You felt a little pang of irritation through the haze of desire at his choice of words, incessant and grating like a tiny grain of sand. Your boyfriend was generous with praise, and typically you enjoyed it no matter his choice of descriptors - ‘beautiful’, ‘gorgeous’, hell, even ‘hot’ had its perks. But ‘cute’? Now that was just demeaning.

“Don’t call me cute,” you grunted, fighting the urge to let your eyes roll skyward with each precise curl of his fingers, “Hn-… especially not like this.”

Gojo frowned, plump lower lip pushed into a pout.

“Why not? You are cute.”

Before you could bite back with some sarcastic retort of your own, his palm pressed flat and you jolted with the sudden contact, jaw slack as he began to rub slow circles over your clit in time with the curl of his fingers. You choked on your next breath - the resulting sound was nothing more than a high, staggered gasp.

Your hand shot from its previous position clutching the sheets to instead grasp at his forearm. He gazed down at you through half-lidded eyes, arctic blue melted into something soft and sweet as he watched your lashes flutter, watched you squirm, smiling all the while.

“See?” He persisted, rhythm slowing slightly just to let you feel the controlled jump of muscle in his toned forearm beneath your trembling grip, “Cute.”

His touch was lethal - petting that sweet little spot so deep that it made your vision wobble and your toes curl where they were planted atop the mattress.

“Such a j-huh-jerk…” you managed, fingers digging tightly into his wrist like it was a lifeline.

Your thighs were beginning to tremble, twitching either side of his forearm as he expertly worked you open. Each curl, each pump accented by a slick squelch that had your face and the tips of your ears burning.

“Well that's not very nice,“ he huffed, though the obscene massage of his fingers didn’t cease or slow an inch, “here I am trying to give you a compliment, and you insult me. For shame, princess.”

“Look,” he continued, slipping his fingers from you just far enough to let you watch the way your slick soaked the length of them, pearly strings lacing you together. “And I’m treating this needy little pussy of yours so nicely, too.”

He tutted, muffling your own strangled sound as he slid back inside with a slick ‘plap!‘, and resumed the steady pace, the broad flat of his palm kissing your sticky clit with each pump.

“At least she appreciates me, isn’t that right?” He murmured, pout still painted thickly through his tone.

You rolled your eyes, lips parted to scold him for daring to bring up another women while he was wrist deep inside you. But when you tilted your head to meet his gaze, you found that his own eyes were down turned - locked on the slick space between your thighs where his fingers were disappearing instead.

Your brows twitched, knitted together in a heady cocktail of confusion, annoyance, and red hot desire. Was he really?…

“Satoru-“

His spare hand lifted to cut you off, finger wagging teasingly, which did nothing to settle the irritation flaring in your chest.

“Ah-ah-ah,” he tutted with a lazy shake of his head, “shhh, can’t you see I’m having a conversation here?”

You must have clenched, must have tightened around him without thinking, because his grin only spread that much wider. Pearly whites glinting as he bent at the waist - craning his head lower and lower until he was hovering between your thighs, eye level now with your pussy.

“That’s it sweet girl, nearly there,” he cooed sweetly, so close that you could feel the cool puff of his breath with each word, sending a prickle of goosebumps over your slippery thighs.

Was he really ignoring you to sweet talk your goddamn pussy instead?

You groaned - a noise which you intended to be one of disapproval, though with the pleasure burning hotly in your belly, the sound that actually escaped was decidedly more desperate.

“That’s it, keep squeezin’ me. Yeah, just like that, you got it.”

He shifted then, changing the angle ever so slightly, and the resulting effect was a vulgar sucking noise - a ‘shlick!’ ‘shlick!’ ‘shlick!’ that filled the air with each drag of his digits against your clenching walls. Just when you thought you couldn’t get any more mortified, you heard him chuckle, the sound thick and honeyed against your burning ears.

“No need to be so loud, baby. I know, I know, just feels so good huh?”

You’d have been more upset at the blatant disrespect, the embarrassment coursing like lava through you - if it didn’t have the desirous ache in your core burning ever hotter with each new syllable slipped from his traitorous lips. If he didn’t have you teetering on the edge of what was shaping up to be an earth-shattering orgasm just from his deft fingers and a little ignorance.

The incessant motion of his wrist alongside the outrageous fact that he was actually whispering sweet nothings to the space between your thighs, had you throbbing, nudging your hips up to chase the friction of his touch.

“Satoru, stop it,” you hissed with no real bite. Your grip on his wrist loosened, fingers slipping as the waves of pleasure lapping at your belly crested ever higher.

He paid you no mind - azure eyes still lowered, still murmuring a string of filthy praise to your drooling pussy like you weren’t even there. His velvety voice lowered to a sinful purr, a whisper - as if you were nothing but an outsider eavesdropping on a private conversation.

“What’s that? You want a kiss?” Came his sudden vocalisation, voice lifted in mock surprise, and the bastard actually leaned in to listen as if he was going to hear anything but the obscene sound of his fingers splitting you open.

You swallowed hard, then bit your lip as you watched him move, skin pressed between your teeth so hard you thought you might draw blood. His expression was soft, pupils blown wide and dark behind pale lashes as they traced the shape of your swollen folds. He craned his head downward, breath blowing cool over your tender skin, and you could barely hear the next words he spoke over the sound of your own pulse pounding hotly in your ears.

“Think I can manage that,” he murmured lowly, tongue darting out in a tease of pink slip to wet his lips, “better not tell my girl though, ‘kay?”

You watched his eyes flutter as he closed the space between you, and your own rolled to the back of your skull when the wet heat of his mouth finally hit you.

“Oh god, Satoru!-”

The burst of sensation stripped the words from you. He pressed his lips flat in a seal over your mound, and immediately began to suckle. Tongue swirling like he was trying to nurse straight from your goddamn clit, fingers still prodding that silky little spot inside.

You choked on your next breath as you tumbled over the edge, orgasm hitting you like a crack of lightening. You could feel yourself clamping around him, pulsing with each throb of pleasure as he worked you through it. His fingers curling, jaw diligently rolling in steady little circles until your writhing ceased, and you stopped twitching beneath his tongue.

“You’re ridiculous,” you panted when you’d finally recovered enough to remember how to actually form words, glaring down at him like your gaze could actually hope to kill, or at-least injure. “Aren’t you even a little embarrassed?”

He met your fire with an even coolness, offering you a sparkling smile as he lifted his head and licked his lips pointedly, spare hand pressed to his chest in mock offense.

“You wound me, princess,” he grinned, flashing you with a wink positively dripping in Gojo-branded charm, to which you simply rolled your eyes.

“Anyway, you might not have approved,” he drawled, hand teasing down your thigh where your own slick, and now his spit, were smeared, “but she loved it.”

With his hand planted firmly in the sheets, he lifted himself to his knees. It was then that you realized just how much your little performance had affected him. You took in the sight - soft grey sweats tented and dampened at the center in a slick little patch where he’d rutted against the fabric.

His eyes were dark when they met yours again, half-lidded and hungry as he lowered himself to grind against you, tight and hot - letting you feel every thick inch, pressed to your twitching thigh like a promise.

“C’mon now,” he murmured, voice gravelled like tattered velvet, “her and I have lots more to talk about.”

────────────────

"taste soo fuckin' good." his words are muffled as he attempts to shove his face deeper into you, tongue dipping in and out of your cunt as it slides along your slit, often circling around your clit.

satoru pulls back just an inch to spit a nice fat glob of salviva onto your clit and watch it dribble down your soaked folds

his hands hold your thighs pinned against your chest, your knees nearly reaching your ears. your hips would be bucking and rutting against his face if it wasn't for his tight hold.

"satoruuuuu!! 'm gonna- ohhh…." your words trail off and your thighs begin to tremble under satoru’s palms.

"yeah? gonna cum?"

with a faint nod of your head, your eyes roll back and you cum with silent gasps of air, squirt gushing in the same rhythm satoru's tongue moves.

satoru's tongue slows and he loosens his grip on your thighs, thumbs caressing your smooth skin.

"you okay, baby?" he whispers, pressing a soft kiss on your ankle as he extends your leg. you couldn't even bring yourself to answer, eyes still squeezed shut with your chest heaving.

satoru bends low, hand traveling to extend your other leg as he does so. "i've got you.. just relax." he whispers even lower, pressing a soft kiss to your chin as his hand caresses your skin.

…

take it slow…

satoru worked his lips from your lips to your cunt. soft plump lips making a quiet smooch with each kiss planted on your skin.

"toru.." you whine and buck your hips as you feel his tongue flatten against your swirled navel. "shh.." satoru's tongue drags further and nudges just against your throbbing clit.

“tryna take it slow f’you..”

you let out a quiet gasp as satoru dips lower, tongue gathering the wetness that drips to your taint and licks all the way up to your clit where his lips suction around the bud.

a whine leaves your lips and you buck your hips, jaw slacking open as satoru stuffs his face into your sex as close as possible, tongue moving slow with heavy pressure.

"oh god.. satoru…"

your moans are breathless as satoru's large hands grip your hips and guides you through rolling them, bright blue eyes locked on your face the entire time. "doin' sooo good for me, pretty" satoru mutters as he pulls away just an inch before latching right back on

you could only gasp and arch your back, pleasure spreading all across your body. "toru.. feels so good…"

satoru hums in response and the vibrations only cause more pleasure that makes you whine and make your thighs tremble as they rest on satoru's shoulders.

"i know, sweet girl. taste like fuckin' candy-"

satoru's words make you whine once more, fingers snaking into his white hair and tightening.

"satoru-" you whined, back bowing as his tongue continues lap up and down with pressure. "mmm.." your hips roll in a circle in the hands of satoru, his tongue dipping lower and sliding into your cunt.

satoru lets out a low groan, digging in deeper so his nose presses against your clit.

curses float in the air from your lips, your back bowing as the pleasure spreads and increases.

"'s so pretty f'me."

his words are muffled, but god the vibrations from his voice and the way his eyes look into yours is enough.

"toru…" the back of your head meets the mattress. "'m gonna cum.."

so he doubles down— grip tightening, mouth suctioned, and thick tongue sliding up and down your dripping folds, mainly focusing on your clit.

your thighs shake on his shoulders as you cum, back bowing and mouth gaping in pleasure.

"toruuuu-" you croak, tears stinging in your eyes as his tongue slows but the pressure he applys increase. "mm- i got you." he mumbles, words barely reaching your ears as he continues his slow, sensual assault.

…

holding hands…

"cmon, pretty, lemme hold your hand— thaaat's it." satoru coo's, breath grazing your already throbbing clit. your hand slowly slides into his, your warmths merging together.

the tip of satoru's tongue sticks out to lay a slow kitten lick on your clit, blue eyes watching your face contort and jaw slack.

your hand tightens and breath hitches.

"just relax. i got you, baby."

satoru's tongue darts out further, laying a proper lick from your cunt right to your clit.

"toru.."

satoru mumbles a 'shh…' hand squeezing yours as his lips suction around your clit, wispy white lashes batting up at you. satoru pulls back, tongue licking from your dripping cunt to your clit where it circles around the bud.

"so perfect f'me." he whispers, mouth moving to suction and suck on your lips, tongue sliding right down the middle and dipping into your wetness.

your back bows off the mattress from satoru's actions, hand squeezing his with a new force.

satoru hands were definitely going to be aching from the way youre squeezing them, but it's honestly not your fault— with the way satoru focused on your clit, his pretty pink lips suctioning around your swollen bud with only one sole purpose: to make you cum.

"sa- ah! satoru!" a gasp moan mixture leaves your lips, intertwined fingers starting to ache as the pleasure only increases.

satoru only hums into you, diving a little deeper with a shake of his head— eyes still trained to your face.

with one more hum from satoru and one more suck on your sensitive clit, you cum with a cry and shaking thighs, hands of course still squeezing your boyfriends.

how were you supposed to get out of bed?

you felt yourself drifting off again, against your better judgement.

your husband’s hand caressing your hair also started slowing down as you both fell back asleep together.

and then the alarm went off again, barely ten minutes later.

your eyes felt heavier as you tried to open them, sleep trying to hold onto you as tight as your husband was. you forced your mind to stay awake, knowing you needed to get up and get megumi soon.

you tugged at toji’s massive biceps, firmer this time.

he groaned before nuzzling his head into your neck, “five minutes, doll.”

you turned your face sideways, pressing a gentle kiss on his temple, saying, “get off me.” it came out as a gerroffme.

toji squeezed you in response.

you patted his cheek, the contact making a soft noise.

“get up, please,” you tried again, “need to get gumi.”

at that, your husband reluctantly retracted himself, allowing you to get up. but as soon as you got out of bed, a shiver traveled down at your spine from the pressure on your bladder. holy.

you turned to head to the bathroom but at that moment, the baby monitor started echoing megumi’s cries.

“toji,” you whined, squeezing your thighs together in urgency, “get gumi please.”

toji blinked his eyes open, slowly processing your words. before he was fully awake, you had already dashed to the bathroom.

he would’ve just gone back to sleep if not for his son's fussy crying. with a heavy sigh, toji threw the blanket off of him and got up.

it took him a few seconds too long to get out of his warm bed, but he pushed himself off anyways, heading to the nursery.

with every step he took, his mind became clearer and his eyes less heavy. but there was still one thought in his mind.

get back in bed with wife.

so, with a newfound determination, toji threw open the nursery door, beelining towards his baby.

"let's get you ready for bed, brat," toji mumbled, picking up your habit of talking to the baby as if he could understand you. "y'r mom would beat my ass if i left you alone and made her fall back asleep. but we're sleeping in today, got it?"

megumi, confused but content with the attention, just cooed, putting his fist in his mouth.

toji pulled megumi's hand out, striding towards the changing table and laying him down on it. he quickly put megumi into new diapers, cleaning as he went, all while making small talk with the baby.

"you sleep ok?"

"da!"

"mm, me too. y'r hungry, right?"

"uwaa?"

"'course you are." a beat of silence. a sleepy sigh. "i miss your mama."

"mama!"

toji's lip quirked at his son's giggle as soon as he heard the word mama. that boy had him wrapped around his finger, as much as he hated to admit.

finally done, and also hearing you flush in another room, toji picked megumi up and laid him across his shoulder.

he left the nursery, walking back to your shared bathroom just as you were exiting.

"good morning," you cooed at megumi who immediately leaned towards you, wiggling in toji's arm. you dutifully took him into yours, cradling him how he liked being held.

"mama," megumi babbled, tugging at your shirt.

"aww, you're hungry?" you cooed again, automatic baby voice slipping past your throat.

"nurse him in bed," toji's hands grasped your shoulders, turning you back around towards your bedroom.

"why?" you didn't protest, letting your husband steer you back in bed.

"we're sleeping in," he announced, arranging a barrage of pillows at your side so you could sit and nurse comfortably. he helped you settle in, pulling up the blankets so you were warm and cozy.

"we're literally awake," you laugh under your breath, letting your husband do his thing as you started nursing megumi.

"not for long," toji said, slipping in beside you, scooting so he could throw his arm across your lap and burrow his face in the side of your hip.

even megumi's tiny eyes started fluttering close as he fed, fists balling on his chest as he began drifting away mid-meal.

you let out a yawn, finger gently rubbing your baby's small, cherubic face. toji squeezed your hip.

soon, megumi was fully asleep.

no longer able to fight the sleepy bug, you pulled your camisole back up, laying megumi down between you and toji.

toji scooted to accommodate the baby as you lowered yourself on the bed, pulling up the covers.

your husband, once again, threw his leg over your hip, pulling you closer.

megumi was almost smushed between you two, his back to his dad while he held onto your shirt in his sleep.

toji extended his arm and you adjusted your head on it.

at long last, the three of you enjoyed a cozy, warm and sleepy saturday morning, huddled close together.

signed up for a uni course and the class is from 7am every saturday 😊 if im posted up like a vengeful spirit roaming tumblr, you know why.

megumi's clingy phase | masterlist | megumi has a nightmare

Suguru is at the far end, wiping down a surface that’s gotten sticky, his movements fluid. He wears his black sleeves rolled up to the elbows, revealing forearms corded with lean muscle and a stray vein that pulses when he grips the rag. His hair is a spilled inkwell, tied back, but a single stray lock shadows his eye. A good bartender would look at their regular once in a while but he hasn’t looked at you in ten minutes. In his defense, he doesn’t need to. He knows you’re there and he knows the exact weight of your silence.

"Another?" His voice is low, cutting through the overhead drone of a radio playing something forgotten. He’s standing right in front of you. You didn’t even hear him move.

You look up. Your vision is a blurred smear of gold and shadow. Your face feels tight, salt-crust on your cheeks from the drive over, the kind of dry heat that comes after you’ve emptied yourself out in a parking lot.

"I shouldn't," you reply.

Suguru leans in, hands flat on the mahogany. His rings clink against the wood. "You shouldn't do a lot of things," he says, "But you're sitting in my bar forty minutes past the last call for the regulars. So. Another?"

Without waiting for a reply, he reaches for a fresh glass. As he does, you’re stuck thinking about the text on your phone. The one you deleted, then recovered from the trash, then deleted again. The image of your (now ex) boyfriend’s mouth on someone else’s neck—a girl who looked like a blurred version of you, but younger, less tired. The betrayal is a physical thing, a cold stone lodged under your ribs. It makes every breath feel shallow. Suguru slides the drink toward you. It’s not the cheap rail whiskey you’ve been nursing. This one smells like a forest fire.

"On the house," he murmurs.

"Why?"

"Because you look like you’re about to shatter, and I don't want to sweep up the glass tonight." If he had caught you at a better time, you would’ve laughed at the joke. He turns around to flip the sign on the door to Closed. The heavy deadbolt thuds home. The sound echoes in the empty room. The silence that follows is massive. It’s just you, him, and the hum of the refrigerators.

He walks back, but he doesn't stay behind the bar. He hitches a leg over the stool next to yours. He’s too close. You can feel the heat radiating off him, a steady, rhythmic warmth that mocks the shivering mess inside your chest.

"He's an idiot," Suguru says. No preamble. No "what's wrong?" He already knows. He's watched you come in here for months, watched you wait for calls that didn't come, watched you pull your hair back and try to look small.

"Is it that obvious?" you whisper, staring into the dark liquor.

"You have the look of someone who just realized they’ve been worshipping a false god." He reaches out, his fingers hovering near your hand before retreating. "It’s a violent realization."

You let out a laugh that turns into a sob before you can choke it back. You press your palms into your eyes until you see sparks. "I feel stupid. I feel... dirty. Like I'm the one who did something wrong."

"Look at me."

You drop your hands. He’s watching you with those narrow, dark eyes—piercing, intelligent, and utterly devoid of the pity you'd get from anyone else. He looks at you like you’re a problem he wants to solve. Or a meal he’s considering.

"You aren't the one who's stained," he says. He reaches out again, and this time he doesn't stop. His thumb brushes your lower lip, pulling it down just enough to expose the tremble there. His skin is hot.

"Suguru..."

"Hush." He stands up, his height suddenly looming, blocking out the rest of the room. He reaches behind him, unfastening the tie in his hair. It falls in a heavy, dark curtain around his face. He looks less like a bartender and more like something ancient. He grabs your glass and sets it aside. Then, he hooks his large, warm hands under your armpits and lifts you off the stool like you weigh nothing. He sets you down on the bar top.

The wood is cold against the backs of your thighs, a sharp contrast to the fire in his gaze.

"You came here to drown it, hm?" he asks, stepping between your knees. His chest is a wall of black cotton. "But alcohol just keeps the ghost alive, you need something louder. Something that hurts enough to make you forget his name."

You look at him confused. He’s always had a bad habit of talking in riddles to maintain being referred to as the “logical one.” It’s laughable. He smiles at your confusion and to make the meaning of his words clearer, his mouth hits yours like a collision. It’s not sweet. It’s not a comfort. It’s a riot. He tastes like bitter alcohol and smoke. He tastes like the end of the world. His tongue slides against yours with a bruising pressure, demanding you show him exactly how much you’re hurting.

You wrap your legs around his waist, pulling him in, desperate for the friction. Your fingers tangle in that long, dark hair, pulling at the roots. You want to claw the skin off his back. You want to feel anything other than the hollow ache in your soul. Suguru groans deep in his throat, a sound of pure, unadulterated hunger. He breaks the kiss to trail his lips down, biting and nipping at your neck.

"Tell me," he hisses against your pulse. "Tell me you want to forget him."

"I want to forget," you gasp, "Please. Make me forget just this once.”

He pulls back, his eyes glowing in the dim light. He looks at you, stripping away the sadness until only the raw, pulsing need remains.

"I’m going to ruin you for anyone else," he whispers. "You understand that? When I'm done, he won't even be a shadow in your head." He reaches for the button of your jeans, his movements slow and deliberate. He’s watching your face as he undoes the denim, as he slides his hand inside to find your pussy already slick, already waiting.

His fingers are long, talented, and ruthless. He moves with a rhythmic, mechanical precision that makes your back arch, and your legs spread wider for him absentmindedly. "That's it," he coos, his voice dropping into a honey-thick register. "Needy girl aren’t you?”

You nod desperately as his fingers are deep inside, hooked and ruthless, mimicking the stretch you’re starving for. You find yourself rutting against his hand, your hips moving in frantic hitches, chasing that high-voltage snap in your nerves.

"That's it," he purrs, his voice a low, gravelly vibration that makes your toes curl. "Wreck yourself on me. Forget everything else."

When you finally break, he’s already stripping. He shoves his slacks down, thick cock springing free, thick and angry-red, the head already slick with a heavy bead of pre-cum.

“Can I?” He looks at you.

“Yes, please” you beg. He grabs your thighs, dragging you to the very edge of the mahogany until you’re open, vulnerable, and completely his.

"You're so tight," he hisses, his tip probing the entrance, dragging through your velvety walls. "He didn't deserve to be anywhere near this pretty pussy. I'm going to stretch you out so wide you'll never feel him again."

The grunt he lets out is primal as he buries himself to the hilt in one fluid, violent shove. You cry out—a thin sound that cuts through the hum of the refrigerators—as your body tries to accommodate the sheer mass of him. It’s a blunt-force trauma of pleasure. He’s bottoming out, hitting your cervix with every rhythmic, punishing thud of his hips.

"Look at me," he says, voice cracking, "Don't you dare close your eyes. I want you to see who's filling you up. I want you to feel every inch of me taking what he left behind."

He starts to move faster, a relentless, bruising pace that makes your head toss back and forth. Each thrust is a heavy, wet slap of skin on skin.

"Tell me," he gasps, his teeth grazing your earlobe, "tell me how much better this feels. Tell me you’re mine tonight."

"Yours," you sob, your fingers digging into the meat of his shoulders, drawing crescent moons in his skin. "Suguru, please—"

"I’ve got you," he growls, his pace turning frantic, desperate. "I've got you."

He’s all-encompassing, a storm of sandalwood, salt, and raw power. He isn't just fucking the sadness out of you; he’s burning the memory of the other man down to ash, replacing it with the heavy, permanent weight of his own name.

Your pussy grips him and both of your climaxes hit like a fever dream—shaking, sobbing, clinging to each other as the world dissolves into static.

Later, the room is quiet again. You’re sitting on the edge of the desk, wrapped in his discarded button-down. It’s too big, the sleeves hanging past your hands. Suguru is leaning against the doorframe, lighting a cigarette. The smoke curls around his head like a halo. The pain is still there, somewhere deep down, but it’s dull. It’s been cauterized.

He looks at you over his shoulder, a ghost of a smirk playing on his lips. "Better?"

You look at your hands. They aren't shaking anymore. "Yeah," you say, your voice finally steady. "Better."

He walks over, plucks the cigarette from his lips, and offers it to you. As you take a drag, he leans in and kisses your forehead.

"Good," he murmurs. "Now let's go. I'm taking you home. And tomorrow, you're changing your locks."

He says it like a fact. And for the first time in a long time, you believe him. You leave the bar behind, the neon sign finally flickering out, leaving nothing but the cool, dark dawn and the man walking beside you, his hand a grounding weight on the small of your back.

You slide into your usual seat anyway, and the stool screeches against the worn wood under your forceful actions. Drumming on the mahogany with manicured fingers like you’re about to start rapping your case to a beat of your own audacity. 

“Sugu, there’s no way you’re gonna be a buzzkill tonight,” you drawl. Your voice is raw, like it’s been scraping against your throat for the past hour. A tone that’s usually mischievous is dulled and you try to cough the congestion away, but it does no good. 

A drink – your usual – is already dripping condensation down his fingers, and you reach for it like you’ve already decided the alcohol belongs in your system. For the first time that evening, Suguru pauses. Observes.

Sees the swollen state of your eyes, the tears already prickling at your lashline – though the silvery tracks down your cheeks tells him that this isn’t the first time they’ve made an appearance tonight. Bracelets adorn your wrists, but the one your boyfriend got for you is missing, and you keep fiddling at the spot like it might reappear if you rub the skin raw. 

Speech, slurred. 

Lips, kiss-bitten – lipstick all but gone. 

Eyes? Desperate. 

He wonders how many bars you’ve been kicked out of to land in his. Disappointment isn’t the feeling sinking his chest right now. No, it’s hollow, like someone burst a balloon in the cavity and tossed his ribs away. He’s never been your first choice. He just didn’t expect to be your last. 

“Suguru,” you say, and it sounds more like a plea than a call. “You gonna serve me—” you reach for his hand, the one wrapped ‘round the cup, “—or not?” 

You are the one thing he is not allowed to want. 

Glasses clink, and the hums of tired conversation thread through the early morning air. Suguru greeted the unholy hour with one final customer, before he shrugged off his responsibilities to settle beside you, much to the chagrin of his manager. 

If you were a better woman, you’d shoo him back behind the bar. If he were a better man, he’d fall back and try to fall out of love with you. 

But you’re not, and he’s always been the type to lead with his heart. 

“He proposed to me.” 

The sounds of his body fall quiet. He’s not even sure that he’s breathing. All that roars in his ears, is the fatal beating of his heart. 

“Oh, yeah?” Suguru says, if only to fill the silence. Because if he doesn’t say something – anything – it might show. Just how much that sentence took from him. 

The natural next step would be to ask to see the ring, because there’s no universe where you refuse the guy you’ve been with since high school. For all the politeness hammered into his body – courtesy of his mother, and her prattling on about manners and social conventions – Suguru can’t summon the courage to confirm that you won’t ever be his. 

Not that you’d ever consider that possibility. 

Your critical eyes linger on his stiff form, and he feels like he’s being examined. He tries to sit looser. Breathe steadier. 

What he’s being tested on, he doesn’t know. He’s never worn heartbreak well, but he’s trying for your sake. No one needs to see a man crumbling under the weight of a love he could never hold. 

“Mhmm.” It rings hollow, your usual vibrance bittered by the alcohol. You’ve wrapped your fingers around the glass – he never could say no to you – like it’s something to pray into. It’s almost gone, and when it is, Suguru knows you will vanish too. 

What he doesn’t understand is why you’re stuck beside him, instead of celebrating with your husband-to-be. Why you had stumbled into his bar like a disaster waiting to be unravelled. 

Unless you didn’t accept. Unless the life everyone expected you to take is still waiting for you.

Hope flutters in his chest – uninvited. 

Unless you said no. 

It rises before he can stop it. A selfish, grasping thing that latches onto the cracks in your voice. Because if you didn’t accept, then you’re still his to lose. 

His eyes slide to your hands before he can stop himself. 

No ring. 

Shame kills this ugly line of thought before it can take flight. He can’t sit here and wish that you’re just as miserable as he is – because that’s exactly what he’s doing – while he sits beside you, masquerading as the friend you came to find. 

“What would you have said?” You push the drink towards him. 

At this, Suguru raises an eyebrow. “If…your boyfriend—” he doesn’t miss your wince, “—proposed to me?” 

“Yup,” you reply, popping the p. 

This feels juvenile, like when a child skirts the truth by conjuring bizarre hypotheticals to judge the morality of their behaviour. You’re fidgeting with your nails – your freshly polished nails, painted an inoffensive colour that would suit any combination of band and gem. Did you know that he was about to propose?

Suguru wants to reach over and cup your restless hands, but that wouldn’t be right. 

“Yeah, I’d…I’d say yes.” 

It hurts more to say aloud than he expected. 

You don’t answer right away. 

And for a second – just a second – he thinks he’s misunderstood everything. 

Until—

“I did, too.” 

Oh. 

From your coat pocket, you fish out the ring and toss it onto the table like spare change. The diamond is big – bigger than any jewel he’d be able to get on his salary. Suguru stares at it, at the way it catches the dim bar light, refracting something cold and distant.

For a moment, he can’t reconcile it with you.

With the girl who used to sit cross-legged on his bedroom floor, stealing sips from drinks you both swore you hated (hah). With the girl who claimed that she’d never get married unless the guy added to her life – you had strict standards, and a robust ‘no losers’ policy. 

‘Congratulations’ tastes bitter as it leaves his lips. The drink you’ve offered him is really tempting. 

Your reaction isn’t one that he expects. Eyebrows knit. Lips press into a line that isn’t quite a frown, not quite a smile. 

“He’s a nice guy – there’s nothing objectively wrong with him. Decent family – his sister’s really, really nice, and—just, ugh, I don’t know,” you mutter the last part like you’re ashamed. “I guess I latched onto him because I was afraid that I’d never find someone better. That someone better wouldn’t want me.”

Suguru shakes his head. “You can’t think like that.”

“No, that’s the thing, I’m the bad guy here.” Your voice rises, panic setting in. “Fuck, I’m—I don’t even know if I said yes because I meant it, or if I felt bad for keeping him in this stupid fucking relationship that I never saw going anywhere. And now—” your voice breaks, “—now, he’s going to expect vows, ceremony, children. He—he keeps calling his mom my ‘mother-in-law’ and I…I can’t—”

“Are you the bad guy?” Suguru asks, voice low with conviction. 

You blink, startled. “What?” 

“You’re not the villain here.” Suguru pushes on, challenging your thoughts. You’ve gotten lost in your spiral – that much is clear. Otherwise, why would you defend the guy who would always slip in snide remarks, chipping away at confidence until your inferiority was all you saw. 

You don’t remember the first argument that you had, but Suguru was the one who had to hold you upright when you felt your world collapsing. Arguments that you thought you had resolved, your boyfriend would always find a way to resurface – to use the concessions you made to back you into corners. 

Your composure is slipping with the second. Suguru has always been good with his words, but now, they slip from his mind. Quicksand swallowing the comfort he so easily dishes out to every other patron. Maybe it’s because what he has to say will cross the line he’s learned never to venture near. 

But you?

You’ve always been the go-getter. 

You shift until you’re facing him and rest a hand against his cheek. Before either of you can think, your lips slam against his. 

They’re dry – the alcohol has washed away any lingering lip balm – and they brush against him like a question he hasn’t ever dared to ask himself. You kiss like you want to forget the promise you made, but Suguru doesn’t want to be a late night regret. 

So, he freezes for a heartbeat, letting the heat of your lips sear onto his, giving you the extra seconds to pull away. He doesn’t pull away, but he doesn’t push. His heart hammers in protest, desperate to yield, but this time his mind fights back. 

This is wrong. 

His hand finds the back of your neck. You part your lips, and he follows. 

You’re engaged. 

Seconds pass. You lean, insistent, and Suguru’s resolve wavers. Your hands find their way to his shoulders, and you tug until he falls into you. Fingers thread through hair, his body thrumming with warning and want, and want wins. Time slows, and Suguru’s world narrows to this. 

To the taste of your tears mingling with the lingering sweetness of your drink. 

To the hammering in his chest, and the matching rhythm in yours. 

And for once, Suguru doesn’t think about right or wrong. He only thinks about you, pressed to him.

You pull away, and your gasps ghost his lips. 

“Distract me.”

In the space between those two words lies a world of hurt. 

He’s not going to think about that right now. 

You need him. 

Suguru is no stranger to sex. 

It’s part of the job – and hey, those rolled-up sleeves? Doing him plenty of favours. He’s used to people leaning on him for a night of distraction, a temporary escape. It’s always been about equal exchange: they want, he gives. Losing isn’t in the equation. 

But this isn’t like that. 

For starters, you’re in his apartment, not the shabby motel across the street. 

This is delicate in the way his hands aren’t used to. They fumble through familiar actions with the clumsiness of a fawn stumbling through new terrain. There should be nothing to prove – Suguru shouldn’t want to prove anything, but when he tugs your underwear off to the sight of stringy slick clinging to the fabric, that plan changes. 

His fingers glide between your folds, collecting arousal on his fingerpads – almost mockingly, like you’re the one who should be shying away, and not as though he’s the one eager for a taste. He thinks that his heart might burst open. 

“Where do you want me,” he presses fluttering, open-mouthed kisses to your thigh as you shift. “Come on, use your words.” Black has swallowed the purple of his eyes that you adore, and being lusted over like this – wanted like this – has you gushing slick. You shiver as the contrasting temperature hits your exposed core – heated breath, arctic room. 

You refuse with an indignant whine, only rolling your hips against the grip he’s fixed onto your thighs. Your fluttering pussy is answer enough, no? 

Suguru laughs from where he’s burrowed between the apex of your thighs, like your desperation is amusing. Someone pinch him, because he still doesn’t believe this experience is real. 

You tell yourself that you just want to get off and leave. 

You don’t know why Suguru insists on taking things slow. 

It’s not like you’re lovers. 

“Suguru, I’m gonna need you to hurry things up,” you groan, head falling back into pillows. You don’t want to see his face as he registers your words. 

Another laugh, but it’s quiet – less teasing. Like he’s trying to stretch the moment, and hold it in place before it slips through his fingers. 

“Yeah?” A thick finger presses into you, torturously slow. “You always this impatient?” Eyes half-lidded, you meet his stare as he watches your expression shift, before sliding a second finger past the ring of muscle to join the first. This time, the stretch burns – each knuckle sends a shock wave of pleasure rippling through your core, leaving you gasping and trembling. 

Suguru’s fingers move with a deliberate, teasing rhythm, curling slowly inside you. You try to fuck yourself faster on his fingers, but he doesn’t let you. 

His breath fans over your skin, hot and steady – eyes never leaving yours. His tongue finds your clit, swirling and sucking. The stimulation has you trembling, arching into his touch. 

“Y–you’re being so—shit—good for me.” If you’re not mistaken, he’s looking at you with reverence. Like your noises are giving him life.

You watch him rut into the mattress, slow, in tandem with the pace of his fingers. Confusing feelings erupt low in your belly, but you brush them aside.  

You don’t need this right now. 

His other hand slides up your thigh, fingertips tracing lazy circles – barely touching you. The room seems to shrink until there’s nothing but you and him. The wet sound of his tongue. The slick warmth inside you. The rapid beating of your heart, pounding loud and strong in your ears. 

“Mhm, nah Sugu, you’re just—fuck—good.” Your toes curl, and your thighs are beginning to ache. 

It spills from his chest – this secret he was hoping to keep a little while longer. But he can’t help it, not while you’re splayed under him like this, looking like something out of his dream. Maybe he knows he won’t be able to touch you like this again, and maybe it’s because he knows there’s no coming back from this. 

“Love does that to a man.” 

Shit.

His fingers falter for half a second, just enough to betray him. 

But you don’t catch it. 

Or maybe you do. You just don’t care. 

Your head lolls slightly against the pillows, breath uneven, eyes barely open as your fingers drift through his hair without thought, 

“Yeah,” you consider, distracted like you didn’t quite hear him. “Don’t start getting soft on me now, Sugu.”

Light. Offhand. 

Nothing.

And just like that, whatever slipped out of him folds back in. 

It’s the pinging of his phone that rouses Suguru from slumber. 

The sun isn’t kind to him, and he has to hold his head in his hands for a few seconds while the headache sparks out. On the bedside table, panadol and a glass of water rests, placed with the kind of care that feels cruel now. 

Your side of the bed is cold already, but he expected that. 

His phone buzzes again. 

It’s you. 

A message. It’s short. 

i’m sorry. thank you for being there last night. i didn’t mean to do that to you

Suguru stares at the pixels for a stupidly long time like they’ll rearrange themselves. 

A few seconds pass, and then you ruin his life again. 

i’d really like it if you still came to the wedding 

Huh. 

Suguru reads it once. Twice. The air in his lungs is sharp. His ears ring like a bomb’s just been dropped. 

Understanding dawns just as the hurt splits him in two. 

You didn’t come to him for an answer. 

You came to say goodbye. 

© 2026 lolalied. all characters belong to gege akutami. do not plagiarise, feed my work into any AI systems, translate, or repost my work to any platforms

ten years passed by way faster than they should have. it was embarrassing to look back at how little had happened throughout your entire marriage. 

it all seemed like a lie, a ruse to be seen as a true love story to others. more specifically, to your family and hometown.

everyday felt the same. the same walls of your penthouse haunted you with their blankness and there was nothing that brought you joy. much less the wedding band that adorned your finger.

a decoration. an illusion.

it glistened at the weak morning light. you were sitting on your kitchen island, sipping on some warm tea after another all-nighter.

chamomile, it soothed your throat from how hard you had been holding in your tears throughout the entire night.

your husband?

a wealthy business man that was nowhere to be seen. he was probably on another work trip, doing who knows what.

he was your high school sweetheart, you got engaged the night you both graduated from college. it wasn’t supposed to be a big deal. but of course, your old-fashioned family would never let you leave if you had been thinking of eloping.

and so by the end of summer, before you both moved across the nation to the heart of tokyo, the wedding was planned. it small and last-minute.

cheap lace and wine. the chairs were full of people whom you had never even heard of since you were a kid.

but it was all you needed to feel wanted.

you continued sipping on your tea, letting your eyes doze off into the distance. you could see one of the housemaids dusting your custom furniture in the living room. by the time you snapped back into reality, said maid was in front of you holding a grand bouquet.

“ma’am…? is the dining room fine?”

“oh… yes.”

“they’re beautiful ma’am. lilies.”

you sipped again before replying, “they are, aren’t they?”

“of course, he chose wisely, and it has been a while since he’s sent any.”

your eyes slightly widened at the realization, “he did?”

a nod and a soft smile were what you earned from that foolish question.

the tea in your hands was fashionably placed down, you took a break and left to go back into your master bedroom, desperately holding in the bitter tears he didn’t deserve.

it had been far too long since he said anything to you, much longer since he visited you and this far too lonely home.

he promised, didn't he? that he would cherish your youth?

the days stretched from boredom, but somehow the years stacked on faster. you were thirty now and still wanted so much. he made it seem so easy to forget about dreams despite the fact you both moved away from comfort, all in hopes for him to achieve his.

were your dreams really that unimportant?

your master bedroom was large, far too big for someone who basically lived alone.

but you have a secret in the midst of your ostracization. other than growing a bad habit of spending your husband’s “hard-earned” money on things that you didn’t even need (this was in the beginning, all in the hopes of somehow earning the attention of your husband even if it was in a bad light), you have been attending a beginner’s reformer pilates class. it was three times a week and with the hottest instructor.

the class is well known throughout the entire city because of him.

satoru gojo.

blue crystal eyes that pulled your breath away with just one look, his white hair lulled like waves, and somehow made you feel safe.

it was all a distraction to get away from home. he was eye candy and a sight for your sore eyes, if you will.

the morning sun was continuing its rise, and you wasted no time getting ready for your session.

satoru had complimented you a while back about how easily you grasped routines, and there was no way you’d hold back.

he had your attention, just as much as you had his.

maybe it was in a different way, but it felt good to walk in and be with him.

you slip on some black leggings and a gym top that squished your bust just right.

it felt wrong, but so right. your heartbeat fluttered at just the thought of him looking at you.

and after leaving home in a rush because of spending so much time on your hair, you somehow ended up being the first one to show up. the studio was still empty, you had the choice of walking to your unassigned assigned machine. obviously, it stands right next to satoru’s. stocked away in the corner, you had no shame to be bold. this was the only place you could feel a little thrill after so long.

but before you could set down your items beside your machine, you hear the door behind you slide open.

his footsteps were light and somewhat graceful. you had unintentionally studied them like they were homework.

the soft blush on your cheeks rose without any thought, awkwardly standing there, you were fighting the urge to turn around. what would you say? would he even say “good morning” with that sweet tone of his?

“good morning.. you’re early. again.”

the vibration of his voice instantly brings chills down your spine, and as you move to turn around to look at him, he was wearing that black compression shirt of his. chiseled muscles breaking through, and the warm lights of his studio made it much easier for them to be noticeable.

quickly, you look away and slightly bite your lip, “good morning.. yeah.. i tend to sleep badly. i was already up.”

he hums and moves to the machine beside yours, “you didn’t sleep well?”

satoru places down his waterbottle and begins to change the tension in his reformer, but he was still looking at you. he was giving you all the attention that he could while maintaining productivity.

“i don’t sleep well.”

“you know, i think i’ve told you that maybe switching this class would help.”

it’s true, a few weeks prior satoru told you to switch his class for afternoon sessions. the problem was that he wouldn’t be your instructor.

“true. maybe it would help, but i really enjoy your teaching.”

bold.

he laughed and straightened up, “that’s cute and all, but maybe worrying about yourself wouldn’t be so bad.”

what felt like minutes of bickering, your other classmates started to pop in.

his entire attitude changed; that wide smile of his filled the entire studio with laughter.

somewhere between the lines, satoru kept looking at you. maybe to see if you had laughed too.

“good morning, i’m sure everyone is ready for warm-ups?”

he walks over to his machine again and starts explaining his setup, “alright, make sure to loosen it up. last class was advanced, so i apologize.”

your hands reach over to the springs at the foot of the machine, slightly tugging at the tightest coil, you pop it out.

“hey, why don’t you use the medium?”

you look up and see satoru looking at you, pointing at the medium-thick coil.

“me? are you sure?”

“of course, you’ve really grown. i’m sure you can do it with that endurance of yours.”

before you could pop in the spring, he reaches over and takes it upon himself to switch it for you.

“stay after, yeah?”

the blush on your cheeks grew even brighter; you could feel it in the tips of your ears. after finishing up, he straightens up and continues class.

“alright, three sets on the side. we’ll continue with a new stretch today.”

the normal warm-up was casual, like always, but the actual stretches had you warm in every joint. his new addition consisted of one leg on the carriage while the other held on for dear life on the leg stand.

“hold the pose! just a few more seconds!”

your back was aching for release, every vein in your body was pumping from how still you were trying to balance.

“stretch the carriage! come on.. try a side split.”

as you move your leg, making the carriage open and the spring stretch, you see satoru. he was walking by every machine and correcting people’s posture. and by the time he reached yours, he gripped your hip and made you slightly bend your knees.

“a little more, you can do it.”

a soft whine slipped, your legs were slightly shaking from surprise. his hand was huge and his fingers were digging into you; somehow it made you dizzy instead of helping.

satoru’s eyes looked up at you, they look down at your lips before slowly letting go to walk off.

“slowly come up.. hold your position.”

your legs continued to shake and satoru made you all repeat it before changing the target.

laying back down, the straps wrap around your wrists. the coming down was obvious, all of your classmates were almost at their limits.

“nobody’s sleeping, right? we need our usual sets!”

satoru walked toward another classmate who was slowing down, he helped them up to switch positions at their accommodation.

by the time class ended, satoru was all smiles, as if we has proud how wasted everyone was.

“good job everyone! see you all next session.”

the small chatter from everyone slowly diminished; a few women stayed behind to earn a compliment. but he noticed that you were still waiting for him, and so, he excused himself.

you were sitting on the carriage, sipping on water and trying not to fall asleep.

“you did good, with the medium spring.”

your eyes shot open to look up at him, “i did?”

“that’s intermediate for you. have you been taking classes without me knowing?”

his musk filled your nose and caught you a bit off guard, you were about to answer until he cut you off.

“actually, don’t answer that. i’ll probably feel a little bummed out.”

“bummed out? you mean jealous?”

he hummed, “something like that.”

the studio was empty now, other than you both. warm lights shone on you and made the awkward silence somewhat tolerable.

“i know i asked you to stay. but i just wanted to talk, and maybe i can offer something.”

that caught your interest.

“oh… talk about what?”

“this class, you’re obviously achieving results much faster than everyone else. maybe you could move up.”

you laughed, “move up? i’ll be missing so much.”

“not really… if you do move up, i could offer training.”

“you do personal training?”

“well, i am an instructor. i’m sure i can personally train.”

your eyes slightly cinched at confusion, “so you don’t train.”

“i did, once a blue moon. but i think your progress could exceed if you moved up.”

silence. the blush from his praise made you warm up. the workout already had you completely bloodshot, your heart was accelerating even while sitting down because of him. it had been so long since these type of words were being uttered in your presence.

“yeah… okay.”

“i’ll work it out for you. this new class has two options.”

satoru began to walk towards the door, “follow me. my office is down the hall.”

as soon as you walked in the hallway, other people noticed satoru. they waved and greeted him, but thanks to his height, you were easily brushed off.

“the schedules for intermediate are hard-copy. it’ll be easy to pick out.”

his office door clicked as it opened and closed behind you, allowing you both some privacy. his room was modernly furnished. shelves that reached the ceiling and a large desk made of dark oak. they shimmered at every angle.

“sit. i’ll print ‘em out.”

you nod and sit down while his back faces you. god, every muscle jolted with every move he made. your teeth were nibbling on your bottom lip, it was taking everything in you to look away and have some decency.

“here.”

his body turns to face you as the papers slide on the desk.

“this one is three times a week, later time, just with another instructor.”

“okay… what about the other one?”

“two times a week, same time, and it’s with me.”

satoru stayed silent so he could see your thought process before stepping in to add, “our sessions could be between those two days.”

“are you sure this is fine?”

he smiled and nodded, “it’s just one day.”

you left with a hint of embarrassment and a little post-it with satoru’s number between your fingers. and it wouldn’t take a while before he started messaging you.

intermediate sessions were on monday and wednesday, his catch up session was on tuesday after his other classes were over.

just the thought of it made your stomach flutter.

good afternoon, are we still up for tomorrow?

i can make it, i wanna get the most out of your class.

you’re still in my class, haha.

   alright, i’ll see you then.

your usual clothes were slightly altered. leggings were switched for shorts, and that ponytail you always combed was now a braid. it’s hard not to mention how you began getting ready much earlier than usual to slap on some makeup. it was six o’clock, no way you’d be seen unkempt so late in the day.

satoru was perched on the reception desk when you arrived, he was idly scrolling on his phone as he waited for you.

“you’re here, great.”

“sorry, am i late?”

“for the first time, yeah. it’s nice seeing a change.”

you laughed at his joke, “it’s traffic hour. not my fault.”

he walked into his studio room and spread open his arms to emphasize the void of the room.

“pick any, try a new one.”

“does it matter which one?”

“of course not, but we are the only one’s here.”

satoru watched as you walked around and chose a reformer that was on the opposite side of your usual machine.

“this one is fine.”

“sure, how about we start on warm-ups now?”

knee bends, hip adjusts, and over-the-head stretches.

satoru watched you, his new assigned machine was beside yours to mimic what he wanted you to work on.

“alright, maybe i should start with our new warm-ups for tomorrow. let’s do medium spring like last time.”

he stepped on his machine and started positioning himself in a single-leg stretch. one foot was on the foot stand while the other was on the floor, letting him stabilize.

“we go all the way down to feel no tension after. you can start slow.”

your leg stretched as your hands stayed on the foot bar.

“nice, wanna try on top?”

satoru’s velvety tone made you blush, his innuendo made you listen with no fight. you quickly climbed on top of the foot stand to try the actual split. the carriage opened with every inch, he was right beside you on your left side, holding out a hand in case you needed stabilization.

“look at you, this is easy, huh?”

“n– no.. easier.. said than done.”

“you’re doing good–”

as you reached down for his hand, he stopped what he was going to say. instantly, you look down and see him looking at your hand.

“you’re married? wow, congrats.”

“oh, yeah. ten years.”

“so, no congrats?”

awkwardly, you laugh and watch how he looks up at you with a soft smirk.

“sure, i guess. he’s just never around.”

“oh, sorry. didn’t mean to pry. the kids probably understand, right?”

you mumble, “don’t have any.”

silence.

“sorry, i’m prying again.”

“it’s fine. most people have kids at this stage, right?”

“depends if you even want any.”

silence again.

“i’m sorry for assuming.”

all you could do was laugh to break the tension.

“you’re funny.”

satoru looked away to let you focus on the stretch, but for a split second, you could see a hint of pink blossom on his cheeks.

the entire session was guided with his gentle hands, the confidence he had was shot down and you could feel it with every word he used. honorifics were added onto every phrase, his eyes never lingered hard enough for you anymore.

by the time you left to your car, satoru walked you out. always two steps behind. it drove you a tad bit insane. was the wedding ring really that big of a deal? this entire scheme was to make you forget about your husband, just for a bit. and here he was ruining it without even being present.

your body moved without any thought, you were facing him as the dark sky was beginning to let the stars twinkle.

“is it different now?”

“what is?”

“our sessions. because i’m married.”

“of course not, i should have noticed since the beginning. it’s my fault.”

“this isn’t about him, you know.”

he stood silent, somehow behind those white lashes of his, you could see the slight disappointment behind them.

“i’m doing all of this for me. it isn’t about him. if… if this is too much, we don’t have to.”

satoru smiles and shakes his head, “i’ll see you tomorrow. sleep well.”

you continue looking up at him before looking away to ponder. the impulsion lingered, and without a second to spare, you cut the distance and kiss him.

adrenaline overtook you, him as well.

satoru’s hands land on both sides of your face. his palms guide and redirect how your kiss was moving.

he tasted so sweet. spearmint from a gum he had been chewing and somehow you could distinguish a hint of herbal. probably from some tea. his musk was even more potent up close.

you pull back, eyes blown wide and hair slightly wild, satoru was about to say something before you ran into your car.

“–i’ll see you tomorrow!”

you couldn’t think straight on the ride back. this wasn’t supposed to happen. or maybe it should have happened much sooner.

swirls of everything that had happened filled your every thought.

satoru.

standing over six feet tall and carved by the heavens had kissed you back under the starlit sky.

you told him you were married right?

was this all a dream?

at the foot of your bed, your fingers kept touching your lips to somehow feel the ghost of his lips that lingered on them.

by the time sleep had taken over, it was far too late. you woke up much later than usual for your first intermediate session.

quickly, you dressed and left with not much time left.

but before you could step out of your car and into the studio, your phone began to ring.

ring. ring. ring.

his contact name glowed with no shame. when was the last time he called? weeks maybe.

“...hello?”

“honey, how’s it going?”

“i’m fine… you haven’t called.”

you could hear the sigh through the phone, “i know. i’m sorry. i didn’t think this trip would be so long.”

“it’s over, right?”

“in a bit. did you like them?”

a second of silence passed, “oh, the lilies.”

“yes. freshly delivered.”

“they’re beautiful.”

“how about you send me a photo?”

“oh… i’m not home.”

“really? where are you so early in the day if not home?”

“i… came for a walk.”

“alright. take care then.”

“when will you come back?”

your husband hummed and began to look through papers before giving up and yelling out to someone, “tana! when’s the next flight back!?”

the murmuring continued before he sighed, “listen, i’m not sure. but i’ll call. i love you.”

“okay… i– i love you too.”

your phone turned off as he hung up. the silence after your simple lie was haunting. you slipped off your wedding band and stuffed it in the middle compartment.

the early day was cloudy, slightly foggy.

the second you stepped into the studio, satoru was talking to another group of classmates. you looked around and found the only empty machine that was left. it stood somewhat in the middle.

satoru noticed you and cleared his throat, “alright. everyone’s here. let’s start with warm-ups everyone. ten minutes.”

you set your items down beside your machine and before beginning your warm-ups from yesterday’s session, satoru’s undeniable warmth was beside you.

“good morning… you’re late.”

“i apologize.”

he hummed and eyed your emotion, “something wrong?”

“not at all.”

“okay. i… wanna talk.”

you nod and he walks away to continue class.

your first session as an intermediate was fast. of course the workouts were harder, but they were much shorter with real impact.

the classroom soon fell silent after everyone left and you could feel how far away satoru stood. he was walking around the machines, fixing them and putting them all in position.

“satoru. if this is about yesterday–”

his body straightened up, he wasn’t facing you but you could tell he wasn’t happy.

“it is about yesterday.”

“i’m sorry. i’ll keep saying sorry for being so thoughtless.”

satoru turned around and walked over to you, his hands grasped yours and slightly tugged you closer.

“w– wait.. your other class–”

in an instant, his lips were on yours. teeth slightly clashing, his tongue was slipping in as your hands remained under fingerlock.

this kiss felt even more desperate than from last night. this was in broad daylight and so lustful, your knees almost gave out from his misery.

he was moaning at the contact.

every passing of saliva made you lose the little sanity you had left. and as you pulled back to breath in some air, he was looking down at you with half-lidded eyes. the blush on his face mirrored yours.

“i’m not mad, i’m happy. see you next week?”

you nod while looking away. it was all too much. his gaze was digging holes into you and the fact you were covered in sweat made you want to cry from embarrassment.

his hands let go of yours, “i’ll message you.”

there was a slight skip in your step. right foot, left foot, you fix your hair and slide into the driver’s seat. every breath you took was making your insides burn.

your hands were gripping your hair, tugging in an attempt to bring you back to earth.

“holy shit… what the hell.”

every passing car on the street made you heave. all possible emotions overtook your body.

was this really okay?

you weren’t mentally there on the drive back home. it was forgotten, much less the warm bath that was prepared for you. you were head over heels. the man you had been eyeing for weeks was finally giving you his time, even in the most inconvenient times.

hello, just wanted to say good night.

hi satoru, good night.

you looked very beautiful today. is that okay to say?

of course. that’s fine. thank you for today.

good night, beautiful. let me know if you’re free this weekend.

i am free. are you asking for something?

maybe. all we’ve done is talk in the studio.

   friday after 7?

sounds great. is this casual?

everything but that. i’ll see you.

a squeal echoed in your room, even at thirty, this man had a skill into making you act like a lovesick teen.

your wedding band was somewhere in your car and there was no way you’d go back when satoru was right in front of you. he was giving you everything.

that thursday became even more torturous. friday sounded like a breath of air in the grand midst of things.

you and satoru had been messaging throughout the entire friday, and he accidentally slipped the detail that he was taking you to a nice restaurant. despite the fact he told you not to worry about presentation, you knew otherwise. this was your first (secret) date in over ten years. plus, it’s not like he’s seen you in anything other than workout clothes.

a high up hair do and maybe a sun dress would fit the occasion. every dress in your closet flashed before your eyes. and after much debate, you decided on a long framed dress that would fit.

all of your maids were dismissed early that day to save yourself the awkward looks. they didn’t have to see you get dressed.

his car arrived very early and stood outside the penthouse’s gates, idly roaring to pass the time.

when you stepped out in the dress you had on, it twinkled with every step you took and made his jaw slightly widen.

satoru’s date went as planned, overpriced desserts sealed the deal under a candlelit dinner. he was driving you back home as the subject of pilates started, “you know, i ordered some machinery a while back.”

his eyebrows slightly rose, “oh? you did?”

“yep. that was my reasoning.”

“i’m extremely confused.”

you laugh, “remember when you asked how i was getting better so quickly?”

“seriously? you were training at home? i thought you were cheating on me or something.”

“wanna come look at them?”

satoru smirked and looked back at the road, “sure. it wouldn’t hurt.”

his hand slipped down and blindly looked for yours, letting them intertwine throughout the entire ride. he was a gentleman, of course. he walked you to your door and stood there.

“are you seriously waiting for an invite?”

“sorta, kinda.”

“satoru, don’t be silly. i already invited you in the car.”

“well, maybe you changed your mind.”

you smiled and tugged his hand, “not really.”

his footsteps echoed in the lobby, the elevator dinged every time you left a floor.

“he’s not home… is he?”

your smile dropped at the question. satoru’s face tightened in fear.

“obviously not… i wouldn’t be here if he was.”

satoru cleared his throat and fixed the collar of his shirt, “yeah, right. first time.”

you looked back at him with a confused expression.

“first time, what?”

“you know… doing this.”

“oh. right. homewrecking?”

he awkwardly laughs and looks up at the mini screen that reflects the floor you both are currently passing, “you’re on the thirteenth floor?”

“yeah, just a bit.”

“how’d you even bring all of it up?”

“delivery service.”

the elevator dings as the doors open to showcase the entrance of your penthouse. bright walls were illuminated by the warm light. shrubbery on every table, the custom furniture that you ordered on a whim filled the entire living room.

“want something to drink?”

“it’s fine, it’s late.”

“alright,” you responded as you pointed at a nearby door, “the machine is that way.”

satoru followed you, two steps behind and eyeing the flow of your dress.

a whistle slipped from his lips as soon as the door opened, “newest model, i see. you’re good at shopping.”

“you think so?”

“mhm,” his hands reached for yours, “you did good.”

the machine was fine, more than fine for the type of workouts he would be teaching you.

satoru leans down and kisses you again, this time he let you guide him. 

he was letting you teach him.

at this realization, your hands slipped free from his grasps and landed on his shoulders. every touch you gave him had satoru moaning.

his feet stepped backwards through the room and into your bedroom across the penthouse. the grey suit jacket he had on was taken off, the white shirt that he was wearing became lost when he eagerly took it off himself.

every muscle you had looked at from under his studio lights was right here in front of you in all its glory.

“how do you take this off…?”

“my dress? on the side.”

“oh… sorry.”

satoru searched for the zipper on the side of your torso and slowly slipped your dress off of you. his lips reached down to kiss your neck, then the valley of your breasts as the surface became free from the fabric. your matching set was not worn in vain, he landed on his knees to reach your stomach.

the heels on your feet made you stand awkwardly; his hair was the only means to have some stability in the middle of your room.

“hey, sit down. i’ll get these for you.”

as soon as you sat down, his nimble fingers reached for the back of your heels to slip them off.

red lines traced your foot from how long you had been wearing them.

satoru’s lips landed on the lines; your ankle wasn’t far behind. he stood up to cage you in, kissing you again and slipping between your legs.

“this is okay, right?”

you nod, you couldn’t see anything in this dark room. all your answers were desperate whines.

“tell me if you don’t like it.”

your arms wrap around his neck before replying, “...okay.”

his hands reach behind to undo the clasp, the tension is immediately removed. all the harsh wire that was digging into you was gone.

the pesky panty you had on was effortlessly removed and stuffed into the pocket of his grey slacks.

you were pliable. soft and vulnerable under the darkness as satoru’s hands reached down to unbuckle himself, letting his straining cock free.

“i wanna make you feel good, hold on…”

the man’s warmth slightly backs up, you look up and see him removing his dress shoes and whatever else he had on. satoru’s weight made the bed dip soon after. your body was gently flipped to land on your stomach, “i wanna taste you, like this. that’s fine?”

it could very well be your last wish to be eaten like this, the pillow under your head was cold, but did very little to calm the heat.

“y– yeah.. please.”

his warm fingers grip your hips, guiding them to lift up into the air. it was instinctive to be this vulnerable after so long. satoru understood you even with the little words that were shared.

your back arched quickly after every hair on your body was raised the second his breath reached your core.

a kiss landed on your entry, earning him a soft moan.

“you’re wet… feel that?”

you moan again, satoru was teasing you without even noticing it.

his lips kissed you again, before pulling away, his tongue slipped out to taste the leaking juices.

“augh… fuck.”

with each lick, your moans were muffled into the cotton of your pillow.

your legs start to shake at the new feeling, satoru’s middle finger slowly starts to slide between his mouth’s licking and your entrance. every spasm your hole did, it released even more slick. he noticed it and began to gather it. surely his finger will slip in easily.

knuckle deep now, satoru was exploring your gummy walls.

your moans grew in pitch, “m– mmh!”

“right here?”

just as you were about to answer, more of your juices spilled out around his middle finger. he pulled back and gathered what was ushered out. after coating both his middle and ring finger with your own creation, satoru slipped them back in.

your body coiled up and moved forward, pushing yourself into the pillow. your knees almost gave out from how far his fingers reached.

sure they were large, but after so long, he was making you so wet from just a few touches.

the moans easily slipped from your lips. thank goodness you dismissed the maids beforehand.

sloppy noises filled the room. he wasn’t even using his mouth anymore.

“it’s good?”

“y– yeah.. mmh.. gonna come.”

satoru moves on the bed, his face was now beside yours as you continued arching your back. the pace was nowhere near slowing down.

“already? do you want it like this?”

“no.. nooo..”

“okay, princess. hold on for a sec.”

he kisses your jaw as your wetness was drowning him by the second. every time he pushed back in, your walls clenched. desperate to keep him in.

a moan slipped from his lips.

satoru pulls his hand away and kisses your jaw again, “how do you want it?”

it took you a second to slow your heart down and respond to his question. you wanted to intake this entire thing in before making a decision.

“i just wanna look at you.”

his soft hair rubs against your temple before nodding, “alright. turn around.”

you give out your knees to land on your tummy, the burning began as you lay like a board. he laughs and flips you back around.

he looked so sexy, like a wet dream come true.

your legs wrapped around him so innocently, satoru couldn’t resist the urge to kiss you. the entire night bled into morning, his hand’s movements ultimately left you exhausted. 

sunlight became his alarm from how bright it shone through your curtains. he started to move, “good morning. you slept well?”

“yeah. it’s been a long time since that’s happened.”

“i can tell. thank goodness it’s saturday.”

satoru stands up and begins to look around the room for his lost clothing items, “need anything?”

“you’re leaving?”

“just gathering my things, i’m not that much of an animal.”

in a few seconds, he was back in bed with you. wrapped in his unforgettable scent, the tears shamefully began to fall.

satoru noticed, but didn’t ask.

he left before your maids could even begin their work.

and that was that. you figured he’d get his fill from breaking you.

but oh how wrong you were.

monday’s session was just a tad bit insane.

his usual eye wandering was even more intense. every movement you made, he was making sure to analyze.

“new stretches today! i hope everyone had a fun weekend, but we’re back in business.”

satoru had you all down on your back, shoulder rests on both sides of your face.

“your wrist straps have a longer option, we can expose ourselves to resistance on your strongest limbs. let me know if you need accommodation.”

as you look up from your position, you reach for the straps and place them on your feet. the tension instantly pulls your legs up. flailing and high in the air, satoru continued.

“try pulling down. slowly! we’re not in a race.”

with the little confidence you have at such an early time in the day, the weight of your legs pull down. the carriage rolls up. just as you were pulling up to restart, satoru walks up to your machine.

“nicely done. here..”

his strong hand grips one of your thighs, making your legs go limb and flail in the air again.

“not so fast… you’re gonna hurt yourself.”

“yeah.. sorry, the stra–”

“you can do it, maybe with a little encouragement?”

satoru’s hand reaches down and pushes down on your thigh, letting his thumb reach your core. he could feel the warmth you were emitting and your body instantly jumped from how easily his thumb found that little bundle of nerves.

“i studied, didn’t i?”

you nod and bit your bottom lip as his finger pushed through your leggings again, “pull down now.”

the strap around your ankles made your legs feel like noodles, all of your classmates were continuing there work out and somehow satoru was rubbing you off. no shame.

“s– satoru…”

a laugh finally came out of his lips, he left you to continue the stretch. the soft background music sounded even louder now.

“alright, it’s come down now. mid back to minimize.”

your breathing was loud, sweat rolled down from your temple to your neck. out of all places, he chose the most inappropriate place.

“foot work! don’t forget about ‘em.”

reformers whir at every step and turn for what felt like hours, “let’s take a break everyone. ten minutes.”

sighs filled the room, it felt ten degrees higher at just the memory of how satoru was touching you in the midst of class.

his eyes chase yours as soon as you sit up, “make it fifteen.”

your eyebrows cinch in confusion, the sweat on the back of your neck continued its descent down onto your back. he was signaling you to step out with those blue eyes of his.

not a second to waste, after he leaves the room, you follow after.

the carpet in the halls made it easy for you both to enter his office without much noise.

click.

his hands immediately land on your hips, taking your breath away with the weight of his kiss. dripping sweat between you both, he made you forget about it all.

it wasn’t supposed to happen here.

your first time with satoru was meant to be meticulously planned, maybe in some high-end hotel. but he was not going to waste time anymore, he settles you on top of his desk, desperate fingers pulled down your sticky leggings. the wetness between your legs was obvious; you reacted to the teasing in class. the grey sweats he had on were pulled down even faster, that undeniably long shaft was pulsing again. he didn’t even put it in you last time he was on your bed, only his fingers. but now it felt right after a good stretch.

you couldn’t leave him like this after how bold he’s gotten when he started rubbing you in front of everyone. your view was stuck on how he guided himself into you, the small window between you both was warm.

he bucked his hips at your sudden tightness, making the desk slightly move and moan.

“satoru.. don’t be too loud.”

“gimme a second…”

not even a second later, his hips started a pace. you were wrapped around his neck to stifle the humiliating moans that didn’t stop slipping out of you.

the slap of his thighs smacking the desk was even louder.

thunk, thunk, thunk.

darkness was all you saw from how hard you pinched your eyes closed. you didn’t even notice the change of speed until that blossoming pleasure took shape.

you were close.

satoru had not anticipated this.

but break time was almost over.

his hands guided you to lay down completely on the dark oak. your legs were pushed backwards, enabling satoru to reach in deeper.

your puffy lips looked even softer from the new angle. he pressed your legs further back, hips pistoning in with no remorse. he knew you were cumming.

one of your hands lands on your lips to attempt to minimize the noise. the clenching around his cock had an amusing rhythm. he pulls back when you finish and pumps a few strokes with his hand; the warm ropes land in his own palm.

deep breaths were shared, a bright blue tissue box stood balanced on the corner of his desk. satoru snorts and reaches over for it, “a miracle.”

you both abandon the office; it had been seventeen minutes since you both left. but who was counting? the way you pinched your thighs together with every step was not on purpose.

satoru let you leave early.

it was all his fault.

that same day, what should have been your embarkation in the afterglow, was ruined the moment you stepped into your home.

the halls weren’t their usual empty, his footsteps echoed and made it obvious. you weren’t allowed to run away from this life, even if you had put that ring away.

“you’re back? i was looking for you.”

a sting filled the back of your nose, that cologne he wore made you face away from him. his embrace didn’t feel the same.

everything had changed in an instant for the first time in forever.

after ten years of being a dutiful dove that knew where home was, this wasn’t what you wanted anymore.

“i was out.”

“the maids didn’t even know where you had run off to. is that all you have to say?”

“of course not. i missed you.”

your husband’s lips landed on the corner of yours, somewhat torturing you with the reminder of what you had done just a few moments ago with satoru.

it shouldn’t have happened, you thought to yourself.

this is where you should have stayed since the beginning.

“i’m visiting today, but i’ll be officially home by the end of the season.”

his words made you stiffen, the only response that you could provide was a wrinkled smile.

self indulgence was a sin, you knew that very will.

the second your husband turns to view what had changed in the span of his absence, you pick out your phone and message satoru.

about today, it shouldn’t have happened.

hey, what’s wrong?

   did i hurt you?

he’s here now. and he’s all i’ve needed.

   i’m sorry.

his no response made the tears build up. this is how it was going to end.

let me call you. please.

not today. maybe tomorrow.

you’re still coming for our session? we can talk.

it’s done, satoru. i don’t think we should.

i’ll call you then.

restlessness was holding on, your husband lays right beside you on the large bed. could he tell that someone else other than him laid in his spot?

the thought bit at your consciousness the entire night. your thin night gown did nothing to settle down the shame.

you stayed up for what felt like hours before you succumbed to your heavy eyelids. but the buzz under your pillow quickly woke you up.

it was satoru.

every step on the cold floor brought you to the lonely balcony across the entire penthouse. it looks over the city as the sun weakly began to shine through.

“hello?”

“hey, did i wake you?”

“maybe. i wasn’t that asleep.”

his sigh filled your ear, goosebumps rose on your skin from the bitter breeze.

“i’ll only ask you this once because i don’t have the right to judge you.”

a span of silence took over; it was silent on his end. but your background was echoing the ruckus of traffic.

“is this really what you want? i thought we were going steady.”

“satoru, he said he’s going to be back by the end of this spring.”

“so this is it?”

“it’s final. i shouldn’t have stepped over and messed with you.”

“but i love you.”

“don’t say that,” you replied as the tears that you had been holding in burst like an overflowing dam.

“you don’t deserve someone like me.”

“someone like you shouldn’t be living on eggshells all the time. let me talk with you. please.”

“no! i think this is where we draw the line. you got what you wanted, right?”

satoru scoffed, “are you inferring i see you as some challenge?”

“maybe you do. i’m just a married woman who has nothing to show.”

“you’re much more than that. let me prove it to you.”

“this is over. you can’t justify this– i certainly can’t. i’ll live with this on my sleeves from now on.”

“hold on… wait–”

your phone shuts off before he finishes. the world straight away swallows you whole while everyone in tokyo begins their day.

the following week was silent, even more soundless than before.

what had been the usual routine for the past few months was now completely shut off.

you wouldn’t allow yourself in that studio ever again when you knew very well that satoru stood there.

the conclusion that it’ll be easy for him to move on from whatever you two had going on came as a cope. satoru was the talk of the town. his heart had no taint from heartbreak, he was still young enough to remain taintless for the foreseeable future.

your husband, the reason for your dilemma, was away again with the promise of coming back.

of course, you had ended up all alone again.

the reflection that stared back from your dresser’s mirror was disheveled. repeated attempts to save yourself were pointless.

“ma’am, someone is looking for you.”

you jumped and looked at the maid from your angle in the mirror, “i don’t have any visitors.”

“it was a mr. gojo, ma’am.”

the makeup brush in your hand drops, you could feel the emotions inside of you build up again.

“there is no time for someone like that.”

“ma’am, must i tell him to go? or that you are busy?”

“whichever makes him leave the quickest. please.”

“very well. i shall have breakf–”

clash, bang, drop.

“you can’t just enter like that, mr. gojo!”

“i’m not intruding. i know my way around.”

“the missus is in no hurry to speak with y–”

the chaos behind your door was obvious. satoru had come on his own willing.

your maid cleared her throat, “ma’am, i assume it’s very urgent. he’s pulling the butler like a ragdoll.”

you nod in embarrassment, “i’ll be out. please have the day off. everyone else as well.”

“you’re too kind. are you sure you will be alright?”

“he’s not that type of guy.”

she mimics closing a zipper on her lips and walks off.

your empty living room harbored satoru in all his frustration. it had barely been a week, and satoru looks even more disordered than you.

the weight you carried in the halls made satoru stand up from your couch.

his eyes literally softened to catch a glimpse of you. anything to know you were there.

he was wearing a wrinkled hoodie and dark undereyes, a sign he was up for who knows how long.

“you’re fine. thank goodness.”

“why are you here?”

“seriously?”

“i’m not sure what else to say, satoru.”

“you can start by explaining why your phone has been off for days.”

“i don’t think that should be any of your business. not anymore. it frankly never has been.”

“quit this weird facade. why are you doing this?”

you looked away from him when that obvious blush came through, he was moving closer without even noticing.

“you want me, right? i thought you were doing all of this for yourself, not him. you told me the night we kissed.”

“satoru…”

his warm hand cups your cheek, making you look back at him, “look at me. just tell me face-to-face.”

“tell you what? that what we had wasn’t real?”

“it was real. it felt real to me.”

“satoru, i’m married.”

“we both knew that, right? why does it matter now that i’m ready to risk it all?”

his words ring in your ear, the sparkle that had left your eyes a long time ago was now back to haunt him.

of course, he noticed the fact you slipped on that stupid wedding band again. but frankly, satoru was tired of waiting.

his lips take you without letting another word slip through yours. the awkward outfit he had chosen that morning was stripped off. he knew his way around; that much was apparent when your back reaches the bed again.

every cloth you had worn was thrown across the entire bedroom. kisses littered your neck as he whispered, “choose me again… just like before.”

white sheets slip loose when his hands turn you around onto a prone. 

satoru’s lips roam across your back as they muttered all the right words, “i’ll give you what you want. it’s what you deserve.”

a moan slips from your lips, the delicate tip of satoru’s cock prods between your inner-thighs, “maybe it won’t be the like this… but i’ll make it right.”

he rubs a few times before slipping in. the moan you let go of hits satoru’s ear directly. he stays behind you and nuzzles into your neck for closure.

“y– you promise, satoru?”

“with every breath in me.”

“okay…”

the man’s pace quickened at your agreement and made the large bed thump against the wall.

“m– mh.. ‘toru.”

“yeah? talk to me.”

“i love you.”

“you better mean it.”

your lover’s hands reach over and slip off the gold ring on your hand that was digging into the covers.

“you won’t be needing this.”

“i never liked gold anyways.”

The bar and all 125lbs on its ends clattered onto the rubber floor at your feet. You groaned out in frustration. You were an hour into this session, tucked in the free weights corner, starting to go stir-crazy with this low-grade terrorist breathing down your neck…

“You had it…” Satoru whined.

“I didn’t…” you panted out, “This is too hard…”

“Because you’re not hinging at the hip like I told you.”

“I was hinging at the hip! I told you that this was too much weight for me…”

“You can do double this on the leg press.”

“That’s different.”

Satoru huffed. “With that attitude, you won’t improve.”

“Not everyone can be the strongest in the gym like you, beefcake.”

“First of all, I’m not classified as a beefcake, sweetheart. I have what’s known as a sleeper-build. Model physique at first glance. Easily hidden under fits like this,” he playfully tugged at the strings of his grey sweatpants. “People only know I’m the strongest after I clear their PR.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’m not paying you to gloat.”

“You’re not paying me at all. You’re a friend of a friend and I’m doin’ you a favor.”

“Ugh… Some favor… You want ’death by deadlift’ on my tombstone…” you muttered under your breath, legs trembling as you left the bar to grab your water.

“Go spend $700 at Equinox if you want someone to kiss your ass instead of help you build it up,” Satoru rebutted, entirely too seriously.

“You’re a pain in the ass.”

“I’m trying to be. Better your ass than your quads—which is where the pain will be tomorrow if you don’t fix that form.”

“Why don’t you fix it for me?” you jeered.

“…If I get hands on, you’re going to failure.”

…

Again, in response to your joke, Satoru was too serious.

It took you locking eyes with his icy blues to register that his tone was intentional.

Your nerves manifested themselves as sweat on your brow. More sweat than that last brutal set induced. “…I’ve never gone to failure before.”

Satoru’s heart tugged at the fear in your voice.

You were still a little cardio bunny…

“Just this once,” he said softly, “I want you to see that you can do it.”

“…If I go to failure…what happens?”

“Your legs will give out. But you’ll be fine. You just can’t lift heavy again for a day or two.”

You shifted back and forth in your Converse. Still hesitant.

“C’mon, indulge me,” Satoru pleaded. “I can’t let you ruin my rep as a trainer. All my lil’ lifters are success stories. You won’t be breaking my streak.”

He was lucky you weren’t a quitter.

…

When he said hands on—he wasn't kidding.

Satoru stood behind you and guided you through the proper hinge motion with a lower weight, being somewhat discreet as he pressed his hips into yours at the crucial moments…

He added more weight, then kicked your feet into a more efficient position to accommodate for the flare of your hips.

Then he positioned your hands on the bar, just right…

“One, two, three,” Satoru’s voice was steady in your ear.

And———!

You lifted it!

——And your legs…really did give out.

“Whoa!”

…

Satoru was right behind you, and he caught the bar on either side of your hands, helping you lower it safely. Before you fell over, he caught you, helping you stand proudly at full height, praising you, “See! I knew you’d get it~!”

“Satoru, that was crazy… How…”

“I’m a good sensei.”

“You…” You shifted in his hold, eyes darting all over his smug face.

He leaned in, already well aware of what you wanted, “What~?”

“I——”

Words failed you.

But your lips still remembered…

You were gentle. He was not.

He had been waiting too long.

“I knew it,” he broke the kiss, “I knew you were only mean because you still want me,” Satoru grinned, holding your head in his hands, tearing apart your resolve with just his eyes…

“You were mean to me first…”

“That was business. You want pleasure instead?”

!

Yeah. You remembered. You remembered this whole time. He couldn’t resist anymore. The look he gave you was hardly fair… Should be reserved for the square footage of a bedroom…

You hesitated, "Satoru, it was one drunk night... It wasn’t supposed to mean anything."

"It doesn’t have to."

—!

“Is this a habit of yours? Seducing your trainees?”

“Nah… You’re the first to make me crack.”

He gripped at your ass and thighs, pulling you up into him and on your toes…

“You feel that? Feel this hard work?”

His words were two-faced, one side referencing your glute throbbing under his touch, and the other side…his stiff cock pressing into your stomach through his hoodie…

“You did such a good job…”

“Satouru…please…”

Satoru heard the desperation return to your voice, and had to think. He had never hooked up with anyone in his apartment gym before…

…

Just this once wouldn't hurt.

“Listen to me,” he lowly murmured on your lips, “We’re both gonna go wash our hands…get these gym germs off… Then—if you’re serious—meet me in the studio room…for some cardio.”

…

You nodded and on wobbly legs, went to the ladies locker room, heart already fucking racing…

As you washed your hands, you bashfully read a sign that detailed all of the things not allowed in the apartment gym:

No needles or steroids.

No fighting or aggressive behavior.

No nudity beyond the locker room.

…

No sexual conduct.

…

Fixing your hair was a deeply unserious task. You knew it was about to be ruined, but you primped anyway, wanting to at least appear like you were prepared for this…

…

You arrived at the studio room. The lights were off… But you could hear Satoru’s faint grunting. As you got closer, you saw him near the studio’s mirror wall with his shirt off. It was under his hand on the floor, and he was doing pushups on it… One-handed...

…

You smirked. “You want to warm up to fuck me?”

“Don't question my methods… Come sit and count for me. I’m on 70.” He held that plank, offering the rippling expanse of his shoulders as a throne for you.

!

“Y-you want me to sit on y-“

“Yes, yes, sweetheart, on me,” he laughed, “Hurry up. My dick keeps poking the floor through my pants, waitin’ on ya’…”

You laugh, taking off your shoes…sitting pretty…

And Satoru adjusted his hands into a diamond, dipping and rising as you counted…

Working up a little sweat, now…

Making you giggle nervously in between each number…

He didn’t have a number in mind, he was just playing with your weight and getting a little pump in. Waiting until he could feel that wet pussy soaking through your leggings and onto his back…

It only took 30 more.

…

“100, solid.” He pushed up to a halt. “Get up and take those leggings off…”

“All the way?” you slid off of him, flushing at the damp spot you left between his shoulder blades… “Satoru… We’ll get caught…”

“Camera’s covered,” he got up and nodded to the camera in the corner above the door. A gym towel was draped over it. “You want me to take ‘em off for ya’?” He got close to you before you could answer. Kneeling down and hooking his fingers into the stretchy waistband, swiftly yanking them down over your hips and ass, making you yelp.

“Mmmmmfffuck... Missed you…” Satoru mumbled against your lower stomach, hiking one thigh onto his shoulders and promptly kissing your labia. He parted them gently with his tongue, then latched onto your clit, making you fold over him right away~!

Your sighs of delight bounced off the echoey surfaces in the studio, and Satoru’s grip on you was iron-clad.

He hooked your other thigh up, braced your lower back with his palms and picked—you—up~!

Up…

Up higher…

The cold mirror sent a chill through your back as Satoru held you up against it. You panicked, slapping your tacky hands against the mirror, and then anchoring them in his hair.

“Satoru~u~!” you panted, brow furrowing as your watch buzzed at you with a heart rate alert… “Don’t drop me!”

“Stop worrying and cum on my tongue,” he grunted, squeezing his fingers into your hips to remind you of how strong he was…

You really weren’t going anywhere. Satoru had you glued to this mirror, looking into your pussy with more admiration for her than his own reflection…

His tongue swirled deeply inside of your crevice, then back out again to flatten and rub on your clit… Harder… Rubbing his nose in it~!

“Oh—fuck~! Yeah~!”

Satoru lapped up every bit of your cream as you came for him. He inhaled deeply, your sweat and pheromones hitting him like a dry scoop of creatine…

You were half whimpering from the pleasure, and half from the fear of being up so high…

Just as you caught your breath, blinking your eyes open, Satoru pulled away from the apex of your thighs—and dropped you.

……..!

You yelped~!

Hands under your ass, he caught you, chuckling at how he managed to scare you. Then he caged you against the mirror again, this time, pinning you with his hips. His cock was stiff, poking around at your thighs and abdomen…

Still dealing with that pit in your stomach, you hooked your legs around him, fearful of hitting the hard studio floor.

“I’m not gonna drop ya’,” Satoru dipped down to kiss your lips, focusing your attention back on him. “You’re barely a warm-up weight for me, sweetheart.”

You licked your lip, cheeks still warmed with the ecstasy his tongue gave you. You shifted in his hold, eyes taking in Satoru’s sweaty, flexing arms secured around you… You could see his blood pumping in his veins…

He smelled so good—sandalwood, sweat, sex…

“And those pushups made my traps the perfect handles for you,” Satoru broke you from your ogling, “You’re welcome, grab on.”

You should have listened sooner… “Fuck! Satoru~u~u!!”

Your hands eventually did find those handles of his, and you held on for dear life as he lined himself up, and slid you onto him, setting an agile pace. He held you up, fucking into you against that mirror with the discipline only a real lifter could have…

He never let you fall. Not even a slip.

He pounded you heavy, making sure to hit that tight spot you had trouble with loosening… Kissed your face, your neck, your tits… Made you cum two…three more times, praising your flexibility and endurance…making you cry out his name…making you dig your nails in deeper…

Satoru was in too deep, looking at this beautiful thing taking his cock in three different angles with the studio mirrors…

You looked good together. He always knew it, but seeing it in his happy place made it that much better.

Wasn’t too long before he was pulling out, splattering the mirror below you with white. The sounds of his heavy release made you laugh. That was a close one… “If I knew you were this horny, we could have skipped the gym…”

“No,” he panted out into your mouth, “I wanted to help you,”

“Oh, you helped me, alright…” you caught your breath, pushing your hair out of your face and giving him one more sweet kiss.

He guided you down, settling you to lean against the mirror while he crouched to get your leggings over your feet.

“I can help you whenever you want, by the way. You don’t need a reason,” Satoru said, kissing your thigh as he pulled your garment up, “Just ask me.”

You ruffled his hair, sighing, “Help me clean up the mirror, then take me to your shower… We made such a mess…”

He smiled confidently, cheeks rosy…excited for more with you... “We‘re gonna make a mess in the shower, too. Anywhere you come with me will be left a mess. Get used to it, babe.”

~