lovesghoste

"me? a distraction?" satoru gasped in mock offense. he shifted his weight, dropping down to lie on his stomach next to you. he propped his chin up with his hands, a movement that caused the fabric of his shirt to tauten over the heavy definition of his upper back and shoulders.

your eyes tracked the movement. you blinked once. twice.

wait.

you looked from the textbook diagram of the deltoids and pectorals, then right back to satoru’s very real, very defined body. a sudden, brilliant spark of desperation ignited in your fried brain.

"toru," you said, your tone suddenly dead serious. "take your shirt off."

satoru froze, his smirk faltering into a look of genuine, rare bewilderment. his beautiful blue eyes blinked in confusion. "wh—now? i mean, i love the enthusiasm, babe, but i thought you were failing a class?"

"just do it. for science. for my gpa."

muttering something about how you were terrifying when stressed, satoru crossed his arms and pulled the compression shirt over his head, tossing it onto the floor. he sat cross-legged on the bed, presenting a perfect, shirtless canvas of lean muscle.

"alright, i'm naked—well, half-naked. what's the plan, professor?"

you didn’t answer. instead, you lunged off the bed, grabbed a neon green washable expo marker from your desk, and crawled back over to him with a manic look in your eye.

satoru eyed the marker warily. "uh, what is that for?"

"hold still," you commanded, uncapping the marker with your teeth.

you leaned in close, your left hand resting gently on his shoulder for balance while your right hand brought the marker to his skin. satoru tensed for a fraction of a second at the cool, damp touch of the felt tip, but quickly relaxed, watching you with an amused, fond expression as you began to draw.

"okay," you murmured, tracing a neat box right over his chest. "these are the pectoralis major. big chest muscles. easy." you wrote pec major in bold green letters right across his right pectoral.

"wow, using my body as a cheat sheet. i feel objectified. do it more," satoru chuckled, his chest vibrating under your hand.

"shh! i'm concentrating," you chided, moving your marker up to his shoulder. you traced the rounded muscle cap. "deltoid. anterior, lateral, posterior. it's like a shoulder pad." you carefully scribbled deltoid on his shoulder, giving it a little pat.

"and what about these?" satoru asked, flexing his arm slightly, a proud grin on his face.

you stared at his arm, the marker hovering. "ah! the age-old question. bicep is on the front, tricep is on the back. bicep pulls the arm in, tricep extends it." to cement it in your memory, you drew a giant arrow on his inner arm pointing up labeled bicep, and a matching one on the back labeled tricep.

for the next thirty minutes, satoru’s bedroom turned into a live-action, neon-green anatomy lab. you moved around him like a mad scientist, labeling his serratus anterior (the "rib muscles," as you initially called them), his trapezius, and even trying to map out his abs, though you kept getting distracted because his stomach kept twitching from being tickled by the marker.

"stop laughing, toru, i'm trying to find your external obliques!"

"i can't help it! your hands are cold and that marker is tickling the life out of me!" he gasped, squirming away from the green tip.

finally, you stepped back to admire your handiwork. satoru was covered from the waist up in bright green boxes, arrows, and messy anatomical terms. he looked absolutely ridiculous, completely contrasting his runway-model face.

satoru looked down at himself, then glanced in the vanity mirror across the room. he burst out laughing. "i look like a radioactive paint-by-numbers project."

"you look like an a-plus," you corrected proudly, capping the marker. "i actually remember them now. visual learning is a powerful tool."

satoru smiled, leaning forward and wrapping his green-labeled arms around your waist to pull you into his lap. "glad i could be of service to your education. but you know this stuff washes off, right? what are you going to do during the actual quiz tomorrow when you can't look at my chest?"

you hummed, resting your hands against his (now labeled) pectorals. "i'll just close my eyes and visualize my very hot, very heavily graffitied boyfriend."

toji fushiguro easily took up the entire frame. he had to be at least six foot two, his broad shoulders nearly brushing against the molding on either side. he was completely bare from the waist up, his torso a rugged expanse of lean, dense muscle covered in a faint sheen of sweat that caught the dim light of the hall. a jagged, pale scar cut right through the right corner of his lips, stretching up toward his cheekbone, giving his mouth a permanent, cynical tilt even when his expression was blank. his dark, messy hair hung in damp strands over his forehead, partially obscuring a pair of sharp, jade green eyes that immediately dropped to look you up and down.

in his arms, looking completely absurd against the massive scale of his chest, was a tiny infant wrapped in a faded yellow blanket. the babys tuft of dark hair was sticking straight up, his tiny fist pressed against tojis collarbone.

"youre late," toji said.

his voice didnt sound like it came from his throat, it vibrated from deep within his chest, a low, gravelly rasp that sounded like heavy stones being dragged over gravel. he didnt sound angry, just entirely drained, his eyelids drooping with a heavy, bone deep fatigue.

"the subway caught a signal delay two stops back," you said, keeping your voice steady despite the way your heart gave a sudden, nervous thud against your ribs. "im here from the flyer, we talked on the stoop this afternoon."

toji stared at you for a beat longer, his green eyes tracking the line of your jaw, assessing whether you were going to turn around and run back down the stairs. when you didnt flinch, a tiny, almost imperceptible twitch of his scarred lip occurred. he stepped backward into the apartment, leaving the door open for you to follow.

"close it behind you," he muttered, turning his back to you.

the apartment was small, essentially a single open concept room that functioned as a kitchen and living space, with a narrow door in the back that presumably led to a bathroom and a lone bedroom. the linoleum floor was old, patterned in a faded beige that had worn down to gray patches in front of the sink. a single plastic rocker sat in the middle of the room, surrounded by an absolute chaos of baby supplies, half empty cans of formula, a mountain of plastic diapers stacked haphazardly on a folding table, and several crumpled betting sheets from the local racetrack.

the heavy, stifling heat inside was cut only by the weak breeze of a small plastic fan sitting on the kitchen counter, its blades whirring with a low, irritating buzz.

toji walked over to the rocker, his loose, low slung gray sweatpants riding low on his hips, exposing the sharp lines of his pelvic bones and the dark trails of hair that disappeared beneath the waistband. he lowered his massive frame with a controlled, predatory grace, setting the baby down into the plastic seat with an awkward, almost hyper cautious gentleness. his thick, blunt fingers looked entirely too large for the task, his knuckles raw and slightly red, though you couldnt see any open wounds yet.

"he hasnt stopped making that noise since five," toji said, leaning his hands on his knees as he stared down at the infant. megumi, that was the name he had mentioned earlier, was not crying, but he was letting out a rhythmic, high pitched whine, his tiny legs kicking beneath the blanket.

"he is probably just hot," you murmured, stepping closer. you set your canvas bag on the kitchen table, making sure to avoid the sticky ring left by an old coffee mug. you knelt beside the rocker, your movements soft and deliberate. when you reached out, your hand looked small against the plastic frame, but your fingers were steady as you gently pulled the heavy blanket down to megumis waist, exposing his small cotton onesie.

within a few seconds, the babys whining slowed, his dark eyes shifting from the ceiling to focus on your face. he let out a soft, wet sigh, his tiny fingers reaching out to blindly grasp at the air, until they bumped against your knuckles.

toji watched the entire interaction from above. he hadnt moved an inch, his heavy shadow completely enveloping both you and the baby. his green eyes were fixed on the back of your neck, watching the way your hair shifted as you tilted your head. there was a strange, unreadable intensity to his gaze, a mixture of profound relief and a sharp, calculating curiosity.

"youre good with him," he observed. it wasnt a compliment, it was a statement of fact, delivered with the cold detachment of a man checking the inventory on a shipment.

"i used to help with my younger cousins," you replied gently, letting megumi track your index finger. "babies dont like being wrapped up like burritos in ninety degree weather, mr fushiguro."

"toji," he corrected, a tiny scoff escaped his chest. he stood up straight, the sudden shift in his height making the small room feel even tighter than it already was. he rubbed a large palm over his face, the rough skin of his hand making a dry, scratching sound against the thick stubble along his jawline. "formula is in the top cupboard over the sink, bottles are in the dish rack, dont touch the small radio on the shelf, the dial is broken and it takes an hour to get the station back."

he walked over to the back of a wooden chair, picking up a faded, oversized black zip up hoodie, as he slipped his arms through the sleeves. the fabric stretched tight across his back, highlighting the deep, powerful columns of muscle that lined his spine. he didnt bother zipping it up, leaving his scarred chest fully visible as he checked his pockets.

"what time will you be back?" you asked, standing up from the floor and wiping your palms against your jeans.

toji paused, his hand hovering near the pocket of his hoodie. he turned his head slightly, his sharp profile silhouetted against the dim light of the kitchen fan. his green eyes narrowed just a fraction, a look that was entirely protective and deeply secretive, passing over his features.

"before dawn," he said, his voice dropping into a lower, rougher register that seemed to graze against the back of your neck. "if anyone knocks, dont answer it, i dont care who they say they are, im the only one with a key."

"is there a number where i can reach you if there is an emergency?"

toji stopped, his hand diving into the pocket of his gray sweatpants. he pulled out a heavily battered, blocky plastic flip phone, the silver paint peeling entirely along the edges. the screen was dark, spiderwebbed with a deep crack right down the middle. he tossed it carelessly onto the folding table, where it landed with a dull, plastic clack.

"phone is a piece of shit, it only receives texts if the battery doesnt die in twenty minutes," he muttered, reaching onto the kitchen counter to grab a stray scrap of a betting slip and a blunt pencil. he scrawled a string of digits across the back, his large hand moving with heavy, impatient strokes, before he slid the piece of paper toward you. "thats the number, try it if the place starts burning down, otherwise dont bother me."

he walked toward the front door, his heavy boots making the worn linoleum creak beneath his weight. his large fingers completely covered the brass hardware of the doorknob. he gave you one final, lingering look over his shoulder, his green eyes dark, assessing, and leaving a heavy, lingering warmth in the room, before he stepped out into the yellow glare of the corridor. "just keep him quiet."

the lock turned from the outside with a heavy, definitive click, leaving you alone in the quiet apartment with nothing but the buzz of the fan and the slow, steady breathing of his son.

taglist ! - still open!

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A week after the mixer, he found the disc that held the haunting melody, which was a bit hard to find. He had to go from record store to record store to find that specific disc, it was from one of your beginning EP’s. The cover had only your face as the main focus, but it was obscured with a mesh black veil, as the trims were decorated with crystals making a beautiful effect. Hiromi somehow found the time to listen to the full 20 minute album; listening to it, his heart had transcended to your lips. Each word that you sung only drew him closer to you.

Again, Hiromi wasn’t one for music; to go even further, he wasn’t one for celebrities— but you were different. Your writing spoke to him deeply, with songs that talked about a melancholy loneliness, others about forbidden desires. Many connected with you, making forums about you and what not— it surprised Hiromi, how could he have not known about this? Had he really been depriving himself? Hiromi wanted to learn more about you, but it was difficult as you weren’t really a major artist. It didn’t mean that you weren’t known, but compared to other pop stars, you were small. But that’s what made you so captivating to fans.

Fans poured their hearts to you, making forums that discussed about your music and how it changed them.

Overtime, Hiromi continued to listen to your music, consuming every piece of you from what you let the media have. Every single piece of lyric that spilled from your lips took him back to that night, to where he felt his heart swell.

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It happened all so suddenly, a few months after he got his job the news spread like wildfire about you. You had gotten yourself into a major scandal as you came back from Bangkok. TMZ had the raw footage of you stepping out of the airport, paparazzi swarming your form as you tried to push through.

You had on your airport outfit, a white tank top, some loose bottoms with a hat and sunglasses; you didn’t bother putting on a bra, since you were just coming from a long flight. Somehow, your perky tits became a focal point for the paparazzi, cameras continued to flash your form.

“Welcome back, Sugartits!”

The cameraman to your right flashed his camera to your chest, getting a nice shot of your bouncing breasts through the thin layer. The footage showed that you froze from his words, your head turning to his direction. It all happened so suddenly: one moment the cameras had you walking out from the airport, the next they had footage of you beating up the paparazzi!

News segments, video reactions, articles: each one psychoanalyzing your actions with every swing. The scandal caused your agency to put you into hiding, barely promoting your projects or giving you any sort of publicity after the footage. Many fans defended you, but the media spun a story to make you seem like another 2008 Britney Spears.

All the pressure always seemed to cling during the night; you often found yourself in low quiet bars to watch others mingle. You lean against the bar counter, ordering a random drink to watch the ice fuse with the alcohol. With every crack of the ice melting away, you felt your body grow more heavier with dread. Annoyingly, you began to hear your voice spill out from the speakers— it must’ve been some kind of taunt. You push yourself off the counter, stumbling toward the source of music. You knew that it shouldn’t bother you, but you weren’t thinking straight.

Your eyes squint as they focus on the orange bright hues that radiated from the jukeboxes; you hadn’t even realized how long you’ve resigned yourself in darkness until you felt the stinging in your eyes. You barely noticed the man who sat himself beside the music, your fingers danced around the buttons to try to change the disc,

“Don’t.”

You turn your gaze toward the man who was slumped over a random chair, he held a half drank beer with his hand— swirling it every so often,

“The song’s trashy,” the words escaped your lips, ones that were used to taunt you. Your fingers continued to fondle the machine to switch the music, your ears getting sick and tired of your own beautiful voice. You felt your wrist being taken by a gentle yet firm hand, you almost yelled at who dared to touch you but, your gaze was met with his tired ones.

“I said, don’t. It’s a beautiful song”

Hiromi could feel your pulse pound against his fingers. Your lyrics continued to fill in the room, each sultry chime sinking its teeth into the tension.

It felt like it’s been a long time since you have heard someone call your music beautiful. Their was so many words people described your work: raw, sultry, sex—it was all meaningless words that ignored your hard work. But, Hiromi’s heart had always felt that your music could be more than a ravishing desire.

You look back at the jukebox, your name and the album sprawled on the small LCD screen.

“You really got bad taste,” your lips curled into a small smile.

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“—So what’s got a hunk like you so down?”

Despite looking a bit of a wreck, you never let smudged mascara get in the way of flirting with a hot man. You watched as Hiromi finished the last sips of alcohol in his glass.

“Just life.”

You raise a brow curiously, “Ah, really? What do you do? What misfortunes has life brought you?”

Hiromi stretched his neck, easing the tension that had built up from reading cases, highlighting and what not, “I’m a criminal defense attorney.”

He set his both of his hands down at the table, some of his fingers had there skin scarred from how he picked on it when he was stressed.

“As lawyers we try to give our best for our clients, but as a defense lawyer often than not, you fall short with the mishandling of the law enforcement—misplaced evidence, 12 hour interrogation without even mentioning their rights; it gets tiring.”

You glance at his form: nice broad chest, a serious smoldering look, sleeves rolled up to show his toned forearms. Hearing a man speaking about his frustrations was a serious turn on.

“How do you even relax? Your body must be so…. tight”

You tried to give him some hint with your eyes but, it seemed that he didn’t get the signal.

“I usually listen to your music… I really liked your ‘Bedtime Stories’ album,” his voice went into a soft sincere tone, his fingers tapped the wooden dinner table in a reminiscent fashion.

“It really moved me when listening to it.”

His sincerity made your heart melt, it was pretty adorable to see such a professional man admit he likes your music.

“I’m glad some people appreciate my music,” you leaned back into the cushion of booth, tightening your arms closer to your chest, “After the Bangkok incident, people care about my tits than my new work.”

Your eyes glance to see the expression on his face or what he would say next; this guy really was your type. You could see his lip turn thin, his brows scrunched up in disgust.

“I really hate tabloids like that, always trying to find little things to exploit.”

Your lip curled into a small smirk, you were really into this guy for sure. Usually, you would have never dated a fan—you hated that cliche… but, he was so fucking hot. You eyes kept dancing up and down his form, liking every awkward gesture he made.

“Y’know… it’s been a while since I met a real man. A guy who just is so…. Pleasant to be around—plus, you’re nice on the eyes.”

You rubbed your heel against his leg, “So what should I call you?”

His body tensed up from sudden touch, but he didn’t retract, he leaned into it, “Call me Hiromi.”

Tonight, you regained your confidence—thanks to this handsome man.

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‘Never invite someone to your penthouse.’

That was your set rule when buying your lavish home, but… Does it really matter when you’re sucking the dick of some guy (very attractive guy) you picked up at the bar?

Hiromi gripped onto the door awkwardly, not wanting to tug your hair or hurt you. His head snapped back as his hip pushed forward to feel the back of your throat—pushing your uvula back. Your tongue swirled around every vain of his cock, your fingers rubbed his hipbone to ease his anxiety.

You guided his pants to the floor, it gave more comfort for your palm to cup his balls. Drool fell off your lips, dripping onto your clean floor, wanting to get more out of him—you tugged his balls.

A whiney gasp escaped his lips, he looked down at you; Hiromi’s eyes curling into a cute expression for you. His hands were itching to just push your head down to hit his pubic bone. They hesitated for a moment, hovering around your head, but your teeth grazed his cock which caused his hands to dive into your hair.

“Fuuck….I’m about to cum…!”

The plump tip was burning the back of your throat, ready to launch out what you had been teasing. You sunk your head down his cock, feeling his cock release his cum. Your throat began to fill up with his cream. You didn’t hesitate to slurp up every last drop of his seed, your stomach was lathered with his fill.

Your swollen lips popped out from his cock, still smeared with his cum but that didn’t stop Hiromi from kissing you. Cock still sprung out, he backed you against the wall picking you up by your thighs. Whatever designer club dress you had on was hiked up, so that Hiromi could grind his wet cock onto your lacy thong.

The flaming heat of his tip pressed addictively against the lace. His face nuzzled into your neck, keeping himself in place as his hips jerked up. Hiromi grazed his teeth against your skin, running his tongue up toward your earlobe.

“Fuck, you’re so pretty—please let me…”

You moved your face to meet his, you rolled your hips into his shaft some more, “Let you…what? Use your words, baby”

You weren’t one to submit so easily; yeah, you’ll suck dick first but it was on your terms. You leaned into his body, your lips grazing his sharp jaw.

“C’mon, don’t you wanna fuck your favorite star? Have me singing your name?”

Hiromi’s cock twitched from under you, his hips jerked in a more intense manner. Your lips curled into an amused smile, liking the way this man wanted to please you so badly.

“I-I want to have sex with you… May I…lick your—“

“So formal, y’don’t have to be such a gentlemen. But it’s such a turn on.”

You watched him swallow his anxiousness down, his droopy eyes looking at yours directly, “I want to go on my knees and devour your cunt.”

You could feel your lace panties get sticky from his cock sliding through, but also from your slick dripping out your cunt.

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“—mmm… taste like a fucking dream…. Fuck…”

Long drags of his tongue flicked from your ass to the your clit. Hiromi’s big palms held your thighs open, continuing to work his jaw on your pussy.

You laid on your silk sheets, gripping the fluff of your pillow as your free hand began to pet his gelled hair. You shifted your hips onto his face, your clit rubbing on the bridge of his nose, getting that nice rub.

“Really get in there, babe. I’m not gonna cum at this rate.”

Your taunting slutty voice, a tone you loved using to rile up the guys you liked. You could feel Hiromi’s fingers spread your folds even more, delving his tongue deeper into honey filled hole. He pulled your body even closer to his face, practically drowning in you; nose and tongue now up in there.

You back arched against your mattress, your hand pulled his hair; wrestling for him to go even deeper, his body groaned in response to your pulling. Every groan of rumble of his throat sent shivers into your body, better than any fucking vibrator could give you. Your thighs locked his head in, choking him on your cunt.

“Fuuck baby… Yr’ a real eater…! Sink your teeth in babes…. Fuck!”

He tilted his head up to suck your clit, his teeth grazing the sensitive muscle that made your body tighten from the sudden tug. The abuse of your clit only edged you closer to cum.

“F-Fuck! Y’gonna make me cum just from eating this pussy? You’re my favorite…!”

Your teeth clenched together, and a low moan rumbled through your body. Your cunt began to drool. Thick pools of your cum began to smear his face, which he didn’t waste to vacuum up. He licked up the slick that made it way to your ass, not wasting any of it.

Your head lulled down to where he was positioned, your tits were heaving from that pleasure, but you needed more.

“Get on the bed.”

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Hiromi was gripping onto your hips for dear life as you began to slam your body down his cock. You didn’t care if your pussy could barely handle his full length; you forced her to swallow.

“H-Haah! You’re so tight..!!”

Seeing his face contort in different ways as your gummy walls sucking in his cock with pleasure. You could feel every curve and vein of his dick inside your cunt, the sensitive tip of his cock kept thumping against your cervix.

You kept your hand on his chest, keeping him down in his position; you didn’t need him taking the lead. You liked the pathetic ways his voice quivered or cracked when he was begging for kisses or anything from you.

“Please… a little kiss… I need to feel y’lips…”

Hiromi’s hips squirmed side to side, wanting to feel your inside all around. Watching his body writhe under you made you decided that he deserved a little reward. You leaned forward, undoing his button up; his skin already burning from your touch, but as soon as he felt your plump lips on his chest, he was all yours.

“Well since you’ve been so good..”

You were torturously slow, your lips sucking and biting his chest. Your thumbs swirling his nipples ‘round and around, pinching them every so often. Hiromi’s arms wrapped around you; one holding your back, while the other squeezed your ass.

Finally, your lips met his, which he immediately took to delve his tongue in your mouth. His wet muscle swirled every curve inside your mouth. His hand tangled in your hair, with the hand on your ass caressing your asscheek. You moaned into his mouth, bouncing your ass on his dick once more. Your pussy lips squelched with every rise and fall of your hips.

The springs in your mattress wheezed with every slap of skin, his cock turning your inside into goo. You rolled your hips into his, letting the tip of his dick swirl around your womb.

“Ahnn… Never had a guy go so fucking deep…”

Hiromi’s thumb made its way to your clit, re-introducing himself to your sensitive bud to give an extra surprise. His large thumb pressed itself onto your clit, making your body arch onto him.

“Baby…! Agh…so good, your so good…”

You bounced yourself even more, not caring if you were going to break his hips. Hiromi’s balls slapped against your ass, each smack had his balls coiled up. He could feel your pussy tighten up his cock as well, he glanced down where the two of you connected; the way you kept sucking him in.

“I-I’m gonna cum…! D-Don’t slow down!”

You felt the heat in your tummy begin to melt, you were also close. You jerked your hips into him, riding him till the cows come home. Hiromi’s head snapped back, his eyes tightly closing before he lets out another pathetic moan.

“Hiromi!”

Then, you feel his hot cum painting your walls. Your pussy squelched in pleasure, your womb expanded to fit all of him. Within seconds as he had cum inside you, your own orgasm came with a surprise. Your cunt lets out a cute cry as your squirted all over his tummy and chest.

“Oh shit… sorry”

You felt a bit embarrassed squirting on him, since it had never happened to you when having sex, but he seemed to not mind what had happened. Two of his fingers scrapped some of your juices from his stomach to his tongue.

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Another album was playing, and he was still fucking the shit out of you. You couldn’t even recall which song it was from this specific album but, you can tell it was favorite from the thrusts that Hiromi was performing.

You arched yourself like a cat, letting him spread your ass even more for his cock to go deeper. You were grateful for sound system you had in your room, you could feel the best of the music and his cock all in one.

“Fuck baby… baby go faster!”

He groaned in pleasure, pushing his hips even more forward; his eyes furrowing as he watched the fat of your ass jiggle from how hard he was thrusting into you. Both your bodies were glazed with sweat, which allowed for his hands to easily glide through your body.

“Hiromi… Hiromi… Hiromi!”

You buried your face into your pillow, biting into it as Hiromi’s cock kept ripping into you. Every time his dick hit your bruised cervix, you let out small cries of pleasure—needing him to fill you up again and again.

“—Gonna cum!”

You pushed your ass once more, waiting for his hot cum to just fill your whole body in you. Your eyes roll back as you felt that familiar burning feeling in your body, his cock bursting inside of you deliciously. You collapsed into your mattress, barely feeling him roll beside you; his hand rubbing your back soothingly.

“You’re amazing…”

Despite feeling spent, your heart swelled from the pure love in his eyes as he looked at you and touched you. You felt more assured on what you wanted, your finger brushed his lips.

He’ll soften his gaze, speak with words coated in a thick layer of honey, flash that million dollar smile of his— every demand that came from him sounded so sweet, it was sickening. 

He let out a pleased hum. “I knew you would.” 

“It’s just– I don’t,” you cut yourself off with a nervous laugh, the sense of warmth you originally felt quickly morphed into embarrassment, “I don’t have anything else to wear.” 

“No?” 

For a split second, his voice drops. Even if it’s just for a moment, it doesn't fail to leave you a bit unsettled given his history of losing his mind whenever things didn’t go his way. 

“N-no, Sir,” you shrink in your seat, “I’ll have to wait until my next payday to go shopping.”

“I see.” His lips curl back into a smile after realizing he’s going to scare you off, as that wasn’t his intention here. He looks at the door real quick, then back at you. “How about this, then— you remember that department store I had you pick up a suit from once, Damian’s?”

Your eyes widen once you realize where he’s going with this. “Oh! I don’t think that’s n—”

He plants his elbows on top of the desk, leaning forward and cutting you off with the simple, yet powerful act of clearing his throat. 

“Why don’t you give them a visit this weekend, yeah?” He pauses for a moment, as if he were daring you to interrupt him again. You don’t. He laughs. “Yeah— why don’t you give them a visit. I’ll reach out before the day ends so they know to expect you. Better yet, I’ll tell them exactly what I’m looking for and have them pull whatever pieces fit the idea I have in mind, that way you won’t have to think too much into it.” 

“But Mr. Gojo, I can’t afford that,” your voice nearly breaks telling him that. 

Satoru doesn’t even know why you bothered telling him— he already knows. If you haven’t already forgotten, he’s the one that pays you. How hard is it to get you to stop dressing like a fucking nun? He’s had it with the god damn turtlenecks.

He lets out a sigh, fighting to keep his cool demeanor despite his dwindling patience. “Which is why I’m sending you to Damian’s, they have my card ready to go on file.” 

The wheels in your head continue to turn, wondering why he’d even offer you this much. Wondering if this is even appropriate. It’s been over three months since you started working for him and not once have you heard of an allowance meant for office attire. Now he’s sending you to some high-end department store to pick out new clothes, on his dime, since your clothes don’t ‘fit your stature’. Whatever the hell that means.

“I don’t think I can accept this…” you look down at your feet and murmur, and Satoru nearly rolls his eyes. 

You can and you will. 

Satoru watches you freeze and realizes he just said that outloud, making him let out a laugh in an attempt to make himself sound less crazy. 

“Ahem— sorry, what I meant was…” he stalls, leg lightly bouncing as he thinks of what to say, then decides to make this a company thing, rather than a him thing, “if the company’s requiring it, then the company should pay for it, right?”

His words disarm you enough to nod. “...Right.” 

“Perfect,” he chirps out. “That’ll be your assignment for the weekend then.” He leans back in his seat, looking quite pleased with himself. Looking at the clock, he notices it’s a quarter to five, and takes the opportunity to kick you out of his office before the air between you grows awkward again. “Well, now that it’s settled, why don’t you wrap up for the day?” 

You glance at the clock. “Uhhh… yeah, sure! Was there anything else you needed before I clock out?” 

There was a lot that Satoru needed, like for you to stop sounding so eager when asking if he needed anything else from you. You have no idea how painfully hard that makes him. 

“No, thanks,” he responds in a strained tone. “Enjoy your weekend.”

“Thanks! You as well, Mr. Gojo.”

You give him one last smile as you rise from your seat and begin to walk back to your desk that’s just outside his office. It’s not until your hands on the doorknob, ready to turn it, when he stops you one last time. 

You brace yourself the moment you meet an unfamiliar pair of eyes, just glimmering with amusement. Satoru then proceeds to throw you off in a way that almost feels ceremonious with how he never quite gave you the chance to get back up. 

“I know it’s just a little favor, but you know how people can be sometimes. So for both of our sakes, let’s just keep this between us to avoid any confusion, yeah? It can be our little secret.”

Something in that low, velvety voice of his told you it was just the beginning of many secrets you’d be sharing, but it still managed to lure you in.

And so, you said yes— marking the very beginning of something that was just as confusing as it was thrilling. 

. . . . . . 

Being a man of his stature, Satoru has to really watch himself in public— watch what he says, who he says it to, what he does, and where he does it. Which is why he frequents places the public didn’t have knowledge of, let alone have access too. Places that allowed him to let loose. 

Though, in your honest opinion, just because someone can let loose, doesn’t mean they should. Especially someone like Satoru, who does a shit ton of coke and treats it like a fucking free for all. 

His idea of a good time is often a violent one. You wish you were kidding, there’s nothing that gets him going more than being in the middle of an all out brawl— just grinning from ear to ear while drinks and punches get thrown in every which direction as music continues to blast in the background. 

The first to call you is his driver Ijichi, who’s aware that your job consists of tasks that went way beyond the professional scope.

The next is the county jail, because you are Satoru’s emergency contact. 

An hour later, you’re patching your boss up in the middle of his penthouse at 3:00 A.M, when you should be asleep like most people are on this side of the world. 

“Sorry you got ripped out of your sleep for this,” he boyishly mutters as you dab the corner of his mouth with antiseptic. Lucky for him, the cut’s small, and should be gone by Monday morning. It’s his knuckles that are all scraped up. But then again, he doesn’t interact with many people at the office to begin with, and the ones that do get paid enough not to ask. 

“Are you actually sorry, or are you just saying that?” you murmur back. 

“Let’s just say I’m grateful that it's you that’s cleaning me up right now.”

“As opposed to who?”

“I dunno,” he chuckles, looking at you through heavy lidded eyes that you refuse to meet. “Don’t even wanna think about anybody else’s fingers on me.”

“How sweet,” you boredly say, dabbing a bit of ointment on the small cut. “Maybe you can extend that kindness to everyone else for the rest of this weekend? So I don’t have to, you know— pick you up from jail… again.”

“What if I only like being sweet to you?” he murmurs.

He doesn’t make you feel special anymore. 

For how close of a proximity you have to the man’s personal life, you already are special, and it’s something he constantly reminds you of, even during times it’s not necessary. In the midst of all the confusion it leaves you with, you’re reminded of a line that’s been completely blurred, and you’re not quite sure who’s at fault here. 

Satoru may be pervasive by nature, but you’re still here. Somehow there’s still a part of you that wants to please him despite all your irritation. 

“Well then everyone’s out of luck and I’m out of sleep.” You sigh as you close the first-aid kit.

He watches as you get up from the couch to put it back in the cabinet, eyes tracing over your body throughout the entirety of it. You may not be in the tight skirts and high heels he has you in during the day, but he found himself enjoying off-duty sweats and slippers just as much. Shamelessly, he doesn’t take his eyes off you when you start walking back towards him, but you’re used to it at this point. 

“Y’know you can spend the night here if you’re so tired, right?” he teasingly asks, but you know there’s a part of him that’s more than serious about it. 

“No thank you.” You throw your purse over your shoulder, typing away at your phone as you try to book an uber. “I’m sure your silk sheets are great, but they’re no match for mine.”

To no one's surprise, you got out of his penthouse fast. You’ve gotten pretty good at dodging him in situations that could easily end with you on your back, splayed out right underneath him. 

Believe it or not, he actually respects that— the self control and all. Especially with the way you’ve almost given in to him a couple times. It didn’t need to be said for him to know. He’s seen the needy, defeated look in your eyes during the times he’s gotten too close. It’s a look that screams ‘get away from me before I do something stupid, please’. A sweet girl you are, really. 

But what would happen if he kept going and finally closed that distance?

Sometimes, he thinks he’d be nice to you. Be all soft, put you on his lap, whisper sweet things in your ear while his hand slowly slid down your stomach. You’d begin to hold your breath the moment he went past your waist and it’d finally catch once his fingers found themselves in between your thighs, slipping right in between your folds. 

He’d kiss on your neck, pull moans from you as he drew little circles over your clit, making your legs tremble once he finally slipped inside and started curling in. 

Then there’s times he thinks he’d be rough with you. Make you start crying from how fast and hard he made you cum from just his fingers alone. Bend you over the nearest surface and tease you with the thick head of his cock, rubbing it over your slick folds until you beg him to put it in. 

He’d pull your hair back, make you look him in the eyes while he fucked you senseless, pump you full of so much cum that it’d continued to leak out of your poor pussy the very next day. 

Bonus points if you two had to work together that day. 

But for now, a man could only dream, or rather imagine, as he starts to fist his cock to the thought of you for who knows how many times now.

. . . . . .

There’s something mildly embarrassing about going to Damian’s with Satoru after being sent here all those months back to pick out new work clothes. Only because he specifically told the stylist to only pull items that were tight fitting and showed a decent amount of cleavage. 

You’re sure if that asshole hadn't done that, you would’ve walked into the department store without a second thought. As if it couldn't have gotten any worse, that same stylist is here, and she’s looking at you with the same amount of concern you’d give to someone who’s being put through the ringer from extreme work conditions. 

You technically are, given all the extra shit he has you do, like picking him up from jail at 2:00 A.M. You’re not exactly planning on leaving anytime soon, though. Don’t ask why. You’re not so sure of it yourself, either. 

Satoru was here to try on a few different suits that just came in. And you’re here because unless you’re working on anything that’s considered incredibly important, you go wherever he goes. 

Just as he was able to go off to the fitting room, the poor stylist asked a question she really shouldn’t have asked. She had good intentions when asking if you wanted to see some of the new pieces they had for Spring, and then Satoru made some comment about grabbing whatever you wanted and putting it on his card. 

And then this poor girl looks at him with all the confidence in the world and asks, “If you’d like, I can pull a few different pieces from the racks like last time— tight fitting, low cuts, and neutrals, right?” 

You didn’t have much of a reaction upon hearing that, it was already clear he had requested those things the last time you came here. 

Satoru, however, just stood there and stared at this girl as if she had just ruined his fucking life. 

It is not often he's left so appalled that it’s rendered him speechless, but there he was just staring at her with nothing but anger and betrayal in his eyes. She looked like she wanted to cry, and rightfully so. You were honestly scared for her. 

“I think that’d be great,” you cut in, trying to break the tension, only to feel Satoru’s nasty glare get directed towards you instead once he realized you were trying to save her. “We’re here for less than an hour, though, so maybe just pull some skirts since the weather's starting to warm up.” 

“Y-yeah! Of course.” 

You watched as she quickly scurried away, then turned to find your boss just now deciding to follow the tailor, still looking absolutely fucking pissed that she just outed him like that. 

Maybe you should tell her to hide once she comes back with those skirts. 

. . .

Satoru might not be one to talk right now given how his goal a few months back was to get you to start dressing just a tad bit sluttier while still looking appropriate enough for work, but he didn’t give a shit. That woman had no tact whatsoever.

Who says something like that? You’re clearly his fucking assistant, there was no need to out his preferences like that.

It fucked up his entire mood for the hour… not that it stopped him from going ahead and having all the suits he tried on sent to his house. But just as he was getting ready to let it go, he saw something else that managed to make him do a double take. 

It’s exactly what you think it is. Which is why he’s walking straight towards you and whoever the hell you’re talking to. 

You didn’t know Rei existed up until two minutes ago, and tried to do him the favor of wrapping up the small conversation he tried sparking up with you once you caught a glimpse of a certain someone walking your way. 

It didn’t work and now Satoru’s standing in front of you two, making you brace yourself for whatever sequence of words is going to come out of his mouth since he’s already in a shitty mood from the stylist snitching on him for being a pervert.

“You can leave now. Bye,” he simply says to the man, nodding towards the exit. 

There’s a moment of silence. His reaction wasn’t as bad as you thought it would be, but it still adds weight to the air around you. Rei was understandably left scrambling, not that Satoru noticed, he was too busy looking at you like he was tired of you disappointing him. 

And your eyes widened, as if you were asking him, what the fuck did I do?

“Excuse me?” Rei finally managed to ask. 

The displeased look on Satoru’s face stays as he briefly turns his attention to Rei. “You’re excused. Goodbye,” he says, casually dismissing him again.

“I’m sorry,” the man laughs from pure disbelief, “are you her boyfriend or something? Because you could’ve just said—” 

“I’m not,” Satoru cuts him off with a tone that’s still surprisingly calm. 

He wouldn’t say he’s calm— disassociated is more like it. All the words Rei throws at him just swarm around his head like a bunch of little gnats, and he steadily loses his patience since he’s already told the guy to fucking leave. Eventually, he closes his eyes and lets out a long, deep sigh. 

“You know what?” Satoru suddenly cuts him off and proceeds to make him an offer— one that makes your jaw drop. “If you want her number so fuckin’ bad, then fine. You can fight me for it.”

“Satoru?!” you immediately scold the man. 

“What the hell is your problem, man?!” Rei says at the same time as you. 

“Oh, wow.” Satoru looks at you, then points a finger at Rei. “He doesn’t even want to fight for you.” 

At that point, the man storms off, muttering some stuff under his breath about people and wondering what the fuck was wrong with them, leaving you to deal with whatever sudden mood swing your boss was having today. 

It didn’t just start within the last hour. This has been going on all day and started when he almost snapped at one of the interns for running into him this morning when turning a corner too fast. You don’t have much patience for him, though.

“Ijichi’s already waiting outside for us,” you casually inform him and turn your heel, taking a step forward to walk away.

“That’s it?” The lack of acknowledgment makes Satoru snap. “That’s all you have to say?” 

You stop and turn again, taking a good look at Satoru as you try to come up with more to say, which is hard given how you just watched him agree to let someone have your number if they fought him. 

Yet all that comes to mind are the lines that you’ve blurred with the man.

“Do you want me to walk on eggshells around you, too, just like everybody else has today?”

“...No.” It’s not much of an answer with the way he mumbled it, but at least you were able to reroute the guy. 

You softly sigh. “Alright, then… let’s go.” 

. . . . . 

The air’s been stale between you since that day. 

You have no idea what’s gotten into him, neither do you want to ask. And it’s not that you don’t care— of course you do. It should've already been made clear by now that you care about Satoru more than you should.

At first, you wonder if it’s some sort of rough patch. Then you realize that isn't normal in professional relationships, leaving you with more questions than answers because nothing about your relationship is professional. 

You run around all over the place for him, picking up his suits and sometimes even him at 3:00 A.M when he’s too drunk or high to drive home. As if that didn’t cross the line enough, he treats you like his friend. A really jealous friend, at that. He’ll do things like cockblock you if a man tries to talk to you when he’s around, sometimes even threatening to fight them. 

It’s been three weeks of silence. 

He didn’t even bother saying goodbye to you when you clocked out for the weekend yesterday. It wouldn’t have been a bad thing at all with your last boss, but something about getting just a simple hum from Satoru left you feeling stupid. 

So what did change with him? It might be better if he listed all the things that didn’t. 

He still jacked off with you in mind— that probably won’t ever change, at least not for a while. He still keeps an eye on you. 

It sounds bad, but it’s really not. 

He just has surveillance over your apartment building, not your actual apartment. He also has the security team keep an eye out whenever you walk to and from your car, before and after work. Just basic safety stuff. He might have a tracker on your car, but never looks at it. 

Unless he’s drunk, but that doesn’t count in his head.

So then what changed? 

Probably the new sense of shame that only seems to unveil itself when you’re around. He’d rather you not have a front row seat when it comes to all of his less… desirable qualities anymore. He is far from perfect— very fucking far from it. 

Was it too late for that? 

Probably. 

It still made him feel just a little bit better about himself, even though he’s been rotting away on the inside from keeping his distance.

. . . . . . 

Staying late at the office is a rare but unavoidable occurrence. 

It happens. Some work gets prioritized over others, leaving small tasks to multiply and pile up. Today is one of those days Satoru is forced to push a main project aside and tackle all the little ones. 

He considered taking on all of it by himself, but was reminded why he avoided the work in the first place just an hour into his day. It was all so boring and tedious. It would’ve driven him up the wall had he not handed off a portion of it to you. 

But even then, there were a couple moments he spent wallowing in self-pity, looking out the window with thoughts of throwing himself off the top floor of the high rise. He fucking hates this and hates how he has no one but himself to blame for all the procrastination he’s done. 

The office feels like a different world once everyone’s gone. It may feel comfortable for your boss since he has his own office, but your desk right outside of it gives you a front row seat to a corporate wasteland. Muffled chatter gets replaced with the sounds of the fluorescent lights buzzing above you. Air vents thrumming as they recirculate the cold, stale air. 

The clock says 8:48 p.m once you finally finish your last task of the day. As happy as you are to finally leave this place, you grow nervous at the thought of entering your boss’s office to let him know you’re finished and heading home. Whatever camaraderie you had with him is non-existent at this point. Everything with him just feels awkward now and you’d be lying to yourself if you said you haven’t already started looking for new positions. 

You lightly knock on the door leading to his office and don’t enter until you hear a tired hum on the other side of it. 

Aside from the lamps next to his desk and next to the sofa you see when you first walk in, every other light is off, allowing the moonlight to peek through the dim space. It’s actually quite peaceful with his view of the city’s lit up skyline. 

Satoru's eyes must hurt. He has his reading glasses on, framing the tired lines and dark circles under them. 

“I’m all done for the day,” you say, carrying a stack of papers as you walk up to him and setting them down on the oak wood desk he’s half leaning on. 

He doesn’t look at you. 

“Thanks,” he murmurs, sounding just as drained as he looks. 

You stand there, waiting for him to say anything else before coming to the conclusion that maybe it was time to move on to a new company, because you are too far gone. 

Stupid.

The long day you two have had wasn’t a reason to think he’d give you more than he has lately, let alone something to get your hopes up over.

Just standing in front of him makes you feel pathetic— you shouldn’t feel like that.

You open your mouth to say goodbye for the night, since he won’t, but instead say something entirely different that leaves even you shocked. 

“I’m putting in my two weeks.” 

You haven’t even sent out any applications.

Satoru’s eyes darted up at you while staying in place. “What?” 

Despite not having the right, he did not fucking like that. The cold tone of his voice made you want to cower down and take your words back, but there was no turning back. 

You push through the nerves as you repeat yourself in a professional manner. “After some consideration, I’ve decided I want to take my career in a different direction and that would require me to step down from my position.” 

The overly corporate tone does nothing but put a glare on Satoru’s face, one that deepens as you continue to spew, what he considers, a bunch of bullshit from your mouth.

“I’d like to thank you for the opportunities the company has given me, of course. I’d be more than happy to train my replacement.”

“You’re not training anybody,” he scoffs, standing from his seat as he starts to go through literally every stage of grief. “What the fuck? No? No. You’re not fucking leaving— absolutely not. Fuck that.”

Your eyes widen in disbelief over how entitled he is. He’s been treating you like a second class citizen for weeks and now he’s not letting you leave? “That’s not your choice to make.”

“I don’t care,” he says delusionally. “You’re not fucking leaving.” 

“Yes I am.” You raise your tone. “You can’t just fucking keep me here—“

“Where are you going then, huh? Since you seem to have found a place so much better,” his immaturity inevitably shines through as he cuts you off.

“That’s none of your business!” 

“It’s not, but you owe me that much,” he begins to argue. 

Your face twists in disgust. “I don’t owe you anything. I— how can someone be this selfish?! You’ve been giving me the cold-shoulder for weeks—“

He cuts you off again. “So that’s what this is about?!”

For someone that’s been ignoring you for weeks, he’s very expressive, especially when he argues. His pupils will be blown out, he’ll look at you in disgust, talk with his hands, pace around the room, then get in your face. This time is no different. 

“You’re leaving ‘cause I won’t give you attention? I thought you didn’t fucking want that!” He throws his arms out, voice resounding through the room. 

You pause, mouthing a ‘what?’ to yourself in complete disbelief. Leaving someone angry and confused is one impressive skill— Satoru has clearly mastered it. 

“When have I ever said that?!”

“It was written all over your face!” He shouts back, almost as if it was something that hurt him. “I figured you were getting tired of me so I backed off!” 

“Seriously? That’s your definition of backing off?” You have to stop yourself from laughing at how ridiculous it sounds. “Backing off is stopping the 1:00 am calls on the weekend— not completely disregarding me.”

“I went back to being your boss—“

“Yeah, a really shitty one.”

“I was always a shitty one.” He barks out a laugh. “The only reason why you’re mad now is because you’re not getting anything out of it anymore.”

Satoru doesn’t mean that. 

Not that you’d know. 

He tends to reject anything that brings him even just the slightest bit of discomfort, all while hating rejection himself. Watching you try to quit has made it one hell of a combo for him.

If he was just someone you simply had to tolerate, then whatever you gained from it was not worth your time. But he spoke with enough conviction to render whatever response you had useless.

“How the hell do you expect me to stay after saying that?” you genuinely ask. “I’m tired of not being treated like real person and now you’re being a fucking asshole.”

“Fuck. I’m sorry. I—“

“No. Save it,” you say in defeat as you start to walk away.

“Where are you going?” he asks, still having the audacity to sound irritated.

“Leaving— have fun finding a new replacement. I’m not staying for another two weeks.” 

He lets out a bitter laugh. “Well if you’re not coming back would you at least finally admit you felt something between us?” 

You stop and let out a sigh. “What are you talking about?” 

“You know what I’m talking about,” he says, taking a couple steps towards you. 

“No, there wasn’t.” 

“Alright,” he huffs out a laugh. “I get that you’re mad at me and everything, but there’s no point lying about now.” 

“I’m not lying about anything.” 

“I don’t believe you,” he blandly says. “You wouldn’t have stayed as long as you did if there was never anything there. Be honest with yourself for once.” 

Just as you’re about to deny it for the third time, you hesitate. “Just forget it already.”

The sight of you walking away for the second time feels entirely different from the first time for Satoru. No more confusion or panic, all that’s left is certainty. Perhaps a little amusement, as well. “No. I don’t think I will, actually.”

It happens fast. 

You hardly process being spun back around, then you’re stunned again by a pair of lips crashing into yours. It’s messy from the start and he’s breathlessly apologizing against you with each rough kiss. 

I’m sorry. I didn’t mean that. You know I didn’t mean that. Please. 

And you forgive him, because there’s really no point in lying anymore. Not when you’re kissing him back. Desperately, at that— filled with just as much need. His hands start to roam, clothes start to scatter, leaving a trail that leads in the direction he took you in. 

He always thought he’d put you on the desk. 

The couch shifts erratically, moans pour into the room with each thrust. Satoru’s pressing down on your back and deepening the arch he put you in, bottoming out over and over again.

“Good job, baby,” he drones, mesmerized at the sight of you helplessly stretched around his thick cock, covering it in a thick coat of your slick. 

It took some working up to. The moment he sat you down on the couch, he buried his head in between your thighs and tongued your clit— dragging it over that sensitive little bundle of nerves until you couldn’t see straight. Then it was his fingers. Working not one, but two of his long digits into your cunt, curling them into a little spot that had you gushing all over him. 

Now he’s fucking that same little spot to no mercy, making your toes curl as the thick head of his cock catches it. “Oh my g-god— Satoru– fuuck!”

“Mmm I know,” he grabs your hair and pulls you back up against his chest, not letting up as he gets right in your ear. “Say my name again.”

His balls slap against your clit with each thrust, leaving you a gasping mess. “S-Satoru.”

“Again.”

“Satoru!” you cry out. 

“Sounds so fuckin’ pretty coming from you,” he hums, licking a stripe up your neck, sending a shiver down your spine. “You like getting ruined on the couch like this?”

Shamelessly, you nod. “Mhm.”

“Yeah? You’ve thought about this before, haven’t you?” 

“I have,” you admit. “A lot.”

“So honest tonight,” he grins, “so have I— thought about kissing you, fucking you, putting a baby in you.” A hand snakes down your belly until his fingers reach your clit, drawing little circles. “You really wouldn’t be able to get away from me then, huh?” 

“That’s fucking insane,” your attempt to complain dies out into another pathetic moan. 

“I fucking know,” he laughs, pulling your hair back even more so you can look him right in the eye while he fucks himself even deeper into you. “I think you might like that though since you’re squeezing around me like crazy.” 

And you have no idea how to respond to that, you’re so fucking close. It’s taking everything in you to hold yourself together while he just tears you apart with each snap of his hips, rubbing fast circles over your clit.

“How bad do you wanna cum again?”

It’s been three times already, each time harder than the last. Your own body betrays yourself when you answer his question. “So bad.”

He hums sympathetically, though the look in his eyes seems to be the complete opposite of that. He keeps the same dizzying pace, pushing you further and further to edge until you’re finally gushing around him, again. He watches as tears of pure pleasure start rolling down your cheeks, trembling and letting out choked moans as he continues fucking you into overstimulation. 

“I know, baby, I know,” he coos, letting go of your hair and wrapping his arms around your waist, keeping your back flush against his chest while he starts chasing against his own release. “M’so fuckin’ close. You’re gonna take it all, right?” 

“Yeah,” you weakly nod, nails digging into his forearms, steadying yourself as best as you can. 

“Shit— good girl,” he exhales, snapping his hips against your ass even harder, thrusts growing sloppier. “Here we go.”

The groans that spill out of Satoru are just downright sinful. There’s nothing but desperation in his tone as he holds on tight and starts pumping you full of his cum, shuddering as you milk his cock for all that he has. 

You’re spent by the time you come back to your senses, with his arms being the only thing keeping you up. And yet, as you lay limp in his hold, he says something that, at the time, sounded like a threat with how entranced he seemed.

“Don’t think I’m done with you yet, princess.” 

—

It’d been months since the night he finally broke his silence with you. 

No, you don’t work for him anymore. You quickly found a new job just three weeks later. One with better pay and normal hours. Easier, too.

Looking back, he truly was a shitty boss. A conniving one that always took up your time. You guess you just never saw it because a part of you always liked it— better yet, liked him. 

Good thing he’s a better boyfriend than he is a boss. 

You were reluctant to start a relationship with him at first, the thought of him taking up even more space into your life lingering in the back of your mind and threatening whatever little peace you had left. But surprisingly, he went from being a conspiring little bastard to…

“I just have one request tonight.” 

You’re in the middle of doing your makeup when his sudden presence pulls your attention away from it. You look at a slightly reluctant Satoru through the vanity mirror, raising a brow and waiting to hear what exactly that request is for tonight. 

“Can you wear something that shows your tits more?” Immediately you scoff, and he’s quick to defend himself. “What?! It’s our anniversary!”

You’ve been with him for an entire year now, and he just seems to grow more and more pathetic as the time passes. He’s in nothing but boxers, begging you to show off some cleavage, for fucks sake.

“You see my tits every night,” you scold him. 

“And I want to see them some more tonight, too.”

You scoff. “Sato—“

“Please,” he cuts you off with a beg. There’s a bit of a stare off shortly after, with him looking at you like some lost puppy and you inevitably give in, like you always do. He’s hard to say no to when he gets like this.

“Fine.” 

He smiles and walks up to you, leaning down to give you a quick kiss, careful not to mess with your lip liner. “Love you.”

“I love you, too,” you softly say, before barely scolding him again. “Now go put your suit on, you’re the one that said the driver was gonna be here soon.” 

“Yeah, whatever— he can wait,” he waves a hand, lazily walking up to the sea of suits he has in your shared closet. 

“Hey, Satoru?” 

“Hm?”

“If we’re even one minute late, I’m putting on a fucking turtleneck.” 

“…Fine.”

The sounds of Toji's raspy humming to the radio, along with a hushed buzzing, ring throughout the car. His right hand is gripping your thigh while the other works the steering wheel. He’s smirking and biting his lip as the setting sun gleams through his tinted windows and onto his chiseled and stubbled face.

It makes everything you’re feeling feel satirical.

As if there isn't a remote egg vibrator ruthlessly buzzing inside you, controlled by him. Hitting all the right spots just barely. But enough to leave you desperately squirming.  

You’re not shaking and falling apart in the passenger seat. Getting off as he’s taunting you physically and mentally.

A beautiful torture.

Every bump on the road sends a sharp jolt of heat to your sweet spot. The roads in these areas are pretty bad, but it never felt this bad. It's like he’s driving over potholes and craters on purpose. Like he doesn’t want you to forget that your pleasure is up to him. But who the fuck could forget?

Those dark eyes of his glint in absolute enjoyment with every rapid jerk of the car, followed by a harsh moan and whimper that rips from your throat. You’re feeling nothing less than a relentless and pulsing pleasure as your pussy clenches around the toy. “Mngh babe…please..” Begging him for your sensual release.

“You can hold it til we get there, right princess?”

You let out a hushed whine. He leaves no room for argument. His words seem caring, but his voice sounds so disingenuous. He’s a contradictory man who’s getting way more than a kick out of watching you melt.

He’s basking in it.

Toji tightens his grip on your thigh as his devious grin widens to a full-on heinous smile. For some reason, though, his perverse torment only fuels you.

He leaves in a constant state of craving, and it's purely exhilarating.

It feels like he’s been driving forever. Right now the thought of even walking into a room after this is mortifying. You don't even want to go to the party anymore. You just want so badly for him to U-turn it to the house and fuck you like he’s gone mad. Knowing Toji though, he likes to take his time. Watch you squirm and suffer as your body fills with nagging bliss and electricity. He’d rather drive for hours and have you like this than ruin his fun early.

Just as the car pulls up to a red light, he slams his foot on the brake. A sharp shriek comes from the car, matching the sound that breaks out of you. You harshly jerk forward. “Haa–T-Toji!! What the fuck!” You clench his wrists as he pulls you back, nails clinging to his skin. The abrupt jerk of the car sent a strike of pressure all through your core. It felt like just a fraction of an orgasm.

“I saved you from hitting the dashboard. You should be thanking me.” He scoffs.

“Sh-Shut up...”

Toji slowly turns his head towards you, eyes dark with nothing but an erotic malice lighting them up. Peering at you as though you’d just done something unforgivable. He wipes a tear of overstimulation off your cheeks and licks it from his finger.

“Watch your fucking mouth. You wanna cum, don’t you?”

The very sight of him at this moment is enough to get a woman pregnant. You look away, flustered and barely able to hold eye contact. His hand cups your chin, tilting your head back to him. Your heart starts racing. He draws his face closer to yours, eyes fixed on your lips.

“Answer me.”

“Y-yes..”

Just as the words leave your lips, the traffic light switches to green. Toji lets go of your chin and floors the gas. An instant gasp leaves you as the egg collides with your slick and sensitive g-spot, sending a heavily overwhelming pressure to your core.

Even the slightest twitch of your clit spreads warm sensations all over you. Your entire body is beyond tense and overstimulated. It's being pushed and pulled towards ruin.

You press your lips together tightly. As if you need to hide your moans. It’s like you’re trying to gain back whatever shreds of dignity you’ve happily lost to this man. But you’ve fallen far too deep into the depths of his vulgar tranquility.

“That's cute…Try harder.” He winks as his eyes track the road.

His arrogance and cold words can be so infuriating, but contradictingly enticing.

Who could argue with a man like him in a situation like this? It's all just so unreasonably alluring.

Your pussy is clenching rapidly around the toy. You can’t even focus anymore; your mind is leaving you. The endless vibrations from the vibrator are starting to sting, but it hurts so good, it's indescribable. You can feel your arousal leaking through your dress and panties and onto your seat.

Toji reaches into his jacket pocket, pulling out the vibrator's remote. A breath of relief mixed with a whimper flows out of you. In spite of that, a malice-filled chuckle breaks from Toji as his thumb grazes over the buttons of the remote.

For a second, your vision focuses. You hadn’t noticed before, but Toji’s speeding through a back road surrounded by nothing but large willow trees. You hear the muffled sound of the branches slapping the car windows as Toji's eyes roam between the road and the sexy mess he’s created.

Toji takes a sharp turn into the woods. Completely straying from the road and driving onto a jagged forest path full of foliage and gravel. Without a word, he sets the toy to the highest setting and tosses the remote to the backseat. An immediate flood of sensations storms through you.

Your veins feel like they’re running cold, but your body is feverish. You grip the glove compartment as your body slumps. A hitched moan leaves and pleas follow. “Ah! T-Toji— Turn… it down ‘mleasee…” Words slurring and basically useless to him.

“Oh please, you know the safe word.” A smile of cruel satisfaction spreads across his face.

He’s right. You know the safe word, but you don’t even want to utter it. What you’ve succumbed to feels way too good to go back now.

This is his own twisted way of giving you what you want.

Before you can even think to respond, his fingers start massaging your clit from outside your panties, filling you with a surging flutter of rapture. “Hnghh…Juus– like that…” You take his hand and push it further onto your clit.

The rumble of the car engine finally eases off as Toji parks the car. Doesn’t matter though. Toji doesn’t relent, and neither does the vibrator. Your legs are tensing up, damn near cramping. Your chest feels like it's tightening with every rapid breath you take.

With every vibration of the toy and those thick and precise fingers of his, your body feels like it's being entirely consumed by pleasure. His left hand leaves the steering wheel as he leans over the glove compartment. He grabs your neck with a heavy grip and pulls his lips close to your ear.

“Let me hear you, baby.”

His fingers start working your clit swiftly as his grip on your throat cinches. He’s frictioning your pussy mercilessly but methodically. Lush, weak moans of lust escape you immediately. As if all you needed was his permission.

“Pathetic. Is that really the best you can do?”

He can’t be serious. The way he’s gripping your neck is restricting your voice, and he knows that. This man is more than ruthless. He’s patronizingly charming.

“W-why’re you being– Mnghh..sooo mean..?” You say, voice frail and meager.

“Aww, don’t act like you don’t like it, Princess.”

He isn’t wrong. You love the way his cold words hit you and how his actions completely oppose them.

A simple glance makes it seem like Toji’s face is stoic, but his jaw is clenched. And those eyes… His eyes are taking in every single tasteful image as his ear absorbs every sound coming out of you like he’s entranced. He is fully captivated by the sight of you.

His hand leaves your clit for a second, then slips into your panties. He starts rubbing your clit with his thumb as the rest of his fingers push the vibrator further against your wet walls. His grip on your neck tightens, entirely hindering your airflow. But it feels so good.

You’re feeling chills in your veins and a deeply warm pressure in your core. Your muscles are straining from the excessive and intense stimulation. All this pleasure is overwhelming, but you can’t help but soak in every minute of this euphoric torment.

Your eyes flutter to the back of your head. Your body reflexively flicks back and slams against the car seat. Your hips start bouncing and jerking involuntarily as you helplessly cum. A feeling of an inebriating physical elation pulses through you. Your moans are getting louder and louder despite his grip. Tears of pleasure are pouring out of you.

“Haa! Hngh… I can’t— It’s too much… ”

“There it is…Good job, baby.”

His grip on your throat loosens as your hips roll against his fingers, riding out your orgasm. You’re panting, chest bobbing. Toji’s hand leaves your throat and lands on the back of your head. He starts petting through your hair softly. His form of keeping you grounded as he exploits your clit.

His fingers finally let up, and he kisses your forehead as your body relaxes. Suddenly, he rips the vibrator out of you, sending a shallow shock to your sweet spot.  A cutting gasp tears from you as your jaw slacks open.

“O-Okay, stop it..” You cry.

With his eyes stuck on yours, he raises the dripping and glistening toy to his lips and licks it.

“I’m sorry, baby, I can't help myself when you look like that.”

You're shaking. Your body feels so fragile and weak. Your clit is still throbbing, and your folds feel numb from overstimulation. You can’t even close your legs without feeling intense jolts of pleasure. You finally catch your breath and muster up some words.

“Can we please skip the party? I just wanna go home.”

Toji licks his lips and glances out the window.

“How ‘bout we have our own party in the woods?”

Well...?

Who could say no to that?

𝑻𝒂𝒈𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕: @iluvvsatoru @msnoirgirl (lmk if you wanna be added(ㅠ﹏ㅠ))

𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝑳𝒊𝒔𝒕⦮ ⦯