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screampied · 8 months

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MONEY HONEY! — ☆ GOJO SATORU.

➤ popstar!gojo masterlist

headline. fucking your client wasn’t on your bucket list. the famous popstar 'toru' says he can’t perform because of issues he’s having with his voice. but he finds another way to warm up his vocal cords—it involves being between your legs.

word count. 4.2k

warnings. fem! reader, popstar!gojo, pwp, unprotected sex, modern au, he's a whiney brat, overstim, degradation, praise, semi public, impact play, cunnilingus, fingering.

an. lol this was fun 2 write !! ty @osaemu as always for beta'ing

“…nono, you don’t understand. i can’t go out there, i just…can’t—!” gojo mutters, and he’s pacing back and forth. talk about a drama queen. to think you had to deal with this every day, being the infamous satoru gojo’s personal assistant was never an easy task. his attire was…quite enthralling to say the least. gojo was draped up in a sheeny black one-piece with rhinestones attached in a few places, he always had his outfits designed a certain way. not too tight, not too big.

you sat on the sofa, taking a sip of a latte he bought you as a thanks for saving him to deal with the hoards of paparazzi that practically lived outside the stadium back-way entrance.

“satoru, you do this before every show,” you sigh, glancing at him. you couldn’t lie to yourself, he was strikingly handsome. gojo’s hair was a tad bit messy and ruffled. it was a slight v-cut towards his chest to show a bit of skin. his fangirls always went wild over the most minimal things such as that. “you do realize you’re supposed to be performing in front of 10,000 people? canceling right before a show isn’t a good l—”

“i know…i know,” he pouts, and he’s so unserious, you sort of found it hard to believe this was a millionaire pop star who’s such a household name. gojo lets off a loud sigh before walking towards you with a sheepish grin. “these cough drops you’ve been givinʼ me haven’t done shit.”

“really...” you deadpan, casually giving him nothing but a sly eye roll.

gojo sulks and he’s just a few feet apart from you now. “mhm…really,” he says, and the slight rasp in his voice catches your attention. his earpiece was still on, as well with his mic that hung just barely underneath his chin. “i did research though. about other methods that help with heh, um vocal fry..”

you stare up at the popstar, and he’s returning the gaze…as if he was trying to hide the smile that was already forming against his pink lips. you don’t give him an answer and this time, he’s the one to roll his eyes.

“…well since you asked so nicely,” he grumbles, the same pout going against his face before he pulls out his phone. gojo scrolls a thumb down against his bright screen before clearing his throat. “hm, according to this totally accurate article, it says… to fully recover from vocal fry, a guy must uh, receive a special treat within a woman’s—”

you blankly stare at him, already second-guessing his fake response. “just say you want to eat me out, satoru.”

“wha— where’d you get that impression?” he plays dumb, furrowing his eyebrows and cowardly looks around the room. a few seconds go by before he shrugs, speaking quickly, defeated. “….fine i wanna eat you out. hmph.”

you turn your head for a brief moment, hearing the defending roars of the crowd just a few areas down from the dressing room the two of you currently stayed in. “maybe after your show, they're chanting for y—”

“they can wait,” he frowns, and he turns you around, two hands softly holding onto your shoulders. gojo remained with a pout, bottom lip just slightly tucking underneath the top one. “i can’t.”

the both of you grow quiet for a long moment, and gojo seems serious—dramatic, but serious. you and him both exchanged sensual eye contact, and you were so close to gojo that you could practically smell the strong cinnamon scent of his intoxicating cologne. the popstar smooths his lips together before briefly shifting his eyes down at the floor and then back up at you.

“five minutes…five minutes, that isn't too long is it?” he stammers, and the gaze the two of you made starts to get more and more intense. “i won’t get into too much trouble if it's just five minutes right?”

“you’re insufferable.” you mumble, letting off a soft sigh. “okay, five minutes. if you say this helps with your—vocal whatever.”

not much to your surprise, five minutes turned into half an hour.

you held back a moan the sudden second you felt gojo’s warm tongue swiftly lap against your drenched folds. he made you wriggle against him, and you maintained a rough grip against the laid-back sofa.

“s-satoru,” you’d whimper out, gasping at how sloppy he was. you were prompt up in such a position to where you were bent over the arm part of the couch, skirt lifted, fishnets just barely pulled down, and the most vulgar expression. “oh my g-goddd, you're gonna make the others outside h-hear.”

“you’ll just have to be a little more quiet, assistant,” he whispers, cool breath fanning against your pussy. perhaps this was unprofessional, no it was very unprofessional. a plethora of following consequences started to race through your mind. “what time is it?”

you moaned, reaching near the wooden half table for his watch and read the time, “um.. quarter past eight.”

“aw man,” he sulks, softly licking the your tender pulsating numb with the very tip of his tongue. with a quick second, he maneuvers circles all over your clit to feel you squirm and jitter against him. “that much time passed? can’t stand rushing…”

as you cling onto the fluffed couch, your black pencil skirt that was just sluggishly raised up and yet, you continued to gnaw the inside of your lip from the feelings of his tongue, entirely sloppy.

the slurps that exited from his mouth had your bottom lip quivering in such desire. you craved more, the way he swirled and curved the length of his tongue throughout your pussy earned umpteen gasps and whines from you.

“s—satoru,” you’d croak out, and he’s casually taking the time to make out with your folds. languidly, your slick race down his chin, and between breaks to breathe, he'd lap up his tongue before diving back in. “fuck, ‘m gonna cum again, think ‘m gonna cum..”

“wait a little longer, yeah?” he murmurs, grabbing the fat of your ass with two rough hands. you felt bundles of butterflies stir inside your stomach, feeling gojo’s nose swipe against your folds for a few jiffs. “let me eat, haven't had a good meal all fuckin’ day.”

you swallowed, not even facing him but you could practically see the grin stretching across his lips. “and…and who’s fault was that?”

he chuckles, warm breath fanning against your cunt. “okay, you have a point,” and your thighs feel feverish—you’re so hot, and not because of the sudden humidity wafting around the small dressing room.

the popstar lolls out his tongue, humming before you moan, feeling him lick your pussy in a straight direction. “mhm, this is better than anything else though.”

you were about to speak, but all that did was make you let out a shaky whine. the smooth pads of his thumbs graze against both parts of your ass as he continued to eat you out like a starved man. it was as if time stood still, your mouth grew exceedingly dry and your legs felt like they could barely stand up on their own.

“sa..satoru,” you once more repeated, not knowing how long you could last. simply, his tongue was dangerous—god, it was just the way he moved it in every direction.

he knew where to lick, where to suck, and even nibble. gojo found himself tickling his tongue against your little nub before sucking on it. all to hear you cry out in desperation. cacophonies of whimpers depart from your glossed lips such as, ‘satoru,’ ‘please-please,’ and ‘m gonna c-cum.’

there was no denying, gojo had you an entire stammering mess. you found yourself even questioning how this became, the two of you were never intimate. although, there's always been steamy moments between the two of you.

for instance, there was a moment where gojo took you with him to the hot springs while he was on tour…which non-surprisingly led to a hot make-out sesh. that was a few months ago, and the two of you decided to not think much of it. of course though, there are always assumptions being made about the two of you—always from the nosy journalists and interviewers.

each interview, it’d always be questions they’d ask about the precious little assistant that’s essentially attached by the hip to the famous gojo satoru.

“are you and that girl exclusive yet?”

“how long have you two seen each other?”

“please. describe to us. what’s she like in b—”

they’d get more perverted each time. alas, gojo always loathed it whenever the press referred to you as ‘that’ girl.

his jaw would always clench in sheer annoyance. perhaps he didn't have the right to feel that way, but he was somewhat protective over you. it wasn't like you were his bodyguard or anything clearly, but still. he always liked how you treated him just like you’d treat anyone else.

“satoru..” you'd cut him off from his deep thoughts. “your phone keeps beeping.”

“huuuuh?” he grouches, ears perking at the annoying screech of his device. gojo’s thumbs remain against both edges of your ass before he breaks off his lips, a long string of his own saliva running down your slit. “oh, can you hand it to me?”

he's so nonchalant, and with your back still arched, you lightly fling his phone towards him.

he grumbles.

picking up the phone, typing in his twenty one digit passcode of ‘sexymansexyspraycan69’ before with a click, it unlocks. gojo darts his eyes towards his phone and hums at the five messages left from his manager, kento nanami.

‘Greetings. Where are you? Message me Ass.’

‘ASAP. Autocorrect.’

‘Your fans think your dead.’

‘Don’t tell me you're busy with that assistant of yours again.’

‘When your sales start going low, don't blame me.’

and many more unread, “blah blah yeah yeah,” gojo murmurs, skimming through the loads of unread gray bubbled messages. “nothing important. geez, can't have a single moment to myself.”

you were so close to orgasming and that's when gojo flips you over to face him—you're panting and he flashes you a soft smile, leaning in to kiss your forehead. “aw, waiting for me?” he whispers, bringing a gentle kiss towards the inner corner of your neck. his touch was immensely warm, something you just couldn't describe. “you wanna cum don't you, baby?

“m-mhmm.” was all you could manage out, wrapping your arms around him as he got right between you. gojo continues to trail kisses down your neck before chuckling.

“use those words, c’mon. don't be shy. i wanna hear ya tell me what you want.”

the way he was such a tease, you couldn't stand him, then again you could. so annoying, gojo’s warmth of his performing outfit brushed against your skin. the perfectly knitted fabric of it dancing against your skin as he inched closer towards you. “tell me how much of a messy girl you wanna be.”

“i—” you started, and he took a moment to stare into your eyes. gojo looked so pretty, smug yes, but pretty. long lashes each time he blinked, fluttering against him. whenever he showcased that well-known cheeky smile of his, his dimples would poke right against his lips. “i-i wanna cum. please, lemme cum, ‘toru..”

“pretty girllll wants to cummmm,” he sings in a playful melodic tune. again, you couldn't stand him. singing right in the middle of something so intimate. gojo runs a hand down your buttoned-up shirt before chuckling. “hm, i suppose. go ahead, let go fʼr me.”

once you do, immediately your vision turns dizzy. all you saw was a few blotches of white, and it feels so good that the feelings have you biting down on your lip. gojo leans into your neck, whispering sweet nothings against you while giving your ass a soft caress.

“good girl, just let go…yeah,” he purrs, giving your collarbone a gentle suck. you taste so sweet to him. you're addicting, simple as that. like candy he can't get enough of.

gojo satoru had a sweet tooth for you, there was no doubt about it. “fuck, i can just suck on you all day,” he utters in a low voice, and his warm hands part your thighs so he can get a bit more between you. “i need more…fuck the fans, i need you.”

“idiot, don’t say that..” you moan, and he's kissing all down the crevices of your neck again. gojo’s lips against your tender skin gave you chills. even still, you were so hot, from the neck down. it felt amazing, the feeling of him sucking and kissing against your skin to such a point that you're just throbbing. “t-they’re waiting for you.”

“they can keep waiting,” he smiles, leaning down to kiss near your chest, moving the exclusive backstage lanyard pass away with a slight grip. “damn, you don't know how hard i’ve been during rehearsal. i—i think about you, you know?”

you gawk up at him as his body towers over you, his costume glimmers in the light before he starts to peel it off carefully. you were taken by surprise so you mutter, “you…you do?”

“well yeah girl,” he rolls his eyes, such sass in his tone, following with the low rasp that hid underneath his voice. “you drive me crazy in the worst way.”

“the feeling’s mutual, popstar.” you utter, a glint in your eye.

“hmpf. now that i was nice enough to let you cum, you decide to be a brat, huh?” he raises a brow, using two fingers to brush his mic piece aside.

a coyish grin goes against your lips. “sorry. are you gonna do anything about it?”

“…shut up..” he grumbles, and he does.

pretty much, you then found yourself on your hands and knees on the couch, feeling gojo caress your ass briefly before meeting the mounds of your skin with a mean spank.

you suck in shortened breath. “ooh,” he says as you moan in unison of the light thwack. “you get off on spanks, huh?” he utters in a grouse, the feeling of his palm kissing against your skin making you continuously pulse.

“n-no.” you spat.

“liar,” he matches your snarky tone, and you let off a gasp once you feel him finally rub the tip of his dick against your folds. gojo grows abnormally quiet the minute your slick coats his length freely. “fuckkk,” he sighs, eyes closing for a short second. you teasingly wriggled your ass against him and he spanks you again. “you’re so impatient, wait.”

“do you even know how to fuck?” you slip out, and you held back a giggle. perhaps you shouldn't have said that, your thoughts did speak way more than they should anyway.

gojo’s eyebrows curl into a furrow, and his voice genuinely sounds offended. “wha—?! of course i do.”

“just asking.” you tease.

“just asking,” he mocks your tone, completely butchering it purposely and gojo slowly starts to make his way inside of your tight pussy. he's gradually moving himself in, and you let off a moan before he continues, “yeah. shut the f-fuck up.”

a small grin stretches against your lips, because you hear how gojo stutters whilst sinking inches into you. even while trying to be mean and degrading, he was so close to moaning himself. it was simply adorable. you maintained a mere pristine arch while biting the inside of your cheek once more.

“you're s-so wet ‘n sloppy,” he huffs out a groan, and the squelches your pussy made against him was simply enticing. for a second, you grew mute once you gave your own body a listen. just the faint sounds of gojo’s jagged breathing, “f-fuck, ‘s good. keep facing that way, just like that. good.”

gojo’s touch against your spine was purely gossamer.

he was soft, gentle, delicate.

yet the minute he started to create a pace with his rollicked hips, he couldn't contain himself. the way his dick probed throughout your walls, you kissed your teeth in longing—just for him to just hurry.

gojo was always such a tease, the fat plump head of his cock dabbing against your pussy.

“s-stop playing and just put it in.” you moaned, growing impatient by the mile.

“heh, you know what they say,” he mumbles, you pulse even more once you feel him slide in about a single inch or two…only to then go right back out. “patience is a virgin.”

“…it’s virtue.”

“that’s what i sai—”

“just fuck me.” you whined.

gojo giggles, and finally, he starts up his slovenly pace again. he grips onto your hips before sighing. he takes note of the way you progressively suck him in.

you linger over the couch, the fabric of your own pencil skirt just hovering over your waist before gojo starts to sway his hips.

you had to stop yourself from being so noisy, executives were probably in the other room.

some kind of meeting perhaps occurring, yet here you were, happily entangled with your client. such thick inches he was dumping into you had nearly drooling. gojo’s base was rotund and fat, thwacking and thwacking against you to where you're so dizzy.

“f-fuck, ‘toru.. ‘s good.” you whined, every few seconds he’d smack your ass to watch your ass jiggle with such recoil. it was one of his favorite moments to witness. as your lips stuck together, your thighs already felt weak and tremulous.

“damn girl…didn't expect you to s-start throwin’ yourself back again me,” he sibilates, and for a concise moment his head goes back. a groan flies past his glossed pink lips as your ass continued to thrash against him. “you're such a needy girl. tryna…f-fuck me back..”

the way his voice unintentionally got low whenever he was in such a trance had you throbbing, such convulses making you nearly weak in the knees.

to you, the feeling was indescribable. such pools of heat ran between your legs the more his thrusts picked up.

his dick reached every spot, so much so being precise—you felt the curve of his length analyze all throughout your inner walls. it didn't miss a spot, he reached deep and you let off the cutest whimper. “god, r-right there. please, ‘toru. y-your curve, ‘s reaching me deep.”

“you f-flatter me,” he pants, trying to ignore his flusteredness. gojo’s right hand, the hand that had a half-cut open glitter glove that coordinated alongside his outfit ghosts against your ass. his lip quivers from his pace, and the way your pussy just sucks him dry, a few splotches of pre-cum cutely coated against the outer part of your ass. “fuck, dunno how much i can take with you movin’ your ass against me like that…shit, shit.”

“…s-satoru,” you breathed, biting down on your arm to suppress your moans a bit. not before long, he deepens the angle and you feel his sharped hips piston in utter contentment. “fuck, f-fuck. ‘s deep.”

gojo groans, swallowing the nonexistent lump in his throat before he feels himself coming close.

“think you’re gonna m-milk me dry,” he gasps, jerk after jerk his hips go against you at full throttle. the base of his dick, you hear the pap pap pap noises commence, and it’s so obscene. “shit, think ‘m in love,” and then you grow hot. it’s a long inelegant pause before he adds to his words, “…i-in love with your pussy.”

you were gonna comment something, but you were too fucked dumb to comprehend anything. you’re basically being fucked stupid into the cushioned sofa. the cottony bristles of the fabric went against your skin as your body lurched forward each time.

splaying at an almost animalistic pace, gojo’s ears, the very tips of them at least grow incredibly hot, you’re making his body heat up, scorching. the way your pussy tightly hugged around him like a vice, he was obsessed.

he just couldn’t get enough. to think this was the first time he’s been this intimate with you—oh, how he could only imagine what it’d be like for a second time, or a third time, or a…

“s-satoru, your phone’s ringing..”

he grunts, glancing down to see the bright-lit screen display, and this time it’s geto. with an eye roll, he ignores it, still gripping your hips, he’s attaining his peak before he lets off a husky groan. “f-fuck, ‘m gonna cum.. can i—?”

“y-yes, jus’ do it, ‘toru,” you spoke, not even letting him finish his sentence—you knew what he was gonna ask though if he could shoot inside. you were so drunk from his dick, thoughts on your mind were straight mush.

“okay, okay,” he breathes, and even his moans were pretty. figures, gojo was a soprano, so he was bound to sound angelic, even while moaning his head off. it had the perfect pitch to it, such rasp in it, almost breathy.

you feel gojo’s pelvic bone thrust a bit more at a quickened pace, accelerating just a bit more and his nerves were just going wild. “fuck, f-fuck..” he grunts, and he starts to grow a bit whiney, his sloppy hits against your rear made out to be a tad bit voluntary, rhythm a bit more expedite, and he clenched his jaw.

once gojo came, it's so much.

thick ropes that seeped right into you. you moan, and he pauses his hips just to watch, feeling himself pouring all inside. velvety ropes of the popstar’s cum fills you up to the brim. you're panting, he's panting, and gojo was in love.

was it love? he didn't know, but his pupils were dilated for sure.

his breath hitches once he slowly pulls out, watching his own cum slowly spill out between your folds and he lets off a moan. “made me fuck such a mess into you,” he spouts, running a thumb down your slit to watch you cutely jounce against his touch.

“you ruined my panties.” you whined, turning over to face him—gojo leans in for a kiss, and you return the favor, tasting yourself once more on his lips. the sweetened taste of your own slick that still remained all over his tongue.

“baby, it's not like you need them,” he rasps, grabbing ahold of you, and he positions you to get on his lap. “besides, i was gonna ask to keep them.”

“why?” you mumble, wrapping your arms around his neck, slipping off a moan at his already sensitive tip hovering against your entrance as you realigned yourself.

timidly, he runs a hand down his neck. “y’know. for uh…good luck? was gonna keep them in my pocket or something.”

“you're so—”

“shhh.” he hums, interrupting your words for another tender kiss. your tongue slides against his, and he tastes minty.

as his breath collides against yours, you playfully bite down on his lip. gojo grunts, and he’s making your way inside again. gingerly, you sink down against his thick base and he gives your ass a mean squeeze before spanking it once you start to move.

“oh f-fuck…fuck, forgot how sensitive-” he hiccups, watching with half-lidded eyes at your hips rotating against him in an orderly fashion. you moan from his pleasure, taking a second to swallow before whimpering—softly, you kiss against his neck and he grunts. “you-you make me feel so good, baby.”

gojo’s almost at a lost for words, he’s had his fair share of women, but none could make him feel like this.

besides, he's never had the time. touring day in and day out was a hassle, and intimacy was a straight no due to his overly busy schedule.

although, whilst the two of you were screwing around, making out and you're riding him cowgirl, that’s right when the wooden creaky door bursts open.

not to anyone’s surprise, it's no one other than gojo’s best friend and bassist, suguru geto.

“you've got to be joking,” he utters with crossed arms, immediately darting his eyes away. “everyone’s been calling you, there's a search party, and—”

geto pauses, tilting his head. “…is that my clothes you're wearing, satoru?”

“suguru…hey man,” gojo gasps, nervous laughter following his tone—you jump in surprise, and he wraps an arm around your waist. “i’m… kinda of busy here.”

“i don't give a fuck,” he grumbles. “by the way. your mic was on the entire time. you moan like a girl more than her.”

gojo’s eyes widen, reaching for the tiny button near the edge of his mic.

indeed, the switch was turned on and he awkwardly laughed, bringing the speaking part up to his lips.

“eheh…hey mic check?” and he could hear himself echo through the ear piece. embarrassing.

despite you still being inside, you just sat there—geto staring away, not even trying to comprehend what was happening before gojo coos out a subtle cheeky, “uh…i didn't know my mic was on. my bad.”

“you're so stupid...” you run a hand against your forehead in disbelief. an entire stadium practically heard the both of you.

the heels of geto turned before gojo brings a finger against your lips to shush, and he pouts. “sugu wait,”

“what.” he mutters, turning back around.

“wanna join…? don't think a few more minutes wouldn't hurt…r-right?”

“…….”

8K notes · View notes

cherryredstars · 9 months

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Pairing: Miguel O’Hara x fem!reader

Warnings: 18+, NSFW, Age Gap, Penetrative Sex, Oral Sex, Facesitting, Breast Play, Body Worship, Praise, Aftercare

Summary: darlin' hold me while you wipe my tears, fallin’ you say i’m wise beyond my years

A/N: An anonymous request that I LIVE for!!! Inspired by @osaemu's fic.

Word Count: 3.9K (Not Edited)

You should have used waterproof mascara.

You should have known no matter how sparkly your dresses were, how perfect your makeup was, or how pretty you looked, he’d always find attention from someone else who did it ten times better. But you had still hoped. Hoped that on your own goddamn birthday, your own boyfriend would spare you even a second of attention. Instead, you’re tilting your head back outside on his shitty mansion’s balcony so your tears don’t ruin your makeup.

If your boyfriend was going to fuck every girl at this party but you, you wanted to at least look somewhat pretty and not like the sad, lonely mess you know you are. You embarrassed yourself enough when you had stormed up to him, interrupted his groupie make out session, and slapped him across the face screaming about breaking up with him. You can feel your chin wobble at the thought, and you sniffle and blink rapidly at the sky in an attempt to banish the new wave of sadness that courses through you. Best present ever! Your late twenties are treating you sooo well!

The sound of the balcony door opening catches your attention, and you’re quick to hastily wipe the tears streaming down your face as you clear your throat. You turn towards the door, ready to give whoever it is a wavering smile and a, Oh! I’m just out getting some fresh air! The smell of cigarettes was so strong haha! I promise I’m not crazy and go around slapping people on my birthday! But, you’re surprised to see Miguel, Gabe’s dad, standing there with a bottle of beer in his hand. And he's staring at you. You sniffle again, blinking rapidly. Gabe’s almost a carbon copy of his father, minus the ruggedness that comes with aging. Miguel also has the working man appearance to him, rough around the edges from hard work that his son doesn’t have. Miguel looks exactly like your usual type, but of course you had to go for his young, stupid son.

You can feel tears beginning to spill from your eyes again and you turn away. You’re sure he’s going to kick you out, question you on why you’re still here after making a scene and slapping his son in front of everyone. You try to muffle your teary hiccup by placing your palm over your mouth as you rest your elbows on your knees. Miguel sighs deeply, moving to sit on the chair parallel to yours. You turn your head slightly as you catch movement, wet eyes noticing the half empty beer bottle Miguel silently holds out for you. You blink at it for a few seconds in confusion, only understanding that he’s offering it to you when he shakes it slightly in his hand.

You pull your mouth away from the palm of your hand and shake your head slightly as you mumble, “I don’t drink.”

He doesn’t say anything in return, taking the bottle back and taking a sip. You study him for a second, waiting for him to get mad or something, but he just looks straight ahead admiring the view as he sips on his beer. After a while, you do the same. You look straight ahead, feeling the tears dry on your face. Your face feels slightly sticky from the tears, and you have a feeling you’ve smudged your mascara and eyeliner.

Now that you’re not focused on crying all the water out of your body, you realize how cold it is outside. You shiver, only lasting a few more minutes before you’ve decided you rather not die of hypothermia tonight. As you’re about to get up, Miguel speaks up.

“I’m sorry about, Gabe. I don’t know how he turned into such an ass. He’s a piece of shit for making a pretty thing like you cry on your birthday.”

When you turn to look at him, he’s already looking at you. You give him a tight lipped smile, shrugging in mock-indifference.

“It’s okay, I didn’t like him that much anyways, no offense.” Then, to lighten the mood, “I’m not an expert on feelings, but I don’t think he liked me that much either.”

Miguel stares at you like he doesn’t believe you when you say you don’t like him, but it’s the truth. You haven’t really felt anything romantic for Gabe in a while. The only reason you’ve stuck by him was because he’s the only person you really know in Nueva York. But now, you’re all by yourself in this big ass city. At least you love your job.

“Yeah, well, he’s an idiot for letting you go. Trust me, sooner or later he’s going to regret it.” Miguel defends you. He looks personally offended at the thought of his son, or anyone, not liking you.

His words make your smile brighten slightly and you laugh, “Thank you, but I really doubt that. By tomorrow he’ll probably forget I even existed.”

Miguel scowls at that, and you yelp when his hand reaches out and pulls your chair towards his. Your knees knock with his, and you have to hold onto the armrest of his chair to prevent yourself from falling on top of him. You look up at him with wide eyes, breath stifling from how close his face is to yours. Your heart beats erratically as he leans in close, the almost red-brown of his eyes getting more detailed. Your eyes can’t help but trail down to his lips. They’re slightly glossy from his beer, and for the first time, you're tempted to try it.

You’re quickly startled out of your thoughts when Miguel’s hand grips your chin, forcing your eyes to meet his. They’re slightly hooded as he looks down the end of his nose at you, and you gulp nervously. His thumb caresses your skin gently, and you have to work hard to not close your eyes as he leans his face down. Instead of the kiss you thought he was going to give you, he shifts until his mouth is close to your ear.

Your disappointment quickly disappears as your breath hitches. His breath his warm against your ear as he whispers, “He should have treated you like a fucking queen.”

Your heart skips a beat, eyes dropping to your thigh as Miguel’s other hand moves to rest on it. It kneads the plush skin softly before sliding up and fiddling with the ends of your dress. His hand looks so big on your body. You can feel the calluses on his fingers, they’re rough and cracked. Totally different from the too soft hands of Gabe. The hard difference between a man who works hard to get what he wants and a boy who expects everything served to him on a silver platter.

Miguel’s hand begins to slip under the edge of your dress, and your body straightens with your gasp as his fingers skim the center of your panties. You can practically sense Miguel’s smile as his fingers ever so lightly brush up and down. You can’t help the way your body squirms at his touch, thighs threatening to close around his hand. His fingers float higher and higher, until they’re pressing against your clothed clit. You can feel yourself dripping into your panties and you whine.

“I can treat you like the queen you are.”

Miguel’s voice distracts you from his hand, eyes moving up to his face as he moves away from your ear. His eyes are glossy with lust, something hot in his gaze. You can feel yourself clench around nothing, and based on the way Miguel’s eyes darken, he felt it too. His words pound against the walls of your brain, repeating and stretching as you think up of what he means.

In the end, all you can let out is a: “W-what?”

Behind the lust, Miguel’s eyes flicker in amusement. His hand leaves your chin, sliding up your face until he’s twirling a strand of your hair around his finger. “Let me show you how you should be treated. How a man would treat you.”

His proposal burns through your stomach, your eyes blinking rapidly as you breathe in deeply. You can smell the slight tinge of beer mixed with the masculine scent of cinnamon and firewood. It makes your brain dizzy, coaxing you to nod in agreement. Miguel’s hand stops playing with your hair instantly, eyes falling over your face for any sign of indecision. He doesn’t find any, but he still needs verbal confirmation.

“You gotta tell me clearly, baby.” He urges, leaning his face close again.

He’s a millimeter away, your lips brushing against his as you say, “Please.”

Your only warning is the rumbling groan he lets out before he’s catching your lips in a searing kiss. You whine against his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as his teeth nip at your bottom lip. You lean more into him, arms hesitantly coming to wrap around his neck and tangle in his hair. Your lips part when you feel his own hand push onto the small of your back, allowing his tongue to slip through. Both of you moan into the kiss when your tongues meet, the remains of bitter beer invading your taste buds. It should be disgusting, should remind you of all the times Gabe slobbered all over your mouth in a drunken make out, but it doesn’t. Miguel is experienced, knowing where to place his hands and where to caress with his tongue. His lips move with calculated confidence where Gabe would open and close his mouth like a fish.

Right as your mind becomes slightly dizzy from lack of oxygen, Miguel pulls away. His eyes are still trained to your lips, now plump and wet with spit. He hisses under his breath, cherishing the yelp you let out as he quickly lifts you as he stands. Your arms stay wrapped around his neck, only tightening as he sets you into a bridal-style carry. His sudden display of strength makes you clench your thighs. Gabe never offered to carry you, mumbling something about not wanting his arms to get sore. But Miguel carries you like you weigh nothing, even trusting to support you with a single hand as he opens the sliding door and closes it behind the two of you.

The loud music hits you full blast, the smell of nicotine and alcohol following. From Miguel’s arms, you can see Gabe still on the couch with his entourage of girls. Even from the distance and colored lights, you can see the redness of his cheek where you’ve slapped him. You’re quickly forgetting about him again when Miguel starts moving, carrying you up the stairs. He pauses in front of the door two away from Gabe’s. Miguel’s room. He opens it and locks it behind the two of you, depositing you on his large bed.

It smells strongly of him, and you have to fight yourself to not breathe in deeply. His sheets feel heavenly against your skin, caressing it like silk. The mattress sinks under you slightly, cocooning your body. It sinks deeper as Miguel crawls on top of you. Your hips are caged by his knees as he kneels, arms holding him up by your head. They come to rest under your head, pulling you up to kiss you again. The two of you sink back into the bed as your tongues clash, and you squeal when Miguel flips you over so you’ve swapped positions. He chuckles against your lips, pulling away and smiling when you pout at him.

“Shhh,” He smiles, hands sliding down to the zipper of your dress. He drags it down slowly, watching as the straps of your dress fall away and slide down your shoulders, “Let me worship you.”

Your thighs tighten around his waist, blinking down at him as he pushes your dress down to reveal your bare breasts. There wasn’t any need for a bra with your dress having built in padding. You gasp when he surges forward, holding you in place with his hands on your waist as he sucks one of your boobs into his mouth. Your hands tangled into his hair, head tilting back with a moan as he licks and teasingly bites down on your nipple. One of his hands slides up to your upper back, pressing so your chest is pushed against his face. He moans around your nipple, hungrily lapping and sucking as he looks up at you. He’s entranced by the way your lips part as you moan and whine, your neck revealed to him as your face faces the ceiling.

He can feel his cock twitch in his pants, distracting himself by giving your other breast attention. His eyes practically roll to the back of his head as you tug on his hair. When he’s satisfied, he parts from your breasts with a final kiss to both of your nipples. They’re hardened and shiny with his saliva, and he’s almost tempted to go back for seconds. But he has other things in mind. You watch him as he lays flat on his back, the hand at your back returning to your waist so his other can reach under your dress. You gasp, hands planting on his chest as he rips your underwear off of you. Your eyes are wide as he brings them up to his nose, squeezing at your waist as he moans at the scent.

He stuffs them into his pocket, both hands now planted on your waist again. He bunches your dress around your waist, looking like a goddess as all your privates are revealed to him. He picks you up, your hands gripping the headboard as he sits you on his face. The noise you let out is close to a scream as his lips instantly attack your clit, sucking it into his mouth. His tongue is warm against your aching bud, your eyes rolling back with another loud moan when his tongue slides against your folds. You want to cry when he pulls you off his face slightly, his chin already sparkly with slick.

“Gods baby, you’re so sensitive. Gabe never eat you out before?” He teases, but he quickly loses the smirk on his face when you whimper out a no. He rolls his eyes, mumbling out pinche imbécil before diving back into your folds.

You can’t help bucking against his mouth, his nose beginning to nudge at the bud between your legs. He groans under you in appreciation, and you feel it throughout your whole body. You’re a whiny mess on top of him, your sounds drowning out the music from downstairs. One of your hands comes to tangle in his hair to help guide your movements, and his hands start rocking your hips to help out. He can feel you clenching against his mouth, your orgasm close. For a second he debates not letting you finish and instead making you come around his cock. But no, he isn’t greedy. He’d let you have all the orgasms you want. You deserve to be deeply satisfied and fucked out. Plus, he needs to make up for all the times his son failed to get you to your peak.

He’s definitely happy with his choice as you fucking scream his name, back arching as you lean against the headboard. Your thighs twitch around his head, your breath heavy as you whine. Your release flows into his mouth like thick honey, and it tastes just as sweet. He can feel himself twitch in his pants again, and he holds you down to prevent you from getting up. He needs to make sure he swallows every last drop you’re giving him. Has to show you how grateful he is that you’re giving him your sweet release. When he finally lets you off, you do so on numb legs. You roll to the side, chest still heaving as he groans.

“Fuck hermosa, taste fucking divine.” Miguel praises, his body hovering over yours again.

You whine up at him, pulling him into a shy kiss that he returns desperately. You can taste yourself on his tongue and you whimper. As he shares your taste with you, his hands finally get rid of the rest of your dress. He pulls away once it’s off, resting his forehead against yours as his hands undo his belt buckle.

“You’re gorgeous, y’know that? A fucking vision. And you’re all mine.”

Your body arches into him at his words, hands exploring the expanse of his clothed chest as he gets his pants off. His chest leaves your hands as he sits up again, rapidly undoing the buttons of his button-up and hurriedly taking it off. Both of you are naked, and his eyes get the chance to explore you as you explore him. He’s built in muscle, a little chub at his stomach that has you leaking onto his sheets. His cock hangs heavy in between his legs, unable to hold up its own weight. It makes your mouth water and you almost beg him to put it in your mouth.

You’re distracted from your filthy fantasy when Miguel’s finger lands at the end of your throat and in between your collarbones. He slides it down, goosebumps mapping where he touched. He brings his finger down the valley between your breasts, dragging it to your stomach, and ending its journey at your clit where he taps on it gently. The whole time he holds his breath as if breathing would disturb the perfection in front of him. It makes your body sing, arching into his touch with a small noise that he soaks up.

“Fucking perfect,” he whispers into the darkness of the room, leaning back over you.

You can fill his tip rubbing between your thighs, smearing his precum on your skin. You spread your legs wider for him, and you gasp when he grabs them and pushes them up to your chest and over his shoulders. He kisses the side of your knee, eyes peering down at your face as he guides his tip to your entrance. He rubs it up and down slowly, collecting your dripping arousal and nudging at your clit until your body is jolting in sensitivity. When he brings it back to your weeping hole, it slides in with little resistance.

You moan needily as it enters you, and you clench around his tip. It makes Miguel’s mouth drop with a groan, trying to push past your tightness, “You’re so tight, loosen up for me baby.”

You try to relax your walls, but every time he slides further in, your walls clench in pleasure. It makes him chuckle, and he toys with your clit to help your efforts. It works well, and he slides in easily as he rolls your bud in circles.

“Fuckkk, that’s it baby. Taking this cock so well.”

You whine, back arching as he bottoms out. His balls are flush against your skin, and you squirm on his cock as he begins to slide out. You gasp out when he thrusts back in, hitting against your cervix. Your hands reach above you to bury into the plush pillows, mewling as he starts building up a pace. You try to turn your head away, closing your eyes tight as you moan, but Miguel reaches down so you face him and force eye contact. Your eyes are completely dazed from pleasure, lust threatening to spill through your tears. Miguel groans at the sight, his hips beginning to thrust into you faster. Your gummy walls drag against his length, fluttering every now and then as he works you towards another orgasm. It makes his cock twitch inside of you, and he hides his face in your neck and leaves bruising marks. The way he presses into you makes him hit deeper, hitting that spot inside of you that makes you impossibly close to climax. Your hands leave the pillows to rake down Miguel’s back with hiccuped mewls of his name as you feel your stomach burn.

“I know, baby,” Miguel grunts, teeth clenched as his hips start stuttering. “I know, I’m right there too. Let go, I got you.”

With his reassurance and the persuasion of a few more thrusts, your body tenses. Your mouth falls open in a silent scream, body arching and twitching as you come. Feeling your walls clench so tightly around him makes Miguel explode soon after, moaning out your name. He works both of you through your orgasms with shallow thrusts that slowly dwindle to a halt. He breathes heavily into your neck, groaning as he slowly pulls out of you with a wet squelch. His face hovers over yours, showering you in chaste kisses that have you letting out breathy giggles.

Once Miguel has caught his breath he gets up, carrying you as he stands off the bed and walking towards the bathroom. He places you down on the sink’s large counter top, your body shocked by the cold marble. He parts from you with a slow kiss to your lips, turning to prepare a bath for you. When the tub fills with steamy water, he picks you up again, stepping in and sitting down with you between his legs. You sigh as the water soothes your aching body. Miguel’s hands begin to massage your body, whispering small praises into your skin and leaving kisses along your neck and shoulders. The coziness of the atmosphere makes you sleepy and you try to stifle a yawn.

Miguel smiles against your skin as he hears it, and he begins to run his fingers through your hair, “Go to sleep, I’ll take care of you.”

And just like that you’re asleep.

--------------------------------------------------

The next morning, you’re woken up with kisses along your naked shoulder. You smile before you open your eyes, turning around to meet Miguel’s face. He hums when you turn to him, pulling you against him more and kissing your cheek. You chuckle at the affection, kissing the crown of his head as you rake your hands through his hair.

“Morning, hermosa.” He mumbles to you, eyes shining at your presence.

“Good morning, handsome. Want some coffee?” You reply, smiling wider when Miguel nods.

You get out of bed, grabbing Miguel’s button up from last night off the floor. You button it up just enough to cover everything, and you hear Miguel groan from the sight from his place on the bed. You giggle, promising to be quick as you leave his room. When you go downstairs, the place is still trashed from the party. You roll your eyes at the mess, feeling bad for the cleaners and already knowing you’re going to offer them help. Luckily, the kitchen is still functional and you begin to brew Miguel’s coffee. You hear footsteps approaching as you fill a mug, turning to see Gabe.

He’s rubbing his eyes when he enters, the tell-tale expression of a hangover on his face. He pauses when he sees you, squinting as the sunlight pours from the kitchen window.

“What are you still doing here?” He asks gruffly, eyes falling to the mug of coffee in your hands. You don’t like coffee, he only knows because you complained about it all the time when he got you one.

You roll your eyes at his tone, setting the spoon down on the sink. You grab the mug and begin walking over to Gabe. For a moment, he thinks the coffee is for him and he begins to reach out for it. But he pauses as your hand cups his cheek mockingly and you coo at him like he's simply a toddler with an attitude.

“Now, now, Gabe. That isn't how you should treat your step-mom, is it?”

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yuitoru · 8 months

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s.gojo streamer! au ⎯⎯⎯ all published works. very very very very inspired by @osaemu 's amazing au !!

ordered chronologically, 28/1/24.

⋆˙⟡ FICS

FACE CAM INCIDENT - your first appearance of satoru's stream TRIOS - playing fortnite with satoru and his best friend, suguru DAY OFF - satoru does a baking stream with you instead

to be added . . .

⋆˙⟡

#jjk #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk x y/n #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen gojo x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen gojo #jujutsu kaisen satoru gojo #satoru gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #jjk gojo #gojo satoru #satoru gojo #jjk satoru #satoru gojo x you

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yandere-romanticaa · 9 months

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For a man so high up his own ass, it was strange to see Fyodor act so... clingy.

It humanized him, even if just for a little bit. The man would always keep you at an arms reach but his private space was a top priority. The countless hours you'd spent on the ground by his feet were grueling and boring, but he loved to keep you there. His long and slender fingers would type away on the bright computer screen, perhaps maybe sometimes even grace the crown of your head with a gentle caress in order to prevent you from falling into too deep of a slumber.

Today however, his attention was focused solely on you.

Gogol had sent him many messages but Fyodor ignored them all. Right now all he wanted was to hold you, in bed, the outside world be damned.

Even demons needed to rest.

Fyodor pressed himself closely against your body, leaving no cracks in between you. There was no force alive, or perhaps even dead, which could pry him off you. He wore a neutral expression on his pale face, the white ushanka cast aside somewhere on the floor, forgotten and completely unnecessary.

He wanted your fingers in his hair, Fyodor thought to himself. Fyodor liked your fingers very much but he wouldn't tell you that.

It would give you too much power over him. He could not allow that.

He must let you think that he is the one who is in control, he is the one who pulls all of the strings. While that statement did ring true, it didn't change the fact that your doe eyes could bring this self proclaimed demon down to his knees.

Could you perhaps be an angel? Was that why you were so tough to tame? Were you brought down to Earth to punish him? Angels and demons were natural enemies after all...

Forbidden fruit always was the tastiest.

For now though, in this rare and fleeting moment, the man with an ink black heart would allow himself to be soft, weak. Perhaps even a little human.

He might kill you for this, one day.

But that day was not today.

Coffee shop blurbs really are the most fun to write.

🖤 TAGS: @yanroma, @oneoftheprettynerds, @misdollface, @sxy0ung, @rosemary108233, @c4xcocoa, @gettinshiggywithit, @ophticcus, @lakxcpsta, @ranposgirlboss, @robinaxolotl, @acornwinter, @enoojnij, @ishqani, @osaemu, @bluepeanutharmony, @kaithegremlin, @fyodorscockslut

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yancore #yanderecore #yandere aesthetic #bsd fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor x reader #bungo stray dogs #bungo stray dogs x reader #yandere fyodor #yandere bungo stray dogs #yandere bsd #yandere male

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osaemu · 9 months

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JJK MEN: BABY, CAN YOU CALL ME BACK?

✩ ‧ ˚. [ GOJO, TOJI, GETO ] your boyfriend's gone for work, and you gotta convince him to come back home over the phone... NSFW

contents: fem!reader. phone sex, voice kink, video taking, dick pics, blah blah blah. you can probably guess the rest. not proofread + mostly written while i was half-asleep. 2.3k words.

★ ━ SATORU GOJO

“baby, i miss you,” satoru mumbles, voice soft and sleepy from the other end of the phone. you hear the sound of sheets rustling against his phone’s microphone as he rolls over, groaning softly. “i can’t wait to come home to you.”

you plop down on your bed and turn your phone on speaker as you rest your back against the headboard, stifling a yawn before you reply. “me too… it’s so lonely without you here.”

“i know,” satoru says, and even though it’s not a video call, you’re absolutely certain he’s grinning like the cocky idiot he is. “tell me ‘bout your day, sweetheart. wanna know what you’ve been doing without me.”

you roll your eyes and smile, checking your nails as you reply. “nothing much, it’s kinda boring without you here.”

“tell me more,” satoru murmurs, and he thinks that he’s so lucky you two aren’t on a facetime call, because his hand is slipping down to the waistband of his pants and he’s tugging them off, releasing his already-hardened dick. “i wanna know everything.”

you don’t think much of the way satoru’s breathing has gotten noticeably choppier as you ramble about the little things that’ve happened in your day so far—after all, how could you know that he’s stroking himself to the sound of your voice?

“so, yeah, that’s basically everything,” you finish, exhaling softly. the moment you stop talking, you hear the soft groans that satoru’s been fighting to hide the whole time, and suddenly, it clicks. “wait, satoru, have you been fucking yourself the whole ti—”

“maybe,” your boyfriend replies instantly, pausing and taking a long, unsteady breath before he continues, “wanna join me?” you don’t reply immediately, but soon, his voice turns pleading. “c’mon, baby, missin’ you so much… lemme hear you, sweet girl. help your boyfriend out, pleeea—”

“okay, okay,” you give in, reaching down and tugging off your shorts. a second later, your panties are discarded as well, and your fingers start to circle your clit at the sound of satoru’s voice.

“mm, you touching yourself, baby?” satoru breathes, hand still wrapped around his dick. you hum in agreement, and the hand holding your phone grows tighter the faster your circles get. satoru clicks his tongue after a couple seconds, and adds, “don’t hold back, i wanna hear you.”

“okay,” you mumble, missing his familiar touch now more than ever. “i miss you so much, ‘toru,” you whisper, voice already a little shaky from your own fingers. but it still isn’t enough to push you over the edge—you both know that only satoru has the skill to do that.

“i know you do,” satoru teases, an amused lilt in his voice. “bet those pretty hands of yours couldn’t make ya cum half as fast as i could, yeah?”

he’s right, but it doesn’t stop you from trying—god, you wish your boyfriend were here and inside of you, but for now, his voice is all that you have. “baby, these past couple days, all i could—fuck, all i could think about was that pretty pussy of yours,” satoru chokes out, hand moving up and down the length of his dick faster. “so tight f’me, all just for me,” he mumbles, throwing his head back and gritting his teeth.

“s-satoru, i need you,” you mewl out, legs starting to tremble just at the thought of him. “need your dick inside of me, plea—”

“can’t do that, princess,” satoru sighs, groaning at the sound of your desperate request. “wish i could, though.. but we gotta wait for a couple days, fuck.”

you stop rubbing your clit and instead slip two fingers inside your cunt, wrist shaking at you pump your fingers up and down at his request. “s’ not as good as you, ‘toru,” you whine, hips unconsciously rocking against your hand. “come home soon, please, can’t wait for that long—”

satoru laughs breathily and moans shamelessly into his phone, mumbling something about work or a mission or something—but you don’t really catch the details, too occupied with fucking yourself to the thought of your boyfriend. “so impatient, aren’t ya?” satoru exhales, thrusting into his own fist and fantasizing about your warm, tight cunt instead. “fuck, baby, miss you and your cunt so fuckin’ bad—”

“then come home, ‘toru,” you plead, hardly able to choke out your words coherently. “please, satoru, i need you here—”

your boyfriend cuts you off with a series of porn-worthy groans, mixing in your name wherever he can as he cums into his hand. it’s not satisfying, and it doesn’t feel half as good as it would if he were fucking your pussy instead. so, after a couple seconds, he mumbles, “whatever you say, princess, i’ll be there by tomorrow.”

★ ━ TOJI FUSHIGURO

“you’re an asshole,” you mutter into your phone. toji only scoffs in reply, a disbelieving edge to his voice. “toji, listen to me—”

“i’m listenin’, princess,” toji grumbles. “yeah, i know i said i’d be home by tonight, but somethin’ came up. s’ not my fault i’m surrounded by idiots.” and he makes no effort of hiding his disdain at your stubbornness—some things were just out of his control, including how long it took for most of his missions to get completed.

“don’t call me that,” you snap, climbing into your bed and pulling a pillow onto your lap. toji sighs, and it’s a long, lengthy exhale that surely has to be exaggerated. “fuck you, toji, you promised you’d be home by tonight.”

your boyfriend laughs incredulously into his phone, chortling for a good twenty seconds before he replies, “i don’t remember promising anything, n’ what do ya need me home for anyways? what’s so fuckin’ important, huh?”

well, there’s no way you’re telling him the real reason you want him home so badly—he’d just laugh at you and your desperation for him. but honestly, after going for more than a week without his dick, you’re really fucking close to telling him that. instead, you reply, “maybe i just miss my boyfriend.”

“more like you just want dick, don’t ya, pretty?”

toji sees right through your pitiful lies—he always does. you don’t respond for a long while, and your boyfriend fills up the silence by laughing again. “shoulda just said so. i missed fuckin’ that tight cunt of yours too, idiot.”

“so will you come home now?”

“mm, you gotta convince me.”

“how?” you groan, dragging a hand down your face.

“show me jus’ how much you miss me, and maybe i’ll consider comin’ back early if you can prove it to me,” toji says, and you can hear the smile in his voice as your screen lights up with a request to facetime.

you accept, and a second later, your boyfriend’s face fills up your screen. his dark eyes are squinted from the sudden light, but the corners of his lips curl upwards when he sees you. “hey, princess.”

“hey, asshole.”

“you want to get fucked tomorrow night or not?” he drawls, a lazy smile playing on his face when that shuts you up. “now c’mon, let’s see that pussy. open wide f’me.”

you mutter something about him being the worst boyfriend ever before you tug down the waistband of your panties, exposing your neglected, puffy cunt. your clothes are quickly discarded somewhere, allowing you to angle your phone downwards and show toji what he’s missing.

“oh, fuckin’ hell,” toji mutters, navy eyes fixed on your cunt as you slip two fingers inside and start pumping them in and out of your hole. the dim lighting of your room bounces off the slick already coating your cunt, making it look wetter than ever to toji—and you can practically see the longing in his eyes as he watches you fuck yourself.

“please, toji,” you mumble, spreading your legs even wider to show off your pussy to him. “miss you so much, please—fuck, please come home,” you plead, doing your best to put on a show for him. at this point, you’re so touch starved that you’d do anything to get him back—anything to satisfy you, since your own fingers can’t even give you half the pleasure toji can.

“so desperate, aren’t ya?” toji tuts, eying you with interest. “tch, pathetic…”

you whine in response to his words, hips rolling against your own hand as you futilely try to convince your head that it’s a dick in between your legs and not your own fingers. “fuck, toji, i’ll do anythin—”

“anything?” he instantly cuts you off, cocking an eyebrow as if he’s intrigued. you nod desperately, almost willing to do anything and everything for him if it meant he could fill up the empty spot in between your thighs. “you promise?”

“y-yeah, anything,” you whimper, throwing your head back as your hand starts to grow sore.

toji hums in approval, and a moment later, he replies, “alright then. i’ll head back tomorrow mornin’, but you’re getting fucked for the whole night after. n’ i don’t wanna hear any of that ‘toji, it’s too much!’ bullshit, m’kay?” he snaps, mimicking your voice by raising his pitch two octaves.

“okay, i promise,” you choke out, and the second the words leave your lips, toji hangs up.

asshole.

★ ━ SUGURU GETO

“suguru, i miss you,” you mumble into your phone, burying your face into the blankets wrapped around your shoulders. usually, it’s rare for you to feel cold within your bedroom—suguru’s presence seems to make everything warmer. but right now, he’s not here, and even your own room feels barren without his comforting aura. “it’s so empty here without you…”

“is it, now?” suguru replies coyly from the other end of the call. he’s at some sort of meeting right now, but apparently, he’s on his break—which is good, because you imagine that it might be a little embarrassing for him to take this call if he were in the middle of the meeting. “i miss you too, baby. you and that pretty pussy of yours, heh.”

“sugu—”

your boyfriend interrupts you with a soft, teasing laugh, lowering his voice when he adds, “do you want to know what i’d do to you if i was with you right now?”

you swallow back the “yes” you so desperately want to say, instead whispering, “aren’t you in public?”

“nah, i’m in the bathroom right now,” suguru clarifies. “now c’mon, answer the question.”

“...yeah,” you admit. it’s been over a week since you last had any sort of sexual contact with suguru—you’ll take what you can get.

your boyfriend laughs again, sultry voice pouring out your phone’s speakers and straight into your throbbing cunt when he starts describing—in great detail—the things he would do to you if he was on top of you right now.

“...and then, i would flip you over and fuck you face-down ass-up for hours,” suguru adds casually, enjoying the sounds of your muffled moans—you’re trying so hard to hide them, but little do you know that it’s only too obvious to suguru.

two of your fingers are circling your clit as suguru speaks, and your own hand is clasped over your mouth as you struggle to hide the effects of suguru’s voice on you—and he just keeps talking.

“yeah, and when i finally let you cum all over my dick, i’d just keep going,” suguru cooes, tempted to pull down his pants and take care of his own boner right then and there. but unlike you, your boyfriend has some ounce of resilience, and as he checks the time on his phone, he realizes that he has to get back to his meeting soon anyways.

“suguru—” you moan, unable to stifle your little whimpers any longer. “wan’ you so bad, please—”

“silly girl, what do you mean, you want me so bad?” suguru says amusedly. “i’m already yours, aren’t i?”

“you know what i mean,” you huff, rocking your hips against your fingers in an attempt to force yourself to cum. but unfortunately, ever since you started fucking with suguru, your own fingers aren’t good enough—even if you could hypothetically make yourself orgasm, it wouldn’t give you even a fraction of the pleasure your boyfriend could. “please, sugu, i wanna see you.”

and just like that, any remaining self-restraint suguru has snaps—the sound of you begging is enough to make him do anything in the world.

suguru hastily unzips his pants, releasing his dripping dick. he runs his thumb over the leaking tip, smearing the pre-cum all over its head. “fuck, baby, i’m at work right now,” he mutters into his phone, rolling his eyes affectionately when he hears you giggle. “one pic. then i’m going back to my meeting.”

“m’kay!” you agree, pulling the phone away from your ear and turning it on speaker as you eagerly wait for the pictures to send.

suguru holds up his phone and snaps a picture of his dick resting in his palm, stroking it with that hand and sending you the image with the other. “alright, sweetheart, gotta get back to work,” suguru sighs, unable to get his boner to settle down—he figures the only way it’ll happen is if he ends the call, which he really needs to do.

“aw, do you have to?”

“yeah, sorry ‘bout that,” he mutters, removing the phone from his ear to end the call.

“wait, what’re you sending me—oh, fuck, you’re the worst,” suguru groans when he clicks the notification and sees a video of what you’re doing to yourself right now—it’s a five second video of you pumping your fingers in and out of your puffy cunt to his voice, and there goes his resolve to stay at work.

“i fuckin’ hate you, baby… see you in a couple hours.”

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