#sub gojo

Sometimes, your boyfriend was worse than an animal in heat, and today was one of those days.

You were sitting at a desk, already preoccupied and busy when he decided he wanted it. Right now.

But instead of asking for sex like any normal person would, or by giving subtle hints, he decided it’d be a good idea to climb under the table and shove his face between your legs. His eyes stared right up at you with this fake-innocent look you were far too familiar with. “What are you scheming now.” You pushed your chair back a little and clicked your tongue at the sight, but still decided to give him the benefit of the doubt— big mistake there.

“Ohh I’m not. You just look kind of stressed out~” he leaned his cheek against your inner thigh, his hands coming up to rest on your legs, “I thought I’d help you… blow off some steam?” Truth be told, you knew from this point onwards you wont be able to finish whatever you were doing, yet you still resisted for the fun of it, “not right now, I’m busy. Get out from under there.”

“Booo, that’s no fun.” A pout formed on his face, and he opened his mouth wide, tilting his head back slightly to give you a better view. His hand reached up to point towards his tongue, as if that move was anywhere near necessary, “I can use my mouth~ I know you like it when I do.” The grin that followed was one of pure cheekiness and smug, self-confidence. And before you had the chance to voice your arguments, he smushed his face into your crotch.

His jaw was wide as he mouthed at your cock through your clothes, obviously not giving a damn about a right place or right time. “You— fuck…!” You couldn’t help the sharp hiss that slipped through, your fist slamming onto the table above him. “Hmmm〜♡” he hummed, eyes sparkling with mischief as he enjoyed himself. Like a worshipper at an altar, he lapped and sucked at you until he felt you hardening under his lips, then smirked all satisfied. That fuck-ass smirk, you were going to wipe it off his face at some point.

“Still gonna object?” He mumbled straight into your groin, making you shudder with goosebumps, the spots he’s been licking at were all soaked through with drool. “Not like you’ll stop even if I do.” A bead of precum seeped to the surface, and he moaned at the taste like some kind of cheap hooker. He couldn’t help himself, he just really adored your musk. “Mhmm~! Ahh… it’s been so long ♥︎♡ I missed the taste of you.” You clicked your tongue at the display, scoffing, “you just got a taste recently, the hell you on about?”

With his familiar sulking face, he snapped back at you, “that’s a long time for me.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, inhaling your scent as if drunk on it. A faint blush dusted his face and ears as he chuckled in satisfaction. “Are you some kind of incubus or what?” He didn’t answer that one, for he was too focused on freeing your cock from the cage that was your trousers. His hands twitched upwards for a split second, before a better idea crossed his mind. Why use his hands when he could just—

“…of course you had to be extra like that.” You stared down at him, both speechless and kind of impressed, watching him use his teeth to unzip your pants. It was a struggle to not use his hands, of course, but he knew something about it gets you all hot and bothered. He nuzzled into your crotch to open up your clothes some more, sticking by this self-imposed ‘no hands’ challenge.

Once he saw all the pre you were leaking through your underwear, he licked his lips in anticipation, “someone’s more eager than they’d like to admit.” You let out a breathy laugh, one hand coming up to tangle in his hair, your hold firm but not yet painful, “don’t think I haven’t noticed you are also hard.” Your foot pointed to his erection, to which he shrugged.

“I’m honest about my desires. If I want it—” his hands gripped your thighs a little tighter, his teeth pulling down the last layer of restraint that was hiding you from him. It was just enough for your arousal to spring out, right into his face. He took it even further though by holding it with one palm, and rubbing his cheeks against it, like a cat nuzzling up to something to mark their territory, “—I get it.”

The feeling of his soft cheeks actively rubbing against your sex was weirdly exciting. You knew he was a slut, but even then you’ve never seen him debase himself this much. “Is that all you’ll do? Snuggling against my cock? Fucking hell, it’s not a plushie.” After hearing your annoyed groan, he pressed a kiss to the tip, “you just can’t wait to see me use my mouth huh?”

He tilted his head to the side, his tongue darting out to lick along the ridge of your head. It seems he’s paying special attention to your tip, while one of his hands wrapped around your shaft and fisted it lazily. These kitten licks at your most sensitive area was nothing but his way of teasing, and you were close to just slamming his head down your cock. “If you’re going to start shit like this, finish it properly.” You both knew he could do so much better than this, do so much more stimulating things. After all, he knew your likes and preferences like he studied it.

“I started it? So it’s my fault that you’re like this?” The tip of his tongue flicked over your slit a few times, catching any precum that leaked from you, making your grip in his hair tighten by a fraction. “Fuck— who else but you, huh??” He grinned deviously, eyes half-lidded as he looked up at you, “I blame your self control.”

His taunt, paired with the erotic view of him whoring himself out on your cock—pleasuring you—was giving you mixed emotions. On one hand you wanted to punch him for how obnoxious he was, yet as soon as you’d see the needy, raw desire in his eyes, your anger just vaporizes.

With a low sigh, you began combing your fingers through his hair, a gesture a comforting one that made him purr, “if you don’t start sucking on it like you mean it soon, I’m going to give you reasons to blame my self control.” He jerked, as if a switch’d been turned, his voice a teasing melody that couldn’t hide his excitement, “is that a threat?” “For you? I think it’s more like a reward.” Touché, he couldn’t argue against that. So instead, he repositioned himself, his mouth hovering right over your cock, “then I better get to work ♡”

Next thing you know, he swallowed your tip inside his mouth, his cheeks puffing out a little from the stretch. It wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle though, he was used to taking way more than just that. For now, he was still fine with only the tip, his tongue flattening out against the underside as he sucked greedily. It was so warm and wet inside his oral cavity, you could barely help yourself. His actions only grew bolder at your obvious enjoyment, your length twitching inside him from time to time.

He made sure not to use his teeth as he slowly descended, his lips stretched tight around your girth. He slowed down a lot compared to the rushed beginning, mainly because his throat refused to work with him today. “Mmmhh…! Ah— hnNghh…” He mumbled, the struggle clear in his voice, saliva trailed down his chin all sloppily. You guessed he was cursing under his breath, but you couldn’t exactly understand him when he’s stuffed full with your dick. Nonetheless, the vibrations send a nice little shiver down your spine, and your hips bucked up unintended.

The sudden movement made him rip his eyes wide open, and he immediately pulled off, choking a little, “urghh…! *Kofff, koooff* damn you…” you didn’t stop him and allowed him to catch his breath, not without a snarky remark though, “too big for ya? Or is your throat uncooperative after yesterday?” He shot you a slight glare, which only prompted you to tease him more, “what, you screamed and cried so much, how could I forget? My ears are probably still bleeding because of it.”

Oh now you’ve done it, he was so gonna get back at you for that. Without a single word, he drove back in, this time he arrived at where he was before way faster. His grip on your legs tightened, his chest heaving as he tried to regulate his breathing before taking you deeper. At this point his jaw was starting to get sore, he really needed to up his game.

“Still tryna deep throat it all?” You chuckled, cupping his face to hold him there, thumbs rubbing circles into the sides of his head, massaging his temporalis muscle to help ease the strain. The soft caressed were a drastic contrast to the hot heat resting in his gullet, creating a dizzying sensation that unraveled him piece by piece.

His eyes watered as he made a rash decision of trying to just shove the rest of it in, which had him groaning and trembling around you, “mhmfffhh…!!” Tears glistened in his lower eyelid, so close to rolling down his flushed cheeks. “Is my poor baby gonna cry?” He shot you a fierce glare at that infantilizing tone, then deliberately used his teeth to scratch you lightly.

“Ah— fuck!” You exclaimed, gripping his roots for purchase. His scalp stung under your grip, and he whined out as a result. What he did didn’t necessarily hurt, it was just uncomfortable and kind of surprised you, “that’s it, no more playing nice.” You snapped, and shoved his head down until his nose was crushed against your pelvis, forcing him to take all of you in one impossibly deep descent. He immediately gagged at the feeling of your tip hitting his palate, stretching his throat and making itself home inside him.

“Mhmmmff?! HnngHh—!!” He cried out, squeezing his eyes shut as he desperately tried to learn how to breathe again, his throat refusing to take it and choking repeatedly. The tears from before finally spilled down that pretty face, mixing with the drool dripping from his chin. His fingers dug into your skin, nails breaking flesh and leaving behind bright marks. The boy also ‘hit’ you a few times in mock anger. Much like the frown he was showing you, there wasn’t any heat behind it, just him acting out like always.

You kept holding him down, unmoving. But that also meant he wasn’t allowed to move either, forcing him to accommodate you while basking in the sensation of it. “If you need a break, tap my thighs three times. Otherwise, I’m gonna keep going.” Then, you tugged the hair that’s been sticking to his temple back and asked, “did you hear me?”

He nodded weakly, still coughing and hiccuping, though not trying to pull back. Why would he, anyways? This was the best part of it all, he just adored it when you’d snap and use him like some toy. Not that he’d ever say it out loud. Even so he did appreciate how you always made sure to set a safe word.

His throat convulsed whenever he tried to gulp down the saliva and precum that was pooling in his mouth, the tightening sensation making you gasp in response. You gritted your teeth, trying hard to restrain yourself until he was ready. It was getting increasingly difficult, he just looked so damn cute impaled on you.

“Deep breaths, in and out. I don’t have all day. Or were you planning on cockwarming me?” You groaned when he still couldn’t get used to the stretch after a hot minute, then slapped the side of his head gently, “c’mon now. Are you even trying?” He was! He was trying! Why don’t you try deep throating something that was big enough for him to feel in his lungs? “MfffHhh… ngHhh..!!” He tried to bite back at you. At least his muffled complains were quite entertaining.

“Pfff, I can’t understand you anyway.” You laughed to yourself, then slowly began rolling your hips into his mouth. “Don’t worry, I’ll be gentle.” As if he’d believe that. You both knew he didn’t want it gentle. By now, he has adapted to the stretch, his throat widening visibly to make it fit. Just the thought was enough to rile you up, and seeing it physically was even more lewd. “…hmmm…uh-uhmNggHh~♡” He soon started bobbing his head up and down, in rhythm to your thrusts.

Whenever his nose met with your pelvis, and your cock hit another deep spot in his throat, he’d whimper so deliciously. His eyes squinted into this petulant pout, permanently glaring at you. “Keep looking at me like that and I’ll cum soon.” You hummed, that expression was indeed pretty adorable and tempting, then you suggested, “shall we take it up a notch?” Before he could process what you meant by that, your other hand also tangled in his hair. With both hands now holding his scalp like some kind of makeshift leash, he didn’t need to guess what this was about.

You stopped with the lazy rolls and began fucking his face in earnest, pulling back until just the tip was in before shoving it all back down. “HnNghh—!! Ah-urghhmmm, g-guuuhh ♡♥︎♡” His eyes rolled back at the rough treatment, a series of whimpers escaping as his brain short circulated.

He was filled with you, everywhere, in the best way possible. His nose buried in your crotch, taking in your scent, his tongue tasting your fluids, his eyes and ears focused on your expressions and words, while his throat took your brutal thrusts. All of his senses were overwhelmed with nothing but you. It was to be expected that his body would protest against this perverted, nasty act, even if he was loving every single second of it. His throat kept fluttering around you, though it did only made you go harder.

The way his heart hammered in his chest was almost painful, like a never ending parade of drums. He could feel his air being punched out of him with every deep pound, everything in his larynx was burning like hell. By now, he was weeping freely, brows furrowed as he took what you gave with single-minded focus. His tongue trying it’s best to be proactive, to do something— yet your pace was so fast, he could barely react to it other than offering his body up to the one that will surely break him.

“You look so needy like this. So fucking sloppy.” You could barely hide your excitement as you used his tight mouth like some personal fleshlight, your vulgar words sending shivers straight to his groin, “like the taste of my cock? Like it when I fuck that pretty face of yours?” He couldn’t really answer verbally— of course he couldn’t, not with you filling him up to his nostrils, so all he did was nod meekly while moaning into your shaft.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Even now, with him unable to do anything but take it, you were provoking him on purpose. He couldn’t even think of a good comeback right now, because his mind was so overwhelmed. It felt like he was drowning, his vision darkening at the edges as your voice rang in his ears. His own neglected cock was painfully hard, dripping and soiling the floor below. At this rate, all this sensory overload was going to make him cum untouched. Yet there wasn’t a single place where he’d rather be than right here between your legs, sucking you off like the slut he was for you ♥︎

And soon enough, his efforts bore fruit. You were close, damn close to spilling it all over his tongue. A sharp gasp echoed from above while your arousal twitched insistently against the back of his throat. “Ugh— haha… good job, I’m close. Keep that mouth spread a little longer, yes? Or tap my thighs if you don’t want me to cum inside.” You warned him, and he just moaned louder. “Mhmmm〜 hmm… nGhhuuu—uGhhmmfff ♥︎♡” He could tell you were on the edge even before you told him so, since otherwise your thrusts wouldn’t have turned so messy.

And right now? You were fucking him like you were chasing your own high, like he was just a hole to use and ruin, drinking up his gasps and sobs with no regards to his comfort. Naturally he could have stopped you with a simple tap, yet why the heck should he? He was loving this! He wanted to feel your hot seed filling him from the inside, trailing down his gullet and making his eyes water even more. This was the sweetest reward he could ever ask for, so won’t you please cum already?

Your pace came to a sudden stop as you slammed your hips up into his face one last time, holding him still while your climax washed over you. The sounds and curses that slipped from your lips were like music to his ears. The hot spill of your cum was both pain and ecstasy, mixed into a terrifying cocktail that fucked up his senses. You were cumming so much, he’s been forced to swallow while it kept coming— and even then it soon spilled from the edges of his lips, dripping down his chin.

What a waste… he wanted to swallow it all...! Which is why his shaky hands left your thighs and formed a flat bowl beneath where you two were connected, a desperate try at catching all the astray drops of seed. The gulping action kept making his throat tighten around you, as if trying to milk you dry. And it was working way too well.

You panted heavily before pulling his head off of your cock, a little worried that he’ll actually suffocate otherwise since he was holding his breath. But you weren’t done yet and ended up painting his face with the rest of your load, leaving behind this glossy fluid that stuck to him like glue. Some of the stripes got onto his chest and clothes, some were clinging to his hair… you didn’t account for this when you made that move.

As you pushed him off, he immediately gagged while his lungs screamed for air, eyes squeezed shut as he felt that sticky, thick fluid coat his cheeks and eyelids. His face was burning at this point, which was why your cum felt cold when it hit him. A full body shudder coursed through him as he gasped and heaved, trembling uncontrollably. “Ah— ahhHngh…! Ah… *kofff kooofff—* hnngh-hic” he was still shuddering in the aftermath, having also climaxed from the sheer intensity of what just transpired~

You kept holding his head by his hair, your grip loosening only after you finished painting your masterpiece. He looked debauched— more than just perverted. He was an absolute wreck, ruined to the point of no return. And by the looks of it? He relished in the fact that it was you who broke him.

As if him tasting and swallowing your cum wasnt filthy enough, now you’ve gone and defiled his face as well… Was ‘self control’ ever in the room in the first place?! And what’s with that dreamy, sheepish look on his face? His eyes were all glazed over while he stared up at you blankly, his mouth still gaped open, displaying how much you’ve filled him while cum dripped down in rivulets. “You alright there? Did anything get in your eyes? Does your throat hurt?” You sighed, wearing a faint smile while scrubbing the ropes of cum near his eyes away with your thumb.

He closed his mouth and gulped loudly, a clump travelled down his gullet before he parted his lips again, sticking his tongue out to show the empty inside. “My throat’s fine, and my eyes were closed,” he answered, though his voice showed obvious signs of use. It sounded all rough now, evidence of the damage you’ve caused.

“You didn’t have to drink it.” You said, while rubbing your own fluids between your fingers. The consistency was a little gross, you wouldn’t personally eat it. “I had to, you were cumming right down my throat.” He snarled, but then began licking the residual sperm from his hands. “…do you even see what you are doing right now? Are you that addicted to my taste?” With a heavy, speechless sigh, you tilted his head up to face you, and wiped the rest of the white liquid off his face, “besides, isn’t there a much bigger problem here than your hands?”

He huffed slightly, mumbling a small ‘whatever’ as he let you take care of him, secretly enjoying this moment with a low rumble in his chest. Once you were done moving the most of the sperm from his skin onto your digits, you placed your thumb on his bottom lip, a silent signal for him to open his mouth again. And he did, grabbing your wrist with both hands, before licking your fingers clean like a starved, wanton thing.

“You are such a slut.” You chuckled playfully, and he bit your thumb in retaliation, “hmm~ only for you ♡” As a result, you pressed down onto the middle of his tongue to force his jaw to widen, snorting, “haven’t you learned from the first time? Or are you doing this on purpose?” He met your gaze head on and just smirked all smugly, arching his back from where he was kneeling. His legs were cramping a little, but he just ignored it.

You toyed with his mouth a some more, acting as if you were ‘inspecting’ whether he actually swallowed it all. Moving his head from side to side, glancing into his oral cavity while also accidentally shoving your fingers a little too deep, triggering his gag reflex. When he heard your laughter, he pulled a frustrated and somewhat flustered grimace. “Well, since you did such a good job blowing me, I’ll let you off easy this time,” you decided. It might have been your imagination, but you thought you saw a flash of disappointment in his eyes.

After pulling your fingers out again, you wiped them with a tissue, before doing the same for him. He looked kind of empty while receiving aftercare. It made you wonder if he was cooking up some strange plans again. Which, as you’d soon find out, was indeed the case.

He took one glance at your crotch and drove back in, licking a long stripe with his tongue flat against the underside of your still half hard cock, declaring all smugly, “since we are cleaning up right now, shall I do it for you?” You were in disbelief, frozen still for a second before saying, “…haaaah. Really, is my dick all that’s on your mind?”

“Yesshhhhh ♡♥︎ you could keep me down here all day if you want~ and i’ll drink it all up ♥︎♡♥︎” he said without missing a beat, already kissing the tip with a newfound enthusiasm. This was him trying to catch every drop he’s missed, retuning the favor of you wiping his face. He was being extra sloppy too by using a lot of spit, and it took no time until you were back at full length. It send involuntary shivers up your core, and you clasped a hand over your mouth to shut yourself up. It’s almost as if he wanted you to cum again.

“Haha… fuck no you don’t.” Suddenly, you pushed your chair back, grabbed his wrist and pulled him out from beneath the table. You weren’t going to let him act however he wanted forever, there’s a limit, and he crossed it way too many times. “The next load’s gonna be in here.” Your hand cupped his ass, groping it roughly, making him gasp in surprise. “Now bend over.”

By Wednesday, he’d stopped trying. You caught glimpses of him between classes—hoodie drawn up like armor, shoulders hunched as he shuffled through crowded hallways. Once, you turned a corner and nearly collided with him; he recoiled like you’d burned him, mumbling an apology before ducking into the nearest classroom. His avoidance was almost impressive. Almost.

The knock came at 2:17 AM—three hesitant raps, then silence. You knew it was him before you even threw off the covers. Who else would be standing on your doorstep in the middle of a Thursday night, shifting from foot to foot like a nervous stray? You yanked the door open to find Satoru drenched from the rain, his hoodie plastered to his shoulders, hair dripping into his eyes. He looked wrecked. Beautiful. "I couldn’t—" His voice cracked. "I can’t sleep."

You didn’t ask why. Didn’t need to. The dark circles under his eyes told you everything. Stepping aside, you let him in, the floorboards creaking under his waterlogged sneakers. He hovered in the entryway, twisting the hem of his hoodie between his fingers. "I shouldn’t have come," he muttered, but made no move to leave.

"You’re shivering," you observed, reaching for his wrist. His skin was icy. Satoru flinched at the contact but didn’t pull away, his pulse rabbiting under your fingertips. "Take this off." You tugged at his soaked hoodie, and he went rigid for a second before lifting his arms obediently, letting you peel the fabric away. The t-shirt underneath clung to his ribs, translucent with rainwater. You could count every breath.

The silence stretched as you tossed the hoodie over a chair to dry. When you turned back, Satoru was staring at your bedroom door like it was a guillotine. "I’m not—" He swallowed. "I didn’t come here to—"

"I know." You grabbed a towel from the bathroom and threw it at his chest. He caught it clumsily, pressing it to his face like he was trying to disappear into the fibers. "You’re just here to drip on my floor and look pathetic, right?" The joke fell flat. Satoru’s shoulders hunched further, towel muffling a sound that might’ve been a sob.

You sighed and reached for him again, this time cupping his jaw to force his gaze up. His eyes were red-rimmed, lashes clumped together from rain—or tears. "Talk," you ordered, thumb brushing a drop of water from his cheekbone. "Or I’m throwing you back outside."

The threat startled a wet laugh out of him. He leaned into your touch, nuzzling your palm like a touch-starved thing. "I’m sorry," he whispered, voice frayed. "I’m so fucking sorry. I didn’t mean—I didn’t think—" The words dissolved into a shuddering breath. "I hate myself when I’m like this."

You dragged him to the couch, pushing him down with more force than necessary. He went easily, collapsing into the cushions like his bones had turned to liquid. Kneeling in front of him, you pried the towel from his grip and started drying his hair with rough, methodical strokes. "Like what?" you asked, fingers scraping through damp strands. "A jealous mess?"

Satoru’s breath hitched when you said it out loud—jealous mess-the words hanging between you like an accusation he couldn’t deny. His fingers twisted in the towel still draped around his shoulders, knuckles whitening. “Yeah,” he whispered, so quiet you almost missed it. “Yeah, I’m—fuck.” He pressed the heels of his hands against his eyes, as if he could physically shove the admission back in. “I hate it. I hate how it feels. Like I’m swallowing knives every time someone looks at you.”

You paused, towel still tangled in his hair, and studied the way his throat worked around the words. This wasn’t just jealousy—it was shame, thick and cloying, clinging to every syllable. “Look at me,” you murmured, and when he didn’t, you hooked a finger under his chin, forcing his gaze up. His eyes were glassy, pupils blown wide in the dim light of your apartment. “You think I don’t see you? Really?”

l

You reassure him and give him a slow, deliberate kiss—not the kind meant to stoke fire, but the kind that anchors. His lips are chilled from the rain, trembling slightly under yours, and when you pull back, his breath hitches like he’s been starved of oxygen. “You’re mine,” you murmur against his mouth, fingers tightening in his damp hair. “Not because I said so, but because you want to be. Right?”

Satoru’s eyelids flutter shut, his lashes brushing your cheekbone. “Right,” he whispers, the word barely audible, like he’s afraid speaking it louder will shatter the moment. You kiss him again, this time deeper, swallowing the tiny, wounded noise he makes when your teeth graze his bottom lip. His hands find your waist, clumsy and desperate, fingers digging into your hips like he’s trying to fuse you together.

When you finally pull away, his cheeks are flushed, rainwater and something else glistening on his skin. You swipe a thumb across his lower lip, smearing the wetness there. “Say it again,” you demand, voice low.

“I’m yours,” he breathes, and this time, it’s steadier—a vow, not a plea.

Your fingers trail down his chest, over the damp fabric of his shirt, lower, lower, until they brush the waistband of his jeans. Satoru goes rigid, a sharp inhale catching in his throat. “Look at me,” you murmur, and when he obeys, his pupils are blown so wide they swallow the color of his irises. You pop the button of his jeans with practiced ease, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard.

The zipper is louder than it should be in the quiet apartment. His breath hitches when you slip your hand past the waistband of his boxers, fingers curling around his cock—already half-hard, twitching against your palm. “Jesus,” he gasps, hips jerking involuntarily.

You tighten your grip just enough to make him whimper, slow strokes coaxing him fully erect. His thighs tremble under your touch, knees pressing together like he’s trying to hold himself still, to be good for you. The sight of him—red-cheeked, lips parted, fingers clutching the couch cushions like they’re the only thing keeping him grounded—makes your stomach tighten.

“You’re so fucking pretty like this,” you murmur, thumb swiping over the head of his cock, smearing the bead of precum gathered there. Satoru whines, high and thin, hips stuttering up into your hand. “Always so eager. You ever touch yourself thinking about me?”

His entire face goes scarlet. You don’t wait for an answer, just lean in and bite the tendon of his neck, relishing the way his breath stutters. “Answer,” you demand, twisting your wrist on the upstroke.

“Y-yeah,” he chokes out, voice wrecked. “All the time.”

The confession punches a groan out of you. You pick up the pace, thumb circling the sensitive spot just beneath the head until his legs start shaking, until he’s panting your name like a prayer. “Look at me,” you order, and when his hazy eyes meet yours, you slow your strokes to a teasing drag. “You wanna come?”

Satoru nods desperately, but you tut, squeezing the base of his cock until he whimpers. “Words, puppy.”

“Please,” he gasps, hips bucking into your grip. “Please, I—I need—”

You cut him off with a kiss, swallowing his pleas as you jack him off with slow, deliberate strokes. His thighs tremble under your touch, every muscle taut like a bowstring. When you finally let him tip over the edge, he comes with a broken cry, spilling over your fingers in hot stripes.

You don’t let go—just keep working him through it, milking every last drop until he’s squirming, oversensitive and pliant beneath you. His eyelids flutter shut, lashes damp with tears you didn’t notice before. “Look at you,” you murmur, dragging your sticky fingers down his chest. “So messy for me.”

Satoru whines, hips jerking weakly when you press your palm against his softening cock. “Still yours,” he slurs, words thick with exhaustion.

You kiss him again, softer this time, tasting the salt on his lips. “I know.”

He melts into the contact, fingers curling into the fabric of your shirt like he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he lets go. You let him cling, carding your free hand through his damp hair while his breathing evens out.

The rain outside has slowed to a drizzle, tapping gently against the windowpane. Satoru stirs when you shift to grab a tissue from the coffee table, blinking up at you with hazy eyes. “Stay,” he mumbles, fingers tightening in your shirt.

You wipe your hand clean before pressing a kiss to his forehead. “Not going anywhere.”

He exhales shakily, nuzzling into your touch like he’s trying to memorize the feel of your skin against his. “I didn’t—I mean—” His voice cracks, and you shush him gently, thumb brushing along his jawline.

“I know.” You press another kiss to the corner of his mouth, lingering just long enough to feel the way his breath hitches. “You don’t have to explain.”

He swallows hard, Adam’s apple bobbing. “Still.” His fingers trace idle patterns on your hip, tentative, like he’s relearning the shape of you. “I want to.”

You hum, shifting to straddle his lap. His hands fly to your waist automatically, steadying you. “Later,” you murmur, rolling your hips just enough to watch his eyelids flutter. “Right now, I just want you to feel good.”

Satoru whines—a soft, punched-out sound—when you grind down against him. He’s already half-hard again, heat pressing insistently against your thigh even through the layers of fabric. You smirk, nipping at his jaw. “Eager, aren’t you?”

His blush deepens, spreading down his neck. “Can’t help it,” he mumbles, hips jerking up instinctively. “Not when—ah—when you’re—”

You tighten your grip on the upstroke, relishing the way his thighs tense under you. “Always so what?” you prompt, thumb circling the head of his cock just to watch his abs clench.

“Perfect,” he whimpers, fingers digging into your hips. “Like you—like you were made to touch me.”

The raw sincerity in his voice makes your breath catch. You lean in to nip at his earlobe, feeling the shudder it sends through him. “Maybe I was,” you murmur, speeding up your strokes just enough to make his breath stutter. “Maybe the universe took one look at you—all nervous hands and bitten lips—and thought someone had to ruin you properly.”

Satoru moans, back arching off the couch as your thumb swipes over his slit. “Already—already ruined,” he pants, hips canting into your touch. “You ruined me the second you smiled at me in chem.”

The memory surfaces—him fumbling with a beaker, you laughing as solution foamed over the rim. You hadn’t known then how that sound would unravel him. You twist your wrist now, dragging a broken cry from his throat. “Look at you,” you muse, watching cum smear across his stomach with each stroke. “Still falling apart over a smile.”

His fingers scramble for purchase on your thighs, blunt nails digging in when you slow your movements to a torturous glide. “Don’t—don’t stop,” he pleads, lashes fluttering. “Please, I’ll—I’ll be good—”

“You’re always good,” you counter, but reward him anyway with a firm stroke from root to tip. His cock jumps in your grip, veins standing stark under flushed skin. You can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, frantic as a hummingbird’s wings. “But I like you desperate.”

A sob claws its way out of his chest when you release him entirely, sitting back to admire your handiwork—his cock twitching against his stomach, red and leaking. His hands fly to cover himself instinctively, but you catch his wrists, pinning them to the couch. “Uh-uh,” you chide.

You catch his chin between your fingers, forcing his gaze up. His eyes are glassy, pupils blown wide enough to eclipse his irises. You drag your thumb across his lower lip. His mouth falls open instinctively, tongue darting out to swipe at your fingertip. The sight makes your pulse jump—this boy, unraveled beneath you, aching for any scrap of touch you’ll give him. “You’re doing so good, puppy.”

He whimpers, hands flexing uselessly at his sides. “Wanna—wanna come,” he rasps, voice frayed at the edges. “Please. Need it—need you—”

You hum, considering, dragging your thumb over his slit just to watch him convulse. “Since you asked so nicely.” Your strokes quicken, twisting just the way you know he likes, and Satoru’s back arches off the couch with a broken cry. His cock jumps in your grip, hot and heavy, and you can feel the tension coiling in his stomach—know he’s teetering on the edge.

“Look at me,” you command, tightening your grip at the base. His eyes snap to yours, glassy and unfocused, pupils blown wide. “You come when I say.” His breath hitches, hips jerking involuntarily, but he nods, desperate and pliant. You slow your strokes to a torturous crawl, watching his face twist with frustration. “Not yet.”

A sob claws its way out of his throat. He’s trembling all over, muscles taut like a bowstring, fingers clutching the cushions so hard his knuckles blanch. You can see the moment his control fractures—the way his eyelids flutter, the way his breath stutters in his chest.

“Now,” you whisper, and his entire body seizes. His orgasm crashes over him like a wave, cresting with a ragged cry as he spills over your fingers in hot stripes. You work him through it, milking every last drop until he’s squirming, oversensitive and whimpering beneath you.

His chest heaves as he comes down, lashes damp with tears you didn’t notice before. You stroke his hair back from his forehead, fingers carding through the damp strands soothingly. “There you go,” you murmur, pressing a kiss to his temple. “Good boy.”

Satoru melts as he mumbled “I don’t deserve you..” You exhale sharply through your nose, fingers tightening where they’re still tangled in his hair. “Bullshit,” you say, too soft to be harsh but too firm to be anything but absolute. Satoru flinches anyway, eyes darting away like he expects you to recoil—like he’s waiting for the punchline. You catch his chin before he can turn fully, thumb pressing into the hinge of his jaw until he meets your gaze. “You don’t get to decide what I deserve. That’s my call. And right now?” You lean in until your noses brush, close enough that his next shuddering breath gusts warm across your lips. “I want you.” Not them. Not anyone. Just this—” You squeeze his hip hard enough to make him gasp “—messy, jealous, perfect you.

“you’re mine just as I’m yours.” ₊˚⊹♡