Don’t you just love it when they relax like normal teenagers instead of fighting
Okay so you know how Eren is usually popular and a jock and Y/n is a loner/loser who is a nobody that no one likes……? Okay now imagine this, Eren is the loner/loser and Y/n is the popular girl that everyone simps over…….Its been on my mind all day so, add a cocky y/n who likes to tease Eren!!👀
now this is something i can get behind 😳 i was actually reading a little drabble over a nerdy eren messing with the cheerleader reader sooo, this is like a sign right? working on this, i added some things so i hope that you’ll like it!!
(i hope i didn’t go overboard with this)
enjoyyy ♡
━━━ loner!eren j. x cocky!reader 18+
synopsis ➝ you’re the popular pretty girl that everyone loves and eren’s the quiet guy that wants to stay far, far away from girls like you. except, how can he do that in the confines of the detention hall, locked in a room with you? and how long can he fight you off without fucking your silly little brains out? you can’t wait to find out.
“please me, baby, turn around and just tease me, baby…” – cb & bm
tags/warnings ➝ modern!au, hs!au, sexual content, not a slowburn but it doesn’t jump right into the smut, shy!eren, virgin!eren, flirty reader, both are 18, detention sex, switch!eren, possessive!eren, slightly possessive!reader, praising, hair pulling, manhandling, oral (f. & m. receiving), premature cumming, meanie!reader, unprotected sex, dom(ish) reader, riding, breeding, creampie, eren hates you but loves the way your pretty pussy wraps around him <3
wc ➝ 17.1k
a/n ➝ i have to say, i really like this idea and this will be my first time ever writing eren this way so i’m probably a little too excited ahem...anyway, i had a lot of fun writing this so hopefully you’ll like it just as much as me! definitely recommend listening to ‘please me’ for this because…wow. it just fits, am i right? okok let me let you get to reading and pls rb/like bc apparently my mental health depends on numbers 🚶🏽♀️
Eren Jaeger.
Mysterious, quiet and smart with zero friends whatsoever. And yet…he was still one of the only guys in school that hadn’t approached you yet.
As you sat in the seat closest to the front of the classroom with a pen between your glossy plump lips, you pondered on what made him so different from everyone else. The room was half filled by now with only ten minutes left before class started. You were waiting for him to slink in behind a group and disappear towards the back of the room so that no one noticed him. You always did. People tended to forget he even existed because he walked a bit hunched over with his signature dark hoodie concealing all but his face. He always looked as if he only got three hours of sleep every night with dark bags underneath his dull emerald eyes. Despite such an ordinary look, he was still captivating.
There was something underneath the baggy clothes and unruly hair. Something dark yet inviting. And like a moth to a flame, you were interested and wanted to find out what that something was.
Finally, with five minutes to spare, you noticed him.
Four girls walked through the door, laughing and talking amongst themselves. Eren shuffled in right behind them, head down, with his book bag over his shoulder. When they dispersed to their usual seats, he blended in with a few other classmates until he finally made it to his regular seat at the back. You watched and that was when you’d noticed that someone was already sitting there, and not just anyone — but your ex boyfriend, Jean.
This was going to be interesting.
Instead of making it your problem and getting in the middle of what was to come, you stayed seated and chose to watch how Eren decided to handle it.
He stood over the boy, his facial expression lacking much else other than a faint scowl. “Hey. That’s my seat.”
“–and I didn’t know what to expect so when she squirted, I just laid there like this!” Jean mimicked what he’d done that night and his friends laughed, some with tears in their eyes. “I’m telling you. It was a shock but we fucked like three more times after that.”
“You took her home, right?” one of the friends asked, eyebrows raised.
Jean shook his head. “Nah. She had a ride. Glad I didn’t though. Probably would’ve fucked again before dropping her off.”
“Ah, come on,” Another one of them piped up, smirking. “She wasn’t that hot, dude.”
Jean scoffed. “Man, you didn’t see her. Her ass was fat. And her tits, bro,” He shook his head, stunned. “Comically large. I’d definitely mess with her again.”
Eren licked his dry lips before releasing an audible breath that made the senior turn around to look at him with a clear frown on his face.
“Yo, can I help you?” Jean asked him, arms crossed against his chest.
“You’re in my seat,” Eren simply repeated in the same monotone as before.
Jean dry laughed, looking him up and down. He shared a look with his boys, “Yeah? Well, that’s funny because,” he stood up and looked around the seat and desk, even the floor to double check. Once he was done with his search, his friends snickering behind him, he scratched his head. “I don’t really see your name anywhere on it.” He dropped his hand and stepped in front of Eren, eyes hard.
“So why don’t you go find somewhere else to sit, piss face?”
For the first few moments, Eren hadn’t said anything back to that. His eyes soaked up the arrogant look on Jean’s face until he snorted, making the other’s eyebrow twitch.
“Aren’t you y/n’s ex boyfriend?”
The question instantly set off a bomb inside of Jean’s head. He quickly took Eren by the scruff of his hoodie, bringing his face as close as possible, baring his teeth at him.
“The fuck did you just say?”
“What?” Eren tilted his head, a slow smirk spreading along his lips. “Too soon?”
The punch that came across his face was expected but it definitely hurt. Eren tumbled back, knocking into a desk near him. The girl that was sitting at the desk gasped and stood up, moving to the stand against the wall so she didn’t get involved.
“Say it again! I didn’t fucking hear you!”
Your pen dropped on the desk as you pushed your chair back, and hastily stood up. It probably wasn’t all that smart to get in between them now, but for some reason — you couldn’t just watch it all unfold. Not when you knew how violent Jean could be. At first, you were fine with letting Eren handle him by himself but after seeing him get hit — something in you snapped. You couldn’t watch it any longer.
When you made it to the back of the room, Eren was leaning on the desk he’d knocked into with one hand, using the other to wipe away the blood trail from his mouth. The two were in a staring match when you snapped your fingers in Jean’s face.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” You shouted at him, face twisted up.
He scoffed, looking between you and Eren. “Me? What’s wrong with me? How about you ask that freak instead. Why the fuck would he bring you up?”
You shook your head, “Jean, I don’t know what the hell you’re talking about but you need to get your shit together. You’ve beaten up half the school already, and wonder why we’re not together anymore.” Disgusted, you walked over to Eren and sighed. “I’m so sorry about that. Are you…are you okay?”
The last person Eren wanted to come and check up on him was you. Or any girl that was like you for that matter. His eyes couldn’t help but wander over the short skirt you were wearing. The thigh highs you wore weren’t enough to stop his mind from racing. How they seemed to be wrapped around your legs so tight, the fat of your thighs were spilling over them. Not to mention the buttons of your shirt looked like they were holding themselves together with nothing but luck and a prayer.
The many nights he spent jerking off with you on his mind made him look away from you, a frown settling on his face.
“I don’t need your help,” he mumbled, making you frown up as well. “Go away.”
“Eren–”
“Oh this is funny,” Jean interrupted from behind you, clearly amused. He began clapping and soon had the entire class’s attention now. As if he hadn’t with the way he punched Eren seconds ago.
Great.
You turned around to face him, highly annoyed.
“So the outcast wants nothing to do with the slut of the school,” he sighed, shaking his head. “Oh how the tables have turned.” His twinkling brown eyes fell on Eren, smiling. “And why don’t you wanna fuck Miss Popular? Don’t tell me the rumors are true.”
His friends bursted out laughing then shushed each other. With a knowing smile, Jean glanced at his group then back at Eren who looked bored of the entire conversation.
“Oh…You’re not gay are you?” No response. “It would make the most sense.” He walked forward and grabbed your arm, pulling you against his chest.
“Jean, let me g–“
“So you’re telling me,” Jean clamped a hand around one of your tits, squeezing it. You squeaked, and slapped at his hand, trying to get him to let go. He smirked. “That you aren’t turned on by this? That you wouldn’t fuck her even if she begged you to?”
Jean was one of the biggest bullies Eren’s ever had to deal with. When he transferred to the new school, it was done because of his parents divorce. His mother ended up with full custody of him which meant that he was pulled from the town he’d grown up in only to be thrown into a new city full of new people. That was freshman year. He was now a senior.
Back at his other school, there were plenty of bullies that he managed to ignore but sometimes sticking to the shadows did him more harm than good. They managed to conjure up the ludicrous idea that he walked around the school grounds like he was better than them all when he just wanted to get from point A to point B with no problems. The mere sight of him riled them up and he had to fight for his life almost everyday because of it.
With Jean, it always felt like a losing game. He was a jock and was captain of the basketball team. Everyone around the school knew that he’d dated most of the girls on the cheerleading squad but it was a big deal when he worked his charming magic on you. No one could believe it.
You were the only girl on the school’s official dance team that hadn’t ever bothered to spare him a second glance. At one point, you’d also been the new kid. Except, unlike Eren, you were treated as the shiny new toy. Every girl wanted to either befriend you with a devious motive or hate you from afar because of your beauty and talents. You were smart and good at dancing. Cheerleading was said to typically be left to the type of girls that yearned for the male attention but dancing was more for those that wanted to chase their passion. You’d been dancing since you were merely four years old and by the time you got to middle school, everyone knew how good you were at it.
Naturally, when you arrived to Paradis High, almost every girl had you on their hit list. There were some that were immediately friendly but Jean was their school’s pride and joy. The ‘It’ boy, so to speak. The instant he’d set his eyes on you, determined to turn your head, they were out for yours. You were hated simply because he wanted your attention and there was nothing more you could’ve done but politely decline each and every single one of his offers. Even though the girls saw that you held no interest for him, they hated you more for thinking you were too good to give him a chance when that was all they’d wanted from him. A simple glance from him in their direction would’ve made their entire year and you were boldly telling him no.
Eventually, with enough pleading, you caved. One date led to another and soon, the entire school quickly found out about your first kiss with him and they were suddenly all on your side. Girls that sabotaged your dance shoes, tripped you in the cafeteria or embarrassed you in classes by spreading false rumors — all came to a stop the moment you became the basketball captain’s official girlfriend.
Months to a year went by until you began to notice him talking to other girls. It’d seem he’d grown bored of you, and was looking for someone new to date. One night while on the phone with your best friend, Mikasa, you cried about it. She tried to offer up some decent advice but none of it made you feel any better. You knew what you had to do.
So you did it. You broke up with Jean, and things hadn’t been the same.
You’d gone from having the entire female population of the school on your side to having only two close friends that didn’t end up hating your guts by the end of it all. Mikasa and Sasha were there for you, through thick and thin.
You owed them too much for it.
With the break up came Jean becoming bitter about the situation. He’d blamed his failing grades and sour mood on losing you. Even the performance at his games became a problem. His coach wedged a stick up his ass to get him to improve but Jean just couldn’t stop thinking about you. Even hearing your name made him lose his mind. Hence why he looked like he was ready to strangle Eren moments ago after hearing your name fall out of his mouth.
“Jean, get the fuck off of me!” You exclaimed, trying to sink your nails into his hand to let you go. He continued to ignore you, eyes set on Eren who finally was giving him some sort of reaction with the way his fists were now balled up.
“Come on,” Jean pressed, keeping a hand on your breast. He laughed, “If you’re gay, just say that. No judgment here! Just don’t see how you’d not get turned on by all of this.” He looked down at your chest then at your neck, smirking. “I almost don’t believe it.”
When he gave you a little slack by trying to take your jaw in his hand, you shoved your back into his chest and he coughed, releasing you completely. You stumbled towards Eren, livid, as you tried to fix some of the buttons that had come undone.
“You’re an asshole, Jean! I hate you!”
Jean rubbed at the center of his chest, staring at you with a bit of playfulness that only made you more upset because how was he able to look at a situation like this as if it was genuinely funny to him?
“You hate me? Well that’s not what you were saying when you were spread out on my bed last week taking my co—”
The jab that connected with his jaw made him fall right to the ground with a groan, eyes squeezed shut in pain. Your eyes widened, taking notice that it was Eren that had thrown the punch. Your mouth dropped open to say something when Eren gave the other another hit across the face, jaw clenched in pure anger.
“What the fuck man!” There was a cut at Jean’s eyebrow that was quickly covered in blood as he tried to defend himself from Eren’s attacks. He was bigger than him and felt he worked out more but he still found himself unable to throw Eren off or dodge enough of his punches without gaining a split lip from them. “Get off of me, freak!”
“Eren!” You didn’t know what else to do other than try and pry him off of Jean so you did what you could until you heard a loud whistle ricochet off of the classroom walls. You covered your ears along with everyone else that was standing idly by, watching the fight.
“Just what in the world is going on back here?” Mrs. Ackerman asked, looking above the rim of her glasses as she finally pushed through the crowd that surrounded the three of you. She had a hand on her hip with her walkie-talkie in the other, a firm yet enraged look on her face.
Due to the distraction, Jean used the chance to push Eren off and stand up, hopping from side to side to gain his footing. You helped Eren up but he only brushed you off with a frown, moving away from you altogether. It would’ve made you a little sad if you weren’t interrupted by the teacher.
“All three of you. Principal's office. Now.”
Just as you thought.
After school detention for three consecutive days.
If that wasn’t worse, you and Eren witnessed Jean staying back in the office when you two were dismissed because apparently his punishment needed some adjustment so it wasn’t going to take away from his mandatory basketball practices after school. His days were said to differ from through the week to the weekends but how likely was that when his dad owned the school? Most of that was said to trick you in case you were listening but you already knew nothing was going to happen to Jean even though he’d basically started the entire thing. Eren had hit him last but only to defend your honor.
Honor…
Interestingly enough, it only just occurred to you why Eren might’ve hit him earlier. Was it really to defend you? In truth, Jean was right. You did sleep with him last week but only because he wouldn’t stop hounding you about missing you. When they failed to work, he insisted you help him with his homework and he’d finally leave you alone for the rest of the year. Claiming that he wanted his grade up to look good for college. As a fellow senior, you couldn’t say no because it was a stressful time for all the seniors. So yes, you went. However, with his hand constantly making its way to your thighs, looking at you with nothing but desire — he’d won. You didn’t miss him by any means. Your body only missed his touch and soon, he was several inches deep into your abused cunt, hammering against your cervix until you came in a matter of minutes. Shame quickly set in after that.
Even though it was true, it wasn’t meant to be told to everyone else. Both of you agreed that nothing was to be said to anyone and that it was to be the last time you saw each other. Graduation was around the corner so you didn’t say no but maybe you should have because what if it only made things worse with his obsession with you?
It was probably best that you kept your selected college to yourself in case he decided to try and apply too.
The last thing you needed was for Jean to follow you even to college. A place where you dreamed of it being Jean-free.
Detention began today, after school, and you weren't looking forward to it. That was why you trudged behind Eren in the hallway, dreading the long hours of doing absolutely nothing in a room with only just him and Ackerman.
Then, it hit you.
A room of only you, Eren and Mrs. Ackerman. The woman was going through a tough time in her marriage to Mr. Ackerman, the history teacher. A lot of students called him by his first name since that was a good way to piss him off, which was Levi. It did the trick every single time.
Anyway, that concluded with her leaving the room to spend thirty minutes to an hour on the phone going back and forth with him. In turn, leaving you with Eren all alone, in the classroom.
A slow smirk spread across your lips.
Maybe you weren't going to be so bored after all.
After a few more classes, it was time to head to the detention hall.
Eren texted his mom after leaving the principal's office earlier to let her know why he wasn't going to be able to make it home at the usual time. If she was upset, that didn't translate through her texts back to him and so he was left wondering how she was going to really react when he got back home.
Your parents weren't surprised nor upset but they told you that nothing like this needed to happen again. Like you were going to associate yourself with Jean anymore.
When you walked in, the room was empty.
Mrs. Ackerman's purse was on top of her desk at the front of the room but she was nowhere to be seen.
Breathing out a small sigh of relief, you walked further in and surveyed the array of seats in the room. In the end, you chose to sit towards the back, by the long window that spread across the wall, providing plenty of natural light for the spacious room.
Once you set your things on the floor by your chosen desk, you looked around and heard the door creak open. Eren strolled in with his backpack over his shoulder, wearing a sullen look on his face. His eyes danced about the room until he spotted a good seat that was miles away from you but still at the back.
You visibly pouted as you watched him set his stuff down, and sit at the desk. He pulled out his cell and with his cheek pressed against the palm of his hand, staring down at the screen as he let his thumb scroll through his social media — you were completely ignored.
Eren was a strange one. He'd fought Jean even though he had no personal vendetta against him because...Because of what? Again, you couldn't help but wonder if he was defending you earlier. Did that mean he didn't hate you as much as he said he did? What if underneath all of that hard exterior there was someone that actually gave a damn about you?
It was hard to deny the fact that you wanted something real. A relationship was more than the physical side to it. There needed to be romance, a real connection and something meaningful there. All of your previous boyfriends only stayed with you because it was hard to get your attention. Once they had it, they got bored and moved on.
It was time to stop choosing the same set of guys. Maybe going after someone a little less...cocky and more of the opposite was your best bet.
Someone like Eren.
“Psst.”
He remained focused on his phone, acting as if he hadn’t heard you.
“Eren,” you called out and he still didn’t give you the indication that he’d heard you. He definitely did.
“Eren—”
“—spaghetti? Is that what you’re wanting for dinner tonight, hun?” Mrs. Ackerman spoke into the phone as she walked back into the classroom wearing a gentle smile on her face. You stopped trying to get Eren’s attention and turned yours to her conversation instead. It wasn’t everyday she talked with her husband without shouting at him. “Oh! You’re making the spaghetti tonight. I see. No, no! I would love that actually. Yes.”
She stood in front of her purse for a moment before she giggled. She kept chattering on and on, and didn’t acknowledge either of you. That only made you look back at Eren to find him pulling out a dark notebook and a mechanical pencil. There wasn’t much of an expression on his face but you were curious all the same.
With no direct plan on what you were going to even say, you stood up, took another glance at your teacher to make sure it was a safe run before you quickly (and quietly) shuffled over to his side of the room.
He’d had his hood up so you were only able to see part of his face when you sat down, but wondered why he wasn’t telling you to move away by now. Hadn’t he heard you walk up?
“Hey,” you leaned forward, head tilted, trying to see more of his face. Upon finally noticing you, he jumped and tugged one side of his hoodie behind his ear. That was when you’d noticed the airpod that resided there. No wonder he hadn’t responded to your failed attempts at getting his attention earlier.
“What the hell do you want?” He asked a bit more harshly than he’d meant to come off. You just scared him was all. Plus, he’d chosen the furthest seat from you for a good reason and yet, there you sat — almost close enough for him to smell your intoxicating perfume. God, it smelled like you took an hour long bath in that overpowering fragrance.
You pushed your lips out into an irritating pout that he felt the need to kiss right off of your face, leaning back away from him with your arms crossed over your chest. That only made your boobs push up even more. The buttons to your shirt looked like they were barely holding on. He had to fight the urge to look away because that was only going to imply that you had the ability to exert a reaction from him and he couldn’t have that. At least, not with your knowing anyway.
“You’re so mean,” you mumbled. He could’ve rolled his eyes. “What is it about me that you don’t like anyway?”
He snorted, twirling the pencil in between his fingers with a tiny curl at the corner of his lips in amusement.
“What don’t I like about you? That’s a loaded question but easy to answer. Probably should dumb it down to a simple response just so you won’t end up whining about not getting it.”
The pretty frown that settled at your brows made him bite at his lips before gracing you with an answer.
“Everything.”
You blinked.
“I…Everything?”
Eren pressed his back against the chair he was in, keeping his dark green eyes firmly on you. “Yeah. Everything. You’re so fucking annoying with all the skimpy clothes you wear. The perfume, your voice, your personality. I don’t care for any of it. Just seems…fake. Like your boobs.”
You gasped, quickly standing up out of your chair, causing the legs to scrap across the floor. The sound was scratchy and it caught Mrs. Ackerman’s attention. The both of you looked at her as she raised her index finger to her lips. She shushed you before she instantly immersed into her conversation again.
Your head turned back to him and he was full on smirking now. It agitated you.
“Fake? My boobs aren’t fake!” You hissed at him and he laughed. “They aren’t!”
“Okayyy,” he drew out, eyebrows raised. “Whatever you say, Barbie.”
“You’re an ass,” you muttered, sitting back down but refusing to look at him now. “No wonder you’re single.”
“Truly don’t give a fuck,” he retorted, going back to sketching whatever previous work he had in his sketchbook open. “Girls like you are all the same anyway. Would much rather jerk off to the girls in final fantasy than the ones in real life.”
None of that was even true. Not even a little bit, and he knew it.
Eren spent most of his nights with his cock in his hand and you on his mind. Usually you were bent over a desk, moaning sinfully loud, not even worried about being caught. The thought of you liking the idea of being caught only fed his imagination though because somehow, he felt you were slutty like that. Maybe you even liked being watched.
You weren’t his type at all, really. He used to be attracted to shy girls. Girls that covered themselves from head to toe with nerdy glasses like the ones he used to wear. Girls that were virgins and needed to be guided. That didn’t know the first thing about sex. He had this wild fantasy of being the one to teach them. Lure them to his bedroom where he took charge and showed them what sex was really about.
Then, he saw you.
None of the girls at Paradis High were like you. Sure, they wore questionable clothing that made him wonder how they passed the school’s dress code everyday but you were different. It had something to do with your body. The curves, how your clothes seemed to fit you. They looked so much more tighter on you than the rest of the girls in school, and that was what drew his attention. His and every male on the school grounds of course.
However, he refused to be one of those guys. And yet — he irritatingly enough couldn’t find himself able to cum without thinking about fucking you. Another low point to his miserable existence was finding the thought of letting you teach him, as the pathetic virgin he was, how to fuck a pretty girl like you. Envision you giving him back to back orgasm denials until he begged you to let him finish. Preferably all over your chest, but he’d take whatever you gave him because it was you.
He hated himself for it. Had once vowed himself to never stoop to a level as low as you. He only found you attractive and that felt like the end of him. He tried to replace you with 3D animated women but none of them made him feel the way you made him feel. He only had to think about you for a few minutes before his hand was covered in his warm release.
It was embarrassing. A real fucking headache.
Who were you to make him feel this way? How dare you come to school dressed so provocatively and whine about the staring and non consensual touching when you looked the way you did? Weren’t you taught to not entice creepy assholes like him?
Still, he always hoped to continue seeing you dressed in such a way each day he came to school. It was a relief every time and he was given yet another day of secretly ogling you from afar.
It was low of him. Sure. However, if he was going to be forced to watch you strut around in those indecent clothes you liked wearing so much — who was he to not indulge his eyes on such a sight?
“Girls like me?” You quipped, eyes down at your lap and away from him.
Eren glanced at you purely because of your flat tone which sounded a little off from how chipper you usually sounded. It didn’t make him feel guilty, but it still made him feel strange. Maybe that was guilt. He refused to acknowledge it though. You deserved it. No one told you to walk around looking the way you did. Then, you were too friendly with people. Whenever there was a new student, he always found you talking to them first. Trying to be their friend, and welcoming them to the school. Making them feel comfortable. It was so unnecessary to him.
Eren couldn’t even imagine how you were outside of school. Did you walk up to strangers with that same attitude? Wearing that same short skirt and tight shirt? Innocent smile with those plump glossy lips of yours? He wondered what would go through a stranger's mind looking at you dressed like that. Your silver belled voice floating through the air, maybe asking for directions or something, but not noticing their filthy gaze devouring the sight of you. Maybe you did notice, and maybe you liked it. Hell if he knew.
The grip he had on his pencil tightened at the thought of some sleazy guy violating you through his eyes as you innocently tried to talk to him. A man that would probably think about taking you in some dark alley, flipping up your skirt and having his way with you. Defiling you with his grimey and impatient hands, touching you in places only Eren wanted access to.
You noticed the far away look in his eyes when you raised your head back up, and frowned a bit.
“Hey,” you poked his cheek and he blinked a few times. “Are you…okay?”
There was no expression on his face now. There you were, asking him if he was okay when he was physically trying to hold himself back from fucking you blind on that very desk with poor Mrs. Ackerman watching. Like you wouldn’t have enjoyed it though.
Look at you. His eyes roamed over the concerned look on your face, your bottom lip pushed between your teeth. Bright eyes glazed over in worry, a particular softness directed towards him. Then he shamelessly let his eyes drop down to your thighs that were pressed together causing them to look thicker than usual. The action only made the thigh highs you had on tighter against your fleshy skin, forcing his mind to run wild. He couldn’t help but wonder if this was your angle. Looking all innocent but being such a slut underneath it all. God, did he want to find out. Fuck, did he want to be under you, gazing up at your through half lidded eyes, hungrily eating up the sight of you bouncing on his cock like the slut you were. Fuck.
“Eren,” you sort of whined and his jaw clenched. Why were you so fucking annoying? He could feel his hard-on poking at the surface of his sweats, and tried to ignore it like he wanted to ignore you. How could he with a voice as sweet as yours in his ear? Maybe if he stayed quiet long enough, you’d get all sad and mope back to your seat, leaving him alone for the next two hours or however long you two were forced to spend in this hell hole. Maybe, just maybe.
When he went back to drawing, something didn’t sit right with you. How he looked at you moments ago, clearly checking you out. Was that intentional? You were rather close to him. Maybe it was in disgust. It was clear he didn’t like you, if the insults and backing away from you every time you got close weren’t proof enough. It annoyed you because no guy in school (or on the streets) was able to ignore you the way Eren does. You were aware of how attractive you were and tried to use that on him but it was as if he was immune to it. To your pretty charms. Was he just…not attracted to you?
The thought of Eren genuinely being disgusted by you and your appearance made you want to cry for some reason, and you weren’t exactly a crier by any means. You were tough and emotionally stronger than most girls in the school. You could handle a little bullying or talk behind your back but oddly enough, thinking about Eren not being into you made you sad. Only because you were now genuinely interested in him and didn’t expect to find him not interested in you back.
When you sniffled, his curious green eyes were back on you. He watched you gasp at him, catching your moment of weakness before you threw a veil over your face, giving him a fake smile. He hated that look on you. It didn’t suit such a pretty face as yours. What was it about?
“Sorry,” you mumbled before standing up. His head tilted back, still watching you with confusion in his expressive eyes. “I’ll go. I’ll leave you alone for the rest of the year and try not to stand out so much.” Your hands twiddled in front of you, an unusual thing to see you do. What you were even saying was odd to him. It sounded rushed. “Sorry again.”
When you moved to walk away, you felt a hand quickly wrap around your wrist, stopping you.
Nothing pissed him off more than seeing your spirits crushed. This time, it seemed to be because of him and he didn’t like it. Couldn’t stand the feeling it gave him. Why were you suddenly pushing away from him? Was it his cold demeanor towards you? Offish tone and unresponsive body language? How hard was it for you to understand that he did all of that because he liked you and hated himself for it? Girls like you only knew how to break a guy’s heart, and he’d told himself that he’d never allow someone like you back in. Why couldn’t you get that?
Maybe you were different from the last girl like he tried talking to. Maybe you had gentle intentions but the only way he was going to be able to find out was through trusting you, and he couldn’t see himself doing that again. His trust had been broken a while back. He couldn’t handle going through that again. Not for a good lay, no, because maybe he didn’t just like you. He could feel the possessiveness tight within his chest thinking about you being with anyone else but him. Maybe that was why he’d teased Jean about you in class earlier. Then he found out that you and him had sex recently even though you two were no longer together. Needless to say, it pissed him off even more so he pushed you away when you tried helping him then.
It was like he was able to see you and Jean together in his head, vividly. Your legs spread wide at either side of him, letting him invade your tight cunt, digging your nails into his broad back, moaning his name louder than usual. Letting him come inside of you, marking your soft walls with his flawed seed.
Eren couldn’t help but wonder if you’d let Jean fuck you without a condom. Were you two that close? It was no secret that Jean had been around the school, well known for fucking half of the girls there. Now, including you. In Eren’s eyes, it disgusted him thinking about it. The simple thought of you letting that asshole fuck you without any protection aggravated the fuck out of him. It was what made him let you go, turning his head back to the sketchbook in front of him.
You stared at him for a moment then rubbed at your wrist. What was that? Did he want you to stay?
“Eren—”
“Look,” he cut you off, sketching. “We can be here and not talk so let’s try that.”
There was no sense in trying to change his mind. If he didn’t want you near him or talking to him then fine. It was his loss.
You trudged back to your seat and plopped down, crossing your legs. You’d begun to feel a bit bitter now as you took out your phone, angrily scrolling through your social media. Who was he to get so upset with you in the first place? And why did it matter to you so much? He was a nobody. He wasn’t even going to be remembered at the reunion in the next ten years anyway so you refused to waste anymore of your precious energy on him. There was no way you were going to lower yourself to begging a guy to give you attention. That was not happening. Ever.
The next 20 minutes was spent with you texting your friends and Eren on the other side of the room doing god knows what because you didn’t care to look at him. You stuck to yourself and kept yourself busy until you heard Mrs. Ackerman exhale rather loudly. As nosy as you were, you looked up and was shocked to see her husband waltz into the room.
“You’re still here?” Levi asked, walking up to her to press a kiss to her cheek. You watched her tuck a bit of hair behind her ear, obviously bashful by the public display of affection. It was strange to see but you continued watching.
“Yes. I’m over detention this afternoon. Mr. Rall wasn’t able to stay over so I volunteered.” Her eyes drifted towards you and Eren, and you quickly looked back down at your phone like you weren’t in on their conversation. “Especially since I was the one that put them here.” Levi raised a brow and she smiled. “There were fighting earlier so I sent them to the principal and they’ve got detention for the next few days. Are you finally heading home?” She asked, switching topics, looking back at him. Your eyes flickered back up at them, almost finding them a little cute together.
He hummed, fingers itching to play at her waist. “I am.” He stepped forward and lowered his voice, but not enough to shut you out. “I wish you could come with me. I hate when you stay over like this. Takes away from my time with you.”
You watched her giggle and almost gagged. Okay now it was getting to be a little too much. Next thing you knew you were going to walk into her class one day to find her with a baby bump, forced to realize that teachers with partners or spouses actually had sex.
“Mm, I’ll be home shortly,” she whispered, biting her lip and pushing up her glasses. “Don’t wait for me.”
“Ahh,” he pulled back, a feigned hurt look on his face. “What a cruel world we live in.”
She giggled and playfully slapped his chest as he chuckled. “Go on and get out of here, Mr. Workaholic. Be home soon.”
“Alright, alright,” he smiled softly, heading back towards the door. He mouthed a quick ‘love you’ and she felt her skin heat up.
“Byee,” she sang and he left the room leaving silence in his wake.
It dawned on you that even if things weren’t the way they were between you and Eren now, there was no way you two would’ve been able to do anything with Mrs. Ackerman still in the room. You were banking on her leaving for a good period of time but it wasn’t like any of that mattered now. He wanted nothing to do with you and that was still fine. You didn’t care. It was his decision and you weren’t the groveling type. You weren’t!
“Ah,” Mrs. Ackerman breathed, glancing down at the watch on her wrist. She looked up at the two of you, “Children, I’m going to head to the copy room to print some things off for this coming week’s assignments.” Both of you looked up at her at the same time, paying attention. “Think you guys can behave until I come back? I shouldn’t be gone for very long.”
“Sure,” you replied with a shrug and Eren nodded, silently.
“Okay!” She grabbed her keys and walked towards the door, “Back as soon as I can,” and left, the door shutting quietly behind her.
As if the classroom wasn’t already pin-droppingly quiet from before, it was deathly silent now. You were almost able to hear the birds chirp outside of the window. It made you uneasy but you tried to continue occupying yourself with your phone.
Eren had his music playing so the silence wasn’t what started to bother him. It was the simple fact that no matter what he tried thinking about, his thoughts always ventured back to you.
You were back on the other side of the room and it was because he pushed you away. It looked like it finally worked but at what cost? Truthfully, he didn’t want to drive you away but what else was he supposed to do?
He should’ve been content with sitting there and doing his own thing but his pencil wasn’t moving. The inspiration to draw was now lost and that irritated him even more.
What was so special about you anyway? Why did you consume each and every single one of his thoughts 24 hours a day? Several nights did he go sleepless thinking about you, what you were doing and who you were doing it with. Why you weren’t doing it with him, even.
It was annoying. So fucking annoying, he felt like pulling out all of his hair due to the frustration of it all.
Not only were you distracting during classes with him but now you two were stuck in one together, completely alone. You were on the far side of the room and still managed to disrupt his concentration. How were you doing that?
With a groan to himself, he’d set the mechanical pencil down and moved back from the desk to give himself some room. When he glanced at you, you were still mindlessly going through your phone, completely ignoring his existence. Wasn’t that what he wanted? So why was he finding himself annoyed by it?
All of these questions with answers to every single one of them.
“Annoying,” he muttered and you looked at him.
“Talking to yourself now?”
Your teasing tone almost made him want to snap.
“Shut up.”
For some reason, you felt like pushing your luck. You knew that he wasn’t going to do anything if you teased him some more. Plus, you were growing a little bored of scrolling through your twitter feed. It also seemed that he was taking a small break so why not mess with him? Especially considering talking to you was utter torture for him which was perfect for you because bothering him seemed more fun than reading pointless tweets that never related to you.
So, you put your phone face down on the desk, leaned back in your chair and crossed your arms with a smirk on your face.
“Make me.”
The hand on his thigh curled into a fist, physically trying to hold himself back from getting up and crossing the room to show you exactly how he’d make you shut the hell up. Rather, he stayed seated because fortunately for you, his sanity was still intact. So were his morals. He couldn’t give into your weak attempts at trying to get at him. He didn’t like girls like you. Bratty, loud, overly friendly, falsely innocent and more importantly — a slut. His standards were higher than that. The bar wasn’t in hell yet.
In return to your cheeky response, he simply rolled his eyes and stood up to stretch his limbs. You were slightly annoyed that your little ruse at getting a reaction out of him didn’t work because usually it was easier than this but Eren was different. It took a lot more than words to fully annoy him, it seemed.
You weren’t given time to think much more about your failed plan when you caught sight of his abdomen as his hoodie raised up along with his arms. You got a clear view of his abs, smoothed and toned. Your mouth dropped open. Had he really been hiding a body like that underneath all of the bulky clothing he wore on a day to day basis? No wonder you nor anyone else ever noticed it. Did he work out? Then again, no one was born looking like Apollo so he probably did.
Eren let out a groan that easily sounded like a moan which hadn’t helped you at trying to tear your eyes away from him. He dropped his arms and yawned, cracking his fingers while he was at it. Once he was done stretching, feeling eyes on him, he turned to you. You almost broke your neck turning it away from him as if you didn’t spend almost five minutes gawking at the guy. He smirked. You were so obvious, it was painful.
“You know,” he began walking towards you, cutting through the tension in the air as he went. “If you wanted a closer look, all you had to do was ask.”
You heard him walking over but didn’t bother to acknowledge his presence. Instead, you rolled your eyes and picked your phone back up. How much longer did you have to spend being in the same room as him now?
“Ohh,” he cooed, finally close enough to smell your nauseating perfume again. “Ignoring me now? That’s funny.” His pretty emerald eyes ate up the sight of you trying to pretend that he wasn’t standing right next to you. “Weren’t you whoring yourself out, like, 10 minutes ago?”
That got your attention. Your head snapped up at him, already feeling a growing strain due to how tall he was since you were sitting down.
“Excuse me?” You breathed, blinking. “Whoring myself out? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“You’ve got a nasty mouth. Anyone ever told you that?” Gentle fingers went to touch your chin when you slapped his hand away. His expression didn’t change from the irritating smirk that stayed. “Now I can’t touch you?” He snorted. “Okay.”
Irritated now, you stood up, falling into a staring match with him. He just looked at you, highly amused. Why was he being so annoying now?
“Eren, what do you want? Earlier, you didn’t want to talk and now you’re chattier than me. What is it?” You cocked a hip out and crossed your arms again.
He shrugged, stuffing his hands in the front pocket of his hoodie.
“Dunno. Needed a break, I guess.”
“And do you have to bother me while taking your little break?”
He laughed, “No, but it passes the time. Plus,” he stepped forward, dark eyes narrowed at you playfully. “–you were all over me earlier. What happened to that energy? Not feeling slutty anymore? Hmm?”
Instead of stepping back, you held your ground because you weren’t phased by him. He was tall, but that was about as menacing as he got. You’d never seen this side of him though. He was usually very quiet and observing. Not one to talk without thinking about it first.
Either way, you didn’t have the energy to entertain him anymore.
“Go back to your sketching,” you said in a dismissive tone and with a roll of your eyes, you were sitting down again. “We’ve got over an hour left in here and then we don’t have to ever speak to each other again. Sound good?” You were about to glance up at him when you felt his hand move into your hair, tugging your head back to look up at him. “Eren–!”
“You know what I want though? I want…I…” He drifted off, a frown settling onto his face. What did he want? To fuck you? Right here, in the classroom? He was better than that, and then it was you. He couldn’t fuck you. Didn’t he hate you?
“Eren,” you mumbled, chest rising and falling as your thighs pushed together. As much as you wanted to get upset with him for touching you like this, you were too busy keeping back a moan from how aggressive he was being. The thought of why he had a hand in your hair went right over your head. It didn’t matter when you could feel your thin underwear soiling by the second. It was a bit embarrassing because maybe he hadn’t done it for any sexual reasons. Maybe you were just that much of a whore.
Trying to focus on the present, you cleared your throat and tried it again, “Eren–”
“What?” He growled out, hand tightening in your hair. Thankfully you didn’t need to speak because your eyes told him what he needed to know. He quickly released you and took a step back, swallowing down the lump that had formed in his throat. “Uh…” he’d accidentally backed into a nearby desk, feeling his face warm. “Sorry…”
You sat there for a moment, slowly putting all of the pieces together. Luckily, the last piece you needed to finish the puzzle was the boner he currently had. Evident and hard for your eyes to pull away from. It looked like he was thinking the exact same thing you were. It also looked like you were going to have to be the one to initiate things, going based off of what you assumed was shared just between you and him. You just hoped he was going to want to reciprocate or else you weren’t going to ever live the rejection down.
As you stood up, he watched you closely, hands gripped onto the edges of the desk he was leaned up against. He chose to not move, letting you walk towards him until you were right in front of him now. Since he was crouched down a bit, you were around the same height as him which made him inevitably harder than he already was. Something about the way you were looking at him. Eyes low and dark, the faint smirk on your pretty lips. Like you wanted to eat him alive. God, he’d let you. Let you do whatever it was you wanted to. However, he wasn’t weak enough to give in to you that easily. Would have to try a lot harder than that.
“You don’t think I’ve noticed the way you look at me?” You asked him, not touching him just yet. You kept your hands to yourself but stood a breath away, peering into his deep eyes with control. “I’ve been watching you too, Eren. Did you know that?”
“No…” he breathed with a shake of his head, unable to look away. His fingertips itched to touch you but he kept his hands where they were. The wood of the desk creaked under his tight grip as he continued to wait for your command. “I didn’t know that.” He smirked. “But you sound like a fuckin’ creep. Maybe even a stalker.”
You quickly grabbed him by his chin, squishing his cheeks together. The smirk fell into a puckered look, making you smile. “You’ve got a nasty mouth on you. Anyone ever told you that?” You repeated the same question he’d asked you earlier, pushing your knee in between his legs, parting them with ease. He let out a breathless laugh, licking his lips.
“Dunno. Can’t really recall. Sorry.”
“Mmm, can I be honest about something?” You took one final step forward, dropping your hand and throwing an arm around his neck, pressing your breasts against his chest. His breath hitched and you kept your smirk as you brushed your lips against the shell of his ear. “You say that you hate me…but I can’t help but wonder how many times you’ve jerked off to the thought of me. Must suck not having the real thing. Guess those animated women have been enough for you, huh?”
You were good at being a tease but what you failed to realize was that Eren was different from the other guys you’d seduced. He was smarter and found zero shame vocalizing what was really on his mind.
“Stupid girl,” he said in a deep tone under his breath before he gripped your waist with his thick hands, keeping you firm against him. It was his lips that were now against your ear and feeling you shiver made him grin. “I can’t even cum without thinking about you. Were you aware of that too?” Your silence was what pleased him the most. He chuckled, “Stroking my cock, using my pathetic hand trying to imagine it as your pussy but I’m nearly positive it doesn’t compare to the real thing.”
Your cunt twitched at the imagery of him doing exactly that. You’d give up almost anything to feel him right now. Almost.
Frustrated, you pushed off of him and he still had that shit-eating grin on his face. He was now leaning fully back against the desk, head tilted as he stared at you. It annoyed you. A lot.
“If you wanna fuck me, just say that.”
Eren didn’t say a word, and it wasn’t like he needed to. His lust filled gaze was more than enough.
“I wanna fuck you. Bad.”
You shrugged before sitting on top of one of the desks. Your thighs squished together and it was like you’d done it on purpose just to tease him. He was almost able to see your panties which was way more than he needed to see. Not that he was complaining because he definitely wasn’t. In fact…why not see more than that?
“Sounds like a you problem.”
There was one thing that Eren couldn’t seem to understand about you. He was aware that you had a certain type. So that begged the question… Why were you flirting with him? He wasn’t a jock. Wasn’t popular. Hell, to the entire school’s population, he didn’t even exist. So why him? What were you trying to prove? He wasn’t going to let himself become a body count. That was for sure. He just wasn’t. He had a lot more self respect than that. Plus, jerking off to you alone in his room was more than he needed. To do anything with you in real life was…was too…
He couldn’t even come up with a good reason if he tried. He just knew it didn’t need to happen.
And maybe that was reason enough.
“K,” was all he said before he pushed off of the desk and started to walk away. He needed to put some distance between you and him or he was definitely going to go back on his decision of fucking on the very desk you were sitting on. He was sticking to his morals and as hard as it was, it was best. You were still one of the most popular girls in school, even when most of them hated you for dumping Jean. There was no way in hell he was going to ditch his cloak of invisibility just for some pussy. He knew better than that. Way better.
You wanted to sulk seeing that he’d made the choice to not approach you but a thought came into your mind. If he wasn’t going to make the right choice then that just meant that you were going to have to make it for him.
While he walked back towards his seat, you decided to scoot back on the desk until you were in the middle of it and flipped up your skirt. There was never a time you didn’t get what you wanted and if this was the only time you were going to be alone with Eren, then you were going to make it a moment that he wasn’t going to forget.
The sudden noise made him look back and what he saw almost made him trip up on his own feet.
Your legs were spread wide, and you were pulling your panties aside with two of your fingers, looking dead at him through thick lashes. Your arousal stuck to the fabric and created a line that stayed connected until you began massaging your clit. It was a bold move to make but you were never wrong when you felt a vibe around someone. Eren was interested in you. It was so obvious, but there was still a chance that you were wrong. That you were making a complete and utter fool of yourself right now. Especially in a public setting. That never usually bothered you but those were during times where the guy actually wanted you back. This was completely different. Eren had expressed his dislike for you openly enough so you hoped that your intuition about this was right.
A small moan slipped past your lips as you dipped a finger into your slick, warm cunt, clenching around the digit almost immediately. The cool hit of the air conditioner that came on made your thighs tremble as you licked your lips, keeping eye contact with him, fingering yourself slowly. Painfully slow.
Eren didn’t know what to do other than watch you. How you were perched on the desk where anyone could walk in and catch you doing something so…So exposing. And yet, he couldn’t fight off his second hard on of the day. Annoying. All of it was so fucking annoying. You, most of all. Why were you doing this to him? Antagonizing him with the one thing he hadn’t been able to get out of his mind. Seeing the real thing was nothing like the pornos he’d seen. You weren’t anything like he’d tried imagining either. In fact, you were a million times better than the version in his head. He just couldn't figure out whether that was a good thing or not.
“Eren,” you moaned pitifully, frowning as you curled your fingers, hitting the spot that you were looking for. By the time he’d come out of the deep crevices of his mind, he saw that your shirt was already open, breasts spilled out from the confines of your bra. Your nipples were pebbled from the cool air and you had one in your hand as you fucked yourself. His cock throbbed at the sight. Well, there went the last bit of his precious morals.
Then again, morals be damned right?
You weren’t able to get his name out of your mouth fast enough before he strided back over to you, standing in front of you. He was panting, eyes drinking up the slutty sight of you. He’d watched enough pornos to at least touch you where he felt you wanted to be touched but it was all still new to him because watching and doing something was two entirely different things.
He frowned, frustrated that he was too nervous to reach out for you until you’d shuffled up onto your knees. You were back at being at the same height as him with your naked tits at his chest again.
He was going to lose his fucking mind over you.
His eyes shamelessly darted down to your breasts, hands itching to touch you but he wanted to remain respectful. You found it cute.
“It’s okay,” you whispered and took his hand in yours, bringing it up to one of your breasts. His breath hitched when you placed his palm over it, completely covering your nipple from the coolness of the room. He swallowed and looked at you to find a sweet smile on your face. “You can touch me, Eren. Just…do it slowly, okay?”
The softness in your voice stirred his arousal even more because not only 10 minutes ago were you giving him the cold shoulder. How did your mood change so quickly? Then earlier you were pushing your tits in his face. You were so confusing.
He focused more on you and less on his thoughts as he pinched at your nipple, quickly looking up to catch the moan leaving your plump lips. So that's what you liked. He wondered if your nipples were as sensitive as he’d imagined once or twice before.
Wanting to test that theory, he dipped his head down, held your breast in his large hand and covered your perked nipple with his mouth, swirling his tongue around the hardened bud. Satisfyingly enough, your back immediately arched, your hands planting themselves on his shoulders. He grinned around you, happy to be right. You pushed your chest more into him and he groaned, cock stiffening more than it already was. Fuck, at this rate, he was probably going to cum through his sweats, untouched, but he held himself back. He didn’t want to stroke your ego anymore than he was sure he was going to, moving forward with you.
“Eren,” you mewled, moving your hands into his hair, grabbing a fistful of it. A shiver snaked down his spine at the action and couldn’t hold back another groan that made you look down at him with a racing heart to watch him. “That feels good.”
“Yeah?” he said around your nipple, cheekily grinning as he looked up at you through his eyelashes, green eyes dark with hunger. “Say that again.”
Feeling shy all of the sudden, you made a noise before you looked away.. “I…It feels good. Why did you need to hear it again?”
“Mmm,” After a few more swirls, tugs and a playful bite at your nipple, he pulled back with a ‘pop’, causing you to gasp, staring at him. He leaned close to your face, smirking. “Why not?”
“Because…” your eyes fell on his lips. They were a little red and covered with his own saliva. Puffy, desperate to be on another part of your body. You had a second place in mind. “Ugh, just shut up and kiss me.” You pulled him in by the strings of his hoodie, pressing your lips against his.
His hands quickly found their way to your hips, leaning into you as he let you lead him. That made you feel a little more confident, remembering who had the experience here. His moan into the kiss made you pull at his bottom lip with your teeth, teasing him.
“Fuck,” he breathed shakily, fingers digging into your soft skin. “Again.”
You giggled and did it again, feeling his tongue try and chase after yours. He seemed to learn fast with the way he pushed against your lips, sucking at your tongue while exploring your mouth like he was trying to mark every inch of it with himself. It only worsened the thrum in between your legs, making you a bit uncomfortable.
Your whine into his mouth got his attention, and he pulled back to give you a little air, trying to catch his own breath. His eyes flickered between your lips and eyes, smirking.
“Anything else you wanna teach me?”
You bit into your lip, thighs pressed together.
“Yeah. I can think of a few more things.”
Eren was bent at the knees, face in between your legs with you on the desk, leaned back. He tried to get you to get in a more comfortable position but you kept reiterating that you wanted to be able to see what he was doing until you felt confident enough that he knew what he was doing without your guidance. He didn’t exactly see the need of you watching him to guide him but then again, what did he know?
He stared at your wet cunt, wondering what the hell to do. He’d never actually seen a vagina in real life. Well, if catching his grandma come out of her bath that one time when he was six didn’t count. Porn had truly been his best friend. He did learn that amateur porn was better to watch so he didn’t feel like a complete idiot when it came to trying the things he saw. It was just the fact that he was now meant to put all of that to the real test. Real, meaning giving you top tier head. It was a tall order but he refused being second to someone like Jean or just Jean himself. He’d never live that down.
“Eren.”
He snapped himself from his incessant habit to overthink and looked at you, eyebrows furrowed with clear worry. You couldn’t help but snort, finding it unusual that you were half laying on your back with your elbows bent to support your upper weight, looking down at a guy that had been staring at your vagina like it was the world’s most complex puzzle. It wasn’t everyday you fucked a virgin. In fact, you couldn’t even recall the last time you did. It was so long ago.
“Yeah?”
“Just…start by licking me here.” You reached down and drew a circle around your clit, making sure he knew exactly where to give his attention to. “That’s going to be your best friend until I…you know.“
It sounded strange explaining how to give you head but then again, if you wanted to cum — you had to give him clear instructions or else you were either going to have to lie or let him believe that he’d made you orgasm on his first try. Giving him that false sense of hope wasn’t what was going to help you sleep tonight at all.
“Okay…” He looked back down at your pretty clit, and just stared for a few silent moments. You watched him and didn’t say a word, wanting to see how he’d do. It wasn’t really rocket science, you didn’t think. It was typically a woman’s pleasure button. Some of the lucky few were able to orgasm from penetration alone. Unfortunately, you weren’t one of the lucky few. At least, you didn’t think so. It’d never happened to you. Fucking Jean gave you a bit of hope considering his dick was nice and big, believing he was going to reach places no one’s ever touched. Sadly, no luck.
Maybe Eren was going to be the lucky one.
Once he was done awkwardly staring at your vagina like it was going to attack him, he leaned forward, and the moment his mouth closed around your clit — your head fell back in ecstasy. It was as if he’d skipped several steps and went right for the main course. He sucked at the sensitive little bud, tongue lapping across it with vigour. He didn’t even give you time to adjust when he moaned around you, brows pushing together in concentration. He was also keeping an ear out for any sounds that left your mouth because that was going to be his guide. If you were quiet, then he’d need to try something different. If you were vocal, then that meant—
“Oh fuck, Eren! Right there!” You moaned out, nails scratching at the poor rusted wood of the desk.
Then that meant he was doing something right.
He couldn’t help but let himself get a little cocky, smirking around your clit, slurping you up like you were water. The obscene sounds that came from him eating you out should’ve embarrassed you but nothing like that came to mind. Eren was eating your pussy like he’d suddenly become a pro at it. He didn’t even need directions or instructions. There wasn’t even a need to finger you as you’d begun to feel your release edging and teasing the surface.
You tried to conceal your loud moans by clamping a hand over your mouth, but sitting up and watching the way he sucked and licked at your sweet clit made your head spin. He made the action so nasty. He was wild yet careful. Like he’d formed a plan in his head and had a set rhythm that he was sticking to. All you knew was that it was driving you insane and you couldn’t remember ever getting head this fucking good.
Sooner than you were expecting, you quickly creamed all over his tongue, shaky moans slipping through your pretty fingers. Your thighs shook from the aftershock, trying to come down from your high. Unable to ignore the need to rest your upper body any longer, you laid flat on your back, and panted, trying to catch your breath.
Eren straightened his back and licked your juices from his lips before he used the sleeve of his hoodie to clean the rest of it from his face.
“So…how was it?”
You stared up at the ceiling for a second, mind boggled with the fact that he even felt the need to ask you how that was for you. Did he really have no idea? That was grade A head. Definitely what artists sang about in their songs or what writers wrote about in their smut filled books. That once in a lifetime experience that you’d end up remembering at 80 years old, for sure.
When you finally were able to compose yourself, you raised back up on your elbows again with your eyebrows almost shot into your hairline.
“How was it? Eren…I’m not exaggerating but I could’ve sworn I saw god. What the fuck was that? I thought you didn’t know what you were doing,” you exclaimed, shaken up.
He laughed, shrugging. “I mean, I didn’t. Not really. I watched some stuff, but I didn’t have any hands-on experience.”
You shook your head in disbelief. “Well, you could’ve fooled me.”
“So…” He looked around until he decided to let his curious green eyes land back on you, hands moving up your calves to your thighs. “What now?”
You shivered from his touch and thought about that for a moment.
“I want to return the favor…” You replied, staring back with want.
“M’cool with that.”
You snorted. “Course you are.”
He chose to sit down in a nearby chair, manspreading while he looked at you with that infuriating cocky smirk. You couldn’t believe that his success at eating you out was already getting to his head like this.
“Look,” you stood in between his long legs before bending down to your knees in front of him. His head was tilted, and he was giving you a look very appropriate for your current position. You were definitely horny again. “Do you want me to tell you that you just got lucky for your first try?”
Eren licked his bottom lip excruciatingly slowly before biting it, laughing. “Lucky? Maybe. I guess that means you’d have to let me do it again just to prove to you that maybe, just maybe, I might know what I’m doing.” His eyes flashed with mischief, irking you to death. He was still grinning, little smile lines at the corners of his lips. When you really looked at him, he was attractive. Dare say, he might’ve been one of the most attractive guys in the school and didn’t even know it. If he were to stop hiding himself in hoodies and sweats, there was no telling what his popularity were to look like. However, catching his beauty first, you almost wanted to gatekeep him from everyone else. No one needed to get a piece of what you were now claiming as yours. If they weren’t able to see his worth as he was now, then they didn’t deserve him any different.
“You’re annoying,” you mumbled before you decided to focus on the task at hand.
He watched you tug his sweats down along with his boxers and couldn’t fight back a proud smile at the look on your face, witnessing the size of him. His dick was so thick and heavy, it laid against his upper thigh. Hard and pulsating. The head was an angry red, covered with his precum. There was no fucking way he’d been walking around school for four whole years carrying a monster cock like that. No wonder he walked as slow as he did. The thing attached to him had been slowing him down this entire time.
You gawked at it in awe, glancing from it back to him. “Are you kidding me?” He snickered as if this was really a laughing matter. You were stumped. “Eren…”
“Can we talk about me having the biggest dick in school after I cum?” He slid a hand down his clothed chest to take his dick in hand, giving himself a few lazy strokes. He huffed out a broken moan, staring down at you through half lidded eyes. “I need…”
It wasn’t looking like he was going to finish that sentence and maybe because he was too embarrassed to say whatever it was he wanted to say, noticing his cheeks heating up. Cute.
“Yeah yeah,” you said under your breath, moving forward to plant kisses up his thigh, feeling him shudder against you. When you got closer to where he needed you most, he moved his hand away, pushing up his hoodie so that it was out of the way. You were almost distracted by his abs again but you kept yourself focused, spreading your saliva over the head of his cock once you reached it.
Eren clutched at his hoodie, groaning needily at the feeling of having your lips so close to him. You took him in your hand and couldn’t believe how heavy he actually was. You imagined having him inside of you. Tearing through your soft walls deliciously before making a home there, and fucking you stupid. He was so big, there was no way you weren’t going to cum multiple times in a row. You wondered if there was going to be enough time to get to that part.
“Please,” he muttered, biting into his lip with a shy expression on his pretty face. Cheeks as rosy as his lips. It was so distracting. “Can you please keep going?”
Who knew he was the begging type.
“Mmm,” you smirked to yourself, cupping his balls only for him to throw his head back, running a hand through his disheveled hair. “I’m getting to that, pretty boy. Relax.”
“Fuck,” he moaned at the pet name, trying to hold onto his sanity. Just having your hands on him was enough. He couldn’t even imagine what your mouth was going to feel like. Him hitting the back of your throat, filling it with so much sweet cum, making you swallow every bit of it. Fuck.
More pre dribbled onto your hand and you could tell that he wasn’t going to last much longer. This was going to be a quick blowjob. You were going to have to train him to last a little longer than this.
Deciding on not using your mouth for now, you stood up to your feet, keeping his cock in your hand. You slid your palm up and down, using the precum and a bit of your saliva to keep it lubricated as you smiled sweetly, standing back in between his legs. He was breathing heavily now, abs tightening as he felt your thumb cross over his fat mushroom head, teasing him. He sat forward, looking up at you with desperate eyes that told you he’d do anything to cum right now and you bet he would. Such a pathetic look on such a pretty face.
How lucky you were.
You were still standing but were bent a bit so you could keep your stride going. His clouded emerald eyes were locked onto yours, a hand finding its way to your thigh to keep him grounded. Your tits were now directly in his face and he didn’t waste any time taking a nipple in his mouth. You moaned out in surprise, squeezing his cock in the process. He groaned around your breast, bringing you closer to him. He was fucking into your hand now, getting desperate. He was so close. So unimaginably close, he could feel the pressure rising at the center of his stomach. His hand left your thigh and wrapped his arms around your lower mid section and ass, keeping you there.
“Eren,” you called for him, trying to get his attention. He was throbbing in your hold, veins more prominent than before you touched him. Without a word, you knew he was close. “Look at me.”
He popped off of your nipple, gazing up at him with such a far away look in his eyes. So pretty to look at. You were losing your mind over him.
“I want you to cum for me. Can you be good and do that?“
“Be good?” He asked, eyebrows drawing together with his lips parted. He tore his eyes from you and kissed at your stomach, nipping at your warm skin. “I’ll do whatever you want me to, just please. Need to cum so bad. I can’t…” his fingers dug into the flesh of your ass, moaning louder now.
His hips stuttered as you dipped down to capture his lips with your own, shoving your tongue down his throat. He choked on a moan, not knowing where to put his hands now. You stroked him faster and he panted against your lips, moaning hopelessly into your mouth.
“Gonna cum. Gonna…M’gonna–”
“Wait.”
You pulled your lips away from his and quickly dropped down to your knees. He frowned at what you were doing but lost it the moment he felt your plump lips finally wrap around his thick cock.
His long drawn out moan was either because of him shooting his seed down your throat or the feeling of your mouth on him, tongue swirling over his sensitive head. His cock pulsed and twitched as he continued letting you milk him dry, thighs quivering. He used an arm to cover part of his face as he made low noises that were moans but more whiny.
“Please…Can you…?”
When you swallowed every drop of him, something you didn’t usually do with anyone you went down on, you let him go with a ‘pop’ sound, making his head spin once more. He was trying to catch his breath but you were greedy.
You straddled his lap properly this time, feeling his flaccid cock against the crack of your ass. He groaned under his breath, hands quickly attaching themselves to your waist, dark eyes back on you again with a playful frown.
“Let’s forget I came early, yeah?”
You pucker your lips, tapping your index finger against your chin in thought.
“Mm, how about…no?”
You giggled when you felt him squeeze your hips, frown deepening. He was so hot post orgasm, it should’ve been a downright crime. His forehead was dotted with small beads of sweat and the majority of his face was a little red. It paired well with his dark hair, dark brows and mystic green eyes. How had you not seen him in such a light before today? How did you miss him?
His eyes searched your face trying to figure out what was going through your mind but you didn’t give him anymore of that opportunity when you began grinding down your hips, conveying through your actions what you wanted.
He smirked lazily, leaning forward to where his lips ghosted over yours.
“If you want me to fuck you, just say that.”
“If I’m riding, that means I’m fucking you, pretty boy.”
Eren broke eye contact and dipped his face into your neck, groaning. There went that stupid pet name again. God, you were going to be the end of him.
“Fine,” He shot back, kissing at your collarbones. He smiled against your skin. “I guess this means I don’t hate you so much anymore.”
“Mmm,” You hands played with his hair, trying to continue ignoring the throb in between your legs. “Good. Shouldn’t have hated me anyway.” With enough of his hair in between your fingers, you gripped onto it and pulled his head back to face you. His lips parted in surprise. “In fact, I don’t think you ever really hated me in the first place. Maybe you wanted to but you couldn’t ignore how attracted you were to me. Isn’t that right?”
Eren swallowed the pool of saliva in his mouth before answering you, “I don’t…I don’t really know. I mean, I’ve been attracted to you but how does that correlate to me disliking you?”
“Because silly boy,” The playful smile on your face made him weary, wondering what you were going to say next. “–how can you hate someone that you wanna fuck so bad?”
He was hard again. It was surprising to him because it usually took him a minute for him to come back after a good orgasm but you were so…so alluring. Charming and very seductive. He didn’t foresee himself falling into the hands of you but there he was. Trapped by your fatal gaze, too captivated to look away. He didn’t even know what to say back to that because you were right. He’d spent too many nights fucking into his lousy hand picturing you on his cock instead. Desperate yet controlling at the same time. When he thought you were everything he wanted to stay away from, you were actually the very one he needed. He just couldn’t admit that to himself. Now, he could care less. He wanted you, and that was all that mattered to him.
Watching him fall into thought, you pouted and shifted up using his shoulders for leverage. You leaned forward and reached a hand down between your legs for his growing erection, taking his heavy length into your delicate hand. He let out a shuddered breath, blinking back into the present as he felt you tease the tip of his cockhead at your entrance. So wet, so warm, fuck he was gonna lose it again.
Your name sounded heavenly coming from his pretty lips, eyes already pleading you to keep doing what you were doing.
Your face was close to his, eyes eating up the way he panted, eyebrows knitted together. It was such a major contrast to the boy you’d watched walk into class earlier. The Eren in front of you was compliant and desperately wanting to cum again.
He was such a hidden gem. How did you get so fucking lucky?
“Shhh,” you told him, your lips against his as he whined, feeling you coat his length with your arousal, his hands gripping at your thighs that were still covered by the high socks you were wearing. “You’re so loud, baby. Can you be a little quieter for me?” He whimpered, chest rising and falling. “Unless you wanna be caught like this. If so…” you pecked his lips, giggling. “–then let’s see how much louder you can get for me.”
Eren didn’t have time to give you an answer back when you finally began sinking down onto him, inviting his fat cock into your warm cunt. The grip on your thighs tightened as his head fell back. The moan that left his mouth was loud but nothing that would’ve gotten you two caught. Least, not yet.
“Shit,” he groaned deeply, jaw clenched. “I won’t be able to last that long. I could probably cum now. Just don’t move. Please don’t move,” he begged as if he was the one in control here. Did he forget who was on top?
With a smirk, you lowered yourself further down until you felt every inch of him pulsating against your soft, wet walls.
There was no doubt that he was in deep. He couldn’t even describe the feeling. The best he was able to do was think of it like a tight glove around his cock. He was positive that if you started moving, he was going to cum all up against your poor cervix, breeding you stupid. He was barely holding onto his sanity, having never felt anything as good as this. His hand was a poor imitation and hoped he never had to resort to it ever again as long as you existed.
“Eren,” you cooed, bringing his head back forward by holding his face with your warm hands. “C’mon. I know that this is your first time having sex but hold out a while for me, yeah? If I lose you, I’ll just have to use you.” You grinned, “Though, I don’t think you’d mind that one bit, hm?”
“God, just shut up and fuck me,” he blurted out, smacking your thigh with a tired frown. “Don’t make threats. Be about it, yeah?” He mocked, and had no clue what he was in for.
Your grin smoothed into a half smile. “Just know I’m not stopping until I’m done with you, and remember — you asked for it.”
With your hands back on his shoulders, you pushed yourself forward a bit until you slid off of him, but not all of the way. Just enough that when you slammed yourself back down, he was back to kissing your cervix. Both of your moans blended together and you did that a few more times until you found your rhythm. Eren was a mess of whines and groans, hands all over you. He was biting into your shoulder while heavily breathing against your neck. No matter what he was doing, he kept you close to his body and had no intention of letting you go.
You bounced in his lap, his strong thighs able to keep you balanced enough to do a number on him. Your tits jiggled in front of him and it was like his civil duty to give them attention. The moment his mouth was on both of your nipples, you squeaked and wrapped your arms loosely around his neck, trying to keep the same rhythm without being distracted.
The way you were stretched out around his cock, creating the most obscene squelching sounds known to man, it was hard not filling your pretty pussy up with his cum already. Then the way you continued to slam your hips down onto him, it was too much.
You felt so fucking good.
The two of you continued like that until you began feeling tired, which was ironic considering you were the one that had told him you weren’t going to stop until you were done. Looks like that came early.
“M’starting to get a cramp, sorry,” you mumbled, stopping all movement and lying flat against him, trying to catch your breath.
Eren was still incredibly hard but he didn’t want you to feel like you were the only one that was supposed to put in the work here. Not when he was able to help.
“Hold on,” he said against the shell of your ear before he slid his hands underneath your thighs, standing up.
You gasped and looked around, “Eren–”
“Mm, wait a sec.”
When he laid you down on a desk, your legs were at either side of his hips, pushed up with his hands at your knees. He smirked at the curious look on your face.
“Don’t look so surprised. You couldn’t keep your word so now it’s time I make the same promise and make good on it.”
You frowned, easily huffing out into a pout. “That’s not fair. I tried.”
“I know,” he cooed, looking along your body with ravenous eyes. “But you couldn’t do it. That’s okay,” his eyes dropped to your glistening folds, humming to himself. “Now it’s my turn.”
You weren’t sure what to expect but just as he’d eaten you out earlier, he didn’t need any directions with fucking you just as good.
It was a complete shock because he was a virgin. He had no sexual experience. Everything he knew came from porn. It was like he knew exactly where all of your pleasure points were and exploited them with each snap of his hips. He had a grip on your waist, focused on the way his girthy cock slid in and out your puffy cunt with ease. The desk rocked under your weight as you choked out a moan, trying to reach out for him.
With an amused grin, he entertained you by pulling you up and throwing your arms back around his neck as he continued to hammer into you, swallowing your moans, kissing you. Your moans were muffled now, just as his were. He didn’t want him to stop until you came. Maybe you didn’t want him to stop even after that. There was just something so addicting about him that you couldn’t place. It was frustrating.
You were the first girl he’d ever fucked and it gave you a sense of possession. There was no way you were letting him go now. He was yours and no one else’s. Even if for some wild reason he didn’t want to see you again after this, you weren’t beneath begging him. Anything to keep him around for as long as possible.
Little did you know, he felt the same way about you. If not more.
With your arms around his neck and his arms holding up your thighs as he fucked into you, the world around the two of you began to slowly disappear. Nothing nor anyone mattered except this moment, right here. You trembled against his hard body, letting him mold your little cunt to fit his cock and his cock only from now on. So stuffed, so full, you couldn’t even think straight.
“Eren, I’m s’close,” you mumbled against his lips, whining pathetically. “Please cum in me. M’on the pill so it’s okay.”
Like he wasn’t going to fill you up anyway. He had zero plans of pulling out considering the only thing that was able to stay on his mind before anything else was the way your pussy gripped his cock like you didn’t want him to pull out. Like you were trapping him in. He didn’t mind it. It was good he had the go to do it because he was going to feel bad afterwards.
“You were right,” he said, holding eye contact. “I’ve never hated you. I’ve been attracted to you for a pretty long time but it’s deeper than that. I didn’t…hit Jean earlier just because he was bad mouthing you.“
His thrusts didn’t stop so you were having a hard time focusing on what he was saying but you did your best because it sounded important. “I punched him because…” He bit his lip, almost wanting to look away from you, clearly embarrassed. “–because I’ve also been obsessed with you. Then he said he fucked you recently and I didn’t know how to react but was it true? Did you really fuck him?”
Earlier, when he gave you and Jean some thought, he was a little convinced that it actually happened but for some reason, a part of him kept trying to deny it. Maybe it was due to the fact that he hated the idea of you going back to Jean, even if it was a one time thing. He couldn’t fuck you until he got the answer he was looking for. He also needed to know that Jean was completely out of the picture or there was going to be a problem.
You sputtered, being put on the spot. “I- Well, yeah? I mean…It wasn’t really planned. But wait, so you’ve been obsessed with me? For how long? Why didn’t you say anything? Did you think I wouldn’t have been interested? What else is ther–Ah!” He thrusted deeper into you, a high pitched whine slipping from your lips as your nails sunk into his back.
“You’re asking too many questions,” He growled out, frowning as he used your cunt like his own personal cocksleeve. “Picturing him fucking you the way I am is pissing me off. I don’t feel like talking anymore.”
You were shaking now and not just from the force of his pounding but from how close you were to your release. He was now fucking you with newfound hatred, the image of you with Jean stuck in his mind. He hated it. Hated how long he wanted to be the one fucking you. The only one you were allowed to let touch you when you felt like being touched. How it took him too long to prevent any of it from happening. If only he had spoken up sooner, you would’ve been his a long time ago.
“I’m gonna erase every part of him from you, do you understand?”
The way the head of his cock kept hitting that one spot that made you a whimpering mess before him — it was too hard for you to have a conversation with him. At this rate, you were going to legitimately forget your own name. You still hadn’t recovered from him eating you out earlier, pieces of that memory playing over and over in your head as you tried to stay grounded. Your pretty moans bounced off of the empty classroom walls, a wonder how no one caught the two of you yet.
“No one’s gonna fuck this pussy but me and I fuckin’ mean it,” he continued to mutter, hot with anger and frustration.
It was your fault for having a body like that. For being so nice to people and coming off too trusting. Maybe you weren’t desperate but he couldn’t help but wonder why you walked around acting like it. Then again, none of that mattered now. You were his and he was going to make sure everyone knew it. That was going to start by him giving you obvious dark marks along your neck.
“Eren,” you stuttered out, eyes almost rolling to the back of your head. “Gonna…I’m…” you closed your eyes, feeling his lips on your neck. He fucked into you like it was his last day on earth and nothing could’ve torn you two apart. “Fuck, I can’t! I can’t, I can’t,” you babbled on and on until he felt you suddenly tighten around his length, creaming lewdly around his throbbing cock.
Your breath was sporadic, still holding onto him as he jack-hammered into you without remorse for the overstimulation you were feeling. You moaned out his name, pleading for him to slow down but he was chasing his own high. Plus, he wasn’t stopping until you were full with his cum. He needed to fill you up. His sanity depended on it.
“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight. I wouldn’t be able to pull out even if I tried,” he commented with a lazy smirk against your warm skin, gripping onto you. “Stay just like that. Let me use you until I’m done, ‘k?”
Like he needed to wait until you answered him. He didn’t stop. He pounded at your poor abused cunt, eyebrows furrowed as he felt his stomach tighten. His abs tensed under the growing pressure and as soon as he heard your sweet voice, he let it all go.
“Cum for me, Eren.”
He filled your fertile womb up with the intent to breed you full, knowing that you were on birth control. Still, the thought counted.
You let him ride out his orgasm, not having the least bit of energy to make any sort of movements anyway. Your vagina felt like it was ready to run away from you with the way Eren treated it. He sure knew how to catch onto stuff fast. This was a memory that you weren’t ever going to forget. Hopefully, it was going to be replaced with many more.
“Fuck,” he said in a low tone, sweat rolling down the side of his face as he pulled his softening dick out of you.
He couldn’t help but bend at the knees, eagerly awaiting the cum he’d stuffed in you to come oozing out.
Your legs remained wide and open, looking down at him with a raised brow. The moment he caught the shine of his seed tumbling out of your fucked out hole, he smirked. “That’s it.”
“You’re unbelievable,” he heard you mumble and couldn’t help but laugh, looking up at you through dark lashes.
“What?” He stood up, pulling his sweatpants up with him. He licked his lips, fitting himself in between your thighs once more. “Can’t I finally claim what’s always been mine?”
You narrowed your eyes at him, playfully, before you pushed your skirt back down and stared back at him. “Always been yours? Care to explain?”
He smirked. “Happily. First off–”
“What in the world are you two doing back there?” Mrs. Ackerman screeched, a look of horror written all over her face.
Scared out of your skin by her sudden reappearance, you pushed Eren back and almost fell trying to get off of the desk. You reached for your forgotten underwear on the floor while Eren stuttered out an excuse, his ears growing red.
“W-well, we uh–”
“Gotta go!” You finished for him, grabbing his wrist with your stuff in your hands. “See you tomorrow for detention, Mrs. Ackerman! Bye!”
“Wait–!” Eren mumbled, tripping up on his own feet as you two headed for the secondary door at the back of the classroom. Before leaving, he’d managed to swipe his belongings from the desk he was sitting at along with his book bag.
When you two were pretty far down the hallway for Mrs. Ackerman to catch up, you stopped and let him go, trying to catch your breath. It didn’t dawn on you that you were still without underwear until you felt your skirt rise.
“Hey!” You exclaimed in embarrassment, slapping Eren’s hand away. He laughed.
“Put them on. It’s kinda windy outside.”
“I know what to do,” you said in a pout, doing exactly that as you hid behind him in case someone decided to come down the same hallway.
His tone was more on the possessive side which made you think that maybe a conversation needed to be had. You weren’t sure if he was going to laugh at the idea of becoming a thing or tell you that it was the last thing he wanted. Or worse, that he never wanted to do anything like that ever again. The latter was going to hurt the most so you chose to think positively instead. The signs pointed to him saying yes, and that was what made you stand back up with a smile on your face.
Eren raised a brow, “Satisfied? What’s on your mind?”
“Well,” you began, hoping that you were going to be able to get your thoughts together in time to ask him what you wanted to say, “So, how was your first time?”
He bursted out with laughter, drawing a cute frown on your face. “It was good, but that’s not what you really want to ask me.” He stepped closer to you, almost close enough to touch you. “So ask me.”
“Oh,” You looked down, hating how intimidating he was coming across just because of his height and sudden change in demeanor. You weren’t usually this lost for words. It was annoying. “I just…Do you like me?”
“I do,” He answered straight away, causing your head to pop back up, looking at him with hope in your eyes. He smiled. “I wouldn’t have had sex with you if I didn’t. Now I have a question for you.” He took your face in his hands, eyes softening enough to calm the nervous butterflies in your stomach. “I know I made it clear that I don’t want you with anyone else but it wouldn’t be official unless I asked, do you wanna be my girlfriend?”
It was as if your heart had flown right out of your chest and took flight into the skies. You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. He wanted you to be his girlfriend. His girlfriend. You.
Even though you were pretty popular, that meant nothing to you. Not when it came to someone like Eren wanting to be official with you. Especially since it’d taken four years for you to finally see him and know what his true feelings for you were. Happy was an understatement. You were over the moon.
“Well?” His voice brought you from your thoughts, a faint worried look in his verdant green eyes. You gave him a soft smile, covering the hand he had on your cheek with your own.
“I would love to be your girlfriend, ‘ren.”
He immediately flashed his white teeth, happy that you said yes. He took you into his arms by your waist, and pressed his lips against yours. Easily, you melted into the kiss, feeling your heart wash over with warmth.
Eren was yours and you were his. As crazy as it seemed, you didn’t see it coming. None of it. Eren was the quiet guy and you were the outgoing, popular girl. It was going to be a major shock to the entire school when they witnessed you two walk through those double doors in the morning but you weren’t going to be phased by any of the attention. All you cared about now was him.
Your cute little boyfriend.
Had a nice ring to it.
“Mine,” he said against your lips and you giggled, burying your face into his chest.
“Yeah, all yours. Now let’s go. I feel gross and want a shower.”
He pouted as you took his hand and tugged him down the hall, towards the double doors that led outside.
“Can’t you keep it in a little longer?” He whined, walking a little behind you. “Selfish.”
“Eren, I am not keeping all of this cum in me. You’ve lost your mind. It’s uncomfortable.”
“Yeah, but-”
“No buts.”
“Speaking of butts…” He trailed off, smirking as he lifted your skirt up again with his index finger to get another peek. You exhaled loudly and smacked his hand away without turning around, trudging down the hall with a warm face and butterflies in your stomach again.
Annoying.
a/n: sorry if the ending was a little flat, if you haven’t been able to tell i suck at them;( but i hope that it was still decent ! ty for reading & expect more content soon <3
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bou_netsayer.
❝ EVERYONE WANTS SATORU GOJO, SO WHY ARE YOU THE ONE STUCK GUARDING HIM ? ❞
✧ pairing: rich boy! gojo x bodyguard! reader
✧ summary: after the gojo family receives threats to their lives, you're hired to protect the heir to the company, satoru gojo - you just didn't realize how charming the rich heir would be - and just how hard it would be to resist his advances.
✧ warnings: 18+, nsfw, smut, fluff, reader is around the same age as gojo (both in their 20s but age is vague), virgin! gojo, switch! gojo, oral (f + m), handjob (m), dry humping, fingering (f! receiving), sex (p in v), depictions of violence, mentions of yakuza, dirty business dealings, gojo's made up dad and suguru make an appearance
✧ wc: 15,311 (i don't know what to say at this point)
✧ for my 2k celebration event: item 1 has been sold to @forest-hashira and two anons!
“So, is this your first time?”
Satoru Gojo would be the end of you — one way or another.
One way would be you sacrificing your life to protect him — fairly run of the mill when it came to guarding someone, the risk of putting your life on the line, though the chance of death usually was fairly slim. You had only come close — twice.
You didn’t care to make it a third.
The other, increasingly more likely, way was that you would lose your mind to his incessant yammering before you even had a chance to neutralize any threat to his life.
You nearly spit out your drink at the question, wiping your mouth with a napkin, before managin to choke it down, “Excuse me?”
And his lips annoyingly curl, “Your first time guarding someone,”
The heir seemed fairly nonchalant, even after his father had sat the both of you down in a room filled with more security agents than the prime minister of Japan himself had, and had lectured him about the importance of staying with you the entire time and to respect your authority — well one out of two wasn’t bad. He’s eating a piece of cake instead of a meal, his fork digging into the back of the cake again and again, toying with his food as he did with you, “I mean, you seem fairly young, but old enough to be entrusted with my safety,”
“Well, since you insisted on going to school, your father needed someone unassuming who looked around your age,” you lean against your hand, your other drumming against the table, as your eyes scanned the area — table of frat boys, group of girls sneaking glances at Gojo, various other students, no real threats — unless you counted the girls’ death daggers towards you, “someone who wouldn’t look out of place with you, raise any suspicions, but who could still protect you,”
His lips curl, as your eyes find their way back to the young heir, “So basically, you had to look like my girlfriend — shouldn’t I hold your hand? Sell the act? All in the name of my safety,”
You jerk your head towards his group of admirers, “I think what we’re doing now is plenty — unless you’d like your guard to get mauled by a bunch of hormonal college girls,”
His eyes slid to his adoring fans, as he pities them with a wave, erupting squeals from them, “I think you could take them,”
“How flattering,” you reply drily, picking at the food in front of you, “now finish your lunch so we can get to our next class on time,”
“Are you still upset that we were late this morning?”
“No, I’m upset that we missed half the class and I had to take the fall for it,” the heir had oh so kindly told the professor that you had made them run late (even though he was the one who spent far too long in the bathroom).
And even though you wouldn’t be attending this school for long, you hoped that you wouldn’t have to make yourself look like a fool the entire time you were here — but — your eyes found Gojo’s again — sticking with Satoru Gojo almost made that a guarantee that you would look like a fool — one way or another.
And you were already the fool — for thinking that a college aged boy would have any real food in his refrigerator. Although, Satoru Gojo was a different breed — instead of alcohol and questionable containers of takeout, there was...sweets.
So. Many. Sweets.
Not just cookies and candy — but literally six different kinds of mochi (for some reason?) and almost any pastry you could possibly think of was stocked in the house. And the freezer was more of the same — seven different containers of ice cream and one aged bag of edamame stuck in the back.
“Gojo?” you stare into the open refrigerator, while Gojo lays back on his couch, scrolling on his phone mindlessly.
“Yeah?”
“Do you have any food?”
“What do you mean? The refrigerator is full of food?” and his voice is thick with genuine confusion and you’re almost wondering how this man survived to this age.
Oh yeah, he’s rich.
You sigh, closing the refrigerator doors, and striding over to him, only to snatch his phone out of his hands, “Sweets are not real food — how do you eat like this and function?”
He only shrugs, lips curled into a grin, “I’m just built different,”
“You mean like a person who won’t make it to age fifty?” you toss his phone back at him, “get up,” you grab your sweatshirt hanging by the door and throw his jacket at him. He barely catches it, as he sits up, his face displeased with your sudden need to get him up.
“Where are we going?”
“So,” Gojo says, his hands in his pockets, as you both walk the aisles of the grocery store, “why did I have to come with you?”
“Because I’m going to show you how to actually shop for groceries, so you don’t have a heart attack and die before my stint with you is up,” you grab essentials and basics — oil, rice, cereal, pasta, spices, flour, sugar (although did he really need sugar with the amount he was already consuming?), “you know it would suck if my client died before we eliminated the other threats on his life,” before you add with a smile, “though I think your eating habits are more likely to kill you,”
“You know men really hate sarcastic women,” he bites back, before something catches his eye in the aisle and he places it in the cart, “major turn off,”
“Well, mission accomplished then,” you roll your eyes, as you look back at the cart to see a box of cookies, “you know when I said you were a moron, I was half kidding, but now,” you lift up the box of cookies, “you have a million cookies at home,”
He pouts — why do you feel like a mother refusing their child their candy at checkout? — “Not these ones,” you take the box and put it back on the shelf where it belonged, and he relents.
“Did you eat like this before college?”
He shook his head, “My meals were prepared for me by the chef at my home, I never really had much of a say in what I ate, or anything really,” and you shake your head, “my father wasn’t really the type to let me handle anything on my own — thus the need for a babysitter,”
You nod, “So no one really taught you how to take care of yourself?” and he shakes his head.
“Guess not, but I guess no time like the present to learn,” he examines the box of baking powder you had just placed in the cart, “like what this is,” and you snort, taking the box from him and placing it back in the cart.
“Maybe by the end of this trip, we’ll have you making it past the age of forty,”
He raises an eyebrow, “I thought you said fifty?”
“The cookies made me lose more faith in you,”
The two of you continue to shop, as you help him pick out vegetables, meat, and other necessities for the house. You separate the things for you and for him meticulously, as the two of you head over to the checkout, and he’s placing everything on the conveyor belt together, including your own things, “No wait, those are mine—”
“Consider it payment,” he stops you, as you continue to try to argue, but he’s only blocking you from the conveyor belt with a raised arm, a real smile on his lips, “just let me do this for you,” And you can’t find any words, so your mouth shuts, and you nod — as you watch him speak with the older cashier with his patented charm.
And the cashier stops you right as you’re leaving, whispering, “That’s a good one, don’t let him go, ok?” and you pause, her words sinking in as blood rushes to your cheeks.
“We’re not—”
“I know,” the older woman chuckles far too knowingly, as she hands you the receipt, “but you never know.”
“You coming?” Gojo calls, turning to look back at you, as he pushes the cart of groceries, and you look from the cashier to him, before fleeing with a quick ‘thank you.’
And as you go home, you glance at Gojo, maybe there was more to him than you initially thought.
“This is so boooooring,” Gojo’s whining for, what you assume is, the billionth time, “I hate philosophy, moral arguments? It’s such bullshit,”
“You know philosophy is literally a subject that encompasses everything right?” you tilt your head watching him lay on the floor as the two of you sit at the table, his head right next to you, as you sit cross legged, “there’s no avoiding it in life,”
“Well can’t I avoid it in school at least? Because college feels very different from real life,” and you roll your eyes, flicking him between the eyes.
“Just write your paper, I already finished mine,” and he perks up.
And he slides his laptop over to you, “Then you can write mine,”
“That’s not happening,” and he groans again, “you know if you spent all the time that you whined working on your paper then you’d be done,”
“Were you this much of a buzzkill when you were in college?” Gojo stares at you, “what do you even do for fun?”
“Why is this relevant to you writing your paper?”
“Why is writing my paper relevant to protecting my life?” and you open and close your mouth, “c’mon give me something, anything,”
“How about this — when you finish a page, I’ll answer a question, any question,” you offer, and he grins, as he sits up and begins to type away at his laptop.
You sit back, lying back and using your phone, until about fifteen minutes later when he’s holding his laptop up, showing you that he completed a page, “That fast?” you’re skeptical, and then you grab his laptop, skimming the page, wondering if he was trying to trick you — he wasn’t. It was good, more than good — it was a wonderful discussion of deontological ethics.
“How did you finish this so fast?” you raise an eyebrow, “you complain so much, but you wrote this page far too quickly,”
He shrugs, “I’m good at everything, sweetheart,” and you roll your eyes, “jealous?”
“Totally,” you scoff, before grinning, “so get back to work,” and he gapes at you, before groaning dramatically, lying back on the floor again.
“Ugh, this is too much work,” he whines again, “I don’t know why I had to take this stupid class,” he grumbles.
“Then why did you?” you scroll through your phone, checking for any new alerts or updates from his father or any other member of the security team, “you have a choice in what classes you sign up for, don’t you?”
And for one of the first times, you saw Satoru’s playfulness ebb away, replaced with almost a bitterness — as bitter as his words were usually sweet, “Maybe most college kids do, but I don’t have a choice in most of the things I do, including the classes I pick,”
You tilt your head, “Your father?” And he nods, “did you even choose your major?”
His eyes drift to the ceiling, “Is it a choice when your father tells you you’re either being groomed to run his company when you graduate or he’s not paying for you to go to school at all?”
“No, it isn’t,” you admit, “but it could be worse, he could have stuck you with a glorified babysitter on top of it,”
He cracks a smile, “I don’t know, maybe I have a thing for babysitters,” and you roll your eyes, cracking a smile.
“Get back to work.”
“Fuck,” Satoru muttered, watching the rain come down as he waited outside the university awning of the building he had just finished his class in. You had left him to go to class by himself — you trusted him enough not to get murdered while in class and on the walk back (high praise) — and said you’d likely just meet him back at the apartment. But now, he didn’t know how he’d get home without getting soaked.
He checks his phone for any rideshares nearby, but there were none. And he would rather go drown in the rain than call his father’s driver, and guarantee a lecture about being prepared for “any given situation.”
Shit. Maybe he would just risk walking.
So he did. The rain soaked through his clothes all too quick, the wet fabric clinging to his skin, and the cold leeching the warmth from his body. And he couldn’t help but think if you were with him, you would have remembered to bring an umbrella.
Weird, when did he ever really rely on anyone else?
Yes, his father had maids, cooks, and personal shoppers when he was growing up — but they weren’t people he relied on — he did, but it was expected. It was their job. And yes, he was a job for you too — but…it was different.
Satoru didn’t know when it happened but he had gotten used to your presence in his life. Whether it was at home or in class, you were always there. And it wasn’t as annoying as he thought it would be. It was…nice to have someone there to lean on. But, as he glanced up at the storm clouds, holding a hand above his eyes — rolling dark clouds with no signs of the rain letting up — this would be his reality once the threats were a distant memory.
“Gojo!” He blinks, his eyes snapping forward, and he sees someone coming over the horizon.
It was you — umbrella in hand, as your footsteps echoed with the splashes of water from the rain that collected on the ground. And you found your way to him, holding the umbrella over his head. He stared at you as you grew closer, wondering if you were real. And he wasn’t surprised you found him —
“How did you know?” He asks when you stand, catching your breath, short pants, as your eyes flicker up to his.
“You always forget your umbrella, so I figured you needed one,” you shrugged, “plus I finished my meeting early so I came to get you,” and he only stares at you, “what?”
And he only shakes his head, as he takes the umbrella from your hand, fingers brushing, as he holds it up over the both of you, your shoulders brushing as you begin to walk home. And he found himself wishing for a split second that the threats would never stop.
“Just wondering if it’s in your job description to protect me from colds too,” and you snort, lips curling into the same smile he loved to see.
“With you? It is.”
“A party?”
“Yes, known as a gathering of people where—”
“I don’t need you to define the word,” you grit your teeth, as you watch him pull out shirts from his closet, holding them up, before shrugging, “do you know the kind of danger you could put yourself in by going?”
“I know, the party might go into a frenzy at the sight of me, think of all the students who’d glare at you then,” he grins, as he finally settles on an outfit — charcoal gray shirt and a blue button down, “might have to call another bodyguard to guard you instead, princess,”
“Aren’t you the princess if you’re the one being guarded?” you bite back, and he only laughs, hands in his pockets, “Gojo, you have serious threats that have been levied—”
“Against my father—”
“And you, the heir to your father’s company,” you cut him off, crossing your arms, “are you seriously going to risk our lives because you want to get drunk and fuck around with a bunch of idiots?”
The answer was yes, of course.
And now here you were, stuck babysitting this spoiled heir at a party. You hadn’t really been to any parties — hadn’t bothered to. You had gotten through college at a young age, perks of skipping a few grades, and you ended up in the family business regardless — so you didn’t bother to party much. Not when you had things to accomplish — babysitting a drunk heir wasn’t one of them.
It has started as you expected. Gojo had flitted away from your side the first moment he got, disappearing into the throng of horny and drunk college students. You wove your way through the crowd, careful not to trip over the students making out, dancing, or drinking on nearly any available surface. The smell of beer and cheap cologne wafted through this dorm. And you had almost given up on finding him when you spotted him stuck to the sides of three girls, all of them far too eager to hang off his every word.
You sighed, this was going to be a long night.
“You one of Satoru’s girlfriends?” you glance to your side and see Suguru Geto in person. You had learned all about Satoru Gojo and the people he hung around. Like those three girls — one of them had a long distance boyfriend, the other had a cheating situationship she was trying to make jealous, and the other just wanted to fuck him for the experience. Suguru Geto was one of the only friends of Gojo you had liked from what you had read about him — humble background, on scholarship at the college, but one of the best students here — and a philosophy student of all things, the very subject his best friend hated.
You want to say no, but unfortunately, you have no idea what the idiot has been saying to other people, “Something like that,” you sip at your drink to make the bitter words slide down, “why? Are you?”
A chuckle slips past his lips, as he takes a swig of his drink, “Well I already like you better than the others. You have a sense of humor and seemingly more than two brain cells,”
“Don’t give me too much credit,” you snorted, leaning against a wall, “I did end up here after all,”
“Fair enough, how’d he convince you to come?” And you shake your head — good question. What choice did you really have? You could have let him go alone, but probably not a good look
“I don’t even know honestly, feel like I’ve been dragged here to make sure he doesn’t do something stupid,” you glance at him and the gaggle of girls, “though maybe I already fucking failed at that,”
Geto shrugs, as his gaze slips from Gojo to you, “I mean until he sticks his tongue down one of their throats, I think you’re doing pretty well,”
You laugh, “Good to know,” and you both continue to chat, and unbeknowst to you, while your focus is torn away from Gojo, his attention is fully on you.
If looks could kill, Satoru imagined his crystal eyes were nothing more than daggers ready to strike, as he watches you and Suguru talk.
It was his fucking idea to come to this party, so why were you having more fun than he was?
He swirled his drink miserably — he had barely taken a sip of the beer poured for him — why would he when it tasted like piss? He didn’t understand why people liked to drink — especially when they could eat mochi instead — but now, as he stares at you and Suguru, maybe he was starting to understand.
He can’t hear what either of you are saying over the blaring music and the chatter of students surrounding him, but he can see the smile on your lips and the laugh that left them.
Why the fuck do you look so happy to talk to Suguru?
You seemed so bored when he was with you—and did you just fucking laugh again at something Suguru said?
The crinkle of plastic and the distinct feeling of a spill made his gaze snap to his hand — he just crushed his plastic drink cup. He sighed, as he simply placed it among the other abandoned drink cups on a nearby table, before wiping off his hand with a napkin.
Why did he even care? You were nothing but a nuisance anyway. All you did was follow him around, make him go to class on time, make sure he was safe, care about his well-being—
What the fuck was he thinking?
His eyes couldn’t help but slide back to you as he tried to enjoy the girls' company, their slight touches and soft pouts and sweet words not going unnoticed by him. But that was how it always was. Once people found out he was rich, people wanted to be his friend, they wanted to date him, they wanted him — but not really him, they wanted his money.
First world problems, right?
But you — you hadn’t been like that. You were irritatingly punctual, unfazed by his money, didn’t care in the slightest about his father or who he was — you just wanted to do your job. And he was your job, for the time being.
And now he got to see you smile — your lips perfectly curled in a smile that both he wanted to see all the time and grated on his nerves — but you were smiling at someone else. And Suguru no less.
“C’mon Satoru, you gonna make eyes at your boyfriend all night?” Aiko said, nudging him teasingly, her words far too slurred.
“Help us finish these shots,” Yumiko whines, as she offers him a shot, urging it into his hands.
He’s grimacing, he hates alcohol — he hates how he feels during and after; he hates the disgusting, metallic taste; and if it couldn’t get worse, he’s a lightweight. He stares at the shot.
“It’s just one shot,” Misaki grins, holding up her own, clinking hers to his, “you’re already three shots behind everyone else,”
And he’s about to open his mouth to refuse — make up an excuse of having to wake up early or stomach being unsettled — and that’s when you catch his attention. You were laughing now, a noise far too pretty for his liking, as you shoved Suguru’s chest playfully.
Fuck it.
He downs the shot, the liquid searing down his throat, dragging down until it settles in a burning pool in his stomach. Finally he tears his gaze away as the girls offer him another shot — as you grin at Suguru — this was going to be a long night.
“Hey,” Geto jerks his head, “you might want to deal with that,”
You whip your head around.
“Oh what the—“
Gojo was hanging all over the girls he was with, barely able to stand on his two feet, as he swayed from side to side — his cheeks glowed with the telltale glow that told everyone he had been drinking (if that wasn’t obvious by literally everything else).
Fuck.
You had kept an eye on him. You swore he had only taken two shots of alcohol, how was he this drunk already? You examine and sniff the two shot glasses he used — no peculiar smell or residue — you run through the gamut of tests you could do on hand and conclude two things: 1) Gojo wasn't drugged and 2) he was a lightweight.
But that didn’t stop him from acting like he wasn’t, as girls egged him on to take more shots, and from the way they were eyeing him, their intentions were anything but pure.
You sigh, walking over, slipping past a drunk couple making out, a person passed out and sleeping on the floor, and a cluster of cheering onlookers as a student chugged what you can only assume was a disgusting concoction of alcohol.
Until you finally reached his side.
“I think you’ve had enough, isn’t that right, Satoru?” And he’s blinking at you, before he’s grinning, slurring your name.
“You’re no fun,” and he’s clinging all over you, his hands curled around your waist, “such a buzzkill, don’t even like to have any fun with me,”
“Looks like you had too much fun without me,” you murmur, your arm slinks around the middle of his back, “let’s get you back to your dorm,”
“Hey he’s fine, he’s having fun with us,” Aiko glared at you, a hiccup leaving her lips, “don’t go crashing our good time because he’s not interested in you,”
“Yeah why don’t you go hang out with Geto or whatever? We’ll take good care of him. C’mon Toru, let’s go to my place in Shibuya, I have a huge house there,” Yumiko says, barely coherent, and you raise your eyebrows at the nickname, as she leans in to whisper, alcohol wafting off her breath, as she lifts up her middle finger, “fuck off,”
Honestly the only reason you can understand the gist of what she meant was because of her middle finger. Their other friend is passed out on the couch.
“I don’t think any of you can even care for yourselves,” you scoff, and Satoru is hanging all over you already, mumbling words you can’t make out in your ear, “I’m taking him home, you should take your friend home,”
“Geto, wanna help me out?” And Geto nods, trying to take Gojo other arm, but Gojo pushes him away, instead clinging to you, you stumble a moment before catching both of you, “Gojo—“
“No, wanna go home with just you,” he’s officially whining, and you’re having flashbacks to the summer you spent babysitting, but — you look at the drunk white porcupine clinging to you — somehow this idiot is worse than the kid.
You sigh, “Geto, make sure that girl gets home safe,” you gesture to the one passed out on the couch, “I’m going to deal with this one,”
Geto stares at the two of you, the far too tall Satoru hunched over onto your body, “Can you—“
But you’re already walking away, able to drag Gojo away with relative ease (it’d be far easier if he’d pull his own weight, but at least he was quiet).
That was, until you got outside. And then the whining began again.
“How can you treat me like this?” Gojo’s hands cling to your arm, his face buried in your shoulder, “you shouldn’t ignore the one you’re supposed to protect!” and he’s shaking his head like a petulant child, his bottom lip quivering.
“You’re the one who left my side, not the other way around,” you grumble, as he’s finally beginning to walk by himself but he’s still stuck to your side like an overgrown cactus, “you’re the one who wanted to go to this goddamn party,”
“Yeah but you’re the one who's supposed to protect me,” he pouts, as he stops right in front of his building, “I can’t do your job for you,” and he’s finally standing in front of you, his cheeks and nose still flushed from the alcohol, his hand still clutching at yours, “do you even know how to do your job?”
You grit your teeth. Would punching the person you’re hired to protect be a breach of contract? You rub your temples, it may come to that.
“You’re an idiot,” you jerk your hand away, shaking your head, “my job is to protect you, not to stop you from doing stupid college boy shit,”
He’s crossing his arms, “I could have been in danger — what if that alcohol was poisoned? I feel really sick,” he grips, holding his stomach with pursed lips, and you’re thoroughly unimpressed.
“I looked at it, it wasn’t poisoned,” you raise an eyebrow, before sighing, and shrugging your shoulder bag off your shoulders, rooting around in the pouch, “but if you want, I have something in my bag that will turn your stomach inside out and we’ll be sure to get the poison out,”
“Nooooo, no! I’m fine,” he’s shaking his head, his voice grows soft, “I just need to get to bed,” he mutters, and you roll your eyes, but grab him by his wrist.
“Come on, we’re going inside,” and it’s a struggle to get to his apartment — more like a luxury penthouse — on the top floor, but somehow you get him inside and shepherd into his bedroom. And he’s shrugging off his button up before pulling off the shirt underneath.
Your gaze snaps away, cheeks burning, your eyes trying to erase the glimpse of his fucking unfairly chiseled physique — complete a surprisingly broad chest and shoulders — how the fuck was that hiding under his clothes? He looked like a stick normally with his clothes on.
“See something you like?” he’s snickering, as you hear the click of his belt and the and sounds of rustling — assuredly stepping out of his jeans.
“No, just not used to clients stripping for me,” you turn your back to him, as you hear the creak of the mattress and the crinkling of his comforter and sheets.
“Am I just a client to you?” his words were still mildly slurred, and you knew he’d be pouting if he had enough brain cells to do so, “you can turn around, I’m under the covers,” he adds with a grumble.
You turn and see him curled up under his blanket and you have to bite back your smile — now he most assuredly looked like one of the kids you used to babysit.
“Well what else am I supposed to see you as, Gojo?” you cross your arms, and he’s muttering under his breath, “what?”
“That’s just it. You don’t even call me by my first name,” he’s brooding, face twisted in a scowl, “I don’t have a lot of people I trust. Most people are just after my money or my looks,” he looks at you, “you’re different. Kinda weird,”
You quirk an eyebrow, “is that a good thing?”
“Well I trust you,” he admits, and you note the tips of his ears barely visible outside the comforter are red — is it still the flush from the alcohol? “I don’t really have many of those,”
And you’re taken aback — you thought you were nothing but a nuisance to this party obsessed prince, but maybe there was more to him than you thought. You toyed the ring on your finger, maybe you had more in common than you thought.
“Thank you, I’m glad you do, because you can, trust me that is,” you say softly, “good night, Satoru.”
And he does sleep after that, as you spend the night keeping watch, half to ensure his safety and the other to make sure he slept on his side in case he threw up
(and he did, twice).
“I need to talk to you,” Suguru Geto barely looked up from his phone when he saw Satoru in front of him, his best friend looking more irritable than usual — his usually bored affect seemed to be on holiday, “Suguru?”
“I heard you the first time, what is it?” and Satoru snatches the phone from Suguru’s hands, “what the fuck—“
“What were you doing last night?” and Suguru tilts his head, before rubbing his temple.
“Give me my fucking phone—“
“What did you talk to her about?” And Suguru stares at him, his brow furrowed, smart mouth ready with a reply about a stint in a spa or a retreat was needed before his lips curl.
“Oh. Her,” and he’s leaning back, a lazy shrug, “this and that,”
“Cut the shit, Suguru, do you like her or not? Did you get her number?” And Satoru is trying to unlock Suguru’s phone, as Suguru watches with a tilt of his head and a wry grin on his lips, “huh? what is it?”
“So you like her, that much is clear,” and he’s crossing his arms, “I assume you didn’t tell her or you wouldn’t have come in swinging and stealing?”
Satoru stares at him, slack jawed and cheeks turning a deep pink that only carnations could rival, “No! She’s just a…friend of the family, and she’s not supposed to be with—“
“She told me she liked you,” his heart catches, mouth falling open, before Suguru’s lips curl, “well, she said that she was one of the many, rather,”
Satoru’s cheeks burn, “It’s not like that, she barely even fucking looks at me. Can you believe that? Me?” and he gestures up and down his body.
“I see your ego is still intact,” Suguru scoffs, shaking his head, before leaning back on his palms, “just tell her how you feel, Satoru, what’s the problem?”
“The problem is I have no idea how she feels and it’s all your fault!” And Suguru raises an eyebrow, “you charmed her and I’m sure you’re the only one she’s thinking about now,” he covers his face, “and after what I said to her last night…” he couldn’t believe he admitted that you were the one of the only ones he trusted. And he called you weird.
He honestly didn’t know what was worse.
“What did you even say?”
“Say to who?” and Satoru turns, finding you standing behind him, arms crossed.
And Satoru cuts Suguru off before he can say a thing, “Not important. What are you doing here—“ you grab him by the wrist, a wave of heat makes his nearly burn red as you begin to drag him away, “what are you—“
“Bye Geto,” you say, waving at the raven haired student, before taking Geto’s phone and tossing it back to him, “I’m taking the idiot—“
“HUH?”
“Good luck. He might need to be fed — he’s in a mood,” and he waves back, same smile on his lips.
“What did you two do, adopt me?” Satoru grumbles as you pull him away, “where the hell are you dragging me? How did you even find me?”
“The post hangover suits you well, we have to get to class, and I placed a tracker on you,” and he’s jerking his hand away, staring at you, “I have to be able to find you, don’t I?”
“Where?”
You tilt your head, “Why would I tell you? Don’t worry about, I’ll remove it after we’re done here,”
You weren’t going to budge on this — and if he argued more, you would take it up with his father. And he would like to avoid that as much as possible. He sticks his hands in his pockets, , “I’m tired, can’t you just go and take notes for me?”
“I thought you’d be more concerned about the threats against your life, instead of sending your bodyguard off to your class for you” you hiss, and he’s pouting again, unable to meet your gaze, “what’s your problem, Satoru?”
And he pauses, the retort on lips dying as his brain looped in an infinite spiral of his name on your lips, “You called me ‘Satoru,’”
You tilt your head, “you told me to last night,” and then you add with a wicked grin, “remember? When you said I was one of the only people you trusted,” you tease, but he’s too busy hearing his name repeat in his head again and again, “Satoru—“
“Better be careful, sweetheart,” his lips curl into that annoyingly charming smile, “keep calling me by my first name and I may fall for you,”
You glare at him, before rolling your eyes, “I see you’re feeling better now,” you walk forward, glancing back at him, “you coming?”
And his wrist tingles still tingle from your touch, his lips quirk into a smile, “Yeah.”
“Why did you become a bodyguard?” Satoru asks you, the movie you had haphazardly chosen still ongoing had all become background noise while you spoke, the illumination from the television screen being the only thing that kept your faces lit in the dark living room (he had insisted on shutting the lights off for an “authentic movie watching experience”).
It had been a few weeks, with no signs of the threat posed ever being eliminated — still new threats were being made, and the Gojo family was still on edge.
But you were on edge for a whole other reason.
His fingers were still shoved in the bag of kettle corn he had been snacking on this entire time, but you could feel his gaze on you, instead of the movie.
“What do you mean?” your eyes slide to him, as your phone’s ringer goes off with a spam email, and you silence it, keeping it on vibrate for emergencies, “and what’s with the sudden question?”
The two of you had settled into your routine — days spent in class, meals shared, grocery shopping, and nights spent either in or out — but again, always together. And, it wasn’t bad — some of it was fun, to the point you almost forgot you were working.
But you were working. Even now, as your legs are thrown up on the couch, crossed underneath you, your knee brushing against his thigh.
He shrugs, “You owe me a question, remember?” and he reminds you of your promise from weeks ago — you had wondered why he had never asked you anything that night, “You never talk about yourself. You implied you have your degree, but not much else. From what I’ve seen of you, you’re intelligent — you could have done anything, why this?” and his lips curl into that mischievous, “unless you just had to guard me when you found out it was me,”
You toss a throw pillow at him, but he catches it with ease, “If only your body was as bulletproof as your body,” and he huffs out a laugh, as you sigh, “why are you interested anyway?”
“Because I am,” you scoff.
“Nice reasoning,” he only grins, a thousand watt even in the dark.
“I thought so,” and he’s holding the pillow to his chest, “c’mon, can you not tell me even one thing about yourself?”
He wasn’t going to let this go was he? And you relent, chewing on your lip, “My family has been in this business for years — my grandfather, my father, my uncles, and my cousins, and I wanted to be one too. To protect people — it’s a lot more work than it seems. It’s quick thinking, critical reasoning, and analytical skills. It’s all I ever wanted to do after watching my dad do it,” you say softly, “but he didn’t think I was capable of it. He thought I was too soft. Too weak. So I decided to prove him wrong,”
“You weak? Has your father met you?” and you huff a laugh, “I’m serious,” his cerulean pools meeting yours with not a ripple of hesitancy in them, “I’ve seen you — I don’t I’ve met anyone this determined, or stubborn,” he adds with a smirk.
“I’m stubborn?” you gape at him, “this coming from the king of stubborn,”
“Only if you’ll be my queen,” and you roll your eyes, but your cheeks burn, as your gaze turns back to the movie — why did your heart catch at his words? “but trust me, I’m very flexible in other aspects,”
“Oh my god, is every other sentence that leaves your mouth a pick-up line?” and he opens his mouth, “don’t say ‘only for you,’ or I will be the only threat you have to worry about,”
“Promise?” you grab another pillow, but he catches your wrist before you can toss it. Your breath catches, and you can’t meet his gaze — you can’t, because you know if you do— but then he whispers your name.
And you can’t help it. You look at him. His eyes are so pretty. They were really the first things that struck you when you met him — that was before he opened his mouth. They looked like they contained multitudes, a far too beautiful ocean tucked behind sunglasses and an irritated scowl. But it wasn’t a secret that Satoru Gojo was attractive — especially not when every other person glared at you for simply being in his presence. But physical attractiveness meant little if a person wasn’t good — because superficiality could only take you so far.
And you knew what it was like to be only judged superficially — and by the way Satoru’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes when these people chatted him up, he was far too used to it.
And once he did speak, you had written him off as another rich kid — you had seen them a dime a dozen throughout your schooling and from the people your family was protected to hire. But there was something about him — something you couldn’t quite shake, even though every part of you was telling to do so.
“What is it, Satoru?” And his fingers tug you a little closer, gently, his hand loose enough for you to slip away, but you don’t. Why don’t you?
“You don’t always have to have your guard up,” his voice is soft, far too soft for the far too loud heir, “it’s okay to open up,”
You shake your head, but still unable to pull away, “It’s dangerous,” and he laughs, a sound that only warms the thin icy barrier between you both, melting it to nothing.
“Isn’t danger the whole reason we met?” And now his thumb brushes up and down against your wrist, and you wonder if he can feel your pulse roaring just underneath.
You pull away again, shaking your head, as you cross your arms, trying to hold your resolve together, “I can’t do my job if I’m distracted,” and you couldn’t, even now, you weren’t evaluating any risks, you weren’t trying to find the source of the threats — no, you were too busy trying not to inch closer to your client, trying not to look at his lips, trying not to give in to what you wanted.
“And I’m a distraction?” he looks far too pleased, but a thought seems to sour his smirk, “I thought Suguru was more of one,” and his lips are caught in a slight pout.
“Geto was just keeping me company while you entertained those girls hanging on your every word,” you can’t dull the point to your words, and it replaces his pout with a grin.
“So you were jealous,”
“You’re the one who was jealous — you could have killed Suguru with your glare alone,”
“But you didn’t deny it,” and it makes you stop — why didn’t you deny it?
“I can’t do this,” and you’re pulling away, before flicking off the tv and rising from the couch your phone in hand, turning towards the hallway, “it’s late we should go to bed—“ but he’s catching your wrist again, “Gojo—“
“Satoru,” he corrects, and you hated how gentle his fingers felt around your wrist, “how are you supposed to protect me if you’re too busy running away from me?”
“I’m great at multitasking,” and he’s drawing closer to you, his soft footfalls against the carpet, even as you step away from him, “my job is to protect you, we can’t get distracted—“
“I thought you were so good at multitasking,” he chuckles, his fingers find your wrist again, slipping to intertwine with your own, fingers interlaced, and your phone falls from your fingers and onto the couch, “what I said that night when I was drunk was true — I don’t have a lot of people I trust. People don’t understand. They put me on a pedestal or they don’t want me, they want the concept of me — not the reality,”
“I’m not licensed as a therapist you know,” and he’s sighing.
“Do you always have to deflect with humor? Because if we both do that, we’ll never get through a conversation,” and he squeezes your hand, “which I guess I don’t mind if that means you’ll stay,”
“Satoru—“
“We don’t have to do anything now — we don’t have to do anything at all,” and you can feel his words warming your skin, “but don’t you feel something?”
You hesitate, and you can’t look at him, “No, I don’t,”
“You’re not a very good liar — don’t they teach you that in bodyguard academy?”
You snort, holding your head, “Is that where you imagined I got my training done?”
“Well, you don’t exactly like to share, now do you?” he’s stepping forward again, and you can’t bring yourself to run away anymore.
“I shouldn’t,” and you hear the faint sound of his breath hitching, “but I do,”
You don’t need to look at him to hear the smile on his lips, “so maybe it’s a distraction worth having,”
“But—” and he’s gently turning you to face him, his fingers brushing a stray hair from your face, heat blooming with his touch, “Satoru…”
“Why do you keep saying my name when you know I like hearing it?” he’s teasing, but you’re not shying away from his touch, as his fingers cup your chin now, upwards, so you meet his gaze, “maybe we should have had you pretend to be my girlfriend,”
You chuckle, “Oh I could see that going wrong in so many ways,” and he’s leaning even closer, as he’s left the line you’d drawn far behind, marred it with his touch, and is luring you over to stumble over the edge with him.
“Is this one of them?”
“Probably,” and his lips brush against yours — he tastes sweet, the taste of kettle corn lingers, as his fingers cup your cheek now, and find purchase on his shoulder. It’s brief, a soft press that leaves you far too breathless, as if his touch had taken the air from your lungs, only to leave heat behind, “definitely,”
“Is that a good thing or—” and your lips find his this time, a gasp you swallow with a smirk, and he melts into your touch, eager fingers grasping at the front of his shirt. And he responds in kind, his fingers tracing a path, as they tuck a strand of hair behind your ear before his hand settles on the back of your neck.
His touch set every nerve ending on fire — a desperate wildfire that burned a trail across your mind and body — leaving only the crave of his touch behind, that left you wanting more, needing more.
“Was that good?” you murmur, as you take in your handiwork, his pink lips were bitten red by your kisses, his marble skin a lovely flush, and his gaze far too needy. God, it’s far too easy to get lost in him — pull your anchor from the shore and get lost in his gaze and touch, “god I shouldn’t ask that, we shouldn’t be doing this—” but your body refuses to pull away, and you don’t think by the grasp he has on you, that you’d be able to anyway.
But he only gives you the same answer to each of your statements — he kisses you again, slower and more languid this time, as the two of you walk towards the bedroom, your hands reaching for each other and the walls, as you both stumble into his bedroom.
“We don’t—” he says, between kisses, “I didn’t—”
“I didn’t either, but—” you can’t stop touching him, you don’t want to, despite the logical part of you screaming at you to leave his room, it’s overridden by just how much you want him. He’s frustrating, he’s an idiot, he’s sweet, he’s cute, and he’s a little pathetic — but you liked that in a man. Every sense of logic is screaming at you to stop — but it all turns to white noise “but I don’t want to stop.”
He’s grinning as he pulls you into another kiss, his arms wrapping around his waist, pressing you against him, “That addicted already?” lips parting as he kisses down your neck, pulse jumping under his touch.
“You’re just lucky Geto didn’t get to me first,” and he furrows his brow, before his teeth graze against the juncture of your neck and shoulder, drawing a gasp from your lips, “Satoru, what was that for—”
“So everyone knows you’re mine? Including Suguru,” he’s sucking lightly at the mark, soothing his tongue, “and I’ll make sure he knows,”
“Oh, I trust you’ll be subtle,” and he’s guiding you towards his bed, both of you falling onto it, his knee pressing your legs apart, as he hovers over you, his ocean gaze dark as a storm ridden sea.
“Oh you know me, princess,” and his knee presses against your clothed cunt, rubbing against it teasingly, “subtlety is my specialty,”
“Subtle as a truck,” you murmur, and he’s laughing as he kisses you again, making your lips curl, as his hands slide up your sides, squeezing your hips, “Satoru, please,”
“What’s the fun if I don’t get to tease you?” he’s kissing needy kisses to your neck, as his knee doesn’t relent, grinding lightly against your increasingly wet core, slick leeching through the thin material of your shorts, “gotta make sure you want it right?”
“You treat all the people you bring home this well?” and he’s pausing, lips against your neck, “I didn’t mean anything—”
“You’re the first,” you stare up at him, and he’s hesitant for once when usually he’s always barreling forward, “I’ve never brought anyone here,” and he licks his lips, a deeper flush settling over his porcelain skin, “I’ve never actually—”
And you blink, “Really?”
He huffs, “Is it that surprising—”
“I mean a little, from the way everyone acts around you, and the way you act—”
“Well, ‘act’ is the key word, now isn’t it?” he’s licking his lips as he looks down at you, “it’s easy to act when you know what they expect from you — a role to play,”
“Well, the role’s been filled, so how about you just be yourself for me?” you murmur softly, a featherlight touch as you trace the curve of his jaw, and his lips find his smile under your delicate touch, “so I can ask, is this your first time like you asked me?”
And he’s leaning up to kiss you, your hand resting against his chest, his heartbeat galloping under your touch, “And if I said yes?”
You smile, before flipping him onto his back, his gaze wide as he stares up at you, “Then we better make it memorable.”
“Please, I want to—“ his soft pants left his perfect lips, chest heaving as your fingers curled around his erection, far too hard from just what you had done. You’d stripped yourself and him bare — your inhibitions left far behind — as your lips kissed the tip of his aching cock.
“Lemme make you feel good, Satoru,” you murmur, looking up at him with fluttering eyes, your fingers smearing his pre cum along his length, and he’s pressing his head into the pillow, “s’big, can’t wait to feel you inside me,” you murmur, and you slowly pump him, drawing moan after moan from his lips.
“Won’t last long—can’t—“ he’s biting his lip, his hips thrusting into your touch, before your lips suck at his tip again, and he’s gone, cumming hard all over your face and fingers. God, it never felt that good when he touched himself. Your fingers even brushing against him made him want to cum almost instantly, your soft touch and lips were enough to send him over the edge over and over again.
He’s panting, eyes fluttering open to see you licking your lips clean with your tongue, as you meet his gaze with a grin, slowly sucking on each one of your fingers until you’ve cleaned yourself of his cum.
“Princess, fuck,” he’s lying back on the pillow, as your lips slowly kiss back up his body, your tongue dragging between the fluttering muscles of his stomach and chest.
“Already hard again?” You murmur, a smirk on your lips, “so sensitive for me,”
He’s keening at your words, a whimper leaving his lips. His eyes are blown out in pleasure as he meets your gaze, and you kiss him again, sloppy and messy, as his tongue brushes against yours, your clothed pussy grinding against his erection.
“Please,” he can’t help the words leaving his lips, “I need you,”
“Is this the first time you’ve begged for something?” You tease him, smirk on your lips as your thumb teases one of his nipples, pulling a gasp from his lips, “such a good boy,”
He hissed at your praise, “fuck—“
And you’re grinding against him, he’s already embarrassingly hard, blood rushing back to his cock as if it never left, as it drags against the all too wet fabric of your panties. And every small moan that leaves your lips leaving him needing more, his pre cum mixing with your cum that seeps through your panties, and is the second time he comes with you gonna be just grinding against each other on this bed? But he can’t help it if you keep nibbling at his neck like that, your pretty little pants in his ear, the head of his dick catching on your clit — so fucking good.
“Toru, c-close, ngh, g’nna cum—“ and he’s nodding, forcing his eyes open to watch you cum, your chest shaking, as you hover above him, your eyes squeezed shut and lips parted as you said his name.
“S’good,” he’s grunting, “Cum f’me,” and you both do, the slick and stickiness between your bodies almost unbearable, as you both pant, as you rest your head against his shoulder.
The silence sinks in for a moment, as you kiss his cheek, “we can stop here if you want,” your voice is soft, nose brushing against his neck, “don’t want to make you—“
And he’s flipping you onto your back, his fingers finding the waistband of your shorts, your breath hitching as he drags the material down your legs, and tosses it behind him, “I want this, I want you, and I won’t stop saying it until you believe it,” he leans down, breath warming your breasts through your shirt, before his lips suck at your clothed nipples, making you shiver, “you like that, huh?”
“Shut up,” your cheeks burn, but he’s only tugging your shirt over your head and off, his gaze hot as he drags his eyes down your exposed body, and it makes you squirm, “Satoru — please—“
“Now who’s the one doing the begging?” he leans down to suck on your nipple, while his fingers toy with the other between his thumb and forefinger, “I wanna learn what makes you feel good — wanna make you cum under my touch, wanna taste you,” he switches sides, his teeth grazing the skin of your breast, sucking a mark before soothing it with his tongue, “mine,”
“Satoru, fuck, I want—“ and his fingers trace down your body, making you gasp, he’s kissing down your chest and then your stomach, tongue dipping into your bellybutton, “you fucking—“
“Gotta make you feel good don’t I?” he has a shit eating grin on his lips, as he settles between your thighs, and his fingers press against the growing wet patch on your panties, “though it looks like you’re already feeling good,”
You bite back a whimper, “Are you gonna make me feel good or are you gonna keep talking—“ you moan when his thumb bears down on your needy clit, rubbing it through the nearly translucent fabric of your underwear.
“What was that, sweetheart?” And he’s snapping the waistband of your panties against your skin, “couldn’t hear you,”
“You fucker—“ and he’s kissing your clothed cunt through the wet fabric, nose brushing against your clit, making you nearly shake, as he inhales before he moans.
“So sweet, must taste even sweeter,” he murmurs before tugging your underwear down, before you’re kicking it off, making him chuckle, “so eager,” and you scowl up at him, ineffective from the way lips are parted, “you’re so cute,”
“I’m not cute,” you pout, and he’s laughing, a noise you could drown in, just as you do his eyes.
“You’re very cute, and I’ll tell you as many times as it takes you to believe it,” and his lips press soft kisses to your thighs, “my cute bodyguard, you gonna guard my heart as well as you do my body?”
And before you can reply his breath is warming your soaked cunt, his fingers parting your folds apart, your clit was puffy, your sex slick with your mixed juices, “so pretty, this all just for me?” And you hiss as he holds your outer lips apart, “so this is what your pussy looks like, huh?” And your thighs are twitching, trying to shut, but his palms hold you apart, his heated gaze meeting your shy ones, “you’re perfect, don’t hide from me, you’ve done enough of that,” and he kisses your clit, making you moan, “and I won’t have that anymore,”
“Satoru—“ and his tongue drags over the length of your dripping pussy experimentally, tip of his tongue flicking against your clit, fuck, how can he this good at this? Your toes are already curling as he groans, his fingers sliding under your thighs, and tugging you impossibly closer to his face. Your fingers weave into his white locks, “‘ngh—
“Be a good girl and take it,” he grunts against you, slurping your juices, the sounds of his tongue buried in your cunt, fucking you open, dragging across your walls, “taste s’fucking good, how’d I hold out this long without tasting you?” And your eyes flutter open at his groans, seeing him grind down on the sheets, so fucking horny from eating you out, “g’nna just cum from your taste alone, Princess,” you’re so incredibly soft, so soft, despite your walls being so tough, and it makes only eat you eat you from the inside out.
You’re so close, and all you hear is the sounds of his greedy tongue swallowing you whole, and the sound of your heartbeat and short gasps. Your walls flutter around his tongue, your thighs twitching under his touch, hips jolting forward to meet his touch, his tongue so fucking deep that you can’t see straight, “Toru, please, I’m so close—“
And you feel him groan into your pussy, redoubling his efforts before his fingers find your clit and rub at it while he sucks at your cunt. You cum hard, fingernails digging into his scalp, as your back arches as he eagerly eats you out through your orgasm. The wet squelch of your cunt and his tongue slurping against you, drinking every drop you offer him.
And then finally he’s pulling away with a pop, his chin and mouth dripping with your release and his spit, pink tongue darting out to clean up your cum from his face, wiping off the rest as he looked up at you from white lashed half lidded eyes.
And you can’t even speak, still coming down from your high, as he kisses up your body again, your thighs still shaking from your orgasm, your fingers reaching for his cheek, tracing his jaw, before cupping his cheek.
“How the fuck do you know how to do that well?” And he flashes a pretty smile, as he drags his thumb down your lips.
“I said I was a virgin, I didn’t say I didn’t know how to do some things — and as you know, I’m an excellent student,” and you huff, raising an eyebrow, “and I’m naturally good at everything,”
“And always so humble,” he laughs, before he kisses you again, letting you taste yourself on his sweet lips, and you’re rolling him over onto his back, his erection slick with precum, pressing against your sensitive cunt, “let me make you feel good now,” you murmur, his cock twitching against you, “wanna ride you, Toru, need you in me,”
And he’s hissing, as he moves to sit against the headboard, “You keep talking like that princess, I’m g’nna cum before you even—“ and your fingers are reaching between your bodies, and you’re stroking him, smearing his precum over the length of his shaft, making his hips jerk, “fuck—”
You’re so fucking pretty — your teeth baring down on your bottom lip, as you straddle him, hovering still, his aching tip barely brushing against your dripping cunt, “are you sure?” you murmur, eyes meeting his own, and his lips quirk into a smile.
“Never been more sure of anything,” and you sink onto him, thick length parting your folds, and he groans, as you fit him in your pussy, inch by inch, until your hips are flush. And fuck, he’s never felt anything better — pleasure runs up and down his body, as his hands find their way to your hips.
You’re tense at first, your back slightly arched, and when he shifts under you, a moan is ripped from your lips, as you begin to adjust to his size, “s’big, Toru, gonna make it hard for me to last too, feels too good,” you’re mumbling, and he’s holding his hips taut, making sure not to move — or else, he’s sure he’d cum in one stroke, “g’nna move ok?” and he’s nodding desperately, your walls already fluttering around him — slick and warm, better anything he’d ever felt.
You lift up to the tip, before beginning to rock steadily up and down, as he moans, your sweet cunt swallowing him eagerly, as you began to fuck yourself on his cock. Your chest bounces as you ride him, and he can’t resist leaning forward to take a hardened bud in his mouth, your moan making his cock twitch inside you. And he knows why people become addicted to sex — hell, he knew was an addict for it now, but only with you.
“Fuck, never felt anything this good before, sweetheart, feel s’perfect for me,” he’s grunting, the coil in his stomach growing tighter, as your pace grows more and more sloppy. He wasn’t going to last long, and neither were you from the way you were groaning his name again and again. The wet squelch and smacks of your bodies meeting again and again, only making it harder to hold back, and when he looks to see a white ring of your precum pooling around the base of his dick, he’s nearly gone, “fuck, baby, need you to cum with me,”
“It’s okay, pretty boy, cum for me,” he keens at the praise, but he’s stubborn, as you established, and he won’t cum until you do too — and so he ensures it, reaching between your bodies to rub meanly at your clit before meeting your thrusts with his own.
And his tip brushes against that spot that has your vision blurring and toes curling, “Toru, ngh, I’m—” and you’re cumming hard around him, making him spill his warm and thick seed inside your cunt, and he’s groaning you name as he does, your body slowing as you both come down from your highs, your head resting on his shoulder, as your bodies grow limp, resting, his back pressed to the headboard of his bed.
His fingers trace the curve of your back gently, as he turns his head to press soft kisses to your neck, “Am I still just a distraction?” his lips curled into a smile, and you chuckle, burying your face in his shoulder.
“Definitely,” but you lean back to cup his cheek, and look at his pretty face again, “but one worth having.”
You don’t wake from your alarm the next morning.
Instead, you wake to banging on the door. You both jolt awake, and he’s pulling you into his arms, even as you move to get up, he won’t let go, strong arms around your waist. You’re easing his arms off, trying to be gentle, “Toru, let go, and wait here, your father had a panic room installed in your closet, you hear anything, go inside—”
“No, I’m coming with you,” and you shake your head.
“I’m hired to protect you, not the other way around,” you leave his embrace, and face him, his crystal eyes blurred over with worry, “I can handle this,” you reassure him, your fingers intertwining with his, as you press a kiss to his knuckles, “I promise,”
“But—” and you kiss him gently, silencing his protests, before you slip away into the hallway.
You enter the living room, shutting the bedroom door without a sound, stalking through the hall, as you grab a knife and pepper spray from the chest of drawers that was pressed to the wall of the hallway — you had several self defense tools hidden all over the apartment. Your heartbeat thunders in your ear, mouth dry, as you approach the door from the side.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Mr. Gojo, open this door,” and you sigh, relaxing, as you check and unlock the door for him.
Shinsaku Gojo was only a man you were able to meet once before your work for him began. And it was a privilege even to see him then. His schedule was always packed — multiple meetings, multiple clients, and multiple women, all vying for his attention. Even as you spoke with him the first time, his eyes were on his phone the entire time, except when he had warned you, not to let anything distract you from protecting his son.
And you had done just that — and even worse, his son had done the distracting, “Mr—”
“Where’s my son? He hasn’t answered his phone all morning, and neither have you—didn’t you hear from your agency?” his voice is raising, as he dials your number again, and your phone vibrates on the couch. He scoffs, disconnecting the call, as his hard gaze turned back to you, “what if there was a threat? You left your phone—”
“Dad,” Satoru emerges from the room, his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants, “it’s not her fault, she forgot it last night when we were watching a movie,”
“Watching a movie?” he sneers, his cerulean gaze the same as son, but without any of the warmth Satoru had — an icy tundra compared to a warm pool, “she should be watching you, that’s her job—”
“She was watching me — something you never bothered to do,” and his father’s eyes narrow, “she’s shown more concern for me than you ever had — and she only met me a few weeks ago. What’s your excuse for being a pathetic piece of—“
“Satoru,” your fingers brush his shoulder, shaking your head, “sir, I take responsibility for this lapse of judgment. Don’t blame your son,”
Satoru lowers his voice, “it’s not your fault—“
“It is. I disregarded by duty to protect you,” your cheeks burn with shame — “what if i had missed an alert you were in danger? What if I failed to protect you because I wasn’t focused? What if—“
“Nothing happened,” he says softly, and the twitch of his fingers tells you he’s gonna reach for you, but you step forward, shaking your head.
“Nothing did,” and you turn to his father, “I’ll protect Satoru until you can find a suitable replacement for me. But I compromised my mission to protect him. I would like to resign as soon as possible,”
“No! I—“
“Agreed,” his father says, “I’ll have your replacement here in an hour, make sure you’re packed up by then,” and his father leaves without another word.
You brush past him to gather your things, but he’s caught you by the wrist, “Why did you do—“
“Gojo,” and you can’t bear to see the hurt in his eyes, “I can’t let my feelings get in the way of keeping you safe—“
“I don’t care—“ you cut him off.
“I do, I couldn’t stand if something happened to you because of me. What it was an emergency last night and you got hurt because of my own carelessness—“
“It wasn’t careless what happened last night—“
“It was,” you say, walking to your room, “and it won’t happen again.”
You left. You had expected a fight, an argument, a dramatic show of tears — but nothing. Satoru hadn’t even opened his door to watch you leave. The other bodyguard arrived quickly, and you left the penthouse and didn’t look back.
It was for the best.
You had a duty, a role to play, and more than that, you couldn’t let him get hurt because of your inability to compartmentalize. Even so, Satoru’s father was kind enough not to have told your father what happened — or you supposed it was pity in exchange for your quick and easy resignation.
Fuck. Why were you still thinking about this? You rolled over in bed, burying your head under your comforter. A week out, and you still couldn’t stop worrying about Satoru, about his safety, about the hurt on his face, about that night…
You had fucked everything up, and fucked Satoru up in the aftermath.
You poke your head out, and stare at your phone on your bedside table — 7:45 PM, no new messages — you had written out six different messages to him again and again, before deleting them. You wondered how many more you’d write before you finally would rid your mind of him.
Would you ever rid your mind of him?
And that’s when your phone rings. But it’s not flashing Satoru’s number — it’s his father. You scramble for the phone — why was he calling? And you can only think of one reason. You can’t say a single word when you pick up — his father already hissing his first question.
“Where is he?” your words are lodged in your throat, stuck on your heart that had leapt from your chest.
“What?”
“Where’s Satoru? He came to you didn’t he?” he growls, and you hear a slam, assumedly his fist against his desk, “he shook off his new bodyguard, and his phone is off,”
“He hasn’t — I haven’t talked to him since I left—” your mind is running a mile a minute, racking your brain, placing the call on speakerphone, as you text Satoru, where are you? “Where did the bodyguard see him last?”
“He had him at the dorms, he said he was going to see a friend, and then gave him the slip,” his father groans, “you hear anything from him, otherwise—”
“I’ll let you know,” you cut him off at the threats — you had more important things to do. You checked your messages, but your messages hadn’t gone through, and you tried calling him — but it went straight to voicemail. Satoru was upset — he could’ve blocked you or turned off his phone to piss off his father, but you didn’t see him doing that. He was an idiot, but he knew his father would lose his shit.
And then you remembered. The tracker you placed on Satoru — you never took it off. You had sewed it into the insole of his daily shoes (the man had far too many clothes and shoes, but he rarely found the energy to not wear anything besides the shoes he always wore).
You turned it on, biting your lip as you watched the tracker loaded, and his location popped up — and it wasn’t at his apartment.
It was in Shibuya — you typed in the address and he was at a house.
You furrow your brow, who did he know who lived in Shibuya? And then it clicked.
Fuck.
Those girls.
Satoru groaned, fuck, why is his head hurting so badly?
It wasn’t exactly unusual the last few days. He hadn’t been sleeping much since you left, he spent most of his nights watching TV and rotting in his bed. But everything reminded him of you — his bed, his couch, and even the shows he watched (he had continued one of the shows you both had started one late night).
His apartment was a disaster — a mess of empty soda cans, empty wrappers of candy and old takeout containers. But he couldn’t be bothered with it — to clean it up or call someone to clean it up. His bodyguard had taken up residence in your room — or rather the guest room — and hardly emerged, keeping an eye on him through cameras his father had installed around the doors and hallway.
Not that he really needed to, Satoru rarely left his apartment, even had skipped classes for a week — sending an email that he had a very contagious illness and that he’d be happy to attend class if necessary. They sent him materials to work on classwork from home, piled untouched on his kitchen counter, with a possible smudge from the hot fudge he had last night.
He had made progress — instead of staying in bed, he moved onto the couch for his afternoon nap, and he had just fallen asleep when there was a banging on his door. He groaned into the couch pillow he had just gotten comfortable on, before pulling it onto his head, trying to block out the sounds of the knocking.
“Satoru! Open up,” he hears Suguru’s voice through the door, “open the fucking door, I know you’re not sick,”
He pulls himself up, groaning, as he wipes the small amount of drool from his lips, as he meanders to the door, throwing it open.
“You look like shit,” Suguru says, brushing past him to enter.
“No ‘hello, you look like shit?’” He mumbles, still rubbing his eyes, “what are you doing here?”
“I should be asking you that,” he stands, hands in his pockets, as he takes in the mess with a wrinkled nose, “although I see you’ve decided to redecorate,”
“Hilarious,” Satoru replies, lying back on the couch, “did you come here just to hassle me?”
“I’d be lying if I didn’t say that wasn’t part of it, but the other was to see if you’re ready to pick yourself back up after your breakup—“
“It wasn’t a breakup,” Satoru snaps.
“If it wasn’t, then why does it look like you haven’t showered in several days since she left?” Suguru raises an eyebrow, and Satoru scowls.
“I’m sick,” he turns away to face the couch, “I don’t have the energy to shower,”
“But you have the energy to eat about half a dozen mochi doughnuts?” Suguru holds up an empty doughnut box, and Satoru holds a couch pillow to his chest, “Satoru, come on, it isn’t like you to wallow like this,”
“I’m not wallowing—“
“Yeah, yeah, you’re sick, right?” Suguru says sarcastically. Satoru doesn’t need to look at his best friend to know he’s rolling his eyes, “well you don’t seem like you’re sneezing or coughing so go take a shower or something,” Satoru gives a weak fake cough, and he could feel Suguru’s glare, “fine, rot in bed, but you have to get up sometime, just text me when you’re ready to,”
And Satoru hears Suguru’s footsteps recede to the door, swinging shut with a click behind him. He buries his face in the pillow. It wasn’t a break up. How could it be when you didn’t even have a relationship to begin with? You had made that clear enough when you left without another word to him. He didn’t leave his room until he heard the door shut behind you, and he made his way out to watch you leave out the front door of the apartment. And you didn’t even look back. But you weren’t the type to.
He felt like he was always looking back — one way or another.
And even now, as he came to — he was trying to remember what he had done after Suguru left. Someone else had shown up — knocked at his door. Offered to get him out of the house — offered him free alcohol and a distraction.
And he had agreed — if only to forget about you for a moment. Drinking was the only thing that made him forget — if he only could somehow forget how terrible alcohol tasted.
His head spun, so was this a hangover? It’s certainly worse than the one he had before — the last one felt like his brain was fuzzy and nausea clawed at his stomach — this time, it felt more akin to someone taking a blender to both of those organs. And his neck, he stretched it both ways. How had he fallen asleep?
And then he tried to lift up his hand to rub his eyes, and he couldn't, wrist straining against something — his brow furrowed, what was arm caught on — and his eyes fluttered open. It was dark — the only light came from another room, peeking through the crack at the bottom of, what he assumed was, a door. And then as his eyes adjusted to the dark, he looked at his arms.
Ropes. Twisted around both his arms, binding his wrists and forearms to the arms of a chair, and his vision blurs — what? His legs jerk instinctively, but ropes dig into the flesh of his ankles, and he glanced down only to find what he expected.
“You’re awake,” the light flicks on, he lifts his head, blinking away the fog in his head and the burning tears slipping from his eyes, “didn’t realize the drug would knock you out for that long,”
He blinks again and again, light flooding his eyes, until he can see and sees a familiar face — “Misaki?” the light sends a piercing jolt through his head, “or is it Yumiko?”
“Well that’s flattering, you can’t even remember my name?” she sighs, crossing her arms, “well I unfortunately don’t have the same luxury,” and then she adds with a quirk of her lips, “it is Yumiko,” and she steps forward, as his eyes squeeze shut, his head still banging, “sorry what I gave you to knock you out can cause some light sensitivity,”
It’s slowly sinking in, “I don’t know what kind of weird kink you have, but I’m not interested,” and she scoffs, pressing her knuckles to her chin, “where am I?”
“Do you think I’m really going to tell you that?” she raises an eyebrow, “I did send you threats after all, you don’t think I’d be that stupid to tell you where I am,”
He needed to buy time, he needed to find a way to get out of here, and to do that, he needed time, “What? Are you obsessed with me or something? Do you want my body?”
“I’m going to stop your overinflated ego there,” she sighs, leaning against a table that was behind her, “I have a debt to pay and you’re the price,”
“Debt?” he repeats, “is this where you explain your whole plan? And villain speech? Because I usually I could care less, but I’m feeling a little generous with my time, as I’m a little tied up at the moment, so—”
“Do you ever shut up?”
“It’s known to happen on occasion,” she rubs her temples, and then something occurs to him, “how did you get my address? You showed up and invited me,”
She shakes his head, “You think I couldn’t find out your address after sending you threats?” and she sighs, “You know this is why I tried to do this at the first party — get it over with so I wouldn’t have to deal with this. But then you crushed your beer cup, your little girlfriend got in the way, and that idiot Misaki accidentally switched her shot glass with yours, so I couldn’t get you dosed,” she grits her teeth, “and then the rest of the semester, your girlfriend was up your ass the entire time — but she wasn’t your girlfriend was she? She was your bodyguard,” he says nothing, “you don’t need to confirm it for me, I already found her information, her name, her address—”
“What do you want? Money? My father will pay anything to get me back. Tell me who you need to repay and he’ll do it,” and her lips curl.
“So serious now — and so cooperative, maybe I should have kidnapped her too while I was at it,” she shrugs, while she grabs her phone from the table — a burner — “my father will be here to escort you to where you need to go. The yakuza will take it from there,” his blood runs cold, “Don’t cause a fuss and i can promise your girlfriend will stay safe,”
He grits his teeth — he was so stupid. This was exactly the kind of shit you were trying to protect him from. And it was the thing he landed himself in the moment you left. But he didn’t care — because it was better this way, because you were safe this way.
“Wow, you’re pretty cute when you’re all quiet,” and she’s walking over, and he’s flinching as she drags a manicured nail down his cheek, before tilting it up, “it’s just that mouth that’s a problem,” and her thumb brushes down his lips, “don’t bite, or we might have a problem,”
And he doesn’t, but then he smiles back, “you might like it when I bite,” he smirks, “why don’t you come here and find out?” And she raises her eyebrows, leaning closer, and he smashes his forehead into hers, “fuck off,”
She stumbles back, losing her balance, and leaning against the table as she clutches at her forehead. Satoru watches her, trying to wriggle out of his constraints, rope chafing against his skin, red welts rising on his skin, but he only manages to get one hand free before she’s starting to get her bearings, and then he’s trying to free himself, his chair tipping over. And now he’s lying helplessly as she stumbles forward over to him, clutching a knife she grabbed off the table.
“I have to hand you over to the yakuza, but they didn’t say you had to be completely unharmed,” she presses the tip of the knife to his cheek, “maybe we’ll do something to that pretty face of yours,” he grits his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut.
CRACK.
He hears a body slump over, and the clatter of the knife against the cement floor, and his eyes open to find you kneeling beside him. He’s blinking, murmuring your name, “What are you—”
“Well I never did remove that tracker did I?” You’re cutting the ropes on his wrists and ankles with the knife, “and I’m lucky you wear the same damn shoes everyday,”
“Why did you come for me?” he says, as you finally free him his restraints, your fingers gentle as they examine the welts and bruises left on his skin, “you could have just told my father where I was or the police,”
“I could’ve. I saw where you were and I figured it out—“ and your voice wavers, “but all I could think was that I wanted to find you. And I didn’t wanna wait for anyone else. I didn’t want something to happen just because someone else was too slow,” the lump in your throat grows only larger, as you sit, “I couldn’t live with myself if something happened to you,”
“Why?” he asks softly, his fingers brush against your cheek, and he knows why — he does, but he needs to hear it.
“Because I just want…to be the one to protect you,” you admit, tears burning at your eyes, as your thumb traces over his rope burns and bruises, “I wish that I could have,”
“You did a pretty good job, considering I almost was about to get my face cut up,” and he gently wipes your tears away, “imagine what a tragedy that would be,”
You give a watery chuckle, cupping his cheeks, “I’m sorry,” and he opens his mouth, “no i really am. I shouldn’t have slept with you, only to cut and run after. I thought…I thought I was doing you a favor,”
“How?” And you sigh, blinking away your tears.
“I put your life in danger by doing that. I couldn’t do that. I knew the only way you’d let me go is…if I lied to you and said I didn’t care about you,” you bite your bottom lip, “and I’m sorry because I only hurt you more in the end,”
He kisses your lips gently, chastely, his breath warming your lips as he parts from them, “you did,” and you scoff, pushing him playfully, “but as long as you promise not to do it again, I think I can find it in my incredibly generous heart to forgive you,”
You kiss him again, softly, your fingers sliding to the back his neck, into his undercut, “I promise,” and he grins, before leaning back to kiss you again, when a cough behind you catches your attention.
“My father will be getting here shortly you idiots, while you gaze fucking stupidly into each other’s eyes,” she sneers, and you raise an eyebrow.
“You think I’d come here without calling the police? They already have picked up your father — and they should be almost here—“ and the sounds of an ambulance and police sirens come into earshot.
“Good timing,” Satoru mutters, as Yumiko tries and fails to stumble to her feet, and you get up and pin her to the ground. Satoru raises an eyebrow, and watches, as you glance back at him, tilting your head in question, “nothing, it’s just…hot to see you in action,”
You laugh, “Did she hit your head too?” And he shrugs, as he gets onto this feet with shaky legs, “Satoru—“
And he sits next to you, leaning on your shoulder, “just let me rest here for a minute,” he mumbles.
For the first time since you left, Satoru felt like he could finally rest.
And Satoru did rest, he realized as he blinked awake to the ambient sounds of the hospital room, the distinct beep of the heartbeat monitor, the dim light of the moon filtering through the shades, and the distant sounds of people walking through the hall. He hears the sounds of sheets rustling, and his gaze snaps over to his left.
His gaze softens. You were fast asleep beside him, your arms tucked under your head, your breaths were soft, as they were the night you two had spent together. He sat himself up — fingers running through your hair gently. You had fallen asleep before him that night, face buried in the crook of his neck, and your legs entangled with his. And now you slept beside him on a chair, leaning on his bedside.
His fingers carded through your hair again, and you stirred, as he swore under his breath, your eyes fluttered open, “Toru?” you mumbled, still half asleep, and he hummed.
“Sorry, sweetheart, I didn’t mean to wake you,” he sighed softly, “why are you sleeping here? You should have gone home,” you sit up, stretching, as you furrow your brow, eyes scanning him for any sign of an injury or distress.
“I wanted to make sure you were okay — you were unconscious, but no concussion thankfully. I tried to wake you up but you wouldn’t wake,” you sigh, words tumbling out almost faster than you can think of them, “they mostly kept you for observation, but are you feeling okay? Should I get the nurse—“
And he’s pulling you into a hug, arms wrapping around you, as he sighs, burying his face in your neck, “I just want to stay like this for a while,” he murmurs, “I got everything I need right here, got it?” He feels you nod, and he feels the hint of your tears on his skin, but says nothing, only his lips quirk, “you did mean your promise?”
“I did, I won’t leave like that again,” and he’s leaning back, head tilted, and you chuckle, “I mean I won’t leave you at all, how’s that?”
“Good girl,” he murmurs, leaning closer, and his heart squeezes when he hears your breath hitch as he does. His eyes flicker to your lips and back, “can I kiss—“
But you kiss him first, softly, your fingers brushing his cheek, and god, why was it that a single touch from you melted him away to nothing? Whittled his world view to a pin where all he could feel, all he could see, was you.
And then you kiss his cheeks, his chin, his jaw, and then your teeth graze the soft part of his neck, drawing a pretty gasp from his lips, as you suck lightly on his skin.
He’s whispering your name, breath sucked from his lungs as if your teeth had pierced through his throat instead of just his skin, “what was that for?”
And you smile, “so everyone knows you’re mine.”
“You’re changing your major?” Suguru raises his eyebrow, as he lounges on Satoru’s couch, holding his head up with his elbow propped against the top of the couch, “your father must’ve been thrilled about that,”
“He lost his shit, but that geezer can fuck off,” Satoru shrugs, “he threatened to not pay my tuition, but once I threatened to go public with his dealings with the yakuza, he saw it my way,”
Suguru tilts his head, “His what?”
You bring over tea from the kitchen, placing it on the table, “After what Satoru found out from Yumiko and her father, their debt to the yakuza would have been paid off by kidnapping one of Satoru’s father’s close relatives, but I was wondering why was the yakuza so eager to do so?”
“Apparently my old man had the brilliant idea of entertaining the yakuza on some deal he was making,” Satoru explains, leaning back on the couch, as you sit against his legs, “and when he backed out, the yakuza wanted to push it through anyway — and well, thus their blackmail of Yumiko’s father, once they found out his daughter went to school with me.”
“Yeah, turns out her father had gambling debts owed to the yakuza,” you sighed, “she got caught in the crossfire — I almost feel bad,”
“Speak for yourself, she drugged me, tied me to a chair, and held a knife to my face,” Satoru scoffs, sipping his tea that he had you drown in sugar.
“Well you didn’t complain when I did that last night,” you reply, making both Satoru and Suguru choke, and you laughed, squealing when Satoru lifts you into his lap to bury his face into your back.
“You two are officially sickening to be around,” Suguru grimaces, still coughing from choking down his tea, “I think I liked it better when he was wasting away in his apartment,”
“You wasted away after I left?” You turn to look at Satoru, who shoots a glare at Suguru, “sorry Geto, that’s not happening again,” and Satoru softens his gaze, pressing a kiss to your head.
“Alright, that’s it, I’m leaving,” Suguru gets to his feet, as he glances back at you two, “don’t rush to get up, I’ll see myself out,” he rolls his eyes.
“Don’t worry we weren’t going to,” Satoru pulls you closer, and Suguru narrows his eyes, before his lips curl into a grin.
“Just for that, I’m sending your girlfriend a picture of the mess you looked like when she left,” Satoru gapes at him, while you bite back a laugh.
“Suguru!” Satoru calls, but the door’s shut, and you’re starting to giggle. He’s pouting now, “so my girlfriend thinks it's funny to see me in the pathetic state she left me in?”
“Oh your girlfriend finds it very funny, and she might even make it her boyfriend’s contact picture,” you smirk, and he’s biting back a smile, “What?”
“This is just the first time we called each other that,” he mumbles, a slight dusting of pink on his cheeks, “it’s nice,” he admits.
“Well, I am yours, aren’t I?” you smile, and he presses a kiss to your lips, as he would again and again.
“My one and only.”
✧ a/n: so this fic was so freaking long. i'm sorry it took so long to post this - i got a little sidetracked by prof geto haha. but i'm hoping to start on the next one soon :). i think i'll put a poll up on which one i should write next! edit: forgot to tag the people who requested this, its now added in T_T
✧ taglist: @teatreeoilll, @intrxspectiv, @marvel-fanaticz, @ilovemybabes, @lwustyz, @jayathelostdragon, @vampzys, @sleazymac-n-cheesy, @soilmayo, @iwassentfromhell, @lobotomy-kaisen, @gojoallmine, @forest-hashira, @h3artpiecexx, @lailarratx, @gummibat, @hanlay, @ilovewoo9, @nvmlolo, @h6avenly, @eriyvesa, @alexandraioann4, @eclipsephase, @sokkasmoon, @aizzon, @makotome9, @daddytojji, @fluffy-pancakes01, @imjustmememe, @spookyy-gracee, @forest-fruits-jam, @that-goth-bisexual, @hatsunemitskislobotomy, @lookinreality,
ok i know we always talk about girl dad satoru but imagine boy dad satoru and his lil gentlemanly lessons.
it happens for the first time when you go to take your seatbelt off and get out of the car as soon as it’s parked, but there’s a little voice from the back saying “wait mommy! wait!” and satoru’s nodding like “yeah, wait mommy!” with a knowing grin. you watch him get out of the drivers seat and jog over to help your son out of his car seat before they both make their way to your door. it’s teamwork: satoru opens, and your son holds a tiny hand out for you as he says, “hold my hand mommy, don’t fall!” you walk with satoru trailing behind you both, smiling in amusement as he tells your son “remember kiddo, we never let mommy open her own doors!”
and from then on it’s always a small squeal of “no! mommy stop!” when you’re about to sit down, just so they can jog up and pull the chair out for you and push you in once you’re seated. there’s that routine “after you, mommy!” when he lets you out the door first because it’s always ladies first, of course. there’s always a strict, “mommy’s cold! give her your jacket” you hear thrown at satoru with tiny hands on hips that makes you giggle as satoru shrugs off his jacket with a huff from being scolded. sometimes, there’s a “for you mommy!” before a small bundle of flowers is pressed to your hand as satoru grumbles from the back that he paid, so he should be able to give it to you.
you can’t help but pick your son up every time and kiss his cheeks, grinning as you murmur, “what a sweet little gentleman i have to take care of me.”
and satoru’s always pouting, always standing in the back as he whines out a petulant, “i taught him all that! what about me?”
so you kiss him too—because he treats you just as good, teaches your son to be even better, in fact. and you love your boys, and they never let you forget they love you too.
Pairings- Rich Frat/fuckboi Toru x Preppy Sorority reader
Summary- One VERY drunk encounter between your greatest rival ever - on your last day of college- leads to you being knocked up. Satoru Gojo, a fuckboy, fratboy, rich little jerk, has been a rival of yours since you all met in College, every damn grade you fought for he got with ease. He crashed every Sorority party you threw. The two of you are so infamous in your rivalry, your friend groups were rivals, and for some reason, life is playing some damn joke on you both. Now... you have to tell him the news - but how Satoru takes it surprises you. Can you both raise a baby together!? And do you even really know each other?
Contents/Warnings- gonna be flashbacks to the rivalry/that night, nerdjo but make him a fratboy, enemies to kind of begrudging partners, but then as the pregnancy progresses, they fall in love hehe (gojo is an idiot) - fluffy and smutty, MDNI -will have explicit sex etc- 4 parts (I THINK) in this chap- flashbacks of explicit sex with dirty talk, weed smoking (Satoru and his boys aha) mentions of sex, lots of humor, enemies to loversss- WC- this chap- 8k- art in the banner by Yuana on X
Comments and reblogs so appreciated if you enjoyy <3
Masterlist - Playlist- Chapter Two>>> (coming soon)
Chapter One
It had been an absolutely filthy night, that led to your doctor coming in and informing you three months later-
'You're pregnant'
You came in for a normal checkup, you're on the pill and you have no sex life, aside from one encounter almost three months ago. A filthy, questionable ass encounter with what so happened to be your former 'bully' - rich boy, frat boy, pretty boy, pretentious boy- Satoru Gojo.
For years, the two of you were rivals, not just academic either, since you were both top of your class all through college, but at everything. He'd hold your notebooks high and laugh at you, he'd try to ruin and crash every sorority event he could. Known as the Queen and King of the campus, you ran the rivaling Sorority to his Fraternity. The amount of times you all had gone toe to toe was literally notorious, even your best friends hated each other on your behalf, starting an entire war between you all.
You have no clue how it happened, still, how the two of you had the best sex of your life at that damn party, fueled by drinks but also something you'd never admit- you've always wondered. Hearing those stories about his... skills, seeing his perfect body and the way his pretty lips smirked so cruelly in your direction, even after all these years- how it all led to this moment.
'Hah, sweets, ya finally admit I'm good at something?' Satoru had murmured in your ear, while he'd had you bent right over some bed at some party- both of you were seniors in college on your last and final party, finally you thought you'd be rid of him, of this ass of a man. He was going to live the rich life, working for his family, and you were moving on to a whole different career.
'One t-thing... that's it...' You had cried out when his cock had shoved in so deep, making you cum all over him, his fingers gripping your hips while he'd pumped deeper and deeper, impossibly until he'd been right on your cervix. 'F-fuck!'
'Fuck... you had a pussy like this and we've been fighting!?' Satoru is whispering, resting his snowy locks against your neck, biting it with sharp teeth as you milk his cock. 'So greedy, huh?'
'S-shut up, mnh- just... keep... there, there shit!' Satoru had slammed right against your cervix, feeling you pulsing around him, it had been too good, too tight, too fucking wet, he'd paused then, looking at your arched ass, your skirt shoved over your hips. 'Keep g-going, please...'
'M'gonna cum, tho-she's too tight- shit can I?'
Your drunk ass had said- sure. You're precise on that pill, every day your alarm goes off in the morning, you take it. How could...
"Pregnant!?" You repeat. Unbelievable. No fucking way. You...
"Yes sweetie I suggest prenatal and an ultrasound, hmm?" The nurse says so sweetly, as you feel sick to your stomach, which your hand goes down to touch.
Pregnant. With rich, notorious fuckboy Satoru Gojo’s baby- now you would have to tell him!?
Shit.
You take the results in a shaky hand, mind swirling as the doctor goes on and on, some crazy distant humming in your head, there’s no way, it can’t be. You’re literally starting your journalism career, thinking you’d maybe gained a few pounds from stress and ramen, the interning was absolutely brutal, you’re never regular on your periods, hence the birth control in the first place.
Running coffees here and there, grabbing this and that for everyone above you, but you were now officially hired, and you were making good money for once, finally able to pay down some of your pesky student loans and get a nice car. You worked hard for it, for everything, despite many thinking leading a sorority meant you came from money, you were a scholarship girl.
That’s a huge reason you and Satoru always clashed, born with a silver spoon in his mouth, easily acing every test that you busted your ass for, things came easy to him, you worked for it. Achieving the highest you could in your graduating class, the little shit that came to school hungover grinned right next to you, like a goddamn plague, and you hoped that finally he was gone for good.
What bonded two people like you now?
Well…
“Do you need to go over your options, hunny?” One of the nurses says, touching your shoulder with a gentle smile, you shake your head then, clearing your throat.
“I just need to… think.”
You’re pacing back and forth in your apartment, feet padding gently along the hardwood floor, cell phone in your hand, staring at the phone number that just got sent to you by Shoko. She was Satoru’s friend and yours, which was rare given the ongoing student warfare zone you all created. You’d texted her a simple- hey do you have Gojo’s number- not going into details.
How do you even tell him?
What do you say!?
You psych yourself up, finally dialing it, when he picks up the phone after the second ring, murmuring - “Hello.” God, even him answering what he assumes is a stranger is snarky.
“Um, hey.” Gojo pauses at the sound of your voice, faltering just for a moment, as his friends bounce a basketball around a court outside, he sits down on the bench, vivid images filling his head. “It’s-”
“Think I don’t know your annoying voice by heart, sweetheart?” You roll your eyes, sighing and plopping down on your couch.
“Yeah, well… I got your number from Shoko.”
“Need a second round? Should have guessed.” He’s gesturing to Suguru and Sukuna, who roll their eyes at him, and he puts his voice down an octave. “I could be convinced.”
“Jesus christ, Gojo.” You almost hang up, feeling your tummy tighten then, almost nauseous, realizing you had to talk to him. “Are you, I don’t know, um… free for lunch or anything?” You despise the words falling from your lips.
“Asking me on a date, huh? So bold, I like it.” Satoru winks now at his friend’s shocked expressions, muting for a moment, telling them it was you.
“No fucking way.” Sukuna says, Suguru snorts in laughter and Satoru just grins, unmuting you again.
“I guess I could be convinced.” He purrs out those words, chuckling. “Hmm, we could go to that nice place on Hollywood ave hmm? Perfect Sushi.”
Your tummy growls, but then you frown, remembering that Sushi is on your damn list not to eat, you curse internally, peering at this list of everything you should never do or consume, and it specifically says raw fish right there. “Do they have cooked Sushi there?”
“Pshh, you’re such a prissy ass, can’t eat raw huh? Didn’t mind it raw from what I remember.” You hate this man.
“You know what never-”
“Shit, I was just kidding.” He panics, thinking you hung up, hearing your irritated sigh then. “Yeah I think they do. Why do you even wanna hang out, ya wanna nag me in person?” He spins his basketball effortlessly on his finger, acting all calm, as if he wasn’t dying to be buried in your perfect pussy again. “Miss being bitchy to me so bad?”
God he wanted to have you on his face, have you sucking him, he wanted for so much more than you all got to do, drunken fingers and your muted cries as he’d had a big hand tight over your mouth. His cock twitches under his basketball shorts just remembering how slick and hot you were, god how you fucking felt gripping him so damn tight.
Satoru had felt you pulsing around him as he reached his arm around you, pressing his fingertips to your clit in circles, as you’re crying out against his palm, practically drooling against him. ‘There you go, cumming so easy f’me huh?’ he taunts, as his own eyes roll back, feeling your pussy drool against his hand.
‘Mnh!’ was all you managed to murmur against his hand, as he feels your gummy walls spasm around his cock, his blue eyes roll back at how perfect you feel, how long he’s dreamed of this.
‘F-finally got you to shut up, hmm?’ He taunts you, normally you’d have something smart to say, but not as he’s overstimulating your little clit, pulling it away as you damn near collapse on the mattress, your thighs shaking, he wants to kiss you so bad, but you’re burying your face, arching your ass.
‘F-fuck you, Gojo- ah!’
The memories are so vivid Satoru can barely calm his thoughts, hearing you say his name in that irritated little voice, the one that drove him insane from day fucking one, the moment he’d met you. Prissy little thing with so much to prove, he thinks you still feel that way, which the biggest secret Satoru had for you had almost spilled on that last drunken night, the night he was inside you was…
He's always wanted you, not that he'd ever admit that however.
Ever.
“Is like three okay?” You're interrupting his thoughts now, as he clears his throat.
“Three rounds?”
You’re scowling at the phone as you question your life’s choices at this very moment. “Three o'clock, my god, for lunch.”
“Sounds good, it gives us time later, to… you know.” You glare at the phone, unbelievable, he’s ridiculous!
“Time for what?” Satoru chuckles at your high pitched question.
“Don't be shy, sweets, no need to pretend. I remember it all in vivid detail, every little bit.” Your cheeks heat up, hand clutching the phone tightly, trying to calm yourself and focus.
“Just lunch, that’s all I’m asking you for. Sounds good?”
“Want me to pick you up in my-”
“No, I'll meet you. Okay um…. Bye.” You hang up, breath coming quickly, you couldn't just tell him on the damn phone, this needed to be in person.
The thought of his pretty yet annoying ass presence damn near makes your head spin… would he think it's all a joke? Some scam to get with him or get money?
You're fucking terrified, standing and staring in the mirror, rubbing your tummy and frowning as you do. A damn baby… Likely raising it alone, knowing Satoru all these years, partying, insane and so immature. Even on the phone, he’s so damn cocky and self sure, that this must absolutely be what you want, to have him, as if you are over here pining away.
The sex was amazing to put it lightly, and sure if he was a decent guy, and not a fucking ass of a man, you’d have done it again, but the walk of shame that morning had been the most embarrassing day of your life. His little smirk after you woke up, plump lips too damn glossy for his own good, yawning and stretching half naked, cock already hard as he’d tapped his lap.
‘Another round, sweets? Come to daddy.’
You scoff even at the memory, at the audacity of fuckboi Satoru Gojo, you had run out so quickly he hadn’t had a moment to speak, and you swore to yourself never, ever again. Who cared if his cock was so big it hit places you didn’t know existed, and who cared if you’ve never felt that way, fuck you wish he actually wasn’t as good at it as he was.
Perfect at everything, infuriatingly, even fucking.
You get a text from the guy you were currently at least flirting with a bit here and there, the one you suggested going on a date, and then it all starts to hit, you’re pregnant and quite likely going to be some single mom. You couldn’t just go on dates, everything is completely different, maybe forever truly.
“Twenty Two year old single mom.” You grumble, sighing a bit as you text him you’re busy.
Busy.
*****
Satoru waits nervously at the restaurant, he doesn’t really do dates, he usually spends his time in the bedroom with a girl then runs right off. Shit, he’s never even gone without a condom before you, but when you’d said hurry up and put it in, who the fuck was he to tell you no? Not only had it felt superb, he never wanted to leave that perfect pussy.
Of course you would have the most perfect pussy.
You had to be the best at everything, all the time, didn’t you? Always competing for that top spot, but Satoru always just barely got past you, that .01% of that GPA, winning every contest over you always by just a tiny bit. From the moment you glared up at him and crossed your arms, he knew it, he had to do everything he could to win against your cute little ass.
Here’s the thing… Satoru never hated you, but he loves to say he does, you both say you do, or… well, said. Considering you slept with him and didn’t say a single word after, it’s not like he’s hard to find, but each of you actively refused to add each other on socials, though Satoru will admit he stalks your IG, you’re too fucking pretty not to do so, not that he’d ever like a post.
Once he accidentally did, god he wanted to be like those pathetic simps in your comments, but he’s not that, he’s Satoru Gojo. Women come to him, women come easy too, you of course were never one to come near him in that way, no you’d look at him getting smacked in the face on campus with a grin, vowing to your friends that you’d never be one of his conquests.
That night, though, it was like he lost himself, the most stupid, corny shit Satoru could think of, that last night of his freedom before being forced to take over his family’s business. You and everyone probably thought he wanted to, but of course he fucking didn’t, he didn’t want a part of the Gojo corporation in any way, shape or form.
Satoru felt lost, honestly.
Self sure, confident, conceited clearly, talking far too much shit and laughing, picking on you every chance he got, showing up to all your sorority parties in various stages of undress to lure your friends to him. He’ll never forget him, Sukuna and Suguru crashing your ABC party, wearing nothing but cut open beer boxes, and you so happened to have some white claw box made bikini.
God you’d been sexy, but when he stole all the attention? Oh he’s never seen you more mad.
Well no, he has.
Gojo loved to make you mad, because you’re so damn cute when your nose scrunches up, when your pretty eyes narrow, there was nothing like your huffs as you would cross your arms and shift your hips just so. And if there was anything Gojo was absolutely perfect at, amongst well damn near everything, it was making you absolutely furious.
Finally Satoru sees you, dressed in this pretty blue summer dress that juts out just a bit at the waist, making his heart race for just a moment at how pretty you are. It’s not like he forgot… but god. Are your tits bigger he wonders, or is he just obsessed with them, as always, looking too hard. Your cheeks are this beautiful color, your eyes so bright, like… some damn glow about you.
How corny is he lately.
He puts on a smirk as he leans back, waving with his fingers to gesture you over, and you look at him so damn seriously, sitting across from him, hands entwined together in front of you on the table for a moment, as you eye him carefully. “Gojo, um… how are you?’
Who the fuck is this girl in your body!?
You don’t nervously ask shit, you tell Gojo to fuck off, you glare or scowl while he smirks, what’s this… shy ass shit? He frowns a bit now, you exhale and slide off your purse, letting it sit on the seat next to you, he can’t stop staring at your lips, clearly bitten to fucking hell.
He tries to feign that he’s fine, that he hasn’t missed you, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. He missed your daily arguments on campus, he missed you being a total brat. He misses your scent, god that vanilla sugar body spray was haunting his very dream.
He acts as if he hadn’t died to hit you up, but he stopped himself. He couldn’t go that far, not with you, not with what you did to him, how you’ve damn near destroyed any game for himself any longer. That one night with you had sunk into him so deeply, he wishes it was just good pussy, and not whatever this was.
He’s jerked it off to you every fucking night since, to the point is damn dick doesn’t even work, he sure also wouldn’t admit that he can’t even fuck a girl because you were so good. Some evil witch that did something, it must be, he has at this point just given up trying, until whatever curse you gave him falls the fuck off.
But god you look good in front of him.
He should tell you, but instead he swipes a hand through his silky white locks and smirks right at you. “Missed me so badly, sweets?”
You roll your pretty eyes as the menu comes, smiling and thanking the hostess, a smile reserved for anyone in the world but him, even when he’d had you cumming all over him, you weren’t smiling. No, but you were drooling then.
‘Ah, look at you, so fuckin pathetic f’me, huh? Thought you hated me, sorority brat’ Satoru had huffed, as he’d fingered your cunt, curling inside of your slick walls, watching your pretty fucked out face. ‘Just from fingers?’
‘I do h-hate you- mnh!’ Your sparkly manicured nails dug into his broad shoulders as your tight walls convulsed around him, as he hit that spot that no man had ever found in a moment.
Perfect at everything, stupid Satoru.
‘Feel her, god she’s so desperate, huh?’
“Fuck you I- there, shit!’ you’d rolled your hips, grinding right on his hand, pussy drooling as you came from his fingers before he’d even put his cock inside you, and Satoru’s cock was leaking against his boxers, twitching as he pictures how perfect you’d felt around him. ‘Fuck you for being so g-good at that!’
‘Oh, I’ll fuck you, sweetheart.’ He’d turned you then, whispering a ‘bend over, just like that, gonna be a big stretch, hmm?’
Satoru struggles to calm his memory, focusing on that sexy mouth of yours moving, realizing words are coming out of them, blinking to focus.
“How are you doing, Gojo?” You ask softly, always Gojo, you never called him Satoru, and he always called you sweets, short stuff, your last name, also never your first.
But he wanted to call you a lot of things, one of them being-
Stop that Satoru.
“I’m doing great, of course, miss me so much?” He teases, winking at you and sipping on the sickeningly sweet Shirley temple he’d had them buy, you just grab a water, hand flitting to your tummy for a moment. “You’re not sick are you?”
“No, not sick just… yeah we needed to talk. Is that okay?”
Satoru leans forward, raising a thin white brow. “You seem weird, everything okay?”
“Well… shit. I guess I’ll just say this. Um…” You tuck your hair behind your ear, looking out the window at the bustling city for a moment, before looking back at him. “Remember that night?”
“Sweetheart, you don’t have to do all this to have a repeat.” His hand comes to your thigh, and that’s when you curse this pregnancy, because your nipples tighten, your cunt gets hot and wet from that.
Fuck hormones.
You take a breath, glaring as you always do at Satoru, the only time you never had was when he’s had your face with a slutty O for your mouth, your eyes rolled back, nails gripping those sheets. You shove his hand off, hoping he couldn’t feel your heat that quickly, as your body responds stupidly in a damn sushi restaurant.
“It’s not that, it’s important. Can you ever be serious in your life!?” You say quietly, and it’s his turn to glare, taking his hand back, sipping his drink again.
“Well just spit it out. What is all this, then?”
“It’s… I… You…” Shit, if ever you needed a drink it was now, and you damn sure wouldn’t have one for a good six months or more.
“It’s… I…. You…” He mocks, and you stand then, so furious your heart is racing, snatching up your purse.
“Never mind, I should have known you’re-”
“Shit, just sit. Sorry. Okay?” He grips your delicate wrist in his big hand, and even that is wrecking you, against your better judgement and everything you feel. “I’m sorry, it seems… serious. Just sit down and spit it out.”
You sit back down now, shifting as you both make your orders, a thankful distraction. As the waitress leaves, you sigh. “I don’t want anything from you, first off, so don’t think that.”
“What?” He blinks in confusion.
“I don’t need help, I can do it myself.”
“Do what!?”
“But you have to know… it’s the right thing to do, to tell you.” You look up at the ceiling, gathering your thoughts.
“Is this… are you in love with me, because of how good it was? Shit, that’s okay baby, everyone-”
“I’m pregnant.”
“What!?” You just sit there, seriously staring, as he blinks, looking at fuller breasts, your damn glow, thinking of every dumb thing he’s heard. “You’re… by who?” He whispers, and you flush then, shifting in your seat, sipping more of your water, condensation cool on your hot palm, your skin is burning, heart is racing.
“I was on the pill, religiously, I swear, I never missed one. Shit, until I found out I never missed… I… never would have done it like we did if I knew.” You feel sick as he gapes at you, his pretty blue eyes bulging out damn near, his mouth dropped open. “I expect no help, no involvement, we’re young. I just-”
“This a joke, right?” You take another breath, hand gripping the glass, eyeing those around you all, engulfed in conversations.
“It’s not a joke.” He’s laughing now, smacking his thigh, and your jaw tenses as he does.
“It’s you and your damn friends, someone recording!? Hah-”
“It’s not a joke.” You clear your throat now, leaning in your purse and pulling out the papers, with your name, the results, watching his expression shift, brows drawing low, his jaw tense. “It’s only been you, no one else for an entire year.”
“A whole year?” He eyes you again, and you flush under his gaze, as his hands shake, hands you’ve never seen shake, hands that dribble basketballs, that tossed footballs, all with ease.
Hands that…
Fuck, don’t think of it.
“I’m not… I was too busy.” Besting Gojo, competing with Gojo, you had no time for shit with him, your anger at him shone so brightly it was hard to think about men. “As I said, you don’t need to pay for anything, this isn’t that conversation, this is just me letting you know. I’m keeping it.”
Satoru continues to blink at you, staring open mouthed, at your face, then your body, then back to your face, over and over, while the waitress brings out the food, smiling curiously at the two of you. Satoru doesn’t make a move to touch his food, running his hand through his now messy white locks again, as his mind spins.
“I know you’re wealthy, I don’t want you thinking I want some piece of it. I’ll take care of them alone, please don’t worry.” You touch your tummy, the motion making Satoru fucking feral in some way he can’t put together, just continuing to stare at you in utter shock as the sushi sits in front of the two of you. “I can leave, now, we don’t have to do this.”
“Do what?” He murmurs finally, voice hoarse.
“Act like we are civil, act like we’re anything but college enemies, fucking rivals, not even friends. God I know you hate me, I know this was a mistake.”
“A mistake?” He whispers.
“Yes, for both of us. You don’t deserve your life uprooted, sure I can’t stand you, but this is my fuck up. I said those words…”
‘Cum in me, f-fucking cum in me, mnh…’ you’d arched your back, as his long fingers wrapped your throat, god he’d never felt anything like you.
‘Want me to fill your pussy s’good, huh lil brat?’ you just whine, muscles clenching on his cock, and he’d groaned in your ear then, shoving deep inside your drooly cunt. ‘Beg for it, then’
Oh, you had.
You hated him for it.
“It’s my fault, so don’t worry. But I wanted to be transparent, but I am… indeed, pregnant.”
“Pregnant, like, with a baby?” Satoru whispers, and You giggle then, for the first time since you found out, covering your mouth just a bit as he just stares.
“Yeah, a baby.”
“Mine…” His words send something through the both of you.
“Yours, but only if you want to be involved. I know it was a hate fuck, we’re young, we have lives-”
“You got a… like that scan shit set up?”
“Ultrasound?” He nods, nervously, hands clenching the table so hard you see the veins popping up through his thin skin. “I do, next week. I mean it is a couple months already, so I will see something, not like… the sex but…”
“Can I go?”
You blink in shock now. “You want to?”
“Yeah. I mean… why wouldn’t I?” He rubs the back of his neck, as the life he thought, the mundane one of following his damn family, of being a pawn in a bigger scheme, everything flashes.
It changes.
He’s scared shitless, but…
“I want to be involved. If you want me to be.” You blink back tears, but you fail, and if it’s one thing, Satoru Gojo has never seen his preppy ass Sorority rival cry, not fucking once.
He falters as those tears run down your cheeks, he leans over, hesitantly, the only physical contact aside from that fateful night was him shoving at you teasingly, or you smacking at him. Shit you all hadn’t hugged, you never even kissed aside from that night, sloppy and messy. But he doesn’t stop, until his thumb brushes your cheek, and you gasp.
“Shit I’m crying. Stupid hormones.” You huff now, swiping at your own eyes with shaky little hands. “You really wanna go?”
“Yeah if it’s cool?”
Satoru’s shocking you, the world tilts on its axis, like you’re having some insane dream. This can’t be real, can it? It’s fuckboi, frat boy Gojo, the man who goes through girls like they’re candy, the man who takes nothing serious, who has the world handed to him.
“Gojo, if you want to go of course you can, to any and all appointments, but you’re under no obligation, and please know I can cover the costs.”
“I know you’d never take my money, shit even if I offered, stubborn ass little brat that you are.” You manage a breathless giggle, the second one, realizing he is still brushing that thumb against your cheek, before he clears his throat. “So, tell me what day, I'll be there.”
“Yeah, are you sure? It will make it so… real, you know?”
“Yeah, I’m sure. Now eat your cooked sushi, aren’t you like eating for two or some shit?”
You take your chopsticks with a shaky hand, exhaling. “I was reading, I think they are like the size of a pea maybe. But, this is yummy looking.”
“Gonna be a huge ass baby, shit.”
“Oh god!” You eye his lanky body, and he’s grinning, Satoru is grinning!? Shocking you further.
Maybe you don’t know him like you think?
“Tits are gonna get so big.”
Never mind.
*****
“An ultrasound!? A baby? Fuck…” Suguru Geto inhales the blunt, sucking the smoke into his lungs as Satoru nervously paces Sukuna and Suguru’s apartment, Satoru chose to live in his own place, closer to work. But he frequently gets shitfaced and crashes out at their place.
“Sounds fucking insane, shit.” Sukuna chuckles, as he’s hitting a bong, inhaling and exhaling, broad shoulders shaking as he coughs. “You look like you could use a hit or something.
“Before the ultrasound? Shit I need more than weed. I’m freaking the fuck out right now.”
“Imagine you as a dad though hah!” Sukuna smacks his thigh, as Satoru glares now, stopping his pacing while the music plays, the same music Satoru remembers doing keg stands and playing beer pong in togas to, only to now have the possibility of being responsible for a whole human being.
“Can’t even keep a plant alive, shit.” Suguru says in between laughs, and Satoru raises a white brow at the two of them on the couch.
“You two are so supportive.”
“Well shit, she said you don’t have to be involved, you can always just like… send money and shit? Do you really want a whole kid?” Sukuna asks, and Satoru takes a breath, pacing once more as he runs hands through disheveled hair over and over.
“Do I want a whole kid, no, I never even… I mean I figured eventually, as the Gojo heir, blah blah blah.” Satoru slumps in a nearby recliner, as Suguru hands him the blunt, frowning a bit now.
“You do need a hit. You’re young, it’s not time to give your family fuckin’ heirs yet, is it?”
“They’d probably be delighted.” Satoru rolls those cerulean eyes, inhaling the smoke into his lungs and leaning back, staring up at the ceiling, as the black fans above them swirl, moving the puffy clouds of smoke all around. His nostrils fill with the scent of the Sativa, wishing he could make sense of his thoughts. “Not delighted that it’s out of wedlock and unplanned.”
“Imagine her marrying you.” Sukuna and Suguru laugh loudly again, as Satoru hits the blunt again, not passing it.
“The fucks that mean?”
“She hates you. God I think more than anyone.” Suguru says, and Satoru smirks just a bit.
“She sure didn’t hate this dick.”
“Oh!” He’s slapping hands with his friends as Sukuna and Suguru start to make the most obscene gestures, while you call, and he shushes them quickly, trying to compose himself.
“Hello?”
“Gojo, hey. Um, ultrasound is in an hour, I’m heading out soon if you want to meet up?”
“Why don’t I have my driver pick you up?” He asks, and Suguru and Sukuna continue the gestures, making Satoru snort in laughter, the weed starting to enter his bloodstream.
“Everything okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, I just thought it would be more convenient in this traffic.” He shoots a wink at his friends.
“I mean… sure?” Satoru mouths yes, pumping his fist, clearing his throat now.
“It’ll be easier this way, alright send me your addy I’ll head out.”
“All right.” You just hang up, such a rude little thing. Satoru has changed your name to Sorority Brat in his phone for a good reason.
“What are you gonna do though, man?” Suguru murmurs thoughtfully, his dark violet eyes narrowed, clearly blitzed. “Gonna like… be with her?”
“Could cum in her whenever now.” Sukuna bursts out in laughter as Satoru glares at the two of them.
“Grow up…” They blink at him, then Satoru grins wide. “Nah, that would be a perk, because her pussy my god.”
They both scooch up, elbows on their thighs, avidly staring at Satoru now. “Details, man, it’s like the one girl you never told us about?” Sukuna asks.
“Because you’re in love.”
“Pshh, in love!?”
“Haven’t seen you with anyone since.” Suguru earns Satoru’s middle finger, as he puts out the blunt, stretching and earning their pouts.
“Bet she’s so good, though, all angry and shit, bet she’s a freak.” Satoru doesn’t even know if you’re a freak necessarily, but as Suguru agrees, he glares at them both, crossing his arms.
“This has been the worst pep talk in fucking history.”
“Shit, what’s your decision?” Suguru asks, and Satoru’s mind races, peeking at his watch now.
“I think I’ll make it when I like… see it?”
“Alright big Daddy, then if you decide to be involved we’ll be like… their uncles and shit.” Suguru says, and Satoru grimaces.
“God no, you’ll ruin my kid.”
“Fuck off now.” Sukuna starts hitting his blunt again, Satoru walks out away from them and spritzes cologne all along himself, he knows your prissy self never smoked weed, no you were a little goodie goodie. He thinks the only time he saw you drink was a little at parties, but never like that last night.
He remembers just looking at you asleep when he’d woken up, and the tenderness he felt when he had brushed your hair off your pretty face, and you’d stirred a bit. For a moment he felt his heart hammer in his chest, stone cold sober, seeing the bite marks he’d left on your delicate skin, feeling affection like he couldn’t describe, Satoru never felt that way.
He didn’t cuddle, he didn’t linger.
He ran out before they could wake up, he ran out like you did to him, perhaps he was a little nicer about it, though, you’d given no fucks when you darted out the damn door in a hurry. He had acted cocky though, full on hard just by the damn thought of your slick sticking to his cock, but instead of perhaps kissing you, he’d patted his lap and been a little shit.
He hated the recognition on your face, like he’d been a mistake, so he decided to shove you out of his brain, though he clearly failed.
Jogging down the stairs, he has his driver sent in your direction, and you get the text he’s there, stepping out in front of your little house, cute Satoru thinks, it’s small but it’s immaculate from the exterior. You have pink flowers and succulents all over the front of it when he steps out, eyeing your pretty dress, nerves starting to eat at him, but he puts on an easy smile.
“Ready to go see this little parasyte?’
“A what!?”
“Technically, it sort of is. Right, you’re like its host.” Your mouth is wide open, as you touch your tummy, and he curses. “Shit…”
“A parasyte, you’re calling our… I mean I guess my… the baby a-”
“I’m sure it’s a cute parasyte? It has a pretty host.” Satoru tries to put on the charm, the smolder, as you stare at him in shock.
Was it shocking, this was Gojo.
“Dear God.”
How’d you end up pregnant with this idiot’s baby?!
You slide into the car as you shake your head, and he covers his face, grimacing as he realizes he just told his… god what even were you, a baby mama!? That his baby was a… parasyte. Well, it is, and Satoru would typically just argue with you and let you know he’s correct and you’re wrong, but he keeps quiet, feeling you seething.
“Fire signs.” He mumbles, you look at him again.
“What?”
“You’re a fire sign, it’s why you’re so feisty. I am too, you know.” You relax just a bit, curiously.
“You believe in astrology?” You ask in shock, for as long as you’ve known Satoru Gojo, the two of you don’t really know each other.
“Baby I’m the most Saggitarius man there is.” You giggle again, fuck that’s three giggles Satgoru has counted, and how it lights up your already glowing makes him ache for you, suddenly realizing one of his long legs is brushing against you. Your warmth alone makes him throb, the vanilla sugar filling the space in the car.
“You certainly are the epitome of a Saggitarius. Don’t call me feisty, yuck.” You shove at him playfully almost, pausing a bit when you realize his body feels far too good against yours.
You may or may not have masturbated last night, and he may or may not have popped in your head, over and over. But, don’t worry, because Satoru has spent months jerking his thick length to the thought of you, not that either of you would admit that it may or may not have happened.
“This baby would be a fire sign.” You murmur then, letting your hand fall, and nervously fidgeting, Gojo’s long limbs take over so much of the car, as big as it is, Gojo’s always taken over everything, even apparently your senses.
“Would it?” He asks quietly, for once just a little serious it seems.
“Yeah, an Aries if it comes when it should.”
“So it’ll be a brat like you.”
“Psh, like you.” You roll your eyes, and the two of you fall into a bit of a silence, so much unspoken between you. “Do you know if…”
“That’s why I want to see. Make it real?”
You actually nod in understanding, surprising him then. “I get it.”
The ultrasound tech is rolling the wand over cold gel soon, as you’re embarrassingly propped up with your feet in stirrups, and Satoru stands to the side, glaring at the man who’s inserting this wand in you. He gets angry that he’s getting such a view, he doesn’t even think he saw you that much.
What he remembers…
Your pussy is very pretty.
You wince a bit as the doctor smiles up at you. “Tight muscles, huh?”
Satoru snorts in laughter, and you glare. “What!?”
“You are so tight.”
“Gojo!” You glare, and even the doctor laughs, also earning your scowl, which makes them both sober up.
“Sorry, Miss. Alright… relax, would you?” How do you relax as a doctor is shoving a wand in your coochie and your enemy, who got you pregnant somehow, is turning red holding in his lewd thoughts!? “Look at the screen.”
You and Satoru both look over now, your breath catches then, as does his, when the doctor begins to tap keys on the keyboard, and you hear it for the first time, this little… heartbeat. It’s a heartbeat.
“There it is, congratulations you two. About… ten weeks?” You’re enamored as you stare at the screen, and he moves the wand inside you. “Look there, that’s the little baby.”
Baby.
A baby.
It’s all real.
Satoru’s completely silent as tears fill your eyes, a myriad of emotions, some that you’re so connected already to a little peanut inside you, some that you don’t know how you’ll do this, some of your life. How will it alter, how will it go, what will people think… and what does the man next to you think? What will he do!?
But overwhelmingly as you feel yourself begin to cry, and the screen turns off, you feel warmth spread, touching your tummy in wonder, there’s a damn baby in your body. Your baby. Something you never considered or thought of, you figured much, much later in life, not now.
And you’d likely be…
Alone in this.
“I’ll go get a picture printed for you two.” The doctor smiles kindly, as you’re left alone, with a for once silent Satoru Gojo.
You hesitate to look at him, a stunned expression on his face as you sit up, closing your legs and biting your lower lip, he finally looks at you and exhales, seeing your tear streaked cheeks. A girl he never knew to cry or giggle has done both, and a man you never thought to be serious or quiet… was.
“Satoru um…”
“Satoru?” He asks quietly, and you flush.
“Sorry…”
“No, I don’t mind, just… crazy. This is crazy. There’s a whole life inside you!? And we made it?” You sigh, nodding then, and he shocks you as he leans down, as you’re sitting in the bed, coming so close to you, eyes swirling storms of emotions.
“You can back out now, it’s okay. I won’t put this on you, keeping it is an insane idea but… it feels right to me?” He tilts your chin up, leaning closer, to where you can taste the sweetness of his breath, as your heart pounds right in your chest. “But if you’re backing out, do it now, it will hurt… fuck it will hurt more if you get too involved, okay? Do it now.”
“I’m not backing out of shit.” You gasp, and he exhales, wiping your tears away. “We both did this. I’ll not live in some world knowing my baby is raised with no help of mine in any way, fuck that.”
“But you-”
“I get it, we… aren’t… together. But in this I will be.”
“Satoru, I think I may have a cardiac arrest before I get this baby out.” You sniffle and he smirks a bit.
“So unbelievable that I’d want to?”
“Yes. The Gojo I know…”
“You may not know me as well as you think. And maybe I don’t know you that much… aside from I agree about that tight-”
“I swear!” You shove at him, as he snorts in laughter, still a little shit, as they bring in two pictures, and Satoru takes one thoughtfully.
“That’s it, huh?” He tilts his head curiously. “Looks like me.”
“It looks like nothing yet, what?” You’re taking tissue and cleaning up a bit, as they give you privacy to pull back on your panties, but Satoru gives you no privacy, just looking. “You could turn?”
“Why, that’s one benefit you know.”
“What?”
“Could fuck any time, cum inside whenever.”
“Oh you wish.” You shove at his chest, and he’s grinning and wiggling his brows, grabbing your waist, pulling you against him.
“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy it.”
“Shut it.” Yes.
“Sex is good for pregnancy.”
“You’re so full of shit! I can’t with you. Rizzing me up at a gyno?”
“Perfect place, see that doctor, he wants a piece.”
“You’re so dumb, I swear.” You look at the picture then, thumb brushing against the baby’s… maybe it’s a face?
“Are we gonna live together?”
“I mean… what?” You eye him in shock.
“When the baby’s here.”
“No, we don’t have to do all that, we live close. Can you imagine us living together, we’d kill each other.” He envisions it, the fights surely but… the sex, and seeing you in the morning?
“Or fuck. Alot.”
“That’s how this happened.” You mumble, and soon you’re back home, and trying to ignore your body’s insane responses while he stands on your porch, looking far too fucking sexy. “Thank you for being there.”
“You thanking me? the world is ending.”
“Hush. I appreciate this, you standing by me. You don’t have to.”
“I… want to. Um, what will we say?”
You bite your lip more, until he gently takes it out from under your top row of teeth, brushing against the indentations. “We could say we’re together, if you don’t mind, dating I guess? My parents would trip if they knew it’s like…”
“Same. My parents would be happy for a Gojo heir though.” You hear it, the surprising resentment in his voice.
There’s a lot you don’t know.
“Well, I can act like I like you for them if you want.” You tease, and he leans against your doorway, so fucking tall, just looming over you, and you have to clench your hands not to give in to the temptation of touching him.
“Act like you like me- you?”
“I could! If you could act like you like me, in front of my family.”
“How will we explain the whole not living together thing?”
“It’s new, it’s 2025 Gojo, not 1810. We’ll be okay. You're so old school huh, gonna marry me?”
“You’d leave me at the altar.” You both laugh again, as he straightens up now. “Alright, so when should we tell them?”
“When you want to. So work on those acting skills. I’ll set up brunch with mine, you set up dinner with yours?”
“Sounds good. Alright don’t miss Daddy too much.” You snort and roll your eyes, turning away now.
“Daddy? Whatever.”
Satoru presses you against the door, wrapping an arm around your waist, pressing a hand gently on your tummy, splaying the expanse of it with long fingers, as your breath comes quicker and quicker. “Could swear you called me daddy when I beat up that pretty pussy hmm?”
You falter, whining softly, hating your body’s reaction, scowling right up at him, your hand on your doorknob, while this tall ass of a man makes your body light up. “Never called you daddy, no way.” Your voice is a pathetic whisper, why does he do this to you, you want to arch into his damn touch, press against his length, to the point you make yourself stiffen.
“Oh? Must have been the liquor.” He caresses your face, leaning so close you wildly think he’ll kiss you, and you know damn well you can’t handle that, not with your pussy soaking your damn panties just from this.
You hate Satoru Gojo, and he hates you.
This is… because you both are having a baby.
Right?
“It must have been.”
“Ah, I see. Good night, then sweetheart.” He leans his lips up, kissing the top of your head, a gesture so oddly sweet it doesn’t even fit him. “Text me the details, Sorority brat.”
“Sure will, Frat boy.” He sticks his tongue out as you do, walking in and leaning against the door, overwhelmed by the scent of his cologne, the feel of his hands, the memories that surfaced. You slide down it slowly, burying your face in your hands, as your body trembles with this insane need.
Shit. A baby with your enemy?
A baby with Frat Boy Gojo?
Faking that you like him, would it really be that fake?
Satoru’s leaning against it too, for just a moment, trying to compose himself… finally he’s in the back of the car again, as his driver looks in the rearview mirror curiously, tired eyes focusing as Satoru looks at the picture again. The little peanut that’s apparently a…
A baby.
With his enemy.
An enemy he really wants to be inside again.
“Everything alright, Mr. Gojo?” Kiyotaka asks, Satoru runs a hand through his hair now, leaning back in his seat as he peers out the dark tinted windows.
“I’m having… a baby with a girl who hates me.”
“Why does she hate you?” Kiyotaka asks, driving off, as Satoru chuckles just a bit, remembering bits and pieces of college, out of order, out of sync.
“Because honestly, I was kind of a complete dick to her?”
“That’s… oddly self observant.”
“You saying I’m a dick to you?”
“No Mr. Gojo!”
“I’m kidding, relax.” Kiyotaka’s tense shoulders relax when Satoru leans forward, hand on his shoulder through the little divider that’s opened. “Do you know shit about kids at all?”
“I have nephews, they’re pretty good kids. But babies, not really.”
“I could ask my parents but they basically had nannies raise me.”
“Many nannies, I heard.”
“Well, I was a menace to be honest. Where do I learn about these… things?”
“Babies?”
“Mmhmm.”
“I think there are books?”
“Hmm.” Satoru pulls out his phone then.
Fratboy Gojo🙄(yes that’s his name in your phone now, no you’re not sorry): Should I order us baby books?
Sorority Brat💦😻(of course that’s your name in his phone): Yes, if you want to? That would be good. Thank you… for today.
Fratboy Gojo🙄: Two thank yous!? That baby is making you a mush.
Sorority Brat💦😻: Whatever!
Satoru snorts then, but when you’re in your bed later that night, nibbling on a bag of hot cheetos that have been screaming at you all day, how is that your first craving!? He writes to you again, and you pick your phone up with your clean hand, sans hot cheeto dust, rolling your eyes.
Fratboy Gojo🙄: Need some nudes for your spank bank?
You’re gonna kill him.
Sorority Brat 💦😻: Good night, Gojo.
Satoru frowns, because his dick is already in his hand, but for a moment you think about it, and would it be so bad to-
No, no no.
You aggressively eat those hot cheetos, wondering just what you were in for with that damn boy in your life now, shit forever.
“Fuck.” You’ll never drink again.
I say four parts but I feel like this is gonna be long aha, bc god Gojo is a lil shithead hehe (as I like him) this just a teensy bit similar to the Knocked Up movie premise so expect a LOT of humor here! <3
Taglist one- @jannythewriter-pt2 @gojosoups @lycoris-radiata-4-sale @cutiepi-iee @poisonousspiderlily @closerbutnevertogether @myahfig4 @shokosbunny @coq1myun @rinny27 @abibliolife @coq1myun @megumisthirdog @p4lli @turtlebangtan @webshooterrr9 @aldebrana @msqudo18 @s0ulsnatchaaa @ovela @midnaamethyste @nearlyfuckingwitches @shibataimu @msniks @missthatgirl @fantasy1nightmare0 @maddyhehehehhe @yourst3pm0mmy @haithamsbb @rentheannihilator @ilovebeansyay @lemonswirlz @dilfkentolover @evelynxxo @bkgnotsuma @suki91 @burntasian @nakiich @hyunjinsruinedpainting @miniv1x3n @minascasket @ihrtmack @contaminatedcupcake @girlwithn0j0b @tokyi999 @vamqyx @queenofthekill @verriees @vullzo @jkslaugh97
Rindou introducing his big brother
actually, not just at cats
KNOCK HIS ASS OUT THOSE SLIPPERS
I wanted to draw denji with longer hair and I think he looks quite nice if I do say so myself
My contribution to the SpyFam brainrot! Afternoon nap with Forgers 💚
bro was discombobulated
HE HAS AN INTIMIDATING PARTNER NOT
characters: rindou. sanzu. ran.
☰ㅤ RINDOU HAITANI
rindou heaved a sigh as he fetched his keys from his coat. he paused behind the door and turned to his comrades, “ mind the mess — i’ve been basically sleeping here for the past week. “
“ huh, your s/o isn’t upset? “ kokonoi inquired, curious how his coworker was still breathing considering you aren’t exactly the friendliest. short story, you are scary — never took no for an answer and had enough power to make anyone drop on their knees and become your bitch.
rindou lifted an eyebrow, “ no, why would they be upset? “
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