simple, dark dress—the kind you wore when scrubbing floors. he threw it on the bed.

“change.”

the command was flat. deadly. this wasn’t the frenzied, angry claiming from the bath. this was something colder, more surgical. you undressed, the lavender gown falling away like a shed skin. the lace beneath was damp, not from sweat, but from a traitorous, lingering arousal that had nothing to do with satoru’s touch and everything to do with suguru’s proximity.

you were in the plain dress before he turned. his eyes went from the discarded queen’s silk on the floor to your simple, servile form. he picked up the gown, the beautiful, expensive thing. he held it over his arm like a butcher holding a cut of meat.

“he saw you in this,” satoru stated, not asked. his voice was still quiet. “the rival prince. saw my property parading around his territory.”

“i was on your errand,” you said, the defense weak even to your own ears.

“were you?” he finally looked at you, and the glacial blue of his eyes was a frozen sea. “or were you on his? seeking his kind words? his fresh air?”

your blood ran cold. he’d been watching. not just the meeting, but the walk. he’d seen everything.

he took a slow step toward you. “you think i don’t know what he offers?” a humorless, brittle sound escaped him. “peace. quiet. a life where you’re not a secret to be hidden in a bed.” another step. “he offers you a cage with gilded bars. i offer you a throne.” he tossed the lavender gown onto the bed beside you. “and you stumble into his arms in the marketplace like a beggar looking for a handout.”

“i was not—“

he was in front of you then, not touching, but his heat was a physical force. his hand came up, not to strike, but to gently, deliberately, cup your jaw. his thumb stroked your cheekbone, a mockery of tenderness.

“the crown will be mine,” he breathed, the promise a venomous vow. “and when it is, you will wear silks worth a hundred of this rags. you will stand beside me, and every knee will bend. but you will belong to me. not to the court. not to the history books. not to the idea of a queen.” his grip tightened, just enough to bruise. “to me.”

he leaned down, his lips hovering a millimeter from yours. the scent of ozone and cold fury enveloped you.

“his peace is a lie,” he whispered. “a pause before the war starts again. my love…” his other hand came up, fisting in the rough fabric of your new dress at your hip. “my love is a weapon. and i will use it to keep you. even if i have to chain you to the throne itself.”

he kissed you then. it wasn’t sweet. it was a conquest, a claiming, a desperate, terrified act of overwriting. his tongue swept in, not asking, but taking. It tasted of wine and winter and absolute, unyielding possession. when he pulled back, his forehead rested on yours, his eyes shut.

“go to the village again,” he murmured, the words a paradox of command and surrender. “see him. let him fill your head with his pretty lies.”

he opened his eyes. the hurricane was back, but now it was directed inward, a storm of pure, agonized need.

“but when you come back to me…” his hand slid down, gripping the back of your thigh, his nails biting through the dress. “…you will remember who owns your mind. who owns your soul.”

he stepped back, releasing you. the space between you was an abyss.

“now go. and be exactly as late as you wish.”

it wasn’t permission. it was a test. a challenge. and as you turned to leave his chamber, the weight of his gaze on your back was heavier than any crown. you had been given a choice. and you both knew, with a terrifying certainty, which path you would take. not because you wanted to, but because you were his. his pet. his princess. his prisoner. and he would burn the world to keep you from ever finding the door.

the prince’s large arms engulf you and your back presses into the soft mattress, this is all you’ve wanted, right? so why did a silver of you want to go to suguru’s palace?

you look over to see satoru sleeping soundly beside you. so much trust he had in you, to allow you to reside in his chamber, to be able to fall into deep slumber beside you. sucking in a deep breath, you move ever so slightly, testing the waters. the clock ticks, and reads twelve in the morning.

you stealthily slip out of the royal bedchamber. your heart pounding against your ribs as you navigate the labyrinthine corridors of the palace, your destination the grand palace of suguru, a clandestine rendezvous you dared not miss. the silken robes you wore whispered against the cold stone floors, each step a gamble in this perilous game of secrets.

midway through your covert journey, hidden behind an ornate tapestry, you overhear the hushed tones of satoru’s parents. “the arrangements are nearly complete,” his mother says, her voice laced with regal satisfaction. “the gojo family will be pleased with this union; it solidifies our power and ensures a strong lineage.” his father adds, “satoru must understand the importance of this marriage. it is not merely a matter of personal desire but a duty to the throne. he will be pursuing this marriage.”

a wave of jealousy washes over you, threatening to consume you. the words struck you like a physical blow, each syllable a reminder of your precarious position. a marriage, a political alliance, things you could never be worthy of.

the grand palace of suguru suddenly seemed miles away, your mission tainted by the bitter realization that your devotion to satoru might never be enough. deep down, you already knew that. on one hand, going inside of suguru’s palace would be an ultimate betrayal to satoru, and on the other hand, why did that even matter? to satoru, you were a pet. not a person, and definitely not a wife.

the journey to suguru’s palace was fraught with anxiety. every rustle of leaves, every distant guard patrol sent shivers down your spine. you navigate the familiar paths with practiced ease, your mind racing with the potential consequences of your actions. what if you were caught? what if satoru woke up and discovered your absence? yet, beneath the fear, a flicker of hope burned bright.

reaching the gates of suguru’s palace, you were greeted by a familiar face. toji, suguru’s most trusted advisor, awaited your arrival, a knowing smile playing on his lips. he leads you through the opulent halls, the silence amplifying your anticipation. finally, you arrive at suguru’s private study. as the doors swing open, your breath gets caught in your throat. suguru stands by the window, gazing out at the moonlit gardens, his silhouette a beacon of hope in the darkness.

“ah, so i see you’ve made your mind about needing fresh air, hm?” suguru comments, turning to get a better look. “perhaps, i can only hope you refrain from changing my mind.”

suguru ticks his teeth, his red tongue sliding over his lower lip. “i’m glad we share the same hope about something.” you brush yourself down, taking a slow step toward the long-haired male. “is that so? why were you so eager for me to visit your palace, getou?”

“please, call me suguru. like i’ve told you before.” the male says, bringing a glass to his lips and taking a slow sip. “for one, you mentioned needing a breath of fresh air and i can provide that for you, and i can provide many.. many other things. and two, you’re a pretty girl. i see why prince gojo has kept you around for so long.” suguru stands tall, his long haired clipped back out of his face, bringing out the dimensions of his facial structure.

“i have other qualities beside my beauty,” you comment, your eyes holding a strong gaze. “i’m aware. you’re also excellent at picking berries.” the tall male teases, a light chuckle escaping his mouth.

“that much is very true, but i do have other qualities.” a soft smile creeps onto your lips, and you’re finding amusement in his teasing. this was the most normal conversation you’d had in years. suguru offered you a warmth you hadn’t felt in a very long time, and you couldn’t help but slip into him every passing moment.

one trip to the palace wasn’t enough, so you’d find yourself with suguru almost every night — sneaking out of satoru’s bed, or lying about going to the village when in reality you were going to suguru’s palace. the lying should’ve made you feel guilty but it didn’t, considering satoru was set to be married anyhow. that fact, alone, was enough for you to feel okay with going off to see suguru. you knew eventually, satoru would figure it out, though. he wasn’t an idiot, and you were a fool for treating him like one.

looking at the white-haired prince from the mirror, he stands behind you, his front pressing against your back as he brings a velvet box to your attention. he holds onto the box in front of you, allowing you to open it for yourself. “go ahead, princess. it’s for you.” reluctantly, you open the box and your eyes meet with the sight of two pearl earrings.

you bring the box closer to the light, examining the two earrings. “they’re beautiful, what are they for?” you ask, your voice soft. satoru lets out a low chuckle, “can’t i just spoil my favorite girl?” he brings the earring up to your ear, clipping it perfectly. in your mind, this jewelry was only an apology for his upcoming marriage, the marriage you hadn’t mentioned knowing to him once. the prince tilts your head so you can look back at yourself in the mirror, the pretty earrings dangling from your ears.

“they’re perfect, thank you, sir.” you murmur, fingers delicately brushing against the pearls. his lips fall down into a frown at the title, it takes away the intimacy of the moment.

“excuse me, for i must retrieve the jewel you tasked me to provide for you.” satoru opens his mouth to speak, but quickly shuts it again. he simply nods his head, turning his back as you exit the bedchamber.

the trek back to the village felt longer this time, each step heavy with anticipation and a growing unease. the once-familiar dirt path seemed to twist and turn, mirroring the turmoil in your mind. the air hung thick and humid, the cicadas’ drone a constant, irritating buzz.

the village itself was a hive of activity, the marketplace bustling with merchants hawking their wares and villagers haggling for the best price. the smells of exotic spices, ripe fruit, and freshly baked bread filled the air, a stark contrast to the grim task ahead. you navigated through the crowd, your eyes scanning for sukuna’s familiar crimson stall.

there he was, lounging on a cushion, his crimson eyes gleaming with amusement. he looked every bit the enigmatic and dangerous merchant, a predator amidst unsuspecting prey. a shiver ran down your spine despite yourself.

“sukuna,” you greet, your voice carefully neutral.

he grins, a flash of sharp teeth. “back so soon, little bird? come to admire my exquisite collection again?”

“i’m here for the sunstone,” you state, cutting to the chase. “i have the payment.”

sukuna’s grin widens, but there was a strange glint in his eyes. “ah, the sunstone. a treasure indeed.” he leans forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper.

“unfortunately, my dear, you’re too late.” your heart skips a beat. “what do you mean?”

“someone else has already acquired it,” sukuna purrs, enjoying your obvious dismay. “a very generous patron, i must say. they recognized the stone’s true value. they sure were eager to exchange a few secrets for the stone.”

“who?” you demand, your voice rising slightly, betraying your anxiety. “who bought the stone?”

sukuna chuckles, a low, rumbling sound that sent shivers down your spine. “that, my little bird, is a secret i intend to keep. let’s just say they have... plans for it.” he leans back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “perhaps, you should try again next time, y/n. but be warned, the rarest treasures are often the most elusive.”

you clench your jaw, fists tightening. this is the first task you’ve failed to complete, and as simple as it all seemed, satoru would easily notice that something was off. you were perfect to him, never left a spot, never made a mistake. despite whatever satoru’s purpose was with the jewel, you failed to retrieve the item.

your teeth bite at the skin on your lower lip, as you contemplate the options at hand: go back to the palace and tell satoru the truth, or run away to prevent facing him.

with slow feet, you reach the palace again. walking through the prickly garden ground, you reach the large gates. afraid of what lingers behind the mist of it all.

you slip through the palace gates, the grand archway looming like a judgmental sentinel. your heart hammering against your ribs, a frantic drumbeat against the backdrop of your stealthy movements. the air hung heavy with the scent of jasmine and the distant echo of courtly music, a stark contrast to the turmoil churning within you.

each step was a calculated risk as you navigate the labyrinthine corridors, the polished marble floors reflecting the flickering candlelight like treacherous mirrors. shadows dance in your peripheral vision, morphing familiar tapestries into menacing figures. you hug the walls, fingers trailing along the cool stone, seeking solace in its solid presence.

the weight of your failure pressing down on you, each ornament and luxurious furnishing serving as a reminder of the task you had bungled. the vibrant colors of the royal banners seemed to mock you, their intricate designs a testament to the order and prosperity you had jeopardized.

you could almost feel satoru’s piercing gaze on you, his arrogant demeanor a mask for his sharp intellect. the thought of facing him, of admitting your defeat, sent a shiver down your spine.

you reached satoru’s chambers, the familiar sight of the door a beacon of hope in the sea of anxiety, hopefully he was already gone into the neighboring town. you slip inside, locking the door behind you with a soft click, and leaned against it, your body trembling with exhaustion and relief.

“what’s with the long face?” satoru’s voice erupts through the walls, as he exits the restroom and walks towards you. you freeze momentarily, before dusting your gown off. fingers digging into the material, “i couldn’t retrieve the jewel, toru.” you admit, a deep sigh of relief escaping your throat. his crystal eyes widen at the nickname, you hadn’t used it since you two were mindless children playing in the garden of a palace that’s soon to be his entirely.

“well, why couldn’t you? you’ve never had any trouble completing a task before, why now?” satoru’s voice is questioning, it’s almost as if he’s trying to accuse you of something. “my perfect little pet has never made a mistake this grave before, so what the hell has happened to you?” his eyes are wide and he’s staring you down, his lips curling down into a scowl.

a slender finger is pointed at you and he’s beckoning you to come closer, to face him. your movements are slow, but eventually you’re face to face with the prince, ready for the punishment you’re about to endure. “you want to make it up to me, yeah?” you nod your head carefully, “then make it up to me, pet.”

you lick your lips, reluctantly dropping down to your knees. you look up at satoru, who rests his hand atop of your head, like he’s waiting to control you. like you’re a puppet on a string.

the wooden panels dig into your knees, your gown just barely protecting them. your hands fumble with the zipper of his pants before he sucks his teeth at you, pulling your face up to look at him. “use your teeth.” the prince commands, his lips curling up into a dangerous smirk. you don’t know what’s worse; the command itself, or the fact that you had already begun unzipping his pants with your teeth.

his pants pool at his ankles once you tug at them with your teeth. your eyes gleam with joy at the sight of satoru’s bulge poking through, like it’s trying to escape the confinement of his undergarments. “don’t you dare lift a finger.” satoru warns, glaring down at you. you dig your teeth into the waistband of his undergarments, tugging them down until they meet with his pants at his ankles. his cock springs free from the restraints of his clothing, almost hitting you in the face. you gaze at the pre-cum leaking from his tip.

you leave a sweet, wet kiss to his tip. slow, sensual, before you start sucking. from the view, you witness his pretty blue eyes roll back. abs tensing. you lay your tongue flat across his tip, moving your mouth down slowly. you almost gag with every inch you take in your mouth, trying to accommodate yourself to his large size.

your sweet lips wrap around his angry, hot tip once again and this time you take him deeper down your throat. your cheeks hallowing out as you suck him in.

you pull your head back, your tongue laying flat and following the bulging veins on his pretty cock. your eyelashes flutter up at satoru, and you’re basking in the sight of his exterior crumbling apart at your hand. for once, you felt like you held some power over him.

at the sight of his dick entirely down your throat, and your glistening eyes staring back up at him, he feels his balls tighten, in need of a quick release. “just like that, pretty girl.” satoru groans out, silver-hair sticking to his forehead. “you’re a good fuckin’ pet.”

he grabs onto the top of your head, making sure his entire cock disappears in your mouth before letting his seed coat the velvety walls of your throat. he doesn’t release his hold on your head, not until he’s sure he’s emptied out his entire load in your mouth. the prince pulls his cock back, watching spit fall down your chin.

satoru helps you onto your feet, his strong hands grasping onto your shoulders to help you steady yourself. he looks into your eyes, a hand brushing your cheek and despite all of the sex, this moment feels intimate — the same amount of intimacy you felt when he helped you put on the pearl earrings. “run the bath, yeah?” his thumb finds your lower lip, and you nod at his words, your mind dazed.

what satoru felt for you didn’t mirror how he acted — he wasn’t one to talk about his feelings, he figured you already knew that he cared deeply about you. despite his cold demeanor, satoru would do anything for you. he would wage wars, cross oceans, and defy the gods themselves if it meant ensuring your safety and happiness. he was a prince, bound by duty and tradition, but his heart and soul belonged to you. and though he wouldn’t openly declare his thoughts, he would protect you from the shadows, a silent guardian watching over your every step.

so imagine his surprise when he feels the mattress dip, and he feels you carefully extract yourself from the embrace of the silk sheets. satoru’s cerulean eyes, usually so vibrant, were half-lidded, watching your every move with amusement. you, however, remained blissfully unaware.

you slip out of the room and make your way out of the palace. the journey to suguru seemed to get shorter each time you marked your way. as usual, toji greets you at the large gate and leads you to suguru’s bedchamber.

suguru’s chamber was a sanctuary, a space where the weight of his responsibilities seemed to lift, if only for a moment. soft lamplight cast long shadows across the room, illuminating shelves lined with ancient texts and personal mementos. you sit perched on the edge of his bed, your fingers tracing the intricate patterns of the embroidered blanket. suguru watches you, his heart swelling with an unfamiliar tenderness he rarely allowed himself to express.

“it’s a beautiful blanket,” you murmur, gaze fixed on the blanket. “did you make it yourself?”

suguru chuckles softly, “hardly. it was a gift from my grandmother before she passed. she believed in the power of handmade things, the way they carry the love and intention of the person who created them.”

you look up, your eyes meeting his. “personally, i believe she’s right.”

a comfortable silence settles between you, filled only with the quiet rhythm of your breathing. suguru finds himself drawn to your gaze, the way your eyes seemed to reflect the depths of his soul. he longed to reach out, to touch you, to bridge the distance that separated the two of you, but he hesitated, unsure of how you would react.

suguru leans in, his hand gently cupping your cheek. and then, he closed the distance between you, his lips meeting yours in a kiss that was both tender and passionate, a culmination of unspoken desires and hidden affections. the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of you.

as your lips met, there was a spark of something within you — maybe regret, guilt, or maybe the anger at yourself for not leaving satoru’s side sooner. surely, he wouldn’t care about you being involved with anyone else. he never claimed you as anything other than a pet, a good servant who he sometimes gifts to feel better about himself.

your back hits suguru’s mattress, his weight hovering over top of you. your gown falls to the ground, the clothing covering his body also evaporating, all while your lips remain unified as one. his tongue teases yours, his hands roaming down the sides of your body, slowly adjusting on your hips. his lips travel down, sucking on the sweet skin of your neck before finding solace on your areola.

one hand cups your left breast whilst his tongue keeps your right one company. his mouth wrapping around your nipple, and your mouth falling agape felt ethereal. all your worries and doubts disappeared when his mouth continued to trail down your body, leaving soft kissing that lingered. he looks up at you, strands of his black hair sticking to his face as he buries his nose in your heat. he peppers kisses to each of your thighs, his tongue tracing idle shape on your skin.

he pulls his head back up, eyes glistening with lust. your breath gets caught in your chest as you lay bare underneath the man, a nagging voice in the back of your head telling you to leave, to go back to the palace before satoru notices you’re gone.

sleeping with getou suguru is betraying everything you’ve known, and worst of all, betraying satoru. your breath hitches when his tip teases your entrance, his eyes looking into yours for a sense of doubt. he breathes slowly, and your hand finds his chest before you nod your head.

slowly, suguru pushes himself inside of your leaking hole, a groan leaving his throat as he goes further. he starts off slow, his thrusts almost being a kiss to your pussy as his lips engulf yours. you moan into his mouth, teeth clashing as he kisses you hastily.

and then he starts fucking you. really fucking you. his hips snap violently against your ass, and his fat tip is curving up against your g-spot, you can feel him in your stomach. “ah, you’re too fuckin’ tight.” suguru groans out, bringing his hand up to wrap around your neck — the sight disgustingly perfect. “pretty pussy’s sucking me in like this, fuckk.” he murmurs, his hand tightening around your throat.

his eyes meet with the sight of your tits bouncing with every one of his violent thrusts, he’s trying to fuck the memory of satoru out of you. your mouth falls open, inviting his thumb to find it’s home on your tongue. your lips wrap around his thumb, and you suck sweetly, eyes never leaving his.

he can feel himself slipping with every gaze of your eyes, every bounce of your tits, and every sound you make.

you gasp, tears threatening to spill down your cheeks as your hands clutch the sheets, your body jolting with every thrust. “you gonna cry, pretty baby? this cock too big for you?” suguru smirks, his tongue rolling over his lower lip. you can’t formulate a response, you simply relax your head further into the pillow.

suguru’s hand is quick to retract back to your throat, forcing your head up to look at him. “you poor baby, you can’t handle it?” he taunts, pulling his hips back just to slam back into you, your stomach bulging with every movement he makes.

your mouth falls open, but you’re unable to let out any sounds, afraid of anyone catching you in the act of betraying your prince. “aggh, i’m sososo close.” you cry out, and suguru only smirks at you, nodding his head tauntingly. “yeah, baby? you close?”

your brain is all foggy that you aren’t even sure when suguru pulled out until you feel thick ropes of cum painting the skin on your stomach. you breathe out heavy, your release coming soon after his.

“let me get you cleaned up, yeah?” suguru asks, running a hand through his silky hair. “yeah, that’ll be nice.”

the silken robes feel foreign against your skin, a stark contrast to the silken robes you acquired at satoru’s palace. you sit on the edge of the ornate bathtub, the water swirling with fragrant oils suguru had insisted on. he kneels beside you, his brow furrowed with as he gently caresses your cheek.

“you okay?” he asks, his voice laced with worry. “did i hurt you?”

you smile softly, trying to ignore the voice screaming at you in the back of your mind, making you feel guilty for sleeping with suguru. “no, no. i’m okay.” he sighs, his gaze softening.

suguru rinses the cloth, his movements precise and careful.

after, he helps you dress in a simple robe, he then murmurs something about bringing you tea. surely enough, within a few moments, suguru enters the bedchamber with two cups of tea in his hands. you stand up straight, your legs aching slightly as you reach for the teacup.

“why, thank you.” you smile softly, taking a sip. “anything for you,”

you begin wandering through the unfamiliar chamber, teacup in your hand, trying to shake off the unease that clung to you like a shroud. the bedchamber was beautiful, yes, but it felt… empty. cold. suguru’s back is facing you, and he’s glancing out the window.

the room was filled with scrolls and books, the air thick with the scent of incense and old paper. your eyes scan the shelves, landing on a small, intricately carved wooden box tucked away in a corner of his desk. curiosity piqued, you open it.

inside, nestled on a bed of velvet, lay a stone. not just any stone, but sunstone, the one sukuna told you someone else purchased. a wave of dizziness washes over you as you recognized the pulsing, malevolent energy that radiated from it – the same energy you had felt emanating from sukuna.

“what are you doing?”

suguru’s voice, sharp and cold, cut through the silence. you slowly turn to meet with his wide eyes. you hold up the stone, your heart pounding in your chest. “this– this stone.. where the hell did you get it?”

he steps closer to you, his eyes fixed on the sunstone. “ah, so you’ve figured out my secret.”

“i went to retrieve this stone from sukuna, why the hell do you have it?”

suguru didn’t answer, his gaze hardening. “i was going to tell you, in time. but i see i have no choice now.”he advances, and you step back. “satoru can’t be king, he’s arrogant, idealistic. it’ll ruin his kingdom, and mine.”

“the hell does it matter, you come from two different kingdoms. using sukuna’s stone, though? is that the real reason you were in the village?”

“using the stone is the only way i can stop him.” he says, his voice devoid of emotion. “and what better way to hurt satoru by taking what’s closest to him? that day in the village, i was there to find this stone then i happened to bump into you and i got distracted.”

suguru pauses, licking his lips. “but then it piqued my interest when you said something about finding a jewel for satoru.” the long-haired male takes another slow step closer to you, and you step back, bumping into the desk.

“so you were using me to hurt satoru? to prevent him from becoming king?” you furrow your eyebrows, hand reaching behind to grab a book from

the desk. “i wasn’t using you, i simply was intrigued and i got carried away.”

“but, this, i can’t let you tell satoru about it.”

suguru lunges forward, grabbing your arm. you struggle, but he’s too strong. your shakey fingers wrap around the spine of the book behind you, and you bring it up, slamming it to suguru’s face before running out of the bedchamber, not daring to see the aftermath. he stumbles back, a scowl on his lips, eyes widened in surprise as the book drops to the ground with a satisfying thud.

desperate to escape, you weren’t paying attention to where you were going. you run straight into a wall of muscle. a gasp escaped your lips as you look up into the impassive face of toji. his eyes narrow, and a smirk played on his lips as he assesses your disheveled state.

“leaving so soon, pretty?” he rumbles, his voice a low, dangerous purr.

the world swims. your knees buckled, and the last thing you see is toji’s stoic face before darkness consumes you.

when you next open your eyes, the air is cold and damp, and the scent of mildew assaulted your nostrils. you were lying on a rough stone floor, and the only light came from a flickering torch on the wall. panic claws at your throat as you realize you’re trapped in a dungeon.

your heart sinks, and you reach to stand up but a chain is wrapping around your ankle. hopeless, your back presses against the cold wall and you bury your face in your hands. how could you be so stupid? this wouldn’t have happened if you just stayed in satoru’s bed at the palace.

the sun rises at the palace, and satoru wakes up to your missing presence. yes, the prince was aware of you slipping out of the chamber at midnight but he simply assumed you’d be back before he woke up in the morning. the white-haired prince sits up, eyebrows knitting together as his eyes dart to each corner.

he rubs his eyes, surely, he must be mistaken, right? nonetheless, satoru continues his daily ritual, assuming you were down in the kitchen or the garden.

the prince dresses himself, and begins down the large staircase, serving past the many maids and servants but none of them were you. he peeks his head into the kitchen, and surely enough, you aren’t in there. he puckers his lips, finger tapping his chin in thought as he falls to take a seat on the last step. his long legs sprawling out, “satoru, you are making a fool of yourself, appearing so improper.” his mother states, staring down at her son.

“a fool of myself? is that how you speak to the near-future king?” the silver-haired male retorts, folding his arms. “that title can be stripped away as easily as it’s given to you.”

satoru steps up, his long figure hovering over the older lady. “have you seen y/n?” his mother raises her eyebrows, “who?”

“the servant?” the silver-haired male purses his lips together, “the one who whores herself out? i haven’t seen her, and i rarely do, she seems to always be in your chambers. nonetheless, you should be ready to see your bride.” satoru wants to say something, but he doesn’t. he brings a slender finger up to her face, “i need to see no wife, i refuse to, and watch your mouth.” as time passed, he found himself loathing his parents even more than usual.

nonetheless, satoru didn’t stop short of looking for you; his cerulean hues darting to every corner and crevice of the palace. he hadn’t even realized there was so many bedchambers in the palace until you were gone.

the garden was a painting of serene lies. the rose bushes, trimmed to surgical perfection by some hapless servant. the still pond, reflecting a sky too blue to be true. satoru’s boots crunched on the gravel path, but his mind was silent, a void where your laughter should have been. he saw the dirt on the leaves—wrong. the slight tilt of a blossom—unbalanced. this place was a cathedral to order, and everything in it was screaming absence.

and then he saw him.

getou suguru, strolling as if he owned the very sun that baked the flagstones. his long black hair was flawless. his smile, when his eyes met satoru’s, was a study in tranquil superiority. the picture of a prince at peace.

satoru stopped. the world narrowed to the ten paces between them.

“satoru,” suguru said, his voice a smooth, practiced instrument. “rising early. or… searching?” his gaze swept past satoru’s shoulder, back toward the palace, as if he could see through stonewalls to the empty bedchamber.

“where is she?” the words left satoru’s mouth before he could clamp them down. no title. no mockery. just a raw, open demand.

suguru’s smile didn’t falter. it deepened, actually, into something pitying. “who? your little pet? i couldn’t say. she seems a restless soul. a bird that longs for a different sky.” he took a single, infuriatingly calm step forward. “perhaps she finally found the courage to fly.”

the insult was a silk-wrapped blade. restless. pet. bird. and the implication—that he, suguru, was the sky—was a declaration of war. satoru felt a familiar heat coil in his gut, but it was colder, sharper than his usual rage. this was the heat of a fuse burning down.

“you,” satoru said, his voice dropping to a vibration only suguru could feel, “don’t get to talk about what’s mine.”

“yours?” satoru laughed softly, a sound like rustling parchment. “how possessive. but ownership is such a… fragile concept. a treaty can be signed. a marriage can be arranged.” his eyes gleamed. “a heart can change its mind.”

satoru saw it then. not just smugness. a flicker of something else in suguru’s eyes. not kindness. not malice. certainty. the certainty of a man who has already played his move and is waiting for the board to realize the game is over.

“you saw her,” satoru stated, the pieces clicking into a terrifying picture. the village encounters. the “fresh air.” the sunstone. “you’ve been feeding her lines about peace and open skies.”

“i offered conversation,” suguru corrected lightly. “something you seem… stingy with.” his gaze drifted again toward the palace. “a girl like that… she deserves to be seen. not hidden away in your chambers like a dirty secret. she deserves a future.”

the air crackled. satoru’s crown, the weight of it, the destiny of it, all of it vanished. there was only this. the arrogant, correct bastard standing in his garden, speaking of his future with his property.

“my future,” satoru said, each word a shard of ice, “is a crown on my head and her on her knees beside it. in blood, if necessary.” he took a step, then another, until he was in suguru’s space, his taller frame looming. “you don’t get to offer her a future. you don’t get to see her. you get to look at the empty space where she was and remember that she always comes back to me. she always has.”

suguru didn’t flinch. but his smile finally softened, becoming something genuine, and somehow more terrifying. “does she?” he asked softly. then he turned, as if the conversation was concluded. “you should check your own bed. before you accuse others of stealing. some treasures just… slip away in the night.”

he walked away, leaving satoru standing in the gravel, a statue carved from pure, undiluted fury. the final piece connected. the sunstone. sukuna’s stall. your failure.

you hadn’t failed him. you’d chosen to fail. to go to suguru. to let that smooth, reasonable voice fill your head with poison.

a low growl built in satoru’s chest. it wasn’t a question anymore. it was a fact. suguru had you. not as a captive. as a convert. the thought was a physical sickness. he had whispered his way into the one place satoru’s raw power couldn’t reach: the space behind your eyes. the place where you decided what you wanted.

satoru turned on his heel, the motion sharp enough to snap the stem of a rose beside him. he didn’t run. he moved with a terrible, calculated purpose, each stride eating the distance to the palace. servants scattered before him, their paleness a testament to the storm in his wake. he didn’t shout your name. he didn’t roar. the silence was infinitely worse.

he reached his chamber. the door was shut. he threw it open.

the last thread of control snapped.

satoru’s scream was not a human sound. it was a rupture, a shockwave of pure, unadulterated loss that shattered a mirror across the room and made the crystal chandelier tremble. his fist punched the wall, again and again, not feeling the splintering stone or the blood that matted his knuckles. the boy-king, the arrogant heir, was gone. In his place was something ancient and ravenous. a claim had been violated. not a political one. a soul-deep one.

you weren’t just missing.

you had left.

and you had left satoru for him.

he stopped, breathing in ragged, broken gasps. the blood on his hand looked black in the dim light. he stared at it. the calm that followed was more frightening than the scream.

he wiped his bloodied hand on his tunic, leaving a rusty smear. he would not raze suguru’s palace. not yet. he would not shout your name in the streets.

he would walk into getou suguru’s palace like he owned it. he would find the room where you were, and he would see the proof on your body—the bruises suguru’s hands had left, the scent of his pathetic, gentle cologne on your skin. he would see the sunstone glowing on a shelf, a blight on suguru’s “peace.”

and then he would look at you. he would look into the eyes of the person who knew him best, who had felt his love as both a caress and a brand, and he would show you what happened to things that tried to leave.

he would show you both.

satoru turned, his face a mask of serene, beautiful horror. the journey to suguru’s palace wasn’t a sprint. it was a pilgrimage. every step was a promise. every breath was a litany.

mine.

the word was a hammer in his skull. a mantra. a death sentence for anyone who disagreed.

he stepped out into the dawn, the sun rising on a kingdom that had no idea its prince had just crossed a line from which there was no return. the game was over. the real hunt was beginning.

the thoughts eat away at him, and satoru decides to find out the truth for himself. each step he took was a calculated act of aggression, the ground trembling beneath him, mirroring the turmoil in his heart. the carriage door is slammed shut, and satoru’s jaw ticks. “i’m sure you’re exactly aware of where i want to go.”

the landscape, once familiar, now twisted into a grotesque mockery of its former self, seemed to mock him, amplifying his frustration. trees contorted into nightmarish shapes clawed at the sky, their branches heavy with the weight of your defiance.

the sky a canvas of stormy grays and ominous blacks, reflecting the tempest brewing within satoru. his eyes, usually bright with arrogance, now burned with a cold fury, intensified by a sense of betrayal. he moves with ruthless efficiency, each step driven by the singular goal of finding you, was now tinged with a bitter edge.

as he plunges deeper into suguru’s kingdom, the oppressive atmosphere grows heavier, the air thick with the stench of decay and disappointment. buildings once majestic now lay in ruins, their surfaces defaced with disturbing symbols that seemed to taunt him with your absence. the kingdom was a twisted reflection of suguru’s ideals, and now, in satoru’s eyes, a monument to your stubbornness.

he can’t understand why you ran, why you chose this over him. this confusion only fueled his anger.

satoru’s senses are on high alert, every fiber of his being focused on finding you, but now with a mix of protectiveness and exasperation. the thought of you, willingly or not, being in this forsaken place fueled his anger, sharpening his resolve. he would find you, no matter the cost, and demand an explanation. his promise echoes in the shattered landscape, a vow of determination tinged with a possessive edge.

the air hangs thick and cold, heavy with the stench of mildew and despair. torches flicker, casting dancing shadows on the damp stone walls of the dungeon. chains rattle in the silence, the sound echoing off the cold surfaces, each link a testament to captivity. you were slumped against the wall, wrists raw where the metal bit into your skin, clothes torn and dirty.

the temperature drops further, a palpable shift in the atmosphere. a figure materialized in the torchlight, impossibly bright against the gloom. satoru. his white hair seems to glow, and his blue eyes, usually sparkling with amusement, were now sharp and cold. you sit up straight at the sight, unable to move any further.

how long has it been?

“so,” he says, his voice dangerously soft, “this is where you’ve been hiding.” he takes a step closer, his shadow engulfing you. you flinch, trying to pull away, but the chains hold you fast.

“i can explain—“ you start, but satoru’s quick to cut you off with the point of his index finger.

“running away, huh? did you really think you could escape me?” each word laced with a chilling disappointment. “do you have any idea how worried i was?”

he stops right in front of you, his towering presence suffocating. he reaches out as he crouches down, his fingers brushing against your cheek, but his touch is devoid of warmth.

“i protected you, i took care of you, and this is how you repay me?” his voice raises, the contained anger finally breaking through. you stare up into his wide eyes, trying to push yourself further back into the wall.

you accept the harsh reality, you’re trapped, and it’s all your fault. “did he touch you?” satoru looks at you, slender fingers grasping onto your chin. “did you let him touch you?” slowly, and weakly, you nod your head at his words.

satoru laughs, but it’s humorless, and he yanks the chain out of the wall. you don’t speak, not because you can’t, but because you’re afraid to. you know everything about what satoru does to people who betray him, he’ll kill you with his bare hands since it’s so personal, or he’ll cut your feet off, making sure you never run again.

the prince helps you onto your feet before he scoops you up into his arms, as if you’re a runaway bride. how ironic. you don’t look at him, you don’t speak, and you barely breathe. the sight was truly pathetic, and you knew it.

the only thing you remember from the carriage ride back to the palace is the wandering eyes that seemed to linger on you for longer than usual. you don’t remember waking up in satoru’s bedchamber, and you don’t remember even entering the palace.

your eyes flutter awake, and you’re feeling around the bed, like you’re looking for something, or rather someone. the chamber is empty, and you’re laying under satoru’s sheets, a silken robe covering your bare body. there aren’t any chains, no locks on the entrance, it’s the same as it always is.

betrayed by suguru, and betraying satoru. was he waiting to kill you? how did he find you? how long had it taken him? god, you could only hope it was a painless death. your feet drag lightly against the floor, eyes staring at the door. you itched to reach out, to run, but you were afraid of what lied beyond that door.

the door swings open, revealing satoru in all his glory. the corners of his lips are curling up into a smile, one devoid of any warmth. “thinking of running away so soon, princess?” you stand in place, fingers tugging on the silk material of your robe. “no,” you respond carefully, eyes boring into satoru’s as he stalks closer to you, like a predator circling it’s prey.

“good,” the prince claps, “i have a surprise for you.” you look around the chamber, and he tsks his teeth at you, waving a slender finger. “no need to change, you’re fine just the way you are.”

you look down at yourself, at the robe with not a trace of clothing underneath, and it barely went past your mid thigh. he extends his hand out for you to grab, and with reluctance, you do. “don’t fret regarding your appearance, the palace is empty.”

your feet pad lightly against the marble tiles, “empty?” the palace was hardly ever empty, that sentence seemed nearly impossible to be true.

he’s leading you to your death, this it it. those are the only thoughts swimming through your head, your heart beat increasing rapidly. “care to know why’s empty?” satoru doesn’t spare you a glance when he speaks, and he stops in his tracks in front of the dungeon. you stop beside him, looking down at the spiral staircase before your eyes meet with satoru’s. “i killed them all, my parents, the shitty servants, and suguru’s parents. i killed everyone that was standing in the way of me receiving my rightful throne.”

you laugh, shaking your head at satoru’s words, but his smile doesn’t give you any ease. “you must be speaking nonsense..” you say, your voice soft, and laced with confusion.

“nonsense? you must not know who you’re speaking to,” the white-haired male leans closer, lips hitting the crest of your ear. “you’re speaking to your new king.” he presses a finger into your back, urging you to travel down the staircase. he’s following behind you, finger still sinking into your spine. your eyes widen slightly, and your fingers tremble as you continue to walk down each and every step carefully. you had nowhere to go, no one to save you from this inevitable consequence.

your breath hitches once you reach the bottom of the staircase, satoru still standing behind you, watching you. your eyes widen at the sight of blood coating the tiles and the walls, and the sole survivor of this massacre. “ah, the infamous suguru getou.” satoru smiles widely, taking measured steps toward the long-haired male. he pulls the cloth out of suguru’s mouth, his smile never fainting.

“you’re sick,” suguru spits out, eyes glaring up at satoru, who’s rather amused. “oh?” satoru laughs, turning to look back at you. he points at you, beckoning you over to him. “c’mere, pretty girl.”

your feet move before your brain can process his words, and you’re standing in front of him, the two of you looming over suguru, who’s slouching against the wall. satoru side glances you, tongue sliding over his lower lip, before he puts something in your hand — a cold piece of metal.

“cut his hands off.”

“what?” you and suguru both choke out at the same time, “i said cut his hands off.” satoru leans down, mouth closer to your ear, and his hands hovering over yours. “he should suffer the consequence of touching what’s not his, correct?” suguru looks up at the two of you, eyes widening, and eyebrows raised.

“i asked you a question, y/n.” you freeze, fingers trembling as they wrap around the sharp object. looking up at satoru, you’re just met with sick amusement. “should i repeat myself?” he asks, and you shake your head.

“or should your feet be cut off, since you can’t seem to stay in one place?” satoru taps his chin in faux thought, humming to himself. “maybe i should punish both of you? maybe you both should lose limbs?”

“oh, what’s that, y/n?” satoru brings a hand to cup his ear, “you don’t want to lose your ability to run again? well then, cut his fucking hands off.” he folds his arms across his chest, eyes filled with amusement while he witnesses your emotional turmoil.

you look down, unable to meet suguru’s gaze, unable to look at satoru either. “this is all your fault, should’ve never touched something that didn’t belong to you.” the male says, before digging into his pocket for something. “oh, and this? the stone you so intelligently planned to overtake my kingdom with, well now, it’s mine. your kingdom is mine too, considering i’ve rid the toxic waste that resided there.”

“you’re the last one,” satoru muses, stepping closer to suguru. “even killed that bodyguard of yours, and he was a handful.”

he snatches the metal out of your hand, and crouches down beside suguru. “this whole fuckin’ process has been taking too long, so as per usual, i’ll do it myself.”

“is there anything you’d like to say?”

“i don’t regret fucking your pretty little peasant into my bed, if that’s what you want. you won’t be getting an apology from me, you pig.” suguru spits out, glaring at the male.

blood splatters on your face, staining your chest and the rest of your body. “that’s not the proper way to speak to the king.” satoru murmurs to himself, stretching his long legs. the funny part was, satoru hadn’t even cut off suguru’s hands, he demolished the entire getou clan, and the gojo clan on his own.

he turns to look at you, blood staining his pretty face. his eyes are wide, and his expression is feral, but nonetheless, you stand there, trying to ignore the increasing heat between your thighs.

satoru walks toward you, pressing the cold metal into your neck. he drags it down slowly, icy blue eyes meeting yours. “you let suguru fuck you?” you part your lips, breath hitching as the blade drags further down. “yeah, i did. you— you don’t own me anymore, satoru.” but even those words came out nervously.

“the hell i don’t,” he spits out, eyes piercing through your soul. “you run away once and now you’ve got a fuckin’ mouth on you, huh?” his fingers dig into your cheeks, and he forces your gaze onto him. satoru laughs, but it’s humorless, his eyes glassy as he stares at you, it’s a taunting stare. one of dominance, one that seeks fear from you.

“let me guess, suguru sweet talked you, told you he’d make you feel free, so you picked up and ran to him.” satoru taunts, tongue tapping against his front teeth. “not only are you an idiot for believing him, you’re an idiot for thinking you could run away from me. from this palace, from your role.”

“my stupid little pet, huh? that has a ring to it, but i thought you were smart.” satoru turns his back to you, “go upstairs before i change my mind, and kill you too.”

your words get stuck in your throat, and your feet are planted in the ground. you want to speak, want to scream, but you can’t. you’re afraid of him, and you’re afraid of dying at his hand. you obey him wordlessly, bare feet padding up the staircase lightly. satoru should kill you, you betrayed him, ran away, and ultimately embarrassed him. you were confused as to why he hasn’t bothered killing you yet.

you look around the empty palace, the cold floor sending an unconscious shiver down your spine. your eyes are dim, and your head hangs low.

should you run or accept your fate?

the palace was a tomb. a gilded, echoing tomb where every footstep of yours sounded like a profanity. the blood on your robe had dried to a stiff, dark brown. you could still smell it—copper and salt and the ugly sweetness of a life ending. suguru’s final, defiant spit still seemed to hang in the air.

you didn’t run. the thought was there, a frantic bird in your chest. run. now. before he remembers you exist. but your feet carried you upward, step by terrible step, back into the sun-drenched, silent horror of the galleries. the emptiness was the worst part. no servants scurrying. no maids whispering. just you, the ghost of blood on your skin, and the echoing memory of satoru’s laugh.

you stopped in the grand hall. the tapestry depicting the gojo lineage was still there, but one corner was scorched, a blackened hole where the face of his grandfather had been. you stared at it. this was your home now. a museum of murder.

a floorboard creaked.

you froze. the sound had come from the direction of his chamber. your chamber. you turned slowly, your heart a trapped, frantic thing.

the door to his room was ajar. a sliver of that familiar, warm lamplight spilled into the hall. he was waiting. not in a chair. not pacing. just… waiting. you could see the edge of the bed, the rumpled silk sheets. the single pearl earring was still on the pillow, a stark, white beacon in the crimson dawn of his reign.

you walked toward it. each step felt like you were wading through tar. you reached the threshold. and there he was.

satoru sat on the edge of the bed, perfectly still. he had changed. the blood was gone, washed from his hair and skin, replaced by the pristine white of his under-tunic. but his eyes… his eyes were still feral. still glowing with the aftermath of the storm. he held a polished silver platter in his lap. on it sat a single, perfect strawberry, glistening with dew, and a neat pile of sugar.

he looked up at you. the silence was a physical entity, thicker than the dungeon’s mildew.

“you’re filthy,” he said, his voice calm. scarily calm. “but i’m not hungry.”

he gestured to the floor at his feet. “kneel.”

it wasn’t a request. it was the settling of a verdict. you moved without thinking. your joints creaked as you sank down, the cold marble biting through your thin robe. you kept your eyes lowered, fixed on the toe of his boot.

he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, the platter held between you. his scent—ozone and cold stone—washed over you, erasing the lingering reek of mildew and fear.

he picked up the strawberry. held it over the sugar. “this is what you are to me now. a sweet thing. a decoration. a secret i keep in my pocket.” he shook it gently, sprinkling it with sugar. “a reminder that sweetness needs a preservative. or it rots.”

he brought the berry to his own mouth, took a slow, deliberate bite. the juice was bright red. he chewed, his eyes never leaving yours.

“i killed them all for you,” he whispered, the words dropping into the silence like stones. “my parents. their guards. the council. suguru’s parents. their knights. i erased every single voice that would have said no to you. every single throat that would have called you ‘servant’ or ‘peasant’ or ‘pet’ with disdain.” he swallowed. “i made the world smaller. so there was only room for us.”

he set the half-eaten berry back on the platter. reached out. his fingers, stained with other people’s blood just hours ago, were clean now. they were warm against your cold cheek as he tilted your face up, forcing you to meet his gaze.

“and you ran to him.” the disappointment was a physical pain in his voice. “you ran to the man who wanted to use you as a tool to hurt me. to weaken me. did you think his peace would be softer than my love? that his bed would be less of a cage?”

your throat was sand. you couldn’t speak.

“answer me.” his thumb brushed your lower lip, a fey, terrifying caress. “did it feel free? being a bargaining chip? a prize in his game?”

“i… i didn’t know about the stone,” you forced out. “not until…”

“until he showed you?” his smile was a slash of white. his hand slid from your face to the back of your neck, not hurting, but possessing.

he stood up, the platter clattering as he set it aside. he loomed over you, his shadow swallowing you whole.

“the kingdom is empty. it’s just you and me. no one to whisper. no one to judge. no one to take you away.” he knelt in front of you, his face level with yours. the madness was gone, replaced by a terrifying, serene clarity. “you think i haven’t seen it? the way you looked at him? the way you listened to him? you wanted his ‘fresh air,’ his easy kindness.”

his other hand came up, cupping your jaw, his palms framing your face. “but kindness is a currency, princess. and his is counterfeit. It buys compliance. mine…” he leaned in, his breath warm on your lips. “mine buys everything. your safety. your worth. your throne. your very breath, if i choose to give it or take it away.”

“i am your king now. not by some council’s vote. by right of conquest. by right of the blood i’ve spilled to keep you.” his forehead touched yours. “and you will be my queen. not as some political alliance. because you are mine. by the blood in your veins and the soul in your chest and the way you clench around my cock when you think i don’t notice.”

a tear finally escaped, tracing a clean path down your dirty cheek. it wasn’t for suguru. it wasn’t for the dead. it was for the horrifying, undeniable truth in his words. he wasn’t punishing you. he was claiming you. more fully than ever before. the game was over. the board was swept clean. and the only piece left on it was you.

“so you have a choice,” he murmured, his thumb catching your tear. “a real one. not like the fairy tales. you can run. right now. out that door. down these empty halls. out into a kingdom that has no master but me, and a million eyes that would drag you back to me for a reward. you’d get, maybe, an hour of freedom before the hounds found you.”

he leaned back, his gaze stripping you bare. “or you can stay. you can wear the crown i’m going to force onto your pretty head. you can sleep in a bed soaked in the blood of anyone who ever doubted you were worth it. you can be my queen in every way that matters. my pet. my secret. my equal in every twisted, beautiful, horrible way that counts.”

he stood up, extending a hand. not to strike. to help you up.

“the throne room is being prepared,” he said, his voice back to its normal, arrogant timbre, laced with something raw and hungry. “the crown is being reset. it’s waiting for its queen.”

his hand hung in the space between you. the offer. the sentence. the only thing he would ever give you that resembled a choice.

you stared at his hand. the hand that had held a blade. the hand that had held your face. the hand that would one day hold your child. the heat between your thighs wasn’t just fear. it was a traitorous, sickening recognition. this was it. this violent, possessive, all-consuming dark was the only place you’d ever belonged.

your hand, trembling, rose to meet his.

he didn’t grin. he just closed his fingers around yours, hard enough to bruise, and pulled you to your feet.

“good girl,” he breathed, the praise a brand on your soul. “we have a kingdom to rule.”

synopsis: you and your boyfriend have been dating for months, and you still make his poor palms sweaty.. is he ready to take the next step?

pairings: nerd!gojo x reader

content: HEAVY SMUT, sexual language, sexual themes, experienced!reader + innocent!gojo troupe, creampies, unprotected sex, masturbation (male), handjobs, blowjobs, oral sex (f & m receiving), praise kink, spitting, mentions of biting, making out, gojo’s kind of a loser

a/n: a day late! sorry! hope u enjoyy!!

it started with a few tutoring sessions in the campus café because bless your soul, but physics is not your strong suit. you had no problem dedicating most of your time to learning physics when your tutor was so cute.

satoru and you were polar opposites: you were gorgeous, sweet, and.. popular. he spent all his time talking about quantum physics, studying, and playing video games. after spending time with you, satoru couldn’t help how he felt. and despite the difference in your statuses, he took a long shot and decided to ask you out.

your dorky white-haired digimon obsessed tutor was standing in front of you with sweaty hands and a bouquet. “m-may i please be your boyfriend?” you could die from how flustered satoru really was.

you grin widely at him, but before you can respond, his entire book bag spills open. you watch in amusement as the books spill across the floor, your lips curling into a soft smile. you kneel down to help gather them, your fingers brushing against his accidentally as you both reach for the same novel. a faint blush dusts your cheeks as you meet his nervous gaze.

you take the gift from his trembling hands, turning it over curiously before meeting his eyes again. the desperation in them makes your heart skip a beat—no one had ever looked at you like that before, like you were the only thing that mattered.

“and yeah, i’ll take you as my boyfriend.” you reply, dusting yourself off as you stand up again.

and that’s how you ended up here: it’s been almost a year since you two started dating, and it was great! you were taking things slow, enjoying everything together. the physical side of your relationship remained.. unexplored, except for over-the-clothes stuff.

satoru leans back against the couch, one hand curling on your thigh while he uses the other to push his glasses up. by now, he’s gotten used to your environment with your friends. you always bring him along when you hangout with everyone, so they’re all used to his presence.

satoru’s fingers flex against your thigh, his grip tightening just slightly as he watches you laugh at something one of your friends said. his chest swells with pride—he’s here, with you, in your world. he’s not just the awkward tutor anymore.

but then his gaze drifts to the way your lips curl when you smile, the way your body moves when you shift on the couch, and suddenly, he’s hyper-aware of how close you are. his pulse spikes, his skin burning where it brushes against yours. he’s spent months memorizing the feel of you through layers of clothing, but it’s never enough.

“you okay?” you murmur, turning to look at your boyfriend. satoru nods with a soft smile, giving your thigh a squeeze. “so how long have you two been together again?” shoko asks, sitting on the couch across from you and beside suguru.

satoru’s fingers twitch against your thigh at the question, his grip tightening just slightly as he clears his throat. his cheeks flush a soft pink, his usual confidence faltering for a moment under the weight of the attention suddenly on him. he’s still not entirely used to being acknowledged in your world, even after all this time.

“almost a year,” he answers, his voice quieter than usual, laced with something tender—something that only ever comes out when he talks about you. his thumb traces absent circles on your skin, his touch featherlight but possessive.

he glances at you, his blue eyes softening behind his glasses. the way he looks at you—like you’re the only thing in the room, like you’re the answer to every question he’s ever had—makes suguru snort and shoko smirk knowingly.

but satoru doesn’t care. let them tease. let them see how much he adores you. his fingers curl just a little tighter around your thigh, his lips quirking into that lopsided, boyish grin that always makes your stomach flip.

“have you guys— ow!” suguru winces at shoko kicking his leg, before she looks at you and your boyfriend with a smile. “no more questions.” she murmurs, mainly to suguru who rubs his leg in pain.

satoru’s fingers twitch against your thigh, his grip tightening just slightly before loosening again—like he’a afraid to hold on too tight. his breath hitches when you shift closer, the warmth of your body seeping into his side, making his pulse stutter under his skin. he swallows hard, his adam’s apple bobbing visibly as he adjusts his glasses with trembling fingers.

his cheeks burn crimson, his gaze darting between your face and his lap, where his fingers curl nervously into the fabric of his pants. he wants to touch you—god, he wants to—but his hands feel too big, too clumsy, like he’ll ruin everything if he tries.

when suguru snickers, satoru’s shoulders hunch slightly, his free hand fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. he’s never been good at this—at being seen, at being wanted. but you’re here, pressed against him, and his chest aches with how much he adores you.

“y/n, can you come with me to the kitchen? i need your help.” shoko says, and you furrow your eyebrows before standing up. you send satoru a look before shoko’s dragging you away, leaving satoru alone with suguru.

suguru sits forward, locking eyes with your poor boyfriend. “you guys really taking it slow or are you just scared?”

“i’m not scared,” he mutters, his voice cracking slightly despite himself. his cheeks burn hotter, his glasses slipping down his nose as he ducks his head, his snow-white hair falling into his eyes like a shield.

but suguru just chuckles, low and teasing, his smirk widening. “could’ve fooled me,” he drawls, propping his chin on his hand. “you look like you’re about to pass out every time she touches you.”

satoru’s throat bobs as he swallows hard, his fingers twitching against his thighs. he wants to argue, wants to snap back with something clever, but—

but suguru’s right.

his voice is barely above a whisper when he finally speaks, “i just... don’t wanna mess it up.” the admission hangs heavy in the air between them, raw and vulnerable in a way satoru never is. his chest tightens, his pulse thrumming wildly under his skin as he risks a glance toward the kitchen—toward you.

suguru’s smirk softens just slightly, his tone gentler when he says, “dude. she’s into you. like, really into you.” he leans back, crossing his arms. “but if you keep overthinking it, you’re gonna miss your shot.”

his head snaps up when he hears your laughter from the kitchen, his chest swelling with something warm and desperate all at once. his lips part, his voice trembling slightly when he murmurs, “...what if i’m bad at it?”

suguru barks out a laugh, shaking his head. “oh, you definitely will be.” he grins at satoru’s horrified expression, “but she won’t care. trust me.”

“—just watch porn.”

porn? satoru chews on the inside of his cheek, glancing up to the kitchen again before you pop your head out. “you ready to go?”

satoru’s entire face burns crimson at suguru’s suggestion, his fingers tightening around the edge of the couch cushion like he’s about to either combust or bolt. his mouth opens and closes wordlessly, his brain short-circuiting at the mere idea of—of that. he’s read books, sure, but watching it? actually seeing—

your voice snaps him out of his spiraling thoughts, his head whipping toward you so fast his glasses nearly fly off. his breath hitches at the sight of you leaning against the kitchen doorway, your eyes bright, your lips curled in that soft smile that always makes his chest ache.

“y-yeah,” he stammers, scrambling to his feet so quickly he nearly trips over his own shoes. his hands fumble at his sides, unsure where to put them, his entire body thrumming with nervous energy. he shoots suguru one last wide-eyed glance—half-panicked, half-grateful—before stumbling toward you, his voice barely above a whisper, “let’s go.”

his fingers twitch at his sides, aching to reach for you, to pull you close, but he hesitates, his pulse roaring in his ears. he’s never been more terrified—or more excited—in his life.

uncharacteristically enough, satoru is quiet the whole way back to your apartment. he is too deep in his thoughts; essentially having sex with you for the first time.

satoru’s fingers twitch nervously against the steering wheel the entire drive back to your apartment, his grip tightening and loosening in an unsteady rhythm. his mind races, a whirlwind of half-formed thoughts and images—what if he’s too rough? what if he’s too slow? what if he’s too small? what if he embarrasses himself?—but beneath the panic, there’s a simmering heat, a desperate need that coils tight in his stomach.

he sneaks glances at you when he thinks you aren’t looking, his throat bobbing as his gaze lingers on the curve of your neck, the way your fingers tap idly against your thigh. his palms itch to touch you, to map every inch of your skin, but he keeps his hands clenched around the wheel, his knuckles whitening with the effort.

by the time you reach your apartment, his heart is pounding so hard he’s sure you can hear it. his breath comes in shallow bursts, his entire body thrumming with anticipation as he follows you inside, his steps hesitant, unsure.

when you make your way to the bed, satoru’s right behind you, glancing away when you change your clothes like he hasn’t seen you before. he’s quick to follow behind you, getting comfortable in bed.

“you’re being weird.” you comment, and satoru huffs before taking his glasses off. “weird? whaaat?” satoru looks away from you, causing you to cup his face with your hands. you climb onto his lap, straddling him.

“did suguru say something to you?”

he shakes his head rapidly, growing flustered at how close you are. you sit down on his lap, and his blue eyes widen. “suguru? pfft, no.”

“mhm.” you reply, quirking an eyebrow at him. you press your lips to his cheek, then you move down to his neck. “are you lying?”

“no way.” he nearly squeaks out, leaning back against the head board.

satoru’s breath hitches sharply when your lips move down his neck, his entire body tensing beneath you like a live wire. his hands hover awkwardly at your waist, his fingers twitching with the desperate urge to pull you closer—but he hesitates, his pulse roaring in his ears as your teeth graze his skin.

when you settle fully onto his lap, his hips jerk upward involuntarily, a choked gasp escaping him as he feels the heat of you against him. his cheeks burn crimson, his blue eyes wide and dazed.

his hands finally find your hips, his grip shaky but possessive as he pulls you flush against him. the friction is maddening, electric, and he can’t stop the way his body responds, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. his breath comes in ragged bursts, his lips parting in a silent moan as you grind down against him, slow and deliberate.

he’s never felt anything like this—never been this close to someone, never been this desperate for more. his fingers dig into your skin, his voice rough with need, “f-fuck, you feel—god, you feel so good—“ his hips buck upward again, his movements clumsy, eager, as he chases the friction.

you hum in response, rolling your hips forward slowly before kissing him. your fingers curl into his pokèmon shirt to help you stable yourself.

satoru’s entire body shudders as your lips crash against his, his fingers tightening reflexively around your hips, pulling you impossibly closer. the kiss is slow, deep, intoxicating—and he’s drowning in it, his mind short-circuiting as your tongue slides against his. he whimpers into your mouth, his grip desperate, his hips rolling up to meet yours in a rhythm that’s clumsy but so good.

his hands slide up your back, trembling slightly as they explore the curve of your spine, the dip of your waist. every touch sends sparks shooting through his veins, his breath hitches when your fingers twist tighter into his shirt, pulling him closer. the fabric stretches under your grip, but he doesn’t care—couldn’t care less if it ripped apart entirely, as long as you keep touching him like this.

when you break the kiss to catch your breath, he chases your lips instinctively. his hips jerk upward again, his cock throbbing painfully against the seam of his pants. the friction is maddening, electric, but it’s not enough. his fingers dig into your skin, his breath hot against your mouth as he pants.

you let out breathy whimpers, rolling your hips up against his. you press down, tracing the outline of his thick cock with your damp panties.

satoru’s breath stutters in his chest, his entire body tensing as he feels the heat of you grinding against him—so close, so fucking close, but still not enough. his fingers dig into your hips, his grip almost bruising as he pulls you down harder against him, his cock twitching beneath the layers of fabric separating you.

“fuck–“ he gasps, his voice cracking as your damp panties trace the outline of his length, the sensation sending white-hot sparks shooting up his spine. his hips jerk upward desperately, chasing the friction, the pleasure, his movements frantic and uncoordinated.

his hands slide down to grip your ass, squeezing roughly as he grinds you against him, his breath coming in ragged, uneven bursts. his lips find your neck, his teeth scraping against your skin as he pants. you roll your hips again, the wet heat of you pressing against him making his vision blur.

he’s never felt anything like this—never been this desperate, this out of control. his fingers tremble as they slide under the hem of your panties, his touch hesitant but hungry, his voice a wrecked whisper against your skin, “c-can i—please—“

you let out a soft moan, eyes locking with satoru’s. “are you sure?” you murmur and he nods his head, blue eyes lighting up.

until—

ring.

ring.

ring.

you clench your jaw in annoyance, reaching over to grab your phone from the nightstand next to the bed. you murmur a quick apology to satoru, before climbing off the bed and leaving the room.

satoru’s entire body goes rigid as you climb off him, his hands twitching at his sides like he wants to pull you back—needs to pull you back. his chest heaves, his cock throbbing painfully against the fabric of his pants, his skin still burning where you were just pressed against him.

he stares blankly at the ceiling for a moment, his mind struggling to process the sudden absence of your warmth, the loss of your touch. his fingers curl into the sheets, his breath coming in short, uneven gasps as he tries—and fails—to calm the frantic pounding of his heart.

when the door clicks shut behind you, a strangled whimper escapes his throat, his hips jerking upward involuntarily, chasing the ghost of your heat. his cheeks burn crimson, his voice a wrecked whisper, “fuck..”

he drags a trembling hand down his face, his blue eyes glazed over with desperation. he’s never been this hard, this needy, in his life. and now he’s alone, aching, his entire body thrumming with unspent tension.

his fingers twitch toward his waistband, hesitating for a fraction of a second before he groans, squeezing his eyes shut. “y/n..” he whines, pathetically. his cock aches, straining against the fabric of his pants, the damp spot from his own precum making the material cling uncomfortably. he bites his lip hard enough to bruise, his hips rolling up into nothing, desperate for any kind of friction.

his breath comes in ragged gasps, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he stares at the door, willing you to come back. his fingers curl into the sheets, his knuckles whitening as he fights the urge to touch himself—because it wouldn’t be the same, wouldn’t be you. his cheeks burn hotter, his free hand dragging through his disheveled hair as he squeezes his eyes shut.

the door opens, and he’s sitting back up in bed. “it was my boss,” you sigh, climbing back into bed. “i have to go in tomorrow in the morning, unfortunately.” you grumble, pulling the blanket over your body.

satoru’s breath hitches, and he finds his spot next to you. he didn’t say anything about what happened earlier.. or how much his cock ached in his pants. his arm wraps around your waist, and his face finds comfort in the crook of your neck.

the next day, you’re at work and satoru’s left alone in your apartment. this situation isn’t new, but satoru has other things on his mind. he shakes his snowy-hair, pushing his glasses up before opening his laptop.

his fingers hover the keyboard, and his teeth sink into his lower lip. should he even be doing this? was suguru even a reliable source? satoru pushes his glasses up with his index finger before rolling his shoulders back and letting out a sigh.

satoru’s fingers hover over the keyboard, his heart pounding so hard he can feel it in his throat. his cheeks burn, his pulse roaring in his ears as he stares at the blank search bar, his teeth sinking deeper into his lower lip. suguru’s words echo in his mind—just watch porn—and his stomach twists with a mix of guilt and desperate curiosity.

he hesitates for another second before typing, his fingers stumbling over the keys. the second he hits enter, his entire body tenses, his blue eyes widening behind his glasses as the screen floods with thumbnails—bodies tangled, skin glistening, moans already leaking from the speakers before he can even click on one.

his breath catches, his cock twitching painfully in his pants as he watches, transfixed, his grip tightening on the edge of the laptop. his free hand drifts down to his waistband, his fingers trembling as he palms himself through the fabric, a broken huff escaping his lips.

it’s nothing like being with you—nothing like the way your warmth seeps into his skin, the way your breath hitches when he touches you—but it’s something, and right now, he’s so fucking desperate he’ll take anything.

but at least, he knows exactly what he wants to do to you.

his curious blue eyes scan the screen, taking mental notes of the scene playing in front of him. satoru’s fingers tighten around the laptop, his breath coming in shallow, uneven gasps as he watches the screen with rapt attention. his blue eyes—usually so sharp—are wide with a mix of fascination and hunger, his lips slightly parted as he takes in every movement, every sound.

his free hand slips beneath the waistband of his pants, his fingers wrapping around his aching length with a shuddering sigh. the touch is tentative at first, unsure—but the second his thumb brushes over the slick head, his hips jerk upward, a broken moan tearing from his throat.

he mimics what he sees on the screen, his grip tightening just slightly, his strokes slow and experimental. his teeth sink into his lower lip, his breath hitching as he imagines it’s your hand instead of his, your fingers wrapped around him, your voice whispering in his ear.

his hips buck into his fist, his movements growing more desperate as the heat coils tight in his stomach. his glasses slip down his nose slightly, his forehead damp with sweat as he watches the way the woman on screen arches her back, the way her lips part around a moan—

and suddenly, all he can see is you.

his strokes turn frantic, his breath coming in ragged bursts as he imagines you beneath him, above him, around him—your skin against his, your nails digging into his shoulders, your voice crying out his name.

when he comes, it’s with your name on his lips, his entire body shuddering as he spills over his fist, his chest heaving. for a moment, he just sits there, dazed, his pulse roaring in his ears.

then his cheeks flush crimson, his fingers twitching against the keyboard as he hurriedly closes the tab, his heart still pounding.

satoru slumps back against the bed, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he tries to catch his breath. his fingers tremble slightly as he wipes them on his pants, his cheeks burning with a mix of embarrassment and lingering arousal. the room feels too quiet now, the absence of sound almost deafening compared to the moans that had just been filling the air.

he adjusts his glasses with shaky hands, pushing his sweat-damp hair back from his forehead. his mind races—flashing images of you, of what he just imagined, of what he wants to do to you—and his cock twitches weakly in response, still oversensitive.

with a groan, he drags his hands down his face, his voice a hoarse whisper, “fuck..”

he’s not sure if he should feel guilty or exhilarated. all he knows is that the second you walk through that door, he’s not hesitating anymore.

his phone buzzes on the night stand, and he nearly jumps out of his skin. when he sees your name on the screen, his heart leaps into his throat, his fingers fumbling as he grabs it.

the text is innocent enough—just you letting him know you’re on your way home—but it sends a fresh wave of heat through him. his grip tightens around the phone, his lips curving into a determined smirk.

he shoves his phone into his pocket, his movements quick, restless, as he paces the length of the apartment. his skin feels too tight, his body thrumming with anticipation. he can’t sit still, can't stop thinking about the way you'll look when you see him—when you realize he’s done holding back.

his fingers twitch at his sides, his cock already half-hard again just from the thought of you. he adjusts himself with a rough groan, his cheeks flushing as he imagines the way you'll blush when you notice, the way your breath will hitch when he pulls you close.

the sound of the key turning in the lock sends a jolt through him, his entire body tensing as he turns toward the door, his blue eyes burning with hunger.

“hey—!” you smile at your boyfriend, shutting the door behind you. when satoru looks at you, he loses all the confidence he built. “hey,” he replies softly, looking at you with a sheepish grin.

tomorrow. he said to himself, definitely tomorrow.

except tomorrow comes, and he’s just as much of a nervous wreck as before. he watches you talk to shoko from across the room, his teeth sinking into his lower lip as he debates whether to reach for you, to pull you close, to finally act on everything he’s been imagining. but the second you turn to look at him, his confidence evaporates, his cheeks flushing as he quickly looks away.

it’s pathetic. he knows it’s pathetic. but the thought of messing this up, of ruining what you have—it terrifies him more than anything ever could.

suguru strolls into the kitchen where satoru’s standing hopelessly, “so.. did you do it ye— by the look on your face, i’m guessing.. no?”

satoru’s grip tightens around the counter, his knuckles turning white as suguru’s teasing words hit him. he glares at his friend, but there’s no real heat behind it—just frustration and a hint of embarrassment.

“shut up,” he mumbles, “it’s not... it’s not that easy.” his voice cracks slightly, betraying just how flustered he is.

suguru smirks, leaning against the fridge with crossed arms. “bro. you’ve been together for almost a year. she clearly likes you—like, a lot. what are you waiting for?”

satoru groans, dragging a hand down his face before adjusting his glasses nervously. “i don’t know! i just... i don’t wanna mess it up.” his voice drops to barely above a whisper, “..what if she thinks i’m bad at it?”

suguru snorts so loud that you glance over from where you’re chatting with shoko. satoru immediately stiffens like a deer in headlights before pretending to suddenly find the kitchen tiles very interesting.

suguru grins, leaning in closer with a dramatic stage-whisper. “oooh, so THAT’S the problem. you’re not scared of her, you’re scared of—“

satoru slaps a hand over suguru’s mouth before he can finish that sentence, “SHHH—dude! i swear to GOD—!” his face is now the color of his stupid expensive strawberry milk.

from across the room, you quirk an eyebrow at them but doesn’t comment (yet). meanwhile, shoko sips her drink with all the subtlety of someone watching reality TV unfold live.

“look,” suguru finally pries satoru’s hand off, “newsflash: no one’s born good at this. it’s literally trial and error. and considering how whipped she is for you? She’ll probably think it’s cute if you fumble.”

the word fumble makes satoru choke on air. he glares daggers while suguru cackles like this isn’t emotionally devastating warfare.

a beat passes.

“look, i’ll get shoko out of here and leave you to it with.. you know what.” suguru shrugs, sliding something across the counter to satoru.

a condom?

satoru’s mouth opens but quickly shuts, before he stuffs the condom in his pocket. his fingers fumble as he shoves the condom deep into his pocket like it might spontaneously combust if he looks at it too long. his face burns, pulse jackhammering against his ribs so violently he’s half-convinced you can hear it from across the room.

“i hate you,” he hisses at suguru through gritted teeth, but there’s no real venom behind it—just sheer, unadulterated panic. his glasses slip down his nose from how aggressively he’s sweating, his free hand white-knuckling the counter edge for stability.

suguru just winks before sauntering over to Shoko, slinging an arm around her shoulders with exaggerated casualness. “yo, shoko. wanna go get shitfaced at that new izakaya? my treat.”

shoko’s eyes flick between suguru’s shit-eating grin and satoru’s visibly malfunctioning form still glued to the kitchen tiles. she takes one slow, deliberate sip of her drink before deadpanning, “oh my god. finally.” she grabs her coat without another word, shooting you a look that somehow manages to convey both sympathy and amusement.

the second the door clicks shut behind them, the apartment plunges into deafening silence. satoru’s breath hitches when your gaze lands on him, his throat bobbing as he watches you tilt your head in that way that always makes his brain short-circuit.

his fingers twitch at his sides, the condom in his pocket suddenly feeling like it weighs a thousand pounds. suguru’s words echo in his skull—trial and error, she’ll think it’s cute—but all he can focus on is the way your lips part slightly when you take a step toward him.

another step. then another. until you’re right there. and then you smile, slow and knowing, and something in him snaps.

satoru takes a step closer, and his hand automatically finds solace on the dip of your hip. he’s looking into your eyes, and your lips are parting to speak. it’s like you’re seeing right through him. “are you sure?”

“yeah, more than anything.”

his hand comes up to cradle your face, his thumb tracing the curve of your cheekbone with a reverence that makes his chest ache. for a moment, he just stares at you—memorizing the way your lashes flutter, the way your breath hitches when his fingers skim along your jaw—before finally closing the distance between you.

the kiss is slow at first, tentative, his lips moving against yours with a tenderness that surprises even him. But when you sigh into his mouth, your fingers curling into the front of his shirt to pull him closer, something primal snaps inside him.

his grip on your hip tightens, his other hand sliding into your hair as he deepens the kiss, his tongue tracing the seam of your lips until you open for him with a soft moan. the sound sends a jolt of heat straight to his cock, his hips jerking forward instinctively, pressing you back against the counter.

he breaks the kiss only to trail his lips down your neck, his teeth scraping lightly over your pulse point.

his hands slide under your shirt, his fingers skimming up your sides, mapping every inch of you like he’s trying to commit you to memory. when his thumb brushes over the curve of your breast, he feels you shiver, your nails digging into his shoulders as you arch into his touch.

he pulls back just enough to meet your eyes again, his breath coming in ragged bursts. you take his hand and turn around, dragging him into your bedroom.

satoru stumbles after you, his fingers laced tightly with yours, his pulse roaring in his ears like a storm. the second you cross the threshold into your bedroom, his free hand finds your waist, spinning you back around to face him before slamming the door shut with his foot.

his lips crash against yours again, hungry and desperate, his tongue sliding against yours as he walks you backward until the backs of your knees hit the edge of the bed. his hands roam your body greedily, skimming under your shirt to push it up and over your head in one swift motion, his breath hitching at the sight of you now bare before him. you help him pull his own shirt off, breath hitching at the sight.

his fingers trace the swell of your breasts, his thumbs brushing over your nipples, teasing them into stiff peaks as he watches your reactions with rapt attention. every gasp, every shiver, every time your nails dig into his shoulders—he commits it all to memory, his cock throbbing painfully against the confines of his pants.

his lips leave yours to trail down your neck, his teeth nipping at your collarbone before laving his tongue over the marks, soothing the sting. his hands slide down to your waistband, his fingers hooking into the fabric as he looks up at you through his lashes, his voice a wrecked whisper, “can i?”

when you nod, his fingers tremble as he pushes your pants and panties down your legs, his breath catching at the sight of you now completely bare before him. his hands slide up your thighs, his thumbs brushing over your inner thighs, spreading them slightly as he leans in, his breath hot against your core.

he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there before his tongue finally—finally—drags through your folds, lapping up your arousal with a groan.

his hands grip your thighs, holding you open as he devours you, his tongue flicking over your clit before plunging inside you, fucking you with his tongue in a rhythm that has your back arching off the bed, your fingers tangling in his hair.

he pulls back just enough to murmur against your skin, “you taste so good—“ before diving back in, his tongue relentless as he chases your pleasure, his own cock straining against his pants, desperate for release.

when your thighs start to tremble around his head, your moans growing louder, more desperate, he adds a finger, then two, curling them inside you as his tongue circles your clit, his blue eyes locked onto your face, watching every flicker of pleasure that crosses your features. “oh–hmpgh—satoru.”

satoru groans against your skin at the sound of his name spilling from your lips—broken, breathless, so fucking perfect. his fingers curl deeper inside you, his tongue relentless as it flicks over your clit, his blue eyes burning with hunger as he watches you unravel beneath him.

your thighs tighten around his head, your nails scraping against his scalp as you tug at his hair, your back arching off the bed as pleasure coils tight in your stomach. he can feel you clenching around his fingers, your breath coming in ragged gasps as you teeter on the edge.

and then he sucks, his lips sealing around your clit as his fingers thrust deep, and that’s all it takes.

you come with a loud cry, your body shuddering as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over you, your hips jerking against his mouth as he drinks you in, his tongue lapping up every last drop until you’re squirming from oversensitivity.

only then does he pull back, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk as he watches you come down, your chest rising and falling rapidly, your skin flushed and glistening with sweat. his fingers slide out of you slowly, his cock twitching at the sight of his fingers glistening with your arousal.

he leans over you, his voice rough with need, “you’re so beautiful like this,” before capturing your lips in a searing kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue.

he breaks the kiss to press his forehead against yours, his breath hot against your lips before you roll over on top of him. your lips trail from his cheek, to his neck, then further down his chest. your mouth travels down, your tongue trailing down to his waistband. you look up at his blue eyes, watching the way his breath hitches as you peel his underwear down.

satoru’s breath stutters in his chest as you pull his underwear down, his cock springing free—thick, heavy, and already leaking precum at the tip. his fingers twitch at his sides, his entire body tensing as your eyes widen, your lips parting slightly at the sight of him.

his cheeks flush crimson, his voice cracking as he rasps, “fuck, baby—“ his hips jerk upward involuntarily, his cock twitching against his stomach as he watches you, his blue eyes dark with hunger.

he’s never been this exposed, this vulnerable, in his life. but the way you’re looking at him—like he’s something to be worshipped—sends a jolt of heat straight to his already throbbing length.

his fingers tangle in the sheets, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you lean in closer, your breath ghosting over the head of his cock, your lips just barely brushing against him.

he whimpers, his voice wrecked, “please,” his hips bucking up slightly, desperate for more.

he’s not sure how much longer he can last—not when you’re looking at him like that, not when your lips are so close, so fucking close—

his entire body trembles with anticipation, his cock aching for your touch, your mouth, your everything.

your breath catches in your throat aa you stare at satoru’s cock, confusion coursing through your veins. how were you supposed to make that fit?

you take his cock in one hand, spit dribbling from your mouth onto his swollen head. his entire body jerks as your spit drips onto his cockhead, his hips bucking up instinctively at the sudden wet heat. a broken moan tears from his throat, his fingers twisting into the sheets so hard the fabric threatens to rip. his blue eyes are blown wide, pupils dilated with lust as he watches you with a mix of awe and desperation.

“shit—“ his voice cracks, his cock twitching violently in your grip, precum beading at the tip and smearing against your fingers. his chest heaves, his abs flexing as he fights the urge to thrust up into your hand, his teeth sinking into his lower lip hard enough to bruise.

when you finally wrap your lips around the head, a strangled cry escaping him as his hands fly to your hair—not to push or pull, just to hold, to ground himself as pleasure explodes through his veins like wildfire.

“shit—shit—“ he chokes out, his thighs trembling as your tongue swirls around the sensitive underside, your saliva mixing with his precum as you slowly take him deeper. his fingers tighten in your hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he watches you through hooded eyes—your lips stretched around him, your cheeks hollowing as you suck.

he’s never felt anything like this—never imagined anything could feel this good. every flick of your tongue, every soft hum against his skin, every time your throat flutters around him—it's all too much, and yet not enough, his hips jerking upward slightly as he fights the urge to fuck your mouth.

“you’re—fuck—you’re so good at this,” he whimpers, his voice wrecked, his cock throbbing against your tongue. “gonna—gonna cum if you keep—“

his warning dissolves into a moan as you take him deeper, your nose brushing against the coarse hair at his base.

he’s not going to last—not when you’re looking up at him like that, not when your lips are wrapped around him so perfectly, not when every nerve in his body is screaming for release.

satoru’s entire body tenses at the feeling of your throat fluttering around him, his fingers tightening in your hair as a guttural moan rips from his chest. his hips jerk upward instinctively, his cock sliding deeper into your mouth, his vision whiting out for a split second at the overwhelming sensation.

his voice is wrecked, his breath coming in ragged gasps as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth, his thighs trembling with the effort of holding back. “you feel so—so fucking good—“

his cock twitches against your tongue, his precum leaking heavily as your lips stretch around him, your spit slicking his length as you bob your head slowly. every time you pull back, his breath hitches, his fingers twitching in your hair—and every time you take him deeper, his hips buck upward slightly, his control fraying at the edges.

when you gag around him again, his stomach clenches, his abs flexing as a strangled whimper escapes him. the vibration of your throat around his cock sends jolts of pleasure shooting up his spine, his toes curling against the sheets as he struggles to hold on.

“i—i can’t—“ he gasps, his voice cracking as his cock throbs in your mouth, his release coiling tight in his stomach. “i’m gonna—“

his words fall into a broken moan as you hollow your cheeks, your tongue pressing against the sensitive underside of his cock as you suck hard. that’s all it takes.

his fingers tighten in your hair as he comes with a choked cry, his cum spilling down your throat in thick, hot pulses. his entire body trembles, his thighs shaking as pleasure crashes over him in waves, his cock twitching against your tongue as you swallow around him.

for a moment, he just lies there, dazed, his chest heaving as he struggles to catch his breath. his fingers slowly loosen their grip on your hair, his touch turning gentle as he guides you off his cock, his thumb brushing against your swollen lips.

“fuck,” he murmurs, his voice hoarse, his blue eyes hazy with satisfaction as he stares up at you. “you’re perfect.”

his hands slide down to your waist, pulling you up to straddle his lap, his lips crashing against yours in a searing kiss. he can taste himself on your tongue, and the thought sends another jolt of heat through his veins, his cock already twitching against your inner thigh.

his lips move to your cheek, then down to your neck — just like he saw in the video. his teeth scrape against the skin of your neck. satoru’s teeth sink into the delicate skin of your neck with a low growl, his tongue immediately soothing the sting as his hands roam your body possessively.

“fuck,” he rasps against your skin, his breath hot as his lips trail lower, nipping at your collarbone. “can’t get enough of you—“

his hands slide down to grip your ass, squeezing roughly before lifting you slightly, his cock sliding through your slick folds as he positions you above him. his blue eyes lock onto yours, dark with hunger before you murmur, “everything okay?”

your hands find satoru’s shoulders to stabilize yourself, as he nods his head at your words. “wanna feel you,” his voice rough with need. “all of you—“

his fingers dig into your hips as you sink down, his cock stretching you open inch by agonizing inch. his breath hitches as you sink onto him, his head falling back against the pillows with a groan as your walls clench around him, hot and tight.

“shit—you feel so fucking good,” he grits out, his hips jerking upward slightly, desperate to bury himself deeper inside you.

his hands move to your waist, gripping you tightly as he helps you ride him, his thrusts slow and deep at first, savoring every inch of you. but your moans grow louder, your nails digging into his chest. “oh– satoru, you’re so big.” you cry, rolling your hips forward slowly.

your pace begins slow, and careful. your tits bounce wildly as you begin riding him, and satoru’s hands find your waist to help you.

satoru’s fingers tremble against your hips, his usually relaxed demeanor completely shattered as he stares up at you with wide, overwhelmed eyes. his lips part slightly, breath coming in shallow gasps as he tries to process the sensation of being inside you for the first time.

“h-holy—f-fuck—“ he stutters, voice cracking embarrassingly high as his hips jerk up instinctively, then freeze. “s-sorry—i—oh god—“

his entire body is rigid with tension, sweat beading along his hairline as his cock twitches inside you, already threatening to spill just from the overwhelming tightness and heat. his fingers flex nervously against your skin, his usual playful arrogance replaced by shaky, uncertain touches.

“i—i read—there was this book—b-but it didn’t—you’re so much—“ he cuts himself off with a whimper as you clench around him, his hips stuttering helplessly.

when you start to move faster, his breath hitches, his hands flying to your thighs like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t hold on tight enough. his mouth falls open in a silent moan, his glasses fogging up slightly from how hard he’s blushing.

“w-wait—y/n—i think i’m—“ his warning dissolves into a choked cry as he spills embarrassingly fast, his entire body seizing up as he cums with a shudder, his fingers digging into your thighs.

for a long moment, he just lies there, dazed and panting, his cheeks burning crimson as he processes what just happened. then, with a mortified groan, he drags his hands down his face.

“did you just—“ you look at him in confusion, but he doesn’t peek through his hands.

“i...i swear i can usually last longer than that.” his voice is muffled behind his palms, his ears practically glowing red. “..can we pretend that didn’t happen?”

but even as he says it, his cock is already twitching inside of you, his blue eyes peeking up at you from between his fingers with a mix of shy hope and renewed hunger.

satoru’s blush deepens to an almost concerning shade of red as he feels himself hardening again inside you, his hips giving an involuntary little twitch that makes him whimper. he peeks through his fingers at you, his usual cocky smirk replaced by something far more vulnerable—lips still kiss-swollen, white lashes fluttering nervously.

“i–uh—“ his voice cracks again, and he clears his throat, trying (and failing) to sound composed. “technically, the refractory period is just a suggestion—“

his words fall into a choked moan as you clench around him experimentally, his fingers scrambling to grip the sheets like he’s afraid he’ll float away otherwise. his hips jerk up helplessly, his cock already fully hard again despite the mess he just made inside you.

“f-fuck—okay—maybe don’t do that unless you want round two to last approximately three seconds too—“ he cuts himself off with a gasp as you roll your hips, his head falling back against the pillows.

there’s something unbearably endearing about seeing him like this—reduced to a trembling, overstimulated mess beneath you, his usual composed demeanor completely obliterated by how good you feel. his chest heaves as he tries to steady his breathing, his fingers tentatively brushing your thighs like he’s not sure he’s allowed to touch.

“..you’re really not gonna let me live this down, are you?” he mumbles, his voice equal parts mortified and hopelessly turned on. his hips stutter up into yours instinctively, his cock twitching as if to say please please please. “nope.”

then, with a sudden burst of courage (or desperation), he surges up to capture your lips in a sloppy, needy kiss, his hands finally settling on your hips with something resembling confidence.

“...just—go slower this time?” he whispers against your mouth, his voice wrecked. “or i’ll actually die.”

you hum against his swollen lips, before lifting your hips up. “hmm.. i want you to try taking over now?” satoru’s eyes nearly pop out of his head at your words, “m–me?”

“yeah, you got this.”

satoru’s entire body locks up beneath you, his blue eyes widening to comical proportions behind his fogged-up glasses. His mouth opens and closes like a fish out of water, his adam’s apple bobbing violently as he processes your request.

for a long, painfully awkward moment, he just lies there frozen—until suddenly, with a determined (if slightly panicked) nod, he flips you onto your back so fast it gives you whiplash. the second your back hits the mattress, though, he freezes again, his cock still buried inside you as he hovers above you with wide, terrified eyes.

“o-okay. okay. i can do this,” he mutters to himself, more pep talk than reassurance. his hands shake as they brace on either side of your head, his biceps flexing as he tentatively pulls his hips back—then immediately slams them forward again when your walls clench around him. “just find your rhythm.” you murmur, looking up into his eyes.

satoru’s breath hitches at your encouragement, his trembling arms flexing as he tries to steady himself. his hips jerk forward again, this time with slightly more control, but his rhythm is still erratic—too fast, then too slow, his cock twitching inside you as he fights to keep his composure.

“f-find my rhythm—right—“ he mutters, his voice strained as he experimentally rocks into you again, his movements awkward and unpracticed. his cheeks burn crimson, his glasses slipping down his nose from how hard he’s sweating.

you reach up to brush his hair back from his forehead, your touch gentle and reassuring. “you’re doing good. just like that.”

he whimpers at your praise, his hips stuttering as he tries to follow your guidance. slowly, his thrusts start to even out—still hesitant, but gaining confidence with each stroke. his breath comes in ragged gasps, his blue eyes locked onto yours as he searches for approval.

“is—is this okay?” he whispers, his voice cracking slightly as his cock drags against that sweet spot inside you, his rhythm finally settling into something steadier.

his hands slide down to grip your hips, his fingers digging in slightly as he pulls you closer with each thrust, his movements growing more sure. the way your body responds to him—the way your breath hitches, the way your walls flutter around him—fuels his confidence, his pace gradually picking up speed. “you’re doing so good, baby.”

“fuck—you feel so good—“ he groans, his forehead dropping to yours as he finally finds his stride, his hips moving with purpose now, each thrust deep and deliberate.

his lips crash against yours in a messy, desperate kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he fucks you with growing confidence, his earlier hesitation melting away under the heat of your body and the sound of your moans.

“i think—“ he gasps against your lips, his voice rough with need. “i—i think i’m getting the hang of this—“

his hips snap forward with newfound certainty, his cock hitting that spot inside you that has your back arching off the bed, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure coils tight in your stomach. “satoru—!”

“go h–harder.”

his breath stutters at your command, his blue eyes darkening with a mix of surprise and raw hunger. His grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your skin as he pulls you flush against him with a sharp snap of his hips—testing, hesitating for just a fraction of a second before—

thrust.

harder. deeper. a ragged moan tears from his throat as he finally lets go, his rhythm turning punishing, each snap of his hips driving his cock into you with enough force to make the bedframe creak. his earlier awkwardness is gone, replaced by something primal, desperate—like he’s trying to prove himself, to make up for lost

“fuck—like this?” he gasps, his voice wrecked, his forehead pressed against yours as his hips piston into you, his cock hitting that spot inside you with unerring precision. “you—you feel so fucking good—can’t—can’t think—“

his words dissolve into a groan as your nails rake down his back, your legs wrapping around his waist to pull him even deeper. the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with his ragged breaths and your whimpers, his thrusts growing more erratic as pleasure forma tight in his stomach. his abs tense with every thrust, and your slick adds a shiny coat to his skin.

“satoru— nghh.”

satoru’s entire body trembles as he fucks into you with reckless abandon now, his earlier hesitation completely obliterated by the way your body clenches around him. every snap of his hips sends a jolt of pleasure up his spine, his cock throbbing inside you as he chases his release with single-minded desperation.

“fuck—fuck—“ he chokes out, his voice cracking as your nails dig into his back, your legs tightening around his waist to pull him even deeper. the sound of skin slapping against skin is obscenely loud in the quiet room, his sweat-slicked chest rubbing against yours with every thrust.

his rhythm is erratic, his movements rough and uncoordinated—but the way your walls flutter around him, the way your breath hitches every time he bottoms out inside you, drives him wild. his fingers dig into your hips hard enough to bruise, his cock twitching as he feels his orgasm building again, faster than he expected. but he won’t finish before you. definitely not again.

his glasses slip, but you push them back up, maintaining that strong eye contact.

satoru’s breath hitches as your fingers brush against his face, pushing his glasses back up with a tenderness that contrasts sharply with the way his hips are slamming into yours. his blue eyes lock onto yours, pupils blown wide with lust, his expression a mix of awe and desperation.

“y/n—“ he gasps, his voice wrecked, his thrusts growing more deliberate as he tries to hold on, to make this last. “you—you feel too good—fuck—“

his fingers dig into your hips, his rhythm faltering slightly as he fights against the overwhelming pleasure coiling in his gut. he’s determined this time—determined to make you come first, to prove he can do this right.

“tell me—tell me what you need,” he pants, his forehead pressing against yours, his breath hot against your lips. “i—i wanna make you feel good—“

“you make me feel sososo good.”

his hips snap forward again, his cock hitting that spot inside you that makes your back arch, your nails scraping down his shoulders as pleasure builds to a breaking point.

“satoru—“ you whimper, your legs tightening around his waist, pulling him deeper.

that’s all the encouragement he needs. his rhythm evens out, his thrusts deep and purposeful now, each one dragging against that sweet spot until you’re trembling beneath him, your walls fluttering around him as you teeter on the edge.

his breath comes in ragged gasps as he feels your body tightening around him, your nails digging into his shoulders as pleasure forms impossibly tight in your stomach. his thrusts grow more precise, more relentless—each snap of his hips hitting that perfect spot inside you with unerring accuracy.

“that’s it—fuck—let go for me,” he groans, his voice rough with need, his fingers digging into your hips as he fucks you through the building pressure. “wanna feel you come on my cock—wanna feel you—“

his words send a jolt of heat through you, your back arching off the bed as the pleasure crests, overwhelming and all-consuming. and then—

you break.

a gush of liquid heat spills between your thighs as your orgasm crashes over you, your body convulsing beneath him as you soak the sheets beneath you. satoru’s eyes widen behind his glasses, his hips stuttering as he feels your release drenching him, his cock twitching inside you as he watches in awe.

“holy—fuck—“ he chokes out, his voice cracking as your walls flutter around him, milking him desperately. “you’re—you’re so fucking perfect—“

his own orgasm hits him like a freight train, his cock pulsing as he spills inside you, his cum mixing with your slick as his hips jerk erratically, riding out the waves of pleasure.

for a long moment, he just collapses on top of you, his chest heaving, his forehead pressed against yours as he struggles to catch his breath. his face falls flat in your chest, glasses smushing up against your breasts.

satoru’s entire body goes limp against you, his face buried between your breasts as he tries to remember how to breathe. his glasses are hopelessly askew, the frames digging awkwardly into your skin, but he’s too dazed to care. his cock gives a weak twitch inside you, still half-hard despite having just come—because apparently, even post-orgasm, his body refuses to quit when it comes to you.

“..i think you broke me,” he mumbles into your chest, his voice muffled and utterly wrecked. his fingers twitch weakly against your hips, his usual boundless energy completely drained. “like... actually broke me.“

“you’re so dramatic.”

he shifts slightly, wincing as his oversensitive cock brushes against your inner walls, a shaky whimper escaping him. “fuck—okay—maybe don’t move for a second—or i might actually die this time—“

but despite his dramatics, there’s a stupidly satisfied grin on his face as he finally lifts his head, his glasses hanging crookedly off one ear, his blue eyes hazy with contentment.

“..worth it.” he declares, before promptly collapsing back onto you with a contented sigh.

anyone could feel the shift in satoru’s personality after that day, especially you. his usual timid expression wasn’t there anymore, and the sex was great. it was like he couldn’t get enough of you.

his fingers intertwine with yours as you walk into shoko’s apartment for some get together. satoru’s smile was beaming, and you both looked so… relaxed.

“did they—?”

“they definitely did.”

kinktober masterlist

pairings: toji fushiguro x reader

content: SMUT, sexual languages, mean!toji, face-fucking, throat-fucking, oral sex (male), mentions of spit, degradation, slut shaming, name calling

spit’s falling down your chin, and your tank top’s loosely hanging from your shoulder, but you still find the energy to tug at toji’s leg. your knees dig into the wood beneath, and toji’s entire shadow engulfs you. his thick fingers tug at your hair, pulling your head up to look at him.

“you look so fucking pretty like this, all cute and stupid on your knees f’me.” he presses a thumb to your bottom lip, his scar curving up when he smirks at you. you don’t reply, you can’t—not with how big his cock is right in front of you.

toji chuckles low in his throat, the sound vibrating through his chest as he watches you struggle to keep up. his grip tightens in your hair, forcing your head back just enough to meet his dark, amused gaze.

“cat got your tongue, sweetheart? or is it just my cock?” he drags the thick head of his dick along your spit-slick lips, smearing precum across them. “coulda sworn you were real chatty when you sent me those pics. what happened to that bold little girl, huh?”

his free hand slides down to grip your jaw, fingers pressing just hard enough to make you whimper. “open up.“

the moment your lips part, he thrusts forward, filling your mouth with the heavy weight of him. his hips roll slow and deliberate, fucking into your throat with a lazy dominance that leaves you dizzy.

“that’s it… take it like a good girl.“

your throat flutters around toji’s fat cock, his tip going deeper and deeper into your mouth. your nails dig into his thighs, and saliva collects in your mouth.

toji groans, the sound rough and approving as he watches your lips stretch obscenely around his girth. his fingers tighten in your hair, guiding your movements with a firm grip as he starts to fuck your face in earnest.

“fuck, look at you—gagging on me like a little slut. bet you thought you were so clever sending those pics, huh?” he pulls back just enough to let you gasp for air before shoving right back in, the thick vein along his shaft dragging against your tongue.

your eyes water, tears spilling down your cheeks as he pistons his hips, each thrust pushing him deeper until your nose brushes against the coarse hair at his base. the wet, filthy sounds of your throat struggling to accommodate him fill the room, mixing with his low, satisfied grunts.

“that’s it, take it all. you wanted my attention, baby? you got it.” his free hand grips the back of your neck, holding you steady as he fucks into your mouth. “gonna make sure you never forget who owns this pretty little throat.”

precum leaks from his tip, coating your tongue with his bitter salt as he uses you, his pace relentless. your fingers scramble against his thighs, nails leaving faint red marks as you try to ground yourself, but toji doesn’t let up—not even when your muffled whimpers vibrate around him.

toji’s breath comes out in a ragged growl as he feels your throat convulse around him, the tight, wet heat of your mouth driving him wild. his cock throbs, veins pulsing against your tongue as he fucks into you with deep, measured strokes. “mphm—!”

“fuck, you take me so well—like this pretty mouth was made for my dick.” his thumb swipes at the tears streaking your cheeks, smearing them across your skin before he grips your chin, forcing you to look up at him. “eyes on me, baby. want you to remember exactly whose cock’s wrecking that throat.”

the slap of his balls against your chin echoes in the room, each thrust pushing him deeper, stretching your lips wide around his girth. saliva drips down your chin, pooling between your tits as you struggle to breathe, your nose buried in the musk of his skin.

“that’s it, choke on it,” he rasps, hips snapping forward with a brutal rhythm. “gonna fuck this throat until you can’t even think straight—until all you know is my cock.”

toji’s grip in your hair tightens to the point of pain as he owns your mouth, his cock pistoning in and out with a relentless rhythm that leaves you dizzy, drooling, and utterly at his mercy.

“fuck, that’s it—take it deeper,” he growls, his voice rough with pleasure as he watches your throat bulge obscenely around his length. your gag reflex kicks in, your body instinctively trying to reject the intrusion, but toji doesn’t let up. instead, he forces himself deeper, his thick shaft sliding past your uvula until your lips are pressed flush against the base of his cock.

tears stream down your face, your nose running as you struggle to breathe, but he doesn’t care. he likes it—likes the way your throat flutters desperately around him, the way your nails dig into his thighs like you’re both trying to push him away and pull him closer at the same time.

“you wanted this, didn’t you?" he taunts, his voice dark and mocking as he pulls back just enough to let you gasp for air before slamming back in. “sent me those pics like a little tease, thinking you could play with fire and not get burned. but look at you now—choking on my cock like a fucking whore.”

his balls slap against your chin, heavy and full, the sound lewd and wet as spit drips down your chest. his thrusts grow rougher, more erratic, his control slipping as he nears his release.

“gonna fill this pretty mouth up,” he snarls, his fingers tightening in your hair. “swallow every fucking drop—or i’ll make you lick it off the floor.”

and then he’s cumming, his cock pulsing violently as hot, thick ropes of cum flood your throat. you gag, your body jerking as he forces you to take it all, his grip unrelenting until the last drop is spilled.

only then does he finally pull out, his cock glistening with spit and cum as he drags the tip across your swollen lips.

kinktober masterlist

synopsis: uh oh.. you told your boyfriend he’s too vanilla for your liking, how’ll he take the news? will he accept defeat or fuck those thoughts out of you?

pairings: suguru geto x reader

content: SMUT, sexual language, sexual themes, kinktober, overstimulation, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, fingering, cockdrunk!reader, drabble, rough sex, slight choking, degradation, slut-shaming, pet names

suguru’s hands are soft, in contrast to how rough yours are. without breaking his lips away from yours, he’s kicking the front door shut with his foot. your fingers are tangling up in his hair when he hoists you up, his muscular arms carrying you all the way to his bedroom.

you and suguru have been dating for a couple of months— six to be exact, and while he’s sweet, and charming.. you want something different.

your back hits the mattress, and suguru’s lips are trailing soft kisses down your throat. you roll your eyes, letting quiet moans slip from your lips before your teeth sink into them.

“okay, no—“ you groan, and suguru looks at you, eyebrows knitted together in confusion. “what’s wrong?”

you bridge the bride of your nose before sighing softly, “i want to take a different approach tonight..” suguru tilts his head up at you, “like what?”

“well, our sex is usually very—and i don’t mean this in a rude way—but it’s very vanilla.” suguru hums in response, his face annoyingly calm. “so.. you want something different?”

“yeah..” suguru contemplates before shrugging his shoulders, “that’s fine. tell me what you need, and i’ll do it.”

suguru’s expression shifts—just slightly—but it’s enough to let you know he’s intrigued. his lips curl into a lazy smirk as he props himself up on one elbow, his free hand still resting possessively on your hip.

“vanilla, huh?” he lets out a low chuckle, repeating your words, his thumb tracing slow circles over your skin. “guess i’ve been too busy making sure you’re comfortable to realize you’ve been fucking bored.“

there’s a flicker of something darker in his eyes now, something hungrier. he’s not mad—if anything, he’s excited.

you chew on your lower lip, before suguru’s hand moves from your hip to your face. his lips find yours again but there’s no comfort or stability in this kiss, it’s hungry, desperate. and you love it.

his touch is unfamiliar; the sweet one you remember is gone, and something else has taken over.

suguru’s fingers tighten in your hair, yanking your head back just enough to expose your throat. his teeth scrape over your pulse point, sharp and mean, before he sucks a bruise into your skin.

“that better?” his voice is rough, dripping with condescension as his free hand slides down your body, fingers digging into your thigh hard enough to leave marks. “or do you need me to be even less sweet?”

he doesn’t wait for an answer. his mouth crashes back onto yours, tongue forcing its way past your lips like he’s claiming you. his hips grind down against yours, letting you feel just how fucking hard he is—how much you did this to him.

“you wanted different,” he growls against your mouth, fingers slipping under the waistband of your pants. “so fucking take it.”

suguru’s hands are everywhere at once—rough, demanding, possessive. he tears at your clothes like they’re nothing, his breath hot and ragged against your skin.

“fuck, look at you,” he snarls, his fingers hooking into the waistband of your panties and ripping them off without a second thought. “been so fucking patient with you, and this is what you really wanted? to be treated like a slut?” you whimper at his words, back arching into his touch.

his palm lands sharp against your thigh—stinging, leaving a red mark in its wake. he grins at the way you jolt, his other hand already sliding between your legs, fingers pressing hard against your clit.

“so fucking wet,” he mocks, dragging his fingers through your wetness. “all this time, you just needed me to ruin you, huh?” your hands weakly tug at the waistband of his pants.

suguru lets out a dark chuckle as he feels your fingers fumbling with his waistband. his hips jerk forward, pressing his aching cock against your palm through the fabric—taunting you with how badly he wants to be inside you.

“oh, now you’re in a hurry?” he sneers, catching your wrist and pinning it above your head. his other hand grips your jaw, forcing you to look at him as he grinds his hard length against your bare thigh. “too late, baby. you don’t get to decide the pace anymore.”

his teeth sink into your bottom lip, drawing a sharp gasp from you before he pulls away, his fingers sliding back down to your soaked pussy. he circles your clit slowly, watching your face twist with frustration.

“you wanted me to stop being nice,” he reminds you, voice dripping with condescension. “so fucking beg for it like the desperate little slut you are.”

“please–please, i need you.”

suguru’s smirk is vicious as he finally gives in to your begging.

“that’s all you had to say,” he growls, yanking his pants down just enough to free his cock—thick, flushed, dripping with pre-cum already. he doesn’t even bother taking them all the way off.

one hand fists in your hair, forcing your head back as he lines himself up with your entrance. the other grips your hip hard enough to bruise.

“open wider,” he commands, voice rough with lust. and then he’s slamming into you in one brutal thrust, stretching you, filling you, owning you. “oh!”

a ragged moan tears from your throat as he bottoms out, his hips flush against yours. suguru groans, low and filthy, his fingers tightening in your hair.

“fuck—so tight,” he grits out, already pulling back just to drive into you again, harder. “gonna fuck you so good you forget how to think.”

and then he’s moving—relentless, punishing strokes that leave you gasping, clawing at the sheets, drowning in him. every snap of his hips is a promise. “oh– suguru!–fuck.”

suguru doesn’t let up—not for a second. his hips piston into you, each thrust deeper, harder than the last. the wet slap of skin on skin fills the room, mingling with your choked whimpers and his ragged growls.

“fuck—fuck, you take me so good,” he snarls, one hand fisting in your hair, yanking your head back to expose your throat. his teeth sink into the tender skin there, claiming you as his cock stretches you to the limit.

you’re dripping, your pussy clenching around him like it’s trying to milk him dry, but he doesn’t slow down. if anything, he fucks you harder, his balls slapping against your ass with every punishing stroke.

“you gonna cum already?” he taunts, his free hand sliding down to your clit, rubbing rough circles just to push you further. “pathetic. can’t even last five minutes without falling apart.”

your vision blurs, your thighs trembling as pleasure wrecks you—too much, too fast, but he doesn’t stop. his fingers dig into your hip, forcing you to take every inch as he pounds into your g-spot relentlessly.

“that’s it—squeeze me like that,” he groans, his cock twitching inside you as his own orgasm builds. “gonna fill you up so fucking deep—make sure you remember who owns this pussy.”

your tits jolt with every thrust, and his fingers tighten around your throat while his other hand rubs harsh circles on your clit.

suguru’s grip on your throat tightens just enough to make your breath hitch—his fingers pressing just so, cutting off your air for a split second before releasing, over and over, playing with you like you’re nothing more than his personal toy.

“shit—look at you,” he growls, his eyes locked onto your bouncing tits, your nipples hard and begging for his touch. but he doesn’t give it to you. not yet. “so fucking desperate for me.”

his hips snap forward, his cock pounding into that sweet spot inside you relentlessly. the slap of skin is filthy, degrading, and the way your pussy clenches around him tells him exactly how much you love it.

“gonna cum?” he taunts, his fingers on your clit moving faster, harder, just pushing you closer to the edge. “bet you are. bet you’re dying to scream my name like the little slut you are.”

his own release is close—you can feel it in the way his thrusts grow uneven, the way his cock twitches inside you, the way his fingers dig into your skin like he’s holding on for dear life.

“cum for me,” he orders, his voice a rough, broken growl. “now.”

and when you do—when your body shudders around him, your pussy milking him for every drop—he follows, his cock pulsing as he fills you up, claiming you in the most primal way possible.

but he doesn’t stop.

“suguru,” you moan, his name falling from your lips like a mantra.

even as you whimper, oversensitive and shaking, he keeps going, his fingers still working your clit, his cock still thrusting lazily inside you, drawing out your pleasure until you’re sobbing, begging for him to stop.

“this what you wanted?” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your trembling lips.

suguru’s lips curl into a vicious smirk against yours, his tongue dragging along your bottom lip as he feels you unravel beneath him. his hips keep moving in slow, cruel circles, his cock still hard inside you even after he’s already filled you up.

“fuck, listen to you,” he groans, his fingers digging into your hip as he grinds deeper, forcing another broken moan from your throat. “whining like a fucking mess just ‘cause i won’t let you come down yet.”

his free hand slides up your body, palming your tits roughly before pinching your nipple—hard—just to hear you squeal.

he chuckles darkly as your legs tremble, your pussy fluttering around him in weak, overstimulated pulses.

and when your body wears itself out, and you’re sprawled out on the bed, his cum still dripping from your leg, he’s looking you with those soft eyes like nothing ever happened.

kinktober masterlist

synopsis: UH OH! there’s a serial killer loose in your town, what happens when he gets his hands on you..? well, you find out he doesn’t only kill people..

pairings: ghostface!choso x reader

content: SMUT, sexual language, sexual themes, ghostface!choso, overstimulation, knife play if you squint, biting, mentions of blood, mentions of death, vaginal sex, creampie, fingering, oral sex (f & m receiving), choso’s kinda pervy, pussydrunk!choso, throat-fucking, bigdickchoso, choking, reader has no survival instinct, kinktober prompt

wc: 9.5k (i got carried away again srryyy)

three days into the month of october and there’s been eight people dead, that’s all you’ve been hearing on every news channel. some sicko’s going around your town with a ghost mask on, it has everyone terrified. everyone.. except for you, obviously. you had no choice but to be brave, you worked thirty minutes away from your house, your car broke down just a day ago, so you’re left standing at the bus stop at ten pm until your car’s fixed.

worst fucking luck ever.

you kick pebbles on the way to the bus stop, hand clutching your bag tightly as your eyes dart around your surroundings. times like this were why you hated living in a small town, it was always so dark at night with the very few streetlights. so at every creak and crack, you were flinching. so much for not being afraid.

the moonlight sharpens your features, and the sound of your foot tapping against the ground is louder than ever. you lean against the bus post, checking your watch every dreadfully passing second.

“you shouldn’t be out here this late, don’t you watch the news?” a voice erupts from behind you, knocking your focus off. when you turn around, your curious eyes are met with an unfamiliar figure.

“excuse me?”

choso’s dark eyes flicker with mild amusement as he watches you jump at the sound of his voice. the dim streetlight casts shadows across the sharp lines of his face, making the black tattoo across his nose and cheeks stand out even more. he leans against the bus stop pole with an effortless ease, arms crossed over his broad chest. his black hair is tied up in those signature ponytails, swaying slightly as he tilts his head to study you.

“you heard me,” he says, voice low and smooth like velvet. “ghostface is out here gutting people like fish, and you’re just... standing around.” he gestures lazily at the empty street with one large hand, the silver rings on his fingers glinting under the moonlight. there’s no real urgency in his tone—just a detached observation, like he’s commenting on the weather.

his gaze lingers on the way your fingers tighten around your bag strap, the subtle tension in your shoulders. he exhales through his nose, almost bored. “you got a death wish or something?” the question is blunt, but there’s something underneath it—something that almost sounds like concern, buried beneath layers of apathy.

“i’m sorry, is ghostface gonna be paying my bills?” you muse, folding your arms across your chest. “whoever the hell he or she is, is not going to be the reason i stop going to work.. unfortunately.”

choso lets out a quiet huff through his nose, the ghost of a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. he watches you with those dark, unreadable eyes, the cigarette still dangling from his mouth, unlit. “stubborn,” he murmurs, more to himself than to you. his voice is low, rough around the edges like gravel, but there’s something almost approving in his tone.

he reaches into his pocket again, this time pulling out a lighter. the flame flickers to life, casting an orange glow across his sharp features as he lights the cigarette. he takes a slow drag, exhaling smoke through his nose before speaking again. “you’re lucky i’m not ghostface,” he muses, tilting his head slightly. “would’ve been real easy to gut you just now.” his tone is flat, but there’s a teasing lilt to it—like he’s testing you.

choso pushes off the pole again, stepping closer until he’s standing right beside you. he’s warm, his presence solid and grounding despite the eerie quiet of the night. “i’ll wait with you,” he says simply, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world. “unless you’d rather take your chances with the serial killer.” he takes another drag, eyes scanning the empty street. “your call.”

the silence stretches between you, broken only by the occasional sound of a distant car or the rustle of leaves. choso doesn’t seem bothered by it—he’s comfortable in the quiet, his posture relaxed. but his gaze never strays far from you, always watching, always assessing. like he’s making sure you’re still there.

“you stand with everyone who walks here at night?” you ask, a teasing tone behind your words. this was probably stupid— scratch that, this was very fucking stupid. you’re standing alone, talking to a stranger while there’s a deranged serial killer on the loose. “only the pretty ones.” he replies, smirking at you.

“joking, joking. relax.”

after a moment, he flicks the cigarette away, crushing it under his boot. “you got a name?” he asks, voice softer now. almost curious. like he’s decided you’re worth knowing.

“y/n. you?”

choso’s smirk deepens at your teasing, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. “choso,” he says simply, his deep voice rolling over the syllables like they’re something precious. he doesn’t offer a last name—just choso, like that’s all you need to know. like it’s all that matters.

he leans back against the bus stop pole again, arms crossed over his chest, but his gaze never leaves you. there’s something intense about the way he looks at you, like he‘s memorizing every detail—the way your lips curl when you tease him, the way your fingers fidget with the strap of your bag. it’s unnerving, but not in a bad way. more like he’s trying to figure you out.

“y/n,” he repeats, testing the name on his tongue. his voice is low, almost a purr, and it sends an unexpected shiver down your spine. “cute.” the compliment is offhand, like he didn’t even think before saying it, and that somehow makes it feel more genuine.

the night air is cool, but choso radiates warmth beside you. he’s close enough that you can smell the faint scent of tobacco and something earthy—maybe sandalwood—lingering on his clothes. his presence is oddly comforting, despite the fact that he’s a complete stranger. or maybe because of it.

after a beat of silence, he tilts his head toward the empty street. “bus ain’t coming for a while,” he says, voice casual. “shit.” you reply, looking down at your dead phone screen.

“i could give you a ride.” choso shrugs, teeth sinking into his lower lip. your eyes meet with his hesitantly, like you’re searching for any malicious intent beneath them.

this is stupid. don’t say yes. don’t do it.

“yeah, if you don’t mind.” is all you say before letting out a sigh. you had no other choice, you have work early in the morning tomorrow and you live way too far to walk. what’s the worst that can happen?

well, you could get kidnapped, murdered, etc. but whatever. he’s hot.

“i hope you’re not afraid of bikes.” choso hums, side-glancing you as he pushes himself off the pole. “not afraid of anything, really.”

choso’s lips curl into a slow, satisfied smirk at your answer, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable. “good choice,” he murmurs, voice low and rough like gravel. he pushes off the pole, his movements lazy and deliberate as he steps closer, invading your space just enough to make your breath hitch.

he reaches out, fingers brushing against your wrist as he takes your hand, his touch warm and surprisingly gentle despite the callouses on his palms. “c’mon,” he says, tugging you lightly toward the street where his bike waits under the flickering streetlight. the black metal gleams under the dim glow, looking as dangerous and sleek as the man leading you toward it.

choso grabs a spare helmet from the back, handing it to you with a raised brow. “safety first,” he deadpans, though the smirk playing at his lips suggests he finds the idea of himself being concerned about safety amusing. he watches as you fumble with the straps, his gaze heavy and assessing, before reaching out to adjust it for you. his fingers brush against your jaw, lingering for a heartbeat too long. “there. now you won’t die before we get to your place.”

“wow, you’re truly a gentleman.”

he swings a leg over the bike, the leather of his jacket creaking as he settles in, before chuckling at your words. he pats the space behind him, he glances over his shoulder, eyes dark with challenge. “better hold on tight, y/n.” he purrs, the engine roaring to life beneath him. “wouldn’t want you falling off.”

the vibration of the bike thrums through you as you slide on behind him, your arms hesitantly wrapping around his waist. choso lets out a low chuckle at your tentative grip, reaching back to pull your hands tighter against him. “tighter,” he orders, voice rough with amusement. “unless you want me to go fast enough to scare you.”

and then, before you can even think of a retort, he kicks off, the bike lurching forward with a growl that echoes through the empty streets. the wind whips past as he weaves through the dark roads, his body warm and solid against yours.

somewhere in the back of your mind, a voice whispers that this is a terrible idea.

but the moment choso leans into the next sharp turn, his body moving in perfect sync with the bike, that voice is drowned out by the rush of adrenaline. his back presses against your chest, the heat of him seeping through your clothes as the city blurs around you. his grip on the handles is firm, controlled—every movement calculated, like he knows these streets by heart.

his voice cuts through the roar of the engine, low and teasing. “you still alive back there?” he calls over his shoulder, the smirk evident in his tone even if you can’t see his face. “yeah.” the wind carries his scent back to you—tobacco, leather, something dark and intoxicating—and your fingers instinctively tighten around his waist.

choso lets out a rough chuckle at your grip, one hand leaving the handlebar just long enough to pat your thigh. “that’s it,” he murmurs, the words barely audible over the rush of air. “knew you’d cling to me eventually.”

the bike accelerates, the speed making your stomach drop as buildings streak past in a haze of neon and shadow. his laughter is reckless, unbothered by the danger, like he thrives on the thrill of it. and maybe he does.

but then—

a sharp turn. a screech of tires.

and suddenly, the bike skids to a stop in front of your house, the engine growling before cutting off into silence. choso kicks the stand down, turning his head just enough to glance at you over his shoulder. his eyes are dark, pupils blown wide from the ride, lips curled in that same lazy smirk.

“told you i’d get you home safe,” he murmurs, voice dripping with smug satisfaction. his fingers tap against your wrist where it rests against his stomach. you swing one leg over, and remove the helmet from your head before handing it back to him.

“thanks for the ride home.. choso.” he tilts his head when you look at him, teeth sinking into his lower lip before he forces his words out. “don’t worry about it, try not being alone in the dark.”

“yeah, yeah.”

choso’s smirk softens just slightly at your gratitude, his dark eyes lingering on your face as you hand the helmet back to him. his fingers brush against yours as he takes it, the contact brief but deliberate—like he can’t help but reach for you, even in something as small as this. “i’m serious, you’re a pretty girl.”

he shifts slightly on the bike, his leather jacket creaking as he leans back, studying you with that same unreadable intensity. the streetlight casts shadows across his sharp features, making the tattoo across his nose stand out even more.

for a moment, neither of you speak. The night air is thick with something unspoken, charged with the kind of tension that makes your pulse skip. you break it first, exhaling through your nose. “thanks again, i should head inside now.”

his lips quirk at the corner, that same teasing glint in his eyes. but there’s something else there, too—something darker, almost hesitant. “don’t mention it.”

choso kicks the bike back to life with a growl. “later,” he says, voice barely audible over the engine. and then, with one last lingering glance, he’s gone, disappearing into the dark streets like he was never there at all.

your eyes follow his bike down the street before you’re going inside.

the rest of the night goes how it always does; you showering, eating some frozen microwave meal, and flickering the news on.

“thirty year old male found dead in parked bus, his killing resembles the other killings that have taken place over the course of the last few days.”

what the hell? when you get a closer look at the screen, it’s the bus driver? no way that psycho killer attacked the bus driver, of all people. yeah.. he was a bit of a creep but still.

whatever. you took that as a sign to take yourself to sleep.

the next day was exactly the same, working until ten pm and having no reliable way back home. you really needed to get your car fixed, but that was a problem for another day.

as you step out of work, the night air is just as cold and unforgiving as the night before. the streets are eerily quiet, the only sound the distant hum of traffic and the occasional rustle of leaves. you pull your jacket tighter around yourself, glancing at your dead phone with a sigh.

great. again.

you start walking toward the bus stop, trying to ignore the way your pulse picks up with every shadow that shifts in the corner of your eye. the news from last night plays in your head on a loop—the bus driver, gutted like the others.

a sharp gust of wind sends a shiver down your spine, and you quicken your pace when a car slows down beside you.

“y/n?” you turn your head at the voice, eyes meeting with your coworker when you let out a relieved sigh. “why’re you walking all by yourself at this time?” he asks, looking directly at you.

“car’s broke down.” you explain, clutching your jacket tighter.

your coworker frowns, concern flickering in his eyes as he leans slightly out of the car window. “shit, that sucks. hop in, i’ll give you a ride home.”

the offer is kind, and under normal circumstances, you’d accept without hesitation. but something—something—makes you hesitate. maybe it’s the way the streetlight flickers, casting eerie shadows across his face. or maybe it’s the way your gut tightens, an instinctive warning you can’t quite ignore.

before you can answer, a familiar, low growl of an engine cuts through the night.

choso’s bike rolls up beside the car, his dark eyes flicking between you and your coworker with an unreadable expression. his posture is relaxed, but there’s a tension in his jaw that wasn’t there before.

“problem?” he asks, voice smooth but edged with something dangerous. his gaze lingers on your coworker, sharp and assessing, like he’s sizing him up.

your coworker stiffens, his grip tightening on the steering wheel. “uh, no problem,” he says, voice a little too high. “just offering her a ride.”

choso’s lips curl into a slow, humorless smirk. “that’s funny. i was just about to do the same.” his eyes slide back to you, the intensity in them making your breath catch. “but hey. your call, y/n.” your breath hitches, eyes flickering between choso and your coworker.

the air between the three of you is thick with tension, the silence stretching just a beat too long.

your coworker clears his throat, shifting uncomfortably. “you know what? you’re good, man. i, uh... i gotta get going anyway.” he forces a smile at you, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “see you tomorrow, y/n.”

“see you tomorrow..”

the car pulls away, tires squealing slightly as he speeds off into the night.

choso watches him go, his expression unreadable. then, with a slow exhale, he turns back to you. “you trust too easily,” he murmurs, voice low. his fingers tap against the handlebars of his bike, restless. “that’s gonna get you killed one day.”

the streetlight flickers again, casting shadows across his face. “does that mean i shouldn’t trust you either?”

choso’s smirk deepens, slow and dangerous, as he leans forward on the bike, his dark eyes never leaving yours. the flickering streetlight catches the sharp angles of his face, making the blood on his sleeve look almost black.

“smart girl,” he murmurs, voice rough like gravel. his fingers flex around the handlebars, the silver rings glinting in the dim light. “but here’s the thing—if i wanted you dead, you’d already be bleeding out in some alley.” he tilts his head, studying you with that same unnerving intensity. “and yet... here you are. still breathing.”

or maybe he was just saving you for later.

the engine rumbles beneath him, a low, threatening growl that matches the edge in his voice.

“trust is a funny thing,” he continues, voice dropping to a whisper. “you don’t give it. you earn it.” his fingers flexing, “so ask yourself, y/n... do i seem like the kind of man who earns trust?”

the question hangs in the air between you, heavy with implication. and then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he pats the seat behind him.

“you taking me home or what?”

choso lets out a low, rough chuckle at your response, the sound vibrating through his chest like the growl of his bike. his dark eyes gleam with something between amusement and approval, his smirk widening just enough to flash the sharp edge of his canine.

“atta girl,” he purrs, voice dripping with lazy satisfaction. his fingers tap against the seat again, impatient. “now get on before i change my mind.”

the moment you slide behind him, his body heat seeps into you, his jacket cool against your chest but the man beneath it radiating warmth. he doesn’t wait for you to settle—the second your arms wrap around his waist, he kicks off, the bike lurches forward with a roar that echoes through the empty streets. his muscles tense under your grip as he leans into the first turn, the speed making your stomach flip.

the wind whips past, sharp and cold, but choso is a solid wall against it, his broad shoulders blocking most of the bite. his scent—tobacco, cologne, something metallic that might be blood—fills your lungs, intoxicating and dangerous.

one of his hands leaves the handlebar just long enough to squeeze your thigh, his grip firm, possessive.

and then he accelerates, the world blurring into streaks of neon and shadow as he weaves through the night like he owns it.

like he owns you.

the travel to get back to your house isn’t long at all, because next thing you know, you’re getting off the bike.

choso kills the engine, the sudden silence ringing in your ears as you peel yourself off his back. his smirk is lazy, satisfied, as he watches you steady yourself on wobbly legs. the streetlight above flickers, casting eerie shadows across his sharp features, making the blood on his sleeve look even darker.

“enjoy the ride?” he asks, voice low and rough with amusement. he leans back on the bike, one arm draped over the handlebars, the other resting on his thigh—casual, like he didn’t just nearly send you both careening into oblivion. his fingers tap idly against the leather of his pants, the silver rings glinting under the dim glow.

“always.”

the air between you is thick with something unspoken, charged with the kind of tension that makes your pulse race. choso’s dark eyes never leave yours, heavy with an intensity that feels like a physical touch.

then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he reaches out, catching your wrist before you can step away. his grip is firm but not painful, his thumb brushing over your pulse point like he’s savoring the way your heartbeat jumps under his touch.

“should i tip you?” you tease, looking into his dark eyes. “thanks for the ride again, no need for one tomorrow though, i’m finally off.”

choso’s grip tightens just slightly at your words, his fingers flexing around your wrist like he’s resisting the urge to pull you closer. his dark eyes narrow, that lazy smirk of his sharpening into something more dangerous—more hungry.

“off, huh?” he murmurs, voice rough like gravel. his thumb drags slow circles over your pulse point, savoring the way your heartbeat stutters under his touch. “i’m guessing that means you’ll be home all day.”

the implication in his tone is unmistakable, his gaze dropping to your lips for a fraction of a second before flicking back up. his fingers trail up your arm, leaving a trail of fire in their wake, before he finally lets go, leaning back on his bike with a slow, satisfied exhale.

“maybe i’ll stop by,” he says, voice dripping with dark promise. “check on you. make sure you’re not getting into trouble.” your breath hitches at his words.

the way he says it—like it’s a threat and a promise all at once—sends a shiver down your spine.

and then, before you can open your mouth to respond, he kicks the bike back to life, the engine roaring like a beast waking from slumber.

“sweet dreams, y/n.” he purrs, the words barely audible over the growl of the engine.

and with that, he’s gone, disappearing into the night like a shadow.

leaving you standing there.

what the fuck just happened?

you blink once, twice, and three times to make you weren’t hallucinating from how exhausted you are before heading inside.

the moment your door clicks shut behind you, the weight of the night crashes down all at once. your back presses against the cool wood as you exhale sharply, fingers trembling slightly where they clutch your keys. the scent of leather and something metallic—his scent—still clings to your clothes, making your pulse stutter all over again.

you push off the door, tossing your bag onto the couch with more force than necessary. the apartment is too quiet, too still, the hum of the fridge the only sound breaking the silence. normally, the solitude would be comforting. now, it feels... empty. like the space is waiting for something—or someone—to fill it.

your fingers brush over your wrist absently, right where choso’s grip had been. the ghost of his touch lingers, his thumb’s slow circles still burning into your skin.

“maybe i’ll stop by.”

the words replay in your head, low and rough and dangerous, and your stomach twists with something between anticipation and dread.

you drag a hand down your face, groaning.

this was bad.

this was so bad.

and yet, you can’t bring yourself to regret it.

the next morning, you wake to the buzz of your phone. a single, unsaved number lights up the screen with a message:

a picture of you.. sleeping?

you freeze, your phone dropping on the ground before you stand up from your bed, looking at the open blinds. “shit..” you murmur, inching closer to the window and looking outside before shutting the blinds quickly.

you look back at your phone, your heart beating rapidly.

your movements are quick and you’re scanning every crack and crevice of your house. your heart’s hammering through your ears as you push open every door, and lock every window.

you can’t hide anymore.

there wasn’t anyone in your house but you still felt so.. so uneasy. who was watching you? was it that psycho killer?

then your phone rings. your breath hitches, and your eyes are laser-focused on your phone.

ring. ring. ring.

it was taunting you.

with shaky hands, you pick the phone up and place it to your ear. “h-hello?” the other line is staticky for a few seconds before you hear an unfamiliar voice, “you really need to close your blinds at night. the world is a dangerous place.”

“who the hell is this?”

“someone who’s looking out for you even though, you seem so ungrateful.” your hands shake, and you’re looking through the blinds again, eyes peering everywhere at once. “is this a prank?”

“i have an even better question: what’s your favorite scary movie?”

“fuck you.” you manage to spit out before hanging up the phone and throwing it across your room.

you flicker the tv on, and instantly you’re watching the news channel.

“new body found. 22 year old male found dead in his apartment.”

you stare at the screen in disbelief, “no..” you murmur to yourself when the pictures of the victim are on the screen. it was your coworker, the one that offered you a ride.

your knees buckle as you sink to the floor, the remote slipping from your numb fingers. the news anchor’s voice becomes distant white noise as you stare at your coworker’s face—his dead face—frozen on the screen.

the words blur as your vision swims. your breath comes in ragged gasps, fingers clawing at your own arms like you can scratch the truth out of your skin: two people you know have been brutally murdered by this psychopath.

your skin crawls, and you’re pushing yourself back up to your feet. could you be next? shit, you didn’t want to find out.

you take a deep breath, and decide to take a shower before you leave to wherever the hell— anywhere was better than this.

the hot water pounds against your skin, icy and sharp, but it does little to wash away the dread clinging to you. your fingers press into the tiles, knuckles white as you try to steady your breathing.

the steam rises around you, fogging the mirror, but you can still feel it—the weight of unseen eyes, the phantom touch of a gaze that shouldn’t be there.

you squeeze your eyes shut.

breathe in. breathe out.

creak.

just outside the bathroom door.

your eyes snap open and the water is still running, still loud, but that sound—that wasn’t the pipes. that’s wasn’t your house settling.

that sure as hell sounded like a footstep.

you don’t move, you don’t turn the water off, you just stare at the only thing between you and the door: the blue curtain. slowly, you twist the water off and place a hand over your mouth.

shit, you didn’t even bring clothes in the bathroom. were you going to seriously die naked? that is not how you want to go out!

before you can reach for your towel, the bathroom door slams open, hitting against the wall.

you don’t even have time to react before the shower curtain’s being ripped open, and you’re face-to-face with the infamous ghostface who’s been terrorizing your entire town.

your scream lodges in your throat as the cold metal of a knife presses against your bare stomach, his gloved hand clamping over your mouth before a single sound can escape. the ghostface mask looms inches from your face, the hollow eyes staring into yours with eerie stillness.

“shhh,” the distorted voice whispers, the knife tracing a slow, teasing line up your ribs. “wouldn’t want the neighbors to hear, would we?”

your back hits the wet tiles, your pulse hammering so violently you’re sure they can feel it. the blade flicks up, tilting your chin as his free hand slides down your hip—possessive, hungry.

“you’ve been on my list for a while, sweetheart,” he murmurs, the voice modulator crackling with static. “but after last night? watching you with him?” the knife drags down your throat, not deep enough to cut—just enough to make you whimper. “i decided you’re mine first.”

with who? choso? your co worker?

the hand on your mouth shifts, gloved fingers slipping between your lips as he leans in, the mask brushing your ear.

“scream for me,” he breathes “i love it when they scream.”

your breath catches in your throat, and you’re merely inches away from whoever is behind this mask. you’re entirely at a disadvantage; you’re naked, alone, and wet in a house with some deranged killer.

“fuck you,” you spit out, shoving him away from you before you’re running out of the bathroom, nearly slipping on the water trails on the ground.

the moment your hands shove against ghostface’s chest, he stumbles back—just enough for you to bolt past him, your bare feet slapping against the wet tiles as you sprint out of the bathroom. water drips from your body, leaving slick trails on the hardwood floor as you skid around the corner, heart hammering against your ribs.

behind you, a low, distorted laugh echoes through the hallway.

“run, run, run,” he taunts, his voice dripping with amusement. “it’s more fun when they run.”

you don’t look back.

your bedroom door slams shut behind you, your trembling fingers fumbling with the lock before you whirl around, scanning for anything to defend yourself. a lamp? a chair? fuck, even a damn hairbrush.

you throw a shirt over your head, because priorities.. duh. and you refuse to die naked at the hands of a serial killer.

the doorknob rattles.

thud.

the wood splinters near the lock, the first kick nearly buckling the frame.

your breath comes in ragged gasps as you lunge for the window, fingers clawing at the latch.

another thud.

another crack.

the door groans under the force.

the window finally slides open, cold night air rushing in as you swing one leg over the sill—

“tsk, tsk.”

the voice is right behind you.

a gloved hand slams the window shut, before his other arm snakes around your waist, yanking you back against his chest. the mask brushes your ear, his breath hot through the modulator as he purrs.

“nowhere to go.” the knife presses into your hip, and he’s sliding a hand up to grasp onto your neck. your back is completely pressing into him, and despite the dark robe, you feel something behind you..

“wait.. are you seriously hard right now?” you gasp, craning your neck to look at him. “so you’re a murderer and a pervert? that’s just great..”

“okay, i am not a fucking pervert.”

his grip on your neck loosens just slightly—almost like he’s offended—as the knife at your hip wavers. the distorted voice crackles through the modulator, but there’s an unmistakable defensive edge to it now.

“i’m not a pervert,” he repeats, the words sharp. “this is just—“ a pause. the arm around your waist tightens, pressing you back against the undeniable hardness straining against his robe. “—a natural reaction.”

you can feel the way his breath hitches when you shift against him, the way his fingers twitch against your throat. the knife trembles slightly, like he’s struggling to focus.

“you’re taunting me,” he accuses, voice dropping to a rough whisper. “that’s not fair.”

you scoff, adrenaline and disbelief making your voice shake. “i’m taunting you?” you broke into my house with a knife!”

another beat of silence.

then he lets out a low, staticky sigh.

“okay, fine,” he mutters, the modulator making it sound almost petulant. “maybe this is a little unprofessional.”

the knife pulls away from your hip and his grip on your neck loosens completely.

and then—

he steps back.

the sudden lack of contact makes you whirl around, your back hitting the window as you stare at him. ghostface stands there, the mask as blank as ever, but his posture is almost... sheepish? one hand adjusts the front of his robe, like he’s trying to hide the evidence of his arousal.

”look,” he says, voice quieter now. “i do have standards.”

you blink.

what the actual fuck is happening right now?

“wow.” you laugh, eyes peering at him like you’re trying to unravel who it is behind the mask. “so you murder people but draw the line at being a pervert?”

ghostface scoffs, shaking his head as he looks for something around your bedroom. “i murder bad people like that pervert bus driver, and your weird co worker.”

“what the hell are looking for?” he stops in his tracks, looking dead at you before he rolls his eyes behind the mask. “rope.”

“it’s in the closet, but you think you’re the neighborhood batman?” he shrugs, before digging in your closet for the rope. “and for the record, that was a normal reaction.. you kept moving against me with no panties on!”

the moment the words leave his mouth, you freeze—your face burning as you instinctively cross your arms over your bare thighs. “that’s—that’s not what i was doing!”

he emerges from your closet with a coil of rope, his masked head tilting in a way that screams bullshit. the modulator crackles with static as he lets out a low, amused hum.

“sure, pretty,” he drawls, fingers testing the rope’s strength. “and i’m just here to borrow sugar.”

he steps closer, the knife now tucked away—but the predatory sway in his hips makes your breath catch all the same. “lay down on the bed.” he murmurs, and reluctantly you obey.

the rope slips through his gloved fingers as he steps closer, the mattress dipping under his weight when he kneels behind you. his breath is hot through the mask’s mouthpiece, sending shivers down your spine as he drags the rough fibers across your inner wrist.

“now spread your legs.”

the command is low, distorted—but there’s no mistaking the hunger beneath it. when you hesitate, he tsks his teeth at you. but pleasure shoots straight to your core at the close proximity, and how he felt pressed against you earlier so you spread your thighs open for him.

“wider.”

the first loop tightens around your ankle, his knuckles brushing against damp skin as he ties the knot. you can feel him staring through the mask, the weight of his gaze burning hotter than the flush creeping up your neck.

“you’re dripping,” he murmurs, dragging a gloved finger through your folds with a wet schlick. “and you called me the pervert?”

“shut the hell up!”

the rope bites into your other ankle as he yanks it taut, his chuckle dark when you whimper. “don’t be shy now.” your teeth sink into your lower lip, and subconsciously you spread your legs further apart at his words.

he looks down from above you, his arousal still evident beneath his robe. you roll your eyes at him, your hands tied to the bed. “really? just rubbing it all in my face, aren’t you?”

he rolls his own eyes from behind the mask, “are you not hot in all of that black? you seem like a shitty serial killer to me.”

“do you ever shut up?”

“only when my mouth’s full!” your eyes widen at your own words, and you jerk against the ropes. “we’ll have to see that through.” he murmurs, and you shudder in response. “only if you take the mask off.”

“—and untie me!” he pauses, like he’s actually considering his options before shaking his head.

his gloved fingers trail up your inner thigh, the rough material dragging against your sensitive skin as he leans in closer. the mask tilts slightly, as if studying your reaction before he tears his gloves off.

“untie you?” his voice is a low, distorted hum, the modulator crackling with amusement. “and ruin all my hard work?”

his hand slips between your legs, fingers pressing against your slick heat with deliberate pressure. you gasp, hips arching off the bed despite yourself.

“mm, no.” he murmurs, dragging a slow circle around your clit. “i think i like you just like this.”

his other hand grips your chin, forcing your gaze up to meet the hollow eyes of the mask.

“helpless.”

his fingers push inside you without warning, curling just right to make your back bow off the mattress.

“desperate.”

the ropes creak as you writhe, torn between fighting the restraints and chasing the pleasure coiling tight in your belly.

“and weak.”

the mask lifts just enough to reveal his smirk before his mouth crashes down onto yours, swallowing your moans as his fingers work you toward the edge.

you kiss him back hungrily, your back arching up from the mattress and pressing you further against him. your teeth clash together, and his tongue pushes against yours.

“show me your face.” you murmur against his lips, teeth hooking onto his lower lip.

his fingers still inside you as he pulls back just enough to study your expression through the mask. the silence stretches between you, heavy with tension, before he lets out a low, distorted chuckle.

“persistent little thing, aren’t you?”

his free hand reaches up, gripping the edge of the mask—hesitating for just a second.

then, with a slow, deliberate motion, he pulls it off.

dark eyes lock onto yours, sharp and hungry beneath the smudged eyeliner. hair down, and his lips are parted, breath coming just as ragged as yours, and the black tattoo across his nose stands out starkly against his flushed skin.

“happy now?” he murmurs, voice rough without the modulator.

you don’t answer with words, you just stare at him. choso. from the bus stop.

instead, you lunge forward, teeth sinking into his bottom lip as you kiss him again—harder, messier, your bound hands twisting in the ropes to pull him closer.

he groans against your mouth, fingers digging into your hips as he grinds his cock against your thigh, the friction maddening.

“fuck,” he breathes, breaking the kiss just to drag his teeth down your neck. “you’re gonna be the death of me.” his fingers curling deep as his thumb circles your clit.

“but what a way to go.”

“oh, fuck.” you moan, nails digging into the palm of your hand. his fingers are relentless; his thumb is circling your clit, and his slender fingers are fucking you with urgency.

his breath is hot against your ear as his fingers work you with ruthless precision, each thrust deeper, each circle of his thumb more deliberate.

“that’s it,” he growls, his voice rough with want. “let me hear you.”

your back arches off the bed, the ropes biting into your skin as pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your belly. his name spills from your lips in a broken moan, your thighs trembling around his wrist. “oh, choso.”

“fuck, look at you,” he murmurs, his free hand gripping your hip hard enough to bruise. “so fucking perfect like this.”

his fingers curl just right, pressing against that sweet spot inside you with unrelenting precision. the slick, wet sounds of his fingers pistoning in and out of you fill the room, mixing with your ragged moans. his thumb never lets up on your clit, rubbing tight, rapid circles that send sparks of pleasure shooting up your spine.

“you’re so fucking tight,” he growls, his breath hot against your neck as he watches his fingers disappear into you over and over. “taking me so well.”

your hips jerk against his hand, desperate for more, for deeper, but he keeps you pinned with his other hand on your hip, controlling the pace.

“choso—fuck—“ you whimper, your thighs shaking as the pressure builds, your orgasm coiling tight in your belly.

he tsks, slowing his fingers just enough to make you whine. “not yet,” he murmurs, leaning down to nip at your earlobe. “i want you to beg for it.”

his thumb presses harder, his fingers crooking just right, and your vision whites out as pleasure crashes over you in waves. your back bows off the bed, a broken scream tearing from your throat as you clench around his fingers, your orgasm ripping through you with brutal intensity.

but he doesn’t stop.

his fingers keep working you through it, drawing out every last shudder, every gasp, until you’re sobbing, oversensitive and writhing beneath him.

only then does he finally pull back, bringing his glistening fingers to his lips with a smirk. you stare up at him through half lidded eyes, your over sized shirt hitching up when he leans over you to the nightstand. choso uses that knife to cut the ropes off your hands and feet, before pulling your shirt over your head.

his robe has been completely discarded on the ground somewhere, and he’s helping you sit up. your mouth waters at the outline of his cock against his boxers. “oh, you’re so fucking dirty.” choso teases, his eyes watching you intently.

“and you’re psychotic.” you murmur, rolling your eyes at him before licking your lips. “guess we both have our flaws.” choso fights a smirk, his own head leaning back against the headboard as you crawl in between his thighs.

“you’re seriously comparing the both of us?” choso remarks, leaning back on his hands as he watches your fingers fumble with the band of his boxers. “not at all!”

his smirk widens as you finally tug his boxers down, his cock springing free—hard, thick, and already leaking at the red tip. he lets out a low groan when your fingers wrap around him, his hips jerking slightly into your touch.

“fuck,” he breathes, his voice rough. “look at you—already drooling over me.”

you don’t bother responding, too focused on the way his cock twitches in your grip, the way his breath hitches when your thumb swipes over the slick head. his thighs tense beneath you, his fingers tangling in your hair as you lean down, your tongue flicking out to taste him.

“shit—“ his grip tightens, his hips lifting off the bed as you take him deeper, your lips stretching around his girth. “that’s it, baby. just like thaaaat.”

your cheeks hallow out, as you suck him completely in. choso feels his eyes roll to the back of his head before he pushes your head down, watching his cock disappear completely in your mouth.

his praise sends a shiver down your spine, your mouth working him with slow, deliberate strokes. you can feel him fighting to stay still, his muscles coiled tight as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him deeper until he’s hitting the back of your throat.

the only sounds in the room are the wet sounds of his cock down your throat and his praises. god, he looked pathetic. choso shuts his eyes tightly, teeth sinking in his lower lip as you bob your head up and down.

his fingers tighten on your hair, his breath coming in ragged gasps as you take him deeper, your throat fluttering around him. “fuck—fuck—“ his hips jerk involuntarily, his cock hitting the back of your throat again, and he lets out a strangled groan.

“you’re gonna make me cum,” he warns, voice rough and strained. his thighs tremble beneath you, his abs flexing as he fights the urge to thrust into your mouth. “such a good fucking mouth—shit—“

a bead of pre-cum leaks from his tip, and you swirl your tongue around it, savoring the salty taste. his grip on your hair tightens almost painfully, his other hand fisting the sheets as you suck him harder, your fingers teasing the base of his cock.

“fuck—i’m close—“ his voice cracks, the veins in his neck standing out as his hips stutter forward, forcing himself deeper down your throat. your nose brushes the coarse hair at his base, tears pricking at your eyes as you take him completely, swallowing around his thick length.

“that’s it—take it—“ his fingers twist tighter on your hair, holding you in place as his cock twitches violently against your tongue. hot cum floods your mouth in thick pulses, his groan guttural and raw as you swallow every drop, your throat working around him.

when he finally releases his grip, you pull back with a wet pop, licking your swollen lips as he collapses back against the pillows, chest heaving. his dark eyes are half-lidded, pupils blown wide with pleasure as he drags you up his body by your hair.

“fucking perfect,” he rasps before crushing his mouth to yours, tasting himself on your tongue. his hands roam possessively over your bare skin, before he flips you onto your back.

“fuck, you’re beautiful.” he murmurs against your lips before pulling away to trail kisses down your throat. “everything about you is perfect.” you shudder at the feeling of his lips traveling down your neck.

his mouth latches onto your nipple, his tongue flicking over it, teasing it into a stiff peak before sucking hard enough to make your back arch off the bed. his free hand kneads your other breast, fingers pinching and rolling the sensitive bud until you’re whimpering beneath him.

“so fucking responsive,” he growls against your skin, his teeth grazing your nipple before soothing it with his tongue. His hand trails lower, fingers slipping through your slick folds with a satisfied hum.

“already wet for me again?” he chuckles darkly, “greedy little thing.”

his mouth moves lower, lips brushing over your stomach, your hips, before finally—finally—reaching where you need him most. His breath is hot against your clit as he looks up at you through his lashes. he was so pretty.

tell me what you want,” he murmurs, his tongue flicking out to taste you. “use your words, baby.”

you can barely think straight with his mouth so close but not close enough, and fuck, how good he looked.

“please,” you whimper, your hands fisting in the sheets. “choso, please—“ he grins, sharp and predatory, before burying his face between your thighs.

his tongue drags a slow, torturous stripe from your entrance to your clit, the flat of it pressing just hard enough to make your thighs tremble. “louder,” he murmurs against your skin, his breath hot as he circles your clit with the tip of his tongue. “let me hear how much you need it.”

you gasp when his teeth graze your inner thigh, your hips jerking up instinctively—but his hands clamp down on your hips, pinning you to the bed as his mouth closes over your clit.

“choso—fuck—“ your back arches off the mattress as he sucks, his tongue flicking rapidly over your sensitive bundle of nerves. the pleasure is relentless, building with every stroke, every hum of his lips, until you’re writhing beneath him, your fingers tangled in his hair.

he groans against you, the vibration sending shocks of pleasure straight to your core. his fingers slide into you, curling just right as his tongue keeps its brutal pace.

“that’s it,” he groans against your slick flesh, his voice vibrating through your core. his fingers curl harder, pressing relentlessly against that sweet spot inside you as his tongue flicks over your clit in rapid, punishing circles.

your thighs clamp around his head instinctively, but he doesn’t stop—if anything, he doubles down, sucking your clit between his lips while his fingers pump faster, deeper. the wet schlick of his hand working between your legs mixes with your broken moans, the sound filthy and obscene.

“gonna make you cum again,” he rasps, pulling back just enough to watch your face contort with pleasure. his free hand grips your hip hard enough to bruise, holding you still as his tongue laves over your swollen clit. “gonna taste you until you’re sobbing.”

with his teeth grazing that sensitive bundle of nerves, and his fingers working overtime, you let out an unnerving sob.

your orgasm rips through you like lightning, your back bowing off the bed as you gush around his fingers. he drinks you down greedily, his tongue working you through the aftershocks until you’re twitching, oversensitive and whimpering.

he pulls back, licking his lips with a satisfied smirk as he crawls up your trembling body. his cock, still rock-hard and leaking, presses against your thigh.

“you taste so fucking sweet, baby.” choso purrs, reaching to press his knife against your throat. your eyes widen, and your lips part before he shushes you. “relax.. i’m not gonna hurt you.”

his free hand forces your thighs open, and his tip is rubbing up and down your puffy folds. the tip of the knife presses into your throat, and your breath catches.

“shhh,” he murmurs, the cold steel of the blade pressing just enough to make your pulse flutter against it. his hips roll forward, the thick head of his cock pushing against your entrance, stretching you open inch by agonizing inch. “just take it.”

the knife drags down your throat, leaving a faint pink line in its wake as he slams the rest of the way inside you, your walls fluttering around him. your gasp is sharp, your nails digging into his shoulders as he fills you completely, the stretch bordering on painful.

“fuckin’ hell,” he groans, his free hand gripping your hip hard. “so fucking tight.”

he doesn’t give you time to adjust.

his hips snap forward, pounding into you with brutal precision, the knife still tracing idle patterns over your skin. every thrust punches a moan from your lips, your body jolting up the bed as he fucks you with single-minded intensity.

“you love this, don’t you?” he growls, his voice rough with exertion. “love being used, being owned.”

the knife presses harder, just shy of breaking skin, as his pace turns vicious, his fat cock hitting that sweet spot inside you with every snap of his hips.

the cold steel bites into your throat as choso leans over you, his dark eyes burning with primal hunger. his free hand moves up from your hip and pins your wrist above your head, fingers intertwining with yours as the blade teases along your collarbone—just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

“you trust me, don’t you?” his voice is a low growl, lips brushing yours as his cock throbs against your gushy walls.

you nod, pulse fluttering beneath the knife as he drags it lower, the tip tracing a slow, deliberate path between your breasts. “good girl,” he purrs, pressing the flat of the blade against your nipple—cold against your overheated skin.

a broken moan tears from your lips at the pace of his rough thrusts. the knife lifts, the edge resting just under your chin as he fucks into you with quick, deep strokes, each one dragging against that sweet spot inside you.

“look at you,” he rasps, watching your face twist with pleasure. “so fucking pretty when you’re mine.”

his pace turns ruthless, hips snapping forward as the knife taps against your parted lips. you open obediently, tongue darting out to taste the metal as he pounds into you, the bed slamming against the wall with every thrust.

“fuuuuuck,” he growls, his voice rough with exertion as the knife taps against your tongue. his hips snap forward, each thrust punching a gasp from your lips. the cold steel drags along your bottom lip, leaving a faint sting in its wake as he fucks you into the mattress. his free hand grips your throat, squeezing just enough to make your vision blur at the edges.

“look at me,” he commands, his voice a dark rasp as his fingers tighten just a fraction more around your throat. your eyes flutter open, meeting his burning gaze—wild, possessive, hungry. the knife presses harder against your tongue, the metallic taste sharp on your senses as he drills into you, each snap of his hips sending shockwaves of pleasure up your spine.

“oh! c–choso!”

“you feel that?” his thumb strokes the column of your throat, feeling your pulse hammer beneath his grip. “that’s how much you want this. how much you fucking need it.”

the bed creaks violently beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall in time with his brutal rhythm. his cock stretches you impossibly full, the drag of his length against your walls bordering on painful—but god, it’s good, so fucking good you can’t think straight.

“gonna make you cum like this,” he snarls, his breath hot against your ear. “gonna make you drip down my cock while you choke on this fucking blade.” his teeth sink into your shoulder, while your nails rake down his back, drawing blood.

“i’msososofuckingclose.” you muster out, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head each time choso drives you further into the mattress.

“fuck—fuck.” choso blubbers out, his hands shaky on the knife as he loses himself in you by the second.

“cum for me,” he demands, voice wrecked and raw, his thrusts turning erratic as he chases his own release. the knife trembles in his grip, the cold steel pressing harder against your tongue as his hips snap forward.

“fucking—take it—“ his fingers tighten around your throat, cutting off your air enough to make stars burst behind your eyelids. your orgasm shatters through you, your walls clenching around him as you scream around the blade, your body convulsing beneath him.

he follows with a broken groan, his cock pulsing deep inside as he spills, his hips jerking uncontrollably as he fills you up. the knife clatters to the floor as he collapses atop you, his breath ragged against your neck, his body trembling with the force of his release.

your skin sticks together, and his cock still fits inside comfortably. it’s not like he’s making any effort to move.

“fuck,” he murmurs, voice still rough as he nuzzles into the crook of your neck, his lips brushing lazily over your pulse. his cock twitches inside you, still half-hard, as if reluctant to let go.

“don’t move,” he grumbles, his arms tightening around you possessively, his body pinning you to the mattress. his breath is warm against your skin, his chest rising and falling in time with yours.

and then—

outside the window, there are blue and red lights flashing. the sirens are enough to pull you both out of this dazed state.

“what the fuck?” you rub your eyes, your thighs still sticky from your arousal, and choso’s all together.

“when did you have time to call the cops?!”

“i didn’t, you idiot!”

choso jerks upright, his cock sliding out of you with a wet sound as his head snaps toward the window. the flashing lights paint his sweat-slicked body in alternating red and blue, his expression shifting from post-coital haze to alert in seconds.

he’s already rolling off the bed with predatory grace, his muscles coiled tight. he snatches his boxers from the floor, yanking them on as he moves to the window, peering through the blinds.

“fuck,” his jaw clenches. you sit up on your elbows, face-flushed and all fucked out. you swing your legs off the bed, ignoring the pounding ache as you stumble to find your footing.

choso reaches for the mask, and you fight an eye roll. “you seriously gonna leave wearing the costume?”

“it’s not a costume!”

“then what do you call it?” you gesture at the ghostface mask on his face. the flashing police lights outside make the hollow eyes seem to glow ominously. choso glares, running his thumb over the mask’s plastic cheek. “it’s professional!”

“professional?” you snort, crossing your arms over your bare chest.

“works, doesn’t it?” his voice comes out muffled and slightly distorted behind the mask.

you can’t help it - you laugh, the sound bubbling up uncontrollably as you take in the sight of him: half-naked, still glistening with sweat, and now wearing the full ghostface getup from the waist up.

“you’re ridiculous!”

the mask tilts as he glowers at you. “and you’re distracting me.” he adjusts the robe, looking at you.

you slide your oversized t-shirt back on, “go through the backdoor.. or however the hell you got in through the first place.”

“the basement, obviously. you need to be more careful!” you push him out towards the door, your muscles aching as you do so. “wait..” choso turns around, pulling his mask up before wrapping his hand around your throat and pressing his lips to yours.

you shudder, kissing him back before he walks away from you. leaving you there. breathless.

you only have a few moments to yourself before there’s banging on the front door. you try to adjust yourself as much as you can before walking downstairs.

of course, the police are at your fucking door. of all days.

did they see him? shit.

you open the door, a polite smile on your lips. “ma’am, we got a call for a noise complaint.”

the officer’s flashlight beam sweeps across your disheveled appearance—your swollen lips, the messy hair, the unmistakable love bite peeking above your collar. his partner’s nose wrinkles slightly at the distinct scent of sex still clinging to the air.

“noise complaint?” you force a laugh that comes out slightly hoarse. “that’s ridiculous, officer. i was just...watching a horror movie. really loud.”

the cops exchange glances as a suspicious creak sounds from the basement. one officer’s hand drifts toward his belt. “mind if we take a look around, ma’am? we had reports of a suspicious individual in a...costume?”

oh, he’d be pissed if he heard that.

“oh!” your fingers tighten on the doorframe. “that was just my...cousin? visiting from out of town. big halloween enthusiast.”

from somewhere beneath your feet comes the distinct sound of a knife scraping against concrete. both officers stiffen.

“basement’s flooded!” you blurt too quickly. “black mold! very dangerous!”

the lead officer’s radio crackles to life—reports of a black-robed figure spotted scaling the neighbor’s fence. as they rush toward the commotion, you catch a glimpse of familiar broad shoulders disappearing into the treeline, plastic mask glinting under the streetlights.

you slump against the doorframe with a shaky exhale, thighs still trembling from earlier.

he certainly killed something else today.

fanart: einruji_ on twitter

˙⋆✮ hi guys! it’s my first kinktoberrr i’m so excited and i hope you guys enjoy!

˙⋆✮ i’ll be writing for jujutsu kaisen, haikyu, & blue lock!

˙⋆✮ so many more bfs to write about but not enough time sighhh

day one: knife play || ghostface!choso + reader

day three: overstimulation || suguru geto + reader

day five: face-fucking || toji fushiguro + reader

day seven: corruption kink || frat!gojo + reader

day eleven: mutual masturbation || nanami kento + reader

day thirteen: first time || nerd!gojo + reader

day fifteen: somnophilia || nagi seishiro + reader

day seventeen: dumbification || atsumu miya + reader

day nineteen: angry sex || itoshi sae + reader

day twenty-one: dry humping || michael kaiser + reader

day twenty-three: mirror sex || oikawa toru + reader

day twenty-five: thigh riding || itoshi rin + reader

day twenty-nine: threesome || itoshi sae & bunny iglesias + reader

day thirty one: double penetration || ghostface!suguru & ghostface!gojo + reader

synopsis: growing up rin only had two dreams: ruling the world with his brother, and marrying you. too bad.. you and his brother both left. what’ll rin do when he’s presented with yet another chance at making his dreams come true? will things work out this time, or will this just be another uh oh moment?

pairings: rin itoshi x reader

content: major FLUFF, angst, childhood friends into lovers (maybe), somewhat slow burn, both are in denial of their feelings, a lot of fluff, happy ending bcs i make rin suffer too much, lovesick!rin, mutual pining, friends to lovers troupe, lovesick!reader, rin loves horror movies and bubble tea just felt like that was necessary

wc: 6.4k

rin itoshi never bothered with romantic affairs, or anything of the sort. he didn’t believe in love at first sight or love in general. but if anyone knew rin, they knew the only person who’s ever had rin’s heart in their hands was you.

even with pink flowers blossoming around his head, and the pink hearts all over billboards because if rin hates anything more than losing, it’s valentine’s day. or just the entire month of february.

you grew up around the itoshi brothers, younger than sae but older than rin by a few months. from scraped knees, missing teeth, and a wide grin to rin hardly remembering what you looked like before you left.

at the age of seven, rin had two goals in life: ruling the world with his older brother, and making you his wife. he was sure life was going to go in his way.. up until it didn’t. but that’s just the way it goes, life is unfair after all. rin gave up on his dreams once sae abandoned him and everything he said they were going to do together, so he pulled away from you and everyone else.

could you blame him? no. but did it hurt? yes.

and when you moved away, he didn’t realize until his last year of middle school was over. he didn’t have his brother, and he didn’t have you either.

now? at age seventeen, rin still hasn’t dated anyone because he does have the same goals: become the world’s best striker, and marry you. whenever he finds you again.

whatever. rin tsks his teeth, and stuffs his hands in his pockets. it was a sad attempt at brushing off the thoughts that would eat at him every night before bed. so what does rin do when everyone around him is scrambling to buy gifts for their significant other? he goes to his local bubble tea shop, and stare out with window, hoping that no one will come across him.

the world will end if anyone finds out rin itoshi’s guilty pleasure is bubble tea.

the door bells chime open, and he’s walking toward the corner with that steady calmness that radiates through his blood perfectly.

“sorry, i placed an order on my way here, is it ready yet?” and there you are — walking past rin as if he isn’t even there, but that voice sounds too familiar to the girl he was in love with all throughout middle school.

it was like his world paused, time stood still because he couldn’t believe his eyes and ears. he was stunned in the very moment he recognized the voice of his once childhood love. he turned his gaze to his side as the familiar figure walked past him, and his eyes widened.

rin stared at you, dumbfounded for a moment. he was frozen, his mind racing with questions and disbelief. the sight of you walking past, oblivious to his presence, shook him to his core. his cold facade cracks for just a second and realization hits him like a stray soccer ball to the chest—there you are, standing at the counter like you never left. his fingers twitch in his pockets, suddenly unsure what to do with them.

“is there anything i can get for you, sir?” the worker brings rin’s focus back into reality, and they also bring your focus onto rin—the boy who once promised you the world while holding scraped knees and missing teeth.

the scent of bubble tea and sugar suddenly feels suffocating as he turns his head slightly, just enough to see you from the corner of his eye. his pulse roars in his ears, loud enough that he barely registers the worker repeating their question.

his first instinct is to bolt. pathetic, he thinks bitterly. he’s faced world-class strikers without flinching, but this—you standing there with an expression slowly morphing into recognition—is what has him tensed like a cornered animal?

you blink once before your eyes widen slightly. “...rin?”

the sound of his name on your lips after all this time sends an unwelcome jolt through him. his fingers twitch at his sides before curling into fists inside his pockets—his usual defense mechanism when caught off-guard by anything remotely emotional (which is to say, everything involving you).

“tch.” he forces himself to meet your gaze properly now, feigning disinterest even as every fiber of him screams otherwise. “what are you doing here?” the words come out sharper than intended; old habits die hard with rin itoshi—push away before he can be pushed first.

but then something flickers in those teal eyes when they catch sight of the drink menu behind you: strawberry milk tea with tapioca pearls (extra sweet). the same order from years ago that made fun trash-talking during matches between training sessions bearable because it shut you up long enough for him steal glances at how ridiculously happy sipping sugary drinks made someone like you.

“i’m in the process of moving, i’ve only been back for two weeks.” two entire weeks? and he didn’t know? is this some sick joke?

the worker clears her throat, “you’re holding up the line.”

rin’s jaw tightens at your words, his mind immediately calculating—two weeks. two weeks of you being back in japan, two weeks of existing in the same city again, and he had no idea. the realization burns through him like an unchecked wildfire.

he barely registers the annoyed worker’s comment. without breaking eye contact with you—as if looking away now would mean admitting defeat—he steps aside to let another customer pass but doesn’t move farther than that. his voice drops low enough for only you to hear, rough around edges he can’t soften no matter how hard he tries, “where?” just one word—not where have you been, not why didn’t anyone tell me, just… where. as if confirming your location is all that matters right now so he can file it away under things that are unfairly important to him (Do Not Examine Further).

the corner of his mouth twitches when the worker clears her throat again pointedly behind him. rin finally tears his gaze away long enough to snap out a curt “mango green tea” before turning back toward you with all the intensity of someone who has spent years perfecting how to glare directly into another person’s soul without blinking. he doesn’t even like mango green tea — but ordering strawberry milk tea would be too obvious (too much like surrender).

a beat passes before he realizes what comes next: small talk? asking why you left? pretending this isn’t unraveling every carefully constructed wall between past and present? absolutely not happening on rin itoshi’s watch (or ever). instead, what escapes is something painfully honest tucked beneath layers practiced detachment.

“…you still drink that?” a flicker toward your cup then back up — accusation masquerading as curiosity because really?? after everything?? you’re still out here drinking liquid sugar like nothing changed while his entire life got upended twice over?? ridiculous.

“what’s wrong with my drink?” you murmur, rolling your eyes at the male in front of you. “you call that a drink? it hardly registers as one.”

rin’s gaze sharpens at your retort, teal eyes narrowing with that familiar, simmering intensity—the same look he gives opponents right before dismantling them on the field. his fingers twitch against his sides like he’s resisting the urge to snatch your drink just to prove a point, and maybe—maybe—to see you pout about it like old times.

“it’s embarrassing,” he mutters, glancing away as if admitting this is some kind of personal defeat. “you act like we’re still—” kids. the word lodges itself in his throat. he cuts himself off with a tsk instead, shoulders tensing under the weight of everything left unsaid between you two: scrapped knees and pinky promises and sae walking away from you both without looking back even once.

the worker slides rin’s mango green tea across the counter loudly, probably relieved to be rid of him. he grabs it without looking — grip tight enough that plastic crinkles under pressure — then finally meets your eyes again with all the grace of someone who’d rather swallow broken glass than acknowledge how much this reunion is unraveling him inside out:

“whatever.” a pause. then— “...you better not be going back anytime soon.” it comes out gruff; half-threat-half-plea disguised as indifference because rin itoshi doesn’t do vulnerability unless it’s buried six feet deep beneath arrogance and football stats…but there you are anyway reading right through him like always—just like when you used call his bluffs during snowball fights until he’d tackle you into drifts laughing despite himself, back when laughter didn’t feel foreign in his chest. “i wasn’t planning on it.”

he takes an aggressive sip from his drink just so he has something else to focus on besides how badly seventeen-year-old rin wants answers from seventeen-year-old you…and also maybe because if anyone saw him drinking something fruity they’d never let him live it down.

“this shop is not big enough for the two of you to be lounging in the middle of it.” someone complains from the line, eyes glaring at you and rin before you a murmur a soft apology and begin walking towards the door.

rin’s head snaps toward the stranger who dared interrupt, his glare sharp enough to make even the most seasoned footballers flinch. “tch. mind your own business,” he retorts, but—because you’re already moving toward the door—he follows without another word, stepping outside into the crisp afternoon air.

the street is quieter out here, just distant city sounds and his own pulse pounding in his ears. he doesn’t look at you yet; instead, he stares down at that damn mango tea like it offended him.

a beat of silence—then rin finally bites out what’s been clawing at him since your eyes met inside.

“two weeks.” his voice is flat but tight with something raw beneath. “you were back for two weeks and no one told me?” the unspoken accusation hangs heavy between you: did you not want him to know?

“i didn’t have the chance to tell anyone, it just.. happened.” you explain, falling in synchronized step with rin. you had no idea where he was going, or what plans you initially had before seeing him again. but you didn’t care. not right now.

he takes another harsh sip just so he doesn’t say anything stupider (or worse—softer), then side-eyes you with all the subtlety of a grenade with its pin pulled. “where are you staying?” casual. neutral. as if this question isn’t digging trenches into everything he’s buried for years.

“i’m back home right now, near the elementary school.”

rin scoffs at your excuse, his grip tightening around the cup. “tch. it just happened?” he repeats it like he’s tasting the words—and finds them bitter. his strides are long and purposeful (like always), but you notice how his shoulder deliberately brushes yours when he walks too close, like some stubborn part of him refuses to let even air exist between you two now that you’re here again.

“that’s not an answer,” he mutters when you don’t immediately respond about where you’re staying. his voice drops lower—almost hesitant for a split second before steeling back into its usual roughness. “well, it’s the truth!”

a pause. then rin abruptly stops mid-step, spinning on his heel to face you directly with that same unreadable intensity he uses when analyzing opponents mid-game. but this isn’t football—this is you. and somehow, that makes everything ten times harder for him to calculate.

he exhales sharply through his nose before finally spitting out what’s been gnawing at him since the shop door chimed. “you left.” just two words—but they crack open years of unspoken resentment under layers of practiced indifference. then quieter—like an afterthought meant only for himself but slipping past anyway, “...you didn’t even say goodbye.”

his jaw clenches right after admitting it; clearly regretting letting something so dangerously close to vulnerability escape into daylight where anyone could hear it.

your breath catches—because this is the rin you remember. the one who hides everything under cold precision except when it comes to you. the boy who swore on a childhood pinky promise that he’d never lose to anyone but lost you without even getting a chance to fight for it.

you swallow hard, meeting his gaze head-on like you used to when challenging him to races along the riverbank. “you didn’t say goodbye either,” you fire back quietly, voice steady but fingers trembling around your cup. “you stopped answering my calls first.”

rin flinches like you’ve struck him—just barely, just for half a second before his expression shutters again. but it’s enough. his throat works silently before he grits out, “i was… busy.”

it’s the weakest defense he’s ever given in his life.

the air between you crackles with all the unsaid things: sae leaving both of you behind; rin locking himself away behind football and fury; unanswered texts piling up until they weren’t anymore because what was even left?

his free hand flexes at his side before shoving roughly through dark green bangs—a nervous habit from childhood that never fully disappeared. “whatever,” he mumbles finally—but doesn’t walk away this time like he would’ve years ago when pride always won over everything else.

instead—against every instinct screaming at him not to—he takes one deliberate step closer so there’s no space left between your shoulders now, just warmth, memory and whatever this is.

“but i’m here now, right?” you murmur, taking a sip of your drink. rin’s eyes drop to your straw invading that saccharine pink abyss—ridiculous drink, ridiculous you, ridiculous heartbeat hammering against his ribs because why does this feel like stepping onto a pitch where he already knows the outcome but plays anyway?

“mhm.” his noise of disapproval is undercut by how his shoulder presses more firmly against yours when you sip—as if subconsciously trying to close even that millimeter of distance. “that drink looks like garbage,” he mutters, but there’s no heat left in it. just something perilously close to fondness—a feeling rin itoshi absolutely does not acknowledge.

a beat passes. the city blurs around you two; all he registers is the way sunlight catches on your eyelashes the same way it did years ago during stolen moments between classes.

but then something shifts when wind catches stray strands of hair across his face; suddenly seventeen-year-old itoshi rin looks more like seven-year-old rin again — lost and furious all at once because life keeps taking things from him without warning (sae, football dreams... you). and maybe... maybe if this were anyone else standing here? he would’ve walked away already rather than risk sounding weak or sentimental or god forbid needy.

yet here stands rin anyway waiting on whatever answer might come next despite every instinct screaming otherwise… because above pride? above logic? there exists one single truth even stubborn prodigy strikers can’t outrun forever:

some people matter more than they should have any right doing so after disappearing act(s) spanning years — especially ones who used to drink strawberry milk teas while stealing glances over middle school desks together back when world felt simpler somehow.

his voice comes out quieter than intended when he finally adds, “you better be staying for good this time.” it’s not a question—it’s a demand wrapped in teenage-boy bravado and seventeen years worth of unsent letters piling up behind his sternum. he scowls at his own mango tea like it betrayed him (why did he order this again?). then, with all the grace of someone tripping over their own shoelaces mid-dribble, “there’s a new horror film playing at the cinema tomorrow night.” pause. “if you’re not busy with moving and stuff.”

the words hang between you—awkward and hopeful and so painfully rin that it almost hurts worse than any goodbye ever could have back then because here? right now? he isn’t running away from any part of this mess… not even from himself anymore… and maybe second chances taste sweeter than strawberry syrup after all.

you grin widely, eyes sparkling with the same look you held all those years ago. “usually i was the one dragging you to the movies every weekend.” rin opens his mouth to protest but you beat him to it, “i’m not busy. not for you.”

rin’s ears immediately flush red at your words—a tell he hasn’t outgrown since middle school. “tch. don’t say shit like that,” he grumbles, looking anywhere but at your grinning face as his fingers fidget with the hem of his sleeve. the real itoshi rin would never admit how much those stupid words just short-circuited his entire nervous system.

he kicks a stray pebble harder than necessary just to have something to focus on besides the way his pulse is currently doing penalty shootout-level acrobatics in his throat. “...seven pm tomorrow then, so we’re not stuck with theater crowds full of couples,” he mutters like this isn’t obviously also a date disguised as convenience (and fails spectacularly when he absentmindedly adjusts the collar of your jacket—an old habit from when you’d always leave it crooked).

the moment registers too late; rin freezes mid-reach before yanking his hand back like he’s been burned. his expression twists into something caught between embarrassment and sheer panic while taking three rapid steps backward, as if distance could undo muscle memory built over years.

“i— mean— shut up! just show up on time or i’m leaving!” he hurls the threat over one shoulder already halfway down the street, only to stop dead after five paces without turning around—shoulders tense beneath fabric that suddenly feels two sizes too small for all this vulnerability pressing against its seams. “i didn’t even say anything!”

a pause long enough for traffic lights across intersections twice before finally gritting out — quieter now but loud enough carry between rooftops and resurrected promises alike —

“see you tomorrow?” rin sounds uneasy, and the words scratch his throat on the way out. “same number?” rin parts his lips, and nods his head at your question.

“then i’ll see you tomorrow.”

rin’s fingers twitch at his sides like he wants to text you right now just to prove your number still works—like he’s spent years pretending he didn’t have it memorized in the first place. “obviously,” is all he manages instead, voice gruff but lacking its usual edge. the afternoon sun catches on his underlashes when he finally risks a glance back at you, and for one unguarded moment, he looks so much like the boy who used to challenge you to rooftop races after school that it steals your breath all over again.

he turns fully now—foot planted stubbornly against the pavement like stopping mid-retreat is some kind of personal defeat—before shoving hands deep into his pockets.

“don’t be late.” it’s softer than intended; almost slips into something dangerously close to fondness before rin schools his expression back into its familiar scowl, it’s too late though—you already saw. “or i’ll watch it without you.”

and with that empty threat hanging between you two like a poorly thrown pass neither wants to drop, rin finally walks away properly this time but not without stealing one last look over his shoulder just as sunlight hits your silhouette perfectly against the tokyo skyline behind you. some habits never die — even for prodigies who claim they’ve outgrown them.

maybe you spent the entire night pacing your childhood bedroom, throwing different clothes on your bed because nothing seemed to look good enough for you to see rin. who would question you if you cut yourself shaving three times in the shower? no one. because it didn’t matter— it was just rin, your childhood-best friend-hopefully-future-husband.

the evening of the movie arrives, and your reflection scowls back at you in the mirror. “it’s just rin,” you mutter to yourself, adjusting the collar of your jacket for the fifth time—like he hasn’t seen you with bedhead and mismatched socks before. like he didn’t once watch you eat an entire family-sized bag of shrimp chips in one sitting during a sleepover when you were 13.

he remembers.

and yet here you are: debating between perfume or no perfume—would he notice? would he pretend not to?, changing outfits twice more (too formal? too casual? since when did YOU care what rin thought about shoulder exposure?!), nearly spilling coffee down yourself because suddenly every mundane action feels catastrophic around 5:47 PM on a day that was supposed to be simple.

somewhere across the street, rin is doing push-ups in his room to burn off nervous energy before immediately regretting it because now his arms feel weirdly stiff—and what if THAT throws off his posture while sitting next to YOU tonight?!

meanwhile you finally settle on an outfit and send one last glance at the mirror before grabbing keys as footsteps echo outside.

you arrive exactly at 7:00 PM—not a second late because rin would notice—only to find him already there, ordering popcorn at the concession stand. his teal eyes flick up immediately when you approach, scanning your outfit in that intense way he used to.

“you’re wearing that stupid perfume again,” he mutters, shoving a large popcorn into your hands before you can even say hello—like acknowledging its scent would be admitting he still remembers it after all these years. his fingers brush yours accidentally-on-purpose in the exchange, and both of you pretend not to notice how neither pulls away immediately.

the theater is nearly empty when you take your seats—just like rin calculated. he sits with rigid posture, arms crossed tightly as previews play until a particularly loud jump scare trailer makes you flinch sideways into him.

“idiot.” he grumbles, but his arm slides behind your seat without looking at you, casual as if this wasn't rehearsed in his mind seventeen times. “can’t even handle commercials.”

halfway through the movie:

1. your shared popcorn bucket becomes an unspoken battleground of nervous snacking and his elbow keeps bumping yours when reaching in

2. rin claims your drink is “disgustingly sweet” but steals sips anyway

3. when the killer appears on screen suddenly, he grabs your hand so fast his nails leave crescent moon marks on your skin

and when credits roll and lights come up, you don’t let go. but he doesn’t either.

somewhere between gory deaths and half-mumbled insults about plot holes—this stopped being just a movie night.

“i liked the movie.” you muse, hands flexing at your sides as you and rin begin walking. “you spent the entire movie spilling the popcorn over.”

“oh, don’t you dare act like you weren’t afraid either. you nearly squeezed the life out of my hand.”

rin’s fingers twitch at his side, still tingling from the memory of your grip during the movie’s climax. “i was just—“ he cuts himself off, scowling at a crack in the pavement like it personally offended him. “—making sure you didn’t scream and embarrass us. that’s all.”

the streetlights flicker above as you both walk in sync—close enough that his sleeve brushes yours with every other step (accidental; always accidental). a breeze catches his bangs, revealing how tightly he’s clenching his jaw when you tease him.

“admit it. you got scared too.”

“you’re delusional,” he snaps back instantly—but there’s no heat behind it anymore, not when your laughter sounds exactly like it did before everything got complicated. his pace slows without realizing until suddenly there’s less space between shoulders than either planned for tonight.

a pause stretches too long until rin abruptly stops walking altogether under an overpass where city noise fades into something quieter.

“next friday..” he blurts it out like ripping off a bandaid, staring resolutely at a graffiti tag on the wall instead of your face while shoving hands deep into pockets again. “come over for dinner, if you’re not busy or whatever.”

his voice cracks on whatever.

“oh, i definitely am. i’ve missed your mom’s cooking way too much.”

and when rin walks you home later? the way his pinky lingers against yours during every quiet moment between arguments about film continuity errors says more than any love confession ever could.

between movie dates, dinner nights, and months of hanging out.. things started to feel good again. you and rin were both very different people; both older, mature in your own ways, but the one thing that stayed the same were your feelings for each other.

you wouldn’t say it out loud, and neither would he.. but those feelings were there. despite how afraid you were of ruining your friendship. again.

so everything seemed to be going back to normal.

rin wasn’t one to dwell on feelings, but it was getting harder to ignore this. the way you shared food now—a habit from childhood sleepovers he’d never admit to having missed—always sitting too close. your conversations no longer limited to safe topics—but veering into more dangerous territories.

rin found himself making more of an effort than he should. picking up the phone to text you first. remembering birthdays. listening to you complain about that one teacher in your class for the millionth time and pretending he even remotely cared.

the late summer air hangs thick with cicada songs as you both sit on his childhood bedroom floor—just like old times—except now rin’s knees keep brushing yours whenever he shifts to glare at the movie playing on his laptop. his mom had long since gone to bed after piling your plates high with seconds, leaving behind the quiet intimacy of shared space and unspoken words.

a particularly gruesome scene flashes across the screen, making you instinctively grab for his arm—only to freeze mid-reach when you realize three things: his pulse is racing beneath your fingertips, he hasn’t pulled away, and the movie has been paused for 47 seconds.

rin exhales sharply through his nose, staring resolutely at where your hand still grips his forearm like it holds the answer to every tactical formation he’s ever studied. “you’re distracting me,” he mutters, voice rough around edges usually reserved for opponents. but there’s no bite left in it anymore—just something terrifyingly close to surrender as his fingers twitch toward yours atop crumpled uniform fabric.

and then the moment fractures when his phone buzzes violently against hardwood floors with a team notification, breaking whatever fragile tension had been building between shared breaths and half-glances over horror tropes neither of you were actually paying attention too anymore anyway.

“no way.” rin nearly gasps, standing up from his spot beside you, and pacing around his bedroom. “what is it?”

he shows you his phone screen, PXG Official Offer for European Transfer

Effective Immediately

rin’s next words come out sandpaper-rough, scraping against years of unspoken fears between you two. “they want me on a flight in three days.”

and isn’t this just history repeating itself?

the cicadas seem to go silent at his words. the glow from the laptop screen casts long shadows across rin’s face as he stands there, phone gripped too tight in his shaking hands. you can see the war raging behind his teal eyes - that familiar battle between ambition and something softer, more terrifying.

“say something,” he demands, voice cracking on the edge of desperation you’ve never heard from him before. his free hand clutches at the hem of your shirt like a lifeline, knuckles white against the fabric.

a drop of sweat trails down his temple despite the cool night air slipping through open windows. here rin stands—breath coming in short bursts like he’s just played a full match—waiting for you to decide his future with single word.

stay.

go.

your fingers find purchase against tense shoulders as ghost laughter from years ago echoes between childhood trophies lining shelves above bedframes where sleepovers once happened.

“you’ll regret it if you stay.”

and you couldn’t live with that.

that goes unsaid but understood when rin suddenly fists both hands at his side, before looking away from you. “you should go home.”

“i should.” you repeat, your hands itching to reach out to him. he turns his back to you, jaw clenched, and his eyes narrowed straight ahead at the wall in front of him.

your hand hovers in the air between you, fingers trembling just inches from his rigid back. the distance feels infinite.

“rin—“

he cuts you off with a sharp inhale, still refusing to turn around. “don’t.” his voice is raw—something fractured beneath the coldness he’s forcing into it. “just.. go.”

what else is there to say?

you take one step backward toward the door, then another, each one heavier than the last. his childhood bedroom that once felt so warm now seems suffocatingly small—walls lined with trophies and posters suddenly feeling like relics of a past life slipping through your fingers too fast to grasp onto anymore.

you spend the next two days at your house, staring at your dark phone screen. you were waiting for him to text you something— anything, even a picture of those cats by your house. but.. nothing.

rin was too busy packing his life into his suitcase, because if he wasn’t set on becoming the best striker in the world then who was he? deep down, a part of him just wanted you to tell him to stay. if he had that chance all those years ago, he would’ve begged you to stay.

rin’s angry at himself, and at you for being so damn selfless, letting him leave after things were just getting better again. you both know that if you’d asked him to stay, he wouldn’t have hesitated. when he zips his suitcase shut, he falls back on his bed and stares up at the ceiling with a glare.

this is rin’s dream. and despite how much you want him to stay, there isn’t any valid reason besides what? your feelings that you’re too afraid to even say out loud?

the morning of his flight arrives with no texts, no calls—just the hollow ache of everything left unsaid.

you tell yourself you won’t go to the airport, you’d just make everything worse.

there, amidst the chaos of departures and goodbyes, you spot him—shoulders tense beneath a hoodie, boarding pass clutched too tight in slender fingers as he sits. rin doesn’t see you at first, too busy glaring at his phone like it personally betrayed him… until suddenly his head snaps up—teal eyes locking onto yours with terrifying precision.

a beat passes where neither breathes. then rin drops his carry-on right there on polished floors and starts shoving through crowds toward you—all strategy abandoned; just raw instinct now—before stopping an arm’s length away like he’s afraid touching you will unravel him completely.

“don’t.. go.” you manage to spit out, chest heaving up and down from how much you ran to see him. “i wasn’t going to ask you to give up your dreams for me, i’d never do that but– but we just reunited again, and losing you again feels like hell. and fuck, every day i was gone, i thought about you.”

rin opens his mouth to speak, but you simply shake your head at him. “i love you, rin.. i always have, i always will and that’s the truth. there’s nothing more that i want than being with you. nothing will change that.”

“—so stay. please.”

the airport noise fades into white noise. rin’s hands—usually so steady, so precise—are trembling visibly now as he takes one sharp step forward. His breathing is ragged, like he’s been sprinting through an entire match rather than standing still in a departure lounge.

“you..” his voice cracks like a teenager’s mid-growth spurt, and wasn’t that fitting? “you don’t get to say that now.”

there’s no bite to it though—just the raw edges of three days’ worth of sleepless nights and unsent texts burning behind his eyes. he drags a hand down his face roughly before suddenly lurching forward to press something hard and rectangular into your palm.

a return ticket.

paris to tokyo.

dated two weeks from today.

rin exhales sharply through his nose when you look at him in confusion, ears burning crimson as he glares at the floor between your shoes.

“…i was always coming back for you, idiot.”

that one simple sentence washes over you like both sunrise and sunset at once; the world turning a warmer color at first touch. rin still won’t meet your gaze but his fingers are curled tight around boarding pass in his grip, white-knuckled with that fear-determination-uncertainty that’s only ever come out when it comes to football and now suddenly you realize just how much—just how much you mean to this idiot. this beautiful, damaged, impossibly talented idiot.

you pull him by the strings of his hoodie, and your lips crash onto his— like they’d been dying to for years. the kiss wasn’t like the peck from when you were nine years old in the tree house, it was a kiss with pent up desperation and hunger for something that had been right in front you the entire time.

his lips move against yours hungrily—frantic; urgent as if he can’t get enough and maybe neither of you can. it’s like everything comes back full-circle right there beneath fluorescents flashing arrival and departure times: this connection, this understanding so intrinsic you can’t imagine living without it.

“i love you too.” he murmurs against your lips, not daring to pull away, because if he does then he’ll be faced with reality. the way rin kisses you beneath the flickering departure screens taste an awful lot like a promise; teeth clashing, luggage abandoned, hands fisted in fabric keeping him anchored to this moment before steel birds carry him away—but not forever; never forever.

the intercom blares one last boarding call, sharp and shrill—but rin doesn’t flinch. his hands slide up to frame your face instead, calloused thumbs brushing the trails of salty tears you didn’t even realize were there as he murmurs against your lips like a prayer, “wait for me.”

not a question. not even really a request. a command—as if his entire world hangs on this single thread between departure gates and homecomings yet written in return ticket ink.

you bite his lower lip hard enough to bruise when pulling away just far enough to glare through blurred vision, “you better text me every damn day, itoshi rin.”

and when he finally boards—three minutes late with hair messed up from your fingers and lips suspiciously swollen—the smile he shoots over his shoulder is pure unrepentant victory.

so here you are, three years later, in paris at a blinding stadium that erupts when rin scores the winning goal—90th minute, impossible angle—but his teal eyes immediately scan VIP box seats instead of celebrating. there you are, on your feet screaming louder than anyone, tears in your eyes, flanked by his mom and…

is that sae nodding approvingly from beside you?!

rin nearly trips over his own feet mid-victory run. then everyone’s ushering you down from the stadium to him.

“you’re embarrassing me,” he teases through teeth while pressing kisses along your knuckles—each scar and callous memorized now. the medal around his neck digs uncomfortably between your chests when you wrap your arms around him but neither of you care—not when rin kisses you in front of everyone.

“wait—what the hell are you—“ your voice cuts off in a strangled gasp as rin suddenly drops to one knee right there on the grass, still sweaty and grass-stained from the match. the champions league medal dangles haphazardly around his neck as he fishes something out of his shin guard (because of course he hid it there, this dramatic bastard).

a velvet box snaps open to reveal a ring with a single emerald-cut teal stone, matching his eyes; matching your shared history. around you, his teammates start losing their damn minds—whistles echoing while someone dramatically faints.

rin ignores them all, focusing solely on you with that terrifying intensity usually reserved for breaking down defenses. “i had this whole speech planned,” he grumbles, ears burning crimson as his thumb nervously traces over the ring’s engraving, “..but then you cried during my goal like an idiot and i forgot all of it.”

you laugh through your tears, your smile wide as rin continues speaking like nothing else matters. there’s a whole stadium of cameras, hundreds more around the world watching, millions of fans holding breaths because all eyes are on france’s new rising star striker: itoshi rin.

“but i promised you i’d come back to you. every single time. so here i am now asking you to take me as your husband.”

“yes—! god, yes—!”

the words tear from your throat before rin even finishes speaking, half-laughing and half-sobbing as you launch yourself at him with enough force to nearly knock you both over onto the pitch. his arms catch you automatically—strong and steady like they’ve been waiting a lifetime for this moment (they have). the roar of the crowd is deafening, flashbulbs popping like fireworks around you both as rin finally slides that teal-stoned ring onto your finger with trembling hands.

rin kisses you messy and desperate right there under stadium lights—salt-tears-and celebration still clinging to your lips.

and when he lifts you clean off your feet—engagement ring glinting alongside gold medal as cameras capture football’s coldest striker smiling brighter than floodlights—the whole world finally understands: itoshi rin has always played to win. but this? this victory tastes sweeter than any trophy ever could.

and somewhere behind those sharpened features is little seven year old rin who only had two goals in life: ruling the world with his brother, and making you his wife.

synopsis: what happens when a pretty girl gets pulled over for speeding by a bored cop? is she getting a ticket or getting absolutely dicked down in the back of a cop car…?

content: SMUT, sexual themes, sexual language, police officer!gojo, perv!gojo, car sex, semi-public sex, vaginal sex, creampies, petnames: sweetheart, pretty, baby, slut, reader hates tickets, oral sex, handcuffs, sex in a police car, choking kink, biting, hair pulling, face-fucking, spit kink, oblivious!reader, breeding kink, throat-fucking

pairings: satoru gojo x reader

wc: 4.6k

this had to be the worst day of your life— you were supposed to be home three hours ago, instead you had to work some ridiculous event for free. now? it’s ten pm, and your hands are clasping onto your steering wheel like it’s a lifeline.

of course, on top of this already shitty night, you just had to get pulled over. maybe you were going ten over the limit, but come on, today was already a terrible day.

what would your excuse even be? you were stressed? essentially true. you weren’t paying attention? also true. those flashing red and blue lights were mocking you at this point.

you look at your rearview mirror and inaudibly groan, before nearly pressing your forehead to the steering wheel. what the hell were you supposed to say? long day? or that you just don’t care anymore. or maybe—tap, tap

you curse at yourself before rolling your window down with a polite smile, “you got a license and registration,

pretty lady?” your window’s now lowered completely and you’re facing a handsome officer, his arm above and on the edge of your window.

“yeah, i do.” you almost sound defeated before you open your glove box. the officer takes his sunglasses off, offering a soft smile. “you do know this is a 50, right?”

“oh, really?”

you hand him your license and registration, and he straightens up to get a better look at it. the white-haired officer leans back down and clicks his tongue, before you sigh helplessly. “in all honestly, i just wanted to get home. terrible day, and i’m beyond exhausted.”

his piercing blue eyes scan yours face with amusement. “oh, really?” he echoes, his voice dripping with sarcasm. “and here i thought you were just thrilled to see me.” he flips your license between his fingers lazily, not even bothering to look at it properly.

his smirk widens as he watches your exhausted expression. “y’know, most people try to lie when they get caught speeding. but you? you just look like you wanna fucking die.” he chuckles, shaking his head. “that’s kinda sad, honestly.”

you refrain from rolling your eyes at his words, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek.

he taps your license against his palm, considering you for a moment. “tell you what—since you’re having such a shit night, i’ll let you off with a warning. but only ‘cause i’m feeling generous.” his grin turns sharp, almost predatory.

“really?” your eyes light up at his words, and he only hums, nodding his head in response before handing your license back. “don’t let me catch you speeding again, pretty lady. get home safe.

he taps the top of your car before you exhale deeply, “thank you so much!”

“don’t mention it.” the officer murmurs, blue eyes watching as you drive away, further into the darkness.

satoru watches your taillights disappear into the night, his fingers still tingling from where they brushed against yours. that little thank you—so breathless, so fucking grateful—it sends a thrill down his spine.

he clicks his tongue, shaking his head as he saunters back to his patrol car. “fuckin’ adorable,” he mutters to himself, sliding into the driver’s seat. his grip tightens on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening for just a second before he forces himself to relax.

should’ve taken your number.

the thought hits him like a punch to the gut. he could’ve easily flirted his way into your digits, could’ve had you blushing and stuttering under his gaze until you caved. but no—he let you drive off like some gentleman.

satoru scoffs, rolling his eyes at his own stupidity. “next time,” he hums, starting the engine with a rough twist of the key.

because there will be a next time.

he’ll make sure of it.

and he did.

maybe he was just teasing you, he did happen to have your license plate saved in his system. coincidentally.

or maybe he was just lucky to find you breaking the law again, this time going 75 in a 55. your face drains of any color when you see those flashing lights behind you again. second time in just a week getting pulled over after a long day at work.

fuckin’ hell.

how were you going to get yourself out of this one? you let out a sigh, leaning your head back for a few moments.

he doesn’t even wait for you to pull over fully before he’s swinging his door open, long legs carrying him toward your car with that infuriatingly casual swagger. tap-tap-tap against glass already rolled down, and there you are—cheeks flushed, lips bitten raw from nerves. and you’re already fumbling for your license, without him saying anything.

“speeding again?” his voice drips with mock disappointment as he leans down into your window, close enough that his breath ghosts over your ear when he tsks. “what’s this? two violations in...” he checks an imaginary watch on his wrist. “…how many weeks was it again?” the grin that follows is pure sin under streetlight glow—all teeth and knowing eyes behind those shades because oh does gojo satoru remember exactly how long it’s been since your last little... chat.

“one week, sir.”

gloved fingers pluck up the license between two digits lazily while his other hand comes to rest atop the roof of your car; trapping you without touching you, yet somehow making every inch of space between you burn hotter than asphalt in july heatwave.

“guess i didn’t scare ya straight after all..” a chuckle rumbles deep from his chest as his gaze flicks pointedly at speedometer then back at your flustered expression struggling not crack under pressure, but he sees right through. “or maybe...”

satoru’s sunglasses slide down just enough so ocean-blue irises lock onto yours unshielded by tinted lenses now, “you just wanted to run into me again, hm?”

you sit up straight in your seat, eyes peering at the police officer beside you. “it worked, didn’t it?”

satoru’s smirk deepens as he watches your pupils dilate, the way your breath catches when his fingers linger just a second too long on your license. the leather of his glove creaks as he tightens his grip on your car’s roof, leaning in until his shadow swallows you whole.

“oh, you’re a tease.” he purrs, voice dripping with amusement. his free hand reaches up, gloved thumb brushing over your bottom lip—rough enough to make you feel it, but not enough to hurt. “but we do have a problem: i let you off with a warning, and here you are doing the same thing again.”

the streetlight above flickers, casting his sharp features in alternating light and shadow. his sunglasses are perched low enough now that you can see the way his blue eyes darken with something far more dangerous than professional courtesy.

“what’ll i do?” he murmurs, lips curling into that infuriatingly handsome grin. “write a ticket?”

“oh god, no tickets.” you huff, pinching the bridge of your nose. satoru only hums, tapping his fingers against the roof of your car. “i’ll do anything.” you look up into his blue eyes, a pleading expression on your pretty face.

satoru’s grin turns downright wicked at your words, his gloved fingers pausing their rhythmic tapping against your car's roof. “anything?” he repeats, voice dropping to that low, dangerous purr that makes your stomach flip.

“careful,” he murmurs, leaning in until his lips brush the shell of your ear. His free hand slides down to grip your chin, tilting your face up to his. “you say anything, and i might just take you up on that.” he pulls back just enough to meet your gaze. those ocean-blue eyes are dark with promise, his smirk lazy and far too pleased with himself.

“tell you what,” he says, voice rough with amusement. “you make it up to me, and i’ll forget i ever saw you speeding.” his thumb presses against your bottom lip again, this time with deliberate pressure. “or..”

his other hand drops to his belt, fingers brushing over the handcuffs hanging there with a metallic click.

“i can just give you two tickets, one overdue from the last time i saw you.”

you squirm under his gaze, heartbeat thudding in your ears when his thumb brushes over your lip, making you shiver. the air crackles with tension, the streetlight flickering as if reflecting your erratic breathing.

“m-make it up to you?” you manage, voice barely above a whisper. your tongue flicks out to wet your bottom lip, and his smile sharpens as he follows the movement of your mouth.

he leans a little closer, and you can smell the faint scent of his cologne mixing with the night air. “yes, pretty girl. make. it. up. to. me.”

“how can i do that?”

“just step out the car, and i’ll show you.”

satoru’s grin turns downright predatory as he steps back just enough to give you space—but not enough to let you escape the heat of his gaze. his gloved hand slides off your car’s roof, fingers flexing in a come here motion that’s more command than invitation.

“that’s my girl,” he purrs, watching with dark amusement as you fumble with your seatbelt. the second your door cracks open, his hand is there, catching it and swinging it wide with a smooth, effortless motion. his other hand rests on his belt, thumb hooked lazily near his cuffs—just in case you get any ideas about running.

the moment your shoes hit the pavement, he’s crowding you back against the side of your car, his body a solid wall of heat pressing you into the cool metal. one hand braces beside your head, caging you in, while the other lifts to trace the line of your jaw with deliberate slowness.

“see, here’s the thing,” he murmurs, lips brushing yours as he speaks—close enough to kiss, but not quite touching. “you keep breaking the rules, sweetheart. and i keep letting you get away with it.” his teeth graze your bottom lip, sharp and fleeting. “that’s gotta stop.”

his free hand drops to your hip, gripping hard enough to make you gasp before sliding around to the small of your back—pulling you flush against him with a rough jerk. the hard line of his belt digs into your stomach, the cold metal of his badge pressing against your chest as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

“okay,” you reply breathlessly, hands flexing at your side. “okay, officer.” you repeat, looking into those mesmerizing eyes before leaning in closer.

“mm cute. just call me ‘toru, okay pretty girl?” his hand finds your face before he presses his lips to yours in a searing kiss.

satoru’s hand slides down to your throat, gripping tight as he deepens the kiss with a growl that vibrates against your lips. his teeth catch your lower lip, tugging just hard enough to make you whimper before his tongue soothes the sting—only to dive back in, claiming every inch of you like he’s memorizing the taste.

the cold metal of his belt buckle digs into your stomach as he presses you harder against the car, his knee sliding between yours without an ounce of hesitation. the streetlight flickers above like it can’t decide whether this is public indecency or something far worse—not that either of you care at this point.

when he finally pulls back for air, it’s only to drag his mouth along your jawline instead, biting down where your pulse thrums wildest beneath skin already flushing red under attention too rough—too perfect.

“i think we should start with a personal apology, huh? don’t you agree?” he breathes against slick skin—voice wrecked from kissing but still dripping arrogance because even now? he knows. this was inevitable from moment one; him chasing after what should have been off limits.

“uh-huh.” you nod your head mindlessly, too dazed to say anything else. satoru grins, before his handcuffs are tightening around your wrists. “i haven’t used these in a while..” he muses, licking his lower lip.

“please,” you whimper softly, leaning your head back. satoru’s grin is pure filth as he steps back to admire his handiwork—your wrists bound tight in cold metal, pressed flush against the car door. the streetlight catches the way your chest rises and falls too fast, the way your lips part on a shaky exhale.

“fuck,” he murmurs, dragging a gloved finger down your throat, over your collarbone, stopping just above the first button of your shirt. “look at you. all trussed up and begging for it.” his thumb flicks the button open with practiced ease.

his other hand grips your chin, tilting your face up to his. “gonna be real clear here, gorgeous.” he growls, voice rough with want. “you’re gonna apologize properly—with that pretty mouth of yours—or i’m leaving these cuffs on all night.” his teeth scrape your earlobe, sharp enough to make you gasp. “understood?”

you nod your head eagerly before the hand at your collar just yanks, sending buttons scattering across the pavement as he exposes you to the humid night air. his laugh is dark when you shiver. “good fuckin’ girl.”

with one hand on your shoulder, he guides you down until your knees touch the pavement— until you’re eye to eye with his crotch.

you drag your tongue against the fabric of his pants, struggling to unzip his pants with handcuffed hands. satoru tsks, looking down at you. “use your teeth.”

“my teeth?” satoru nods, brushing a hand down your jaw.

satoru’s fingers tighten around your hair, yanking just hard enough to make your eyes water as you struggle with the zipper. the metallic click of his belt unfastening is obscenely loud in the quiet night air. “teeth.” he repeats, voice rough with impatience. his free hand grips your chin, forcing your mouth open wider.

the first brush of your teeth against the straining fabric of his briefs has him hissing—his cock already rock-hard and leaking. his hips jerk forward instinctively, grinding against your lips as you work the waistband down with your teeth.

“there you go, baby.” he groans when you finally free him, his length springing free against your cheek. the tip is already slick with precum, the musky scent of him filling your nose as he drags the head across your lips.

“now open,” he orders, thumb pressing down on your tongue. “wider.”

and then he’s shoving in—deep—until your nose brushes his pelvis and tears spring to your eyes. his grip on you is punishing as he starts to move, fucking into your throat with slow, deliberate thrusts.

“fuck—should’ve done this the first time i pulled you over.” he growls, watching the way your throat bulges around him. his other hand drops to his belt, and his head falls back.

satoru’s grip on your head tightens, yanking hard enough to make your eyes water as he fucks your throat with slow, brutal precision. every thrust drags his cock deeper, the thick veins along his length rubbing against your tongue in a way that has him groaning.

“shit—knew you’d be good at this,” he rasps, hips snapping forward to bury himself to the hilt again. his free hand drops to his side, and he groans loudly.

the wet, filthy sounds of your gagging fill the air, spit dripping down your chin as he uses your mouth like he owns it. his breath comes in ragged pants now, thighs trembling with the effort of not just ramming into you until he spills down your throat.

“gonna cum just like this,” he groans, thumb swiping over your stretched lips. “gonna paint that pretty throat white and make you swallow every last drop.” his pace turns erratic, his grip on your head bruising as he chases his release.

satoru’s hips stutter as he buries himself to the hilt one final time, his cock pulsing violently down your throat as thick ropes of cum flood your mouth. his grip on your head tightens to the point of pain as he holds you there, forcing you to take every last drop while his thighs tremble with the force of his orgasm.

“fuckkkk...” he pants, watching with dark satisfaction as you struggle to swallow it all, your throat working desperately around him. when he finally pulls out with a wet pop, his cock glistens with a mix of spit and cum, still half-hard against his stomach.

he releases you with a rough pat to your flushed cheek. “what a good girl,” he murmurs, voice still rough with pleasure. his thumb swipes at the corner of your mouth, collecting a stray drop of cum before pushing it back between your lips.

with a satisfied sigh, he helps you back to your feet. “you okay?” you nod your head wordlessly, as he begins ushering you into the police cruiser.

satoru hums as he slams the cruiser door behind you, the sound echoing through the empty street. his leather gloves creak as he grips your bare waist through the torn fabric of your shirt, shoving you against the cold vinyl seat.

“still think you can handle more?” he purrs, dragging a gloved finger down your sternum before flicking open the clasp of your bra with practiced ease. the streetlights cast jagged shadows across his face as he leans in, teeth grazing your collarbone. “because i’ve got plenty of ways to make this up to the state for those speeding violations.”

his free hand slides between your thighs, the stiff material of his glove rough against your sensitive skin. a dark chuckle rumbles through his chest when he feels how wet you are already.

“look at you,” he murmurs against your throat, fingers working in slow, cruel circles. “all worked up in my cuffs and dripping for it.” the cruiser’s police radio crackles with static, the dispatcher’s voice cutting through the heavy breathing filling the car before satoru tears his glove off with his teeth.

satoru doesn’t even glance at the radio as he flips it off with one hand, the other pushing two fingers past your underwear, and into your desperate hole. “let’s see how loud those pretty screams really get,” he murmurs, twisting his wrist just so. the cruiser’s suspension creaks as he pulls you onto his lap, lips connecting with yours.

satoru’s fingers curl inside you with insane precision, the rough pads of his bare fingers dragging against your walls in a way that has your back arching. his teeth sink into your bottom lip hard enough to draw a metallic tang of blood as he swallows your gasp, his other hand yanking your ruined shirt open further to expose your heaving chest.

“knew you’d be this tight,” he groans against your mouth, adding a third finger without warning. the stretch burns, his knuckles pressing against that sweet spot inside you that makes your thighs shake. “oh— satoru!” the cruiser’s leather seats squeak under your squirming, as his thumb finds your clit, rubbing rough, mean circles.

his kiss is all teeth and dominance, tongue fucking your mouth in time with his fingers. when he pulls back, your lips are swollen, spit-slick, and his blue eyes are dark with hunger.

“gonna make you cum just like this,” he murmurs, fingers speeding up, scissoring inside you. “gonna feel you clench around my fingers like the desperate little thing you are.” his thumb presses down harder on your clit, ruthless. “but do you really deserve to cum after being such a reckless driver?”

the radio crackles again—some officer calling for backup—but satoru just grins, leaning down to bite your nipple as his fingers fuck into you.

you nod your head, eyelashes pressing together.

satoru’s fingers twist inside you, his palm grinding against your clit with every brutal thrust. the leather seat creaks under your writhing body, the handcuffs rattling against the door as you try—and fail—to arch away from the overwhelming pleasure.

“look at you,” he hums, watching your face twist in desperation. His thumb presses down harder, circling your clit in tight, punishing motions. “so fucking close, aren’t you? bet you’d do anything to cum right now.”

his teeth sink into the soft skin of your exposed shoulder, sharp enough to make you yelp. “but you don’t get to,” he murmurs against your skin, fingers suddenly still inside you—just holding you there, throbbing and denied.

“you’re gonna have to beg for it first,” he purrs, pulling his fingers out with a slow dripping drag. hid smirk is pure sin as he lifts them to your lips. “clean them. then maybe—maybe—i’ll let you cum.”

“if you’re good.” he murmurs, watching closely as your lips wrap around his slender fingers. satoru’s breath hitches as your tongue swirls around his fingers, lapping up every last drop of your own arousal. his cock twitches painfully against his zipper at the sight—fuck, you look so goddamn obedient like this, cuffed and desperate and his.

“good girl,” he rasps, dragging his wet fingers down your chin, leaving a glistening trail. his other hand finally unzips his pants, freeing his aching length with a rough groan. the tip is already flushed and leaking, precum beading at the slit as he gives himself a slow stroke.

“now,” he murmurs, leaning in until his lips brush yours, “you’re gonna tell me exactly what you want.” the cruiser’s windows fog up around you both, the only sounds your ragged breathing and the slick schlick of his hand working his cock. his free hand slides between your thighs again, fingers pressing just hard enough against your clit to make you whimper.

“i want you to fuck– fuck me.” you breathe out, eyes wide with arousal.

satoru’s grin is vicious as he leans back, his cock twitching against your thigh at your breathless plea. “oh? fuck you?” he repeats, voice dripping with mock innocence as his fingers trail lower, teasing your entrance with lazy circles. “like this?”

he pushes in just the tip—barely enough to make you feel it—before pulling back with a cruel chuckle. “or harder?” his hand suddenly slams your thighs wider, his hips jerking forward to rut the thick head of his cock against your soaked folds. the wet slap of skin on skin echoes through the cruiser, his precum smearing across your clit with every rough grind.

“say it again,” he growls, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise. “tell me how bad you need it.” his free hand wraps around your throat, squeezing hard enough to make your vision blur. “and fuck, i might just give it to you.”

you moan loudly, his name a plea rolling from your swollen lips. “i need it— i need you so bad.” you whimper, pathetically rocking your hips forward against his cock.

the cruiser rocks with the force of his thrusts against you, his cock aching to sink inside—but he’s not gonna make it easy for you. not when you look this fucking pretty begging for it.

satoru’s grip on your throat tightens just a fraction more, his breath ragged against your ear as he grinds his cock against your dripping cunt. “fuck, that’s it, baby,” he growls, voice rough with lust. “keep begging.”

his free hand slides between your bodies, fingers spreading your folds as he lines himself up—finally—with your entrance. the thick head of his cock presses against you, just breaching that tight ring of muscle before he stops, teasing you with the barest hint of what’s to come.

“please,” you whimper, hips rocking pathetically against him, desperate for more before he flips you onto your back.

satoru’s laugh is dark, filthy, as he leans down to lick a stripe up your throat. “please what, baby?” his teeth graze your pulse point, sharp and punishing. “use your words.”

the car windows are completely fogged now, the air thick with the scent of sex and leather. his cock throbs against your clit, precum smearing across your sensitive flesh with every shallow thrust.

“please fuck me,” you gasp, nails digging into his shoulders. “please, satoru—i need you inside me.”

that’s all it takes.

with a groan that borders on feral, he slams into you in one brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt. your back arches off the seat, a broken cry tearing from your lips as he stretches you open, his cock pulsing inside you.

“oh— oh!” you cry out, back arching up off the leather seat.

“fuck—so tight,” he snarls, hips snapping forward again before you can even adjust. his hand on your throat tightens, forcing your gaze up to his as he fucks into you with relentless, punishing thrusts.

the car rocks with the force of it, the leather seats squeaking obscenely as he drives into you deeper, harder, until you’re seeing stars.

satoru’s hips piston into you with brutal precision, each thrust driving the breath from your lungs as he owns you in the back of his cruiser. his hand tightens around your throat, cutting off just enough air to make your vision swim at the edges—fuck, he loves how your cunt clenches around him when you’re gasping for it.

“you’re fuckin’ perfect,” he snarls again, teeth sinking into your shoulder as his free hand grips your thigh, yanking it higher to fuck into you at an even deeper angle. the slap of skin on skin is deafening, his balls slapping against your ass with every snap of his hips. “gonna ruin you for anyone else—fuck—gonna make sure you remember who owns this pussy.”

satoru’s grip on your thigh tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he hammers into you with reckless abandon. the cruiser’s suspension groans under the force of his thrusts, the leather seats slick with sweat and the filthy sounds of your bodies colliding.

“gonna breed you, pretty girl.” he growls, voice wrecked as his cock pounds into that spongy spot inside you that makes your toes curl. his free hand slides up your body, roughly palming your tits before pinching your nipple—hard—just to hear you cry.

his pace turns frantic, hips slapping against yours in a brutal rhythm as he chases his own release. his cock stretches you open with every filthy thrust. the cruiser rocks violently, the windows completely fogged over from your heavy breathing and the obscene heat between you.

“gonna fill this pussy up so good,” he snarls, his voice ragged with pleasure. his hand slides down your stomach, fingers pressing hard against your clit in rough, unforgiving circles. “gonna make sure you drip with me for days.”

“oh, satoru— i can– i can’t take anymore.” you cry, nails digging into satoru’s shoulder, but he can only laugh at you in response.

“cum for me,” he orders, his grip on your thigh bruising. “like the good little slut you are.”

and you do—your cunt clenching around him in desperate pulses as pleasure wrecks you, your nails digging into the palms of your handcuffed hands as you sob his name.

satoru groans, his hips pushing further into you as he floods you with his cum, hot and thick, painting your insides white. he grinds deep, making sure every last drop stays exactly where it belongs.

he collapses against you for a moment, both of you panting, before he pulls out with a filthy pop, watching his spend drip from your well-used hole with a satisfied smirk.

“i guess i won’t be writing any tickets..” satoru hums, breathlessly. he breathes, thumb swiping through the mess before pushing it back inside you with two fingers. “gotta make sure it takes.”

you lay there, thighs sticky, breathing heavily, and still handcuffed when the radio crackles again—“gojo, where the fuck are you?”—but he just grins, leaning down to bite your earlobe.

and if speeding means getting fucked by a hot cop, then maybe you won’t think about following speed limits anymore..

synopsis: sae’s never cared that much about anything that wasn’t soccer.. up until he met you. now how does he feel when his most prized possession is flirting with bunny iglesias right in front of him?

pairings: itoshi sae x reader

content: smut, semi-public sex, car sex, sae and reader are in denial of their feelings, bunny is kind of a middle man, vaginal sex, kind of a drabble, quickie, degradation, mentions of biting, very in depth about sae’s feelings (sry i have a problem), #ilovesae, umm big dick!sae, jealous sae, reader is a little shit but it’s fine, breeding, jealous sex, reader loves sae i promise, not-so-nonchalant sae

wc: 4.5k

itoshi sae doesn’t do relationships, everyone knows this. especially, you. but you aren’t interested in anything more than just sex, so it evens out perfectly.

he also doesn’t get jealous, hell, he doesn’t need to. so why is he drilling holes into the back of your head while you talk to bunny fucking iglesias? it wasn’t about you— definitely not, but bunny? seriously? you hadn’t a clue about soccer, so you couldn’t possibly be talking about that.

he doesn’t even know why he came in the first place, what business does he have at this ridiculous beach fundraiser? it’s a bunch of shirtless people kicking around a soccer ball on the sand, and there’s… you in your little bikini, without a care in the world.

a shiver travels down your spine, you can feel those teal eyes staring into the back of your head.

sae hates it. he hates the way bunny is looking at you, the way his eyes slide over your curves, the way he fake-smiles so easily at you, the way he’s close to you. it makes him feel possessive, something he’s never felt before.

but he can’t say anything. he has no right to say anything. he’s had his fair share of hook-ups and you never questioned him about it. his jaw tightens, eyes narrowing at the sight of bunny getting closer to you.

“keep staring and you’ll blow his head off.” shidou quips from beside sae, who only grimaces in response.

sae barely registers shidou’s comment, his gaze still locked on the way bunny leans in just a little too close to you. his fingers twitch around the bottle, lips pressing into a thin line as he finally tears his eyes away—only to scoff.

“i’m not staring,” he mutters, voice low and clipped. “just wondering how anyone can stand that guy for more than five seconds.”

shidou smirks beside him, nudging sae’s shoulder with an elbow. “oh? then why does it look like you’re about two seconds away from marching your ass over there and dragging her off by the wrist?”

sae clicks his tongue in annoyance but doesn’t deny it—mostly because shidou is right. the thought of walking over there himself is getting harder to ignore with every passing second bunny keeps touching you like he has any right to. he knows it’s ridiculous; this isn’t something he cares about... usually. but seeing someone else flirt with you, especially someone like bunny iglesias, of all people? it shouldn’t piss him off this much—but here we are.

you had an arrangement. no feelings, no strings—just sex when you both wanted it. it worked. it was supposed to work.

you weren’t the type to cling, nor did you expect anything from him. you were impulsive where he was calculated; reckless where he was controlled. that had always been your dynamic—opposites in perfect, chaotic balance.

but lately? something felt off-kilter.

sae didn’t do jealousy. he didn’t care who you slept with—or at least, that's what he told himself every time he caught you flirting with some idiot on the team or a random guy at a party (“it doesn't matter.” “i don’t care.”). he repeated it like a mantra because he couldn’t afford to care. caring meant risking what you had, and whatever this was between you? it worked too well for him to ruin it now.

yet here he is… watching bunny fucking iglesias of all people—a man whose football IQ could fit in a thimble—lean too close into your space, say something that makes you laugh (that stupidly bright laugh), brush his fingers against your bare waist.

and suddenly sae can’t breathe right.

his grip tightens around his drink until the plastic cup threatens to collapse under his fingertips (“you’re staring way too hard.” shidou’s voice echoes uselessly in his head). his jaw locks as irritation claws up his throat like bile.

the worst part isn’t the jealousy.

it’s the realization that he’s lying to himself.

he told himself it was just about sex. told himself he didn’t care who you laughed with, who touched you, who got you—because that was the deal. no attachments. no complications. easy.

even though, nothing about this feels easy anymore.

he wants to hate you for it.

wants to hate how effortlessly you walk away while he—sae fucking itoshi—is left staring at his ceiling at 3 AM wondering if you even think about him when you’re not in bed together.

you weren’t supposed to matter this much but somewhere between shared nights after training and early morning drives where neither of you bothered with words—you never needed them anyway, something shifted without permission.

fuck, he can’t stand seeing bunny breathe in your direction because that idiot doesn’t know shit. doesn’t know how sharp you are under all that laughter or how stubbornly soft you get when no one else is watching.

he told himself it was just annoyance at iglesias’ sheer idiocy—the man couldn’t even execute a proper scissor kick without nearly concussing himself mid-air. that had to be it… right?

right?

except deep down—where he refused to look too closely—there was another truth clawing its way out: you knew him. not just the polished prodigy everyone saw on TV or the aloof genius coaches praised—but him. the version that hated losing more than he loved winning, the one who still flinched when fans got too loud because childhood stadium echoes never really left you... and you never once treated those parts like flaws worth hiding.

so yeah… maybe watching you laugh at whatever dumb joke bunny made while standing barefoot in the sand stirred something ugly inside him—something that tasted an awful lot like fear masquerading as anger.

sae exhales sharply through his nose, the sting of saltwater and overheated frustration clinging to his skin as he tears his gaze away from bunny—no, from you. you in that fucking bikini, all effortless confidence and teasing smiles like you don’t even realize you’re unraveling him strand by goddamn strand.

bunny tilts his head slightly, that eerie smile still lingering as he notices the tension in the air. his large greyish irises flicker past you—just for a second—toward where sae stands rigid by the tiki bar. then his attention snaps back to you, playful but deliberate.

“hmm... someone’s got a very intense shadow.” he leans in just slightly, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “did i steal more than just goals today? or is it just me… or does your boyfriend look like he wants to bury me in this sand?” he hums, scar stretching with another faint grin. “you should tell him i’m not here for trouble… unless he wants me to be.”

a beat.

then bunny straightens up with exaggerated innocence, raising both hands as if surrendering—but his smirk lingers like a challenge waiting to be met.

“he’s not my boyfriend.” you reply, resisting an eye-roll. “just a.. friend.”

bunny’s grin doesn’t falter, but something shifts behind his eyes—like he’s peeling back layers without moving a muscle. his gaze flicks toward sae again, then back to you, tilting his head just slightly.

“not your boyfriend?” he clicks his tongue playfully, scar stretching as he leans in—close enough that the scent of saltwater clings to him from the game earlier. “then why does it feel like i just kicked a hornet’s nest? that man looks ready to skin me alive and honestly?” a low laugh escapes him as he adjusts the soccer ball tucked under one arm. “i kind of love it.”

his voice drops into something quieter now—less teasing, more observant. as if recognizing something familiar in sae’s tension. “you should tell him jealousy doesn’t suit strikers. makes ‘em sloppy.” then, with deliberate mischief glinting in those grey eyes. “or don’t. it’s way funnier this way.”

sae’s jaw clenches so hard it might crack. he watches bunny—watches you—with the kind of simmering intensity that would make lesser men bolt. but bunny? no, bunny just grins like he’s found a new game to play, and isn’t that the fucking problem? the casual way he leans into your space, his scar stretching with every smirk—it makes something ugly curl in sae’s chest.

you don’t even flinch at the proximity, instead, you arch a brow at sae over bunny’s shoulder like this is all his fault somehow, lips quirked in that infuriatingly knowing way of yours.

and then—just because you can, because you have never met a line you wouldn’t toe right off a cliff—you reach out and adjusts the collar bunny’s stupid half-unbuttoned shirt, fingers lingering far too long near his collarbone just to see what happens next.

sae should leave. that would be the smart thing to do. walk away before this ugly feeling choking his ribs gets a name (because if it has a name, then it exists, and if it exists—).

instead, he drains the rest of his drink in one harsh swallow and stalks toward you with deliberate calm. his expression is schooled into something bored, disinterested, but there’s no hiding the undercurrent of danger in each step forward—sand kicking up behind him like a warning flare.

bunny notices him first, “ah, sae. didn’t think this was your crowd.”

“move,” sae cuts in smoothly; voice colder than winter pavement but eyes burning straight past bunny to lock onto you. there’s no mistaking that look now: challenge buried beneath indifference; possession wrapped inside an unspoken dare.

you just tilt your head back with slow amusement as if you already know what he won’t admit out loud, lips curving around words meant only for him, “you look tense.” a pause dripping with mock innocence while your fingers idly twist the hem of iglesias’ stupid beach towel between them like some half-assed barrier. “something wrong?”

everything is wrong.

the muscles in sae’s jaw tighten as you taunt him—that damn smirk, the way you drag your fingers along the towel like it’s a game. and worst of all? the way your eyes dare him to react, to slip, to finally admit what he refuses to even think.

he exhales sharply through his nose, stepping closer—ignoring bunny entirely as if he isn’t even there. his voice is low, quiet enough that only you can hear the barely restrained edge beneath it.

“cut the shit.” a pause, eyes flicking down at where your hand still toys with iglesias’ towel before snapping back up with narrowed focus.

there it is—raw and unfiltered for once; no calculated detachment left standing between you now, just honesty in its ugliest form. his patience has snapped clean through under pressure. but instead of flinching away from that dangerous glint in his gaze, you just lean forward and roll your eyes.

sae then presses his lips together, eyebrows furrowing before he continues speaking, like there was no electricity sparking in the air between you. “i need your help with the cooler in the car, i need you to come help me grab it.”

his request is bullshit, and you both know it.

but you just arch a brow at him—slow, knowing—before shrugging with exaggerated innocence. “sure,” your fingers finally release bunny’s towel as you step forward, deliberately brushing against sae as you pass.

he follows without another word, jaw still locked tight, hands flexing at his sides like he’s physically restraining himself from doing something reckless. the walk to his car is charged—silent except for sand crunching underfoot and the distant hum of the party fading behind you. you let out a few dramatic sighs, but you’re just as quick to fall in perfect step with sae.

when you reach his car, he doesn’t open the cooler. doesn’t even pretend to look for whatever phantom item he supposedly needed.

one hand presses against the car door beside your head, caging you in before you can react—too fast, always too fucking fast when it comes to you. the other grips your chin just shy of rough, tilting it up so there’s no escaping his glare—burning teal meeting defiant amusement.

his voice drops into something low and lethal when he finally speaks again, “you think everything is a joke, huh?” a sharp inhale through gritted teeth before continuing—“fine.” then his mouth crashes into yours like punishment long overdue, all teeth and desperation masquerading as control.

you barely have time to gasp before sae’s mouth crashes into yours, his grip on your wrist tightening as he pins you against the jeep. the metal is hot against your bare back, but it’s nothing compared to the fire spreading through your veins as his tongue demands entry, licking into your mouth with a roughness that makes your knees weak.

you moan into the kiss, and his other hand leaves the car door to grip your hip, fingers digging into your skin hard enough to leave marks.

when he finally pulls back, you’re both panting, lips swollen and wet.

sae’s eyes are wild, darkened with something primal as he stares down at you.

“you’re fucking impossible.” he growls, voice thick with frustration and want.

you grin, breathless and smug, your thumb brushing over his lower lip. “and yet here you are,” you murmur, “dragging me off like some caveman over bunny iglesias of all people.”

sae’s jaw clenches, his grip tightening on your hip as he grinds his hardening cock against your thigh, the friction drawing a sharp gasp from you.

“shut up,” he mutters before claiming your mouth again, this time biting at your lip hard enough to make you whimper. his hands roam lower, slipping under the edge of your bikini bottom to grope your ass, pulling you flush against him so you can feel exactly what you do to him.

and fuck, you love it—love the way he loses control over you, the way his cool, detached facade cracks whenever you’re near. you arch into him, grinding back against his erection with a breathy laugh.

“someone’s impatient,” you tease between kisses. sae responds by yanking your bikini top down, exposing your breasts to the warm air before his mouth latches onto a nipple, sucking hard. you cry out quietly, your head falling back against the car as pleasure shoots straight to your core.

he doesn’t stop there—his hand slides between your legs, fingers slipping under the thin fabric of your bikini to find you already soaked. he groans against your skin.

“fuck, you’re dripping,” he rasps, circling your clit with rough, impatient strokes. “all because i dragged you away from that idiot?”

you can’t even form words, your hips rocking against his fingers as pleasure coils tight in your stomach.

and just as you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls his hand away, ignoring your whine of protest. his lips brush your ear as he murmurs, “get in the backseat.”

you don’t hesitate—you never do when it comes to him. with a smirk, you slip past sae, your fingers trailing down his chest as you move toward the backseat. the door creaks open, and you slide in, the leather hot against your bare thighs. you don’t even bother fixing your bikini top, letting it hang loose around your waist as you lean back, spreading your legs just enough to tease.

sae follows, shutting the door behind him with a force that rattles the windows. the confined space suddenly feels even smaller, the air thick with tension and the scent of salt, sweat, and you—sweet and intoxicating. his eyes rake over you, lingering on the way your chest rises with each breath, your nipples still stiff from his mouth.

“you’re such a fucking tease.” he murmurs, voice low and dangerous as he kneels between your legs, his hands gripping your thighs hard enough to leave fingerprints.

you just grin, biting your lip as you reach down to trace your own fingers along your soaked folds, showing off just how ready you are for him. “oh? and what are you gonna do about it, sae?”

that’s all it takes.

sae groans, shoving your hand away and yanking your bikini bottom to the side, exposing you completely. his cock is already straining against his shorts, and he doesn’t waste time—he frees himself in one rough motion, his cock springing free, thick and flushed with need. your breath hitches at the sight, your thighs trembling.

“why’re you so quiet now, huh?” sae taunts, hovering over you. your head rests uncomfortably on the door, and his hand spreads your thighs further apart.

sae lines himself up with your entrance, his tip sliding up and down your slit slowly. “say something, i dare you.”

your breath catches in your throat, and your back arches up, desperate for him to lose himself further into you. “just fuck me already.”

sae grunts, slowly sliding into you until he bottoms out completely, stretching you in half. “i’ve been sick of your little fucking attitude.” he doesn’t give you time to adjust before he’s pulling back and slamming into you in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that sounds almost pained.

“fuck—so tight,” he grits out, his hips already moving, setting a punishing pace that has your back arching off the seat. “i’m gonna fuck this stupid attitude out of you.” sae brings a hand up to your throat, squeezing lightly.

you cry out, nails digging into his shoulders as he fucks you with a desperation that borders on madness. the car rocks slightly with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin muffled only by your ragged breaths and choked moans. you can feel every inch of him, the way his cock drags against your walls, hitting that spot inside you that makes your vision blur.

sae leans down, capturing your mouth in a messy kiss, his teeth nipping at your lips as his hands roam—groping your breasts, pinching your nipples, sliding down to where your bodies are joined to rub rough circles over your clit.

“fuck,” he growls, voice rough with restraint. “you take me so fucking good, hm?”

your nails rake down his back as you arch beneath him, breath hitching when he pulls back slowly, dragging his thick length against your sensitive walls. the moment his tip catches at your entrance, he slams back in, burying himself to the hilt with a groan.

“saeee— ah!”

“i missed this so fucking much.” you moan, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

sae’s grip tightens, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh of your thighs as he drives into you, each thrust deeper, harder, more possessive than the last. his teeth sink into your shoulder—not enough to break skin, but enough to mark, to claim, to remind you exactly who you belong to in this moment.

“missed what?” he growls against your skin, voice thick with lust and something darker—something that makes you clench around him instinctively. his hips snap forward, the head of his cock grinding against that sweet spot inside you that has you seeing stars. “this?” another brutal thrust. “my cock stretching you open?”

you can’t even form words, your moans dissolving into whimpers as he fucks you with a desperation that borders on violence. your nails claw at his back, leaving angry red trails in their wake, your thighs trembling around his waist as pleasure coils tighter, hotter, unbearable.

sae doesn’t let up. one hand gripping your throat as his other hand slides between you, his thumb finding your clit and rubbing rough, punishing circles.

“or this?” his voice is a dark promise, his breath hot against your ear. “me making you come so hard you forget your own fucking name?”

you cry out, and sae can only laugh in response as he fucks into you. your head hits the door with each rough thrust, but you’re too cockdrunk to even care. “i don’t want you—fuck—near him again.”

“nghh— sae—“ his hips snap against yours, one hand hitching your thigh higher. “you hear me? stay away from him.” sae groans, punctuating every word with a thrust.

your body arches violently as the dual assault of his cock pounding into your and his thumb working your clit pushes you past the point of no return. a moan tears from your throat, raw and unfiltered, as your orgasm crashes through you like a tidal wave. your walls clamp down on him in rhythmic pulses, milking his cock as pleasure whites out your vision.

sae groans, his thrusts growing erratic as your tight heat squeezes him relentlessly. “fuck—that’s it, take it,” he snarls, driving into you harder, deeper, chasing his own release.

the sound of skin slapping against skin fills the car, mingling with your ragged breaths and your broken whimpers. you’re oversensitive now, every drag of his cock sending sparks of pleasure-pain through your spent body, but you don’t tell him to stop—couldn’t even if you wanted to.

with a final, brutal thrust, sae buries himself to the hilt, his cock pulsing as he spills inside you with a guttural groan. his hips jerk erratically, fucking his cum deeper as he rides out his orgasm, his grip on you almost painful in its intensity.

for a long moment, neither of you move, the only sound your heavy breathing. then, sae pulls out slowly, watching with dark satisfaction as his release leaks from your well-used pussy.

then, sae pulls back just enough to look down at you—at your flushed skin, your swollen lips, your glazed eyes—and smirks.

“someone needs to learn how to watch their mouth.” sae hums, dragging a hand across his forehead as his eyes track every movement you make.

you snort. the sound is quiet, almost lost beneath your mingled breaths, but it’s there all the same—a tiny defiance in the face of his possessive grip on your wrist.

“i don’t need lessons on anything from you,” you retort, even as you lean into his touch despite yourself. the proximity has your heart hammering in your chest, an unfamiliar feeling that makes your breath quicken against your will.

sae must notice it—he’s always been too observant—because he uses his free hand to tip your chin up until your eyes meet.

you huff deeply, fingers trembling as you attempt to tie your bikini top. you almost forgot you were in a parking lot for fucks’ sake. “think he got the message?” sae hums, helping you fix herself.

you smile, shrugging your shoulders. “you really that jealous of him?” sae refrains from rolling his eyes, he’s shown way too much emotion for the day already.

“jealousy’s a good look on you, itoshi.” you tease, sliding your bottoms back on. you lean your head back against the seat, still trying to catch your breath.

“if jealous sae means more quickies then..”

sae’s fingers still against the clasp of your bikini top, knuckles brushing the nape of your neck in a way that makes your shiver despite the heat. his expression is all practiced indifference, but his touch lingers just too long to sell it.

“jealous?” he deadpans, voice drier than the sand sticking to your skin. as if he hadn’t just ruined you against a car door five minutes ago over bunny iglesias.

you stretch lazily, arching into his hands like a cat demanding attention—all shameless satisfaction and too-knowing eyes. “mhm.” a pause for dramatic effect while you tap one finger against his bare chest. “and territorial. and possessive. and—“

he cuts you off by yanking the tie of your bikini taut with a sharp tug, pulling you forward until your noses nearly collide again, because some things never change. the warning in his voice is undercut by something else entirely when he mutters, “don’t start.”

you only grin wider—like this is exactly where you wanted him all along.

“everyone’s probably wondering where we are..” you hum, your tone teasing as you lock eyes with sae.

“let them.”

you lean into his touch, your own hand coming up to rest atop the one on your jaw. you smile, slow and lazy and utterly unbothered. “i don’t know about you,” you hum, tracing the line of his palm with the tip of your fingernail. “but i kind of like the idea of them wondering where we are.”

you let your gaze wander over his face —tracing over the line of his nose, his cheeks, the sharpness of his jaw. you almost laughs when you catch the faint mark of your lipgloss on his lips.

and maybe you do let them wonder where you are, because right now, everything feels perfect.

being in sae’s arms feels right, even in a suffocatingly hot car.

synopsis: your jealous best friend finds out you’ve been sleeping with the campus fuckboy, what happens when he walks in on you two? like any sane person, he offers a friendly competition on who can fuck you better.. duh.

pairings: suguru geto x reader x satoru gojo

content: bestfriend!geto, oblivious reader (my favorite troupe), threesome-ish, kinda cucky, face-fucking, mating press, oral sex (f & m receiving), jealous gojo, smutty smutty, smut with a little bit of plot ig?, a lot of unprotected sex, creampies, cuck gojo, vaginal sex, vaginal fingering, pussydrunk geto + gojo, reader has a big.. heart?, gojo + geto sandwich for the win, weird positions so just use your imagination

wc: 7.9k (NOT proof read srry for any errors)

suguru geto was your best friend, so it was no surprise you told him everything. but you were oblivious to his underlying feelings. it all started three weeks ago when you came to the library pissed about having to tutor satoru gojo. you called him stupid, annoying, and a piece of shit all in one sentence.

“woah, what the hell is on your neck?” suguru muses, raising an eyebrow as he pushes a thick digit into what looked like a hickey? your eyes widen before swat his hand away, replacing his poking finger with your hand to cover the purple-ish mark painting your skin. suguru wasn’t stupid, he knew you weren’t as innocent as you played yourself to be, but who the hell was leaving hickeys on you?

“don’t mention it.” you murmur, eyes focusing on the textbook in front of you. “i thought you were helping satoru with math, not female anatomy.” he definitely didn’t need any help with that. you roll your eyes at suguru’s words, teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek.

“in what world would i ever sleep with that idiot?! because it definitely isn’t this one.”

his eyes peer at you, and he taps his mechanical pencil onto his cheek. you don’t look up, not once. “and it’s not a hickey! i just burned myself.” you scowl, rolling your eyes at your pestering best friend.

“over my dead body, i’d hook up with satoru gojo.” you retort, shutting your textbook.

distracted by your words to geto, you don’t even notice the chair shift beside you. “ouch, y/n, you really have a way with words.” satoru feigns heartbreak beside you, placing his hand over his heart with a pained expression on his face. that stupid face. suguru looks between the two of you with an amused expression, his eyebrows raised. “what the hell are you doing coming up to me in public?”

“yeah, we’re in a library. who the hell spends their free time here.. besides the two of you?” satoru quips, rolling his eyes at you. “plus, i am your student and i was awaiting your arrival to come help me… study.” your eyebrows furrow, and your jaw clenches at his words that totally lack sublimity. suguru isn’t dumb, and it isn’t a surprise for him that you slept with gojo satoru of all people. seems like there’s still tension between the two of you, though.

“shit, i forgot about today.” you quickly say, pushing your textbooks into your book bag before giving suguru an apologetic expression. “i’ll catch up with you tomorrow, sorry to leave so suddenly.” in which, he waves it off, zipping his own book bag. “yeah, i’ll see you tomorrow, nerd.”

you playfully roll your eyes at the nickname before standing up to walk out of the library with satoru, whose gaze lingered onto your best friend for a few moments before finally snapping his focus onto you. it was an intense staring contest between the male who slept with you, and the one who’s dreamed about it for years.

suguru watches the two of you leave, his jaw tightening slightly as he slings his bag over his shoulder. his fingers drum against the strap, irritation prickling under his skin. fucking gojo. of all people, it had to be him.

he shoves his hands into his pockets, walking out of the library with a scowl. the hickey on your neck flashes in his mind again, and he grits his teeth. he’s not stupid—he knows what that was. and the way you reacted? yeah, you were lying through your teeth.

he lets out a huff, kicking a pebble as he walks. the thought of satoru’s hands on you makes his stomach twist. he’s known you longer, been there for you more—so why the hell does satoru get to have you like that?

fuck. fuck. fuck. that’s all suguru could mutter to himself as he took his cock in his hand, imagining it was your own. he should feel sick, thinking of you in such a lewd way but he couldn’t care less at the moment. with each stroke of his own, he kept his eyes shut imagining you on your knees in front of him. his wrist ached, and his free hand held onto the shower wall— cold water dripping down his face onto the rest of his body.

even after his shower, he laid in bed, staring up at the ceiling. he hated satoru’s guts, the way that he looked at him with such a predatory gaze, as if he was claiming you as his own. the nerve satoru had. suguru’s jaw ticks, and his eyes finally shut. he’s met with the sight of you and satoru, his long slender fingers sliding down your body as his mouth latches onto yours.

 fuck, he couldn’t escape you. not when your eyes sparkled, and your cleavage spilled out of your shirt like this. his seat’s across from yours, leaving his eye view completely connected with your chest. he was staring so hard, he could see the terribly concealed hickeys on your chest. you were talking about something— probably about how much you hated tutoring satoru, but he was too engrossed in staring at you to even fully process anything you were saying.

“suguru, are you even listening?” he snaps out of his trace, ears perking up at the sound of your voice. “yeah, you said something about how satoru is an idiot and can’t learn shit.” you scrunch up your nose, shaking your head. “no, i said i’m getting paid tomorrow for this tutoring gig so i was wondering if you wanted to come over. i do have tutoring with satoru at three, but you can come over at six.”

suguru’s fingers twitch against the edge of the table, his knuckles whitening as he forces himself to keep his expression neutral. the image of you bent over satoru’s lap, skirt hiked up and his smug fingers disappearing between your thighs, burns behind his eyelids. his cock throbs painfully against the zipper of his jeans, the fabric straining.

fuck.

he shifts in his seat, adjusting himself subtly as he leans forward, his voice dropping to a rough murmur. “six, huh?” his tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyes flicking down to the hickey peeking above your collar. “you sure you won’t be... tired after tutoring?”

you roll your eyes, but there’s a faint flush creeping up your neck. “it’s just math, suguru. not a marathon.”

suguru’s smirk is slow, dangerous. “yeah? ‘cause satoru’s got a way of making everything a workout."

your breath hitches—just slightly—but he catches it. his pulse kicks up, blood roaring in his ears.

got you.

he leans back, stretching his arms behind his head, the movement pulling his shirt taut over his chest. “guess i’ll see you at six then.” his voice is casual, but his eyes are dark, hungry. “don’t wear yourself out too much before i get there.”

“whatever! i’ll see you later, weirdo.” you murmur, rolling your eyes playfully before packing your things up.

he couldn’t possibly know, right?

you didn’t say anything to him, or to anyone about.. satoru. you’d never admit that you were sleeping with him. ever.

it’s six thirty and satoru’s still in your house, in your bed, lips attached to yours, hand riding up your shirt. you tilt your head to the side, letting his tongue slide down the sweet skin on your neck. “you were supposed to leave an hour ago.” you murmur, trying to sit up. it’s no use against satoru, because he isn’t letting up. not anytime soon. he pulls his head up to look at you, those annoyingly blue eyes staring into yours, and his pretty lips swollen from thirty minutes of making out.

you want to lie and say you can’t stand it when he looks at you, but there’s no point. you both know that isn’t true at all. satoru’s hand cups your breast, and he leans his head back against the pillow. “you really want me to leave, y/n?”

your jaw ticks, and his lips find their home on your neck again, making you give into him. again. like you always do. those little pleas, and the way his hands move down your body make you forget why you were even annoyed in the first place.

“suguru’s supposed to be coming, toru.” satoru groans dramatically, glaring up at you. “why the hell is he coming today? it’s my study day.”

“because i didn’t think your studying would take this long!” you complain, pulling yourself off satoru’s lap. the white-haired male throws his legs off the side of your bed, in search of his discarded pants. satoru tosses your sweatpants at you, nearly smacking you in the face with them. “ow!”

“you’re so dramatic.” satoru grumbles, zipping up his pants. “you almost chopped my head off!”

“with sweatpants?!” he exasperates, pulling his shirt over his head. you roll your eyes, not before catching a glimpse of his abs but you discreetly averted your gaze before he could tease you about it. like he always does.

god, satoru was annoying.

you’re nearly pushing him down the stairs, whispering meaningless shit to him before you reach the living room. “no kiss goodbye?” satoru raises his eyebrows, leaning in closer to your face.

you huff before digging your fingers in his chest, and pushing him away from you. “nope, now get out.” he frowns, almost comically before opening the front door and nearly bumping into suguru.

suguru leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, his dark eyes flicking between you and satoru with a knowing smirk. his gaze lingers on the slight flush still coloring your cheeks, the way your lips are just a little too swollen to be from talking.

“hey, y/n,” he drawls, pushing off the frame and stepping inside. his fingers brush against your waist as he passes, just enough to make your breath hitch. “satoru.”

satoru grins, tossing a lazy wave over his shoulder as he saunters out. “later, lovebirds.”

your eyes widen, your hand shooting out to smack satoru’s arm, but he’s already dodging with a laugh, disappearing out the door.

suguru shuts the door behind him, turning to face you with a raised brow. “lovebirds, huh?” you scoff, crossing your arms. “ignore him, he’s delusional.”

suguru hums, stepping closer, his voice dropping to a low, teasing murmur. “yeah? ‘cause you look real relaxed for someone who just finished a tutoring session.”

your breath catches, your fingers tightening around your elbows. “it was.. intense, to say the least.”

“intense?” suguru raises an eyebrow, following you into the living room before you flop down onto the couch.

“yeah,” you hum in response, eyes glossing over suguru’s. “that is what i said.”

suguru doesn’t answer immediately. instead, he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees as he turns his head to look at you—really look at you. his dark eyes trace the nervous flutter of the pulse at your throat, the way your fingers tighten around the remote just a little too hard.

he lets the silence stretch, thick with tension, before his gaze drops pointedly to the fresh bruise peeking out from under your collar—satoru’s mark—before flicking back up to meet your eyes.

“don’t look at me like that!” you groan, covering your face with your hands as you bring your knees to your chest. you look back at suguru, shoving him away playfully before looking back at the screen.

you look at suguru, lips parting slightly. you adjust the collar of your shirt, an attempt at hiding the sinful marks that paint your skin.

“don’t look at me like that.” you murmur this time, “you’ve hooked up with plenty of people, so don’t act like i’m insane.” you grumble, looking back at the screen again, even though there isn’t anything playing.

“it’s only hooking up, anyway. it’s not like i’m in love with satoru, so stop looking at me like that.” you chew on your lower lip, eyes locking with suguru’s. “you’re my best friend, you’re not supposed to be judging me!”

suguru’s fingers tighten around the couch cushion, his knuckles whitening for just a second before he forces himself to relax. he lets out a sharp exhale through his nose, tilting his head back against the cushions with a humorless chuckle.

“judging you?” his voice comes out too rough, too raw, and he clears his throat, rolling his shoulders like he’s shaking off something heavy. “nah. just wondering when the hell you started needing tutoring that leaves marks like that.”

his jaw works, teeth grinding together as he stares at the ceiling instead of looking at you—can’t look at you, not when his chest feels this tight.

he grabs the remote, clicking through channels too fast to actually see what's on. “but hey, if you’re happy,” he mutters, the words tasting like ash in his mouth, “then who the fuck am i to say shit?”

the silence stretches between you, thick with everything he won’t say.

finally, he tosses the remote into your lap, forcing a smirk. “just pick something before i put on one of those shitty action movies you hate out of spite.” his tone is light, teasing, but his fingers dig into his own thighs hard enough to bruise.

you were oblivious to the war waging in suguru’s mind, and he didn’t say anything about it. he only bit the inside of his cheek, and pretended everything was perfectly fine.

he can finally breathe when the movie is over, and the sun is setting behind those white curtains you’ve had for years.

you lean against the doorframe, eyes sparkling as you watch him with that smile on your lips. “same time tomorrow?”

suguru’s hand pauses mid-air as he grabs his jacket, the fabric crumpling in his grip. that smile—fuck, it still does things to him even now. he forces a lazy smirk, shoving down the way his pulse jumps when you lean against the doorframe like that.

“depends,” he shrugs the jacket on, deliberately slow, just to watch you roll your eyes. “you offering snacks this time? or am i supposed to survive another three hours of your shitty taste in movies on an empty stomach?”

his fingers brush against yours as he reaches past to grab his keys from the bowl—too close, the contact sending a jolt through him that he ignores with practiced ease.

“see you later, y/n.”

the door clicks shut behind him, and only then does he let his head fall back with a quiet groan.

same time tomorrow. like he’d ever miss it.

but… he had a different idea floating around in his head.

a sick one.

it was around four pm the next day when suguru came to your house, the door was stupidly unlocked but it was quiet downstairs when he entered. each step creaked as suguru got closer to your bedroom, and for some reason, his stomach felt weird. from the inside of the familiar door, he could hear slight movement and the sound of your muffled voice.

his ear was pressed against the door, “fuckk, you feel so good wrapped around me like this. seems like you’re even better with your mouth shut.” satoru soon after winces, “ow, i’m kidding, sweetheart.” he says softly, pulling your hair up into a makeshift ponytail. suguru could see the whole scene through the slight crack of your bedroom door; satoru sat on the edge of your bed with his legs spread open whilst you were on your knees in front of him, bra slipping off your shoulders as gojo muttered words of praise to you.

pressed against the cool wood of the door, suguru strained to see through the sliver of an opening, one eye squinted, the other wide with curiosity. the floorboards creaked under his weight as he shifted, trying to get a better view. a tiny, almost imperceptible slide of his foot, and suddenly the door lurched forward, propelled by his own momentum. the hinges protested with a drawn-out squeal as the door swung inward, revealing suguru in all his eavesdropping glory, a deer caught in the headlights.

you stop, pulling your mouth up and turning your head, eyes widening in shock. “suguru?!” you exclaim, in which gojo groans at the sudden loss of contact. “please, don’t stop because of me.” your best friend replies snarkily, his beefy arms folding across his chest. “what are you doing here so early!?”

perfect. his plan was all falling into place.

suguru shakes his head, teeth sliding over his lower lip. “early? i think i came just in time for the show.” you grow flustered, brushing your hair out of your face. “don’t stop, y/n, keep up your good work. that’s if, you want to.” suguru says, taking a seat at the desk across from your bed.

you look up into satoru’s eyes, who looks down at you with a gleaming expression. “who am i to deny such a request?” the white-haired male shrugs his shoulders, lips curling up into a smirk. “you gonna stop?” you pause, unsure of what to do in this situation before deciding to continue with what you were doing.

suguru’s fingers dig into the arms of the chair, knuckles whitening as he watches your lips part around satoru’s cock again. the wet pop of his mouth sliding down makes his own dick twitch in his jeans, the fabric suddenly too tight.

“fuck,” he mutters under his breath, shifting slightly to adjust himself. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, eyes locked on the way your throat works around satoru’s length.

satoru’s fingers tighten, his smirk widening as he catches suguru’s gaze. “enjoying the view, suguru?” he taunts, hips rolling up into your mouth with deliberate slowness.

his jaw clenches, but he doesn’t look away. “shut the fuck up,” he growls, voice rough with something darker than irritation.

your eyes flick up to meet satoru’s, your cheeks flushed, lips swollen and glistening. there’s a challenge in your gaze—daring him to stop you, to say something, anything.

suguru leans back in the chair, spreading his legs wider, his own arousal impossible to hide now.

“don’t stop on my account,” he murmurs, fingers trailing down to palm himself through his jeans. “unless you want me to join in.”

the room falls silent except for the wet sounds of your mouth working satoru over, the tension thick enough to choke on.

satoru’s grin turns vicious.

“well, y/n?” he purrs, tugging your hair just hard enough to make you whimper. “you gonna let him watch... or are you gonna make him beg for it?”

suguru’s breath hitches when you whimper, and nod your head at his suggestion before pulling your head back up to catch your breath.

satoru’s tip was pouting at you; it was furiously red mushroom leaking with pre cum. the pre cum that you initially used to give him a handjob. you lean in closer, letting your tongue slide up and down his tip as suguru sits behind, watching you. he must be a sick bastard, taking pleasure in this dirty sight of you but he couldn’t care less. not right now, at least. his own fist found his cock, eyes intently watching as you took satoru’s entire cock down your pretty throat.

you gag, but continue pushing yourself down further until the tip of his cock is hitting the back of your throat. saliva drips down your chin and onto satoru’s shaft when you pull your head back up. your tongue follows the bulging veins down his cock, your eyes occasionally flickering back up to take in the sight of the mess you’ve created out of gojo satoru. a sense of pride filling your mind. “you’re a pretty little thing,” satoru purrs before standing up, his height looming over you as you’re still sat on your knees.

his strong hand finds your hair again, pushing your face all the way down until you feel like you can’t breathe, and when he’s all the way down your throat, he wiggles your head to the side a bit before pulling his hips back and slamming into your mouth. suguru watches the sight, his hand still wrapped around his cock. he felt pathetic, sitting here pleasuring himself while satoru got the best treatment from you. it wasn’t fair.

“you’re being stingy, satoru.” suguru complains, standing up from the desk and walking toward the two of you. he stands next to the taller white-haired male, who let you get your air again. “well, i was here first.” satoru replies, wiping the spit off from your chin.

suguru’s fingers tighten, yanking your head back with a sharp tug. his other hand grips satoru’s shoulder, shoving him aside with a rough growl.

“move.”

satoru barely has time to protest before suguru’s claiming his spot in front of you, his free hand reaching for your face.

your lips part in a gasp when suguru thick cock nearly smacks your face, already leaking and flushed dark with need.

you look up at the two males, one long haired, and the other white-haired. you notice the stark differences in their cocks; suguru’s was thicker whereas satoru’s was longer, but the major similarity was how huge they both were. at the sight, your mouth watered, but your body was also filled with fear. “come on, pretty girl. get on the bed for me, okay?” suguru asks gently, helping you back onto your feet. “stay riiight here, at the edge.”

his voice is soft, in contrast to satoru’s, who sounds more teasing when he speaks to you. you’re positioned at the edge of the bed, your bra discarded somewhere on the floor. “i’ve been dying for a taste of this pretty pussy.” satoru murmurs from behind you, his head positioned right underneath your pussy as you were on both your hands and knees. your upper half is close to the edge of the bed, and suguru stands tall in front of you, his eyes falling down to get a better look of your face.

one hand held his cock, and it was a tannish color, his tip a slight pink— different than satoru’s. but it wasn’t a competition, at least not in your mind.

satoru’s hands find your thighs and his tongue slides across your slit, causing you to moan loudly before suguru grabs you by the chin, knocking you out of your trance. satoru was relentless though, his tongue sucking your bud while he pushed his slender fingers inside of you. “you okay, pretty?” suguru asks, and you nod your head in response, too dumbed out to use your words.

his hand still holds onto the shaft of his cock, but he’s smearing his pre cum all over your lips before you open your mouth, welcoming suguru inside. you wrap your split-slick lips around the mushroom tip, sucking lightly, your eyes fluttering up to look at suguru.

he doesn’t give you time to think—just drags you forward by the hair until his tip brushes the back of your throat.

“open wider.”

the command is rough, edged with something desperate. when you hesitates, suguru’s fingers tighten, forcing your mouth wider.

“you heard him, pretty,” satoru murmurs against your pussy, “don’t be so greedy.”

suguru doesn’t wait. he thrusts forward, groaning as your hot mouth envelops him, your tongue flattening against the underside of his cock.

“fuck—“ his hips jerk forward, driving deeper. “just like that. take it.”

satoru’s tongue pushes against your gummy walls, his own cock twitching as you gag around suguru’s length, tears welling in your eyes. “looks like she can handle more than one of us,” suguru muses, his grin feral.

suguru’s fingers tighten around your hair, his hips rolling in slow, deliberate thrusts as he watches your lips stretch around him. his other hand grips the base of his cock, guiding himself deeper down your throat with a groan.

“fuck, that’s it—“ his voice is rough, strained as your tongue flutters against his cock, the sensation making his thighs tremble. “take it all, pretty girl.”

behind you, satoru’s tongue flicks against your clit, his fingers pushing inside you just right—just enough to make your back arch, your moans vibrating around suguru’s cock.

“she’s fucking dripping,” satoru murmurs against your pussy, his breath hot. “think she can come just like this?”

suguru’s smirk is sharp as he pulls back just enough to let you gasp for air, his thumb swiping away the spit and tears from your chin.

“let’s find out.”

his grip tightens, yanking your head forward again, his cock sliding back into your throat with a wet pop. at the same time, satoru’s teeth graze your clit, his fingers pumping faster, deeper.

your body lurches, your thighs clamping around satoru’s head as pleasure crashes over you, your muffled scream swallowed by suguru’s thrusts.

“there it is,” satoru purrs, lapping at your oversensitive cunt as you tremble. “she’s close.”

suguru’s hips snap forward with a guttural groan as your throat constricts around him. his cock pulses against your tongue, the thick veins rubbing raw against your lips with every brutal thrust.

“oh fuck—“ his voice is shredded, breath ragged as he watches tears spill down your flushed cheeks. “gonna ruin your pretty throat, baby.” you sob at his words, your back arching up before satoru pulls you back down.

satoru’s tongue flicks against your clit like a serpent’s strike, his fingers curling just right inside you—hitting that spot that makes your vision whiten.

“she’s dripping all over my face,” satoru groans against your pussy, his lips glistening with your arousal. “gonna make you cum so hard you forget how to breathe without me.”

suguru’s smirk is predatory, his grip tightening as he rams his cock deeper, the swollen head nudging against your tight esophagus.

“do it,” he snarls. “make her choke on my dick while she screams.”

satoru doesn’t hesitate. hia tongue lashes at your clit like a whip, his fingers pistoning faster, harder.

your body convulses, back arching violently as pleasure detonates through you, your muffled scream vibrating around suguru’s cock.

“that’s it,” suguru groans, his hips stuttering as your throat milks him. “fuck—gonna fill that slutty mouth—“

he doesn’t finish before he’s erupting, his release flooding your throat in thick pulses, his fingers tightening on the back of your head to keep you impaled on him.

satoru pulls back with a wet sound, your juices smeared across his smirk. satoru’s gleaming with joy and pride, giving your clit one last kiss before pulling himself up and your ass a soft smack. “you finishing all over my face might be the best thing ever,” the white-haired male says, pulling your hips back against his pelvic area. his dick slides against your slit, but he doesn’t push himself any further into you.

“told you she’d break,” he purrs, licking his lips. suguru’s chest heaves as he finally pulls out, his thumb dragging through the mess on your chin.

suguru leans down, meeting eye level with you before kissing you passionately, his tongue pushing into your mouth and fighting with yours.

he’s dreamed about this for years, it felt completely unreal. “you gonna let me get a taste too?” suguru looks up at satoru, who’s already glaring down at him. “who said i wanted to share her pussy?” satoru raises his eyebrows mockingly, his hand digging into your hip.

“don’t be so greedy.” suguru teases, climbing onto the bed and hovering behind you. “move over, i’ve been dying to get a taste of this pretty pussy.” he says, pushing satoru to the side with his shoulder. you turn around, giving the two males a glare. “you guys are so fucking immature.”

both males look at you before switching positions; now suguru’s positioned behind you and gojo’s standing in front of you, hand pulling your head up. “you look so pretty like this, have i mentioned this before?” satoru asks softly, swiping his thumb over your lower lip slowly. the tall male leans down, flicking your lower lip with his tongue before kissing you hastily, like he was running out of time.

suguru’s the opposite of satoru, he takes his time with you, and his tongue follows an excruciatingly slow pace across your slit. satoru, on the other hand, is even more eager to please you— he’s quick to press his tip against your lips, and even quicker to push himself inside of your mouth. suguru wants to taste every part of you, just as he’d been dreaming about for years. he doesn’t want to waste a single drop of you.

“i really— really don’t think i can cum again so soon,” you hiccup, pulling your mouth back up, referring to a thirsty suguru underneath you. his tongue’s slow, and every stripe he licks is calculated. “we’ll see.” suguru murmurs, his fingers digging up into your thighs.

your focus is on the male in front of you, taking him in your mouth again, as suguru laps up your juices. you arch your back up, eyes fluttering up and meeting with satoru’s piercing blue ones. his hand brushes your cheek and he smiles down at you, watching as you struggle to take him down your throat. “you have to relax, baby.” he says, his voice soft. “breathe through your nose.” satoru reminds, and you follow his instructions, trying to calm yourself down.

suguru’s hands slide up your trembling thighs, his fingers pressing into your soft flesh as he drags his tongue through your slick folds with agonizing slowness. his dark eyes flick up to watch your face—the way your lashes flutter, the way your lips stretch around satoru’s cock—and he groans against your pussy, the vibration making your hips jerk.

“fuck, you taste even better than i imagined,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your oversensitive clit. his tongue swirls around it, teasing just enough to make you whimper around satoru’s length.

satoru’s hips roll forward to push deeper into your throat. “look at her,”he rasps, his blue eyes gleaming with pride. “taking us both so fucking well.”

suguru’s tongue flicks faster, his lips sealing around your clit to suck gently, his fingers digging into your thighs to keep you from squirming away.

“you can take it,” suguru murmurs, his voice rough. “gonna make you come again, pretty girl. gonna taste every drop.”

your body tightens, your back arching as pleasure coils low in your belly, your muffled moan vibrating around satoru’s cock.

it’s a constant battle between you and the two males, both eager to please you better than the other. it’s a silent competition and none of them are letting up. your eyes are back on satoru, and you’re focused how good you want to make him feel when your lips are wrapping around his cock.

your cheeks hallow out, allowing you to completely suck him in. satoru lolls his head back, his eyes staring up at the ceiling. he pushes your head slightly down, watching as his cock disappears in your mouth. the male shudders at the sight, painting the walls of your throat completely white.

you pull your head up, his cum coating your tongue. it’s a dangerous look on you, and it only makes him want to fuck you into oblivion, but he can’t. not with suguru being so stingy with your pussy.

you yelp, and cry as suguru continues fucking you with his long tongue. he hasn’t let up, not even while you’re sucking satoru off. your sounds are his greatest motivation, and the way your hips buck up against his face. he sucks on your clit, his teeth nibbling softly— not too hard to avoid you feeling any unnecessary pain. he was so considerate of you, always. despite how good you tasted, there was a little voice in the back of his head, telling him this was wrong because you were only supposed to be his best friend. but in all honesty, he didn’t care.

“oh, fuck.” you cry out when suguru’s tongue curves up inside of you, hitting that sweet spot. “i can’t— i can’t take it.” you murmur, and satoru grabs ahold of your chin, tilting your head up. “this is only the beginning, pretty.” as always, his tone makes it seem like he’s taunting you. and you feel like he is.

suguru’s fingers dig deeper into the soft flesh of your thighs, his tongue relentless as it fucks into your pussy with deep, curling strokes. his dark eyes flick back up to watch your face—the way your lips part around breathy moans, the way your lashes flutter as pleasure coils tighter and tighter in your belly.

“you can take it, i promise.” he growls against your clit, his teeth grazing the swollen bud enough to make you jolt. “you’re doing so fucking good for us.”

satoru’s thumb swipes across your lower lip, smearing his own cum as he tilts your chin up. “look at you,” he murmurs, his blue eyes dark with hunger. “taking us both like you were made for it.”

suguru’s tongue presses harder, his lips sealing around your clit to suck, the pressure just shy of too much.

your back arches, your thighs clamping around suguru’s head as you shatter, your cry muffled by satoru’s fingers pressing against your lips.

“that’s it,” suguru rasps, lapping up your mess as you tremble. “fucking perfect.” satoru’s grin is wicked as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear.

the two males smirk, looking down at you sprawled out on your knees. “you’re so fuckin’ greedy,” satoru snarls, “give me a break, you’ve had her pussy so many times already. stop being so fuckin’ selfish.”

“you ate her out therefore i get to fuck her first, and that’s fair enough.” satoru says, glaring at suguru with his piercing blue eyes. “yeah, right. i’ve been dying to fuck her, so you might have to sit this one out.” the long-haired male retorts, glaring back.

“why don’t you keep her pretty throat company for now, hm? i’m sure it’s dying for another taste.” satoru suggests, folding his arms across his bare chest. suguru chews on his lower lip, the suggestion sounding too appealing. “or,” satoru pauses, tongue gliding over his lower lip. “you can sit here, and take notes on how good i fuck her pussy.”

“right, because you think you could do better than me, huh?” suguru raises his eyebrows in annoyance, “trust me, i can. i know everything there is to know about this pretty little pussy, i’ve got more experience with it than you do.” satoru’s a cocky piece of shit, but he’s only correct— suguru’s never had any experience having sex with you.

his jaw ticks and before he can respond, you butt in. “can you guys grow the hell up? i’m sitting here naked, and you guys are still arguing.” satoru bats his eyelashes, then looks at suguru, who soon rolls his eyes. “fine. make it quick.” the male grumbles.

satoru licks his lips then taps his chin lightly, “what position do you want me to fuck you in, baby? missionary, so i can see your pretty face.” he hums to himself before settling his weight on his knees in front of you, his cock hitting your clit. you only moan in response to the contact, shutting your eyes as satoru’s dick slides up and down your slit.

he was merciless when it came to teasing you, and you couldn’t stand it. your mouth falls open and your head lolls back once satoru slips inside of you, he brings one of your lega up to better angle himself as he bottoms out inside of you. the initial stretch both hurt and excited you, just as it always did. you always thought satoru was just a cocky piece of shit, but he had a lot to back up his claims. obviously.

with your almost crossed eyes, satoru fucks you hard, not bothering to get you adjusted to his overwhelmingly large size. his pace is rough and relentless, and he’s fucking you like there’s no tomorrow. he grabs onto your hands, pulling them up as he fucks into your drooling pussy.

suguru’s fingers dig into the sheets, his jaw clenched as he watches satoru’s cock disappear into your dripping pussy over and over. the wet slap of skin against skin fills the room, mingling with your breathy moans and satoru’s rough groans.

“fuck,” satoru’s grip tightens on your wrists, his hips snapping forward with brutal precision. “told you i knew how to fuck this pussy better.”

suguru’s nostrils flare, his cock throbbing at the sight of you taking satoru so easily—like you were made for him.

“bullshit,” suguru growls, crawling behind you, his chest pressing against your back. his fingers yank your head back to expose your throat. “you’re just impatient.”

satoru’s grin is feral as he fucks into you harder, his balls slapping against your clit with every thrust. “and you're just jealous.”

suguru’s teeth sink into your shoulder, his free hand sliding down to circle your clit, his fingers working in time with satoru’s thrusts.

“you gonna cum on his cock?” suguru murmurs against your skin, his voice dark with promise as you nod your head eagerly. “let him feel how tight you get when you fall apart.”

satoru’s losing himself by the second in your slippery walls, and he can feel you pulsating around his cock. his head falls back, and his mouth drops open. “you always take me so fuckin’ good, baby.” his words are a silent praise to your ears, and you’re too dumbified to respond properly, you can only let out a series of loud moans.

with no use of your hands because satoru’s holding onto them, you tilt your head up, only to meet with suguru’s observant gaze, and his cock hardening by the second. your mouth drools at the sight of his fat cock, and you’re dying for another taste.

satoru cocks his head to the side, the ghost of a scowl on his lips as he catches your wandering eyes. unfortunately, satoru was the biggest tease you ever met— he’d feed off of getting you all high and then leaving you there. he pulls his hips back, causing you to frown at the sudden loss of contact. before you can form a protest, he’s ramming into you again, forcing you to lose focus and turn away from suguru.

satoru gojo was a very jealous man, and he wasn’t ashamed of it. he had no reason to be. he barely wanted to share your pussy in the first place, but he was deciding to be generous today. staring up at another man while he was fucking you? yeah, that ticked him the hell off.

his pace is merciless, and he’s not just fucking you for the hell of it anymore, he’s fucking you to prove a point. to prove that he can fuck you better than suguru. his hand holds onto both of yours tightly as he fucks his jealousy out.

abs flexing, and his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, satoru can feel you shuddering around his length. “i’m so close.” you cry out, your voice muffled from being so overstimulated. he only smirks, shaking his head. “and you think you deserve to cum so easily?”

suguru’s dark eyes burn as he watches satoru ruin you—watches the way your pussy clenches around his cock, the way your thighs tremble with every brutal thrust.

“fuck, look at you,” suguru groans, his voice rough with need. “taking him so good, gorgeous.”

satoru’s grip on your wrists is vicious, his hips snapping forward with a snarl. “eyes on me, baby,” he orders, his voice dark with possession. “you wanna cum? earn it.”

his pace turns ruthless, his cock driving into you with punishing precision, each thrust aimed to break you.

suguru’s smirk is sharp as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear. satoru’s jaw clenches, his hips stuttering as your pussy squeezes him.

“fuck fuck fuck—“

he laughs, and it’s a bitter one. he pushes himself into you fully, one last forceful thrust before you cum all over him. he’s not chasing his own high for much longer until he’s coating your walls with his seed, a harsh reminder of who you belong to. the white-haired male fucks his cum deep inside of you, smiling as he does so. his pelvic area is glistening with your slick and he pulls out, causing you to fall flat against suguru’s chest. you yelp, unable to move yourself from the position you were pressed in.

“you did a great job, baby.” satoru says, his tone softer than it initially was. “you always take me so well.” he adds on, running a hand down your body soothingly.

suguru sits up from his seat on the bed, his cock aching with the need to release as you fall back against the pillows. “you’re really the greediest person i’ve ever met.” the long-haired male glares at satoru, who only smirks in response. “and you’re impatient, good work always takes time.”

suguru hovers above you, a hand grasping onto your hip as satoru settles at the edge of the bed. “you okay, pretty?” and you nod your head at his question. he hums to himself before helping you up, his knees sinking into the mattress. “i want to see your pretty face.” he murmurs, fixing your head on the pillows so he’s looking down at you.

now, you both are in bed. your back against the mattress and your legs almost reach your ears. he has you in a mating press, but you have no complaints.

suguru’s hands grip your thighs, spreading them wider as he lines his thick cock up with your dripping entrance. his dark eyes lock onto yours, hungry, and possessive.

“look at you,” he murmurs, his voice rough. “all spread out for me like a fucking dream.”

satoru watches from the edge of the bed, his smirk sharp as he drags a lazy hand over his own cock. “better make it good, suguru.”

suguru’s jaw clenches, his hips snapping forward in one brutal thrust, burying himself to the hilt in your tight heat. “oh— oh.” you moan out loudly, eyes nearly rolling back.

“shut the fuck up, satoru.” he snarls, his fingers digging into your thighs.

your back arches, a broken moan tearing from your throat as suguru fills you, his cock stretching you in every way possible.

“just like thaaat,” suguru groans, his hips rolling in slow, deep thrusts. “take every fucking inch.”

satoru’s smirk fades, his blue eyes darkening as he watches suguru claim you—watches the way your pussy clenches around him, the way your nails scratch at his chest.

“oh, fuck.” satoru’s hand fists his cock, his jaw tight. suguru’s pace turns ruthless, his hips snapping forward with punishing force, his fingers bruising your skin.

his thick cock stretches your walls out so good, your teeth sink into your lower lip and your eyes are almost cross-eyed as suguru begins fucking you. his pace dreadfully slow, like he’s trying to relish in every second he has with you. your sweet pussy squeezes around him so good, suguru can’t help but drag out a long groan. him biting into his bottom lip didn’t help one bit.

he’s so deeply inside of you, you swear you can feel him in your chest. each one of his thrusts cause the headboard to bang against the wall.

suguru breathes out, hair falling down his face, eyes watching as your tits bounce with every one of his violent thrusts. he smirks, his ears perking with every loud moan you make. seems like those sounds weren’t only for satoru, after all.

he presses his hand against your belly, eyes gleaming with joy as he looks up into your eyes. “feel that, baby? i’m riiight here.” your tummy bulges with each one of his merciless strokes. he slams back into your pussy, raw and stretched, your pussy sucking him in, it was almost like it didn’t want to let him go.

you’re a trembling, crying, blubbering mess and you didn’t have the brain power to be humiliated about it right now. satoru’s jaw is clenching at the sight, and his arms fold against his bare chest as he sits back, continuing to watch the lewd scene unfold in front of him. it hurts, but it’s good, so fucking good, the way his cock fills you completely, hitting every spot imaginable.

suguru’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thigh, his groan rough and filthy as your pussy milks him with every punishing thrust. his dark eyes burn into yours, watching the way your face twists with pleasure, the way your lips part around breathy whimpers.

“shiiiit,” his voice is guttural, his hips snapping forward with *brutal* precision. “look at you—taking me so fucking deep.”

your stomach bulges slightly with each ram of his cock, the sight making suguru pulse with possessive heat. he grinds his hips in tight circles, the swollen head of his cock dragging against your sweet spot until you’rere shaking. “you like that?” he growls, his thumb pressing down on your lower belly, right where his cock stretches you. “that’s me owning this perfect pussy.”

satoru’s jaw ticks, his fingers digging into his own thighs as he watches, his blue eyes dark with hunger.

“oh, fuck.” suguru’s pace turns vicious, his balls slapping against your ass with every pounding thrust. “gonna fill you up—mark you so deep even he won’t forget who you belong to.”

his cock pounds into your slick heat with animalistic precision. every snap of his hips makes your stomach jump, the obscene bulge visible beneath your skin as he rams himself deeper than anyone’s ever been before.

“fuck—“ his voice is raw, guttural, his dark eyes locked on where your pussy stretches around him. “look at you—taking me like you were made for this cock.”

the slap of skin against skin is filthy, violent, the headboard banging against the wall with every brutal thrust. your tits bounce wildly, your nipples pebbled and aching, your mouth drooling as suguru fucks you like tomorrow isn’t guaranteed.

satoru’s fingers dig into his own thighs, his jaw clenched so tight it hurts. his cock throbs, neglected, as he watches suguru ruin you—watches the way your pussy grips him, sucking him back in every time he pulls out.

your back bows, your vision whiting out as your orgasm flashes right through you.

suguru groans, his release flooding you in thick, hot spurts as your pussy milks him dry. satoru’s breath hitches, his cock leaking as suguru pulls out, his cum dripping from your ruined hole.

suguru looks down at you as he drags his cock out of you slowly, and you’re looking back up at him. “i didn’t know you can make those sounds for other people too,” satoru huffs, rolling his eyes at you and suguru. the long-haired male falls beside you on the mattress, chest heaving up and down due to your activities. though, you might’ve felt more tired than he did.

you lay in the middle of the mattress, feeling the weight shift when gojo lays on the other side of you. it’s quiet in the room, until satoru’s loud voice breaks the silence:

“so who was better?”

part one rin version

synopsis: you just barely escaped the heated cabin, now you’re trapped in a house with your boyfriend and his hot older brother. are you fighting for this relationship? or are you crossing another line that can’t be uncrossed?

pairings: itoshi sae x reader, slight itoshi rin x reader

content: smut, infidelity, relationship with rin, degradation, biting kink, kiss in the rain, kinda angsty, cheating on rin with sae (sorry), unprotected p in v sex, teasing, pet names, vaginal fingering, oral (f receiving), vaginal sex, spit kinky, choking, big d!ck sae, pussydrunk sae, denial of feelings, emotional and physical cheating, rin slander (i’m sorry), reader’s kind of a slut, #ihatemybf reader

wc: 10.5k (sorry i got carried away)

it wasn’t right. this wasn’t right— what you were doing. that’s what you told yourself every time your eyes lingered onto sae longer than they should. unbeknownst to your poor boyfriend, you were still sleeping with his brother. if that wasn’t bad enough, he even vowed to spend more time with you and you were still doing it.

isn’t that what you wanted?

so why do you keep seeking comfort in sae?

this whole thing was fucked. you and sae both knew it, but you didn’t do anything to stop it. a part of you didn’t want to, because you finally got the attention you wanted for so long, from someone else.

you should’ve told rin the truth as soon as you snuck out of that bathroom, and rounded around the cabin. you didn’t, though. you stood in front of him, kissed him, and took the bouquet without saying a word about what you did with his older brother. even as sae watched in the corner.

you told yourself it was a one time thing, just a moment of weakness and you love your boyfriend… right?

sae slots himself in between your legs, his fingers sneaking past the waistband of your shorts, as he pushes his tongue into your mouth. you don’t push him away, if anything you lift your hips up to help him pull the shorts down.

“we should stop.” you murmur against his lips, and he pulls back to look at you with those half-lidded eyes. “do you want to?” you sink your teeth into your lower lip before shaking your head at his words. why the hell would you want to stop? maybe because your boyfriend is downstairs with his parents right now? even regardless of that fact, it felt way too good to stop. too normal. sae hums in acknowledge, slender fingers teasing you through your underwear.

it was embarrassing how soaked you are, just from one little touch. then you started thinking about rin, and you shut your eyes. “okay, no i lost it.” sae groans, pulling his hand up from your shorts. “i’m sorry! i keep thinking about him.” you sit up on his bed, pulling your shorts back up.

“seriously?” you nod your head, standing up from the bed. “it’s not my fault, he just– he apologized and got me those flowers.” you sigh deeply, face-palming yourself.

sae exhales sharply through his nose—part frustration, part reluctant amusement—before dragging a hand down his face.

“flowers.” his tone is flat. disbelieving. like he can’t believe that’s all it took to make you hesitate. “he ignored you for months, and now some fucking petals are enough to make you feel guilty?”

a beat passes where he just... stares at you, teal eyes cutting through every excuse you could possibly have left. then—with deliberate slowness—he leans back against the headboard, arms crossing over his chest like he’s settling in for a show he already knows the ending to. “run back to him if that’s what you really want.” a smirk curls at one corner of his mouth—cold and knowing. “we both know how this ends anyway: him ignoring you, and you looking for attention.”

you clench your jaw, rolling your eyes at his taunting words. “that’s not true, he’ll change. it already feels different now.” sae only hums, barely acknowledging you once he looks down at his phone. “oh? then why’re you here?”

why are you here? sae could answer that question for you, but you’d only be upset. deep down, you already know that things aren’t going to change permanently and you’ll end up in the same spot again: sae’s open arms.

you don’t back down, and you don’t give into him again. you want to be with rin, you want things to work out with him. “i don’t know.” you muster out, looking around his bedroom

“whatever. i should go before they come up.” you murmur, turning to leave the room. “hm, okay.”

god, why does he get under your skin so easily? whatever. there’s no time for you to lounge around in here, you have to focus on your relationship with rin. not sae.

sae watches you turn to leave, that infuriating smirk still playing at the edge of his lips. he doesn’t stop you. doesn’t call after you.

but just as your hand reaches the doorknob—

“you’ll be back.”

three words. casual. certain. like he already has tomorrow’s weather forecast memorized and it’s your name written in bold letters across the screen instead of rain or sunshine.

he doesn’t even look up from his phone when he says it—just keeps scrolling with one shoulder lazily propped against the headboard like none of this matters to him. the door clicks shut behind you a second later but not fast enough to drown out the quiet chuckle that follows you out into the hallway.

when you go downstairs, the first thing you’re met with is the slight smile on your boyfriend’s lips. “hey, you okay?” rin asks, giving your hand a gentle squeeze. you were trying your best to smile, but the guilt inside was only increasing by the second. “yeah, yeah.. just tired.”

“yeah, that car ride back was terrible.” rin murmurs in agreement, looking into your eyes. he has a feeling that something’s off, but he isn’t sure enough to bring it up. not yet. his thumb taps against your hand, and you smile in response.

“when are we going back?”

rin sighs deeply, running a hand down his face. “unfortunately, my mom needs me around for a few more days.” shit. that wasn’t good. not one bit. “a few?”

“yeah, and it’d be nice for me to see some people i used to play soccer with.” your stomach sinks, and it takes everything in you to keep that smile from faltering right in front of rin. just a few more days, you tell yourself.

it’s fine.

it’s fine.

you force another smile—bright and reassuring—before replying, “of course. whatever you want.” rin’s expression softens ever so slightly—an indication that maybe he hasn’t noticed the tension in the air between you. either that, or he doesn’t care. or a bit of both, perhaps.

either way, one thing’s for sure: you’re screwed.

even when you’re laying in bed with rin that night, your mind drifts off to what happened in the cabin with sae. you feel terrible, looking up at the ceiling while rin sleeps peacefully next to you. his arm hangs around your waist, and his face is nearly buried in the crook of your neck.

but you can’t even get too comfortable thinking about sae, because then you’re thinking about what happened when rin got back to the cabin:

rin stands in front of the locked bathroom door, lips pressed together in a straight line before he speaks again. “have you seen y/n?” sae bites his tongue, sparing you a glance before replying. “no, she told me she was going on a walk to clear her mind. why?”

“well,” rin pauses, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. “i bought her.. flowers, i just wanted to apologize for everything. i guess, i’ll wait.. then.”

sae’s jaw ticks slightly, and you would have missed it if you weren’t staring so damn hard. “yeah, she just left so she’ll probably be awhile.” he says to his poor brother, who’s clutching a bouquet in his sweaty hands. “okay, if you see her.. don’t mention anything. i’m gonna help mom and dad with the fire for tonight.”

his footsteps recede, and sae removes his hand from your mouth. your eyes are wide, and you’ve replaced his hand with your own as you process the situation at hand.

“what are we going to do?” you whisper-yell, and sae only looks at you with those burning teal eyes.

“we?” he almost scoffs at your words, like you’re the insane one. “you fucked your boyfriend’s brother, this isn’t my problem.”

you roll your eyes forcibly, pulling your nearly ripped underwear back up. “oh, really? well guess what, you’re the brother.” you throw him a glare as you look in the mirror behind you. “well, he went outside so just.. sneak around the back.” sae says, like it’s common sense.

sae leans back, arms crossed, watching you scramble to make yourself presentable with an infuriating smirk. his teal eyes gleam with dark amusement, tracking every frantic movement of your hands as you adjust your clothes, your flushed face, the way your breath still comes in uneven little gasps.

“looking great,” he murmurs, voice low and taunting. “might want to fix that before you go play the doting girlfriend.”

you shoot him a glare, fingers fumbling with the tie of your shorts. sae just chuckles, pushing off the wall to step closer, his fingers catching your chin, tilting your face to his.

you groan, burying your face in your hands as you stand there. this was so wrong. so, so wrong. what was WRONG with you? why couldn’t you just be happy with one brother?

“relax,” he hums, thumb brushing over your kiss-swollen lips. “just act natural. or don’t.” he shrugs. “might be fun to see how long it takes him to figure it out.”

he releases you with a final, mocking pat to your ass, then saunters out of the bathroom, leaving you standing there—disheveled, guilty, and aching for more.

outside, rin’s voice drifts in from the campfire, oblivious. and sae’s already planning your next private moment.

as unfortunate as this whole situation happens to be, you end up pathetically sneaking out the backdoor and rounding the cabin like a sixteen year old trying to sneak out.

their parents smile at you, “how was the walk?” now they’re all looking at you, even rin and sae. when sae leans in close to tell rin something, you feel your whole world shatter around you. “really.. really nice, the weather’s great today.” you reply, dryly. rin stands up from his spot on the log, and he’s already walking toward you. oh god. you just want to curl up in a ball and die. “can we talk?” he asks, reluctantly locking eyes with you.

your gaze averts from his, and somehow it lands on sae, who’s already staring at the both of you. “yeah, yeah.” rin’s lips curl up slightly, and he reaches for your hand. you hesitate, but you end up letting him guide you back into the cabin.

when you step inside, the atmosphere shifts and you notice everything that even seems a little off-putting: the welcome manual being knocked off the counter, the subtle nail marks on the counter, just everything that you forgot to put back into place. rin murmurs something about needing one second before he walks into the bedroom, leaving you in the living room.

rin comes back around, and there are flowers in his hand. the sight makes your heart shatter and glue itself back together. what if you waited? what if you didn’t give in to sae and his words? could your relationship have been just going through a rough patch and you threw it all away? for what?

“i know i haven’t been attentive lately.” rin starts, fingers tapping nervously around the bottom of the bouquet. lately? try spending almost six months with no affection or attention from your significant other. “but i’ve just.. been prioritizing other things over you, which isn’t entirely fair. soccer’s important to me, but so are you.”

you hold a nervous smile on your lips, teeth chewing at the skin on your lower lip. he doesn’t stop speaking, and it makes your stomach twist with something ugly.

as he speaks, the words go in one ear and out the other; your attention drifting every few words. it’s the usual excuses: too busy with his own goals to pay attention to your relationship; he’s sorry that you feel neglected, but it’s not his fault soccer takes up most of his time.

it’d almost be easier if he was angry or mean or rude, but no. rin’s being the same person hems always been—sweet (in his own way), gentle, thoughtless. he just doesn’t see anything wrong. he never does.

you nod your head gently, hoping he doesn’t notice the way your eyes flicker to the floor—like this is hard on you too. “of course, i.. i get it. soccer is important to you.”

“but our relationship should be important too, rin. you have to find some sort of balance. i can’t just... keep waiting around in the sidelines for you to find time for me.” your throat tightens as you finally meet his eyes, and he nods his head in agreement. your eyes drift away from his, and down to the flowers in his grasp.

the flowers are pretty—soft petals and vibrant colors, carefully arranged. the kind of bouquet you’d give someone when you’re trying to prove something. but you can barely focus on them, not when your pulse is hammering so loud in your ears that you swear rin must hear it too.

“i know, i want to do better.” he says—voice quieter now, like he actually means it. like this isn’t just another empty promise that’ll dissolve the next second.

and for a moment? you let yourself believe him.

because what if?

what if things could go back to how they were before?

what if you hadn’t already crossed lines that can’t be uncrossed?

then rin steps closer, and the scent of those damn flowers hits you full force: sweet and suffocating and wrong wrong wrong because all you can think about is how sae’s hands smelled like soap when they were all over your body. when rin passes the flowers to you like some sorta peace offering, your hands wrap around them tightly. and he pulls you in for a hug. a hug. for the first time in a long time, you feel relaxed, even if it’s just for a few moments.

and that’s how you ended up here: in rin’s childhood bedroom for what feels like eternity. every time you step out into the hallway, your eyes drift to sae’s bedroom door. but they can’t. you’re dedicating yourself to fixing your relationship with rin, all secrets and sins buried in the past, that happened to only be two days ago. whatever. all that matters is you and rin.

that’s what you tell yourself every time you walk past sae, or when your shoulders brush.

you stand by rin’s open door, when he’s walking up the stairs to you. “hey, everything okay?” he smiles softly at you, and you return the same smile, reaching out to grab his hand. “yeah, is anyone here?”

rin gives your hand a squeeze before responding, “no, sae went out to practice and my parents are working.” you hum in acknowledgement, watching as he shuts the bedroom door and walks back over to where you’re standing.

your fingers curl into the fabric of rin’s shirt as he pulls you close—his lips warm against yours, his hands gentle where they rest on your waist. it’s everything you should want. everything you told yourself, you were fighting for again.

but when your eyes flutter open mid-kiss?

you catch sight of the soccer cleats discarded by the door—ones sae had kicked off yesterday after practice, still caked in mud from the field. and suddenly all you can think about is how his hands hadn’t been gentle at all when they bent you over the counter two nights ago—how he didn’t ask before biting marks into your skin like he knew they’d outlast any bouquet rin could ever give you.

rin pulls back slightly, brows furrowed. “you okay?”

you force a nod even though every cell in your body is screaming liar. because what else is there to say?

(“i had sex with your brother at that stupid cabin.”)

(“i still think about it.”)

(“i don’t know how to stop wanting it.”)

instead? you look at him with that soft smile and kiss him again—desperate to convince you both that this time... this time things will be different.

“let’s go out for dinner tomorrow.” rin hums, looking into your eyes. you part your lips before a grin falls into place, “oh, i’d definitely love that.”

“figured.”

and before anything else can happen, the front door creaks open. a harsh reminder that this false reality will just keep cracking until you tell the truth. there are a few moments of silence when you pull away from rin, until there’s a knock at the door. “yeah? come in.”

and there he is: itoshi sae. the reason your breath hitches every time you

step foot out of this bedroom. “what do you want?” rin questions, pulling away from you to face sae.

sae’s teal eyes brush past you, just how they did at the restaurant. like he doesn’t care about you, like he didn’t even notice you.

the moment sae’s indifferent gaze slides past you, you feel something inside you snap.

rin tenses beside you, oblivious to the way your breath catches when sae finally does look at you. “practice got canceled,” sae deadpans before nodding toward the hallway. “mom wants you downstairs.”

and just like that? he’s gone again—leaving behind nothing but the scent of cologne and something unshakably him clinging to the doorway. rin sighs, pressing a kiss to your temple like some pathetic consolation prize before following after him…

---leaving you alone with three cruel realizations:

1. you’re still staring at where sae stood.

2. your hands are shaking.

3. rin didn’t even notice either one.

and that’s when you realize these next few days are going to be torture.

the next morning, rin leaves at around ten for some event that you weren’t really paying attention to. you were too busy trying your best to avoid sae and those wandering teal eyes. unfortunately, luck wasn’t on your side.

you were stepping out of the bathroom in nothing but a towel, when you bumped into sae.

the moment your bare shoulder brushes against sae’s chest, time seems to freeze. water droplets cling to your skin, sliding down the curve of your collarbone—the same one he’d bitten purple two nights ago.

sae doesn’t move. doesn’t even breathe as his gaze drags from that mark up to your widened eyes with agonizing slowness.

“careful,” he murmurs—voice so low it rumbles through the inch of space between them like a threat (or a promise). one hand lifts, almost instinctively, toward where the towel knots at your chest before curling into a fist and dropping back to his side.

then sae steps back—just enough for cold air to rush between you—and smirks down at your trembling lips.

“wouldn’t want you falling again.”

how cruel that single word sounds when you both know exactly what - who - you keep tripping over.

you finally breathe when sae walks away from you and back into his bedroom, shutting your eyes tightly before straightening yourself out. no. not today. you and rin were going out together, on an actual date. the first one in months.

you can’t keep letting these little things cloud your vision, at least that’s what you remind yourself once rin’s bedroom door shuts and you lean your head back against it.

to ease your mind, you get ready for your planned date at a small restaurant you and rin both agreed on last night. for the most part, it helps calm your nerves and you aren’t thinking about sae that much. overall, things calmed down for the rest of the day. rin’s mother checked on you, of course, but you were just thankful sae hadn’t been poking his nose anywhere near you.

when rin sends you a text, telling you that he won’t be able to pick you up, your jaw clenches so tight you think it might actually crack. with a sigh, you’re walking down the stairs only to see sae lounging on the couch, legs spread, and his shirt rising slightly with every arm movement.

“y/n, are you eating dinner?” his mother pokes her head out from the kitchen, smiling at you. “no, rin and i are supposed to be going to dinner in half an hour.”

“oh right, rin told me that he wouldn’t have enough time to stop back here so i offered sae up as your chauffeur.”

you and sae both look at her like she’s lost her damn mind, but she doesn’t comment any further, she just sneaks back off into the kitchen. sae driving you to your date with his brother? that couldn’t possibly end well. “you guys should get going now before traffic hits!” she calls out from the kitchen.

“fuck,” sae murmurs before standing up from the couch, “let’s go.”

sae snatches the car keys off the counter with more force than necessary—knuckles white around the metal as he strides past you toward the door. he doesn’t wait for you to follow.

“hurry up,” he tosses over his shoulder, voice dripping with something you can’t recognize. “wouldn’t want you late for your romantic evening.”

the way he emphasizes those last two words makes your stomach flip because you both know damn well that every second spent in that car together is another layer of sin stacked atop what you’ve already done.

you hesitate at the threshold until his mom pokes her head out again with a cheerful: “don’t forget your jacket!” as if you should be worrying about the cold amidst the other things going on in your life.

he doesn’t even look at you as he walks up to the door, but still holds it open with a mocking gesture like the perfect gentleman. “after you.” you hesitate, fingers clenching around your bag. then you step outside, ignoring the shiver that races down your spine as he follows close behind.

the silence once you both get in the car is deafening—at least as far as you’re concerned. every single one of your nerves feels like it’s frayed, stretched to the limit and threatening to snap with even the slightest pressure. not that sae seems half as bothered: cool as ever in the driver’s seat with one hand lazily draped over the steering wheel and the other tapping an erratic beat along the gearshift like he’s got absolutely nowhere to be.

your nails dig into your clutch the entire car ride, knuckles tightening as sae’s fingers—those damn fingers—tap lazily against the steering wheel. the silence is thick enough to choke on, broken only by the GPS announcing turns neither of you acknowledge.

then he finally breaks the silence.

“you gonna tell him?” sae’s voice is ice-cold, gaze never leaving the road like this conversation isn’t gutting you both alive. you stiffen, “didn’t think so.” you don’t answer, you don’t even look at him.

the drive falls into another silence. uncomfortably so. but it’s not just the lack of conversation that makes your skin prickle with nerves—it’s the knowledge that at any moment, everything could snap back into focus and all the things you’ve been trying to forget will flood back in again. you sneak a glance over at sae, but his gaze is fixed on the road ahead.

every red light feels like a taunt, every sidelong glance from him searing through your resolve like fire.

you grip your clutch tighter, staring out the window as neon signs blur past. this is fine. it’s just a ride. just five more minutes of pretending you don’t notice how his cologne mixes with the leather seats or how his thigh flexes when he shifts gears.

“you know,” sae muses suddenly, voice dripping with amusement as he pulls up to the restaurant, “this would be easier if you stopped pretending.”

your head snaps toward him so fast it hurts. “what?”

but before you can say anything else, he’s already nodding toward the entrance to the restaurant. sae leans over then, close enough for his breath to ghost over your ear as he murmurs. “have fun on your date, y/n.”

when the car door shuts behind you, you can still feel those teal eyes burning into the back of your head. you’re trying to remind yourself of your self-restraint, and that you’re here for your boyfriend. not his brother.

your nerves settle once the car drives away, but they pick up against when your phone vibrates in your purse. it was a text from rin, saying he’d be five minutes late. typical. you sigh deeply, unsure of whether or not you should go inside the restaurant.

is it worse to sit inside alone? or is it worse to stay outside alone? you decide to stand outside, and hey, the restaurant even had a few benches to the side so you decided to sit on one. it’s just five minutes, right? you sit on the bench, tapping your fingers against the railing.

time passes slowly, leaving you alone with your thoughts. the city seems to blur around you until there’s nothing left but the hum of traffic and the quiet hum of your own breathing; even the neon lights hanging above the sidewalk have lost their vibrancy—dulled beneath the moon that hangs low overhead.

five minutes turns into ten.

and then twenty.

and then thirty.

you check your phone at every ping. look up at every passing car. where is he? each car that passes—that doesn’t have rin behind the wheel—feels like a cruel joke. the cold air bites at her skin, and you rub your arms in a futile attempt to keep warm. maybe you should have just gone inside.

you were seconds from stomping your foot in frustration when a familiar voice calls out your name. only this time, it doesn’t belong to rin.

sae.

of course. of course he had to be the one to find you sulking on a bench like some goddamn abandoned puppy.

“what are you doing here?” he doesn’t even have an answer for you, not one that makes sense anyway. he could make up an excuse, but why is he here? why did he turn around when he had a gut feeling that rin was going to flake?

“i know my brother.” is all sae says when he sits next to you on the bench. the cold bench creaks under sae’s weight as he drops beside you, close enough that your knees nearly brush. neon reflections dance across his sharp features when he tilts his head toward you, “you look pathetic.”

it isn’t cruel. if anything, it’s the first honest thing either of you has said all night.

you open your mouth to retort—then freeze when sae shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders without ceremony. the lining still carries the heat from his body, along with that infuriatingly familiar scent of his expensive cologne.

“he’s not coming,” sae adds simply, staring straight ahead at the traffic like he’s discussing tomorrow’s weather rather than confirming what you’ve both known for years: rin will always choose soccer over you in the end.

a cab honks somewhere in the distance as you finally cave and fist your trembling hands in borrowed fabric—because damn him, damn him for being right, damn him for noticing you were shaking before you even realized it yourself.

then sae stands abruptly and offers a hand down to you with that stupid smirk, “i’m starving. you buying me dinner or what?”

you can’t help the smile that falls on your lips at his words, “i hate you.” there’s no animosity behind your words, just pure humor. you take his hand, and he doesn’t say anything. his mouth twitches, but that’s as far as you’re going to get. don’t expect anything more from him.

the moment your fingers slide into his, sae’s grip tightens just enough to make your breath catch, his calloused palm against yours like a brand before he’s tugging you upright with that infuriating ease of his. neon lights paint his smirk in technicolor as he mutters, “could’ve fooled me.”

and oh, how dangerously close that cuts to the truth neither of you will say aloud.

you expect him to drop your hand immediately—the usual cold distance you experienced from rin—but sae lingers for one heartbeat… two… thumb brushing fleetingly over your knuckles before shoving both hands into his pockets like even that much contact was a mistake.

“car’s this way,” he grunts, already striding ahead as if he’s daring you not to follow. the jacket draped over your shoulders smells like trouble and tastes like every bad decision you’ll make tonight.

it’s a little too quiet, only the faint hum of passing cars and the thump of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears.

sae’s fingers twitch against the steering wheel—just once—as you slide into the passenger seat still wrapped in his jacket. the leather creaks when you shift, your shoulders brushing too deliberately in the cramped space. neither of you acknowledge it.

“you’re paying,” he reminds you flatly, shifting gears with unnecessary force.

you exhale through your nose—half-exasperated, half-something warmer—and finally allow yourself to sink into the heat of sae’s lingering presence along your shoulders. “yeah, yeah.. arrogant bastard.”

the corner of sae’s mouth kicks up as he merges onto the main road, “keep talking like that,” he murmurs, knuckles whitening on the gearshift for reasons entirely unrelated to driving, “and i might actually start charging interest.”

and oh, how terrifyingly easy it is to forget about rin when sae drives just a little too fast around corners just to hear you gasp or presses his knee between yours at red lights like he owns every inch of space between you.

“you’re an idiot, you know that?”

sae hums in response, shooting you a side glance as he drives. “what are you in the mood for?”

“a milkshake.”

“that’s not food, y/n.”

“and?” you huff—half-pouting, half-teasing—as you prop your elbow against the door, head tipped against one hand. “i want a milkshake– no, i deserve a milkshake.”

sae doesn’t even have to look at you to know you’re pouting over there like a brat. he glances sideways, briefly eyeing the curve of your chin before focusing back on the road.

“it’s still not food.”

you roll your eyes, “it has ice cream. It counts.”

the traffic light glares red ahead, bathing his profile in a harsh crimson glow. you watch silently as a muscle in his jaw tics—as the shadows shift and deepen on his face in ways that shouldn’t be as attractive as they are—and suddenly something warm unfurls somewhere beneath your ribs.

then the light turns green, and the moment breaks.

“you’re impossible.” sae’s grip tightens on the wheel as he abruptly changes lanes toward a 24-hour diner. the fluorescent sign casts eerie shadows across his sharp cheekbones when he pulls into the parking lot. you grin widely at the sight of the bright diner lights, “i guess, the itoshi sae does have a heart, huh?”

“don’t start,” sae grumbles, stepping out of the car at the same time as you. when he walks side by side with you into the diner, it all feels so natural. like he’s the one you should be doing this with.

and when you get in the diner and order that milkshake you’ve been craving all night, he pays for you. he also orders the world’s smallest container of french fries. you make it a point to tease him about it once you both sit down.

“come on, get something sweet.” you plead, lips wrapping around the straw in your milkshake. “these fries are already messing up my very, very healthy diet.” sae teases, a half-smile fighting its way onto his lips.

“get a chocolate milkshake or something.. you look sad eating three french fries out of a little box.”

and maybe, just maybe he did end up getting the chocolate milkshake. no particular reason why.

between stolen fries and sarcastic banter, something dangerously close to comfortable settles between you—until sae’s phone lights up with rin’s name mid-bite. the air goes thick. static. you watch sae decline the call without hesitation and think this is how it ends—not with dramatic confessions or slammed doors, but with chocolate syrup smeared at the corner of sae’s mouth that you resist wiping away... until he catches you staring and dares, “problem?”

always. but for first time after the incident, you don’t pull away when his fingers brush yours reaching for the same napkin.

“no, no problem at all.” you muse, stealing one of his fries.

sae’s fingers linger against yours, calloused skin brushing soft in a moment that stretches too long to be accidental. the diner’s neon glow paints his slight smirk in shades of pink and blue, his teal eyes burning with challenge as he leans in.

“you’re staring,” he murmurs, voice rough around the edges. your pulse jumps, fingers twitching against the crumpled napkin. you should pull back. should laugh it off.

outside, rain starts pattering against the windows.

“am i?” you manage to spit out (and, if it isn’t a miracle that the words come out at all). you hold his gaze, refusing to look away because there’s something about this moment, something about this diner’s buzzing lights and too-loud music and sae’s knee bumping against yours beneath the table that makes you feel a little bit brave. sae watches you, something shifting in his expression as you lean in.

the rain drums soft against the windows like an unwelcome observer. it paints a curtain over the world as sae’s eyes darken with the storm, lips crooking in a sharp smirk.

“you gonna look away, or keep pretending you don’t want something you can’t have?”

“maybe i just like what i see,” you counter, voice barely above the din of clattering dishes and rain-slick streets. the words hang between you—dangerous and sweet like the whipped cream melting at the rim of your glass.

sae’s smirk deepens as he plucks the stolen fry from your fingers with his teeth, deliberately slow. “tch. should’ve ordered two fries if you wanted mine that badly.”

it’s not about stolen fries. honestly, It never was.

a thunderclap rattles the diner windows when your knees knock together under the table—neither moving away as rin’s missed calls pile up unnoticed in sae’s pocket and you realize too late that you’ve stopped counting minutes altogether.

the world narrows to the space between your hands on the sticky diner table— your pinky twitching where it almost, almost hooks around his.

sae doesn’t move. doesn’t even breathe as raindrops slide down the window beside you like some pathetic metaphor neither of you acknowledge.

“you ready to go?”

you nod your head at his words, finishing the last bit of your milkshake before getting up from the table. sae’s jacket still keeps you warm, and you ignore the buzzing phone in your pocket. it’s probably rin, but to be completely honest, you don’t want to speak to him right now.

you and sae practically run to the car, but that doesn’t stop you from being drenched in the pouring rain.

the car ride back to his house is quiet, along with the radio humming. this time, the silence isn’t uncomfortable. it actually.. feels quite nice.

when you reach the house, it feels like the night is coming to an end. like you and sae. you don’t even realize that rin’s car isn’t in the driveway yet, and you don’t register the fact that you and sae are standing in the pouring rain in front of his house.

“thanks for tonight, it made me feel a lot better.” you say softly, giving him a smile. “it was nothing, don’t worry about it.” sae looks at you, teal eyes burning into yours.

this might be a mistake. but you don’t care, not right now.

with half a step, your hands fist into sae’s shirt and you’re pulling him into a kiss. rain cascades down both of your bodies, but you couldn’t care less. not right now.

sae doesn’t hesitate.

one heartbeat—his hands are at his sides, rainwater dripping from his clenched fists. the next—he’s slamming you back against the front door, teeth catching your lower lip in a punishing kiss that steals the oxygen from your lungs. his tongue swipes across yours like he’s memorizing the taste of stolen milkshakes and you, all while rain pelts your tangled bodies with relentless rhythm.

when you finally break apart—gasping, soaked to the bone—his thumb drags roughly across your swollen mouth. “took you long enough.”

inside, a phone rings incessantly as sae fumbles for his keys without breaking eye contact and you’re losing your mind. because wow. that kiss was perfect. better than you could ever imagine.

the door shuts behind you, the sound swallowed by the storm still raging outside. sae’s hands are already on you again, peeling your soaked clothes from your body with rough, impatient tugs, his lips trailing hot, open-mouthed kisses down your throat.

“finally,” he groans against your skin, his teeth scraping over your collarbone, “you stop pretending.”

your fingers claw at his shirt, desperate to feel the heat of his skin beneath your palms. the phone rings again—rin’s name flashing on the screen—but neither of you spare it a glance. sae’s hands slide under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as you wrap your legs around his waist, your back hitting the wall with a thud that rattles the framed photos beside you.

his lips crash onto yours again, his tongue fucking into your mouth with the same ruthless rhythm his hips grind against you, the hard length of his cock pressing into you through the thin fabric of his soaked pants.

“say it,” sae demands, his voice rough, raw with emotion. “say you want this.”

you don’t hesitate. “i want this.” sae grins at your words before leading you up to his bedroom. you had no idea if his parents were still home, and you were too distracted to even bother asking.

the moment the bedroom door clicks shut behind you, sae pins you against it—hand digging into your hip hard enough to bruise. “say it again,” he rasps against your mouth, breath scorching as rain drips from your clothes onto the floor between you.

“say you want me.”

you don’t flinch. don’t hesitate. you sink your teeth into his bottom lip instead—hard enough to taste copper—and relishes his dark groan when you whisper, “i want you everywhere.”

sae’s pupils dilate, and he pulls back to look at you, still attempting to catch his breath. something about the way you look at him with those eyes, and parted lips makes him snap. sae drops down to his knees, lifting one of your legs onto his shoulder before his tongue drags a long stripe against your clothed pussy.

sae’s hands grip your thighs with bruising force as he yanks you forward, your back still pressed against the door. his teeth sink into the soft flesh of your inner thigh—hard—before his tongue drags another slow, filthy stripe up your soaked panties. the fabric clings to your pussy, transparent with how fucking wet you are for him, and he lets out a dark chuckle against your heat. “pathetic,” he growls, nipping at your clothed clit.

sae’s tongue is relentless—hot and wet even through the fabric as he drags it up your soaked slit, his teeth nipping at your clit through the thin material. your fingers tangle in his hair, hips jerking forward with a whimper as his hands grip your thighs.

“fuck—sae—“ you gasp, back arching off the door as his tongue presses harder, circling your clit with maddening precision.

he groans against you, his fingers hooking into your panties and ripping them aside, the sound of tearing fabric lost under your moan as his mouth finally—finally—meets bare skin. his tongue laves over your clit, sucking it into his mouth before flicking it rapidly, his fingers thrusting into you without warning.

he pulls back just enough to spit onto your clit before diving back in, his tongue fucking you in tandem with his fingers.

his tongue laps at your folds with rough, open-mouthed strokes, his nose nudging your clit as he devours you like a man starved. one hand grips your ass, fingers digging into the flesh as he yanks you harder against his mouth, his other hand sliding up to pinch your nipple.

“taste yourself,” he snarls, pulling back just enough to drag two fingers through your slick before shoving them into your mouth hard enough to make you gag. “taste how fucking ruined you are for me.”

his tongue plunges back into your pussy, fucking you with deep, relentless strokes as his fingers curl inside you, hitting that spot that makes your legs shake. he doesn’t let up—not when you whimper, not when your fingers tangle in his hair—until you’re sobbing his name, your orgasm crashing over you as he drinks every last drop.

only then does he stand, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, his teal eyes burning with something feral. sae grips your chin as he kisses you, letting you taste yourself on his tongue before lifting you up in his arms.

your tangled bodies crash onto the mattress, limbs colliding with frantic urgency. sae’s fingers tease you as his mouth devours yours—hot and possessive and starving—while his free hand shoves between you to unbuckle his belt with a sharp jerk. his own shirt’s already discarded somewhere on the floor.

the metallic clink of the buckle hitting the floor is swallowed by your gasp as he continues palming you, calloused fingers pressing just hard enough to make your back arch off the bed. “so fucking easy,” he breathes against your throat, teeth grazing where rin had kissed you that morning. “forget him yet?”

you don’t answer. you don’t need to when you tear at sae’s waistband instead, nails raking down his hips as he chuckles darkly—like this was inevitable all along (it was).

sae’s hands are everywhere at once—biting at skin, claiming every inch of you with a possessiveness that borders on violent as his mouth crashes against yours, all teeth and tongue and barely restrained hunger.

his fingers dig into your thighs as he spreads them wider, settling between them with a rough grind of his hips. the hard length of him presses against your soaked core, the fabric of his underwear rough against your bare skin. “you’ll take what i give you.”

his hand wraps around your throat, not tight enough to hurt—just enough to remind you who’s in control—as his other hand yanks his cock free, stroking himself with slow, deliberate pumps. “look at me.” he snarls, his teal eyes burning into yours as he drags the head of his cock through your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. “i want you to remember whose cock you’re taking.”

“open your mouth,” sae murmurs, and you listen to him. then there’s a glob of spit falling onto your tongue. “good, now swallow.” and you do, without hesitation.

and then he’s pushing into you in one slow thrust, burying himself to the hilt with a groan that sounds more like a curse. your back arches off the bed, a broken cry tearing from your throat as he stretches you, fills you, ruins you.

“fuck, y/n.” he hisses, his grip tightening on your throat as he pulls out almost completely before driving back in, setting a punishing pace that has you seeing stars. “so fucking tight—always so fucking tight for me.”

“oh, sae!” you cry out loudly, eyes nearly rolling to the back of your head.

“shhh,” he taunts, his hips rolling in slow, torturous circles, “wouldn’t want anyone to hear how good you take my cock, right?”

but the way he says it—the way his fingers dig into your thigh, spreading you wider, deeper—makes it clear: he wants everyone to hear. wants them to know.

his hips snap against yours with each thrust, the sound of skin slapping against skin mingling with your ragged moans. he leans down, his lips brushing your ear as he murmurs, “you think about him when you’re with me? think he could fuck you like this?”

his hand leaves your throat, sliding down to pinch your nipple hard. “answer me.”

you shake your head, your nails digging into his back as you struggle to form words. “n-no—only you—“

“good,” he growls, his thrusts growing even more erratic, his breath coming in ragged pants against your skin. “because you’re mine.”

his hand slides between your bodies, his thumb finding your clit with unerring precision, rubbing tight, frantic circles as he fucks into you viciously.

sae’s fingers dig into your hips, his grip bruising as he pounds into you with reckless abandon, each thrust driving you deeper into the mattress. his teeth sink into your shoulder, marking you with a growl that vibrates against your skin.

sae’s hips snap forward with brutal precision, each thrust carving his name into your very bones.

the headboard taps against the wall in time with his movements, the rhythmic thud punctuated by your gasping moans. his free hand slides down your body, calloused fingers parting your folds to circle your clit with just enough pressure to make your vision blur.

you choke out his name, your back arching off the mattress as pleasure coils tight in your stomach. sae laughs, dark and triumphant, his teeth sinking into your shoulder as he fucks into you, your walls fluttering around him in desperate, pulsing waves.

he slams into you deeper, rougher—like he’s trying to carve his full name into your insides. his breath is hot against your ear, voice a low, dangerous growl.

his thrusts turn punishing, the wet slap of skin on skin filling the room as he fucks you like he’s trying to erase the memory of anyone else who’s ever been beneath him.

“look at you,” he mocks, teal eyes burning with lust above you. “moaning like a whore for me anyway. like you need it.”

his thumb brushes over your pulse point, feeling the way it races under his touch.

“so pathetic.”

but his voice cracks on the word.

and his next thrust is slower. deeper.

“oh— sae.” you whimper helplessly, nails raking down his back slowly. your sounds only push him further off the edge, so far off he lets out a groan. “i need you sosososo bad more than—nghh— anything.”

sae stills inside you, his breath hitching like you just sucker-punched him. for a second, he just stares—eyes wide, lips parted, like he can’t fucking believe what you just said.

“fuck,” he rasps, voice wrecked. His hips roll forward, grinding deep, making sure you feel every inch of him. “you don’t get to say shit like that while i’m inside you.”

his mouth crashes against yours again, teeth scraping your lip, tongue forcing its way past your lips. he kisses you like he’s trying to devour you, like he’s starving and you’re the only thing that can fucking fill him.

when he finally pulls back, his breath is ragged, his pupils blown. “say it again,” he demands, voice low and rough. “say it when i’m not fucking you. say it when you mean it.”

“because if you do—“ his hips snap forward, hard, drawing a gasp from you. “i’m never letting you go.”

your breath hitches as sae’s words sink in, your fingers tightening in his hair. the weight of his body pressing you into the mattress, the heat of him inside you—it’s overwhelming, intoxicating. you can feel his heartbeat against your chest, rapid and unsteady, matching your own.

“i mean it,” you whisper, your voice trembling but sure. “i mean it.”

sae’s breath catches, his grip on you tightening almost painfully for a second before he exhales sharply, his forehead dropping to yours. his next thrust is slower, deeper, his lips brushing yours as he growls, “then you’re fucked, princess. because i’m keeping you.”

he holds you there—trapped between the heat of his body and the unyielding press of the mattress beneath them. his cock throbs inside her, still buried to the hilt, his hips grinding in slow, deliberate circles that make you whimper.

your nails dig into his shoulders, your back arching as pleasure coils tight in your stomach. you meet his gaze—teal eyes burning with something feral, something desperate—and this time, there’s no hesitation.

“i want you— i need you.” you gasp, the words torn from your lips as he slams into you, hitting that spot inside you that makes you see stars. “i always have.”

sae groans, his forehead dropping to yours, his breath mingling with yours as his thrusts grow reckless, frantic. his lips crash against yours in a kiss that’s more claim than caress, his tongue fucking into your mouth in time with his cock.

“mine.” he snarls against your lips, his voice breaking on the word. “you’re fucking mine.”

and when you shatter around him, your walls clenching tight, sae follows with a guttural moan, spilling deep inside you, his body shaking with the force of his release.

for a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your ragged breaths, the drip of rain against the window, and the thud of your hearts.

then sae lifts his head, his gaze searing into yours

“you don’t get to take it back,” he murmurs, his thumb brushing over your swollen lips. “not ever.”

the worst part is.. you don’t even want to.

there was a different side of sae that you saw tonight, and hell, if that made everything a lot more complicated.

the afterglow clings to you like the rain still tapping against the window—soft, persistent. sae’s weight presses you into the mattress, his heartbeat thudding against your chest where your skin sticks together in the humid dark. he hasn’t moved away. (neither have you.)

when he finally lifts himself onto his elbows to look down at you, there’s something terrifyingly unfiltered in his expression—no smirk, no sarcasm—just teal eyes tracing every fluttering breath that leaves your lips like he’s memorizing it.

“…you’re thinking too loud,” he mutters at last, thumb swiping a drop of sweat from your temple with surprising gentleness before ruining it by adding, “waste of energy when you clearly don’t have any left.”

you laugh breathlessly (because of course this bastard would mock you post-sex clarity) only for it to catch in your throat when sae suddenly rolls you both sideways without pulling out—tangling your legs together beneath the sheets with a possessiveness that makes heat coil low in your belly all over again.

for a moment, the only sounds are your intermingled breaths and the thud of your heartbeats slowing to match.

then sae raises his head, his gaze locking with yours with an unguarded intensity that’s somehow just as dizzying as the rain-soaked kisses you shouldn’t have shared. “don’t think about taking your words back.” he murmurs, thumb brushing over your swollen lips with a kind of soft reverence.

his words hang heavy in the air, still warm from your shared breaths. the weight of them—the finality—should terrify you. but all you feel is the ghost of his teeth on your skin, the aftershocks of pleasure humming through your veins like a twisted lullaby.

sae shifts beside you, rolling onto his back with an arrogant ease that shouldn’t make your stomach flutter (it does). hia arm drapes over his eyes, chest rising and falling steadily—but you don’t miss how his fingers twitch toward yours on the sheets. like even now, after everything, he still needs to touch you just to prove you’re real.

a car door slams outside.

you both freeze.

“…rin,” sae says flatly—not a question, not even a curse. just a fact—a challenge—as he turns his head to study your reaction through half-lidded eyes.

you exhale sharply and tug sae’s discarded shirt over yourself instead of reaching for escape—as if you could ever want to—just as footsteps echo down the hall.

“i’ll be back,” you murmur, shooting sae one last glance before exiting his room. you had completely lost track of time and reality when you were with sae, you did spend majority of your night with him.

you bump into rin in the hallway, and his jaw ticks so hard you swear it’s going to crack open right then and there. “i was calling you, i called sae, i called everyone.” rin says, eyes narrowing as he looks at you.

“i wasn’t paying attention to my phone, you know after you stood me up at that restaurant!”

rin’s shoulders drop slightly at the reminder of his own mistake, but the anger returns quickly when his gaze flicks from your tousled hair to the shirt you wear—an oversized one that definitely isn’t yours.

could it be? no.

that’s not sae’s shirt, is it?

he goes silent for a moment, a muscle ticking in the shadowed corner of his jaw until he finally speaks.

“where have you been?” he asks, voice even. too even. “here.” you respond, looking into his teal eyes.

“like i have been this entire time, rin, you just keep forgetting. you make all these plans, buy all these flowers, and for what? to string me around?”

rin lets out a sharp exhale, jaw clenching. “you’re not being fair.”

you scoff incredulously. “i’m not being fair? you have a helluva lot of nerve saying that to me.” he runs a hand over his face, frustration warring with guilt in his eyes. “i was busy— work, practice—“

“bullshit,” you snap, cutting him off. “the only thing you’re committed to is that damn sport, and i’m sick of it.”

rin’s knuckles whiten around his car keys. the silence stretches like a noose between you—until his gaze drags from your disheveled hair down to the too-familiar shirt clinging to your curves. recognition flashes in his teal eyes (sae’s scent on your collar, sae’s fabric swallowing you whole), and suddenly you understand:

- rin knows.

- rin has always known.

- and the terrifying part? he still chose soccer first.

“funny,” rin murmurs, stepping so close his breath ghosts over lips still swollen from sae’s teeth. “you never cared this much when it was just me forgetting.”

behind you, a bedroom door creaks open—just enough for moonlight to catch sae’s slight smirk in the shadows as he watches your unraveling with predatory amusement waiting for your next move like the final piece of a game he’d rigged from the start.

“we’re leaving tomorrow, pack your shit.”

“leaving?” you repeat, taking a step back. “and where are we going, rin?”

rin’s gaze slides away, jaw rigid. “back home.”

“oh,” you reply coolly, trying to ignore the anger coiling in your chest. “and will there be time for me this time? or will soccer be your devoted mistress once again?”

rin’s eyes narrow. “you know how important soccer is to me.” you nod, your own anger sharpening. “yes. more important than me, apparently.”

“pack your shit, y/n.”

when you open your mouth to protest, the words freeze on your tongue. not because you were afraid of him, or because he looked like he was this close to losing his temper.

you couldn’t say a damn thing, because the look in rin’s eyes wasn’t even directed at you.

it was directed—glaring—at sae.

“you just had to have her, right? you need to have everything i have.” rin bristles, words as sharp as his eyes.

is that what this is about? a power dynamic? whoever gets you wins?

“first soccer, now her?”

the air in the hallway cracks with tension.

rin’s accusation hangs between you all—ugly, raw, true—and suddenly you realize: this was never about soccer. It was never even really about you.

this? this is the culmination of years of silent rivalry, a war waged in stolen glances and unspoken resentments where you’ve just become another trophy to claim.

and sae? he doesn’t deny it. doesn’t even flinch as he steps out of the shadows fully dressed, his smirk sharp enough to draw blood. “if you wanted her,” he muses, voice dripping with mock sympathy, “you should’ve fucking acted like it.”

a muscle jumps in rin’s jaw as his grip tightens around his keys but when his gaze flicks back to you—to sae’s shirt still clinging to your hips like a brand—something shifts. something breaks.

without another word, rin shoulders past you and sae and slams the front door behind him hard enough to rattle the walls. the silence that follows is deafening until sae clicks his tongue and looks at you. “always throwing a temper tantrum and running.”

you don’t reply, not yet. your mind is all over the place, “is it true?” you ask, voice barely above a whisper.

“you just using me to get to rin?”

sae’s smirk falters, just for a second—then something cold glints in his eyes. “do you want the pretty lie or the ugly truth?” he replies, tone carefully neutral.

you half-expect sae to lie. to tell you that of course it isn’t true—that he could never use you, his feelings are genuine, all that bullshit.

but when he looks you in the eye, there’s no hint of dishonesty in there.

as if you need to think harder about a second longer. “i want the ugly truth.”

sae’s jaw tightens, but he doesn't look away. “then yes,” he says, voice low. “i’m using you to get to rin.”

something twists in your chest—equal parts disappointment and anger—and you shove it down as far as it will go.

“right.” you respond, reluctantly turning on your heel to walk away. ironically, into rin’s bedroom. something lingers in sae’s eyes, not amusement, but maybe guilt. he doesn’t know, but his fingers twitched to pull you back when you walked away from him.

the sun bleeds through the curtains when you wake up alone in rin’s bed

(the irony isn’t lost on you). your phone lights up with back-to-back notifications: missed calls from

rin, and a text message from him telling you to come downstairs.

you dress mechanically, fingers brushing over last night’s discarded clothes—sae’s shirt still smells like him—before shoving it to the bottom of rin’s laundry basket like a buried secret.

the sunlight stings your eyes as you step into the kitchen—wearing rin’s hoodie. the house is eerily quiet, except for the coffee machine gurgling.

and there he is: sae, leaning against the counter with his usual arrogance—except today? today he looks like hell. dark circles under bloodshot eyes, fingers gripping his mug too tight.

“don’t.”

don’t what?

don’t leave?

don’t hate him?

you ignore him—pouring coffee with hands that don’t shake until tires screech outside. through the window, rin’s car idles aggressively in the driveway and suddenly it’s all clear: this was never a love triangle. just two brothers playing tug-of-war with a human rope who finally broke free.

your gazes lock—yours accusing, his unreadable—until rin storms in, calmer than he was last night.

“you finished packing?” rin asks, placing his keys on the counter, and avoiding looking at sae completely. “we leave in a few minutes.”

a beat passes. then two.

sae’s fingers tighten around his mug as you scoff, “we’re pretending nothing happened?” your nails dig into your palms when neither brother reacts—because that’s the real cruelty here: being collateral damage in a war you never signed up for.

“fine, whatever.” you murmur, walking toward the stairs.

rin grits his teeth as you walk away, frustration and guilt warring in his eyes—but he has no one to blame besides himself.

when he turns back to sae, his gaze is acidic. “happy now?”

for a moment, it looks like the brothers will go at each other’s throats—until sae downs the rest of his coffee and stands.

“you know the answer to that.”

rin snaps, “why the hell did you have to bring her into this?”

sae seethes, it’s not like he can tell the truth or anything close to it. it wasn’t just about getting back at rin— maybe at first, but now? it was more than that. “it worked, didn’t it?” he replies with mock nonchalance.

rin clenches his jaw, gaze averting to the ground for a few moments. “tell her i’m waiting outside.” he murmurs, walking away from his brother.

it’s quiet for a moment as sae considers this. it would be so easy to lie again, to shrug and tell rin that he feels… nothing for you. to go back to fighting like nothing’s changed.

but as he hears a soft thud from the bedroom upstairs, the taste of bitter truth is more bitter in his tongue than coffee.

sae watches rin leave and curses under his breath—because for a moment there, he seemed... almost sorry.

but then his gaze snaps back to you descending the stairs, duffle bag thrown over your shoulder, and any ounce of guilt vanishes faster than a flame against the rain.

your head is turned away, expression as stony as your footsteps. his fingers itch to reach for you—to apologize—but he shoves them deep in his pockets instead. “you’re really leaving?”

you look at sae, lips pressing together before you respond. “yeah, why would i stay? i’m going back home with rin, back to our relationship before this whole mess.”

the finality in your tone is like a punch to the guts, and he can’t help the spite that seeps into his next words. “back to being the third wheel, huh?”

it’s a low blow, and from the way your face tightens, he knows he hit a nerve.

“screw you, sae.” sae’s jaw locks—hard—at your words. the silence between you isn’t just uncomfortable now; it’s suffocating. his fingers twitch in his pockets, his throat suddenly too tight to speak.

when has he ever been at a loss for words?

and then you turn away again, heading for the door where rin waits, and something inside him snaps.

“y/n.”

the name leaves his lips like a plea—raw, unguarded, human—before he can stop it. but when you pause without looking back—just like rin always does to him—sae realizes with brutal clarity:

he couldn’t have you.

he never deserved you.

and worst of all? you were walking away knowing that.

and maybe that’s why he let you walk away, because he knew he didn’t deserve you, but neither did rin.

the door clicks shut behind you, leaving sae alone.

like he always was.

who’s the winner now?

taglist: @matchaveins @adelvadod @idkimboredrn721 @itoshimaxxing @ichoretc @yumyumcherryy @orangepathaway @aonvoide @cristal494

you ask, you shall receive!!

between brothers // itoshi rin

synopsis: day by day, your boyfriends pulls more and more away from you. no more gifts, no more dates, nothing. what happens when you’re spending a week with his younger brother? are you going to keep watering a dead plant, or look for more?

pairings: itoshi rin x reader

content: sexual content, infidelity, dirty talk, degradation, slut-shaming kinda, p in v sex, vaginal fingering, biting, cheating on sae (sorry), pining after rin, teasing, unprotected p in v sex, rin’s kind of an asshole, slight manipulation, unhappy relationship

wc: 3.5k

maybe you were just selfish, or maybe you were tired of sae coming home late every night. could anyone blame you? you spent hours by yourself, officially claiming the title of a “trophy girlfriend” but that’s really not what you wanted to be.

your relationship wasn’t that bad; sae bought you expensive gifts, took you out sometimes but your schedules never aligned. and sae wasn’t going to change anything for you, specifically. not if it affected his career. you accepted that truth, and you hated it.

the happiest you’d been in two weeks was when your boyfriend told you that you’re spending a week at his childhood home because of some tournament. and now? you’re packing a bag, thinking maybe you’re going to spend a little more time together.

“are you ready?” sae leans against the doorframe of your bedroom, teal eyes locking with yours. you zip your bag up, and sling it over your shoulder. “yeah, let’s go.”

to be completely honest, sae never talked about his family. you met his parents, maybe twice, but that was a few months ago. he never spoke, so you never asked. you just assumed it was a sensitive topic.

you didn’t get to his parents house until the next morning, and that’s when you saw him. dark hair, teal eyes, and that cold mask of indifference. just like his brother.

you see him when you’re bringing your bags into the house, he doesn’t offer to help, nor does he greet you, but his eyes linger onto you for a second longer than they should. that’s until sae comes in behind you, then he looks away.

“all good?”

you look at your boyfriend with a slight smile before nodding your head, “i’ve never been in your childhood home before.” you hum, dropping your bag on the floor beside his bed. sae doesn’t respond for a few moments, he just looks around. it’s like he’s trying to remember the place too. “it’s been awhile since i’ve even been here.”

“where’re your parents?”

“work.”

you take a seat the edge of the bed, fingers tapping rhythmically on the comforter before your boyfriend stands up straight, and turns away from you. “i’m going to the store to.. buy a few things, you fine staying here by yourself?”

were you even by yourself?

no, sae just didn’t acknowledge the fact that his younger brother was home. he didn’t care to. didn’t see him as a threat, or anything like that. you nod your head at his words, giving him a reassuring smile before he walks out.

rin watches from the hallway as his brother leaves without so much as a glance in his direction. the familiar sting of rejection burns in his chest, but he quickly smothers it—he’s used to this by now. his teal eyes flicker back to sae’s open door, his expression unreadable.

he shouldn’t care— he doesn’t, if he’s being honest. you’re just another person oblivious to the fact that sae will never prioritize you.

too lost in this thoughts, he doesn’t hear you stand up from the bed and make your way out of the room. you offer him a polite smile, but it’s only a mask to hide your ulterior motives.

what’s the harm in having a little fun?

it’s not like you’re getting it from your boyfriend, who hasn’t even kissed you in weeks. so teasing his brother.. seemed fun. something to ease your mind. and well, he was fairly attractive.

rin was definitely taller than his brother, he was more broad but he was just as cold. maybe even colder.

“you just gonna stand there?” your voice is teasing, and there’s a playful smile on your lips. but nope. he’s not falling for it. he narrows his eyes, “it is my house, right?”

“touché, but you’re kinda just loitering by your brother’s door.”

he leans in close, “my house.” is what rin says before his shoulder brushes against yours and he walks away from you. he leaves you standing there, breathless, and wanting more.

you only smile to yourself before walking back into sae’s room. this week was definitely going to be fun.

that night was apparently a mandatory family dinner? whatever. you were sitting next to sae, and rin was sitting directly across from you. not his brother. but you. and maybe that made you smirk. maybe.

“how long are you guys staying for?” his mother asks, glancing between you and sae.

rin’s fingers tighten around his chopsticks, knuckles whitening as he listens to his mother’s question. his jaw clenches so hard it aches, but he keeps his expression neutral—cold, detached. like he doesn’t care.

his eyes flicker to you for a split second, catching the way your lips curve around the rim of your glass as you take a sip of water. the way your throat moves when you swallow. his grip tightens further.

“just a week,” sae answers flatly, barely glancing up from his food.

rin scoffs under his breath, stabbing a piece of fish with more force than necessary. “must be nice,” he mutters, voice dripping with sarcasm. “getting to leave whenever you want.”

the table falls silent for a beat, tension thick enough to cut with a knife. his mother shoots him a warning look, but rin just shoves another bite into his mouth, chewing aggressively.

you, ever the peacemaker, clears your throat softly. “the house is really lovely,” you offer, smiling at rin’s mother. “it’s so... cozy.”

rin nearly chokes on his food. cozy? this place is a fucking museum of neglect. he forces himself to swallow before leveling you with a glare. “you don’t have to lie to make them feel better.”

his father sighs, rubbing his temples. “rin—“

“what?” rin asks, his voice ever so calm, finally looking at his brother. “you gonna say something, sae? or are you just gonna sit there like always?”

sae’s gaze lifts slowly, icy and unimpressed. “grow up.”

the words hit like a slap. rin’s jaw clenches tightly, and he looks down at his plate. you don’t say anything, not this time— you fear you can’t say anything to ease this tension at the table.

for the rest of that godforsaken dinner, rin doesn’t say anything. and sae only speaks when his parents ask him questions. their parents apologize repeatedly to you, but you brush it off. all siblings fight, right?

rin slams his bedroom door shut behind him, the force rattling the frame. his chest heaves with barely contained fury, fingers curling into fists at his sides. grow up. like sae had any fucking right to say that. like he wasn’t the one who walked away first.

he paces the length of his room, muscles coiled tight, mind racing. he shouldn’t care. he doesn’t care. but the way you looked at him—like you saw him, really saw him—it’s fucking with his head.

a sharp knock at his door snaps him out of his thoughts.

“what?” he barks, not bothering to hide his irritation.

the door creaks open, and there you are—leaning against the frame, that same infuriatingly soft smile on your lips. “thought i’d check on you.” you say, tilting your head.

rin’s pulse spikes. check on him? like he’s some wounded animal. like you pity him.

“i don’t need your pity,” he replies, turning away to open his dresser drawer with unnecessary force.

you step inside, “it’s not pity,” you murmur, moving closer. “i just wanted to see if you were okay.”

rin freezes, his back still to you. his breath catches in his throat, heart hammering against his ribs. wanted to see him. not sae. him.

slowly, he turns to face you, teal eyes blazing. “why?”

you don’t answer. instead, you reach out, fingers brushing against his clenched fist. the contact sends a jolt through him, electric and undeniable.

rin’s resolve cracks.

“y/n? did you find the bathroom?”

sae’s voice erupts from the hallway, crushing any electricity that was flowing between you and rin. rin pulls his hand away from you, and you turn on your heel. “yeah, i’m good.”

and you walk away, leaving rin alone in his bedroom.

that was only monday. you had six more days for your plan to succeed.

what was your plan? get to your boyfriend’s brother, duh.

on tuesday, you weren’t getting any closer. he was hard to crack, but that only fueled your actions even more. sae left you home again, his parents were gone, so it was just you and rin. well not now, because he left for practice a few hours ago.

you put on your tiniest shorts— ones you originally brought to wear for your boyfriend, but plans changed. no more chasing after sae, no more watering an overly dead plant.

you’re pacing around the kitchen when the front door opens, revealing itoshi rin in all his glory. his bag was slinging over his shoulder, and his uniform was clinging onto his skin tightly.

“hey!” your cheerful voice flows through the kitchen and the living room, causing rin’s head to snap up.

“hey.” he replies, straightening up.

“this might be a stupid question, but can you help me find the laundry detergent?” rin shrugs his shoulders at your question, dropping his bag at the front door and walking towards you.

bingo.

you turn your back to him, flaunting those tiny shorts as you walk back into the kitchen. god. rin can’t help it when his eyes flicker down.

rin’s jaw clenches the second his gaze drops, his fingers twitching at his sides. fuck. those shorts are practically sinful, hugging your ass in a way that makes his throat go dry. he forces his eyes back up, but the damage is already done—his pulse is hammering, heat coiling low in his gut.

“it’s under the sink, right there.” he mutters, voice rougher than he intends. he strides past you, shoulders brushing deliberately as he pulls the cabinet open. the detergent is right there, but he doesn’t move to grab it. instead, he turns, looming over you with a glare that doesn’t quite reach the heat in his eyes.

“you’re doing this on purpose.”

you blink up at him, all faux innocence. “doing what?” you bend down slowly to grab the detergent, and rin swallows a groan.

“nothing.” he grumbles, before walking away from you. when you stand back up, he’s already turned the corner and went up the stairs. you bite back a smile, and shrug your shoulders. day one was complete.

on wednesday, you were presented with yet another opportunity. sae claimed to have something to do, so you waved goodbye with a kiss on the cheek. maybe him being so neglectful was truly a blessing.

“rin, your mom said there’s a bin in the attic that she wants you to bring down.” you hum, pushing open his bedroom door. and there you are, cleavage spilling out of your shirt and all.

rin’s eyes flicker down for a split second—just long enough to register the way your shirt dips dangerously low—before he forces his gaze back up, jaw tightening. he’s sitting on the edge of his bed, one leg bent, his fingers drumming impatiently against his knee.

“yeah? and?” his voice is flat, but there’s a sharp edge to it, like he’s daring you to push further.

you lean against the doorframe, tilting your head. “and she asked me to tell you,” you say, dragging out each word like you’re savoring the way his nostrils flare. “so. are you gonna help, or...?”

rin exhales sharply through his nose, pushing off the bed in one fluid motion. he stalks toward you, his presence filling the doorway as he looms over you. “you’re really testing my patience,” he mutters, voice low and dangerous.

you don’t back down. instead, you tilt your chin up, lips parting slightly. “is it working?”

for a heartbeat, rin just stares at you, teal eyes burning with something feral. then, without warning, he grabs your wrist and pulls her into the hallway, slamming his bedroom door shut behind you.

his grip is firm as he leads you down the hall, his strides long and purposeful. you stumble slightly, but you don’t protest—not when his fingers are searing into your skin, not when you can feel the barely restrained tension rolling off him in waves.

the attic stairs creak under your combined weight as rin pulls you up, his free hand shoving the door open with more force than necessary. dust motes swirl in the dim light, and the air is thick with the scent of old wood and forgotten memories.

rin finally releases you, turning to scan the cluttered space. “where’s the fucking bin?”

you don’t answer. instead, you step closer, your fingers trailing up his arm. “you’re really bad at this,” you murmur, “the bin is navy blue. it’s over there.”

rin’s jaw ticks with frustration, and he stares at you. like he’s looking through your soul. he’s fighting himself, daring his eyes to travel lower. would it be so wrong to take what was supposed to sae’s for once?

“really bad at what?” he replies, his breathing slowing down. you only shrug your shoulders, and he turns away from you to grab the bin.

“you think this is a game?”

yeah, you kinda do. but you’re not going to say that. you’re actually not going to admit to anything.

“i have no idea what you’re talking about.” rin snarls at your words, stepping up closer to invade your personal space.

“right.” he scoffs, shaking his head and turning to grab the bin. you bite back a smirk, watching him trudge down the attic stairs with the navy blue bin his arms.

now on thursday, rin decided to finish practice an hour earlier than he usually does. his mind was all over the place, and it was your fault. you fucking knocked his focus off, and he was pissed. he missed a goal.

when he got back home, you weren’t downstairs lounging in those tiny shorts, or with your cleavage spilling from your tank-top. the house was awfully quiet, too.

rin takes a measured step upstairs, listening for any small noises. and he hears it— hears you in sae’s room. that heavy breathing, the soft moans, and the bed creaking against the wall. now to piss him further off, he heard you moan: “sae.”

you did it on purpose, he knows that for a fact. whether or not, sae’s actually in there with you— you were looking to rile rin up, and somehow that’s exactly what happened. he fell right into your trap.

meanwhile, you? yeah, you’re sitting on sae’s bed. completely unbothered, because what’s the harm in a little teasing? sae wasn’t there, nor were his parents. it was just you and rin, again. and that had to be a sign… right?

when you hear the floorboards creak in the hallway, your head shoots up. but not before the doorknob twists open, revealing rin. his eyes are narrowed into slights, and his jaw is tightened.

“you having fun?” it’s a taunting question, because he’s already caught you. he knows what you’re trying to do, and he knows what you want. he might as well give it to you already.

rin shuts the door behind him with a force that rattles the walls, his chest rising and falling with barely contained fury. his eyes burn into yours—dark, predatory, hungry—as he stalks toward the bed where you sit, legs crossed, looking far too pleased with yourself.

“sae?” he repeats, voice dripping with venom. his fingers curl into fists at his sides, knuckles white. “you really think i’m that fucking stupid?”

you don’t flinch. instead, you lean back on your hands, tilting your head up to meet his gaze, lips parted in a challenge. “prove me wrong, then.”

that’s all it takes.

rin lunges forward, grabbing you by the waist and flipping you onto your back in one brutal motion. the bed groans under your combined weight as he pins you beneath him, one hand gripping your thigh hard enough to bruise.

“this what you fucking want?” he growls, teeth grazing your earlobe. “fine.“

his mouth crashes down on yours, swallowing your gasp as his hips grind against you, the hard length of him pressing insistently between your thighs. there’s no tenderness here—only raw, furious need, the kind that leaves marks and bruises in its wake.

you arch into him with a whimper, nails raking down his back. “rin—“

“you wanted my attention, now you have it.” his voice is a low, dangerous growl against your skin, fingers digging into the soft flesh of your inner thigh as he spreads your legs wider. there’s nothing gentle about the way he touches you—his fingertips drag roughly over the thin fabric of your panties, already damp with your arousal, and he scoffs.

“pathetic,” he mutters, but his own breath is ragged, his cock straining against the confines of his pants. he doesn’t wait for you to respond before yanking the flimsy material aside, two slender fingers pushing into you slowly. you gasp, back arching off the bed as he curls them inside you, relentless. “rin—!”

“you moaned his name,” he snarls, teeth sinking into the curve of your shoulder as his fingers fuck into you, hard and fast. “like you actually wanted him.” his thumb circles your clit with bruising pressure, and you shudder beneath him, nails clawing at his arms.

“but we both know the truth, don’t we?” rin pulls his fingers out with a wet sound, bringing them to your lips. “open.”

you do, tongue darting out to lick them clean, eyes locked on his. the sight sends a fresh wave of heat straight to his groin.

“good girl,” he mocks, unbuckling his pants with one hand, the other pinning your wrists above your head. he wasn’t trying to prove a point, he was planning on fucking allll of his frustration into you.

he doesn’t give you time to prepare. in one brutal thrust, he’s buried to the brim inside you, your tight walls clamping around him. rin groans, hips snapping forward, setting a punishing pace from the start.

you choke out a sob, legs wrapping around his waist as he drives into you, each thrust hitting deeper. “nghh i can’t t– take it!”

he silences you with a particularly sharp snap of his hips, his lips crashing down on hers to swallow your cries.

you wanted his attention? now you’ve got it.

rin’s grip on your wrists is bruising as he fucks into you, each thrust deliberate and deep, like he’s trying to carve his name into your walls. “fuck— so tight,” he grits out, teeth sinking into his lower lip as he watches your face twist in pleasure.

his cock drags against every sensitive spot inside you, the thick head nudging your cervix with every snap of his hips. “you—ah—you like this?” he taunts, voice ragged.

his pace is relentless, the wet slap of skin on skin filling sae’s bedroom as rin drives into you.

rin’s breath is ragged against your neck as he bottoms out inside you again, his cock stretching you to the limit.

“don’t cry now,” he growls, voice rough with restraint. “you’ve been taking over my fucking mind, those tiny shorts, that stupid look in your fucking eyes.”

your breath hitches when he pulls back slowly, dragging his thick length against your sensitive walls. the moment his tip catches at your entrance, he slams back in, burying himself to the brin with a groan.

your back bows off the bed, a broken cry tearing from your throat. “rin— ah!”

he doesn’t let you finish. his hips snap forward again, setting a brutal pace that has you gasping and your legs tightening around his waist.

rin leans down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue mimicking the filthy thrusts of his cock. he can feel you tightening around him, your walls fluttering as pleasure coils tight in your belly.

every snap of his hips drives you higher, your moans growing louder, more desperate. he can feel you clenching around him, your body trembling on the edge.

“you’re disgusting, and pathetic.” he growls against your lips, his voice rough with lust. and the way your walls clamp down on him—milking his cock as you shudder beneath him, your moans muffled against his mouth—tells him that those words don’t hurt you, they just further fuel you.

rin doesn’t slow down but his thrusts grow erratic, his cock swelling inside you as he chases his own pleasure.

“fuck—fuck,” he grits out, his hips stuttering as he buries himself deep inside you. “you keep sucking me—fuck—in.”

you let out an earth-shattering moan when your orgasm overtakes your entire body. you had no idea you could even make those sounds. had no idea you could feel like this with anyone.

hot cum floods your walls, his release pulsing into yoy as he groans your name, his body shuddering with the force of his climax.

for a moment, you stay like that—breathless, tangled together, sweat-slick skin pressed close.

then rin pulls out, watching with dark satisfaction as his cum leaks from your well-used pussy.

he then sits at the edge of his brother’s bed, side-glancing you. you’re too fucked out to say anything, too fucked out to even move from your spot. rin stretches his arms, “i win.”

is all he says to you, before leaving the room.

he won? yeah, because he stole something that’s supposed to be sae’s. and you let him.

this entire time, you thought you had the upper hand. turns out, you really didn’t.

you don’t know how long you’re laying in sae’s bed, until you’re wincing at your attempts to stand up. you don’t know how much time passed, and you don’t know if sae came back. you don’t even know where rin went. but your aching feet drag you to the shower.

and after that shower, a sad attempt at washing away your sins, sae stops you in the hallway. towel wrapped around your body, you’re looking into his teal eyes. and he’s examining you.

“hm.”

that’s when rin’s door opens, and he’s leaning against it, looking at you and your boyfriend.

“didn’t take her that long to fall for it.”

synopsis: your piece of shit neighbor is always loud, reckless, and just an asshole. you claim to hate him but is it really hate or are you just sex-deprived?

pairings: toji fushiguro x reader

content: smut, unprotected p in v sex, vaginal fingering, breeding, breaking furniture, toji’s an asshole, degradation, mating press, biting kink, shoko cameo, belly bulge, vaginal sex, choking, hot neighbor!toji, horny!reader, creampie, breeding, rough sex, big big big dick!toji

wc: 5.2k

you clench your jaw, knocking on your neighbors door — maybe you were just jealous because you hadn’t had sex in months due to a nasty breakup but goodness, every night, toji fushiguro had a new girl over and they were extremely loud.

could it even be that good? he was fairly attractive, just a complete asshole.

you scowl at the sight of toji at the door, tight compression shirt that emphasizes his huge build.

“you know what i’m gonna say,” you start, “keep it down, will you? i don’t need to hear the excessive banging against the wall.”

toji leans against the doorframe, arms crossing over his chest, that smug-ass grin already playing on his scarred lips. he looks you up and down, slow, deliberate and it’s like he’s sizing up a meal.

“damn,” he drawls, voice dripping with amusement. “sounds like you been really takin’ notes. you countin’ how many moans you hear or somethin’?”

he tilts his head, green eyes glinting with something predatory. “or maybe you just wish it was you makin’ all that noise, huh? heard about your little breakup, must be lonely in there.”

toji licks his lips, watching your reaction like a goddamn hawk. “tell ya what, next time i got company, i’ll invite you over. you can see what all the fuss is all about firsthand.”

his grin widens, all teeth. “unless you’d rather participate. i do think that three is a party, not a crowd.”

the bastard’s enjoying this. every goddamn second of it.

you clench your jaw tightly, rolling your eyes dramatically at his words. maybe you were jealous, can anyone blame you? you’ve been sex-deprived for months, and to hear your neighbor have such a great time every night was frustrating, to say the least.

“over my dead body, and mind your business, i am not lonely. i’m having just as much fun as you are.” you snort, folding your arms across your chest. you weren’t going to admit that his words got to you, and he had a point. toji raises his eyebrows, canines showing.

no. you clear your throat, “just keep it down, i don’t feel like coming over here again. be considerate of how loud you’re being.”

toji lets out a low chuckle, the sound vibrating deep in his chest as he steps closer, just enough to crowd your space, to let you feel the heat rolling off him. his scent, all musk and sin, wraps around you like a goddamn trap. and you’re loving every second of it.

“if you were really pissed about all the noise, you wouldn’t be blushin’ like that,” he murmurs, voice dropping to a knowing purr. his eyes flick down to where your thighs press together, then back up to your face, slow. “and you definitely wouldn’t keep showin’ up at my door, lookin’ all pretty and mad.”

“next time i’m bein’ loud,” he leans in, breath hot against your ear, “knock, and i’ll let you in. you can see for yourself if it’s really that good.”

pulling back, he gives you that infuriating smirk. “goodbye, neighbor.” the asshole flashes you a wink before shutting the door in your face — leaving you standing there, pulse racing, skin burning.

you clench your jaw tightly, fist tightening at your sides before you walk back into your apartment. fuckin’ asshole. you hated his guts, he was arrogant, rude, and inconsiderate but he was hot. more than hot. fuck.

you shouldn’t be surprised when you hear banging against the wall at ten pm, but you are. shoko sinks down further into your couch, cheeks growing pink at the loud moans from the thin wall between your apartment and toji’s.

toji’s voice cuts through the moans, loud and taunting, like he knows you can hear every fucking word, and he just doesn’t give a shit.

“yeah, just like that, take it, baby.”

the headboard smacks against the wall again, rhythmic and relentless, each thud vibrating through the thin apartment walls. a whine follows, then toji’s low, filthy laugh. “scream for me. let the whole damn building hear how good i fuck you.”

another brutal thud, harder this time, like he’s putting his whole fucking weight into it.

you look at shoko, and then back at the thin wall, where your paintings are rattling. “is that.. uh.. every day?” she murmurs her question, and you nod your head. “unfortunately, he’s a disgusting prick.”

the tv crackles in front of you both, but none of you say anything. and you’re too embarrassed to speak. “at least, he’s having sex. what about you?” shoko hums idly, teasing you.

“no, i haven’t had sex in months, and i’m perfectly fine! i’m living, no orgasms involved.” you reply, folding your arms across your chest and frowning. “i’m perfectly fine, while my neighbor’s having the time of his life next door every single night.”

your best friend laughs, shaking her head at your words. “you do know it’s not a crime to go out, right? you’re a pretty girl, you can find a dick for the night.”

“okay, whatever!” you’re interrupted with another moan, and another crash of the bed frame against your wall, causing your painting to fall on the ground. “i’m sick of that man, god, does he ever run out of energy?”

“is it the same tall, muscular guy from the last time i was over here?” shoko asks, glancing down at the broken painting. “the one with the tight shirts?”

“yeah,” you nod your head, “can you blame him then? he’s majestic as hell, i’d be fucking every day if i was him too. maybe you could…”

“don’t even fuckin’ think about it.” you cut her off, giving her a sharp glare. “you’ve clearly had too much to drink because you’re coming up with these stupid ass ideas, so let’s go to bed.” you huff, helping shoko stand up from the couch.

was she insane? you were not going to fuck that piece of shit neighbor of yours, not even how much he made you sink your teeth into your lower lip, or press your thighs together. no fuckin’ way. even if you fall asleep to the thought of you possibly… no. no way. you scoff at yourself.

the following morning, you grumble a string of curses, eyes glaring down at the broken painting from the night before. coffee cup in your hand, and a sweater over your cold body. “i fuckin’ hate that guy.” you murmur to yourself, before shoko walks past you. “or maybe you just want to fuck him, to relieve all that tension from your body.” she remarks, only half-teasing you.

“you both can go to hell.” you retort, and shoko only laughs at you. “work is hell, and i’m already on my way.” she replies, and you stick your tongue out at her before she shuts the front door, leaving you alone in the apartment.

fuck it.

your hand is knocking rapidly at toji’s door, eyebrows knitted together in frustration. toji swings the door open shirtless, still half-hard in his sweatpants like he just rolled out of bed or maybe off someone. he leans against the doorframe, that infuriating smirk already in place as he drags his gaze over you.

“you knocked a painting off my wall!” you grumble, folding your arms across your chest. “do you ever run out of energy? and i hope you know you’re reimbursing me for my painting, you sex-crazed perv.”

“perv?” he licks his lips, eyes sparkling with amusement. “and relax, i’ll pay for your shitty painting.”

“can you go a single night without trying to crack my apartment wall?” you ask, eyes glaring at toji, who only smirks at you in response. a dark chuckle rumbles in his chest. “nah, i can’t go one night without fucking. it must be hard, considering you’ve gone a few nights without fucking already.”

with a shrug of his shoulders, you grimace at him. “if you’re looking for a good time with me, you really can just say that.”

your mouth falls agape at his words, “you really are a dickhead, i hope you know that.” you retort, walking away to your apartment.

“fuckin’ asshole,” you say to yourself, kicking your shoes off and slamming the front door shut.

you don’t know what it is, or what possesses you but that same night, you’ve decided you can’t take it anymore — the loud banging, the excessive noises coming from toji’s apartment almost every night. and fuck, maybe a part of you did want to see if it was worth all the noise. could anyone blame you?

you pick yourself up from your bed at around eleven pm, frustrated with the noise that came from the apartment next door just a few minutes ago. your hands are knocking feverishly at the front door, and your eyebrows are knitted together.

the door swings open, and toji’s standing there in front of you, shirtless, sweat glistening on his chest, his abs flexing as he leans against the frame. his hair’s a mess, lips swollen like he’s been biting them, or someone else has.

“are you fuckin’ kidding me? somehow you’ve gotten louder, and it’s eleven pm. people are trying to sleep, me included.” you fold your arms across your chest, the movement causing your cleavage to show through your tiny tank top.

“you’re back with this shit again?” toji smirks, eyes dragging down your body, lingering on the way your arms push your tits together. “that’s real funny, the girl i was just with left pretty fuckin’ disappointed. said i wasn’t givin’ her my best.” he steps closer, heat rolling off him in waves, the scent of sex and his cologne thick in the air.

“i guess i was savin’ it for someone else.”

his hand comes up, fingers brushing your jaw. “you really hear to bitch about all the noise noise, doll? or you finally ready to admit you’re just jealous of all those other girls?”

you grumble to yourself, wanting desperately to smack the smirk off toji’s lips. you listen to his words, teeth worrying into your lower lip. “you’re a piece of shit, you know that?” you remark. but fuck it. a part of you was always curious; was the sex really as good as it seemed through the thin walls of the apartment?

his thumb swipes over your bottom lip, slow, deliberate. “go ahead, tell me to stop, and i’ll shut the fuck up. but we both know that’s not what you really want.”

you lean closer into toji, your breath hitching before you pull him into a passionate, messy kiss. toji groans into your mouth, deep and hungry, his hands gripping your ass hard as he lifts you up, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. “fuckin’ finally.” he growls against your lips, teeth scraping your bottom lip before sucking it into his mouth.

he walks you back without breaking the kiss, kicking the door shut with the back of his foot. he holds onto you tightly, walking into his bedroom, before letting you drop down into his mattress. you’re quick to try and sit up, but toji’s quicker and bigger than you. his weight hovers over you, and his hips grind down against yours, letting you feel just how hard he is already. the thick outline of his cock pressing against you through his sweatpants.

one hand slides up your tank top, calloused fingers pinching your nipple, twisting hard enough to make you gasp. “bet you been dreamin’ about this shit, huh? listenin’ to me fuck other girls, wettin’ that pretty little cunt of yours.”

he tears your shirt off in one sharp motion, tossing it aside before his mouth crashes down on your tits, tongue swirling around one nipple while his fingers work the other. you groan at his dirty words, your heat aching with desire as you listen to him speak. he really is an asshole, but fuck, he was so hot — so good with his mouth, and his hands. “fuck you.” you manage to spit out, head falling back against the pillow of his mattress as his lips wrap around your nipple.

his free hand yanks your shorts down, alongside your panties, before his fingers start sliding through your slick folds with a filthy, wet sound. “you’re fuckin’ drippin’ already. i knew you wanted this.” two of his thick fingers plunge inside you without warning, curling just right to make your back arch. “gonna make you scream louder than all of ‘em,” toji promises, voice dark with lust. “gonna ruin this pussy for anybody else.”

your back arches up at the feeling of his thick digits filling you up. you dig her nails into his arm, your eyes looking up into his. you can only moan at his words.

toji’s grin is vicious as he pulls his fingers out of you with a filthy, wet sound, bringing them to his lips and sucking them clean with a low groan. “you’re delicious, fuck.”

then his hands are on your hips, flipping you onto your stomach in one brutal motion, your ass up in the air, and your face pressed into the mattress. “you wanna be ruined, baby?” his palm cracks down on your ass, sharp and stinging, leaving a red handprint blooming on your skin. “then take it like you mean it. every single fuckin’ inch.”

he spits between your thighs, the slick sound of his cock dragging through your folds before he slams into you with one brutal thrust, bottoming out in a single stroke. you nearly fuckin’ scream, back arching, nails clawing at the sheets as he stretches you wide, your body trembling around him.

“that’s it,” toji snarls, fingers digging into your hips hard enough to bruise as he starts fucking you with deep, punishing strokes. “take every fuckin’ inch. bet you dreamed about this, huh? my cock wreckin’ this tight little pussy.”

his hand fists in your hair, yanking your head back, forcing your spine into a cruel curve as he pounds into you. “mhmp, fuck.” you cry out, it’s a cry of pain and pleasure. your body jolts with every one of toji’s forceful thrusts, his cock stretching you wide. he didn’t even give you a moment to get accustomed to his large cock.

“i needed this sososo fucking much.” you moan loudly, mouth falling agape and your eyes shutting tightly as he releases his grip on your hair.

“fuckin’ knew you were desperate for it,” he growls against your ear, voice rough with lust. “listen to you whinin’, takin’ my cock like you were made for it.”

toji’s grip on your hips is harsh and vicious, fingers digging into your flesh hard enough to bruise as he fucks into you with brutal, unforgiving strokes. every snap of his hips drives you higher up the bed, only for him to yank you back down onto his cock, impaling you over and over.

one hand slides up your body, calloused fingers wrapping around your throat — not tight enough to cut off air, just enough to declare ownership. his other hand grips your thigh, spreading you wider, forcing you to take him deeper. “shoulda just knocked sooner, sweetheart. coulda been ruinin’ this pussy weeks ago.”

his thrusts turn erratic, hips pistoning, the wet slap of skin on skin obscenely loud in the room. he’s not holding back, not even a little. “gonna fuck you so good you forget how to come on anythin’ else.”

your fingers grasp onto the bedsheets beneath your trembling body. “i can’t take it anymore,” you cry out, your tone an octave higher. you shut your eyes tightly, teeth sinking into your lower lip to suppress anymore sounds from escaping. your body jolts, the sound of skin slapping harshly filling the bedroom. you can’t believe after weeks of complaining, you became subject to toji fushiguro.

“fuck,” you moan, the feeling of his heavy balls slapping against your ass causing you to arch your back up in the air. you hear a humorless laugh erupt from the male behind you before he’s pulling his hips back, leaving you confused at the loss of contact.

toji’s grip is iron as he flips you onto your back, his massive frame looming over you, casting a shadow that swallows you whole. his cock, thick and glistening with your slick, twitches against your stomach as he pins your wrists above your head with one hand. “look at you,” he growls, voice rough with lust, green eyes burning into yours. “fuckin’ ruined, and i ain’t even done with ya yet.”

his free hand slides down your body, calloused fingers digging into the soft flesh of your thigh as he hikes your legs onto his shoulders. “you been listenin’ to me fuck other girls for weeks, huh? bet you imagined it was you every goddamn time.” he notches himself at your entrance, the head of his cock pressing against your soaked pussy, teasing. “now you know why they scream so loud.”

you look up into his green eyes, your legs almost touching your face as toji begins fucking into you at a relentless pace. he has you folded in a mean mating press, your mouth simply falling open but no sound coming out.

you groan loudly, head sinking into the plush pillow beneath. “shut up,” you moan, voice barely croaking out. “keep talking about the o– other women you fuck, and i’ll w– walk out right now.” you threaten, but the words are empty. your voice hoarse due to the loud moans, and cries. every thrust evokes a new sound from you.

toji’s grin is wicked as he leans down, his breath hot against your ear, his hips never slowing — if anything, he fucks into you harder, the slap of skin echoing off the walls. “oh, you mad, baby?” he growls, hand gripping your thigh tighter. “then why’re you takin’ my cock so fuckin’ good? huh? why’re you drippin’ all over me like you were made for it?”

his thrusts turn punishing, each one driving you higher up the bed, your tits bouncing with every snap of his hips. “coulda walked out anytime, sweetheart,” he taunts, voice rough with lust. “but look at you— beggin’ for it. clenchin’ around me like you don’t wanna let go.”

he licks a stripe up your throat, teeth grazing your pulse point. “face it, doll, you love this.“ a particularly sharp thrust punches a broken moan from your lips, and toji laughs, dark and satisfied. “yeah. that’s what I thought.”

with a brutal thrust, he sheathes himself to the hilt, drawing a sharp cry from your lips. “yeah, there it is,” he groans, hips already rolling into a punishing rhythm. “sounds even prettier than i fuckin’ thought.”

“gonna make sure the whole building hears you tonight, sweet thing. gonna fuck you so hard you forget your own name.”

you let out a sharp cry, your back arching up from the mattress as you reach your high, seeing stars as you release all over the bedsheets. you breath out heavily, fingers gripping onto the bedsheets for dear life as you cum. toji lets out a dark, satisfied chuckle as he watches you come undone beneath him, his cock still buried deep inside, twitching as your walls flutter around him.

you breathe out, eyes peeling open to meet with the sight of the larger male, hair sticking to his forehead, and a scar on his lips. “fuck, look at you,” he groans, “takin’ me so damn good, actin’ like you weren’t beggin’ for it earlier.”

he leans down, catching your bottom lip between his teeth, biting just hard enough to make you gasp before soothing it with his tongue. “bet you’re already thinkin’ ‘bout round two, huh, princess?” his hips roll lazily, dragging his cock against your oversensitive walls, just to watch you squirm. “lucky for you, i ain’t done yet.”

you pull toji’s chest down against your own, manicured nails digging deeply into his back. you breath out, crying his name relentlessly. no other words come form except for toji toji toji, and you begging for more. the way his tip kissed your g-spot was a feeling like no other, it was ethereal.

your tits bounce with every violent thrust, and the back of your legs are still hiked up on Toji’s shoulders. “i don’t think i can cum again, not this soon.” you cry out, fighting the tears that threaten to leak from your eyes.

toji groans, low and feral, slamming into you with a force that makes the bedframe screech against the floor. “the fuck you mean can’t?” he snarls, dragging you halfway off the mattress just to pound you back down, his balls slapping against your ass with every brutal thrust. “you’ll take it, every single inch of me, and you’ll fuckin’ cum again.” his hand slides between your thighs, thumb circling your clit in rough, punishing strokes.

you’re not even in the right headspace to form any coherent sentences. you moan loudly, the impact of toji’s heavy balls smacking against your ass was enough to leave a bruise.

“gonna milk my cock dry, ain’t ya? gonna fuckin’ ruin me.” he rasps, hips pistoning, sweat dripping off his jaw onto your heaving tits. his teeth sink into your shoulder, marking you, as his thrusts turn erratic, animalistic.

“go, cum for me again.”

and just like that — you shatter, screaming his name as your cunt clenches around him like a vice, dragging him over the edge with you.

on his command, you’re cumming for the second time and this time, you’re foaming at the mouth, eyes staring up into toji’s green ones. you’re exhausted, your body’s sore and your legs feel as if they’re going to collapse— they’re unable to stop shaking.

he smirks, watching your eyes roll back, your mouth hanging open as you drip down his shaft. “look at you —takin’ it like a fuckin’ champ. bet you could go another round, huh?”

he doesn’t give you a chance to answer. his hips snap forward, hard, and he groans as his cum floods you, thick and hot, painting your insides white. “fuck — take it, baby. every last drop.”

you don’t move an inch, not even when toji’s painting your walls white. his cum was so thick, it was sprouting out in hot ropes. toji’s grip on your hips is still iron-tight, fingers digging into your flesh as he pounds into you, each thrust bottoming out with a filthy, wet slap. his cock is dripping, your tight little cunt milking him for every drop, and he grunts, low and rough, as he feels your walls clench around him.

when he finally pulls out, his spend gushes from you, dripping down your thighs, and he tsks, dragging a finger through the mess before pushing it past your lips.

you bat your eyelashes, eyes dazing up into toji’s green hues as you suck the cum from his fingers, lips wrapping around his thick digit slowly.

you huffs loudly, groaning as you shift your weight so you’re on top of toji, and he’s lying back against the mattress. your mouth waters at the sight of his thick, glistening cock beneath you. you settle, your pussy pressing against his cock. you bring your hands to his chest, “you’re insane, not even a little tired?”

“i’m relaxing,” toji comments, folding his arms underneath his head. “i did all of the work, it’s your turn.”

when you straddle him, his cock twitches against your soaked pussy, already hard again, thick and eager. he lets out a rough groan, hips bucking up just to tease you. his fingers dig into your hips, guiding you to grind against him, his cock sliding through your slick folds. “oh, so you’re essentially saying you’re a pillow princess, hm?”

you rock your hips against his, his cock brushing in between your slippery folds. you lean your mouth down, pressing wet kisses against the skin of his neck. “you think that shit was funny?”

you roll your eyes at his words, lining toji’s tip up with your entrance before sinking down slowly. “shiiiiit,” you cry out at the initial stretch, eyes shutting tightly as he bottoms out completely. his entire cock disappearing inside, causing a bulge in your stomach.

toji’s head falls back against the wall with a thud, his teeth gritting as your tight heat swallows him whole. “fuckin’ hell.” he growls, veins bulging in his forearms from the effort of not ruining you right then and there.

his hips jerk up instinctively, driving himself deeper, forcing a choked gasp from your lips. “look at that,” he rasps, voice wrecked already, eyes locked on where your stomach bulges with him. “takin’ me like you were made for it, sweet thing.” one hand snakes down, fingers pressing against the swollen outline of his cock stretching you from the inside. “feel that? that’s me. every fuckin’ inch. bet you didn’t think you could fit all this, huh?”

then he moves — snapping his hips up hard, driving into you with a brutal, punishing rhythm. the slap of skin echoes off the walls, your moans pitching higher with every thrust.

“ah– ah fuck,” you moan, neck fully exposed to toji’s sharp teeth. you look up at the ceiling, your calm pace getting disrupted by toji’s hips snapping up against yours. you bounce on his cock, tits jolting with each movement. you cry out loudly, nails digging into toji’s chest. “fuckkkk,”

“you’re so impatient, shit.” you croak out, struggling to form a proper sentence as his hips pistol up, fucking into you with every once of force he has. the sound of skin slapping fills not only your ears, but his entire apartment.

toji’s laugh is dark, filthy, as he pistons up into you, his cock stretching you wide with every brutal thrust. “you were goin’ too slow for my liking,” he snarls, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise, slamming you down onto him over and over. “not– not all of us have an endless supply of stamina, you asshole.”

his teeth sink into your shoulder, biting down just shy of breaking skin, his hips snapping up to meet your every bounce. the wet slap of their bodies is obscene, echoing off the walls. “fuck, you take me so good,” he growls, one hand sliding up to fist in her hair, yanking your head forward. “bet the whole building can hear how wet you are for me. bet they’re all fuckin’ jealous.”

his free hand gropes your tit roughly, pinching your nipple between his fingers, twisting hard enough to make you cry. his pace turns vicious, driving up into you with enough force to shake the bedframe, the headboard slamming against the wall in time with his thrusts.

you suck in your lower lip, bouncing up and down on his cock — it almost slips out because of how wet you are for him. you’ve never been this wet for anyone before, especially not your piece of shit ex.

you felt like he was fucking everything out of you; your thoughts, your words, your self respect. it was all crumbling down.

Snap.

Creak.

Crack.

you almost freeze, your pace slowing down as you come to a realization. “toji, i think we just broke your fucking bed.”

toji laughs — dark, ragged, and fucking smug — as the bed collapses beneath you in a mess of splintered wood and tangled sheets. he doesn’t even stop, just rolls over mid-thrust, pinning you beneath him on the wreckage, his cock still buried deep inside you. “fuck the bed,” he says, hips snapping forward, driving into you with a force that makes your back arch off the broken frame. “shoulda known you’d be the one to break me first.”

“bet you love this, huh? knowin’ you’re the only one who can take it like this. only one who deserves it.” the broken headboard smashes against the wall with every thrust, plaster cracking. “gonna make sure the whole building knows who’s fucking you like this.”

his sharp teeth sink into your shoulder, he’s marking you as his cock pulses inside, filling you up just as the last of the bed splinters beneath you. tears threaten to leak from your eyes, and your overstimulated pussy is weeping, velvet walls pulsing around toji’s cock.

“you look perfect, fuck.”

“nghh, fuck.” you cry, muffling your mouth by sinking your teeth into his shoulder. you moan out loudly, nails dragging down toji’s back as you cum for the third time tonight. you clutch onto him like your life depends on it, your legs wrapping around his waist as he fucks you.

you’re filthy, underneath toji, letting him fuck the brains out of you just as his bed collapses beneath you.

“you broke– broke the fuckin’ bed.”you gasp out, the mattress laying on a pile of broken wood on the cold marble floor.

toji lets out a dark, breathless laugh, his chest rumbling against yours as he finally stills inside you, buried to the hilt. his cock twitches, still pulsing as he spills the last of his cum deep into you. “fuckin’ worth it,” he growls, voice wrecked, lips brushing against your ear. his fingers trace the bite marks on your neck, the bruises already forming on your hips — his marks.

he doesn’t pull out. not yet. he doesn’t want to. instead, he rolls you both to the side, the broken bed creaking beneath you as he keeps you pinned under his weight, his cock still lodged inside.

“bet you regret complainin’ now, huh?” his smirk is filthy, fingers dragging through the mess between your thighs, smearing his cum back into you. “coulda been gettin’ fucked like this every night.”

his free hand grips your chin, forcing you to meet his gaze. “now you know, next time you hear me fuckin’ someone else, you’re gonna remember exactly what you’re missin’.”

“i almost forgot you’re still an asshole.”

then, finally, he pulls out with a wet, obscene sound, watching his cum leak out of you with a satisfied groan. “fuck that. might just keep you.”

you don’t remember when you left his apartment, and you definitely don’t remember how you ended up back in your bed but the sun’s shining brightly through the white curtains. you just remember the ache in your legs when you finally stood up from your bed.

it was a blur, really, you just know you had the best sex of your life with your asshole neighbor, toji fushiguro.

when you step out of your apartment, sandals on, in your shorts, you’re rubbing at your tired eyes. “yeah, that piece of shit guy who lives in apartment 311, is loud as hell. he typically always is, but last night? i don’t know who the hell was in there with him, but i think the entire fucking city heard them.” your neighbors are chattering amongst themselves as they walk by you, and your eyes widen at the words.

were you really that loud?

you almost trip on a envelope at your front door, as if the morning couldn’t get any worse. “dumbass, there’s a mailbox downstairs.” you murmur to yourself, bending down to pick up the terribly closed envelope. your fingers peel it open slowly, and a note appears, with a few bucks inside.

part two

synopsis: unhappy relationship. no service, trapped in a cabin with your boyfriend’s hot older brother, you’re faced with two options: will you save your relationship, or give up?

pairings: itoshi sae x reader

content: smut w/ plot, infidelity, established relationship with rin, masturbation (f), unprotected p in v sex, vaginal fingering, breeding, choking, face-fucking, risky sex, kitchen sex, oral sex (f & m receiving), creampie, cheating on poor rin, very unhappy relationship, (rin slander but i still love him sorry), #ihatemybf reader

wc: 7.5k

rin was perfect, at the beginning of your relationship. now, he barely had any time for you, and when he did, he was talking always about how he’d beat his brother and become number one. you always listened though, because you love your boyfriend.

you’ve been dating for a year and a half, and unfortunately the most interesting thing about your relationship is the sex. those sparks you felt at the beginning? looong gone.

if it wasn’t about soccer, rin didn’t care that much. and he made that very clear. his short replies, and the distance between you two was growing more and more by each second.

coming into a relationship was different for you; you were used to hookups and meaningless sex, so when you met rin, you decided that maybe it was time for you to settle down. the beginning of your relationship wasn’t terrible, and he was a lot more attentive than he is now.

every night, you’ve been sleeping with your pillow and a vibrator. rin spends all day at practice, then when he comes home, he’s too tired to pay any attention to you or more specifically, your needs.

tonight, you hadn’t expected it to be any different from how it is every night. you didn’t bother cooking dinner, he was never there to eat it anyway. when the front door opens at seven pm, you don’t run into his arms and ask him a million questions about practice, you just sit on the couch with your phone in your hand.

you both feel the drift in your relationship, but neither of you do anything to fix it.

rin drops his soccer bag, sweat sticking to his body, before he walks past you. “my mom wants us all to go out for dinner tomorrow night.”

that’s all he says to you.

you can’t help but chew on your lower lip at the sight of your boyfriend all dressed up, and maybe that’s why you’ve stuck around for so long. it sure as hell wasn’t because of the mask of indifference he wears on his face every day. his hand is cold, pressing against the small of your back to guide you through the restaurant.

you hadn’t a clue on who was going to be at that restaurant, and rin hadn’t elaborated on anything more.

rin’s mother greets you with a hug, and his father with a hug. but you aren’t paying attention to them, you’re paying attention to the male sitting across from them; magenta hair, wearing the same stoic expression as rin.

“i’m sure you remember sae, he’s staying here for a few days.” his mother says, helping you to your seat.

how could you forget? rin talks about his brother a lot, even when he claims he doesn’t care.

you smile, and nod your head as your boyfriend takes a seat next to you, oblivious to the way your eyes linger on his brother. “we haven’t formally met.” you say, looking into sae’s teal eyes.

sae barely spares you a glance, his cold teal eyes flickering over you for just a second before returning to his glass of water. he swirls it slightly, the ice clinking against the sides.

“mm.”

that’s all you get—one dismissive sound. no pleasantries, no acknowledgment beyond that single indifferent hum. his posture is relaxed but stiff, as if he’d rather be anywhere else than here in this restaurant with any of you.

his mother sighs like this is normal for him (it probably is), and rin doesn’t even react—too busy glaring down at the menu like it personally offended him.

the silence stretches uncomfortably until sae finally speaks again—though not to you directly, instead addressing rin with a tone that drips disinterest:

“you still playing forward?”

rin stiffens immediately at the question, grip tightening on his menu before he grits out, “..yeah..”

sae exhales through his nose—not quite a laugh but something close to mocking amusement. “hm.” that’s all he says before taking another sip of water like this entire interaction is beneath him.

you watch as rin’s jaw clenches hard enough you can practically hear it from where you sit.

and somehow… somehow, despite how utterly unwelcoming sae acts toward literally everyone at this table—you find yourself intrigued by him anyway.

maybe it was because he was everything rin pretended to be: cold arrogance wrapped in effortless confidence without even trying.

or maybe… you just liked things that didn’t want you back.

their mother clears her throat, after taking a long needed sip of wine. she reaches for their father’s hand, before nodding her head. “sorry for this..” she says, shooting you a look.

you wave a dismissive hand before she continues, “since our sons love each other so much, and haven’t seen each other, we decided to go on a trip for the weekend. all of us.” rin’s jaw ticks, and sae’s eyes narrow.

their father nods his head, “yeah, and there’s no getting out of it so i suggest just packing your bags and shutting the hell up. we’re leaving friday morning.”

“that goes for you too, y/n.”

your heart beat races, and you side glance your boyfriend, who looks pissed. and that might just be the most emotion you’ve ever seen on his face.

“seriously?” rin asks, and his parents nod their heads. “yeah, all of us are camping, and it’s already planned so no point in fighting it.”

“we’ve already got the cabins rented.”

camping? your eyes widen slightly but you don’t say anything. it wasn’t just going to be a weekend with rin— who’s barely acknowledged you at this dinner table, it was going to be weekend with sae too. and his lack of expression when greeting you, only made you even more interested.

sae lets out a sharp exhale through his nose—almost a scoff. his fingers tap once against the edge of the table, just enough to make the silverware rattle slightly.

“camping.”

he says it like it’s some kind of foreign, ridiculous concept. like he—someone who breathes football and arrogance in equal measure—couldn’t possibly be expected to waste his time with something so... ordinary.

his mother gives him a look that clearly says don’t start, but sae doesn’t even acknowledge it. instead, his eyes flick toward rin for half a second before sliding right past you like you don’t exist. again.

“fine.” he finally mutters, sounding entirely unimpressed by this entire situation (or maybe just life in general). “don’t expect me to enjoy it.”

rin scoffs at that—finally looking up from glaring at nothing on the tablecloth. “like any of us were going to.”

their dad sighs loudly while their mom pinches the bridge of her nose between two fingers as if praying for patience (or maybe divine intervention). meanwhile? you can’t help but notice how sae’s mouth twitches at rin’s response... almost like he finds it amusing beneath all that ice-cold indifference he wears so well.

and then — because fate has decided tonight is full Of Little Moments That Should Not Be Noticed But Are Anyway — sae shifts slightly in his seat... and somehow manages to catch your gaze again without even trying too hard about it...

this time though?

there’s something lingering there behind those teal eyes — something sharp enough to make heat curl low in your stomach before he looks away again like it never happened at all.

after that shit show of a dinner, you’re counting down the days until friday. a few months ago, you gave up on trying to peel the layers of itoshi rin. but now? you had a new mission: itoshi sae. maybe you should feel guilty, but you seriously haven’t had any fun in months.

your friends all moved on with their lives, while you were still stuck in a tasteless relationship.

could anyone blame you for wanting to have fun? if anything, your boyfriend was kinda the one who drove you to this point.

you finished packing your bag on wednesday night, you even packed your best lingerie. god only knows why; you haven’t had sex in maybe a month, so what could magically happen on this trip that you’d need lingerie? you had no idea, but you had hope. a lot of hope.

thursday night, you and rin drove down to his parents’ house so you could leave for this camping trip early in the morning.

the only thing he did do for you was help bring the suitcases upstairs to his childhood bedroom, that happened to be across from sae’s.

and fortunately for you, sae was already there.

the moment you step into the hallway, you can practically feel the tension radiating from under sae’s door. like he’s aware of your presence even before you are—like some kind of predator sensing movement in the dark.

rin’s barely glances at his brother’s shut door as he drops your bags unceremoniously onto his old bed.

“don’t bother unpacking much. we leave at five.”

and just like that, he turns and walks out—probably to go brood alone in some other part of the house. typical.

but sae’s door?

it creaks open just enough for a sliver of teal to cut through the dim hallway light... watching... waiting...

then—click—it shuts again with deliberate quietness before you can even properly process what or who was staring at you from inside that room just now.

you swallow hard against nothing in particular and tries not to think about it too much when choosing which pajamas to wear later — the conservative ones… or the other option tucked neatly beneath them In your bag where no one would see unless they were really looking.

you weren’t in the mood to deal with your boyfriend’s lack of attention towards you tonight, and you couldn’t care less about where you were right now.

you simply groan, zipping your bag up again before taking a seat at the edge of his bed. you weren’t even in the mood tonight, and that was unlike you.

whatever. maybe a shower’ll help.

even with water cascading down your body, and a hand in between your thighs — you don’t feel anything by imagining rin being the one in between your legs. you frown at yourself, two fingers pushing into you and your free hand circling your breast as you dig further into your mind.

you hate it. hate how you don’t feel guilty when you’re thinking about sae, and his slender fingers being put to work instead of yours.

you moan quietly, eyes shutting tightly as water drips down your body. your fingers work faster, and you feel yourself chasing that release you haven’t felt in so long.

and you really can’t help it when his name slips from your lips. not when you think about those pretty teal eyes looking at you.

sae pauses mid-motion, fingers still hovering over his phone screen where he’d been scrolling through some pointless messages from his coach.

his ears aren’t trying to pick up on anything… but walls in this house have always been thin. and even if they weren’t? that sound—soft but unmistakable—would have cut through steel anyway.

for a second, he just… stares at the wall separating his room from the bathroom like it personally insulted him (which, honestly? it kinda did right now). then his jaw tightens minutely as something unreadable flickers behind those teal eyes before being ruthlessly shoved back down into whatever abyss emotions go to die inside him normally.

but then a slow smirk curls at one corner of his mouth despite himself because really? of course this would happen tonight of all nights when you were stuck under the same roof for days starting tomorrow morning...

and isn’t that just fucking ironic considering how little effort rin ever put into keeping what was supposedly ‘his’ satisfied enough not to wander mentally elsewhere these days?

not that sae cares obviously.

except maybe a little bit.

because now there’s an image stuck behind his eyelids every time he blinks —water-slick skin and whispered names that don’t belong to who they should’ve belonged too--and frankly speaking? he hates how intrigued by it all he suddenly is.

he turns off his lamp with more force than necessary before rolling onto his side, eyes fluttering shut.

you should feel guilty about finishing to your boyfriend’s older brother’s face, but you don’t, not even when you lay next to your boyfriend.

the next morning, you’re sitting in between sae and rin. rin’s not facing you, but sae’s body is turned towards you. they’re both not looking at you, though. you feel like you can’t breathe, and everything feels smaller than it really is.

being in this car was just a reminder of how sad your life is; no social life, a boyfriend who ignores you, and nothing exciting happening to you anymore.

you’re a beautiful girl, you know that. so why aren’t things working? why doesn’t he try anymore?

you sigh deeply, gazing out the car window. your thoughts were eating away at you, and you hated it. you always hated thinking so much.

the car ride is suffocating—silence thick enough to choke on, broken only by the occasional static from the radio rin’s father left on too low to actually hear.

sae shifts slightly next to you, his knee brushing against yours for half a second before he pointedly angles himself away. but not before you catch it—the way his teal eyes flicker down at you once. just once. like he knows something.

and maybe he does.

maybe he heard you last night through the walls you’re now realizing are far too thin in the house full of secrets and unspoken things festering under everyone’s skin.

rin doesn’t even seem aware of how close you are to cracking open right between them; his headphones are in, eyes glued to his phone as if this entire trip is nothing but an inconvenience. which, for him… it probably is.

sae isn’t looking at you anymore—but that smirk from last night lingers like a ghost at the corner of his mouth anyway… small and cruel and knowing in ways that make heat crawl up your spine despite everything telling you it shouldn’t be there at all.

his voice cuts through the silence suddenly — cold as ever but with something beneath it now, “you should open your window.” a pause just long enough for tension to coil tighter in the air between them all before he adds, “before you suffocate.”

and oh god does THAT feel like more than just casual advice about airflow inside a cramped car ride suddenly.

“right.” you comment, leaning over rin’s lap to crack the window open.

you look at sae, “better?”

you could almost laugh at yourself, because sae spoke to you before your own boyfriend did this entire car ride. rin’s jaw ticks, and his leg bounces but he doesn’t say anything. he doesn’t need to, because you can already tell that something’s bothering him.

you press your lips together, letting the warm breeze from the moving car hit her face. your eyes are watching the splashes of green and gray from the countryside as they continue driving.

“almost there, guys.” rin’s father says, glancing through the mirror at the three sitting together in the back.

you look at your boyfriend, before reaching to grab his hand.

sae gaze flicks down to your joined hands—only for a split second—but it’s enough. the ghost of that smirk tugs at his lips again before he turns his face toward the window, as if the scenery outside suddenly became fascinating.

rin stiffens under your touch but doesn’t pull away. instead, his fingers remain limp in yours—cold and indifferent, like you’re holding a dead branch rather than the hand of someone who supposedly loves you.

his thumb twitches against your palm—the only sign he even remembers you exist right now—before going still again. sae exhales sharply through his nose at rin’s actions but says nothing else.

“you missed your exit.” sae points out flatly from beside them without even looking up from whatever football analysis is playing on HIS phone screen now instead (because priorities).

their dad curses under his breath before making an abrupt u-turn that sends everyone lurching sideways and somehow in the chaos, you find yourself pressed flush against sae’s side for one fleeting moment— close enough to catch the faint scent of expensive cologne mixed with something inherently him underneath it all— before everything rights itself again... leaving behind nothing but static electricity crackling where skin briefly brushed where it shouldn’t have been allowed to brush In first place anyway.

there were two more dreadful hours in this car with the brothers, you hated every second of it. you’re the first to pull your hand away from rin’s, and all he does is side glance you. unfortunately, sae finds humor in this sad relationship you have with his brother.

“and.. we’re here!” rin’s father says, parking the car next to two wooden cabins. he looks back at his sons, and you, an oblivious smile on his face. he doesn’t know that while you’re angry with one son, you’re very interested in the other.

so great. no service. no AC. upset boyfriend. and his hot brother. all in one stupid cabin.

“of course, you three will share a cabin. we’ll take the other one.” their mother comments, shutting the car down and opening the trunk. “unfortunately, there are no AC’s so i hope you’re all okay with that. it’s only for three days, and two nights.”

you want to die. not only is it scorching hot, but you’re carrying three bags into a cabin.

the moment you step inside the cabin, the thick scent of aged wood and stale heat hits you like a brick wall. the air is heavy, suffocating—much like the tension between you, rin (who’s currently slamming his bag onto one of the creaky twin beds), and sae who lingers in the doorway for a beat too long before stepping inside with deliberate indifference.

rin doesn’t even look at you as he mutters, “i call this bed.” as if sharing a room with him was ever going to be anything but an extension of your usual routine: distance wrapped in silence.

sae, meanwhile? he drops his bag onto the other bed without so much as sparing either of you another glance—but not before you catch it: that slow drag of his teal eyes over your sweat-damp skin where fabric clings just enough to outline curves beneath. it lasts half a second at most, yet burns hotter than this godforsaken cabin ever could.

then he turns away again—cold mask back in place—and casually stretches out on his claimed mattress like none of this bothers him at all while his brother sulks across from you both, unaware or unwilling to acknowledge how quickly control of this situation could slip right through his fingers if he keeps neglecting what’s right in front of him.

“you two should get settled.” sae finally comments idly, voice laced with something dangerously close to amusement despite Its usual frost before adding, “before one of you spontaneously combusts from all this... tension.”

you sigh deeply, finally dropping your bags next to rin’s things. you cough softly, looking around the room. it’s not terrible but you definitely aren’t used to it. “you want to go for a walk?” you ask, and he looks at you. straight face, and all. that was your attempt at easing the tension.

“not right now, mom said we’re going out by the fire after we settle in.” rin replies, and your smile falters.

“okay.” you say, turning to unpack your bag. rin never fails to make you feel like a big, fat idiot. and you hate it.

rin leaves the room, off to wherever the hell, leaving you alone with sae. you stop unpacking, and just flop back on the mattress, looking up at the ceiling.

why did you even come? to attempt at getting laid by your boyfriend’s brother?

sae watches from his bed, one arm folded behind his head as he idly scrolls through something on his phone—though the way his teal eyes flick toward you when you fall onto the mattress suggests he’s not actually reading anything.

a beat passes.

then another.

finally, he speaks, his voice low enough that it wouldn’t carry past these four walls even if rin was still nearby. “you look like you regret every life choice that led you here.”

there’s no sympathy in his tone because sae doesn’t do sympathy, but there is a sharp edge of… something. amusement? understanding? either way, it cuts deeper than rin’s indifference ever could.

he shifts slightly on the bed—fabric rustling as he turns just enough to glance at you fully now with those calculating eyes. “shouldn’t have expected anything different from him.”

a pause.

“but you already knew that.”

it isn’t cruel so much as brutally honest—the kind of truth someone only says out loud when they know damn well nothing will change either way... because some people are just stuck in their own patterns until something or someone forces them out.

you prop yourself up on your elbows, looking into sae’s teal eyes before you chew into your lower lip. unfortunately, he’s right. you do regret every choice that led you here. or maybe not. because without rin, you wouldn’t be across from sae right now.

his small acknowledgement was enough to make a slight smile appear on your face, before you sigh deeply.

“it wasn’t always like this.”

sae watches you silently from his bed as you speak, listening to your words with a calculating gleam in his eyes that doesn’t quite match the relaxed stance he’s in. he’s good at reading people, this one. good at seeing past every pretty (or not-so-pretty) mask they put up so yes, he notices it—the subtle resignation on your face in the wake of your own words, the way your shoulders slump like a part of you already accepted this as normal, expected even.

and something about it pisses him off.

”rin doesn’t fix things,” he says flatly, as if stating an obvious fact. “he breaks them and walks away.”

a pause. then, with deliberate slowness, he props himself up onto one elbow—teal eyes locking onto yours like you’re suddenly the only thing in this godforsaken cabin worth looking at. “you still have time to walk away too.”

“i know,” you say, sitting up in the bed across from sae. “i know.” you repeat again, unsure of yourself.

the unspoken or not hangs between you like an open challenge. and for the first time in months? you feel something other than resignation simmering under your skin.

“but i’m not sure if i want to walk away right now.” that was bold, even for you. but it felt good. really good. the implication hangs heavy between you, and your eyelashes bat against your cheek before there’s a knock at the already cracked door.

“mom wants us to go by the fire.” rin says, looking at you then at his brother. you both sit up from your beds, and watch as rin walks away from the now opened door.

sae walks out behind you, and your heart races until you exit the cabin. the sun was already setting, and the fire was already being lit.

the fire crackles in the center of your little gathering, casting flickering shadows across everyone’s faces— rin’s stiff posture, his parents’ oblivious chatter, sae’s razor-sharp profile cutting through the dim light like a blade. you can practically feel the heat of him standing just slightly too close behind you as you both approach the circle.

sae doesn’t sit next to his brother. instead, he casually claims a spot right beside you, one knee drawn up lazily as he leans back on his hands—close enough that if you shifted even an inch? your shoulders would brush.

rin’s eyes dart between you and sae for half a second before he pointedly looks away, but not before you catch it: the faintest tightening of his jaw at how little space exists between you and sae now compared to how much there always is between you.

sae doesn’t react beyond tilting his head just slightly toward you, voice low under cover of laughter from his parents. “changed your mind yet?”

the question could mean anything—walking away from rin? staying? choosing something (someone) else entirely?

“maybe i’m still thinking.” you reply, eyes flickering from the growing fire to meet with sae’s.

“even when the answer’s right in front of you?”

the fire crackles between you all—orange light flickering across sae’s sharp features, catching the cold amusement in his eyes as he watches your breath hitch at his words.

rin’s still sitting stiffly beside you, ignoring you completely in favor of whatever argument his parents are having about marshmallow-roasting techniques. but sae doesn’t look away from you.

not when you stare into his eyes. not when your fingers fumble with a stick trying to spear a marshmallow because suddenly his presence next to you is closer than before, close enough that his breath ghosts against the back of you neck as he mutters, “you’re doing it wrong.”

and oh god—his hands are there too now (supposedly “helping” guide yours), long fingers curling over yours to adjust the angle of the stick with deliberate slowness while rin remains oblivious just inches away.

your breath hitches, and you raise your eyebrows mockingly. “oh really?” you’re teasing him, with your words and your tone. “i needed help putting a marshmallow on my stick?”

rin’s barely paying attention to the conversation happening next to him, and the ghost of a smile on his brother’s lips. you look at your boyfriend, offering him a stick.

“marshmallow?”

he looks at you, “yeah, yeah. hand me the hershey bar too.” is the most he’s spoken to you. the tension in your shoulders release when you pass rin a marshmallow and a hershey bar.

you lean closer to the fire, roasting the marshmallow before teasing sae further. “am i doing this wrong too?”

“tomorrow we’re going to check out this store nearby, then we’ll go canoeing. it’ll be all sorts of fun.” rin’s mother says, roasting her marshmallow.

“fun.” rin mutters, sliding the marshmallow onto his stick.

“yeah, you’re still doing it wrong,” he murmurs low enough for only you to hear, teal eyes glinting with something dangerously close to challenge. “too close to the flame. it’ll burn.”

and sure enough— your marshmallow catches fire a second later. you yelp softly, jerking the stick back as rin glances over at you before returning to his chocolate bar.

sae exhales through his nose—almost a laugh—before reaching over casually... and plucking the charred mess right off your stick with two fingers. he pops it into his mouth without flinching at the heat then levels you with a look that says: “told you so.”

his mother is still clapping excitedly about tomorrow’s plans while their dad pokes at the fire like none of this is happening right under their noses---blissfully ignorant of the way sae’s knee brushes against yours under the log you’re sitting on... or how rin still hasn’t noticed anything beyond his own damn candy bar.

you giggle, “hey! you ate my burnt marshmallow.” a smile’s on your lips, and it’s a pretty sight for anyone to see. sae almost grins, but he settles on passing you another marshmallow.

“try it again.” he says, teasing you lightly. you sit up with a fake determination, pushing the marshmallow through the stick and leaning closer to the flames again.

this time, you don’t push it too far into the fire. and it’s perfect. “quick, graham crackers! and chocolate!”

you place the crackers on either side of the marshmallow, then grab a piece of chocolate from rin’s chocolate bar.

“this is the best s’more you’ve ever seen.” you say, looking at sae.

chemistry flows between you so easily, better than how it’s currently going with you and rin. but then his parents stand up, letting out a yawn.

“okay, we have to get up early so don’t stay up too late. and rin, put out the fire for us. your mother and i are going to lay down now.”

“hm. decent.” he concedes dryly, though the way his eyes linger on your lips when you take a bite betrays more interest than his tone lets on.

as his parents retreat to their cabin, rin finally stirs from his chocolate-induced stupor long enough to grab a bucket of water and dump it unceremoniously over the fire—steam and embers hissing into nothingness around you. “done,” rin mutters, already turning toward the cabin without waiting for either of you. “i’m going to bed.”

and just like that? he’s gone—leaving you alone with sae in the dim glow of dying coals and whatever this tension is between you that keeps crackling louder than any fire ever could.

you look at sae again, and he moves a hand to your mouth, wiping the excess chocolate that resided next to your lips. the act made your breath hitch, but the sound of a dying fire made you snap out of this hypnosis.

“we should probably go back now..” you murmur, standing up from the log. sae nods his head, standing up behind you. and you both walk into the cabin. wordlessly. you won’t acknowledge anything that happened outside, and maybe that’s for the better because when you shower, and go back into the room. it’s rin’s bed you lay in, not sae’s.

and for a second, he forgot that you were his brother’s girlfriend.

sae doesn’t say a word as you slip into rin’s bed but the sharp exhale through his nose is just loud enough to cut through the silence. his jaw ticks once before he rolls onto his side, back facing you and rin.

like hell he’s going to watch this.

rin, oblivious as ever, is already half-asleep with one arm slung over his eyes, and the other hanging off your waist.

you stare up at the ceiling in the dark, painfully aware of two things:

1. you can still feel sae’s thumb brushing chocolate from your lip like it was nothing (it was everything).

2. the space between you and rin has never felt wider or more suffocating than right now.

somewhere outside, an owl hoots—mocking this entire disaster of a situation probably. while inside? the only sound left is three people breathing in sync but never really on same page at all.

sae has to do something to help you open your eyes.

the next morning passes like a breeze, and you’re the last to get ready. when you pass by the couch in the living room, rin and sae are both lounging. there was a gap in between them, surely it was for you? no. they just didn’t want to sit next to each other.

“mom and dad said they’re going to some food market near by, they want one of us to come while the other two stay behind.” rin says, barely glancing up from his phone. he’s mostly speaking to his brother, but you catch glimpses of the conversation when you walk into the kitchen.

sae leans back against the couch, arms crossed—but his gaze tracks you like a predator sizing up prey.

“one of us should go with them,” he says coolly, eyes flicking to rin. “unless you’d rather stay here and bond.” the sarcasm is thick enough to slice with a knife.

rin scowls but doesn’t argue—because even he knows their parents won’t tolerate both brothers ditching for some market trip while leaving you behind alone.

a beat passes. then rin exhales sharply through his nose before pushing off the couch, “fine, i’ll go.”

he looks at you, who’s too busy flipping through the cabin’s welcome manual. “be.. careful.” rin says, grabbing his jacket and stalking out of the cabin.

sae raises his eyebrows, a calm smirk on his lips as he registers the fact that you two are alone again.

“you look so.. pent up.” sae says coolly, standing up from his seat on the couch. your tongue slides over your lower lip, and you turn to look at him.

“maybe i am.” you retort, and he almost smiles at your words. “mhm.” is all he settles for.

you look at the shut door, then back at sae. you feel a rush of excitement, being all alone with him. you feel everything, except for guilt. your boyfriend led you to this.. right?

maybe if he hadn’t neglected you, you wouldn’t have wandering eyes.

sae closes the distance between you in two long strides, his fingers catching your chin to tilt your head. his teal eyes burn with something dark, hungry, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“poor little y/n,” he murmurs, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “so neglected. so lonely.” his grip tightens, his other hand sliding around your waist, pulling you flush against him. “tell me—how long have you been fantasizing about this?”

his lips ghost over yours, teasing, taunting, his breath hot against your skin. his fingers trail down your throat, over the rapid pulse fluttering beneath your skin, down to the neckline of your shirt. “how long have you ached for me to fuck you the way he never could?”

his knee nudges your legs apart, his body pressing your back against the counter, pinning you in place. the heat of him is overwhelming, his scent—smoke and something dangerously intoxicating—filling your lungs.

“no more pretending,” he murmurs, his teeth scraping over your earlobe. “today, i’ll give you what you’ve been begging for.”

you open your mouth to protest, but words don’t come out. not because you have nothing to say, but because you simply can’t deny him. that last bit of self restraint you had? it ripped.

you grab sae by his shirt, pulling him down into a hungry kiss. your teeth clash, your tongues fight, and it’s disgusting. if sae wasn’t so horny, he’d scold himself and you for being so improper.

his hands slide down your body, and you roll your hips against his desperately looking for what you haven’t had in months. it’s pathetic, really.

and when you pull away, you look at him with those sex-craved eyes, like a virgin who’s never experienced this much passion before. all before you drop to your knees in front of him, tongue lapping over your lower lip as your fingers loop through the waistband of his sweatpants.

“you’re disgusting,” sae muses, looking down at you pull his boxers down. his cock springs out free, smacking against your face. “desperate for your boyfriend’s brother.”

you lick your lips at the sight of sae’s cock in front of you; furious red tip already leaking pre cum, and a long thick shaft. your mouth practically drools, and sae only smirks at the sight. you should feel pathetic, really, for how easy you fell into his hands.

your movements are careful, and slow as you wrap your hands around his cock but sae’s not taking it. “you want this,” he snarls, dragging his cock over your lips, smearing pre-cum across your mouth. “want everyone to see a desperate little whore you are for me.”

sae’s fingers guide your head, gripping tight as you take him into your mouth with a hungry moan. his cock throbs against your tongue, the taste of salt and pre-cum flooding your senses as you hollow your cheeks, sucking him deep.

“fuck—“ he hisses, his hips jerking forward, forcing himself deeper down your throat. his other hand braces against the counter, knuckles white with restraint. “such a good little slut for me, aren’t you?”

you whimper around him, your fingers digging into his thighs as you take him to the hilt, your nose brushing the wiry curls at his base. drool spills down your chin, your eyes watering as he fucks your mouth in short, brutal thrusts.

sae’s breath comes in ragged growls, his grip tightening on your head, yanking you back just enough to meet your gaze. his teal eyes are wild, pupils blown with lust. “fuck, we don’t have– have that much time.” he stutters ever-so-slightly, looking down at you.

and then he’s pulling you up, spinning you around, bending you over the counter. your shorts are yanked down in one rough motion, his fingers sliding through your soaked folds.

“so fucking wet,” he growls, pressing two fingers inside you, curling them just right. “all for me, huh?”

his cock replaces his fingers in one brutal thrust, splitting you open, claiming you completely, in ways your boyfriend hasn’t. your scream is muffled by your own arm as he pounds into you, each snap of his hips sending shockwaves of pleasure through your body.

“mphm– sae! s–slow down!” you squeal, tits bouncing against the wood counter with every violent snap of his hips. he pulls you up by the neck, before one hand pushes your tank top up and cups your breast.

“slow down? do you want your boyfriend to walk in on me fucking you on this counter?” sae taunts, lips brushing the crest of your ear. “mhm, i don’t think you do.”

sae’s fingers dig into the soft flesh of your breast, his thumb flicking over your nipple as he drives into you with brutal, unforgiving strokes. the slap of skin against skin echoes through the cabin, mingling with your broken moans. “nghhh!! sae—“

“look at you,” sae groans, his voice rough with lust, his hips snapping forward, burying himself to the hilt.

“taking my cock like you were made for it. rin doesn’t deserve this sweet pussy.”

your back arches, nails scraping against the countertop as pleasure coils tight in your stomach, your walls fluttering around him. sae’s grip on your thigh tightens, his fingers leaving bruises as he fucks you harder, deeper.

sae pulls his hips back, before turning you over to face him. you look into his teal eyes, drool dripping down your chin, and your back pressing against the counter.

next thing you know, your leg is hiked up on his shoulder and he’s fucking into you at a brutal pace. his fingers push into your mouth, muffling your loud moans.

“nghh~! you’re sososo big!” sae replaces his fingers with his lips, pulling you into a messy kiss, all while he’s fucking up into your pussy, abs flexing with every thrust. you moan when his cock pounds into you, almost eight inches of pure bliss.

you look into sae’s teal eyes, your pupils blown. finally, you were breaking him down. breaking those walls. “you’re so fucking— mhm! handsome.” you hiccup, tits bouncing with every violent snap of his hips.

“yeah?”

“sososo fucking handsome.” you repeat.

sae’s grip on your hips tightens, fingers digging into your flesh as he slams into you with a brutal, unrelenting pace. his breath comes in ragged pants against your lips, his usual composed facade shattered into something feral, desperate.

“fuck— look at you,” he moans, voice rough with desire. “taking me so fucking well, gorgeous.”

his cock throbs inside you, stretching you impossibly wide with each thrust. the wet slap of skin on skin fills the cabin, mingling with your moans. sae’s teal eyes burn into yours, dark with need, pupils blown wide—no longer the cold, distant man you first met.

his thumb swipes over your clit, rough and demanding, and you arch against him with a broken cry. his grip on your hips tightening as he slams into you harder, deeper—like he’s trying to ruin you.

his cock pistons into you relentlessly, the thick length dragging against your sweet spot with every brutal thrust. “you needed this,” he snarls, fingers digging into your thighs as he spreads them wider, claiming you. “needed me.”

his hand slides up to grip your throat, not choking—owning. “say it,” he demands, hips snapping forward in a way that makes your vision blur. “say you fucking needed me.”

“i– i needed you so bad.” you cry out, eyes rolling to the back of your head.

sae laughs, his fingers digging into your throat as he forces you to look into his eyes. “damn right, you did. looking at me like that last night, moaning my name in the fucking shower.”

“come for me,” he orders, voice dripping with dominance. “let me feel you fucking ruin yourself on my cock.”

and when you do, when your walls clench around him like a fucking vice, sae follows with a groan, spilling deep, hot ropes of cum inside you, his hips stuttering as he fucks you through both of your orgasms.

for the first time, there’s no mask. just him. just you.

that’s when the reality of the situation hits you: you just cheated on your boyfriend. with. his. fucking. brother.

sae’s fingers dig into your hips, keeping you pressed against him as he pulls out with a slow, deliberate drag, his cock glistening with your slick. his breath is still ragged, his teal eyes burning into your with a mix of satisfaction and something darker—something possessive. “we should probably…. c–clean up.” you murmur, still dazed out.

“clean up?” his voice is rough, edged with amusement as he tucks himself back into his pants, his gaze never leaving yours. “you think a shower will erase what we just did?"

he steps closer, crowding you against the counter again, his thumb brushing over your lower lip. his other hand slides between your legs, fingers pressing against your swollen pussy, smearing his cum deeper into you.

“let him smell it on you,” he murmurs, his breath hot against your ear. “let him see how wet you still are for me. how his brother fucked you better than he ever could.”

you tense at his words, before giving his chest a weak nudge. “i’m going to take a shower before they come back.” you say, slipping past him.

sae only watches you stumble away, his cum still dripping down your thighs. “you forgot something.” he taunts, holding your shorts up with one finger before you turn around and snatch them from his hand.

and maybe that’s how you end up in the bathroom, gripping onto the sink as sae buries his face in between your thighs.

sae’s grip on your thighs tightens, fingers digging into your soft flesh as his tongue flicks against your clit with ruthless precision. the vibrations of his low chuckle against your sensitive skin send shivers up your spine.

“oh, fuck. we don’t– don’t have that much time.” you cry out, voice shaking.

“time?” he pulls back just enough to speak, his lips glistening with your arousal. “you think i give a fuck about time right now?”

his tongue plunges back inside you without warning, lapping up every drop of your slick as his fingers curl against your hips, holding you in place. the wet, filthy sounds of him devouring you fill the bathroom.

one hand slides up your stomach, fingers pinching your nipple roughly, twisting hard enough to make you moan.

“you taste too fucking good to stop,” he groans against your pussy, his breath hot. “and you're lying if you say you want me to.”

“rin can wait,” he murmurs, dragging his tongue up your slit one last time before standing. “i’m not done with you yet.”

the sound of the front door opening barely registers over the pounding of your hearts.

“sae? y/n?” rin’s voice calls out from the living room, and your eyes widen with fear. sae looks at you, then back at the locked bathroom door.

“yeah?” sae calls out to your oblivious boyfriend, placing a hand over your mouth to keep you from making any sounds. oh, fuck.

rin stands in front of the locked bathroom door, lips pressed together in a straight line before he speaks again. “have you seen y/n?” sae bites his tongue, sparing you a glance before replying. “no, she told me she was going on a walk to clear her mind. why?”

“well,” rin pauses, scratching the back of his neck with one hand. “i bought her.. flowers, i just wanted to apologize for everything. i guess, i’ll wait.. then.”