ââ â ! â FLIGHTY
tw. uncle!satoru, incest, age gap, breeding, coercion, dirty talk, praise, brief choking, baby as pet name, some jealousy, degradation, corruption kink, sneaking around
wordcount. 6.7k
a/n. ⥠commissioned by the amazing @antique-remains ⥠thank you so so much for commissioning me and for being absolutely wonderful!! i really hope you enjoy your fic,, i had a blast writing it so i kinda went a little crazy with the word count but! hgdfsy listen i hear gojo satoru i jump into the deep end i hooopppee you enjoy it lovely!!! <33 and thanks a million to the beta readers ilY so much
gojo satoru x fem!reader
The door rattles with a loud noise as you make it two steps down the hall. Two whole steps before long arms wrap under your shoulders and youâre whirled around against an equally lanky body, while your giggles fill the hall. They echo down the old family house, pristine and proper, and give your mother a well deserved moment of rest as she rolls the suitcases inside. âHey- Thereâs my favorite little squirt,â his lithe voice hums gleefully when you press a childishly sloppy peck onto his cheek and squish your face to his shoulder, and Satoru barely bothers to give your mom a quick smile before stealing your entire attention away and putting you into his neck with a smile.
âYou gotta visit more frequently, nee-san. I gotta show my favorite niece what Iâve learned at monster school, donât I?â
Your chubby cheeks glow hot as you parrot him. âMonster!â
âYour only niece. And youâre more than welcome to take a few babysitting shifts, Satoru. Lord knows I could use it,â the soft-spoken woman would then chuckle, and leave you to it.
Thatâs how it was, always. You remember finding the days where snow stuck to the ground and made the house feel so much toastier, the most lovely of all- no excuses, no exceptions. Not that you could give a reason as to why, back then. It was probably because winter meant family time and holidays and presents, and most of all, it meant packing everything up into the car and driving down for New Years. Without fail, a white winter meant Gojo Satoru â and without fail, youâd look towards him like a world faithfully orbits the sun.
You canât thank Satoru enough for taking his role so gracefully, at the time. When it was still fun.
Now winter means being locked up in your room while that same man parades around a different princess each year, and makes your start to the new entirely unenjoyable. After a good few hours of hearing the drinking and talking grow louder and louder -and then eventually quieter again, you finally dare peak your head around the corner. Because if youâre lucky, uncle Satoru will have no self-control. And the copious amounts of alcohol that festivities require will leave him blissfully unaware of your scowl at the foreign pair of shoes by the door. Your bare feet pad on the floor as you make your way past the soft rumble of the tv, and into the kitchen to pop open your own box of cake, and another bottle of bubbles for yourself.
The frosting sticks to the roof of your mouth three bites in, and makes everything a lot more palatable. The smell of the obnoxious festive scented candles, the deep beats of the slow make-out music reverberating through the walls of his otherwise impeccable apartment. The knowledge that youâre meant to wait out the inevitable turnaround from festive cheer to loud moans down the hall as the countdown hits 0. Itâs been this way for years now, and you find yourself wishing spring would come a little faster.
Youâd never be so lucky, though. You drop the fork in surprise when long fingers sneak around your neck to squeeze gently at the soft parts of it, and a breath brushes over the shell of your ear. âBoo.â Festive cheer and a softer familiar musk overtakes your senses.
âSatoru, you dick,â you squeak out a little too loudly, halfway to turning when a strong arm wraps around your hips to allow him to slot a little closer to your back. He peers over your head at the cake, breath dusting over your hair. Uncaring, of course, about the level of appropriateness or the way it sends a shiver up your spine.
âBit early for a late night snack, isnât it? You could at least have asked your favorite authority figure to join you.â His smile gleams in the low light of the apartment like a million diamonds, white head of hair tousled and bed-head like. The hand on your hip squeezes ever so softly before you shake him off, and cross your arms over your chest in defiance.
âYouâre barely an authority, let alone my favorite. Besides, arenât you kept busy with⊠Keiko? Kyoko?â
ââKimiko. Why?â Itâs then you make the mistake of looking up into those perfect baby blues through the half-tinted shades, and despite your earlier frostiness, he still searches for a handhold on your shoulder, softly brushing his thumb along the collar of your shirt. He stares like he can see through you, where your heart beats wildly in your chest. Youâd dare bet money that sometimes he definitely tries to. But the calculating glances that flick over your face are kept quiet by a faint hum.
âSheâs gone home. I thought maybe we could celebrate New Years together this time.â Satoru is always smiling. It crinkles his eyes, seems to ooze out of him like syrup. Heâs good at that. At feeling trustworthy. Butâ âWe still have a good twenty minutes until the fireworks. Come celebrate. For me?â Thereâs no mistaking the way he leans in to nudge your face up and puts on an exaggerated puppy-like pout. Gojo Satoru is anything but trustworthy.
But hard lessons are slow to stick. You find your mouth opening almost like instinct, sugar-coated tongue running over your lips as he waits. âFine, until after the fireworks. Only âtil then.â His mouth corners go a little more cat-like when the grin grows further, and he rubs his heavy palm and long fingers over your head with a soft chuckle.
âRight? Youâd never leave your poor old, lonely uncle Satoru alone on a special day, right?â
The couch is abandoned for a slower sort of swinging around the living room once the clock starts getting close, and Satoru places another flute of golden bubbles into your handâ grinning as you move to the beat. Try and resist as you may, Satoru has given you much to be thankful for. The heat of his hand back on your head distracts you from the way the drink goes down too quickly, letting him pick your hand into his to pull you closer. âHave you ever slow danced before, pretty girl?â
You donât get to say anything before youâre in his arms, hands to his chest and quickly sliding down to wrap around him instead, swallowing down the stirring heat that hits when he chuckles. You must be crazy. Must be. Your heart feels like itâs banging in your throat. But Satoru rests his chin on your head into the embrace, and swallows you up into his arms. And your throat burns like a raging fire yet again. It isnât like that. It isnât like that. Youâre the one making it weird, and you know it. But you canât help the goosebumps when he presses a kiss to your crown, or when he pauses to look down at you.
Grinning like heâs got the world in his palm, he leans in to almost brush noses with you. âThis is kinda romantic, isnât it?â
âGojo Satoru,â you immediately feel the warmth flare up on your cheeks and ears, eyes going wide. But the grin is back instantly, and he chuckles.
âAlright, donât get your panties into a twist.â The air of his breaths dusts over your nose when he stares, and doesnât look away. âYouâre so obvious when you want something. Itâs cute.â Heâs awfully, disturbingly pretty. However weird it is to notice that about your own momâs brother⊠you never were able to lie yourself out of that conclusion.
The clock ticks loudly, counting down. But you canât tear yourself away, blinking blankly at the way he gives your face a once over, before those eyes find yours. Glittering brilliantly, pulling at your sanity. You did always adore him. The first few fireworks go off loud in the distance, when your own uncle Satoru dips down and kisses you. You freeze. Warm lips and tongue pressing into your mouth- he full-on kisses you and runs a hand along your neck to pull you into him. A muffled squeak makes itâs way out of you, warm tongue getting to taste all of him. You- you donât stop it. When he pulls back, his mouth lingers over yours, and that devilish mouth whispers, âhappy New Year, baby,â without any âsorryâs.
+
The flowers are already starting to bloom in the colorful pots that swing outside the windows when you nurse your own cup of tea, and donât bother lowering your eyes when bright azures meet your gaze. Thereâs something there that tingles your tongue, faint memories biting at your conscious, but too swift to grab hold of. You canât read him anymore. It makes the familiar glint in them feel anxiety inducing. The gaze shifts, and you feel your spine relax. All tall, perfect, unfairly casual grandeur of him goes back to entertaining your cousins and Megumiâ and your attention is finally allowed to shift back to your mom.
âDeary me⊠That child seems like heâll never grow up,â she softly chimes, turning your way to take your hands, âI bet youâre twice the adult he is.â Her slight frown is one of fondness though, of care and concern; all of which only makes your stomach drop further. Your momâs so enamored with her tight-knit little dream of a family. Sheâs completely unaware, too. Of the deadly, treacherous words that your mind whispers to you when it knows no oneâs watching. Your motherâs warm smile remains. âIf you ever decide you canât keep up with him anymore, youâre more than welcome to move back home, honey.â
âI know, momâ but I like Tokyo. I like my friends here, and- my jobâs here, and I like my job.â Her hand makes an encouraging circle over the back of your hand, and she nods.
Her warm smile doesnât keep away the cold flare that travels down your back though. âAnd you also like Satoru, for reasons I still canât wrap my head around.â Her look over in his direction has you resolutely studying your lap instead, as heat travels back from your chest to your face. âEven when you were little, your uncle âToru could do no wrong. It was infuriating at timesâŠâ You try to put on a smile when you feel her eyes return back to you, and let the cup bear the brunt force of your anxiety. âNow I just think itâs sweet. I know I couldnât deal with his antics anymore, for even a few days.â
âHeâsâŠâ You trail off before you can even get started, and let your tongue swipe along your bottom lip to get rid of the pesky memory again. You feel like your moral compass has been compromised. Your stupid little crush was meant to go unacknowledged, and fade. No one was supposed to be any the wiser. Satoru was never meant to do wrong. Heâs -what- exactly, you try to ask yourself. Sneaky? Childish? The reason you canât look your own family in the eye without blushing like a schoolgirl?
Your heart blooms when you catch a glimpse of his smile as the beer bottle brushes his lips, and he finds your shape again across the room.
Before you get a chance to look away, uncle Satoruâs already calling your name again with that sing-songy tone thatâs got you hooked; and pulls you out of your seat with a few slow blinks. âThereâs my favorite girl.â He swings an arm over your shoulders, and invades your senses yet again. âItâs getting a little too stuffy in here for your liking, hm? Mind if I steal her for a while?â His sister barely gives him the tiniest of eyerolls before waving you both off. And the white-haired force of nature doesnât even stop to ask you. He knows heâs right.
Before long, the glances of family get captured by other things, and the honorary member of your family gives you a knowing look that you mirror. Not that Satoru would let it stop him if he saw. You only just look away from Megumiâs grimace before you freeze into place. Thereâs the tiniest of kisses to the skin behind your ear where Satoru whispers in your ear. âI was really missing you, baby.â Thereâs a heat that spreads all over you as he continues, barely hiding his affections. âWhenever I see you⊠I just wannaâŠâ
Your eyes go wide when you turn to stare at him, then quickly around at the rest of the guests. Luckily, everyone seems too preoccupied to notice the way he wraps his arm around your waist to steer you towards the front door. âWhat? I wasnât done.â he chimes, eyes glinting over like the Chesire cat, âI wanna come annoy you, is what I was going to say.â Alarm bells should go off. You want them to signal your disaster. But no such thing happens, and the way his lips almost drag over your pulse makes your entire body feel like youâre filled with static. âYou know uncle Satoru loves you. Step out with me for a bit.â
+
The miserable drum of rain has no way of drowning out the thoughts in your head. A heat-caused thunderstorm should just be a minor inconvenience, but it feels awfully telling about your current state. The string of messages of Satoruâs latest -what you can now assume is- ex blink back at you as you check the time again, and sink deeper into the couch. The apartment always feels a little too cold when youâre here alone. And sure, youâve been living here too, but youâve been on your very best behavior all this time. Taking up only the space he was willing to give.
So you sit in silence as the room gets darker and darker, and instead of checking up on work mails, you let the icy silence of the apartment sit beside you. The messages werenât exactly frantic, butâ the door clicks softly across the room, and the pitter patter of the rain on the skylight grows even more impatient. âUncle âToru,â you breathe as he drags his wet self in, only to suck your bottom lip into your mouth.
Thereâs only a few times youâve ever had the displeasure of seeing him like this. One was the first summer his best friend vanished into thin air, a shallow copy of your beloved left behind in its wakeâ and every few years after that. It drains all the color out of him, squeezes until thereâs nothing left.
He looks drunk. He smells drunk too. But you still cross your arms and straighten your back, swallowing. âKi-chan was worried about you. She says you two broke-â
âSheâs right.â Satoru drops his bag by the tv, and unceremoniously kicks off his socks in the middle of the living room, slauntering towards the couch.
âIs that why youâre like this?â Your worry is undermined by a harsh snort and an equally unamused chuckle, before the white-haired man comes to a halt before you.
âDonât be stupid. You and I both know itâs not.â His eyes are usually like the ocean on a summer day, bright, all-consuming, and peacefulâ thereâs nothing there when they land on you now. Just the dark, dreary image of a cloudy, uncaring vastness. âGet up, Iâm trying to sleep here for the night.â
âIâm not leaving.â Youâre not sure if the slight tremble in your voice is self-inflicted, but do your best to bite through the electric tension. âShe also said that youâve been saying all kinds of things that make no sense. Things aboutâ me. And thatâs why you guys broke up. Sheâs worried that you might try to do something to me.â Gojo Satoru is a lot of things. More things than a man with his constitution should be, all in all. Your light breath cuts the tension just enough for you to speak up again, staring up at him from your increasingly vulnerable position on the couch. âWell, will you?â
âGet up.â Before you have another chance to ask more, he takes you by the arm and pulls you up out of the couch in a split second, leaving you stumbling back. âRun off to your room now.â Smart, coherent thoughts leave you. Satoru looks like heâs hurting. Those long, white lashes and blue irises are no longer bright and understanding. They frame a simple look of distaste at the sight of you, and your rapid heartbeat falters. âI said, now.â As your tongue brushes your lips you search for somethingâ anythingâ to say, but it seems he doesnât want to let you. With large steps, he walks you back by your collar until your back hits the wall, and you stare up at him.
âIsnât it bad enough that I already want you? What more do you need?â The cold, still wet touch of his thumb brushing your collarbones tingles down your entire body. âTell me off. Hit me. Do something.â Heâs basically begging now, through hard glares, teeth and a raspy voice. âTell me off for treating you like this.â
You think you should. But all that you manage to say is a soft plea, eyes searching in the dark. âUncle Satoru, I- Iâm sorry.â
âBaby.â
His grip makes your shirt dig uncomfortably into your neck, but you barely feel it. Instead you raise your hands to cup his face, watching how the furrowed brows straighten out after only a few tight breaths. You mumble out a breath of his name, and allow him to pull you closer to his body until youâre pressed to his chest, face hidden against his collarbones. Until he leads you to look up at him and lets his lips brush over your eyelids, and the tip of your nose. âYour mom would kill me if she knew.â
You know him to be right. And still, you let his mouth meet yours. Meet and claim your tongue, hiking your one thigh up to allow him to melt against you. Rolling his narrow hips just a little too effectively against you. Itâs way too much all at once, hot and cold meeting in the dark where his body grinds against you. You shouldnât⊠allow any of this, right? But it feels too good to stop. Satoru clearly thinks so too when he grunts your name against your mouth, and his crotch rubs into your center.
Itâs not hard to know what heâs thinking about as he drags his lips down the soft of your throat and sucks kisses into the skin. His strong fingers slide under your shirt to anchor at your waist, and leave goosebumps all over. âMy pretty girl,â he ends up mumbling as his tongue makes shapes at the base of your throat, âyouâre all mine. All fucking mine. Mh- never gonna let anyone have you.â It feels so good. Hearing that, however distorted by the momentâ makes you feel like youâre floating. So much so, that it scares you. To think anyone would have such power over you.
Satoru goes in for another kiss, but you end up sliding out of his arms by mere chance, panting and shivering from the wet hands all over you. You take one single deep breath, and rush off down the hall.
+
When you sit at dinner the next day, rolling your veggies around your plate as you cast him weary glances from under long lashes, Satoru doesnât falter. Doesnât even blink out of place once, like the night before was just a dream. Youâd really believe the slight ache of a hickey at the base of your throat to be an unlucky bruise, if you couldnât notice the faint glances your way. After a while, his telltale grin slips back on when you startle at his voice, and he points his fork towards you. âYouâre acting weird, you know that?â
âI- Iâm acting weird?â Your voice pitches up almost comically, and his gleeful chuckle has your heart racing despite yourself. âW- about yesterday-â
âIâm taking you somewhere tonight.â Though the interruption should annoy you, he looks so content and smug as he stuffs the last of his food into his cheek, that you can only frown. His hand runs through his mess of white hair, noisily smacking his food as if to make a point. When you donât immediately respond, he nods to himself, before leaning in. âI woke up with the worst headache of my life, Iâll have you know. But Iâve gotten over myself, I promise. And now I just want to hang out with my favorite niece.â
âOnly niece,â you end up parroting, clenching and unclenching your hands into your skirt. âWhere do you wanna go?â
âCall me âuncle âToruâ again, and Iâll tell you.â You never tell him no.
As you walk through the hall with slow steps, the light falls like broken petals through the paper walls and casts everything in a hazy glow. For all your protests, uncle Satoru follows close behind, chirping all kinds of encouragements, giggling most of the way through. The lazy patterns he draws on your shoulders with his thumbs, or the brief brushes of his nose along your cheek, kisses behind your jawâ it all should make you feel a lot guiltier than it does. Instead youâre just wound up, skin tingling with every touch the longer it lasts.
âAre you gonna tell me why weâre here now?â
He hums that melodic agreement, before pointing you towards the rather familiar door at the right. âIf you go in there, I will.â At your slight frown, he only presses on. âI promise. Come on, trust your favorite uncle.â
âYouâre not my favorite.â
His voice grows low as his lips brush your ear, and those strong arms start gliding down the sides of your back. âLiar.â The kiss that is pressed to your pulse is slower this time, humming in your throat and making you swallow your words. His mind hasnât changed after you ran out. Instead of focusing on that- on him, you reach for the door and slide it open, finding your and Satoruâs room barely changed at all. His hands come to press at the sides of your hips, long fingers trekking all over the skin he can reach. âIâve been thinking for a while nowâŠâ His playful voice dips a little lower, and your breathing grows slower and slower. âI always meant it when I said you were my favorite... but-â
âBut itâs a little different now, hm, pretty girl? When did you change so much?â Those hands that start sliding up along your thighs to hike your skirt up to your belly, and though you try to keep it down with a little breath, he denies it. âYou donât like it? That I wanna see all of you?â The little hum to your soft throat makes you feel like youâre charged to the brim, crackling each time he moves. Itâs unbearable, and yet, you couldnât move a muscle if you tried. âTell me that Iâm a bad guy.â
You canât focus on anything. His nimble fingers toy with the edge of your panties, and the puff of his breath sends a shiver down your neck. âW-whyâd you take me to our old- ah- place?â Satoru doesnât wait for you to catch up before the frilly fabric drags along your thighs. Your awfully wet underwear lands around your feet, and he leans in to nudge your face to his. Kissing you over your shoulder as his body covers you from behind, and his waist pushes up against you. His tongue steals your attention away from his hands just long enough to lose track of them before theyâre on your tits, squeezing them and making your cunt clench in anticipation.
âBecause I wanted to prove something.â He rolls his clothed waist against your ass and makes that awful feeling even worse, forcing a whimper out of you. And that mind-numbing fucking laughter returns before his hands start moving to your center. Youâre not sure if you want to push him away or ride his fingers with the slow drag of rough fingertips along the inside of your legsâ not that itâs up to you anyway. âYouâre no longer that good girl thatâd idolize uncle Satoru, right? Youâve started thinking about other things when Iâm around, hm?â
Fingers slide through the embarrassing amount of wetness between your legs with another noise from him, pressing his hardening cock harder against you and grinding it against you- and you have to fight the urge to just get face down on the floor for him. âF-fuck, baby, youâre already dripping all over my hand. Does uncle âToru turn you on?â Two prodding digits slide into your clenching hole as he grins against your cheek, and his free hand meanly pinches a nipple. âCâmon, tell me. Tell me how much you like me.â
âMh-ack, I- li-like you.â He goes to pull his hand back but you reach for it, and push it back inside to have his hand palm rubbing up against your clit. âA lot, I like you a lot! Please.â The curl of his long fingers inside you is enough to have you shaking, leaning back against his chest with one shoulder, and hanging onto his wrist. It doesnât take much to have him smiling into the hickey heâs sucking under your jaw, and fighting back your resistance just enough to start pushing another finger inside. The slight ache is almost instantly replaced with the pleasure of having your clenching pussy filled so full. Everything blurs a little when you reach back for him for support, and his strong hand fucks smoothly in and out of you. âMhm, ah, ah, I love my uncle Satoru. Sa. To. Ru.â Slick runs down your leg and makes his entire hand sticky, and he hums in agreement.
âThatâs a good little niece. Love riding my fingers like this? Youâre shaking, baby.â He knows what it does to you, mustâve known for a while, when his voice is pressed to your skinâ it leaves you a mess. You try to respond, but your tongue gets all tangled, and you can only whimper and nod as his fingers fuck right into the spot you need them to. Your back curls against him as your legs get shakier, and your poor clit is grinded against his palm until you canât focus on anything else. It feels so good. Good, good, good, good~ You want to keep riding his fingers forever.
âLay down for me,â he rasps when you really start rubbing back against his hand, pussy so messy and full and your lips glossy with spitâ and you almost cry when he starts pulling back.
âNo, no no nonono, uncle Satoru, please. Iâm close,â you squeak, only to allow him to push you down by your shoulder and watch as he slots his fingers between pink lips. âHm- I- can I cum? Please?â Your thighs rub together as you lay down, and Satoru kneels before you to pry them open wide enough to fit his shoulders between.
âShh, lift your ass,â he quickly chants, getting comfortable between your legs as his hands pry you open, âlet me taste my favorite pussy the way I want.â His devilish mouth is on you before you can register it, hot and instantly too much. Your puffy clit is laved in licks and sucks that hit the spot just right, and every nerve end fires in a way that no one else could ever accomplish. His hums and the brilliant glint of his eyes as he watches you tear up and moan, lifting your ass closer to his face as his tongue licks and fucks your dripping pussy. He laughs when eating you out so good your eyes cross, before latching his mouth around your overstimulated nub for real, and sucking the light out of your vision.
Your legs shake before youâre clenching them around his head with a long, high-pitches whimper and a string of moans that roll through your bodyâ and Satoru just keeps going, until youâre twitching and you try to push him away. Your breathing is rapid and shallow as you blink the black spots on your vision away and loosen the grip you have on his hair, but your legs still shake as he brushes his thumb over your pussy without pity. âThatâs one. Wanna see how many more I can get you to?â
âNo,â you immediately squeak, making his smug grin grow even wider. âI wanna⊠first, wanna have you- i-inside.â Admitting it is different than thinking it. And youâve thought it, too much to count- but it still heats your cheeks and ears upon seeing the way Satoruâs lashes flutter a little, and he pushes his pants down to take his flushed cock out.
âYeah? You want your uncle Satoruâs big cock inside you?â His hand wraps around his thick length with a little hiss, sliding his hand over the swollen, dark pink tip as you watch. âSay it properly, and Iâll give it to you.â You roll onto your side to yank your shirt up over your tits, and impatiently shake your ass as you whine out a noise that barely seems to register as you. But you canât help it. The buzz from your orgasm only made your belly hotter, slicking up your legs and ass and dripping for him- as he sits up on his knees so slide his pants down further.
âSatoru~ please.â His hand moves up and down a few times as he raises a brow, and knocks away your hand when you try to touch yourself. âPlease, please, puh-lease~â Your voice cracks when you lay back instead, and knead your tit as you try to pull him closer by wrapping your legs around him. âI want to have- uncle âToruâs cock. I want to have my own uncleâs cock, I love my uncle- and I want- to be his personal pussy to use~â Tears spring up in the corners of your eyes, so you close them. âNow please just put it in. Iâve waited long enough-â
A little chuckle breaks up your begging before he kisses you deep and greedily, and suddenly the hot head of his cock pushes up against your sopping entrance. âWant it so bad you gotta cry about it? Poor baby.â He just about pushes in the slightest bit, and takes a slow breath to stare into your eyes. Pretty. So fucking pretty, all of him. âSorry I made you wait. Uncle will fill this little niece's pussy up, donât worry.â Then he pushes in with a slow press on your tummy that makes you blink back tears, as his heavy, hot cock breaks you open a little further, along with your sanity.
The smack when he bottoms out is a brief relief, before he pulls back and uses those strong legs to start really fucking into you, nose to nose. âLetting your own family fuck your greedy pussy like this, look at you. Iâm a bad influence, hm?â The weight of him, the brushing of his pelvic bone to your clit, the grip on your thigh and brushing of your tits and every brief brush of his lips over yours is enough to have that coil pull back so tight in your stomach too quickly. You dig your nails into his muscular back as each pap of his balls smacking against your slick-covered ass rings out in the room, and the white-haired man hums. âUncle Satoruâs your favorite, say it. That youâll beg for my cock until you go hoarse.â
He presses his nose to your temple, and pants against you- fucking with a rhythm thatâs taking the breath out of you. Youâre already going to cum again. âSay that you want uncle Satoruâs kids filling up your belly, ahg- go onâ mhm, that tight, t-tight fucking pussy.â
âYes, yes, I want my uncleâs cum inside! My favorite uncleâs ruining my pussy!â you squeak, and then cry out against his neck. âIâm gonna cum again, uncle âToru. G-gonna- agh-ughn- p-please donât stop.â The thrusts get even deeper if thatâs at all possible, lifting your one leg up to grind the head of his cock against your cervix with the position heâs got you in, and goes to cup your pussy. And even that slight touch is enough to have your vision going black and white, head blanking as another orgasm rolls over you and locks your leg around his hipsâ but the fucking doesnât stop even then. âAgh-mygodI-ah, ahgh-nh. Uncle Satoru.â
Itâs too much, youâre entirely too hot and sweat is rolling down your temple and his chest, but his cock still drives home over and over again like heâs willing to break you in half. You donât want him to ever stop. âHearing that filth coming out of your mouth- ugh, mhm, makes me want to keep fucking you forever. For eternity.â His waist bumps your overstimulated clit each time he bottoms out, ring of white around the base of his cock before he throws his head back and moans out your name. âYou canât ever let anyone know how much uncle Satoru loves fucking his little niece, okay? F-fuck. How much I love ruining that little attitude of yours.â
Your both knees are pushes to your shoulders as he moves up, pulling out just a second to fuck between the sloppy lips of your pussy. âBeen wanting to fuck you since you moved in. Canât help but get hard when youâre around. Bad uncle âToru, right?â The head of his cock is so swollen and flushed and dripping with your mixed juices, and he stares at you through narrowed, perfect eyes as he pushes back in and watches his cock disappear into the hot clutch of your pussy, swallowing it up like a whore. His lip is pulled between his teeth as he groans, and fucks harder and faster into you like youâre barely a toy. âBut I donât care. Uncleâs gonna fuck this pussy every day from now on. My pussy. Mine.â
You can feel him in your throat with the way he pounds your pussy until youâre raw, squeezing your throat between his long fingers as his heavy balls hit you. And his mouth covers yours, tongues back together and spit messily covering your chin by the end of it. You donât think eternity will be enough.
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Thereâs some kind of failsafe inside every human, isnât there? And yours is simply malfunctioning at the wrong times.
The woman hanging off his arm is lovely. Mina, you think it is. Sheâs smart and pretty and accomplished, and her hair has that perfect commercial shine as it bounces around her shoulders. And Satoru is laying on the sweetness thick, from what you can make out between the giggles and shiny smiles. Underneath the obnoxious shades hiding his pearly gaze from direct view as he makes quick work of scanning the beach. It sits in your stomach with an uncomfortable rumble. Even though you know⊠Itâs for show. Itâs all just for show.
You do your best not to frown when he looks back over his shoulder for a second to drag his eyes over you. âWe should play beach volleyball!â
And a soft chuckle from the person by your side agrees when you canât be bothered to. âYou got it!â The blond is smart enough to give you a softly encouraging grin that makes you feel vindicated in your exasperation, before you stick up your own thumb. You have no intention of watching Satoru leave hot handprints all over her skin. The young man beside you clearly notices your hesitation, because he smoothes a palm down your spine to straighten you up a little, before blowing out a long breath that makes you smile. âYou donât have to if you donât want to. Iâll keep him busy if youâd rather lay in the shade for a little longer.â
Kenjiâs fingers softly brush along the small of your back, then teasingly slips them under the knot of your bikini, as his mouth comes to hover over your ear. âOr we could sneak away for a little bit andâŠâ
âAnd get caught for indecent exposure?â you giggle over your shoulder instead of letting him kiss you, and grab for one of the books that had gone untouched earlier in the day to tap it on his head. âWe canât,â you breathe with a smile, and watch as he takes that as a challenge. Really, youâre not one for fighting fire with fire. Thatâs Satoruâs play, and you donât have any intention of mistreating anyone. But ⊠the adoring gazes and personal attention does make the whole ordeal a lot easier to stomach. So easy even, that youâre down in the toasty sand with him above and your chest rising and falling rapidly for a few blissful seconds, before the volleyball hits the both of you on the sides.
Your eyes snap over to the head of white hair when he clears his throat, and holds his hands up in mock apology. Serene, picture-perfect smile plastered on his handsome face. You click your tongue, and you canât hold back the angry echo of his name in your head as he walks up. âSorry, sorry, my bad! You guys coming or what?â This whole song and dance is justâ so frustrating. Despite your best effort to keep it in, a slight tick in your brow still makes its way onto your face.
âYou guys start without me,â you breathe after a few seconds of staring Satoru down, allowing Kenji to pull you up from the sand to dust you off. âIâm going to go grab the sunscreen and the coolers from the car.â Kenji makes an attempt to stand, but you wave it off in favor of putting some space between you and the tallest as his crystal eyes drill holes through you. âNo, I got it. Thanks though.â
By the time Satoruâs âgirlfriendâ walks up and slips underneath his arm, he raises a brow your way, and the glitter in his eyes makes you convinced that he knows just as well as you do. You do your best to ignore him â them, but you can still feel the sting of him appraising you through those stupid shades. Asshole. You swing your hips as you walk away, kicking up sand every time your slippers bounce up.
At least the short walk allows for a moment to cool off, and collect your thoughts. Thereâs no sense in getting fed up. Heâll just get home and start cracking jokes like always, pretending like he didnât do something wrong in the first place. Nevertheless, you allow yourself only a short sigh and admittance of defeat in the little game you play as you click the trunk closed again.
Before you turn and walk into a solid chest, almost scaring you skittering back against the hot surface of the car. Large hands descend on you, one to wrap around your waist and the other covering your mouth- before he leans down further into your space. âSo, so grumpy all the time.â Uncle Satoruâs rough handpalm slides down to grab a handful of your ass before he lowers his face to yours into a languid kiss, tongue tasting vaguely like strawberry as he drags it over yours with a hum. âStop trying to make me jealous.â
âIâmâ Iâm not! And âm not grumpy. I just donât want to see you,â you end up breathing out, wrapping your arms instinctively around his broad shoulders when those long fingers start toying with your pussy through the awfully flimsy fabric. âSatoruuu~â
His chuckle is matched with the impatient way he rubs two fingers up and down along your slit, and slides his other hand down your smooth stomach to start peeling it all off. âCall me uncle Satoru, câmon baby. You know what I like.â
You barely have a chance to place your hand over your mouth to keep quiet as he noses your bikini top out of the way to drag his pink tongue languidly over your puffy budâ and those baby blues find you through wispy, white lashes. âUncle âToru, unc-cle âRuâ Youâre gonna get us caught.â He sucks part of it into his mouth and leaves a mean mark with his teeth, before grinning.
âHmm. I donât care.â
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Hmm... ok spooky thoughts! Just take w/e interests you or chuck this if you aren't feeling it! Reader getting bullied and the teacher being in on it tickles my pickle. Sukuna voring... what if a sorcerer who can use reverse cursed technique is kept as a sacrifice, can chop the gal up and feed her to sukuna forever :) manipulating your pregnant wife feels mean too. I don't have any kinks to suggest :( i find them all hot and not scary :((
bby i loved every single one of these and i'll probably write them all bc honestly, your brain,, you just see me and ...wow jHGUFDGEYID yes ty so much, but for now have this
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tw student/teacher, noncon, manipulation, power abuse, victim blaming, bullying and sexual harassment mentions, reader is 18+
a/n. i feel like i shouldn't even have to say this but obviously i don't condone student/teacher relationships and gojo is absolutely being a creepy, manipulative asshole here
You hate him. You hate them more, of course, wish you could snap back and fight at their sneers and whispers until youâre finally free of the ridicule. But you hate him too, when he clicks his tongue and only glances your way briefly to smile.
He smiles pretty, he does, with that strange sheen of perfection that barely cracks at the edges and fills up entire days with jokes, jokes youâre much too tired to indulge in. You donât understand how you could possibly enjoy it when itâs always the smile you get when youâre sitting in the chair before him with yet another complaint; sniffling and pathetic.
âPlease, Sensei, canât you ask to transfer me to the Kyoto school before the end of the year instead?â you ask once again as Gojo gets up from behind the desk, stretching his long arms above his head with a sigh as a sliver of skin peeks from under the jacket and you look away too quickly. He moves instead to sit on the side of the chairâ your chair, radiating heat from his body too close to your own and leaving you fumbling over your words. âI- I just- donât think I can do it anymore.â He used to be in charge of the first years.
Used to teach you the ropes, and even then you had to come in once every few weeks to tell him about an incident, however minimal it mightâve seemed at the time. Gojo gave you the feeling that youâd be understood here, safe here; he recommended you to the school in the first place. Shouldnât he be the most understanding of all? When you got here youâd been a shivering mimic of a person, barely able to look himâ or anyone- in the eye without getting wobbling lips. But then Gojo sensei moved on to the second years along with you, by chance, and the bullying only got worse.
Your clothes were ripped, your bag torn upside down. Your locker raided and room trampled over, at least once a week, and you were left coming into Gojoâs office with a pout way too often. But now, third year in a row and nearing the end of it, youâre sick of pretending like everything is fine. Youâre sick of listening to him hush you when you cry, treading long fingers along your face like itâs meant to take away any of your pain, your stress. âYouâre about to graduate,â he mumbles, puffing out his cheeks in a childlike, mocking manner when he turns over his shoulder.
âCanât you handle it for a few more months?â
A thick line digs between your brows when you curl in on yourself more to escape his presence, staring out the window for a few seconds before you sigh. âThatâs what you said last time, and you promised youâd transfer me at the start of the year too. I donât feel like I have to handle anything, I shouldnât have to take this.â
âYouâre sure going hard on them, itâs just boys being boys,â he tutts his lips further, before blowing out a deep sigh. âA sensitive little thing, arenât you?â Sensitive? Last time they snuck into your room when you were taking a shower and took pictures, leaving the doors open to match. Thereâs nothing left to be sensitive about. He was informed by the staff that found you crying hours later, and stillâ You hate him, clamping your hand down harder on the arm of the chair. Maybe heâs not wrong. You are sensitive, and Gojo sensei knows that.
Instead of responding to his never ending jabs, you just stare at the side of his face where the blindfold moves ever so slightly whenever he blinks under there. âIâm sick of it,â you finally sigh, pushing yourself from your chair. âIf you wonât help me Iâll ask the principal instead.â Your steps are hard and loud as you get up and walk to the door, only to be cut off when he appears before you yet again, the same shit-eating grin splitting his cheeks as his large hand lands on your shoulder, feeling much too heavy.
âOkay, okay, no need to get so fussy on me.â His other hand scratches at the back of his neck for a few seconds, before he finally seems to come to a decision, squeezing your shoulder tighter. âI guess thereâs a few options I havenât tried yet. But thatâll take a bunch out of my schedule, sweetheart, and I donât really have that kind of time to waste.â It stays quiet, giving you the words to process the words as he tilts his head, popping his jaw back and forward in thought. âWell, guess youâre lucky Iâm this invested in my students. Consider it done, okay?â
Despite the wishy-washy nature of his previous promises you canât help but feel a bit relieved, letting your tense, determined posture drop just long enough for Gojo sensei to notice, leaning down to meet you face to face. He does it almost comically easy, pouting along with you. âAw, you poor thing, this has really been keeping you up, hasnât it?â Thereâs a hand on your back that slides down to the small of your back, and another that pushes a knuckle under your chin, his mouth corners tugging up despite yourself. âAm I not your saving angel?â
âIf you manage it,â you fake a chuckle, but your stomach drops when he straightens up and still keeps you caged between his arms, nodding along with your words.
âAlways so distrusting, and even after all the work Iâve put in to make sure you got in here.â His one eyebrow raises, and you can almost imagine the smug grin that he holds back next. âSome would even say youâre ungrateful of all my help.â
âIâm- Iâm not, Gojo sensei,â you backtrack, the pressure on your back keeping him too close almost making your lungs feel like theyâre failing you. You mightâve been more assertive than usual just minutes earlier, but that was when he wasnât keeping you so close, way too close for your liking, and the front you put up is quickly fading now. âI really appreciate your help, I do, but t-they -still havenât stopped, and thatâs- thatâs just what Iâm worried about. But you said youâll do it so Iâm very grateful,â your voice cracks a little when he walks you further away from the door now, face so near yours you have to lean into his touch to escape it.
âRight, and I plan to,â he hums, running his tongue over his bottom lip. âBut I think itâd go a whole lot easier if you give me some more incentive to help, you know? Iâm a very, very busy man.â As he lets go of you and you fall back onto your butt at the lack of support, wincing, he slowly shrugs his blindfold off, humming cheerfully as your lip trembles and youâre left staring at his crotch, right in front of your face. âOpen up like a good girl and Iâll get your transfer application in as soon as I can, hm? That sounds fair to me.â
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