‘𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠

Just thinking about the almost immediate and casual switch after he and Bakugo start dating to go from calling him Bakubro to Bakubabe and i actually think I’m in love with that.

katsuki bakugou: doesn’t let you ride him, he’s too impatient for that

he fucks into your wet and needy hole, one hand griping your hair tightly at the scalp, the other moving your hips harshly. he pistons himself upward, staring at your boobs as they bounce due to his movements. his cock is going deep and hard, pulling out all of the way before plunging back into you.

“cant fucking take it huh?” he grunts, continuing to pound your insides like you’re nothing. you moan and whine, trying to squirm out of his relentless pounding to your g-spot. he scoffs, spanking your ass as you try to squirm. “be a good fucking girl and stay still!” he scolds, now making sure to angle himself to hit all of your good spots. he knows exactly what he’s doing, he wants to see you cry and beg for him to stop and slow down. your eyes roll back as he angled himself, you’re feeling euphoric as he continues to piston his hard, fat cock inside of you.

he smirks to himself knowing that he’s the only guy that can get you like this, which makes him fuck you more faster. your walls were so tight around his fat cock. they clenched to him so desperately. you could feel every vein, the warmth of it… just everything. he always made you feel so full.

“so tight…! fuck- keep this up and I’m gonna cum soon” he warns, his voice hoarse and raspy, trying not to give you the satisfaction of making him moan or whimper.

after more hard fucking, he lets go of your hair, grabbing your hips with both hands and slamming you down on his cock down. he wasted no time, as he rolled your hips down, fucking you upwards. he went at an insane pace, both of his movements in sync as you cried out in pleasure. he went as fast as he could, chasing his high. sweat dropped from his face as he let out deep groans of satisfaction.

“fuck… g’nna fill you up- ugh… so good. shit, I’m cumming…” he said, shutting his eyes as he pulled your hips down more. “cumming!~” he yelled one last time, the yell being a bit more high pitched mixed with a soft moan. he shot his warm cum inside of you, he took his hands off your hips, breathing heavily. “good girl… good girl…” he mumbled, his hips gradually slowly down. he laid back to look at how your legs shook, you just sitting there with a dazed expression as you cock warmed him.

-

you get sick of his shit talking and ask one of your friends to dress up and scare him (It has to be Kiri for safety reasons) and when he sneaks up on Bakugo, that boy SCREAMS, jumps from the couch and lands on his ass (leaving you in killing-range) and the split second hero training response and half his living room is a blast zone.

You absolutely have a hole in one of your walls because Bakugou got spooked.

You know he scares SO easy, and it’s just as well you chose Kiri to scare him because Bakugou activates his quirk at the exact moment Kiri grabs his shoulders, shooting an explosion directly on target as Kirishima hardens— but it’s not enough to save his, now singed, shirt.

Poor Kirishima has to borrow a new shirt from Bakugou that practically clings to his chest like a second skin, bulging arms borderline tearing the fabric as he tries to hand a pouting Bakugou a beer as a peace offering.

And Bakugou is just sat there mumbling about how it was a fluke, and because Kirishima crept up on him. And you’re just like “The same way the spider crept up on you? Or when you thought someone was watching us in the corner after we watched that horror movie last week?”

☆༉ — YUUJI ITADORI. isn’t it weird? how love never changes.

about. no matter what anyone says, yuuji itadori’s love for you is unwavering and he hopes that you’ll never see a reason to change. not for anyone, not even him. (1K)

warnings. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact! sfw, fluff, characters are aged up to 20s and in college, weird gf and jock bf, yuuji is a jock and has obnoxious teammates, reader is an introvert and wears glasses, selfship coded i fear, fem!reader.

“itadori, don’t you think your girlfriend is a little.. weird?”

the pink haired jock blinks once, then frowns  as he tugs a fresh shirt over his head — practice with his soccer team had ran a little longer than anticipated and he didn’t feel like coming home to you, his girlfriend, in a stinky old shirt. 

yuuji’s not sure when the topic of locker room talk had switched onto him and his love life but he cares enough to bite — not about to let his teammates talk smack about his girl. “where’d you get that idea from?”

another teammate speaks up. “when she comes to your games, she wears your sweatshirts but doesn’t cheer for you at all.” 

“she’s just shy, nothing wrong with that.” yuuji counters.

“whenever we hang out at the after partie she’s always… clinging onto you… doesn’t drink with any of us.”

“i told you, she’s a little shy,”  he stands up a little straighter this time, narrowing his eyes. “and parties aren’t for everyone. she might not like them but she’s there to support me. shouldn’t that be enough?”

“but dude…” someone else speaks up. “don’t you find any of that strange? like she’s just… weird.”

yuuji can’t get home fast enough after that. he almost falls to pieces when he sees you singing and shuffling your way through the cupboards in his dorm kitchen — making yourself a snack. he loves it when you stay over and he gets to watch you like this, so calm and at ease in his space. he feels grateful to even be sharing it with you.

weird isn’t a word that yuuji itadori would use to describe his girlfriend. 

he finds you intriguing. your relationship is still new, so all of the differences between you both interest him beyond belief. each time he discovers a new habit of yours (like the way you forget to take your glasses off when you sleep) or a fact about your life before college, or finds out something obscure relating to your hobbies and interests… yuuji can’t help but to fall in love with you all over again. like an astronomer who’s searching for the secrets of the universe, the pink haired jock wants to know every interesting little detail that makes you, you. 

that’s created the very person he loves today. 

“please never change,” yuuji breathes against the back of your head once he’s home. you can’t even comprehend the speed at which he’s dropped his gym back before he’s wrapped himself around you in the same manner that a boa constrictor would. only more affectionate. “and if you do, let me change with you.” 

being this close to itadori, you can smell his baby-fresh soap and the tinge of sweat from his work out. you can feel the strength of his arms as they squeeze you close from behind — like he’ll never let you go. he makes you feel loved even when it’s not on purpose, you go your every waking moment cared for and adored by yuuji itadori. it’s always subconscious, unwavering and steady. your love is stable like that, never dampened from those outside of the two of you — that much will never change. 

“that’s a big ask, yuu.” comes your contented hum, but you don’t stop your actions — continuing to make your snack while the pink haired jock squeezes you tight. as if to become one with you. “people change all the time.” 

you hold up a hand behind you and he sucks the peanut butter from your thumb eagerly. “i know, but i don’t want what anyone else says about you or us to make you change,” he mumbles petulantly against the shell of your ear, trying to find the right words as he tucks his face into your neck. “you’re perfect to me, as you are.” 

it’s cute that he reminds you of such a trivial little thing. those big brown eyes of yuuji’s see perfection in all of your flaws. he loves you so much you wonder if how much you feel for him even compares. 

“what’s gotten into you?” you giggle, spinning in his arms to stand on the tips of your toes — pressing a soft kiss to the point at which your boyfriend’s jaw meets his neck. it’s all you can reach. “did something happen?” 

yuuji hesitates for a moment, lips pursed and honey-glazed eyes cast to the side. he would never lie to you, that’s not in his nature — but he’d never want to hurt your feelings either. “the guys…the guys on the team said some stuff about us today,” his voice trails off and his hands trail upwards, dipping underneath the jersey of his that you wear to draw circles into your waist using his rough thumbs. he figures it’s best to tell you before one of his teammates  let it slip and hurt your feelings. he would rather die then let that happen. “they… they think you’re weird and that… that we’re too different.” 

“o-oh.”

a flash of pain comes with the territory of yuuji’s honesty, but he’s quick to soothe it as though he’s running your burn under a stream of cool water. “but i like you. like…really really like you,” the words rush out while his eyes stay serious and set in stone. your boyfriend grasps both of your hands firmly before you can even think to cry or pull away.

yuuji is there and he is constant and that is never changing. not for anyone, except for you. “and i like all of the funny things about you. that you’re a little quiet, that you’re always by my side, that you leave me notes in my gym bag or share your celebrity crushes with me. i like you for you. even if you’re a little weird — then…then i am too!” 

his hands, strong and yet so soft, traverse up to your round cheeks — tilting your head up to face him. “please don’t ever change because of what people say,” yuuji repeats tenderly, his lips finding the crown of your head in a gentle kiss. he stays there, like a magnet on metal and the world stands still for a moment. remaining the same, no longer changing, so that yuuji itadori can love you as is. “the way you are right now, it’s everything to me.” 

itadori only moves when you tip your head back to get a better look at him, he looks down at you through his unfairly long lashes — brown eyed gaze latching onto yours while your hearts sync up, beating to the same drum. “i’ll never change, as long as you promise to always love me like this.”

“i’ll love you the same way that i always have. like i’m the luckiest guy in the world, yeah?” he laughs and you smile — because it’s hard to be upset when yuuji is around, and protects your love so genuinely. 

you lean up and he meets you half way — pressing a slow and lingering kiss to the swell of your lips, wrapping his arms around you once again as you away to a silent tune in his tiny dorm kitchen. 

change is inevitable of course. the two of you will grow and become different people than you are right now — but you will always find your way back to the beautiful love that you hold. 

much like a butterfly that blossoms into something beautiful too.

꒰ end. — all rights reserved © tteokdoroki 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

ACCIDENTALLY ON PURPOSE┊despite what’s written on the bathroom stalls, twenty-three year old gojo satoru, is a virgin. this was a well kept secret until he made a drunken social media post spilling his dirty laundry. worried about his standing in the university hierarchy — satoru turns to you, his oldest friend, to save his social life. how? by taking his virginity, of course.

content: a college au, angst if you squint, smut and fluff. gojo being an oblivious dork, afab!reader x gojo satoru, piv sex, f*ngering (reader receiving), c*nnilingus, a brief conversation regarding consent, no power dynamics, reader is called (hot, baby, sweatheart, is shorter than gojo.) all lowercase. word count: 10k

satoru guesses it is nearly five in the morning when his phone chimes three times in quick succession. he immediately regrets choosing a quacking duck as his notification tone, waking with a start and banging the top of his head against his coffee table.

the vibrations occur no more than a few seconds apart, the screen lighting up each time and nearly blinding him from its place on the floor; propped against one of the legs of the violent table. his body is awkwardly contorted, head turned in its direction.

satoru lifts up his head to glance at it — squinting in pain as he tries to focus on the kanji. It darkens before he can see who woke him and he turns up his nose in annoyance when he notices the cracked upper corner of his very expensive cell phone. he runs the heel of his hand roughly against his eyes, wiping the crusted edges in an attempt to clear his blurry vision.

despite not being fully coherent, satoru can tell that he’s hungover. his memory is hazy at best but some of it comes back in short flashes; being at the bar with nanami, drunken coin fumbling to buy another round of shots, someone tossing him on his living room floor and ruining his favorite shirt.

his white leather ottoman is bowing in the middle, obviously broken. the minibar is ransacked and the floor is covered with remnants of the night before: empty beer cans, a plate of chicken bones, a cowboy hat, half-eaten skinless mangos, his favorite jacket, a plastic battle ax, etc.

snoring on the couch and wearing only jeans and one sock, the words MUNCH written in sharpie across his forehead, is geto suguru. a cat that satoru assumes is his now, struts across the top of the couch until it reaches a plastic cup blocking its path.

recognizing the obstruction, the feline slaps it off the side and the cup hits suguru in the face. hard. stale saké splashes all over him and he jerks awake before falling directly onto the pile of beer cans on the floor. the black sharpie starts to drip down his forehead in jagged lines that look almost like stitches.

“oh shit,” he groans, strands of black hair falling out of his top knot and into his eyes. “what the hell happened last night?”

satoru goes to shake his head, but the heaviness of it makes him nauseous. he glances over at his friend and then down at himself. “pajama party?” he lays in the same position he originally slept in and the same white button up he remembers wearing (albeit with a few buttons missing).

the two men groan in unison, satoru lifting himself up and using his now broken leather furniture for leverage. vertigo hits him hard and black dots are on the edge of his vision, but he’s able to stumble his way into his kitchen while keeping hold of the contents of his stomach. on his marble countertop are painkillers, candies that he’s sure are from his pantry, and a note. it reads: try not to black out again. you almost killed me for attempting to put you in bed.

satoru raises a brow, recognizing his friend’s font-like handwriting well. how sweet of nanami to look out for them in this way! he makes a mental note to tease him about it later.

satoru pops a candy in his mouth, the hard sugary treat clacking against his teeth. he scrolls down on a search engine for hangover remedies and just as he learns that sugar is apparently not what he should be having (oops?) a new notification appears, grouping with the three from earlier:

INU_NOT_YASHA liked your post.

the notification itself wouldn’t be so strange if it weren’t inumaki that liked his post. he rarely ever saw the underclassman on the app (and if he did it was watching slime making videos.) satoru can hear the rustling of beer cans as suguru must be removing himself from the floor now, too. another notification comes up and then another:

JLAWFAN39 liked your post

JLAWFAN39 commented on your post: woah gojo-senpai you’re way braver than me. why were your nipples out btw? ://

satoru raises an eyebrow. he hadn’t posted a shirtless picture in… like three days. (a new record) he goes to respond to the comment and defend his honor, but the next one makes him pause.

NANAMI.KENTOBOX commented on your post: he insisted that they needed to “air out.”

nanami often preached about how much he hated social media, how the instagram account he had was purely for convenience. what would have caused him to comment on one of satoru’s posts? he never had before.

satoru taps on the notification then, wanting to know what the fuss was all about, especially since he was the topic of conversation. what he finds makes him almost drop his phone in the sink.

for starters, he had posted six images at once (which did not fit the minimalist aesthetic he’d curated over the past two years.) one photo is of him, suguru, and nanami in the bar. the more stoic man is begrudgingly standing with his arms crossed. from there, each picture gets progressively more raunchy. until the very last one, a recorded video, starts to play.

it’s definitely him, pulling at his own button up in an attempt to flash the camera. nanami is heard sighing in the background and geto is making weird mouth sounds at what satoru assumes is the mystery cat. “could you at least give me a warning before you strip?” the blonde man chastises. satoru can hear the sound of him rummaging through his kitchen cabinets.

video satoru lets out a laugh, throwing himself back on the living room floor with the phone raised over him. there’s a thick thud where his head connects to the ground, one that makes both suguru and nanami wince. “ouch!” he whines, pouting at the camera and using his free hand to rub the sore spot on his head. his cheeks are red and his eyes are almost closed, obviously intoxicated.

“i’m soooo lonely, guys. who wants to come keep me company?” satoru instantly cringes at himself. this was definitely embarrassing (and explained the 200 followers he’d dropped in the span of only a few hours) but not enough for him to be concerned, right?

video satoru gets a faraway look in his eyes, the kind that says he’s about to either burst into song or is very deep in his feelings. “don’t any of you get jealous, okay? i’m just kidding! i wouldn't please you, anyway. i don’t have the experience.” satoru sees his past self start to tear up and suddenly, he remembers the feeling of laying on his expensive rug and feeling the cool air riddle his chest with goosebumps. he also remembers what he says next for all 4,000 3800 of his followers to see:

“being a virgin fucking blows.”

and there it is on the internet forever. his biggest secret. something that only one other person knew about until now,  broadcasted on his most used social media platform. shit. shit! 

suguru has managed to lift himself off the floor somehow, making his way over to the kitchen while holding the street cat in both hands. his sock is practically hanging off his foot now, the black ink on his forehead streaky as if someone ferociously tried wiping it off. “don’t look so distraught, satoru. just make another post saying you were drunk.”

satoru gives this some thought but one look at his dms and he knows he won’t be able to salvage this social nose dive. people were blowing him up asking if the post had any truth to it, if he needed a warm body to fill his bed at night. it was all too much, panic starting to set in.

noticing his friend’s genuine distress, suguru raises a brow. slowly, a smirk starts to appear on his face. “wait… is it actually tru-”

“of course not!” satoru interjects, shutting off his phone and flippantly waving a hand in his friend’s direction. he flinches at the volume. “i lost my virginity years ago, you know that. besides,” he grabs the street cat from suguru’s hands and lifts it so that their cheeks are pressed together. “who needs sex when you have this adorable little thing?” the adorable thing in question immediately tries to squirm out of his grasp.

the smirk doesn’t leave suguru’s face and in response he shrugs his shoulders. “alright then, who popped your cherry? you never told me that many details. is it someone we know?”

satoru feels his face redden. “uh, well-”

this is where things get complicated. if he made up a name then suguru would surely grill him on every detail of the encounter, finding holes in his lie. he had to think of someone and fast.

“well?” the dark-haired man presses, lips still curled in amusement.

in satoru’s defense, he was cornered! he couldn’t possibly tell him the truth now, could he? it is a split second decision (the only response he could conjure up) when satoru opens his mouth to say the first name that comes to mind. it is only by pure necessity and recency bias, that it is yours.

judging by the angle of the sunlight filtering in through your cheap blinds, soft yellow that just barely comes over the horizon, it was most definitely too early for you to be awake. you glance over at your alarm clock, the green letters showing that it was without a doubt, too damn early. whoever was pounding at your front door must have wanted a death sentence.

at first, you decide to let their knocking be until they give up, assuming no one was home. one quick glance at the opposite side of your dorm and you see that nobara is nowhere to be found – already up and at her morning class. unfortunately for you, this person was persistent and what was once a pounding of a fist turns into a song of some sort… as if they were entertaining themselves until you decided to stop ignoring them.

you consider your options – one of them being whether or not prison is as horrible as they say – and another debating the logistics of jumping out of a third story window and landing directly on concrete. you roll both options back and forth in your head like a mental tug of war – but right as you are about to decide – the knocking stops.

a sigh escapes you as you roll over onto your side, back facing the window behind you. your eyes close and you nuzzle deeper into the warmth that is your bed. before you can appreciate the sudden silence, the shrill jingle of your cell phone blares to life on your bedside table.

“are you-” you slam your hand down on the device and drag it by its tied charms to your side. you don’t look at the caller id before you swipe to answer and lift the screen to your ear. “fucking kidding me?!”

“i most certainly am not! good morning to you, too by the wa-”

you immediately hang up at the sound of his voice, letting your phone fall onto the ground. you were not letting that string bean ruin your slumber again. the last time you answered this early, he’d been drunk off his ass slurring about something you don’t even remember. not this time! you close your eyes again but the same agitating, grating voice comes out behind a muffled door. it calls out your name in a sing-songy tune, followed by knocks that hit the same melody. “open up,” he sings, “i know you’re in there~!”

you groan loudly into your pillow.

you’ve known gojo satoru long enough to deduce two things about him – he was definitely persistent, and annoyingly patient when he wanted to be. no amount of potential embarrassment could sway him. if you didn’t answer now, he’d knock until your neighbors called the police and you’d have to deal with their nagging for weeks; especially from the two sophomores in 1B, they fucking hated you.

you begrudgingly lift yourself up out of your warm bed and trudge to the door. as soon as you open it a flash of what can only be described as a tall shadow moves past your vision so quickly that you almost get whiplash. “thank god,” a voice you recognize chirps, “it took me forever to even get you to wake up.”

you shut your door and turn around to see none other than gojo satoru, your best friend, dressed in his campus hoodie. the same design of hoodie that you had slept in the night before. he’s as handsome as ever, stark white hair and bright blue eyes covered with thin shades. he smiles at you and you return a frown. it’s only then that you notice the plastic bag in his left hand and the familiar brown label on the bottle that pokes through.

“before you kick my ass, just hear me out. yeah?” he rolls up the sleeves of his hoodie and you try to not let your gaze linger on his forearms. “have a seat. i’m gonna set the table.”

satoru places the bag on the table in question (which is just a desk next to your bed) and grabs you by your shoulders to guide you to sit down in your chair. you comply, your half-asleep state focusing only on the sweet cheese danish he places in front of you along with your favorite bottled coffee drink. he pulls out his own goodies and you raise a brow at the very modest bottle of water.

you see, satoru had a vice. one you had known well after your many years of friendship. every morning, without fail – he’d drink the most sugar-induced, whipped cream, caramel drizzled frappuccino known to man. you’d always tease him and ask how satoru still had all of his teeth and he’d just lick the caramel that dripped on his fingertips and give you an annoyingly handsome smile. for him to drink anything without artificial sugar was concerning, to say the least. he sits on the opposite side of you on your bed and starts to tap his fingertips on the desk. he seemed almost…nervous? you open your coffee, the plastic top cracking under your hand.

“so,” you lift the bottle to your lips, “was starbucks closed or something–?”

“i want you to take my virginity.”

you choke on your coffee mid-sip, sputtering as you try to repress a coughing fit. it takes you a moment for you to catch your bearings, grabbing a packed napkin from the bag and pressing it against your now stained hoodie. “shit–! ‘toru, what?”

satoru lays down with his legs spread out in front of him and his elbows keeping him up; the sheets moving beneath him. you can tell by the gleam in his eyes that he’s dead serious. frighteningly so. “i want you to take my virginity! pop my cherry. steal my virtue–“

“stop!” you interrupt him, hand lifting up in front of you as the other places a now soiled napkin on the table. “please, don’t elaborate, satoru.” you press two fingers on the bridge of your nose and take a moment to collect yourself.

“what do you mean you want me to take your virginity?”

he rolls his eyes at this, sitting up so that one arm supports him. his hand reaches out to grab your discarded stack of napkins, playing with the ends of the paper. “you told me once that people should share their first time with someone they care about, that they trust.” he shrugs his shoulders. “i trust you more than anyone.”

you can’t believe what you’re hearing. “there’s more to it than that, toru.” how could he be so calm about this? “you have to actually love the person to some degree–!”

“who says i don’t love you?”

that makes you pause, lifting your head to make eye contact with the man in front of you. he said it in a way that suggests that it was ridiculous for you to believe otherwise.

exasperated, you sigh through your nose. “satoru, you know what i mean. it’s a different kind of love. you need someone who wants to… i don’t know! build a life with you or something.”

he laughs at this. “right because when you lost your virginity to maki, it was because you were madly in love?”

“that’s not the point.” he raises a white eyebrow.

in a way he’s not entirely wrong, you and maki were dating at the time but you never saw a future with her. when you broke up it was amicable, two people realizing that they just weren’t all that compatible. still, your point stands. you didn’t regret the way you lost your virginity or who you’d lost it to but would the same be said for gojo? could your friendship survive that?

as if sensing that you were thinking entirely too much, a long pale finger flicks your forehead.

“ow!” you instinctively look over at the other side of the room — turning away once you remember that nobara is still out for the day. you can practically feel her eyes burning the side of your head because of the noise.

“pay attention! i’m practically giving you my body on a silver platter and you aren’t even giving me the time of day?” he suddenly hops (or more accurately steps with his long ass legs) to your side of the table and plants himself on nobara’s bed next to you, moving your feet to relax on his lap. “i’m not asking you to give me the most mind blowing experience of my life just… i want to get it over with.”

(somewhere, nobara feels a shiver run down her spine. a great disturbance only caused by gojo satoru.)

you give him the look he hates, the one that says he’s not getting what he wants. “what if this ruins our relationship? i-i have an idea! what if you ask suguru to take your virginity?”

if looks could kill you’d be six feet under. “and get throttled with his bare hands for even asking? besides he’s ugly,” his nose scrunches up in disgust, “you’re hot and like, soft. you exfoliate.”

“gojo satoru–“

“i also might have told him that you took it already.”

that makes you pause. of course he told the second most popular man on campus. “you did fucking what?”

“don’t worry about it! i doubt he believed me!” you give the same look from before. “okay, admittedly i could have framed this conversation better–“

“you think?”

“but… if i were to be with anyone, why wouldn’t it be you?”

you consider this for a moment, covering your face in your hands. maybe if things were simpler, if the two of you were just acquaintances, it would be easier to agree to. but how are you expected to sleep with someone who you’ve known since you were freshmen in high school? you’d helped his mom cook dinner, talked to his dad about the family business even when you had no interest. they were like a second family to you. 

you feel a hand grab your wrist and you look up to see the face of a man you know better than anyone, who you would hate to lose. “don’t look so freaked out! i’m not going to force you or anything so... just think about it?”

you sigh but nod your head, ignoring the pounding of your heart. “alright… yeah. i’ll think about it.” 

you did not think about it. in fact, you did everything in your power to not think about it. that meant burying yourself in your studies and avoiding gojo satoru at all costs, giving the excuse of being busy every time he tried to meet up.

by the time the two of you left your dorm that day, you’d not only found out why exactly he was in a rush to lose his v-card but that the school was now divided on the legitimacy of gojo’s virginity claims. especially since you were allegedly the one to have taken it. geto suguru made quick work of spreading that fact to anyone who would listen.

on one hand, you were happy that satoru had some of the heat off him but that meant that you were getting dms from people you’d never even spoken to before, asking for you to confirm it. eventually you just went private but that made the rumors spread even more. were you two together? friends with benefits? was it just a one night stand?

after a week of this – you started practically barricading yourself in your dorm room, avoiding not only gojo but anyone else that was trying to get the latest news on your relationship. of course, you could only keep this up for so long, message after message hitting your phone. once from itadori on how to use a rice cooker but mostly from satoru asking if he’d made you uncomfortable or crossed a line.

you would say no, that you just needed to focus on your classes, but he didn’t take that answer — posting sad bart simpson edits on his instagram story to further prove his point. you hated making him feel this way (even if he was being overly dramatic) but you weren’t someone that liked being in the spotlight. satoru had always been popular, adored. you tended to just fade into the background and you liked it that way.

when you try to lift your head, you realize that your face is pressed into the crook of your arm. there’s a blanket draped over you that you don’t recognize and it slips off your shoulders when you start to move from your uncomfortable position at your desk. the blinds of your dorm are open wide enough for pale blue light to peer through them and it blinds you momentarily as your vision clears. the light reflects off of something black and metallic on your right hand, pen stains from last night. gross.

you groan and place your face back into the cocoon your arms have created. you have a class fairly early today but by the color of the sky through your window, that time hasn't come yet. maybe you could get just a few more hours in…

“rise and grind, sleepyhead!" your roommate says way too loudly for the early morning. normally you had no issue getting up, but the cram session from the night before presents itself with the pounding headache you have and the taste of a fruity energy drink on your tongue.

“nobara… as much as i appreciate the positivity,” your words are muffled in your arm, “i’m not exactly in the mood for it today.” you let out a sigh, feeling unreasonably hot all of a sudden. “this week–“

“i know exactly what happened this week. i think the entire campus knows at this point! i mean, jesus, all you've done is sleep.” you and nobara weren’t friends exactly, a frenemies type of relationship if you will, but you could see the obvious concern on her normally stern features, brows furrowed and lips pouty.

she was attractive in an… aggressive way. a cute bobbed haircut and a bright, full laugh so contagious you couldn’t help but smile when you heard it. she was the type of girl to have both men and women alike on their knees. 

when you first met nobara she was too focused on flirting with a classmate of yours, and not focused on where she was going. to make a long story short, you both got into an intense screaming match. all of this in the middle of the courtyard, while standing over the box of personal items that you had been carrying to your dorm. it didn’t exactly make things easier for the two of you when you found out that you would spend the entire semester together. satoru had to practically hold you both back so you wouldn’t start throwing blows. she saw you as a clumsy, irritable nuisance and you saw her as an annoying flirt with too much time on her hands.

somehow over the course of time you two had come to a mutual level of understanding and the hostility slowly dissipated from your living space. now, months later, she was one of the few people on campus that you felt comfortable venting to.

you stretch your arms over your head, ignoring the way her eyes peered down at you in what you perceived as pity. “yeah well the entire campus doesn’t know the whole story, do they?” you say with a hint of exasperation in your voice.

she grins. “no, i suppose they don’t.” nobara pulls over her own desk chair as you spin yours around to face her. you tuck your knees up to your chest and she gets comfortable across from you. “tell me everything.”

you proceed to explain the events of the week in vivid detail, making sure to emphasize how mortifying it all truly was. she wasn’t there, so you had to paint a vivid picture. the determined look he had given you, the early morning bed hair he still had. nobara’s nose curls at the sound of satoru’s name and she almost has a heart attack when she realizes he sat on her bed. when you explain exactly what satoru had asked from you, she crosses her arms against her chest and her lips curl up on one side. your voice is soft and your cheeks feel warm. even if your face were stoic as ever right now, your anxious hands were a dead give away to how flustered you were.

“he wants you to take his virginity.” this is a statement, not a question. you nod. “and not only did he lie and tell geto that you already had” you nod again, slower this time. “but you’re considering actually taking up the offer.”

“well – yeah. pretty much.”

nobara shrugs. “honestly, i didn’t think you had it in you but a dirty mind can come from even the most innocent–“

“who says i’m actually going to sleep with him?” you interrupt.

she raises a brow. “you’re not?”

“no! i-i don’t know! maybe?”

nobara’s signature smirk is back and she’s leaning in closer to you, knees knocking against the edge of your chair. “are you positive?” your friend reaches behind you and grabs one of the sticky notes off your desk. in barely legible writing it reads your first name and then the last, replaced with gojo instead of your own. shit.

it was a joke the two of you made after a long night of studying. nobara had made a comment about how you had a crush on your longtime friend and you didn’t exactly deny it. “gojo isn’t that bad of a family name. if gojo ever gives you the opportunity, fuck him. hell, you can even marry him if you’re feeling bold! do that thing that americans do where you take his last name.”

you had laughed it off, even though at the time you had been completely committed to maki. it was supposed to be a joke, a little thing between the two of you. now, many months later, it’s obvious you weren’t the only one who remembered that conversation.

“i knew you had some type of feelings for him!” she whisper-yells, “is that why you’re so scared to go through with it?”

you can’t help the way your lips twitch downwards, breaking your stoic appearance. nobara knew you better than you thought. it was equally flattering and annoying. “fine,” you huff, “you got me. is this the part where you tell me that i’m gonna get my heart broken? that i should have told him how i felt months ago?”

nobara shakes her head. “obviously not. this is the part where i say that as your friend, i want what’s best for you.” she leans in impossibly close now, her hands resting against the arms of your chair. you stare into her eyes and the glossy brown color stares right back at you.

“maybe the only way you’ll get over this little crush is by testing out the merchandise or maybe he just feels the same way!” she pauses and you see her dark eyes narrow with mischief. “besides, you’re practically attached at the hip anyway. he’s come to check on you ten times in the last four days.”

you think of the days this week that you’ve hidden behind the door as nobara rattled off an excuse for you, saying that you’d gone to the library or to visit a professor. the times you’d seen him in a hall and took a detour around campus just to avoid awkward conversation. if you were being honest with yourself, you weren’t being entirely fair to him.

“yeah, yeah i get it. i’ll talk to him.” you lift your hands in defeat, ignoring the way she practically shakes from excitement.

“thank god! do me a favor ‘n fuck him dumb so that he forgets how to speak, yeah?”

you only shove her away, her laugh filling the room as you turn around to grab your cell phone from your night stand. you turn it on and see a slew of messages:

[12:00 am] toru: u know things are bad when im up this late

[12:30 am] toru: i know ur awake :((

[12:57 am] toru: or maybe you arent? ur dorm light was on earlier

[1:25 am] toru: that sounds so creepy i was just walking by :((( 🙏🏻!!

[1:30 am] toru: i miss you

you let out a chuckle but it comes out more sad than you mean for it to. you missed your friend just as much as he seems to have missed you.

[7:45 am] you: meet me at our place after class?

you don’t expect a response to come so quickly, the vibration going off before you can even fully place your phone back on the table.

[7:46 am] toru: i’ll be there.

the sharp crunch of torn flesh clear in your ears, the salty juices coating your lips and tingling from spicy red pepper flakes. your plate of chicken is practically empty and you sigh in content as you place down your final bone and wipe your mouth. satoru is sat beside you and for the first time since this whole fiasco you actually see a hint of a smile on his face, watching you enjoy your meal with his own plate nearly empty.

you’re currently sat next to each other in the busy restaurant. everyone who had gotten off of school or work stopped by on their commute home and now it’s so packed that the two of you have no choice but to share a small booth area in the corner. to anyone looking on, you seemed like a normal couple sharing a meal after a long day. it was nice, comforting even, to imagine.

you’re staring down at your plate still, contemplating whether or not you want to order another round. your fingers tap on the table, the surface dented slightly from drunken toasts and sticky with cheap cleaning solution.

you feel a wave of air in front of your face and satoru is looking at you with the same sly grin. he looks so natural like this, warmth radiating from the hand he raised in front of you to get your attention.

“are you sure you don’t want to eat the bones, too? maybe suck on the marrow?”

you take a sip of your drink and roll your eyes at him. “laugh all you want but i’m trying to compensate for a week of surviving off of granola bars and gatorade.”

at the sound of your eating habits, he frowns and you wonder if making that comment was a mistake.

“and why would you do that?”

you shrug a little and play with the bracelet on your wrist, one he gave you only a few birthdays ago. “i wasn’t exactly worried about my eating habits. this semester has been draining me so i’ve been preoccupied and everyone is up my ass about you, if you’ve forgotten.”

“oh, i haven’t forgotten. i guess i just… started drowning it out? maybe we should just try not to care what other people think about our relationship. it’s just college – none of this will even matter in a few years!”

you raise a brow at him.

“that’s rich coming from you,” you say, leaning in closer to the man next to you, “all you’ve cared about for the past few years is how everyone else perceives you! who cares if you’re a virgin? are you supposed to be some type of playboy because you’re pretty?”

he smiles at you and you immediately regret your choice of words. “you think i’m pretty?”

“objectively,“ you interject, “you are objectively pretty.”

“but i’m still pretty–“

“can you be serious for once in your life?”

“not a chance!”

you lean back so that your head is against the booth. “you’re stalling.”

“and you’re letting me.”

you close your eyes (hoping that if you couldn’t see him he’d just disappear) and get even more comfortable in the booth. you two were fairly far away from the rest of the afternoon crowd, the sound of moving plates and chatter filling your mind. you feel at peace sitting in the muffled silence, even though you know that satoru is watching you expectantly. you set up the meeting after all and he’d already said his piece.

you open your eyes and look into satoru’s very blue ones. they’re mesmerizing, a bit frightening if you didn’t know the person behind them.

“so…why’d you ask me? to… take it, i mean. was i just the easiest option?”

for the first time in the years you have known satoru, he looks genuinely taken aback. maybe because you sprung this all on him suddenly. your mood had been a little sour ever since you guys originally met up so this should have been expected.

he opens his mouth to speak but closes it again and you see his internal battle right in front of your eyes.  “you aren’t the easiest option at all.” he murmurs, voice so low you almost missed it.

“what?”

“i didn’t ask you to fuck me because i thought you were easy. i guess i just wanted you.” you can practically see his jaw struggle to move, as if getting the words out were painful. for a man that was usually so confident to feel any type of timidity…

now it’s your turn to be confused. “satoru, what the hell are you talking about?“

“just please, listen. can you do that for me?”

you nod, trying your best to follow directions and let him speak.

with a deep sigh, satoru looks more tired than he did earlier. you miss that warmth already. “i’m not exactly the best when it comes to not fucking up my relationships with people,” he thinks this part over a bit more, “hell if i know what a real relationship is even supposed to be like. what i do know is that it isn’t whatever i’d find with someone else so… i wanted to try it with you. maybe i saw this as an opportunity to eventually get there? i promise i never meant for any of this to happen, but i panicked. then you started avoiding me and i felt awful. i thought that i ruined everything.”

out of all the things he could have said, you weren’t prepared for this.

“i guess i never expected you to not be around. we’re almost always together! and yes, i was being childish and maybe even a little selfish but… i really didn’t mean to hurt you. you have to know that.” he pouts a little as he says this and you try to ignore how soft his lips look.

“are you mad at me?” you ask.

his expression turns sour, eyes dramatically wide. “no! i’m mad at myself. i shouldn’t have put you in this situation. it’s not your responsibility to make me feel better about something i caused. that would be gaslighting… is that the word for it?”

you stifle a laugh but nod. “yeah, that’s the word, toru.”

“look,” he starts, “i’m tired of pretending we’re strangers and walking around campus like a lost puppy. think of this as a sorry and a thank you for dealing with all my bullshit for the past few years.”

you know he’s serious. can see it in the way he looks at you and the way his eyes shimmer with a certain fire. you’re so used to seeing satoru as this goofy man who you managed to tolerate for the sake of your friendship. someone that you occasionally thought of on nights when you were particularly lonely. now all you see is just how appealing he looks with his pouty pink lips and pretty hair tickling his forehead. you wanted to run your hands through it and—

“—pull my head out of my ass or he would.”

you blink. “what?”

“you are really distracted today. when i talked to nanami about everything he said i had to pull my head out of my ass or he would.”

this was not the time for you to be drooling over him, not with so many people around.

satoru places a hand on the bare skin of your arm, squeezing the flesh gently before rubbing his thumb over it in small circles. “anyway, i know that it’s a lot to process at once but i’m really just offering here. do you… want to try being with me?”

you stare at him for a while but realize the heat of his hand is distracting you. your own hand reaches up to move his off of your arm, but he catches it and places it against his cheek firmly. satoru leans into your touch and hesitantly turns his head to kiss the palm of your hand. he doesn’t miss the way your pulse quickens when he starts to kiss down your wrist.

“you make a good offer, but i think there’s something i want to add.” you lean in to him to feel his warmth again, so close now that your lips graze his other cheek. you hear his breath quicken but he recovers with a small laugh.

“really now?” you can hear the smile in his voice, softer now.

you hum in response, your hand drifting down from his cheek to his chin, shifting a blue gaze to yours. “do you wanna get out of here, toru?”

and it's here in this tiny booth, fingertips pressed against his smooth skin, that you decide to take the leap.

because if gojo satoru wanted his first time to be special — to be with you of all people — then fuck, it was going to be.

satoru is panicking. you can see it in the way that he fidgets with the contents of the bag, reading the labels carefully to make sure he grabbed the right items. you’re sat on his bed, criss-crossed in front of him and everything he’d dumped on the duvet. condoms, lube, water bottles, a bag of candy. everything you’d need for what was to happen next. 

he’d already spent fifteen minutes on the phone with you at the store asking what kind of condoms you preferred and if a certain lube was better than the other. the attentive, albeit sometimes annoying personality you’d become accustomed to.

you try to ignore the tremble in his hand and the hard swallow he does before he speaks. “so, uhm. i didn’t get water based like you said but i have it in my bathroom if you change your mind.”

you smile at him. “toru, this is fine. perfect actually.”

“are you sure? i don’t want to hurt you–“

“you won’t. i’m not the virgin here, you are.”

“still–“

“satoru.” you places your hands on his, rubbing soothing circles on his skin. “please, i need you to relax. i’ll tell you if something feels wrong, don’t stress yourself out.”

he nods before letting out a small laugh at himself. “i don’t know why i’m so nervous.”

you place the items back in the bag, leaving the condoms and lube on the bedside table. “let’s try and loosen you up then, yeah?”

you tug on his hand so that he moves forward. satoru follows you as you guide him to rest against the headboard and you sit patiently between his thighs. “okay, so we should… express some boundaries before we start, yeah?”

satoru nods and tilts his head a little to the side, you can’t help but be reminded of the cat you just met that’s currently resting in the living room. apparently, he named her candy bag. he has no idea where she came from.

“first, i want you to know that we can stop whenever you want–“

“trust me i’m not–“ he interjects.

“if you do, though. we’ll use the stoplight system. red for stop, yellow for slow down, green for keep going. understood?”

gojo nods, not realizing that he’s gripping the sheets with his hands. “yeah, i got it. could you... not call me like daddy or anything like that? at least not yet. i’d like it more if you called me nice things or my name.”

“bold of you to assume it’ll be that good.”

“i’m aiming to please.”

“i’m sure you are. but, nice things?” you tease with a small smirk, “like what?”

he shifts under you and you see a rising blush against his cheeks. “you know, like baby or that name you call me– ‘toru. something like that.”

you nod. “alright, i can do that. for me, uh, don’t push my head down at any point. okay? it sort of freaks me out.”

he gives you a shocked look and you realize that the implication of what you said just hit him. “what?” you awkwardly scratch the back of your neck, “i’m going to at least try to make you feel good.”

satoru smiles at you and his grip on the sheets loosens. “i’m not complaining, just surprised. i guess.”

you roll your eyes. “just…” you pause. for a moment, you are lost in his long white lashes and the soft arch of his brow. he is so beautiful. you wish you could hate him for it. “…lean back, idiot.”

you move to straddle satoru’s hips. there’s a warmth where he automatically rests his hands on you, fitting against your hips perfectly. they still shake, ever so slightly. “that feels nice,” you murmur. he fails to hide the way he preens underneath you. you take a mental note of it for the future.

you lean in close, your breaths mingling and chests almost touching. satoru lets out a shaky breath and you gently cup his cheeks. “can i kiss you, ‘toru?” he gives you the smallest of smiles but nods, still a little tense.

first you press a kiss to his blushed cheek and then to the corner of his mouth. “relax, sweetheart… touch me.” and he does, his hands gently trailing up your spine and down to the dip of your back. you kiss him then, soft pecks that soon turn deeper as you lips mold together.

he’s a good kisser, almost too good with the way you forget what you’re both doing. his tongue is warm and experienced, curling against your own. your mind shifts to parties when you were younger but you shove the image down as his teeth nibble at your bottom lip, sucking the flesh into his mouth with a groan. without even realizing it, you’ve started to move against his slowly growing bulge, gasping as you feel a familiar throbbing, aching arousal between your thighs.

his tongue licks your lower lip when you pull away, watching as satoru’s breath begins to hitch, his chest jumping.

he moves his hands lower to cup your ass, hovering before he gets to the swell of it. “go ahead,” you say, “i–i want you to touch me.”

never mind the time spent discussing this, anticipating it. your face still feels unbearably hot. your gaze lowers to his mouth, unable to meet the raw, open desire in satoru’s expression. you’re still not quite used to seeing him this way; your best and longest friend.

with a firm squeeze of his hands, satoru presses you closer and grinds your front against his own. it’s in this moment that you hear him moan for the first time. it’s a low and breathy sound. now you want to pull every noise from him. you want to hear the deep ones from his chest that you would fantasize about on nights when you were alone – fucking yourself on the toy you kept under your bed. you pull away from him and satoru looks dazed.

“i wanna put my mouth on you,” you pant, “can i?”

it takes him a moment to realize what you’re asking and then he’s nodding; looking down at the bulge of his pants. his eyes are hooded as you lift yourself up from his legs and grip onto his sweatpants. “just so you know,” he starts as you tug his pants down, “i’m actually pretty big, so just be careful to not hurt yourself–“ he gasps at the feeling of you palming him over his boxers. a shudder moving down his spine when you start to fondle his balls.

“f–fuck okay that for sure feels different when someone else is doing it.” you can’t help but laugh and he rolls his eyes at you. “stop making fun of me, i’m in a very vulnerable state right now!”

“yeah, i’m sure you are.”

your fingertips graze his waistband and start to pull. even though he has already consented, you glance up at him anyway for approval. when he slowly nods, you finally pull his cock free from its place under his boxers and hold it in your grasp.

you would not give him the satisfaction… but, fuck was he pretty. he wasn’t very thick but he was long. soft pale skin until it reached the thick blushed tip. he had a bit of a curve and twitched every time the cold air drafted into your space.

satoru watches as you take him in and feels something stir in his chest. he liked the way you gawked at him, your mouth hovering just barely an inch away and teasingly puffing warm breaths against his already sensitive length.

you examine him more, wanting to see him squirm for a little while longer. and when you finally lean in, it’s to press your tongue to the underside of his clock and drag it up until you reach the leaking tip. satoru let’s out a strangled gasp, trying his hardest not to buck his hips into you. you take him in your mouth and use a hand to hold his hip, immediately dropping yourself lower until he hits the back of your throat and his trimmed pubic hair tickles your nose. “f–fuck!” he moans, a hand gripping your shoulder. “baby, shit– slow down or i’m gonna cum before we’ve even started.”

you slowly pull yourself up, tongue smoothing around his tip as he lets out another pretty sound. you decide then that you want to hear it again and reach out a hand to grip his base. his grip on your shoulder tightens as you move faster, bobbing your head around him as saliva collects in your mouth. “you can take it,” you say with a mouth full of him, pulling yourself up briefly to speak. “just enjoy it, satoru.”

and enjoy it he does, releasing his grip on you so that he can caress your soft hair. he makes sure not to pull or tangle his fingers in it for fear of hurting you, just gently feeling your pretty strands against his palm. 

“fuck, you’re perfect.” he praises, “i knew you’d be perfect.” when you start to rub your thighs together against the bed, it’s hard for him not to notice.

“i’m a fast learner, you know. y–you can teach me what to do. how to— oh shit —make you feel good. do you want that?”

you respond by squeezing him and satoru jumps, his cock hitting the back of your throat and making you gag. he puts his hand on the nape of your neck and rubs the skin as a way of apology. you lift your head and smile at him.

“you taste good,” you murmur, your lips slick with saliva and precum. satoru thinks he might pass away from the sight. you tug on his shirt, and satoru quickly yanks it off with one arm to toss on the floor.

he’s always been thin but it’s only now that you see his toned muscle, the hard contours of his stomach and chest.

following his lead, you reach to tug off your clothes but satoru places his hands over yours. “wait,” he moves them away and grips the hem of your favorite sweatshirt, “i’ve always wanted to take this off you. can i?”

you smile and tilt your head a bit. “always, huh?”

he playfully shoves your shoulder. “shut the hell up. lay back.”

you follow directions, back firmly against the large bed as he pulls your sweatshirt from your head. you aren’t wearing anything underneath and he stares at your breasts in what could only be described as awe. you lift your arms to cover yourself, but satoru is faster. his hands move yours to your sides and he situates himself between your legs. “stay still.” he demands, and you do as you’re told.

he’s deliberate in the way he removes the rest of your clothes, making sure to rub his hands together first so that they don’t feel icy against your skin, pressing kisses against your thighs as he situates himself between your legs. you have half a mind to clamp them shut as he gets unbearably close to where you want him most. “so wet,” he murmurs, glancing up at you in surprise. “i didn’t even touch you.”

you feel heat rising up your neck and face, hoping the darkness concealed the embarrassment on your face. “didn’t have to.”

trying his best (and failing) to hide how pleased he was in himself, satoru reaches over to the bedside table and squirts some of lube on his fingers. he looks up at you for guidance.

“rub them together, warm it up a little,” he nods and you see the slickness seeping in between his long (and recently clipped) fingers.

you show him with your own how to touch you. “use your pointer finger first and then slowly ease into me, okay? take your time but don’t be afraid to tell me if you’re lost.”

satoru’s listens intently, for once not joking as his pointer finger enters your already slick hole with ease. you make sure to relax further and nod as he starts to gently thrust it into you. “good job, baby, you’re doing so well.”

his fingers are so long that you start to feel a bit of sweat on your brow, you want him to touch the most sensitive part of you, to have you shaking and crying on his cock, but you knew that this wasn’t the time yet. patience was key.

he makes sure to ask you if you’re okay as he adds more fingers, your gentle encouragement turning into pleas. when he leans in to gently stimulate your clit with his tongue, you let out a whimper. “am i doing a good job?” he asks, words muffled as his mouth suckles and licks at your sensitive clit.

you whine, the pace of his fingers quickening after what feels like hours of him easing you open. “fuck, you’re doing so good. keep going, ‘toru.”

the inclusion of his mouth on you is almost overwhelming. you’re surprised that he was doing so well considering that he only had porn for reference. you know he’s just being thorough but it’s hard to keep yourself from pushing him down and taking what you want.

satoru can feel you tighten around him. your moans causing his cock to twitch against the sheets. he needs you, craves you. “baby,” he leans up so that you are face to face, “i want to be inside you now. is that okay?”

you nod your head so quickly he laughs at you. “someone’s eager.”

“shut up and just do it already.” you pout, but he kisses it off your face. partially because he wants to taste you again, and also to distract you from the feeling of his fingers pulling out of you.

“can i ask you for something?” he murmurs, gently biting on your bottom lip and pulling it into his mouth.

“hm?” you murmur against his mouth, “what is it?”

“i want you to ride me,” he says, kissing down to the spot where your shoulder and neck meet. his kisses become rougher, for sure leaving marks on your skin. “i wanna watch you bouncing on top of me, wanna see you make a mess while i’m buried inside you. you can say no but i think i’ve touched myself to the thought too many times to not ask.”

you feel your heart jump to your stomach. “you… thought about me?”

“i still think about you. i know you think about me, too.”

you decide to not engage, ignoring the sudden desire to confess something to him. “get on your back then.” you say, pushing into his ribs so that he’d roll over to the side. he looks so pretty like this, lips all red and puffy. you position yourself over him and satoru runs his palms up your stomach.

“hold me for a sec,” you instruct, grabbing the box of condoms once he has a steady hold on you. you tear open the packaging and ease it on his extremely hard length. he winces as your hand grips him as it goes down but once it seems to be properly secured, you grab some more lube and squeeze it onto him.

you position yourself on top and line him up against you. for a moment, anxiety flickers in his eyes, but it quickly turns into determination. “what’s your color, ‘toru?” you ask, your hand moving to brush some of the wild hair from his face.

“green. definitely fucking green.”

you feel the grip on your hips as you ease yourself down on his length. he tenses up once he feels the first squeeze of you around him and as you slowly sink down, his grip on you tightens before he forgets how to breathe. “h–holy shit why are you so tight?”

you let your hands rest on his chest as you catch your breath, you realize how thankful you are for the prep from before when you shiver at the feeling of him twitching inside you. “c–can i move?” you whimper, feeling his grip release just a bit.

satoru nods his head and you feel him squeezing the fat of your waist to lift you up and then back down again, sucking him in from the tip and back down to the base. he lets out a guttural moan that you feel shudder in his chest. he looks up at you with an expression you’ve never seen before. 

“faster,” he breathes out, “fuck me faster.”

“s-satoru!” you gasp, placing your forehead against his as you lean down. your eyes close and your breath shakes, the air heavy with the air of lust that clings to you both now.

“wrap your arms around me. i want to try something.” your arms loop around his neck and he plants his feet into the mattress, the surface topping ever so slightly.

before you can process the change, satoru begins the process of taking your breath away and filling each thought with him. he thrusts inside of you at a deep, slow pace. each thrust feels like a competition, every moan you give a reward. it isn’t perfect and it takes a moment for him to get a solid rhythm, but once he does you feel yourself relinquish control.

your mouth falls open as you pant into his mouth — a thin layer of sweat sticking your bodies together. you feel a familiar pressure between your legs and try your best to warn him. “satoru i–“ you catch a glimpse of his eyes and can’t help but to bury your face into his shoulder.

“you’re squeezing me so tight. are you gonna, oh fuck–!” you can’t stop yourself from cumming against him, your release pouring out of you and dripping down on his cock as he continues to fuck your tight hole. the mixture of cum and lube is sticky and matting the hair at his finely trimmed base. satoru’s thrusts get sloppy and hurried, his grip on you keeping you from moving away. but you have no intention of running from him.

“t–too t–tight. gonna cum–!”

satoru releases into the condom, his hips jolting with each thick spurt. his pace slows as you whine and whimper against his chest. your fucked out body barely registering the hot, sticky mess between you two. “sorry, i …think i might have scratched you,” you whisper, finger grazing over a red line in his shoulder.

“it’s alright. lay here with me for a sec.” you nod your head weakly, pressing your face into his neck. you decide to talk about things in the morning but that doesn’t stop him using a warm rag to clean you off and giving you one of his shirts to sleep in.

he also forces you to drink a few gulps of water. some of it spills out the sides of your mouth and he makes you laugh when he sticks out his tongue to lick it up. he then makes sure that you take care of your hair before you fall asleep, keeping it protected under a silk bonnet that he somehow managed to pick up at the store, as well. he’s attentive and gentle and so far beyond what you imagined he’d ever be towards you with his usually goofy personality.

that is until you wake up the next morning and see a few messages light up on your phone.

[8:00 am] toru: ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿ヽ(°□° )ノ me drowning in your pussy last night lol

[8:10 am] toru: jk plz come help with breakfast i burned the pancakes.

let’s just say that you appreciate the attempt.

over the next few days, you talk a bit more about the state of your relationship. if you wanted to be open about it online or if you wanted to let things fizzle out on their own. eventually, after setting more than a few ground rules, you both agree to be discrete. you'd let everyone else figure it out in their own time.

this doesn't halt satoru's social media presence, though, as the man regularly posts a photo of the new feline addition to his family. he easily gains back his two hundred followers thanks to ‘exploiting his new child’ as you so eloquently put it.

the future looked promising, but there were still things you both had to navigate to make your relationship work. it was going to be hard moving through life as lovers instead of friends but if anyone were to ask you — it was well worth the effort.

note: so if this looks familiar, it is! this is a repost. this is one of my favorite fics i've written so i'm reposting it here on my new blog since my last one was marked as explicit. ty for reading and give me a follow if you want to see more.

also ty to @saintshigaraki for originally inspiring this story.

TODOROSIE. all original work. do not plagiarize, translate, or repost. this includes feeding my work to ai apps and sites.

“x reader is so cringe.” to YOU. im reading this shit and having a ball ‼️

[ nsfw ] - no penetration ; dry humping ; a hint of virgin bakugou bc i said so (｡•̀ᴗ-)✧ ; a little angsty at the end

[ word count ] - 3.3k

[ part two ]

childhood best friend bakugou is probably a wrestler. a lil' rough-houser.

games of tag end with you tackled to the ground, squashed underneath him until you finally agree that he's the king of the world. whenever your hair is long enough to pull back into a pony-tail or little bun, he's yanking on it to get your attention, harsh, especially if you're ignoring him to talk to anyone else. scraped knees and bruised elbows, coming home missing a single shoe, shirt stretched out and wrinkled at the bottom corner: all katsuki's fault.

it makes you a little volatile, too, in turn.

not so much as him, but you grow up defending yourself; the first black eye he gets is from you (if you don't count the time he hit himself in the face by accident, when you'd started a slap-fight because he was trying to hold you down) and you very quickly learn how "unfair" it (apparently) is to kick him in the groin. your parents spend a lot of time separating you, putting you in opposite corners of the room until one of you stops crying and the other is ready to mumble out an apology. you're not allowed to sit next to each other at holiday events. whatsoever. under any circumstances.

he's your best friend. you wouldn't have it any other way.

in middle school, he's just as insufferable, hardly allows you to talk to any of your girl friends without butting in some how, too loud for anyone's own good. he tries to embarrass you in front of other boys, puts you in a headlock even when he's sweaty — which he is a lot at that point, during puberty — and calls you names that make you want to hide in the bathroom.

("why is he such a jerk?" your friends will ask, brushing out the tangle he leaves in your hair so they can french-braid it during lunch. all your butterfly clips are either missing or broken, crunched under bakugou's scrawny arm. "you should tell on him for being such a bully.")

nobody else treats you the way he does, and you don't treat anyone else that way, either; you never make ugly faces at your girl group, never punch them as hard as you can in the arm, aiming to leave a bruise. with all other classmates, you're — normal, trying to discover what that even means in the grand scope of things, who you want to be as the years pass. you avoid bakugou and his little posse of brats like the plague, because detention is what awaits both of you, should your paths ever cross.

things start to change, seriously, in high-school.

bakugou goes to u.a and you — don't; instead you continue on to the shizuoka high-school without him, along with your group of girls. his time at home and in the neighborhood lessens, even moreso when he moves into the dorms on campus, and the only time you see him becomes those few and far in-between family visits he has time to make; some holidays, he doesn't come home at all.

at first you think it's a good thing, because you've never gotten to flourish while trapped in his armpit. yanking at his hair until he finally lets go in the middle of the hallway has always garnered you some weird looks, odd stares, and you finally stop being labeled aggressive, too, with him gone. boys can talk to you without being stalked by your angry, wiry, chihuahua of a best friend, and you go on dates, ride in cars, have your first kiss.

you miss him from time to time, though you'll die before admitting it, and the yearning doesn't last long whenever he does come home. even when you're seventeen, eighteen, he still lays on the couch and puts his stinky feet in your lap and in your face, purposely puts things too high up on your shelves, leans against the front door so you can't get out when it's time to leave.

(he becomes an immovable object, much to your annoyance; in the past, you've always stood somewhat of a chance against him, knowing all his weak spots, like the clump of hair at the crown of his skull and how ticklish he is on his thighs, but now, after all the training he's been doing — he's huge, unfortunately.

if he grabs your wrists in one hand — like he's never been able to do — and holds them above your head, you're useless to defend yourself; there is an absolutely zero-percent chance you'll ever manage to overthrow him if he sits on you; tickling him is impossible, because his thighs have gotten so muscular that it's hard to grab him, and even if you do manage it, he can nearly crush your hand if he closes his legs together.

bakugou doesn't even look like your scrawny best friend anymore; he looks like the guy that ate your scrawny best friend.)

you graduate and go to college. bakugou graduates and goes to work for best jeanist, in the heart of tokyo. seeing each other means planning on it, making an effort neither of you have ever had to, and there's a lot of radio silence for months at a time. somehow it always comes full circle, though, and it always ends in violence, because you two don't know any other way to be.

you're twenty the first time his touch becomes tight, bruising, purposeful — for new reasons.

it's one of the few times he's off, and you haven't seen each other since his mom's dinner party four months ago. you only agree to come over because his patrol route had taken him through your campus and you'd spotted him across the street in the early hours of the morning, after you got out of class.

now you're both tired, lazing around despite planning to get lunch once the heat died down. together doing nothing; sometimes it's a little alarming how easily the two of you fall into each other, but you've been doing it for so long that it doesn't take a second thought.

bakugou strolls out of his bathroom with damp hair, in nothing but a loose pair of sweats, and you're laying on his couch half-asleep and he puts his wet towel over your face and you ball it up and throw it at him and then he tries to whip you with it.

"stop," you groan, serious, "you're so annoying." when he only twists it tighter, you stick your arm and leg out, deflecting against the wet smack he tries to leave against your skin.

his sharp teeth flash with his ugly little grin, and you try to grab the towel twice, ending up with an angry, stinging lick up the inside of your arm, before he gets too close and you can finally yank it from his hands. you sit up to get a better angle, but you're not as quick as he is, as adept at being a brat, and when he yanks on the towel, your whole body nearly comes off the couch, arms almost coming out of their sockets.

"bakugou!" you squeal, and he cackles, evil, and grabs your hands when you try to smack him. your massive, stinking, freight train of a best friend deposits his entire body on yours, crushing your lungs with his back as you cough, "get off!"

he doesn't say anything, choosing to pretend he's watching whatever is on tv and that he can't hear you — which you could believe, because bakugou likes trash television more than he lets on — and your hands are trapped at your sides and you can't breathe and so you bite him, right in the neck.

"ow, fuck!"

when he moves, he moves fast, and you're only hope of retaliating before he flips around and grabs your wrists and holds you down is to roll the both of you off the couch. his body thuds, deep and heavy, against the carpet, and you trap his hands beneath your knees as you straddle his hips, adjusting your full weight so you can at least try and keep him down.

beneath you, bakugou sneers. "you've got five seconds t'get off me before—"

"one!" you shout obnoxiously, rolling your eyes just to hear his annoyed snort. "two! three! f—"

his body snaps up into a sitting position, nose bumping yours as he rips his hands from beneath your legs. a scream tears out of your throat as you wiggle, surprised, trying your best to stretch your arms over your head and around your back so he can't grab them; if he does, it's game over for you.

"stop!" you shout, choking out a shock of laughter when he brings his legs up, trapping you in his lap against his chest. a little grunt leaves him as you jostle, but the tension at your back never lets up, not even when his mouth sets in a firm line and a sharp exhale leaves his nose. "let me go," you tell him, squirming again as he reaches for your hands. "i'm not playin' around."

"too bad, y'shitty nerd." he says, gruff, and when you stick your tongue out at him, he buries his face in your neck and bites, too, taking advantage of your shock as his fingers close around your wrists.

"no!" you scream again, trying in earnest just to get away from him completely, but he holds your hands behind your back and keeps you squished so tightly into him that you can only breathe shallowly, and his free hand goes to ball into your shirt at your side and —

— and his face is red, you realize, delayed. you can almost feel the heat from his cheeks with him so close, and you take in the flush of his neck, how it spreads down to his bare chest, crimson and fevered. his tongue darts out to wet his lips, nervous, almost.

"what?" you breathe, quiet, as if speaking too loud will break your playful bubble, and his eyes jump around his living room before landing back on you, narrowed and black.

"what?" he echoes, voice pitched and mocking. "you lose, dumbass." and even though he closes his eyes and grits his teeth, there isn't any hiding from how hard he's breathing. how subtle he's trying to be about spreading his legs.

all at once, everything kind of — falls apart.

bakugou is a man now, much to your horror; it feels like you've closed your eyes and opened them in the lap of someone else wearing your best friend's face. there's serious muscle definition in his shoulders and biceps, and you can feel yourself getting lost in the curves and valleys of him like never before. he's — you're — so close. more than it feels like you've ever been, even though you know that's far from true.

this boy used to pin you down in the yard and threaten to lick your face, the both of you grass-stained and covered in sweat. you've tackled him face first into the ocean on various vacations, running behind him quietly and plunging his scrawny, shirtless body into the waves as they rushed forward, uncaring of what you were wearing or how it twisted when you both came up for air.

saliva is still drying on your neck from where he bit you and, unthinking, your eyes dart down to his lips; plumper than you ever realized and parted, just a bit, enough that you can feel his breath on your cheeks. and you wonder —

bakugou grunts quietly, shuffling himself so that his back is leaned against the couch, and you half-expect him to just let you go because things have — changed. but he doesn't.

instead the new position has his legs a little wider and you've sunk a little further and you're now very aware of exactly what's changed, and how much. you can feel him twitch, just barely, and the hand he has at your side balls tighter into your shirt, jostling you minutely in the process.

and finally he opens his eyes and stares at you — cheeks burning, eyebrows furrowed — and you stare back — heat lighting up your body to an uncomfortable degree as your stomach flips.

you wonder what he would do, if you kissed him. what it would feel like. what he would taste like.

you move your hips with purpose, stuck on the new and foreign change it does to him; bakugou's always been a tough little brat, and you made him cry a handful of times when you were younger, but this weakness is — different. there's so much you know about him and yet even more for you to learn, and you find yourself consumed with the desire to explore this new, enticing territory.

his lashes flutter gently when you grind against him, tentatively, and then his head thumps back against the couch as the muscle in his jaw sets. half-lidded, his red-hot gaze jumps from your face down to where you're seated against him and back, and it's only after you move again that you realize — he's watching you, too. discovering.

the fist he has in your shirt loosens and his fingers burn your bare skin when they slip under the material to grip your hip. at any moment, you're half-expecting him to tell you to cut the shit, to shove you off and ask what the hell is wrong with you. why you're being so weird, doing things friends don't do to each other. but he doesn't.

you're almost certain that if you put your hands on his chest, you would be able to feel the mirrored, nervous pace of his heartbeat; it only takes the faintest tug of your hands for him to let you go, his grip falling to the other side of your hips. you can't tell if he means to hold you in place, or keep you going.

you spread your fingers out and, gently, as if you've never touched him before, run your hands up his chest, watching the bob of his adam's apple when you rest them on the sides of his neck. stabilizing yourself a bit, before testing the waters again.

bakugou's eyes are nearly black and when you don't stop, he looks down to resume watching the movement of your hips, the way his sweatpants bunch up and tug, and you feel a little zing up your spine with his every sharp inhale and sharper exhale. even his jaw falls a little slack and, fuck, you've never seen him like this.

you never thought you'd want to, but now — you don't think you'll ever see him any other way again.

his eyes go a little wide when you lean into him, brushing the tip of your nose against his. neither of you have said anything and maybe you should keep it that way, lest the bubble burst, but you feel like you're going a little insane.

quietly, around your own heavy breath, you ask, "does this — feel good?"

you can feel the temperature of his cheeks spike, but he nods shallowly regardless, and you press your mouth into his throat to bite him again, just lightly. it should be so that he's a little biter; the feel of your teeth makes him jump, has him angling his head so that more of his neck is exposed to you. when you soothe the barely-there indentation with the flat of your tongue, his breath hitches and his shoulders shake on a shudder and he groans, like he's angry.

"hah, fuck."

the friction in his lap isn't doing much for you, realistically, but his reaction is what has you aching, has you drawn tighter than a bow string. you feel yourself growing antsy for something that you won't name, because friends don't do that, though you can't help but to wonder if he's ever done it before.

you've had a few boyfriends. had a few experiences that ended quickly and left you feeling exposed and uncomfortable and a little in pain, and even though your girl friends insist that's normal — it's nothing like this. bakugou might not last much longer, if the grip he has on your hips is any indication, but not a single piece of your clothing has been removed and you're hot and getting sort of desperate and you know your underwear are a little more than damp.

you want to dismantle his long-standing composure. you want to be — maybe — the only one that gets to see him fall apart like this.

he's been your best friend your whole life, afterall; this experience should be yours. he should be.

the thought has you shivering a little bit and bakugou bucks up against you, pulling you down hard in his lap. dragging across the thick and solid length of him becomes even more clear and another, stronger zing has you letting out a breathy little sound into his ear. it makes him groan again, this one almost whiny, but he closes his mouth to muffle it and you don't want him to do that so you tighten your fingers in the hair on the crown of his head and — just to see, in a way you've never done before — you quietly whisper,

"katsuki,"

and he loses it.

one of his hands slips up your shirt to splay against your back, forcing you closer to him so he can bury his face in your neck, and his hips become insistent, urgent, rutting up against yours eagerly.

"fuck, oh fuck, fuck," he groans into your skin, fingers gripping you so tightly that you think he might actually leave burns behind, and his shoulders tremble before he goes totally still.

for a little while, you both sit there and let your breathing even out as reality sobers you from whatever lust-drunk haze you'd both been in. distantly, you think you wouldn't mind if he pinned you to the ground the way he always does, only this time to peel all your clothes off, right here on his living room floor. but he doesn't.

doesn't say anything, just shudders every now and again, and you think you're starting to feel the wet spot soaking into the front of his sweatpants.

you pull back just a little to look at him and he lets you, face just as red as he stares back at you, like he's the one waiting for you to freak. a little bit of red has returned to his eyes, though they're still swollen and dark with want.

when you lean in again, to bump your nose against his, bakugou snaps back away from you.

"wh-the fuck are y'doin'?" he shifts his eyes to the ground and they go wide. horrified, maybe. all the blood rushes in your ears and you don't know what to say, so he continues. "i-i don't have time t-to sit around all day, so—" bakugou shakes his head and you think he's going to kick you out, and he must know it, from how stiff you go. "so, you better know what the hell you wanna eat."

your bubble has burst; you nod silently and he glances up at you twice before swallowing.

"well, i can't get dressed with you sitting on me, so get off." when you remain quiet, he finally raises his head to look at you head-on, fisting the edge of your shirt again so that you'll look back. "d'you..." bakugou wets his lips before biting them, "need anything?"

"uh," maybe to shove your head down the drain and drown yourself, so that you can get rid of all the not-so-nice feelings that are creeping up beneath your skin. instead of that, you tell him, "just the bathroom, maybe."

"hurry up then," he mutters and even tries to roll his eyes, though it feels anything but casual. "don't...take for-fuckin'-ever."

and then he's up, quick to stand so that his back is to you as he disappears around the corner to his room, leaving you to yourself, trying to smooth out the wrinkle he's left in the corner of your shirt.

Needed to get possessive alpha bakugo off my chest, ill prolly write a sequel to this tmrw cuz i got some ideas

Tw: noncon, omegaverse

thinking about childhood possessive bakugo who's pined for his omega since she joined the pack Time after time again since you were kids he'd always tried to get close to you, using a number of strange to threatening courting techniques. It was benign at first when you both were young, with him jumping up the large apple tree to get you the juiciest fruit you could never seem to reach, but when you two grew older and played together with the rest of the pack, his efforts seemed more...possessive.

He'd always single you out and force you to be on his team, following up with growling at you whenever you'd run more than a few paces in front of away from him. His sleek gold and black coat would brush up against you constantly, as if only touching you would satiate his desire for your proximity. Bloodred eyes would glare at you when you'd shyly back away at dinnertime, opting to sit away from his intense gaze.

Not like he'd let you get that far.

When it would come time for bathing with your sisters, somehow, everytime you'd be out of the loop and would end up being forced to wash yourself on your own in the cold water.

Little did you know your sisters were not-so-kindly encouraged to not communicate their congregation to you by a certain fiery alpha.

And so when everyone was by the fire, barking out laughter and telling stories of their weekly hunt, you'd sulk to the riverside by yourself, clutching your towel over your shivering body as youd sink closer in the shallow water.

You wanted to get it done as fast as possible so you could join your pack in merry-making, haphazardly scraping dirt off your paws and washing the crevices between your ears.

But as soon as you take a step towards the lush bank, you hear a heavy splash behind you.

You whip around, ears drawn back immeditaley after seeing the alpha who shamelessly follows you around like he's already claimed you.

"W-whatre you doing here? Everyone's by the..fire..." you trail off unsurely as his spiked-up wet mane shakes in laughter. His lack of concern for the reprimands he'll undoubtedly recieve for being this physically close to you send faint warning alarms at the back of your head. Usually he glowers at you and turns tail, but this is new.

"I thought the pack leaders told you to leave me alone," your lip wobbles as your tone borders on fear and indignation. Your brothers had always kept you safe from him, snarling and hiding you behind their tall legs whenever he was around. Bakugo never seemed to give up though, his own flashing teeth and sick grin mirroring their own worry pulled back from their lips.

"Yeah? But you're here though."

You swallow hard and hope he doesn't hear your whimper as you splash backwards towards the bank, but his low grumble of pleasure upon smelling your sweet fear-omones says otherwise. It proves to him that you're not as immune as your other brothers swear you are to protect yourself against him, theyre actually worried for a reason.

They know you'd never stand a chance against him.

And his muscles do ripple amid the water as he steadily stalks towards you, leering as he licks his canines and trains his eyes on your feeble form.

It seems like as fast as you flail backwards towards unseen safety, he advances twice as fast, and within seconds your back hits a hard and scratchy surface.

Bakugo chuckles a humorless laugh as you've nestled yourself in a nice, private corner away from the mainland where everyone can see you. You've backed both of you into an enormous concaved treetrunk, one that circles around 10ft and only one opening...

which you've trapped yourself in.

The roots of various plants that have grown inside this hollowed out trunk provide little cushion as you whimper and try to desperatley climb the walls.

"When are you gonna give up?"

His voice is low, raspy with mixed want and bitterness.

"S-stop, stay away from me or I'll call for h-"

"When are you gonna realize you can't escape me?" He harshly whispers right at your ear as he lunges toward you, causing you to squeal with terror.

He nips your soft ear and inhales your neck, craning his own to get a good look at the sensitive unclaimed part of your neck.

His hands grip your sides and mold the squishy parts as though they were dough, his greediness increasing exponentially as he lowers his drooling mouth to your ear and laves his wet tongue over the planes of your neck and shoulder.

You begin to shake and sob, never having been dealt with him actually touching you and being a victim to his lust. You've taken the protection of your brothers for granted, and oh how you wish you could softly howl out if you had the courage to ask for help.

But the blonde's presence itself is enough of a threat to your life and safety, that much being made clear as his hands grow claws, no doubt his physical appearance shifting from being so riled up. Your skin prick and cuts as his nails jab harder into you, his hands roaming up and down your back, feeling your hips and ghosting over the swell of your ass as well as chest.

You writhe against him which unbeknownst to you, pushes your naked chest out against his own shredded pecs, your pebbled nipples grazing his toned skin and practically making his eyes roll back in efforts not to pin you down and take you like his bitch.

"I just wanted to wash," your voice comes out pleading, and meek. You have no idea how he'll react to you being aggressive and defensive against his assault even if you had the courage to speak out against him.

"And I want to claim you as my omega," he growls directly in your ear, causing you to whine again and cower your head beneath his hounding mouth. "But I guess we'll both have to wait for what we want, huh?"

He knows you know.

You have to know.

Have to have known how badly he wants you, wants to hear your voice ring high with laughter like you do teasing your sisters, wants to hear your playful growls as you wrestle with your brothers who let you win just to see you swish your tail with prowess. He wants to feel you rest your head on his chest, wants to see you look up at him with security and ease, knowing that he's there to protect and love you.

But how can he explain that, with years of nothing but threatening looks and yards of distance between you two?

If it brings you familiarity and perhaps ease of seeing him as you've always thought to have known him, as a brute with nothing on his mind apart from taking you like an animal and conquering you, then he'll save the monologuing for later.

"After all," he heaves in the darkness of the seclusion, voicing his thoughts, "your birthday's coming up, right? You'll be of age to be claimed."

He thrusts his knee in between your trembling legs, pushing your shoulders down while following with his head and never letting his mouth rise above your unclaimed mark. You gasp as he begins grinding his knee in circles against your hooded clit, bouncing you lightly to evoke whatever sweet noises he can from your pursed lips.

You choke and sputter, suddenly grasping around his neck for leverage as you try to pull yourself up, but you're no match for him as it only serves to prove his point and enrage him from your constant rejection.

You can lie to him all you want, but your body never will.

"And trust me, little girl, when that cunt ripens for me to take, when that neck fucking sings for me to lay my mark-"

Your voice cracks into a howl as he takes one of his hands and squeezes the fat of your tit while the other spanks your jiggling ass on his knee, feeling whiplash from the onslaught of sensations.

"-I can promise you, there's no running. There's no cowering behind your brother's legs like some fucking baby, there's no using your sisters as an excuse to turn your face away from me."

Bakugo presses you tight against the wall, smothering you chest-to-chest with him and using the confined space to rut his naked erection against your thigh, his hips snapping forward and chasing years of needed release in your presence.

"I'll tie you down on my bed, face down ass-up and breed you as my bitch. I'll take you bent over and wrapped around me against every surface and floor of our secluded cave."

You blubber as you can feel yourself coming to a high, the water splashing obnoxiously at your humping against each other. In an effort to keep your pride, you try as hard as you can to grit your teeth and delay your orgasm, but he seems to catch on pretty quick.

"And then," he drops your tit and uses both hands to pry your asscheeks apart, impaling you impossibly closer down on the hard bone of his knee, your clit grating deliciously as his leg vibrates and flexes from moving you back and forth, up and down, any direction he can get your teeth to latch onto your lip and pussy clench on nothing.

"Then, you won't have to hide that pretty voice anymore. I'll get those years of silence back in exchange for your screams for help."

At this, he hugs you flush against the wall and himself as you shake from your orgasm, the water rippling at your reaction.

"So if I were you, I'd be grateful for any solitude from now on. Because you won't be getting it anymore."