roxyzoey - Tumblr blog

roxyzoey · 9 days ago

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BLOODLINE

───✦ DILF! GOJO X READER

♡ summary: sure, the food looked good, but you were eyeing a completely different meal. good thing satoru is always happy to serve! p1

♡ wc: 6.2k

♡ content warnings: fem! babysitter! reader, dilf! older! gojo, age gap, groping, best friends brother (bfb), divorced, babysitting, mention of kids, breéding kink, big díck gojo, mating press, reader is down bad, meeting family, overstim, unprotected, water guns, hot tub, multiple rounds implied, established relationship, p in v, creampíes, praise. this is p2; however, this can be read separately.

♡ a/n: happy 1k!!! ヾ( ˃ᴗ˂ )◞ -`♡´-

The summer heat pressed down like a thick blanket, the kind that made the air hum and your skin prickle the second you stepped outside. But the smell of sizzling ribs and chlorine from the pool brought it all back— sticky-sweet childhood summers when you were younger. When Satoru was just your best friend’s annoyingly hot older brother.

Now?

Now, he was leaning over the grill, his white hair pushed back with a careless hand, his broad shoulders emphasized by the floral patterns of his Hawaiian shirt. Fatherhood had softened him in some places, the curve of his waist where your hands fit just right. He turned, catching you staring, and flashed you that famous million-dollar smile. “Took you long enough.”

You adjusted your hoop earrings—the ones he’d picked out a few months ago. You walked over, the grass warm under your sandals. “Had to make sure I looked good for your little fan club.” You nodded toward his aunties and cousins sipping wine coolers under the umbrella.

He huffed a laugh, swiping a thumb over the condensation of his pop before pressing it to the back of your neck. You gasped at the cold, but his hand lingered, rough and warm.

“They ain’t the ones I’m tryna impress,” he murmured. You scoffed, wiping the water from off of the can off of your neck. His arms found their way around your waist, pulling you into a kiss. He smelled like meat and charcoal. You stepped back, smoothing your skirt as the heat from his touch lingered longer than you’d admit. Satoru’s eyes flicked down, shameless and smug, before he reached out and pulled you into him, just enough for a hug. Not one of those awkward side things, either. Full arms. Real warm. Real secure. His palm flattened between your shoulders, the other sliding briefly down your back before letting go. He kissed your cheek, right near the edge of your jaw. A blink-and-you-miss-it thing. Quick. Careful. Nevertheless, it still had your stomach flipping.

“That’s all I get?” you murmured, pretending to pout.

His grin was slow. “Tryna behave, baby. Kids around.”

You glanced at the little cousins running around with water guns and sticky red fingers, then back at him. “For once.”

He held his hands up like he deserved a medal. “Personal.”

You snorted and stepped away, catching your reflection in the glass door for a second as you adjusted your hoops.

“Gonna go say hey,” you said, nodding toward the circle of lawn chairs where the aunties and older cousins were parked with drinks and gossip.

Satoru smirked, flipping the patty with one hand. “Good luck.”

“I don’t need luck. I already know half of them.”

“Exactly. That’s why I said good luck.”

You shook your head and walked off, your sandals making soft thuds against the patio stone. The sun was beating down, catching on your skin in a way that made you feel a little glossy, like you’d been kissed by heat instead of just surviving it. Your shoulders rolled back naturally, not on purpose, but you knew how to move when people were watching. Especially his people.

“There she is!” someone called out, loud and sweet.

You smiled before you even saw who it was. Mari, Satoru’s cousin on his dad’s side. She stood up and pulled you into a quick hug, plastic cup in one hand, acrylics catching the light like little prisms. “Girl, you look cute. That outfit? Adorable. Make sure to send me where you got that top,” she whistled, getting easily distracted as one of the kids hit their uncle with a water gun.

“Ohhh, is that who I think it is?” one of the aunties said, voice lilting with curiosity.

You smiled respectfully. “Hi, long time.”

“Mhm, very long,” another said, tilting her sunglasses to get a better look at you. “You’ve grown up, haven’t you?”

“Trying to,” you said, the corner of your mouth pulling up. “It’s really good to see everyone.”

Mari gave you a once-over—not shady, just thorough, like cousins do. “Last time we saw you, Sae was hopping between you and Veronica,” she laughed, reminiscing at his birthday party.

A few of them laughed, and you smiled with a small shake of your head. “That was some time ago,”

“C’mon, take a seat, it's too hot to be standing around.” Mari patted down on the seat next to him, facing the pool. It was far enough away not to be in the range of water. You smiled, taking a seat, knowing what this trap entailed.

You barely sat down before Mari smirked over her wine cooler. “So. You and Satoru, huh?"

You took the drink she offered. “Yeah."

Auntie Lynn—who was really just Utahime’s 34-year-old cousin—nearly choked on her wine cooler. "Oh, we definitely need to hear this."

You shrugged, playing it cool. “Ain’t much to tell. He needed a babysitter. I needed a job. Then one day it just clicked.” You summarized not giving too much to run with.

“And the rest is biblical." Mari finished, cackling.

You tipped your can at her. “Exactly."

Mari fake-gagged. “Ugh. Y’all are disgusting now."

You lifted your drink in salute. “Gotta give the people what they want.”

Auntie Lynn leaned over from her lawn chair, her sunglasses pushed halfway down her nose. “And now he's a family man with matching slides.”

“Mmm,” Mari hummed like a warning, sipping her wine cooler. “They don’t need encouragement.”

You just smiled, easily. “Ask him, not me. I was minding my business.”

“Sure,” Utahime said behind you, her voice bone-dry. “That’s what you call it.”

You turned just in time for her to slide into the open seat next to you, elbow knocking against yours like muscle memory. Her hair was piled high and pinned with a claw clip that was definitely more for aesthetics than hold. She glanced at your half-finished drink and took a sip like it was hers.

“This is gross,” she said.

You shrugged. “That’s why I gave it to you.”

She huffed and stretched her legs out, resting her ankles on the edge of Mari’s chair without asking. “You look good. That skirt is doing numbers.”

“You helped me pick it.”

“And I take full credit,” she said. “You’re lucky I like you, walking around here in that little cardigan like you’re not corrupting the family function.”

“Corrupting?” Mari raised a brow. “You see how he looked at her?”

Utahime grinned, devil in her molars. “Like he’s tryna figure out if the grill’s hot enough to sear his sins away.”

You groaned. “Can y’all let me live?”

“No,” they said in unison, and honestly, you walked into that one.

The sun had started to dip just slightly, the heat easing from sharp to slow-baked. Someone’s uncle had taken over the grill now, moving with the solemn concentration of a man who believed turning ribs too early was a moral failing. The smell of it drifted over everything—sweet smoke, char, the kind of heat-kissed glaze that clung to your throat even before the first bite.

You stood eventually, pulled by instinct more than anything, and wandered toward the long table by the house. A makeshift buffet had taken shape—foil-covered pans, heavy with good intentions. You peeled one back, letting the steam hit your face. The mac and cheese had that kind of top you had to break through—baked golden, speckled with edges just this side of burnt. A scoop of potato salad waited in the corner, yellow and thick like someone’s auntie refused to measure a single thing. You grabbed a plate and filled it like you’d been here before, because you had. Long enough to know which dishes were made by people who used their elbow to stir and which ones came from store-bought containers, and shame.

Sae padded up beside you on unsteady legs, one hand gripping the hem of your skirt.

“Hungry?” you asked, already bending to scoop him into your hip. His curls were soft with leftover sunscreen, and he smelled like chlorine and apple juice.

He nodded solemnly, sticking two fingers in his mouth. “’Keese?”

You blinked. “Cheese?”

He smacked his lips. “Mmm.”

You fixed him a little plate, half mac, half string beans, soft enough to mush with a plastic fork. He leaned into you while you fed him, opening his mouth like a baby bird and humming after every bite.

“That’s my boy,” Satoru called, sauntering over, all proud grins and sun-tanned forearms. He had barbecue sauce on his knuckles and a smudge on his cheek that made him look too good for your own peace of mind.

“Your boy just betrayed you,” you said. “He asked me for mac and cheese.”

“Traitor,” he said, leaning down to kiss Sae’s forehead anyway. “A soft little backstabber.”

Sae giggled, crumbs around his mouth.

“Don’t worry,” Utahime said, appearing at your other side with a water balloon in hand. “I’m gonna make sure he earns his redemption arc.”

You glanced at her. “You’re not.”

“Oh, I am,” she said, crouching to meet Sae at eye level. “Listen here, tiny menace. You see your daddy?”

Sae looked over.

“Throw this at him.”

She held out the balloon like it was a sacred relic.

Sae’s fingers closed around it, and he gasped like it was treasure.

You sighed. “I’m not going to be the one explaining this to Satoru when he gets soaked.”

“I am,” Utahime said cheerfully. “With evidence. And probably more balloons.”

Before you could stop him, Sae charged forward on his little legs and—miraculously—threw it almost directly at Satoru’s shins. The splash was glorious.

Satoru jumped. “What the-!”

Utahime was already keeled over laughing. “Get his other leg, baby! He’s limping!”

“You’re evil,” you told her.

“Excuse me,” she said between cackles, “I’m building the next generation.”

But you were too busy laughing, shoulders shaking, one hand on your hip as you wiped Sae’s hands clean.

It wasn’t long before the music picked up again. Something familiar, something loud enough to make people rise without thinking.

‘The Wobble’ came on like a spell, and suddenly the lawn was a dance floor.

You saw the signs before it hit—someone shouting “Ayeeee!”, a chair tipping over, a beer can abandoned mid-sip. And in the middle of it all, Satoru stretched like he’d just clocked into work.

You watched him ease into the groove, shoulders swaying, his hips keeping perfect time. It wasn’t even cocky, not at first—just smooth. Like his body remembered the beat before his mind caught up. A little shoulder roll. A perfectly timed pivot. He knew the steps, sure. But he made them look good.

Your cheeks hurt from smiling.

Utahime elbowed you. “Go. He’s showing off.”

You laughed, already stepping into the grass. “He’s about to be real mad when I outdance him.”

He caught your hand just as you joined him, spinning you in like you were a part of the beat. People whistled. His palm skimmed the small of your back. You rolled your hips, shoulders snapping to the left, then the right. He kept pace easily, one hand warm at your waist, the other pointing at you dramatically like the two of you were the only ones there.

Your breath was quick when the song ended, and so was his.

“Still think you can lead?” you asked.

He gave you that grin—the slow, corner-of-the-mouth one. “Only if you let me follow sometimes.”

You rolled your eyes before getting distracted by a group of kids screaming and ducking behind pool floaties like it was warfare. You barely had time to lean back before—

SMACK.

Cold.

Soaking wet.

You looked down. A balloon had exploded right at your hip, drenching your skirt and the edge of your cardigan. You blinked, and across the yard, one of Satoru’s cousins—maybe eight, maybe demon—froze mid-laugh, realizing they’d missed their target.

“My bad!” the kid yelled. “I was aiming for Uncle Satoru!”

You stood slowly, peeling wet fabric from your thigh. “Oh, I know.”

Satoru was already grinning, leaning over to snag a towel off the patio railing. “Looks like you gotta change, sweetheart.”

You narrowed your eyes. “I’m starting to think you planned this.”

He handed you the towel and lowered his voice. “If I had planned it, you wouldn’t be coming back down.”

You sucked your teeth and turned away before your smile gave you away, making your way into the house.

The house was mostly quiet—cooler inside, humming with the low buzz of central air and the faint echo of music filtering in from the yard. You kicked off your shoes near the mat. Your tube top had lost the fight too, clinging heavy with cold water and humiliation. Upstairs, the bedroom was dim and cool, the curtains drawn just enough to let the sun slant through in ribbons. Cool to the touch. You peeled off the ruined outfit, tossing the soaked clothes into the clothing bin.

You could still hear Utahime laughing through the window. Opening the drawer for something else to wear, muttering, “This is why I don’t play with children.” You dug around until your fingers closed around what you were looking for.

The dress was still folded like a secret between your numerous tank tops and shirts. After drying off, you pulled it over your body, slow, careful. It hugged like it knew you. You adjusted the neckline, turned in the mirror, and pulled your thankfully dry cardigan over your arms. You gave yourself one last look. Head high. Lip gloss still intact.

The air was thicker now, lazy with smoke and sun. You heard the music first—Return of the Mack this time, someone’s uncle shouting “Ayyye!” like it was his wedding day again. Then came the sharp whistle.

“Y’all. Look who just had a whole transformation!”

You glanced over.

Mari had turned around fully in her lawn chair, oversized sunglasses halfway down her nose, drink sloshing in one hand.

“Okay, body,” she said, real loud, real shameless. “Tell the truth, you went inside and steamed that dress first.”

You laughed, but your face burned. “I got ambushed with a water balloon!”

“That’s what they’re calling it now?” said one of the older cousins—Maya, you thought, sipping on a melted pina colada slushie. “Auntie Lynn said Satoru’s aim’s been off since you got here.”

You gave a tight smile and made your way back toward the chairs, past where a few little kids were crouched behind lawn chairs plotting revenge, and Mari was waving you over like she couldn’t stand being right.

“Listen, we knew you were cute,” Mari said, patting the seat next to her, “but I didn’t realize you were stepping out here looking like that.”

“It was supposed to be backup clothes,” you said, smoothing your cardigan over your arms. “Not a runway.”

“Please. This is exactly why Satoru grilled the ribs like his life depended on it. He’s trying to husband you.”

Mari, still sipping her pink drink, chimed in. “And it’s working.”

“Mmmhmm,” said another auntie—one you hadn’t met properly yet, but she looked like she had known Satoru before he started wearing Digimon pajamas. “He ain’t grilled like that since Sae’s birthday. That was the last time she came over, too, huh?”

“Don’t start conspiracies,” you said, trying to hide your smile. “Y’all worse than the blogs.”

“Baby, the blogs wish they had our sources,” Maya said. “We've been watching Gojo men fall in love since ’87.”

“Every single one,” Mari nodded solemnly. “Started with the ribs. Ended with matching pajamas by Christmas.”

“Oh, look who finally came down dressed like she’s about to steal someone’s man,” Utahime said, coming to take a peek at what you changed into.

You laughed. “Girl, please. I already did.”

Sae immediately dropped the water gun and waddled over to you, arms lifted. “Up!”

You picked him up again, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder as he patted your chest like he was proud of you. You smoothed his curls back gently, bouncing him on your hip.

“Utahime,” you said, “you cannot weaponize this child just to bully his father.”

“He deserves it. He told everyone at work that I ate Lunchables for dinner.”

“You do eat Lunchables for dinner.”

“Not the point.”

She took a sip of her drink, leaned over to tickle Sae’s foot, and then raised an eyebrow at your outfit. “This dress is trouble. Let me guess—Skims?”

You smirked. “Black maxi. Soft lounge.”

“God help us all,” she muttered. “Satoru’s about to forget his son’s name.”

You rolled your eyes, cheeks heating. No need getting shy now, it's not like he hasn't seen the dress before.

Utahime leaned in. “You’re lucky I love you. If I didn’t, I’d fight you and that dress.”

You laughed, looking away—but then your eyes caught him. You turned with Sae still in your arms and scanned the yard. Sure enough, Satoru was posted up by the speaker now, squatting to mess with the Bluetooth. He noticed you immediately—eyes dragging from the top of your cardigan to the curve of your waist, lips twitching like he couldn’t stop the thought if he tried.

The bass buzzed through the ground as he hit a button, and the music shifted again—something slower, smoother. You recognized it on the first few beats: Can’t Get Enough by Tamia.

He turned around, caught you watching. Didn’t say anything, just smirked, “That man has been inching closer all day,” Auntie Lynn whispered beside you.

“Not y’all doing commentary,” you muttered.

Maya grinned. “You gonna get up and dance or what?”

Before you could even answer, Satoru strolled up and held his hand out—no words, just the grin and that cocky head tilt like he knew you wouldn’t say no.

“Please don’t trip,” Mari whispered like it was church.

You took his hand, handing Sae over to the impatient Utahime, heart ticking louder than the bass, and let him guide you toward the makeshift lawn dance floor. Satoru’s hand found your hand, “You always know how to make an entrance,” he said low, near your ear.

“They need to practice with Hime.”

He smiled. “Looked good wet.”

You rolled your eyes, biting your cheek. “We’re dancing. Not flirting.”

“Why not both?”

You didn’t answer. Just let him pull you in closer, following the steps with the line in front of you. The song curled around you, familiar, warm. His fingers traced circles low on your back, thumb grazing skin where your cardigan had slid a little, messing up your rhythm just a little. You were breathless. Not from the dancing. Just from him.

Just then—

Splat.

A stream of water shot out on the lawn next to Satoru’s foot. He didn’t flinch. You jumped back with a curse.

You both looked over at the bushes where Sae and Utahime were hiding, barely. Satoru shook his head slowly, deadpan. “Betrayed. By my own blood.”

Utahime stood up, dusting off her knees. “I didn’t teach him that,” she said, grinning. “I taught him to aim. Different.”

Sae squealed and shot a second one, this one weaker, arcing and landing with soft droplets at Satoru’s feet.

“Your days are numbered,” Satoru called out, pointing at his son like he was delivering a curse.

You covered your mouth to hold in your laugh, but it escaped anyway. Sae started giggling wildly and ran straight for you, latching onto your leg like a safe zone. Utahime followed behind him with a shrug and a mischievous smirk.

By the time the sun dipped low enough to kiss the treetops, the party had started peeling off in layers—coolers closed, paper plates stacked high, lawn chairs folded with lazy thuds. Little kids, sticky and exhausted, were passed off to parents. Someone passed around the last slice of pie like it was gold.

“You sure you don’t need help cleaning up?” Mari asked, already slinging her purse over her shoulder.

“Nah,” Satoru waved her off, Sae still perched on his hip. “I got it.”

Mari gave you a look. The lingering look. The “I know what’s about to happen here” look.

You raised a brow. “What?”

She smirked. “Nothing. Just… don’t fall in the pool. That dress looks like it’d melt.”

You opened your mouth to fire back, but she was already walking away, waving dramatically over her shoulder. “Love y’all!”

You shook your head, watching as her car backed down the driveway. One by one, tail lights blinked out into the dusk.

Utahime was last. She stayed behind to help toss out juice boxes and herd kids into the right shoes, her ponytail now messy and damp with sweat.

She hugged you tightly before she left. “Text me if he gets on your nerves.”

“I’ll have you on speed dial.”

She grinned. “I got water balloons in the trunk, just say the word.”

Then she bent low, pressing a quick kiss to Sae’s chubby cheek. “Bye, little traitor. Auntie loves you.”

Sae waved a sleepy hand, half-awake against Satoru’s chest.

And then it was just the three of you. The house, quiet now except for the faint buzz of cicadas and the soft clink of bottles being gathered.

You looked around at the backyard, the scattered plastic cups and deflated balloons, the abandoned towels and water guns. It was like the air had exhaled. Satoru shifted Sae in his arms. The toddler’s eyes were barely open.

“Gonna put him down,” Satoru said softly, voice lowered like instinct. “You okay out here?”

You nodded, brushing hair out of your face. “Yeah. I’ll finish up the cups.”

He started toward the sliding door but paused, glanced back. “Hey.”

You looked up.

“You were really beautiful today.”

You blinked, a smile tugging at your mouth. “Thanks.”

“No, I mean—like, stupid beautiful,” he said, stepping backward through the doorway, still watching you. “You looked like… if I wasn’t careful, I’d mess around and fall.”

You laughed, rolling your eyes. “Go put your kid to bed.”

He grinned and disappeared into the house.

You finished collecting the last of the cups and wine cooler bottles, stacking them into the recycling bin by the deck. The sky was deepening into that thick purple-gray, and the first stars blinked out above the rooftops. The smell of charcoal still lingered, warm and faint and familiar.

Ten minutes later, you heard the door slide open again.

“Alright,” Satoru called, voice lower now, stripped of the daytime teasing. “Baby’s out. Long gone. Dreamin’ about mangoes or whatever.”

You turned toward the sound of his voice. He was barefoot, shirt open and hanging loose now, a towel draped over his shoulder. His chain caught the porch light. The way he was looking at you—like he still hadn’t gotten enough—made your pulse jump.

“You coming with or are you gonna leave me in there alone like some abandoned housewife?”

You snorted. “Housewife is crazy.”

“Hot tub’s on. Clean. Eucalyptus soak thing Utahime gave me. Don’t look at me like that—she said it’d help me stop smelling like daycare and tired.”

“Eucalyptus?”

Satoru grinned. “Don’t act like you don’t like it when I’m in my spa era.”

“Gimme a sec.” You shook your head, laughing as you walked away from him.

You slipped inside the house without waiting for a reply. Upstairs, you opened the familiar bottom drawer in his dresser—your drawer—and pulled out the bikini you kept there for pool days and last-minute sleepovers. Black, simple, but nothing modest about it. You changed quickly, tied your hair up to avoid getting wet.

By the time you stepped outside, the sky had fully darkened. That golden-pink haze had cooled into navy blue, stars just beginning to press through the summer night. The backyard looked different in the dark, lit now by the soft uplights built into the stone, casting glows across the hedges and bouncing faintly off the water’s surface.

The hot tub steamed in the corner. Satoru was already in, arms spread over the edge. You dropped your towel on the chaise. He didn’t try to hide the way his eyes dragged over you, head tipping back for a second like he was trying to be respectful but failing anyway.

You sank into the water with a quiet sigh. Heat curled around your legs, your waist, settling under your chest as you leaned in beside him.

“You trying to impress me?”

Satoru slipped into the hot tub with a quiet hiss. “I’ve been trying. All day.”

You stepped down after him, the warm water wrapping around your legs as you sank in. It was deeper than you expected, clean, quiet. The sound of the pool filter hummed faintly in the background. He stretched out, arms resting behind you along the edge. Your knee brushed his. Neither of you moved away.

“Bet you think this is real smooth, huh?” you asked.

“It is smooth,” he said, voice low now. “What’s not smooth is me trying to kiss you in front of Auntie Lynn while she’s holding a White Claw.”

You laughed under your breath. “She’d never let you live it down.”

“I know. That’s why I didn’t.”

He shifted closer. Your leg touched his again. This time, he kept it there.

“She kept giving me looks all day,” you said.

“Half of ‘em were for me. You should’ve seen how she grilled me before you even got there.”

You glanced over. “About what?”

He shrugged. “Whether I’m serious. Whether I’m messing with you. Whether I understand what I got.”

“And?” you asked.

Satoru looked at you for a long moment, eyes steady. “I told her I do.”

You went quiet. Not awkward—just thoughtful.

A bubble popped at the surface between you. The backyard was still, the house dark behind you, except for one lamp in the living room. The porch light glowed, soft and low.

“Told me not to mess up what I have.” He looked down at you, his cerulean eyes reflecting the crystal blue water.

You let him hold it. Not tight. Just enough.

“Then don’t.”

He nodded. “I’m trying.”

“I see that.”

He leaned in a little, close enough to speak right near your cheek. “And you? You trying too?”

You turned your head just enough for your eyes to meet his. “I showed up, didn’t I?”

His breath caught. Not in a dramatic way, just in that shift. He reached out, thumb brushing the outside of your thigh just above the water. “You did more than show up.”

You held his gaze. Everything slowed. The candlelight flickered behind him. Somewhere inside the house, the fridge hummed, and the air conditioning clicked on. It all felt far away.

You leaned in first. Just a little mesmerized by the way his hair appeared slightly blue.

Your lips touched. Quiet. Real. Not hurried or practiced. The kind that didn’t need to be chased, because it was already there. The hot water lapped at your skin as you settled deeper into the tub, the steam curling between you and Satoru in lazy tendrils. He leaned back against the edge, arms spread wide along the rim, watching you with that slow, knowing smirk. The porch light caught the droplets clinging to his collarbones, the water making his skin glisten.

You shifted closer, your knee brushing his under the surface. His lips were warm, a little sweet from the drink he'd been nursing earlier. You sighed into it, letting yourself melt just a fraction. His fingers tightened slightly in your hair, angling your head just how he wanted it. His tongue brushed against yours, and your breath hitched. He hummed, low and pleased, like he'd been waiting for that exact reaction.

His other hand found your waist, dragging you forward until you were straddling his lap, the water sloshing around you. Your thighs bracketed his hips, the heat of him pressing against you in a way that made your head spin. You rocked forward instinctively, and his grip on your neck tightened.

"Fuck," he muttered against your lips. "Do that again." You did, slower this time, grinding down just to feel him groan. His hands slid down your back, pulling you even closer, until there was no space left between you.

His mouth moved to your jaw, then your throat, teeth grazing just enough to make you whimper. "Satoru-" His name came out breathless, half a plea, half a warning- but he only hummed against your skin, the vibration sending a shiver down your spine. His hands slid lower, fingers tracing the dip of your waist before gripping your hips, guiding your movements in slow, deliberate motions.

"That's it," he murmured, lips brushing your ear. "Just like that."

The water made everything slick, effortless-your bodies moving together in a rhythm that felt as natural as breathing. His fingers dug in just enough to leave marks, possessive in a way that made your stomach tighten. You could feel him, hard and wanting, pressed against your bikini bottoms with every roll of your hips.

The night air was warm, but his touch was hotter. His mouth trailed lower, teeth scraping the curve of your shoulder before he sucked lightly, leaving a mark that would bloom purple by morning. You arched into him, nails scraping down his chest, and he groaned, low and rough.

"You gonna let me take care of you?" he asked, voice thick. You didn't answer- just rocked against him harder, your breath coming in short, uneven gasps. He chuckled, but it was strained, his own control fraying. The steam curled between you, thick and lazy, as Satoru's hands slid up your sides, his thumbs brushing the underside of your bikini top. His touch was deliberate, unhurried-like he was savoring the way your breath hitched when he traced the edge of the fabric.

"You always wear this damn thing just to torture me," he murmured, lips grazing the shell of your ear. His voice was rough, but his fingers were slow, teasing the tie at the back of your neck.

You arched into him, water sloshing as your hips pressed against his. "Maybe I just like watching you try to behave."

He huffed a laugh, warm against your throat.

"Yeah? How am I doing?"

"Horrible."

His teeth caught your earlobe, sharp enough to make you gasp. "Guess we’ll have to change that."

The knot gave way under his fingers, and the fabric loosened, slipping down just enough to bare your skin to the night air. He didn't pull it off- just let it hang there, his knuckles brushing the swell of your breasts as he palmed you through the damp material. His touch was firm, possessive, but not rushed. Like he knew exactly how much you could take before either of you broke.

You rocked against him again, and this time, his grip tightened, holding you still. "Patience," he chided, voice low. His other hand slid into your hair, fisting just enough to tilt your head back.

"You're always in such a hurry."

The water made everything slick, his skin hot where it pressed against yours. You could feel the way his breath stuttered when you rolled your hips, the way his fingers flexed against your waist.

His mouth found yours again, hungry this time. You moaned into it, and he swallowed the sound, his hand sliding from your hair to your throat, thumb pressing just under your jaw. Not hard. Just enough to make you feel it.

"You're so fucking pretty like this," he muttered against your mouth. His other hand finally tugged the bikini top free, letting it float away in the water. His palm skimmed up your ribs, calloused and warm, before cupping your breast, his thumb circling your nipple in slow, maddening strokes. You whimpered, arching into his touch, but he held you firm, his grip just shy of rough.

His lips trailed down your throat, sucking a mark into the tender skin above your collarbone. "Just let me take my time."

The water lapped at your waist, the heat of it nothing compared to the way his hands burned against you. His mouth moved lower, teeth scraping over your nipple before he took it into his mouth, hot and wet and perfect. Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, and he groaned, the vibration sending a shock of pleasure straight to your core.

He pulled back just enough to look at you, his eyes dark, his lips swollen from kissing. "Am I good enough for you now?”

The sheets were soaked beneath you, twisted and damp with sweat, your thighs trembling as Satoru pulled back, deliberate-only to slam back into you with enough force to knock the breath from your lungs. His pelvis ground against your ass, the impact sending a shockwave of pleasure up your spine, your fingers clawing at the mattress for purchase.

"You're so perfect—" your voice was wrecked, raw with need, his hand pressing into the small of your back, forcing your spine into a sharper arch. The angle made him impossibly deeper, his cock stretching you so full you could feel every thick inch, the swollen head of him dragging against that sweet, spongy spot inside you with every thrust.

Your cunt clenched around him, greedy, needy, as if your body was desperate to keep him buried inside you forever. A broken moan tore from your throat as he groaned your name, the sound rough and filthy, vibrating through your skin like a live wire.

"That's it," he growled, his free hand sliding around to your clit, fingers rubbing rough, relentless circles just the way you liked. His touch was electric, sending sparks skittering up your nerves, your hips jerking against his hand as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your gut. "We were made for each other, baby."

He was right, so right.

Your body knew it, your cunt pulsing around him in frantic little flutters, your thighs shaking as he fucked into you with deep, punishing strokes. The slap of skin on skin was obscenely loud in the dim room, the wet, slick sounds of him driving into you only making you hotter, your cheeks burning with the knowledge of just how messy you were for him.

"Gonna come?" His voice was rough, his fingers working your clit faster, his thrusts turning sharper, more erratic. "Do it. I'm all here for you."

You shattered.

Your orgasm ripped through you like a lightning strike, your back bowing off the bed as you screamed his name, your walls clamping down around him in desperate, rhythmic pulses. He didn't stop-just kept pounding into you, chasing his own release, his grip on your hip bruising as he fucked you through it, his breath hot against your ear.

"One more," he demanded, his thrusts turning sloppy, his cock twitching inside you. "Give me one more—"

You sobbed, oversensitive, your body trembling from the sheer overload of sensation-but you obeyed. Another wave crashed over you, weaker but no less intense, your cunt fluttering around him as he groaned, his hips stuttering before he finally pulled out-just enough to spill hot and thick over your ass, his cum painting your skin in sticky, glistening stripes.

For a second, the only sounds were your ragged breathing and the wet drip of his release sliding down your thighs. A small, shameful part of you ached with the loss of him, wishing he hadn't pulled out, wishing he'd taken the risk, fucked a baby into you, marked you in a way that lasted.

He didn't give you time to breathe. One second, you were gasping beneath him, his cum cooling on your skin-the next, he was hauling your legs over his shoulders, his cock sliding back inside with a filthy, wet slurp, your spent cunt still fluttering around him.

"Fuck," you whimpered, your back arching off the bed as he bottomed out, his pelvis grinding against your oversensitive clit. The pleasure was almost too much, your nerves alight, your body still thrumming from your last orgasm.

"Look at you," he murmured, his blue eyes dark with hunger as he loomed over you, his white hair sticking to his forehead with sweat. His biceps flexed as he braced himself above you, his chest heaving, his abs taut with the effort of holding back. "Taking me so good."

He leaned down, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, his tongue sliding against yours as he started moving again, slow, deep, each thrust dragging against your walls in a way that had your toes curling.

"Love you," he breathed, his forehead pressed to yours, his hips never stopping. "Fuck-love you so much."

The words wrecked you.

Not just because of the way he said them-fervent, desperate, like they'd been clawed out of him-but because of the way his hands cradled your face, the way his thrusts turned almost reverent, like he was trying to brand himself into you.

You came again, sobbing, your nails raking down his back as pleasure tore through you, your cunt milking him in helpless little pulses.

You were ruined. By the 3rd time your thighs were sticky, your cunt aching, your lips swollen from kissing. But Satoru wasn't done. He rolled you onto your side, pulling you back against his chest, his cock already hard again as he slid inside from behind.

"Last one," he promised-for the fifth time-his teeth scraping your shoulder as his hand slid between your thighs, his fingers finding your sensitive clit. "Stay with me."

You did.

You always would.

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