Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
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⋆ ⌗﹒★ >ᴗ< ۪ fratjo calls you his ‘pornstar girl’ . ݁₊ ⊹ . 592 wc tw: fluff, alcohol, cursing, suggestive, rich girl reader, mean satoru, both are freaks, college drama; implied fwb (childhood friends), penetration, smut
a/n: idk man… I just wanted to write
“Hey, pornstar girl!” Satoru greets you with a boyish grin and an arm around your waist as you enter the party. He sports navy blue long sleeves and baggy jeans like a geeky nerd but the alcohol and pot reeking off him tells a different story.
His friends look at you like they’ve seen this charade before. And they have, but it doesn’t make the situation any less embarrassing in your mind. “‘Toru! I told you to stop calling me that! I ordered the drink ONE time!” You whine, stomping your foot and looking up at him with almost glassy eyes.
“Aww, why? Is the princess gonna throw a big tantrum? Should’ve just ordered a beer like everyone else, no?” He chides then kisses the apple of your cheek. “You’re so cute when you look like you’re about to tattle to your daddy.”
“That was months ago! You’re embarrassing me, Satoru…” You whisper, trying to hide yourself against his annoyingly large body. You hate how sculpted he is. Just the feeling of his skin being a sliver away from yours gets your pussy so wet. Gently, you tug at the fabric on his chest with a whimper he just couldn’t resist. His expression softens. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, baby… Jeez, you’re so sensitive.”
“I thought you liked that?” You asked so innocently, batting your freshly permed eyelashes (which he paid for) at him. Then, you shook your head. “Never mind, wrong guy.” You shrug, walking away like no words were exchanged.
His jaw locks, muscles tightens, and dick hardens. He watches you strut, but he doesn’t let you get too far. You approach your “friends” while the six foot something barge of a man trails behind you. They laugh, eyeing you then him. “What? Is Gojo your bodyguard tonight?” The blonde laughs. God, she’s so annoying.
You step back, letting your spine hit his ribs, which allows your ass to brush over his crotch. “Maybe.” You respond with a smile on your lips—no one suspects a thing because it you (except the two girls you’re speaking to, maybe). Sweet, innocent you, the girl who’s just being corrupted by Satoru Gojo.
“Thought ya weren’t a thing, babe?” A red-head asks, and you shake your head. “We aren’t.” You confirm. Satoru pouts, wrapping his large arms around you from behind, big palms splayed over your hands on your stomach. His head rests on your shoulder, trying to get you to feel bad for him.
“Riiiiiight.”
You only giggle in response, still leaning your body against his own. His wispy white hair tickles the skin of your neck. He’s so cute, you hate it. “We really aren’t a thing. But you know that for sure, huh?” You throw shade with a knowing smile at the bottle blonde. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, everyone knows you have this big crush on Satoru, no?” You smile. They both freeze, and Satoru’s hold on you tightens. “I also know that you call me names behind my back just because he and I are friends.”
Then, you shrug again, breaking free from Satoru’s grasp to walk away to a group of guys to spite him. He doesn’t move an inch, seething with libido. You’re a brat, but you’d usually never make him intentionally jealous. “Ya wanna make porn so bad, huh, pornstar girl?” Immediately, he grabs your wrist, letting you fall against him, so he could carry you up to his room. You thrash in his arms, but he couldn’t care less. This was your goal, right?
⋆ ⌗﹒★ >ᴗ< ۪ fratjo calls you his ‘pornstar girl’ . ݁₊ ⊹ . 592 wc tw: fluff, alcohol, cursing, suggestive, rich girl reader, mean satoru, both are freaks, college drama; implied fwb (childhood friends), penetration, smut
a/n: idk man… I just wanted to write
“Hey, pornstar girl!” Satoru greets you with a boyish grin and an arm around your waist as you enter the party. He sports navy blue long sleeves and baggy jeans like a geeky nerd but the alcohol and pot reeking off him tells a different story.
His friends look at you like they’ve seen this charade before. And they have, but it doesn’t make the situation any less embarrassing in your mind. “‘Toru! I told you to stop calling me that! I ordered the drink ONE time!” You whine, stomping your foot and looking up at him with almost glassy eyes.
“Aww, why? Is the princess gonna throw a big tantrum? Should’ve just ordered a beer like everyone else, no?” He chides then kisses the apple of your cheek. “You’re so cute when you look like you’re about to tattle to your daddy.”
“That was months ago! You’re embarrassing me, Satoru…” You whisper, trying to hide yourself against his annoyingly large body. You hate how sculpted he is. Just the feeling of his skin being a sliver away from yours gets your pussy so wet. Gently, you tug at the fabric on his chest with a whimper he just couldn’t resist. His expression softens. “Okay, okay, I’m sorry, baby… Jeez, you’re so sensitive.”
“I thought you liked that?” You asked so innocently, batting your freshly permed eyelashes (which he paid for) at him. Then, you shook your head. “Never mind, wrong guy.” You shrug, walking away like no words were exchanged.
His jaw locks, muscles tightens, and dick hardens. He watches you strut, but he doesn’t let you get too far. You approach your “friends” while the six foot something barge of a man trails behind you. They laugh, eyeing you then him. “What? Is Gojo your bodyguard tonight?” The blonde laughs. God, she’s so annoying.
You step back, letting your spine hit his ribs, which allows your ass to brush over his crotch. “Maybe.” You respond with a smile on your lips—no one (except the two girls you’re speaking to, maybe) suspects a thing because it’s you. Sweet, innocent you, the girl who’s just being corrupted by Satoru Gojo.
“Thought ya weren’t a thing, babe?” A red-head asks, and you shake your head. “We aren’t.” You confirm. Satoru pouts, wrapping his large arms around you from behind, big palms splayed over your hands on your stomach. His head rests on your shoulder, trying to get you to feel bad for him.
“Riiiiiight.”
You only giggle in response, still leaning your body against his own. His wispy white hair tickles the skin of your neck. He’s so cute, you hate it. “We really aren’t a thing. But you know that for sure, huh?” You throw shade with a knowing smile at the bottle blonde. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I mean, everyone knows you have this big crush on Satoru, no?” You smile. They both freeze, and Satoru’s hold on you tightens. “I also know that you call me names behind my back just because he and I are friends.”
Then, you shrug again, breaking free from Satoru’s grasp to walk away to a group of guys to spite him. He doesn’t move an inch, seething with libido. You’re a brat, but you’d usually never make him intentionally jealous. “Ya wanna make porn so bad, huh, pornstar girl?” Immediately, he grabs your wrist, letting you fall against him, so he could carry you up to his room. You thrash in his arms, but he couldn’t care less. This was your goal, right?
⋆ ⌗﹒★ >ᴗ< ۪snow leopard fratjo gets drugged by his ex and a couple of sorority girls. unfortunately for them, he only wants to fuck you, his pretty little bunny not girlfriend ! 𖦹 1.3k tw: DEAD DOVE, angst, drugs, non-con, cursing, alcohol, toxic relationships; implied intercourse, vague relationship label, attachment issues; mentions of abuse (emotional & physical)
a/n: obviously, I don’t condone drugging of any kind irl. this is just fiction, but it’s definitely kind of f’ed up. THERE IS NO REAL PLOT, it’s literally just a bunch of angst in me that I don’t know what to do with.
₊ ˚ ʚ ᗢ ₊ ˚ ✧ ﾟ .
Flashing lights, booming speakers, rhythmless strangers, and countless vices—it’s all a flurry of hazy images to Satoru right now. He can barely remember why he’s here, in this room that reeks of alcohol and bitter memories he’d rather regret than relive.
“C’mon, baby~” The bottle blonde coos. “Let me help, like old times.” She says with a smirk that’s as enticing as it is annoying. She sways her tail seductively and somehow twitches her ears intentionally to make her demeanor seem cuter.
Satoru scoffs in response, trying his best to sober up from the heat that’s taking over his body. Fuck. He’ll actually jump if you see him like this. Don’t get him wrong, he’d love to pound you pregnant, but the fact that he accepted a drink from his ex then only realizing it was spiked 10 minutes later is a stupid ass mistake to confess.
He tries to stay still. Maybe this’ll keep the desire in, no? God, he hopes.
“Y’know it’s not good to keep it in.” She says, hovering her manicured fingertips over his collar. “What else are you waiting for, pretty boy?”
She leans in closer, trying to nibble on his skin, but he doesn’t let her. “Leave me alone.” He finally retorts, gruff.
The sorority girls around them laughs. Feline Phi’s playgirl secretary suddenly can’t get her ex to fall back in love with her? Pshhh, loser.
His ears hang low while his tail remains restless. Despite the discomfort, he doesn’t give in. He can’t. But shit, why the hell can’t he leave? Why is a part of him hoping she’d just climb on top of him and free his dick?
“What? I thought you wanted me back, baby? Isn’t that why you made (name) play house? F’me?”
“No.” He rasps, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes that once saw his future with her. Satoru stands, clearly frustrated with this impossible situation. “I like her.” He doesn’t want a quickie with a rando, but he sure as hell don’t want to jack off to get rid of the powder’s effects. On top of that, he doesn’t just want to ask you if you want to have sex. He wants it to feel natural not just because he’s in a rut. What if he hurts you? He knows he’s rough…
She sits on top of him, gently pushing him against the couch with her hands on his chest. He doesn’t make an effort to push her away, he can’t. It’s like his body’s moving on its own, and he… likes it. For a moment, they make out—a clash of tongue and teeth. A few of her friends jeer and start moaning mockingly.
“Fuckin’ skank!” “I thought Satoru was with another girl?” “A slut and a manwhore, who would’ve thunk?”
“Satoru?” Your small voice protrudes through his heart. Immediately, he sobers up, pushing his ex away as if he wasn’t melting into the familiar feel a mere moment ago.
He’s afraid of turning towards you, but he still does. He needs to know how you’re looking at him, if you’d even let him touch you. “Hi, baby…” He greets with that sweet tone of his.
You look between him and the girl, bunny ears drooping as the feeling settles in your chest. Fuck, you know he isn’t your boyfriend. It’s all casual—he’s Satoru. He’ll touch you, kiss you, and fuck you, but it won’t mean a single thing… or so you think. Even with these thoughts running through your head, you couldn’t stop the hot tears that slipped past your eyelids, straining your flushed cheeks—everything is fucking hazy.
The very second you start to cry, Satoru’s already there to hold you. He wraps his big, warm arms around your sobbing form, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as the once playful crowd dissolves into small groups of people awkwardly mumbling and judging.
Satoru tries to coax you into stepping outside, but you refuse to move. You’re trembling—brain, refusing to accept what you just saw. You shake your head, almost wailing, which he responds to by covering your mouth with his palm. “Breathe, baby girl…” He coos, pretty white leopard tail wrapping around your legs to caress your cute cotton tail.
You try to steady your breath, looking into his baby blues with glassy eyes of your own. “I’m sorry…” You whisper shakily against the skin of his palm. He could practically feel your embarrassment. Up close, his eyes are bloodshot. Has he been doing drugs? You start to think. Maybe it wasn’t serious… but then again, why should it matter? Satoru doesn’t have to answer to you. He doesn’t owe you an explanation that’ll reassure your negative thoughts.
He doesn’t respond to your apology. Instead, he carries you out of the room and into his car, tucking your face in the crook of his neck with an arm underneath your thighs while the other rests on your back to keep you safe and still.
In his car, he sits you right on the passenger’s seat. He leaves a soft kiss on the apple of your wet cheek after he buckles your drunken self in. Once he settles in the driver’s seat, he turns to you. “Are you okay?” His hands fall on your thighs, keeping you still. He rubs slow, soft circles on them to ease the tension.
You nod.
“Wanna eat?”
You shake your head.
Fuck. You’re barely looking at him when he’s just trying his hardest to be a gentleman. Maybe this is better…? Maybe he’d fucking cum in his pants if you looked up at him like you did earlier. God, you’re too cute for your own good.
“You need help…” You mumble, pointing at his raging boner.
“I do.” He admits, breathy.
Finally, you look up at him. Unlike his ex, there’s no confidence in your tone. You’re just there, cute, inexperienced, and pouty—just you. “Let me help you…” You whisper, unbuckling your seatbelt then reaching out for him.
He helps you move over the gear shift, and he knows it’s mean, but he can’t fucking resist! Satoru starts playing with your well-kept tail. “Such a pretty bunny…” He says. “Are you sure you want to do this, pretty? You know how I am.”
You nod, pawing at his sweatpants. “I want the thoughts to be over, ‘Toru…” You whine, looking like you’re about to cry again. You’re so overwhelmed with thoughts that are trying to drag you into a downward spiral.
“Thoughts?”
“Just use me…” God, Satoru’s really trying to be the good guy here unlike the jerks you’ve been with.
“You’re more than just sex to me, pretty girl…” His eyebrows furrow. You’re never like this, and it’s his fault why you’re saying this right now. After all, “Drunk words are sober thoughts.” or whatever they say.
“Don’t you at least want to kiss me?” You ask.
“I do, baby. I really do.” He says, gruff, almost giving in.
You kiss him, which catches him off guard. You’ve never initiated a kiss before—drunk or not. It’s always him who opens the door. He doesn’t return the kiss at first, which makes you anxious. You start gripping tighter, about to cry.
Then, you open your eyes and he’s just watching you. Now, you just think you’re making a fool of yourself. Embarrassed, you stop kissing him and start tearing up. You wipe your lips with the back of your palm, feeling like you’re about to throw up every single shot you just drank.
“Fuck—I’m so sorry, Satoru… I’m so stupid!” You sob, hiding behind your hands that also reek of alcohol. “I’m so sorry.”
He sighs, gently removing your hands from your face. For a moment, he stares at your red nose and puffy eyes—adorable, he thinks. How could anyone hurt such a babydoll? Hm, he should ask himself.
Two of his fingers find itself on your chin, tilting your head up to align your lips with his own. He kisses you, slow and steady at first as you’re finally settling down. One of his hands stay behind your head, guiding you through the heated exchange. His tail keeps playing with yours, you fear that stimulation alone was enough to make your panties soaked.
“I’m doing this not just because. From now on, you’re mine, okay?”
⋆ ⌗﹒★ >ᴗ< ۪snow leopard fratjo gets drugged by his ex and a couple of sorority girls. unfortunately for them, he only wants to fuck you, his pretty little bunny not girlfriend ! 𖦹 1.3k tw: DEAD DOVE, angst, drugs, non-con, cursing, alcohol, toxic relationships; implied intercourse, vague relationship label, attachment issues; mentions of abuse (emotional & physical)
a/n: obviously, I don’t condone drugging of any kind irl. this is just fiction, but it’s definitely kind of f’ed up. THERE IS NO REAL PLOT, it’s literally just a bunch of angst in me that I don’t know what to do with.
₊ ˚ ʚ ᗢ ₊ ˚ ✧ ﾟ .
Flashing lights, booming speakers, rhythmless strangers, and countless vices—it’s all a flurry of hazy images to Satoru right now. He can barely remember why he’s here, in this room that reeks of alcohol and bitter memories he’d rather regret than relive.
“C’mon, baby~” The bottle blonde coos. “Let me help, like old times.” She says with a smirk that’s as enticing as it is annoying. She sways her tail seductively and somehow twitches her ears intentionally to make her demeanor seem cuter.
Satoru scoffs in response, trying his best to sober up from the heat that’s taking over his body. Fuck. He’ll actually jump if you see him like this. Don’t get him wrong, he’d love to pound you pregnant, but the fact that he accepted a drink from his ex then only realizing it was spiked 10 minutes later is a stupid ass mistake to confess.
He tries to stay still. Maybe this’ll keep the desire in, no? God, he hopes.
“Y’know it’s not good to keep it in.” She says, hovering her manicured fingertips over his collar. “What else are you waiting for, pretty boy?”
She leans in closer, trying to nibble on his skin, but he doesn’t let her. “Leave me alone.” He finally retorts, gruff.
The sorority girls around them laughs. Feline Phi’s playgirl secretary suddenly can’t get her ex to fall back in love with her? Pshhh, loser.
His ears hang low while his tail remains restless. Despite the discomfort, he doesn’t give in. He can’t. But shit, why the hell can’t he leave? Why is a part of him hoping she’d just climb on top of him and free his dick?
“What? I thought you wanted me back, baby? Isn’t that why you made (name) play house? F’me?”
“No.” He rasps, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes that once saw his future with her. Satoru stands, clearly frustrated with this impossible situation. “I like her.” He doesn’t want a quickie with a rando, but he sure as hell don’t want to jack off to get rid of the powder’s effects. On top of that, he doesn’t just want to ask you if you want to have sex. He wants it to feel natural not just because he’s in a rut. What if he hurts you? He knows he’s rough…
She sits on top of him, gently pushing him against the couch with her hands on his chest. He doesn’t make an effort to push her away, he can’t. It’s like his body’s moving on its own, and he… likes it. For a moment, they make out—a clash of tongue and teeth. A few of her friends jeer and start moaning mockingly.
“Fuckin’ skank!” “I thought Satoru was with another girl?” “A slut and a manwhore, who would’ve thunk?”
“Satoru?” Your small voice protrudes through his heart. Immediately, he sobers up, pushing his ex away as if he wasn’t melting into the familiar feel a mere moment ago.
He’s afraid of turning towards you, but he still does. He needs to know how you’re looking at him, if you’d even let him touch you. “Hi, baby…” He greets with that sweet tone of his.
You look between him and the girl, bunny ears drooping as the feeling settles in your chest. Fuck, you know he isn’t your boyfriend. It’s all casual—he’s Satoru. He’ll touch you, kiss you, and fuck you, but it won’t mean a single thing… or so you think. Even with these thoughts running through your head, you couldn’t stop the hot tears that slipped past your eyelids, straining your flushed cheeks—everything is fucking hazy.
The very second you start to cry, Satoru’s already there to hold you. He wraps his big, warm arms around your sobbing form, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as the once playful crowd dissolves into small groups of people awkwardly mumbling and judging.
Satoru tries to coax you into stepping outside, but you refuse to move. You’re trembling—brain, refusing to accept what you just saw. You shake your head, almost wailing, which he responds to by covering your mouth with his palm. “Breathe, baby girl…” He coos, pretty white leopard tail wrapping around your legs to caress your cute cotton tail.
You try to steady your breath, looking into his baby blues with glassy eyes of your own. “I’m sorry…” You whisper shakily against the skin of his palm. He could practically feel your embarrassment. Up close, his eyes are bloodshot. Has he been doing drugs? You start to think. Maybe it wasn’t serious… but then again, why should it matter? Satoru doesn’t have to answer to you. He doesn’t owe you an explanation that’ll reassure your negative thoughts.
He doesn’t respond to your apology. Instead, he carries you out of the room and into his car, tucking your face in the crook of his neck with an arm underneath your thighs while the other rests on your back to keep you safe and still.
In his car, he sits you right on the passenger’s seat. He leaves a soft kiss on the apple of your wet cheek after he buckles your drunken self in. Once he settles in the driver’s seat, he turns to you. “Are you okay?” His hands fall on your thighs, keeping you still. He rubs slow, soft circles on them to ease the tension.
You nod.
“Wanna eat?”
You shake your head.
Fuck. You’re barely looking at him when he’s just trying his hardest to be a gentleman. Maybe this is better…? Maybe he’d fucking cum in his pants if you looked up at him like you did earlier. God, you’re too cute for your own good.
“You need help…” You mumble, pointing at his raging boner.
“I do.” He admits, breathy.
Finally, you look up at him. Unlike his ex, there’s no confidence in your tone. You’re just there, cute, inexperienced, and pouty—just you. “Let me help you…” You whisper, unbuckling your seatbelt then reaching out for him.
He helps you move over the gear shift, and he knows it’s mean, but he can’t fucking resist! Satoru starts playing with your well-kept tail. “Such a pretty bunny…” He says. “Are you sure you want to do this, pretty? You know how I am.”
You nod, pawing at his sweatpants. “I want the thoughts to be over, ‘Toru…” You whine, looking like you’re about to cry again. You’re so overwhelmed with thoughts that are trying to drag you into a downward spiral.
“Thoughts?”
“Just use me…” God, Satoru’s really trying to be the good guy here unlike the jerks you’ve been with.
“You’re more than just sex to me, pretty girl…” His eyebrows furrow. You’re never like this, and it’s his fault why you’re saying this right now. After all, “Drunk words are sober thoughts.” or whatever they say.
“Don’t you at least want to kiss me?” You ask.
“I do, baby. I really do.” He says, gruff, almost giving in.
You kiss him, which catches him off guard. You’ve never initiated a kiss before—drunk or not. It’s always him who opens the door. He doesn’t return the kiss at first, which makes you anxious. You start gripping tighter, about to cry.
Then, you open your eyes and he’s just watching you. Now, you just think you’re making a fool of yourself. Embarrassed, you stop kissing him and start tearing up. You wipe your lips with the back of your palm, feeling like you’re about to throw up every single shot you just drank.
“Fuck—I’m so sorry, Satoru… I’m so stupid!” You sob, hiding behind your hands that also reek of alcohol. “I’m so sorry.”
He sighs, gently removing your hands from your face. For a moment, he stares at your red nose and puffy eyes—adorable, he thinks. How could anyone hurt such a babydoll? Hm, he should ask himself.
Two of his fingers find itself on your chin, tilting your head up to align your lips with his own. He kisses you, slow and steady at first as you’re finally settling down. One of his hands stay behind your head, guiding you through the heated exchange. His tail keeps playing with yours, you fear that stimulation alone was enough to make your panties soaked.
“I’m doing this not just because. From now on, you’re mine, okay?”
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
⋆ ⌗﹒★ >ᴗ< ۪snow leopard fratjo gets drugged by his ex and a couple of sorority girls. unfortunately for them, he only wants to fuck you, his pretty little bunny not girlfriend ! 𖦹 1.3k wc tw: DEAD DOVE, angst, drugs, non-con, cursing, alcohol, toxic relationships; implied intercourse, vague relationship label, attachment issues; mentions of abuse (emotional & physical)
a/n: obviously, I don’t condone drugging of any kind irl. this is just fiction, but it’s definitely kind of f’ed up. THERE IS NO REAL PLOT, it’s literally just a bunch of angst in me that I don’t know what to do with.
₊ ˚ ʚ ᗢ ₊ ˚ ✧ ﾟ .
Flashing lights, booming speakers, rhythmless strangers, and countless vices—it’s all a flurry of hazy images to Satoru right now. He can barely remember why he’s here, in this room that reeks of alcohol and bitter memories he’d rather regret than relive.
“C’mon, baby~” The bottle blonde coos. “Let me help, like old times.” She says with a smirk that’s as enticing as it is annoying. She sways her tail seductively and somehow twitches her ears intentionally to make her demeanor seem cuter.
Satoru scoffs in response, trying his best to sober up from the heat that’s taking over his body. Fuck. He’ll actually jump if you see him like this. Don’t get him wrong, he’d love to pound you pregnant, but the fact that he accepted a drink from his ex then only realizing it was spiked 10 minutes later is a stupid ass mistake to confess.
He tries to stay still. Maybe this’ll keep the desire in, no? God, he hopes.
“Y’know it’s not good to keep it in.” She says, hovering her manicured fingertips over his collar. “What else are you waiting for, pretty boy?”
She leans in closer, trying to nibble on his skin, but he doesn’t let her. “Leave me alone.” He finally retorts, gruff.
The sorority girls around them laughs. Feline Phi’s playgirl secretary suddenly can’t get her ex to fall back in love with her? Pshhh, loser.
His ears hang low while his tail remains restless. Despite the discomfort, he doesn’t give in. He can’t. But shit, why the hell can’t he leave? Why is a part of him hoping she’d just climb on top of him and free his dick?
“What? I thought you wanted me back, baby? Isn’t that why you made (name) play house? F’me?”
“No.” He rasps, looking at her with his piercing blue eyes that once saw his future with her. Satoru stands, clearly frustrated with this impossible situation. “I like her.” He doesn’t want a quickie with a rando, but he sure as hell don’t want to jack off to get rid of the powder’s effects. On top of that, he doesn’t just want to ask you if you want to have sex. He wants it to feel natural not just because he’s in a rut. What if he hurts you? He knows he’s rough…
She sits on top of him, gently pushing him against the couch with her hands on his chest. He doesn’t make an effort to push her away, he can’t. It’s like his body’s moving on its own, and he… likes it. For a moment, they make out—a clash of tongue and teeth. A few of her friends jeer and start moaning mockingly.
“Fuckin’ skank!” “I thought Satoru was with another girl?” “A slut and a manwhore, who would’ve thunk?”
“Satoru?” Your small voice protrudes through his heart. Immediately, he sobers up, pushing his ex away as if he wasn’t melting into the familiar feel a mere moment ago.
He’s afraid of turning towards you, but he still does. He needs to know how you’re looking at him, if you’d even let him touch you. “Hi, baby…” He greets with that sweet tone of his.
You look between him and the girl, bunny ears drooping as the feeling settles in your chest. Fuck, you know he isn’t your boyfriend. It’s all casual—he’s Satoru. He’ll touch you, kiss you, and fuck you, but it won’t mean a single thing… or so you think. Even with these thoughts running through your head, you couldn’t stop the hot tears that slipped past your eyelids, straining your flushed cheeks—everything is fucking hazy.
The very second you start to cry, Satoru’s already there to hold you. He wraps his big, warm arms around your sobbing form, whispering sweet nothings into your ear as the once playful crowd dissolves into small groups of people awkwardly mumbling and judging.
Satoru tries to coax you into stepping outside, but you refuse to move. You’re trembling—brain, refusing to accept what you just saw. You shake your head, almost wailing, which he responds to by covering your mouth with his palm. “Breathe, baby girl…” He coos, pretty white leopard tail wrapping around your legs to caress your cute cotton tail.
You try to steady your breath, looking into his baby blues with glassy eyes of your own. “I’m sorry…” You whisper shakily against the skin of his palm. He could practically feel your embarrassment. Up close, his eyes are bloodshot. Has he been doing drugs? You start to think. Maybe it wasn’t serious… but then again, why should it matter? Satoru doesn’t have to answer to you. He doesn’t owe you an explanation that’ll reassure your negative thoughts.
He doesn’t respond to your apology. Instead, he carries you out of the room and into his car, tucking your face in the crook of his neck with an arm underneath your thighs while the other rests on your back to keep you safe and still.
In his car, he sits you right on the passenger’s seat. He leaves a soft kiss on the apple of your wet cheek after he buckles your drunken self in. Once he settles in the driver’s seat, he turns to you. “Are you okay?” His hands fall on your thighs, keeping you still. He rubs slow, soft circles on them to ease the tension.
You nod.
“Wanna eat?”
You shake your head.
Fuck. You’re barely looking at him when he’s just trying his hardest to be a gentleman. Maybe this is better…? Maybe he’d fucking cum in his pants if you looked up at him like you did earlier. God, you’re too cute for your own good.
“You need help…” You mumble, pointing at his raging boner.
“I do.” He admits, breathy.
Finally, you look up at him. Unlike his ex, there’s no confidence in your tone. You’re just there, cute, inexperienced, and pouty—just you. “Let me help you…” You whisper, unbuckling your seatbelt then reaching out for him.
He helps you move over the gear shift, and he knows it’s mean, but he can’t fucking resist! Satoru starts playing with your well-kept tail. “Such a pretty bunny…” He says. “Are you sure you want to do this, pretty? You know how I am.”
You nod, pawing at his sweatpants. “I want the thoughts to be over, ‘Toru…” You whine, looking like you’re about to cry again. You’re so overwhelmed with thoughts that are trying to drag you into a downward spiral.
“Thoughts?”
“Just use me…” God, Satoru’s really trying to be the good guy here unlike the jerks you’ve been with.
“You’re more than just sex to me, pretty girl…” His eyebrows furrow. You’re never like this, and it’s his fault why you’re saying this right now. After all, “Drunk words are sober thoughts.” or whatever they say.
“Don’t you at least want to kiss me?” You ask.
“I do, baby. I really do.” He says, gruff, almost giving in.
You kiss him, which catches him off guard. You’ve never initiated a kiss before—drunk or not. It’s always him who opens the door. He doesn’t return the kiss at first, which makes you anxious. You start gripping tighter, about to cry.
Then, you open your eyes and he’s just watching you. Now, you just think you’re making a fool of yourself. Embarrassed, you stop kissing him and start tearing up. You wipe your lips with the back of your palm, feeling like you’re about to throw up every single shot you just drank.
“Fuck—I’m so sorry, Satoru… I’m so stupid!” You sob, hiding behind your hands that also reek of alcohol. “I’m so sorry.”
He sighs, gently removing your hands from your face. For a moment, he stares at your red nose and puffy eyes—adorable, he thinks. How could anyone hurt such a babydoll? Hm, he should ask himself.
Two of his fingers find itself on your chin, tilting your head up to align your lips with his own. He kisses you, slow and steady at first as you’re finally settling down. One of his hands stay behind your head, guiding you through the heated exchange. His tail keeps playing with yours, you fear that stimulation alone was enough to make your panties soaked.
“I’m doing this not just because. From now on, you’re mine, okay?”
⋆ ᯓ 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 your bully or boyfriend ? hates your gossiping friends and their “advice” 𝜗ৎ 658 wc tw: gender neutral reader, manipulation; mentions of sex, violence, abuse; implied pregnancy, non-con, power dynamics
“Hey, (name), he’s your boyfriend, right?” One of your friends ask as she waves her phone in your face, showing a picture of the guy they caught you with last week.
Immediately, you shake your head and push your friend away. “He’s not my boyfriend…” Your body trembles at the mere thought of him. What if he’s listening in right now? What if he’ll punish you for what you just said? What if he’ll deny you a thousand orgasms? Or worse—what if he deliberately fills you with his seed or maybe he already has . . . ?
He wouldn’t go that far, right?
Your friend shrugs, used to your shy and quirky demeanor. “Well whatever, my boyfriend said he was making out with a sorority girl last Friday night at Kappa Phi’s.”
“Oh.” Was all you could muster up. Does that mean he’s done with you? Under normal circumstances, ups be overjoyed, but you’re scared to find out what he does to his discarded toys.
“So if you’re fucking him, get yourself checked, babe.”
“I’m not—”
She cuts you off. “Better yet, fuck somebody else, anyone else.”
And right on cue, he slips out from where he was lurking. Long fingers stake its claim on your waist gripping it tight enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips.
“Maybe get yourself checked.” He winks and shoots that annoyingly charming smile at your friend. “You’re such a waste of a pretty face if nothing’s up your headspace, no?”
Your friend raises her hand, about to land a hit, but he steps back without a care in the world. “You bit—” He doesn’t even let her finish. You’re immediately taken away while your friend mumbles profanities behind you and him.
“This is the second time this week that your friends have been saying shit about me, baby. Aren’t you going to defend me?”
“But…” You try to start, but the words die down in your throat as soon as he stops walking and drags you by the wrist into an empty classroom.
“But what? You believe them?”
“I—”
He traps you inside, locking the doors and blocking all the exits’ knobs with a chair. “I thought you were better than that, pretty. Aren’t you?”
This man was a sick freak. He loves to see you tremble and whine under his touch, excited to see what you’ll do next. “Are you gonna follow their advice, babydoll?” He says, effectively trapping you between the cold chalkboard and his body.
You close your eyes shut and shake your head as he reaches out for your face. At first, the touch is soft—gentle even, like he’ll never hurt you even if he could. Then, he grabs your face, which makes your eyes shoot open. You stare into your hazy reflection in his eyes.
“I won’t, I promise… please…” You whisper, barely audible but enough to keep him hung.
The aura shifts in the large lecture hall, and he smiles. “Good girl.” He says, kissing your neck and leaving a bite.
You wrap your arms around his neck and bite your tongue to try and stay silent. “Just one.” He rasps against your skin. “Just so you remember that we are girlfriend-boyfriend.”
He really thinks that you should just stop lying to your friends and admit that he’s your one and only. Maybe then, he’d stop scaring you and treat you better, yeah?
Now, his eyes bore into yours. “You,” he points at your chest. “Me,” he points at his own. “And baby,” he points at your uterus, “Makes three.” He laughs—soft yet full of malice. You wonder if he’s serious or not, but you have an inkling that it’s the former rather than the latter.
“Let’s go back to my condo, (name), m’kay? I have a few new toys I wanna show ya!” He beams, dragging you out of the lecture hall. You know you’re in for a long—whatever time it is.
a/n: I was bullied my whole middle school, go fish!
⋆ ᯓ 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 your bully or boyfriend ? hates your gossiping friends and their “advice” 𝜗ৎ 658 wc tw: gender neutral reader, manipulation; mentions of sex, violence, abuse; implied pregnancy, non-con, power dynamics
“Hey, (name), he’s your boyfriend, right?” One of your friends ask as she waves her phone in your face, showing a picture of the guy they caught you with last week.
Immediately, you shake your head and push your friend away. “He’s not my boyfriend…” Your body trembles at the mere thought of him. What if he’s listening in right now? What if he’ll punish you for what you just said? What if he’ll deny you a thousand orgasms? Or worse—what if he deliberately fills you with his seed or maybe he already has . . . ?
He wouldn’t go that far, right?
Your friend shrugs, used to your shy and quirky demeanor. “Well whatever, my boyfriend said he was making out with a sorority girl last Friday night at Kappa Phi’s.”
“Oh.” Was all you could muster up. Does that mean he’s done with you? Under normal circumstances, ups be overjoyed, but you’re scared to find out what he does to his discarded toys.
“So if you’re fucking him, get yourself checked, babe.”
“I’m not—”
She cuts you off. “Better yet, fuck somebody else, anyone else.”
And right on cue, he slips out from where he was lurking. Long fingers stake its claim on your waist gripping it tight enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips.
“Maybe get yourself checked.” He winks and shoots that annoyingly charming smile at your friend. “You’re such a waste of a pretty face if nothing’s up your headspace, no?”
Your friend raises her hand, about to land a hit, but he steps back without a care in the world. “You bit—” He doesn’t even let her finish. You’re immediately taken away while your friend mumbles profanities behind you and him.
“This is the second time this week that your friends have been saying shit about me, baby. Aren’t you going to defend me?”
“But…” You try to start, but the words die down in your throat as soon as he stops walking and drags you by the wrist into an empty classroom.
“But what? You believe them?”
“I—”
He traps you inside, locking the doors and blocking all the exits’ knobs with a chair. “I thought you were better than that, pretty. Aren’t you?”
This man was a sick freak. He loves to see you tremble and whine under his touch, excited to see what you’ll do next. “Are you gonna follow their advice, babydoll?” He says, effectively trapping you between the cold chalkboard and his body.
You close your eyes shut and shake your head as he reaches out for your face. At first, the touch is soft—gentle even, like he’ll never hurt you even if he could. Then, he grabs your face, which makes your eyes shoot open. You stare into your hazy reflection in his eyes.
“I won’t, I promise… please…” You whisper, barely audible but enough to keep him hung.
The aura shifts in the large lecture hall, and he smiles. “Good girl.” He says, kissing your neck and leaving a bite.
You wrap your arms around his neck and bite your tongue to try and stay silent. “Just one.” He rasps against your skin. “Just so you remember that we are girlfriend-boyfriend.”
He really thinks that you should just stop lying to your friends and admit that he’s your one and only. Maybe then, he’d stop scaring you and treat you better, yeah?
Now, his eyes bore into yours. “You,” he points at your chest. “Me,” he points at his own. “And baby,” he points at your uterus, “Makes three.” He laughs—soft yet full of malice. You wonder if he’s serious or not, but you have an inkling that it’s the former rather than the latter.
“Let’s go back to my condo, (name), m’kay? I have a few new toys I wanna show ya!” He beams, dragging you out of the lecture hall. You know you’re in for a long—whatever time it is.
a/n: I was bullied my whole middle school, go fish!
⋆ ᯓ 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 your bully or boyfriend ? hates your gossiping friends and their “advice” 𝜗ৎ 658 wc tw: gender neutral reader, manipulation; mentions of sex, violence, abuse; implied pregnancy, non-con, power dynamics
“Hey, (name), he’s your boyfriend, right?” One of your friends ask as she waves her phone in your face, showing a picture of the guy they caught you with last week.
Immediately, you shake your head and push your friend away. “He’s not my boyfriend…” Your body trembles at the mere thought of him. What if he’s listening in right now? What if he’ll punish you for what you just said? What if he’ll deny you a thousand orgasms? Or worse—what if he deliberately fills you with his seed or maybe he already has . . . ?
He wouldn’t go that far, right?
Your friend shrugs, used to your shy and quirky demeanor. “Well whatever, my boyfriend said he was making out with a sorority girl last Friday night at Kappa Phi’s.”
“Oh.” Was all you could muster up. Does that mean he’s done with you? Under normal circumstances, ups be overjoyed, but you’re scared to find out what he does to his discarded toys.
“So if you’re fucking him, get yourself checked, babe.”
“I’m not—”
She cuts you off. “Better yet, fuck somebody else, anyone else.”
And right on cue, he slips out from where he was lurking. Long fingers stake its claim on your waist gripping it tight enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips.
“Maybe get yourself checked.” He winks and shoots that annoyingly charming smile at your friend. “You’re such a waste of a pretty face if nothing’s up your headspace, no?”
Your friend raises her hand, about to land a hit, but he steps back without a care in the world. “You bit—” He doesn’t even let her finish. You’re immediately taken away while your friend mumbles profanities behind you and him.
“This is the second time this week that your friends have been saying shit about me, baby. Aren’t you going to defend me?”
“But…” You try to start, but the words die down in your throat as soon as he stops walking and drags you by the wrist into an empty classroom.
“But what? You believe them?”
“I—”
He traps you inside, locking the doors and blocking all the exits’ knobs with a chair. “I thought you were better than that, pretty. Aren’t you?”
This man was a sick freak. He loves to see you tremble and whine under his touch, excited to see what you’ll do next. “Are you gonna follow their advice, babydoll?” He says, effectively trapping you between the cold chalkboard and his body.
You close your eyes shut and shake your head as he reaches out for your face. At first, the touch is soft—gentle even, like he’ll never hurt you even if he could. Then, he grabs your face, which makes your eyes shoot open. You stare into your hazy reflection in his eyes.
“I won’t, I promise… please…” You whisper, barely audible but enough to keep him hung.
The aura shifts in the large lecture hall, and he smiles. “Good girl.” He says, kissing your neck and leaving a bite.
You wrap your arms around his neck and bite your tongue to try and stay silent. “Just one.” He rasps against your skin. “Just so you remember that we are girlfriend-boyfriend.”
He really thinks that you should just stop lying to your friends and admit that he’s your one and only. Maybe then, he’d stop scaring you and treat you better, yeah?
Now, his eyes bore into yours. “You,” he points at your chest. “Me,” he points at his own. “And baby,” he points at your uterus, “Makes three.” He laughs—soft yet full of malice. You wonder if he’s serious or not, but you have an inkling that it’s the former rather than the latter.
“Let’s go back to my condo, (name), m’kay? I have a few new toys I wanna show ya!” He beams, dragging you out of the lecture hall. You know you’re in for a long—whatever time it is.
a/n: I was bullied my whole middle school, go fish!
⋆ ᯓ 𐔌՞ ܸ.ˬ.ܸ՞𐦯 your bully or boyfriend ? hates your gossiping friends and their “advice” 𝜗ৎ 658 wc tw: gender neutral reader, manipulation; mentions of sex, violence, abuse; implied pregnancy, non-con, power dynamics
“Hey, (name), he’s your boyfriend, right?” One of your friends ask as she waves her phone in your face, showing a picture of the guy they caught you with last week.
Immediately, you shake your head and push your friend away. “He’s not my boyfriend…” Your body trembles at the mere thought of him. What if he’s listening in right now? What if he’ll punish you for what you just said? What if he’ll deny you a thousand orgasms? Or worse—what if he deliberately fills you with his seed or maybe he already has . . . ?
He wouldn’t go that far, right?
Your friend shrugs, used to your shy and quirky demeanor. “Well whatever, my boyfriend said he was making out with a sorority girl last Friday night at Kappa Phi’s.”
“Oh.” Was all you could muster up. Does that mean he’s done with you? Under normal circumstances, ups be overjoyed, but you’re scared to find out what he does to his discarded toys.
“So if you’re fucking him, get yourself checked, babe.”
“I’m not—”
She cuts you off. “Better yet, fuck somebody else, anyone else.”
And right on cue, he slips out from where he was lurking. Long fingers stake its claim on your waist gripping it tight enough to elicit a small whimper from your lips.
“Maybe get yourself checked.” He winks and shoots that annoyingly charming smile at your friend. “You’re such a waste of a pretty face if nothing’s up your headspace, no?”
Your friend raises her hand, about to land a hit, but he steps back without a care in the world. “You bit—” He doesn’t even let her finish. You’re immediately taken away while your friend mumbles profanities behind you and him.
“This is the second time this week that your friends have been saying shit about me, baby. Aren’t you going to defend me?”
“But…” You try to start, but the words die down in your throat as soon as he stops walking and drags you by the wrist into an empty classroom.
“But what? You believe them?”
“I—”
He traps you inside, locking the doors and blocking all the exits’ knobs with a chair. “I thought you were better than that, pretty. Aren’t you?”
This man was a sick freak. He loves to see you tremble and whine under his touch, excited to see what you’ll do next. “Are you gonna follow their advice, babydoll?” He says, effectively trapping you between the cold chalkboard and his body.
You close your eyes shut and shake your head as he reaches out for your face. At first, the touch is soft—gentle even, like he’ll never hurt you even if he could. Then, he grabs your face, which makes your eyes shoot open. You stare into your hazy reflection in his eyes.
“I won’t, I promise… please…” You whisper, barely audible but enough to keep him hung.
The aura shifts in the large lecture hall, and he smiles. “Good girl.” He says, kissing your neck and leaving a bite.
You wrap your arms around his neck and bite your tongue to try and stay silent. “Just one.” He rasps against your skin. “Just so you remember that we are girlfriend-boyfriend.”
He really thinks that you should just stop lying to your friends and admit that he’s your one and only. Maybe then, he’d stop scaring you and treat you better, yeah?
Now, his eyes bore into yours. “You,” he points at your chest. “Me,” he points at his own. “And baby,” he points at your uterus, “Makes three.” He laughs—soft yet full of malice. You wonder if he’s serious or not, but you have an inkling that it’s the former rather than the latter.
“Let’s go back to my condo, (name), m’kay? I have a few new toys I wanna show ya!” He beams, dragging you out of the lecture hall. You know you’re in for a long—whatever time it is.
a/n: I was bullied my whole middle school, go fish!
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