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mentally-a-slut · 2 days

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Three Days (Arthur Morgan x Fem! Reader) (SMUT)

Anddddd here we are! Part two of 'Staring Problem'! This can be read as a stand alone, but if you want a suggestive lead up, then go read part one! I tried my best with this one, but I haven't written explicit smut like this in a long time, so go easy on me! Writing this also reminded me that I loathe writing in second person, so from here on out I think I'll either do first or third. I won't bore you with details here, but I'll put up a separate post updating y'all on some stuff. Anyway, enjoy, and please leave feedback! Silent readers are appreciated but leaving comments helps me get motivated to continue! Even just a one word comment or an emoji helps! - Azi >:)

Summary: Arthur's been gone on a job for three days, which isn't a new development. However, a new development in your relationship just before he left leave you wanting. But fear not, as your troubles will be soon solved!

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: unprotected PinV sex, smut, oral (f receiving), overall filth, reader is female, unedited (sorry), probably OOC Arthur but we're here for dick not character analysis!

You had always hated when Arthur went away on jobs, but ever since he left you hanging, your distaste for his long absences had grown.

You hadn't seen the man in three days, only getting a parting kiss and a heavy, heated promise as a farewell. The first day he was gone, you were mostly in awe of what had happened, wistfully going about your day and daydreaming of things to come.

The second day left you a little frustrated, the ache for him only growing with his absence. The other girls had noticed too, only making you more irritable as they teased you relentlessly for your obvious attitude change.

The third day was when you started to get worried. He'd been gone on longer jobs than this before, but you still couldn't help the nervous bouncing of your leg as you sat across from Tilly, trying to busy yourself with patching up some clothes.

"I'm sure he's fine. He's been gone much longer than this before."

Your lips contorted into a line, eyebrows knitted as you shook off the pain of the needle piercing the soft pad of your thumb. "I know. Just miss him, I guess."

Tilly just smiled and let you work in silence alongside her.

Arthur had gone to rob some stagecoach close to Emerald Ranch, along with Javier and Micah. You trusted Javier to help bring him back safely, but the addition of Micah made you nervous. He had a reputation of losing his cool and endangering the lives of everyone in a five mile radius.

Abigail had been very helpful the last couple of days. She understood every minor shift in your demeanor in the time he was gone. John was no stranger to long jobs, so Abigail knew exactly how it felt to sit idle while the men were out in danger.

John tried to be helpful, saying things about how Arthur had been bled half to death before and still made it back alive, but that only made things worse. You appreciated the effort, though.

It was getting close to evening now, the light of the sun slowly disappearing behind the horizon. You tried not to feel disappointed, knowing that if they were on the way back, they would likely stop and make camp for another night before arriving. Riding at night was never good unless they were on the way to a job. Riding back during the day was safer, and helped them keep an eye out for any witnesses or general hinderances along the way.

Just as you were about to resign yourself to your lonely bedroll for the night, the sound of rumbling hooves shook the ground under your feet.

You whipped your head around to see three healthy horses slowing to a walk near the hitch posts, each one carrying an upright, unharmed figure. You silently cursed the fact that Micah had made it back alive, but figured it was too much to hope that you'd get Arthur back and get rid of Micah in one day.

You didn't care what it looked like to the others, throwing all cares out as you rushed over to greet the man that had been haunting your thoughts for the last three days. He was just finishing up tying his big black shire to the post, taking the weight off his horse for the night, when you tackled him into a hug.

He stumbled slightly, your arms wrapping tightly around his waist as he snaked an arm around yours to steady himself. His breath tickled the top of your head as he chuckled. "Miss me?"

You scoffed and pulled your head from his chest, still gripping the sides of his jacket as you looked up at him. "You were gone three days!"

He smiled down at you and pulled you back against him, settling his other hand to cradle your head against his chest. "I missed you too, sweetheart."

All of a sudden, he withdrew, his eyes landing on the man a few feet away that was tending to his horse. "Javier!"

He turned. "Yeah, Arthur?"

"Tell Dutch me and my lady are goin' on a little vacation for a while, will ya?"

Javier nodded with a smirk, and you shrieked as Arthur lifted you onto his horse without warning. He followed shortly after, kicking his horse into a fast walk as a few wolf whistles resounded from camp.

You held onto his waist tightly as he sped up. "Where are we goin'?"

"Just into town."

"What are we gonna do there so late at night?"

You felt more than heard his responding chuckle. "Get a room."

"Oh. Oh."

The excitement that tingled through your body was electric, buzzing the whole ride there.

~~~~~~

You would have flustered at the knowing look on the hotel receptionist's face if you had been at all aware of anything but Arthur.

Arthur thanked the man before leading you up the stairs to the room, his large hand gripping yours the whole way there. You expected him to jump straight into action the second the door closed behind you, but instead his strong arms pulled you into a hug.

His arms encircled you and pressed you against him as he nestled his face into your neck. The vibration of his words against your neck sent sparks through your body straight to your core. "Thought about you the whole time."

You sighed into him, holding onto his as if he would disintegrate upon letting go. He only pulled back to gently tilt your chin up, pressing a sweet kiss against your lips.

The kiss was so soft, so filled with emotion, his fingers brushing lovingly across your cheek as your lips molded together. You were the one to lean into it, chapped lips parting and teeth nipping lightly at him.

The responding noise from him fueled your desire more, the desperate groan making your whole body ache for his touch. His hands moved from your waist to your hips, fingers bunching up in the fabric of your shirt as he fought your tongue with his.

When his rough fingers brushed against the bare skin of your waist, you whined into the kiss, arching into him. He chuckled against your lips, brushing his hands even further up your shirt and coming to a stop just under your tits.

You broke the kiss just for a moment to lift your shirt over your head, discarding it wildly behind you. You yelped as he lifted you and spun you around, walking you backwards towards the bed. You tugged him down on top of you, slipping a hand under his shirt to feel to ripples of muscle on his chest and stomach.

"Arthur," you whined, tugging at his shirt. He got the hint, discarding his shirt before meeting your lips again. His kiss was rougher this time, wet and messy as he took in the feeling of your body against his. You brought your legs up to circle around his waist, and you whimpered when he pressed his hips forward against yours, his hardened cock straining against his pants.

You tangled your hands in his hair, tugging lightly. He squeezed your hips in response, kissing down your neck and nipping at the skin on your chest.

His hands snaked around your back, undoing your bra without even pausing. He broke the kiss only when he pulled the straps down, revealing your chest to the open air. Your first instinct was to cover yourself, but he didn't even give you the chance.

You didn't have the brain capacity to be embarrassed at the sound that came out of you when he took a nipple into his mouth, gripping the other with his large hand. He groaned against you, his erection brushing against you. He was growing harder by the second, the mere sight of you arousing him intensely.

His unoccupied hand stroked down your stomach, slipping two fingers in the waistband of your pants. You nodded and begged desperately, writhing against him. "Please! Please, Arthur..."

He moved his lips to your other nipple, quickly unbuttoning your pants and ridding you of both them and your panties in one movement. His lips separated from your chest as he moved up to you, staring into your eyes with intense lust. "I'm gonna get you ready, baby, that okay?"

Your heart swelled with emotion, only intensifying your desire. Even when he was desperate with lust, he looks at you with such caring, always making sure your okay. "Yes, yes, please!"

He smiled at you before kissing you sweetly, slowly kissing down your body. You whined as his hot breath brushed your core, your head tilting up to look at him between your legs.

His eyes glittered with amusement as they met yours, a teasing finger brushing your inner thigh. It was so close to where you needed it, but so far. "You're a tease."

He chuckled, "Can't help it when you look so pretty beggin' for me."

You threw your head back and groaned, half in frustration and half in arousal. Your noise quickly shifted to a whine when he suddenly slid a finger across you folds, head fuzzy with pleasure. "So wet already. All for me, sweetheart?"

You groaned and nodded, hips shifting towards him in an attempt to get him to do it again. "Ah, use your words."

Your words were half whimpered. "Yes! All for you, only for you, please!"

"Good girl."

He swiped his finger through your folds again, this time teasing his fingertip around your aching entrance. You bucked against him when his thumb brushed against your clit, breathing coming out in short, whiny sighs. "Please."

"Whatever you say, baby."

You moaned as a finger slid into you, his thumb pressing harder against your clit. Before you could complain at the lose of stimulation when he removed his thumb, his lips connected and sucked harshly. Your moans were surely loud enough to be heard, but the pleasure that wracked your body was so overwhelming you couldn't bring yourself to care.

His finger slowly moved in and out, brushing against your sensitive walls as his tongue assaulted your clit. You tangled a hand in his hair, tugging harder than you intended. He groaned against you, making a jolt of pleasure shoot through you.

The stretch of another finger was added, making you cry out. It wasn't enough to be painful, just enough to make you stretch around him so deliciously. He pulled his lips off of you and looked down at you, eyes hungrily watching as your cunt swallowed up his fingers. You looked down at him, lips parted with pleasure as he worked his fingers inside you. "More."

He glanced up at you with a smirk, slipping in a third finger. It sent a small jolt of discomfort through you, but it was quickly overwhelmed with pleasure as the third finger pressed against the most sensitive parts of your walls. "Oh, fuck, Arthur!"

"Feel good, huh?"

"Yes! Please, please, I'm gonna cum!"

He sped up, his fingers pumping in and out of your relentlessly. He leaned back in to swirl his tongue against your clit, which made you walls start spasming around him. Your thighs tensed, threatening to close around him, but he pulled back and held your legs open.

"Go on, baby, I wanna see your pretty face when you cum."

You couldn't form any words as his fingertips curled inside you and prodded against you in a way that made you see stars. His encouraging words only pushed you closer and closer.

"Good girl, doin' so good for me." You moaned and clenched around his fingers, muscles spasming as the dam broke. Your eyes rolled back into your head as you came, short, whiny moans escaping your lips as he fingered you through it.

With a gentle kiss against your clit that made you twitch, he pulled his fingers out of you and rose to look at you. You forced your eyes open, smiling breathlessly up at him. "You okay?"

You couldn't help but laugh, pulling him in for a passionate kiss. "More than okay. That was amazing."

He smiled and kissed you again, slow and loving. You knew you could tell him you were done for the night and he would agree in a heartbeat, not even caring about his own unresolved desires. But his sweet kiss only fueled another spark, already tingling through your body. His moaned against your lips as you arched against him, legs moving to wrap around his waist and pull him against you.

He pulled away with a raised eyebrow. "You're a needy one, aren't you?"

"Only for you."

You pulled him back down, kissing him roughly and pressing your hands all over his bare skin. His hips bucked forward when you tugged at his waistband, his desperation shining through even when he tried to stifle it.

You pushed him back, catching him off guard and shoving him onto the bed. He chuckled and shifted further back, letting you swing your leg across his hips and straddle him. You leaned down to kiss down his neck, smiling at the soft murmurs of content as you nipped at his collarbone.

You reached between the two of you, unbuttoning his jeans and shoving them down. He helped you and kicked them the rest of the way off, leaving him in only his boxers. You stared down at the bulge that strained against the white fabric, a wet spot of pre cum soaking a part of it. You looked down at him with a proud smile. "I do that to you?"

His hands slid up your thighs and caressed you hips. "You do so much to me. More than you could ever imagine."

You leaned down to kiss him, pouring all your emotions of admiration and lust into it. His hands moved to your ass, squeezing as he groaned against your lips. Your hips pressed down against his. sending a shock of pleasure through you as your clit brushed against his clothed bulge.

He would have been content to kiss you like that forever, but you were growing more and more desperate with each touch. You slid your fingers into his boxers without breaking the kiss, gently stroking his cock. His reaction spurred you on, and you pushed his boxer down to release him.

You marveled at his size as he helped you discard his underwear, leaving him fully bare underneath you. He was thick, and longer than anyone else you'd ever had. Your hand continued to slowly stroke up and down his shaft, thumb smearing the beads of precum around him. You were transfixed on him, lost in the feeling of his soft skin against your palm.

"Fuck, baby, as pretty as you look doin' that, I don't wanna cum just yet."

You slowed your movements to a stop and looked up at him with a soft smile. The admiration you felt for the man beneath you was overwhelming, and you didn't know if you could ever truly explain to him how much he meant to you.

You slowly moved to kiss him again, soft and sweet. You let your hips relax against his, smirking as his hips shifted under you to gain friction. You moved your hips against his shaft, your cunt dragging against him. You continued grinding on him, breathing growing heavier as the tip of his cock teased at your entrance with each movement.

After a few more seconds of torturing him, you lifted your hips and gripped his cock, prodding him against you entrance. Before you moved, you pulled away from his kiss, sitting up and placing a hand on his chest for balance. He groaned as he looked up at you, poised above his cock, cunt dripping with anticipation.

Emotion shone in his eyes, gaze still so loving even when clouded with lust. With a sigh, you lowered yourself slightly, taking his tip inside. You knew it was going to be a stretch, so you had to restrain yourself and take it slow.

He groaned at the sight of your cunt swallowing him, even just the tip of him. You held his gaze as you lowered another two inches, fingers gripping his chest at the slight stretch. Soon, his hands gripped your hips tightly as he helped you sink down all the way, clit brushing against him as you were finally fully seated against his pelvis.

Your eyes were dark with lust, cunt clenching around his cock as you adjusted. His eyes flickered over you, rapidly moving between your joined bodies, your heaving chest, and your face. "So perfect. Take me so well."

His words spurred you to move, lifting your hips slightly and moaning sweetly as you sank back down. The pain of the stretch had completely disappeared, replaced with a blinding pleasure. You rolled your hips a few more times before rising further, speeding up.

His hands held your hips tightly, his thighs tensing as he tried to hold himself back. "Fuck, sweetheart, look at you. Swallowing me up like that."

His words only increased your desire, your hips rising and falling faster, legs lifting you further off his cock. His moaned as he stuttered out praises, hands tightening on your hips as you rose fully off him and slammed back down again. Your pace increased, his length filling you up perfectly and brushing against the sensitive spots within you.

You struggled to hold yourself as you got closer and closer, pace faltering. You whined, every breath coming out as a soft moan. "You're doin' so good baby, want me to take over?"

You managed a messy nod, and his hips immediately rose up to meet yours, hands moving your hips up and down on him. You threw your head back as your cunt spasmed, orgasm coming down hard and fast. "I'm- fuck! Gonna cum!"

"Go 'head baby, I've got you."

With his words, you moaned with your release, his cock still pounding into you as you rode it out. Your senses were fuzzy, everything covered in a blanket of pleasure. You didn't even realize he had flipped you over, your head against the soft pillow. As your vision cleared, you looked up at him, blissful smile on your face.

"You did so good, honey, think you can gimme another?"

You nodded blearily, spreading your legs further as he continued thrusting into at a ruthless pace. You were building up to another one fast, barely even recovered from your previous one. His hand rested against your throat, grounding you but not squeezing. "So gorgeous, my pretty girl. Look so good stuffed full of my cock."

You moaned pathetically, hands going up to hold his face and grip his hair. "You feel so good, Arthur, I- I love how you make me feel."

He groaned in response, slamming into your cunt even faster. "So tight for me, gonna make me cum. Where d'ya want me?" He struggled to get the question out, his voice stammering through moans.

"Inside. Fill me up, Arthur."

His hand tightened around your throat for a moment at your words, and he moaned loudly. "Fuck, you're gonna kill me."

His movements grew sloppier, fingers pressing against your throat as he pressed his lips to yours in a messy kiss. With a few more thrusts, your own orgasm came to a head, only slightly preceding his.

His groaned against your lips and your walls clenched around him, his cum painting your insides as you milked him. He fucked you through it, kiss growing softer as he slowed to a stop. He stilled inside you, pulling back to look in your eyes.

You looked back at him, lips curled into a soft smile as he rested his forehead against yours. He pulled out carefully, planting a sweet kiss on your lips to distract you from any discomfort.

He shifted to lay next to you, turning his head to look at you. "You okay?"

You smiled and looked at him. "With you? Always."

#arthur morgan #arthur morgan x reader #fem!reader #rdr2 x reader #red dead redemption 2 #smut #arthur morgan smut #rdr2 #rdr2 arthur #red dead redemption #rdr2 smut #female reader #afab reader #one shot #part 2 #part two #azi's creations

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bas-writes · 21 hours

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ꕥ in the heat of spring | confessions feat. geto suguru x reader

content warnings: pwp, reader has a vagina, roleplaying, religion kink/priest fetish, reader is aroused by the feeling of shame, humiliation, fingering, piv sex, creampie word count: 4.3k mood prompt: embarrassed and shy kink prompt: priests/nuns requested by: @honey-deku a/n: i think i'll stop giving myself limits because i don't keep faithful to them anyway LMAO ngl, i'm proud of how this text turned out, even if it's way more stretched than intended. i guess catholic guilt the kink is strong!

Anticipation has your body tense like a string. Your mouth feels dry, too dry to speak, so you take your time lingering by the door, hand clenched on the handle. If you opened it now, you surely would just shriek instead of greeting him with a sultry, playful voice, as you planned. Well, in this state you surely would trip over your stiff legs too. Speak about breaking the character even before the play starts...

You take a deep, shaky breath, trying to grab the reins of your frantic nerves. Excitement isn't your ally now, nor isn't the dampness you already feel in your underwear. Embarrassment and uneasiness are welcomed in this particular scene, but you would rather have them as extras to it, not as the main characters. It was your idea and the fruit of months-long pleading, negotiations, and preparations, after all.

You wouldn't hear the end of it, if he picked up how much it costs you to keep calm and stick to the role.

Exhaling is easier, the flow of air doesn't falter, and your shoulders finally let go of the unnaturally stiff frame. Now or never. If you prolong this meditation, if you don't step over the threshold right here and now, you will ruin all the hard work that brought you here. He will get concerned and suspicious, he will open the door on his own and see you in a complete disarray.

Something at the back of your head prompts you to cross yourself for good luck—and you oblige, taking it as a perfect way to get into character.

You knock, three shy, barely audible taps.

He gives you no time to collect yourself again, his answer is faster than the faint echo disappearing into the hall behind your back, "Please, come in."

You take a step in—and almost slam the door closed again.

You thought you were prepared for that. He might be a false monk but it's a role that's become his second skin. The attire he chose for now is different, and the religion and its symbols might be alien to him—but does a catholic priest fall that far from other priests? He was doomed to be good in this role, maybe too good for your own demise. You considered that and prepared yourself for the consequences.

Yet, Geto looks so authentic that you didn't recognize him at first. He's...too natural, uncanny almost. Black cassock, even if visibly too tight for a man of such huge posture, suits him even better than the layers of robes he wears anywhere outside the privacy of the house. He's nailing that mysterious, casual elegance with ease, humble and insular yet beaming with the charisma of a leader. He's sitting in his chair straight but not stiff, holding the Bible open as if it weighed nothing in his big hands, one of his long fingers serving him as a temporary bookmark. His hair is tied into a tight knot at the back of his head, giving an excellent illusion of keeping it short. Glasses are an unusual yet suiting accessory; lowered almost to the tip of his nose, they add depth and domination to his gaze as he's scanning your figure curiously.

"Yes, my child?" He asks, voice soft yet menacing, like the rustle of prowling cat's feet.

Your saliva is thick like tar and you almost choke trying to swallow it.

"Please, help me, Father," you're barely keeping your voice in check. Sultry be damned, you're fighting to sound at least natural. "I need your advice."

Geto slowly closes the book, sets it aside as he's adjusting his position, leaning more towards you, cutting the mental distance between the two of you. Good, caring shepherd, worried for his little lost lamb, "Come in. Tell me, what's troubling your mind?"

Embarrassment is expected from your role in this moment, so following comes to you much easier than the opening sequence. You close the door and approach closer while still keeping the timid distance. He's silent and patient, just his gaze weights on you, threatening your legs to go limp and wobbly. The fluffy rug you like so much in your shared bedroom is like a trap now, ready at any moment to trip you and throw you to your knees right in front of him.

"I must...have been possessed, Father." You confess, averting your eyes, and clasp your hands at your abdomen, like a good, little, shy student.

Geto's eyebrows cock up in a perfectly played surprise. He rubs his chin in thought as he studies your expression intently, "And why is that? What brought you to this conclusion?"

Heat spreading all over your face in a not-so-feigned abashment, you reel the story off: everything you've come up together for this night. There are dreams, of lust and dark desires you dread to name. They come to you every night and turn your thoughts away from your prayers. The more religiously you try to praise the Lord, the stronger and trickier they get once you lie down. There's no escape for a poor, little lamb like you; soothing darkness brings temptation, avoiding rest has your mind more prone to succumbing to them.

Geto listens, still hidden under the cover of an exemplary priest. Resting chin in his palm, he asks and investigates, presses you whenever you stutter, and gives you the little needle when you try to stray around the topic to sound less sinful. He would be such an excellent preacher if he wasn't a wolf, prowling patiently at your tracks and waiting for your neck to arch nicely for his fangs. And he does so with sugar-coated words and a voice so sweet that you sip from his lips like parched, unaware of the trap he leads you into—while knowing well where and how this conversation will lead.

His power is terrifying, you know it better than anyone, and you squeeze your thighs tighter as you hunch under his gaze, trying to hide what's obvious and avoid what's unrelenting.

"When did those dreams start?" The question finally appears and Geto's eyes narrow at your not-so-played-anymore flinch. "Do you know what could have caused them?"

You avert your eyes, the wave of shame and arousal washing over you and pearling sweat at your temples.

"There's nothing to be shy about, my child." He leans to the back of the chair, his posture open and welcoming, so safe. "I only want to help."

This part of play calls for silence—but you wouldn't find any words in you even if you were scripted to speak. You bite on lips and shift your weight from one leg to another, uncomfortable when stripped so bluffly. You're losing control—you doubt if you even had it in the first place—and the less confident you feel around him, the softer and wobblier your knees are. You're tempted to fall to them, just to relieve yourself of this unbearable tension, to hide the arousal that runs dead even with embarrassment.

Shame is such a delicious drug.

"I won't be able to help you, if you hide something from me." Geto's soft, caring smile sends cold shivers down your spine. He beckons you closer, arms wide open to welcome you in his proximity. "Come here, child, and speak into my ear, if you fear to confess aloud."

You fear more to trip as soon as you move—but you, obedient like a sacrificial lamb, approach closer, and let him lay his hands at your waist. They're soft and warm—but leave you no way to run as they pull you close, right into his lap. You're stiff and hesitant, craving to nuzzle close to his broad chest, to let those strong arms engulf you and shield you from everything unholy—but you know there's nothing more unholy than what you're doing right now.

"Speak, my child." He commands and grabs your chin oh so gently when you try to turn away. "Don't be afraid. Our lord is full of grace and mercy."

"It started—" You stutter and clean your throat, painfully dry with anticipation. "—started after I was... Touching myself."

One of his hands strays from your middle to your hip, then to your thigh, "How did you touch yourself? Where exactly?"

Your heartbeat is thudding in your ears, swallowing every sound but its racing rhythm. It has your head spinning, your vision blurry—yet you're unable to escape his piercing gaze, unable to avert your eyes again. Your breath is shallow, and you don't dare to take a deeper one in; his smell is different, heavier, rich of incense and anointing oil, as if he left Lord's altar right before he agreed to listen to your shameful confessions. If you caved in and inhaled it, it would drug you, would strip you of the remains of self-control and dignity. It's tempting to turn into a trusting, stupid lamb entirely, but in the midst of the need twisting your brain you decide it's not something you want to give him...yet.

As you ponder over the next line—or rather: desperately fight for the reins to remain in your hands—his hand smoothly wanders towards the inner side of your thigh. You clench your legs together, but it still finds a way to sneak in between, right at the core of your embarrassment.

Can he already feel how wet you are for him? His fingers press tighter and rub at your sex through the pants—and you yelp through clenched teeth. It's not a loud sound, you almost managed to drown it out, but in such a silent room—silent like a confessional—it has the power of a scream.

"It was here, wasn't it?" Geto whispers into your ear, keeping you tight and close with the other arm still around your waist. His fingers start to move, flowingly, along the line of your slit, and the more you clench your legs and squirm, the more prominent the pressure becomes. "You invited the lustful spirit to the most sacred part of your body."

You want to admit, lie, and plead for mercy at the same time, so you only squeal and put all might you still possess into closing your legs. They open pathetically a second later, as soon as the tip of his hot tongue teases your ear.

"Do you want me to get rid of it?" He presses soft, barely palpable, kisses to your jaw and neck. "With the power of The Almighty I may clean your soul and bring peace to your mind."

You clench your thighs again, this time trying to trap his slowly withdrawing hand and steal some friction. Geto pulls it out with ease and faint yet mean smirk on his face. He has you in his trap whole now and he has no itch for satisfying your whims until you do as he pleases—and you know he's not going to make it easy for you. Tormenting his prey is his favorite part of the hunt. His eyes darken just at the thought; they promise tonight the shearing blade won't stop at the wool.

"I need your voice, child." He cups your chin into his palm and guides you to look straight at him. "Speak."

"Please." You barely recognize the sound squeezing through your throat now as your voice. "Help me, Father Geto."

"I shall, then."

You're gently pushed off his lap and guided to sit at the edge of bed instead. For the first time since what feels like forever now you take a deeper breath, not until the dull ache in your lungs eased you realize how badly you needed it. You could use some relaxation for your muscles too, but you can't bring yourself to move, even your eyes are set exactly in the same place: looking straight at Geto as he's taking his cassock off. It's a ritual on its own, each little button is given its fair share of special attention from fingers that just a moment ago caressed your sex. Underneath there's another barrier of black clothes: plain shirt and jeans, both hugging his well-sculpted body so tight that they seem to be one move away from tearing. Even so, he moves around with grace, each move calculated to keep you right on the edge but not bored or frustrated.

Finally, the cassock is folded and put away, the Bible is closed, the light limited to the small lamp on the bed stand. Geto returns to his chair, hand prompted on palm as he stares at you intently, like a bird of prey.

"Strip, my child." He whispers more than just says and yet, you jerk in place as if he shouted at you.

Your hands get into each other's way even if you're not in a hurry. You know you're going to get scolded, softly, if you're going to be sloppy, it doesn't make you any less clumsy, though. You wish you could say it's a part of your role, but you really can't control your moves as much as you would like to. There's something in his eyes that makes you behave in a reprimanding-worth way. He always gets what he wants—and if he wants to punish you, sooner or later you will succumb into misbehavior.

Good lambs always listen to their shepherd.

He doesn't pay much attention to clumsiness and disarray, though. Instead, his eyes take in the view of your body, from your fluttering lips, down your chest and your nipples, perky with anticipation, to your legs you're struggling to free from the pants. When you finally kick them off and return to the proper and tense sitting position, he furrows his brow, showing a negative reaction for the first time tonight.

"I thought I told you to strip?"

You flick your gaze down, to underwear still covering what it should, and you hook thumbs under the elastic band, ready to pull everything down...but you linger, true to words you're saying next, "It's embarrassing."

Geto clicks his tongue, displeased, and gets up, in two steps closing the distance and looking down at you, now. Hand cupping your face is rougher this time as he tilts your head back. Mewl dies in your throat when your eyes meet—and you find no mercy nor warmth in his.

"Was it embarrassing too when you shamelessly spread your legs for the demon to penetrate your body? If you wish to wash your disgusting sins away, I repeat: strip."

Not daring to look away, you clumsily roll your underwear down to your ankles.

"Now, that's a good little lamb."

His hold eases and he caresses your cheek now, smiling down at you in a way that has cold shivers running down your spine.

Next, he wants you to climb to the head of the bed and you follow, feeling no safer on the familiar softness. You lie down against the pillows as instructed and bend legs in knees. You hesitate when asked to spread them as wide as you can, genuine embarrassment winning over you anew.

"Don't linger, my child," Geto narrows his eyes, a warning he might snap again, if you don't listen. "Show me the place you besmeared."

Figuring closing eyes may help you, you do so and follow his wish to the final step. Air feels extra cold against your exposed cunt—intoxicating contrast to your hot juices dripping down your labia and ass. For the longest time nothing happens, no word is said, until eventually the bed creaks and you feel Geto scooting closer to you. Your body is tense like a string, shaking from anticipation, but you don't dare to sneak a peek at him and whatever he's doing. You fear you may fall apart if you see his expression as he's appraising your sex and the influence your sin had on it.

"What were you thinking about when you were touching yourself?" He says after a painfully stretched moment. He's closer than you estimated from the way the mattress dipped by your side, probably sitting or kneeling right between your legs.

"I—" You lick your lips, desperately trying to squeeze any moisture, but nerves parched everything to crisp. If he's going to make you scream tonight, you can say goodbye to your voice for the next day if not longer. "Can't remember details. But—"

"But?"

There's impatience in his voice and as much as you're tempted to see what is Geto going to do if you test his limits, this is not on the menu for this scene—so you push the bashfulness away as much as you can and follow the scenario, "I was thinking about you, Father Geto."

He must have been expecting you to resist for longer—the silence on his side is too long to be just played. But there's no further trace of surprise, when he speaks, his voice is as calm as it can be, given the circumstances of the play. "You're pulling me into this sin with you, child."

The bed creaks, he's scooting closer, his body bears down on your knees now. His hand finds its way to your sex again, this time touching it without any barrier in between you two. It takes everything from you to not meet him half-way; you're frozen in place like a terrified, filled with shame lamb should when he's slowly caressing your slit, then tracing at the rim of your hole. You're so wet he could slide anything he wanted in just like that, no preparations needed, but he's treating you as carefully as if you were a virgin offered to him on a holy altar.

This tenderness, the quiescence he enforced with his demeanor, drives you crazy.

"You claim you can't remember details..." Geto muses, his breath ghosting over your cunt as he starts to slide a single finger in. "But those must have been many, many thoughts. Your body is begging for my blessings."

The process repeats: he teases you with one digit only until you're on the verge of giving in. He knows well you need much more than this silly play but he's not going to give it to you even if you beg, not until he is satisfied with the mess you're becoming. Second, then third finger in, he keeps heating you up but straying away from anything that could pull you closer to the sweet release. You're not a lamb anymore, just a plaything, putty in his hands, too ashamed to beg for it, too scared to ask for more at the face of rejection and even longer torture. Here and there he changes the angle to brush at your walls exactly how you like it—but as soon as you mewl or buck your hips, mercy is denied and he clicks his tongue, scolding you for being an impatient child.

But even Geto can find some mercy in him. Right as you think you're going to lose your mind if he keeps stretching you for nothing, he pulls his fingers out and kisses your clit. This short, almost affectionate touch has you thrashing on the sheets; you crave that release so bad it hurts, hurts for real, you can accumulate only as much pent-up desire, and you're about to burst, not in a way you need it.

He lets you calm your breathing and even your senses before he orders you to open your eyes—for you to see him licking his fingers clean of your juices.

"You taste so sweet, my child." Immense pleasure ruins his collected expression just for a second, when he sucks the last drops of you from his fingertips. "Almost as if there was no sin in you..."

A click of a belt, a rustle of zipper and clothes slipped out of the way, and Geto is close to you again, one hand keeping one of your legs nice and open, the other guiding his dick to brush against the wet mess he's turned your pussy into. You both groan when his sensitive tip meets your clit, you: nudged towards the edge again, him: at the limit of his self-control. He lets go of your leg to throw his glasses and clergy collar away, then loosens his shirt; dark hair on his chest pours out of the gap and you have to fight the urge to run your fingers through it. The flick of your eyes is caught and met with a nod of approval, but you're so desperate to have him finally fuck you that you don't want to risk another delay, for any reason.

"I'm going to cleanse your soul," Geto moans more than says, almost ruining the character on his side, but you couldn't care less now, when finally feeling the pressure at your hole. He slides the tip in, slowly, but not in the same, teasing way. It's a deliberate act of immense self-control; if not for the fog in your eyes and your mewls still calling him a "Father", he would be already fucking you stupid, your ankles hooked on his shoulders. He puts it in only as much to let you feel it, to have your cunt finally spasm around what you craved the most. And instead of thrusting into you, he touches your clit again, gently at first, then with precise, circular moves that have your eyes roll back in no time.

After being played with for so long, from the strict confession to his fingers spreading you open, you don't need much, and soon you're creaming over his cock, over and over, as if all this pent-up tension needed a few orgasms before it would be gone. It could be indeed a few of them or just one big and mercilessly prolonged as Geto is still rubbing your clit, deaf to your cries and blind to your hands clawing at his shoulders.

The touch ceases as sharply as it started but you're not even fully back from your high when it returns, together with his dick slamming full into you all at once. You swallow and squeeze him tight, your exhausted, oversensitive body arching and squirming. He uses his whole weight to pin it down into submission, fucking you through the last spasms of your orgasm and more, more than you can handle—and what you take regardless, your throat almost worn of cries of his name.

You beg him to cum, you beg him to stop right to beg him to fuck you harder shortly after, you beg to be destroyed—never mind your "sin", you want to burn whole and take him with you.

You beg—but all that breaks out of your lips are moans.

Even Geto has his limits and eventually his hips start to stutter before he buries himself whole in you, his pubes tickling your tortured clit, as he releases his load. He thrusts a few more times, fucking it deeper, and finally ceases, satisfied, his heavy, hot body pressing you flat into the bed.

It's stifling, uncomfortable even with his clothes grazing your naked body, but he soon lifts himself on straight arms, then sits on heels while pulling your hips closer; he's still in you but now you can breathe as deep as you want and slowly regain control over your senses and body. You keep silent, partially too lazy to find words, partially unsure how you should act now. You haven't discussed that part in detail, and the bliss has pushed you out of your character: just a little but enough to block any attempt of improvisation. Geto's content expression is not much of help either; after a short consideration you abandon the attempt of deciphering him, instead taking as much as you can from this calm moment, in case he's keen to torturing you more soon.

Geto just rocks his hips one more time before pulling out of you and setting your limp legs wide apart. Pleased with himself, he looks at your messy cunt and gently traces your slit, so gently you, despite your nerves fried to your limits, barely can feel it. With a hum of agreement on your side, he continues and slides two fingers into you, squeezing some of his cum until it flows down to his knuckles.

"Praise the Lord for how well-bred his sheep are." He says with a smug smile, and it finally earns him a reaction. With an embarrassed—or rather: disconcerted—groan you grab the nearest pillow and smack him over the head.

He lets you, even chuckles a little when you take an aim for a second one.

"What's up with those corny jokes, out of sudden?" You huff when the pillow is taken away from you and thrown out of your reach.

Geto tucks his dick back into his pants, then takes the shirt off and lets his hair down. He lies by your side, head prompted on palm, free hand reaching to wipe sweat off your forehead, "Would a corny love confession from priest to his lamb be better?"

You roll to your side with a spent sigh, strong arm soon pulling you close, face into his chest, "Only if you aimed to dissolve me with embarrassment."

His expression is, as it often is with Geto, hard to read, but he settles on a genuine smile and a soft kiss pressed to the crown of your head, "Is my love such a struggle to you, my lamb?"

"Maybe a little." His natural, familiar, scent is breaking through the cologne he used for tonight, so you bask in it, pressing your nose to him as close as you can without suffocating yourself. "But, as you saw, I really like when you make me struggle."

thank you so much for reading ❤ i'll be really happy, if you reblog it and/or leave some feedback! you can read more of my jjk fics here.

tag list: @lale-txt @mirkaaaluv @ohnococo @clumsyraccoon

#jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jjk x you #jujutsu kaisen x you #geto suguru x reader #geto x reader #jjk suguru x reader #geto suguru x you #jjk suguru x you #geto x you #bas writes #sinful #in the heat of spring #afab reader

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shinegguk · 3 days

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„She was the light, the light that lit me up to the fullest. Until that light burned out and left me in nothing but darkness.“

Pairing: Leon Kennedy x AFAB!reader

Warnings: mentions of blood, unspecified wound, character death, foul language, hurt/no comfort (if I forgot anything please let me know)

( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅ ̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅ ̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅ ̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅ ̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅ ̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ ) ( ̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅[̲̅ ̲̅]̲̅:̲̅:̲̅:̲̅ )

„No, no!“, he was breathing heavily at this point, almost turning insane. He had his hand under her head, the other hand pressing down on the heavily bleeding wound on her stomach.

He was losing his light, something he feared to lose so soon. Too soon.

Tears were rolling down his face, precious diamonds shining in the moonlight. He was shaking, his hand covered in her blood as he tried to get the bleeding to stop. Or at least to slow it down.

„I-its okay, Leon..“, her voice came out cracked, weakness lingering in it. Her eyes were half closed, she tried her hardest to not fall asleep just yet. It was too soon to leave.

„Fuck no it is not!“, he glared at her. He was not accepting the fact that he will lose his girlfriend, the woman he wants to marry. Wanted to marry.

She weakly lifted her hand, wiping his falling diamonds from his cheeks and cupping it after. If she could show him how much he means to her, she would. There is no doubt in that.

She bites her lip as the pain in her lower stomach increases and she knows, it’s over soon.

„Please, promise me something..“, she whispered and her eyes teared up.

He gulped hard, somehow finding it hard to look into her eyes.

„Please.. be happy, even if I am looking from above. I will always be by your side, guiding you through the darkness..“, she breathed out.

And as the first raindrop in months landed on his hand, her hand slipped of his cheek onto the ground.

The last breath escaped her mouth and her eyes closed forever.

The rain started to pour heavily and thats when he lost it.

His lip started trembling, his body started shaking and his body lets out the sound of pain, sadness and anger in once. He screamed, so loud his throat started to hurt. The diamonds were rolling uncontrollably down his cheeks.

Her lifeless body in his arms, the light turned out.

There is nothing more but darkness.

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon s kennedy x reader #angsty #first post #resident evil #fanfic #x reader #afab reader

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romanticlover00 · 2 days

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Hello lovely’s! This is my first post so I’m sorry if it’s kinda bad! Feel free too leave requests or suggestions for anything! I will make a master list<3 I hope you enjoy!

König x reader

This does contain nsfw themes and smut! Have a good read!

The month has been quite stressful for König.

He had been out on deployment for weeks, but even when he came back, he wasn’t able to go home just yet, which meant he wasn’t able to see you.

Not being around you for so long always ticked him off; he wasn’t a super shy guy, of course. He was a grown man, a colonel, but even then, being around people who weren’t you made his anxiety go through the roof.

So when he finally came home, throwing himself onto the couch in the living room, creaking under his immense weight while shuffling off his clothes down to his boxers, he called out for you.

“Verdammt….Liebling?”

He grumbled at the aches in his joints as he moved his head up to look for you. His body is starting to show its age. He was only 38, but with the stress and vast amounts of work he put into his body, it felt like he was older.

You hurried out of your and his shared bedroom in one of his shirts and a pair of shorts. Your attire made the corners of his mouth turn up. He beckoned you over while shifting onto his back with his arms beneath his head. You sat on his large stomach with an innocent smile, looking down at him.

“What did you do today, Hase?” His burly hands grasped your sides, rubbing small circles into them.

“I went to the mall today with some friends!”

You reply, ecstatic to see your boyfriend. But what you don’t know is that his cock is already starting to throb; he grabbed your thighs, pulling you further up his stomach so you wouldn’t feel it.

“Mm.” He grunts, resting his head back, though his eyes are still boring into you with a hungry, loving look.

“And what did you buy, Kleiner?” His voice was rumbling in his chest like a deep purr.

“I bought some clothes for me and you!! I also bought you jewelry. You said you were looking for some rings, so I got you some!. I even bought lingerie since my last one got ripped. Your pouty expression and innocence as you said your last sentence made him chuckle, shaking his head.

“Oh yes… I'm sorry, Maus." Even though his tone was apologetic, his face said differently. A shit-eating grin was plastered on it, even through his tiredness. He gave you a slap on the ass, which made you squeak, your puffy lips pursing, and your face flushing. He picked you up off his stomach and set you down, looking at you like he was ready to pounce.

“How about you go show me this underwear you bought, ja? Show it off?” He bit his bottom lip while his eyes narrowed, looking at you. Your eyes widened in excitement, thinking he just wanted to see what they looked like. You scrambled off while König stayed on the couch. His fists gripped the sofa as he groaned, his cock starting to ache, but he wouldn’t start fisting it yet. That was your job.

You soon came prancing in wearing a black lacy lingerie set.

König's mouth had already started to water, so he twirled his finger around.

“Turn around, baby.” He ordered, his jaw tensing in excitement. You, of course, obeyed, your pretty cheeks flushing as you turned around. The big man started to get even more riled up, chewing on his thumb nail to keep himself quiet. You gave him your little show, making sure to perk your ass out in a teasing manner. Oh, you were going to regret that later.

“Come here, Hase.” He patted his meaty thighs, reaching over to grab your hand and pull you to the couch. He had you perched on his pelvis; you could feel his prick twitch underneath your cunt, which made you bite your lip and whimper.

“Easy now, ja?” His voice thundered. He grabbed your thighs with his hands, pushing you into a laying-down position on top of him, and without warning, he shoved his mouth into your clothed sex, his hot breath passing through the cloth. He took a big breath and moaned, his eyes closing as his hands started to grope around you. He flicked your clitoral area, making you jump and whine, your cunt clenching around nothing. He kissed the inside of your thighs, nibbling and sucking all while his thumb started to rub where he flicked you.

“Oh Maus, can't you see what you do to me too? All your fault, hmm.. being so pretty or handsome. I missed you so much. My hand is nothing compared to your pussy,” he moaned out, drooling on your thigh.

He peeled the lingerie to the side, revealing your glistening cunny to him. He panted like a dog, his hands squeezing your thighs, making you let out a breathy moan. He licked a stripe from your ass to your abdomen before he really went down on you. His mouth suctioned on your labia, his thick and hot tongue flicking through your hole, while his nose nuzzled your clit.

You mule, dainty hands grasping at his hair and thighs clasping around his hard head. His hips moved against your back, his cock pulsing and leaking through his boxers, which were so tight on him now. His hands moved to grab your tummy, holding and rubbing, while he lapped at your sex like a starved man. Ten minutes of this went on till he pulled away, panting, his blue eyes staring at you like a full-course meal.

“Turn.” He barked, grabbing your hips forcefully and flipping you over into a sixty-nine position. Your face fell into his pulsating dick; all you could feel was König's steamy breath on your soaked cunt as he barked out more orders.

“Suck, Hase. I want to feel your pretty mouth on my cock.” He rubbed your ass, pulling your cheeks apart as he spoke, before shoving his mouth back into your sex, making you cry out. Your hands fiddled with his boxers before pulling them down, his dick springing out. Its head was red and angry, pre-cum was glistening and dripping down it. Even with all the times you’ve seen it, it still made you shocked. It was thick and long, curving upwards, which always helped it touch those spots you so desperately craved in your gummy walls. You gave a testing lick to the base of his prick, like you had never done it before, earning a moan into your pussycat from him. You gave it a few strokes before sinking your mouth down, only being able to reach the middle without gagging. You knew König wouldn’t mind you not going down all the way because you were his precious girlfriend or boyfriend. But you wanted to please him, so taking a deep breath, you sank down onto it.

“Heilige Scheiße!“ König cried out his nails, leaving crescent shapes in your soft ass.

His hips involuntarily bucked up, making you gag and swallow around him. You moved up and down while he shoved his tongue into your awaiting hole, moving it around and tasting your sweetness. He was already so close; just the taste of your arousal and the feeling of your mouth made his balls ache too, but he didn’t want to do it unless it was in your womb. He pulled his mouth away from your cunt with a slight pop noise. He stroked your back, lovingly resting his cheek against your pudgy thigh.

“Oh Gott.. good girl/boy, Maus.. such a pretty thing you are.” He praised. He once again manhandled you, flipping you around so you were now below him. You were just like a little doll, and all his. He pushes you into the missionary press, his eyes boring into yours.

“I'm going to breed you like a Hund till my babies are leaking out of you. You can take that, right? Of course you can..always so good to me.” He smiled, pressing his scarred lips against yours, his tongue invading your tepid mouth. Your tongues danced together, as if swaying to a song harmonically. He pressed the tip of his manhood against your hole, rubbing from there up to your clitoral area teasingly.

“I love you so much. I can't wait to marry you. soon, I promise.”

He admitted his brain fogged with lust, but you know what they say: a drunk man’s words are a sober man’s thoughts, and he was definitely drunk over your pussycat. You couldn’t even get a word out as he slammed his lips back against yours, his hips finally thrusting into you with a stinging stretch. He sighed as you clawed at his back, and he gave you time to adjust before starting to move.

“Little thing still has too much stretch, hmm? Even though we’ve done this countless times, you are always so tight. But that’s okay, just gotta shape it just for my dick, Ja, just for me, Für mich!” He groaned, picking up his pace. Your moans and whines were deadened by his mouth and his own noises of pleasure. He folded your legs back even more, slamming into you, his balls hitting your ass in a delicious way. The sound of skin slapping, growls, and moans filled the room. You were surprised your neighbors hadn’t come breaking down the door yet. You felt your orgasm about to crash on you, and König felt it too, the way your walls clenched his weeping dick.

“Ohh! Ja, Maus, ja! Cum für mich. I promise I’ll clean you up after.” His his snapped back and forth with more urgency and aggression, his head now resting on your chest, starting to suck at your perky nipples. His eyes rolled back into his head as you finally came, your thighs shutting around his waist, drool cascading down your chin, and his absolute favorite, your loud moan. Königs would follow soon after, huffing and puffing into your chest thrusts, getting more sloppy, and before you knew it, his warm seed was filling up your womb, pumping you full. He stayed in for a while, plugging you up with his dick. He looked at you with hungry eyes, and that’s how you knew he needed more of his fill.

“I’m not done yet, Hase.”

Word count- 1750

#könig x reader #cod #smut #first post #konig cod #könig cod #afab reader #afab transmasc

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st4rd0lly · 5 hours

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subby top chuuya who whines and begs for you to let him touch you, he’s going to go insane if you don’t let him !! he’s been so so so good for you, he doesn’t know why you tied his hands up and forced him to watch you play with yourself !! he’s gonna cum untouched if you keep moaning and putting on a show for him like that and he’s whimpering so loudly, poor thing is on the verge of tears :( he wants to be the one between your legs, face first into your pussy, not your hands >:( he’s on his knees with his hands tied behind his back, resting his head on your thighs and looking at you with the most kicked puppy expression he could muster when you tell him that he couldn’t touch your pussy </3

#. . . executive at the house —✫・゜・。.#bsd smut #bsd x reader #chuuya smut #chuuya x reader #afab reader #chuuya would rather die than not please you at all #he needs to make you feel good

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makelemonade · 6 hours

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MY BOY ONLY BREAKS HIS FAVOURITE TOYS

men who absolutely love to break you- watching with absolute pleasure as you cry and thrash under him, whine about how it’s too much but he knows you can take it- you’re his good girl, aren’t you? such a good slut who is willing to do anything for him! so let him make you cum as many times as he wants <3

he loves to watch the way your eyes roll back, starting to go absolutely drunk on his cock as you begin to babble about it, drool leaking out the side of your mouth. Maybe to others it was disgusting but to him you looked absolutely gorgeous.

He loved how he made you like this- he made you this cock slut who can only fit around his cock. It drives him mad whenever you go to him, admitting your needs, begging to be filled up my his fat cock, because he knows he’s finally made you his offiical

You don’t been remember your own name when he fucks you, but that’s not a big deal, right? You shouldn’t think about yourself right now- only think about how good he’s fucking into you and all the cum dripping out of you <3

ALHAITHAM, AYATO, CHILDE, Diluc, WRIOTHESLEY, Neuvillette, Kaveh, XIAO, WANDERER/SCARAMOUCHE, KAEYA, Zhongli

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circusinthewalls · 2 days

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☆ Viburnums - Chapter 1: The Fucking Sun ☆

Thank the heavens for holiday leave. You weren't sure how much longer you could stand the bitter cold that seeped through the barracks windows back on base. At least here at home, even if it wasn't much better insulation wise, you weren't tossing and turning all night from the chill. Not that you could really move much to begin with, sandwiched between Johnny and Simon like this. Although, come to think of it, you're all pretty pent up, so maybe it isn't so bad after all. Granted you can balance getting your last minute Christmas shopping done with getting your back blown out, of course.

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Tags: Soft Simon "Ghost" Riley, Top Simon "Ghost" Riley, Soft John "Soap" MacTavish, Top John "Soap" MacTavish, They're both fairly possessive of you tbh, AFAB Reader, Gender Neutral Terms, this is really self indulgent tbh, Christmas, Boxing Day, Established Polyam Relationship, Porn With Plot, I know it's May leave me alone, The holidays are nice, I imagined reader as transmasc when writing this, but anyone can read tbh, I got like two hours of sleep help, Proship DNI, MDNI, flip flopping povs like hotcakes baby i do what i want

a/n: Hello!! This will have a few more chapters, so some of the tags will be relevant within the next chapter. Will hopefully have that out in a couple days. Enjoy! o7 [ao3 link] [Chapter 2 (TBA)]

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Simon awakes first. Much to his surprise, actually. Typically you're the one that rises at dawn with him following close behind. He doesn't blame you, though. The trip home, what with all the holiday crowding in the airport and the traffic after, took a lot out of all of you. By some miracle you'd managed to hold it together enough for the three of you combined, but he could tell it'd left you exhausted. He rolls over, inching himself closer as he drapes his tattooed arm over your midsection, brushing against Johnny's hand that rests down by your hip. Briefly, he watches to see if the other man will stir. Then his gaze flickers to you. Neither of you even shift. Wrecked clearly. Suddenly finding himself a little more content with the idea of simply going back to sleep, he sidles up against you proper, nuzzling between your shoulder blades and using your warmth to lull him into drifting off again.

Later in the morning it's you that first withdraws from slumber, albeit slowly. You suck in a breath and stretch out your legs, yet in doing so you come to realize that someone's thigh is wedged firmly between them.You crack an eye open to investigate, only to wince when met with the sliver of hazy sunlight that's peeking in through the space between the curtains. You relent and decide to put off the task for later. It's not like you've ever minded being tangled up with the boys, anyway. Whoever's thigh it is can stay there. Isn't half bad in that spot, actually. ... Jesus, how long has it been since the three of you had simply had some time together that you're genuinely starting to get worked up just from this? Wracking your memories only turns up mission after mission with training filling in the gaps apart from a fleeting tryst in the locker room. One that'd gotten cut short when Price nearly walked in on the three of you, calling through the door that he needed Johnny for a moment. Speaking of the Scotsman, you can feel him move beside you. Probably startled awake by the way you jerked when the morning rays attacked you seconds prior. His fingers curl in, hand lazily feeling over your waist as he wakes up, trying to regain sense of his surroundings and figure out why it's so fuckin' hot in here. You tentatively open your eyes again just as he's turning away from you a bit, body twisting sideways enough to make his meaty thigh press harder against your clothed sex. Maybe it'd be more bearable if you'd had either him or Simon in you at all in the last month. When you make a small noise at the feeling, Johnny finally seems to remember you exist. Blinking the last ties of sleep away, he turns his attention over to you. "We're outta milk," he mutters.

What?? "Just remembered." You squint at him, an emotion akin to befuddlement written across your face. Of course, kudos to the man for having his priorities straight. You did need milk and.. Well, the whole lot of other standard groceries to be honest. Such is life coming back home every odd couple of months or so. Still, a, 'Good mornin' lovie,' would've been nice to hear first.

"Simonnn," you groan, quickly and haphazardly disentangling yourself from Johnny to roll over and face your other partner instead. "Your boyfriend is being fucking weird again." All the sudden flopping around is enough to rather abruptly rouse him, earning a gruff sound in response. He rubs at his eyes, trying his hardest to listen to whatever the hell it is you're saying so soon after waking him up. Laying damn near completely on top of him while doing so, at that. Truth be told he missed most of it, but he did make out something about Johnny being his boyfriend. At least he's pretty sure he did. "Yeah?" he hesitantly agrees, voice still thick with grogginess. "Was yours, too, last I checked?" Johnny isn't paying you two much mind. He has other plans and fully intends to see them through, so while you're preoccupied whining to Simon he slips out of bed unnoticed. Only when he's leaning over, fully dressed and ready to brace the snowy weather outside, planting goodbye kisses atop each of your heads do you pick up on the absence of his warmth beside you. You sit up, almost trying to chase him for another kiss, equally surprised and curious about his unanticipated departure. "Goin' to the market," he answers before you can even ask. "Ye ken I won't be long." As you two watch him exit the flat, Simon pulls you back down into his arms. He's not particularly excited about seeing Johnny go either, but he knows he'll be back within the hour and certainly won't object to having you to himself until then.

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fictionalmenobsessor · 6 hours

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CW: !!!NSFW MDNI!!!, afab reader, fluff, angst, smut, grinding, fingering, cowgirl, unprotected sex (just because it’s allowed in here, doesn’t mean you don’t wrap before you tap guys), p in v, missionary, bulge kink, breeding kink, a squint of creampie, baby trapping, Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley being an absolute daddy (mentally and physically).

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this is part 2, to part one 😘

song for the chapter: Leave Me Lonely - Ariana Grande

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ex-husband?!Simon, who eventually convinces you to let him come inside to talk once he finds out that your daughter isn’t home, and is actually at her grandparents for the night.

ex-husband?!Simon, who listens to all of your concerns when you are on the couch together; holding your hand in his with devoted eyes, thinking to himself that you were as beautiful as the day he lost you, possibly even more so.

ex-husband?!Simon, who rubs his thumb up and down the back of your palm trying to soothe you as you choke up into tears.

ex-husband?!Simon, who brings you into his lap, engulfing you in a hug with his big burly arms. stroking your hair as you sobbed into his shoulder, letting all of the pain you’ve accumulated wash over you in one fell swoop.

ex-husband?!Simon, who brings your head back so you can see him after you’ve calmed down. wiping away the tears and snot on your face, before giving you a kiss on the forehead.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

ex-husband?!Simon, who presses back when you suddenly kiss him, cupping both sides of your face with his calloused hands; tugging down on your lip with his teeth to force his tongue through.

ex-husband?!Simon, who ran his hands up and down your body, before landing on your hips. gently squeezing the soft, plush fat surrounding them as he brought you higher up on his lap.

ex-husband?!Simon, who lets out a string of groans as you start to rock your hips over the growing bulge beneath your thinly clothed cunt; slick and throbbing, you try to soothe the increasingly hot ache between your thighs.

ex-husband?!Simon, who hikes up the lacy hem of your nightdress, and roughly tugs aside your panties, like they shouldn’t have been there in the first place.

ex-husband?!Simon, who glides the pad of his thumb over the pearly nub on your clit, going in motions that has you writhing and begging for him to at least use one finger against your velvet walls.

ex-husband?!Simon, who eventually gives in, gliding his ring finger into your sopping cunt, watching the way your juices collected on the silver band.

ex-husband?!Simon, who pulled out his digit before you reached your impending orgasm, because according to him:

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───��────

“The only thing that you’re going to be coming on is my cock. Okay, sweetheart?”

You fumbled with his belt buckle, your mind still fogged from the rejection of what you desperately craved. No needed

He lifted his hips so you could tug down his jeans and boxers. His strained cock hit his lower abdomen, angry red rip leaking with beads of pre-cum.

With your panties still pushed to the side haphazardly, you grab ahold of Simon’s broad shoulders for stability; watching as he grabs his thick, leaky cock and align himself with your entrance.

Slowly sinking down, you fold your bottom lip into your mouth to force back a moan, teeth digging into the flesh severely. As much as you loved. Love? No. Loved, Simon, you couldn’t let him know that he still had an effect on you after all this time.

After a few moments of adjusting to his size, pussy fluttering around him to accommodate his size you started to roll your hips, gathering a rhythm that left you both short for air.

Gaining a bit more confidence, you bounce up and down on his cock. Simon’s dick hitting the gummy bundle of nerves tucked away inside you that made your toes curl; thighs trembling as your orgasm attempts to wash over you.

A deep, desperate groan echoed through your ears, “Fuck." He panted, pawing at your ass, "I've missed this pretty pussy so much. And I bet she's missed me too, yeah?"

Nodding your head feverously, you tried to focus on the euphoria you were about to experience in the horizon. Just as you were teetering on the edge, he must've felt a change; grabbing your hips, he flipped you over, denying your orgasm once more.

"You fucking asshole!" You seethed, hitting him on the chest.

"Don't." He snatched your wrists, flashing you a harsh glare. "Now you're going to behave and come on my cock when I tell you to, because I can stop all of this in a heartbeat."

In all honesty, you would’ve done anything for him. With a small nod of your head, he hoisted your legs over his shoulders, burying his throbbing cock deeper into your velvet walls; desperate with the need to come, he clenched his jaw and started his onslaught. He wasn't done with you; not yet.

Pursuing fuller strokes, he looked down at your lower abdomen, waiting to see the bump of his tip on the outside of your precious, fertile, vacant womb.

Your jaw slacked from being stuffed full of his cock. A distorted whine clawed up your throat as your eyes rolled to the back of your head.

“Good girl, you’re takin’ my cock s’well.” He smirked, now looking back up at you, and driving his hips faster. Your heels dug into his shoulders, pussy clenching him like a vice.

“Please, Si.” You whispered, clinging onto his chest like you clung onto your destined euphoria.

“Please wha’?” He mocked, looking down at you condescendingly; mixing his strokes with either quick and short jabs, or long and heavy thrusts. Only because he wanted to be an asshole and make you choke on your words as you tried to answer him.

You tried to form sentences, you really did, but it only came out as incomprehensible garble.

Pulling yourself together, you forced out, “Please let me cum, Si.”

“It’s cute y’think y’had a choice.” He teased. His pelvis snapped up faster, turning the coil in your stomach faster in doing so.

"Please, Si. I-" You cut yourself by an annoyed whine; not wanting to hold on any longer, and release the overstimulation consuming your body, "-I can't anymore."

"S’okay." He mumbled, stroking a piece of hair out of your face, looking into your teary, glistening cockdrunk eyes. “Cum aroun’ my cock jus’ like that. I’ve got you.”

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

ex-husband?!Simon, who promises to pump your pussy full of his milky seed; fucking it inside your womb over, and over again, to ensure you’re round with all of his future kids.

──────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────

please don’t be too harsh this is my first time writing smut which is why it took so long to post 😔

42 notes · View notes

tojisun · 15 days

Text

"do you like it like this, love?"

is something price murmurs when he fingers you :(( his lips are pressed along your tear-stained cheek, the scruff of his beard feels so ticklish. you mewl out your whimpers, quiet hiccups passing between your trembling lips.

a particular curl makes you gasp, your legs squeezing close at the sudden rush of euphoria.

"shh," john croons, rubbing his thumb along your folds, expertly avoiding our hardened clit. "open y'r legs again f'me, love. c'mon."

he coaxes you with his touch, his voice, his soft kisses. when you shake your head in reply, too overwhelmed with pleasure to speak, john just doubles his efforts; quiet pleas lilting from the base of his throat, his tongue heavy in his mouth.

he is just so soft. so patient.

(he will draw out the foreplay even when you're shaking in his hold, your eyes full of tears, and your body racked with oversensitivity. when you beg him to fuck you, to "please, john. please stuff me," john just nuzzles his nose on your cheek and curls his fingers in your cunt again.

it makes you sob because the realization finally descends on you—john was preparing you for a scene.)

#d/s relationship #john price x reader #captain john price x reader #price x reader #suns #john price #afab reader

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envy-of-the-apple · 3 months

Text

Sun Eats Moon

Dark!Gojo Satoru x reader

Word count: 9.1k

Part two: Earth Kills the Moon

Synopsis: Your boss takes on Gojo Satoru as his newest client. Much to your relief, he doesn't seem to recognize you.

(Warnings: noncon, dubcon, rough sex, oral sex, bullying, harassment, one mention of choking, penetrative sex, afab!reader, coercion, forced relationships, implied baby trapping attempt, hint of pregnancy kink)

You wanted to quit the second you read the name.

You should have. It would have been so easy to hand in your two weeks, tell your boss that you just couldn't. Or maybe you could have convinced one of the other paralegals to take your place.

It's pathetic. Almost a decade had passed and you still felt yourself slink into the girl you once were, rolling under his thumb, utterly helpless. You should be better than that. You worked so hard to reach where you are now.

You were different now, you told yourself over and over again. You were older, smarter. Besides, it'd been a decade, would he even remember you?

It's Higuruma who notices your restless fingers. You shouldn't have underestimated him, despite how exhausted he looks, nothing goes past your boss. He asks about it when you two are seated in a beige room, waiting for the client.

"Is everything alright?"

You're still staring out the window. How high were you? 16 stories, maybe even higher. Resentment, you can feel it rise up your throat, build throughout your body. Of course, he has fancy cars, pretty buildings, and limitless money. Men like him will never know what it's like to have nothing. All men were born equal. What a fucking joke.

Higuruma shifts, and you jolt out of your thoughts. "Yes," you console, "apologies, I'm just tired."

The lawyer hums, and you're not sure if he believes you or not. Before he can say anything, the frosted doors open. The rest of the legal team comes in, sitting at the long table you and Higuruma inhabited.

He comes in last. He'd always had a liking for theatrics.

Not much had changed within a decade. He was taller, bigger. He'd switched out of his high school uniform, opting for something more business-friendly. He still made heads turn. Became the center of attention.

It's his smile that throws you. Sincere, real. Lingering on his face like extravagant jewelry. Hard not to notice.

You react better than you anticipated. You don't shake or tremble or cry when he passes you. You just squeeze your fists, bunching your skirt in your palm. It helps.

He sits down, right at the end, so everyone can see him. One foot elegantly crossed over the other. When he tilts his head, his soft white hair threatens to shift over brilliant blue eyes.

"Well, I'm sure you don't need me to explain why we're all here." A few chuckles resonate from the small group. "Let's just do our best and hope nothing gets too out of hand."

His eyes slide over to meet yours, and you steel yourself for his eyes to widen. For something wicked and cruel and nasty to sink into his face.

Nothing.

Gojo Satoru maintains that same smile. The blaring sun. Painfully innocent. His gaze lasts barely a second before moving to the next face, and the next, and the next.

"I look forward to working with all of you."

𖤓

If you could describe Gojo Satoru in one word, it would be: celestial.

He's like a shining star. Brighter than the sun. Everywhere he went, he was bound to attract attention. Much like how the Earth is drawn towards the sun, people are drawn towards Gojo Satoru. It's the natural order.

But, if an insignificant planet resists the Sun's gravitational force, it'll get crushed. You learned this the hard way.

Gojo had always been in your class for years. The third year was no different. Despite the commonality, you two never talked to each other. You had no reason to. Until the vending machine gave you two cartons, and you suddenly remembered from an overheard conversation that Gojo liked chocolate milk too.

"Want it?" You hold it out to him during lunch break. He was in the middle of a boisterous conversation with his friend. They did intimidate you, but you had no reason to be scared. It's not like they were bullies.

Gojo's sunglasses dip down. He eyes what you're holding in your hand, before his gaze drifts back up to you.

"The machine gave me extra," you supply, "do you want it?"

"Oh, sure," he says after a moment. Your hands brush. "Thanks."

You nod, and then you walk back to the cafeteria. It was meaningless. A favor between acquaintances. He was helping you more than you helped him. You didn't want to carry chocolate milk around in your backpack. You forgot about the interaction within a few hours.

𖤓

The meeting ends hours later. When you stumble home, it's barely evening but you can still feel the stress creeping through your legs and arms.

You go straight to your laptop. Fumbling through the keyboard, desperate, searching.

He's famous. Of course, he is. In his mid-twenties, but already a multi-millionaire. The head of an extremely elite family. Your eyes scan picture after picture after picture. Photos of him drinking with models in skimpy bikinis. Fancy cars. Huge houses. Private jets. Gojo Satoru: the man behind Gojo Co., Gojo Satoru and supermodel Menza hinted at relationship, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru, Gojo Satoru.

You pull away when it starts to burn, when the rage and sorrow become too much. He has everything. Everything he could want. He made you go through hell for months, and yet he never got punished for it. The universe rewards him with lavishness you'd never be able to touch.

It's not fair. It's not fair. It's not fucking fair.

Through your blinds, the sun happily shines.

𖤓

You don't notice it until it becomes painfully unbearing.

Gojo calls you by your name now (until that day you bet he didn't even know you existed). He's like a ghost, constantly appearing out of nowhere to sling an arm around your shoulder, eager to chase off any of your friends to talk to you about things that don't matter.

He constantly offers to walk you home (and then Gojo ignores your refusals and does it anyway). It stays like that for a few days, never bordering beyond friendliness. You think he's harmless. Maybe he just hasn't had someone genuinely do a nice favor for him. Besides, you're flattered by the attention. Even you can be swayed by the pull of Gojo Satoru. It feels nice to be wanted.

You reason it'll just be for another week. A week later, you two will be nothing but acquaintances, sometimes exchanging quick smiles during class.

It doesn't truly dawn on you as to what he's doing until he comes out and says it.

"What?" Because you must have misheard him.

"We should," he says, not even bothering to repeat himself, "I mean, we're practically dating already. Let's just make it official."

You stare at him. As always, he's utterly beautiful. The light of the setting sun makes his skin glow gold. Whenever he's walking you home is one of the rare times he removes those sunglasses. His eyes are like jewels, pretty things that you wish were yours.

You laugh. It's high and panicky because you still think he's joking. He doesn't laugh with you. You stop.

"Oh-oh, I'm sorry Gojo-I wasn't-I didn't think. I'm just not...interested in dating anyone right now. It's not you! I think-I think you're great, but it's just the wrong time, and school is getting so much busier and-" you keep rambling, coming up with excuse after excuse because you're convinced Gojo would cut you off with an awkward laugh, tell you it's fine.

He doesn't do either, letting your flounderings get more and more pathetic. His smile had dropped. You can't read his expression anymore.

Eventually, you grow quiet, standing with him in that silence. When that gets too much, you timidly tell him to have a goodnight and walk home. He doesn't follow, staying rooted to the sidewalk where you left him. You're not running away, you tell yourself over and over again. And yet, you can't help but feel relief as soon as you can't feel his eyes.

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.

𖤓

It was something minuscule.

Barely considered legal work. The case would most likely be finished in a couple of weeks. The defendant had nothing on Gojo Satoru, at least from what you and the other paralegals could see. You highly doubted it would even go to court. Higuruma always had a knack for bringing anyone to the table. Gojo would be let off from whatever he did without a hitch. No punishment. Just like always.

"Word of advice, don't think about what happens in the private sector," Higuruma says, over whiskey.

The firm was celebrating another victory at a fancy bar. You were still stewing over the face of that young woman's face when the judge ruled in your client's favor. She looked heartbroken. You can still remember the sleazy smile your client had given her.

"It's a job," he says, "do it. Boost your resume, and get out."

He takes another dainty sip of his glass. Tonight, the circles underneath his eyes seem even darker. "You're a young kid. Do something else with your life."

When he offers to buy you a round, you accept. You think about that night sometimes, and you wonder if Higuruma wished someone else would have given him that advice when he was younger.

Do the job, and get out. Easier said than done. Especially when the job involved Gojo Satoru.

Associating with him was dangerous, you knew that firsthand, especially when he was interested in something you had. You'd left, but that wouldn't save you. The space of decades would not help.

Burn Gojo once, he won't forgive you. Burn Gojo twice? You don't think there's anyone alive who did that.

Over the coming days, you expect something from him. It's a nagging feeling in your stomach. The delayed response to a gunshot. Dread. You expect him to snap. Push. Break.

He never does. Gojo remains pliant, the same to you as he remains to your boss. There's no additional touching, no disgusting nicknames, no scathing looks. Nothing.

You don't get the confirmation until a week later, when Gojo stops you near the elevator.

"Higuruma's...assistant, right? Sorry, never got your name," he says, and you steel yourself because the two of you are alone and here it comes but if you yell loudly enough maybe-

"He asked for some paperwork, and I finally found it for him." Gojo hands you a stack of sheets with a cheery smile. "You won't mind giving that to him, will ya? Thanks!"

Just as quickly as he arrives, he leaves, shoes clicking down the hall as he goes. You can only stare at his rescinding back, the palpable feeling of relief nearly making your knees buckle.

The best news you could have possibly received. Gojo Satoru had completely forgotten about you.

When you got home later that evening, the rain was heavy, and the sun was nowhere to be seen.

𖤓

You don't have proof it was him.

It's unjust to accuse people of things they didn't do. You lack any evidence. It could have easily started by itself. You'd always been meek and timid. People were bound to take advantage of that.

But the timing was just too perfect for it to not be caused by him.

In the weeks following the incident with Gojo, school went from tolerant to hell. It started small, at first. Tiny. Unoticable. Insignificant. Some people (Gojo's lackeys, you'd later realize), would nudge you as they passed you by the halls. They apologized, mid-laugh, and in the beginning, you truly thought they were sincere. Then, the nudges turned into pushes, then shoves. That's when you knew you had a target on your back.

At first, you found it kind of hard to believe. Bullying? It sounded so childish. Something reserved for petty middle schoolers. You were in your final year of high school. You were already an adult. You laughed it off, for a bit. Mostly because it was so ridiculous. Only when it starts becoming more severe, more apparent that you were his target, do you start taking things more seriously.

There was no proof, but everyone knew it was Gojo. And being on Gojo's bad side wasn't something people were willing to risk. One by one, your friends started to disappear, reducing their involvement by sending strained smiles during passing period. The more stubborn ones who were more adamant about staying by your side were chased away too. They'd skip school for a few days, before coming back and completely ignoring you.

Teachers and staff were no help either. Why would they? Gojo's family held them in the palm of their hand. The most your homeroom teacher would do was avert his eyes whenever something was thrown at you for the third time in class, and quietly remind students to settle down.

You fell on the ground with an embarrassing thump. A chorus of laughter, and a mocking 'sorry' is all you hear from the crowd. Other students step over your scattered papers, giving you looks of sympathy but never bothering to help. You'd call them cowards, but you know you'd do the same.

Instead, you focus on collecting your papers. You avoid the lump in your throat. The tears that threaten to break over your waterline. It's humiliating, being stuck on the floor like this. It's only Wednesday, but you already feel like breaking.

Hands, scarred, move past you, collecting the rest of the sheets. His face is carefully blank as Geto Suguru neatly tucks his share all in one piece before handing it to you. You give your thanks. He ignores it.

“Are you hurt?” Geto asks, his voice barely loud enough to hear.

You think you scrapped your knee during the fall, but other than your pride, you're fine. You shake your head. Geto sighs. It's not out of relief.

“That's good,” he says anyway.

You found it ironic that Gojo's best friend is the only one who bothers to help you these days. It makes sense, in a way. It's not like he'll send his goons to Geto, instead. In this solar system, Geto Suguru is the only person unaffected by Gojo's solar flares.

You work in relative silence, collecting the mess that fell out of your bag. Geto hands you the last of the supplies, idly watching as you tuck them away.

“Take my advice,” he says just before he leaves, “give in.”

He stands up. Geto Suguru has always been taller than you, but now the difference feels even worse. When he looks down at you, a flicker of pity lingers in his eyes. It's gone before it can mean anything.

“It'll only get worse from here if you don't.”

Worse, he had said. God, what could be worse? You were already at rock bottom. All you have left is your dignity. Something you intend on gritting your teeth to keep.

You quickly learned something about Geto Suguru: he knew his best friend.

Friday. The end of the worst week of your life has finally arrived. The week after is break, and then maybe Gojo will move onto some other hyperfixation, and finally leave you alone.

Classes were out. You were done, free to run home and cry the entire week away. And then, you noticed, your locker was open.

Smashed in, was a better term. Completely, irrevocably, destroyed. It looked like someone had taken a wooden bat to repeatedly smash in the metal until it cracked open like an egg.

You don't want to look, but you have to. The busted door is barely hanging on its hinges when you push it open.

It's worse than anything you could think of.

Your books, textbooks, journals, are all torn apart and written on. All the contents of your bag have been thrown around. Your assignments, your notes, your pens and pencils. But it's your laptop that makes your throat stop. Smashed, broken without any hope of being salvageable. Your everything was in there. Why why why would he do this to you?

This wasn't bullying.

This was abuse.

Fuck pride. Fuck dignity.

You were so tired.

Despite the hell his lackeys put you through. Gojo Satoru himself never bothered you. In fact, you hadn't seen him all week. He doesn't make himself impossible to find. You know where his group hangs out after school. You're barely holding yourself together when you hear his voice. His pretty laugh. You don't care about how you look, close to breaking, your voice high-pitched and shaky.

"Why?"

Your voice catches his attention. He falls into silence, just like the rest of the group. Gojo surveys you for a moment. There's a scoff, a hint of amusement before he waves off the rest of the group.

"Get lost."

They comply, dispersing in multiple directions. For the first time, in a long while, you and Gojo are left alone. You and Gojo are left, alone.

"Well?" he tilts his head, completely bored.

"What do I have to do?" You ask desperately, "What-what do I have to do to make this all stop? Please I'll-I'll do anything, just-just make it-"

It's all too much. You can't hold your sobs in, bursting into tears as you fumble through your words. He tuts in mock pity. You flinch when you feel his hand against your cheek, but he doesn't let you shy away.

"Anything?" He asks when your sobs simmer into hushed whimpers, "Really? Anything?"

You blink, looking up at him with rough teary eyes. He's grinning, wide and manic. Your heart drops when he lowers himself to whisper in your ear.

"Anything, right?"

You nod once. He sighs in pure delight. His breath tickles your cheek.

"Get on your knees."

You jerk back, but Gojo doesn't let you go far, a hand on your shoulder, keeping you rooted on the spot. At your look of pure panic, he only laughs a little.

"I-I-Gojo you-"

"And call me Satoru now. Since we're gonna get to know each other a lot better," he interrupts with a chiding grin, ignoring your wide eyes. "What? I thought you said anything, right?"

He's asking, but it's clear you don't get a choice anymore. His grip on your shoulder is tight, close to crushing skin and bone. You're trapped. No, you were trapped the moment you talked to Gojo Satoru.

To think this all started because of two cartons of chocolate milk.

You relent when his grip gets too painful, sinking down to your knees. The grass is cool, and you know it will leave damp spots on your skirt, letting everyone know what you did for him.

"Good girl," he coos, and you shudder at his hand petting your hair. Like you're some precious pet. To him, maybe you are. How could anyone think of treating a human like this? You should be grateful he does it for you, instead of demanding you to pull him out. Still, the jiggle of his belt makes you wince. You turn away, not being able to bring yourself to look. Only when the tip of his cock reaches your peripheral, do you look back. It's big. You should have expected it, considering his height. It's already leaking, a bead of precum that makes you shudder. He moves forward and you instinctively grip his thigh.

"Gojo I-"

"Nuh-uh. Satoru," he ununciates, "Satoru. You gotta' start listening to me baby, or else we're gonna have problems."

You look down at the grass. Green, soft.

"Satoru."

His eyes flash in satisfaction.

"Open up, pretty girl."

The last of your fight disappears, sinks into the soft grass. You swallow, once, before you take him. It's a slow, torturous process. He's too big, your jaw is already starting to ache. Satoru barely notices your discomfort, sighing in contentment when you start to gag on his cock, reaching down to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear.

You make a muffled gurgle and he tilts his head down. His sunglasses fall forward, two pretty eyes stare at you.

"What? Don't act like this is your first time-" he stops himself, mid-thought.

"Wait...this can't be your first time, right?"

If you weren't humiliated enough. You can't even lie, averting your eyes to avoid any further shame.

"Poor baby," Satoru says, all too delighted, "lemme' walk you through it. Gotta' suck on it, just like a lollipop-that's it-use your tongue," he encourages, still gripping his cock in his hand, like he was feeding it to you.

You can feel your mouth open wider. Tears stream down your face, not just from your pride, but also from pain. Satoru lets you take him in like this for a few more moments, just enjoying your warm mouth.

"There we go," he breathes, "take-fuck-take all of me."

But Satoru isn't known for his patience. You've barely taken all of him in yet before he grabs your hair to fuck your throat properly. You choke, sputtering all over his cock. He barely pays you any mind, his head thrown back as he rams himself down your mouth without a care in the world.

"Y'know, our first time together could-could have been nicer," he says through gritted teeth, the heat was starting to get to him, "but you just had to go and mess it up, huh?"

If you were stronger. If you were braver. You would have rejected it. Screamed. Fought. At the very least, you would have denied his delusions. But you weren't strong. You weren't brave. You were weak. Stupid. This was all your fault. Had you just given in the moment he asked, this wouldn't be happening to you. Or maybe, he'd be a bit nicer about it.

He hisses, gripping the back of your head before something warm and disgusting fills your mouth. Above you, Satoru lets out a shameless groan, a mix of your name as well as a curse. He releases you then, finally letting you sink to the floor. You fall forward, resting on your hands and knees, panting, trying to regain your breath, some semblance of sanity. You can still taste him. It's salty, a sickly tang. You spit as much as you can on the grass. It doesn't help.

He kneels, getting down to your level. With the way he's silently watching you, you know he's waiting for the right answer this time.

Don't resist the Sun. It'll crush you.

So, you drop your gaze down. You take in a deep long stilted breath.

"Yes, Satoru," you say, voice quiet, pliant, "I'll go out with you."

His demeanor drops in just a second. He smiles, painfully innocent, like you hadn't spent the last few moments choking on his cock. He cups your face with both hands and you wonder how he could look at you like that, gently, as though you weren't covered in tears and his cum.

(You still feel it drip down your mouth. Tonight, when he finally lets you go home you'll cry for hours in the shower, hoping the water will wash away all the shame you feel. It won't.)

"Finally!" He exclaims, laughing, light, happy, elated, "I'm so glad you finally came around. I was starting to think I was ugly or something."

You stay like that for a while. Underneath him. You let his hands run up and down your body, like he's feeling the space that makes up you. Soon, you'd realize Gojo Satoru liked to touch things that were beneath him. A thought muddles it's way through your numb brain. You bring yourself to look at him.

"Satoru?" you ask. He sighs in satisfaction, stroking your hair.

"My laptop...it's broken."

You didn't know what else to say. It sounded accusatory, even to your ears. Righteous. You wondered if he heard it too, if he'd do something about it.

Satoru only scoffs.

“that old thing?” You flinch. It was a gift from your aunt, you highly doubted he cared enough about the sentimental. He hugs you closer, almost like a snake, constricting you within its scales before it devours you.

(You think the worst part is that he didn't even deny it.)

“I'll just get you a new one, baby.”

He walks you home later that evening. When he demands a kiss, you comply, numbly pressing your aching lips to his.

The sunset is pretty today.

𖤓

It's not a particularly hard case, but Gojo has a knack for keeping those who work for him busy. Higuruma had asked you to stay behind, once again. The two of you were stuck alone in the office building, a room that Gojo had graciously supplied.

You were milling through a stack of papers when someone new walked in. You didn't recognize her. She was tall, pretty, sparkling jewelry littered her neck and wrists. Your eyes drifted up and down her outfit, something that definitely wasn't business-appropriate. A part of you wants to ask where she got that lipgloss from.

"Oh," she tilts her head, surveying the two of you with pretty eyes, "is Sato not here?"

You inwardly cringe at the nickname, but choose not to show it. Higuruma is the one who saves you, in the end. He speaks on both of your behalf.

"Mr. Gojo isn't here at the moment," he says, "feel free to wait."

She does as she's told, plopping down on a seat right next to her. Higuruma goes back to ignoring her, dutiful in everything like he always is. You, on the other hand, don't like the way some of the other associates eye her legs. When you wordlessly hand her your jacket, she gratefully accepts.

"Thanks. I love your bag, by the way," she cheerily says and a part of you feels bad for her.

Minutes pass. She crosses her legs and then uncrosses them. When she crosses them again, you have to look up from your paperwork and ask if she's feeling alright.

"Just nervous," she admits, "I-I haven't seen Sato since our...last meeting."

Everyone in the vicinity knows this wasn't a casual business meeting, you don't get why she's avoiding the elephant like that. Probably to save face. It's clear from her behavior that she wasn't expecting so many visitors, so perhaps this situation is new for her. You found it strange that a booty call would be called up to an office building, especially when people were clearly watching, but you doubted Mr. Gojo cared about that. He was always shameless in that regard, uncaring about anyone's reputation, even his own. That's why he's in this legal mess in the first place. Besides, you were part of Gojo's Satoru's legal team. Part of your job is to be discreet about his extracurricular affairs.

Gojo Satoru hadn't changed at all since high school. Why would he? His personality has gotten him this far, after all. The Sun would never change, it's a constant sphere of fire. You wouldn't want him to change. You were banking on his stagnant nature to slip by. You couldn't imagine if he did change, improve himself, and realize how horrible he'd been to you. How would you be able to keep yourself together if he pulled you aside one day and tried to apologize? You'd break. Things are better the way they are now. Let Gojo Satoru indulge himself in all this lavishness, forgetting about the people he's tortured. It's better this way.

You glance over at the girl. She's young, maybe a couple of years younger than you. You can see the flush on her cheeks. The clear swooning. A part of you wonders what she'd think about that man if you ever told her what he did to you. What a monster he is-

"There you are!" Mr. Gojo strides in, just as silent as always, making himself known when he wants to.

The girl jumps up, her eyes lighting up in pure excitement as she practically drags herself into Mr. Gojo's arms. He places an arm on the small of her back, scarily close to touching somewhere inappropriate as she chatters away. They disappear off to wherever rich men like him go.

It's so quick. You must have imagined it because, for a second, you were sure he'd glanced back at you.

𖤓

By now, everyone knows you're Satoru's. That means, like him, you're untouchable.

You're not celestial. If Satoru was a star, then you were a stray meteor he'd found hurtling through space, and he couldn't resist forcing it to revolve around him. In exchange for suffering through his solar flares and radiation, he protects you from bigger planets that are all too eager to smash into you. The one relief is that no one seems to bother you anymore. You haven't been shoved around, pushed, or prodded. Sometimes, you receive glares from Satoru's old ex's, but it's more tolerable than burnt homework.

Satoru has officially chased away all your friends, but he's more than happy to keep you company. You sit next to him in lunch now, quietly listening as he prattles on to the rest of his friends (you recognize some of them, the ones who messed with you, they never seem to hold your gaze for long). You used to study on campus alone, right after school let out. Now, you still do it, but with Satoru watching. It's hard to concentrate with his wandering fingers and wet lips.

He takes all of your firsts. You don't give them to him, much less, he demanded it of you. The first time he fully takes you is far less romantic than you'd ever hoped. It was on his bed after he'd practically dragged you over to his house that night. You went home the next day covered in marks that took nearly a week to heal. A little while after that, Geto came to talk to you again. For the second time ever.

"Here." He offers you a packet. Pills. You're confused for a moment until you realize Satoru didn't wear a condom.

"Thank-"

"Don't," he cuts you off, "Don't thank me."

He says it with so much hate that you think it's directed at you. It isn't until years later that you realize the disgust was towards himself.

There are theories that the Moon once had color.

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The sun didn't help. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.

When the moon was out, you often stared at it, reveling in its beauty. Now, trapped in between Satoru's arms, you find its skeleton a bit too haunting to look at.

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.

Graduation is coming up soon. You already had your college picked out, far far away from this backward town. From his conversations, Satoru was planning on going to some high-end college in Tokyo. With the way he kept looking back at you, you had a feeling he was planning on dragging you there too.

You were intelligent enough to keep your mouth shut about your plans. Satoru never asked, so you guessed he assumed you would let him bully you into whatever he wanted. He was right, so far. It's not like you'd ever argued with him.

Your parents were the only people who knew about your plan. They were excited, albeit for the wrong reasons.

"I'm so glad to see you're this interested in higher education," your mother beamed, "why the sudden change?"

You look at your mother's face. People have told you that you share the same smile. You wonder if she'd keep smiling if you ever told her about what Satoru's been doing to you, the bullying, the harassment.

You can't. You won't, because you can't bear to see her give you the same pitiful look your classmates give-the one Geto gives. You don't want her to see you as something broken.

"I'm just starting to think I might go into law," you finally say, "definitely need college for that."

On Thursdays, you have to sit inside the gym during Satoru's basketball practice. You wait on the bleachers, reviewing notes, and listening to the squeaking of sneakers. Satoru's good at the sport. You know last year they won a few tournaments. Whenever he scores a point, he gives a cheer, turning back to see if you saw it too. In those moments, you remember he's just a kid. He's your age. You can feel the envy. There, but too insignificant to do anything. He pleasantly lives his childhood, even after he stole yours.

Practice ends, always a little later than it's officially supposed to. Coach gives the final whistle and then Satoru is jogging back to you. Your things are already neatly packed into your bag. His breath is barely ragged, you can smell the hint of sweat as he kisses you on the lips. You can feel eyes on you, same as always. It's getting easier to ignore the gawking. After all, you're Satoru's now.

"Miss me?" he asks when he pulls away. He grabs your stuff before you can, hauling your backpack away. To others, it may look like he's being a sweet boyfriend. To you, it's another leash, tugging you to where he wants to go. You're not sure how Satoru sees the action.

You clamber out of the bleachers, following him without a word. Usually, Satoru would walk you home. You'd share a kiss with him on the front porch. And for the rest of the day, he'd finally leave you alone.

He grabs your hand, shooting you a wink when you lightly jostle into his body. Instead of heading out the door, Satoru turns his gaze towards the empty locker rooms. The light's automated. It flickers an unsettling white, casting a sick glow along the tiles. You are barely through the door before Satoru's pinning you against the lockers, kissing you as aggressively as he can.

Your hands immediately find their way to his shoulders, squeezing. It's not enough to hurt him, but it grabs his attention anyway. He lets up a little, relaxing into your touch.

"Sorry, baby," he says not sounding apologetic at all, "just be good f'me, okay? Need you."

He's pent up, you realize and you look at the door. School's out. The campus is nearly empty. But people are still around. And the door he just shoved you through doesn't have a lock-

Oh, wait. Would it even matter if someone came in and saw you? Everyone knew you were Satoru's.

Three more weeks. Just three more weeks.

He's trailing down, dropping to his knees. He flips up your skirt, pushing aside your panties, and attaches his hot mouth to your pussy. He's ravenous, today. Sucking on your clit like he can't bear to do anything else. You gasp, immediately assaulted by the shocks of pleasure running up and down your back.

You press against the wall, arching your back, giving him even more to suck on. He hums in approval, his voice getting lost in your wet folds. You're practically dripping now, and Satoru, with all his debauchery, gladly licks it all up as you writhe and whimper above him. Your thighs grow tighter around him, threatening to crush his skull if both his hands weren't carved into the fat of your thighs, squeezing.

Your initial panic is washed away, crumbled by his insistent tongue and fingers. You whimper out his name again as his tongue circles your clit and two fingers continue to move in and out of your sopping pussy. You're crying now, tears of pleasure and brokenness floating down your cheeks. Despite how blurry your vision is, you can see Satoru looking up at you.

"Getting close?" he's breathless, but there's still a hint of playfulness in his voice, "gonna sing, pretty girl?"

He gives a particularly hard suck on your clit and you're gone. You seize, throwing your head back as your legs shake from the force of your orgasm. It's a scream, so loud and shameless. Satoru gives a groaned pant, lapping up your aftertaste, making you jolt from the overstimulation before he finally gets to his feet. You watch as he haphazardly wipes the remnants of you with his sleeve before he's kissing you again.

"Always so sweet f'me," he purrs, biting at your lips before he fumbles with his belt. His cock is already red and strained. He pants, head shifting to fall at the crook of your neck as he lines himself up and sinks into you with one full thrust.

You whine a mix of a sob and a hissed moan. He hushes you with a stilted breath, barely keeping himself together as he pumps himself into you. Both of you are sweating now. You can feel the beads draw down your neck. He licks at your clavicle, biting when he starts to get more aggressive. When it's too less, he hikes your thigh over his waist, keeping it there so he can go even deeper.

"Fuck, I'm crazy for you," he slurs against your skin. You can barely pay attention to his words, barely keeping your own voice in check, "’would do anything for you, pretty girl."

He raises his head, looking you in the eye. His sunglasses have been tossed on the floor. You can his beautiful eyes, two cosmic galaxies of blue. You could stare at them for hours, discovering each variant of cerulean, naming each one. You bet each day you look, you'll find another shade. They're so pretty.

You wonder how pretty those eyes would look floating in a jar.

"'Toru-!" you gasp when Satoru rocks himself into again, even faster. The name you accidentally gave him when you're too fucked out to comprehend language makes him laugh in pure delight, his smile uncontrolled, delirious.

"Right here, baby," he moans into your sweaty skin, hand reaching down to rub your clit, "your ‘Toru's right here. Just where you need him."

His fingers move under your shirt, squeezing at your tits, exploring, roughly grabbing at your chest. The sensation makes you wince. Your walls draw even tighter, choking his cock.

"Too-too much, 'Toru, p-please." He growls at your begging, burying his face in your neck again. He nips at your damp skin, you flinch.

"I gotcha' baby," he breathes, "just-just lemme-" He presses on your clit. It's all you need.

You come with a sob, your pussy squeezing, milking Satoru for all he's worth. He's not too far behind, hips stuttering before he whines in your ear. Something warm fills your cunt.

You flounder, sagging against the wall. Satoru's the only thing that keeps you upright as you fight to catch your breath. He isn't in any better shape, panting just as hard as you are. He lifts his head, pressing his damp forehead onto yours. There's a dreamy smile on his lips. A look of absolute adoration.

"I love you."

You look at him. There's nowhere else to look.

"I love you," he repeats, leaning forward to kiss the corner of your lips. His lips trail down, caressing your cheek, your jaw, your neck. It would almost feel nice, but you can only stare straight ahead. You can see the dull green lockers in the distance. You can smell the mold in the damp locker room. You can feel Satoru's cum slowly seep out of you, trailing down your thigh.

Fuck three weeks.

You needed to get out, now.

𖤓

The only reason you went is because you were told Gojo Satoru wouldn't be there.

His assistant had off-handily mentioned that he had a meeting on the other side of town. Very last minute. The building as a whole would be empty, just a skeleton crew and a couple of security guards to keep the place running. It made sense, it was 8 pm- long past any proper business hours.

Higuruma could have easily gone, but it's clear the sleepless nights have been getting to him, or the stress. His paralegal is more than qualified to act like a middleman between him and Mr.Gojo's associates. It's an easy mission. Just grab a few things, and get out.

Gojo Satoru wasn't supposed to be there.

And yet, there he was, leaning against the door, blocking you into the room.

His assistant had always been a mousey thing. Tonight, however, he'd been extra ansty, looking around the room. Babbling out excuses as to what was taking him so long. Now, when he can barely even look at you, you realize he was just a distraction.

"You're off the clock, Fimo," Gojo finally breaks the silence, "take tomorrow off too, okay?"

His assistant quickly nods, keeping his head down to flit out the door. You can't even bring yourself to be mad at him. Gojo always had a habit of singling out the weakest, crushing them within his fist, unless they bent or broke.

The door shuts with a click.

"You know, I didn't even recognize you at first," he starts. He takes a small step forward.

You take one back. He puts his hands up.

"Okay, don't be like that," he sighs, exasperated, "It's been what, 10 years? How you've been?"

He steps around you, barely brushing against your shoulder to get to his desk. He reaches down, grabbing a wine bottle and two glasses from a cabinet, setting both down on mahogany wood.

"Wanna drink? Technically, it's against company policy to serve alcohol in the building but I won't tell if you don't." He grins. It looks bloody.

He looks so casual, the man who's haunted your nightmares, leaning against a desk in a building he owns. Your heart's beating in your chest. It's so loud. You wonder if he can hear it too.

When you don't respond, he rolls his eyes.

"Figures." He pops the cork. "You were always such a stickler for the rules."

"What do you want?" You ask, your tone weaker than you'd liked.

"What? Don't you wanna catch up? I missed you." You flinch at his words, looking away. "A paralegal, huh? Gotta' say, wasn't what I expected, but it fits you." It sounds condescending, but you don't poke the bear, opting to stay silent.

He seems to take an issue with that, regardless.

"Are you mad? If anything, I should be the one upset at how you just ran off like that. After all that time we spent together too. I didn't even get a breakup text."

His last words, send a chill up your spine. A warning. Staying here any longer would be a mistake.

You go to move.

Satoru's faster.

Your head slams against the wall. Hard. Enough to hurt. You struggle anyway, clawing at the hand that's gripping your throat, the body pinning you down. Above you (he's gotten so much taller now), Gojo tuts in disappointment.

"I tried to be nice and look where that got me. You tried to run again," he muses, like he's disappointed, "I shouldn't be surprised. You've always needed something with a bit more teeth." At his threat, his hand on your throat tightens. You freeze.

It's barely choking you, but it's enough of a warning. His other hand is playing with the end of your blouse, feeling the fabric. You can feel the tears start. They're a familiar taste. Only this time, they're twinged with bitterness.

"Don't do this," you whisper, "Don't-don't-"

"Yeah, I don't think you're in any position to make demands right now." He's grinning, but when you look into his eyes, you can see the anger. A fire that has burned for a decade. At that moment, you realized Gojo Satoru had changed. Now, he was better at hiding how he truly felt.

You should have quit the moment Higurama got him as a client.

Gojo's dragging you over to the desk, haphazardly pushing away the stuff already on it. The computer, the bottle, the wine glasses all fall to the floor with a deafening crash as he shoves you down, splaying you across the table. He follows you down, leaning to meet your lips in a frenzied kiss. It's different than all the other times he'd kissed you. He'd lost all the inexperience, more keen on making you stay put and bleed. When you try to turn your face, pushing at his chest, he only growls. A large hand grabs your chin, keeping you in place for him.

When he pulls away, there's a hint of blood on his plush lips. It's not his. He licks it up regardless.

You're full-on sobbing now; barely in sucking air as your body shudders and jolts. You don't expect comfort, least of all from him, but he's cooing, wiping away your tears.

"Missed this," he purrs, ignoring the way you weakly push at him, "'guess that was my mistake. I was expecting you to be different. Nah, you'll be the same crybaby you always were. That's how you managed to slip under my radar."

He buries his face into your hair, sighing in contentment as you shiver underneath him. His lips graze the crown of your head, a complete juxtaposition to his words.

"Scream all you want. No one's here, baby." No one's gonna save you from me.

Still, you try anyway. Your hands grip his broad shoulders, digging in your nails until he hisses.

"Fuck maybe you have changed." He rasps, fiddling with his belt. "You're bitchier now."

"Gojo-Gojo what are you-" He bites on your bare clavicle. You squeal, stilling underneath him again.

"Satoru," he insists. You slump over the desk as he takes both your hands, wrapping his leather belt around your delicate wrists. You wince when he twists it into a knot. The leather bites into your skin. The fight dissolves just as rapidly as it arrived. He hadn't even lifted a finger against you. You were just that pathetic.

"Satoru," you breathe, waving your flag of defeat. He hums, licking at the bitemark. You can feel the heat bloom on your skin. They'll be a mark tomorrow, and much like Satoru, it would go away so easily.

"There's my good girl," he groans, cold hands fiddling with the buttons on your blouse, opening it up until your bra pops out, "I know I should be more mad, but I've always had a soft spot for you. Guess things will never change, hm?"

His mouth dips down, tracing your collarbone to your breasts. He wiggles down your bra, letting your tits spill out and into his hands. He squeezes one while taking another in his mouth, swirling the bud with his tongue before devouring. His moan is barely muffled by your tits. Yours is clear, high-pitched and breathy. Satoru always had no problem being shameless. And he often dragged it out of you too.

He's mouthing something against your skin, but you're too distracted by his other hand, slinking down your waist, pushing up your pencil skirt, letting it bunch around your hips. In the moment, you chastised yourself for wearing something so easy to get rid of, but it wasn't like you were expecting for him to be here, to bring you down just like he did when you were in high school. It's not like you were expecting to fall.

Satoru feels around your pantyhose, running up and down your thigh, searching. He squeezes the sheer fabric, before he rips a hole into it. You gasp, jerking at the action.

"That's-"

"I'll buy you new ones," he says, voice muffled by your tits. The conversation feels familiar.

He bypasses your panties immediately, finding your pussy with practiced ease. You're already soaking. At this, he raises to look at you. You can't keep eye contact, timidly looking away. He laughs. It sounds sickenly affectionate.

"You're so cute." He purrs just as he leaves another mark on your chest. Your tits bounce under his attention as he pushes two fingers into your tight sopping hole. Your back curls, arching off the desk as he starts pumping his fingers in and out of you. Disgust grows within you, not at him, but at yourself, for letting yourself get this low. This desperate.

It doesn't stay for long. He's cruel like that, moving in a way that makes you forget your humanity. His fingers get even faster, digging into your cunt and curling somewhere deep inside, hitting a spot that makes you gasp. You're reduced to whimpering moans by the time he finally stops, fingers exiting your pussy with a wet noise. He brings them to his mouth, sucking on his fingers, eyes rolling to the back of his head at your taste.

"Fuckin' sweet," he moans, taking his fingers out with a sickening pop before wiping the drool on your heaving tits.

Your eyes float to the window. The moon is out, you blearily realize. It's a blood moon, a rusty red. Once every 3 months, it'll lose its heavenly glow. The innocent milky white will get shadowed by the Earth's rusty atmosphere. It'll regain its color eventually. The Sun doesn't like to be overshadowed.

Something hard and blunt slides between your legs. You're barely given a second to comprehend it before Satoru grabs you by the hips, filling you up with one thrust. You yelp, a semblance of his name on your lips, but it's shrouded by the moan you give out.

He stays like that for a bit. You should be grateful he is letting you adjust to him. His cock is sickenly familiar to your walls. Satoru's hair brushes your cheek as he leans up to whisper in your ear.

"How many?" he sounds like he's gritting his teeth, barely in control, "how many guys have you let fuck you since you ran?"

You blink, wondering if he's seriously asking, but you can hear the seriousness in his tone. Even now, he's concerned with the wrong things. He's always been petty like that.

"You," you say because there's no point in lying, "it's only ever been you."

You say it like it's a curse, because to you, Satoru had cursed you. He'd stolen something you'd never be able to enjoy, devouring it, keeping it for himself. A part of you will always hate yourself for letting him do that, just like a part of you will always be his.

Satoru deflates, as if he's relieved, easing his face into the crook of your neck, placing an almost loving kiss on your shoulder. He starts slow, slowly drawing his cock out, just until his tip is barely still in, before he pushes himself back into your hole. His pace is slow, controlled. It's different than when he was younger, more eager to get himself off more than anything. Now, it's like he's enjoying the intimacy, the feeling of your walls squeezing him. The wet noises. He's barely affected. Unlike you, writhing underneath him, close to falling apart. It's his length that gets you, forcing your pussy to stretch just to fit him. His cock hits everywhere, all at once, an endless torture of pleasure.

It takes you a while to get your brain back together, to collect the mush, and realize that Gojo isn't wearing a condom.

"S-Sato-" You try, just when he spreads your thighs apart, pushing them close to your chest so he can get deeper and kiss you at the same time. His hand slips down to your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles and you feel yourself getting even closer. You squeeze your eyes shut at the onslaught.

"Try again," Satoru huffs, "What's my name? I know you know it, pretty girl."

"'Toru," you beg because it's all you have left. Your breathless gasps make you sound even more unconvincing but you still manage to stutter out, "I'm-I'm not on anything, so-so please-"

"That's okay," he mutters, though it's clear he's half-listening, "I'll take care of you and the baby."

"No-I-I-can't-"

He drops his leisure pace in exchange of shorter, faster thrusts. His cock barely leaves your pussy, grinding in your hole as his breathing starts to get a little less controlled.

"I'll make sure it takes this time too."

Your eyes open, and you forget your panic to stare at him. You think back to the pills 18-year-old Geto had handed you. Always discreet. You'd...you'd always thought they were Satoru's idea.

He hits something inside you, right then. You implode, crashing and burning as you gush around his dick. He's not kind enough to ease you through it, ramming his cock even harder inside your battered pussy until he's hunching over you with a shudder. You can feel his cum settle deep inside your womb.

You stay like that for a few moments, not saying anything. It feels like hours before Satoru is moving again, drawing his softened cock out of your overstimulated pussy. You can feel the cum drip out of you too, spilling onto the desk, but you don't think Satoru's too mad about that. He flicks your clit a few times, watching your hips jerk and you give an exhausted whine.

He kisses your breasts. He kisses up your jaw, before finding your lips. Dazed, you find yourself kissing back in reluctant acceptance, your body aching for any semblance of gentleness.

"I love you."

You look into his eyes, and you realize he's right. Gojo Satoru loves you, and this is how a man like him loves. He meant it, all those years ago, just like how he does now.

Satoru loves like the Sun. Too bright. With enough heat to burn your soul away. It's why you ran.

"I love you," he repeats like the phrase doesn't kill you each time he says it, "so you're never leaving me."

"Not ever again."

There are theories that the Moon once had color.

It wasn't just white. It was green and blue, and red. 70 million years ago, it could have been much like the Earth. It didn't have a strong atmosphere, however. The gaseous layer was slowly stripped away. The Sun had eaten it. With no atmosphere, the unfiltered solar radiation slowly began to bleach the once colorful celestial body a dull white. Before long, the sun had created the moon to be its image. Now, the only color the moon has to offer is the sun's reflection.

If Satoru was the Sun, then perhaps, you were the Moon. Stripped of your color. Unable to create light of your own. Reflecting only what you're given.

How foolish of you to think you could ever escape his radiation.

#yandere jjk #yandere #yandere gojo satoru #dark content #dark jjk #dark gojo satoru #x reader #gojo satoru #reader insert #afab reader #bullying #harassment #forced relationship #tw: dubcon #tw:noncon

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